“Your nation possesses the soul of honor. He who fights an Englishman needs no second.”
“And he who fights among Englishmen will always find one,” said Sir Richard. “I am the fittest second for my guest.”
“You only add one more obligation, illustrious cavalier, to a two-years' prodigality of favors, which I shall never be able to repay.”
“But, Nephew Arthur,” said Grenville, “you cannot surely be second against your father's guest, and your own uncle.”
“I cannot help it, sir; I am bound by an oath, as Will can tell you. I suppose you won't think it necessary to let me blood?”
“You half deserve it, sirrah!” said Sir Richard, who was very angry: but the Don interposed quickly.
“Heaven forbid, senors! We are no French duellists, who are mad enough to make four or six lives answer for the sins of two. This gentleman and I have quarrel enough between us, I suspect, to make a right bloody encounter.”
“The dependence is good enough, sir,” said Cary, licking his sinful lips at the thought. “Very well. Rapiers and shirts at three tomorrow morning—Is that the bill of fare? Ask Sir Richard where, Atty? It is against punctilio now for me to speak to him till after I am killed.”
“On the sands opposite. The tide will be out at three. And now, gallant gentlemen, let us join the bowlers.”
And so they went back and spent a merry evening, all except poor Rose, who, ere she went back, had poured all her sorrows into Lady Grenville's ear. For the kind woman, knowing that she was motherless and guileless, carried her off into Mrs. St. Leger's chamber, and there entreated her to tell the truth, and heaped her with pity but with no comfort. For indeed, what comfort was there to give?