In his easy-chair, with his gouty legs, swathed in flannels, reposing on two others, lay our old friend the squire, literally "laid up by the legs." In the opposite corner was Lizzie, dozing, as usual, on her sofa; while good Mrs. Gower sat with her fat hands folded in her lap, reposing after the cares of the day. Dr. Wiseman had not yet sufficiently recovered from his wounds and bruises to go abroad, and had just retired to his room, while his affectionate spouse was enjoying herself at a grand ball in the village.
The worthy trio had sat in solemn silence for upwards of an hour, when the door was flung open, and Jupiter rushed in to announce "dat a boy commanded to see ole marster 'mediately."
"To see me?" said the squire, in amazement. "What does he want? I won't see anybody to-night."
"He's got a letter, and says he must d'liver it to-night—it's very important," said Jupiter.
"Humph! well, admit him then. I never can get a minute's peace. 'No rest for the wicked,' as Solomon says. Well, here he comes."
As he spoke, a youth, apparently about sixteen, entered the apartment, bearing every evidence of having journeyed fast.
"You are Squire Erliston, I believe," said the lad, bowing respectfully.
"Well, you may believe it," said the squire, testily; "it's a name I was never ashamed of. What do you want of me at this hour of the night, young man?"
"I have been sent with this letter," said the boy, presenting one; "it's a matter of life and death."
"Matter of life and death! Lord bless me!" exclaimed the astonished squire, "what can it mean? Hand me my spectacles, Mrs. Gower, and put them on my nose, till I overhaul this document. Maybe it contains state-treason, a gunpowder plot or something. 'The pen is mightier than the sword,' as Solomon says; though I'll be shot if I believe it. Solomon didn't know much about swords, and acted queer sometimes—didn't behave well to his wife, they say. Humph! well, here goes."