n irrevocable decision. He looked apathetically
on the water and on the cool moonshine on the roof, and yet he was glad
that the sun did not shine, and that he did not see his father's house
in its golden light. He tried to think of the future he had insured; he
pondered over all the advantages to accrue from his factory; he looked
forward to the time when his son would dwell here, rich, secure, free
from the cares that had involved his father with vulgar traders, and
prematurely blanched his hair. He thought of all this, but his favorite
thoughts had become indifferent to him. He entered the house, felt for
his full pocket-book before he gave his hand to his wife, and nodded
significantly to Lenore. He spoke cheerfully to the ladies, and even
contrived to joke about his busy day; but he felt that something had
come between him and his dearest ones--even they seemed estranged. If
they leaned over him or took his hand, his impulse was to withdraw from
the caress. And when his wife looked lovingly at him, there was a
something in her eyes, where once he was wont to turn for comfort in
every extremity, that he could no longer bear to meet.

He went to his factory, where he was again received with huzza after
huzza by the workmen, and with merry tunes by the village band. They
played the very air to which he had often marched with his regiment by
the side of his old general, whom he loved as a father. He thought of
the scarred face of the old warrior, and thought too of a court of honor
that he and his brother officers had once held upon an unhappy youth who
had lightly given and broken his word of honor. He went into his
bed-room, and rejoiced that it had become dark, and that he could no
longer see his castle, his factory, or his wife's searching glance. And
again he heard hour after hour strike, and at the stroke of each the
thought was forced in upon him, "There is now another of that regiment
who has, when gray-haired, done the very deed that led a youth to blow
out his brains: here lies the man, and can not sleep because he has
broken his word of honor."

CHAPTER XXIII.

The spring storms were sweeping over the plains when Anton was recalled.
The winter had been a laborious and anxious season. He had often
traveled in frost and snow through devastated districts far into the
east and south. Every where he had seen mournful sights, burnt castles,
disturbed trade, insecurity, famine, brutality, and burning part