“Sure, sir, I deplore the accident, but I must insist ’twas Sir David bid you here.” “I have been wounded nigh to death, sir----” “Oh, my lord!” put in Angela sharply, “the flesh was but cut.” “Madam, permit me my own form of words. I have suffered a cursed mauling, sir, under your roof and in an affair that no whit concerns me.” “And I am sorry, Lord Dunlone. What more can I say, but that the affair concerns _me_ no more than that it affects my friend’s friend, and that I wish us all well out of it.” “That isn’t enough for me, curse it! I’m to be flouted and shot at and treated with no more respect than a cursed commoner, and then be given an account of regrets! You’ve returned to your own, sir; and now I’ll look to you to put an end to this cursed business, and to procure me a safe pass out of your accursed wilderness.” “Lord Dunlone, listen to me. When this business is settled you can call me to what account you please. In the meantime, as I am master here, you will dispose yourself according to my direction and as I think most profitable to our security and welfare.” He turned from the peer and walked to the fire-place. “You belittle my lord and his grievance,” said Miss Angela primly; “but no doubt you are within your right, Sir Robert.” The indignant “drizzler” walked to the door, puffed with fury. On the threshold he twisted about. “Oh! very well,” he said in a high voice. “You take your course, and I mine when this matter is ended.” He flung himself out and banged-to the oak behind him. Mr. Tuke looked gravely at his companion. “So, he hath told you?” he said. “He revealed it when he was very wild with his wound. You have not treated me well, Sir Robert.” “I have no claim to the title. My repudiation of it was a condition of this inheritance.” “And so your chickens came home to roost. Fie, Sir Robert! With what character would you pay your court to an innocent lady?” “How hath he maligned it? I will vindicate it against a dozen puppies of his kidney.” “And to the glory of what Dulcinea?” She looked at him searchingly; with what intention who shall say. “Am I to read confirmation of the story in this hunting of a gallant by his kitchen wenches?” “Why not? Slander is the hall-mark on virtue. ’Twas one of these ‘kitchen wenches,’ as I have the tale, was your salvation at the first.” “Oh! I grant she knows a rogue by his scent. She served the tap to such, I believe; and ’twas right noble of you to bring her to draw the ale to your honour.” “Madam, is it not shameful to speak thus of one who preserved you all by her wit?” “Mercy on us! I meant no offence. I love her solicitude in sitting up for the wanderers all night, and closing the shutters on her friends the thieves when she saw them breaking out of the drive. But what was that to her taking the burden of _your_ release on her shoulders? and I trust she hath not found herself conducting a forlorn hope.”