As Lawrence looked after her, a little pang made itself noticeable in his conscience.  This girl was certainly very kind to him, and most remarkably considerate of him in the plan she had proposed.  And yet he felt that he had prevaricated to her, and, in fact, deceived her, in the answer he had made when she asked him if he had sent her cousin to speak for him to Miss March.  Would she have such friendly feelings toward him, and be so willing to oblige him, if she knew that he had in effect done the thing which she considered so wrong and so cruel?  But it could not be helped; the time had passed for confidences.  He must now work out this affair for himself, without regard to persons who really had nothing whatever to do with it.

Closing his door, he hopped back to his table, and, seating himself at it, he opened his travelling inkstand and prepared to write to Miss March.  It was absolutely necessary that he should write this letter, immediately, for, after the message he had received from the lady of his love, no time should be lost in putting himself in communication with her.  But, before beginning to write, he must decide upon the spirit of his letter.

Under the very peculiar circumstances of his acceptance, he did not feel that he ought to indulge in those rapturous expressions of ecstacy in which he most certainly would have indulged, if the lady had personally delivered her decision to him.  He did not doubt her, for what woman would play a joke like that on a man—­upon two men, in fact?  Even if there were no other reason she would not dare to do it.  Nor did he doubt Keswick.  It would have been impossible for him to come with such a message, if it had not been delivered to him.  And yet Lawrence could not bring himself to be rapturous.  If he had been accepted in cold blood, and a hand, and not a heart, had been given to him, he would gladly take that hand and trust to himself to so warm the heart that it, also, would soon be his.  But he did not know what Roberta March had given him.

On the other hand, he knew very well if, in his first letter as an accepted lover, he should exhibit any of that caution and prudence which, in the course of his courtship, had proved to be shoals on which he had very nearly run aground, that Roberta’s resentment, which had shown itself very marked in this regard, would probably be roused to such an extent that the affair would be brought to a very speedy and abrupt termination.  If she had been obliged to forgive him, once, for this line of conduct, he could not expect her to do it again.  To write a letter, which should err in neither of these respects, was a very difficult thing to do, and required so much preparatory thought, that when, toward the close of the afternoon, Miss Annie drove in at the yard gate, with Mrs Keswick on the seat beside her, not a line had been written.

Mrs Keswick descended from the spring wagon and went into the house, but Miss Annie remained at the bottom of the steps, for the apparent purpose of speaking to Plez; perhaps to give him some instructions in regard to the leading of a horse to its stable, or to instil into his mind some moral principle or other; but the moment the vehicle moved away, she ran over to the office and tapped at the window, which was quickly opened by Lawrence.