t Charley Dacre got from a
boatman at Venice; and this little Troubadour thing" (sentimentally) "was
composed by a friend of mine, who has promised never to let any one
possess it but myself."

"I hope you bought up the whole edition," put in Harry.

"And here--even you, you dear, unmusical boy, are represented. Do you
remember it, Harry?" (playing a few bars.) "The air you were always
whistling, and said the sailors sang at watch."

"Yes, that was it," said he, with brightening eyes. "How could you
recollect?"

"Well, when you went to sea I got somewhat plaintive and dull; used to
hum it about the house, and set down the notes."

"But these are not the right words."

"Oh, no," said Kate, casting down her eyes with modest candour; "they are
my own."

Now Harry at the same moment felt almost certain he had seen the lines
somewhere before; and, being rather apt to stick to a point, turned it
over in his mind, while his cousin poured forth a flood of song like a
skylark soaring. Ere she desisted, Dutton had left the room, and
discovered the words in an old Annual on a top shelf in the library.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE SPRING WOODS.

But, Tom, you'll soon find, for I happen to know,
That such walks often lead into straying;
And the voices of cousins are sometimes so low,
Heaven only knows what you'll be saying.
And long ere the walk is half over those strings
Of your heart are all put into play
By the voice of those fair demi-sisterly things,
In not quite the most brotherly way.
--Hon. Mrs. Norton.

More snow fell that night, and Lord Bromley's gardeners were sweeping the
walks from an early hour next morning. Robins lingered about with bright
eyes, soliciting crumbs, and shaking off showers of snow as they flew
from yew-hedge to holly-bush. Breakfast was over at "The Towers," except
for a few late individuals; and Harry Dutton, in a pair of long boots,
and, I am afraid, a pipe in his mouth, was taking a quarter-deck walk in
front of the ball-room windows. He was thinking pretty hard, and the
subject was evidently not pleasing, as it was with a sensation of relief
he observed a deft figure crossing the ball-room, in a fur-trimmed cloth
costume, remarkably well kilted up over a resolute-looking pair of small
boots. She signed to him to open the windows and let her out. Harry made
a feint of emptying his pipe, but received gracious permission to "puff