justify your incivility, or retract
it, or name a place of meeting, you must here undergo the hard word and
the hard blow."

"Neither will be necessary," said Ravenswood; "I am satisfied with what
I have done to avoid an affair with you. If you are serious, this place
will serve as well as another."

"Dismount then, and draw," said Bucklaw, setting him an example. "I
always thought and said you were a pretty man; I should be sorry to
report you otherwise."

"You shall have no reason, sir," said Ravenswood, alighting, and putting
himself into a posture of defence.

Their swords crossed, and the combat commenced with great spirit on the
part of Bucklaw, who was well accustomed to affairs of the kind, and
distinguished by address and dexterity at his weapon. In the present
case, however, he did not use his skill to advantage; for, having
lost temper at the cool and contemptuous manner in which the Master of
Ravenswood had long refused, and at length granted, him satisfaction,
and urged by his impatience, he adopted the part of an assailant with
inconsiderate eagerness. The Master, with equal skill, and much greater
composure, remained chiefly on the defensive, and even declined to avail
himself of one or two advantages afforded him by the eagerness of his
adversary. At length, in a desperate lunge, which he followed with
an attempt to close, Bucklaw's foot slipped, and he fell on the short
grassy turf on which they were fighting. "Take your life, sir," said the
Master of Ravenswood, "and mend it if you can."

"It would be but a cobbled piece of work, I fear," said Bucklaw, rising
slowly and gathering up his sword, much less disconcerted with the issue
of the combat than could have been expected from the impetuosity of
his temper. "I thank you for my life, Master," he pursued. "There is my
hand; I bear no ill-will to you, either for my bad luck or your better
swordsmanship."

The Master looked steadily at him for an instant, then extended his hand
to him. "Bucklaw," he said, "you are a generous fellow, and I have done
you wrong. I heartily ask your pardon for the expression which offended
you; it was hastily and incautiously uttered, and I am convinced it is
totally misapplied."

"Are you indeed, Master?" said Bucklaw, his face resuming at once its
natural expression of light-hearted carelessness and audacity; "that is
more than I expected of you; for, Master, men say you are not ready to
retract your opinion and