not know the
circumstances which give force to temptation. Pity those who do. Pity
me, Morton. Lay up my words, and have a pardon ready when the day
comes."

They had reached Fleet-street. The spendthrift turned suddenly and
hurried away, before Randolph could fulfil an intention he had
conceived of offering assistance. His own mind was at this time so
disturbed, that the episode scarcely increased his agitation.
Nevertheless, he went the next morning to make the offer, which
Everope's abrupt departure had prevented in the evening. The
spendthrift lived in garrets looking down from a great height on a
narrow dingy lane. The visitor found the outer door closed, "the oak
sported," in the language of college. But he had learnt that this by
no means proved the absence of the occupant, and he supposed that in
Everope's case there might be good reason for the precaution. So he
rapped long and loud at the massive door. There was no answer: no
sound indicated the presence of any living creature. "Mr. Everope,"
Randolph shouted through the narrow aperture intended to receive
letters. He repeated the call several times. At length a slight
shuffling noise came along the passage inside, and paused at the
door.

"Is it you, Morton?" the spendthrift asked.

"Yes. I wish to speak with you."

"Excuse me," said Everope; "I am not well. I cannot see you now. My
head aches."

"Nay," Randolph urged, in a low tone. "Only for a moment. Can I be of
service to you? I am not rich, but perhaps----From what you said, I
thought----"

A sigh, so profound that it might be termed a groan, escaped from
Everope's breast. But he lashed himself into a spasm of anger.

"You mistook me, sir," he said, savagely, "and you trouble me. I can
hear no more."

And he went back from the door with a quick and heavy tread. He had
been to the rooms again the night before, had lost all he borrowed,
and accepted a fresh loan from Sinson. It is but the first step that
costs.

Randolph betook himself to chambers with a notion that he did not
engross all the misery of the world.

CHAPTER XI.

There's a dark spirit walking in our house,
And swiftly will the Destiny close on us.
It drove me hither from my calm asylum,
It mocks my soul with charming witchery,
It lures me forward in a seraph's shape.
I see it near, I see it nearer floating,
It draws, it pulls me with a godlike power--
And lo, the abyss.