"I'll show my face again when this has blown over," said the Captain, as he mounted. "Poor Sir Richard! I am very sorry for him,—unlucky devil as he was. You will see he is decently buried. He'll have a warmer time of it than we shall, if Power speaks gospel."
"Well, good bye, John. Write to us sometimes," said the Earl, giving him a pocket-book. "This has been a most unfortunate night; it will delay my marriage,—and get me into a jolly scrape, too."
"Egad! I'm deuced sorry; but Ellen won't spoil for keeping a bit. Ha, the needful; I had forgotten that. Thanks—"
"An' I was thinking you would aiblins no be sorry to hae a keg of the gude stuff," said old Andrew, handing a big-bellied flask of whisky. "Gude save us, Captain! yon was a grand shot—puir Sir Richard!"
"Why, bless me, you are a better fellow than I thought, Andrew! Here, Scroop, you carry this flask; we shall be glad of it, I warrant. What a d—d night it is; the snow will be balling in our nags' feet, and leave a track for a blind man to follow. But we must be off. Good night, gentlemen. Come, Scroop, for God's sake be mounted and away, or we shall have the hounds on our scent!"
The horsemen then spurred off, and were soon lost in the darkness. The guests returned into the hall, and went upstairs.
When the Earl entered the drawing-room, Ellen drew him aside, and, in the mildest, gentlest manner, told him how sorry she was that this had occurred.
"You are right, dearest. I am very sorry, but it is done now; it will delay our union, Ellen, for six weeks, and that will be punishment enough for me. I have your forgiveness, I hope?"
"Ask God's forgiveness, not mine; for this has been a sad—sad evening."
To tell the truth the Earl was little pleased at the part he had taken in it: but he had a hard part to play; brought up without the least religion he had only lately come to see the harm of duelling. Ellen's example was silently doing a world of good, and she saw it, so she said no more: those few words told more on him than a hundred sermons.