"Thank you," said Lawrence, "I shall be obliged to you if you will be
kind enough to bring me that one." He was glad for her to go away, even
for a little time, that he might think. The smart of the disappointment
caused by the non-appearance of Miss March was beginning to subside a
little. Looking at it more quietly and reasonably, he could see that, in
her position, it would be actually unmaidenly for her to come to him by
herself. It was altogether another thing for this other girl, and,
therefore, perhaps it was quite proper to send her. But, in spite of
whatever reasonableness there might have been in it, he chafed under
this propriety. It would have been far better, he thought, if she had
come and told him that she could not possibly accept him, and that
nothing more must be said about it. But then he did not believe, if she
had given him time to say the words he wished to say, that she would
have come to such a decision; and as he called up her lovely face and
figure, as it stood framed in the open doorway, with a background of the
sunlit arbor and fields, the gorgeous distant foliage, with the blue sky
and its white clouds and circling birds, he thought of the rapture and
ecstasy which would have come to him, if she had listened to his words,
and had given him but a smile of encouragement.

But here came Mrs Null, with a fat brown book in her hand. "One of the
funniest things," she said, as she came to the door, "is Mr Salmon's
chapter on paradoxes. He thinks it would be quite improper to issue a
book of this kind without alluding to geographical paradoxes. Listen to
this one." And then she read to him the elucidation of the apparent
paradox that there is a certain place in this world where the wind
always blows from the south; and another explaining the statement that
in certain cannibal islands the people eat themselves. "There is
something he says about Virginia," said she, turning over the pages,
"which I want you to be sure to read."

"Won't you sit down," said Lawrence, "and read to me some of those
extracts? You know just where to find them."

"That chair wasn't put there for me," said Miss Annie, with a smile.

"Nonsense," said Lawrence. "Won't you please sit down? I ought to have
asked you before. Perhaps it is too cool for you, out there."

"Oh, not at all," said she. "The air is still quite warm." And she took
her seat on the chair which was placed close to the door-step, and she
read to him some of the surprising and interesting facts which Mr Salmon
had heard, in a Dublin coffee-house, about Virginia and the other
colonies, and also some of those relating to the kindly way in which
slave-holders in South America, when they killed a slave to feed their
hounds, would send a quarter to a neighbor, expecting some day to
receive a similar favor in return. When they had laughed over these, she
read some very odd and surprising statements about Southern Europe, and
the people of far-away lands; and so she went on, from one thing to
another, talking a good deal about what she had read, and always on the
point of stopping and giving the book to Lawrence, until the short
autumnal afternoon began to draw to its close, and he told her that it
was growing too chilly for her to sit out on the grass any longer.

"Very well," said she, closing the book, and handing it to him, "you can
read the rest of it yourself, and if you want any other books on the
list, just let me know by Uncle Isham, and I will send them to you. He
is coming now to see after you. I wonder," she said, stopping for a
moment as she turned to leave, "if Miss March had been sitting in that
chair, if you would have had the heart to tell her to go away; or if you
would have let her sit still, and take cold."

Lawrence smiled, but very slightly. "That subject," said he, "is one on
which I don't joke."

"Goodness!" exclaimed Miss Annie, clasping her hands and gazing with an
air of comical commiseration at Mr Croft's serious face. "I should think
not!" and away she went.

Just before supper time, when Lawrence's door had been closed, and his
lamp lighted, there came a knock, and Mrs Keswick appeared. "That plan
of mine didn't work," she said, "but I will bring Miss March out here,
and manage it so that she'll have to stay till I come back. I have an
idea about that. All that you have to do is to be ready when you get
your chance."

Lawrence thanked her, and assured her he would be very glad to have a
chance, although he hoped, without much ground for it, that Roberta
would not see through the old lady's schemes.

Mrs Keswick lotioned and rebandaged the sprained ankle, and then she
said. "I think it would be pleasant if we were all to come out here
after supper, and have a game of whist. I used to play whist, and
shouldn't mind taking a hand. You could have the table drawn up to your
chair, and,--let me see--yes, there are three more chairs. It won't be
like having her alone with you," she said, with the cordial grin in
which she sometimes indulged, "but you will have her opposite to you for
an hour, and that will be something."

Lawrence approved heartily of the whist party, and assured Mrs Keswick
that she was his guardian angel.

"Not much of that," she said, "but I have been told often enough that
I'm a regular old matchmaker, and I expect I am."

"If you make this match," said Lawrence, "you will have my eternal
gratitude."

The supper sent out to Lawrence was a very good one, and the
anticipation of what was to follow made him enjoy it still more, for his
passion had now reached such a point that even to look at his love,
although he could only speak to her of trumps and of tricks, would be a
refreshing solace which would go down deep into his thirsty soul.

But bedtime and old Isham came, and the whist players came not. It
needed no one to tell Lawrence whose disinclination it was that had
prevented their coming.

"I reckon," said Uncle Isham, as he looked in at Letty's cabin on his
way to his own, "dat dat ar Mister Crof' aint much use to gittin'
hisse'f hurt. All de time I was helpin' him to go to bed he was a
growlin' like de bery debbil."




CHAPTER XX.


