"Father Tom--glen!" ejaculated the Englishman, with genuine
surprise. "What? do priests carry challenges and act as seconds in
your infernal country?"

"Yes!" I answered, scornfully, "why should they not? Their
services are more often necessary than those of a surgeon," I added
significantly, turning away.

The party slowly rode off, with the exception of the Hon. Blanche
Sackville, who lingered for a moment 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