By Hatchie's precaution, Henry held one of the two which were
loaded with ball, while Maxwell had fired the blank.
Maxwell was, as may be supposed, vexed and disconcerted at the result
of the duel; and, with an ill grace, he resolved to postpone his revenge
to another time, inasmuch as he could not hope again to shoot at his foe
in perfect safety.
The party returned to the steamer just in season for her departure.
Maxwell's wound was examined by the surgeon, and pronounced very slight.
Henry was rejoiced at this intelligence, for the cold-blooded thoughts
which had found a place in his heart had departed, and his naturally
kind disposition resumed its sway. He was glad that the affair had
terminated without the loss of life; glad that his conscience was not
burdened with the blood of a fellow-creature; glad, too, that he had
escaped unhurt. This last consideration was not a selfish one. He felt
that all the energy he possessed he should require in the restoration of
her he so tenderly loved.
His first step, on returning to the steamer, was to destroy the letters
he had written to meet the worst calamity which might befall him.
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