CHAPTER XLVII. Conon.-You 're well met, Crates, Queen of Corinth. Ir was, as might be expected from the character of the aggressor! Lord Borodaile refused all apology, and agreed with avidity to a speedy rendezvous. He chose pistols, (choice, then, was not merely nominal,) and selected Mr. Percy Bobus for his second, a gentleman who was much fonder of acting in that capacity than in the more honorable one of a principal. The author of " Lacon, a very brilliant collection of commonplaces, says, " that if all seconds were as averse to duels as their principals, there would be very little blood spilt in that way;" and it was certainly astonishing to compare the zeal with which Mr. Bobus busied himself about this "affair," with that testified by him on another occasion, when he himself was more immediately concerned. The morning came. Bobus breakfasted with his friend. "Damn it, Borodaile," said he, as the latter was receiving the ultimate polish of the friseur, "I never saw you look better in my life. It will be a great pity if that fellow shoots you.' "Shoots me!" said Lord Borodaile, very quietly, me, -no! that is quite out of the question; but joking apart, Bobus, I will not kill the young man. Where shall I hit him?" "In the cap of the knee," said Mr. Percy, breaking an egg: Nay, that will lame him for life," said Lord Borodaile, putting on his cravat with peculiar exactitude. 66 "Serve him right," said Mr. Bobus. Hang him, I never got up so early in my life, it's quite impossible to eat at this hour. O-ápropos, Borodaile, have you left any little memoranda for me to execute ?" "Memoranda! for what?" said Borodaile, who had now just finished his toilet. "O!" rejoined Mr. Percy Bobus, " in case of accident, you know: the man may shoot well, though I never saw him in the gallery.' "Pray," said Lord Borodaile, in a great though suppressed passion, "pray, Mr. Bobus, how often have I to tell you, that it is not by Mr. Linden that my days are to terminate: you are sure that Carabine saw to that trigger?" "Certain," said Mr. Percy, with his mouth full, certain, God bless me, here's the carriage, and breakfast not half done yet." "Come, come, ," cried Borodaile, impatiently, we must breakfast afterward. Here, Roberts, see that we have fresh chocolate, and some more rognons, when we return." 1 "I would rather have them now," sighed Mr. Bobus, foreseeing the possibility of the return being single, Ibis! redibis ? &c. "Come, we have not a moment to lose," exclaimed Borodaile, hastening down the stairs; and Mr. Percy Bobus followed, with a strange mixture of various regrets, partly for the breakfast that was lost, and partly for the friend that might be. When they arrived at the ground, Clarence and the duke were already there: the latter, who was a dead shot, had fully persuaded himself that Clarence was equally adroit, and had, in his providence for Borodaile, brought a surgeon. This was a circumstance of which the viscount, in the plenitude of his confidence for himself and indifference for his opponent, had never once dreamt. The ground was measured, the parties were about to take the ground. All Linden's former agitation was vanished,- his mien was firm, grave, and determined, but he showed none of the careless and fierce hardihood which characterized his adversary; on the contrary, a close observer might have remarked something sad and dejected amid all the tranquillity and steadiness of his brow and air. "For heaven's sake," whispered the duke, as he with drew from the spot, square your body a little more to your left, and remember your exact level. Borodaile is much shorter than you. There was a brief, dread pause, the signal was given, Borodaile fired, - his ball pierced Clarence's side; the wounded man staggered one step, but fell not. He raised his pistol; the duke bent eagerly forward; an expression of disappointment and surprise passed his lips: Clarence had fired in the air. The next moment Linden felt a deadly sickness come over him, he fell into the arms of the surgeon. Borodaile, touched by a forbearance which he had so little right to expect, hastened to the spot. He leaned over his adversary in greater remorse and pity than he would have readily confessed to himself. Clarence unclosed his eyes; they dwelt for one moment upon the subdued and earnest countenance of Borodaile. "Thank God," he said, faintly," that you were not the victim," and with these words he fell back insensibly. They carried him to his lodgings. His wound was accurately examined. Though not mortal, it was of a dangerous nature; and the surgeons ended a very painful operation, by promising a very lingering recovery. What a charming satisfaction for being insulted! CHAPTER LXVIII.. Je me contente de ce qui peut s'écrire, et je rêve tout ce qui peut se rêver. DE SEVIGNE. ABOUT a week after his wound, and the second morning of his return to sense and consciousness, when Clarence opened his eyes, they