no pangs of conscience, no feeling of
remorse, and yet the thought that I had hurried a man into eternity was
horrible.

I wandered in the plantation for hours, brooding, thinking, despairing.
No pen can describe what I felt, no words can convey to the mind the
thoughts and pains of my mind and heart. Never did I love Miss Forrest
so much, never was Voltaire's villainy so real; and yet I was to lose
her, and that man--a fiend in human form--was to wed her. I could do
nothing. He had paralyzed my energies. He had set a command before me
which was as ghastly as hell, and yet I dared not disobey. I, a young,
strong man, was a slave--a slave of the worst kind. I was the plaything,
the tool of a villain. I had to do as he told me; I had to refrain from
doing what he told me I was not to do. I had done I knew not what.
Perchance a hangman's rope was hanging near me even now. I could not
tell. And yet I dared not rise from my chains, and see whether the
things I had been accused of doing were true.

I went back to the house. Voltaire was gone, while the guests and family
were having their lunch. I felt that I could not join them, so I went
into the library. I had not been there ten minutes when Miss Forrest
entered. She looked pale and worried. I suppose that I, too, must have
been haggard, for she started when she saw me. She hesitated a moment,
and then spoke.

"The whole party are going for a ride this afternoon. They have just
been making arrangements. They are going to ask you to join them. Shall
you go?" she asked.

"No; I shall not go," I replied.

"Will you come here at three o'clock?"

"Yes," I said, wondering what she meant; but I had not time to ask her,
for two young men came into the room.

I went to my room and tried to think, but I could not. My mind refused
to work. I watched the party ride away--it was comparatively small now,
for several had returned to their homes--and then I found my way to the
library.

I sat for a while in silence, scarcely conscious of my surroundings; and
then I wondered how long Miss Forrest would be before she came, and what
she would tell me. The clock on the mantelpiece began to strike three;
it had not finished when she entered the room.

I placed a chair for her beside my own, which she accepted without a
word.

For a minute neither of us spoke; then she said abruptly, "You told me
you loved me when we rode out together the other day."

"I did," I said, "and I do l