“Yes, sir,” replied Francis Tredegar, blushing and beginning to defend himself before the Christian soldier, “Yes, sir; after having tried in vain to dissuade my friend from the duel, I resolved to see him through it.”
“I am not intending to blame you, my young friend. To me, certainly, you meant no wrong; and to my unhappy nephew only kindness. For the rest, it is a matter between yourself and your own conscience. As for me, in the way of a soldier’s duty, I have been in some battles; but I would not, nor do I remember any period of my youth in which I would have engaged, either as principal or second, in any duel for any cause whatever,” said the brave old veteran.
“Oh, sir—but that is a rebuke; and coming from you, a very severe one,” said the young culprit, sorrowfully.
“It is not intended as such, Francis. Men, I know, have different ideas upon these subjects. For instance, I do not believe it lawful in a man, for the gratification of his selfish passions or the ‘satisfaction’ of his imaginary ‘honor,’ to risk his life or seek the life of another. I believe it to be a high offence against the Author of all life. Nor could I engage in any adventure upon which I could not invoke the blessing of Heaven.”
“Which we could not do on our adventure, certainly. But I do most humbly and thankfully acknowledge Heaven’s undeserved great mercy on its issue.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, Francis. And now will you kindly touch the bell—it is at your elbow, I see—and tell the waiter when he comes to show Mr. Hammond up into this room.”
“Dick is with you?” inquired Francis, as he complied with the General’s request.
“Certainly. Did I not tell you so? But I left him to settle with the cabman while I ran in to make inquiries of the clerk.”
As the General spoke the waiter entered the room.
“Go down and find out Mr. Hammond and show him up into this room,” said Mr. Tredegar.