"Ah!" rejoined Forester, "that's it. I thought there must be some such reason as that. You have lost your character with James, and I advise you to acquire a new one as soon as you can. Besides, you have done him injustice this evening. You represented him as refusing you his knife because he was unaccommodating and selfish, whereas it was only proper regard to the safety of his property. What you said was calculated to make an unfavorable impression on my mind against him, and one which would have been unjust." Marco perceived that it was so, and was silent. "I am sorry that your knife is rusty," resumed Forester. "Perhaps I can get it open for you." "How?" asked Marco. "Why, I believe the best way is to soak the joint in oil. The oil will insinuate itself into the joint, and then we can get hold of the blade with a pair of nippers, or something of the kind, and open it; and then, by working it to and fro a few times, the rust will work out, and the knife be as good as it was before. If it is very rusty indeed, this plan will not answer." "What must be done in that case?" asked Marco. "The only way then is to carry it to some kind of smith and get him to punch out the rivet. Then we can take the blade out entirely. By this means we can clean it of its rust, and then put it in again with a new rivet. If you will give me your knife to-morrow, I will try to put it in order for you again, in one or the other of these ways. "And now," continued Forester, after a short pause, "it is time for me to go down, unless you have something which you wish to say." Although it was not unusual for Forester to close his evening conversation in this manner, Marco's attention was particularly arrested by the excellent opportunity which this remark afforded him to make his confession. He really wished to make it,--but he did not know how to begin. He wished that his cousin would ask him something about it, or introduce the subject in some way or other, but Forester was silent. Presently he rose, came to Marco's bedside, and asked him if he was warm enough,--for the nights at this season of the year were beginning to be cool. "Yes," said Marco, "I'm very comfortable." "Well, then, good night." So Forester took the lamp and walked slowly toward the door. "Cousin Forester," said Marco. "What?" said Forester. "Don't go just yet." Forester turned back and advanced to the foot of the bed. There was a high foot-board at the foot of the bed, and Forester leaned upon it with the lamp in his hand. "Is there any thing that you want to say to me?" Marco was silent. He looked distressed and embarrassed, and moved his head restlessly on his pillow. "There's something wrong, isn't there, Marco," said Forester, "that you are thinking whether to confess to me or not? If there is, do just as you choose about it. I like to have you confess what you have done that is wrong, but then, if you do it at all, it must be done of your own accord."