moving to Quebec to live.

CHAPTER XI.

"MACRORIE, MY BOY, HAVE YOU BEEN TO ANDERSON'S YET?"--"NO."--"WELL,
THEN, I WANT YOU ATTEND TO THAT BUSINESS OF THE STONE TO-MORROW. DON'T
FORGET THE SIZE--FOUR FEET BY EIGHTEEN INCHES; AND NOTHING BUT THE NAME
AND DATE. THE TIME'S COME AT LAST. THERE'S NO PLACE FOR ME BUT THE COLD
GRAVE, WHERE THE PENSIVE PASSER-BY MAY DROP A TEAR OVER THE MOURNFUL
FATE OF JACK RANDOLPH. AMEN. R. I. P."

Such was the remarkable manner in which Jack Randolph accosted me, as
he entered my room on the following day at about midnight. His face was
more rueful than ever, and, what was more striking, his clothes and
hair seemed neglected. This convinced me more than any thing that he
had received some new blow, and that it had struck home.

"You seem hard hit, old man," said I. "Where is it? Who is it?"

Jack groaned.

"Has Miss Phillips come?"

"No."

"Is it the widow?"

"No."

"Number Three?"

Jack shook his head.

"Not duns?"

"No."

"Then I give up."

"It's Louie," said Jack, with an expression of face that was as near an
approximation to what is called sheepishness as any thing I ever saw.

"Louie?" I repeated.

"Yes--"

"What of her? What has she been doing? How is it possible? Good
Heavens! you haven't--" I stopped at the fearful suspicion that came to
me.

"Yes, I have!" said Jack, sulkily. "I know what you mean. I've proposed
to her."

I started up from the sofa on which I was lounging--my pipe dropped to
the ground--a tumbler followed. I struck my clinched fist on the table.

"Randolph!" said I, "this is too much. Confound it, man! Are you mad,
or are you a villain? What the devil do you mean by trifling with the
affections of that little girl? By Heavens! Jack Randolph, if you carry
on this game with her, there's not a man in the regiment that won't
join to crush you."

"Pitch in," said Jack quietly, looking at me at the same time with
something like approval. "That's the right sort of thing. That's just
what I've been saying to myself. I've been swearing like a trooper at
myself all the way here. If there's any one on earth that every fellow
ought to stand up for, it's little Louie. And now you see the reason
why I want you to attend to that little affair of the gravestone."

At Jack's quiet tone, my excitement subsided. I picked up my pipe
again, and thought it over.

"The fact is, Jack," said I, after about ten minutes of profound
smoking, "I