He was the good-natured, easy-going man who had been in the jeweller's shop on that day when Sir Maxwell had first had his evil suspicions roused.
"It's a pity, but Sir Maxwell is bent upon fighting, so the sooner it is over, the better. He is an old hand—and you? Can you handle a sword?"
"Fairly well," Leslie said.
"It is proposed to have a round with swords. The place—Claverton Down, out Widcombe way; the time—dawn, to-morrow. It is Sunday, by-the-bye, and we are safe not to be hindered. What answer shall I take to Danby?"
"Say I am ready," Leslie said; "ready—aye, ready!"
"You don't feel inclined for a compromise, then?"
"No, I do not. He has heaped insults on me which I have overlooked, but he has dared to slander one whom I love better than life. Do you suppose I can brook that?"
"Dear! dear!" exclaimed Mr. Dickinson. "Women are the bottom of half the mischief that is brewed in the world, I do believe."
Mr. Dickinson had not been gone long before Mr. Beresford arrived. He ran in to the Herschels to excuse himself from accompanying them to Bristol, saying he had urgent business, and then returned to his friend.
All the arrangements were made, and the utmost secrecy agreed on.