There were two reasons why Peggy could not go to live with "Mahs' Junius and Miss Rob" in New York. In the first place, this couple had no intention of setting up an establishment in that city; and secondly, Peggy, as Roberta well knew, was not adapted by nature to be her maid, or the maid of any one else. Peggy's true vocation in life was to throw her far-away gaze into futurity, and, as far as in her lay, to adapt present circumstances to what she supposed was going to happen. It would have delighted her soul if she could have been the adept in conjuring, which she firmly believed the Widow Keswick to be; but, as she possessed no such gift, she made up the deficiency, as well as she could, by mixing up her mind, her soul, and her desires, into a sort of witch's hodge-podge, which she thrust as a spell into the affairs of other people. Twice had the devices of this stupid-looking wooden peg of a negro girl stopped Lawrence Croft in the path he was following in his pursuit of Roberta March. If Lawrence had known, at the time, what Peggy was doing, he would have considered her an unmitigated little demon; but afterward, if he could have known of it, he would have thought her a very unprepossessing and conscienceless guardian angel.

As it was, he knew not what she had done, and never considered her at all.

Junius Keswick took much more delight in farming than he did in the practice of the law, and it was only because he had felt himself obliged to do so, that he had adopted the legal profession. To be a farmer, one must have a farm; but a lawyer can frequently make a living from the lands of other men. He was very willing, therefore, to agree to the plan which, for years, had been Mr Brandon's most cherished scheme; that he and Roberta should make their home at Midbranch, and that he should take charge of the estate, which would be his wife's property after the old gentleman's decease. Roberta was as fond of the country as was Junius, but she was also a city woman; and it was arranged that the couple should spend a portion of each winter in New York, at the house of Mr March.

Junius, and Roberta, as well as her father, hoped very much that they might be able to induce Mr Brandon to come to New York to attend the wedding, which was to take place the middle of January; but they were not confident of success, for they knew the old gentleman disliked very much to travel, especially in winter. Three very pressing letters were therefore written to Mr Brandon; and the writers were much surprised to receive, in a short time, a collective answer, in which he stated that he would not only be present at the wedding, but that he thought of spending several months in New York. It would be very lonely at Midbranch, he wrote, without Roberta—though why it should be more so this year, than during preceding winters, he did not explain—and he felt a desire to see the changes that had taken place in the metropolis since he had visited it, years ago.

They would not have been so much surprised had they known that Mr Brandon did not feel himself safe in his own home, by night or by day. Frequently had he gazed out of a window at the point in the road on which the first sight of an approaching spring-wagon could have been caught; and had said to himself: "If only Roberta were here, that old hag would not dare to speak a word to me! I don't want to go away, but, by George! I don't see how I can stay here without Rob."

There was a short, very black, and somewhat bowlegged negro man on the place, named Israel Bonaparte, who lived in a little cabin by himself, and was noted for his unsocial disposition, and his taciturnity. To him Mr Brandon went one day, and said: "Israel, I want you to go to work on the fence rows on my side of the road to Howlett's. Grub up the bushes, clear out the vines and weeds, and see that the rails and posts are all in order. That will be a job that I expect will last you until the roads begin to get heavy. And, by the way, Israel, while you are at work, I want you to keep a lookout for any visitors that may turn into our road, especially if they happen to be ladies. Now that Miss Rob is away, I am very particular about knowing, beforehand, when ladies are coming to visit me; and when you see any wagon or carriage turn in, I want you to make a short cut across the fields, and let me know it, and I will give you a quarter of a dollar every time you do so." This was a very pleasant job of work for the meditative Israel. He was not very fond of grubbing, but he earned the greater part of his ten dollars a month and rations, by sitting on the fence, smoking a corn-cob pipe, and attending to the second division of the work which his employer had set him to do.

