In future, he said, he would select those seasons when his--Verty's--senses were bright and wide-awake; and he begged the young man not to fear a repetition of what he might have heard--there were fifteen more cantos, all of which he would read, slowly and carefully explaining, as he went along, any difficulties.
Verty received this announcement with great good humor, and then began tracing over his paper, listlessly, the word "Redbud." That word had been the key-note of his mind throughout the morning--that was the real secret of his abstraction.
Miss Lavinia had informed him on that morning, when she had dismissed him from Apple Orchard, that Redbud was going away for the purpose of being educated; and that he, Verty, would act very incorrectly if he asked any one whither Redbud was going.

Thus the boy had been rendered gloomy and sad--he had wandered about Apple Orchard, never daring to ask whither the young girl had gone--and so, in one of his wanderings, had encountered Mr.Rushton, who indeed was seeking him.

He had easily yielded to the representations of that gentleman, when he assured him that he ought to apply his mind to something in order to provide for all the wants of his Indian mother--and this scheme was all the more attractive, as the neighborhood of Apple Orchard, to which his steps ever wandered, occasioned him more sadness than he had ever felt before.

Redbud was gone--why should he go near the place again?
The sunshine had left it--he had better seek new scenes, and try what effect they would have.
Therefore was it that Verty had become a lawyer's clerk; and it was the recollection of these causes of sadness which had made the boy so dull and languid.
Without Redbud, everything seemed dim to him; and he could not ask whither she had flown.
This was his sad predicament.
After receiving the assurance of Roundjacket's pardon, Verty, as we have said, began scrawling over the copy of the deed he was making the name of Redbud.

This persevering and thoughtful occupation at last attracted the attention of his companion.
"Redbud!" asked the poet, "who is Redbud, my young friend?
I should conjecture that she was a young lady, from the name .-- Stay, is there not a Miss Redbud Summers, daughter of the Squire of said name ?" Verty nodded.
"A friend of yours ?" "Yes," sighed Verty.
Mr.Roundjacket smiled.
"Perhaps you are making love to her ?" he said.
"Making love ?" asked Verty, "what is that ?" "How!" cried the poet, "you don't mean to say you are ignorant of the nature of that divine sentiment which elevates and ennobles in so remarkable a degree--hem!--all humanity!" "Anan!" said Verty, with an inquiring look.
Mr.Roundjacket returned this look for some moments, preserving a profound silence.
"My young friend," he said at last, "how old are you ?" "Eighteen, _ma mere_ says." "Who's _mommer_, pray ?" "Mother." "Oh," said the poet, with some confusion, "the fact is, your pronunciation--but don't let us discuss that.