Lord Clancarty bared his own head and kissed the hilt of his sword.
“For her dear sake, sir,” he said; “so let it be, I love you for it,” and they walked on in silence.
They passed through the grove of limes and entered the field. As they did so, the sunbeams, sloping from the hills, fell on the tree tops, but the long meadow was in the shadow. The sweetness of new-mown hay was in the air; there was a glint of white blossoming still upon the hedgerow, and beyond, the red brown of new turned earth and green, the green of the turf and the hawthorn.
Across the meadow from the farther side came Lord Savile and Mr. Benham, and as the two parties approached they saluted courteously. Clancarty was smiling, gracious, perfectly at ease, but his opponent scowled sullenly; some instinct—a brute one doubtless—made him hate this daring Irishman. Sir Edward, full of boyish importance, beckoned Mr. Benham aside.
“Can’t we adjust this difference, sir?” he asked; “there is a serious reason why they should not fight.”
Benham stared at him coolly. “To be sure, so I supposed,” he drawled indifferently; “but Savile will give you twenty reasons why they should.”
“For all that, we might adjust it honorably,” urged Mackie, with feverish anxiety.
“Pshaw, man, we can’t!” said Benham, with contempt; “they’re both in love with the same woman. You are inexperienced, sir,” he added aloud, smiling scornfully. “Measure the paces, Sir Edward; the sun is rising, and the advantage will lie then with the man whose back is toward it. We will draw lots, sir, so—ah, Lord Savile has drawn the best position,” and he laughed complacently.
Young Mackie, crimsoned with confusion and annoyance, made no further effort at a compromise; instead he busied himself with the weapons and in helping Lord Clancarty strip off coat and waistcoat. Then the two men confronted each other, sword in hand, and as they did so the sun looked over the horizon and the meadow suddenly lay in a golden mist as the sparks flew from the steel.
This was the picture that Betty saw floating in a golden haze, two strong, lithe figures swaying lightly from side to side and the flash of their naked swords at play.