ndidly--forgive him, so as never again to have to say, 'I forgive
him!' He did not try to think, for reflection only lashed up his sense
of the wrong: but, as if there was power in the words alone, he forced
his lips to repeat,--

'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against
us.'

Coldly and hardly were they spoken at first; again he pronounced them,
again, again,--each time the tone was softer, each time they came more
from the heart. At last the remembrance of greater wrongs, and worse
revilings came upon him, his eyes filled with tears, the most subduing
and healing of all thoughts--that of the great Example--became present
to him; the foe was driven back.

Still he kept his hands over his face. The tempter was not yet defeated
without hope. It was not enough to give up his first intention (no great
sacrifice, as he perceived, now that he had time to think how Philip
would be certain to treat a challenge), it was not enough to wish no ill
to his cousin, to intend no evil measure, he must pardon from the bottom
of his heart, regard him candidly, and not magnify his injuries.

He sat long, in deep thought, his head bent down, and his countenance
stern with inward conflict. It was the hardest part of the whole battle,
for the Morville disposition was as vindictive as passionate; but, at
last, he recovered clearness of vision. His request might well appear
unreasonable, and possibly excite suspicion, and, for the rest, it was
doing a man of honour, like Philip, flagrant injustice to suspect him of
originating slanders. He was, of course, under a mistake, had acted, not
perhaps kindly, but as he thought, rightly and judiciously, in making
his suspicions known. If he had caused his uncle to write provokingly,
every one knew that was his way, he might very properly wish, under his
belief, to save Amabel; and though the manner might have been otherwise,
the proceeding itself admitted complete justification. Indeed, when Guy
recollected the frenzy of his rage, and his own murderous impulse, he
was shocked to think that he had ever sought the love of that pure
and gentle creature, as if it had been a cruel and profane linking of
innocence to evil. He was appalled at the power of his fury, he had
not known he was capable of it, for his boyish passion, even when
unrestrained, had never equalled this, in all the strength of early
manhood.

He looked up, and saw that the last remnant of the sun's disk