“I’m—­I’m not going to swoon,” said Jacqueline, with difficulty.  “Air, that is all—­let me sit down a moment on the grass.  A duel—­you and Ludwell Cary.”

“I and Ludwell Cary.”  Rand uttered his short laugh.  “How steadily have we been coming just to this!  I think I knew it long ago.  I have in me so much of the ancient Roman that I prize him, now that we are at grips, and think him a fair enemy.  If I did not hate him, I would love him.  But it is the first, and I’ll not forgive this pretty trap he’s laid!  What does he think will come after these two weeks he has me shackled?  Does he think that he can always keep me here?—­or only until—­until it is too late to go?” He struck his hand against the beech tree.  “Well, well, mine enemy, we will try conclusions.”

Jacqueline rose from the grass, came to him, and laid her head upon his breast.  “Lewis, is there no way out with honour?  Must it be?  He is my friend and you my husband whom I love.  Will you face each other there like—­like General Hamilton and Aaron Burr?  Oh, break, my heart!”

Rand kissed her.  “There is no way out.  He means me to stay, and I will do it—­for this while, Cary, for this while!  Look, Jacqueline; the sun is setting over the road we should have gone!  I have been a fool.  Six weeks ago should have seen us far, far upon that shining track!  Now the world is spinning from me, the glory rolling under, and I feel the dark.  Adam is right; once started on this trail, I should have gone like the strong arrow’s flight.  I knew the warriors were behind me, and yet I idled,—­waited first to break with my old chief,—­as if my going would not have done that work, as short, as clean!—­and waited last because of a sick woman’s whim!  If I had not let you go to Fontenoy, we might to-day have heard the rushing of a mightier river than the Rivanna yonder!  Delay, delay, where haste itself should have felt the spur!”

“If I had not gone to Fontenoy,” cried Jacqueline, “my aunt might have died with her last wish ungratified!  If I had not gone, oh, what would they not have thought of me, most rightly, most justly!  Now we are almost friends again,—­the thing I’ve prayed for, longed for, wept for, since that June!  Was this not worth the waiting?  There is something here that I do not understand.  Why should you so greatly care to see these lands?  Say that there is some money lost and some vexation—­what does that count against this nearing home—­this making friends?” She struck her hands together.  “And yet—­and yet if we had gone, there would not have been this day, this quarrel, and this challenge!  There would not be this day to come, when I shall hear what, from now till then I’ll dream I hear!  O Christ, I heard them then, the pistol shots!  Why did we not go, Lewis, days ago?”