Chapter XIII.

The following day brought a large party of the military beaux to the Hall, in acceptance of the baronet's hospitable invitation to dinner. Lady Moseley was delighted; so long as her husband's or her children's interest had demanded a sacrifice of her love of society, it had been made without a sigh, almost without a thought. The ties of affinity in her were sacred; and to the happiness, the comfort of those she felt an interest in, there were few sacrifices of her own propensities, she would not cheerfully have made---it was this very love for her offspring, that made her anxious to dispose of her daughters in wedlock; her own marriage had been so happy, she naturally concluded it the state most likely to insure the happiness of her children; and with Lady Moseley, as with thousands of others, who, averse or unequal to the labours of investigation, jump to conclusions over the long line of connecting reasons, marriage was marriage, a husband was a husband; it is true, there were certain indispensables, without which, the formation of a connexion was a thing she considered not within the bounds of nature; there must be fitness in fortune, in condition, in education and manners; there must be no glaring evil, althoughshe did not ask for positive good--a professor of religion herself, had any one told her it was a duty of her calling, to guard against a connexion with any but a christian, for her girls, she would have wondered at the ignorance that would embarrass the married state, with feelings exclusively belonging to the individual; had any one told her it were possible to give her child to any but a gentleman, she would have wondered at the want of feeling, that could devote the softness of Jane, or Emily, to the association with rudeness or vulgarity. It was the misfortune of Lady Moseley, to limit her views of marriage to the scene of this life, forgetful that every union gives existence to a long line of immortal beings, whose future welfare depends greatly on the force of early examples, or the strength of early impressions.

The necessity for restriction in their expenditures had ceased, and the baronet and his wife greatly enjoyed the first opportunity their secluded situation had given them, to draw around their board their fellow-creatures of their own stamp--in the former, it was pure philanthropy; the same feeling urged him to seek out and relieve distress in humble life;---while in

the latter, it was love of station and seemliness---it was becoming the owner of Moseley Hall, and it was what the daughters of the Benfield family had done since the conquest.

"I am extremely sorry," said the good baronet at dinner, "Mr. Denbigh declined our invitation to day; I hope he will ride over in the evening yet."

Looks of a singular cast were exchanged between Colonel Egerton and Sir Herbert Nicholson, at the mention of Denbigh's name; which, as the latter had just asked the favour of taking wine with Mrs. Wilson, did not escape her notice: Emily had innocently mentioned his precipitate retreat the night before; and he had, when reminded of his engagement to dine with them that very day, and promised an introduction to Sir Herbert Nicholson by John, in her presence, suddenly excused himself and withdrew; with an indefinite suspicion of something wrong, she ventured to address Sir Herbert with,

"Did you know Mr. Denbigh in Spain."

"I told Miss Emily Moseley, I believe, last evening, that I knew some of the name," replied the gentleman, evasively; and then pausing a moment, he added with great emphasis, "there is a circumstance connected with one of that name, I shall ever remember."

"It was creditable, no doubt, Sir Herbert," cried young Jarvis sarcastically; but the soldier affecting not to hear the question, asked Jane to take wine with him; Lord Chatterton, however, putting his knife and fork down gravely, and with a glow of animation, observed with unusual spirit,

"Ihave no doubt it did, sir;" Jarvis, in his turn, affected not to hear this speech, and nothing further was said, as Sir Edward saw the name of Mr.

Denbigh excited a sensation amongst his guests he was unable to account for, and which he soon forgot himself.

After the company had retired, Lord Chatterton, however, related to the astonished and indignant family of the baronet, the substance of the following scene, which he had been a witness to that morning, while on a visit to Denbigh at the rectory: as sitting in the parlour by themselves over their breakfast, a Captain Digby was announced, and asked in.

"I have the honour of waiting upon you, Mr. Denbigh," said the soldier, with the stiff formality of a professed duellist, "on behalf of Captain Jarvis, but will postpone my business until you are at leisure," glancing his eye on Chatterton.

"I know of no business with Captain Jarvis," said Denbigh, politely handing the stranger a chair, "that Lord Chatterton cannot be privy to; if he will excuse the interruption." The nobleman bowed, and Captain Digby, a little lowered by the rank of Denbigh's friend, proceeded in a more easy manner.

"Captain Jarvis has empowered me, sir, to make any arrangement with yourself or friend, previous to your meeting, which he hopes may be as soon as possible, if convenient to yourself," replied the soldier cooly.

Denbigh viewed him for a moment with astonishment, in silence; when recollecting himself, he said mildly, and without the least agitation, "I cannot affect, sir, not to understand your meaning, but am at a loss to imagine what act of mine can have made Mr. Jarvis wish to make such an appeal."

"Surely Mr. Denbigh cannot think a man of Captain Jarvis's spirit can quietly submit to the indignity put upon him last evening, by your dancing with Miss Moseley, after she had declined the honour to himself," said the captain, with an affectation of an incredulous smile. "My Lord Chatterton and myself can easily settle the preliminaries, as Captain Jarvis is much disposed to consult your wishes, Sir, in this affair."

"If he consults my wishes," said Denbigh, smiling, "he will think no more about it."

