The gentleman on whose person the fisherman's eyes were immediately fixed, was somewhere within the ill-defined limits of that vague period of human life called the middle age. None of his strength was gone, perhaps none of his activity; but yet the traces of time's wearing hand might be seen in the grey that was plentifully mingled with his black hair, and in the furrows which lay along his broad, strongly marked brow. He was well dressed, according to the fashion of that day; and any one who has looked into the pictures of Sir Peter Lely must have seen many such a dress as he then wore without our taking the trouble of describing it. That was a period of heavy swords and many weapons; but the gentleman who now approached bore nothing offensive upon his person but a light blade, which looked better calculated for show than use, and a small valuable cane hanging at his wrist. There was a certain degree of foppery, indeed, about his whole appearance which accorded not very well with either his form or his features. He was about the same height as the angler whom we have before described, but much more broadly made, with a chest like a mountain bull, and long sinewy arms and legs, whose swelling muscles might be discerned, clear and defined, through the white stocking that appeared above his riding boots. His face was quite in harmony with his person, square cut, with good, but somewhat stern features, large bright eyes flashing out from beneath a pair of heavy overhanging eyebrows, a well shaped mouth, though somewhat too wide, and a straight nose, rather short, but not remarkably so. The complexion was of a deep tanned brown; and there were many lines and furrows over the face, which indicated that the countenance there presented was a tablet on which passion often wrote with a fierce and fiery hand, leaving deep, uneffacable traces behind. That countenance, indeed, was one calculated to bear strong expressions; and which, though changing rapidly under the influence of varied feelings, still became worn and channelled by each--by the storm and the tempest, the sunshine and the shower. On the present occasion the expression of his face was gay, smiling, and good-humoured; and he approached the angler he exclaimed, with a laugh, "You have dined well, Master Harry; and methinks, had you been generous, you might have saved me a nook of the pie, or a draught out of the bottle." "I did not know you were so near, Franklin," answered the angler, somewhat gravely: "I thought you would have met me at the Talbot this morning; and, not finding you, I fancied that you had forgotten your promise." "I never forget a promise." replied the other, sharply, and with his brow beginning to lower; "I never forget a promise, Master Harry, be it for good or evil. Had I promised to blow your brains out, I would have done it; and having promised to meet you here this morning, here I am."