Shortly after Peggy arrived with her mistress at the Keswick
residence, her mind began to be a good deal disturbed. She had been
surprised, when the carriage drew up to the door, that "Mahs' Junius"
had not rushed down to meet his intended bride, and when she found he
was not in the house, and had, indeed, gone away from home, she did not
at all know what to make of it. If Miss Rob took the trouble to travel
all the way to the home of the man that the Midbranch people had decided
she should marry, it was a very wonderful thing, indeed, that he should
not be there to meet her. And while these thoughts were turning
themselves over in the mind of this meditative girl of color, and the
outgoing look in her eyes was extending itself farther and farther, as
if in search of some solution of the mystery, up rode Mr Croft.
"Dar _he!_" exclaimed Peggy, as she stood at the corner of the house
where she had been pursuing her meditations. "He!" she continued in a
voice that would have been quite audible to any one standing near. "Upon
my libin' soul, wot brung him h'yar? Miss Rob don' wan' him round,
nohow. I done druv him off wunst. Upon my libin' soul, he's done brung
his bag behin' him on de saddle, an' I reckon he's gwine to stay."
As Mr Croft dismounted and went into the house, Peggy glowered at him;
sundry expressions, sounding very much like odds and ends of
imprecations which she had picked up in the course of a short but
investigative existence, gurgling from her lips. "I wish dat ole Miss
Keswick kunjer him. Ef she knew how Miss Rob hate him, she curl he legs
up, an' gib him mis'ry spranglin' down he back."
The hope of seeing this intruder well "kunjered" by the old lady was the
only thing that gave a promise of peace to the mind of Peggy; and though
her nature was by no means a social one, she determined to make the
acquaintance of some one or other in the house; hoping to find out how
Mrs Keswick conducted her conjurations; at what time of day or night
they were generally put into operation; and how persons could be brought
under their influence.
The breakfast hour in the Keswick house was a variable one. Sometimes
the mistress of the establishment rose early and wanted her morning meal
before she went out of doors; at other times she would go off to some
distant point on the farm to see about something that was doing or ought
to be done, and breakfast would be kept waiting for her. The delays,
however, were not all due to the old lady's irregular habits. Very often
Letty would come up stairs with the information that the "bread ain't
riz;" and as a Virginia breakfast without hot bread would be an
impossibility, the meal would be postponed until the bread did conclude
to rise, or until some substitute, such as "beaten biscuit" had been
provided.
On the morning after his arrival, Lawrence Croft came down stairs about
eight o'clock, and found the lower part of the house deserted; and
glancing into the dining-room as he passed its open door, he saw no
signs of breakfast. The house was cool, but the sun appeared to be
shining warmly outside, and he stepped out of the open back door into a
small flower garden, with a series of broad boards down the walk which
lay along the middle of it. Up and down this board walk Lawrence strode,
breathing the fresh air, and thinking over matters. He was not at all
satisfied at being here during Keswick's absence, feeling that he was
enjoying an advantage which, although it was quite honorable, did not
appear so. What he had to do was to get an interview with Miss March as
soon as possible, and have that matter over. When he had been definitely
accepted or rejected, he would go away. And, whatever the result might
be, he would write to his rival as soon as he returned to the Springs,
and inform him of it, and would also explain how he had happened to be
here with Miss March. While he was engaged in planning these honorable
intentions, there came from the house Mrs Keswick's niece, with a basket
in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other, and she immediately
applied herself to cutting some geraniums and chrysanthemums, which were
about the last flowers left blooming at that season in the garden. "Good
morning," said Croft, from the other end of the walk. "I am glad to see
you out so early."
"Good morning," she replied, with a look which indicated that she was
not at all glad to see him, "but I don't think it is early."
Croft had noticed on the preceding day that her coolness towards him
still continued, but it did not suit him to let her know that he
perceived it. He went up to her, and in a very friendly way remarked:
"There is something I wish very much you would tell me. What is your
name? It is very odd that during all the time I have been acquainted
with you I have never known your name."
"You must have taken an immense interest in it," she said, as she
snipped some dried leaves off a twig of geranium she had cut.
"It was not that I did not take any interest," said Croft, "but at first
your name never came forward, and I soon began to know you by the title
which your remarkable condition of wedlock gave you."
"And that is the name," said the lady, very decidedly, "by which I am to
be known in this house. I am very proud of my maiden name, but I am not
going to tell it to you for fear that some time you will use it."
"Oh!" ejaculated Mr Croft. "Then I suppose I am to continue even to
think of you as Mrs Null."
