ively seeks. Confidence and sympathy are
consolatory virtues--even penance has its purpose. I longed, therefore,
for a friend--one to whom I could confide my secret, and unbosom my
sorrow; and I sought that friend in the young backwoodsman. I had a
claim upon him: he had made me the confidant of _his_ care--the
recipient of his heart confessed. Little dreamed I at the time, I
should so soon be calling upon him for a reciprocity of the kindness.

Fortune so far favoured me--I found him at home. My arrival scarcely
roused him from a dejection that, I could perceive, was habitual to him.
I knew its cause; and could see that he was struggling against it--lest
it should hinder him from the fulfilment of his duties as a host. It
did not. There was something truly noble in this conquest of courtesy
over the heart heavily laden--charged and engrossed with selfish care.
Not without admiration, did I observe the conflict. I hesitated not to
confide my secret to such a man: I felt convinced that under the
buckskin coat beat the heart of a gentleman. I told him the whole story
of my love--beginning with the hour in which I had left him.

The tale aroused him from his apathy--more especially the episode, which
related to my first meeting with Lilian, and the encounter that
followed. As a hunter, this last would have secured his attention; but
it was not altogether that.

The scene touched a chord in unison with his own memories; for by some
such incident had he first won the favour of Marian. As I approached
the _finale_ of the duel scene--that point where the stranger had
appeared upon the stage--I could perceive the interest of my listener
culminating to a pitch of excitement; and, before I had pronounced ten
words in description of the clerical visitor, the young hunter sprang to
his feet, exclaiming as he did so--"Josh Stebbins!"

"Yes; it was he--I know it myself."

I continued the narrative; but I saw I was no longer listened to with
attention. Wingrove was on his feet, and pacing the floor with nervous
irregular strides. Every now and then, I saw him glance towards his
rifle--that rested above the fireplace; while the angry flash of his
eyes betokened that he was meditating some serious design. As soon as I
had described the winding up of the duel, and what followed--including
my departure from Swampville--I was again interrupted by the young
hunter--this time not by his speech but by an action equally
sign