endeavoured, with all his might, to shake off all thought of
the morning's insult and misfortune, he only partially succeeded, and
when he folded up his papers, he felt that the fire and energy which had
shone so conspicuously during the earlier days of the examination, and
had imparted such strength and brilliancy to his efforts, were utterly
extinguished, and had left him wandering and weak. When the time was
over, he went to De Vayne's rooms, and said abruptly--

"De Vayne, will you lend me your riding-whip?"

"Certainly," said De Vayne, starting up to meet him.

"Are you going to have a ride? I wish you would ride my horse; I'll
hire another, and come with you."

"No; I don't want a ride."

"What do you want the whip for, then?" said De Vayne uneasily.

"Nothing. Let me go; it must be time for you to go to hall."

"I'm not going to dine in hall to-day," said De Vayne. "Dining at the
high table, with none but dons to talk to, is dull work for an
undergraduate. Stop! you shall dine with me here, Julian. I know you
won't care to go to hall to-day. Nay, you shall," he said, putting his
back against the door; "I shall be as dull as night without you."

He made Julian stay, for it happened that at that moment his gyp brought
up dinner, and Julian, hungry and weary, was tempted to sit down. De
Vayne, who only too well divined his reason for borrowing the whip, was
delighted at having succeeded in detaining him, for he knew that the
only time when Julian would be likely to meet Brogten was immediately
after hall.

Wiling away the time with exquisite tact--talking to him without
pressing him to talk much in reply--turning his thoughts to indifferent
subjects, until he had succeeded in arousing his interest--the young
viscount detained his guest till evening, and then persuaded him to have
tea. Lord De Vayne played well on the piano, and knowing Julian's
passion for music, was rewarded for his unselfish efforts by complete
success in rousing his attention. He played some of the finest passages
of a recent and beautiful oratorio, until Julian almost forgot his
troubles, and was ready to talk with more freedom and in a kindlier
mood.

"You surely won't want the whip now," said De Vayne in some dismay, as
Julian picked it up on saying good-night.

"Yes, I shall," answered Julian. "Good-night!"

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A GUST OF THE SOUL.

"Once more will the wronger, at this last of all.
Dare to sa