ield. Then there will be no
gossip, and no bumpkins nor constables breaking in: such things have
happened in this country, I hear."

It was Wednesday. They settled to meet on Friday at noon on a hillside
between Bolton and Neville's Court. The spot was exposed, but so wild
and unfrequented that no interruption was to be feared. Mr. Neville
being a practised swordsman, Gaunt chose pistols,--a weapon at which the
combatants were supposed to be pretty equal. To this Neville very
handsomely consented.

By this time a stiff and elaborate civility had taken the place of their
heat, and at parting they bowed both long and low to each other.

Griffith left the inn and went into the street; and as soon as he got
there, he began to realize what he had done, and that in a day or two he
might very probably be a dead man. The first thing he did was to go with
sorrowful face and heavy step to Mr. Houseman's office.

Mr. Houseman was a highly respectable solicitor. His late father and he
had long enjoyed the confidence of the gentry, and this enabled him to
avoid litigious business, and confine himself pretty much to the more
agreeable and lucrative occupation of drawing wills, settlements, and
conveyances, and effecting loans, sales, and transfers. He visited the
landed proprietors, and dined with them, and was a great favorite in the
country.

"Justicing day" brought him many visits; so on that day he was always at
his place of business. Indeed, a client was with him when Griffith
called, and the young gentlemen had to wait in the outer office for full
ten minutes.

Then a door opened and the client in question came out, looking
mortified and anxious. It was Squire Peyton. At sight of Gaunt, who had
risen to take his vacant place, Kate's father gave him a stiff nod, and
an unfriendly glance, then hurried away.

Griffith was hurt at his manner. He knew very well Mr. Peyton looked
higher for his daughter than Griffith Gaunt: but for all that the old
gentleman had never shown him any personal dislike or incivility until
this moment.

So Griffith could not but fear that Neville was somehow at the bottom of
this, and that the combination was very strong against him. Now in thus
interpreting Mr. Peyton's manner he fell into a very common error and
fruitful cause of misunderstanding. We go and fancy that Everybody is
thinking of _us_. But he is not: he is like us; he is thinking of
himself.

"Well, well," thought Griffith, "if