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."
"Well," said Marco, "I want to tell you about my going away to play
this forenoon."
"How long were you gone?" asked Forester.
"Pretty much all the forenoon," replied Marco.
"Well," said Forester, "I am very glad you concluded to confess it of
your own accord, but I know all about it."
Marco started up in his bed and looked his cousin in the face, and
said,
