vary.

"Sandy, spare me, at least just now, such complete renunciation.
Remember, I have not confessed what you have."

She took my hand: it was, I know, burning, while hers was cold as
marble. She stooped and kissed my forehead.

"Good night, and good bye, Sandy. The time may come, when, as teacher
and pupil, we shall think of each other tenderly."

Where was the passionate avowal I would once have made? Had I learned a
lesson? Yes, the most bitter of my life. When I heard her firm foot-step
die away in the hall, I crossed to the library, and in a few brief words
explained to Mr. and Mrs. Lang that I must leave their house at once,
and that our engagement was broken because I alone had proved unworthy.
The color mounted to Mr. Lang's brow.

"You are weak, Sandy," he ejaculated, bitterly; "it is what I always
feared."

Mrs. Lang, in her gentle, kindly way, tried to soften his anger; but it
must have been a hard task with one who, while he pitied sin, scorned
weakness; and I did not await the result, but, hurrying to my room,
packed my portmanteau and left for the station.

A fortnight later I received from Miss Dinsmore, in reply to my
inquiries, a letter giving a most favorable account of Annie Bray's
health. This was all I desired. I wrote a few lines of friendly
farewell, and, hinting at no period of return, merely explained that I
was about to leave for Europe. I restrained my desire to give her some
advice as to her pursuits in my absence. Such mentorship, at present,
seemed like creating another barrier between us. I assumed no
superiority myself, I had no disposition to seek it in others.

CHAPTER XV.

Worn out and jaded, I began my travels. I strove to make these travels
as inexpensive as possible. I walked much, and at times lived both
cheaply and luxuriously, as one learns to do after a little experience
abroad. At first I resolved to make this tour one long summer day of
pleasure through the outward senses. I took no books with me. I painted
no picture. I rarely even sketched. Brain and heart rested, while there
flowed into them, through the outward avenues of eye and ear, new
pictures and harmonies,--I fancied, for present enjoyment merely, but in
reality for future use.

When I reached Rome, my funds, which had even previously been eked out
by the sale of the few sketches I had made, were quite exhausted.
Anticipating this, I had, after great hesitation, written to Mr.
Leopold, desiring lette