my heart beat as violently as though I had performed a heroic deed.
Great adventures, forsooth! And to think that my life presents none
more striking, and that trifles such as these are the only food for
my memory!

"A twelvemonth later I met Francis Gilmore in Broadway. The world is
small--so small that it is really difficult to keep out of the way
of people one has once known. The likeness of my former pupil to his
sister struck me, and I spoke to him. He looked at me at first with
a puzzled expression, but after a few moments of hesitation he
recognized me, a bright smile lighted up his pleasant face, and he
shook hands warmly.

"'Mr. Warren,' he exclaimed, 'how glad I am to see you! Ellen and I
have often talked of you, and wondered what could have become of
you. Why did we never hear from you?'

"'I did not suppose it would interest you.' I spoke timidly; and yet
I owed nothing to the young fellow, and wanted nothing of him.

"'You wrong us by saying that,' replied Francis; 'do you think me
ungrateful? Do you fancy I have forgotten our pleasant walks in
former days, and the long conversations we used to have? You alone
ever taught me anything, and it is to you I owe the principles that
have guided me through life. Many a day I have thought of you, and
regretted you sincerely. As regards Ellen, no one has ever filled
your place with her; she plays to this day the same pieces of music
you taught her, and follows all your directions with a fidelity that
would touch you.'