ready to
defend it in all companies, and in the field, should it ever be
impugned."

Kate colored with pleasure, and gave her hand eloquently to the Major.
He bowed over it, and kissed the tips of her fingers.

"Oh, Sir," she said, looking on him now as a friend, "I dreamed I saw
Mr. Neville lying dead upon the snow, with the blood trickling from his
temple."

At this Neville's dark cheek glowed with pleasure. So! it was her
anxiety on _his_ account had brought her here.

Griffith heard too, and sighed patiently.

Assured by Major Rickards that there neither could nor should be any
more fighting, Kate made her adieus, mounted her gray horse, and rode
off, discreetly declining all attendance. She beckoned Tom Leicester,
however. But he pretended not to see the signal, and let her go alone.
His motive for lingering behind was characteristic, and will transpire
shortly.

As soon as she was gone, Griffith Gaunt quietly reminded the surgeon
that there was a bullet in his arm all this time.

"Bless my soul!" said Mr. Islip, "I forgot that, I was so taken up with
the lady."

Griffith's coat was now taken off, and the bullet searched for: it had
entered the fleshy part of his arm below the elbow, and, passing round
the bone, projected just under the skin. The surgeon made a slight
incision, and then, pressing with his finger and thumb, out it rolled.
Griffith put it in his pocket.

Neville had remained out of civility, and now congratulated his late
antagonist, and himself, that it was no worse.

The last words that passed between the rivals, on this occasion, were
worth recording, and characteristic of the time.

Neville addressed Gaunt with elaborate courtesy, and to this effect:--

"I find myself in a difficulty, Sir. You did me the honor to invite me
to Mr. Charlton's funeral, and I accepted; but now I fear to intrude a
guest, the sight of whom may be disagreeable to you. And, on the other
hand, my absence might be misconstrued as a mark of disrespect, or of a
petty hostility I am far from feeling. Be pleased, therefore, to dispose
of me entirely in this matter."

Griffith reflected.

"Sir," said he, "there is an old saying, 'Let every tub stand on its own
bottom.' The deceased wished you to follow him to the grave, and
therefore I would on no account have you absent. Besides, now I think of
it, there will be less gossip about this unfortunate business, if our
neighbors see you under my roof, and treated