instincts. He was of a cold temperament,
and such a nature, once roused, is often less under control than one
used to excitement: a saint will sometimes break through the bonds of
the very virtue which has gained him all his repute. If we combine
these considerations with the known hatred of Beauchamp, the story Alec
told Cupples the next day may become in itself credible. Whether
Beauchamp tried to throw him from the bridge may remain doubtful, for
when the bodies of two men are locked in the wrestle of hate, their own
souls do not know what they intend. Beauchamp must have sped home with
the conscience of a murderer; and yet when Alec made his appearance in
the class, most probably a revival of hatred was his first mental
experience. But I have had no opportunity of studying the morbid
anatomy of Beauchamp, and I do not care about him, save as he
influences the current of this history. When he vanishes, I shall be
glad to forget him.

Soon after Alec had left the house, Cupples came home with a hurried
inquiry whether the landlady had seen anything of him. She told him as
much as she knew, whereupon he went up-stairs to his Aeschylus, &c.

Alec said nothing about his adventure to any of his friends, for, like
other Scotchmen young and old, he liked to keep things in his own hands
till he knew what to do with them. At first, notwithstanding his loss
of blood, he felt better than he had felt for some time; but in the
course of the evening he grew so tired, and his brain grew so muddy and
brown, that he was glad when he heard the order given for the boiling
water. He had before now, although Mr Cupples had never become aware of
the fact, partaken of the usual source of Scotch exhilaration, and had
felt nothing the worse; and now heedless of Mr Cupples's elaborate
warning--how could he be expected to mind it?--he mixed himself a
tumbler eagerly. But although the earth brightened up under its
influences, and a wider horizon opened about him than he had enjoyed
for months before, yet half-frightened at the power of the beverage
over his weakened frame, he had conscience enough to refuse a second
tumbler, and rose early and went home.

The moment he entered the garret, Mr Cupples, who had already consumed
his nightly portion, saw that he had been drinking. He looked at him
with blue eyes, wide-opened, dismay and toddy combining to render them
of uncertain vision.

"Eh, bantam! bantam!" he said, and sank back in his chai