I was fast relapsing into despondency, when suddenly I was aroused from my dreams by a sound once odious to me. I raised myself upon my front paws and listened. There was no mistake, I heard it again; a thin and timid _mew_, dying away in the distance, and sounding as if it proceeded from the mere shadow of a cat. But faint and shadowy as it was, I recognised it; it recalled me to realities, and the conviction of my right line of conduct flashed across my mind. The Present--the present moment was mine. I could only take warning by the past, and hope for the future, but I must act _now_. I have but to take every opportunity when it offers itself, and there would be no fear of not having opportunities enough. Here was one ready at hand. Instead of worrying that kitten, who was now in my power, I would magnanimously endure her existence. I would do more; I would let her know that she had nothing any longer to fear from me; and in pursuance of this kind intention, I walked about the room in search of her. I soon descried her, perched upon the top of a high bookcase, not daring to come down for fear of me. She was altered by recent events, though not so much as I. She looked forlorn and uncomfortable, but not shaggy, haggard, or dirty. The regard to her toilette which had characterised her in better days still clung to her, and made her neat and tidy in misfortune. The blue ribbon round her neck was indeed faded, but in other respects she looked as clean and white and sleek as Lily herself. She had evidently licked herself all over every day, instead of moping in the dirt. She and Lily had always been somewhat alike in point of cleanliness. Indeed, I once imagined that Lily must lick herself all over in order to look so clean; but on further consideration I had reason to believe that she commonly attained her object by plunging into cold water, more after my own fashion. But to return to the kitten. There she stood, the very picture of fear; her legs stretched, her tail arched, her back raised, trying to assume the best posture of defence she could, but evidently believing it of no use. She mewed louder at every step I took nearer. Even if I had been inclined to harm her, she was safe enough on the top of that high bookcase; but she did not know that. In her inexperience, she fancied me able to spring about the world as she did, and expected every moment that I should perch on the carved oak crown, and seize her in my mouth, jump down again and crunch her as she would a mouse.