him, curse him!" And stamping his heel furiously on the
floor, he swallowed some raw brandy, and began to pace up and down his
room.

The conflict of his thoughts lasted, almost without intermission, till
evening. Finally, however, his heart softened towards Julian, as he ran
over in his mind all the circumstances of the day. Cheating his
conscience with the fancy that he was conquering his feelings of revenge
and hate, while he was only displacing them with others of a deeper dye,
he at last determined to go up at once to Julian's room, ask his pardon
openly, honestly, and unreservedly, confess his past unworthy malice,
and obtain, if possible, at least, Julian's forgiveness, perhaps even
his friendship, in return for so great a victory over himself.

It _was_ a victory over himself, and no slight one. For at least five
years he had been nursing into dislike an inward feeling of respect for
his enemy, and now to humble himself so completely before him, required
a struggle of which he had hardly supposed himself capable, and of which
he was secretly a little proud. It inspired him with better hopes for
the future, and gave him a pledge of combating successfully other
vicious propensities which had gained an ascendency over him.

Hesitatingly he went up to Julian's rooms; he saw the broken door, and
it made him waver. All was silence inside, but still he hoped that
Julian was in, because he felt sure that he should never persuade his
natural pride to consent to such a sacrifice again. But yet, _what
should he say_? He had been thinking of a thousand set forms of
apology, but they all vanished, as, with beating heart, he knocked, a
little loudly, at the door.

Julian, too, had been brooding on the events of the day, and fanning
every now and then into fierce bursts of flame the dying embers of his
morning's indignation. He took the worst view, and had every reason to
take the worst view, of Brogten's intentions. He had received at his
hands many wrongs, and an incivility as unvarying as it was undeserved.
Of course he could not tell that this rudeness was but the cover of a
real desire for cordiality between them, and now he fully believed that
Brogten had intentionally, deliberately, and with malice prepense,
formed a deep laid scheme to dash from his lips the cup of happiness as
he was in the very act of tasting it. The success which had seemed in
his very grasp would have removed the poverty, which had b