Tired and disheartened, I was on my way back, my business done,
as the bells rang in the Holy Eve. I stood at the bow of a Fulton
Street ferryboat listening sadly to them, and watched the lights
of the city kindling alongshore. Of them all not one was for me.
It was all over, and I should have to strike a new trail. Where
would that lead? What did it matter, anyhow? Nobody cared. Why
should I? A beautiful meteor shot out of the heavens overhead
and spanned the river with a shining arc. I watched it sail slowly
over Williamsburg, its trail glowing bright against the dark sky,
and mechanically the old wish rose to my lips. It was a superstition
with us when we were children that if we were quick enough to "wish
out" before the star was extinguished, the wish would come true.
I had tried a hundred times, always to fail; but for once I had
ample time. A bitter sigh smothered the wish, half uttered. My
chance had come too late. Even now she might be another man's wife,
and I--I had just made another failure of it, as usual.
It had never happened in all the holiday seasons I had been away
that a letter from home had reached me in time for Christmas Eve,
and it was a sore subject with me.
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