from him; and the hand so firmly clenched that the very bones seemed
working through the skin; with a brow now fierce, now only dejected;
and a complexion which one while burnt as with the crimson flush of a
fever, and at another was wan and colourless, like his whose cheek a
spectre has blanched,--Clarence paced his apartment, the victim not
only of shame,--the bitterest of tortures to a young and high mind,--
but of other contending feelings, which alternately exasperated and
palsied his wrath, and gave to his resolves at one moment an almost
savage ferocity and at the next an almost cowardly vacillation.

The clock had just struck the hour of twelve when a knock at the door
announced a visitor. Steps were heard on the stairs and presently a
tap at Clarence's room-door. He unlocked it and the Duke of
Haverfield entered. "I am charmed to find you at home," cried the
duke, with his usual half kind, half careless address. "I was
determined to call upon you, and be the first to offer my services in
this unpleasant affair."

Clarence pressed the duke's hand, but made no answer.

"Nothing could be so unhandsome as Lord Borodaile's conduct,"
continued the duke. "I hope you both fence and shoot well. I shall
never forgive you, if you do not put an end to that piece of
rigidity."

Clarence continued to walk about the room in great agitation; the duke
looked at him with some surprise. At last Linden paused by the
window, and said, half unconsciously, "It must be so: I cannot avoid
fighting!"