“Delightful!” said the lady. “But the words were a message from the Old Smithy!” “The old who?” exclaimed Lord Brereton, with a shrug. “The Old Smithy. I cannot pretend to know what it means.” “Frightful!” exclaimed Lady Brereton. Learmont tried to smile, but the distortion of his features looked as if occasioned by some acute pain rather than any sensation approaching to the mirthful. “It was most absurd,” he said, “and might make one angry, but that it is too laughable.” As he spoke a voice behind him said in a tone of trembling apprehension,— “And it please your honour—he—he—” Learmont positively gasped, and clutched the back of a chair for support, as he turned and faced another servant, the former one being afraid to venture into the presence of his fiery master again. “W—what now?” he said. “He won’t go, an it please your honour.” “Won’t go?” echoed Learmont, in such a confusion of mind that he scarcely knew what he said, and the servant, emboldened by the apparent placidity of his master, added,— “No, your honour, and he says he won’t wait either.” “Thrust him from my door,” shrieked Learmont; “kill him—no—no—tell him to come to-morrow—yes, to-morrow.” Learmont’s noble guests looked at each other in mute surprise. The voice in which Learmont had spoken was loud and strange, and attracted all eyes to the spot on which he stood. A glance around the ball-room at once showed him that he was the observed of all, and he felt the necessity of controlling his passion. “The dance, the dance,” he cried; “the most precious hours of gladness and joy. The dance! The dance!” These words were scarcely spoken, when his attention was arrested by an unusual commotion at the further end of the saloon, accompanied by cries, the trampling of feet, and a few oaths, which sounded strangely in that gaudy scene. Learmont’s heart sunk within him, and at that moment he suffered a pang greater than any he had ever power to inflict, as the conviction came across his mind that Britton was forcing his way into the ball-room, despite of every obstacle. This was an event which could not have happened under ordinary circumstances, but the whole of Learmont’s household were aware that the strange man who came with the message from the Old Smithy had some sort of power over their master and their ignorance of its extent, paralysed their exertions in opposing his entrance to the ball-room, although had they felt themselves free to act, he would never have reached beyond the hall of the mansion. Thus it was that the proud, wealthy, and haughty Learmont, surrounded by troops of servants, and evidently exercising the most despotic sway over them appeared to his assembled guests in the curious and anomalous position of being unable to keep a drunken brawler from the very penetralia of his mansion.