"The world has not taken it yet; at any rate, I am very sure none of the Semples have."

"You are, maybe, o'er sure, Neil. Deacon Van Vorst has said mair than my natural man could thole, many a time, in the sessions and oot o' them; but the dominie aye stood between us wi' his word, and we hae managed so far to keep the peace, though a mair pig-headed, provoking, pugnacious auld Dutchman never sat down on the dominie's left hand."

"Then, father, if Captain Hyde should quarrel with me, and if he should challenge me, you advise me to refuse the challenge, and to send for the dominie to settle the matter?"

"I didna say the like o' that, Neil. I am an auld man, and Van Vorst is an aulder one. We'd be a bonnie picture wi' drawn swords in oor shaking hands; though, for mysel', I may say that there wasna a better fencer in Ayrshire, and _that_ the houses o' Lockerby and Lanark hae reason to remember. And I wouldna hae the honour o' the Semples doubted; I'd fight myself first. But I'm in a sair strait, Neil; and oh, my dear lad, what will I say, when it's the Word o' the Lord on one hand, and the scaith and scorn of a' men on the other? But I'll trust to your prudence, Neil, and no begin to feel the weight o' a misery that may ne'er come my way.

All my life lang, when evils hae threatened me, I hae sought G.o.d's help; and He has either averted them or turned them to my advantage."

"That is a good consolation, father."

"It is that; and I ken nae better plan for life than, when I rise up, to gie mysel' to His direction, and, when I lay me down to sleep, to gie mysel' to His care."

"In such comfortable a.s.surance, sir, I think we may say good-night. I have business early in the morning, and may not wait for your company, if you will excuse me so far."

"Right; vera right, Neil. The dawn has gold in its hand. I used to be an early worker mysel'; but I'm an auld man noo, and may claim some privileges. Good-night, Neil, and a good-morning to follow it."

Neil then lit his candle; and, not forgetting that courteous salute which the young then always rendered to honourable age, he went slowly upstairs, feeling suddenly a great weariness and despair. If Katherine had only been true to him! He was sure, then, that he could have fought almost joyfully any pretender to her favour. But he was deserted by the girl whom he had loved all her sweet life. He was betrayed by the man who had shared the hospitality of his home, and in the cause of such loss, compelled to hazard a life opening up with fair hopes of honour and distinction.

In the calm of his own chamber, through the silent, solemn hours, when the world was shut out of his life, Neil reviewed his position; but he could find no honourable way out of his predicament. Physically, he was as brave as brave could be; morally, he had none of that grander courage which made Joris Van Heemskirk laugh to scorn the idea of yielding G.o.d's gift of life at the demand of a pa.s.sionate fool. He was quite sensible that his first words to Captain Hyde that night had been intended to provoke a quarrel, and he knew that he would be expected to redeem them by a formal defiance. However, as the idea became familiar, it became imperative; and at length it was with a fierce satisfaction that he opened his desk and without hesitation wrote the decisive words:

[Ill.u.s.tration: "In the interim, at your service"]

To CAPTAIN RICHARD HYDE OF HIS MAJESTY'S SERVICE: SIR: A person of the character I bear cannot allow the treachery and dishonourable conduct of which you have been guilty to pa.s.s without punishment. Convince me that you are more of a gentleman than I have reason to believe, by meeting me to-night as the sun drops in the wood on the Kalchhook Hill. Our seconds can locate the spot; and that you may have no pretence to delay, I send by bearer two swords, of which I give you the privilege to make choice.

In the interim, at your service, NEIL SEMPLE.

He had already selected Adrian Beekman as his second. He was a young man of wealth and good family, exceedingly anxious for social distinction, and, moreover, so fastidiously honourable that Neil felt himself in his hands to be beyond reproach. As he antic.i.p.ated, Beekman accepted the duty with alacrity, and, indeed, so promptly carried out his princ.i.p.al's instructions, that he found Captain Hyde still sleeping when he waited upon him. But Hyde was neither astonished nor annoyed. He laughed lightly at "Mr. Semple's impatience of offence," and directed Mr. Beekman to Captain Earle as his second; leaving the choice of swords and of the ground entirely to his direction.

