claim again, I would expose him throughout the world. This, sir, is the explanation of the affair between this wretched Mr. Oglevy and myself; and now, Colonel Tibold, tell me, as a gentleman and a man of honour, what sort of formula, approaching an apology, is due from me?" Here Sir George ceased, looking up into the face of the gentleman opposite to him with an appearance of ingenuous frankness that he was conscious did him honour. Colonel Tibold was evidently staggered by this "plain unvarnished tale," but after remaining silent for a minute or two, he said, "I am sorry to say, Sir George, that it is but too evident that there has been most atrocious conduct somewhere; and of course, on your part, it must be a matter of great regret that you have so long kept this affair secret. But I see not how, couformably with the duty which I have accepted of negociator, I can avoid proceeding with my mission, and informing you that unless you immediately pay the sum demanded, with an acknowledgment that your late refusal to do so was uttered jestingly, Mr. Oglevy desires you will meet him at day-break to-morrow morning on a spot near the Gravel-pits, which I will have the honour of pointing out to any gentleman who shall agree to attend you. Mr. Oglevy will take a brace of pistols with him, if it pleases you to do the same, you may take your choice between them on the ground." "To such an invitation as this, Colonel Tibold, I never return but one answer, which is, that I most willingly accept it-that I will immediately request the attendance of a friend, and take care to be punctually on the ground at the time appointed." "I shall not fail to report this reply as frankly as it is given, Sir George," said the hostile ambassador, rising to take his leave. "I should be wrong to detain you longer, as you will have to seek a friend to attend you. When you have made the selection, have the kindness to give the gentleman this card. I shall, after seeing Mr. Oglevy, remain at home for the purpose of receiving him, and settling with him whatever remains to be arranged." The two gentlemen then bowed very profoundly to each other, and parted. For a few minutes after he found himself alone, Sir George Meddows remained standing before the waning fire of the dining-room, his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the pale cinders. "Is it possible the rat-like little animal can be in earnest ?" he mur mured. "Is it possible he will pluck up manhood enough to meet me? I doubt it much. But for this, I care not a straw. The devil himself must take part against me, which I do not greatly fear, or my hand will be somewhat the steadier of the two. If he does not bolt, it must be a chance little short of a miracle that saves his life. It will be no bad thing to secure his secresy for ever." Having no mind to be questioned concerning the business which had brought Colonel Tibold to call upon him, Sir George did not enter the library, but ringing for his servant, desired him to tell the ladies that he was gone out, and should probably not be at home till late. "To the club again, I doubt not," said Mrs. Longuéville, after the servant had removed the tea-tray, and closed the door. Clara expressively shook her head in token of the same suspicion, but said nothing. "I wonder what that man came stalking in here for! He treated us very much as if we had been a couple of maid-servants. Did you ever hear of him before?" said Mrs. Longuéville. "I have heard the name," replied Clara, "but never saw him till this evening, that I remember. It seemed to me that he was almost a stranger to my father also. Did it not appear so ?" "Evidently," rejoined Mrs. Longuéville. "I should not be greatly surprised to hear that he came with a message from some quarrelling member of Crockford's to invite Sir George to be his second in an exchange of shots. But it will be excessively silly of him, if he goes out with any of them. It often turns out a monstrous bore, now that people have taken it into their heads to make such a fuss about it." "I trust that you are altogether wrong as to the nature of his errand," returned Clara, gravely. "Very likely, my dear," rejoined Mrs. Longuéville with a yawn. "How dreadfully dull it is, evening after evening, in this gloomy library, isn't it? I am positively sick with longing for the sight of Paris, and cannot conceive how I ever could mistake my own tastes and inclinations so completely as to leave it. My brother shall never make such a fool of me again, he may depend upon that. Nothing would ever have induced me to come to England, but the belief that he would be able to keep up a thoroughly good style of living, and I don't call it so at all-quite the contrary, being in London in the very midst of the season, almost, and never seeing a christian soul, or getting a single rubber. It is no comfort to me to be told that he cannot help it, and that he has been living too fast already. All that is nothing at all to me, you know. Of course I'm very sorry for it, and all that, but the plain truth is, that I might have been living on at Paris without ever missing my card-table for a single evening, and with the pleasure of being constantly surrounded with friends!" "Let us rejoice that your return to Paris is so near," replied Clara. "It is more profitable to fix your thoughts on the future, which you do like, than on the present which you do not. I suppose you will be in Paris before this day week!" "You are quite right there, my dear. Two days more! and then, thank Heaven! we shall be en route. It is no good to ask you to play at cards, for I know by experience that you would not know for two minutes together what you were about. It is almost ten o'clock, Clara; I think I will go to my own room, and just see that everything is in progress for being ready. It will easily be supposed that it was not the custom in the Meddows family for the ladies to take any particular note of the exits and entrances of the master of it. At what hour Sir George returned home on the night of Colonel Tibold's visit, they were wholly ignorant; nor were they at all aware that above an hour before their shutters were opened, or their curtains withdrawn on the following morning, he had gone out again. Clara was ever at the breakfast-table before her aunt or father; and July.-VOL. LXII. NO. CCXLVII. 2 B on this day was beguiling the usual period of waiting by the perusal of the newspaper. Suddenly her attention was withdrawn from it by hearing a loud unmeasured knocking at the door, not followed, but accompanied by incessant ringing. So much was this clamour out of the common way, and so strange were the sounds that succeeded the opening of the house door, that she was irresistibly impelled to look forth into the hall in order to discover what it all might be. It was a dreadful and appalling sight that met her eyes. As she opened the library door, she beheld the body of her father borne in the arms of two men across the hall. His dress was profusely stained with blood, his face the colour of a corpse, and his features contracted into that indescribable expression which, trumpet-tongued in its grim silence, announces approaching death. Two gentlemen followed, both of whom were perfect strangers to her. One of these exclaimed, in a voice of professional authority, "Let him be taken to some room where there is a sofa. I must attempt the extraction of the ball; but I cannot venture upon his being taken up stairs." Clara, though horror-struck, lost no portion of her aching senses as she listened to these words; she heard them all distinctly, and they explained the fatal history at once. Her father had fought a duel, and had fallen. It was to the library that the still bleeding body was borne, and in the shortest possible time the bewildered but still efficient Clara had a bed arranged there on which the dying man was laid. Then, and not till then, she left the room, while the surgeon who attended him home, and another whom she had instantly summoned, attempted the only means by which there was a possibility of saving life. Poor Clara! While this fearful experiment was making, she felt as she stood trembling to learn the result, that she was alone in the world. Nothing could give stronger proof of the total want of all real sympathy between herself and her aunt, than the fact that she never thought of going to her during this dreadful interval, but stationed at the open door of the dining-room, waited the result, unsupported by the presence of any human being. Sir George did not die under the operation; he continued to breathe for an hour or two, but never spoke more; and before noon the two surgeons, the attendant friend, and all those who deemed themselves privileged to enter the house with inquiries, had disappeared, leaving the daughter and the sister of the slaughtered man in awful repose, to meditate on the tremendous event that had fallen upon them. |