ttachment."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
What, man, ne'er lack a draught, when the full can
Stands at thine elbow, and craves emptying!--
Nay, fear not me, for I have no delight
To watch men's vices, since I have myself
Of virtue nought to boast of--I'm a striker,
Would have the world strike with me, pell-mell, all.
--PANDEMONIUM.
Tressilian, in strange agitation of mind, had hardly stepped down the first two or three steps of the winding staircase, when, greatly to his surprise and displeasure, he met Michael Lambourne, wearing an impudent familiarity of visage, for which Tressilian felt much disposed to throw him down-stairs; until he remembered the prejudice which Amy, the only object of his solicitude, was likely to receive from his engaging in any act of violence at that time and in that place.
He therefore contented himself with looking sternly upon Lambourne, as upon one whom he deemed unworthy of notice, and attempted to pass him in his way downstairs, without any symptom of recognition. But Lambourne, who, amidst the profusion of that day's hospitality, had not failed to take a deep though not an overpowering cup of sack, was not in the humour of humbling himself before any man's looks. He stopped Tressilian upon the
