"An epistle for your master," replied Roger, with a certain significant smile, "which is to be delivered immediately, Master Stilling."
"Mr. Ralph Woodhall is not here now," replied the other; "he was sent by the duke to escort Lady Danvers on her way home."
"I know that as well as you do," answered Roger; "I saw him go some time before our people; but I only obey orders, Master Stilling. Did you give him the message I left?"
"Certainly," replied Stilling; "and he answered as became him, 'that if your master had any thing to say to him, he must wait his time and convenience.'"
"Proud!" said Roger, with a laugh; "proud, but quite right! I must give you the letter, however, though I suspect it will not reach him in time for its purpose."
"He will be back before nightfall," replied Gaunt Stilling, emphatically; "of that you may assure your master. Pray, what is the purport of the letter, as you seem to know all about it?"
"A challenge--nothing but a challenge," replied Roger, with a jaunty air.
"Time and place appointed?" asked Stilling, quite quietly; "I suppose you know that too?"
"Oh yes," replied Roger; "I do not think my master ought to have any secrets from so faithful a person as myself, and therefore, to the best of my abilities, I remedy his negligence when he forgets to tell me any thing. You see the letter is very convenient--folded up in haste, and the ends quite open. Just take a peep. There you will see--Place, the fish-pond at the end of the wilderness--Time, ten o'clock to-night, when the moon is well up--Length of sword, twenty-eight inches."
"Ralph Woodhall will not stand upon an inch or two," replied Gaunt Stilling, with a grim smile. "You may tell your master, on my assurance, that Mr. Ralph will be back before sundown, and will not fail to be on the spot named at the hour appointed. Is your master here?"