"But my triumph was of brief duration. The next morning Raby treated me with almost chilling reserve. In vain I laughed, and talked, and strove to win him to merriment; his manner repelled all such attempts, and I was obliged to chat with Margaret. "'Where are you going?' I asked, presently, when he had closed his books and was preparing to leave the room. "'I am going up to West Point to see poor Lettie White,' he returned; 'her mother has been down this morning and tells me she is worse. You had better not accompany me, Crystal,' for I had started up from my chair. "'And why not?" I exclaimed, in a hurt voice; 'it is such a delicious morning, and there is no such place as the West Point for a breeze; it will freshen me up for the evening.' "'Well, do as you like,' he returned, coldly, and closed the door. The indifference of his tone wounded me. What could I have done to offend him; but I was never proud where Raby was concerned, so I put on my hat and accompanied him. "For the first mile or two we were very silent. Raby walked on with his shoulders slightly bent, and his eyes fixed on the ground, a habit of his when he was thinking very deeply. "'Raby,' I said at last, rather timidly, 'I wish you would walk a little slower, I want to talk to you;' and then he looked at me with some surprise. "'I was only thinking of my next Sunday's sermon,' he replied, as if in apology for his want of attention. 'I told you you had better not come with me, Crystal.' "'Oh, I know you did not want me,' I answered, lightly; 'your manner made that fact very apparent; but you see I wanted to come, and so I had my own way. Of course I know the text you will choose, Raby. What a pity that it is too far for me to come and hear that sermon. To think that neither Margaret nor I have ever heard you preach, and to lose that sermon of all others.' "'What do you mean?' he answered, rather irritably, for my gay mood was clashing with his somber one. "'Oh, the text will be, "Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher. All is vanity;" that will be your subject, Raby, will it not?' "He turned round at that, and a smile dispelled his gravity; and then he took my hand and put it on his arm, and held it gently there. "'I think you have guessed my thoughts, Crystal,' he said, quietly, 'but not all of them. Do you know I have been thinking as we came along that you and I, dear child, have reached the cross-roads of life at last, where each must choose his or her path, and go on their way alone.' "'Oh, Raby,' I exclaimed in some distress as I pressed closer to him; 'what can you mean by saying anything so dreadful. I hope your path and mine will always be the same.'