Wilding would consent to
no such thing; but it earned him a glance of greater kindliness from
Ruth--who began to think that hitherto perhaps she had done him some
injustice--and a look of greater admiration from Diana, who saw in him
her beau-ideal of the gallant lover.

"I would not have you endanger yourself so," said Ruth.

"It might," said Blake, his blue eyes very fierce, "be no great danger,
after all." And then dismissing that part of the subject as if, like
a brave man, the notion of being thought boastful were unpleasant, he
passed on to the discussion of ways and means by which the coming duel
might be averted. But when they came to grips with facts, it seemed that
Sir Rowland had as little idea of what might be done as had the ladies.
True, he began by making the obvious suggestion that Richard should
tender Wilding a full apology. That, indeed, was the only door of
escape, and Blake shrewdly suspected that what the boy had been
unwilling to do last night--partly through wine, and partly through
the fear of looking fearful in the eyes of Lord Gervase Scoresby's
guests--he might be willing enough to do to-day, sober and upon
reflection. For the rest Blake was as far from suspecting Mr. Wilding's
peculiar frame of mind as had Richard been last night. This his words
showed.

"I am satisfied," said he, "that if Richard were to go to-day to Wilding
and express his regret for a thing done in the heat of wine, Wilding
would be forced to accept it as satisfaction, and none would think that
it did other than reflect credit upon Richard."

"Are you very sure of that?" asked Ruth, her tone dubious, her glance
hopefully anxious.

"What else is to be thought?"

"But," put in Diana shrewdly, "it were an admission of Richard's that he
had done wrong."

"No less," he agreed, and Ruth caught her breath in fresh dismay.

"And yet you have said that he did as you would have a son of yours do,"
Diana reminded him.

"And I maintain it," answered Blake; his wits worked slowly ever. It was
for Ruth to reveal the flaw to him.

"Do you not understand, then," she asked him sadly, "that such an
admission on Richard's part would amount to a lie--a lie uttered to save
himself from an encounter, the worst form of lie, a lie of cowardice?
Surely, Sir Rowland, your kindly anxiety for his life outruns your
anxiety for his honour."

Diana, having accomplished her task, hung her head in silence,
pondering.

Sir Rowland was rou