 Hayston,« replied Ravenswood, with the same composure, »you
should choose your society better, or you are like to have much work in your
capacity of their champion. Go home, sir, sleep, and have more reason in your
wrath to-morrow.«
    »Not so, Master, you have mistaken your man; high airs and wise saws shall
not carry it off thus. Besides, you termed me bully, and you shall retract the
word before we part.«
    »Faith, scarcely,« said Ravenswood, »unless you show me better reason for
thinking myself mistaken than you are now producing.«
    »Then, Master,« said Bucklaw, »though I should be sorry to offer it to a man
of your quality, if you will not justify your incivility, or retract it, or name
a place of meeting, you must here undergo the hard word and the hard blow.«
    »Neither will be necessary,« said Ravenswood; »I am satisfied with what I
have done to avoid an affair with you. If you are serious, this place will serve
as well as another.«
    »Dismount, then, and draw,« said Bucklaw, setting him an example. »I always
thought and said you were a pretty man; I should be sorry to report you
otherwise.«
    »You shall have no reason, sir,« said Ravenswood, alighting, and putting
himself into a posture of defence.
    Their swords crossed, and the combat commenced with great spirit on the part
of Bucklaw, who was well accustomed to affairs of the kind, and distinguished by
address and dexterity at his weapon. In the present case, however, he did not
use his skill to advantage; for, having lost temper at the cool and contemptuous
manner in which the Master of Ravenswood had long refused, and at length granted
him satisfaction, and, urged by his impatience, he adopted the part of an
assailant with inconsiderate eagerness. The Master, with equal skill, and much
greater composure, remained chiefly on the defensive, and even declined to avail
himself of one or two advantages afforded him by the eagerness of his adversary.
At length in a desperate lunge, which he followed with an attempt to close,
Bucklaw's foot slipped, and he fell on the short grassy turf on which they were
fighting. »Take your life, sir,« said the Master of Ravenswood, »and mend it, if
you can.«
    »It would be but a cobbled piece of work, I fear,« said Bucklaw, rising
slowly
