her, have devised, have
forced some way to reach her, not to have met her face to face, and told
her all the love with which she had filled my heart and possessed my
soul. And then to have been such a coward when I did write to her, to
have so said a say which was nothing"; and he groaned impatiently as he
thought of the scene in his room and the letter which was its final
result.

How he had written once, and again, and yet again, letters short and
long, letters short and burning, or lengthy and filled almost to the
final line with delicate fancies and airy sentiment, ere he ventured to
tell that of which all this was but the prelude; how, at the conclusion
of each attempt, he had watched these luminous effusions blaze and burn
as he regularly committed them to the flames; how he found it difficult
to decide which he enjoyed the most,--writing them out, or seeing them
burn; how at last he had put upon paper some such words as these:--

"After these delightful weeks and months of intercourse, I am to go away
from you, then, without a single word of parting, or a solitary sentence
of adieu. Need I tell you how this pains me? I have in vain besieged the
house that has held you; in vain made a thousand inquiries, a thousand
efforts to discover your retreat and to reach your side, that I might
once more see your face and take your hand ere I went from the sight and
touch of both, perchance forever. This I find may not be. The hour
strikes, and in a little space I shall march away from the city to which
my heart clings with infinite fondness, since it is filled with
associations of you. I have again and again striven to write that which
will be worthy the eyes that are to read, and striven in vain. 'Tis a
fine art to which I do not pretend. Then, in homely phrase, good by.
Give me thy spiritual hand, and keep me, if thou wilt, in thy gentle
remembrance. Adieu! a kind adieu, my friend; may the brighter stars
smile on thee, and the better angels guard thy footsteps wherever thou
mayst wander, keep thy heart and spirit bright, and let thy thoughts
turn kindly back to me, I pray very, very often. And so, once more,
farewell."

Remembering all this, thinking what he would do and say were the doing
and saying yet possible in an untried future, the time sped by. He
waited and waited in vain. He looked, yet was gratified by no sight for
which his eyes longed. He hoped, till hope gave place to despondency and
almost despair: not