"Pray calm yourself, madam," said Mr. Butler; "he stands in more danger of the gallows than of me."
Sir Peter pushed forward. I caught his arm, forcing him aside, but he struggled, saying: "Did you not hear the man? Let me go, Carus; do you think such an insult to you can pass me like a puff of sea-wind?"
"It strikes me first," I said. "It is to me that Mr. Butler answers."
"No, gentlemen, to me!" said a low voice behind us—the voice of Elsin Grey.
Amazed, we turned, passion still marring our white faces. Calm, bright-eyed, a smile that I had never seen imprinted on her closed lips, she walked to the table, unlocked the case of pistols, lifted them, and laid them there in the yellow lamplight.
"Elsin! Elsin!" stammered Lady Coleville; "have you, too, gone mad?"
"This is my quarrel," she said, turning on me so fiercely that I stepped back. "If any shot is fired in deference to me, I fire it; if any bullet is sped to defend my honor, I speed it, gentlemen. Why"—and she turned like a flash upon Sir Peter—"why do you assume to interfere in this? Is not an honest man's duty to his own wife first? Small honor you do yourself or her!—scant love must you bear her to risk your life to chance in a quarrel that concerns not you!"
Astounded and dumb, we stood there as though rooted to the floor.
She looked at Butler and laughed; picked up a pistol, loaded it with incredible deftness, laid it on the table, and began loading the other.
"Elsin! Elsin!" cried Lady Coleville, catching her by the waist, "what is this wild freak of yours? Have you all gone mad to-night?"