LIONEL GRANBY.
CHAPTER VIII.
| ——The yews project their shade; the green Spreads her soft lap; the waters whisper sleep: Here thou mayest rest secure. Vacuna, by Sneyd Davies.. |
Leaving with speed the painful spectacle of my wounded friend, I fled into the close and matted undergrowth of the forest, and pausing for a moment to deliberate, I resolved to return to Chalgrave, and brave the remote risk of a criminal prosecution for an offence which juries tolerate with mercy, and courts with connivance. I was willing to trust to that deep-seated public opinion which enacts laws through one principle, and controls their execution from another; and from whose opiate breath the grim repose of the duelling law has never awakened. I passed through many of the classic paths of the old college, and suddenly diverging from the view of its rude and grotesque steeple, advanced into the broad road. I had not walked far before I perceived that I was pursued. Reasoning upon the principle that retreat is more or less allied to meanness, I soon found the hand of my pursuer firmly fixed on my shoulder, while he said, with a stern voice, "Mr. Granby, you are my prisoner! I arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth."
The powerful and iron grasp which was rivetted to my shoulder, declared the utter folly of resistance. Through the fading twilight I could discern the form of a roughly-built, and the countenance of a brave man; while the odd mixture of his apparel, coarse boots and a gaudy watch-chain, white ruffles and broad plated buttons, told the brief history of many a struggling argument between his purse and gentility.
"Release me," said I, "and this (showing a purse, through the net-work of which a golden sea leaped up to the eye,) shall be your reward."
"Mr. Granby," he replied, throwing his hand suddenly from me, as if a serpent had stung him, "we are now equal. I will teach you that I am as far above dishonor as you are. Put up your purse, for I solemnly swear that you shall not leave this spot until you have satisfied me for your gross and ungenerous insult. Take this pistol—I have another; either make an apology or fight. I will measure the distance, and you may give the word."
I was struck at once by the innate honor and Virginian feeling of the man; and throwing the pistol aside, I tendered him my hand, expressing at the same time my regret in having acted so indiscreetly.
"Why do you arrest me?" continued I. "It was an open duel, and Mr. Ludwell is not dead."
"Is that then the case?" he replied. "Will you pledge me your honor that such is the truth? I was told that it was an unfair duel, and I have put myself to great inconvenience to arrest you."