Chapter 21
It was about half an hour after, that the friend of Lane called upon the friend of Everett. They were old acquaintances.
"You represent Everett, I believe, in this unpleasant affair between him and doctor Lane," the latter said.
"I do," was the grave reply.
"Surely we can prevent a meeting!" the friend of Lane said, with eagerness.
"I do not see how," was the reply.
"They were flushed with wine when the provocation occurred, and this ought to prevent a fatal meeting. If Lane insulted Everett, it was because he was not himself. Had he been perfectly sober, he would never have uttered an offensive word."
"Perhaps not. But with that I have nothing to do. He has insulted my friend, and that friend asks a meeting. He can do no less than grant it--or prove himself a coward."
"I really cannot see the necessity that this should follow," urged the other. "It seems to me, that it is in our power to prevent any hostile meeting."
"How?"
"By representing to the princ.i.p.als in this unhappy affair, the madness of seeking each other's lives. You can learn from Everett what kind of an apology, if any, will satisfy him, and then I can ascertain whether such an apology will be made."
"You can do what you please in that way," the friend of Everett replied. "But I am not disposed to transcend my office. Besides, I know that, as far as Everett is concerned, no apology will be accepted. The insult was outrageous, involving a breach of confidence, and referring to a subject of the most painful, mortifying, and delicate nature."
"I am really sorry to hear that both you and your friend are determined to push this matter to an issue, for I had hoped that an adjustment of the difficulty would be easy."
"No adjustment can possibly take place. Doctor Lane must fight, or be posted as a coward, and a scoundrel."
"He holds himself ready to give Mr. Everett all the satisfaction he requires," was the half-indignant reply.
"Then, of course, you are prepared to name the weapons; and the time and place of meeting?"
"I am not. For so confident did I feel that it would only be necessary to see you to have all difficulties put in a train for adjustment, that I did not confer upon the subject of the preliminaries of the meeting. But
"If you please." And then the seconds parted.
"I am afraid this meeting will take place in spite of all that I can do," the friend of doctor Lane said, on returning after his interview with Everett's second. "The provocation which you gave last night is felt to be so great, that no apology can atone for it."
"My blood probably will,--and he can have that!" was the gloomy reply.
A troubled silence ensued, which was at last broken by the question,
"Have you decided, doctor, upon the weapons to be used?"
"Pistols, I suppose," was the answer.
"Have you practised much?"
"Me! No. I don't know that I ever fired a pistol in my life."
"But Everett is said to be a good shot."
"So much the worse for me. That is all."
"You have the liberty of choosing some other weapon. One with which you are familiar."
"I am familiar with no kind of deadly weapons."
"Then you will stand a poor chance, my friend; unless you name the day of meeting next week, and practise a good deal in the meantime."
"I shall do no such thing. Do you suppose, that if I fight with Everett, I shall try to kill him? No. I would not hurt a hair of his head. I am no murderer!"
"Then you go out under the existence of a fatal inequality."
"I cannot help that. It is my misfortune. I did not send the challenge."
"That is no reason why you should not make an effort to preserve your own life."
"If we both fire at once, and both of our b.a.l.l.s take effect, the fact that my ball strikes him will not benefit me any. And suppose he should be killed, and I survive, do you think I could ever know a single hour's happiness? No--no--I choose the least of two evils. I must fight. But I will not kill."
"In this you are determined?"
"I certainly am. I have weighed the matter well, and come to a positive decision."
"You choose pistols, then?"
"Yes. Let the weapons be pistols."
"When shall the meeting take place?"
"Let it be to-morrow morning, at sunrise. The quicker it is over, the better."
This determined upon, the friend went again to the second of Everett, and completed all necessary arrangements for the duel.
It was midnight, and young doctor Lane sat alone in his chamber, beside a table, upon which were ink and paper. He had, evidently, made several attempts to write; and each time failed from some cause to accomplish his task. Several sheets of paper had been written upon, and thrown aside. Each of these bore the following words:--
"_My Dear Parents:--_When these lines are read by you, the hand that penned them will be cold and nerveless--"
Thus far the unhappy young man could go, but no farther. Imagination pictured too vividly the heart-stricken father who had so often looked down upon him when a boy with pride and pleasure, and the tender, but now agonized mother, as that appalling announcement met their eyes.
Again, for the fifth time, he took up his pen, murmuring in a low tone, yet with a resolute air,
"It must be done!"
He had again written the words:--
"My Dear Parents--"
When his ear caught the sound of steps, strangely familiar to his ear, ascending the stairs, and approaching his chamber. He paused, and listened with a heart almost stilled in its pulsations. In a brief s.p.a.ce, the door of his room opened, and a grey-haired, feeble old man came slowly in.
"My father!" exclaimed Harvey, starting to his feet in astonishment--scarcely, for the moment, being able to realize whether it were indeed his father, or, only an apparition.