At such a stage you are quite certain that you are deeply and madly in love; you persist in the face of heaven and earth. You would like to meet the individual who dared to doubt it. You think she has got the tidiest and jauntiest little figure that ever was seen. You think back upon some time when, in your games of forfeit, you gained a kiss from those lips; and it seems as if the kiss was hanging on you yet and warming you all over. And then, again, it seems so strange that your lips did really touch hers! You half question if it could have been actually so—and how you could have dared—and you wonder if you would have courage to do the same thing again?—and upon second thought are quite sure you would—and snap your fingers at the thought of it. What sweet little hats she does wear; and in the schoolroom, when the hat is hung up—what curls—golden curls, worth a hundred Golcondas! How bravely you study the top lines of the spelling-book that your eyes may run over the edge of the cover, without the schoolmaster’s notice, and feast upon her! You half wish that somebody would run away with her, as they did with Amanda, in the _Children of the Abbey_—and then you might ride up on a splendid black horse and draw a pistol, or blunderbuss, and shoot the villains, and carry her back, all in tears, fainting and languishing upon your shoulder—and have her father (who is judge of the county court) take your hand in both of his and make some eloquent remarks. A great many such recaptures you run over in your mind and think how delightful it would be to peril your life, either by flood, or fire—to cut off your arm, or your head, or any such trifle—for your dear Louise. You can hardly think of anything more joyous in life than to live with her in some old castle, very far away from steamboats and post-offices, and pick wild geraniums for her hair, and read poetry with her under the shade of very dark ivy vines. And you would have such a charming boudoir in some corner of the old ruin, with a harp in it, and books bound in gilt, with Cupids on the cover, and such a fairy couch, with curtains hung—as you have seen them hung in some illustrated Arabian stories—upon a pair of carved doves.