of the affair.

"It is a dreadful thing," said Lady Arranmore. "I wonder you did not try and stop it."

"God knows, madam, I did try. I had perhaps a hearing from Sir Richard; but your brother's heart is as hard as the nether millstone."

"I fear John is too often mixed up in these disgraceful affairs."

"Why, Johnny," said Lady Florence, "I thought you would have been there?"

"And so I would, had I had my own way; but I was dragged off whether I would or no."

"Then you really think they will fight?" said a lady.

"I fear so, madam."

"But perhaps they may miss," suggested Ellen.

"Little fear of John," said Lady Florence. "But it is awful."

"Indeed, madam, I am—but, God love us! there goes one," said Mr. Power.

In fact, at the moment a clear ring of a pistol-shot was heard; and, ere any one could speak, in quick succession another echoed through the woods.

"I'll run and see," said Johnny; and he was gone before any one could stop him.

We return to the Holly Walk. When Mr. Power was gone the Captain said, "Now we've sent Squaretoes to preach to the girls, we'd better be at work. It's d—bly cold, and will spoil our shooting."

"All is ready," said Scroop, handing him a pistol, while Wilson gave another to Sir Richard.

The Captain looked at the cap (the detonating system, but lately introduced, was all the rage, and the pistols were percussion), then let the dogshead press on the nipple an instant, and, half-cocking the piece, walked with Scroop to his stand. Sir Richard and Wilson also took their places.

The scene was awful! Twelve paces from each other stood the two antagonists; their seconds walked back and joined the rest of the lookers on. Not a word was spoken, save by old Andrew, who stood at the end of the walk, beneath a cypress-tree, almost directly behind the Captain, some thirty yards off, and kept up an incessant channering, as the Americans call it. The moon shone on one cheek of each of the foes. The Captain had a devil-me-care aspect; and though he was first to stand fire, seemed to reck little what happened. Sir Richard looked very pale; perhaps it was the moon—perhaps the thought he was about to shed a fellow-being's blood—or be hurled into another world. Old Andrew declared he was "fey."

At last, as if tired of the delay, the Captain's voice was heard clear and loud: "If you are ready, Sir Richard, I am."

Sir Richard cocked; the click seemed as if it rapped every heart that heard it, save his whose life it threatened. He raised the piece slowly, and, pointing it at the Captain's head, took a cool, deliberate aim. A slight frown gathered on the Captain's brow, who thus saw his life menaced. Then came the flash—the explosion—and the ping of the leaden ball, which rung through the cypress-tree, making old Andrew "loup," as he said.

"Missed, by Jove!" shouted Wilson. "It was a shaver, by—"

Before he could finish his sentence the Captain flung up his pistol, and, without seeming to take any aim, fired. The flash—the loud report—and then the thud of Sir Richard as he bounded forward, and fell flat on his face upon the snow!

Every one rushed to the fallen man—save one, the slayer, who stood like a statue, with the pistol smoking in his hand. The seconds turned Sir Richard over on his back; in the centre of his forehead was a round, bleeding hole.

One figure left the crowd, and, walking up to the Captain, said in a husky voice, "Drilled, by G—!"

It was Scroop.

"Where?" replied the Captain.

Scroop put his finger to the middle of his brow.

"Where I generally hit. But I must go and have a look. Not the first soldier I've drilled!"

With a calm face he stooped over his victim a moment, and then, as he walked away, muttered, "Ha! Dick Musgrave! thou wert a fool to quarrel with me. That shortens our count by one. The grave keeps her secrets!"

"This has had a more tragical ending than I imagined," said the Earl. "Andrew, have the remains carried to the castle. Come along home," to Frank.

"Confound my ill luck!" said Major Forster to the Marquis. "Poor Sir Richard seemed all of a tremble; no wonder he missed!"

"Is he dead?" cried Johnny, running up.

"Deed as a nail," replied old Andrew, and away Johnny ran.

Like a wild thing he entered the drawing-room, and all the ladies gathered round him, pale with terror.

"He's killed," cried Johnny, out of breath.

"Who is killed?" said Lady Florence. "Who, Johnny?"

"I am sure I didn't ask. One is; I saw them carrying him."

"You careless boy," said Lady Arranmore. "Oh! I hope it is not true! Here's some one who will tell us. Oh! Captain Wilson, who fell?"

"Musgrave, of course, Lady Arranmore."

"But is he dead? Oh say no," said Lady Florence, trembling with excitement and fear.

"Did you ever hear of a man living with an ounce of lead through his brains, Lady Florence? No, no; Richard of Musgrave breathes no more! The Captain will have to fly the country. Ah! here he comes."

As he spoke the Captain, accompanied by Scroop, both booted and spurred, entered the room.

"Oh! John, how could you?"

"Oh! what have you done?" exclaimed his sisters.

"Lord help us! what's done can't be helped. I am sure I am d—d sorry. But I must be off, so no recrimination. Good bye, Edie. Good bye, little Floss. And you, Miss Ravensworth. What, will you not even shake hands?"

"I cannot—your hand is bloodstained!"

"Ellen, if you knew all you would thank me. You do not know that Sir Richard was he who carried you off," said he, sotto voce.

Ellen hid her face in her hands, and the young officer turned away and clanked out of the room, bowing to the other ladies.

"God forgive you this murder; and may you never feel remorse for the deed!" said Mr. Power, as he strode past him.

"Ha, my preacher! are you primed, and at it again? Nothing like sticking to one's trade. You to your Bible, and I to swords, guns, and pistols!"

"You will think better some day. I trust God will break your heart in his own time."

"I am like to break your head if you detain me any longer, old Snapdragon! Never you mind me. If I get to the devil first I'll fire a salute when you come! Till then, adieu."

Leaving the worthy man to mourn over his wickedness, our hero proceeded to the hall, where all the gentlemen were grouped, talking to his brother and the Marquis. He and Scroop hastened to the courtyard, where young Wilton stood with three horses, ready saddled and bridled, to carry them and Archy to Leith, where they were to set sail at once for the Continent.

"I'll show my face again when this has blown over," said the Captain, as he mounted. "Poor Sir Richard! I am very sorry for him,—unlucky devil as he was. You will see he is decently buried. He'll have a warmer time of it than we shall, if Power speaks gospel."

"Well, good bye, John. Write to us sometimes," said the Earl, giving him a pocket-book. "This has been a most unfortunate night; it will delay my marriage,—and get me into a jolly scrape, too."

"Egad! I'm deuced sorry; but Ellen won't spoil for keeping a bit. Ha, the needful; I had forgotten that. Thanks—"

"An' I was thinking you would aiblins no be sorry to hae a keg of the gude stuff," said old Andrew, handing a big-bellied flask of whisky. "Gude save us, Captain! yon was a grand shot—puir Sir Richard!"

"Why, bless me, you are a better fellow than I thought, Andrew! Here, Scroop, you carry this flask; we shall be glad of it, I warrant. What a d—d night it is; the snow will be balling in our nags' feet, and leave a track for a blind man to follow. But we must be off. Good night, gentlemen. Come, Scroop, for God's sake be mounted and away, or we shall have the hounds on our scent!"

The horsemen then spurred off, and were soon lost in the darkness. The guests returned into the hall, and went upstairs.

When the