When Lawrence Croft now took his afternoon walks in the city, he was
very glad to wear a light overcoat, and to button it, too. But, although
the air was getting a little nipping in New York, he knew that it must
still be balmy and enjoyable in Virginia. He had never been down there
at this season, but he had heard about the Virginia autumns, and,
besides he had seen a lady who had had a letter from Roberta March. In
this letter Miss March had written that as her father intended making a
trip to Texas, and, therefore, would not come to New York as early as
usual, she would stay at least a month longer with her Uncle Brandon;
and she was glad to do it, for the weather was perfectly lovely, and she
could stay out-of-doors all day if she wanted to.
Lawrence's walks, although very invigorating on account of the fine,
sharp air, were not entirely cheering, for they gave him an opportunity
to think that he was making no progress whatever in his attempt to study
the character of Junius Keswick. He had entrusted the search for that
gentleman's address to Mr Candy's cashier, who had informed him, most
opportunely, that she was about to set out on a wedding tour, and that
she had possessed herself of clues of much value which could be readily
followed up in connection with the projected journey. But a fortnight or
more had elapsed without his hearing anything from her, and he had come
to the conclusion that hymeneal joys must have driven all thoughts of
business out of her little head.
After hearing that Roberta March intended protracting her stay in the
country the desire came to him to go down there himself. He would like
to have the novel experience of that region in autumn, and he would like
to see Roberta, but he could not help acknowledging to himself that the
proceeding would scarcely be a wise one, especially as he must go
without the desired safeguard of knowing what kind of man Miss March had
once been willing to accept. He felt that if he went down to the
neighborhood of Midbranch one of the battles of his life would begin,
and that when he held up before him his figurative shield, he would see
in its inner mirror that, on account of his own disposition toward the
lady, he was in a condition of great peril. But, for all that, he wanted
very much to go, and no one will be surprised to learn that he did go.
He was a little embarrassed at first in regard to the pretext which he
should make to himself for such a journey. Whatever satisfactory excuse
he could make to himself in this case would, of course, do for other
people. Although he was not prone to make excuses for his conduct to
other people in general, he knew he would have to give some reason to Mr
Brandon and Miss Roberta for his return to Virginia so soon after having
left it. He determined to make a visit to the mountains of North
Carolina, and as Midbranch would lie in his way, of course he
would stop there. This he assured himself was not a subterfuge.
It was a very sensible thing to do. He had a good deal of time
on his hands before the city season, at least for him, would begin,
and he had read that the autumn was an admirable time to visit the
country of the French Broad. How long a stop he would make at Midbranch
would be determined by circumstances. He was sorry that he would not be
able to look upon Miss Roberta with the advantage of knowing her former
lover, but it was something to know that she had had a lover. With this
fact in his mind he would be able to form a better estimate of her than
he had formed before.
The man who lived in the cottage at the Green Sulphur Springs was
somewhat surprised when Mr Croft arrived there, and desired to make
arrangements, as before, for board, and the use of a saddle horse. But,
although it was not generally conceded, this man knew very well that
there was no water in the world so suitable to remedy the wear and tear
of a city life as that of the Green Sulphur Springs, and therefore
nobody could consider the young gentleman foolish for coming back again
while the season permitted.
Lawrence arrived at his cottage in the morning; and early in the
afternoon of the same day he rode over to Midbranch. He found the
country a good deal changed, and he did not like the changes. His road,
which ran for much of its distance through the woods, was covered with
leaves, some green, and some red and yellow, and he did not fancy the
peculiar smell of these leaves, which reminded him, in some way, of that
gathering together of the characters in old-fashioned comedies shortly
before the fall of the curtain. In many places where there used to be a
thick shade, the foliage was now quite thin, and through it he could see
a good deal of the sky. The Virginia creepers, or "poison oaks,"
whichever they were, were growing red upon the trunks of the trees as if
they had been at table too long and showed it, and when he rode out of
the woods he saw that the fields, which he remembered as wide, swelling
slopes of green, with cattle and colts feeding here and there, were now
being ploughed into corrugated stretches of monotonous drab and brown.
