behind. In an instant I was at her side. Bending her blushing face over the neck of her white filly, she said hurriedly:-- "Words have passed between Lord Somerset and yourself. You are about to fight. Don't deny it--but hear me. You will meet him--I know your skill of weapons. He will be at your mercy. I entreat you to spare his life!" I hesitated. "Never!" I cried passionately; "he has insulted a Denville!" "Terence," she whispered, "Terence--FOR MY SAKE?" The blood rushed to my cheeks, and her eyes sought the ground in bashful confusion. "You love him then?" I cried, bitterly. "No, no," she said, agitatedly, "no, you do me wrong. I--I--cannot explain myself. My father!--the Lady Dowager Sackville--the estate of Sackville--the borough--my uncle, Fitzroy Somerset. Ah! what am I saying? Forgive me. O Terence," she said, as her beautiful head sank on my shoulder, "you know not what I suffer!" I seized her hand and covered it with passionate kisses. But the high-bred English girl, recovering something of her former hauteur, said hastily, "Leave me, leave me, but promise!" "I promise," I replied, enthusiastically; "I WILL spare his life!" "Thanks, Terence,--thanks!" and disengaging her hand from my lips she rode rapidly away. The next morning, the Hon. Captain Henry Somerset and myself exchanged nineteen shots in the glen, and at each fire I shot away a button from his uniform. As my last bullet shot off the last button from his sleeve, I remarked quietly, "You seem now, my lord, to be almost as ragged as the gentry you sneered at," and rode haughtily away. CHAPTER II. THE FIGHTIN
