“You are angry with me for no cause,” said Hartleton, who was secretly pleased at Albert’s independence of spirit. “If I have appeared lukewarm in your affairs, I beg you will not attribute it to indifference.”
“You may call it what you please, sir,” said Albert. “Good morning.”
“But I want you to come back with me.”
“I hope your honour don’t mean to persuade our recruit off?” said the soldier, who was in apprehension that he should lose his gratuity for bringing so unexceptionable a soldier as the handsome Albert Seyton to the regiment.
“If I do take your recruit away, my friend,” said the magistrate, “you shall lose nothing by it if you will call upon me to-morrow.”
“Thanks to your honour.”
“This is as idle as it is insulting,” said Albert. “Am I to be made a thing of barter between you? I tell you, Sir Francis Hartleton, that you shall not, were you twenty times what you are, interfere with me. When your activity is implored, you are cold and most indifferent, but now when your presence is quite unlooked for and unnecessary, you come after me, as if merely to perplex and annoy me. Take me to your officer, soldiers; I will serve the king despite of this mocking magistrate.”
“But I have not done with you yet,” said Sir Francis, with provoking coolness. “I have an affair in hand in which you must assist me.”
“This is insult, sir.”
“No; I have a young friend who I think would make a very good match for you, as you are a likely-looking young man.”