Arthur could not help smiling at Jeff's enthusiastic relation of the circumstance, and at the same time he saw it was useless to carry on a conversation upon this subject with one of his quick wit; so he only remarked to the negro, who seemed waiting for some encomiums, that he "served him right," and then turned away, and began arranging the goods in his department for the day's sale. Steps were now heard upon the stairs, and Wilkins, followed by Guly, came down into the store, the latter looking pale, and half-sick, from the previous night of lonely and anxious vigils. Wilkins passed Arthur with a cheerful "good morning," and Guly advanced to his side, trying to smile; but the attempt was futile, and he gained his side, and took his hand, silently. Arthur's heart had not become so hardened, in so short a space of time, as to lose all its generous impulses, and he was deeply touched by the expression of his brother's face, so full of grief, yet with such an apparent effort to conceal all sorrow from him. Wilkins was engaged with his books, and Jeff was busy in the back part of the store; and, assured that he would not be observed, he threw an arm about his brother, and drew him close to his side. Guly lifted his large blue eyes, sad and moistened, to Arthur's face. "Dear Arthur," he whispered, "could you but know how much I loved you, you would never--never--" he could get no farther, and stopped suddenly, struggling to keep down his rising emotion. "I would never go astray thus, you would say, Guly; but think not so. It is my fate; I cannot turn aside from it, nor avert it; when I would stop and struggle, on this slippery, downward path, I find it impossible, and I rush on, like one who must keep moving, or fall." "You do not call upon One to aid you, who would surely hear your cry." Arthur was silent. "If we knelt oftener, side by side, as we used to, dear brother, do you not think that your heart would grow more humble and more submissive? and that we both would be happier far?" "Guly! do not charge me with having totally neglected those duties. The past night must, indeed, have been a long one, if you can believe that we no longer do as we _used to do_. Night before last, remember, Guly, I was by your side, looking over with you the pages of the Holy Word, and kneeling to Him who bids us obey it." "True, Arthur; but the night has seemed to me almost interminable. It is very lonely without you, Arthur." "I am not sorry you miss me, Guly; it seems to whisper of so much love; and your love is very dear to me. Remember what I told you the other night upon the step, and always try to feel this affection for me." "Always, Arthur."