“If you’d—if you’d take that crown back, sir—” hesitated the man.
“Take it back? Nonsense! Keep it, my lad.”
“And just show me how to give that blow, sir. ’Pon my word, sir, I’d rather know that than have half-a-dozen crowns. I never did see such a settler!”
Brace laughed, and strode on hurriedly, shaking his head.
“Ride on, my man,” he said. “Your mistress is a long way ahead.”
“That’s true enough,” said the groom to himself, as he looked after the retiring figure; “but he put him down just like a sack o’ chaff, that he did; and my lord didn’t like it, neither. I’m blest!” he exclaimed, slapping his thigh, and checking his horse suddenly. “Don’t say nothing up at the Castle, which I won’t; but if there don’t come coffee and pistols out of this job, I’m a Dutchman!”
Magnanimity.
“Lord Maudlaine presents his compliments to Lieutenant Norton, and begs to say, that although Lieutenant Norton’s behaviour has been such that the meeting in such cases necessitated by wounded honour may seem absolutely imperative, yet, feeling compassion for his youth and inexperience, Lord Maudlaine is willing to forego the customary arrangement on one condition—namely, that Lieutenant Norton immediately quit Merland, and in no way, previous to his departure, trespass against the wishes of Sir Murray Gernon.”
“He will understand that,” said his lordship, who, after many hours of sheer hard work, contrived the above magnanimous epistle, and despatched it by a special messenger to Merland Hall, where it was read by Brace, with a quiet, scornful smile.