Although October in Southern Virginia can generally be counted upon as a
very charming month, it must not be expected that her face will wear one
continuous smile. On the day after Lawrence Croft's misadventure the sky
was gray with low-hanging clouds, there was a disagreeable wind from the
north-east, and the air was filled with the slight drizzle of rain. The
morning was so cool that Lawrence was obliged to keep his door shut, and
Uncle Isham had made him a small wood fire on the hearth. As he sat
before this fire, after breakfast, his foot still upon a stool, and
vigorously puffed at a cigar, he said to himself that it mattered very
little to him whether the sun shone, or all the rains of heaven
descended, so long as Roberta March would not come out to him; and that
she did not intend to come, rain or shine, was just as plain as the
marks on the sides of the fireplace, probably made by the heels of Mr
Junius Keswick during many a long, reflective smoke.

On second thoughts, however, Lawrence concluded that a rainy day was
worse for his prospects than a bright one. If the sun shone, and
everything was fair, Miss March might come across the grassy yard and
might possibly stop before his open door to bid him good morning, and to
tell him that she was sorry that a headache had prevented her from
coming to play whist the evening before. But this last, he presently
admitted, was rather too much to expect, for he did not think she was
subject to headaches, or to making excuses. At any rate he might have
caught sight of her, and if he had, he certainly would have called to
her, and would have had his say with her, even had she persisted in
standing six feet from the door-step. But now this dreary day had shut
his door and put an interdict upon strolls across the grass. Therefore
it was that he must resign any opportunity, for that day, at least, of
soothing the harrowing perturbations of his passion by either the
comforting warmth of hope, or by the deadening frigidity of a
consummated despair. This last, in truth, he did not expect, but still,
if it came, it would be better than perturbations; they must be soothed
at any cost. But how to incur this cost was a difficult question
altogether. So, puffing, gazing into the fire, and knitting his brows,
he sat and thought.

As a good-looking young man, as a well-dressed young man, as an educated
and cultured man, as a man of the clubs, and of society, and, when
occasion required, as a very sensible man of business, Mr Croft might
be looked upon as essentially a commonplace personage, and in our walks
abroad we meet a great many like him. But there dwelt within him a
certain disposition, which, at times, removed him to quite a distance
from the arena in which commonplace people go through their prescribed
performances. He would come to a determination, generally quite
suddenly, to attain a desired end in his own way, without any reference
to traditionary or conventional methods; and the more original and
startling these plans the better he liked it.

This disposition it was which made Lawrence read with so much interest
the account of the defeated general who made the cavalry charge into the
camp of his victorious enemy. Defeat had been his, all through his short
campaign, and it now seemed that the time had come to make another bold
effort to get the better of his bad luck. As he could not woo Miss March
himself, he must get some one else to do it for him, or, if not actually
to woo the lady, to get her at least into such a frame of mind that she
would allow him to woo her, even in spite of his present disadvantages.
This would be a very bold stroke, but Lawrence put a good deal of faith
in it.

If Miss March were properly talked to by one of her own sex, she might
see, as perhaps she did not now see, how cruel was her line of conduct
toward him, and might be persuaded to relent, at least enough to allow
his voice to reach her; and that was all he asked for. He had not the
slightest doubt that the widow Keswick would gladly consent to carry any
message he chose to send to Miss March, and, more than that, to throw
all the force of her peculiar style of persuasion into the support of
his cause. But this, he knew very well, would finish the affair, and not
at all in the way he desired. The person he wanted to act as his envoy
was Mrs Null. To be sure, she had refused to act for him, but he thought
he could persuade her. She was quiet, she was sensible, and could talk
very gently and confidingly when she chose; she would say just what he
told her to say, and if a contingency demanded that she should add
anything, she would probably do it very prudently. But then it would be
almost as difficult to communicate with her as with Miss March.

While he was thus thinking, in came the old lady, very cross. "You
didn't get any rubber of whist last night, did you?" said she, without
salutatory preface. "But I can tell you it wasn't my fault. I did all
that I could, and more than I ought, to make her come, but she just put
her foot down and wouldn't stir an inch, and at last I got mad and went
to bed. I don't know whether she saw it or not, but I was as mad as
hops; and I am that way yet. I had a plan that would have given you a
chance to talk to her, but that ain't any good, now that it is raining.
Let me look at your ankle; I hope that is getting along all right, any
way."

While the old lady was engaged in ministering to his needs, he told her
of his plan. He said he wished to send a message to Miss March by some
one, and if he could get the message properly delivered, it would help
him very much.

"I'll take it," said she, looking up suddenly from the piece of soft,
old linen she was folding; "I'll go to her this very minute, and tell
her just what you want me to."

"Mrs Keswick," said Lawrence, "you are as kind as you can possibly be,
but I do not think it would be right for you to go on an errand like
this. Miss March might not receive you well, and that would annoy me
very much. And, besides, to speak frankly, you have taken up my cause so
warmly, and have been such a good friend to me, that I am afraid your
earnest desire to assist me might perhaps carry you a little too far.
Please do not misunderstand me. I don't mean that you would say anything
imprudent, but as you are kind enough to say that you really desire this
match, it will be very natural for you to show your interest in it to a
degree that would arouse Miss March's opposition."

"Yes, I see," said the old lady, reflectively, "she'd suspect what was
at the bottom of my interest. She's a sharp one. I've found that out. I
reckon it will be better for me not to meddle with her. I came very near
quarreling with her last night, and that wouldn't do at all."

