With these words the big tears rolled down his stern cheeks, and his voice became thick with emotion.
“But for me, all this need not have happened. I know it; I feel it. I hurried on this meeting; your character stood fair and unblemished without that,—at least they tell me so now; and I still have to assure you—”
“Come, my dear, kind friend, don’t give way in this fashion. You have stood manfully by me through every step of the road; don’t desert me on the threshold of—”
“The grave, O’Malley?”
“I don’t think so, Major; but see, half-past six! Look to these pistols for me. Are they likely to object to hair-triggers?”
A knocking at the door turned off our attention, and the next moment Baker’s voice was heard.
“O’Malley, you’ll be close run for time; the meeting-place is full three miles from this.”
I seized the key and opened the door. At the same instant, O’Shaughnessy rose and turned towards the window, holding one of the pistols in his hand.
“Look at that, Baker,—what a sweet tool it is!” said he, in a voice that actually made me start. Not a trace of his late excitement remained; his usually dry, half-humorous manner had returned, and his droll features were as full of their own easy, devil-may-care fun as ever.
“Here comes the drag,” said Baker. “We can drive nearly all the way, unless you prefer riding.”