gested--oh, Macrorie, I suggested--swear at
me--curse me--do something or other--Macrorie, I suggested last night
-midnight--I did, by Heaven!"

And, saying this, Jack looked at me for some minutes in silence, with a
wild expression that I had never before seen on his face.

"Last night, Macrorie!" he repeated "midnight! Think of that, Why
don't you say something?"

"Say?" said I. "Why, hang it, man, what can I say? It's a case beyond
words. If you've made such an appointment, and broken it, you've--well,
there's nothing to say."

"That's true," said Jack, in a sepulchral tone. "That's true. I made
the appointment, and, Macrorie--I was not there."

"Well, of course, I gathered as much from the way you go on about it
--but that's what I should like to understand, if it isn't a secret."

"Oh, no. I'll make no secret about any thing connected with this
business. Well, then, I put the letter in the post-office, and strolled
off to call on Miss Phillips. Will you believe it, she was 'not at
home?' At that, I swear I felt so savage that I forgot all about Marion
and my proposal. It was a desperate cut. I don't know any thing that
has ever made me feel so savage. And I feel savage yet. If she had any
thing against me, why couldn't she have seen me, and had it out with
me, fair and square? It cut deep. By Jove! Well, then, I could think of
nothing else but paying her off. So I organized a sleighing-party, and
took out the Bertons and some other girls. I had Louie, you know, and
we drove to Montmorency. Fun, no end. Great spirits. Louie teasing all
the way. We got back so late that I couldn't call on the widow. That
evening I was at Chelmsford's--a ball, you know--I was the only one of
ours that went. Yesterday, didn't call on Miss Phillips, but took out
Louie. On my way I got this letter from the office, and carelessly
stuffed it into my pocket. It's been there ever since. I forgot
all about it. Last evening there were a few of us at Berton's, and the
time passed like lightning. My head was whirling with a cram of all
sorts of things. There was my anger at Miss Phillips, there was a long
story Louie had to tell about the widow, and then there was Louie
herself, who drove every other thought away. And so, Macrorie, Marion
and my letter to her, and the letter in my pocket, and the proposed
elopement, never once entered into my head. I swear they had all passed
out of my mind as completely as though it had all been some conf