A quaint thing has happened to me! Came down here to take over the place, and to say decidedly I would not marry Miss Travers, and I find her with red hair and a skin like milk, and a pair of green eyes that look at you from a forest of black eyelashes with a thousand unsaid challenges. I should not wonder if I commit some folly. One has read of women like this in the _cinque-cento_ time in Italy, but up to now I had never met one. She is not in the room ten minutes before one feels a sense of unrest, and desire for one hardly knows what--principally to touch her, I fancy. Good Lord! what a skin! pure milk and rare roses--and the reddest Cupid's bow of a mouth! You had better come down at once (these things are probably in your line) to save me from some sheer idiocy. The situation is exceptional--she and I practically alone in the house, for old Barton does not count. She had nowhere to go, and as far as I can make out has not a friend in the world. I suppose I ought to leave. I will try to on Monday; but come down to-morrow by the 4.00 train. Yours, CHRISTOPHER. P. S.--'47 port A1, and two or three brands of the old aunt's champagne exceptional, Barton says--we can sample them. Shall send this up by express; you will get it in time for the 4.00 train. [Footnote 1: A letter from Mr. Carruthers which came into Evangeline's possession later, and which she put into her journal at this place.--EDITOR'S NOTE.] BRANCHES, Friday night, _November 4th._ This morning Mr. Carruthers had his coffee alone. Mr. Barton and I breakfasted quite early, before nine o'clock, and just as I was calling the dogs in the hall for a run, with my out-door things already on, Mr. Carruthers came down the great stairs with a frown on his face. "Up so early!" he said. "Are you not going to pour out my tea for me, then?" "I thought you said coffee! No, I am going out," and I went on down the corridor, the wolf-hounds following me. "You are not a kind hostess!" he called after me. "I am not a hostess at all," I answered back--"only a guest." He followed me. "Then you are a very casual guest, not consulting the pleasure of your host." I said nothing. I only looked at him over my shoulder as I went down the marble steps--looked at him and laughed, as on the night before. He turned back into the house without a word, and I did not see him again until just before luncheon.