"My Dear Aunt:—
"Your kind letter reminds me that never, in all these years of boyhood grown ripe, has duty come to me in as repulsive a form as now, I tell you, shocked as you may feel when you read the words, that I would rather put a bullet through my head than meet Evelyn Howard at this time! Why couldn't she stay in England? And what cursed folly induced my parents to thus bind me for life to one I had never seen? True, I submitted. But you know with what an appeal my dying mother besought my compliance, and what could I do? I cared for no one else. How was I to foresee that the tie would ever be so intensely galling?
"I know all that you would say about honor, manhood, and all the category of virtues. I know them all. Nor am I willing to act the scoundrel just yet. But I must have time; I can not marry that girl now. Nor will I consent to meet her yet. Let her think I am out of town, sick, busy, dead; anything, till I can screw my courage to the sticking point.
"About the balloon tragedy—yes, you heard correctly of my figuring in the matter. The girl is Miss Lina Dent, of Brooklyn, and I am happy to report that she is entirely recovered, though deeply afflicted at the fearful death of her friends. It seems that they had, in a spirit of fun, gone up in the balloon, feeling confident that their adventure was, to say the least, of somewhat doubtful propriety. They did not think of danger. The cowardly desertion of the æronaut, as soon as he could leap to a roof in safety, precipitated their fall.
"The young victims, Lucien and Maggie Taylor, were too much frightened to hold to their frail support. Their tragic fate has plunged an excellent household into mourning. Bitterly my new acquaintance lamented her folly in consenting to the excursion; but how can a man in his senses add to her condemnation when she looks through such eyes, and speaks with such lips? Not I, I assure you.
"Miss Dent is visiting a relative in Brooklyn, and in my character of physician, I have been kindly received. The strangest part of it all is the odd way that girl looked at me when she knew enough to look rationally at anybody; and her obstinate persistence in leaving my house before she was fit to go. And it was all I could do to induce her to see me again. But her cousin was quite cordial, and now I may claim to have established an easy footing at the house. But about Evelyn Howard—don't, my dear aunt, if you have a spark of mercy, require me to see her now."
A month passed by, and October, in glorious tints of autumnal beauty, shed its light over the city. In a handsome drawing-room on Brooklyn Heights sat Weldon Gardner and Lina Dent. The young girl wore a soft white dress, and her figure was replete with roseate health and beauty.
The young physician was pleading strongly and earnestly, gazing into the eloquent eyes before him as if his very life hung upon their favor.
"But I know so little of you, Dr. Gardner," was her remonstrance in answer to his ardent suit, "true you have earned my life-long gratitude—"