cal girl. "I will tell
everything now; how I was tempted, and how I fell."

"Bother!" cried Vane, gruffly. "That isn't like an English lad should
speak. You did me a cowardly, dirty trick, and you confessed to me that
you were sorry for it. Do you think I'm such a mean beast that I want
to take revenge upon you!"

"But it is my duty--I feel bound--I must speak," cried Distin, in a
choking voice.

"Nonsense! It's all over. I'm the person injured, and I say I won't
have another word said. I came out this afternoon to ask you to make
friends, and to shake hands. There's mine, and let the past be dead."

Vane stood holding out his hand, but it was not taken.

"Do you hear?" he cried. "Shake hands."

"I can't," groaned Distin, with a piteous look. "I told you before mine
are not clean."

"Mine are," said Vane, meaning, of course, metaphorically; "and
perhaps--no, there is no perhaps--mine will clean yours."

Vane took the young Creole's hand almost by force, and gave it a painful
grip, releasing it at last for Distin to turn to the nearest tree, lay
his arm upon the trunk, and then lean his forehead against it in
silence.

Vane stood looking at him, hesitating as to what he should say or do.
Then, with a satisfied nod to himself, he said, cheerily:

"I'm going down to the stream to have a wash. Come on soon."

It was a bit of natural delicacy, and the sensitive lad, born in a
tropic land, felt it as he stood there with his brain filled with
bitterness and remorse, heaping self-reproaches upon himself, and more
miserable than he had ever before been in his life.

"I do believe he's crying," thought Vane, as he hurried out of the
woodland shade, and down to the water's edge, where, kneeling down by a
little crystal pool, he washed his stained and bleeding hands, and then
began to bathe his face and temples.

"Not quite so hot as I was," he muttered; "but, oh, what a mess I'm in!
I shan't be fit to show myself, and must stop out till it's dark. What
would poor aunt say if she saw me! Frighten her nearly into fits."

He was scooping up the fresh, cool water, and holding it to his bruises,
which pained him a good deal, but, in spite of all his sufferings, he
burst into a hearty fit of laughter at last, and, as his eyes were
closed, he did not notice that a shadow was cast over him, right on to
the water.

It was Distin, for he had come quietly down the bank, and was standing
just behind him.

"Ar