"Forbear, sir!" ejaculated Constance; "if you have the spirit of a man,
forbear!"
"Oh, then, your passion has not been declared by words--you have spoken
by actions!" he retorted with redoubled acrimony.
The reply to this gross insult was made by the point of De Guerre's
sword resting on Burrell's breast.
"Defend yourself, or die like a vile dog!" thundered the Cavalier, and
Sir Willmott was obliged to stand on his defence.
The feelings of the woman overcame those of the heroine, and Constance
shrieked for help, when she beheld the combatants fairly engaged in a
feud where the shedding of blood appeared inevitable. Her call was
answered, but not by words; scarcely more than three or four thrusts had
been made and returned, when a stout gentleman, clad in a dark and
tight-fitting vest, strode nearly between them, and clashed the tough
blade of his broad basket-hilted sword upon their more graceful, but
less substantial, weapons, so as to strike them to the earth. Thus,
without speaking word or farther motion, he cast his eyes, first on the
one, then on the other, still holding their weapons under, more,
however, by the power of his countenance, than of his arm.
"Put up your swords!" he said at length, in a low stern voice--"put up
your swords!" he repeated; then, seeing that, though Burrell's rapier
had leaped into its rest, De Guerre retained his unsheathed, "put up
your sword, sir!" he said again in a loud tone, that sounded awfully
through the still twilight, and then stamped upon the ground with force
and energy: "the air is damp, I say, and good steel should be kept from
rust. Young men, keep your weapons in their scabbards, until God and
your country call them forth; then draw according to the
knowledge--according to the faith that is in ye; but a truce to idle
brawling."
"I would first know who it is," demanded Walter, still in fierce anger,
"who breaks in upon us, and commands us thus?"
"Have you so soon forgotten Major Wellmore, young man?" replied the
stranger in his harshest voice: "I little thought that he of the English
graft upon a French stock would have carried such brawling into the
house of my ancient friend.--Sir Willmott Burrell, I lament that the
fear of the Lord is not with you, or you would not use carnal weapons so
indiscriminately: go to, and think what the Protector would say, did he
find you thus employed."