“How much obliged am I, Mr. Folliard, at the kindness of this visit, especially from one who keeps at home so much as you do.”

The squire instantly repulsed him, and replied: 

“No, sir; I am an honest, and, I trust, and honorable man.  My hand, therefore, shall never touch that of a villain.”

“A villain!—­why, Mr. Folliard, these are hard and harsh words, and they surprise me, indeed, as proceeding from your lips.  May I beg, my friend, that you will explain yourself?”

“I will, sir.  How durst you take the liberty of sending one of your cast-off strumpets to attend personally upon my pure and virtuous daughter?  For that insult I come this day to demand that satisfaction which is due to the outraged feelings of my daughter—­to my own also, as her father and natural protector, and also as an Irish gentleman, who will brook no insult either to his family or himself.  I say, then, name your time and place, and your weapon—­sword or pistol, I don’t care which, I am ready.”

“But, my good sir, there is some mystery here; I certainly engaged a female of that name to attend on Miss Folliard, but most assuredly she was a well-conducted person.”

“What!  Madam Herbert well conducted!  Do you imagine, sir, that I am a fool?  Did she not admit that you debauched her?”

“It could not be, Mr. Folliard; I know nothing whatsoever about her, except that she was daughter to one of my tenants, who is besides a sergeant of dragoons.”

“Ay, yes, sir,” replied the squire sarcastically; “and I tell you it was not for killing and eating the enemy that he was promoted to his seirgeantship.  But I see your manoeuvre, Sir Robert; you wish to shift the conversation, and sleep in a whole skin.  I say now, I have provided myself with a friend, and I ask, will you fight?”

“And why not have sent your friend, Mr. Folliard, as is usual upon such occasions?”

“Because he is knocked up, after a fit of drink, and I cannot be just so cool, under such an insult, as to command patience to wait.  My friend, however, will attend us on the ground; but, I ask again, will you fight?”

“Most assuredly not, sir; I am an enemy to duelling on principle; but in your case I could not think of it, even if I were not.  What! raise my hand against the life of Helen’s father!—­no, sir, I’d sooner die than do so.  Besides, Mr. Folliard, I am, so to speak, not my own property, but that of my King, my Government, and my country; and under these circumstances not at liberty to dispose of my life, unless in their quarrel.”

“I see,” replied the squire bitterly; “it is certainly an admirable description of loyalty that enables a man, who is base enough to insult the very woman who was about to become his wife, and to involve her own father in the insult, to ensconce himself, like a coward, behind his loyalty, and refuse to give the satisfaction of a man, or a gentleman.”