At that instant the watchman's voice was heard, and the night's guardian himself was seen hastening from the far end of the street towards the place of contest. Whether this circumstance, or Clarence's answer, somewhat changed the current of the republican's thoughts, or whether his anger, suddenly raised, was now as suddenly subsiding, it is not easy to decide; but he slowly and deliberately moved his foot from the breast of his baffled foe, and bending down seemed endeavouring to ascertain the mischief he had done. Lord Borodaile was perfectly insensible. "You have killed him!" cried Clarence in a voice of horror, "but you shall not escape;" and he placed a desperate and nervous hand on the republican. "Stand off," said Wolfe, "my blood is up! I would not do more violence to-night than I have done. Stand off! the man moves; see!" And Lord Borodaile, uttering a long sigh, and attempting to rise, Clarence released his hold of the republican, and bent down to assist the fallen nobleman. Meanwhile, Wolfe, muttering to himself, turned from the spot, and strode haughtily away. The watchman now came up, and, with his aid, Clarence raised Lord Borodaile. Bruised, stunned, half insensible as he was, that personage lost none of his characteristic stateliness; he shook off the watchman's arm, as if there was contamination in the touch; and his countenance, still menacing and defying in its expression, turned abruptly towards Clarence, as if he yet expected to meet and struggle with a foe. "How are you, my lord?" said Linden; "not severely hurt, I trust?" "Well, quite well," cried Borodaile. "Mr. Linden, I think?--I thank you cordially for your assistance; but the dog, the rascal, where is he?" "Gone," said Clarence. "Gone! Where--where?" cried Borodaile; "that living man should insult me, and yet escape!" "Which way did the fellow go?" said the watchman, anticipative of half-a-crown. "I will run after him in a trice, your honour: I warrant I nab him." "No--no--" said Borodaile, haughtily, "I leave my quarrels to no man; if I could not master him myself, no one else shall do it for me. Mr. Linden, excuse me, but I am perfectly recovered, and can walk very well without your polite assistance. Mr. Watchman, I am obliged to you: there is a guinea to reward your trouble." With these words, intended as a farewell, the proud patrician, smothering his pain, bowed with extreme courtesy to Clarence, again thanked him, and walked on unaided and alone. "He is a game blood," said the watchman, pocketing the guinea. "He is worthy his name," thought Clarence; "though he was in the wrong, my heart yearns to him." CHAPTER XXXV. Things wear a vizard which I think to like not.--Tanner of Tyburn.