Sir Francis, in spite of his impenetrable calmness, appeared somewhat moved, as he said,—
"I have already endured insult sufficient—I will endure no more. If there are weapons at hand—"
"My young friend," interrupted Mr. Marchdale, stepping between the excited men, "is carried away by his feelings, and knows not what he says. You will look upon it in that light, Sir Francis."
"We need no interference," exclaimed Varney, his hitherto bland voice changing to one of fury. "The hot blooded fool wishes to fight, and he shall—to the death—to the death."
"And I say he shall not," exclaimed Mr. Marchdale, taking Henry by the arm. "George," he added, turning to the young man, "assist me in persuading your brother to leave the room. Conceive the agony of your sister and mother if anything should happen to him."
Varney smiled with a devilish sneer, as he listened to these words, and then he said,—
"As you will—as you will. There will be plenty of time, and perhaps better opportunity, gentlemen. I bid you good day."
And with provoking coolness, he then moved towards the door, and quitted the room.
"Remain here," said Marchdale; "I will follow him, and see that he quits the premises."