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Updated: June 26, 2025
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.
As there was plenty of time, he took a stroll or two across the court before going in. While doing so, he met De Vayne, and in his company suddenly found himself vis-a-vis with his old enemy Brogten. "Hm!" whispered Brogten to his companion; "the sizars are getting on. A sizar and a viscount arm-in-arm!"
To do Brogten justice, he had never intended for a moment to affect Julian's chance of ultimate success, when he enjoyed the mean satisfaction of screwing up his door. He had regarded him with indeed dislike, which received a tinge of deeper intensity from the envy, and even admiration, with which it was largely mingled.
All this gave deeper vexation to Julian's heart as he went moodily to bed. And Brogten? He sat sullenly over his fire till the last spark died from its ashes, and his lamp flickered out, and he shivered with cold. "It is of no use to conquer myself," he thought; "it is of no use to do better or be better if this comes of it. Horse-whipped, and by him!"
The thought was intolerable to him, and, finishing his dinner with hasty gulps, he left the hall. "Brogten, how rude you were to Kennedy," said Lillyston. "Was I?" said Brogten, in a tone of sarcasm and defiance. "No wonder he blushed at your coarse insinuations." "No wonder," said Brogten, in the same tone; "am I the only person who makes coarse insinuations, as you call them?"
Meanwhile Bruce, wet and muddy, was declaiming on one side, and Fitzurse, bruised and dirty, on the other, was stammering his uncomprehended oaths; while a dozen men were holding Brogten, who, foiled a second time, and now in a dreadfully ungovernable passion, was struggling with the men who held him, and vowing murder against Julian and the bargee.
But, for these reasons, it was wholly out of Bruce's power to pay Brogten the bet, if he failed in trying to shake the temperance of De Vayne. He saw at once that he had mistaken his subject; he took De Vayne for a man whose goodness and humility would make him pliant to all designs. A dark thought entered Bruce's mind.
"I won't take the bet," said Brogten, "because I believe you'll succeed." "I'll t-t-take it for the fun," said Fitzurse. "Done, then!" said Bruce. So Bruce, pour passer le temps, deliberately undertook the corruption of a human soul.
Without stopping to hear a word without catching the gentler tone of Brogten's rough voice without noticing his downcast expression of countenance Julian sprang up, assumed that Brogten had come to ridicule or even insult him, glared at him, clenched his teeth, and then seizing De Vayne's riding-whip, laid it without mercy about Brogten's shoulders.
"Do you think there are no bets in it but those about the Clerkland?" "Keep your missiles to yourself, then," said Kennedy, while Brogten burnt his fingers in the vain attempt to rescue his book. "I hope you've at least hedged, or behaved as judiciously in the case of your other bets as in those about the Clerkland," suggested one of his sporting friends.
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