pleasant summer we passed together? The second autumn is already at
hand: time flies the same, whether we are dull or gay. For all this
period what remains except the poor harvest of a few letters?"

I received in answer an incoherent and agitated letter. What was the
matter with Laura? he asked. He had not heard from her for months. Had
any rupture occurred between her and her friend Frank? Did I suppose
she was ever unhappy? He was shocked at the news, and said he must come
and learn the particulars of the event. He thanked me for my note, and
begged me to believe how sincere was his friendship for my poor friend.

"Redmond," he continued, "is, for the present, attached to the engineer
corps to which I belong, and he has offered to take charge of my
business while I am a day or two absent. He is in my room at this
moment, holding your note in his hand, and appears painfully
disturbed."

It was now a little past the time of year when Redmond and Harry
Lothrop had left us,--early autumn. After their departure, Laura and I
had been sentimental enough to talk over the events of their visit.
Recalling these associations, we created an illusion of pleasure which
of course could not last. Harry Lothrop wrote to Laura, but the
correspondence declined and died. As time passed on, we talked less and
less of our visitors, and finally ceased to speak of them. Neither of
us knew or suspected the other of any deep or lasting feeling toward
the two friends. Laura knew Redmond better than I did; at least, she
saw him oftener; in fact, she knew both in a different way. They had
visited her alone; while I had met them almost entirely in society. I
never found so much time to spare as she seemed to have; for everybody
liked her, and everybody sought her. As often as we had talked over our