able facts, will penetrate his atmosphere."

"Don't be angry with him; something is the matter. You only drive
him to herd with those boys," said Hamilton. "Look there!--there
they are!--oh, Reginald! it is not right to leave him with them."

"Speak to him yourself, Hamilton," said Reginald, a little sobered.
"He will mind you. You have had a great deal to bear with him, but
I know you make allowances."

Hamilton did not reply, but he had determined on making the effort to
detach Louis from his evil counsellors, when the latter suddenly left
the room with Casson, and did not return till Hamilton had gone into
the class-room.

Casson was the only one to whom Louis could relieve his mind on the
subject that weighed him down so heavily--and he had, at the time
Hamilton was watching him so intently, been whispering some of his
fears, only to be laughed at. Suddenly he paused--"Casson, just come
with me; I think I recollect--yes, surely--"

He did not wait to conclude his sentence, but, pulling Casson into the
hall, sought his great-coat, dived to the bottom of the pocket, and,
to his great joy, drew forth Hamilton's poem.

"It's here! it's here! it's here!" he cried. "How could I have put it
here without knowing? Oh, my dear Casson, I am _so_ glad!"

"Well, what now?" said Casson, rudely. "What good is it? What do you
mean to do with it?"

"Give it back, of course--I think Hamilton will forgive me, and if not,
I _must_ give it back to him, and then, perhaps, I shall be happy
again; for I have not been happy for a long, long while: I have been
very wrong," he added, in a low, sorrowful tone.

"If ever I saw such a sap in my life," said Casson; "this comes of
all your fine boasting; a nice fellow you are--why you're afraid
of your own shadow! Do you know what you'll get if you give it back?"

"Whatever happens," said Louis, "I feel I have done wrong--wrong in
listening to you, too, Casson. Oh, if ever it please God to make me
happy again, I hope I shall be more careful! I have been afraid to
do right--I am afraid to think of all that has happened lately."

"I always thought you were a canting hypocrite," said Casson,
sneeringly. "I never see that you religious people do any better
than any one else. Go and get a thrashing, as you deserve, for
your cowardice, only don't tell any lies about me. Remember it
was all your own doing."

Casson opened the hall-door as he spoke, and ran into the playground,
where most o