“Well, Squire Learmont,” replied the ruffian, endeavouring to stand steadily the fixed gaze of the other. “For your own life’s sake go away from here—you are drunk, and know not what you do.” “Drunk, am I? Well, there’s many a better man been drunk before to-day!” “What do you want?” “Ten—ten—guineas and—a (hiccup) dance; I tell you what it is—it’s infernally unfriendly of you not to invite me. You know I’m a gentleman now. Never—never—never—to show me—your nobles—curse me if I—stand it. In—introduce me to the rest of the gentlefolks, can’t you, and be d—d to you. I—I ain’t such a sneak as that cursed Jacob Gray. No—no, I’m a gentleman every—every inch a gentleman. Hurrah! Hurrah!” “Are you mad?” said Learmont. To his agony the squire now observed that, impelled by curiosity, his guests were slowly creeping closer around him and the savage smith. He raised his voice suddenly and cried— “My noble and honoured guests, this is a poor mad fellow, who from motives of charity, I support. I do not like to commit violence on one so afflicted by Heaven. Here, take this purse and go.” “Oh, yes,” hiccupped Britton; “that’s all very well as regards the purse, but I don’t mean to go yet. I’ll have a dance. Let me see—I’ve got something to say to you, squire.” “Another time,” cried Learmont. “No—no—time like the present. Life is so very un—uncertain. I tell you what—you—you recollect that infernal Frank Hartleton?” “Mad,—mad—quite mad,” said Learmont, striving to stop the smith. “Beware,” said Britton, with drunken solemnity. “I say beware. He’s on the look-out—curse him—and that infernal mad woman too—curse her! They want to hang us—curse all the world. Beware, I say, that’s all—never mind me, ladies and gentlemen—I’m a gentleman—I live on my means—I’m King Britton, and hope to see you all at the Chequers. Thank you ma’am.” This last observation was addressed to the Honourable Georgiana Brereton, who having given her head a toss of disdain upon meeting the anxious eye of the confounded Learmont, imparted such a nodding reaction for some seconds to her feathers that the intoxicated smith took it as a complimentary acknowledgment of his invitation to the Chequers. Some of the guests now began to laugh, and others to complain to each other in no very measured terms of the intrusion among them, of so very questionable a character as the smith appeared to be; while several, among whom were the Brereton family, made a move to depart, fearful how the singular scene would end.