owl. The fire went out in a cloud of hissing steam. The sound of the
ground swell became louder and more threatening.

CHAPTER XXI

THE DUEL

The trees of the orchard stood out black against a crimson sky. "Faith!
it is a color we shall see more of presently," said Laramore, divesting
himself of his doublet.

His antagonist, passing a laced handkerchief along a gleaming blade,
smiled politely. "A pretty tint. Wine, the lips of women, Captain
Laramore's blood--Lard! 'tis a color I adore!"

"Gentlemen!" cried Colonel Verney. "Once more I beg of you to forego
this foolish quarrel. William Berkeley, for the first time in your life,
be reasonable!"

The Governor turned sharply, his chest, beneath his shirt of finest
holland, swelling, each closely cropped hair upon his head, bared for
action, stiff with injured dignity.

"Colonel Richard Verney forgets himself," he began angrily; then,
"Confound you, Dick! keep your hands out of this. I don't want to fight
you too! I say not that this gentleman is disloyal, but I do say, and I
will maintain it with the last drop of my blood, that he strives to draw
to himself a party in the State, with what intent he best knows. If he
choose to pocket that assertion and withdraw, I am content."

"On guard, sir," said Carrington, raising his sword.

The Colonel shrugged his shoulders, and returned to his post beside Mr.
Peyton.

"Very well, gentlemen, since you will not be ruled. Are you ready?"

The rapiers clashed together, and the game began.

The Governor fenced brilliantly, if a trifle wildly; his antagonist with
a cool steadiness of manner and an iron wrist. Laramore fought with
bull-like ferocity, striving to beat down his opponent's guard, making
mad lunges, stamping, and keeping up a continuous rumble of oaths. Sir
Charles, always smiling, and with an air as if his thoughts were
anywhere but at that particular spot, put aside his thrusts with the
ease with which the toreador avoids the bull.

Mr. Peyton was moved to reluctant admiration. "When I was in London,
sir," he said in an excited whisper to the Colonel, "I did see Mathews
fight with Westwicke, and thought I had seen fencing indeed, but your
cousin--ah!"

Laramore's sword described a curve in the air, and lodged in the boughs
of an apple-tree, while its owner staggered forward and fell heavily to
the ground. At the same instant Carrington wounded the Governor in the
wrist. Colonel Verney struck up the