The Late Mrs. Null

by Frank R. Stockton

"Why, certainly," said Miss Annie, and she went into the house.

She looked over the stock of paper which her aunt kept in a desk in the dining-room, but she did not like it. "I don't believe he will want to write on such ordinary paper as this," she said to herself. Whereupon she went up-stairs and got some of her own paper and envelopes, which were much finer in material and more correct in style. "I don't like it a bit," she thought, "to give this to him to write that letter on, but I suppose it's bound to be written, anyway, so he might as well have the satisfaction of good paper."

"You must excuse these little sheets," she said, when she took it to him, "but you couldn't expect anything else, in an Amazonian household like ours. Cousin Junius has manly stationery, of course, but I suppose it is all locked up in that secretary in your room."

"Oh, this will do very well indeed," said Lawrence; "and I wish I could come out and help you into your vehicle," regarding the spring wagon which now stood at the door, with Plez at the head of the solemn sorrel.

"Thank you," said Miss Annie, "that is not at all necessary." And she tripped over to the spring wagon, and mounting into its altitudes without the least trouble in the world, she took up the reins. With these firmly grasped in her little hands, which were stretched very far out, and held very wide apart, she gave the horse a great jerk and told him to "Get up!" As she moved off, Lawrence from his open door called out: "Bon voyage" and in a full, clear voice she thanked him, but did not dare to look around, so intent was she upon her charioteering.

Slowly turning the horse toward the yard gate, which Plez stood holding open, her whole soul was absorbed in the act of guiding the equipage through the gateway. Quickly glancing from side to side, and then at the horse's back, which ought to occupy a medium position between the two gateposts, she safely steered the front wheels through the dangerous pass, although a grin of delight covered the face of Plez as he noticed that the hub of one of the hind wheels almost grazed a post. Then the observant boy ran on to open the other gate, and with many jerks and clucks, Miss Annie induced the sorrel to break into a gentle trot.

As Lawrence looked after her, a little pang made itself noticeable in his conscience. This girl was certainly very kind to him, and most remarkably considerate of him in the plan she had proposed. And yet he felt that he had prevaricated to her, and, in fact, deceived her, in the answer he had made when she asked him if he had sent her cousin to speak for him to Miss March. Would she have such friendly feelings toward him, and be so willing to oblige him, if she knew that he had in effect done the thing which she considered so wrong and so cruel? But it could not be helped; the time had passed for confidences. He must now work out this affair for himself, without regard to persons who really had nothing whatever to do with it.

Closing his door, he hopped back to his table, and, seating himself at it, he opened his travelling inkstand and prepared to write to Miss March. It was absolutely necessary that he should write this letter, immediately, for, after the message he had received from the lady of his love, no time should be lost in putting himself in communication with her. But, before beginning to write, he must decide upon the spirit of his letter.

Under the very peculiar circumstances of his acceptance, he did not feel that he ought to indulge in those rapturous expressions of ecstacy in which he most certainly would have indulged, if the lady had personally delivered her decision to him. He did not doubt her, for what woman would play a joke like that on a man—upon two men, in fact? Even if there were no other reason she would not dare to do it. Nor did he doubt Keswick. It would have been impossible for him to come with such a message, if it had not been delivered to him. And yet Lawrence could not bring himself to be rapturous. If he had been accepted in cold blood, and a hand, and not a heart, had been given to him, he would gladly take that hand and trust to himself to so warm the heart that it, also, would soon be his. But he did not know what Roberta March had given him.

On the other hand, he knew very well if, in his first letter as an accepted lover, he should exhibit any of that caution and prudence which, in the course of his courtship, had proved to be shoals on which he had very nearly run aground, that Roberta's resentment, which had shown itself very marked in this regard, would probably be roused to such an extent that the affair would be brought to a very speedy and abrupt termination. If she had been obliged to forgive him, once, for this line of conduct, he could not expect her to do it again. To write a letter, which should err in neither of these respects, was a very difficult thing to do, and required so much preparatory thought, that when, toward the close of the afternoon, Miss Annie drove in at the yard gate, with Mrs Keswick on the seat beside her, not a line had been written.