Slovenly and jaded, the unhappy man presented obvious signs of recent dissipation. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hand trembled. "That you may squander it in riot," Sinson said. "Tush! you have had too much already. You think you are worth more than you are. You can only harm yourself. Go abroad, or I shall throw you into the Fleet. Let's see who'll believe your stories there." "Villain!" exclaimed the spendthrift. All the fierce and disappointed passions which were struggling in Michael's breast, concurred in giving strength to the blow that sent Everope staggering several paces to fall upon the turf, almost before the word had passed his lips. Sinson turned and walked away. His bondman rose from the ground in a fury not to be described. All the few traces of the gentleman which still lingered about him, rebelled with hot resentment against the insult he had received. Such are the contradictions of our nature. Mean, profligate, and perjured, Everope yet revolted from a blow. And from whom received? From the tempter to whom he sold himself for a few paltry pieces of gold. From one whom he, even in his own degradation, despised and loathed; who had betrayed him into guilt at which his soul grew sick. And directed against the man who had come to offer him kindness. Yes; how well he remembered that repulsed visit to his chambers in the Temple! With what horror he had recognised his benefactor at the trial! The man whom his testimony had undone had attempted to rescue him from ruin. "Too late it was, too late," Everope cried with his inward voice--"it has always been too late with me. But need it still be so? Was opportunity of retrieval finally gone? Had even the eleventh hour elapsed? Could he not break his chains? It was but to speak one word. The Fleet! There, or worse then there, he must end! Why should he struggle for a few days' respite? What was the wretched timidity which disabled him from facing his position?" Such was the reverie of him whom want of principle and a sanguine temper had reduced by degrees to the degraded state in which the reader finds him. Always hoping to retrieve the effects of past extravagance, and intending to repair the mischief of former faults, he allowed himself to be led into fresh wastefulness, and to be involved in further guilt. Was his present penitence to be more efficient? The question will soon be answered. He hurried away from the scene of his interview with Sinson, and quitted the park by Buckingham-gate. Meantime, Michael had not gone very far before a thought seemed to strike him, and he retraced his steps to Rosamond's Pond. After all, it might be prudent not to quarrel with the spendthrift at present. But he was too late. Everope had disappeared. "It is no matter," Sinson muttered; "I can find him at any time." The next day he went down into Cornwall.