of the steel, whose lightning-like movements his eye would have vainly tried to follow. Every moment he would have expected one or both of the antagonists to fall, and would have wondered, as the struggle went on, why this did not happen.

The reason was, that never, perhaps, were two combatants more equally matched. Aylesford was really superior in skill, but Major Gordon was more cool; the first was ready to take every advantage, the latter fought only to disarm his adversary. For some time, therefore, the chances hung equally balanced. At last Aylesford, impatient to terminate this protracted strife, began again to be more vehement in his assault. But though pressing his opponent severely, he took care not to expose himself a second time. His attack was so rapid and fierce, that Major Gordon was compelled to give ground, at which Aylesford, now confident of a speedy victory, rushed on more relentlessly than ever, though still covering himself with so much skill, that his antagonist could not but admire, even as he reluctantly fell back. Had the assault been less splendid, Major Gordon might have reserved his own strength, while Aylesford was expending his; but it demanded our hero's whole energies to save his life, so that he soon became as exhausted as his opponent. The assailer perceived this, and continued. his vigorous assault, knitting his teeth, and inwardly vowing, in the savageness of his passion, to run his rival through to the very hilt. At last, when he had pressed Major Gordon a considerable distance, the foot of the latter struck against an inequality in the ground; he made a slight stumble backwards; and, for an instant, lost his guard. Quick as thought, Aylesford took advantage of it, and lunged desperately, regardless of caution, which he thought no longer necessary.

But what was his astonishment, instead of seeing his blade enter the defenceless front of his antagonist, to observe Ma

jor Gordon recover himself, and avert the thrust by a dexterous twist, which he thought was known only to himself and his master. It was all the work of an instant, demanding less time than it has taken the reader to peruse the description.

"Ha!" hissed Aylesford to himself, with a curse, now fairly frantic with rage and baffled revenge, "he must have had lessons from my old teacher. From no one but him, or the devil, could he have learned that trick of fence. But he is blown; he is less practised than I am; and I'll have his heart's blood yet."

It must not be supposed that there was any pause, while he thus soliloquized. On the contrary, the attack went forward as desperately as before. Major Gordon at last began to acknowledge to himself it would be impossible for him to disarm his adversary, and that he must either lose his own life, or take that of the vindictive young man. The last alternative was only less objectionable than the first, since it would incontestibly banish him forever from Kate. But the liberty of choice was not left to him. He felt himself so hard pressed that he could count on nothing with certainty. All he could do was to defend himself, and watch for his opportunity, if fortunately it should come, or to die, if another and more serious stumble should be his lot.

CHAPTER XX.

THE INTERRUPTION.

There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave,

To tell us this.-Shakspeare.

Do not insult calamity,

It is a barbarous grossness.-Daniel.

BUT at this crisis, and when another instant would have dismissed one, if not both of the combatants, to death, a gun-barrel was thrust between them, striking up their blades, and simultaneously Uncle Lawrence stepped out into the road, having approached unperceived and unheard, through the woods.

"For shame," he said. "Put up your swords, young men. I thought better of you, Major Gordon," he contiqued, addressing the latter, "for your blood belongs to your country, and you've no right to waste it in a private quarrel."

Somewhat abashed, the Major dropped the point of his

weapon.

Uncle Lawrence, turning to Aylesford, went on.

Now

"Put up yours also, sir. I've no doubt this brawl is of your making. You needn't scowl at me; it will do no good; I was respected by your father before you was born, and I shan't allow you to murder, or get murdered. mount your horse, young man, and go home. You needn't look at the Major. He's coming with me, for I have business with him and I know he'll promise me there shall be no more of this."

Sullenly Aylesford, after a vain attempt to bluster,

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sheathed his sword, and telling his late antagonist, with an oath, that they would meet again, got into the saddle, and moved away as he was directed. When he had turned a corner of the road, a few rods distant, and was out of hearing, Uncle Lawrence said to Major Gordon :

"Now tell me how all this happened. He insulted you, of course, for I know him of old, and I marked his rudeness yesterday in church."

There was a tone of authority in the speaker, yet one entirely free from assumption, which there was no resisting. With his blood still boiling, the Major put up his sword and prepared to obey the old man. He could not tell everything; Kate's name was studiously avoided but he gave otherwise a fair account of the interview.

had concluded, Uncle Lawrence said:

When he

"It is just as I expected. Now it's strange," he continned, "how one brother'll differ from another. This young man's father wasn't the same man at all that Kate's father was; and the son's worse even. The old one spent half his fortune on wine and women, and the son has sent the helve arter the hatchet. He leads a wild life, when he's in town, where he can get company of the same sort; and did the same here, for awhile, when his cousin was in Europe. You can see that, though, in his face.""

Uncle Lawrence paused, but as Major Gordon was silent he went on.

"His family, even Miss Katie, are in fear from his temper. You've had a taste of that yourself, and they say its sometimes awful: he'd as lief kill a person, if he was angry, as look at 'em. Miss Katie, too, pities him, as is natural, for they were children together. I have heerd it was a plan of their fathers to marry 'em, when they grew up." His listener winced. "How that'll be now, however, I can't tell. Miss Katie worships the very name of her father, and would do a'most anything that she knew he wished: but

I'm sartain, if he was alive, he'd sooner see her dead than married to her cousin. Her aunt, I hear, don't think so, and is a great friend of the young man's, which is the more odd, because she married just such another, who spent all her money and nigh broke her heart. But they do say, she went a'most crazy with grief, in spite of it all. Women, Major, are queer critters."

"I suppose it's this old compact," said the Major, endeavoring to assume a composure he was far from feeling, "which has brought Mr. Aylesford down to Sweetwater."

"Most likely. Though there may be something else afloat, as other sarcumstances make me suspect. He's a tory at heart, I'm sartain. He was always high, and thought nobody good enough for him, talking of his cousin, Lord somebody, just as Mrs. Warren does," and he laughed that low chuckling laugh, which was all his mirth ever rose to. "Such a man, Major, is naturally a tory; and tories are always on the watch, with their cunning ready, for this youngster's as cunning as a fox; so I don't know but there's mischief afoot. That brings me, too, to my business, which is public, and to that private affairs must always give way, you know. But you'll go back to the Forks ?"

In manly bosoms, love, though the master-passion, is not the selfish and all-engrossing one, which mere romancers would have their readers to believe. Though Major Gordon was as anxious as ever to learn his fate from Kate, he saw that the present was not the time for it, and therefore declared his readiness to return to the Forks, and meanwhile, to hear what Uncle Lawrence had to say.

"It's about the refugees, Major, that I've come to see you," he said, walking by Selim's side, as the latter proceeded homeward at a slow pace. "Yesterday, when we were all at meeting, widow Bates' house was robbed and fired; and it could have been by none but them thieving vagabonds. Poor thing! she has a hard time to get along