It was still early, too early I thought for a visit to the Priory House, so arming myself with sketch book and pencil, I returned to an old tumble down carriers' inn, which had struck my eye while rambling with Winter, and commenced transferring it to paper; while my mind was filled with another picture, that drawn by Winter, of the lonely deformed organist and the angelic kindness of Kate Vernon. "What a fate!" I exclaimed aloud; but with the sounds of my own voice, came the recollection of the peculiarly peaceful expression of his face! There was no misery of look, none of that restlessness which the perpetual mortification of such a life might well be expected to produce. "No, he is happy! happier perhaps than I am, with youth and health and this straight strong frame, and my rightful place among the nobles of the land; and wealth--_halte la!_ have I wealth? Yes, compared with him, but by no means sufficient to marry. Then I never dreamt of marrying. No! I have every thing, and this poor fellow nothing, and yet, would he change with me? By Jove, I'd take the long odds he has not a dunning tailor; that's an item in my 'haves,' and his 'has nots,' I forgot to enumerate; but its must now be time to call on Kate. "To greet the heart that yearns for thee." I cannot get that air out of my head." The sun, which had all the morning been obscured by heavy clouds, shone out with the brilliancy and warmth of June rather than September. As I entered the little garden before Colonel Vernon's cottage I paused a moment in the vain endeavour to decipher the inscription over the gateway; a B, a C, and a very faint D were all I could make out. "The masther's out, but Miss Kate's within, Sir," was Nurse's reply to my queries. "And I hope you are quite well yourself, Mrs. O'Toole," said I, in a state of beatitude. "Indeed, an' I am, sir, glory be to God," and she opened the door, saying familiarly, "here's the Captin, Miss Kate." Miss Vernon was seated at a writing table in the window, copying out of the large dusky book the organist had given her. The window was open, and the light breeze gently stirred the white muslin curtains, and brought a thousand delicious odours from the garden and fields; while beyond it river and rocks, and swelling upland and woods, and the distant spire of a village church, lay bathed in a flood of glowing golden light, which seemed to endue every object with beauty by the sole agency of colour. Kate rose to receive me with her sparkling smile, dispelling the gentle gravity which always characterised her countenance when in repose, and made it so strangely different according as her mood changed. "Then you have missed grandpapa," said she, giving me her hand, "I told him I thought you would be out from what I heard you say to Mr. Winter last night."