OR THE DESERT ISLAND. 81

been reared from his infancy ; of what cares and solicitudes
he had been the beloved object ; and how severely he must
feel the cruel privations that had at length befallen him.
Philip’s heart now tormented him—something like repen-
tance had entered it, and he regretted that he had pre-
voked a quarrel which had forced his enemy to abandon
the only part of the island in which probably existence was
supportable.

Full of these sad iHouSHts he often left his work and

rambled round the precincts of his dwelling, anxiously
looking on all sides for the return of the count. But the
latter was nowhere to be seen.

Merville was now experiencing all the tortures of self-
condemnation. Perhaps, had he perceived Charles, his
smothered hate would have again blazed forth from his
fiery and impetuous breast; yet, owing to one of those
contradictory and inexplicable feelings of which man is
so often the sport, he sincerely regretted that he was the
cause of the count’s absence.

‘The stings of remorse hindered him, the ensuing night,
from enjoying that serene repose which is commonly the
reward of a well-spent day; and this remorse was the
more intolerable, inasmuch as he could not close his eyes
to the facts: That although he had been maltreated by the