or the first time since his arrival, Harry found himself at
the hour of ten in the morning utterly lone, and with nothing very
definite to do. Of course, the two weeks that had elapsed were not
without their signs and symptoms, their minor accidents and incidents,
in regard to the subject that filled his thoughts. Harry had fifty
times been tossed alternately from the height of hope to the depth of
despair, from the extreme of felicity to the uttermost verge of sorrow,
and he began seriously to reflect, when he remembered his desperate
resolution on the first night of his arrival, that if he did not "do" he
certainly would "die." This was quite a mistake, however, on Harry's
part. Nobody ever did _die_ of unrequited love. Doubtless many people
have hanged, drowned, and shot themselves because of it; but, generally
speaking, if the patient can be kept from maltreating himself long
enough, _time_ will prove to be an infallible remedy. O youthful
reader, lay this to heart; but, pshaw! why do I waste ink on so hopeless
a task? _Every_ one, we suppose, resolves once in a way to _die_ of
love; so--die away, my young friends, only make sure that you don't
_kill_ yourselves, and I've no fear of the result.

But to return. Kate, likewise, was similarly affected. She behaved
like a perfect maniac--mentally, that is--and plunged herself,
metaphorically, into such a succession of hot and cold baths, that it
was quite a marvel how her spiritual constitution could stand it.

But we were wrong in saying that Harry was _alone_ in the parlour. The
grey cat was there. On a chair before the fire it sat, looking
dishevelled and somewhat _blase_ in consequence of the ill-treatment and
worry to which it was continually subjected. After looking out of the
window for a short time, Harry rose, and sitting down on a chair beside
the cat, patted its head--a mark of attention it was evidently not
averse to, but which it received, nevertheless, with marked suspicion,
and some indications of being in a condition of armed neutrality. Just
then the door opened, and Kate entered.

"Excuse me, Harry, for leaving you alone," she said, "but I had to
attend to several household matters. Do you feel inclined for a walk?"

"I do indeed," replied Harry; "it is a charming day, and I am
exceedingly anxious to see the bower that you have spoken to me about
once or twice, and which Charley told me of long before I came here."

"Oh, I shall take