fell upon a female form seated watchfully and anxiously by his bedside. He raised himself in mute surprise, and the figure, startled by the motion, rose, drew the curtain, and vanished. With great difficulty he rang his bell. His valet, Harrison, on whose mind, though it was of no very exalted order, the kindness and suavity of his master had made a great impression, instantly appeared. "Who was that lady?" asked Linden. "How came she here ?" Harrison smiled, -"O, sir, pray please to lie down, and make yourself easy: the lady knows you very well, and would come here; she insists upon staying in the house, so we have made up a bed in the drawing-room, and she has watched by you night and day. She speaks very little English, to be sure, but your honor knows, begging your pardon, how well I speak French." "French!" said Clarence, faintly, "French? In heaven's name who is she?" "A Madame,-Madame, -La Melon-veal, or some such name, sir," said the valet. Clarence fell back. At that moment his hand was pressed. He turned, and saw Talbot by his side. The kind old man had not suffered La Meronville to be Linden's only - notwithstanding his age and peculiarity of habits, he had fixed his abode all the day in Clarence's house, and at night, instead of returning to his own home, had taken up his lodgings at the nearest hotel. nurse, With a jealous and anxious eye to the real interest and respectability of his adopted son, Talbot had exerted all his address, and even all his power, to induce La Meronville, who had made her settlement previous to Talbot's, to quit the house, but in vain. With that obstinacy which a Frenchwoman, when she is sentimental, mistakes for nobility of heart, the ci-devant amante of Lord Borodaile in sisted upon watching and tending one, of whose sufferings, she said and believed she was the unhappy, though innocent, cause and whenever more urgent means of removal were hinted at, La Meronville flew to the chamber of her beloved, apostrophized him in a strain worthy of one of D'Arlincourt's heroines, and, in short, was so unreasonably outrageous, that the doctors, trembling for the safety of their patient, obtained from Talbot a forced and reluctant acquiescence in the settlement she had obtained. Ah! what a terrible creature a Frenchwoman is, when, instead of coquetting with a caprice, she insists upon conceiving a grande passion. Little, however, did Clarence, despite his vexation, when he learnt of the bienveillance of La Meronville, foresee the whole extent of the consequences it would entail upon him: still less did Talbot, who in his seclusion knew not the celebrity of the handsome adventuress, calculate upon the notoriety of her motions, or the ill effect her ostentatious attachment would have upon Clarence's prosperity as a lover to Lady Flora. In order to explain these consequences more fully, let us, for the present, leave our hero to the care of the surgeon, his friends, and his would-be mistress; and while he is more rapidly recovering than the doctors either hoped or presaged, let us renew our acquaintance with a certain fair correspondent. LETTER FROM THE LADY FLORA ARDENNE TO MISS ELEANOR TREVANION. "MY DEAREST ELEANOR, -I have been very ill, or you would sooner have received an answer to your kind, too kind and consoling letter. Indeed, I have only just left my bed they say that I have been delirious, and I believe it; for you cannot conceive what terrible dreams I have had. But these are all over now, and every one is so kind to me, my poor mother above all! It is a pleasant thing to be ill when we have those who love us to watch our recovery. - as if I "I have only been in bed a few days; yet it seems to me as if a long portion of my existence were past,had stepped into a new era. You remember that my last letter attempted to express my feelings at mamma's speech about Clarence, and at my seeing him so suddenly. Now, dearest, I cannot but look on that day, on these sensations, as on a distant dream. Every one is so kind to me, mamma caresses and soothes me so fondly, that I fancy I must have been under some illusion. I am sure they could not seriously have meant to forbid his addresses. No, no: I feel that all will yet be well,- - so well, that even you, who are of so contented a temper, will own, that if you were not Eleanor, you would be Flora. must con "I wonder whether Clarence knows that I have been ill. I wish you knew him.-Well, dearest, this letter, a very unhandsome return, I own, for yours, tent you at present, for they will not let me write more, though, so far as I am concerned, I am never so weak, in frame I mean, but what I could scribble to you about him. "Addio, carissima. F. A. "I have prevailed on mamma, who wished to sit by me and amuse me, to go to the opera to-night, the only amusement of which she is particularly fond. Heaven forgive me for my insincerity, but he always comes into our box, and I long to hear some news of him.” |