University of Virginia Library

23. CHAPTER XXIII.
AN OFFENSIVE NOTE.

Persever attributed the vacillating character of Bainton's
note to the right cause. It must have been written
after an interview with Mallex, whose purposes were never
abandoned, and whose will was of an adamantine nature.

But he doubted not, from his knowledge of Eugene's disposition,
the convictions with which he was impressed, and
from which there could be no escape, that his client's
claims were destined to be established according to the requirements
of justice at no distant day.

Actuated by these convictions, he determined to call
upon Bainton after his return from the mansion of Mr.
Lonsdale. It might be well to be constantly conversant
with all the phases of his adversary's facile disposition.

When he was ushered into the presence of Mr. Lonsdale,
he was surprised to find that gentleman labouring under
a most extraordinary nervous excitement. His countenance
was pale and haggard; his knees and hands unsteady,
and his voice exceedingly tremulous.

The truth was that Mr. Lonsdale had not slept a wink
for more than twenty-four hours; and superadded to his
loss of repose, was an ever-present apprehension that he
was upon the eve of being summoned to the perilous field
of honour. The words of Ned had never ceased to echo
in his ears from the moment they had been uttered.

It so happened that Mr. Lonsdale had been relating
anecdotes the preceding evening, relative to several fatal
duels, in the presence of a circle of his rich acquaintance,
who could not avoid being impressed with the belief, from
his tone, the interest he evinced in the subject, and the
occasional chivalrous declarations he made, that he of
course was one who held himself amenable to the laws of
honour. Indeed he had advanced an argument in maintenance
of the practice of single combats, in opposition to
the opinion of non-combating gentlemen. And when the
significant notice of the young man whom he had so rudely
treated, recurred to him—as it did continually, in spite of
his efforts to banish it from his mind—how could he escape
from the chances of the arbitrament of arms, an ordeal
which he had so recently and so zealously advocated? Might
he not avail himself of the subterfuge, that Ned Lorn was
no gentleman? No, he had been associated with the most
respectable guests at the hotel of Madame R—, and
had accompanied thither the widow of a gallant officer who
had been celebrated for his duels. Could he apologize?
That might be tantamount to an abandonment of the pretensions

of his nephew to the hand and heart of Alice.
Would he fight the young man? That was a question he
did not ask himself. He was determined to do no such
thing. Then what was he to do? It would be absurd to
attempt an escape under the plea of disparity of age; for
Mr. Lonsdale was not old, and always affected the appearance
of youth in his dress, his manners, his associates, and
amusements. In short, it was a dilemma from which there
seemed to be no means of extrication. Incessant ruminations
of such painful character had naturally left their
marks upon the visage of the unhappy capitalist.

After the customary salutations, Mr. Lonsdale by a
violent effort succeeded in breaking the seal. The letter
quivered and shook in his hand; and when he had finished
perusing it, the unsteady glances of his eye, and the perspiration
on his forehead, added to the other evidences of
an uncontrollable perturbation, filled the young lawyer with
astonishment.

“I hope, sir, there is nothing seriously annoying in Ned's
letter,” observed Persever.

“A—a—no—oh, no!” was the reply.

“I hope his proposition may not prove disagreeable to
any party.”

“Do you say so? God knows I hope it wont, Mr. Persever!”

“If it meets with your concurrence, I think no one else
will oppose it.”

“Of course not!”

“As his friend—as one who has known him from his
boyhood, I am warranted in saying you will find him
honourable, deliberate, and yet prompt to meet—”

“Eh? What? Mr. Persever! Do you not think this
affair might be amicably adjusted, without a meeting?”

“Without a meeting? I must own that I do not understand
you clearly.”

“You certainly understand the nature of the business
upon which you come to me.”

“Undoubtedly. I am here as the friend of Ned Lorn,
or rather of Mr. Parke.”

“I know it! But I ask you in the confidence of friendship,
as one gentleman may address another, if this business
may not be settled on amicable terms?”

“Amicable terms! Most unquestionably, with your
concurrence.”

“I will concur freely, fully, and with all my heart!”

“Then the matter is settled! Neither Alice herself, nor
her mother, I am quite convinced, will interpose any objections.”

“Alice and her mother! What have they to do with
it?”

“What have they to do with it? Alice, at all events,
I should suppose, would have a good deal to do with it?”

“You think she will influence the young man?”

“Of course. She has already influenced him, else the
proposal you hold in your hand had not been written.”

“Proposal? My dear sir—”

“Does he not propose to marry her?”

“To marry Alice? Read it, sir—read it!”

Persever persued the note. He could restrain himself
no longer. But his laughter excited no mirthful sympathy
in the breast of Lonsdale.

“It is a very serious matter, sir!” said the step-father.
“You see that you have laboured under a mistake.”

“I own it; and a most ridiculous and diverting one
it is.”

“It may be diverting to you, sir; but not to me. What
sort of a reply shall I make? What shall I do?”

“Leave it to me. The young man is half demented;
any other would be hopelessly insane in his circumstances.
Why, sir, he must make an apology.”

“He make an apology? Why, he demands one from
me!”

“He is in love, and a poet; either would make him a
fool. Besides, he has been ill treated by the world, and is
now, I hope, upon the eve of coming into possession of a
quarter of a million of dollars.”

“You don't say so! Can it be possible! I will explain
everything to his satisfaction. He is a fine, a noble young
gentleman—”

“No, sir; at least that note was highly improper—”

“Improper, I admire him for it! Mr. Persever, tell
him to forgive and forget—”

Tell him to forgive—”

“Yes, sir.” It was my improper conduct which justly
excited his displeasure. I snatched Alice away from him
last night, without one word of explanation.”

“Ay, Alice was mixed up with it; no wonder he was
singularly incensed. Love and madness you know are
nearly allied. He might demand satisfaction of his father,
were he living, for an affront in the presence of his mistress.”

“But still, I'm apprehensive the difficulty cannot be
arranged satisfactorily to all parties,” continued Lonsdale,
at length becoming composed. “My nephew is in love
with Alice, also.”

“Aha! Then we must leave the young gentlemen to
settle their own affairs.”

“But Mellen won't fight.”

“Fight! Why should there be any fighting? Ned, naturally,
is as peaceable as a lamb. Let it rather be submitted
to the decision of Alice. Let us not interfere in
the matter.”

“If I interfere again, may I be—'

“Don't use the word, my friend.”

“I wont. But you understand me.”

“Perfectly. Dismiss this nonsense of Ned's from your
mind. I take the responsibility of withdrawing the challenge.”

“You do? There it is! Will you not take wine?” continued
Lonsdale, about to ring.

“Oh, no, it is too early. Adieu. Present my compliments
to the ladies.”

Persever retired to his office, smiling, but yet a little
displeased at Ned for not confiding everything to him.
Yet the solution was to be found in his love and madness—
Alice and poetry.