ear to face Hamilton, and yet he must be near him
when his own desk was examined, for he dared not move from his place.
He had looked carefully there himself, but still he was afraid it might,
by chance, be there. He hardly dared look round, for fear he should
betray his secret; and yet his distress sadly longed for vent. "I did
not mean to do any harm," was his reiterated thought; "I am sure, I
thought it was a letter--I did not mean it." And then he wished to
confess his fault; but, with his usual vacillation of purpose, he
deferred it, till he should see how things went. It did seem strange
that, with all the lessons he had had, he should have put off his
confession; yet he dared not, and tried to quiet his conscience with,
"I shall tell Hamilton alone;" and, "It's no use telling, when I can't
find the poem." But his trouble was tenfold increased when Hamilton
and Mr. James came near him, and finding his desk locked, inquired
who's it was, and where the keys were.

Hamilton remarked in a low tone, not aware that Louis was so near,
"I suppose for form's sake we must look, but I am sure, poor fellow,
he has nothing to do with it."

Louis just then handed his key; and, as Hamilton's hand came in contact
with his, he was struck by its cold clamminess, and just looking at him,
noticed the troubled expression, and the almost tearful eyes that were
fixed on him. He attributed Louis' anxiety to his natural timidity, as
well as to his having probably overheard the remark on himself; and his
heart smote him, for he still loved him, and had felt once or twice
lately, that he had not done his duty towards him.

The poem was not found. Louis ran out into the playground, despite the
cold and twilight, to cry; and hurried in again in a few minutes, for
fear of discovery. The members of the first class gathered round Hamilton
to learn the story and to condole with him, and even Trevannion made some
remark on the shamefulness of such a trick.

"I am sure, whoever gets the prize will not feel comfortable unless your
poem is found and compared," said Frank; "write away, Hamilton; no one
shall disturb you. I don't wonder Fudge was in such a passion."

Louis was very glad when bed-time came, and he could hide his tears and
misery under the bed-clothes. Reginald had been too busy to notice that
any thing was the matter with him; but Hamilton, occupied as he was, had
seen it, though Louis had kept out of his way as much as possible. He