reat effort. The girl longed to hear
more, but he did not finish the sentence. "Well," he said, with a
forced air of gaiety, "I have sought you here to tell you that I am
going off on--on--a long hunting expedition. Going at once--but I would
not leave without bidding you good-bye."

"Going away, Mr Brixton!" exclaimed Betty, in genuine surprise.

"Yes. As you see, I am ready for the field, with rifle and wallet,
firebag and blanket."

"But you are not yet strong enough," said Betty.

"Oh! yes, I am--stronger than I look. Besides, that will mend every
day. I don't intend to say goodbye to Westly or any one, because I hate
to have people try to dissuade me from a thing when my mind is made up.
I only came to say good-bye to you, because I wish you to tell Fred and
your father that I am grateful for all their kindness to me, and that it
will be useless to follow me. Perhaps we may meet again, Betty," he
added, still in the forced tone of lightness, while he gently took the
girl's hand in his and shook it; "but the dangers of the wilderness are
numerous, and, as you have once or twice told me, we `know not what a
day or an hour may bring forth.'" (His tone had deepened suddenly to
that of intense earnestness)--"God bless you, Betty; farewell."

He dropped her hand, turned sharply on his heel, and walked swiftly
away, never once casting a look behind.

Poor Tom! It was a severe wrench, but he had fought the battle manfully
and gained the victory. In his new-born sense of personal unworthiness
and strict Justice, he had come to the conclusion that he had forfeited
the right to offer heart or hand to the Rose of Oregon. Whether he was
right or wrong in his opinion we do not pretend to judge, but this does
not alter the fact that a hard battle with self had been fought by him,
and a great victory won.

But Tom neither felt nor looked very much like a conqueror. His heart
seemed to be made of lead, and the strength of which he had so recently
boasted seemed to have deserted him altogether after he had walked a few
miles, insomuch that he was obliged to sit down on a bank to rest. Fear
lest Fred or Paul should follow up his trail, however, infused new
strength into his limbs, and he rose and pushed steadily on, for he was
deeply impressed with the duty that lay upon him--namely, to get
quickly, and as far as possible, away from the girl whom he could no
longer hope to wed.

Thus, advancing at times with grea