He attempted to milk a cow and she kicked him; and he's lying in a hammock and Helene is reading to him, while Harry paints her portrait.

Oh, dear--I _love_ Harry Annan, but he can't paint! "Dearest--as I sit here in my room with the chintz curtains blowing and the sun shining on the vines outside my open windows, I am thinking of you; and my girl's heart is very full--very humble in the wonder of your love for me--a miracle ever new, ever sweeter, ever holier.
"I pray that it be given to me to see the best way for your happiness and your welfare; I pray that I may not be confused by thought of self.
"Dear, the spring is going very swiftly.

I can scarcely believe that May is already here--is already passing--and that the first of June is so near.
"Will you _always_ love me?
Will you always think tenderly of me--happily--! Alas, it is a promise nobody can honestly make.

One can be honest only in wishing it may be so.
"Dearest of men, the great change is near at hand--nearer than I can realise.

Do you still want me?
Is the world impossible without me?
Tell me so, Louis; tell me so now--and in the years to come--very often--very, very often.