said he, quietly, " and he ran me through here."
As he spoke, he proceeded, in leisurely fashion,
to unbutton the wrist of his shirt, and baring his
arm midway, showed me a pinkish cicatrice of
considerable extent. " It went, the doctor said,
within a hair's breadth of the artery."

I made no comment upon this story. From
the moment I heard it I felt as though I was
travelling with the late Mr. Palmer, of Rugeley.
I was, as it were, in the company of one who
never would have scrupled to dispose of me, at any
moment and in any way that his fancy suggested.
My code respecting the Duel was to regard it as
the last, the very last, appeal in the direst
emergency of dishonour. The men who regarded it
as the settlement of slight differences, I deemed
assassins. They were no more safe associates
for peaceful citizens than a wolf was a meet
companion for a flock of South Downs. The
more I ruminated on this theme, the more
indignant grew my resentment, and the question
assumed the shape of asking, " Is the great
mass of mankind to be hectored and bullied by
some half-dozen scoundrels with skill at the
small sword?" Little knew I that in the ardour
of my indignation I had uttered these words
aloud—spoken them with an earnest vehemence,
looking my fellow-traveller full in the face, and
frowning.

"Scoundrel is strong, eh?" said he, slowly;
"very strong!"

"Who spoke of a scoundrel?" asked I, in
terror, for his confounded calm, cold manner
made my very blood run chilled.

"Scoundrel is exactly the sort of word,"
added he, deliberately, " that once uttered can
only be expiated in one way. You do not give
me the impression of a very bright individual,
but certainly you can understand so much."

I bowed a dignified assent; my heart was in
my mouth as I did it, and I could not, to save
my life, have uttered a word. My predicament
was highly perilous; and all incurred by
what?—that passion for adventure that had led
me forth out of a position of easy obscurity
into a world of strife, conflict, and difficulty.
"Why had I not stayed at home? What foolish
infatuation had ever suggested me the Quixotism
of these wanderings? Blondel had done it all.
Were it not for Blondel I had never met Father
Dyke, talked myself into a stupid wager, lost
what was not my own; in fact, every disaster
sprang out of the one before it, just as twig
adheres to branch and branch to trunk. Shall I
make a clean breast of it, and tell my companion
my whole story? Shall I explain to him that at
heart I am a creature of the kindliest impulses
and most generous sympathies, that I overflow
with good intentions toward my fellows, and
that the problem I am engaged to solve is, how
shall I dispense most happiness? Will he comprehend
me? Has he a nature to appreciate an
organisation so fine and subtle as mine? Will
he understand that the fairy who endows us with
our gifts at birth is reckoned to be munificent
when she withholds only one high quality, and
with me that one was courage? I mean the
coarse, vulgar, combative sort of courage that
makes men prize-fighters and bargees, for as to
the grander species of courage, I imagine it to
be my distinguishing feature.

The question is, will he give me a patient
hearing, for my theory requires nice handling,
and some delicacy in the developing. He may
cut me short in his bluff, abrupt way, and say,
"Out with it, old fellow, you want to sneak out
of this quarrel." What am I to reply? I shall
rejoin: "Sir, let us first inquire if it be a
quarrel. From the time of Atrides down to the
Crimean war there has not been one instance of
a conflict that did not originate in misconceptions,
and has not been prolonged by delusions!
Let us take the Peloponnesian war." A short
grunt beside me here cut short my argumentation.
He was fast, sound asleep, and snoring
loudly. My thoughts at once suggested escape.
Could I but get away I fancied I could find space
in the world, never again to see myself his
neighbour.

The train was whirling along between deep
chalk cuttings, and at a furious pace; to leap
out was certain death. But was not the same
fate reserved for me if I remained? At last I
heard the crank-crank of the brake! We
were nearing a station; the earth walls at either
side receded; the view opened; a spire of a
church, trees, houses appeared; and our speed
diminishing, we came bumping, throbbing, and
snorting into a little trim garden-like spot, that
at the moment seemed to me a paradise.

I beckoned to the guard to let me out—to do
it noiselessly I slipped a shilling into his hand.
I grasped my knapsack and my wrapper, and
stole furtively away. Oh, the happiness of that
moment as the door closed without awakening
him!

"Anywhere—any carriage—what class you
please," muttered I. "There, yonder," broke
I in, hastily—"where that lady in mourning
has just got in."

"All full there, sir," replied the man; " step
in here." And away we went.

My compartment contained but one passenger;
he wore a gold band round his oil-skin
cap, and seemed the captain of a mail steamer,
or Admiralty agent; he merely glanced at me
as I came in, and went on reading his newspaper.

"Going north, I suppose?" said he, bluntly,
after a pause of some time. "Going to Germany?"

"No," said I, rather astonished at his giving
me this destination. " I'm for Brussels."

"We shall have a rough night of it, outside;
glass is falling suddenly, and the wind has
chopped round to the south'ard and east'ard!"

"I'm sorry for it," said I. "I'm but an
indifferent sailor."

"Well, I'll tell you what to do: just turn
into my cabin, you'll have it all to yourself; lie
down flat on your back the moment you get
aboard; tell the steward to give you a strong
glass of brandy-and-water—the captain's brandy
say, for it is rare old stuff, and a perfect cordial,