arrel is of my provoking; that it was
unwarrantable in me to introduce the name of Mistress Westmacott, no
matter how respectfully; and that in doing so I gave Mr. Westmacott
ample grounds for offence. For that I beg his pardon, and I venture to
hope that this matter need go no further."

Vallancey and Blake were speechless in astonishment; Trenchard
livid with fury. Westmacott moved a step or two forward, a swagger
unmistakable in his gait, his nether-lip thrust out in a sneer.

"Why," said he, his voice mighty disdainful, "if Mr. Wilding apologizes,
the matter hardly can go further." He conveyed such a suggestion of
regret at this that Trenchard bounded forward, stung to speech.

"But if Mr. Westmacott's disappointment threatens to overwhelm him," he
snapped, very tartly, "I am his humble servant, and he may call upon me
to see that he's not robbed of the exercise he came to take."

Mr. Wilding set a restraining hand upon Trenchard's arm.

Westmacott turned to him, the sneer, however, gone from his face.

"I have no quarrel with you, sir," said he, with an uneasy assumption of
dignity.

"It's a want that may be soon supplied," answered Trenchard briskly,
and, as he afterwards confessed, had not Wilding checked him at that
moment, he had thrown his hat in Richard's face.

It was Vallancey who saved the situation, cursing in his heart the
bearing of his principal.

"Mr. Wilding," said he, "this is very handsome in you. You are of the
happy few who may tender such an apology without reflection upon your
courage."

Mr. Wilding made him a leg very elegantly. "You are vastly kind, sir,"
said he.

"You have given Mr. Westmacott the fullest satisfaction, and it is with
an increased respect for you--if that were possible--that I acknowledge
it on my friend's behalf."

"You are, sir, a very mirror of the elegancies," said Mr. Wilding, and
Vallancey wondered was he being laughed at. Whether he was or not, he
conceived that he had done the only seemly thing. He had made handsome
acknowledgment of a handsome apology, stung to it by the currishness of
Richard.

And there the matter ended, despite Trenchard's burning eagerness to
carry it himself to a different consummation. Wilding prevailed upon
him, and withdrew him from the field. But as they rode back to Zoyland
Chase the old rake was bitter in his inveighings against Wilding's folly
and weakness.

"I pray Heaven," he kept repeating, "that it may not come to c