"You see, madam," said Lawrence, well satisfied that he had succeeded in
warding off the old lady's offer without offending her, "that I do not
want any one to go to Miss March and make a proposal for me. I could do
that in a letter. But I very much object to a letter. In fact it
wouldn't do at all. All I wish is, that some one, by the exercise of a
little female diplomacy, should induce her to let me speak to her. Now,
I think that Mrs Null might do this, very well."

"That is so," said the old lady, who, having now finished her bandaging,
was seated on a chair by the fireplace. "My niece is smart and quick,
and could do this thing for you just as well as not. But she has her
quips and her cranks, like the rest of us. I called her out of the room
last night to know why she didn't back me up better about the whist
party, and she said she couldn't see why a gentleman, who hadn't been
confined to the house for quite a whole day, should be so desperately
lonely that people must go to his room to play whist with him. It seemed
to me exactly as if she thought that Mr Null wouldn't like it. Mr Null
indeed! As if his wishes and desires were to be considered in my house!
I never mention that man now, and Annie does not speak of him either.
What I want is that he shall stay away just as long as he will; and if
he will only stay away long enough to make his absence what the law
calls desertion, I'll have those two divorced before they know it. Can
you tell me, sir, how long a man must stay away from his wife before he
can be legally charged with desertion?"

"No, madam, I can not," said Lawrence. "The laws, I believe, differ in
the various States."

"Well, I'm going to make it my business to find out all about it," said
Mrs Keswick. "Mr Brandon has promised to attend to this matter for me,
and I must write to him, to know what he has been doing. Well, Mrs Null
and Miss March seem to be very good friends, and I dare say my niece
could manage things so as to give you the chance you want. I'll go to
the house now, and send her over to you, so that you can tell her what
you want her to say or do."

"Do you think she will come, madam?" asked Lawrence.

The old lady rose to her feet, and knitted her brows until something
like a perpendicular mouth appeared on her forehead. "No," said she,
"now I come to think of it I don't believe she will. In fact I know she
won't. Bother take it all, sir! What these young women want is a good
whipping. Nothing else will ever bring them to their senses. What
possible difference could it make to Mr Null whether she came to you and
took a message for you, or whether she didn't come; especially in a case
like this, when you can't walk, or go to anybody?"

"I don't think it ought to make any difference whatever," said Lawrence.
"In fact I don't believe it would."

"It's no use talking about it, Mr Croft," said the old lady, moving
toward the door. "I can go to my niece and talk to her, but the first
thing I'd know I'd blaze out at her, and then, as like as not, she'd
blaze back again, and then the next thing would be that she'd pack up
her things and go off to hunt up her fertilizer agent. And that mustn't
be. I don't want to get myself in any snarls, just now. There is nothing
for you to do, Mr Croft, but to wait till it clears off, so that dainty
young woman can come out of doors, and then I think I can manage it so
that you can get a chance to speak to her."

"I am very much obliged to you," said Lawrence. "I suppose I must wait."

"I'll see that Isham brings you a lot of dry hickory, so that you can
have a cheerful fire, even if you can't have cheerful company," said Mrs
Keswick, as she closed the door after her.

Lawrence looked through the window at the sky, which gave no promise of
clearing. And then he gazed into the fire, and considered his case. He
had spent a large portion of his life in considering his case, and,
therefore, the operation was a familiar one to him. This time the case
was not a satisfactory one. Everything in this love affair with Miss
March had gone on in a manner in which he had not intended, and of which
he greatly disapproved. No one in the world could have planned the
affair more prudently than he had planned it. He had been so careful not
to do anything rash, that he had, at first, concealed, even from the
lady herself, the fact that he was in love with her, and nothing could
be farther from his thoughts and desires than that any one else should
know of it. And yet, how had it all turned out? He had taken into his
confidence Mr Junius Keswick, Mr Brandon, old Mrs Keswick, Mrs Null, as
she wished to be called, and almost lastly, the lady herself. "If I
should lay bare my heart to the colored man, Isham," he said to himself,
"and the old centenarian in the cabin down there, I believe there would
be no one else to tell. Oh, yes, there is Candy, and the anti-detective.
By rights, they ought to know." He did not include the good little Peggy
in this category, because he was not aware that there was such a person.

After about an hour of these doleful cogitations, he again turned to
look out of his front window, which commanded a view of the larger
house, when he saw, coming down the steps of the porch, a not very tall
figure, wrapped in a waterproof cloak, with the hood drawn over its
head. He did not see the face of the figure, but he thought from the
light way in which it moved that it was Mrs Null; and when it stepped
upon the grass and turned its head, he saw that he was right.

"Can her aunt have induced her to come to me?" was Lawrence's first
thought. But his second was very different, for she began to walk toward
the large gate which led out of the yard. Instantly Lawrence rose, and
hopped on one foot to the window, where he tapped loudly on the glass.
The lady turned, and then he threw up the sash.

"Won't you step here, please?" he called out.

Without answering, she immediately came over the wet grass to the
window.

"I have something to say to you," he said, "and I don't want to keep you
standing in the rain. Won't you come inside for a few minutes?"

"No, thank you," said she. "I don't mind a slight rain like this. I
have lived so long in the city that I can't imagine how country people
can bear to shut themselves in, when it happens to be a little wet. I
can't stand it, and I am going out for a walk." "It is a very sensible
thing to do," said Lawrence, "and I wish I could go with you and have a
good long talk."

