"Come, sir," said he, "this will not do--you have come here, a stranger among us, to assume airs and dignities, which, by G--d, would become a duke, or a prince! We must know who or what you are, before we permit you to carry your high tone any farther." This address seemed at once to arrest Tyrrel's anger, and his impatience to leave the company.

He turned to Mowbray, collected his thoughts for an instant, and then answered him thus:--"Mr.Mowbray, I seek no quarrel with any one here--with you, in particular, I am most unwilling to have any disagreement.

I came here by invitation, not certainly expecting much pleasure, but, at the same time, supposing myself secure from incivility.

In the last point, I find myself mistaken, and therefore wish the company good-night.

I must also make my adieus to the ladies." So saying, he walked several steps, yet, as it seemed, rather irresolutely, towards the door of the card-room--and then, to the increased surprise of the company, stopped suddenly, and muttering something about the "unfitness of the time," turned on his heel, and bowing haughtily, as there was way made for him, walked in the opposite direction towards the door which led to the outer hall.
"D----me, Sir Bingo, will you let him off ?" said Mowbray, who seemed to delight in pushing his friend into new scrapes--"To him, man--to him--he shows the white feather." Sir Bingo, thus encouraged, planted himself with a look of defiance exactly between Tyrrel and the door; upon which the retreating guest, bestowing on him most emphatically the epithet Fool, seized him by the collar, and flung him out of his way with some violence.
"I am to be found at the Old Town of St.Ronan's by whomsoever has any concern with me."-- Without waiting the issue of this aggression farther than to utter these words, Tyrrel left the hotel.