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?"