"'Full of sorrow.' Yes, for that Englishman you are full of sorrow. And

how can you pray when you are disobeying your good father? God will not

hear you."

The mother was not pitiless; but she was anxious and troubled, and

Katherine's grief irritated her at the moment. "Go and tell Dinorah to

bring in the tea. The work of the house must go on," she muttered. "And

I think, that it was Saturday night Joris might have remembered."

Then she went back to Joanna, and stood with her, looking through the

gray mist down the road, and feeling even the croaking of the frogs and

the hum of the insects to be an unusual provocation. Just as Dinorah

said, "The tea is served, madam," the large figure of Batavius loomed

through the gathering grayness; and the women waited for him. He came up

the steps without his usual greeting; and his face was so injured and

portentous that Joanna, with a little cry, put her arms around his neck.

He gently removed them.

"No time is this, Joanna, for embracing. A great disgrace has come to

the family; and I, who have always stood up for morality, must bear it

too."

"Disgrace! The word goes not with our name, Batavius; and what mean you,

then? In one word, speak."

But Batavius loved too well any story that was to be wondered over, to

give it in a word; though madam's manner snubbed him a little, and he

said, with less of the air of a wronged man,-"Well, then, Neil Semple and Captain Hyde have fought a duel. That is

what comes of giving way to passion. I never fought a duel. No one

should make me. It is a fixed principle with me."

"But what? And how?"

"With swords they fought. Like two devils they fought, as if to pieces

they would cut each other."

"Poor Neil! His fault I am sure it was not."

"Joanna! Neil is nearly dead. If he had been in the right, he would not

be nearly dead. The Lord does not forsake a person who is in the right

way."

In the hall behind them Katherine stood. The pallor of her face, the

hopeless droop of her white shoulders and arms, were visible in its

gloomy shadows. Softly as a spirit she walked as she drew nearer to

them.

"And the Englishman? Is he hurt?"

"Killed. He has at least twenty wounds. Till morning he will not live.

It was the councillor himself who separated the men."




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