"'So that we may openly involve the fair name of a lady in our quarrel,' I retorted quietly. 'No; that will not be. Before witnesses it is I who would decline to meet you. Are you a coward?'
"'It matters little what you call me,' he said, 'as no other person is near. You cannot force me to fight you.'
"'I think I can,' I said, and I struck him in the face, and proceeded with my work.
"My back was towards him; a loaded gun was hanging on the wall; unperceived by me he unslung it, and fired at me.
"I did not know whether I was hit or not. Maddened by the cowardly act, I turned, and lifting him in the air, dashed him to the ground. His head struck against one of the legs of my writing-table; he groaned but once, and then lay perfectly still. It was the work of a moment, and the end had come. He lay dead before me.
"I had no feeling of pity for him, and I was neither startled nor deeply moved. His punishment was a just punishment, and my honour was safe from the babble of idle and malicious tongues. All that devolved upon me now was to keep the events of this night from the knowledge of men.
"There was, however, one danger. A gun had been fired. The sound might have aroused my wife or some of the servants, in which case an explanation would have to be given. At any moment they might appear. What lay on the floor must not be seen by other eyes than mine.
"I dragged a cloth from a table and threw it over the body, and with as little noise as possible swiftly replaced the furniture in its original position. Then I sat on my chair and waited. For a few minutes I was in a state of great agitation, but after I had sat for an hour without being disturbed I knew that my secret was safe.
"I removed the cloth from the face of the dead man and gazed at it. Strange to say, the features wore an expression of peacefulness. Death must have been instantaneous. Gradually, as I gazed upon the form of the man I had killed, the selfish contemplation in which I had been engaged during the last hour of suspense--a contemplation devoted solely to a consideration of the consequences of discovery, so far as I was concerned, and in which the fate of the dead man formed no part--became merged in the contemplation of the act itself apart from its earthly consequences.
"I had taken a human life. I, whose nature had been proverbially humane, was, in a direct sense of the word, a murderer. That the deed was done in a moment of passion was no excuse; a man is responsible for his acts. The blood I had shed shone in my eyes.