Dennis Watson, however, had evidently some project in his mind, for no sooner was the last “Amen” said than he hurried out of church and stood waiting us when we came through the porch, where he stood bowing and scraping to the two girls, who were going out first. He was dressed very fine, and his grand clothes looked gay and modish in comparison with my own sober garments. When I came up with them, he was already addressing the girls, Rose accepting his remarks with a polite air, but Lucy shrinking back as if frightened, as indeed she was, knowing that I was behind her.
“I was but too glad to be able to do a little service to two ladies,” Dennis was saying as I strode up behind. “Mistress Lucy, I trust, was–”
But there I spoke myself.
“Mistress Lucy Dale, sir, is grateful for the service you did her, as I expect she told you at the time, so that I know no need for more to be said.”
And with that I drew Lucy’s arm within my own and turned away. But I saw the same dark flush rise to Dennis Watson’s face and the same look come into his eyes which I remembered of old when we were schoolboys together.
“As you please, Master Dale,” said he. “You seem inclined for enmity rather than friendship.”
“Between you and me,” I answered, “there can be no friendship, Master Dennis Watson. There is blood between us.”
Now, I would not have said that upon reflection, but it had slipped my lips ere I was aware. His face went pale and he glared at me angrily.
“So you accuse us of murder, do you?” he whispered, walking close to my side. “There shall be more blood between us if you like. Meet me in Went Woods tomorrow at sunrise and let us settle our difference, Master Dale. The sooner the better, to my mind.”
“As you will,” I said, and walked onward. He had spoken in a low voice and the girls had not heard him. But I had heard, and comprehended, and now there I was face to face with the ancient quarrel, which it seemed that nothing could stamp out.
XX
Of the Meeting in the Woods
I suppose that I was very quiet and reflective during that walk home from church, for more than once Mistress Rose Lisle rallied me on my silence. And indeed I had cause for reflection, for I knew that what had passed between me and Dennis Watson meant serious business. I was not the man to draw back when he spoke of meeting to settle our difference, for I had no fear either of him or of death. But I do not think any man, however brave he may be, can choose but think seriously when he is about to fight a duel. There he is with a very great chance of being shot, and more chance, I suppose, than in a pitched battle. Now, if I were to be shot and killed it would be a very unpleasant thing in more senses than one. For the women would be left defenceless and the farm would be without a master, and everything would be at sixes and sevens, to say nothing of the grief that would result. However, what must be must be, and it was perhaps as well that the old quarrel had broken out again sooner than later. I knew right well that Dennis Watson and myself could never be other than enemies, and when there is a feeling like that betwixt two men, bloodshed is certain to result. So when I had come to that conclusion, I strove to put the matter from me and to talk and think of other things. But in spite of my endeavours I could not quite keep the matter out of my mind, and presently I found myself wishing that Jack Drumbleforth were at home so that I could ask his advice. For Jack was skilled in the conduct of all these sort of matters and would have been sure to give me wise counsel.
I was not, however, to go quite without an adviser, for when we reached home we found Ben Tuckett seated in the parlour, he having walked over the hill from Pontefract to pay his usual Sunday visit to Lucy. I was very glad to see honest Ben, and determined to confide in him. Yet I would much rather have seen Jack’s face, for Ben, though a true friend and a trusty, was very fond of preserving his own skin and other people’s too, and hated the sight of pistol or sword. Nevertheless, I determined to press him into service on this occasion.
After dinner I got Ben out of the house on pretence of wishing to show him a new cow which I had purchased the previous day at Doncaster. Ben was somewhat slow in responding to my invitation, for it was a bitter cold day outside, and the fire in my mother’s parlour looked very inviting. Moreover, there were some fine apples and walnuts on the table, and Lucy had picked out a remarkably large pear for Ben to try his teeth on, so that he gazed longingly around him as I led him forth, and shivered when we turned into the fold.
“Come, Ben,” I said, “you can surely stand ten minutes of cold weather. You did not notice the cold, I warrant, as you came along this morning!”
“No,” said he; “for then, Will, I was coming into Paradise, but now I am going away from it. Did you never notice that the schoolboy goes slowly to school and quickly from it? Likewise that a horse comes home from market faster than it goes? Show me this wonderful cow, Will, and let us go back to the fire and the girls.”
“Never mind the cow,” I said, “it is not worth seeing. Come in