"At what time, Sir," asked Digby, "will it be convenient to give him the meeting?" and then, speaking with a kind of bravado gentlemen of his cast are fond of assuming, "my friend would not hurry any settlement of your affairs."

"I cannot ever give a meeting to Captain Jarvis, with hostile intentions," replied Denbigh, calmly.

"Sir!"

"I decline the combat, Sir," said Denbigh, speaking with firmness.

"Your reasons, Sir, if you please," asked Captain Digby, compressing his lips, and drawing up in an air of personal interest.

"Surely," cried Chatterton, who had with difficulty restrained his feelings, "surely Mr. Denbigh could never so far forget himself, as to expose Miss Moseley by accepting this invitation."

"Your reason, my lord," said Denbigh with interest, "would at all times have its weight; but I wish not to qualify an act of what I conceive to be principle, by any lesser consideration--I cannot meet Captain Jarvis, or any

other man, in private combat; there can exist no necessity for an appeal to arms, in any society where the laws rule, and I am averse to blood-shed."

"Very extraordinary," muttered Captain Digby, somewhat at a loss how to act; but the calm and collected manner of Denbigh prevented a reply; and after declining a cup of tea, a liquor he never drank, he withdrew, saying, he would acquaint his friend with Mr. Denbigh's singular notions.

Captain Digby had left Jarvis at an inn, about half a mile from the rectory, for the convenience of early information of the result of his conference. The young man had walked up and down the room during Digby's absence, in a train of reflections entirely new to him; he was the only son of his aged father and mother, the protector of his sisters, and he might say, the sole hope ofa rising family; and then, possibly, Denbigh might not have meant to offend him--he might even have been engaged before they came to the house; or if not, it might have been inadvertence on the part of Miss Moseley--that Denbigh would offer some explanation he believed, and he had fully made up his mind to accept it, as his fighting friend entered. "Well," said Jarvis, in a low tone.

"He says he will not meet you," dryly exclaimed his friend, throwing himself into a chair, and ordering a glass of brandy and water.

"Not meet me," cried Jarvis, in surprise; "engaged, perhaps."

"Engaged to his conscience," exclaimed Digby, with an oath.

"To his conscience! I do not know I rightly understand you, Captain Digby," said Jarvis, catching his breath, and raising his voice a little.

"Then, Captain Jarvis," said his friend, tossing off his brandy, and speaking with great deliberation, "he says that nothing-- understand me---

nothing will ever make him fight a duel."

"He will not!" cried Jarvis, in a loud voice.

"No, he will not," said Digby, handing his glass to a waiter for a fresh supply.

"He shall."

"I don't know how you will make him," said Digby, cooly.

"Make him, I'll--I'll post him."

"Never do that," said the captain, turning to him, as he leaned his elbows on the table, "it only makes both parties ridiculous; but I'll tell you what you may do--there's a Lord Chatterton takes the matter up with warmth; if I were not afraid of his interest hurting my promotion, I should

have resented something that fell from him myself--he will fight, I dare say, and I'll just return and require an explanation of his words on your behalf."

"No--no," said Jarvis, rather hastily, "he--he is related to the Moseleys, and I have views there---it might injure."

"Did you think to forward your views, by making the young lady the subject of a duel," asked Captain Digby sarcastically, and eyeing his companion with great contempt.

"Yes, yes," said Jarvis, "it would hurt my views."

"Here's to the health of His Majesty's gallant -- regiment of foot," cried Captain Digby, in a tone of irony, three quarters drunk, at the mess table, that evening, "and to its champion, Captain Henry Jarvis." One of the corps was present accidentally as a guest; and the following week the inhabitants of F-- saw the regiment in their barracks marching to slow time after the body of Horace Digby.

Lord Chatterton, in relating the part of the foregoing circumstances which fell under his observation, did ample justice to the conduct of Denbigh; a degree of liberality which did him no little credit, as he plainly saw in that gentleman he had, or soon would have, a rival in the dearest wish of his heart; and the smiling approbation with which his cousin Emily rewarded him for his candour, almost sickened him with the apprehension of his being a successful one. The ladies were not slow in expressing their disgust with the conduct of Jarvis, or backward in their approval of Denbigh's forbearance. Lady Moseley turned with horror from a picture in which she could see nothing but murder and bloodshed; but both Mrs.

Wilson and her niece, secretly applauded a sacrifice of worldly feelings on the altar of duty; the former admired the consistent refusal of admitting any collateral inducements, in explanation of his decision; while the latter, at the same time she saw the act in its true colours and elevated principle, could hardly keep from believing that a regard for her feelings had, in a trifling degree, its influence in his declining the meeting. Mrs. Wilson saw at once what a hold such unusual conduct would take on the feelings of her niece, and inwardly determined to increase, if possible, the watchfulness she had invariably kept upon all he said or did, as likely to elucidate his real character, well knowing that the requisites to bring or keep happiness in the married state, were numerous and indispensable; and that the display of a particular excellence, however good in itself, was by no means conclusive

as to character; in short, that we perhaps as often meet with a favourite principle, as a besetting sin.