could not see her in a state of
domesticity with him.

Telegrams being commanded, to the telegraph he repaired, when, after two
days, an immediate wish to communicate with her led him to dismiss
vague conjecture on the future situation. His first telegram took the
following form:--

'I give up the letter writing. I will part with anything to please you
but yourself. Your comfort with your relative is the first thing to be
considered: not for the world do I wish you to make divisions within
doors. Yours.'

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday passed, and on Saturday a telegram came in
reply:--

'I can fear, grieve at, and complain of nothing, having your nice
promise to consider my comfort always.'

This was very pretty; but it admitted little. Such short messages were
in themselves poor substitutes for letters, but their speed and easy
frequency were good qualities which the letters did not possess. Three
days later he replied:--

'You do not once say to me "Come." Would such a strange accident as my
arrival disturb you much?'

She replied rather quickly:--

'I am indisposed to answer you too clearly. Keep your heart strong: 'tis
a censorious world.'

The vagueness there shown made Somerset peremptory, and he could not
help replying somewhat more impetuously than usual:-- 'Why do you give
me so much cause for anxiety! Why treat me to so much mystification! Say
once, distinctly, that what I have asked is given.'

He awaited for the answer, one day, two days, a week; but none came. It
was now the end of March, and when Somerset walked of an afternoon
by the river and pool in the lower part of the grounds, his ear newly
greeted by the small voices of frogs and toads and other creatures who
had been torpid through the winter, he became doubtful and uneasy that
she alone should be silent in the awakening year.

He waited through a second week, and there was still no reply. It was
possible that the urgency of his request had tempted her to punish him,
and he continued his walks, to, fro, and around, with as close an ear to
the undertones of nature, and as attentive an eye to the charms of his
own art, as the grand passion would allow. Now came the days of battle
between winter and spring. On these excursions, though spring was to the
forward during the daylight, winter would reassert itself at night, and
not unfrequently at other moments. Tepid airs and nipping breezes met on
the confines of sunshine and shade; trembli