“He is like me,” thought Albert, with a sigh; “a man with a very few pleasant moments to look mentally back to.”
“Have you thought further of what I proposed to you at our last meeting?” said Learmont.
After a long pause, for Albert did not well know what to say in answer to the remark last made by the melancholy squire, “I have, sir,” he now said, “and adhere firmly to all I before pledged myself to; namely, that in all honour I will do you zealous service and tire not.”
“’Tis well, ’tis well. Walk with me, and we will converse more at large as we go; I am merely out for exercise.”
Albert bowed, and walked by the side of his strange employer in silence for some minutes. Learmont then said,—
“You will call upon me to-morrow, according to our previous arrangement.”
“I shall be proud to do so,” said Albert.
“Well, well. Perhaps the man may be there; but beware of his consummate art, young sir. If you would successfully track him to his haunt, you must be wary and cunning, patient and sagacious; believe me no common man will ever succeed in circumventing him.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Ay, indeed, you know him not. He has the deep cunning of the serpent. Even I—but no matter. You will freely undertake the employment?”