"A more civil, agreeable, handsome gentleman, impossible it would be to find; and I think the hot haughty temper of Neil is to blame in this affair," was Beekman's private comment. But he stood watchfully by his princ.i.p.al's interests, and affected a gentlemanly disapproval of Captain Hyde's behaviour.

And lightly as Hyde had taken the challenge, he was really more disinclined to fight than Neil was. In his heart he knew that Semple had a just cause of anger; "but then," he argued, "Neil is a proud, pompous fellow, for whom I never a.s.sumed a friendship. His father's hospitality I regret in any way to have abused; but who the deuce could have suspected that Neil Semple was in love with the adorable Katherine? In faith, I did not at the first, and now 'tis too late. I would not resign the girl for my life; for I am sensible that life, if she is another's, will be a very tedious thing to me."

All day Neil was busy in making his will, and in disposing of his affairs. He knew himself well enough to be certain, that, if he struck the first blow, he would not hesitate to strike the death blow, and that nothing less than such conclusion would satisfy him. Hyde also antic.i.p.ated a deathly persistence of animosity in his opponent, and felt equally the necessity for some definite arrangement of his business.

Unfortunately, it was in a very confused state. He owed many debts of honour, and Cohen's bill was yet unsettled. He drank a cup of coffee, wrote several important letters, and then went to Fraunce's, and had a steak and a bottle of wine. During his meal his thoughts wandered between Katherine and the Jew Cohen. After it he went straight to Cohen's store.

It happened to be Sat.u.r.day; and the shutters were closed, though the door was slightly open, and Cohen was sitting with his granddaughter in the cool shadows of the crowded place. Hyde was not in a ceremonious mood, and he took no thought of it being the Jew's sabbath. He pushed wider the door, and went clattering into their presence; and with an air of pride and annoyance the Jew rose to meet him. At the same time, by a quick look of intelligence, he dismissed Miriam; but she did not retreat farther than within the deeper shadows of some curtains of stamped Moorish leather, for she antic.i.p.ated the immediate departure of the intruder.

She was therefore astonished when her grandfather, after listening to a few sentences, sat down, and entered into a lengthy conversation. And her curiosity was also aroused; for, though Hyde had often been in the store, she had never hitherto seen him in such a sober mood, it was also remarkable that on the sabbath her grandfather should receive papers, and a ring which she watched Hyde take from his finger; and there was, beside, a solemn, a final air about the transaction which gave her the feeling of some antic.i.p.ated tragedy.

When at last they rose, Hyde extended his hand. "Cohen," he said, "few men would have been as generous and, at this hour, as considerate as you. I have judged from tradition, and misjudged you. Whether we meet again or not, we part as friends."

"You have settled all things as a gentleman, Captain. May my white hairs say a word to your heart this hour?" Hyde bowed; and he continued, in a voice of serious benignity: "The words of the Holy One are to be regarded, and not the words of men. Men call that 'honour' which He will call murder. What excuse is there in your lips if you go this night into His presence?"

There was no excuse in Hyde's lips, even for his mortal interrogator. He merely bowed again, and slipped through the partially opened door into the busy street. Then Cohen put clean linen upon his head and arm, and went and stood with his face to the east, and recited, in low, rhythmical sentences, the prayer called the "a.s.sault." Miriam sat quiet during his devotion but, when he returned to his place, she asked him plainly, "What murder is there to be, grandfather?"

"It is a duel between Captain Hyde and another. It shall be called murder at the last."

"The other, who is he?"

"The young man Semple."

"I am sorry. He is a courteous young man. I have heard you say so. I have heard you speak well of him."

"O Miriam, what sin and sorrow thy s.e.x ever bring to those who love it!

There are two young lives to be put in death peril for the smile of a woman,--a very girl she is."

"Do I know her, grandfather?"

"She pa.s.ses here often. The daughter of Van Heemskirk,--the little fair one, the child."

"Oh, but now I am twice sorry! She has smiled at me often. We have even spoken. The good old man, her father, will die; and her brother, he was always like a watch-dog at her side."

"But not the angels in heaven can watch a woman. For a lover, be he good or bad, she will put heaven behind her back, and stand on the brink of perdition. Miriam, if thou should deceive me,--as thy mother did,--G.o.d of Israel, may I not know it!"

"Though I die, I will not deceive you, grandfather."