"What about?" said she.

"About Miss March."

"Well, I am rather tired of that subject," she said, "and so I reckon it
is just as well that you should stay here by your fire--I see you have
one there--and that I should take my walk by myself."

"Mrs Null," said Lawrence, "I want to implore you to do a favor for me.
I don't see how it can be disagreeable to you, and I am sure it will
confer the greatest possible obligation upon me."

"What is it?" she asked.

"I want you to go to Miss March, and endeavor, in some way--you will
know how, better than I can tell you--to induce her to let me have a few
words with her. If it is only here at this open window it will do."

Mrs Null laughed. "Imagine," she said, "a woman putting on a waterproof
and overshoes, and coming out in the rain, to stand with an umbrella
over her head, to be proposed to! That would be the funniest proceeding
I ever heard of!"

Lawrence could not help smiling, though he was not in the mood for it.
"It may seem amusing to you," he said, "but I am very much in earnest. I
am in constant fear that she will go away while I am confined to this
house. Do you know how long she intends to stay?"

"She has not told me," was the answer.

"If you will carry it," he said, "I will give you a message for her."

"Why don't you write it?" said Miss Annie.

"I don't want to write anything," he said. "I should not know how it had
been received, nor would it be likely to get me any satisfaction. I want
a live, sympathetic medium, such as you are. Won't you do this favor for
me?"

"No, I won't," said Miss Annie, her very decided tone appearing to give
a shade of paleness to her features. "How often must I tell you that I
will not help you in this thing?"

"I would not ask you," said Lawrence, "if I could help myself."

"It is not right that you should ask me any more," she said. "I am not
in favor of your coming here to court Miss March, while my cousin is
away, and I should feel like a traitor if I helped you at all,
especially if I were to carry messages to her. Of course, I am very
sorry for you, shut up here, and I will do anything I can to make you
more comfortable and contented; but what you ask is too hard for me."
And, as she said this, a little air of trouble came into the large eyes
with which she was steadfastly regarding him. "I don't want to seem
unkind to you, and I wish you would ask me something that I can do for
you. I'll walk down to Howlett's and get you anything you may like to
have. I'll bring you a lot of novels which I found in the house, and
which I expect, anyway, you will like better than those old-time books.
And I'll cook you anything that is in the cook-book. But I really cannot
go wooing for you, and if you ask me to do that, every time I come near
you, I really must--"

"My dear Mrs Null," interrupted Lawrence, "I promise not to say any more
to you on this subject. I see it is distasteful to you, and I beg your
pardon for having mentioned it so often. You have been very kind to me,
indeed, and I should be exceedingly sorry to do anything to offend you.
It would be very bad for me to lose one of my friends, now that I am
shut up in this box, and feel so very dependent."

"Oh, indeed," said Miss Annie. "But I suppose if you were able to step
around, as you used to do, it wouldn't matter whether you offended me or
not."

"Mrs Null," said Lawrence, "you know I did not mean anything like that.
Do you intend to be angry with me, no matter what I say?"

"Not a bit of it," she answered, with a little smile that brought back
to her face that warm brightness which had grown upon it since she had
come down here. "I haven't the least wish in the world to be angry with
you, and I promise you I won't be, provided you'll stop everlastingly
asking me to go about helping you to make love to people."

Lawrence laughed. "Very good," said he. "I have promised to ask nothing
more of that sort. Let us shake hands on it."

He stretched his hand from the window, and Miss Annie withdrew from the
folds of her waterproof a very soft and white little hand, and put it
into his. "And now I must be off," she said. "Are you certain you don't
want anything from the store at Howlett's?"

"Surely, you are not going as far as that," he said.

"Not if you don't want anything," she answered. "Have you tobacco enough
to last through your imprisonment? They keep it."

"Now, miss," said Lawrence; "do you want to make me angry by supposing I
would smoke any tobacco that they sell in that country store?"

"It ought to be better than any other," said Miss Annie. "They grow it
in the fields all about here, and the storekeepers can get it perfectly
fresh and pure, and a great deal better for you, no doubt, than the
stuff they manufacture in the cities."

"When you learn to smoke," said Lawrence, "your opinion concerning
tobacco will be more valuable."

"Thank you," she said, "and I will wait till then before I give you any
more of it. Good morning." And away she went.

Lawrence shut down the window, and hopped back to the fire. "There is my
last chance gone," said he to himself. "I suppose I may as well take old
Mrs Keswick's advice, and wait for fair weather. But, even then, who can
say what sort of sky Roberta March will show?" And, not being able to
answer this question, he put two fresh sticks on the fire, and then
sedately sat and watched their gradual annihilation. As for Miss Annie,
she took her walk, and stepped along the road as lightly and blithely as
if the skies had been blue, and the sun shining; and almost before she
knew it, she had reached the store at Howlett's. Ascending the high
steps to the porch, quite deserted on this damp, unpleasant morning, she
entered the store, the proprietor of which immediately jumped up from
the mackerel kit at the extreme end of the room, where he had been
sitting in converse with some of his neighbors, and hurried behind the
counter.

"Have you any tea," said Miss Annie, "better than the kind which you
usually sell to Mrs Keswick?"

