“I answered,—­’Your friend can best explain what she means.’

“Then out came the secret.  A shock of surprise sent the color from Margaret’s face; and raising her eyes, she asked, quite calmly, but in a low and unnatural tone,—­

“‘Is this so?’

“I said, ‘I suppose I cannot deny it.’

“‘You are really going?’

“‘I am really going.’

“She could not hide her agitation.  Her white face betrayed her.  Then I was glad, wickedly glad, in my heart,—­and vain enough to be gratified that others should behold and know I held a power over her.  Well,—­but I suffered for that folly.

“‘I feel hurt,’ she said, after a little while, ’because you have not told me this.  You have no sister,’ (this was spoken very quietly,) ’and it would have been a privilege for me to take a sister’s place, and do for you those little things which sisters do for brothers who are going on long journeys.’

“I was choked;—­it was a minute before I could speak.  Then I said that I saw no reason why she should tax her time or thoughts to do anything for me.

“‘Oh, you know,’ she said, ’you have been kind to me,—­so much kinder than I have deserved!’

“It was unendurable,—­the pathos of the words!  I was blinded, stifled,—­I almost groaned aloud.  If we had been alone, there our trial would have ended.  I should have snatched her to my soul.  But the eyes of others were upon us, and I steeled myself.

“‘Besides,’ I said, ‘I know of nothing that you can do for me.’

“’There must be many little things;—­to begin with, there is your glove, which you are tearing to pieces.’

“True, I was tearing my glove,—­she was calm enough to observe it!  That made me angry.

“’Give it to me; I will mend it for you.  Haven’t you other gloves that need mending?’

“I, who had triumphed, was humbled.

“My heart was breaking,—­and she talked of mending gloves!  I did not omit to thank her.  I coldly arose to go.

“Well, I felt now that it was all over.  The next day I secured my passage in the steamer in which my friends were to sail.  I took pains that Margaret should hear of that, too.  Then came the preparations for travel,—­arranging affairs, writing letters, providing myself with a compact and comfortable outfit.  Europe was in prospect,—­Paris, Switzerland, Italy, lands to which my dreams had long since gone before me, and to which I now turned my eyes with reawakening aspirations.  A new glory arose upon my life, in the light of which Margaret became a fading star.  It was so much easier than I had thought, to give her up, to part from her!  I found that I could forget her, in the excitement of a fresh and novel experience; while she—­could she forget me?  When lovers part, happy is he who goes! alas for the one that is left behind!

“One day, when I was busy with the books which I was to take with me, a small package was handed in.  I need not tell you that I experienced a thrill, when I saw Margaret’s handwriting upon the wrapper.  I tore it open,—­and what think you I found?  My glove!  Nothing else.  I smiled bitterly, to see how neatly she had mended it; then I sighed; then I said, ‘It is finished!’ and tossed the glove disdainfully into my trunk.