The shadow darkened on Mr. Naseby's face; the
junction did not occur to him; his last hope was for Van
Tromp's cottage; thither he bade George guide him, and
thither he followed, nursing grief, anxiety, and indignation
in his heart.
'Here it is, sir,' said George stopping.
'What! on my own land!' he cried. 'How's this? I let this
place to somebody - M'Whirter or M'Glashan.'
'Miss M'Glashan was the young lady's aunt, sir, I believe,'
returned George.
'Ay - dummies,' said the Squire. 'I shall whistle for my
rent too. Here, take my horse.'
The Admiral, this hot afternoon, was sitting by the window
with a long glass. He already knew the Squire by sight, and
now, seeing him dismount before the cottage and come striding
through the garden, concluded without doubt he was there to
ask for Esther's hand.
'This is why the girl is not yet home,' he thought: 'a very
suitable delicacy on young Naseby's part.'
And he composed himself with some pomp, answered the loud
rattle of the riding-whip upon the door with a dulcet
invitation to enter, and coming forward with a bow and a
smile, 'Mr. Naseby, I believe,' said he.
The Squire came armed for battle; took in his man from top to
toe in one rapid and scornful glance, and decided on a course
at once. He must let the fellow see that he understood him.
'You are Mr. Van Tromp?' he returned roughly, and without
taking any notice of the proffered hand.
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