If he had been there through all the gradual changes of the season, he,
probably, would have enjoyed them as much as people ordinarily do; but
coming back in this way, the altered landscape slightly shocked him.
When he had turned into the Midbranch gate, but was still a considerable
distance from the house, he involuntarily stopped his horse. He could
see the broad steps which crossed the fence of the lawn, and on one side
of the platform on the top sat a lady whom he instantly recognized as
Miss Roberta; and on the other side of the platform sat a gentleman.
These two occupied very much the same positions as Lawrence, himself,
and Miss March had occupied when we first became acquainted with them.
Lawrence looked very sharply and earnestly at the gentleman. Could it be
Mr Brandon? No, it was a much younger person.
His first impulse was to turn and ride away, but this would be silly and
unmanly, and he continued his way to the stile. His disposition to treat
the matter with contempt made him feel how important the matter was to
him. The gentleman on the platform first saw Lawrence, and announced to
the lady that some one was coming. Miss March turned around, and then
rose to her feet.
"Upon my word!" she exclaimed, elevating her eyebrows a good deal more
than was usual with her, "if that isn't Mr Croft!"
"Who is he?" asked the other, also rising.
"He is a New York gentleman whom I know very well. He was down here last
summer, but I can't imagine what brings him here again."
Lawrence dismounted, tied his horse, and approached the steps. Miss
Roberta welcomed him cordially, coming down a little way to shake hands
with him. Then she introduced the two gentlemen.
"Mr Croft," she said, "let me make you acquainted with Mr Keswick."
The afternoon, or the portion of it that was left, was spent on the
porch, Mr Brandon joining the party. It was to him that Lawrence chiefly
talked, for the most part about the game and scenery of North Carolina,
with which the old gentleman was quite familiar. But Lawrence had
sufficient regard for himself and his position in the eyes of this
family, to help make a good deal of general conversation. What he said
or heard, however, occupied only the extreme corners of his mind, the
main portion of which was entirely filled with the chilling fear that
that man might be the Keswick he was looking for. Of course, there was a
bare chance that it was not, for there might be a numerous family, but
even this little stupid glimmer of comfort was extinguished when Mr
Brandon familiarly addressed the gentleman as "Junius."
Lawrence took a good look at the man he was anxious to study, and as far
as outward appearances were concerned he could find no fault with
Roberta for having accepted him. He was taller than Croft, and not so
correctly dressed. He seemed to be a person whom one would select as a
companion for a hunt, a sail, or a talk upon Political Economy. There
was about him an air of present laziness, but it was also evident that
this was a disposition that could easily be thrown off.
Lawrence's mind was not only very much occupied, but very much
perturbed. It must have been all a mistake about the engagement having
been broken off. If this had been the case, the easy friendliness of the
relations between Keswick and the old gentleman and his niece would have
been impossible. Once or twice the thought came to Lawrence that he
should congratulate himself for not having avowed his feelings toward
Miss Roberta when he had an opportunity of doing so; but his
predominant emotion was one of disgust with his previous mode of action.
If he had not weighed and considered the matter so carefully, and had
been willing to take his chances as other men take them, he would, at
least, have known in what relation he stood to Roberta, and would not
have occupied the ridiculous position in which he now felt himself to
be.
When he took his leave, Roberta went with him to the stile. As they
walked together across the smooth, short grass, a new set of emotions
arose in Lawrence's mind which drove out every other. They were grief,
chagrin, and even rage, at not having won this woman. As to actual
speech, there was nothing he could say, although his soul boiled and
bubbled within him in his desire to speak. But if he had anything to
say, now was his chance, for he had told them that he would proceed with
his journey the next day.
Miss Roberta had a way of looking up, and looking down at the same time,
particularly when she had asked a question and was waiting for the
answer. Her face would be turned a little down, but her eyes would look
up and give a very charming expression to those upturned eyes; and if
she happened to allow the smile, with which she ceased speaking, to
remain upon her pretty lips, she generally had an answer of some sort
very soon. If for no other reason, it would be given that she might ask
another question. It was in this manner she said to Lawrence: "Do you
really go away from us to-morrow?"
"Yes," said he, "I shall push on."
