The Master of Ravenswood held the paper in his hand, and seemed irresolute.  At length he spoke—­“Do not,” he said, “urge to farther desperation a wretch who is already desperate.  Enjoy your life while you can, and let me seek my death from another.”

“That you never, never shall!” said Douglas Ashton.  “You shall die by my hand, or you shall complete the ruin of my family by taking my life.  If you refuse my open challenge, there is no advantage I will not take of you, no indignity with which I will not load you, until the very name of Ravenswood shall be the sign of everything that is dishonourable, as it is already of all that is villainous.”

“That it shall never be,” said Ravenswood, fiercely; “if I am the last who must bear it, I owe it to those who once owned it that the name shall be extinguished without infamy.  I accept your challenge, time, and place of meeting.  We meet, I presume, alone?”

“Alone we meet,” said Colonel Ashton, “and alone will the survivor of us return from that place of rendezvous.”

“Then God have mercy on the soul of him who falls!” said Ravenswood.

“So be it!” said Colonel Ashton; “so far can my charity reach even for the man I hate most deadly, and with the deepest reason.  Now, break off, for we shall be interrupted.  The links by the sea-shore to the east of Wolf’s Hope; the hour, sunrise; our swords our only weapons.”

“Enough,” said the Master, “I will not fail you.”

They separated; Colonel Ashton joining the rest of the mourners, and the Master of Ravenswood taking his horse, which was tied to a tree behind the church.  Colonel Ashton returned to the castle with the funeral guests, but found a pretext for detaching himself from them in the evening, when, changing his dress to a riding-habit, he rode to Wolf’s Hope, that night, and took up his abode in the little inn, in order that he might be ready for his rendezvous in the morning.

It is not known how the Master of Ravenswood disposed of the rest of that unhappy day.  Late at night, however, he arrived at Wolf’s Crag, and aroused his old domestic, Caleb Balderstone, who had ceased to expect his return.  Confused and flying rumours of the late tragical death of Miss Ashton, and of its mysterious cause, had already reached the old man, who was filled with the utmost anxiety, on account of the probable effect these events might produce upon the mind of his master.

The conduct of Ravenswood did not alleviate his apprehensions.  To the butler’s trembling entreaties that he would take some refreshment, he at first returned no answer, and then suddenly and fiercely demanding wine, he drank, contrary to his habits, a very large draught.  Seeing that his master would eat nothing, the old man affectionately entreated that he would permit him to light him to his chamber.  It was not until the request was three or four times repeated that Ravenswood made a mute sign of compliance.  But when Balderstone conducted him to an apartment which had been comfortably fitted up, and which, since his return, he had usually occupied, Ravenswood stopped short on the threshold.