cannot endure
your meek, mild mannered men, who seem to forget their sex, and almost
make me long to change my own with them, that their sweet dispositions
may be better placed."
He glanced at her with a somewhat surprised air, that brought a slight
blush to her cheek; but he seemed unconscious of it, and said, almost
mechanically:
"And yet, that same high spirit, which you prize so dearly, had, in his
case, almost caused you a severe affliction."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you not heard how curiously Beverly's intimacy with Harold was
brought about? And yet it was not likely that he should have told you,
although I know no harm in letting you know."
She turned toward him with an air of attention, as if in expectation.
"It was simply this. Not being class-mates, they had been almost
strangers to each other at college, until, by a mere accident, an
argument respecting your Southern institutions led to an angry dispute,
and harsh words passed between them. Being both of the ardent
temperament you so much admire, a challenge ensued, and, in spite of my
entreaty and remonstrance, a duel. Your brother was seriously wounded,
and Harold, shocked beyond expression, knelt by his side as he lay
bleeding on the sward, and bitterly accusing himself, begged his
forgiveness, and, I need not add, received it frankly. Harold was
unremitting in his attentions to your brother during the period of his
illness, and from the day of that hostile meeting, the most devoted
friendship has existed between them. But it was an idle quarrel, Miss
Weems, and was near to have cost you an only brother."
She remained silent for a few moments, and was evidently affected by the
recital. Then she spoke, softly as if communing with herself: "Harold is
a brave and noble fellow, and I thank God that he did not kill my
brother!" and a bright tear rolled upon her cheek. She dashed it away,
almost angrily, and glancing steadily at Arthur:
"Do you condemn duelling?"
"Assuredly."
"But what would you have men do in the face of insult? Would you not
have fought under the same provocation?"
"No, nor under any provocation. I hold too sacred the life that God has
given. With God's help, I shall not shed human blood, except in the
strict line of necessity and duty."
"It is evident, sir, that you hold your own life most sacred," she said,
with a curl of her proud lip that was unmistakable.
She did not observe the pallor that overspread his f
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