"Do you not find the country very beautiful at this season?" asked Miss
Roberta, after a few steps in silence.
"I don't like autumn," answered Lawrence. "Everything is drying up and
dying. I would rather see things dead."
Roberta looked at him without turning her head. "But it will be just as
bad in North Carolina," she said.
"There is an autumn in ourselves," he answered, "just as much as there
is in Nature. I won't see so much of that down there."
"In some cases," said Roberta, slowly, "autumn is impossible."
They had reached the bottom of the steps, and Lawrence turned and looked
toward her. "Do you mean," he asked, "when there has been no real
summer?"
Roberta laughed. "Of course," said she, "if there has been no summer
there can be no autumn. But you know there are places where it is summer
all the time. Would you like to live in such a clime?"
Lawrence Croft put one foot on the step, and then he drew it back. "Miss
March," said he, "my train does not leave until the afternoon, and I am
coming over here in the morning to have one more walk in the woods with
you. May I?"
"Certainly," she said, "I shall be delighted; that is, if you can
overlook the fact that it is autumn."
When Miss Roberta returned to the house she found Junius Keswick
sitting on a bench on the porch. She went over to him, and took a seat
at the other end of the bench.
"So your gentleman is gone," he said.
"Yes," she answered, "but only for the present. He is coming back in the
morning."
"What for?" asked Keswick, a little abruptly.
Miss Roberta took off her hat, for there was no need of a hat on a
shaded porch, and holding it by the ribbons, she let it gently slide
down toward her feet. "He is coming," she said, speaking rather slowly,
"to take a walk with me, and I know very well that when we have reached
some place where he is sure there is no one to hear him, he is going to
tell me that he loves me; that he did not intend to speak quite so soon,
but that circumstances have made it impossible for him to restrain
himself any longer, and he will ask me to be his wife."
"And what are you going to say to him?" asked Keswick.
"I don't know," replied Roberta, her eyes fixed upon the hat which she
still held by its long ribbons.
The next morning Junius Keswick, who had been up a long, long time
before breakfast, sat, after that meal, looking at Roberta who was
reading a book in the parlor. "She is a strange girl," thought he. "I
cannot understand her. How is it possible that she can sit there so
placidly reading that volume of Huxley, which I know she never saw
before and which she has opened just about the middle, on a morning
when she is expecting a man who will say things to her which may change
her whole life. I could almost imagine that she has forgotten all about
it."
Peggy, who had just entered the room to inform her mistress that Aunt
Judy was ready for her, stood in rigid uprightness, her torpid eyes
settled upon the lady. "I reckon," so ran the thought within the mazes
of her dark little interior, "dat Miss Rob's wuss disgruntled dan she
was dat ebenin' when I make my cake, fur she got two dif'ent kinds o'
shoes on."
The morning went on, and Keswick found that he must go out again for a
walk, although he had rambled several miles before breakfast. After her
household duties had been completed, Miss Roberta took her book out to
the porch; and about noon when her uncle came out and made some remarks
upon the beauty of the day, she turned over the page at which she had
opened the volume just after breakfast. An hour later Peggy brought her
some luncheon, and felt it to be her duty to inform Miss Rob that she
still wore one old boot and a new one. When Roberta returned to the
porch after making a suitable change, she found Keswick there looking a
little tired.
"Has your friend gone?" he asked, in a very quiet tone.
"He has not come yet," she answered.
"Not come!" exclaimed Keswick. "That's odd! However, there are two hours
yet before dinner."
The two hours passed and no Lawrence Croft appeared; nor came he at all
that day. About dusk the man at the Green Sulphur Springs rode over with
a note from Mr Croft. The note was to Miss March, of course, and it
simply stated that the writer was very sorry he could not keep the
appointment he had made with her, but that it had suddenly become
necessary for him to return to the North without continuing the journey
he had planned; that he was much grieved to be deprived of the
opportunity of seeing her again; but that he would give himself the
pleasure, at the earliest possible moment, of calling on Miss March when
she arrived in New York.
When Miss Roberta had read this note she handed it to Keswick, who, when
he returned it, asked: "Does that suit you?"
"No," said she, "it does not suit me at all."