Mistress Wilding. Rafael Sabatini

face.

      It was Vallancey who saved the situation, cursing in his heart the bearing of his principal.

      “Mr. Wilding,” said he, “this is very handsome in you. You are of the happy few who may tender such an apology without reflection upon your courage.”

      Mr. Wilding made him a leg very elegantly. “You are vastly kind, sir,” said he.

      “You have given Mr. Westmacott the fullest satisfaction, and it is with an increased respect for you—if that were possible—that I acknowledge it on my friend's behalf.”

      “You are, sir, a very mirror of the elegancies,” said Mr. Wilding, and Vallancey wondered was he being laughed at. Whether he was or not, he conceived that he had done the only seemly thing. He had made handsome acknowledgment of a handsome apology, stung to it by the currishness of Richard.

      And there the matter ended, despite Trenchard's burning eagerness to carry it himself to a different consummation. Wilding prevailed upon him, and withdrew him from the field. But as they rode back to Zoyland Chase the old rake was bitter in his inveighings against Wilding's folly and weakness.

      “I pray Heaven,” he kept repeating, “that it may not come to cost you dear.”

      “Have done,” said Mr. Wilding, a trifle out of patience. “Could I wed the sister having slain the brother?”

      And Trenchard, understanding at last, accounted himself a numskull that he had not understood before. But he none the less deemed it a pity Richard had been spared.