23. CHAPTER XXIII.
THE RIVALS.
The young man turned quickly and found the eyes of
Mr. Robert Emberton fixed upon him. Mr. Emberton's
countenance had entirely lost its habitual languor, and
was characterized by an unmistakable bad humor.
“You spoke to me very roughly a little while ago, sir,”
he said, “and in a manner not at all to my taste. Gentlemen
are not in the habit of using such language toward
each other here, whatever may be the case elsewhere.”
Max drew himself up haughtily.
“I had the right to say what I did, sir,” he replied,
“and if any thing I think I was forbearing—very forbearing.”
“I do not agree with you, sir.”
These words were uttered in a tone so cold and so full
of insult that the young man's face flushed.
“Mr. Emberton!” he said advancing a step toward his
adversary.
“Well, sir!”
“What do you purpose, will you be good enough to inform
me?”
“Yes, sir; I will.”
“You touched my shoulder I believe, as I was getting
into my sleigh,” said Max, haughtily.
“I did, sir,” replied Mr. Emberton, “and my purpose
was to say to you that your demeanor to me to-day has
been such as I shall not pardon.”
Max's eye flashed;
“As you please, sir!” he said.
Mr. Emberton looked at his adversary with a scornful
curl of his proud lip; and after a moment's silence
said:
“I could pardon your incessant attempts to render my
visits here disagreeable, sir—I could pardon these attempts
on your part if—”
“What do you mean, sir—I confess I am at a loss to
comprehend you,” replied Max, coldly.
“Attempts,” continued Mr. Emberton with great bitterness
in his tone, “in which I confess you have been at
times very successful. To-day for instance.”
“I do not understand you, sir.”
“I will not explain my meaning then, sir. If the lady
threw no obstacle in the way—and permit me to say that
I do not imagine any such state of things to exist, after
the mortifying experience I have had of my standing with
her this day in town yonder—if the lady threw no obstacles
in your path when your purpose in coming hither
was to render my presence ridiculous, then I have no
reason to complain of her; so much the worse for me.
That is not my cause of quarrel with you, sir: my reason
for stopping you just now was to say to you, that this
day you have openly insulted a gentleman who has never
stood in your path, though you have frequently stood in
his own, and to assure you further that he has no intention
of pardoning that insult!”
These words were uttered with great bitterness; Mr.
Emberton was plainly thinking of Caroline's preference
in Martinsburg, of his rival over himself.
Max caught at the last words uttered by his adversary,
and replied with equal bitternes:
“A gentleman who has never stood in my path!”
“Never, sir.”
“I know not whether this is irony or not, sir; but if
not irony it certainly resembles it. You make yourself
out a veritable saint, sir—the Chevalier without reproach.
You have not laughed to-day at my cousin's preference of
yourself to me in Martinsburg—by no means!” said the
young man, bitterly, “you have not made merry with my
verses, turning the expression of my grief at leaving my
native land into a jest—not at all! By heaven! Mr.
Emberton, you shall repent what you have said this day
before you are an hour older!”
Max overcome with rage, advanced two steps toward
his adversary, looking at him with burning and flashing
eyes.
Mr. Emberton by a powerful effort controlled himself.
“I did not laugh at your verses, sir,” he replied, “they
were wholly indifferent to me—wholly. I remember nothing
of them; but I do remember your language to me.”
Max suppressed his anger, and said with as much coldness
as he could command:
“I have nothing to retraet, sir.”
“You have insulted me, sir!” said Mr. Emberton, again
giving way to one of his pale rages.
“I have nothing to explain, sir.”
“I do not ask you to explain, sir,” said Mr. Emberton,
“there are things which you could not undo by an explanation;—and
I don't care to tell you, sir, that but for
those things, I should have passed over this insulting language
to-day.”
“You seem fond of riddles, sir,” said Max.
“I am not deceived by your pretense of not understanding
me.”
“My pretense, sir!”
“Your pretense—yes, a thousand times your pretense!
You not only make me ridiculous, but you pretend not to
know it.”
“Ridiculous, sir? your riddles are deeper and deeper.”
Mr. Emberton dug his nails into the palms of his hands;
as for Max he had nearly bitten through his upper lip.
The forms of the young girls were already seen flitting
by the window toward the door, to ascertain the cause of
the delay of their cavaliers, in taking their departure.
Mr. Emberton advanced close to Max.
“There is one word which I will make plain to you,
sir,” he said, “there shall be no riddle in it, I promise
you.”
Max replied haughtily:
“Very well, sir.”
“I will commission a friend to say it to you,” said Mr.
Emberton, “you might not understand me and my riddles!”
After these bitter words, Mr. Emberton made Max a
low bow, which was returned as ceremoniously, and both
got into their sleighs just as Caroline and Alice appeared
at the door. Mr. Emberton saluted them with some constraint
but a tolerable imitation of his usual sweetness, and
drove off in the direction of the Glades.
Max took his way to the Lock, overwhelmed with bitter
thought. Alice was lost to him! that day's events
had proved it! How fond and foolish he had been to
dream of her! And then came the thought of Mr. Robert
Emberton in connection with Alice—both laughing at his
verses. Max ground his teeth.
