"No!" returned Philip, becoming greatly agitated as certain recollections crossed his mind; "no:—you have put it out of my power ever to forget that you were once enabled to gratify your ungenerous malice to the utmost stretch of your power. Basely and cruelly did you trample on me, when you knew that to resist the authority you abused was impossible. I was your victim, but am so no longer! And," continued he, advancing very close to Lord Robert, "beware how you provoke me to take such signal vengeance for all the injuries you have inflicted on me, as shall teach your proud heart to rue the hour that ever you made Philip Harley the companion of your voyage!"
There was an expression so terrible in Philip's eyes as he spoke these words, that Lord Robert, stout-hearted as he was, (and there never was a braver officer,) changed colour; but in a moment recovering his intrepid spirit and haughty bearing, he flashed back a look of defiance, and assumed a posture of defence.
"It is unnecessary," said Philip; "I am not going to attack you. You have in many contests proved the strength of this arm: that it always was superior to yours, I scarcely need remind you. That your late injuries have not unnerved it, you may well believe; but, as long as you observe a temperate line of conduct, and discontinue addressing me by opprobrious names, you need not fear its force."
"Fear!" repeated Lord Robert indignantly: "I fear God; and have no other fear! Dost thou imagine that I fear aught like thee?"
"Perhaps not," replied Philip; "but I would advise you not to provoke me unnecessarily."
So saying, he retired within his hut, leaving Lord Robert speechless with contending emotions. He was indeed much ruffled by the short but fierce altercation which had passed between himself and young Harley; and the more so, when he reflected that Philip's bodily strength was superior to his own, and that his high rank would be of no avail to him in this desolate place, as Philip had very unceremoniously told him: and as his own conscience whispered that he had formerly offered him the most dreadful provocation, he could scarcely be astonished if Philip, now that he was the more powerful, should meditate retaliation, and take, as he threatened, unbounded vengeance for all that he had suffered on board the Diomede and elsewhere.
He was reluctant to abandon this sheltered and beautiful spot; but he preferred returning to his dreary cleft in the rock, to residing in the valley, where Philip had erected his dwelling; considering the heat and barrenness of the rest of the island as far less evils than the company of Philip, whose very sight, after the threats he had used, was most intolerable to him: and Lord Robert felt that he could not bend his haughty spirit to practise the civility and moderation which Philip had recommended, lest this behaviour should be construed into fear of his superior force. On the other hand, he reflected that if he persisted in his natural imperiousness, so far as to provoke Philip to a personal contest with him, the languor incidental to the climate had so much enervated him, that, to maintain a combat with such an adversary as young Harley had often proved himself to be, with the slightest prospect of success, was impossible, and would only expose him to insult and contempt, and perhaps even to more disgraceful treatment, from his justly incensed enemy. To avoid such consequences, he judged it most suitable to his dignity to retire; and, whistling to Neptune to follow him, he slowly and sullenly returned to the beach, leaving Philip in uninterrupted possession of the Valley of Limes.
Though Philip, still smarting under the remembrance of the many injuries he had received from Lord Robert, had, on the haughty expressions of contempt uttered by that young officer, used threats which were most irritating to his proud spirit, he by no means designed to proceed to personal hostilities; for Philip was, in spite of all his faults, too really generous to exert in this instance the advantages his superior strength gave him; and he was far from intending to drive his companion in misfortune from the only spot in the island capable of affording him any of the comforts of life. In short, he expected that when Lord Robert had vented his displeasure in a solitary walk, he would return to the valley. When Philip's temper cooled, he began to reflect on the luxuries Lord Robert had been accustomed to from his cradle; he thought how severely his high-born adversary must feel the privations to which he was now exposed; and his heart smote him for having, by his provoking ridicule, occasioned that ebullition of feeling which had vented itself in expressions of wrathful contempt, which he, on his part, (not considering the provocation was of his own giving,) had been so ready to return; and that their mutual recriminations had induced him to utter menaces, which had driven his companion in misfortune from an employment necessary even for the preservation of his existence.
Occupied by these thoughts, Philip often paused in his work, and looked round to see if Lord Robert had returned to the valley, and listened for his step with anxiety; but he did not come. Night arrived, and Philip did not see him reposing under his favourite lime-tree; and he felt out of humour with himself, for being the cause of keeping him away.
From some uneasy self-reproaches, he did not taste at night the calm repose which generally follows a day of labour; on the contrary, he felt that evening some of those painful feelings of remorse which had so often tortured Lord Robert, but which had never been experienced by himself before; and he now remembered that, though Lord Robert had ill-treated him, yet there was a difference in their rank, and that it was brutal in him to threaten a high-spirited and elegant young man with personal violence when they were united in the same distress: and that Lord Robert's contemptuous expressions were caused by his laughter at that which was a serious misfortune to his high-born foe; namely, his want of skill in mechanics, and the mischance of breaking his knife, the loss of which was irreparable, and would perhaps deprive him, on some occasions, even of the means of procuring food.