'Yes, in a month.'

He paused a minute, as if in thought. When he spoke again, I hoped it would be to express his concern at my departure; but it was only to say,--'I should think you will be willing enough to go?'

'Yes--for some things,' I replied.

'For SOME things only--I wonder what should make you regret it?'

I was annoyed at this in some degree; because it embarrassed me: I had only one reason for regretting it; and that was a profound secret, which he had no business to trouble me about.

'Why,' said I--'why should you suppose that I dislike the place?'

'You told me so yourself,' was the decisive reply. 'You said, at least, that you could not live contentedly, without a friend; and that you had no friend here, and no possibility of making one--and, besides, I know you MUST dislike it.'

'But if you remember rightly, I said, or meant to say, I could not live contentedly without a friend in the world: I was not so unreasonable as to require one always near me. I think I could be happy in a house full of enemies, if--' but no; that sentence must not be continued--I paused, and hastily added,--'And, besides, we cannot well leave a place where we have lived for two or three years, without some feeling of regret.'