de what I should do, I hurried back to my chamber, even forgetting
all about poor Bully in my agitation. I heard the step of Ham a moment
later. The whining of the dog attracted his attention, and he let him in
before he went to his room. My heart beat as though I had robbed the
mail myself. I trembled for Ham. Though he had always been overbearing
and tyrannical in his demeanor towards me; though he had taken a mean
and cowardly advantage of me that evening; though he was a young man
whom I could not like,--yet I had lived in the same house with him
for several years, and known him ever since I came to Torrentville. I
did not wish anything so bad to come upon him as that he was bringing
upon himself. It was sad and pitiful enough to be mean and tyrannical,
without being a thief and a robber.

I really pitied Ham, and if he had not destroyed the letter, I should
have gone to him, and begged him to retrace his steps. I knew him too
well to take such a course now, and I lay thinking of his crime, till,
overcome with weariness, I went to sleep.

CHAPTER VIII.

MISS LARRABEE'S LETTER.

If I did not get up as early as usual the next morning, none of my
tyrants were stirring in season to abuse me for lying abed so late; for
they, like myself, had not retired until after midnight. The first thing
that came to my mind in the morning was the scene I had witnessed in the
post-office. The secret seemed to burn in my soul, and I wanted some
means of getting rid of it. I actually pitied Ham, and would gladly have
availed myself of any method of saving him from the crime--of saving him
from himself, rather than from the penalty of the offence, for even then
the crime seemed to me to be worse than the punishment, and more to be
dreaded.

It was nearly breakfast time when Ham made his appearance, and I
imagined that he had found some difficulty in going to sleep with the
burden of his crime resting upon his conscience. Squire Fishley did not
appear till the family were just ready to sit down at the table. He
looked sleepy, stupid, and ashamed of himself, and Mrs. Fishley thought
he must have taken cold. According to his custom, the senator said grace
at the table, by invitation of his brother, who, however, never returned
thanks himself.

I could not help keeping one eye fixed on the distinguished man, for so
unusual an event as saying grace in that house did not fail to make an
impression upon me. I noticed that he cast