And with this profound reflection he entered the room where Massingbred sat awaiting him.
“It's all settled. We're to meet at the Priest's Gap within an hour,” said Magennis, with the air of a man who had acquitted himself cleverly. “And though I say it that should n't, if you were in other hands this morning you would n't have got your shot.”
“I always relied implicitly upon your skill!” said Massingbred, humoring his vanity.
“Have you anything to arrange,—a letter or so to write; for I'll step down to Dr. Hearkins to tell him to follow us?”
Massingbred made no reply as the other left the room. Once more alone, he began to think gravely over his present situation. Nor could all his habitual levity steel him against the conviction that five minutes of common-sense talk might arrange a dispute which now promised a serious ending. “However,” thought he, “we are not in the land where such differences admit of amicable solution, and there's no help for it.”
A sharp tap at the door startled him from these musings, and before he could well reply to it Daniel Nelligan entered the room, and advanced towards him with an air of mingled ease and constraint.
“I hope you 'll forgive me, Mr. Massingbred,” he began. “I feel certain that you will at some future day, at least, for what I 'm going to do.” Here he stopped and drew a long breath, as if not knowing in what terms to continue. Massingbred handed him a chair, and took one in front of him without speaking.
“I know what brought you here to-day; I am aware of it all.”
He paused, and waited for the other to speak; but Massingbred sat without offering a word, and evidently relying on his own social tact to confound and embarrass his visitor.
“I know, sir, that you are likely to regard my interference as impertinent,” resumed Nelligan; “but I trust that the friend of my son, Joe—”