"Come into the library with me, my dear boy, I want to have a private talk with you," said Mr. Force, some hours later in the afternoon, as he led the way into his little sanctum in the rear of the hall. The guests had all left the house. Miss Sibby had ridden off on her mule; the young doctor had ambled away on his cob, and Roland had set out to walk to Forest Rest. But when we say the guests had all gone, we except, of course, the permanent visitor, the lively lady from California. She was still in the house, and likely to continue there. "Le, my dear boy," said Mr. Force, as soon as the two were seated in the library, "I want you to give me your word of honor that you will never send a challenge, or accept a challenge, to fight a duel as long as you live." "Uncle Abel, I give you my word of honor, with all my heart and soul in it, that I never will," earnestly and solemnly replied the young man. "Thank you, my boy, thank you! Give me your hand on it! There, you are my own dear lad again!" "Uncle Abel, you must think very badly of me for my madness and folly." "No, I do not, Le. No, I do not, dear lad. I know that your wrongs and your temptations were almost more than the spirit of man could bear, especially the spirit of a young man; and I thank the Heavenly Father that you have been saved from sin and delivered from danger!" gravely replied Abel Force, reverently bowing his head. "Uncle, I wish to make a full confession to you now--to open my soul to you, as if you were my father--as, in reality, you always have been in care and affection." "Go on, dear lad. You can say nothing, I am sure, that I shall not be glad to hear." "Well, then, Uncle Abel, I must tell you that after I had sent that challenge to Col. Anglesea I went home to Greenbushes and passed the most miserable night I ever spent in my whole life." "I do not doubt it, lad." "Heaven knows that it was not from cowardice----" "Who ever accused, or dreamed of accusing, any Force of cowardice? We have no experimental knowledge of the meaning of that word," said Abel Force. "No, we have not. It was not the thought of death, then, for I could meet death or deal death in the cause of duty. No; it was the foreshadowing of a great remorse. It began with the feeling that I could not, dared not, pray last night." "Dear lad! But you can pray to-night, Le?" "Yes; I can pray and give thanks to-night." "And now you are my own dear son again, Le." "Oh, Uncle Abel, if I might, indeed, be your son again! If I might be reinstated in the position, the happiness, I once enjoyed in my relations, present and prospective, with you and your family!" "What do you mean, my dear Le? And yet I need not ask you, for I know." "Odalite!" breathed the youth, in low, yet thrilling, tones. "Ah, would to Heaven, my boy, that none had ever come between you!" sighed Abel Force. "But the intruder has gone now, and left no trace behind."