plished the purpose which brought me into it."

At the same moment he discovered a riding "You owe

whip, which he held in his hand.

your life to Miss Temple."

"Leave the room, Sir."

"She observed your rudeness to me as you came out, and laid me under an obligation not to pursue it, as I should deem myself bound to do, were you a gentleman."

"Leave the room, Sir, I tell you," roared Morton, stamping his foot furiously.

"I do not, however, pass your insult altogether without notice. You are an impertinent rascal."

"Leave the room, Sir, before I call the watch."

"You are an insignificant scoundrel and coward-"

"If you don't leave the room this very instant, Sir"-shouted Morton, frantic with rage, and placing himself with many pugilistic

flourishes in an attitude sometimes of attack, and sometimes of defence.

"And I shall inflict upon you," continued Clairmont, with the most perfect composure, "the chastisement which your vulgarity deserves." He raised his whip, and followed the retreating Morton to the farthest corner of the

room.

"Ask my pardon, instantly, Sir, or I flog you like a dog."

"I shall not ask your pardon, Sir," bawled Morton, in a tone between the threat of a bully and the whine of a whipped schoolboy. "If you touch me, Sir, I'll have the satisfaction of a gentleman. I shall ask nobody's pardon. Dn, Sir! leave the room-don't strike me, Sir--don't strike! Leslie, take off this bloodhound. Waiter! waiter! Herewatch! watch!-Leslie, for God's sake! You are a d-d scoundrel, Sir!"

"If Mr. Leslie interferes," said the Count,

calmly proceeding in his design, and raising the whip, "Mr. Leslie will share your fate."

"Count Clairmont," said Leslie, who had already walked to his side, and in a voice so deep, that the Count turned and remained motionless to hear his words, "Count Clairmont, however reluctant I may be to interfere in the quarrel of another, I shall not be backward in assuming my own. Your remark is a personal insult. I have already remained too long inactive by the side of my friend. Permit me to inform you that this apartment is private."

"Mr. Leslie," replied the Count, "your sneers and your threats are equally below my regard. This person I shall punish by the whip. Your claims upon my attention, Sir, will be answered in a different way. You may not be so fortunate as to have a lady for a protector." Again he turned, and raised the whip to Morton.

"Count Clairmont," cried Leslie, "if you I think you a

indeed be a Count, hear me.

scoundrel."

A blow of the whip was the only reply, and in an instant the young nobleman lay at his length upon the floor.

"Norman Leslie," cried he, rising, his face white as death, yet speaking with a low and altered voice, and regarding him with the fiendish fixedness of a serpent about to dart his death-fang, "Norman Leslie, you have disgraced me, and I will have your heart's blood."

"As you please, Sir," replied Leslie, sternly, "but now begone !" and flashing back glance for glance, he stepped two strides towards

his foe.

The discomfited noble paused a moment upon the threshold, and looked once more into Leslie's face, with a gaze which, in spite of himself, chilled even the broiling blood in the

youth's veins. It was

the black scowl of

a demon. His features then relaxed slowly into a still smile, if possible yet more malignant and inhuman.

"Remember, Norman Leslie," he said, "I will have your heart's blood. I am a catholic. Here is a cross-look! I swear it."

He pressed the jewelled relic convulsively to his lips and disappeared.