“‘Sir,—After the very distressing publicity to which your late conduct has exposed you—the so open avowal of political opinion, at variance with those (I will say) of every gentleman—and the recorded sentence of a judge on the verdict of twelve of your countrymen—I should hope that you will not feel my present admonition necessary to inform you, that your visits at my house shall cease.
“‘The presents you made my daughter, when under our unfortunate ignorance of your real character, have been addressed to your hotel, and I am your most obedient, humble servant,
“‘Oliver Eversham.’
“Here ended my second affair ‘par amours;’ and I freely confess to you that if I can only obtain a wife in a sea voyage, or a steeple chase, I am likely to fulfill one great condition in modern advertising—‘as having no incumbrance, or any objection to travel.’”
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE DUEL.
Mr. O’Leary Imagines Himself Kilt
Mr. O’Leary had scarcely concluded the narrative of his second adventure, when the grey light of the breaking day was seen faintly struggling through the half-closed curtains, and apprising us of the lateness of the hour.
“I think we shall just have time for one finishing flask of Chambertin,” said O’Leary, as he emptied the bottle into his glass.
“I forbid the bans, for one,” cried Trevanion. “We have all had wine enough, considering what we have before us this morning; and besides you are not aware it is now past four o’clock. So garcon—garcon, there—how soundly the poor fellow sleeps—let us have some coffee, and then inquire if a carriage is in waiting at the corner of the Rue Vivienne.”