But, to my dread, I presently heard Tom cry sharply, “Whoa!” and, looking back, saw he had halted at the place where I had heard the voices.  My warning must have failed to hush the speakers.  Never shall I forget the look of startled horror, shame, and anger upon his face.  For a moment he sat motionless; then he turned his horse back to an opening in the thicket, and rode into the glade.  I galloped after him, to prevent, if possible, some fearful scene.

When I entered the glade, I saw Margaret and Captain Falconer seated upon their horses, looking with still fresh astonishment and discomfiture upon the intruder.  Their faces were toward me.  Tom had stopped his horse, and he sat regarding them with what expression I could not see, being behind him.  Apparently no one of the three had yet spoken.

Tom glanced at me as I joined the group, and then, in a singularly restrained voice, he said: 

“Captain Falconer, may I beg leave to be alone with my sister a few moments?  I have something to ask her.  If you would ride a little way off, with Mr. Russell—­”

’Twas, after all, a most natural request.  A brother may wish to speak to his sister in private, and ’tis more fitting to put a gentleman than a lady to the trouble of an absence.  Seeing it thus, and speaking with recovered composure as if nothing were wrong, the captain courteously replied: 

“Most certainly.  Mr. Russell, after you, sir—­nay, no precedence to rank, while we are simply private gentlemen.”

He bowed low to Margaret, and we two rode out to the highway, there to pace our horses up and down within call.  Of what passed between brother and sister, I afterward received a close account.

“I must have a straight answer,” Tom began, “for I must not be put to the folly of acting without cause.  Tell me, then, upon your honour, has there been reason between you and Captain Falconer for me to fight him?  The truth, now!  Of course, I shall find another pretext.  It looks a thousand to one, there’s reason; but I must be sure.”

“Why, I think you have lost your wits, Tom,” said she.  “If a gentleman known to the family happens to meet me when I ride out, and we chance to talk—­”

“Ay, but in such a private place, and in such familiar tones, when you scarce ever converse together at home, and then in the most formal way!  Oh, sister, that it should come to this!”

“I say, you’re a fool, Tom!  And a spy too—­dogging my footsteps!  What right have you to call me to account?”

“As your brother, of course.”

“My younger brother you are; and too young to understand all you see, for one thing, or to hold me responsible to you for my actions, for another.”

“I understand when your honour calls for my actions, however!  Your very anger betrays you.  I will kill Falconer!”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind!”

“You shall see!  I know a brother’s duties—­his rights, by heaven!”