him to come out, but went into the
woods and came on home. And now I've got to go."

"Go where?" I asked, facing him round as he strove to turn from me.

"To town to give myself up. Don't tell the old folks to-night. Tell them
in the morning--tell them that they'll find me in jail."

I strove to restrain him; I could scarcely believe what he had told me.
I asked him if he had not been dreaming. He shook his head, pulling away
from me. "If you are my friend, Bill, do as I tell you. It's all over
with me now, and all I can do is to answer to the law." He caught up
his hat. "Tell them at morning; make it as soft as you can--tell them
how I love that girl--tell them that I am crazy. Don't hold me, Bill. I
must go. God bless you."

He pulled away from me and went down stairs so easily that he made
scarcely a sound. I followed him, begged him to let me go with him, but,
creeping back half way up the stairs, he said: "You can be of more
service to me here. Tell them and to-morrow you can see me in jail. I
don't want them to come and take me there. Do as I tell you, Bill. Don't
let the folks see me in jail. Go on back."

I went back to the room and sat there all night, and at morning I heard
the old man unlock the smoke-house, heard his wife singing a hymn. I
knew that they expected me at early breakfast, so that I could reach the
school-house in time, for my new session was to begin that morning. So
the sun was not risen when I went down stairs. But nature held up a pink
rose in the east, and the hilltops were glowing, while the valleys were
yet dark. Guinea came out of the sitting-room, and seeing me in the
passage, walking as if I were afraid of disturbing some one, laughed at
me. "Why, what makes you slip along that way? You act as if you were the
first one up. Why, I have already gathered you some flowers to take to
school. And you won't even thank me. Why, Mr. Hawes, what on earth is
the matter?"

I held up my hand. "There will be no school to-day," I said. "Don't say
a word, please."

"But what's the matter?" she asked, with a look of fright.

"Come out here under the tree. Will you promise not to scream if I tell
you something?"

"But what can you tell me to make me scream? Oh----"

"I'm not going to speak of myself," I broke in, fearing that she might
think that I was going to tell her of my love. "Come out here, please."

She followed me to the bench under the tree and she stood there
nervously gazing at