"But you don't remember me, eh?" This was said with a smile that brought some new expression to his face, and the wild girl instantly cried: "Yes, I do remember you--you are--you are--" but she had not yet recovered the name from the mists of forgetfulness, if she remembered the face. "Walter Harding, merchant, of this city, Miss Josephine, and very glad to meet you again, even under such circumstances." "Mr. Harding--oh yes, what a crazy head I have!" said the lady, smiles now altogether taking the place of the struggling tears, and giving him both her hands with the freedom of a school-girl--either in acknowledgment of his late service or as an apology for her momentary forgetfulness. "Mr. Harding, of course! Newport--Purgatory--Dumpling Rocks--everywhere--what fish we caught and what a jolly month we had--didn't we? And then to think that I should have forgotten you, even for a moment!" The explanation of which is, that Walter Lane Harding had met Miss Josephine Harris at Newport, in the summer of 1860, and that they had been much pleased with the society of each other and companions in many a stroll and fishing-excursion. Probably neither believed, when they parted, that two years would elapse without another meeting; but in the great Babel of city life it is only occasionally that we can manage to make ourselves heard by each other, above the clattering of the hammers and the confusion of tongues. Had they been lovers, they would have found each other before, no matter what stood in the way; but friendships, even the warmest, have little of the fierce energy of love, and a very cobweb mesh of circumstances or business engagements can bind the sentiment, while there is no cord spun in the long rope-walk of life, strong enough to fetter the free limbs of the passion. That Walter Harding and Josephine Harris had only met by accident after two years, and yet both living in the same city and moving in the same walk of society--proved that they might have _liked_ but had never _loved_.