So saying, Forester parted from Marco and went into the house.  Marco slowly walked into the office, and through it into the little study.  He was greatly perplexed to know what to make of this address.  “Can it be,” thought he, “that he knows that I went away this morning?  How could he have found it out?  Or did he say that, only to find out now whether I have been honest or not heretofore?”

On mature reflection, Marco concluded that Forester did not probably know any thing about his having gone away.  He thought that what he had just said was only a part of Forester’s general plan of managing his case, and that it did not imply that Forester entertained any particular suspicions.  Marco thought that he might therefore safely go a-fishing that afternoon if he was disposed; but we must do him the justice to say, that he did not entertain the idea of doing it a moment.  He determined that he would not go.  But as he was not prepared to confess his fault, and as he had no question to ask, he determined to go and play about the garden.  He thought a little of waiting till his cousin came in, and then honestly making a confession; but he could not quite conclude upon this, and so he determined to go and think more of it.  Besides, he concluded that if he were going to make a confession at all, he should rather do it that evening when he went to bed; for Forester always came up to his room after he went to bed, to have a little friendly and serious conversation with him, and to bid him good night.

He accordingly went out before Forester came in.  He spent the afternoon in a miserable state of mind.  He could not divest himself of the feeling of anxiety, that in some way or other, Forester had found out his transgression.  He rather wondered, that, if it were true that Forester had found it out, he had not said something to him directly about it,—­but then he knew it was Forester’s way not always to make known, at once, all that he knew in such cases.  But then he thought, again, that Forester could not know any thing about it.  There was no way for him to have known it.  He was away all the morning, and did not come home until after Marco got back.  So he concluded that Forester did not know; but he began to wish that he did.  He could not bear to think of telling him, but he wished that he knew.  The burden of such a secret became intolerable to him.  He strolled about the yards and garden, not knowing what to do with himself, and growing all the time more and more anxious and unhappy.  He was in a very serious dilemma.

Marco cast his eyes occasionally toward the office, expecting to see Forester come out.  He thought Forester would want to know whether he went a-fishing or not.  But he did not come.  Marco spent some time in the garden with James, who was at work there raking over the ground, and gathering in such things as might be hurt by any sudden frost.  Marco worked with him for some time, and endeavored to converse with him, but he did not find him very communicative, and at last he went into the house and sat on the sofa in the parlor, reading, until supper time.