“Then you accept his code of morals.”
“That's too shrewd for me: but men who preach against duelling, or any kind of man-to-man in hot earnest, always fence in that way.”
“I detest duelling,” Major Waring remarked. “I don't like a system that permits knaves and fools to exercise a claim to imperil the lives of useful men. Let me observe, that I am not a preacher against it. I think you know my opinions; and they are not quite those of the English magistrate, and other mild persons who are wrathful at the practice upon any pretence. Keep to the other discussion. You challenge a man—you admit him your equal. But why do I argue with you? I know your mind as well as my own. You have some other idea in the background.”
“I feel that he's the guilty man,” said Robert.
“You feel called upon to punish him.”
“No. Wait: he will not fight; but I have him and I'll hold him. I feel he's the man who has injured this girl, by every witness of facts that I can bring together; and as for the other young fellow I led such a dog's life down here, I could beg his pardon. This one's eye met mine. I saw it wouldn't have stopped short of murder—opportunity given. Why? Because I pressed on the right spring. I'm like a woman in seeing some things. He shall repent. By—! Slap me on the face, Percy. I've taken to brandy and to swearing. Damn the girl who made me forget good lessons! Bless her heart, I mean. She saw you, did she? Did she colour when she heard your name?”
“Very much,” said Major Waring.
“Was dressed in—?”
“Black, with a crimson ribbon round the collar.”
Robert waved the image from his eyes.