nefarious taxes! Let me never cease to despise you, though Constance be all the world to me and more! Or, and the thought would come, however much I strove to force it back, were the tales of oppression shadowy phantoms merely of a gloomy period? Men in buckram, so to speak, conjured up and kept alive to stir the patriot’s heart! Were indeed the servants of the British Tyrant like other men, sturdy and fair-minded and of good sleep, so far as men can be, or odious oppressors, as the Teachers point out and the Schoolbooks show? Oh, Constance, thou dream of grace and love, what doubts thy sweet face and entrancing eyes have caused to rise like a fog across the revolutionary moor that I have been taught to believe a part of the heritage of my countrymen! Surely thou hast undone me, loyal youth though I be! With such thoughts, imperfect and fragmentary, but forerunners of others to come in after years, I hurried forward to greet Mr. Seymour. Hearing me, he turned about, surprised at my appearance, crying out as he came forward and took my hand: "Hello, Gilbert! Welcome home!" "Thank you, sir; I’m glad to get back," I answered. "Where do you come from, and on such a morning?" he asked, looking me over. "From the Blakes, where I’ve been since I left here." "The Blakes—and all this while and we not know it!" he answered, half incredulously. "Why, Blake has been here half the time, and yet has not mentioned your name." "Yes, sir; but it was agreed that nothing was to be said until Uncle Job had matters fixed up with Moth," I answered. "Moth couldn’t have harmed you. However, you went, and that is the end of it. Now your uncle himself is in trouble, and Moth is egging it on," Mr. Seymour answered, with lowering face. "That’s what brings me back. I didn’t know till yesterday, or I’d have come before." "How does it happen that Blake let you come on foot in such weather?" Mr. Seymour asked, in a voice in which anger and astonishment blended. "I didn’t tell him I was coming. But how is Uncle Job?" I asked, anxious to learn all I could about his affairs. "Well, but in poor spirits, of course. It couldn’t be otherwise in the desperate strait he is in," Mr. Seymour answered, soberly. "Is it desperate, then?" I asked, my anxiety increased by his manner. "Yes; a week or more has gone by without our being able to find the slightest clew to the theft, and the trial comes off in three days." "In three days!" I cried; "surely they might give him time to prove his innocence." "There is no haste, they think, and in this case your uncle expressly asks it, the court being now in session. He says he is innocent, and will scarce talk to a lawyer, not believing any one, least of all an Appletop jury, will think him guilty. In this I fear he is mistaken, and I am filled with anxiety in regard to him, so unfortunate does his case appear." "You don’t think him guilty, sir?" "No, certainly not." "Does any one? He, of all men!"