will not be come over thus. It has been my
character, when I had once conceived a scheme of vengeance, never to
forego it; and I will not change that character. I took up Hawkins when
every body forsook him, and made a man of him; and the ungrateful rascal
has only insulted me for my pains. Curse me, if I ever forgive him! It
would be a good jest indeed, if I were to forgive the insolence of my
own creature at the desire of a man like you that has been my perpetual
plague."

"For God's sake, Mr. Tyrrel, have some reason in your resentment! Let us
suppose that Hawkins has behaved unjustifiably, and insulted you: is
that an offence that never can be expiated? Must the father be ruined,
and the son hanged, to glut your resentment?"

"Damn me, sir, but you may talk your heart out; you shall get nothing of
me. I shall never forgive myself for having listened to you for a
moment. I will suffer nobody to stop the stream of my resentment; if I
ever were to forgive him, it should be at nobody's, entreaty but my own.
But, sir, I never will. If he and all his family were at my feet, I
would order them all to be hanged the next minute, if my power were as
good as my will."

"And this is your decision, is it? Mr. Tyrrel, I am ashamed of you!
Almighty God! to hear you talk gives one a loathing for the institutions
and regulations of society, and would induce one to fly the very face of
man! But, no! society casts you out; man abominates you. No wealth, no
rank, can buy out your stain. You will live deserted in the midst of
your species; you will go into crowded societies, and no one will deign
so much as to salute you. They will fly from your glance as they would
from the gaze of a basilisk. Where do you expect to find the hearts of
flint that shall sympathise with yours? You have the stamp of misery,
incessant, undivided, unpitied misery!"

Thus saying, Mr. Falkland gave spurs to his horse, rudely pushed beside
Mr. Tyrrel, and was presently out of sight. Flaming indignation
annihilated even his favourite sense of honour, and he regarded his
neighbour as a wretch, with whom it was impossible even to enter into
contention. For the latter, he remained for the present motionless and
petrified. The glowing enthusiasm of Mr. Falkland was such as might well
have unnerved the stoutest foe. Mr. Tyrrel, in spite of himself, was
blasted with the compunctions of guilt, and unable to string himself
for the contest. The picture Mr. Falkland h