his curious
point of bravery or cowardice."

Although Graham's manner was perfectly civil and his accents almost
silken, Venner glanced keenly from one Scot to the other, and everyone
felt that the atmosphere had grown more intense, and that there was
latent antipathy between the two men. And even Rooke, a blunt and
matter-of-fact Englishman, who having said his say, had been smoking
diligently, turned round to listen to MacKay, who had never said a
word through all the talk of the evening.

"Mr. Carlton and gentlemen volunteers," MacKay began, with grave
formality, "I had not intended to break in upon your conversation,
which I found very instructive, but as Claverhouse" (and it was
characteristic of his nation that MacKay should call Graham by the
name of his estate) "has asked me straightly to speak, I would first
apologize for my presence in this company. I do not belong, as ye
know, to the King's guard, and it is true that I have a captain's
commission. As the tempest of to-day had thrown all things into
confusion, and it happened that I had nowhere to sit, Mr. Venner was
so kind as to ask me to take my place by this fire for the night, and
I am pleased to find myself among so many goodly young gentlemen. I
make no doubt," he added, "that everyone will so acquit himself as
very soon to receive his commission."

"The sooner the better," said Hales, "and as I have a flask of decent
Burgundy here, I will pass it round that we may drink to our luck
from a loving cup." And everyone took his draught except MacKay, who
only held the cup to his lips and inclined his head, being a severe
and temperate man in everything.

"Concerning the duel and the action of that gentleman," continued
MacKay, "my mind may not be that of the present honorable company. It
has ever seemed to me that a man has no right to risk his own life or
take that of his neighbor save in the cause of just war, when he
doubtless is absolved. For two sinful mortals to settle their poor
quarrels by striking each other dead is nothing else than black
murder. There is no difficulty to my judgment in understanding the
character of that duellist. When he knew that through skill in fencing
he could kill the other man and escape himself, he was always ready to
fight; when he found that danger had shifted to his own side, he was
quick to flee. My verdict on him," and MacKay's voice was vibrant, "is
that he was nothing other than a butcher and a coward."

"As