Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic StorySimms, William Gilmore
General
Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic Story
Simms, William Gilmore
Domestic fiction
“Very good, sir; this matter, and what happens, must lie at your door.
You are peremptory. I trust you have provided a surgeon.”
“His services are at your need, sir,” replied Kingsley with military
courtesy.
“I thank you, sir--my remark had reference to your own necessity. Shall
we toss up for the word?”
These preliminaries were soon adjusted. The word fell to Carter, and
thus gave an advantage to Perkins, as his ear was more familiar than
mine with the accents of his friend. We were placed, and the pistol put
into my hands, without my uttering a sentence.
“Coolly now, my dear fellow,” said Kingsley in a whisper, as he withdrew
from my side;--“wing him at least--but don't burn powder for nothing.”
Scarcely the lapse of a moment followed, when I heard the words “one,”
“two,” “three,” in tolerably rapid succession, and, at the utterance of
the last, I pulled trigger. My antagonist had done so at the first.
His eye was fixed upon mine with deliberate malignity--THAT I clearly
saw--but it did not affect my shot. This, I purposely threw away. The
skill of my enemy did not correspondend (sic) with his evident desires.
I was hurt, but very slightly. His bullet merely raised the skin upon
the fleshy part of my right thigh. We kept our places while a conference
ensued between the two seconds. Mr. Perkins, through his friend,
declared himself unsatisfied unless I apologized, or--in less unpleasant
language--explained. This demand was answered by Kingsley with cavalier
indifference He came to me with a second pistol. His good-humored visage
was now slightly ruffled.
“Clifford!” said he, as he put the weapon into my hand, “you must trifle
no longer. This fellow abuses your generosity. He knows, as well as I,
that you threw away your fire; and he will play the same game with you,
on the same terms, for a month together, Sundays not excepted. I am
not willing to stand by and see you risk your life in this manner; and,
unless you tell me that you will give him as good as he sends, I leave
you on the spot. Will you take aim this time?”
“I will!”
“You promise me then?”
“I do!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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