"No, ma'am," said he. "We send her the very best tea we have."

"I am not finding fault with it," she said, "but I thought you might
have some extra kind, more expensive than people usually buy for common
use."

"No, ma'am," said he, "there is fancy teas of that kind, but you'd have
to send to Philadelphia or New York for them."

"How long would that take?" she asked.

"I reckon it would be four or five days before you'd get it, ma'am,"
said the storekeeper.

"I am afraid," said Miss Annie, looking reflectively along the counter,
"that that would be too long." And then she turned to go, but suddenly
stopped. "Have you any guava jelly?" she asked.

The man smiled. "We don't have no call for anything as fancy as that,
ma'am," he said. "Is there anything else?"

"Not to-day," answered Miss Annie, after throwing a despairing glance
upon the rolls of calicoes, the coils of clothes-lines, the battered tin
boxes of tea and sugar, the dusty and chimneyless kerosene lamps, and
the long rows of canned goods with their gaudy labels; and then she
departed.

When she had gone, the storekeeper returned to his seat on the mackerel
kit, and was accosted by a pensive neighbor in high boots who sat upon
the upturned end of a case of brogans. "You didn't make no sale that
time, Peckett," said he.

"No," said the storekeeper, "her idees is a little too fancy for our
stock of goods."

"Whar's her husband, anyway?" asked a stout, elderly man in linen
trousers and faded alpaca coat, who was seated on two boxes of pearl
starch, one on top of the other. "I've heard that he was a member of the
legislatur'. Is that so?"

"He's not that, you can take my word for it," said Tom Peckett. "Old
Miss Keswick give me to understand that he was in the fertilizing
business."

"That ought to be a good thing for the old lady," said the man on the
starch boxes. "She'll git a discount off her gwarner."

"I never did see," said the pensive neighbor on the brogan case, "how
such things do git twisted. It was only yesterday that I met a man at
Tyson's Mill, who'd just come over from the Valley, and he said he'd
seen this Mr Noles over thar. He's a hoss doctor, and he's going up
through all the farms along thar."

"I reckon when he gits up as fur as he wants to go," said the man on the
starch boxes, "he'll come here and settle fur awhile."

"That won't be so much help to the old lady," said the storekeeper,
"for it wouldn't pay to keep a neffy-in-law just to doctor one sorrel
horse and a pa'r o' oxen."

"I reckon his wife must be 'spectin' him," said the man on the brogan
case, "from her comin' after fancy vittles."

"If he do come," said the stout, elderly neighbor, "I wish you'd let me
know, Tom Peckett, fur my black mar has got a hitch in her shoulder I
can't understand, and I'd like him to look at her."

The storekeeper smiled at the pensive man, and the pensive man smiled
back at the storekeeper. "You needn't trouble yourself about that young
woman's husband," said Mr Peckett. "There'll be a horse doctor coming
along afore you know it, and he'll attend to that old mar of yourn
without chargin' you a cent."




CHAPTER XXI.


The second afternoon of Lawrence Croft's confinement in the little
building in Mrs Keswick's yard, passed drearily enough. The sky retained
its sombre covering of clouds, and the rain came down in a melancholy,
capricious way, as if it were tears shed by a child who was crying
because it was bad. The monotony of the slowly moving hours was broken
only by a very brief visit from the old lady, who was going somewhere in
the covered spring wagon, and who looked in, before she started, to see
if her patient wanted anything; and by the arrival of a bundle of old
novels sent by Mrs Null. These books Lawrence looked over with
indifferent interest, hoping to find one among them that was not a love
story, but he was disappointed. They were all based upon, and most of
them permeated with, the tender passion, and Lawrence was not in the
mood for reading about that sort of thing. A person afflicted with a
disease is not apt to find agreeable occupation in reading hospital
reports upon his particular ailment.

The novels were put aside, and although Lawrence felt that he had smoked
almost too much during that day, he was about to light another cigar,
when he heard a carriage drive into the yard. Turning to the window he
saw a barouche, evidently a hired one, drawn by a pair of horses, very
lean and bony, but with their heads reined up so high that they had an
appearance of considerable spirit, and driven by a colored man, sitting
upon a very elevated seat, with a jaunty air and a well-worn whip. The
carriage drove over the grass to the front of the house--there was no
roadway in the yard, the short, crisp, tough grass having long resisted
the occasional action of wheels and hoofs--and there stopping, a
gentleman, with a valise, got out. He paid the driver, who immediately
turned the vehicle about, and drove away. The gentleman put his foot
upon the bottom step as if he were about to ascend, and then, apparently
changing his mind, he picked up his valise, and came directly toward the
office, drawing a key from his pocket as he walked. It was Junius
Keswick, and in a few minutes his key was heard in the lock. As it was
not locked the key merely rattled, and Lawrence called out: "Come in."
The door opened, and Junius looked in, evidently surprised. "I beg your
pardon," said he, "I didn't know you were in here."

"Please walk in," said Lawrence. "I know I am occupying your room, and
it is I who should ask your pardon. But you see the reason why it was
thought well that I should not have stairs to ascend." And he pointed to
his bandaged foot.

"Have you hurt yourself?" asked Junius, with an air of concern.

And then Lawrence gave an account of his accident, expressing at the
same time his regret that he found himself occupying the room which
belonged to the other.

