"I told thee, Fenton, we would meet again," said Napier, coldly and sternly, "and I swore when that hour came to spare thee not. It hath come, so do unto me, as thou wilt be done by." "For the sake of her whose name and blood you inherit in common, I would rather shun than encounter you. Your life--I spared it once." "Why remind me of that?" said Napier, furiously, while his cheek reddened. "'Tis better to die than remember that the boldest heart of the Scots Brigade owes its existence to the favour of a beardless moppet like thee! bethink thee, man," continued Napier, sneeringly, "the entail--your sword can break it in a moment; Quentin Napier is the last of his race, and then Lilian becomes an heiress." "Away, sir," replied Walter, sadly and calmly, as he dropped the point of his sword, "you have mentioned the only thing that in an hour like this, unnerves my hand to encounter you." At that moment a drum of Dunbarton's beat a charge. "Hark! your comrades are impatient," said Napier scornfully; "fall on, you nameless loon, for here shall I redeem the pledge I gave or die," and swaying his sword with both hands, he attacked Walter with great fury and undisguised ferocity. His courage was well met by Walter's address, but his bodily strength and weight of weapon were far superior, and he pressed on pell mell, until a deep gash in the right cheek reminded him of the necessity of coolness. The wound which would undoubtedly have roused another man to additional fury, had the effect of giving Napier a caution, that enabled him to parry Walter's successive cuts and thrusts with great success. Without the least advantage being gained on either side, the combat continued for three or four minutes, during which the greatest skill in swordsmanship was exhibited by both cavaliers, in their attempts to pass each other's points, until a stone in the frozen turf caught Walter's heel and he was thrown to the earth with great force. Ere he could draw breath, the captain sprang upon him like a tiger, and with his sword shortened in his hand, and a knee pressed upon his breast, he exclaimed in a fierce whisper through his clenched teeth, "Now I have thee! now your life is in my hand, but even now will I spare it, if here before the God that is above us, ye swear for the future to renounce all hope and thought of Lilian Napier--now, yea, and for ever!" "Never!" gasped Walter, panting with rage and shame, for an exulting shout from the Red dragoons stung him to the soul; "never; by what title dare you impose such terms on me?" "By the right of a kinsman and betrothed lover who would save her from contamination, by becoming the wife of an unknown foundling, a beggarly varlet, a soldier's wallet boy--ha!" and he ground his teeth. Walter felt stifled as his corslet was compressed beneath the heavy knee of his conqueror, and he made many ineffectual struggles to grasp his poniard, but it lay below him.