, though he had not been in our town for years,
I asked his pardon for my intrusion, and then drew back to let him
pass. But he stopped and gave me a keen look, and speaking my name,
said: "You are married, are you not?" And when I bowed the meek
acquiescence which the subject seemed to demand, he sighed as I
thought somewhat bitterly, and shrugging his shoulders, went
thoughtfully by and left me standing on the green sward alone. But
when he had reached the gate he turned again, and without raising his
voice, though the distance between us was considerable, remarked: "I
have come back to spend my remaining days in the village of my birth.
If you care to talk of old times, come to the house at sunset. You
will find me sitting on the porch."

Gratified more than I ever expected to be by a word from him, I bowed
my thanks and promised most heartily to come. And that was the end of
our first interview.

It has left me with very lively sensations. Will they be increased or
diminished by the talk he has promised me?

* * * * *

I had a pleasant hour with the Colonel, but we did not talk of _her_.
Had I expected to? I judge so by the faint but positive disappointment
which I feel.

* * * * *

I have been again to the Colonel's, but this time I did not find him
in. "He is much out evenings," explained the woman who keeps house
for him, "and you will have to come early to see him at his own
hearth."

* * * * *

What is there about the Colonel that daunts me? He seems friendly,
welcomes my company, and often hands me the hospitable glass. But I am
never easy in his presence, though the distance between us is not so
great as it was in our young days, now that I have advanced in worldly
prosperity and he has stood still. Is it that his intellect cows me,
or do I feel too much the secret melancholy which breathes through all
his actions, and frequently cuts short his words? I cannot answer; I
am daunted by him and I am fascinated, and after leaving him think
only of the time when I shall see him again.

* * * * *

The children, who have grown up since the Colonel has been gone, seem
very shy of him. I have noted them more than once shrink away from his
path, huddling and whispering in a corner, and quite forgetting to
play as long as his shadow fell across the green or the sound of his
feet could