“Go, and lose no time, Tate,” said Helen, as, almost fainting with terror, she half pushed the old man on his errand. The mother and daughter sat silently gazing on each other for several minutes, terror and dismay depicted in the face of each, nor were they conscious of the lapse of time, when the door opening presented Mr. Bagenal Daly before them. He was dressed in his usual suit of dark brown, and with all his accustomed neatness. His long cravat, which, edged with deep lace, hung negligently over his waistcoat, was spotless in color and accurate in every fold, while his massive features were devoid of the slightest signs of emotion or excitement. For an instant Lady Eleanor was deceived by all these evidences of tranquillity, but a glance at old Tate's face, as he stood near the door, assured her that from such signs she had nothing to hope. Twice had Mr. Bagenal Daly performed his courteous salutations, which, in the etiquette of a past time, he made separately to each lady, and still Lady Eleanor had not summoned courage to address him. At last he said,-- “Have I been mistaken, and must I apologize for a visit at an hour so unseemly? But I heard that your Ladyship wished to see me.” “Quite true, Mr. Daly,” interrupted Lady Eleanor, her habitual tact supplying a courage her heart was far from feeling. “Will you be seated? Leave the room, Sullivan. My daughter and I,” continued she, speaking with increased rapidity, to cover the emotion of the moment, “have just heard something of a dreadful event which is said to have occurred this morning. Old Sullivan so often exaggerates that we indulge the hope that there may be little or no foundation for the story. Is it true, sir, there has been a duel fought near this?” Her voice grew fainter as she spoke, and at last became a mere whisper. “Yes, madam,” replied Daly, with an air of perfect calmness. “Two gentlemen met this morning at Cluan Point, and both were wounded.” “Neither of them killed?” “Wounded, madam,” reiterated Daly, as if correcting a misconstruction. “Are the wounds deemed dangerous, sir?” “Mr. MacDonough's, madam, is not so. The inconvenience of using his left hand on any similar occasion, in future, will be probably the extent of the mishap. The other gentleman has not been equally fortunate,--his life is in peril.” Mr. Daly paused for a second, and then, perceiving that Lady Eleanor still awaited a further explanation, added, with gravity, “When taking his position on the ground, madam, instead of standing half-front, as I took pains to point out to him, Captain Forester--” “Forester!--is that his name, sir?” interrupted Helen, as, in a hand trembling with terror, she held out Lionel's letter towards her mother. “A friend of my son's,--is he in the same regiment with Lionel?” asked Lady Eleanor, eagerly. Daly bowed, and answered, “The same, madam.”