XXIV. — WHAT TOOK PLACE IN FIFTY MINUTES.
“As we entered the apartment, the clock on the mantel-piece struck midnight.
“My body servant was within call, and I ordered my carriage, which Nighthawk had been directed to have ready at a moment’s warning.
“In five minutes it was at the door, and I had just taken the two foils under my arm, when I heard a step in the passage. A moment afterward, Nighthawk entered.
“He was so pale that I scarcely recognized him. When his eyes encountered Mortimer, they flashed lightnings of menace.
“‘Well?’ I said, in brief tones.
“‘It is ready, sir,’ Nighthawk replied, in a voice scarcely audible. I looked at him imperiously.
“‘And the servants are warned to keep silent?’
“‘Yes, sir.’
“‘Very well. Remain here until I return,’ I said.
“And I pointed to a seat, with a glance at Nighthawk, which said plainly to him, ‘Do not presume to attempt to turn me from my present purpose—it will be useless, and offensive to me.’
“He groaned, and sat down in the seat I indicated. His frame was bent and shrunken like that of an old man, in one evening. Since that moment, I have loved Nighthawk, my dear Surry; and he deserves it.
“Without delay I led the way to the carriage, which was driven by my father’s old gray-haired coachman, and entered it with Mortimer, directing the driver to follow the high-road down the river. He did so; we rolled on in the moonlight, or the shadow, as it came forth or disappeared behind the drifting clouds. The air was intensely cold. From beyond the woods came the hollow roar of the Nottoway, which was swollen by a freshet.
“Mortimer drew his cloak around him, but said nothing. In ten minutes I called to the old coachman to stop. He checked his spirited horses—I had some good ones then—and I descended from the carriage, with the foils under my arm, followed by Mortimer.
“The old coachman looked on in astonishment. The spot at which I had stopped the carriage was wild and dreary beyond expression.
“‘Shall I wait, sir?’ he said, respectfully.
“‘No; return home at once, and put away the carriage.’
“He looked at me with a sort of stupor.
“‘Go home, sir?’ he said.
“‘Yes.’
“‘And leave you?’
“‘Obey me!’
“My voice must have shown that remonstrance would be useless. My old servitor uttered a sigh like the groan which had escaped from the lips of Nighthawk, and, mounting the box, turned the heads of his horses toward home.
“I watched the carriage until it turned a bend in the road, and then, making a sign to Mortimer to follow me, led the way into the woods. Pursuing a path which the moonlight just enabled me to perceive, I penetrated the forest; went on for about ten minutes; and finally emerged upon a plateau, in the swampy undergrowth near which stood the ruins of an old chimney.
“This chimney had served to indicate the spot to Nighthawk; and, before us, in the moonlight, was the evidence that he had found it. In the centre of the plateau was a newly dug grave—and in front of it I paused.
“‘We have arrived,’ I said.
“Mortimer gazed at the grave with a grim smile.
“‘That is a dreary and desolate object,’ he said.
“‘It will soon be inhabited,’ I returned; ‘and the issue of this combat is indifferent to me, since in either event I shall be dead.’
“‘Ah!’ he exclaimed, ‘explain that.’
“‘Then you do not understand! You think this duel will end every thing? You deceive yourself! A family history like mine does not terminate with a duel. Have you read those tragedies where everybody is killed?—where not a single one of the dramatis personae escapes? Well, this is going to be a drama of that exact description. Do you wish to save that woman, yonder? To do so, you must kill me. I tell you that to warn you to do your best, sir!’
“Mortimer glared at me. It is hard to imagine a glance more sinister.
“‘So you have arranged the whole affair?’ he said; ‘there is to be a wholesale killing.’
“‘Yes.’
“‘You are going to kill—her?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Yourself, too?’
“‘Yes.’
“Mortimer’s smile became more sinister, as he raised his foil.
“‘Take your position, sir,’ he said; ‘I am going to save you the latter trouble.’
“I grasped my weapon, and placed myself on guard.
“In an instant he had thrown himself upon me with a fury which indicated the profound passion under his assumed coolness. His eyes blazed; his lips writhed into something like a deadly grin; I felt that I had to contend rather with a wild animal than a man. The grave yawned in the moonlight at our very feet, and Mortimer closed in, with fury, endeavoring to force me to its brink, and hurl me into it.
“Ten minutes afterward the combat was over; and it was Mortimer who occupied the grave.
“He had given ground an instant, to breathe; had returned to the attack more furiously than before; a tremendous blow of his weapon snapped my own, eighteen inches from the hilt; but this had probably saved my life instead of destroying it, as Mortimer, from his fierce exclamation as the blade broke, evidently expected.
“Before he could take advantage of his success, I sprang at his throat, grasped his sword-arm with my left hand, and, shortening my stump of a weapon, drove the point through his breast.
“He uttered a cry, staggered, and threw up his hands; I released my clutch on his arm; and he fell heavily backward into the grave.
“‘Now to end all,’ I said, and I set out rapidly for Fonthill.”