Audrey

He laid the papers on the table, and began to divest himself of his coat,

waistcoat, and long, curled periwig. MacLean took up the pardon and held

it to a candle. It caught, but before the flame could reach the writing

Haward had dashed down the other's hand and beaten out the blaze. "'Slife,

Angus, what would you do!" he cried, and, taken unawares, there was angry

concern in his voice. "Why, man, 't is liberty!"

"I may not accept it," said MacLean, with dry lips. "That letter, also,

is useless to me. I would you were all villain."

"Your scruple is fantastic!" retorted the other, and as he spoke he put

both papers upon the escritoire, weighting them with the sandbox. "You

shall take them hence when our score is settled,--ay, and use them as best

you may! Now, sir, are you ready?"

"You are weak from illness," said MacLean hoarsely, "Let the quarrel rest

until you have recovered strength."

Haward laughed. "I was not strong yesterday," he said. "But Mr. Everard is

pinked in the side, and Mr. Travis, who would fight with pistols, hath a

ball through his shoulder."

The storekeeper started. "I have heard of those gentlemen! You fought them

both upon the day when you left your sickroom?"

"Assuredly," answered the other, with a slight lift of his brows. "Will

you be so good as to move the table to one side? So. On guard, sir!"

The man who had been ill unto death and the man who for many years had

worn no sword acquitted themselves well. Had the room been a field behind

Montagu House, had there been present seconds, a physician, gaping

chairmen, the interest would have been breathless. As it was, the lady

upon the wall smiled on, with her eyes forever upon the blossoms in her

hand, and the river without, when it could be heard through the clashing

of steel, made but a listless and dreamy sound. Each swordsman knew that

he had provoked a friend to whom his debt was great, but each, according

to his godless creed, must strive as though that friend were his dearest

foe. The Englishman fought coolly, the Gael with fervor. The latter had

an unguarded moment. Haward's blade leaped to meet it, and on the other's

shirt appeared a bright red stain.

In the moment that he was touched the Highlander let fall his sword.

Haward, not understanding, lowered his point, and with a gesture bade his

antagonist recover the weapon. But the storekeeper folded his arms. "Where

blood has been drawn there is satisfaction," he said. "I have given it to

you, and now, by the bones of Gillean-na-Tuaidhe, I will not fight you

longer!"

For a minute or more Haward stood with his eyes upon the ground and his

hand yet closely clasping the rapier hilt; then, drawing a long breath, he

took up the velvet scabbard and slowly sheathed his blade. "I am content,"

he said. "Your wound, I hope, is slight?"