public trial? Verily, he had much for which to be
grateful to Mr. Clinton, and with one of those sudden impulses, natural
to a hasty temper and impetuous spirit, he sought instantly to make
amends for what now seemed the unjust and unkindly sentiments he had all
day been entertaining toward his new friend.

"Mr. Clinton, I fear I have blamed you most wrongfully. However, let all
this, as you say, be forgotten."

"That's it, my boy, I knew I wasn't mistaken in you. You've just the
heart there, in your bosom, that I was sure you had when I first saw
you. Believe me, I am proud to know that heart."

Arthur was but human, and, like all humanity, the gilded pill of
flattery was swallowed without the aid of sweetmeats. He could not but
remember, with a great deal of compunction, the great wrong he had, as
he felt, done Clinton in harboring towards him such unkindly thoughts.

"Oh, Mr. Clinton, pray pardon my neglect!" said he, suddenly turning
toward that young gentleman. "Allow me to make you acquainted with my
brother. Gulian--Mr. Clinton."

Guly bowed distantly. Those young eyes had seen deeper into the heart
before him, in the few minutes that he had been an observer of its
impulses, than Arthur had seen, or at least decided upon, in forty-eight
hours of mingled acquaintanceship and reflection. True, the boy knew but
little of the world; but there are some, and they are not the worldly
and suspicious, but the pure-minded and gentle, that shrink intuitively
from a polluting presence, scarce knowing from what they shrink. There
was much in Mr. Clinton which Guly saw to dread, as a companion for his
brother; and, at their first recognition, he was assured it was one of
Arthur's yesterday acquaintances, and felt a pang of disappointment at
not seeing him differently received by his brother.

"Where are you strolling?" asked Mr. Clinton, breaking a pause, which
had followed Guly's cool reception of himself.

"Merely out for a walk," returned Arthur; "it's only before and after
business hours, you know, that we have time for recreation."

"True, true," replied the other, stroking his chin, and speaking in a
commiserating tone. "Ah, that must be terribly dull business, for young
chaps like you. I always pity a clerk."

"Indeed, sir," said Guly, "we neither deserve nor need pity; we have
everything to make us contented and happy in our new situation, and
appreciate it, I assure you."

Mr. Clinton glanced for an instant