"You needn't think of me at all," said she, "but when you speak to me I
most certainly expect you to use that name. It was only by a sort of
accident that you came to know it was not my name." "I don't consider it
an accident at all," said Croft. "I look upon it as a piece of very
kindly confidence."
Miss Annie gave a little twist to her mouth, which seemed to indicate
that if she spoke she should express her contempt of such an opinion,
and Croft continued:
"I am very sorry that upon that occasion I should have felt myself
obliged to refuse your request that I should make you acquainted with my
reasons for desiring to know Mr Keswick's whereabouts. But I am sure, if
you understood the matter, you would not be in the least degree--"
"Oh, you need not trouble yourself about that," she interrupted. "I
don't want you to tell me anything at all. It is quite easy, now, to see
why you wished to know where my cousin was."
"It is impossible that you should know!" exclaimed Croft.
"We will say no more about it," replied Annie. "I am quite satisfied."
"I would give a good deal," said Lawrence, after looking steadily at her
for a few moments, "to know what you really do think."
Annie had cut all the flowers she wanted, or, rather, all she could get;
and she now stood up and looked her companion full in the face. "Mr
Croft," she said, "it has been necessary, and it is necessary now for me
to have some concealments, and I am sorry for it; but it isn't at all
necessary for me to conceal my opinion of your reasons for wanting to
know about Junius. You were really in pursuit of Miss March, and knowing
that he was in love with her, you wanted to make sure that when you
went to her, he wouldn't be there. It is my firm opinion that is all
there is about it; and the fact of your turning up here just after my
cousin left, proves it."
"Miss Annie," exclaimed Croft--"I have heard you called by that name,
and I vow I won't call you Mrs Null, when there is no need for it--you
were never more mistaken in your life, and I am very sorry that you
should have such a low opinion of me as to think I would wish to take
advantage of your cousin during his absence."
"Then why do you do it?" asked Miss Annie, with a little upward pitch of
her chin.
At this moment the breakfast-bell rang, and Mrs Keswick appeared in the
back door, evidently somewhat surprised to see these two conversing in
the garden.
"I am very much vexed," said Lawrence, as he followed his companion, who
had suddenly turned towards the house, "that you should think of me in
this way."
But to this remark Miss Annie had no opportunity to reply.
After breakfast, Mrs Keswick proved the truth of what her niece had said
about her unscrupulous straightforwardness when carrying out her
projects. She had invited Mr Croft and Miss March to her house in order
that the former might have the opportunity which she had discovered he
wanted and could not get, of offering himself in marriage to the lady;
and she now made it her business to see that Mr Croft's opportunity
should stand up very clear and definite before him; and that all
interfering circumstances should be carefully removed. She informed her
niece that she wished her to go with her to a thicket on the other side
of the wheat field which that young lady had advised should be ploughed
for pickles, to look for a turkey-hen which she had reason to believe
had been ridiculous enough to hatch out a brood of young at this
improper season. Annie demurred, for she did not want to go to look for
turkeys, nor did she want to give Mr Croft any opportunities; but the
old lady insisted, and carried her off. Croft felt that there was
something very bare and raw-boned about the position in which he was
left with Miss March; and he thought that lady might readily suppose
that Mrs Keswick's object was to leave them together. He imagined that,
himself, though why she should be so kind to him he could not feel quite
certain. However, his path lay straight before him, and if the old lady
had whitewashed it to make it more distinct, he did not intend to refuse
to walk in it.
"I have been looking at that hill over yonder," said he, "with a cluster
of pine trees on the brow of it. I should think there would be a fine
view from that hill. Would you not like to walk up there?"
Lawrence felt that this proposition was quite in keeping with the
bareness of the previous proceedings, but he did not wish to stay in the
house and be subject to the unexpected return of the old lady and her
niece.
"Certainly," said Miss March; "nothing would please me better." And so
they walked up Pine Top Hill.
When they reached this elevated position, they sat down on the rock on
which Mrs Null had once conversed with Freddy, and admired the view,
which was, indeed, a very fine one. After about five minutes of this,
which Lawrence thought was quite enough, he turned to his companion and
said:
"Miss March, I do not wish you to suppose that I brought you up here for
the purpose of viewing those rolling hills and distant forests."
"You didn't?" exclaimed Roberta, in a tone of surprise.
"No," said he; "I brought you here because it is a place where I could
speak freely to you, and tell you I love you."
"That was not at all necessary," said Miss March. "We had the lower
floor of the house entirely to ourselves, and I am sure that Mrs
Keswick would not have returned until you had waved a handkerchief, or
given some signal from the back of the house that it was all over."
