xcuse."

"I beg your pardon. You are immensely ingenious, but you are immensely
wrong. Are you going to make out that I am the guilty party? Upon my
word, you're a cool hand. I _have_ an excuse. I have the excuse of being
interested in Miss Whittaker's remaining unengaged."

"So I suppose. But you don't love her. Otherwise--"

Major Luttrel laid his hand on Richard's bridle. "Mr. Clare," said he,
"I have no wish to talk metaphysics over this matter. You had better say
no more. I know that your feelings are not of an enviable kind, and I am
therefore prepared to be good-natured with you. But you must be civil
yourself. You have done a shabby deed; you are ashamed of it, and you
wish to shift the responsibility upon me, which is more shabby still. My
advice is, that you behave like a man of spirit, and swallow your
apprehensions. I trust that you are not going to make a fool of yourself
by any apology or retraction in any quarter. As for its having seemed
holy and just to do what you did, that is mere bosh. A lie is a lie, and
as such is often excusable. As anything else,--as a thing beautiful,
holy, or just,--it's quite inexcusable. Yours was a lie to you, and a
lie to me. It serves me, and I accept it. I suppose you understand me. I
adopt it. You don't suppose it was because I was frightened by those
big black eyes of yours that I held my tongue. As for my loving or not
loving Miss Whittaker, I have no report to make to you about it. I will
simply say that I intend, if possible, to marry her."

"She'll not have you. She'll never marry a cold-blooded rascal."

"I think she'll prefer him to a hot-blooded one. Do you want to pick a
quarrel with me? Do you want to make me lose my temper? I shall refuse
you that satisfaction. You have been a coward, and you want to frighten
some one before you go to bed to make up for it. Strike me, and I'll
strike you in self-defence, but I'm not going to mind your talk. Have
you anything to say? No? Well, then, good evening." And Major Luttrel
started away.

It was with rage that Richard was dumb. Had he been but a cat's-paw
after all? Heaven forbid! He sat irresolute for an instant, and then
turned suddenly and cantered back to Gertrude's gate. Here he stopped
again; but after a short pause he went in over the gravel with a
fast-beating heart. O, if Luttrel were but there to see him! For a
moment he fancied he heard the sound of the Major's returning steps. If
he would only come and