“Squire Learmont!” replied Britton, facing him with an air of insolence and bloated assurance. There was a pause for a moment, and then Learmont added,— “You—you are still drunk!” “No, I am hungry; a drunken man never orders victuals, squire.” “I have breakfasted,” said Learmont. “Very like, but you don’t fancy I meant any of it for you. Curse me! I always make a point of ordering breakfast for two, now that I am a gentleman and can afford it;—I’m sure to have nearly enough then. Breakfast for two, I say! You can get it ready while your master and I settle some little affairs connected with the Old Smithy. Do you hear?—What are you staring at?” The servant looked at Learmont evidently for orders, and the squire, almost inarticulate with rage, said,— “Go—go! You may get him breakfast.” “Ah, to be sure,” said Britton; “of course you may. I’m a particular friend of your master’s; and mind you are more respectful another time, you beast, and use polite language, and be d—d to you, you thief!” The amazed domestic hastened away, for he shrewdly guessed that, if he delayed much longer, he might be favoured by some practical display of the excessive freedom which the messenger from the Old Smithy evidently could take with the proud, haughty, Learmont, and everything that was his, or in any way connected with him—a freedom which puzzled and amazed the whole household, and formed the theme of such endless gossipping in the servants’ hall, that without it, it would seem impossible they could found any materials for consideration, conjecture, and endless surmise. Learmont now stalked on, followed by Britton, until he reached the small private room in which the conferences with both Gray and the smith were usually held. The squire then closed the door, and turning to Britton with a face convulsed with passion, he said,— “Scoundrel! Are you not afraid to tamper with me in this manner? Drive me too far by your disgusting conduct, and insolent, vulgar familiarities, and I would hang you, though I had to fly from England forever before I denounced you;—nay, hear me out, and let my words sink deep into your brain, if it be capable of receiving and recording them. If you dare to thrall me by untimely visits, I will, though it cost me thousands, lay such a plot for your destruction, that your life shall not only be forfeited, but I will take care to associate your name with such infamy that no confession nor statement of yours would be received with a moment’s credence. You earn from me the wages of crime—deep crime, and you know it; but were those wages millions, and were those crimes of ten times blacker hue than they are, you have no right, nor shall you be, a torment to me. I am your master, and I will make you know it, or rue the fearful consequence.” Learmont paused, and regarded the smith with an air of haughty defiance.