And there I sat, looking out of my window, straining my eyes toward the horizon--sometimes sure that I heard him coming, clicking the gate, hurrying up the gravel, with his eager, handsome, melancholy face.

I started up.

My heart stood still.

I was ready to fall upon his breast and say, 'I believe 'twas all right.' He did not come.

'So help me God!' he said, and did not come.
"My father brought me to New York to change the scene.