"Can't, little cousin! I have a wife and family, which are powerful checks upon a man's duelling impulses!"
"Silence! You are no cousin of mine—no drop of your sluggish blood stagnates in my veins—no spark of the liquid fire of my life's current burns in your torpid arteries, else at this insult would it set you in a flame! Never dare to call me cousin again." And so saying, she flung herself out of the building and into her saddle, put whip to her horse and galloped away home.
Now, Mr. Stone had privately resolved to thrash Craven Le Noir; but he did not deem it expedient to take Cap into his confidence. As Capitola reached the horse-block, her own groom came to take the bridle.
"Jem," she said, as she jumped from her saddle, "put Gyp up and then come to my room, I have a message to send by you."
And then, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes, she went to her own sanctum, and after taking off her habit, did the most astounding thing that ever a woman of the nineteenth or any former century attempted—she wrote a challenge to Craven Le Noir—charging him with falsehood in having maligned her honor—demanding from him "the satisfaction of a gentleman," and requesting him as the challenged party to name the time, place and weapons with which he would meet her.
By the time she had written, sealed and directed this war-like defiance, her young groom made his appearance.
"Jem," she asked, "do you know the way to the Hidden House?"
"Yes, miss, sure."
"Then take this note thither, ask for Mr. Le Noir, put it into his hands, and say that you are directed to wait an answer. And listen! You need not mention to any one in this house where you are going—nor when you return, where you have been; but bring the answer you may get directly to this room, where you will find me."
"Yes, miss," said the boy, who was off like a flying Mercury.