s March, and that you want to get a
chance to propose to her. She does think that, doesn't she?"

"Yes," said Lawrence, "I must admit that she does."

"And she must be made to understand that that is entirely at an end,"
continued Annie. "All this will be a very difficult task, Lawrence,
and I don't see how it is to be done."

"But we shall do it," he answered, "and we must not forget to be very
prudent, until it is fully settled how we shall do it."

When Lawrence retired to his room, and sat down to hold that peculiar
court in which he was judge, jury, lawyers, and witnesses, as well as
the prisoner at the bar, he had to do with a case, a great deal more
complicated and difficult than that which perplexed the mind of Miss
Annie Peyton. He began by the very unjudicial act of pledging himself,
to himself, that nothing should interfere with this new, this true
love. In spite of all that might be said, done, or thought, Annie
Peyton should be his wife. There was no indecision, whatever, in
regard to the new love; the only question was: "What is to be done
about the old one?"

Lawrence could not admit, for a moment, that he could have spoken to
Roberta March as he had spoken, if he had not loved her; but he could
now perceive that that love had been in no small degree impaired and
weakened by the manner of its acceptance. The action of Miss March on
her last day here had much more chilled his ardor than her words
on Pine Top Hill. He had not, before, examined thoroughly into the
condition of that ardor after the departure of the lady, but it was
plain enough now.

There was, therefore, no doubt whatever in regard to his love for Miss
March; he was quite ready and able to lay that aside. But what about
her acceptance of it? How could he lay that aside?

This was the real case before the court. The witnesses could give no
available testimony, the lawyers argued feebly, the jury disagreed,
and Lawrence, in his capacity of judge, dismissed the case. In his
efforts to conduct his mind through the channels of law and equity,
Lawrence had not satisfied himself, and his thoughts began to be moved
by what might be termed his military impulses. "I made a charge into
the camp," he said with a little downward drawing of the corners of
his mouth, "and I did not capture the commander-in-chief. And now I
intend to charge out again."

He sat down to his table, and wrote the following note:

"My Dear Miss March:

"I have been