“Beware—beware, Sir Magistrate!—beware! You may rouse a spirit you cannot quell again. I am not the man to allow such as thou to be a stumbling-block in my path.” So saying, with a dark scowl upon his brow, the squire retraced his steps towards his own house. The morning sun was now gilding with beauty the housetops, and the icicles, which, pendant from every tree, shone like gems of the purest water and brilliancy. Unheedful, however, of the beauties of nature around, the wealthy Learmont passed onwards, his thoughts, dark and gainful as they were, fully absorbing all his attention. He passed up the little lane which was the nearest route to his own house; and, as he was about to emerge from it, he was startled (for the guilty are ever timid) by some one touching his shoulder. Turning quickly round, he saw Jacob Gray, with a sickly, disagreeable smile upon his face, standing close to him. “Your worship rises early,” said Gray. “Yes; you—you have been seeking me?” “I have, squire. Your servants sought you, it appears, and found you were not within; and, as I knew it was much the custom of the great gentry, such as your worship, to gather an appetite for breakfast by a stroll in the park, I made bold to seek you.” “I am now proceeding homeward,” said Learmont. “In half an hour from now I shall be at leisure.” “As your worship pleases,” said Gray; “but methought there was an inclination on the part of your lackeys to deny me speech of you. Now, squire, if you would have the goodness to leave a message in your hall to the effect that your old and trusty friend Jacob Gray was always to be admitted, it would save us both trouble.” Learmont was exceedingly impatient during this speech, and, at its conclusion, he said, in a vexed tone,— “Well—well—I will leave proper orders. In half an hour I shall expect you.” “Your worship shall not be disappointed,” said Gray, with a bow which had more of burlesque mockery in it than respect. Learmont turned haughtily from him, and in a few moments he entered the gardens of his mansion, by the same private door through which he had proceeded to the park. He ordered a sumptuous breakfast to be immediately prepared for him, and took an opportunity to say, in a careless manner, to the servant, whose special province it was to answer the silver bell which always was at Learmont’s elbow,— “Tell them in the hall that I expect one Jacob Gray. Let him be admitted.” The servant respectfully retired to communicate the message, and Learmont, after a pause of thought, said, in a low voice,—