“Oh, on far less, as thou well knowest, in the way of accommodating a young gentleman anxious to essay a feat of arms.  Thou hast said the word, and we fight—­but let me ask to what particular achievement of mine thou hast attached so ugly an epithet.  I would fain know to what I am indebted for your good opinion so gallantly expressed.”

     “I will but name two names—­and between them thou wilt find how
     dastardly thy conduct has been.”

“Make it three—­’twere pity to balk the Graces of their numbers; add the young lady who so lately left thee.  The forester’s fair daughter deserves a niche as well as a duke’s daughter.”

     “The names I mention,” said Lawleigh, “are Lady Alice
     Lorrington, and Lady Mary Rosley.”

Sir Stratford lifted his cap.  “Fair ladies,” he said, “I greet you well; that I have sunned me in the bright blue eyes of one, and the dark lustrous glances of the other, is true—­yet, ’tis but acting in love as people are justified in doing in other things.  When health begins to fail, physicians recommend a change of climate—­when admiration begins to decay, I always adopt a different style of beauty; when the cold climate is too severe, I fly to the sunny plains of Italy—­when Lady Alice frowns, I go to bask in the smiles of Lady Mary.”

     “And are a villain, a calumniator, and boaster in all—­defend
     thyself.”

“As best I may,” replied Sir Stratford, and drew his sword.  It was easy for him to parry the rapid thrusts of his enraged adversary—­and warily and slowly he was beginning the offensive in his turn, when a sudden flash was seen, a loud report took place, and the baronet was stretched upon the ground, weltering in his blood.  Rapid steps ere heard retreating in the direction of the thicket in the park, and Lawleigh hurried to the paling, and saw the form of a tall man, in a dark velvet coat, disappear over the hedge.”

["How good that is!” said Jack Stuart, as I came to the end of the chapter, and laid down the volume.  “How good that is!  Did you perceive where the joining took place?”

“No—­I saw no joining.”

“Why, you stupid fellow, didn’t you see that the first part was from a novel of the present day, and the other from a story of the rebellion—­who the deuce do you think talks of thees and thous except the Quaker?”

“I didn’t notice it, I confess.”

“Glad to hear it; nobody else will; and in the next chapter, which is the seventeenth of the second volume of this romance, you will see how closely the story fits.  Recollect to change the names as I have marked them in pencil, and go on.]

CHAPTER II.

“Hope springs eternal in the human mind,
I would be cruel only to be kind;
’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
Survey mankind from Indus to Peru;
How long by sinners shall thy courts be trod? 
An honest man’s the noblest work of God.”