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“I seek but to save you, my child,” the father replied, in a voice that suddenly became low and tremulous.

“It is a vain effort. There is but one course for me, and that is to go on, and meet whatever consequences ensue. The result may not be so bad as feared.”

“Harvey!” old Mr. Lane said, in a voice that had somewhat regained its steadiness of tone. “This meeting must not take place. If you persist in going out tomorrow morning, I must take measures to prevent it.”

“And thus dishonour your son.”

“All dishonour that will appertain to you, Harvey, appertains to you now. You insulted your friend. Neither your death nor his can atone for that offence. If reparation be truly made, it will come in some other form.”

“It is vain to urge that matter with me,” was the reply to this. “I must give James Everett the satisfaction he requires to-morrow morning. And now, father, if I should fall, which heaven forbid for others’ sakes more than my own,” and the young man’s voice quivered, “break the matter to my mother as gently as possible–tell her, that my last thoughts were of her, and my last prayer that she might be given strength from above to bear this heavy affliction.”

It was a damp, drizzly morning, just at break of day, when Harvey Lane, accompanied by his friend, and a young physician, entered a close carriage, and started for the duelling-ground, which had been selected, some four miles from the city. Two neat mahogany cases were taken along, one containing a pair of duelling pistols, and the other a set of surgical instruments. As these were handed in, the eye of Lane rested upon them for a moment. They conjured up in his mind no very pleasant thoughts. He was very pale, and silent. Nor did his companions seem in much better condition, or much better spirits. A rapid drive of nearly three quarters of an hour brought them upon the ground. The other party had not yet arrived, but came up in a few minutes afterwards. Then commenced the formal preparations. The ground was measured off–ten paces. The seconds prepared the deadly weapons which were to heal the honour that had been so dreadfully wounded, and arranged all the minor provisions of the duel.

During all this time, neither of the young men looked towards each other, but each paced rapidly over a little space of ground, backwards and forwards, with agitated steps–though evidently with an effort to seem composed.

“Ready,” said Lane’s second, at length, close to his ear.

The young man started, and his cheek blanched to a pale hue. He had been thinking of his father and mother. With almost the vividness of reality had he seen them before him, and heard their earnest; tearful pleadings with him to forbear for their sakes, if not for his own. But he took the deadly weapon in his hand mechanically, and moved to the position that had been assigned him. The arrangement was, that the seconds should give the words–one–two–three–in slow succession, and that the parties should fire as soon after “three” was uttered, as they chose.

Their positions taken, the young men’s eyes met for the first time–and for the first time they looked again upon each other’s faces. The word one had been given, at which each raised his pistol,–two was uttered–and then another individual was suddenly, and unexpectedly added to the party, who threw himself in front of Harvey Lane, in range of both the deadly weapons. Turning, then, towards Everett, he said, lifting his hat, and letting his thin grey hairs fall about his forehead–

“We cannot spare our son, yet, James! We are growing old, and he is our only child. If he were taken thus away from us, we should not be able to bear it. For our sakes, then, James, if he has injured you, forgive him.”

Already had the face of his old and long-tried friend, as he met its familiar expression, softened in some degree the feelings of Everett, and modified the angry vindictiveness which he still continued to cherish. The apparition of the father, and his unexpected appeal, completely conquered him, and he threw, with a sudden effort, his pistol away some twenty yards.

“I am satisfied!” he said, in a low tone, advancing, and taking the old man’s hand. “You have conquered the vindictive pride of a foolish heart.”

“I know that I grossly insulted you, James”–Harvey Lane said, coming quickly forward, and offering his hand. “But would I, could I have done it, if I had been myself?”

“No, Harvey, you could not! And I was mad and blind that I would not see this”–Everett replied, grasping the hand of his friend. “We were both flushed with wine, and that made both of us fools. Surely, Harvey, we have had warning enough, of the evil of drinking. Within the last two weeks, it has seriously marred our prospects in life, and now it has brought us out here with the deliberate intent of taking each other’s lives.”

“From this hour, I solemnly declare, that I will never again touch, taste, or handle the accursed thing!” Lane said, with strong emphasis.

“In that resolution I join you,” replied Everett, with a like earnest manner. “And let this resolution be the sealing bond of our perpetual friendship.”

“Amen!” ejaculated Harvey Lane, solemnly,–and, “Amen!” responded the old man, fervently, lifting his eyes to Heaven.