as older and wiser, and strengthened, body and mind, by a rough
experience. He resolved to travel no more; but, as yet, it was not in
his power to feel happy.

"Much had happened in his absence. His friend, after living three or
four years with his wife in Europe, was separated from her--not,
however, by a regular divorce--and she had disappeared, and had not
since been heard of. It was reported that she was dead. She had left
with her husband a son, two or three years old, at that time a sickly
little fellow, scarcely expected to live. It was supposed that the
mother had discovered that it was her money, and not herself, that her
husband cared for, and, perhaps, too, may have imagined him to be still
thinking of his first love, who, indeed, was said to have in some way
fomented the quarrel between them, though how, or to what end, was never
known. She, by-the-way, after an absence of some years from New York,
suddenly reappeared there, and married a wealthy old Knickerbocker, who
died not long afterward, and left her his property. She became eminent
in society, and was intimate with all the most distinguished people. Her
former lover returned from Europe, with his little son, and, I believe,
settled somewhere in the neighborhood of New York. They met, and, I
understand, came to be on very friendly terms with one another, but the
conditions of their lives would have prevented the possibility of
marriage, even had they desired it.

"Well, it was before the old Knickerbocker's death that he I am telling
you of first arrived in the city. He gave up medicine, and devoted
himself to other studies; and, in the course of a few years, he found
himself occupying the chairs of History and of Science at the University
of New York. He also paid some attention to politics, and became, for a
while, a person of really considerable renown and distinction. He was
respected by the most influential persons in the city. Among the rest,
he became acquainted with the widow--as she was by this time--of the
Knickerbocker--and she showed him every kindness and attention. But he
did her the injustice of not believing her kindness genuine; he imagined
that she cared for nothing but fashion and display, and was polite to
him only because she thought he would add a little to her drawing-rooms.
At length, a sudden weariness of his mode of life coming over him, he
resigned his public positions, and his professorships, and took lodgings
in the family