But when we say the guests had all gone, we except, of course, the permanent visitor, the lively lady from California. She was still in the house, and likely to continue there.
“Le, my dear boy,” said Mr. Force, as soon as the two were seated in the library, “I want you to give me your word of honor that you will never send a challenge, or accept a challenge, to fight a duel as long as you live.”
“Uncle Abel, I give you my word of honor, with all my heart and soul in it, that I never will,” earnestly and solemnly replied the young man.
“Thank you, my boy, thank you! Give me your hand on it! There, you are my own dear lad again!”
“Uncle Abel, you must think very badly of me for my madness and folly.”
“No, I do not, Le. No, I do not, dear lad. I know that your wrongs and your temptations were almost more than the spirit of man could bear, especially the spirit of a young man; and I thank the Heavenly Father that you have been saved from sin and delivered from danger!” gravely replied Abel Force, reverently bowing his head.
“Uncle, I wish to make a full confession to you now—to open my soul to you, as if you were my father—as, in reality, you always have been in care and affection.”
“Go on, dear lad. You can say nothing, I am sure, that I shall not be glad to hear.”
“Well, then, Uncle Abel, I must tell you that after I had sent that challenge to Col. Anglesea I went home to Greenbushes and passed the most miserable night I ever spent in my whole life.”
“I do not doubt it, lad.”