Lord Maudlaine said nothing, but stood, for a moment, deadly pale, and hesitating. On one side there were ruin, exile, and bodily safety; on the other, wealth, position, and a beautiful wife. But there were also risk and treachery. He paused for awhile, and then nerved himself for the desperate plunge.
Laying his hand upon his cheek, still slightly discoloured, he then touched his pockets in a meaning way; one well understood by Brace, who followed him without a word, until they had crossed a couple of fields, and leaping a ditch, entered a copse, where—an open glade, suitable to their purpose, being reached—the Viscount stopped. Then, for the first time, Brace spoke:
“I have followed you, my lord, lest you should think I fear you; but, let me ask, have you well considered the step you are about to take? Of course, those are pistols you have with you; but without seconds—without a medical man present, people will be ungenerous enough to say that the survivor is a murderer. I am willing to meet you, if such an encounter must take place; but I must say it ought to be deferred.”
“He is afraid!” thought his lordship; and, speaking hoarsely, he said: “I give you still the option of withdrawal on the terms I named.”
Brace laughed scornfully.
“Then take your weapon,” said the Viscount, whose pallor was now fearful. “They are both loaded, and we can easily pace the ground.”
Brace frowned as he advanced and took the pistol nearest to him, glancing down at it for a moment to see that it was capped, then drawing out the ramrod, he thrust it into the barrel to feel for the bullet.
“My lord,” he said, “let me once more appeal to you—to your manly feeling—to ask whether this is necessary. Surely you must be aware that your pretensions are vain, and that even if you disable, or slay me, your presence will be more than ever distasteful. I am cool now, and, forgiving you the blow you struck me, I ask pardon for my passionate haste. Let us put aside these deadly weapons, and in her name let me ask you to be generous, to have pity on us both, for it lies in your power!”
Brace ceased, for there was a sneer upon his rival’s face that was almost devilish. He had watched Brace’s actions, and seen him probe the pistol-barrel, when, apparently satisfied, the young man had let the weapon fall to his side.
“Dog! coward! scoundrel!” exclaimed the Viscount, now half-beside himself with a passion that seemed fiendish. “Once more I give you a chance; give her up for ever, and write what I will dictate, or take your place.”