"Oh, don't mention that," said Junius, who had taken a seat near the
window. "There are rooms enough in the house, and I shall be perfectly
comfortable. It was quite right in my aunt to have you brought in here,
and I should have insisted upon it, myself, if I had been at home. I
expected to be away for a week or more, but I have now come back on
account of your letter."

"Does that need explanation?" asked Lawrence.

"Not at all," said Junius. "I had no difficulty in understanding it,
although I must say that it surprised me. But I came because I am not
satisfied with the condition of things here, and I wish to be on the
spot. I do not understand why you and Miss March should be invited here
during my absence."

"That I do not understand either," said Lawrence, quickly, "and I wish
to impress it on your mind, Mr Keswick, that when I came here, I not
only expected to find you, but a party of invited guests. I will say,
however, that I came with the express intention of meeting Miss March,
and having that interview with her which I could not have in her uncle's
house."

"I was not entirely correct," said Junius, "when I said that I did not
know why these rather peculiar arrangements had been made. My aunt is a
very managing person, and I think I perceive her purpose in this piece
of management." "She is opposed to a marriage between you and Miss
March?"

"Most decidedly," said Junius. "Has she told you so?"

"No," said Lawrence, "but it has gradually dawned upon me that such is
the case. I believe she would be glad to have Miss March married, and
out of your way."

Junius made no answer to this remark, but sat silent for a few moments.
Then he said: "Well, have you settled it with Miss March?"

"No, I have not," said Lawrence. "If the matter had been decided, one
way or the other, I should not be here. I have no right to trespass on
your aunt's hospitality, and I should have departed as soon as I had
discovered Miss March's sentiments in regard to me. But I have not been
able to settle the matter, at all. I had one opportunity of seeing the
lady, and that was not a satisfactory interview. Yesterday morning, I
made another attempt, but before I could get to her I sprained my ankle.
And here I am; I can not go to her, and, of course, she will not come to
me. You cannot imagine how I chafe under this harassing restraint."

"I can imagine it very easily," said Junius.

"The only thing I have to hope for," said Lawrence, "is that to-morrow
may be a fine day, and that the lady may come outside and give me the
chance of speaking to her at this open door."

Junius smiled grimly. "It appears to me," he said, "as if it were likely
to rain for several days. But now I must go into the house and see the
family. I hope you believe me, sir, when I say I am sorry to find you in
your present predicament."

"Yes," said Lawrence, smiling, although he did not feel at all gay,
"for, otherwise, I might have been finally rejected and far away."

"If you had been rejected," said Junius, "I should have been very glad,
indeed, to have you stay with us."

"Thank you," said Lawrence.

"I will look in upon you again," said Junius, as he left the room.

Lawrence's mind, which had been in a very unpleasant state of troubled
restiveness for some days, was now thrown into a sad turmoil by this
arrival of Junius Keswick. As he saw that tall and good-looking young
man going up the steps of the house porch, with his valise in his hand,
he clinched both his fists as they rested on the arm of his chair, and
objurgated the anti-detective.

"If it had not been for that rascal," he said to himself, "I should not
have written to Keswick, and he would not have thought of coming back at
this untimely moment. The only advantage I had was a clear coast, and
now that is gone. Of course Keswick was frightened when he found I was
staying in the same house with Roberta March, and hurried back to attend
to his own interests. The first thing he will do now will be to propose
to her himself; and, as they have been engaged once, it is as like as
not she will take him again. If I could use this foot, I would go into
the house, this minute, and have the first word with her." At this he
rose to his feet and made a step with his sprained ankle, but the sudden
pain occasioned by this action caused him to sit down again with a
groan. Lawrence Croft was not a man to do himself a physical injury
which might be permanent, if such doing could possibly be avoided, and
he gave up the idea of trying to go into the house.

"I tell you what it is, Letty," said Uncle Isham, when he returned to
the kitchen after having carried Lawrence's supper to him, "dat ar
Mister Croft in de offis is a gittin wuss an' wuss in he min', ebery
day. I neber seed a man more pow'ful glowerin' dan he is dis ebenin."

"I reckin' he j'ints is healin' up," said Letty. "Dey tells me dat de
healin' pains mos' gen'rally runs into de min'."

About nine o'clock in the evening Junius Keswick paid Lawrence a visit;
and, taking a seat by one side of the fireplace, accepted the offer of a
cigar.

"How are things going on in the house?" asked Lawrence.

"Well," said Keswick, speaking slowly, "as you know so much of our
family affairs, I might as well tell you that they are in a somewhat
upset condition. When I went in, I saw, at first, no one but my cousin,
and she seemed so extraordinarily glad to see me that I thought
something must be wrong, somewhere; and when my aunt returned--she was
not at home when I arrived--she was thrown into such a state of mind on
seeing me, that I didn't know whether she was going to order me out of
the house or go herself. But she restrained herself, wonderfully,
considering her provocation, for, of course, I have entirely disordered
her plans by appearing here, when she had arranged everything for you to
have Miss March to yourself. But, so far, the peace has been kept
between us, although she scarcely speaks to me."

"And Miss March?" said Lawrence. "You have seen her?"

"Yes," said Junius, "I saw her at supper, and for a short time
afterwards, but she soon retired to her room."

"Do you think she was disturbed by your return?" asked Lawrence.

