'Good-bye, Mr. Orme; and may God send that you may be happy.'
'Good-bye, Madeline. I shall never call you so again,—except to myself. I do wish you may be happy,—I do indeed. As for him,—he has been before me, and taken away all that I wanted to win.'
By this time the tears were in his eyes, and his voice was not free from their effect. Of this he was aware, and therefore, pressing her hand, he turned upon his heel and abruptly left the room. He had been unable to say that he wished also that Felix might be happy; but this omission was forgiven him by both the ladies. Poor Madeline, as he went, muttered a kind farewell, but her tears had mastered her also, so that she could hardly speak.
He went directly to the stables, there got upon his horse, and then walked slowly down the avenue towards the gate. He had got the better of that tear-compelling softness as soon as he found himself beyond the presence of the girl he loved, and was now stern in his mood, striving to harden his heart. He had confessed himself a fool in comparison with Felix Graham; but yet,—he asked himself,—in spite of that, was it not possible that he would have made her a better husband than the other? It was not to his title or his estate that he trusted as he so thought, but to a feeling that he was more akin to her in circumstances, in ways of life, and in tenderness of heart. As all this was passing through his mind, Felix Graham presented himself to him in the road.
'Orme,' said he, 'I heard that you were in the house, and have come to shake hands with you. I suppose you have heard what has taken place. Will you not shake hands with me?'
'No,' said Peregrine, 'I will not.'
'I am sorry for that, for we were good friends, and I owe you much for your kindness. It was a fair stand-up fight, and you should not be angry.'
'I am angry, and I don't want your friendship. Go and tell her that I say so, if you like.'
'No, I will not do that.'
'I wish with all my heart that we had both killed ourselves at that bank.'
'For shame, Orme, for shame!'
'Very well, sir; let it be for shame.' And then he passed on, meaning to go through the gate, and leaving Graham on the grass by the road-side. But before he had gone a hundred yards down the road his better feelings came back upon him, and he returned.
'I am unhappy,' he said, 'and sore at heart. You must not mind what words I spoke just now.'
'No, no; I am sure you did not mean them,' said Felix, putting his hand on the horse's mane.
'I did mean them then, but I do not mean them now. I won't say anything about wishes. Of course you will be happy with her.
