"'Then we shall meet,' I remarked; 'you must come and see me in my rooms. My father will give me a room to myself in our house, and you know Merrion Square is the best part of Dublin. You must come and see me.' "He looked up at me with yearning, sad, regretful eyes. But the future was beckoning to me, and I could not help talking about it, for the golden key of wonderland was in my hand, and I was wild with desires and hopes. "My friend was very silent, I remember, and only interrupted me to ask: "'When do you go, Oscar?' "'Early,' I replied thoughtlessly, or rather full of my own thoughts, 'early to-morrow morning, I believe; the usual train.' "In the morning just as I was starting for the station, having said 'goodbye' to everyone, he came up to me very pale and strangely quiet. "'I'm coming with you to the station, Oscar,' he said; 'the Doctor gave me permission, when I told him what friends we had been.' "'I'm glad,' I cried, my conscience pricking me that I had not thought of asking for his company. 'I'm very glad. My last hours at school will always be associated with you.' "He just glanced up at me, and the glance surprised me; it was like a dog looks at one. But my own hopes soon took possession of me again, and I can only remember being vaguely surprised by the appeal in his regard. "When I was settled in my seat in the train, he did not say 'goodbye' and go, and leave me to my dreams; but brought me papers and things and hung about. "The guard came and said: "'Now, sir, if you are going.' "I liked the 'Sir.' To my surprise my friend jumped into the carriage and said: "'All right, guard, I'm not going, but I shall slip out as soon as you whistle.' "The guard touched his cap and went. I said something, I don't know what; I was a little embarrassed. "'You will write to me, Oscar, won't you, and tell me about everything?' "'Oh, yes,' I replied, 'as soon as I get settled down, you know. There will be such a lot to do at first, and I am wild to see everything. I wonder how the professors will treat me. I do hope they will not be fools or prigs; what a pity it is that all professors are not poets. . . . .' And so I went on merrily, when suddenly the whistle sounded and a moment afterwards the train began to move. "'You must go now,' I said to him. "'Yes,' he replied, in a queer muffled voice, while standing with his hand on the door of the carriage. Suddenly he turned to me and cried: "'Oh, Oscar,' and before I knew what he was doing he had caught my face in his hot hands, and kissed me on the lips. The next moment he had slipped out of the door and was gone. . . . . "I sat there all shaken. Suddenly I became aware of cold, sticky drops trickling down my face--his tears. They affected me strangely. As I wiped them off I said to myself in amaze: "'This is love: this is what he meant--love.' . . . . "I was trembling all over. For a long while I sat, unable to think, all shaken with wonder and remorse."