Tom had been with me only a few months when he came to me for advice
in a matter in which he felt he had become involved.

It appeared he had been calling regularly on a young lady, a pretty
little French girl. I had met her but once and then was impressed
with the idea that she had a temper which it would be unpleasant
to arouse, though I may have done her an injustice.

At all events, Tom said he thought the girl was in love with him;
that probably he had given her reason to believe his attentions
were serious, and he saw no honorable way out except to ask her to
be his wife.

I saw that the boy, so he seemed to me, was really very much
disturbed. I told him before I could offer any advice I must know
every detail, and after learning that not one word of love had ever
passed between them, that their intercourse was really nothing more
than that of intimate friends, and he assuring me that he had not
a particle of love for the girl, I advised him strongly to give up
any idea of offering her marriage and to gently but firmly break
off the intimacy.

He accepted the advice gratefully and acted on it.

A few years later he married the girl, and I presume that he told
her of my share in this matter. She probably held me responsible
and no doubt influenced him to some extent in a course of action,
referred to farther on in this narrative, that I have always regarded
with regret.