"I won't say that," said Junius, "but she was certainly not herself. Mrs
Null tells me that she expects to go home to-morrow morning, having
written to her uncle to send for her."

"That is bad, bad, very bad," said Lawrence.

After that there was a pause in the conversation, during which Mr Croft,
with brows very much knit, gazed steadfastly into the fire. "Mr
Keswick," he said presently, "what you tell me fills me with
consternation. It is quite plain that I shall have no chance to see Miss
March, and, as there is no one else in the world who will do it for me,
I am going to ask you to go to her, to-morrow morning, and speak to her
in my behalf."

When this had been said, Junius Keswick dropped his cigar upon the
floor, and sat up very straight in his chair, gazing fixedly at
Lawrence. "Upon my word!" he said, "I knew you were a cool man, but that
request freezes my imagination. I cannot conceive how any man can ask
another to try to win for him a lady whom he knows the other man
desires to win for himself. You have made some requests before that
were rather astounding, but this one overshadows them all."

"I admit," said Lawrence, "that what I ask is somewhat out of the way,
but you must consider the circumstances. Suppose I had met you in mortal
combat, and I had dropped my sword where you could reach it and I could
not; would you pick it up and give it to me? or would you run me
through?"

"I don't think that comparison is altogether a good one," said Junius.

"Yes, it is," said Lawrence, "and covers the case entirely. I am here,
disabled, and if you pick up my sword, as I have just asked you to do,
it is not to be assumed that your action gives me the victory. It merely
gives me an equal chance with yourself."

"Do you mean," said Junius, "that you want me to go to Miss March, and
deliberately ask her if she will marry you?"

"No," said Lawrence, "I have done that myself. But there are certain
points in regard to which I want to be set right with Miss March. And
now I wish you to understand me, Mr Keswick. I speak to you, not only as
a generous and honorable man, which I have found you to be, but as a
rival. I cannot believe that you would be willing to profit by my
present disadvantages, and, as I have said two or three times before, it
would certainly be for your interest, as a suitor for the lady, to have
this matter settled."

"Wouldn't it be better, then," said Junius, "if I were to go
immediately, and speak to her for myself?"

"No," said Lawrence, "I don't think that would settle the affair at all.
From what I understand of your relations with Miss March, she knows you
are her lover, and yet she neither accepts nor declines you. If you were
to go to her now, it is not likely she would give you any definite
answer. But in regard to me, it would be different. She would say yes or
no. And if she made the latter answer I think you could walk over the
course. I am not vain enough to say that I have been an obstacle to your
success, but I assure you that I have tried very hard to make myself
such an obstacle."

"It seems to me," said Junius, imitating his companion in the matter of
knitting his brows and gazing into the fire, "that this affair could be
managed very simply. Miss March is not going at the break of day. Why
don't you contrive to see her before she starts, and say for yourself
what you have to say?"

"Nothing would please me better than that," said Croft, "but I don't
believe she would give me any chance to speak with her. Since my
accident, she has persistently and pointedly refused to grant me even
the shortest interview."

"That ought to prove to you," said Keswick, "that she does not desire
your attentions. You should consider it as a positive answer."

"Not at all," said Lawrence, "not at all. And I don't think you would
consider it a positive answer if you were in my place. I think she has
taken some offence which is entirely groundless, and if you will consent
to act for me it will enable me to set straight this misunderstanding."

"Confound it!" exclaimed Keswick. "Can't you write to her? or get some
one else to take your love messages?"

"No," said Lawrence, "I cannot write to her, for I am not sure that
under the circumstances she would answer my letter. And I have already
asked Mrs Null, the only other person I could ask, to speak for me, but
she has declined."

"By the Lord Harry!" exclaimed Junius, "you are the rarest wooer I ever
heard of."

"I assure you," said Lawrence, his face flushing somewhat, "that it is
not my desire to carry on my wooing in this fashion. My whole soul is
opposed to it, but circumstances will have it so. And as I don't intend,
if I can help it, to have my life determined by circumstances, I must go
ahead in despite of them, although I admit that it makes the road very
rough."

"I should think it would," said Junius. And then there was a pause in
the conversation.

"Well, Mr Keswick," said Lawrence, presently, "Will you do this thing
for me?"

"Am I to understand," said Junius, "that if I don't do it, it won't be
done?"

"Yes," said Lawrence, "you are positively my last chance. I have racked
my brains to think of some other way of presenting my case to Miss
March, but there is no other way. I might stand at my door, and call to
her as she entered the carriage, but that would be the height of
absurdity. I might hop on one foot into the house, but, even if I wished
to present myself in that way, I don't believe I could get up that long
flight of steps. It would be worse than useless to write, for I should
not know what was thought of my letter, or even if it had been read. Mrs
Keswick cannot carry my message; Mrs Null will not; and I have only you
to call upon. I know it is a great deal to ask, but it means so much to
me--to both of us, in fact--that I ask it."

"You were kind enough to say a little while ago," said Junius, "that you
considered me an honorable man. I try to be such, and, therefore, will
frankly state to you that I can think of but three motives, satisfactory
to myself, for undertaking this business for you, and not one of them is
a generous one. In the first place, I might care to do it in order to
have this matter settled, for you are such an extraordinary suitor, that
I don't know in what form you may turn up, the next time. Secondly, from
what you tell me of Miss March's repugnance to meet you, I don't believe
my mission will have an issue favorable to you, and the more
unfavorable it is, the better I shall like it. My third reason for
acting for you is, that the whole affair is such an original one that it
will rather interest me to be engaged in it. This last reason would not
hold, however, if I had the least expectation of being successful."

