as 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 mu