“Don’t you know?” replied Wharton: “the heir-at-law and the son-in-law.”
On hearing this speech, Vivian, who knew that he was one of the persons to whom it alluded, started forward to demand an explanation from Wharton: but Colonel S—— held him back. “You are not called upon, by any means, to take notice of this,” said the colonel: “Wharton did not address himself to you, and though he might mean what he said for you, yet he speaks under a false impression; and besides, he is not quite sober. Leave it to me, and I will settle it all to your satisfaction before to-morrow.” Vivian listened unwillingly and uneasily to the friendly counsel: he was more hurt than he had ever before felt himself by any of Wharton’s sarcasms, because there was now in them a mixture of truth; and a man seldom feels more irritable than when he is conscious that he is partly to blame, and apprehensive that others will think him more blameable than he really is. His irritability was increased by the whispers he had heard, and the looks he now perceived among the bystanders: the voice, the opinion of numbers, the fear of what others would think or say, operated against his better judgment.
“Come,” said Colonel S——, “let us go and see what they are doing in the house.”
Vivian refused to stir, saying that it would be leaving the field to Wharton. Wharton at this instant repassed; and still running the changes, with half-intoxicated wit, upon the same ideas, reiterated, “Public vice!—We all knew where that would end in these days—in public honours; but none of you would believe me, when I told you where public virtue would end—in private treachery!”
“That’s neat!—that’s strong!—faith, that’s home!” whispered some one.
“Mr. Wharton!” cried Vivian, going up to him, “I could not help hearing what you said just now—did you intend it for me?”
“You heard it, it seems, sir, and that is sufficient,” replied Wharton, in an insolent tone: “as to what I meant, I presume it is pretty evident; but, if you think it requires any explanation, I am as ready to give as you can be to ask it.”
“The sooner the better, then, sir,” said Vivian. The two gentlemen walked away together, whilst the spectators exclaimed, “Very spirited indeed!—very right!—very proper!—Vivian could do no less than call him out. But, after all, what was the quarrel about? Which of them was to blame?”
Long before these points were settled, the challenge was given and accepted. Colonel S——, who followed Vivian and Wharton, endeavoured to set things to rights, by explaining that Vivian had been deceived by Lord Glistonbury, and kept totally in the dark respecting the negotiation for the marquisate. But Wharton, aware that by taking up the matter immediately in such a spirited way he should do himself infinite honour with his party, and with that majority of the world who think that the greatest merit of a man is to stand to be shot at, was not at all willing to listen to these representations. Colonel S——declared that, were he in Mr. Wharton’s place, he should, without hesitation, make an apology to Mr. Vivian, and publicly acknowledge that what he said in the coffee-room was spoken under a false impression, which a plain statement of facts had totally removed: but Wharton disdained all terms of accommodation; his policy, pride, and desire of revenge, all conspired to produce that air of insolent determination to fight, which, with some people, would obtain the glorious name of COURAGE. By this sort of courage can men of the most base and profligate characters often put themselves in a moment upon an equal footing with men of principle and virtue!
It was settled that Mr. Wharton and Vivian should meet, at eight o’clock the next morning, in a field near town. Colonel S—— consented to be Vivian’s second. Russell was not yet returned—not expected till ten the next day.