"'There must be many little things;--to begin with, there is your glove, which you are tearing to pieces.' "True, I was tearing my glove,--she was calm enough to observe it! That made me angry. "'Give it to me; I will mend it for you. Haven't you other gloves that need mending?' "I, who had triumphed, was humbled. "My heart was breaking,--and she talked of mending gloves! I did not omit to thank her. I coldly arose to go. "Well, I felt now that it was all over. The next day I secured my passage in the steamer in which my friends were to sail. I took pains that Margaret should hear of that, too. Then came the preparations for travel,--arranging affairs, writing letters, providing myself with a compact and comfortable outfit. Europe was in prospect,--Paris, Switzerland, Italy, lands to which my dreams had long since gone before me, and to which I now turned my eyes with reawakening aspirations. A new glory arose upon my life, in the light of which Margaret became a fading star. It was so much easier than I had thought, to give her up, to part from her! I found that I could forget her, in the excitement of a fresh and novel experience; while she--could she forget me? When lovers part, happy is he who goes! alas for the one that is left behind! "One day, when I was busy with the books which I was to take with me, a small package was handed in. I need not tell you that I experienced a thrill, when I saw Margaret's handwriting upon the wrapper. I tore it open,--and what think you I found? My glove! Nothing else. I smiled bitterly, to see how neatly she had mended it; then I sighed; then I said, 'It is finished!' and tossed the glove disdainfully into my trunk. "On the day before that fixed for the sailing of the steamer, I made farewell calls upon many of my friends,--among others, upon Margaret. But, through the perversity of pride and will, I did not go alone,--I took with me Joseph, a mutual acquaintance, who was to be my _compagnon de voyage_. I felt some misgivings, to see how Margaret had changed; she was so softened, and so pale! "The interview was a painful one, and I cut it short. As we were going out, she gently detained me, and said,-- "'Did you receive--your glove?' "'Oh, yes,' I said, and thanked her for mending it. "'And is this all--all you have to say?' she asked. "'I have nothing more to say--except good-bye.' "She held my hand. 'Nothing else?' "'No,--it is useless to talk of the past, Margaret; and the future--may you be happy!--Good-bye!'