‘No, Wilfrid. But it doesn’t matter now. I don’t care for myself any more.’ ‘Then, Charley, what _have_ you done?’ ‘You are always so kind, Wilfrid!’ he returned, with a hopelessness which seemed almost coldness. ‘Charley,’ I said, ‘if you don’t tell me what has happened--’ ‘Happened!’ he cried. ‘Hasn’t that man been lashing at you like a dog, and I _didn’t_ rush at him, and if I couldn’t fight, being a milksop, then bite and kick and scratch, and take my share of it? O God!’ he cried, in agony, ‘if I had but a chance again! But nobody ever has more than one chance in this world. He may damn me now when he likes: I don’t care!’ ‘Charley! Charley!’ I cried; ‘you’re as bad as Mr Forest. Are you to say such things about God, when you know nothing of him? He may be as good a God, after all, as even we should like him to be.’ ‘But Mr Forest is a clergyman.’ ‘And God was the God of Abraham before ever there was a clergyman to take his name in vain,’ I cried; for I was half mad with the man who had thus wounded my Charley. ‘_I_ am content with you, Charley. You are my best and only friend. That is all nonsense about attacking Forest. What could you have done, you know? Don’t talk such rubbish.’ ‘I might have taken my share with you,’ said Charley, and again buried his face in his hands. ‘Come, Charley,’ I said, and at the moment a fresh wave of manhood swept through my soul; ‘you and I will take our share together a hundred times yet. I have done my part now; yours will come next.’ ‘But to think of not sharing your disgrace, Wilfrid!’ ‘Disgrace!’ I said, drawing myself up, ‘where was that?’ ‘You’ve been beaten,’ he said. ‘Every stripe was a badge of honour,’ I said, ‘for I neither deserved it nor cried out against it. I feel no disgrace.’ ‘Well, I’ve missed the honour,’ said Charley; ‘but that’s nothing, so you have it. But not to share your disgrace would have been mean. And it’s all one; for I thought it was disgrace, and I did not share it. I am a coward for ever, Wilfrid.’ ‘Nonsense! He never gave you a chance. _I_ never thought of striking back: how should _you?_’ ‘I will be your slave, Wilfrid! You are _so_ good, and I am _so_ unworthy.’ He put his arms round me, laid his head on my shoulder, and sobbed. I did what more I could to comfort him, and gradually he grew calm. At length he whispered in my ear-- ‘After all, Wilfrid, I do believe I was horror-struck, and it _wasn’t_ cowardice pure and simple.’ ‘I haven’t a doubt of it,’ I said. ‘I love you more than ever.’ ‘Oh, Wilfrid! I should have gone mad by this time but for you. Will you be my friend whatever happens?--Even if I should be a coward after all?’ ‘Indeed I will, Charley.--What do you think Forest will do next?’ We resolved not to go down until we were sent for; and then to be perfectly quiet, not speaking to any one unless we were spoken to; and at dinner we carried out our resolution. When bed-time came, we went as usual to make our bow to Mr Forest.