He had to fight the black blood in his veins that has been handed down for generations.
So young Ralph saved his life, made him prisoner, and set him at liberty like a true honest gentleman; and the other had to battle with his dislike and bitterness at receiving a favour from his enemy's hands.
"Good Heavens!" he cried aloud.

"Enemy's! What contemptible worms we are, to dare to nurse up such a feeling from father to son, generation after generation! Why, with them it is an hereditary disease.

But who knows?
Those two lads may grow up to be friends, and kill the old feud.
They cannot help respecting each other after such an encounter as that.
I'll try and get hold of young Darley, and then of Mark; and perhaps I may be able to--Bah! you weak-minded, meddlesome old driveller!" he cried impetuously.

"You would muddle, and spoil all, when perhaps a Higher Hand is at work, as it always is, to make everything tend toward the best.
"But I should like to be present, by accident, the next time those two lads meet." The meeting took place before many days had passed.
In the interim Ralph Darley had told his father all that had happened, and Sir Morton had frowned, and looked pleased, and frowned again.
"You think I did wrong father," said the lad.
"No, my boy; I think you behaved splendidly; but you see what a miserable race those Edens are.

You do good to one of them, a boy of your own age, and he is ready to turn and rend you." "But I did not go on purpose to do good to him, father.