had apprised him of his presently leaving school. To leave school--was
it not to quit Delafield? Might it not be to lose Hope Wayne? He was
banished from Pinewood. There were flaming swords of suspicion waving
over that flowery gate. The days were passing. The summer is ending,
thought he, and I am by no means saved.

Neither he nor Gabriel had mentioned their last visit to Pinewood and its
catastrophe. It was a secret better buried in their own bosoms. Abel's
dislike of the other was deepened and imbittered by the ignominy of the
expulsion by Mr. Burt, of which Gabriel had been not only a companion but
a witness. It was an indignity that made Abel tingle whenever he thought
of it. He fancied Gabriel thinking of it too, and laughing at him in his
sleeve, and he longed to thrash him. But Gabriel had much better
business. He was thinking only of Hope Wayne, and laughing at himself
for thinking of her.

The boys were strolling in different parts of the village. Abel, into
whose mind had stolen that thought of the possible laughter in Gabriel's
sleeve, pulled out his handkerchief suddenly, and waved it with an
indignant movement in the air. At the same moment a carriage had
overtaken him and was passing. The horses, startled by the shock of the
waving handkerchief, shied and broke into a run. The coachman tried in
vain to control them. They sprang forward and had their heads in a
moment.

Abel looked up, and saw that it was the Burt carriage dashing down the
road. He flew after, and every boy followed. The horses, maddened by the
cries of the coachman and passers-by, by the rattling of the carriage,
and their own excitement and speed, plunged on with fearful swiftness.
As the carriage flew by, two faces were seen at the window--both calm,