ould swallow up any
precious thing and make no sign. And he is not here! They say it is a
very fine cathedral.

Memoranda: _The Octagon is perhaps the most beautiful and original
design to be found in the whole range of Gothic architecture. Remember
also the retrochoir. The lower tier of windows consists of three long
lancets, with groups of Purbeck shafts at the angles; the upper, of five
lancets, diminishing from the centre, and set back, as in the
clerestory, within an arcade supported by shafts._ (I don't believe even
he could make head or tail of this.) _Remember the curious bosses under
the brackets of the stone altar in the Alcock Chapel. They represent
ammonites projecting from their shells and biting each other._ (If I
were an ammonite I know I should bite Aunt Celia. Look up ammonite.)

_He_

Ely, _June 18_,
The Lamb Hotel.

I cannot find her! Am racked with rheumatic pains sitting in this big,
empty, solitary, hollow, reverberating, damp, desolate, deserted
cathedral hour after hour. On to Peterborough this evening.

_She_

Peterborough, _June 18_.

He is not here. The cathedral, even the celebrated west front, seems to
me somewhat overrated. Catherine of Aragon (or one of those Henry the
Eighth wives) is buried here, also Mary Queen of Scots; but I am tired
of looking at graves, viciously tired, too, of writing in this trumpery
note-book. We move on this afternoon.

_He_

Peterborough, _June 19_.

A few more days of this modern Love Chase will unfit me for professional
work. Tried to draw the roof of the choir, a good specimen of early
Perp., and failed. Studied the itinerary again to see if it had any
unsuspected suggestions in cipher. No go! York and Durham were
double-starred by the Aunt Celia's curate as places for long stops.
Perhaps we shall meet again there.

Lincoln, _June 22_,
The Black Boy Inn.

I am stopping at a beastly little hole, which has the one merit of being
opposite Miss Schuyler's lodgings, for I have found her at last. My
sketch-book has deteriorated in artistic value during the last two
weeks. Many of its pages, while interesting to me as reminiscences,
will hardly do for family or studio exhibition. If I should label them,
the result would be something like this:

1. Sketch of a footstool and desk where I first saw Miss Schuyler
kneeling.

2. Sketch of a carved oak chair, Miss Schuyler sitting in it.

3. 'Angel cho