Do not insult calamity,
It is a barbarous grossness. —Daniel.
But at this crisis, and when another instant would have dismissed one, if not both of the combatants, to death, a gun-barrel was thrust between them, striking up their blades, and simultaneously Uncle Lawrence stepped out into the road, having approached unperceived and unheard, through the woods.
“For shame,” he said. “Put up your swords, young men. I thought better of you, Major Gordon,” he continued, addressing the latter, “for your blood belongs to your country, and you’ve no right to waste it in a private quarrel.”
Somewhat abashed, the Major dropped the point of his weapon.
Uncle Lawrence, turning to Aylesford, went on.
“Put up yours also, sir. I’ve no doubt this brawl is of your making. You needn’t scowl at me; it will do no good; I was respected by your father before you was born, and I shan’t allow you to murder, or get murdered. Now mount your horse, young man, and go home. You needn’t look at the Major. He’s coming with me, for I have business with him: and I know he’ll promise me there shall be no more of this.”
Sullenly Aylesford, after a vain attempt to bluster, sheathed his sword, and telling his late antagonist, with an oath, that they would meet again, got into the saddle, and moved away as he was directed. When he had turned a corner of the road, a few rods distant, and was out of hearing, Uncle Lawrence said to Major Gordon:
“Now tell me how all this happened. He insulted you, of course, for I know him of old, and I marked his rudeness yesterday in church.”
There was a tone of authority in the speaker, yet one entirely free from assumption, which there was no resisting. With his blood still boiling, the Major put up his sword and prepared to obey the old man. He could not tell everything; Kate’s name was studiously avoided: but he gave otherwise a fair account of the interview. When he had concluded, Uncle Lawrence said:
“It is just as I expected. Now it’s strange,” he continued, “how one brother’ll differ from another. This young man’s father wasn’t the same man at all that Kate’s father was; and the son’s worse even. The old one spent half his fortune on wine and women, and the son has sent the helve arter the hatchet. He leads a wild life, when he’s in town, where he can get company of the same sort; and did the same here, for awhile, when his cousin was in Europe. You can see that, though, in his face.”