"Listen, Helen," he said. "There is something that you must know."

And then, slowly, he told me a tale that began with his boyhood. There
was a little girl, and he was very fond of her, and many times he told
her she must be his little wife. And always she assented, so that
gradually, as the years went by, it had become a habit of his mind to
think of the days to come, when they would be married. Then he had gone
away to a little college. When he returned for the holidays he always saw
her again, but when he spoke of marrying her she blushed, and was timid,
for she was passing away from childhood. In later days he saw less of
her, but he always wrote long letters to his little comrade. After a few
years he went abroad to study, but they corresponded often, telling of
their plans and ambitions. One day he heard that she was going to New
York to become a trained nurse, and he had finished his work abroad, so
he took a steamer and went there too. On the days when she was at liberty
for a few hours he met her, and those ideas of his boyhood became
stronger than ever, and he asked her to marry him. Her reply was that
they were too young yet and that they must wait, for she had no idea of
becoming married for the present, because there were many things she
wanted to do, and while she was ever so fond of him as a friend she did
not think she loved him, though some day she might. But he had always
thought it would be just a matter of time, for he had considered it a
settled thing. Then he had come to Sweetapple Cove, and written to her
often, for he expected her to return to Newfoundland soon. Her letters
came rather seldom, for she was working very hard.

"And now, when she comes," he continued, "I shall have to tell her it was
all a ghastly mistake on my part. I shall have to tell her the truth,
brutally, frankly. I will have to say that I really never loved her; that
it was a boy's idea that continued into a man's thoughts, until one day