Why had he come?
He would go back to Boston, and write Laura by the next mail, and adjure her to tell him nothing.

Some time he might bear to hear the truth, but not to-day, not now; no, not now.

What had he been thinking of to risk it?
He would get away where nobody could reach him to slay with a word this shadow of a hope which had become such a necessity of life to him, as is opium to the victim whose strength it has sapped and alone replaces.

It was too late! Laura, as she sat sewing by the window, had looked up and seen him, and now as he came slowly up the walk she appeared at the door, full of exclamations of surprise and pleasure.

He went in, and they sat down.
"I thought I'd run out and see how you all were," he said, with a ghastly smile.
"I'm so glad you did! Father was wondering only this morning if you were never coming to see us again." He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.
"I thought I'd just run out and see you." "Yes, I'm so glad you did!" She did not show that she noticed his merely having said the same thing over.
"Are you pretty well this spring ?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm pretty well." "Father was so much pleased about your patent.