THE MEETING
My bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne’er look back, ne’er ebb to human love,
Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up. —Shakespeare.
In this
You satisfy your anger and revenge;
Suppose this, it will not
Repair your loss; and there was never yet
But shame and scandal in a victory,
When, rebels unto reason, passion fought it. —Massinger.
The next morning Major Gordon was early in the saddle. Like a brave man
and a soldier, he resolved to see Kate at once, and know his fate.
But he was destined to meet with a disappointment. He had ridden about
half a mile, when he was startled from a revery, in which she took a
leading part, by the soft sound of hoofs advancing through the same
path. He looked up, and recognized Kate’s cousin.
The influence of the preceding day had not yet left Major Gordon. He was
no longer eager for a quarrel with his rival, but on the contrary was
resolved, if Kate refused him, to withdraw entirely from the contest,
and even to avoid Mr. Aylesford, in order to prevent the possibility of
a collision. He bowed, therefore, civilly, though distantly, and was
passing on, when the other stopped him by placing his horse across the
narrow road.
“Excuse me, Major Gordon,” said Mr. Aylesford, haughtily, “but, as
I was on my way to visit you, I would thank you to give me your
attention for awhile.
“Certainly,” said the Major, politely, endeavoring to look calm,
though inwardly chafed by the manner of his rival: “I wait your
commands,” he added, seeing that Mr. Aylesford did not speak; and he
backed his horse, so as to widen the space between himself and the
other.
“I was astonished,” said Mr. Aylesford, looking up with a frown,
“to find, sir, on my return from the city, that you were paying
attention to a lady engaged to myself,” and he paused for a reply.
Major Gordon felt his color change at this confirmation of his worst
fears; but the eye of his rival was on him, and he strove to seem
composed. He could not trust himself to speak, however; so he only
bowed, as if for the other to proceed.
“I presume, however,” resumed Mr. Aylesford, “that you were not
aware of the circumstance; at least such is the conclusion I have
arrived at on second thoughts. I have made it my business, in
consequence, to seek you, in order to state the fact, and to suggest to
you, what your own sense and honor doubtless will hint also, that, for
the future, your visits at Sweetwater should be made fewer, if not
altogether dispensed with. For the services rendered to the ladies, my
aunt, and cousin, by the party with which you were in company, when they
had the misfortune to shipwrecked, I thank you, in their name.”
It was not possible, perhaps, to frame a speech more galling to one of
his disposition than was this to Major Gordon. The taunt in regard to
his honor, the sneer at his conduct at the wreck, and the supercilious
tone in which Mr. Aylesford thanked him, as if he had been a mere
lackey, made his blood boil. Nevertheless he endeavored to retain
command of himself. He saw that a brawl between him and Kate’s cousin
could not but be disreputable.
“I thank you, sir, for your courtesy,” said the Major, at last
breaking the silence, and looking his rival steadily in the face; “but
as for your advice, I shall take the liberty of declining that—”
The hot blood mounted to the forehead of Aylesford, as, interrupting the
speaker at this point, he stammered, half insane with rage—
“Sir, sir, do you know who you are talking to?” I am a gentleman,
and not a mere adventurer—
“What do you mean, sir?” said Major Gordon, temporarily losing
control of himself, at this crowning piece of insolence: and he pushed
Selim close to Aylesford.
“I mean what I say, sir,” answered the latter, drawing back his
horse, and putting his hand on his sword.
But a moment’s reflection recalled our hero to himself.
“Put up your sword,” he said, contemptuously; “I have no quarrel
with you. I was on my way,” he continued, “to call on Miss
Aylesford, and from her, if from anybody, must I receive notice that my
visits are disagreeable.”
“Do you question my word?” fiercely said Aylesford, again
interposing his horse across the road.
“I merely deny your right to prescribe who shall, and who shall not
visit her.”
“That is the same thing.” And he stuttered, white with rage, “sir,
sir—”
“Permit me to pass,” said Major Gordon sternly
“Never.”
The temptation was strong to rush Selim at his antagonist, ride him
down, and pass on. But Major Gordon was still unwilling to be driven
into a brawl; and therefore, after a moment’s pause, during which he
was conquering his anger, he wheeled his horse about in order to seek
another road.
His irritated antagonist, however, was not thus to be baulked. He seemed
determined to fix a quarrel on Major Gordon, now that the latter had
expressed his resolution to visit Kate, if he had not indeed determined
on it from the beginning. He, therefore, followed our hero, saying
contemptuously—
“Coward!”
Under any other circumstances, that word would have been enough.
Observing, however, after going a few paces, that Aylesford still
followed him, he sternly said.
“Enough of this, sir. You must see that I won’t quarrel with you.
Permit me, therefore, to take my way, and you take yours.” And, as he
spoke, he checked his horse again.
But the rage of Aylesford had now become ungovernable. Nothing, indeed,
maddens a temper such as his so much as cool conduct like that of Major
Gordon. Taking his sword by the hilt, he suddenly raised it, and
striking our hero across the face, before the latter could parry the
blow, said, with an oath,
“Take that, sir. It’s the first time that I ever saw even a rebel
officer disgrace his cloth by poltroonery.”
