“Then it would not be agreeable to me,” said his lordship, turning to leave the room.
“Yes, it would,” cried the other, following him into the hall. “If you’ve the heart of a man, it would be the very ticket for you. It’s just this, my lad,” he continued, rather lowering his voice, but not enough to prevent me from hearing every word he said, though the half-closed door stood between us. “I think you’re an ill-used man—nay, now, don’t flare up; I don’t want to offend you: it’s only my rough way of talking. I must speak right out, you know, or else not at all; and I’m come—stop now! let me explain—I’m come to offer you my services, for though Huntingdon is my friend, he’s a devilish scamp, as we all know, and I’ll be your friend for the nonce. I know what it is you want, to make matters straight: it’s just to exchange a shot with him, and then you’ll feel yourself all right again; and if an accident happens—why, that’ll be all right too, I daresay, to a desperate fellow like you. Come now, give me your hand, and don’t look so black upon it. Name time and place, and I’ll manage the rest.”
“That,” answered the more low, deliberate voice of Lord Lowborough, “is just the remedy my own heart, or the devil within it, suggested—to meet him, and not to sever without blood. Whether I or he should fall, or both, it would be an inexpressible relief to me, if—”
“Just so! Well then,—”
“No!” exclaimed his lordship, with deep, determined emphasis. “Though I hate him from my heart, and should rejoice at any calamity that could befall him, I’ll leave him to God; and though I abhor my own life, I’ll leave that, too, to Him that gave it.”
“But you see, in this case,” pleaded Hattersley—
“I’ll not hear you!” exclaimed his companion, hastily turning away. “Not another word! I’ve enough to do against the fiend within me.”
“Then you’re a white-livered fool, and I wash my hands of you,” grumbled the tempter, as he swung himself round and departed.
“Right, right, Lord Lowborough,” cried I, darting out and clasping his burning hand, as he was moving away to the stairs. “I begin to think the world is not worthy of you!” Not understanding this sudden ebullition, he turned upon me with a stare of gloomy, bewildered amazement, that made me ashamed of the impulse to which I had yielded; but soon a more humanised expression dawned upon his countenance, and before I could withdraw my hand, he pressed it kindly, while a gleam of genuine feeling flashed from his eyes as he murmured, “God help us both!”
“Amen!” responded I; and we parted.