When I got into the hall the front door was
open, and I heard her voice. I stopped dead short. She was saying
something to some people who had been out riding with her. The
next moment the door shut, and she tripped in in her
riding-habit, and grey gloves, and hat, with the dearest little
grey plume in it. She went humming along, and up six or eight
steps, without seeing me. Then I moved a step, and she stopped
and looked and gave a start. I don't know whether my face was
awfully miserable, but, when our eyes met, her's seemed to fill
with pity and uneasiness, and inquiry, and the bright look to
melt away altogether; and then she blushed and ran down stairs
again, and held out her hand, saying, 'I am so glad to see you,
after all this long time.' I pressed it, but I don't think I said
anything. I forget; the butler came into the hall, and stood by
the door. She paused another moment, looked confused, and then,
as the library door opened, went away up stairs, with a kind
'good-bye.' She dropped a little bunch of violets, which she had
worn in the breast of her habit, as she went away. I went and
picked them up, although your uncle had now come out of the
library, and then made the best of my way into the street."

"There, Katie, I have told you everything, exactly as it
happened. Do write to me, dear, and tell me, now, what you think.
Is it all over? What can I do? Can you do anything for me? I feel
it is better in one respect. Her father can never say now that I
didn't tell him all about it. But what is to happen? I am so
restless. I can settle to nothing, and do nothing, but fish. I
moon away all my time by the water-side, dreaming. But I don't
mean to let it beat me much longer. Here's the fourth day since I
saw her. I came away the next morning. I shall give myself a
week; and, dear, do write me a long letter at once, and interpret
it all to me. A woman knows so wonderfully what things mean. But
don't make it out better than you really think. Nobody can stop
my going on loving her, that's a comfort; and while I can do
that, and don't know she loves anybody else, I ought to be
happier than any other man in the world. Yes, I ought to be, but
I ain't. I will be, though; see if I won't. Heigho! Do write
directly, my dear counsellor, to your affectionate cousin. T.B.

"P. S.--I had almost forgotten my usual budget. I enclose my last
from India. You will see by it that Harry is getting on famously.
I am more glad th