n Tremont Street, and I think he meant to avoid me; but
I made him walk across the Common with me, for he was coming this way.
He promised to come to dinner this evening; and I stopped at the club
a few minutes as I came down the street, and luckily found George
Sheffield, and he is coming round too. I told him seven o'clock, but I
told Whiston we dined at six, without thinking; so he will be here
early. Never mind: I'll be ready, and we will take care of ourselves.
I must finish my letters, though," and he rose from his chair to go
upstairs. "It is dreadful to see a man change so," said Jack, still
lingering. "He used to be one of the friskiest fellows in college. I
hope he'll come. I didn't exactly like to ask where I could find him."

Then he went away: and I waited awhile, looking out at the snow, and
thinking idly enough, until Patrick came silently in, and surprised me
with a sudden blaze of gas; when I went upstairs to dress for dinner,
as there didn't seem to be any thing else to do. I was a little sorry
that any one was coming. Jack and I had arranged for a quiet evening
together, and he was reading some new book aloud in which I was much
interested. His reading was a perfect delight to me. He did not force
you to think how well he read, but rather how charming the story or
the poem was; and I always liked Jack's voice.

I found something to be busy about in my room, and did not come down
again until some time after six. When I entered the parlor, Jack arose
with a satisfied smile, and presented Mr. Whiston; and I was
pleasantly surprised, for I had half expected to see a most
forlorn-looking man, perhaps even out at elbows, from what Jack had
said. He was very pale indeed, and looked like an invalid; and he
certainly looked frightened and miserable. He had a hunted look. It
was the face I should imagine one would have who was haunted by the
memory of some awful crime; but I both pitied him and liked him very
much.

He said he remembered seeing me one day out at Cambridge with my
brother when I was hardly more than a child; and we talked about those
old days until my cousin George Sheffield came, Jack's best friend,
who had also been Mr. Whiston's classmate.

I fancied, as we went out to dinner, that our guest would enjoy the
evening, his friends were giving him so hearty and cordial a welcome;
and I was glad the table looked so bright with its roses and fruit,
and its glittering glass. I somehow looked at