waiting for a good many days, hoping to receive,
either from you or Mr Keswick, an explanation of the message you
sent to me by him. I now believe that it will be impossible to give a
satisfactory explanation of that message. I therefore recur to our last
private interview, and wish to say to you that I am ready, at any time,
to meet you under either a sycamore or a cherry tree."

And then he signed it, and addressed it to Miss March at Midbranch.
This being done, he put on his hat, and stepped out to see if a
messenger could be found to carry the letter to its destination, for
he did not wish to wait for the semi-weekly mail. Near the house he
met Annie.

"What have you been doing all this time?" she asked.

"I have been writing a letter," he said, "and am now looking for some
colored boy who will carry it for me."

"Who is it to?" she asked.

"Miss March," was his answer.

"Let me see it," said Annie.

At this, Lawrence looked at her with wide-open eyes, and then he
laughed. Never, since he had been a child, had there been any one who
would have thought of such a thing as asking to see a private letter
which he had written to some one else; and that this young girl should
stand up before him with her straightforward expectant gaze and make
such a request of him, in the first instance, amused him.

"You don't mean to say," she added, "that you would write anything to
Miss March which you would not let me see."

"This letter," said Lawrence, "was written for Miss March, and no one
else. It is simply the winding up of that old affair."

"Give it to me," said Annie, "and let me see how you wound it up."

Lawrence smiled, looked at her in silence for a moment, and then
handed her the letter.

"I don't want you to think," she said, as she took it, "that I am
going to ask you to show me all the letters you write. But when you
write one to a lady like Miss March, I want to know what you say to
her." And then she read the letter. When she had finished, she turned
to Lawrence, and with her countenance full of amazement, exclaimed: "I
haven't the least idea in the world what all this means! What message
did she send you? And why should you meet her under a tree?"

These questions went so straight to the core of the affair, and were
so peculiarly difficult to answer, that Lawrence, for the moment,
found himself in the very unusual position of not knowing what to say,
but he presently remarked: "Do you think it is