"How many of the battles in which I have fought, have you gazed at through a spy-glass?" he asked coolly.
The reproach was effectual, but it only the more enraged Alison. It was a tiger's glance he gave the man standing before him.
"Let us end this!" he said savagely. "I offer you one more choice. Give me this night the satisfaction I demand either in my way or in yours. I am ready for all, or--"
"Or what?"
"The consequences be upon your own head!"
Walter crossed his arms and gazed down at his enemy, as if from an unapproachable height. "It cannot possibly happen tonight, as I shall not be here. I must go to the mountains--" A wild, terrible gleam shot suddenly from Alison's eyes; he bent forward and listened, intent and breathless, to what followed--"and all that remains to me is to repeat to you my former words: our quarrel must rest until the end of the war; it cannot be settled a day sooner, and if you seek to force me through insults, I shall appeal to my superior officers."
The last threat was quite unnecessary, for Alison had all at once become calm, strangely calm; he smiled, but it was a smile so icy-cold as to make one shudder.
"Another irrevocable no! Very well! But if we should chance to meet again, Lieutenant Fernow, remember that it was I who offered you honorable combat, and that you refused it. Au revoir!"
He went. Walter remained motionless in his place and gazed silently down at the last faint glow of the expiring embers. Dead, like the bright glowing flames that had lighted his interview with Jane; dead alike their vivid reflection, and last weary, fitful gleams; but now and then solitary sparks quivered here and there, danced awhile like ignes fatui to and fro, and then at last sank away like all else, in dust and ashes. Through the window, the moon now threw a long silver stripe over the floor of the room. It would soon be time to go.
The door hastily opened; this time it was Mr. Atkins who excitedly entered, and approached Fernow.