"I am ready," replied the stranger. "I have had enough and to spare of your rocket practice, and your music makes my head ache."
"The bagpipes are certainly pleasanter to the ear," said Wirtig, submissively, "and I am grieved that I forgot to command Caleb's attendance with them. Pardon the omission. At the house, things shall be better managed. Amy, entertain Sir Wal—"
A crushing application of Alexis' boot-heel to Wirtig's tenderest toe, substituted an exclamation of agony for the second syllable of the forbidden name. The Englishman offered Emily his arm, and a signal from her father compelled its acceptance. By the light of torches, and preceded by a band of music, the Miffelsteiners now moved in long procession homewards, forming a sort of escort for the stranger, who was in front, attended by Wirtig and Alexis. The attorney marched close behind, glaring like a hyena at his supposed rival. Amidst the cracking of fireworks and the reports of guns and pistols, the procession reached the town, and a considerable number of the men went direct to the hotel of the Bear—some eager to profit by the gratuitous good cheer, and others yet more desirous to ascertain its motive. Of this, however, most of Wirtig's guests were by this time aware. Rumours will arise, in small towns as in large cities; and thus it was that at Miffelstein twenty busy tongues whispered the presence of the Great Unknown. At the Bear, Wirtig's liberal instructions had been zealously executed. Caleb, Rowena, Jenny, Front-de-Bœuf, and the rest of the household, had done their duty. The table was loaded with English and Scottish delicacies; the portrait of the Great Unknown—its frame adorned with lamps of many colours—stared somewhat wildly, but, upon the whole, benevolently, from the wall, doubtless well satisfied to see its original doing ample honour to the repast. The appetites of the other guests, which ungratified curiosity might have damped, were sharpened by a confidential communication from the host of the Bear. Notwithstanding his nephew's injunctions to secrecy, Wirtig could not refrain from exhibiting to his friends, before they sat down to supper, and of course in the strictest confidence, the name of W. SCOTT, inscribed upon the last page of the strangers' book. There was no mistaking the characters, blotted and strangely formed though they were. Great were the awe and reverence with which the Miffelsteiners contemplated the stranger, who, for his part, gave his chief attention to his supper. He bolted beefsteaks, reduced fowls to skeletons, and poured down, with infinite gusto, bumper after bumper of Burgundy and Hochheimer. The guests remarked with admiration that he avoided, doubtless with a view to the preservation of his incognito, the Scottish drinks and dishes that adorned the board. He affected disgust at a Miffelstein haggis, and neglected the whisky-bottle for the wines of France and Germany. Once he was observed to smile as he glanced at his portrait, and it was inferred that he was amused at the badness of the likeness, which certainly did little credit to the artist. But he made no remark, excepting that, the next moment, he requested his neighbour to pass him a dish of pork with plum sauce.
Wirtig's discretion was far from equalling that of the Unknown. Seated beside his honoured guest, in the joy of his heart he overwhelmed him with compliments, made countless allusions to his works and genius, and kept his glass constantly full. The stranger let him talk on, and answered nothing, or only by monosyllables. In proportion to the flattery and attentions lavished by Wirtig, were the sadness and sullenness of Elben the attorney. He had arrived later than the other guests. Seated at one end of the table, he looked Medusas at the Unknown.
"What think you, nephew," said Wirtig aside, "if I were to send for Amy and her harp to entertain our illustrious visitor? The bagpipes he has forbidden."
"An excellent thought," replied Alexis; "but it cannot be, for Caleb tells me that my cousin has retired to her apartment, complaining of a violent headache."
"Mere woman's fancies!" grumbled the father. "Amy is no Die Vernon. Did the girl but know whom our roof this day shelters—St George of Burgundy how gladly would she come! How warm would be her welcome of him she is bound to love and reverence!"
Elben overheard these last words, and smiled a grim smile. Owing to his tardy arrival and mental preoccupation, he was unaware of the real motive of the attentions paid to the stranger, and still believed him to be a favoured candidate for the hand of Emily.
The Unknown had finished his pork and plums, and was resting on his knife and fork.
"Where is Miss Amy?" said he, at last, looking particularly tender, either at thoughts of the young lady or at sight of a dish of partridges just then placed smoking before him. The jealous attorney could stand it no longer. Starting from his chair, he rushed from the room.