tell?

Baffled and utterly at a loss what to do toward getting the identity of
the subject of my thoughts, I wandered off into various moods. First I
became cynical, but, as I was altogether too comfortable to be morose,
my cynicism was of a good-natured character. Then I made merry over my
own mishaps and misadventures. Then I reflected, in a lofty,
philosophic frame of mind, upon the faithlessness of woman, and,
passing from this into metaphysics, I soon boozed off into a gentle, a
peaceful, and a very consoling doze. When I awoke, it was morning, and
I concluded to go to bed.

On the morrow, at no matter what o'clock, I had just finished
breakfast, when I heard a well-known footstep, and Jack Randolph burst
in upon me in his usual style.

"Well, old chap," he cried, "where the mischief have you been for the
last two days, and what have you been doing with yourself? I heard that
you got back from Point Levi--though how the deuce you did it I can't
imagine--and that you'd gone off on horseback nobody knew where. I've
been here fifty times since I saw you last. Tell you what, Macrorie, it
wasn't fair to me to give me the slip this way, when you knew my
delicate position, and all that. I can't spare you for a single day. I
need your advice. Look here, old fellow, I've got a letter."

And saying this, Jack drew a letter from his pocket, with a grave face,
and opened it.

So taken up was Jack with his own affairs, that he did not think of
inquiring into the reasons of my prolonged absence. For my part, I
listened to him in a dreamy way, and, when he drew out the letter, it
was only with a strong effort that I was able to conjecture what it
might be. So much had passed since I had seen him, that our last
conversation had become very dim and indistinct in my memory.

"Oh," said I, at last, as I began to recall the past, "the letter--
h'm--ah--the--the widow. Oh, yes, I understand."

Jack looked at me in surprise.

"The widow?" said he. "Pooh, man! what are you talking about? Are you
crazy? This is from _her_--from Miss--that is--from the other one,
you know."

"Oh, yes," said I, confusedly. "True--I remember. Oh, yes--Miss
Phillips."

"Miss Phillips!" cried Jack. "Hang it, man, what's the matter with you
to-day? Haven't I told you all about it? Didn't I tell you what I
wouldn't breathe to another soul--that is, excepting two or three?--and
now, when I come to you at the crisis of my fate, you forget all about
i