he would never touch the drug again, believing that before a week
expired the horrible depression, both mental and physical, would
so far pass away as to excite no further suspicion.

For an hour he rode at Roger's side, rigid, taciturn, and pale; for
except when heated by exercise his wonted ruddy color was passing
away from the effects of the poison. Roger drove around to the
large hotel, which was not much out of their way, and said, "Mr.
Jocelyn, will you please take the lines a few moments? I have an
errand here, but it won't keep me long."

Having transacted his business he stood in the office door watching
a young man who sauntered toward him. The stranger was almost as
tall as himself, but much slighter. While his carriage was easy
and graceful, it was marked by an air of lassitude and weariness,
and his step lacked firmness. A heavy mustache relieved his face
from effeminacy, but his large, dark eyes were dull and apathetic.
Suddenly they lighted up with recognition; he hesitated, and then
hastily advanced toward Mr. Jocelyn, but his steps were speedily
checked, for the moment the gentleman recognized him he bowed very
coldly and turned haughtily away. The young man flushed deeply,
stood still a moment in irresolution, and then with a swift glance
into Roger's interested face turned and quickly disappeared. Before
Roger could resume his place in the wagon the proprietor of the
hotel came out and called him back; something had been forgotten.

This interruption was fatal to Mr. Jocelyn's good resolutions. Vinton
Arnold, who had won his daughter's affection, but who seemingly had
not the manhood to be faithful in her adversity, was the one whom
he had repulsed, and the thought of his wealth and luxury, while