ness reigned supreme. From a distance one would have been sure
Charlie was sleeping, but a closer inspection would have shown that
his eyes were wide open. It was 11.30. Charlie quietly raised himself,
pulled his coat to him, and took a railway time-table from it, then
ran his finger down a portion of it. The express left for the west at
12.05 a.m. He drew a line around the figures, and put the table back
into his pocket again. Then he got out of bed, on tip-toe stole to his
carpet-bag, which hung near the door, and quietly began to stow away
in it his modest belongings. So quietly did he gather up his things
that not a mouse, except by sight, could have known that he was in the
room. Every now and then he would pause, with his face turned toward
Narcisse's room, and listen. Twice a slight noise, which seemed to
emanate from Narcisse's room, disturbed him, and with contracted brow
he paused and listened longer than usual. The branches smote the
window, and he smiled at his folly. He was positive that Narcisse was
sound asleep. When the valise was packed, he cautiously turned the
light a little higher, got a sheet of paper and a pencil, and wrote in
a straggling hand: "Dear friend Narcisse,--I thought it better if I
went alone. I know you like her. You knew her before I did, and you
brought me here. I think she likes you better than me, too. She ought
to. That which has come between us has made me feel very bad. When I
am away I will try and think only of the camp days. She will make you
a good wife, Narcisse. Some day I will write and let you know how I am
getting along in the North-West.--CHARLIE."

He doubled the note carefully and addressed it to Narcisse. Then he
rolled some silver up in a paper and addressed it to his landlady.
Silently he put on his coat and hat, picked up his boots, seized his
carpet-bag, blew out the light, and in his stocking feet stole to the
door. "I will put on my boots at the bottom of the stairs," he
muttered absently.

He was half-way out of the door, when he stopped suddenly. Again that
slight noise which seemed to come from Narcisse's room! Could it be
possible that Narcisse was not in bed? Again the branches rattled on
the panes, and again he chided himself for his fancy. He softly closed
the door behind him, flitted along the narrow passage and began to
descend the stairs leading to the street. Reaching the bottom of the
stairs, he was just in the act of pulling on his boots, when th