"Load his pistol directly," said his lordship, sternly; "and behave like a gentleman."

"My lord! my lord! but where shall I stand to be safe?"

"Behind me!"

The commander of division advanced reluctantly for Gatty's pistol.

"No, my lord!" said Gatty, "it is plain I am not a fit antagonist; I shall but expose myself--and my mother has separated us; I have lost her--if you do not win her some worse man may; but, oh! if you are a man, use her tenderly."

"Whom?"

"Christie Johnstone! Oh, sir, do not make her regret me too much! She was my treasure, my consolation--she was to be my wife, she would have cheered the road of life--it is a desert now. I loved her--I--I--"

Here the poor fellow choked.

Lord Ipsden turned round, and threw his pistol to Saunders, saying, "Catch that, Saunders."

Saunders, on the contrary, by a single motion changed his person from a vertical straight line to a horizontal line exactly parallel with the earth's surface, and the weapon sang innoxious over him.

His lordship then, with a n.o.ble defiance of etiquette, walked up to his antagonist and gave him his hand, with a motion no one could resist; for he felt for the poor fellow.

"It is all a mistake," said he. "There is no sentiment between La Johnstone and me but mutual esteem. I will explain the whole thing. _I_ admire _her_ for her virtue, her wit, her innocence, her goodness and all that sort of thing; and _she,_ what _she_ sees in _me,_ I am sure I don't know," added he, slightly shrugging his aristocratic shoulders.

"Do me the honor to breakfast with me at Newhaven."

"I have ordered twelve sorts of fish at the 'Peac.o.c.k,' my lord," said Saunders.

"Divine! (I hate fish) I told Saunders all would be hungry and none shot; by the by, you are winged, I think you said, Saunders?"

"No, my lord! but look at my trousers."

The bullet had cut his pantaloons.

"I see--only barked; so go and see about our breakfast."

"Yes, my lord" _(faintly)._

"And draw on me for fifty pounds' worth of--new trousers."

"Yes, my lord" _(sonorously)._

The duelists separated, Gatty taking the short cut to Newhaven; he proposed to take his favorite swim there, to refresh himself before breakfast; and he went from his lordship a little cheered by remarks which fell from him, and which, though vague, sounded friendly--poor fellow, except when he had a brush in hand he was a dreamer.

This viscount, who did not seem to trouble his head about cla.s.s dignity, was to convert his mother from her aristocratic tendencies or something.

_Que sais-je?_ what will not a dreamer hope?

Lord Ipsden strolled along the sands, and judge his surprise, when, attended by two footmen, he met at that time in the morning Lady Barbara Sinclair.

Lord Ipsden had been so disheartened and piqued by this lady's conduct that for a whole week he had not been near her. This line of behavior sometimes answers.

She met him with a grand display of cordiality.

She inquired, "Whether he had heard of a most gallant action, that, coupled with another circ.u.mstance" _(here she smiled),_ "had in part reconciled her to the age we live in?"

He asked for further particulars.

She then informed him "that a ship had been ash.o.r.e on the rocks, that no fisherman dared venture out, that a young gentleman had given them his whole fortune, and so bribed them to accompany him; that he had saved the ship and the men's lives, paid away his fortune, and lighted an odious cigar and gone home, never minding, amid the blessings and acclamations of a maritime population."

A beautiful story she told him; so beautiful, in fact, that until she had discoursed ten minutes he hardly recognized his own feat; but when he did he blushed inside as well as out with pleasure. Oh! music of music--praise from eloquent lips, and those lips the lips we love.

The next moment he felt ashamed; ashamed that Lady Barbara should praise him beyond his merits, as he conceived.

He made a faint hypocritical endeavor to moderate her eulogium; this gave matters an unexpected turn, Lady Barbara's eyes flashed defiance.

"I say it was a n.o.ble action, that one nursed in effeminacy (as you all are) should teach the hardy seamen to mock at peril--n.o.ble fellow!"

"He did a man's duty, Barbara."

"Ipsden, take care, you will make me hate you, if you detract from a deed you cannot emulate. This gentleman risked his own life to save others--he is a hero! I should know him by his face the moment I saw him. Oh, that I were such a man, or knew where to find such a creature!"

The water came into Lord Ipsden's eyes; he did not know what to say or do; he turned away his head. Lady Barbara was surprised; her conscience smote her.

"Oh, dear," said she, "there now, I have given you pain--forgive me; we can't all be heroes; dear Ipsden, don't think I despise you now as I used. Oh, no! I have heard of your goodness to the poor, and I have more experience now. There is n.o.body I esteem more than you, Richard, so you need not look so."

"Thank you, dearest Barbara."

"Yes, and if you were to be such a goose as to write me another letter proposing absurdities to me--"

"Would the answer be different?"

"Very different."

"Oh, Barbara, would you accept?"

"Why, of course not; but I would refuse civilly!"

"Ah!"

"There, don't sigh; I hate a sighing man. I'll tell you something that I know will make you laugh." She then smiled saucily in his face, and said, "Do you remember Mr.----?"

_L'effronte'e!_ this was the earnest man. But Ipsden was a match for her this time. "I think I do," said he; "a gentleman who wants to make John Bull little again into John Calf; but it won't do."

Her ladyship laughed. "Why did you not tell us that on Inch Coombe?"

"Because I had not read _The Catspaw_ then."

_"The Catspaw?_ Ah! I thought it could not be you. Whose is it?"