“Oh, Gray!” he said. “Who mentioned him! He is dead—dead long ago.” “Dead?” “Yes; there is now no such person. So Sir Frederick—I mean Frank Hartleton, mentioned this Gray?” “All have mentioned him,” said Maud. “’Tis very strange, but I am asked by all if I know Gray!” “Indeed! By—by Hartleton?” “Yes, by him. He says that Gray is the worst villain of all. The Lord of Learmont is scarce worse than Gray. Where is he, with his dark scowl? I have not seen him for some days, that is, since he would not have the fire put out. They said he and the savage smith killed Dame Tatton, and took the child away; but I know better, ha—ha—ha! Poor Mad Maud knows better.” “Then Learmont did not do so?” said Gray, in a soft insinuating tone. “How could he, when I met her by the mill-stream, weeping?” “You met her?” “Ay, did I, by the mill-stream. It was early dawn, and the birds alone were awake, as well as Mad Maud. Ha—ha! I met her, and, I will tell you, she had the child; and she wept while I kissed and blessed it.” “But, about this man, Gray? Speak more of him—I pray you, speak of him.” “I know him not, but Frank Hartleton, who always had a kind word for poor Maud, which makes me believe him—he says, that before sunset, Gray shall be in prison, and that he is a villain.” Gray rose with his features convulsed with rage and fear, and approaching Maud, he said, in a husky whisper,— “Woman—on your soul, did he say those words?” “He did. It will be brave work!” “How is this?” cried Gray, clasping his hands. “God! How is this? Am I betrayed—lost—lost!” He sank in a chair with a deep groan, at the moment that, the landlord opened the door, saying— “An it please your honour, your breakfast is hot. There be new-laid eggs, and buttered buns; a chine, the like of which is rarely seen at the King’s Bounty. Then we have some confections, your honour, which would be no disparagement to the bishop’s own larder, which, they do say, keeps up a continual groaning from the heap of niceties collected therein. Then, as to wine we have, I will say it—who should not—the very creamiest, rarest—” “Peace—begone!” said Gray. “Your honour!” “Begone, I say!” “I humbly—” “Peace! Is it thus you torment your guest? Do not interrupt me until I call for you. I have a private conference to hold with this poor creature. Here, pay yourself as you will for the cooling of your most precious viands.” Gray threw a piece of gold to the landlord, who picked it up, and vanished with a profusion of bows, to tell his company below what a nice gentleman, a friend of the great Sir Frederick Hartleton, he had above stairs, who not only paid for what was cooked for him, but requested he might be charged for the cooling of the various delicacies! “Now, that’s what I call a real gentleman,” added the landlord; “and one as makes a virtuous use of his money.” When Jacob was once more alone with poor Maud, he approached her and said,— “As you value your life, tell me all.”