"Because fighting was a mere word to him," said Mowbray; "I believe that he no more realized the fact that you would direct the muzzle of a pistol toward his breast, than that you would stab or poison him."
Denis wiped his brow.
"I didn't want to fight," he said; "but I was obliged to do something."
"Was the provocation gross?"
"Pardon my question. I did not mean to return to the subject, inasmuch as some reason for withholding the particulars of the interview seems to exist in your mind."
Denis hesitated and muttered something to himself; then, raising his head suddenly, he added with some bitterness:
"Perhaps you may have your curiosity satisfied from another source, Ernest. I see Mr. Hoffland approaching the house with Miss Lucy—from the garden, there. No doubt he will tell you."
In fact, Miss Lucy and Hoffland were sauntering in from the garden in high glee. Lucy from time to time burst into loud and merry laughter, clapping her hands, and expressing great delight at something which Hoffland was communicating; and Hoffland was bending down familiarly and whispering in her ear.
No sooner, however, had the promenaders caught sight of Mowbray and Denis looking at them, than their manner suddenly changed. Hoffland drew back, and raising his head with great dignity, solemnly offered his arm to the young girl; and Lucy, choking down her merriment and puckering up her lips to hide her laughter, placed her little finger on the sleeve of her cavalier. And so they approached the inmates of the cottage, with quiet and graceful dignity, like noble lord and lady; and entering, bowed ceremoniously, and sat down with badly smothered laughter.
"Really," said Mowbray smiling, "you will permit me to say, Charles, that you have a rare genius for making acquaintance suddenly: Lucy and yourself seem to be excellent friends already."