"The Holy One hears thee, Miriam. Let Him be between us."

Then Cohen, with his hands on his staff, and his head in them, sat meditating, perhaps praying; and the hot, silent moments went slowly away. In them, Miriam was coming to a decision which at first alarmed her, but which, as it grew familiar, grew also lawful and kind. She was quite certain that her grandfather would not interfere between the young men, and probably he had given Hyde his promise not to do so; but she neither had received a charge, nor entered into any obligation, of silence. A word to Van Heemskirk or to the Elder Semple would be sufficient. Should she not say it? Her heart answered "yes," although she did not clearly perceive how the warning was to be given.

Perhaps Cohen divined her purpose, and was not unfavourable to it; for he suddenly rose, and, putting on his cap, said, "I am going to see my kinsman John Cohen. At sunset, set wide the door; an hour after sunset I will return."

As soon as he had gone, Miriam wrote to Van Heemskirk these words: "Good sir,--This is a matter of life and death: so then, come at once, and I will tell you. MIRIAM COHEN."

With the slip of paper in her hand, she stood within the door, watching for some messenger she could trust. It was not many minutes before Van Heemskirk's driver pa.s.sed, leading his loaded wagon; and to him she gave the note.

That day Joris had gone home earlier than usual, and Bram only was in the store. But it was part of his duty to open and attend to orders, and he supposed the strip of paper to refer to a barrel of flour or some other household necessity.

Its actual message was so unusual and unlooked for, that it took him a moment or two to realize the words; then, fearing it might be some practical joke, he recalled the driver, and heard with amazement that the Jew's granddaughter had herself given him the message. a.s.sured of this fact, he answered the summons for his father promptly. Miriam was waiting just within the door; and, scarcely heeding his explanation, she proceeded at once to give him such information as she possessed. Bram was slow of thought and slow of speech. He stood gazing at the beautiful, earnest girl, and felt all the fear and force of her words; but for some moments he could not speak, nor decide on his first step.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Why do you wait?"]

"Why do you wait?" pleaded Miriam. "At sunset, I tell you. It is now near it. Oh, no thanks! Do not stop for them, but hasten to them at once."

He obeyed like one in a dream; but, before he had reached Semple's store, he had fully realized the actual situation. Semple was just leaving business. He put his hand on him, and said, "Elder, no time have you to lose. At sunset, Neil and that d---- English soldier a duel are to fight."

"Eh? Where? Who told you?"

"On the Kalchhook Hill. Stay not for a moment's talk."

"Run for your father, Bram. Run, my lad. Get Van Gaasbeeck's light wagon as you go, and ask your mother for a mattress. Dinna stand glowering at me, but awa' with you. I'll tak' twa o' my ain lads and my ain wagon, and be there instanter. G.o.d help me! G.o.d spare the lad!"

At that moment Neil and Hyde were on their road to the fatal spot. Neil had been gathering anger all day; Hyde, a vague regret. The folly of what they were going to do was clear to both; but Neil was dominated by a fury of pa.s.sion, which made the folly a revengeful joy. If there had been any thought of an apology in Hyde's heart, he must have seen its hopelessness in the white wrath of Neil's face, and the calm deliberation with which he a.s.sumed and prepared for a fatal termination of the affair.

The sun dropped as the seconds measured off the s.p.a.ce and offered the lot for the standing ground. Then Neil flung off his coat and waistcoat, and stood with bared breast on the spot his second indicated. This action had been performed in such a pa.s.sion of hurry, that he was compelled to watch Hyde's more calm and leisurely movements. He removed his fine scarlet coat and handed it to Captain Earle, and would then have taken his sword; but Beekman advanced to remove also his waistcoat.

The suspicion implied by this act roused the soldier's indignation. "Do you take me to be a person of so little honour?" he pa.s.sionately asked; and then with his own hands he tore off the richly embroidered satin garment, and by so doing exposed what perhaps some delicate feeling had made him wish to conceal,--a bow of orange ribbon which he wore above his heart.

The sight of it to Neil was like oil flung upon flame. He could scarcely restrain himself until the word "_go_" gave him license to charge Hyde, which he did with such impetuous rage, that it was evident he cared less to preserve his own life, than to slay his enemy.