“’Sir,—­After the very distressing publicity to which your late conduct has exposed you—­the so open avowal of political opinion, at variance with those (I will say) of every gentleman—­and the recorded sentence of a judge on the verdict of twelve of your countrymen—­I should hope that you will not feel my present admonition necessary to inform you, that your visits at my house shall cease.

     “’The presents you made my daughter, when under our unfortunate
     ignorance of your real character, have been addressed to your hotel,
     and I am your most obedient, humble servant,

“‘Oliver Eversham.’

“Here ended my second affair ‘par amours;’ and I freely confess to you that if I can only obtain a wife in a sea voyage, or a steeple chase, I am likely to fulfill one great condition in modern advertising—­’as having no incumbrance, or any objection to travel.’”

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE DUEL.

Mr. O’Leary had scarcely concluded the narrative of his second adventure, when the grey light of the breaking day was seen faintly struggling through the half-closed curtains, and apprising us of the lateness of the hour.

“I think we shall just have time for one finishing flask of Chambertin,” said O’Leary, as he emptied the bottle into his glass.

“I forbid the bans, for one,” cried Trevanion.  “We have all had wine enough, considering what we have before us this morning; and besides you are not aware it is now past four o’clock.  So garcon—­garcon, there—­how soundly the poor fellow sleeps—­let us have some coffee, and then inquire if a carriage is in waiting at the corner of the Rue Vivienne.”

The coffee made its appearance, very much, as it seemed, to Mr. O’Leary’s chagrin, who, however, solaced himself by sundry petits verres, to correct the coldness of the wine he had drank, and at length recovered his good humour.

“Do you know, now,” said he, after a short pause, in which we had all kept silence, “I think what we are about to do, is the very ugliest way of finishing a pleasant evening.  For my own part I like the wind up we used to have in ‘Old Trinity’ formerly; when, after wringing off half a dozen knockers, breaking the lamps at the post-office, and getting out the fire engines of Werburgh’s parish, we beat a few watchmen, and went peaceably to bed.”

“Well, not being an Irishman,” said Trevanion, “I’m half disposed to think that even our present purpose is nearly as favourable to life and limb; but here comes my servant.  Well, John, is all arranged, and the carriage ready?”