Hyde was an excellent swordsman, and had fought several duels; but he
was quite disconcerted by the deadly reality of Neil's attack. In the
second thrust, his foot got entangled in a tuft of grass; and, in
evading a lunge aimed at his heart, he fell on his right side.
Supporting himself, however, on his sword hand, he sprang backwards with
great dexterity, and thus escaped the probable death-blow. But, as he
was bleeding from a wound in the throat, his second interfered, and
proposed a reconciliation. Neil angrily refused to listen. He declared
that he "had not come to enact a farce;" and then, happening to glance
at the ribbon on Hyde's breast, he swore furiously, "He would make his
way through the body of any man who stood between him and his just
anger."
Up to this point, there had been in Hyde's mind a latent disinclination
to slay Neil. After it, he flung away every kind memory; and the fight
was renewed with an almost brutal impetuosity, until there ensued one of
those close locks which it was evident nothing but "the key of the body
could open." In the frightful wrench which followed, the swords of both
men sprang from their hands, flying some four or five yards upward with
the force. Both recovered their weapons at the same time, and both,
bleeding and exhausted, would have again renewed the fight; but at that
moment Van Heemskirk and Semple, with their attendants, reached the spot.
Without hesitation, they threw themselves between the young men,--Van
Heemskirk facing Hyde, and the elder his son. "Neil, you dear lad, you
born fool, gie me your weapon instanter, sir!" But there was no need to
say another word. Neil fell senseless upon his sword, making in his fall
a last desperate effort to reach the ribbon on Hyde's breast; for Hyde
had also dropped fainting to the ground, bleeding from at least half a
dozen wounds. Then one of Semple's young men, who had probably defined
the cause of quarrel, and who felt a sympathy for his young master, made
as if he would pick up the fatal bit of orange satin, now died crimson
in Hyde's blood.
But Joris pushed the rifling hand fiercely away. "To touch it would be
the vilest theft," he said. "His own it is. With his life he has bought
it."