Phil and I rose betimes the next morning, and went by hackney-coach, in the darkness, to a place in the Oxford road, near Tyburn; where we left our conveyance waiting, and proceeded afoot to the chosen spot in the Park.

No one was there when we arrived, and we paced to and fro together to keep in exercise, talking in low voices, and beguiling our agitation by confining our thoughts to a narrow channel.  The sod was cool and soft to our tread, and the smell of the leaves was pleasant to our nostrils.  As the sky whitened above the silent trees, and the gray light penetrated to the grassy turf at our feet, Phil quoted softly the line from Grey’s Elegy in which the phrase of “incense-breathing morn” occurs; and from that he went to certain parts of Milton’s “L’Allegro” and then to Shakespeare’s songs, “When Daisies Pied” and “Under the Greenwood Tree.”

“’Faith,” said he, breaking off from the poetry, “’tis a marvel how content I feel!  You would not believe it, the serene happiness that has come over me.  ’Tis easy to explain, though:  I have adjusted my affairs, provided for my wife, left nothing in confusion or disorder, and am as ready for death as for life.  I feel at last responsible to no one; free to accept whatever fate I may incur; clear of burdens.  The great thing, man, is to have one’s debts paid, one’s obligations discharged:  then death or life matters little, and the mere act of breathing fresh air is a joy unspeakable.”

We now descried the figures of Falconer, Idsleigh, and a third gentleman, approaching under the trees.  Civil greetings passed as they came up, and Falconer overwent the demands of mere courtesy so far as to express himself upon the coolness and sweetness of the morning.  But he was scrutinising Philip curiously the while, as if there were some reason why he should be less indifferent regarding this antagonist than he had shown himself regarding Tom Faringfield and me.

The principals removed their hats, coats, and waistcoats.  As they were not booted, but appeared in stockings and low shoes, they made two fine and supple figures to look upon.  The formalities between Mr. Idsleigh and me were as brief as possible.  Falconer chose his sword with a pretence of scarce looking at it, Philip gave his the usual examination, and the two men stood on guard.

There was a little wary play at first, while each sought an inkling of the other’s method.  Then some livelier work, in which they warmed themselves and got their muscles into complete facility, followed upon Phil’s pretending to lose his guard.  All this was but overture, and it came to a stop for a short pause designed as preliminary to the real duel.  Both were now perspiring, and breathing into their lungs deep draughts of air.  Falconer’s expression showed that he had recognised better fencing in Phil’s work than he had thought to find; but Phil’s face conveyed no such surprise, for he had counted upon an adversary possessed of the first skill.