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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Quarreled?" echoed Silverthorn, looking back her amazement. "Why, do you suppose the world has come to an end? Don't you know we would sooner die than quarrel?" "Vibbard coming!" repeated Ida, as she caught sight of the letter. "Yes; now, I see." "But, doesn't it make you happy?" asked her lover, suddenly annoyed at her cool reception of the news. "I don't know," she answered, pensively.
"Look out for yourself next time." It was Bill Vibbard, then in the latter part of his freshman year; and not far distant I discovered his comrade Silverthorn, watching Bill in silent admiration. They continued slowly on their way toward an oak grove, which then stood near the field.
Streaked with these conflicting glimmers, Vibbard stood before him, his clothes torn, his hat gone, his face pale and fierce. "What have you been doing?" asked Silverthorn wearily, and without surprise, for he was too much dazed. "You you!" said Vibbard, hoarsely, pointing sharply at him, as if his livid gaze was not enough. "You have been taking her from me!"
Silverthorn's lips certainly curled with contempt now. Vibbard answered: "I heard you pleading with Ida to promise herself to you." "That's a lie," said Silverthorn, calmly. "Didn't you say to her, 'You have never yet fully engaged yourself to me? Weren't you pleading?" "Yes.
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