"You consent then?" said Lawrence, quickly, turning towards the other.
"You'll go to Miss March for me?"

"Yes, I think I will," said Junius, "if you will accept the services of
a man who is decidedly opposed to your interests."

"Of course I never expected you to favor them," said Lawrence, "nor is
it necessary that you should. All I ask is, that you carry a message to
Miss March, and if she needs any explanation of it, that you will
explain in the way that I shall indicate; that you shall tell me how she
received my message; and that you shall bring me back her answer. There
is no need of your making any proposition to her; that has already been
done; what I want is, that she should not go away from here with a
misunderstanding between us, and that she shall give me at least the
promise of a hearing."

"Very good," said Junius, "now, what is it that you want me to say?"

This was not an easy question for Lawrence to answer. He knew very well
what he wanted to say, if he had a chance of saying it himself. He
wanted to pour his whole heart out to Roberta March, and, showing her
its present passion, to ask her to forgive those days in which his mind
only had appeared to be engaged. He believed he could say things that
would force from her the pardon of his previous short-comings, if she
considered them as such. She had been very gracious to him in time past,
and he did not see why she should not be still more gracious now, if he
could remove the feelings of resentment, which he believed were
occasioned by her womanly insight into the motives of his conduct toward
her, during those delightful summer days at Midbranch.

But to get another person to say all this was a very different thing. He
was sure, however, that if it were not said now, it would never be said.
It would be death to all his hopes if Miss March went away, feeling
towards him as she now felt; therefore he stiffened his purpose which
was quite used to being stiffened; hardened his sensibilities; and took
his plunge. Gazing steadfastly at the back of the fireplace while he
spoke, he endeavored to make Junius Keswick understand the nature, and
the probable force of the objections to his line of action as a suitor,
which had grown up in the mind of Miss March; and he also endeavored to
show how completely and absolutely he had been changed by the vigor and
ardor of his present affection; and how he was entitled to be considered
by Miss March as a lover who had but one thought and purpose, and that
was to win her; and, as such, he asked her to give him an opportunity to
renew his proposal to her. "Now, then," said Lawrence, "I have placed
the case before you, and I beg you will present it, as nearly as
possible, in the form in which I have given it to you."

"Mr Croft," said Junius, "this case of yours is worse than I thought it
was. What woman of spirit would accept a man who admitted, that during
the whole of his acquaintance with her he had had his doubts in regard
to suitability, etc., but who, when a crisis arrived, and another man
turned up, had determined to overlook all his objections and take her,
anyway."

"That is a very cold-blooded way of putting it," said Lawrence, "and I
don't believe at all that she will look upon it in that light. If you
will set the matter before her as I have put it to you, I believe she
will see it as I wish her to see it."

"Very well," said Junius, rising, and taking out his watch, "I will make
your statement as accurately as I can, and without any interpretations
of my own. And now I must bid you good-night. I had no idea it was after
twelve o'clock."

"And you will observe her moods?" asked Lawrence.

"Yes," said Junius as he opened the door, "I will carefully observe her
moods."

When Junius had gone, Lawrence turned his face again toward the
fireplace, where the last smouldering stick had just broken apart in the
middle, and the two ends had wearily fallen over the andirons as if they
wished it understood that they could do no more burning that night.
Taking this as a hint, Lawrence prepared to retire. "Old Isham must have
gone to bed long ago," he said, "but as I have asked for so much
assistance to-day, I think it is well that I should try to do some
things for myself."

It was, indeed, very late, but behind the partially closed shutters of a
lower room of the house sat old Mrs Keswick, gazing at the light that
was streaming from the window of the office, and wondering what those
two men were saying to each other that was keeping them sitting up
together until after midnight.

Annie Peyton, too, had not gone to bed, and looking through her chamber
window at the office, she hoped that cousin Junius would come away
before he lost his temper. Of course she thought he must have been very
angry when he came home and found Mr Croft here at the only time that
Roberta March had ever visited the house, and it was quite natural that
he should go to his rival, and tell him what he thought about it. But he
had been there a long, long time, and she did hope they would not get
very angry with each other, and that nothing would happen. One thought
comforted her very much. Mr Croft was disabled, and Junius would scorn
to take advantage of a man in that condition.

At an upper window, at the other end of the house, sat Roberta March,
ready for bed, but with no intention of going there until Junius Keswick
had come out of the office. Knowing the two men as she did, she had no
fear that any harm would come to either of them during this long
conference, whatever its subject might be. That she, herself, was that
subject she had not the slightest doubt, and although it was of no
earthly use for her to sit there and gaze upon that light streaming into
the darkness of the yard, but revealing to her no more of what was going
on inside the room than if it had been the light of a distant star,
still she sat and speculated. At last the office door opened, and Junius
came out, turning to speak to the occupant of the room as he did so. The
brief vision of him which the watchers caught, as he stood for a moment
in the lighted doorway before stepping out into the darkness, showed
that his demeanor was as quiet and composed as usual; and one of the
three women went to bed very much relieved.