peaking with a degree
of warmth and interest, "that it should be exactly when life ceases
to give promise that I should care for it; and I own to you, I 'd give
anything that this meeting was not before me."

Norwood started, and turned his keen eyes on the other, but in the calm,
unmoved features he saw no traces of fear or even agitation; and it was
in his habitually calm voice Onslow resumed,

"Yes, I wish the Count's hand would shake a little, Norwood. I 'd be
most grateful to the bullet that would take to the right or the left of
me."

"Come, come, George, no more of this. We are alone here, it's true; but
if you talk this way now, you may chance to look like it by and by."

"And if I do not, my looks will strangely belie my sentiments, that I
can tell you," said Onslow, with a quiet laugh. "I don't care how you
read the confession, Norwood, but I tell you frankly, that if the insult
in this instance admitted of an apology, if there were any way to come
off consistent with honor, I 'd take it, and not fight this Frenchman."

"Have you forgotten his reputation as a shot?" asked Norwood, hastily.

"I was not thinking of it. My mind was dwelling merely on myself and my
own interests, how far my life, if preserved, could be rendered useful
to others, and in what way my death might occasion detriment and
injury."

"A most mercantile estimate of profit and loss, by Jove!" said Norwood,
laughing; "and perhaps it is fortunate for you there is no amende
possible, for if Guilmard should miss you--"

"As to these acceptances," said George, not paying attention to what the
other said, "I 'd prefer that they should not be presented to my father
under our actual circumstances. My horses and carriages, and some other
trumpery of mine, when sold, will more than meet them, and I have given
orders to that end."

"Come, old fellow, it's not gone that far yet," said Norwood, affecting
a tone of friendship, suggested by the self-satisfaction the promise of
payment afforded him. "But, hush! There they are, all together. Let us
talk no more of these matters; and now, George, for Heaven's sake, be
cool."

Norwood drew the other's arm within his own as he said this, and
advanced to where a group of some half-dozen persons were standing,
beside a low balcony, overlooking the Val d'Arno and the graceful valley
in which Florence stands. Norwood quitted his friend's arm as he came
forward and saluted the company. Nothing could poss