“Squire Learmont they call him,” replied the man; “but, if he lives a little-longer, it’s said he’ll be a lord, or something of that kind.”
Ada placed her hand upon her brow, and repeated the name of Learmont, as if its sound conjured up some long-forgotten images in her brain. Then she shook her head, as memory could shape to her nothing tangible in connexion with the name, which yet, as she again pronounced it, came upon her heart as something far from new.
“Learmont—Learmont!” she murmured, as if pleased with the repetition.
“Yes, that’s his name,” rejoined the officer. “Nobody knows exactly where he got all his money from; but got it he has, and he knows how to spend it too.”
At this moment the doors of the mansion were flung open, and a splendid carriage dashed up to the entrance.
“There’s somebody coming,” remarked the officer to Ada. “Let’s have a look at them.”
Ada and her companion now crossed the road, and stood close to the step of Learmont’s house, as a lacquey shouted to those in the hall,—
“Lord and Lady Brereton, and the Honourable Georgiana Brereton.”
A blaze of light shot from the interior of the mansion, and just as the guests were alighting, Learmont himself descended the steps of his house to receive them.
He was attired in a splendid suit of moreen velvet, and a diamond of great lustre sparkled in his sword hilt. His fingers were covered with rings, profusely studded with precious stones, and, take his appearance altogether, he looked, indeed, like the man who could pave his hall with gold.