Passion, however, developed itself differently in him than in Glanville: in the latter, it was a rapid transition of powerful feelings, one angry wave dashing over another; it was the passion of a strong and keenly susceptible mind, to which every sting was a dagger, and which used the force of a giant to dash away the insect which attacked it. In Tyrrell, it was passion acting on a callous mind but a broken frame--his hand trembled violently--his voice faltered--he could scarcely command the muscles which enabled him to speak; but there was no fiery start--no indignant burst--no flashing forth of the soul; in him, it was the body overcoming and paralyzing the mind. In Glanville it was the mind governing and convulsing the body. “Mr. Pelham,” he said at last, after a few preliminary efforts to clear his voice, “this note requires some consideration. I know not at present whom to appoint as my second--will you call upon me early to-morrow?” “I am sorry,” said I, “that my sole instructions were to get an immediate answer from you. Surely either of the gentlemen I saw with you would officiate as your second?” Tyrrell made no reply for some moments. He was endeavouring to compose himself, and in some measure he succeeded. He raised his head with a haughty air of defiance, and tearing the paper deliberately, though still with uncertain and trembling fingers, he stamped his foot upon the atoms. “Tell your principal,” said he, “that I retort upon him the foul and false words he has uttered against me; that I trample upon his assertions with the same scorn I feel towards himself; and that before this hour to-morrow, I will confront him to death as through life. For the rest, Mr. Pelham, I cannot name my second till the morning; leave me your address, and you shall hear from me before you are stirring. Have you any thing farther with me?” “Nothing,” said I, laying my card on the table, “I have fulfilled the most ungrateful charge ever entrusted to me. I wish you good night.” I re-entered the carriage, and drove to Glanville’s. I broke into the room rather abruptly; Glanville was leaning on the table, and gazing intently on a small miniature. A pistol-case lay beside him: one of the pistols in order for use, and the other still unarranged; the room was, as usual, covered with books and papers, and on the costly cushions of the ottoman, lay the large, black dog, which I remembered well as his companion of yore, and which he kept with him constantly, as the only thing in the world whose society he could at all times bear: the animal lay curled up, with its quick, black eye fixed watchfully upon its master, and directly I entered, it uttered, though without moving, a low, warning growl.