“Dr. Hartley, my father has challenged Ralph Houston. They meet this morning, in the woods above the family burial ground. I escaped from the room in which my father had locked me, and came to give information to the authorities, that they may, if possible, stop this duel. What I desire particularly of your kindness is that you will go with me to Squire Johnson’s, that I may lodge the necessary complaint. I regret to ask you to take this trouble; but I myself do not know the way to Squire Johnson’s house.” “Margaret, my dear, I am exceedingly grieved to hear what you have told me. How did this happen? What was the occasion of it?” “Oh, sir, spare me! in mercy spare me! There is, indeed, no time to tell you now. What we are to do should be done quickly. They meet very, very early this morning.” “Very well, Margaret. There is no necessity for your going to Squire Johnson’s, for, indeed, you are too much exhausted for the ride. And I am now suffering too severely with rheumatism to bear the journey. But I will do better. I will put a servant on a swift horse, and dispatch a note that will bring Mr. Johnson hither. We can go hence to the dueling ground and prevent the meeting. Will not that be best?” “So that we are in time--anything, sir.” Dr. Hartley then went out to rouse the boy whom he purposed to send, and after a few moments returned, and while the latter was saddling the horse, he wrote the note, so that in ten minutes the messenger was dispatched on his errand. Day was now breaking, and the house servants were all astir. One of them came in to make the fire in the parlor fireplace, and Dr. Hartley gave orders for an early breakfast to be prepared for his weary guest. Missing Clare from her customary morning haunts, Margaret ventured to inquire if she were in good health. At the mention of his daughter’s name, Dr. Hartley recollected now, for the first time, that there might be some good reason for treating his young visitor with rebuking coldness, and he answered, with distant politeness, that Clare had gone to pay her promised visit to her friends at Fort Warburton. Margaret bore this change of manner in her host with her usual patient resignation. And when the cloth was laid, and breakfast was placed upon the table, and the doctor, with professional authority rather than with hospitable kindness, insisted that the exhausted girl should partake of some refreshment, she meekly complied, and forced herself to swallow a cup of coffee, though she could constrain nature no farther. They had scarcely risen from the table, before the messenger returned with the news that Squire Johnson had left home for Washington City, and would be absent for several days. “Oh, Heaven of heavens! What now can be done?” exclaimed Margaret, in anguish.