“Good morning, Mr. Jericho, this little affair—end as it may—will, I trust, make no alteration in our intimacy. I give you my word of honour, so impartial am I in this matter—so little personal feeling have I mixed up in this business, that had you instead of the Colonel called upon me, I should have had equal pleasure in attending upon yourself.”
“You are very good, very good,” said Jericho very icily.
“Not at all. I consider that in going out with any man, I merely fulfil a great social duty, and think upon that account I have an equal claim—should the occasion fall—upon equal services from any of my fellow-creatures. Dear sir, good morning.” And Thrush went his way.
It may seem odd, when we aver that Jericho sat in the completest state of ease. He was never more tranquil, and for this reason,—he was profoundly secure in the friendship, the sweet humanity, of Candituft. He, he an accomplice to draw him into a duel! That noble fellow would rather meet the ball himself. Besides, he recollected—and very much soothed was he by the recollection—that Candituft abhorred duelling. He had heard him denounce the practice as murderous, fratricidal. “A duellist!” Candituft would say,—“A duellist is only Cain in higher life.” Very much comforted was Jericho with this sweet philanthropic sentence. Again and again did he speak it to himself: pass the beautiful words one by one before his moral vision, as a girl admires bead by bead of a new necklace.
Only half-an-hour had passed, and Candituft was announced. “A duellist is only Cain in high life,” thought Jericho triumphantly, as he rose to press the hand of his friend.
“Dear, good sir,” said Candituft, “I am delighted to see you look so happy. Yes; it is a moment like this that shows the true man. That proves the constitutional serenity of his soul. That shows him ready, if it must be, at the call of honour—ready to quit life when life has its best blandishments—ready to leave the flowery path of wealth and prosperity, and to descend into the cold and comfortless tomb. The friendship of such a man makes me proud indeed;” and Candituft shook Jericho’s hand.
“Tomb! What do you mean by tomb?” cried Jericho. “Don’t talk to me of tombs.”
“Of course, my dear friend, only as a figure of speech. Goodness forbid anything graver,” said Candituft.
“You have seen that Thrush?” asked Jericho, trying to be careless.
“I met him as I was coming here. An unpleasant business. But I’ve settled matters, I think, very comfortably,” said Candituft.