He was young and manly, and she was giddy and middle-aged.  Her relatives held him in contempt, but he had proved his courage, and they did not care to cross him.  But with the coming of Paul he had lost somewhat of her regard, and he had laid it to the boy’s charge.  Paul read his calm purpose in his keen eyes, and he shuddered at the thought of some day falling into his relentless hands.  He labored to conciliate his enemy, but with little effect, until one afternoon, Wait told him to obtain permission from Mrs. Everett and come to the office.  He dictated some ambiguous letters to Paul, and gave him many papers to burn, meanwhile inspecting a pair of long pistols which he took from a portmanteau.  It was late in the afternoon when he had done, and then he bade Paul take the case of pistols, slip quietly into the street, and walk straight on till he was overtaken.  He obeyed, not without suspicion, and when he reached the city limits found the agent, to his great surprise, seated in a carriage.  Two other persons attended him, and one, who was bald and wore glasses, had a case of surgical instruments lying at his feet.  Paul climbed to the driver’s box, and they dashed along by the water-side, meeting a second carriage on their way.  The last rays of sunset were streaming over the low landscape when both carriages stopped, their occupants dismounted, and Wait came to the front and reached up his hand to Paul.

“Good-by, boy,” he said in a tone of unwonted tenderness; “remain here a moment and you will see me again!”

They filed along a dyke separating two swamps, and turning down to the beach, were hidden behind a line of cypress trees.  For a few moments Paul only heard the roar of the surf, the noise of the distant town, and the short breathing of the sedate negro beside him.  Then there were shouts, as of a person counting rapidly, and two reports so close that one seemed the echo of the other.  A few minutes afterward the agent appeared, leaning upon the arms of his attendants.  He was divested of coat and vest, and as he came nearer, bareheaded, Paul saw that his face was colorless and working as from deadly pain.  His shirt was perforated close to the collar, and the blood flowing beneath had stained it to his waist, and dripped in a runnel from his boots.  He fainted when he had taken his seat; and as the carriage rolled away, Paul looked back toward the duelling-ground, and beheld two men bearing upon their shoulders a stiff, straight burden, wrapped in a cloak.

The second carriage passed him, driven swiftly, and it seemed to emit a chill draught upon Paul like the damp wind from a tomb; it was the presence of death, at whose very mention we grow cold.

Wait had vindicated his courage, but at the expense of his life.  He lingered on in agony many days; and Paul so pitied him that he stole into his darkened chamber and begged to do him kindnesses.  The grim man lay implacable, waiting for death; but one night as he writhed with the dew upon his forehead, Paul heard him mutter, “My God! my mother!”