wo,
you know, and may not be inclined to let our mouths be stopped, when we
would warn other fellows from falling into the same snare."

"Retract those words!" shouted Clement, shaking Wolf's arm in a
paroxysm of rage.

"Why retract? if they are true, and I can prove them? Go to! you are
but a simpleton!"

"And you a devil."

"Oho! I say, it may be your turn to retract now."

"I won't retract."

"Then I suppose you know the consequences. You shall hear from me as
soon as I get to town."

And having thus spoken in cold blood, he turned back to the village.
Clement remained standing where he was.

"Villain!--miserable scoundrel!"--fell from his lips; his bosom heaved,
a cruel pain had coiled itself about his heart, he flung himself flat
upon the ground among the corn, and lay there long, recalling a
thousand times each one of those words that had made him feel so
furious.

When he came home at a very late hour, he was surprised to find the
family still assembled. Wolf was missing. The vicar was pacing
violently up and down the room. His wife and Marlene were seated with
their work in their laps, much against their custom at so late an hour.
On Clement's entrance the vicar stopped, and gravely turned to look at
him.

"What have you been doing to your friend?--Here he has packed up and
gone, while we were all out walking, leaving a hasty message. When we
came home, we only found the man who had come to fetch his things. Have
you been quarrelling? else why should he be in such a hurry?"

"We had high words together. I am glad to find that he is gone, and
that I shall not have to sleep another night under the same roof with
him."

"And what were your angry words about?"

"I cannot tell you, father. I should have been glad to avoid a quarrel,
but there are things to which no honest man can listen. I have long
known him to be coarse, and careless in feeling, both with regard to
himself, and others, but I never saw him as he was to-day."

The vicar looked steadily at his son, and then in a low tone: "How do
you mean to settle this quarrel between you?" he asked.

"As young men do;" said Clement gravely.

"And do you know what Christians do, when they have been offended?"

"I know, but I cannot do the same; if he had only offended me, I might
easily have forgiven him, but he has insulted one who is very dear to
me."

"A woman, Clement?"

"A woman. Yes."

"And you love this woman?"

"I love her;" mur