enial.

"Your master," answered Tyrrel, "ought to have taught you good manners,
my friend, before bringing you here."

"Sir Bingo Binks is my master," said the fellow, in the same insolent
tone as before.

"Now for it, Bingie," said Mowbray, who was aware that the Baronet's
pot-courage had arrived at fighting pitch.

"Yes!" said Sir Bingo aloud, and more articulately than usual--"The
fellow is my servant--what has any one to say to it?"

"I at least have my mouth stopped," answered Tyrrel, with perfect
composure. "I should have been surprised to have found Sir Bingo's
servant better bred than himself."

"What d'ye mean by that, sir?" said Sir Bingo, coming up in an offensive
attitude, for he was no mean pupil of the Fives-Court--"What d'ye mean
by that? D----n you, sir! I'll serve you out before you can say
dumpling."

"And I, Sir Bingo, unless you presently lay aside that look and manner,
will knock you down before you can cry help."

The visitor held in his hand a slip of oak, with which he gave a
flourish, that, however slight, intimated some acquaintance with the
noble art of single-stick. From this demonstration Sir Bingo thought it
prudent somewhat to recoil, though backed by a party of friends, who, in
their zeal for his honour, would rather have seen his bones broken in
conflict bold, than his honour injured by a discreditable retreat; and
Tyrrel seemed to have some inclination to indulge them. But, at the very
instant when his hand was raised with a motion of no doubtful import, a
whispering voice, close to his ear, pronounced the emphatic words--"Are
you a man?"

Not the thrilling tone with which our inimitable Siddons used to
electrify the scene, when she uttered the same whisper, ever had a more
powerful effect upon an auditor, than had these unexpected sounds on
him, to whom they were now addressed. Tyrrel forgot every thing--his
quarrel--the circumstances in which he was placed--the company. The
crowd was to him at once annihilated, and life seemed to have no other
object than to follow the person who had spoken. But suddenly as he
turned, the disappearance of the monitor was at least equally so, for,
amid the group of commonplace countenances by which he was surrounded,
there was none which assorted to the tone and words, which possessed
such a power over him. "Make way," he said, to those who surrounded him;
and it was in the tone of one who was prepared, if necessary, to make
way for himself