"Do you mean to pay that fellow for his rope, Bruce?" asked Lillyston; "if not, _I do_." "Pay!" said Brogten, with an explosion of oaths; "I'll _pay_ you and your sizar friend there for this, depend upon it." "We're not afraid," said Lillyston, quietly. Julian only answered the threat by a bow, and the two walked off to the bargee, who, in despair and anger, was knotting together the cut pieces of his rope. Lillyston slipped a sovereign into his hand, and told him how sorry he was for what had happened. "Thank you, sir," said the man, humbly; "it's a hard thing for a poor chap to be treated as I've been; but _you're_ a rale gentleman." "Well, do me one favour, then. Promise not to say a word to, or take any notice of, those three fellows as they pass you." The man promised; but there was no need to have done so, for furious as Brogten was, he and his companions were too crestfallen to take any notice of the bargee in passing, except by contemptuous looks, which he returned with interest. On the whole, it struck them that they would not make a particularly creditable display in hall that evening, and therefore they partook instead of a sumptuous repast in the rooms of Lord Fitzurse, who made up for the dirt which they had been eating by the splendour of his entertainment. "I'll be even yet with that fellow Home," muttered Brogten, as they were parting. "He's not w-w-worth it," said the host. "He's one of the g-g-ghouls; eh, Bruce--ha! ha! ha!" CHAPTER TEN. CONTRASTS. "And here was Labour his own bond slave; Hope That never set the pains against the prize; Idleness halting with his weary clog, And poor misguided Shame and witless Fear And simple Pleasure foraging for Death." Wordsworth. _The Prelude_.