ot indeed irreparably,) and so _provoked_
the drubbing which had just been administered to him--had quite the
contrary effect. Paradoxical as it may seem, matter of clear mitigation
was at once converted into matter of aggravation. Were the feelings
which Huckaback then experienced, akin to that which often produces
hatred of a person whom one has injured? May it be thus accounted for?
That there is a secret satisfaction in the mere consciousness of being a
sufferer--a martyr--and that, too, in the presence of a person whom one
perceives to be aware that he has wantonly injured one; that one's
bruised spirit is soothed by the sight of his remorse--by the
consciousness that he is punishing himself infinitely more severely than
_we_ could punish him; and of the claim one has obtained to the
_sympathy_ of everybody who sees, or may hear of one's sufferings, (that
rich and grateful balm to injured feeling.) But when, as in the case of
Huckaback, feelings of this description (in a coarse and small way, to
be sure, according to his kind) were suddenly encountered by a
consciousness of his having _deserved_ his sufferings; when the martyr
felt himself quickly sinking into the culprit and offender; when, I say,
Huckaback felt an involuntary consciousness that the gross indignities
which Titmouse had just inflicted on him, had been justified by the
provocation--nay, had been far less than his mischievous and impudent
interference had deserved;--and when feelings of this sort, moreover,
were sharpened by a certain tingling sense of physical pain from the
blows which he had received--the result was, that the sleeping lion of
Huckaback's courage was very nearly awakening.

"_I've half a mind, Titmouse_"--said Huckaback, knitting his brows,
fixing his eyes, and appearing inclined to raise his arm. There was an
ominous pause for a moment or two, during which Titmouse's feelings also
underwent a slight alteration. His allusion to Huckaback's ruinous
insult to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, unconsciously converted his
remorse into rage, which it rather, perhaps, resuscitated. Titmouse rose
from his knees. "Ah!" said he, in quite an altered tone, "you _may_ look
fierce! you may!--you'd better strike me, Huckaback--do! Finish the
mischief you've begun this day! Hit away--you're quite safe"--and he
secretly prepared himself for the mischief which--did not come. "You
_have_ ruined me! you have, Huckaback!" he continued with increasing
ve