CHAPTER IX.

"Your words have took such pains, as if they labored
To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling
Upon the head of valor; which, indeed,

Is valor misbegot, and came into the world,
When sects and factions were but newly born;

He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer

The worst that man can breathe; and make his wrongs
His outsides; wear them, like his raiment, carelessly;
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,

To bring it into danger."

Shakspeare.

As O'Carroll approached the house, a horseman rode from it, whom he instantly recognised as Colonel Grahame; and with every hostile passion excited against him, his first impulse was to follow, and upbraid him for his perfidy. He accordingly, took several hasty strides down the avenue; but he was soon outstripped by the fleetness of Grahame's steed; and finding the attempt to overtake him vain, he returned, vexed and disappointed, towards the house. Before he reached it, however, he met William, who having stopped to adjust his girths, was now hastening to overtake his master. O'Carroll, in no very gentle tone, commanded him to stop; and though the man obeyed, he ventured to say, the Colonel had directed him, on no account to linger behind.

"Do as I bid you," exclaimed O'Carroll, in an imperious tone, " and 1 will excuse you to your inaster."

He then left him, and hastening to own room, wrote a brief challenge to the Colonel, which he gave to William, with an injunction to deliver it speedily and carefully to his master; and was re-crossing the hall on his way to the parlor, when he met Catherine, repairing to her father, who for several days, had been confined by indisposition to his apartment.

"You have had a long walk to-night, Captain O'Carroll," said Catherine, stopping abruptly when she saw him; "there have been many inquiries after you, and Captain Talbot is quite vexed at your penchant for solitary rambles."

"Is Talbot here?" said O'Carroll, quickly; "how fortunate," he added, and was turning towards the parlor, when Catherine, struck by the disorder of his looks and manner, hastily exclaimed,

"What has befallen you, O'Carroll? all, I am sure, is not well."

"All will be well to-morrow, Catherine," returned O'Carroll, wildly.

"What is it you mean?" said Catherine, with increased uneasiness;" and with whom have you quarrelled to-night?"

"With no one to-night," he replied, in a calmer accent; "but to-morrow I have a deadly account to settle. Catherine, Grahame is a villain, unworthy of your regard, and destitute of every virtue which we have foolishly ascribed to him."

Catherine grew pale, and remained silent for a moment; but regaining her habitual self-possession, she was about to speak, when Talbot, hearing voices in the hall, came out to learn if the Captain had returned. The gay salutation which trembled on his lips, was checked by the first glance at O'Carroll's inflamed and agitated countenance; and before he could inquire the cause of his excitement, O'Carroll, extending his hand, said, in a hurried tone,

"I was never more rejoiced to see you, Talbot, in my life; I have a favor to ask, which I know you will not deny me."

Certainly not, if it is in my power to grant it," said Talbot.

"Come then with me to my apartment," said O'Carroll," and we will take time to discuss the affair. And you will excuse me, Miss Courtland," he added, turning to Catherine, "for declining any further explanation at present, though I beg you will feel no uneasiness

on account of the inadvertent intimation, which in a moment of ungovernable feeling I was so foolish as to give."

"I shall certainly not suffer it to distress me," said Catherine, calmly. "I have too much confidence in the excellence of Colonel Grahame's principles, to fear that he will throw away his own life, or deliberately take that of another in a manner so foolish and unjustifiable, let the provocation be what it may. As a sincere and candid friend, Captain O'Carroll, I entreat you to reflect calmly and dispassionately before you take the rash step which you meditate. You have once acknowledged yourself unjust towards Grahame; and whatever incident may have transpired to reawaken your doubts, it would, at least, be the wisest course to let them be confirmed before you proceed to accusation and revenge.' "Miss Courtland, I have had occular demonstration of their truth," said O'Carroll. "I have seen Marion Spencer; seen her in the arms of Grahame, and do you wish me tamely to brook this indignity?"

