But his impetuosity availed him less than nothing.

Sir Oliver was come there with a certain purpose, and it was his way that he never failed to carry through a thing to which he set his hand.
In three minutes it was all over and Sir Oliver was carefully wiping his blade, whilst Sir John lay coughing upon the turf tended by white-faced Peter Godolphin and a scared groom who had been bidden thither to make up the necessary tale of witnesses.
Sir Oliver sheathed his weapons and resumed his coat, then came to stand over his fallen foe, considering him critically.
"I think I have silenced him for a little time only," he said.

"And I confess that I intended to do better.

I hope, however, that the lesson will suffice and that he will lie no more--at least concerning me." "Do you mock a fallen man ?" was Master Godolphin's angry protest.
"God forbid!" said Sir Oliver soberly.

"There is no mockery in my heart.
There is, believe me, nothing but regret--regret that I should not have done the thing more thoroughly.