ending the credit of your countrymen.
I little thought, when I invited you to dine with us to-night, that there
would be an issue such as this, for it can end in but one way. Allen is
the best swordsman in the regiment, and a very devil when he is flushed
with wine, as he is now."

"You would have me decline to meet him, then?" I asked, looking at
him steadily.

"A word of apology," he stammered, but he did not meet my eyes. His heart
was not in his words.

"Impossible," I said. "You forget that it was he who insulted me, and
that an apology, if there be one, must come from him. He has insulted not
only myself, but the whole body of Virginia volunteers. Though I were
certain he would kill me, I could not draw back in honor. But I am not so
certain," and I smiled down into his face. "There be some good swordsmen
even in Virginia, sir."

"In faith, I am wondrous glad to hear it!" he cried, his face
brightening. "I could not do less than warn you."

"And I thank you for your interest."

He held out his hand, and I clasped it warmly. Then we turned again to
the group about the table.

"Well," cried Allen harshly, "does our Virginia friend desire to
withdraw?"

"On the contrary," answered Pennington quietly, "he has positively
refused to withdraw," and as he spoke, I saw that the others looked at me
with attentive eyes. "There is a little green just back of the barracks.
Let us proceed to it," and he led the way toward the door.

Allen and I followed him, and the whole rabble of officers crowded after.
In a moment we were at the place, and I walked to one side while the
seconds conferred together. The full moon had risen above the treetops
and flooded the clearing with still radiance. The tall, coarse grass
waved slowly to and fro in the faint breeze, and away off in the forest I
heard a wolf howling. The note, long and clear, rose and quivered in the
air, faint and far away. And as it died to silence, for the first time
the thought came to me that perchance my skill in fence might not avail.
Well, thank heaven, there was none to whom my death would cause much
sorrow, except--yes, Dorothy might care. At thought of her, the forest
faded from before me, and I saw her again as I had seen her last, looking
down upon me from the stair-head, and her kiss was warm upon my lips.

"We are ready, Lieutenant Stewart," called Pennington, and I shook my
forebodings from me as I strode back toward him.

"Lieutenant Allen ins