'Herbert and Campbell.'

'Herbert is no match for Coningsby,' said Millbank.

And then they talked over all that had happened since his absence; and
Buckhurst gave him a graphic report of the excitement on the afternoon of
the accident; at last they were obliged to leave him.

'Well, good-bye, old fellow; we will come and see you every day. What can
we do for you? Any books, or anything?'

'If any fellow asks after me,' said Millbank, 'tell him I shall be glad to
see him. It is very dull being alone. But do not tell any fellow to come
if he does not ask after me.'

Notwithstanding the kind suggestions of Buckhurst and Henry Sydney,
Coningsby could not easily bring himself to call on Millbank. He felt a
constraint. It seemed as if he went to receive thanks. He would rather
have met Millbank again in school, or in the playing fields. Without being
able then to analyse his feelings, he shrank unconsciously from that
ebullition of sentiment, which in more artificial circles is described as
a scene. Not that any dislike of Millbank prompted him to this reserve. On
the contrary, since he had conferred a great obligation on Millbank, his
prejudice against him had sensibly decreased. How it would have been had
Millbank saved Coningsby's life, is quite another affair. Probably, as
Coningsby was by nature generous, his sense of justice might have
struggled successfully with his painful sense of the overwhelming
obligation. But in the present case there was no element to disturb his
fair self-satisfaction. He had greatly distinguished himself; he had
conferred on his rival an essential service; and the whole world rang with