ooded, hollow, false, unworthy villain. For the
second time, and for the last, I cast these charges in your teeth, and
spurn you from me as I would a faithless dog!'

With that he raised his arm, and struck him on the breast so that he
staggered. Sir John, the instant he recovered, drew his sword, threw
away the scabbard and his hat, and running on his adversary made a
desperate lunge at his heart, which, but that his guard was quick and
true, would have stretched him dead upon the grass.

In the act of striking him, the torrent of his opponent's rage had
reached a stop. He parried his rapid thrusts, without returning them,
and called to him, with a frantic kind of terror in his face, to keep
back.

'Not to-night! not to-night!' he cried. 'In God's name, not tonight!'

Seeing that he lowered his weapon, and that he would not thrust in turn,
Sir John lowered his.

'Not to-night!' his adversary cried. 'Be warned in time!'

'You told me--it must have been in a sort of inspiration--' said Sir
John, quite deliberately, though now he dropped his mask, and showed his
hatred in his face, 'that this was the last time. Be assured it is! Did
you believe our last meeting was forgotten? Did you believe that your
every word and look was not to be accounted for, and was not well
remembered? Do you believe that I have waited your time, or you mine?
What kind of man is he who entered, with all his sickening cant of
honesty and truth, into a bond with me to prevent a marriage he affected
to dislike, and when I had redeemed my part to the spirit and the
letter, skulked from his, and brought the match about in his own time,
to rid himself of a burden he had grown tired of, and cast a spurious
lustre on his house?'

'I have acted,' cried Mr Haredale, 'with honour and in good faith. I do
so now. Do not force me to renew this duel to-night!'

'You said my "wretched" son, I think?' said Sir John, with a smile.
'Poor fool! The dupe of such a shallow knave--trapped into marriage by
such an uncle and by such a niece--he well deserves your pity. But he
is no longer a son of mine: you are welcome to the prize your craft has
made, sir.'

'Once more,' cried his opponent, wildly stamping on the ground,
'although you tear me from my better angel, I implore you not to come
within the reach of my sword to-night. Oh! why were you here at all! Why
have we met! To-morrow would have cast us far apart for ever!'

'That being the case,' returned Si