imposing a
reliable silence upon him.

"But why vindictive?" Mr. Wilding remonstrated. "Rather must he have
cause for gratitude."

Mr. Trenchard laughed short and contemptuously. "There is," said he, "no
rancour more bitter than that of the mean man who has offended you and
whom you have spared. I beg you'll ponder it." He lowered his voice as
he ended his admonition, for Vallancey and Westmacott were coming up,
followed by Sir Rowland Blake.

Richard, although his courage had been sinking lower and lower in a
measure as he had grown more and more sober with the approach of the
moment for engaging, came forward now with a firm step and an arrogant
mien; for Vallancey had given him more than a hint of what was toward.
His heart had leapt, not only at the deliverance that was promised him,
but out of satisfaction at the reflection of how accurately last night
he had gauged what Mr. Wilding would endure. It had dismayed him then,
as we have seen, that this man who, he thought, must stomach any affront
from him out of consideration for his sister, should have ended by
calling him to account. He concluded now that upon reflection Wilding
had seen his error, and was prepared to make amends that he might
extricate himself from an impossible situation, and Richard blamed
himself for having overlooked this inevitable solution and given way to
idle panic.

Vallancey and Blake watching him, and the sudden metamorphosis that was
wrought in him, despised him heartily, and yet were glad--for the sake
of their association with him--that things were as they were.

"Mr. Westmacott," said Wilding quietly, his eyes steadily set upon
Richard's own arrogant gaze, his lips smiling a little, "I am here not
to fight, but to apologize."

Richard's sneer was audible to all. Oh, he was gathering courage fast
now that there no longer was the need for it. It urged him to lengths of
daring possible only to a fool.

"If you can take a blow, Mr. Wilding," said he offensively, "that is
your own affair."

And his friends gasped at his temerity and trembled for him, not knowing
what grounds he had for counting himself unassailable.

"Just so," said Mr. Wilding, as meek and humble as a nun, and Trenchard,
who had expected something very different from him, swore aloud and with
some circumstance of oaths. "The fact is," continued Mr. Wilding, "that
what I did last night, I did in the heat of wine, and I am sorry for
it. I recognize that this qu