," returned my cousin. "I do not offer
you Dorothy's hand from an unselfish motive. I have told you one motive,
but there is another, and a little condition besides, Malcolm." The brandy
Sir George had been drinking had sent the devil to his brain.

"What is the condition?" I asked, overjoyed to hear that there was one.

The old man leaned toward me and a fierce blackness overclouded his face.
"I am told, Malcolm, that you have few equals in swordsmanship, and that
the duello is not new to you. Is it true?"

"I believe I may say it is true," I answered. "I have fought successfully
with some of the most noted duellists of--"

"Enough, enough! Now, this is the condition, Malcolm,--a welcome one to
you, I am sure; a welcome one to any brave man." His eyes gleamed with
fire and hatred. "Quarrel with Rutland and his son and kill both of them."

I felt like recoiling from the old fiend. I had often quarrelled and
fought, but, thank God, never in cold blood and with deliberate intent to
do murder.

"Then Dorothy and all I possess shall be yours," said Sir George. "The old
one will be an easy victim. The young one, they say, prides himself on his
prowess. I do not know with what cause, I have never seen him fight. In
fact, I have never seen the fellow at all. He has lived at London court
since he was a child, and has seldom, if ever, visited this part of the
country. He was a page both to Edward VI. and to Queen Mary. Why Elizabeth
keeps the damned traitor at court to plot against her is more than I can
understand. Do the conditions suit you, Malcolm?" asked Sir George,
piercing me with his eyes.

I did not respond, and he continued: "All I ask is your promise to kill
Rutland and his son at the first opportunity. I care not how. The marriage
may come off at once. It can't take place too soon to please me."

I could not answer for a time. The power to speak and to think had left
me. To accept Sir George's offer was out of the question. To refuse it
would be to give offence beyond reparation to my only friend, and you know
what that would have meant to me. My refuge was Dorothy. I knew, however
willing I might be or might appear to be, Dorothy would save me the
trouble and danger of refusing her hand. So I said:--

"We have not consulted Dorothy. Perhaps her inclinations--"

"Doll's inclinations be damned. I have always been kind and indulgent to
her, and she is a dutiful, obedient daughter. My wish and command in this