"You are perfectly free, sir," again interrupted Whately, dropping his hand on the hilt of his sabre. "Let me also add that a Southern gentleman would not have made Southern hospitality a subterfuge for an opportunity to press a suit repugnant to the family concerned. We have never failed in hospitality to any invited guest."
"Your words are offensive, sir."
"I mean them to be so."
"Very well; then I have but one answer. I challenge you. Choose your weapons, hour and place of meeting."
"Revolvers, if you please. Meet me back of the grove yonder, at the right of the house, at daybreak."
"I'll not fail you. There is no need of seconds in this affair, I take it, and we are to keep our purpose secret. Dr. Ackley would interfere and the family be distressed were our intentions known."
"No one need know till our shots are heard and then it will be too late to interfere. I insist that we fight to the death."
"Certainly, if that's your wish. Good-evening, sir."
"Good-evening," and Whately went to his room to remove the dust of his ride and prepare for the late supper which his aunt had ordered for him.
This lady, hearing his step in the hall, hastened downstairs and called for Zany. "Yassum," came in quick response. The young woman emerged from the dining-room looking as stolid as a wooden image.