Do you ever think to go over the old school-days? We thought such
foolish things then, didn't we? There wasn't one of us but imagined we
would have only to knock ever so faintly on the portals of fame and they
would fly wide for our entrance into the magic realms. On Commencement
night we whispered merrily among ourselves on the stage to see our
favorite planet, Venus, of course, smiling at us through a high, open
window, "bidding adieu to her astronomy class," we said.

Then you went away to plunge into the most brilliant whirl of society,
and I stayed in the beautiful old city to work.

Bernard was very much _en evidence_ those days. He liked you a great
deal, because in school-girl parlance you were my "chum." You
say,--thanks, no tea, it reminds me that I'm an old maid; you say you
know what happiness means--maybe, but I don't think any living soul
could experience the joy I felt in those days; it was absolutely painful
at times.

Byron and his counterparts are ever dear to the womanly heart, whether
young or old. Such a man was he, gloomy, misanthropical, tired of the
world, with a few dozen broken love-affairs among his varied
experiences. Of course, I worshipped him secretly, what romantic, silly
girl of my age, would not, being thrown in such constant contact with
him.

One day he folded me tightly in his arms, and said:

"Little girl, I have nothing to give you in exchange for that priceless
love of yours but a heart that has already been at another's feet, and a
wrecked life, but may I ask for it?"