Some months later, on one of the last days of June, he graduated. Miss
Ludington would have attended the graduation exercises but for the fact
that her long seclusion from society made the idea of going away from
home and mingling with strangers intolerable. She had expected him home
the morning after his graduation. When, however, she came downstairs,
expecting to greet him at the breakfast-table, she found instead a letter
from him, which, to her further astonishment, consisted of several
closely written sheets. What could have possessed him to write her this
laborious letter on the very day of his return?

The letter began by telling her that he had accepted an invitation from a
class-mate, and should not be home for a couple of days. "But this is
only an excuse," he went on; "the true reason that I do not at once
return is that you may have a day or two to think over the contents of
this letter before you see me; for what I have to say will seem very
startling to you at first. I was trying to prepare you for it when I
talked, as you evidently thought, so strangely, about Ida, the last time
I was at home; but you were only mystified, and I was not ready to
explain. A certain timidity held me back. It was so great a matter that I
was afraid to broach it by word of mouth lest I might fail to put it in
just the best way before your mind, and its strangeness might terrify you
before you could be led to consider its reasonableness. But, now that I
am coming home to stay, I should not be able to keep it from you, and it
has seemed to me better to write you in this way, so that you may have
time fully to debate the matter with your own heart before you see me. Do
you remember the last evening that I was at home, my asking you if you
did not sometimes have a sense of Ida's presence? You looked at me as if
you thought I were losing my wits. What did I mean, you asked, by
speaking of her as a living person? But I was not ready to speak, and I