A Soldier of Virginia | Page 2

I began."
"Yes?" I asked, my anger quite mastering me. "But may not that be the fault of the teacher, Lieutenant Allen?"
He was out of his chair with an oath, and would have come across the table at me, but that those on either side held him back.
"I suppose you considered your words before you spoke them, Lieutenant Stewart?" asked Preston, looking at me coldly, and still keeping tight hold on the swearing man at his side.
"Fully," I answered, as I arose from my chair.
"You know, of course, that there remains only one thing to be done?" he continued, with a glance I thought compassionate, and so resented.
"Certainly," I answered again. "I may be able to teach the gentleman a very pretty thrust in tierce."
Upon this Allen fell to cursing again, but Preston silenced him with a gesture of his hand.
"I am very willing," I added, "to give him the lesson at once, if he so desires. There is a charming place just without. I marked it as I passed to enter here, though with no thought I should so soon have need of it."
Now all this was merely the empty braggartry of youth, which I blush to remember. Nor was Allen the blustering bully I then deemed him, as I was afterwards to find out for myself. But I know of nothing which will so gloss over and disguise a man's real nature as a glass of wine too much.
"I shall be happy to give the lesson at once," I repeated.
"Yes, at once!" cried Allen savagely. "I'll teach you, sir, to keep a civil tongue in your head when you address an officer of the line."
"It seems that we are both to learn a lesson, then," I said lightly. "It remains only to be seen which is the better teacher. Will one of the other gentlemen present act as my second?"
"I shall be happy to do so, Lieutenant Stewart," cried my neighbor, stepping forward.
"Ah, Lieutenant Pennington, thank you," and I looked into his face with pleasure, for it was the one, of all those present, which I liked the best. "Will you arrange the details for me?"
"May I speak to you a moment first?" he asked, looking at me anxiously.
"Certainly," I answered, and together we walked over to one corner of the room.
"Believe me, Lieutenant Stewart," he said, in a low voice, "I deem you a brave man, and I honor you for defending the credit of your countrymen. I little thought, when I invited you to dine with us to-night, that there would be an issue such as this, for it can end in but one way. Allen is the best swordsman in the regiment, and a very devil when he is flushed with wine, as he is now."
"You would have me decline to meet him, then?" I asked, looking at him steadily.
"A word of apology," he stammered, but he did not meet my eyes. His heart was not in his words.
"Impossible," I said. "You forget that it was he who insulted me, and that an apology, if there be one, must come from him. He has insulted not only myself, but the whole body of Virginia volunteers. Though I were certain he would kill me, I could not draw back in honor. But I am not so certain," and I smiled down into his face. "There be some good swordsmen even in Virginia, sir."
"In faith, I am wondrous glad to hear it!" he cried, his face brightening. "I could not do less than warn you."
"And I thank you for your interest."
He held out his hand, and I clasped it warmly. Then we turned again to the group about the table.
"Well," cried Allen harshly, "does our Virginia friend desire to withdraw?"
"On the contrary," answered Pennington quietly, "he has positively refused to withdraw," and as he spoke, I saw that the others looked at me with attentive eyes. "There is a little green just back of the barracks. Let us proceed to it," and he led the way toward the door.
Allen and I followed him, and the whole rabble of officers crowded after. In a moment we were at the place, and I walked to one side while the seconds conferred together. The full moon had risen above the treetops and flooded the clearing with still radiance. The tall, coarse grass waved slowly to and fro in the faint breeze, and away off in the forest I heard a wolf howling. The note, long and clear, rose and quivered in the air, faint and far away. And as it died to silence, for the first time the thought came to me that perchance my skill in fence might not avail. Well, thank heaven, there was none to whom my death would cause much sorrow, except--yes, Dorothy might care. At thought