"Very well," he thought, "I will go from this painful inhospitality and coldness to my Paradise"; and he went, and remained.
The only letter he wrote was to his old friend and favorite cousin, Tom Russell,--who was away somewhere in the far South, and from whom he had not heard for many a day,--and hoped that he, at least, would not disappoint him; would not disappoint the hearty trust he had in his breadth of nature and manly sensibility.
And so, with clouds doubtless in the sky, but which they did not see,--the sun shone so bright for them; and some discords in the minor keys which they did not heed,--the major music was so sweet and intoxicating,--the brief, glad hours wore away, and the time for parting, with hasty steps, had almost reached and faced them.

Meanwhile, what was occurring to others, in other scenes and among other surroundings?
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