not fail
to notice the change in the style of his letters. He spoke much of the
many agreeable acquaintances he had formed, and of the amusements of the
city, and was warm in his commendations of the Theatre. My heart often
misgave me as I perused his letters, and I mentally wondered where all
this was to end? After a two-years' absence, he returned to spend a few
weeks at home in Littleton, but he seemed so unlike my former friend,
that I could hardly feel at ease in his society. He never once alluded
to any incidents of our school days, as he used formerly so frequently
to do, and objects of former interest possessed none for him now. He
called Littleton a "terribly stupid place," and seemed anxiously to look
forward to his return to Boston. "Surely," said I to him one evening as
we were engaged in conversation, "Littleton must still contain one
attraction for you yet." He appeared not to comprehend my meaning, but I
well knew his ignorance was only feigned. But when he saw that I was not
to be put off in that way, he said with a tone of assumed indifference,
"O! if it is Belinda Merril you are talking about, I have to say that
she is no longer an object of interest to me." "Is it possible, Arthur,"
said I, "that you mean what you say; surely an absence of two years has
not caused you to forget the love you have borne Miss Merril from
childhood. I am very much surprised to hear you speak in this manner." A
flush of anger, at my plain reply, rose to his cheek, and he answered in
a tone of displeasure: "I may as well tell you first as last, my ideas
have undergone a change. I did once think I loved Belinda Merril, but
that was before I had seen the world, and now the idea to me is absurd
of introducing this awkward country girl as my wife among my
acquaintances in the city of Boston. I once had a sort of liking for the
girl, but I care no longer for her, and the sooner I break with her the
better, and I guess she won't break her heart about me." "I hope not
indeed," I replied, "but I must be allowed to say that I consider your
conduct unmanly and dishonourable, and I would advise you, before
proceeding further, to pause and reflect whether it is really your heart
which dictates your actions, or only a foolish fancy." Knowing how
deeply Miss Merril was attached to Arthur, I hoped he would reconsider
the matter, and I said as much to him; but all I could say was of no
avail, and that very evening he called and, requesting a