te hands: Rose, the image of all that he worshipped: Rose, so closely
wedded to him that to be cut away from her was to fall like pallid clay
from the soaring spirit: surely he was stunned and senseless when he
went to utter the words to her mother! Now that he was awake, and
could feel his self-inflicted pain, he marvelled at his rashness and
foolishness, as perhaps numerous mangled warriors have done for a time,
when the battle-field was cool, and they were weak, and the uproar of
their jarred nerves has beset them, lying uncherished.

By degrees he grew aware of a little consolatory touch, like the point
of a needle, in his consciousness. Laxley would certainly insult him!
In that case he would not refuse to fight him. The darkness broke and
revealed this happy prospect, and Evan held to it an hour, and could
hardly reject it when better thoughts conquered. For would it not be
sweet to make the strength of his arm respected? He took a stick, and
ran his eye musingly along the length, trifling with it grimly. The
great Mel had been his son's instructor in the chivalrous science of
fence, and a maitre d'armes in Portugal had given him polish. In Mel's
time duels with swords had been occasionally fought, and Evan looked on
the sword as the weapon of combat. Face to face with his adversary--what
then were birth or position? Action!--action! he sighed for it, as
I have done since I came to know that his history must be morally
developed. A glow of bitter pleasure exalted him when, after hot
passages, and parryings and thrusts, he had disarmed Ferdinand Laxley,
and bestowing on him his life, said: 'Accept this worthy gift of the
son of a tailor!' and he wiped his sword, haply bound up his wrist, and
stalked off the ground, the vindicator of man's natural dignity. And
then he turned upon himself with laughter, discovering a most wholesome
power, barely to be suspected in him yet; but of all the children of
glittering Mel and his solid mate, Evan was the best mixed compound of
his parents.

He put the stick back in its corner and eyed his wrist, as if he had
really just gone through the pretty scene he had just laughed at. It was
nigh upon reality, for it suggested the employment of a handkerchief,
and he went to a place and drew forth one that had the stain of his
blood on it, and the name of Rose at one end. The beloved name
was half-blotted by the dull-red mark, and at that sight a strange
tenderness took hold of Evan. H