“Read that,” he cried, throwing Lady Arabella’s letter toward me. I think he meant not to do a dishonorable thing in giving me the letter to read, but it was an act of involuntary rage.
It read thus:—
“I know that you were to fight Mr. Vernon at eight o’clock this morning, therefore I beguiled you here; for your life is dearer to me than anything in heaven and earth; and I will not let you out until that very hour, when it will be too late for you to get to Twickenham. You will not dare to raise a commotion in the house at this hour, which would ruin us both. But by the jeopardy in which I placed myself this night, you will know how true is the love of
“Arabella Stormont.”
I confess that the reading of this letter made me a partizan of Overton; for surely no more unhandsome trick was ever played upon a gentleman.
There was nothing for it but to sit down and wait for eight o’clock. Sir Peter’s family were late risers, and there was little danger of detection at that hour. So we sat, and gazed at each other, mute before the mystery of the good and evil in a woman’s love. I confess the experience was new to me.
“You will bear me witness, Mr. Glyn,” said Overton, “that I am detained here against my will; but I think it a piece of good fortune that you are detained with me.”
“I will bear witness to nothing, sir,” I replied, “until you have given me satisfaction for calling me a hound, just now.”
“Dear sir, pray forget that hasty expression. In my rage and amazement, just now, I would have called the commander-in-chief of the forces a hound. Pray accept every apology that a gentleman can make. I was quite beside myself, as you must have seen.”
I saw that he was very anxious to conciliate me; for upon my testimony alone would rest the question of whether he voluntarily or involuntarily failed to appear at the meeting arranged for eight o’clock.