"So I was," replied his friend, "but hearing your voice in the hall, I rose and came down to you." He drew a chair opposite to Theodore. Both were silent for a time; at length Theodore spoke. "Rosalie is married," said he. "I don't believe it." "She is going to be married to the young lord of the manor." "I don't believe it." "She came to town with him yesterday." "I don't believe it." Theodore pushed back his chair, and stared at his friend. "What do you mean?" said Theodore. "I mean that I entertain some doubts as to the accuracy of your grounds for concluding that Rosalie is inconstant to you." "Did I not read the proof of it in the public papers?" "The statement may have been erroneous." "Did not her own letter assure me of it?" "You may have misunderstood it." "I tell you I have been at B----; I have been at her house. I inquired for her, and was told she had gone up to London to be married! Oh, my friend," continued he, covering his eyes with his handkerchief,--"'tis useless to deceive ourselves. I am a ruined man! You can see to what she has reduced me. I shall never be myself again! Myself! I tell you I existed in _her_ being more than in my own. She was the soul of all I thought, and felt, and did; the primal vivifying principle! She has murdered me! I breathe it is true, and the blood is in my veins and circulates; but every thing else about me is death--hopes! wishes! interests! there is no pulse, no respiration there! I should not be sorry were there none any where else! Feel my hand," added he, reaching his hand across the table, without removing his handkerchief from his eyes; for the sense of his desolation had utterly unmanned him, and his tears continued to flow. "Feel my hand. Does it not burn. A hearty fever, now would be a friend," continued he, "and I think I have done my best to merit a call from such a visitor. The whole of the night before last I slept out in the open air. Guess where I took my bed. In the green lane--the spot where I parted last from Rosalie!"--He felt a tear drop upon the hand which he had extended--the tear was followed by the pressure of a lip. He uncovered his eyes, and turning them in wonderment to look upon his friend--beheld Rosalie sitting opposite to him! For a moment or two he questioned the evidence of his senses--but soon was he convinced that it was indeed reality; for Rosalie, quitting her seat, approached him, and breathing his name with an accent that infused ecstasy into his soul, threw herself into his arms, that doubtingly opened to receive her. * * * * *