with due consideration
there, as you will be."

"I do not doubt that, Sir, from so manly an adversary; and I shall do
myself the honor to come."

Such was Neville's reply. The rivals then saluted each other profoundly,
and parted.

Hammersley and Rickards lingered behind their principals to settle their
little bet about Kate's affections: and, by the by, they were indiscreet
enough to discuss this delicate matter within a dozen yards of Tom
Leicester: they forgot that "little pitchers have long ears."

* * * * *

Catharine Peyton rode slowly home, and thought it all over as she went,
and worried herself finely. She was one that winced at notoriety; and
she could not hope to escape it now. How the gossips would talk about
her! they would say the gentlemen had fought about _her_; and she had
parted them for love of one of them. And then the gentlemen themselves!
The strict neutrality she had endeavored to maintain on Scutchemsee Nob,
in order to make peace, would it not keep them both her suitors? She
foresaw she should be pulled to pieces, and live in hot water, and be
"the talk of the county."

There were but two ways out: she must marry one of them, and petition
the other not to shoot him; or else she must take the veil, and so
escape them both.

She preferred the latter alternative. She was more enthusiastic in
religion than in any earthly thing; and now the angry passions of men
thrust her the same road that her own devout mind had always drawn her.

As soon as she got home, she sent a message to Father Francis, who drove
her conscience, and begged him to come and advise her.

After that, she did the wisest thing, perhaps, she had done all
day,--went to bed.

CHAPTER VII.

The sun was just setting when Catharine's maid came into her room and
told her Father Francis was below. She sent down to say she counted on
his sleeping at Peyton Hall, and she would come down to him in half an
hour. She then ordered a refection to be prepared for him in her
boudoir; and made her toilet with all reasonable speed, not to keep him
waiting. Her face beamed with quiet complacency now, for the holy man's
very presence in the house was a comfort to her.

Father Francis was a very stout, muscular man, with a ruddy countenance;
he never wore gloves, and you saw at once he was not a gentleman by
birth. He had a fine voice: it was deep, mellow, and, when he chose,
sonorous. This, and his pers