"I have already learned to do so."

"And you will not let these gloomy visions of the past rise up between you and the far-off stars?"

"Never again, never again."

He pressed the trembling hand he held between his own, and touched it to his lips.

It was drawn quickly from him; a stifled sob fell upon his ear, and he stood alone.

Slowly he turned his steps homewards, and with every echo of his solitary footfall, with every sob of the passing night-wind, came back upon his troubled heart, with thrilling sadness, Minny's last mournful words, "Never again, never again!"

Again he reached the store, and the lock, obedient to the ponderous key, turned noiselessly, and Wilkins entered. It was dark and gloomy, and a chill passed over him as he fastened the door, and groped his way along between the deserted counters. The scene through which he had just passed had called up bitter and unpleasant memories, and there came over him a sense of lonely desolation, such as he could not endure to experience. He stopped a moment as he reached the high desk, and stood there, silent and thoughtful.

"I will go to him," he muttered; "there is something holy in his presence, which will make me happier."

With cautious steps he mounted the winding stairs, and sought the room where Guly lay. The moment he approached the bedside, the boy started from his restless pillow.

"Arthur, is it you?"

"It is me, Guly," returned Wilkins, in a low voice.

"You! and you come without him?"

"I come alone, Guly."

"And has anything happened--oh! do not keep it from me! Is Arthur hurt?

What brings you here, Wilkins, if it is not that?"

"I came here, Guly, with my own troubled heart, to look upon you as you slept, and to go away happier. I have no news, either good or bad, of poor Arthur."

Guly was silent a moment, then taking Wilkins' hand, he said:--

"I cannot tell you how much I thank you for the long and dreary walk you have taken for my sake. Some day I hope to be able to repay your kindness."

"Don't mention it, Guly; a mere trifle."

"It was a great deal to me; and now, Wilkins, would you just as soon lie down by me as to sleep in your own bed? It must be nearly morning, but this is a gloomy place to lie in alone, with only a troubled heart for company."

"True, Guly; I will be with you in a moment."

They lay down together, and soon slept, side by side, exhausted by watching and weariness; and the boy's fair head was pillowed on the man's breast, rising and falling there like a golden shield, resting on the bounding heart, "keeping the evil out."

CHAPTER XXI.

"'Tis done! I saw it in my dreams.

No more with hope the future beams; My days of happiness are few.

Chilled by misfortune's wintry blast, My dream of life is overcast.

Love, hope, and joy, adieu-- Would I could add, remembrance too."

Byron.

Arthur was at his place in the morning, almost as soon as Jeff opened the door. His face was pale and haggard, and wore upon it a look of unbroken gloom, and his eye wandered restlessly, as if dreading to meet another's gaze. He had arrived at his post so early, however, that no clerks were yet in the store, and for some time his only companion was the busy negro.

"Jeff," said he, at last, in a hesitating tone.

"Yes, massa, I'se here, sah."

"Did you sleep here behind the store-door last night, as usual?"

"Yes, massa, ob course."

"Did my brother go to bed early that you know of?"

"Well, no, massa, he didn't. He and Massa Wilkins sat back dar by de fire pretty late, sah!"

"Indeed! what could they have been talking of to keep them sitting up?"

"Well, massa, I don't 'spect 'twould be berry hon'ble in me to tell, case I know dey taut I was sleepin', and didn't know I couldn't help hearin' ebery word dey sed."

Arthur blushed as the thought crossed his mind, that the negro's sense of honor was higher than his own; but his curiosity overcame his scruples, and he went on questioning Jeff, as he rubbed up and trimmed the lamps for evening.

"Perhaps you heard my name, Jeff, eh?"

"Well, 'casionally, I 'spect I did, sah. Bery common ting for brudders to talk of one anudder," said Jeff, rubbing away on the lamp he held with redoubled earnestness.

"Did Mr. Wilkins leave the store, that you know of, after it was closed?"

"Well, I bleeb he did, sah! He couldn't a come in widout he'd been out, and I know one ob my toes got pinched in de crack ob de door by his coming in when 'twas most mornin'."

"My brother was not with him then, was he?"

"Well, I had my eyes shut, sah! and it was too dark to see if I'd a had 'em open. 'Alus de darkest hour 'fore day,' you know, sah."

"You don't know whether my brother asked Mr. Wilkins to go out, or not, I suppose?"

"Really, couldn't tell anyting 'bout it, sah," said Jeff, mounting on a wooden stool, and taking down another lamp carefully. As he gained the floor his eyes met Arthur's face.

"Bless de Lord, young massa, how came you by dat offal bump 'long side ob your head?"

Arthur drew his hat hastily over his brow, and turned away with a dissatisfied air, without giving any reply.

He stood in the door, half-angry at the unsatisfactory answers he had received, but ashamed to show, even to the black, that he felt any real interest in the matter. Preferring, too, to continue the conversation in any way rather than be left to silent communion with his thoughts, he turned suddenly, and said:--

"Jeff, wouldn't you like to be free?"