d straight up
in de ground. I peeked roun' de ara winder when I got out ob reach, and
he was shakin' all ober, he wus so mad, and swarin' fit to kill. Yah,
yah, I fixed de ole feller dat time, Massa Pratt, I 'sure you."

Arthur could not help smiling at Jeff's enthusiastic relation of the
circumstance, and at the same time he saw it was useless to carry on a
conversation upon this subject with one of his quick wit; so he only
remarked to the negro, who seemed waiting for some encomiums, that he
"served him right," and then turned away, and began arranging the goods
in his department for the day's sale. Steps were now heard upon the
stairs, and Wilkins, followed by Guly, came down into the store, the
latter looking pale, and half-sick, from the previous night of lonely
and anxious vigils. Wilkins passed Arthur with a cheerful "good
morning," and Guly advanced to his side, trying to smile; but the
attempt was futile, and he gained his side, and took his hand, silently.

Arthur's heart had not become so hardened, in so short a space of time,
as to lose all its generous impulses, and he was deeply touched by the
expression of his brother's face, so full of grief, yet with such an
apparent effort to conceal all sorrow from him. Wilkins was engaged with
his books, and Jeff was busy in the back part of the store; and, assured
that he would not be observed, he threw an arm about his brother, and
drew him close to his side.

Guly lifted his large blue eyes, sad and moistened, to Arthur's face.

"Dear Arthur," he whispered, "could you but know how much I loved you,
you would never--never--" he could get no farther, and stopped suddenly,
struggling to keep down his rising emotion.

"I would never go astray thus, you would say, Guly; but think not so. It
is my fate; I cannot turn aside from it, nor avert it; when I would stop
and struggle, on this slippery, downward path, I find it impossible, and
I rush on, like one who must keep moving, or fall."

"You do not call upon One to aid you, who would surely hear your cry."

Arthur was silent.

"If we knelt oftener, side by side, as we used to, dear brother, do you
not think that your heart would grow more humble and more submissive?
and that we both would be happier far?"

"Guly! do not charge me with having totally neglected those duties. The
past night must, indeed, have been a long one, if you can believe that
we no longer do as we _used to do_. Night before last, remember,