Lawrence Croft was in New York at this time, a very busy man, arranging his affairs in that city, so that they would not need his personal attention for some time to come; he sub-let, for the remainder of his lease, the suite of bachelor apartments he had occupied, and he stored his furniture and books. One might have imagined that he was taking in all possible sails; close reefing the others; battening down the hatches; and preparing to run before a storm; and yet his demeanor did not indicate that he expected any violent commotion of the elements. On the contrary, his friends and acquaintances thought him particularly blithe and gay. He told them he was going to be married.

"To that Virginia lady, I suppose," said one. "I remember her very well; and consider you fortunate."

"I don't think you ever met her," said Mr Croft. "She is a Miss
Peyton, from King Thomas County."

"Ah!" remarked his interlocutor. Lawrence walked to the window of the club-room, and stood there, slowly puffing his cigar. Had anybody met this one? he thought. He knew she had seen but little company during her father's life, but was it likely that any of his acquaintances had had business at Candy's Information Shop? As this idea came into his mind, there seemed to be something unpleasant in the taste of his cigar, and he threw it into the fire. A few turns, however, up and down the now almost deserted rooms, restored his tone; he lighted another cigar, and now there came up before him a vision of the girl who, from loyalty to her dead father, preferred to sit all day behind Candy's money desk rather than go to a relative who had not been his friend. And then he saw the young girl who took up so courageously the cause of one of her own blood—the boy cousin of her childhood; and with a lover's pride, Lawrence thought of the dash, the spirit, and the bravery with which she had done it.

"By George!" he said to himself, his eyes sparkling, and his step quickening, "she has more in her than all the rest of them put together!"

Who were included in "the rest of them," Lawrence was not prepared just then to say, but the expression was intended to have a very wide range.

It was about the middle of December, when Lawrence paid another visit to Mrs Keswick's house. The day was cold, but clear, and as he drove up to the outer gate, he saw the old lady returning from a walk to Howlett's. She stepped along briskly, and was in a very good humor, for she had just posted a carefully concocted letter to Mr Brandon, in which she had expatiated, in her peculiar style, on the pleasure which she expected from an early visit to Midbranch. She had not the slightest idea of going there, at present, but she thought it quite time to freshen up the old gentleman's anticipations.

Descending from his carriage to meet her, Lawrence was very warmly greeted, and the two went up to the house together.

"I expect the late Mrs Null will be very glad to see you," said Mrs
Keswick. "I think she has burned up all her widow's weeds."

"You should be very much obliged to your niece," said Mr Croft, "for so delicately ridding you of that dreadful fertilizer man."

"Humph!" said the old lady. "She cheated me out of the pleasure of telling him what I thought of him, and I shall never forgive her for that."

As Lawrence and Annie sat together in the parlor that evening, he told her what he had been doing in New York, and this brought to her lips a question, which she was very anxious to have answered. She knew that Lawrence was rich; that his methods of life and thought made him a man of the cities; and she felt quite certain that the position to which he would conduct her was that of the mistress of a handsome town-house, and the wife of a man of society. She liked handsome town-houses, and she was sure she would like society; but it would all be very new and strange to her, and, although she was a brave girl at heart, she shrank from making such a plunge as this.

"How are we going to live?" repeated Lawrence. "That, of course, is to be as you shall choose, but I have a plan to propose to you, and I want very much to hear what you think about it. And the plan is, that we shall not live anywhere for a year or two, but wander, fancy free, over as much of the world as pleases us; and then decide where we shall settle down, and how we shall like to do it."

If Annie's answer had been expressed in words, it might have been given here. It may be said, however, that it was very quick, very affirmative, and, in more ways than one, highly satisfactory to Lawrence.

"Is it London, and a landlady, and tea?" she presently asked.

"Yes, it is that," he said.

"Is it the shops on the Boulevards?"

"Yes," said Lawrence.

"And the Appian Way? And the Island of Capri? And snow mountains in the distance?" she asked.

"In their turn, most certainly," said her lover, "and it shall be the midnight sun, and the Nile, if you like."

"Freddy," exclaimed the late Mrs Null, "I thank thee for what thou hast given me!" And she clasped the hand of Lawrence in both her own.