Sir Richard would force upon him a parricide's task; Fate a fratricide's.

Truly, he thought, it was an enviable position, his.
Pacing the turf, on which the dew still gleamed and sparkled diamond-like, he pondered his course, and wondered now, at the last moment, was there no way to avert this meeting.

Could not the matter be arranged?
He was stirred out of his musings by Gascoigne's voice, raised to curse the tardiness of Lord Rotherby.
"'Slife! Where does the fellow tarry?
Was he so drunk last night that he's not yet slept himself sober ?" "The streets are astir," put in Wharton, helping himself to snuff.

And, indeed, the cries of the morning hawkers reached them now from the four sides of the square.

"If his lordship does not come soon, I doubt if we may stay for him.