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.