The dead man was
still warm--'twas well for us. So they raised him up; and one was for
trying one thing, and another; and my lord was sitting stupid-like all
this time by the wall; and up he gets, and says he, "I hope he's not
dead, but if he be, upon my honour, 'tis an accident--no more. I call
Heaven to witness, and the persons who are now present; and pledge my
sacred honour, as a peer, I meant no more than a blow or two."
"You hear, gentlemen, what my lord says, he meant only a blow or two,
and not to take his life," cries Mr. Archer.
'So my lord repeats it again, cursing and swearing, like St. Peter in
the judgment hall.
'So, as nobody was meddling with my lord, out he goes, intending, I
suppose, to get away altogether, if he could. But Mr. Underwood missed
him, and he says, "Gentlemen, where's my Lord Dunoran? we must not
suffer him to depart;" and he followed him--two or three others going
along with him, and they met him with his hat and cloak on, in the
lobby, and he says, stepping between him and the stairs,--
'"My lord, you must not go, until we see how this matter ends."
'"Twill end well enough," says he, and without more ado he walks back
again.
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