over the ground, "the light is good, and there seemeth to be no
advantage in position."

"'Tis well!" said Rookwood, "wilt measure swords that the contest be
in all fairness?"

Tillinghurst complied, and the principals, casting aside their
cloaks, stepped forward to the strip of sward prepared for them.

The demeanor of the Viscount was serious; he well knew that in Sir
Thomas Winter he had no unskilled swordsman, but a man of much
experience, with wrist of steel, and a trick of fence acquired by long
practice in foreign service. The face of Winter was darkened by a
frown in which was blended a shadow of anxiety. The Lord of Monteagle
was a famous swordsman, and it might well be that the son had learned
from a good master.

"Gentlemen, are you ready?" cried Rookwood drawing his rapier, as also
did Sir Francis, that they might interfere should need arise.

The principals saluted, stood at guard, and awaited the signal; when
it was given, their blades crossed with a clash which rang out sharp
and clear on the cold winter air.

The hate and jealousy with which Winter regarded his young rival were
intensified by the tingling blow dealt him an hour before, and from
which he still suffered,--and as he was confident beyond doubt of his
skill as a swordsman, he attacked with a fury which pressed his
younger adversary back toward the wall, and those witnessing the
contest thought to see Effingston speedily thrust through.

The Viscount was, however, too adroit a fencer to yield readily to
such a fate. Careful, at first, only to defend himself, he met each
thrust and pass with a parry which deepened the frown on Winter's
brow, and having retreated to the edge of the duelling ground, he
there held his position despite the fierceness of the onslaught.

Suddenly Winter's blade darted serpent-like beneath the guard of his
adversary. A red stain appeared on Effingston's shoulder, and the
seconds interposed their swords.

The Viscount waved them back, as also he did the surgeon, who hastened
to perform his office.

"'Tis a touch only," said he hoarsely, breathing heavily, "on guard,
sir, that we may finish quickly."

And now their positions were reversed. Instead of acting on the
defensive, Effingston in turn became the assailant, regaining his lost
ground, and forcing Sir Thomas back, step by step.

Maddened at thus losing vantage ground Winter's calmness failed him;
he made a sudden thrust forward, and it being parried