Highly amused, Louis lay on the uppermost step from the library window, in the cool summer evening, laughing over the letter. 'There, Aunt Kitty, he said, 'I commit that tender greeting to your charge,' and as she looked doubtful, 'Yes, do, there's a good aunt and mistress.' 'I am afraid I should not be a good mistress; I ought not to sanction it.' 'Better sanction it above board than let it go on by stealth,' said Louis. 'You are her natural protector.' 'So much the more reason against it! I ought to wish her to forget this poor boy of yours.' 'Ay, and light Hymen's torch with some thriving tallow chandler, who would marry a domestic slave as a good speculation, without one spark of the respectful chivalrous love that--' 'Hush! you absurd boy.' 'Well, then, if you won't, I shall go to Jane. The young ladies are all too cold and too prudent, but Jane has a soft spot in her heart, and will not think true love is confined within the rank that keeps a gig. I did think Aunt Kitty had been above vulgar prejudices.' 'Not above being coaxed by you, you gosling, you,' said Aunt Kitty; 'only you must come out of the dew, the sun is quite gone.' 'Presently,' said Louis, as she retreated by the window. 'I would not have been too cold or too prudent!' said Clara. 'I well believe it!' 'You will be one if you are not the other,' said Mary, gathering her work up, with the dread of one used to tropical dews. 'Are not you coming in?' 'When I can persuade myself to write a letter of good advice, a thing I hate.' 'Which,' asked Mary; 'giving or receiving it?' 'Receiving, of course.'--'Giving, of course,' said Clara and Louis at the same instant. 'Take mine, then,' said Mary, 'and come out of the damp.' 'Mary is so tiresome about these things!' cried Clara, as their cousin retreated. 'Such fidgetting nonsense.' 'I once argued it with her,' said Louis, without stirring; 'and she had the right side, that it is often more self-denying to take care of one's health, than to risk it for mere pleasure or heedlessness.' 'There's no dew!' said Clara; 'and if there was, it would not hurt, and if it did, I should be too glad to catch a cold, or something to keep me at home. Oh, if I could only get into a nice precarious state of health!' 'You would soon wish yourself at school, or anywhere else, so that you could feel some life in your limbs,' half sighed Louis. 'I've more than enough! Oh! how my feet ache to run! and my throat feels stifled for want of making a noise, and the hatefulness of always sitting upright, with my shoulders even! Come, you might pity me a little this one night, Louis: I know you do, for Jem is always telling me not to let you set me against it.' 'No, I don't pity you. Pity is next akin to contempt.' 'Nonsense, Louis. Do be in earnest.' 'I have seldom seen the human being whom I could presume to pity: certainly not you, bravely resisting folly and temptation, and with so dear and noble a cause for working.'