Patiently in appearance, but most impatiently and pettingly in spirit, did Mr. Philip undergo the good advice which the worthy magistrate was pleased to administer gratuitously and copiously. Much did he hear of the follies of youth, and of the dignity of his high rank, and the high character of Lord Martindale. There is, however, one pleasure in matters of advice given to such young gentlemen as Philip Martindale—there is the pleasure of hearing the last of it. But he was not certain when, if ever, he should hear the last of his affair of honor with Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, of St. Mary Axe; for he soon found after his interview with the worthy magistrate, that the private hearing and all the particulars, and even more than all, had been given to the public. It is really a shame that, when people of rank make fools of themselves, they should be exposed.
It is not to be imagined that so observant a personage as old John Martindale should take no notice, and learn no intelligence, on the subject of Mr. Philip's interview with the worthy police magistrate. Had there been no other means of his ascertaining the fact, he was copiously supplied with all needful information by the active and intelligent Sir Andrew Featherstone, who had been of the party at Sir Gilbert Sampson's the preceding evening. Sir Andrew and Mr. John Martindale were in close conversation when Philip returned from the police-office. Sir Andrew, immediately on the appearance of the Hon. Philip Martindale, cordially congratulated the young gentleman on the escape which he had fortunately had from the duel, which seemed so imminently to threaten him. Philip did not receive the congratulations with a good grace, and endeavoured to affect not to understand what Sir Andrew alluded to; but old John Martindale, who was rather angry that Mr. Philip should have so exposed himself, very pettishly exclaimed:
"I'll tell you what, young gentleman, you may affect as much ignorance as you please, but the fact is, you have been making an arrant fool of yourself. If you had as great regard for a really good name as you pretend to have for what you call honor, you would not suffer yourself to be subject to such insults. An insignificant puppy like that, which you were quarrelling with last night, is absolutely incompetent to insult a man of real honor. You must have let yourself down most pitiably before he could have dared to offer an exchange of cards. I am ashamed of you. I hope Lord Martindale will not hear of your folly."
Philip frowned and looked big, and was preparing to make something of a reply; but poor Sir Andrew, who had been the informant who had excited this ebullition of wrath in the old gentleman's bosom, feeling himself a little annoyed at being witness of this lecture-like harangue, endeavoured to turn off the affair humorously.
"Well, well, my good friend, don't be angry. It is all very fortunate that things are no worse. If young gentlemen like a little fighting, why should they not enjoy themselves. You ought to be happy that your cousin has preserved his honor and shown himself a man of spirit, and come off with a whole skin. I remember the time when I would have given half my estate to have the credit of readiness to fight a duel without frightening myself by an actual conflict in the field of honor." Then addressing himself to Philip, he continued: "You were terribly frightened last night, I suppose. Could you sleep at all? I should like to know how a man feels when he expects to be called out. Is Mr. Isaac Solomons a good shot? But it would have been mortifying to be shot by a little Jew-boy—would it not, Philip?"
"Upon my word, Sir Andrew," replied the mortified young gentleman, "you presume very much upon our good acquaintance. I am very sorry that I have not the liberty at present of letting you know what it is to feel expecting to be called out. Suppose, when I am at liberty, I should ask you for satisfaction."