e first volume?

"Vol. II. Evening. I waited and waited downstairs for somebody to come,
but nobody came except Josie Grey's brother, to say that her mother was
taken ill suddenly and Josie could not come. I suppose Mr. Holmes
expected her to come and so he has gone to Middlefield, and Morris
thought so, too; and so I am left out in the cold, or rather in by the
fire. Mr. Holmes' chamber is the snuggest room in the house, so full of
books that you can't be lonely in it, and then the fire on the hearth
is company. It began to snow before sun down and now the wind howls and
the snow seems to rush about as if it were in a fury. You ask what I have
read this winter. Books that you will not like: Thomson's 'Seasons,'
Cowper's 'Task,' Pollok's 'Course of Time,' Milton's 'Paradise Regained,'
Strickland's 'Queens of England,' 'Nelson on Infidelity,' 'Lady
Huntington and her Friends,' 'Lady of the Lake,' several of the
'Bridgewater Treatises,' Paley's 'Natural Theology,' 'Trench on
Miracles,' several dozens of the best story books I could find to make
sandwiches with the others, somebody's 'Travels in Iceland,' and
somebody's 'Winter in Russia,' and 'Rasselas,' and 'Boswell's Johnson,'
and I cannot remember others at this moment. Morris says I do not think
anything dry, but go right through everything. Because I have the master
to help me, and I did give 'Paradise Lost' up in despair. Mother says I
shall never make three quilts for you if I read so much, but I do get on
with the patch work and she already has one quilt joined, and Mrs. Rheid
is coming to help her quilt it next week. There is a pile of blocks on
the master's desk now and I intend to sit here in his arm chair and
sew until I am sleepy. I wonder if you will do as much for me when my
Prince comes. Mine is to be as handsome as Hollis, as good as Morris,
as learned as the master, and as devoted as your splendid Will. And if I
cannot find all these in one I will--make patch work for other brides and
live alone with Miss Prudence. And I'll begin now to make the patch work.
Oh, dear, I wish you and Miss Prudence were here. Hark! there's somebody
pounding on the outside kitchen door! Shall I go down or let them pound?
I don't believe it is Robin Hood or any of his merry men, do you? I'll
screw my courage up and go.

"Vol. III. Next Day. I won't keep you in suspense, you dear, sympathetic
Linnet. I went down with some inward quaking but much outward boldness
as the poundi