"I feel old to-day," he answered, and he swept his hands across all the strings; "my ditties are done." After dinner Laura asked me to go out with her. We slipped away unseen, and went to the beach, and seated ourselves on a great rock whose outer side was lapped by the water. The sun had broken through the clouds, but shone luridly, giving the sea a leaden tint. The wind was going down. We had not been there long, when Redmond joined us. He asked us to go round the island in his boat. Laura declined, and said she would sit on the rock while we went, if I chose to go. I did choose to go, and he brought the boat to the rock. He hoisted the sail half up the mast, and we sailed close to the shore. It rose gradually along the east side of the island, and terminated in a bold ledge which curved into the sea. We ran inside the curve, where the water was nearly smooth. Redmond lowered the sail and the boat drifted toward the ledge slowly. A tongue of land, covered with pale sedge, was on the left side. Above the ledge, at the right, we could see the tower of the light-house. Redmond tied down the helm, and, throwing himself beside me, leaned his head on his hand, and looked at me a long time without speaking. I listened to the water, which plashed faintly against the bows. He covered his face with his hands. I looked out seaward over the tongue of land; my heart quaked, like the grass which grew upon it. At last he rose, and I saw that he was crying,--the tears rained fast. "My soul is dying," he said, in a stifled voice; "I am not more than mortal,--I cannot endure it." I pointed toward the open sea, which loomed so vague in the distance. "The future is like that,--is it not? Courage! we must drift through it; we shall find something." He stamped his foot on the deck. "Women always talk so; but men are different. If there is a veil before us, we must tear it away,--not sit muffled in its folds, and speculate on what is behind it. Rise." I obeyed him. He held me firmly. We were face to face. "Look at me." I did. His eyes were blazing. "Do you love me?" "No." He placed me on the bench, hoisted the sail, untied the helm, and we were soon ploughing round to the spot where we had left Laura; but she was gone. On the rock where she was, perched a solitary gull, which flew away with a scream as we approached. That day was the last that I saw Redmond alone. He was at the party at Laura's house which took place the night before they left. We did not bid each other adieu. After the three friends had gone, they sent us gifts of remembrance. Redmond's keepsake was a white fan with forget-me-nots painted on it. To Laura he sent the pen-holder, which was now mine.