Walter had been somewhat ill for several days, and the accumulation of misfortunes now pressed upon him heavily. He did not tell his mother of the strange interview, but sat down moodily by the grate, in the library. He was utterly perplexed where in the city to search for Alice; and with his mental depression came a bodily infirmity and nervousness that made him incapable of effort. An hour passed in gloomy reverie,--drifting without aim upon a shoreless ocean, under a sullen sky,--when he was roused by the entrance of Easelmann. "In the dumps? I declare, Monroe, I shouldn't have thought it of you." "I am really ill, my friend." "Pooh! Don't let your troubles make you believe that. Cheer up. You'll find employment presently, and you'll be surprised to find how well you are." "I hope I shall be able to make the experiment." "Well, suppose you walk out with me. There is a tailor I want you to see." "A tailor? I can't sew or use shears, either." "No,--nor sit cross-legged; I know that. But this tailor is no common Snip. He is a man of ideas and character. He has something to propose to you." "Indeed! I am much obliged to you. To-morrow I will go with you; but, really, I feel too feeble to-day," said Monroe, languidly. "Well, as you please; to-morrow it shall be. How is your mother?" "Quite well, I thank you." "And the pretty cousin, likewise, I hope?" "She was quite well this morning." "Isn't she at home?" "No,--she has gone out." "Confound you, Monroe! you have never let me have a glimpse of her. Now I am not a dangerous person; quite harmless, in fact; received trustfully by matrons with grown-up daughters. You needn't hide her." "I don't know. Some young ladies are quite apt to be fascinated by elderly gentlemen who know the world and still take an interest in society." "Yes,--a filial sort of interest, a grand-daughterly reverence and respect. The sight of gray hair is a wonderful antidote to any tenderer feeling." "I am very sorry not to oblige you; but the truth is, that Cousin Alice, hearing of my losses, has left the house abruptly, to earn her own living, and we do not know where she has gone." "The independent little minx! Now I rather like that. There's the proper spirit. She'll take good care of herself; I haven't a doubt." "But it is a most mortifying step to us. It is a reflection upon our hospitality. I would have worked my fingers off for her."