up to his
bedroom, and locked them in the upper drawers of his bureau.

Finally, with the guiltiest conscience, the darkest spirit and the
heaviest heart that he had ever experienced in his young life, he laid
himself down on his bed. He could not sleep, and he dared not pray. Never
before had he laid down to rest without having prayed. But how could he
pray now, when he was deliberately planning to break, and make others
break, one of the most awful commandments in the decalogue?

So the boy lay awake through all the long and dreary night, waiting for
the day. What would the day bring forth? Where would he be the next
night?

"If it were only my life that was to be taken! Even if it were only my
soul that was to be risked! But the awful fiat of the Most High to be
broken! Purposely, deliberately broken! Oh, Heaven! how one man's sin
makes many men's crimes!"

So thinking, so feeling, so suffering, Le passed the most miserable night
of his whole life.

The gray light of the winter day dawned at last.

Then Le arose and slowly dressed himself.

Roland, he thought, would soon be with him, bringing the acceptance of his
challenge and the program of the hostile meeting.

Slowly he descended the stairs and entered the parlor.

Early as it was, the window shutters had been opened, the fire kindled and
the room put in order.

Le threw up the window sash to inhale the fresh air. It was keen and cold
this winter morning, yet refreshing to his fevered head.

The sun was up and shining from a clear, blue sky upon the snow-covered
earth, and the forest of pine beyond, and the grove of cedars, spruce,
firs and other evergreens near the house.

Le closed the window at length, and sat down to wait for the coming of
Roland Bayard.

Old Luke came in with oak logs to replenish the fire.

"Mornin', young marster! Gettin' colder, ain't it? Shouldn't wonder ef de
crik didn't froze ober 'fore night," he said, as he laid the logs
carefully on the blazing brands.

Le assented, in a low voice, scarcely knowing what had been said to him,
or what he said.

The man retired, and was succeeded by the woman, Martha, who came in to
set the table for her master's breakfast.

"Mornin', Marse Le! Hope as yer feel better'n yer did las' night, dough,
Lor' knows, now I look at yer, yer doan look any better; yer looks wuss.
'Deed, Marse Le, yer ought to 'sult a doctor," she said, as she opened the
tablecloth and flirted it out to spread