Croft looked at her with a troubled expression. "Miss March," said he,
"do you not think I am in earnest? Do you not believe what I have said?"
"I have not the slightest doubt you are in earnest," she answered.
"The magnitude of the preparation proves it." "I am glad you said that,
for it gives me the opportunity for making an explanation," said
Lawrence. "Our meeting at this place may be a carefully contrived
stratagem, but it was not contrived by me. I am very well aware that Mr
Keswick also wishes to marry you--"
"Did you see that in the Richmond _Dispatch_ or in one of the New York
papers?" interrupted Miss March.
"That is a point," said Lawrence, overlooking the ridicule, "which we
need not discuss. I am perfectly aware that Mr Keswick is my rival, but
I wish you to understand that I am not voluntarily taking any undue
advantage of his absence. I believe him to be a very fair and generous
man, and I would wish to be as open and generous as he is. When I came,
I expected to find him here, and, standing on equal ground with him, I
intended to ask you to accept my love."
"Well, then," said Roberta, "would it not be more fair and generous for
you to go away now, and postpone this proposal until some time when you
would each have an equal chance?"
"No, it would not," said Lawrence, vehemently. "I have now an
opportunity of telling you that I love you ardently, passionately; and
nothing shall cause me to postpone it. Will you not consider what I
say? Will you make no answer to this declaration of most true and honest
love?"
"I am considering what you have said," she answered; "and I am very glad
to hear that you did not know of this cunning little trap that Mrs
Keswick has laid for me. It is all very plain to me, but I do not know
why she should have selected you as one of the actors in the plot. Have
you ever told her that you are a suitor for my hand?"
"Never!" exclaimed Lawrence. "She may have imagined it, for she heard I
was a frequent visitor to Midbranch. But let us set all that aside. I am
on fire with love for you. Will you tell me that you can return that
love, or that I must give up all hope? This is the most important
question of my whole life. I beg you, from the bottom of my heart, to
decide it."
"Mr Croft," said she, "when you used to come, nearly every day, to see
me at Midbranch, and we took those long walks in the woods, you never
talked in this way. I considered you as a gentleman whose prudence and
good sense would not allow him to step outside of the path of perfectly
conventional social intercourse. This is not conventional and not
prudent."
"I loved you then, and I love you now;" exclaimed Lawrence. "You must
have known that I loved you, for my declaration does not in the least
surprise you."
"Once--it was the last time you visited Midbranch--I suspected, just a
little, that your mind might be affected somewhat in the way you speak
of, but I supposed that attack of weakness had passed away."
"I know what you mean," said Lawrence, "but I can't endure to talk of
such trifles. I love you, Roberta--"
"Miss March," she interrupted.
"And I want you to tell me if you love me in return."
Miss March rose from the rock where she had been sitting, and her
companion rose with her. After a moment's silence, during which he
watched her with intense eagerness, she said: "Mr Croft, I am going to
give you your choice. Would you prefer being refused under a cherry
tree, or under a sycamore?"
There was a little smile on her lips as she said this, which Lawrence
could not interpret.
"I decline being refused under any tree," he said with vehemence.
"I prefer the cherry tree," said she, "there is a very pretty one over
there on the ridge of this hill, and its leaves are nearly all gone,
which would make it quite appropriate--but what is the meaning of this?
There comes Peggy. It isn't possible that she thinks it's time for me to
give out something to Aunt Judy."
Croft turned, and there was the wooden Peggy, marching steadily up the
hill, and almost upon them.
"What do you want, Peggy?" asked Miss Roberta.
"Dar's a man down to de house dat wants him," pointing to Mr Croft.
Lawrence was very much surprised. "A man who wants me!" he exclaimed.
"You must be mistaken."
"No sah," replied Peggy, "you's de one."
For a moment Lawrence hesitated. His disposition was to let any man in
the world, be he president or king, wait until he had settled this
matter with Miss March. But with Peggy present it was impossible to go
on with the love-making. He might, indeed, send her back with a message,
but the thought came to him that it would be well to postpone for a
little the pressing of his suit, for the lady was certainly in a very
untoward humor, and he was not altogether sorry to have an excuse for
breaking off the interview at this point. He had not yet been discarded,
and he would like to think over the matter, and see if he could discover
any reason for the very disrespectful manner, to say the least of it,
with which Miss March had received his amatory advances. "I suppose I
must go and see the man," he said, "though I can't imagine who it can
possibly be. Will you return to the house?"
"No," said Miss Roberta, "I will stay here a little longer, and enjoy
the view."