"You admit all this?"

"I do."

"Leonidas Force, come forward."

The young midshipman stepped up and stood beside his friend, both facing the squire.

And then Mr. Force began, in the most earnest and solemn manner, to speak to them of the sin and evil of dueling; of the falsehood and insanity of calling such a crime an "affair of honor," when, in truth, it was a matter of dishonor. The very highest concern of a true man of honor is to keep the law of G.o.d, which the duelist breaks; and to keep the law of the land, which the duelist breaks. The duelist may have many motives, but "honor"

cannot be one of them! A bully will fight a duel, upon occasion, to prove himself a man of brute courage, and kill or be killed for so low a cause.

A coward will fight a duel, because he is afraid to refuse, on account of what bullies might say of him, and kill, or be killed, from so mean a motive. A man maddened by wrongs, and raging with wrath, will fight a duel to be revenged upon his adversary, to slay or to be slain, and is eager to risk his own life, in the hope of taking his enemy's. But no man ever fought a duel from any motive of pure honor. There is no honor in breaking the laws of the Lord, or the laws of the land, but rather dishonor.

"You, Leonidas Force," said the squire, coming down from generalities to point his moral in a personality, and very gravely addressing his young relative, "you, in sending your challenge to Col. Anglesea to meet you in the duel, were inspired by the spirit of wrath and revenge. In your fierce anger you were not alone. Many shared that madness with you. Neither you nor they could help feeling a frenzy of indignation against the perpetrator of outrageous wrongs. But, though you could not help feeling this frenzy of anger, you could help sinning. You should have remembered the Word of G.o.d, 'Be ye angry, but sin not.' 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,' and, above all, the awful command, 'Thou shalt do no murder.' What!

shall a man break these laws, and call it honor? An infidel may, perhaps; but even an infidel, who denies the Word of G.o.d, is amenable to the laws of the land, which equally forbid the illegal taking of human life; and even an infidel cannot fight a duel and truthfully call his crime 'an affair of honor.'

"I have tried to show you the criminal insanity of dueling, and now I will ask you to consider its consequences--as a case in point, the consequences to you two young men, had you succeeded in your unlawful design to fight this duel with Anglesea. You, Le, might have been killed. You would probably have fallen dead at the first fire, for Anglesea is a sure shot, and as vindictive as Satan, and he would have aimed at your heart. You would have dropped dead on the field. Anglesea would have promptly made his escape. But your friend here would have been arrested and held as an accessory to your murder. He would have languished many months in jail, then been brought to trial--the long and tedious trial of the present age--perhaps through many trials, appealed from court to court; perhaps, after months or years of imprisonment and suspense, he might be finally acquitted, or--sent to the State prison.

"Then, on the other hand, by the chances of war, you might, instead of being killed yourself, have killed your adversary, in which contingency, Leonidas, your fate would have been far worse. You, Le, would have been arrested for murder, and would have been thrown into prison without bail.

The same tedious imprisonment and repeated trials would have been your fate; you might have escaped the worst verdict, but you would certainly have been convicted of manslaughter and sent to the State prison, for you were the challenger, which was an aggravation of the offense.

"But I will dwell no longer on the probable consequences of your meditated deed. You were, no doubt, prepared to meet all the contingencies, to bear all the penalties. I will drop that part of the subject, and only revert to the first great argument against dueling--its flagrant disregard and defiance of the laws of G.o.d and man.

"And now, Leonidas Force, I shall require you to give bonds to the amount of ten thousand dollars to keep the peace."

"Will you receive my own for that sum, sir?" inquired the young man.

"Certainly," said the squire. And then, turning to the second offender, he said:

"Mr. Roland Bayard, I shall require you to give bonds for one thousand dollars to keep the peace."

"The Lord only knows where I am to pick up that sum. I reckon you'll have to send me to prison in default of bail, squire."

"No, you needn't, squire. I'm a.s.sessed for fourteen thousand dollars, and so I reckon you may take me as his bail for one thousand, mayn't you?"

inquired Miss Sibby, rising from her chair and leaning over the table.

"Certainly," replied Mr. Force.

The good magistrate had so little call to exercise his office in his peaceful neighborhood that he never required the services of a clerk, and did not possess one. He quickly drew up the necessary papers, had them signed and sealed, locked them in his desk, and discharged the prisoners in a very unmagisterial manner.

"And now, my young friends, let us forget this unpleasant scene, while you both stay and dine with us."

And they stayed.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

YOUNG DR. INGLE'S NEWS

"Go, now, young gentlemen, into Mrs. Force's sitting room, and pay your respects to the ladies there. They know nothing whatever of the affair that brought you here to-day; nor do I wish them to know it. You are our guests for the day. That is all," said the squire, in dismissing the youths.

Then, turning to the old lady, he said:

"I cannot express to you, Miss Bayard, the obligation I feel under for your wise and prompt action in this matter. But for you much misery might have ensued."

"Lord, squire, I did no more than what might have been expected of me--one of my descent!" complacently replied Miss Sibby, as she bowed and sailed out of the office.

"To be sure! To be sure!" a.s.sented the amiable master of Mondreer.

"I wonder," whispered Leonidas Force, as he linked his arm in that of Roland Bayard, and they pa.s.sed along the hall together, "I do wonder if it is characteristic of a lady of high descent to open the envelope of a letter left on her mantelpiece and take out the letter? I wonder, further, if it were not a breach of the law, and what the lawyers call 'actionable'?"

"I think not," laughed Roland. "She acted in the cause of law, peace and justice. I don't think you could get any judge, jury, or even country magistrate, to see it in any other light."

They had now reached Mrs. Force's sitting room, where, as soon as they entered, they were received with the warmest welcome by all the family and guests there a.s.sembled.

Miss Sibby had already resumed her seat in the most comfortable armchair the room could boast.

There were present Mrs. Force, Mrs. Anglesea, Miss Bayard and the two little girls, who had just come in.

Odalite was not there.

"Come here, my fine, young sailor lad! I haven't seen sight of you since the rumpus in the church! Wasn't that a circus? Come here and sit by me!"

said the lady from Wild Cats', making room on the sofa for Roland Bayard, who, with a smile and a bow, immediately placed himself beside her.

What else could a gentleman do?

"How is Odalite, auntie, dear?" inquired Le, seating himself just behind Mrs. Force's chair, and leaning over its back.

"She is much better and brighter than she has been for many weeks past,"

replied the lady.

"Indeed! I am very glad to hear it, auntie! There is something about Odalite that I cannot understand. I came home finding her engaged to be married, of her own free will, and yet utterly wretched--wretched to the verge of madness! And now that the wedding has been publicly broken off in a manner reflecting the deepest disgrace upon the bridegroom, you say she is brighter and happier than she has been for many weeks," said Le, in a very low voice, still leaning over the back of the lady's chair and speaking in her ear.

"Yes, she is so; but hush, dear boy! This is not the place to discuss Odalite. Besides, it is not polite to whisper in company," said Mrs.

Force, with a smile at the quoted commonplace.

Le lifted his head, and took his elbows off the lady's chair, only to see his two young cousins, Wynnette and Elva, standing on each side of him.

He caught them both, the one in his right arm, the other in his left, and drew them to his side.

"We are so glad you have come back, Le! We missed you so awfully yesterday--Wynnette and I did!" said Elva.

"Yes, the house was as dull as ditch water--I mean the mansion was excessively melancholy!" added Wynnette.

"I am sorry to hear that! And all on account of my absence?" laughingly inquired Leonidas.

"Largely, at any rate."