“‘And this lady?’ “‘That will come afterward,’ I said. “‘If I kill you--?’ “‘She is your property.’ “‘And if you kill me--?’ “‘She is mine,’ I said. “The sinister smile again came to the dark features of Mortimer. “‘So be it,’ he said, ‘and I am ready to accompany you, sir.’ “I drew my pistol and threw it upon the bed, looking at Mortimer as I did so. He imitated me, and opening his coat, showed me that he was wholly unarmed. I did the same, and having locked the private door leading to the back staircase, led the way out, followed by Mortimer. He turned and looked at madam as he passed through the door. She was erect, furious, defiant, full of anticipated triumph. Was it a glance of gloomy compassion and deep tenderness which Mortimer threw toward her? I thought I heard him sigh. “I locked the door, and we descended to the library.” XXIV. WHAT TOOK PLACE IN FIFTY MINUTES. “As we entered the apartment, the clock on the mantel-piece struck midnight. “My body servant was within call, and I ordered my carriage, which Nighthawk had been directed to have ready at a moment’s warning. “In five minutes it was at the door, and I had just taken the two foils under my arm, when I heard a step in the passage. A moment afterward, Nighthawk entered. “He was so pale that I scarcely recognized him. When his eyes encountered Mortimer, they flashed lightnings of menace. “‘Well?’ I said, in brief tones. “‘It is ready, sir,’ Nighthawk replied, in a voice scarcely audible. I looked at him imperiously. “‘And the servants are warned to keep silent?’ “‘Yes, sir.’ “‘Very well. Remain here until I return,’ I said. “And I pointed to a seat, with a glance at Nighthawk, which said plainly to him, ‘Do not presume to attempt to turn me from my present purpose--it will be useless, and offensive to me.’ “He groaned, and sat down in the seat I indicated. His frame was bent and shrunken like that of an old man, in one evening. Since that moment, I have loved Nighthawk, my dear Surry; and he deserves it. “Without delay I led the way to the carriage, which was driven by my father’s old gray-haired coachman, and entered it with Mortimer, directing the driver to follow the high-road down the river. He did so; we rolled on in the moonlight, or the shadow, as it came forth or disappeared behind the drifting clouds. The air was intensely cold. From beyond the woods came the hollow roar of the Nottoway, which was swollen by a freshet. “Mortimer drew his cloak around him, but said nothing. In ten minutes I called to the old coachman to stop. He checked his spirited horses--I had some good ones then--and I descended from the carriage, with the foils under my arm, followed by Mortimer. “The old coachman looked on in astonishment. The spot at which I had stopped the carriage was wild and dreary beyond expression. “‘Shall I wait, sir?’ he said, respectfully. “‘No; return home at once, and put away the carriage.’ “He looked at me with a sort of stupor.