“I may as well,” thought Albert, “see him—not that I have any hopes beyond those that at present possess my mind, through the interposition of my generous patron, Squire Learmont.”
“Well, sir?” said Sir Francis Hartleton, in no very amiable voice.
“Do you not recollect me, sir?”
“No, sir.”
“You do not?”
“I know nothing of you, sir, and desire not your acquaintance.”
“Sir Francis Hartleton, you are labouring under some error. You mistake who I am.”
“There can be no mistake, sir. Good morning. If you have any business with me, you may probably know my office, and the hours of attendance at it.”
“One moment, sir.”
“Not half a one,” said Sir Francis as he walked away, leaving Albert bewildered. After a few moments’ thought, he said,—