So their leaves
turned yellow and gray, and the frosty red of age was fixed upon them,
and they fell, and lay.
On one of those bright mornings, which make the head feel so clear, the
limbs so strong, and the heart so sad, the doom fell in the expected
form, that of a letter from the Professor. He was at home at last, and
wanted his niece to mix his toddy, and scold his servants for him, from
both of which enjoyments he said he desired to wean himself in time.
Alec's heart sank within him.
"Don't go yet, Kate," he said. But he felt that she must go.
An early day was fixed for her return; and his summer would go with
her.
The day before her departure they were walking together along one of
the rough parish-roads leading to the hills.
"Oh, Kate!" exclaimed Alec, all at once, in an outburst of despair,
"what _shall_ I do when you are gone? Everything will look so hateful!"
"Oh, Alec!" rejoined Kate, in a tone of expostulation.
"They will all look the same as if you had not gone away!--so
heartless, so selfish!"
"But I shall see you in November again."
"Oh, yes. You will see me. But shall I see _you_?--this very _you_? Oh,
Kate! Kate! I feel that you will be different then.
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