So the winter wore steadily away. The morning's study--the afternoon walk with her grandfather--often to visit the sick and needy--the interchange of contrasting thought with Winter and the organist, kept Miss Vernon too wholesomely active both in mind and body to permit the pleasant monotony of her life to degenerate into stagnation. But the half-hour in the evening, while her grandfather dosed, was the happiest portion of the day to her; when she leaned back in her chair gazing at the fire-light as it danced upon the wall and cast uncouth shadows, and, following some train of thought suggested by the reading, or occurrences of the day, dreamed of the future, or conjured up the past! And often did she feel surprise, at the frequent recurrence of the ball at Carrington--of Egerton's farewell--among these visions--though, at this point, she ever turned resolutely away. Then Colonel Vernon was laid up for a month with a feverish cold, which made Kate rather anxious, and banished every thought not connected with the invalid. So-came on the lengthening days' warmer sun, and more piercing winds of early spring; and one morning, towards the end of March, Mrs. O'Toole laid two letters before the Colonel; one directed to him in a clear, bold hand, bearing the Marseilles' post-mark, the other to Kate. "I really think this is from Fred Egerton," said the Colonel, feeling in every pocket for glasses. "Kate, my dear! they were hanging round my neck before breakfast?" "Oh! here they are, dear grandpapa," exclaimed she, eagerly; "do not mind looking at the outside--open it." And she laid aside her own. With many a break, and many a tantalising pause, the Colonel slowly doled forth Egerton's letter, it was short, and contained little more than a report of his safe arrival, after a tedious journey, many expressions of sincere regard, and kind enquiries for his friends at A----, but breathed an indefinable tone of despondency, and restlessness of spirit, unlike anything they had hitherto observed in him. The Colonel, at length, concluded, in a sort of surprised accent, as though he expected something more; and Kate exclaimed-- "Is that all? Do you know, grandpapa, I expected much greater things from Captain Egerton's first letter from India. Do you not think he writes dejectedly." "I cannot quite make him out," he replied, in an absent manner; "but I am obliged to him for his kind remembrance of us. We must tell Winter and Gilpin--he was such a favorite with them. Now open your despatch, my dear. I see it is from Georgina." * * * * *