ning on the bed, and we
both looked together from the north window. We were in the shade, but
the moon shone full on the two young gentlemen. Young Dalcastle was
visibly the worse of liquor, and, his back being turned towards us, he
said something to the other which I could not make out, although he
spoke a considerable time, and, from his tones and gestures, appeared
to be reasoning.

"When he had done, the tall young man in the tartans drew his sword,
and, his face being straight to us, we heard him say distinctly, 'No
more words about it, George, if you please; but if you be a man, as I
take you to be, draw your sword, and let us settle it here.'

"Dalcastle drew his sword, without changing his attitude; but he spoke
with more warmth, for we heard his words, 'Think you that I fear you,
Tom? Be assured, Sir, I would not fear ten of the best of your name, at
each other's backs: all that I want is to have friends with us to see
fair play, for, if you close with me, you are a dead man.'

"The other stormed at these words. 'You are a braggart, Sir,' cried he,
'a wretch--a blot on the cheek of nature--a blight on the Christian
world--a reprobate--I'll have your soul, Sir. You must play at tennis,
and put down elect brethren in another world to-morrow.' As he said
this, he brandished his rapier, exciting Dalcastle to offence. He
gained his point. The latter, who had previously drawn, advanced upon
his vapouring and licentious antagonist, and a fierce combat ensued. My
companion was delighted beyond measure, and I could not keep him from
exclaiming, loud enough to have been heard, 'That's grand! That's
excellent!' For me, my heart quaked like an aspen. Young Dalcastle
either had a decided advantage over his adversary, or else the other
thought proper to let him have it; for he shifted, and swore, and
flitted from Dalcastle's thrusts like a shadow, uttering ofttimes a
sarcastic laugh, that seemed to provoke the other beyond all bearing.
At one time, he would spring away to a great distance, then advance
again on young Dalcastle with the swiftness of lightning. But that
young hero always stood his ground, and repelled the attack: he never
gave way, although they fought nearly twice round the bleaching green,
which you know is not a very small one. At length they fought close up
to the mouth of the dark entry, where the fellow in black stood all
this while concealed, and then the combatant in tartans closed with his
antagoni