at there
were other and less questionable duties than that of sharing the fate
of a man whom his death could not benefit. Nor can it be affirmed that
no selfish feeling strove to enter Reuben's heart, though the
consciousness made him more earnestly resist his companion's entreaties.

"How terrible to wait the slow approach of death in this solitude!"
exclaimed he. "A brave man does not shrink in the battle; and, when
friends stand round the bed, even women may die composedly; but here--"

"I shall not shrink even here, Reuben Bourne," interrupted Malvin. "I
am a man of no weak heart, and, if I were, there is a surer support
than that of earthly friends. You are young, and life is dear to you.
Your last moments will need comfort far more than mine; and when you
have laid me in the earth, and are alone, and night is settling on the
forest, you will feel all the bitterness of the death that may now be
escaped. But I will urge no selfish motive to your generous nature.
Leave me for my sake, that, having said a prayer for your safety, I may
have space to settle my account undisturbed by worldly sorrows."

"And your daughter,--how shall I dare to meet her eye?" exclaimed
Reuben. "She will ask the fate of her father, whose life I vowed to
defend with my own. Must I tell her that he travelled three days' march
with me from the field of battle and that then I left him to perish in
the wilderness? Were it not better to lie down and die by your side
than to return safe and say this to Dorcas?"

"Tell my daughter," said Roger Malvin, "that, though yourself sore
wounded, and weak, and weary, you led my tottering footsteps many a
mile, and left me only at my earnest entreaty, because I would not have
your blood upon my soul. Tell her that through pain and danger you were
faithful, and that, if your lifeblood could have saved me, it would
have flowed to its last drop; and tell her that you will be something
dearer than a father, and that my blessing is with you both, and that
my dying eyes can see a long and pleasant path in which you will
journey together."

As Malvin spoke he almost raised himself from the ground, and the
energy of his concluding words seemed to fill the wild and lonely
forest with a vision of happiness; but, when he sank exhausted upon his
bed of oak leaves, the light which had kindled in Reuben's eye was
quenched. He felt as if it were both sin and folly to think of
happiness at such a moment. His companion