“Good gracious, Alick, my dear fellow, what on earth can you want me to do for you at four o’clock in the morning, after having made a night of it at the ball?” laughed Francis Tredegar, turning around in much surprise; but his surprise became consternation as he gazed on the haggard features and ghastly complexion of his visitor. “Merciful Heaven, Alick!” he exclaimed, “what is the matter? What on earth has happened to you?” “I have been insulted, outraged, beyond all endurance. And I want you to be the bearer of a challenge from me!” grimly replied Alexander. “A challenge, Alick! In the name of reason, are you mad?” “I wish I were! Perhaps I am! But in a few words, Tredegar, if I convince you that I have been wronged to a degree unendurable by an honorable man, will you then become the bearer of my challenge to the base caitiff who has so foully abused me?” “Why certainly I will, Alick. In any just cause I will stand by you to the very death! But is it really as bad as you think?” “‘As bad as I think?’ Listen.” “Sit down, Alick, and tell me all about it,” said Tredegar, rolling towards his visitor a comfortable arm-chair. Alick dropped into the offered seat. Tredegar perched himself on the corner of the dressing-table. “I will put a case and let you judge for yourself. Suppose that you were devoted to a beautiful, amiable and accomplished woman, who was at least equally devoted to yourself——” “Heavens! If I could suppose that I should be in paradise!” “No levity, if you please, Francis.” “Beg pardon. I will be as grave as a rejected lover, or—as an _accepted_ one!” “Suppose this mutual devotion had grown up with you from infancy to maturity; and that it was consecrated by the most sacred bonds and pledges.” “Meaning, poetically speaking, ‘bonds of matrimony’ and ‘pledges of affection’—otherwise, practically prosing, wife and children.” “No, not exactly; but, to continue: Suppose this mutual devotion to have lived on in love, and trust, and joy, and peace until certain untoward circumstances—your own madness, to wit:—disturbed the harmony of your relations; yet still in all the discord this mutual love lived on; lived on, only deepened and strengthened by separation and suffering,—lived on until just at the time you were beginning to dream of reconciliation and reunion with your first love—your only love, your life’s love—a base villain steps in between you, and, favored by fortune and by position, dazzles the mind and steals the heart of your beloved!” “And is that suppository case your own, Alick?” “Yes, it is. What would you do if it were yours?” “I’d let him have her! I’d give ’em my blessing, and let ’em go! But then I’m not you, Alick; if you feel inclined to call the fellow out and giving him a chance to settle your prior claims by blowing out your heated brains, why that’s _your_ affair!” “And _you_ will have nothing to do with it?”