The grim Corporal smiled.
“Talking of lasses,” said the soldier, re-filling his pipe, “what creature Miss Lester is! Such eyes!—such nose! Fit for a colonel, by God! ay, or a major-general!”
“For my part, I think Miss Ellinor almost as handsome; not so grand-like, but more lovesome!”
“Nice little thing!” said the Corporal, condescendingly. “But, zooks! whom have we here?”
This last question was applied to a man who was slowly turning from the road towards the inn. The stranger, for such he was, was stout, thick-set, and of middle height. His dress was not without pretension to a rank higher than the lowest; but it was threadbare and worn, and soiled with dust and travel. His appearance was by no means prepossessing; small sunken eyes of a light hazel and a restless and rather fierce expression, a thick flat nose, high cheekbones, a large bony jaw, from which the flesh receded, and a bull throat indicative of great strength, constituted his claims to personal attraction. The stately Corporal, without moving, kept a vigilant and suspicious eye upon the new comer, muttering to Peter,—“Customer for you; rum customer too—by Gad!”
The stranger now reached the little table, and halting short, took up the brown jug, without ceremony or preface, and emptied it at a draught.
The Corporal stared—the Corporal frowned; but before—for he was somewhat slow of speech—he had time to vent his displeasure, the stranger, wiping his mouth across his sleeve, said, in rather a civil and apologetic tone,
“I beg pardon, gentlemen. I have had a long march of it, and very tired I am.”
“Humph! march,” said the Corporal a little appeased, “Not in his Majesty’s service—eh?”
“Not now,” answered the Traveller; then, turning round to Dealtry, he said: “Are you landlord here?”