"Pardon me!" exclaimed the gentleman, much agitated. "I—I—in fact, sir, I am a stranger to Mr. Fritz. We met casually in a railroad-car, and meeting me just now before De Marco's, he invited me in to take a glass of wine with him. I have declined having any thing to do as his second in this affair. His manner to you convinced me that he has no right to consider himself a gentleman. With regard to the lady, sir, it may seem to you an impertinence that I should speak of her again—the name attracted me—it is that of a dear lost friend—I fancied this might be she," and the speaker became more agitated. "Now—it is at your option, sir, whether to pursue the subject further."
John looked him in the face; there was goodness there, and must have been sorrow, too—for the eyes were sunken and the form emaciated, and his thin pale hands were as transparent as a woman's.
"Could this be he?" and John in his turn became agitated.
"If it were? should he lead him out of this labarynth of doubt? should he place in his hand the thread which should conduct him through its dim shadows out under the clear blue sky, 'mid soft breezes and blossoming flowers? or leave him there to grope, while he wooed the blessed sun-light for his own path?"
The temptation was but for a moment.
"You seem feeble," said John, kindly, though his voice still trembled with emotion; "do me the favor to accompany me home, and then we will talk of this more at length."
The two walked on, overshadowed each with the presence of a power, of which all of us have been at some eventful moment conscious, and over which the conventionalities of life have had no control. It did not seem strange therefore to either, that they who had exchanged words, so fraught with meaning to each, should walk on side by side in thoughtful silence.