“The devil it was!” exclaimed the Squire, suddenly bursting into a wild laugh.  “If you get your way with her, when she says ‘no,’ you must be a rare one.  You are my son for certain, however, or you would never dare to stand here.  It was a rash step, young Sir, and might have ended in the horse-pond.  I had half a mind to set my bull-dog at you.  Since you are here, however, you can stay.  But let us understand one another.  I am your father, in a sense, as I am father, for aught I know, to half the parish; but as to being lawfully so, the law has happened to have decided otherwise.  I know what you would say about ‘the rights of it;’ but that’s beside the question; the law, I say, for once, is on my side, and I stand by it.  Egad, I have good reason to do so; and if your mother had been your wife, as she was mine, you would be with me so far.  Now, look you,” and here again the speaker’s manner changed with his shifting mood, “if ever again you venture to address me as your father, or to boast of me as such, I will have you turned out neck and crop; but as Mr. Richard Yorke, my guest, you will be welcome at Crompton, so long as we two suit each other; only beware, young Sir, that you tell me no lies.  I shall soon get rid of you on these terms,” continued the Squire, with a chuckle; “for to speak truth must be as difficult to you, considering the stock you come of, as dancing on the tight-rope.  Your mother, indeed, was a first-rate rope-dancer in that way, and I rarely caught her tripping; but you—­”

“Sir,” interrupted the young man, passionately, “is this your hospitality?”

“True, lad, true,” answered the Squire, good-humoredly; “I had intended to have forgotten Madam Yorke’s existence.  Well, Sir, what are you?—­what do you do, I mean, for a livelihood—­beside ‘night-watching?’”

“I am a landscape-painter, Sir.”

“Umph!” grunted Carew, contemptuously; “you don’t get fat on that pasture, I reckon.  Have you never done any thing else?”

For a single instant the young man hesitated to reply; then answered, “Never.”

“You are quite sure of that?” inquired the other, suspiciously.

“Quite sure.”

“Good!  Here, come with me.”

His host led the way along an ample corridor, hung with tall pictures of their common ancestors, and opened the door of another bedroom.  It was of a vast size; and even when the Squire had lit the candles upon the mantle-piece, and those which clustered on either side of the great pier-glass, the darkness did but give place to a sort of shining gloom:  the cause of this strange effect was the peculiarity of the furniture; the walls were of bog-oak, relieved, like those of a ball-room, by silver sconces; the chairs were of the same material.  The curiosity of the room was, however, the bedstead; this was of an immense size, and adorned above with ostrich feathers, which gave it the appearance of a funeral car; the pillars were of solid ebony, as were also the carved head and foot boards; it was hung with crimson damask curtains, trimmed with gold braid; and upon its coverlet of purple silk lay a quilt of Brussels point lace of exquisite design.