The stranger gazed at him for a moment with a look of inquiry, and then advanced immediately towards him, bowing with a stately air, and saying, “My Lord of Portland, since I last saw you, you are somewhat changed, but perhaps not so much as I am, and therefore I may have to recall myself to your remembrance; especially as those who confer a benefit in a moment of haste and tumult, are more likely to forget the person they obliged, than that person to forget his benefactor.”

He spoke in French, as it was generally known that Lord Portland was unwilling to speak English, though he understood it.

The other heard him out in perfect silence, and without the slightest change of countenance; but looked him in the face attentively, as if endeavouring to recollect his features.

“I have seen you somewhere before,” he said at length, “but where I really do not know.  It must have been a long time ago.  Pray what do you want?”

“It is a long time ago, my lord,” replied the visitor, “and the place where we met is far distant.  It was upon the banks of the Boyne, just when the battle was over.”

“Oh, I think I remember now,” replied the other:  “did I not come up just as one of our people had got his knee upon your throat, and was going to fire his pistol into your head, because you would ask no quarter, while another was wrenching your broken sword out of your band?”

“You did,” answered the stranger, “you did:  you saved my life; and when I jumped up and got to a horse, you would not let them fire after me.  It was not to be forgotten, my lord; but—­”

At that moment the door was again thrown open, and the page re-entered the room, speaking in a somewhat harsh and authoritative tone as he came in, so as to cut across what the stranger was about to say, with “My Lord of Portland—­;” but the gentleman who had entered just before waved his hand, saying, in a stern voice, “Leave the room! and wait without.”

The man obeyed immediately, and the other turning to the visitor, added, “I am at this moment not very well, and extremely busy—­even pressed for a moment, so that I must leave you just now.  If you will sit down and write what you wish, it shall have favourable attention, or if you would rather say it, and explain it more fully by word of mouth, I will send an intimate friend of mine to you to whom you can tell what you think proper.  I will hear what it is, and give every attention to it; but at this moment it is impossible for me to remain.  These papers in my hand require instant reply, and I was seeking for some one to answer them when I came here.”

“What I have to say,” answered the stranger, “requires also instant attention; that is to say, it must be told to your lordship before to-morrow morning, and I will therefore, if you will permit me, remain here till you are ready to hear.  When once told to you, the burden of it will be off my shoulders.”