ping a ditch, entered a copse, where--an open glade, suitable to
their purpose, being reached--the Viscount stopped. Then, for the first
time, Brace spoke:

"I have followed you, my lord, lest you should think I fear you; but,
let me ask, have you well considered the step you are about to take? Of
course, those are pistols you have with you; but without seconds--
without a medical man present, people will be ungenerous enough to say
that the survivor is a murderer. I am willing to meet you, if such an
encounter must take place; but I must say it ought to be deferred."

"He _is_ afraid!" thought his lordship; and, speaking hoarsely, he said:
"I give you still the option of withdrawal on the terms I named."

Brace laughed scornfully.

"Then take your weapon," said the Viscount, whose pallor was now
fearful. "They are both loaded, and we can easily pace the ground."

Brace frowned as he advanced and took the pistol nearest to him,
glancing down at it for a moment to see that it was capped, then drawing
out the ramrod, he thrust it into the barrel to feel for the bullet.

"My lord," he said, "let me once more appeal to you--to your manly
feeling--to ask whether this is necessary. Surely you must be aware
that your pretensions are vain, and that even if you disable, or slay
me, your presence will be more than ever distasteful. I am cool now,
and, forgiving you the blow you struck me, I ask pardon for my
passionate haste. Let us put aside these deadly weapons, and in her
name let me ask you to be generous, to have pity on us both, for it lies
in your power!"

Brace ceased, for there was a sneer upon his rival's face that was
almost devilish. He had watched Brace's actions, and seen him probe the
pistol-barrel, when, apparently satisfied, the young man had let the
weapon fall to his side.

"Dog! coward! scoundrel!" exclaimed the Viscount, now half-beside
himself with a passion that seemed fiendish. "Once more I give you a
chance; give her up for ever, and write what I will dictate, or take
your place."

For answer, Brace Norton's lips moved as he slowly took his place
opposite to his adversary, when, with a malignant look of hatred, that
could hardly have been expected from a man of his character, Lord
Maudlaine smiled triumphantly, as he too examined the cap of his pistol,
and then drew the ramrod, to thrust it down the barrel. Then, as if
stricken by paralysis, the look of hate and triumph faded from his