Obedient to a signal, the musicians again filled the air with joyous sounds, and Learmont stood and listened with delight, forgetting in those moments everything but his own present greatness and wealth. “Yes,” he said, when the strain ceased, as if pursuing a previous train of thought: “this is the way to forget. Steep the senses in enjoyment, and the conscience will have no room for action; wine, music, the dance, the smile of beauty, all shall contribute to my enjoyment, and life shall be—” “May it please you, honourable sir, some one desires speech of you,” said a domestic. “Say I am occupied,” replied Learmont, and he again resumed his glowing meditations. “Nobility,” he muttered, “will crowd to my fêtes, even royalty might borrow new grace and dignity from the halls of Squire Learmont. But that shall not long be my designation. Wealth in England can purchase anything, and titles are easily procured where the price is of little moment. I will be ennobled and—” “Your pardon, sir,” said the servant, returning, “but; the stranger will not take a refusal.” “Ha! He will not?” “An’ it please you, sir, he will not go.” “Have I not idle knaves enough about me to drive an insolent intruder from my doors?” “’Tis a rude knave, your worship.” “Cast him into the street. How dare he say he will see the master of Learmont?” “It shall be done, sir. To come here talking about an Old Smithy.” Learmont caught the muttered words of the man as he was hurrying from the hall, and a cry of pain and horror escaped him as he rushed forward, and seizing the terrified servant by the arm, he cried— “What—what manner of man is he who seeks me with such pertinacity?” “A rough knave, an’ please you, sir; coarse of speech and appearance.” “And—and he said—what?” “He said he brought a message from the Old Smithy!” A deadly paleness came across Learmont’s face, as he said in a husky whisper, “Show him into a private room and tell him I will be with him soon. Begone, knave, nor stand gaping there.” The terrified servant darted from the hall, and Learmont turning to the throng of domestics who were standing at a respectful distance from him, cried— “Lead on. To my chamber, and bid yon knave bring me word in what apartment he has placed this—this—visitor.” The servants hastened to throw the doors wide open for their imperious master to pass out, but his mood was changed. The glow of triumph, and gratified pride no longer lent a glow to his sallow cheek, nor lit up his deep-sunken eyes with brilliancy. There was a load of care and anxiety, almost amounting to agony, upon his face. His contracted brow bespoke deep and anxious thought, and his limbs trembled as he left his hall of light and beauty to seek an interview with the man who, he had always dreaded, would exercise the power he had of stepping between him and his moments of forgetfulness and consequent enjoyment. CHAPTER XII.