"I have said nothing about you which needed apology, Mr. Middleton. You have been misinformed, sir." And with that same bend of dismissal Mr. Linden drew himself up and walked away, bareheaded as he was. The trees hid him in a moment.
Then there came a stir.
"What a coward!" cried George Alcott, pressing forward, "to do that to a man who you knew wouldn't knock you down!"
The young German had started up, sputtering strange things in his native tongue.
"Mr. Linden is an excellent commentator," said one young lady, who took the liberty of speech pretty freely. "How clear he makes it that 'The discretion of a man deferreth his anger; and it is his glory to pass by a transgression.'"
"I really thought," said Mr. Motley, in a make-believe whisper, "when Middleton first came up, that he had been taking a glass too much, but now I see that he took just half a glass too little!"
"Sir," said Colonel Rye, stepping forward, a man of most noble character and presence both, "Mr. Linden is my guest and friend, you must answer this to me."
Before Mr. Middleton could make answer, Faith had come in between and laid hold of the Colonel's hand. She was white, and quiet, but she could not at once speak. All around stood still.
"Sir," she said, in words that were well heard for everybody held his breath, "Colonel Rye, this is Mr. Linden's affair."
"I beg your pardon, my dear young lady—it is mine."