A week had passed and no second visit had been paid by Sir George. At the expiration of that time, tidings reached the two ladies at Greenford Lodge – so Mrs. Ormond's place was called – that a duel had occurred between the Baronet and Mr. Sedley, the former of whom was slightly, the latter severely wounded. Ella was sitting with her mother when the news arrived, and dropping the pencil with which she had been drawing: ‘Oh, poor Sedley!’ she exclaimed, ‘how I grieve at this intelligence!’

‘Indeed, so do I,’ said Mrs. Ormond, / ‘but do you not feel some concern also for our neighbour, though his injury may be less?’

‘None upon earth!’ answered Ella, with unwonted earnestness. ‘He has brought this evil upon himself. How could he ever imagine that the friend of Ernest de Gray could endure, unmoved to hear him publicly and even exultingly vilified in the barbarous manner Sir George has practised?’

‘But you cannot be sure, my dear,’ said Mrs. Ormond, startled at the warmth with which Ella had spoken, ‘you cannot be sure that this duel has been fought on de Gray's account?’

‘Certainly not sure; but I heard some days ago that Mr. Sedley and the Baronet had had a quarrel on the subject, and it is therefore, natural to conclude their duel may have originated from the same cause.’

‘Very true, my love; but I did not suppose anything could have induced you to take so warm an interest in what relates to young Sedley. Tell me honestly, are you attached to him?’