“No, no,” said Learmont; “’tis nothing, I shall be better presently. I felt much for you that it made me over anxious, and—and so, you see, as I am of a nervous temperament, I tremble for you—for you, you understand. There is wine upon the table.”
Albert led the squire into the room, and then poured out and presented to him some wine, which he drank with eagerness, after which, drawing a long breath, he said,—
“I am much better now;—and so you found him. Do you not rejoice?”
“Indeed I do, sir,” said Albert, “and much I long for you to remove all restrictions from me, and allow me to proceed at once to the rescue of her I love.”
“All shall be speedily accomplished,” said Learmont; “have but a little patience, and all shall be as you ask. Not many days shall elapse when you shall have your heart’s desire.”
“Sir, you bestow upon me a new life.”
“Yes, yes. Let me consider a moment. To-morrow—to-morrow—yes, to-morrow is now at hand. Midnight—aye, midnight. Call upon me here on the morning after to-morrow, not sooner—no, not sooner—midnight is a good hour.”
“I scarcely understand you, sir,” said Albert, who really thought the squire must be a little insane, he talked so strangely.
“Not understand me, sir?” said Learmont. “Surely I speak clearly—I mean the morning after to-morrow. By then I shall have matured some plan—but say—stay—God of heaven I had forgotten.”
“Forgotten what, sir?”