Catherine felt the color forsake her cheek; but she resolutely controlled her emotion, as she replied in a voice, which, though at first tremulous, became steady as she proceeded,

"There is, there must be some mistake, Captain O'Carroll; Grahame, I am persuaded, would not intentionally injure you. But supposing him to be so base, and to have injured you so deeply as you imagine, would you not endure it like a man of principle and courage? Forgive, as you would be forgiven, is a precept which should govern every heart; and the arm of the duellist would be often rendered nerveless did he suffer its truth and importance to influence him in the moment of angry excitement.”

"With your sex," said O'Carroll, "endurance is a virtue, and you shudder at the daring which induces us to risk life in the defence of honor. But I cannot see mine insulted without seeking to avenge it in the mode prescribed by men of spirit and of courage."

VOL. II.

12

"If in our sex endurance is a virtue, it is a still nobler one in yours," returned Catherine; "since it argues a more exalted degree of fortitude, than with open violence to resent and revenge an injury. There is nothing noble in yielding to the impulse of passion; it is infinitely beneath the courage and the dignity of reasoning, intelligent, christianized man.”

"We cannot feel or think alike on the subject of duelling, Miss Courtland," said O'Carroll; "at least, not till you have received injuries as deep and deadly as those which I will and must revenge. Grahame is a poltroon, as well as a hypocrite, if he refuses to grant me the satisfaction I demand."

"I have only to request," said Catherine, "that the affair may not at present be mentioned to my father, who is too much indisposed to be safely agitated by it. And since you are inaccessible to my arguments, I have only to hope those of Captain Talbot may prove more successful."

Major Courtland's bell rung at this moment, and Catherine, apprehending he was not so well, hastily quitted the gentlemen, and went to her father's apart

ment.

O'Carroll then led the way to his own room; and Talbot, who had been revolving in his mind how he might prevent the disagreeable affair which threatened to interrupt the harmony of their society, was about to speak, when the Captain, who read his thoughts in his countenance, suddenly prevented him by exclaiming,

"You need not assail me with arguments, Talbot; I assure you they will not weigh a straw with me; for I am resolved, and the eloquence of an angel could not dissuade me from my purpose. Besides, it is too late; the challenge is given, and if accepted, I cannot in honor

retract.

"But what, in the name of wonder," asked Talbot, "is the cause of this sudden frenzy? where have you been? whom have you seen? and what did you mean by saying that you had seen Marion Spencer in the arms of Grahame ?"

"I spoke only the truth," returned O'Carroll; and agitated by the remembrance of the scene which he had witnessed in the cottage, he walked for a few minutes in silence through the apartment. Then reseating himself, he detailed with enforced composure all the occurrences of the evening. Talbot listened with interest and surprise. He could form no conjecture relative to the cause of Mr. Spencer's present situation. Neither could he, notwithstanding his petty jealousy of Grahame, believe him capable of such consummate art and baseness, as so completely and deliberately to deceive them. The mys terious person who had conducted O'Carroll to the coltage, evidently with the design of inciting him against Grahame, seemed to Talbot a malicious instigator of mischief, who purposed to make the Captain an instrument of his revenge.

"And when, and where," asked Talbot, after communicating these thoughts to O'Carroll, "have you appointed the place of meeting?"

"At seven, to-morrow morning," returned O'Carroll, "in the little valley below the mulberry grove. Grahame will bring his second, and a surgeon who must serve for both in case of need; and I have to request that you will accompany me."

Certainly," said Talbot; "though I sincerely hope the quarrel may yet be settled without bloodshed."

"How is that possible?" exclaimed O'Carroll. "Do you suppose any concessions which Grahame can make, will satisfy me, or atone for the injuries and insults which he has heaped upon me."

"I think there may be some misunderstanding, which a denouement would elucidate," said Talbot. "You are well aware that I have no reason to plead the cause of Grahame; but I will not suffer wounded pride to make me unjust; and though I have sometimes suspected him of a little amour with the fair owner of the gold chain which you ravished from poor Victor's neck; yet I acknowledge that the Colonel's uniform conduct and the pure and noble sentiments which he habitually, and with apparent sincerity, expresses, have induced me