countenance, and displayed a recent purchase, the fruits of his forced
economy. It was a fine rifle; and he urged me and Amy to come and see
him make a trial of the weapon. I rebuked him for his extravagance
with a sharpness which brought tears into his eyes--but I consented to
witness the trial. His first shot centered the target. He loaded
again, and handed the weapon to me. My bullet was nowhere to be found.
Norman's second shot lapped his first. Mine was again wide of the
mark. Norman laughed thoughtlessly. Amy looked grave, for with a
woman's quickness she had guessed at the truth of my feelings. I cut
the scene short by summoning both to their studies. That morning
Norman, whose thoughts were with his rifle, blundered sadly in his
mathematics, and I rebuked him with more than my usual asperity.

Be it understood that my character stood high with the world. I was
not undistinguished in public life, and had the rare good fortune to
conciliate both parties. I was a working man in many charitable and
philanthropic societies. I was a member of a church, and looked up to
as a model of piety. As a husband and brother, I was held up as an
example. I had so large a capital of character, I could deal in crime
to an unlimited amount.

Some days after the occurrence just related, I was alone with my
brother in the library.

"Come, Norman," said I, "leave those stupid books. Study is a poor
business for a young free heart like yours. Leave books for old age
and the rheumatism."

Norman sprang up joyously. "With all my heart, brother; I'm with you
for a gallop or a ramble."

"I'm but a poor horseman, and an indifferent walker," I answered.
"What do you say to a little rifle practice? I should like to try to
mend my luck."

Norman's rifle was in his hand in a moment, and whistling his favorite
spaniel, he sallied forth with me into the bright, sunshiny autumnal
day. We hied to a hollow in the woods where he had set up a target. He
made the first shot--a splendid one--and then reloaded the rifle.

"Take care," said he, "how you handle the trigger; you know the lock
is an easy one--I am going to have it altered." And he went forward to
set the target firmer in the ground, as his shot had shaken it.

He was twenty paces off--his back turned towards me. I lifted the
rifle, and covered him with both sights. It was the work of a moment.
My hand touched the trigger. A sharp report followed--the puff of
blue smoke swirled upwa