“The friend whom I was visiting was a few years my senior, and when I explained to her that I was engaged and suggested that it might not be good form for me to receive the attentions of a certain young man, who insisted on occupying most of my time, she only laughed and said I had lots to learn. She then gave me much information along the lines of society conventionalities. She was my best friend. I heard all she said and allowed myself to put too broad a construction on her words. I allowed words to be poured into my ears that changed the feeling which I had had for poor Jamie. My new admirer was rich, handsome and gallant and much admired by all the girls of ‘the set.’ “True to the expectation of those girls, I seemed to win Francis Winslow. He had no eyes for any but me. Things drifted along until the time came for my home going, then all on account of his persuasions, I remained a week longer than my allotted time. When I arrived home I received several letters from Jamie and a severe scolding from my aunt. The letters dated back ten days; the tone of the oldest one was the same sweet, endearing sentiment, which had always made his messages so precious, but as I sat reading through the many pages, I perceived as I thought a coldness (though I know now it was love’s anxiety). The last two hurt me; they referred to things which I could not account for his knowing. Finally the closing of the last letter said, ‘If not too busy flirting with your friend, Winslow, please answer.’ “It was more than my young heart could bear. I did not know then that I was just looking for some excuse for stinging him and now it had come. I had never flirted; I had met Mr. Winslow under proper conditions and circumstances. He had always been courteous to me. I had been true to Jamie, though my love had faltered. Next day’s mail brought a letter to my aunt and one to me; the one to aunt was from Jamie. I do not know what it contained, but it was of such a nature that she heaped a tirade of abuse on me. “‘Just to think!’ said she. ‘I’ve worked and done for you all these years and tried to raise you decent, and done all this for my poor dead sister’s sake, and when I’ve got you fit to marry a good man, you go and spoil it all by takin’ up with a fop you nor the Lord don’t know nothin’ about.’ “The letter which I had tucked away in my bosom was from Mr. Winslow. It stated that he was going to visit in this city and he would be glad to have me join him. ‘I know,’ it said, ‘that you will have to invent some excuse for your absence from home, but that can be arranged by your saying you met my cousin, while in Franklin, and she will write you soon, asking you to spend a week with her in Chicago. She is the wife of a railroad man and will send you transportation.’