Charles Tyrrell was going to do what he knew to be wrong; what, upon every principle of reason and good feeling, he disapproved of, as the most stupid and absurd, as well as the most barbarous and criminal of worldly customs; and he felt, in a religious point of view, that he not only required that mental preparation which every man must desire before death, but that he had to ask of the Almighty, not only pardon for sins past, but pardon for the very crime he was about to commit, and which was likely to hurry him into the presence of God. Mr. Driesen was a man without any religion, and, therefore, in all these respects he could give Charles neither comfort nor direction; but this was a matter with which his second could, of course, have nothing to do, and in every other respect he was well calculated to guide and assist him. He was a man of known courage; had some experience in such affairs; was troubled with no scruple or hesitation of any kind; and was prompt, active, and clear sighted. He could easily obtain the pistols for him from the nearest large town, without exciting suspicion in any one, and would, as Charles well knew, have no hesitation in regard to exerting himself under such circumstances. He accordingly rang the bell, and ordered the servant to ask Mr. Driesen to speak with him; and in a few minutes after, that gentleman appeared, with some surprise in his countenance at the summons. Charles briefly explained to him the occurrences of the morning, and Mr. Driesen accepted the office of second at once, rubbing his hands with a certain degree of pleasure, though he declared duelling to be a very foolish thing indeed at the same time. "Early to begin, Charles, early to begin," he said. "I never went out till I was six-and-twenty, and have not seen anything of the kind for twenty-five years. There was room in the mean while, however, to do a little business of the kind; but, upon my life, Charles, if you begin thus early and go on thus hotly, you will get your brains blown out some day. Six o'clock tomorrow, you say--Harbury Hill; well, I'll be ready, and come and knock at your door. Is there anything I can do for you in the mean while?" "Why, I wish you to send for the pistols," said Charles, "without letting any one know it." "What! haven't you got pistols?" demanded Mr. Driesen, with as much astonishment as if they were an indispensable ornament of a toilet-table; "but never mind, I'll lend you mine: I never travel without. There's no knowing when one may want them; and there can't be better pistols. I'd give them to you, Charles (for at my age it is not likely I shall want to use them), but they were sent me by a poor friend of mine when he was dying; shot through the liver, poor fellow! and I have a great regard for them. However, I will leave them to you in my will. You Tyrrells should never be without such companions."