girl. It is before all things important that youth should be
young, lest it should not know how to be old when age comes upon it. Nor
is there anything that should be further removed from youth than the
contemplation of death, which to old age is but a haven of rest to be
desired, whereas to those who are still young it is an abyss to be
abhorred. It is well to say, "_Memento, homo, quia pulvis es_," but not
to say it too often, lest the dust of individual human existence make
cobwebs in the existence of humanity.

As for her aunt Chrysophrasia, Hermione liked to talk to her, because
Miss Dabstreak was amusing, with her everlasting paradoxes upon
everything; and because, not being by nature of an evil heart, and
desiring to be eccentric beyond her fellows, she was not altogether
averse to the mild martyrdom of being thought ridiculous by those who
held contrary opinions. Nevertheless, her aunt's company did not satisfy
all Hermione's want of society, and the advent of strangers, even of
myself, was hailed by her with delight. The fact of her conceiving a
particular antipathy for the professor was therefore all the more
remarkable, because she rarely shunned the society of any one with whom
she had an opportunity of exchanging ideas. But Cutter did not like to
be disliked, and he sought an occasion of making her change her mind in
regard to him. A few days after my visit to Madame Patoff, the professor
found his chance. Macaulay Carvel, Paul Patoff, and I left the house
early to ride to a distant meet, for Patoff had expressed his desire to
follow the hounds, and, as usual, everybody was anxious to oblige him.

After breakfast the professor watched until he saw Hermione enter the
conservatory, where she usually spent a part of the morning alone among
the flowers; sometimes making an elaborate inspection of the plants she
loved best, sometimes sitting for an hour or two with a book in some
remote corner, among the giant tropical leaves and the bright-colored
blossoms. She loved not only the flowers, but the warmth of the place,
in the bitter winter weather.

Cutter entered with a supremely unconscious air, as though he believed
there was no one in the conservatory. There was nothing professorial
about his appearance, except his great spectacles, through which he
gazed benignly at the luxuriant growth of plants, as he advanced, his
hands in the pockets of his plaid shooting-coat. He was dressed as any
other man might be