Natures that are slow to anger, or that give way to it only after
strenuous attempts at self-control, are always the most terrible in
their wrath. The countenance of Major Gordon grew livid as he reeled
from this insulting blow. It was a considerable interval before he
spoke, for at first the words choked in his throat; and afterwards he
could not trust himself to speak, lest he should, in the first moments
of passion, utter something unworthy of himself.
“Dismount,” he said silently, in a low, concentrated voice. “Your
blood be on your own head.”
Aylesford, with a mocking laugh, leaped from the saddle, threw his
bridle over a convenient bough, and stepped into the middle of the
smooth, shaded road. Then drawing his sword he stood on guard.
Major Gordon did not keep him waiting. Disposing of his horse in a
similar manner, he unsheathed his blade and placed himself in front of
his antagonist.
Nearly a minute elapsed before the duel commenced, the combatants
measuring each other, meantime, with their eyes. Our hero saw at once,
from the easy position of his opponent, that all his skill and caution
would be required to disarm Aylesford; for already he had cooled
sufficiently to come to the resolve not to shed his adversary’s blood.
On his part Aylesford was secretly admiring the fine person and
practised air of our hero. But no charitable feelings found place in the
bosom of the insulter. He had determined to take his opponent’s life,
and he had few misgivings as to success, for he was not only an expert
swordsman, in a day when every gentleman thought it a necessary part of
his education to have skill in fence, but he had been considered, by his
teacher, the most adroit of scores of pupils. As yet, indeed, he had
never met his match, except in his old master. “It will be easy work
with this militia officer, and quondam attorney,” he said to himself,
scornfully beginning the contest.
But Aylesford was not long in discovering that he had underrated his
adversary’s skill. He quickly saw, by the style of his opponent’s
fence, that it was the intention of Major Gordon to disarm him: and
irritated at what he believed to be a contemptuous forbearance, in one
of whom he had just been expecting to make an easy victim, he began to
throw more vehemence into the combat than was altogether prudent. He
soon, in consequence, laid himself open to a lunge from his antagonist;
but, as we have seen, it did not suit Major Gordon’s purpose to take
advantage of this; and Aylesford, taught a lesson, fought for awhile
with more caution.
We will not weary the reader with a catalogue of terms, of whose meaning
he is probably ignorant, in order to describe, in accurate detail, the
progress of the duel. But if he had been a spectator, he would have held
his breath in horror at the rapid flashing of the blades and the
rattling of the steel, whose lightning-like movements his eye would have
vainly tried to follow. Every moment he would have expected one or both
of the antagonists to fall, and would have wondered, as the struggle
went on, why this did not happen.
The reason was, that never, perhaps, were two combatants more equally
matched. Aylesford was really superior in skill, but Major Gordon was
more cool; the first was ready to take every advantage, the latter
fought only to disarm his adversary. For some time, therefore, the
chances hung equally balanced. At last Aylesford, impatient to terminate
this protracted strife, began again to be more vehement in his assault.
But though pressing his opponent severely, he took care not to expose
himself a second time. His attack was so rapid and fierce, that Major
Gordon was compelled to give ground, at which Aylesford, now confident
of a speedy victory, rushed on more relentlessly than ever, though still
covering himself with so much skill, that his antagonist could not but
admire, even as he reluctantly fell back. Had the assault been less
splendid, Major Gordon might have reserved his own strength, while
Aylesford was expending his; but it demanded our hero’s whole energies
to save his life, so that he soon became as exhausted as his opponent.
The assailer perceived this, and continued his vigorous assault,
knitting his teeth, and inwardly vowing, in the savageness of his
passion, to run his rival through to the very hilt. At last, when he had
pressed Major Gordon a considerable distance, the foot of the latter
struck against an inequality in the ground; he made a slight stumble
backwards; and, for an instant, lost his guard. Quick as thought,
Aylesford took advantage of it, and lunged desperately, regardless of
caution, which he thought no longer necessary.
But what was his astonishment, instead of seeing his blade enter the
defenceless front of his antagonist, to observe Major Gordon recover
himself, and avert the thrust by a dexterous twist, which he thought was
known only to himself and his master. It was all the work of an instant,
demanding less time than it has taken the reader to peruse the
description.
“Ha!” hissed Aylesford to himself, with a curse, now fairly frantic
with rage and baffled revenge, “he must have had lessons from my old
teacher. From no one but him, or the devil, could he have learned that
trick of fence. But he is blown; he is less practised than I am; and
I’ll have his heart’s blood yet.”
It must not be supposed that there was any pause, while he thus
soliloquized. On the contrary, the attack went forward as desperately as
before. Major Gordon at last began to acknowledge to himself it would be
impossible for him to disarm his adversary, and that he must either lose
his own life, or take that of the vindictive young man. The last
alternative was only less objectionable than the first, since it would
incontestibly banish him forever from Kate. But the liberty of choice
was not left to him. He felt himself so hard pressed that he could count
on nothing with certainty. All he could do was to defend himself, and
watch for his opportunity, if fortunately it should come, or to die, if
another and more serious stumble should be his lot.