t had
scarcely been in the scope of any other there, checked himself upon the
precipice's verge, stood rigid, and strove with white lips for
self-command. His inmost, his highest man had no desire to feel or to
exhibit ungoverned rage, but there was a legion against him--and the
black and furious dog. The coffee house was in a ferment.
"Gentlemen--gentlemen!--What's the quarrel, Rand?--Ludwell Cary, I'm at
your service!--Bills and bows! bills and bows!--or is it coffee and
pistols?" Fairfax Cary had sprung to his brother's side. Adam Gaudylock,
annihilating in some mysterious fashion the distance between the corner
table and the group in the light of the fire, was visible over Rand's
shoulder. Mr. Pincornet, chin in air and with his hand where once a
sword had been, tiptoed upon the fringe of the crowd. The clamour went
on. "Is it a challenge?--was a blow struck?--Mr. Cary, command me--Mr.
Rand--"

Cary and Rand, standing opposed, three feet of bare floor between them,
looked fixedly at each other. Both were pale, both breathing heavily,
but for both the unthinking moment had passed. Reflection had come and
was standing there between them. To Rand it wore more faces than one,
but to Cary it was steadily a form in white with amethysts about the
neck. There had been--it was well, it was best--no blow struck, no lie
given. Cary drew a long breath, shook himself slightly like a swimmer
who has breasted a formidable wave, and broke into a laugh. "No affront
and no challenge, gentlemen! That is so, is it not, Mr. Rand?"

If there was an instant's sombre hesitation, it was no more. "Yes, that
is so," said Rand. "After all, men should be more stable. There is no
quarrel, gentlemen."

He bowed ceremoniously to Cary, who returned the salute. Each moved from
where he had stood, and the tide at Lynch's came between them. There was
some questioning, some excited speech, some natural disappointment at
matters going no further. It was not clearly understood what offence
had been given or what taken, but many felt aggrieved by the check on
the threshold of a likely affair. However, it was, they could concede,
the business of the two principals, each of whom could afford to ignore
any seeming reflection upon his unreadiness to pick up the glove--if a
glove had been thrown. As the assemblage broke up and flowed homeward,
the most pertinent comment, perhaps, was that of the down-river planter:
"If 'twas just a breeze, and all over, why