“Is that your opinion, sir?” said a deep and almost solemn voice; and at the same instant Miss Daly appeared at the open window. She leaned her arm on the sill, and calmly stared at the now terrified speaker, while she repeated the words, “Is that your opinion, sir?”
Before the surprise her words had excited subsided, she stood at the door of the apartment. She was dressed in her riding-habit, for she had that moment returned from an excursion along the coast.
“Mr. Dunlop,” said the lady, advancing towards him, “I never play the eavesdropper; but you spoke so loud, doubtless purposely, that nothing short of deafness could escape hearing you. You were pleased to express a belief respecting the position of a gentleman with whom I have the honor to claim some friendship.”
“I always hold myself ready, madam, to render an account to any individual of whom I express an opinion,—to himself, personally, I mean.”
“Of course you do, sir. It is a very laudable habit,” said she, dryly; “but in this case—don't interrupt me—in the present case it cannot apply, because the person traduced is absent. Yes, sir, I said traduced.”
“Oh, madam, I must say the word would better suit one more able to sustain it. I shall take the liberty to withdraw.” And so saying, he moved towards the door; but Miss Daly interposed, and, by a gesture of her hand, in which she held a formidable horsewhip, gave a very unmistakable sign that the passage was not free.
“You 'll not go yet, sir. I have not done with you,” said she, in a voice every accent of which vibrated in the little man's heart. “You affect to regret, sir, that I am not of the sex that exacts satisfaction, as it is called; but I tell you, I come of a family that never gave long scores to a debt of honor. You have presumed—in a company, certainly, where the hazard of contradiction was small—to asperse a gentleman of whom you know nothing,—not one single fact,—not one iota of his life, character, or fortune. You have dared to call him by words every letter of which would have left a welt on your shoulders if uttered in his hearing. Now, as I am certain he would pay any little debts I might have perchance forgotten in leaving a place where I had resided, so will I do likewise by him; and here, on this spot, and in this fair company, I call upon you to unsay your falsehood, or—” Here she made one step forward, with an air and gesture that made Mr. Dunlop retire with a most comic alacrity. “Don't be afraid, sir,” continued she, laughing. “My brother, Mr. Bagenal Daly, will arrive here soon. He 's no new name to your ears. In any case, I promise you that whatever you find objectionable in my proceedings towards you he will be most happy to sustain. Now, sir, the hand wants four minutes to six. If the hour strike before you call yourself a wanton, gratuitous calumniator, I 'll flog you round the room.”
A cry of horror burst from the female portion of the assembly at a threat the utterance of which was really not less terrific than the meaning.
“Such a spectacle,” continued Miss Daly, sarcastically, “I should scruple to inflict on this fair company; but the taste that could find pleasure in witless, pointless slander may not, it is possible, dislike to see a little castigation. Now, sir, you have just one minute and a quarter.”
“I protest against this conduct, madam. I here declare—”