hat I have to
say.'

'Then it would not be agreeable to me,' said his lordship, turning to
leave the room.

'Yes, it would,' cried the other, following him into the hall. 'If
you've the heart of a man, it would be the very ticket for you. It's
just this, my lad,' he continued, rather lowering his voice, but not
enough to prevent me from hearing every word he said, though the
half-closed door stood between us. 'I think you're an ill-used man--nay,
now, don't flare up; I don't want to offend you: it's only my rough way
of talking. I must speak right out, you know, or else not at all; and
I'm come--stop now! let me explain--I'm come to offer you my services,
for though Huntingdon is my friend, he's a devilish scamp, as we all
know, and I'll be your friend for the nonce. I know what it is you want,
to make matters straight: it's just to exchange a shot with him, and then
you'll feel yourself all right again; and if an accident happens--why,
that'll be all right too, I daresay, to a desperate fellow like you.
Come now, give me your hand, and don't look so black upon it. Name time
and place, and I'll manage the rest.'

'That,' answered the more low, deliberate voice of Lord Lowborough, 'is
just the remedy my own heart, or the devil within it, suggested--to meet
him, and not to part without blood. Whether I or he should fall, or
both, it would be an inexpressible relief to me, if--'

'Just so! Well then,--'

'No!' exclaimed his lordship, with deep, determined emphasis. 'Though I
hate him from my heart, and should rejoice at any calamity that could
befall him, I'll leave him to God; and though I abhor my own life, I'll
leave that, too, to Him that gave it.'

'But you see, in this case,' pleaded Hattersley--

'I'll not hear you!' exclaimed his companion, hastily turning away. 'Not
another word! I've enough to do against the fiend within me.'

'Then you're a white-livered fool, and I wash my hands of you,' grumbled
the tempter, as he swung himself round and departed.

'Right, right, Lord Lowborough,' cried I, darting out and clasping his
burning hand, as he was moving away to the stairs. 'I begin to think the
world is not worthy of you!' Not understanding this sudden ebullition,
he turned upon me with a stare of gloomy, bewildered amazement, that made
me ashamed of the impulse to which I had yielded; but soon a more
humanised expression dawned upon his countenance, and before I could
withdraw my hand, he p