It was so delightful! The weeks were passing all too quickly, and the
letters to Mount Hunger waxed eloquent in praise of everybody's
kindness.
Jack had come on to lead a cotillion with Rose at Aunt Carrie's. It was
a weighty affair--the selecting of the flowers for her. White violets
they must be, and white violets were about as rare as white raspberries.
Jack gave the florist his own address.
"I 'll see them, myself, before I send them up; for I won't trust
anyone's eyes but my own," he said to himself as he hurried home to
dress for dinner with a friend. "I wish I had n't promised Grayson to
meet him at the Club before seven. I 'm afraid they won't come in
time." He looked at his watch. "I 'm going to make them a test--and
see what she 'll do. She 's so friendly and frank and all that, I can't
find out even whether she 's beginning to care."
Jack's absorption in the theme was such that he put his latch-key in
wrong-side up, and, in consequence, wrestled with the lock till he had
worked himself into a fever of impatience; finally he touched the button
before he discovered the trouble.
"Any packages come for me, Jason?" he inquired of the butler, whose
dignified manner of locomotion had been rudely shaken by Jack's
unceasing pressure on the electric-bell.
"Yes, Mr. John. Just taken a box up to the rooms."
Jack looked relieved, and sprang upstairs two steps at a time. He
opened the box. There they were in all their exquisite freshness.
"Like her," he thought, touching his lips to them; then, suddenly
straightening himself, he felt the blood surge into his face.
"I like Dord's way of putting up his flowers, no tags, nor fol-de-rols.
Jason," he said, as he ran down stairs again, "I shall be back in an
hour; tell Thomas to have everything laid out--I 'm in a hurry. And
have a messenger-boy here when I come back, and don't forget to order
the carriage for quarter of eight, sharp."
"Yes, Mr. John."
"Messenger-boy come?" he inquired as Jason opened the door on his
return.
"Yes, sir, waiting in the hall."
Jack raced up stairs. There was the precious box on his dressing-table.
He hastily took a visiting card, and, writing on it the sentiment that
was uppermost in his heart, slipped it into the envelope, gave it,
together with the box, to the waiting boy, and bade him hand it to the
man, Wilkins, with the request that it be sent up at once to the lady to
whom it was addressed. Then he made ready for dinner.
An hour later, Rose was dressing for the dance, and Hazel was watching
her, chatting volubly all the while.
"That's the loveliest dress, Rose, I heard Aunt Carrie say, you couldn't
buy such, nowadays."
"It was Martie's wedding-dress. An uncle of her mother's, who was a
sea-captain, brought it from India. But if I wear it many more times, it
will be known throughout the length of New York. This is my sixth
time."
"I should n't care if it were the hundredth; it's just lovely. Besides,
Jack has n't seen it, you know."
Rose laughed. "Oh, yes, he has--on Martie; that night of the tea on the
porch."
"Oh, well, that's different. What flowers are you going to wear?"
"I thought I wouldn't wear any, just for a change." Rose's face was
veiled by the shining hair, which she was brushing, preparatory to
coiling it high on her head; otherwise, Hazel would have seen the clear
flush that warmed even the roots of the soft waves at the nape of her
neck. Just then there was a knock. The maid opened the door, and
Wilkins' voice was distinctly audible:--
"Jes' come fo' Miss Rose; dey wuz to come up right smart, so de boy
say."
"Oh, more flowers. Who from?" cried Hazel, eagerly, while Wilkins
strained his ears to catch the reply.
"From Mr. Sherrill," said Rose, opening the little envelope.
What she read on the card caused the blood to mount higher and higher,
till temples and forehead flushed pink, then as suddenly to recede.
"May I open them, Rose, and won't you wear some if they 're from Jack?"
"Yes," said Rose, simply. The two girls leaned over the box as Hazel
took off the wrapper--then the cover--then the inner tissue
papers--then--
[Illustration: "The two girls leaned over the box as Hazel took off the
wrapper"]
Suddenly a shriek of laughter, followed by another, penetrated to
Wilkins, who was lingering on the stairs; he came softly back again.
Peal after peal of wild merriment issued from Rose's room. Within, Rose
in her petticoat and bodice had flung herself on the bed in an ecstasy
of mirth, and Hazel was rolling over on the rug as was the wont of Budd
and Cherry in the old days on Mount Hunger. The maid looked from one to
the other, and, no longer able to keep from joining in the merriment,
although she did not know the cause, left the room, only to find Wilkins
with perturbed face just outside the door.
"'Pears lake dere wor sumfin' queah 'bout dat ye re box--" he began; but
the maid only shook with laughter and laid her finger on her lips,
motioning him into the back hall.
"Did you ever?" cried Hazel, when she recovered her breath.
"No, I never," said Rose, wiping away the tears, for she had laughed
till she cried. "Let's take another look."
They bent over the box, and took out its contents; then went off again
into fits of seemingly inextinguishable laughter; for, neatly folded
beneath the tissue paper, lay four sets of Jack's new light-weight,
white silk pajamas, which he had purchased that afternoon, in order to
take back to Cambridge with him. On the card, which Rose still held in
her hand, was written, "Wear these for my sake."
"What will you say to him, Rose?" said Hazel, sitting up on the rug with
her hands clasped about her knees.
"I don't know," said Rose, proceeding to dress. "I can't _wear_ them,
that's certain." And again the absurdity of the situation presented
itself to her. "And I can't apologize for not wearing them. Neither
can I take it for granted that he was going to send me flowers, and
explain that he sent me these instead."
"How awfully careless," said Hazel, interrupting her; "he must have had
something on his mind not to take the pains to look, even."
Rose flushed. "It will be best to let the matter drop, and say nothing
about it," she replied in a cool, toploftical tone that amazed, as well
as mystified, her little hostess.
"Why, Rose, I think Jack ought to know about it. I 'll tell him, if you
don't want to."
"Thank you, Hazel, but I don't need your good offices in this matter."
Hazel rose from the rug, and going over to Rose, laid both hands on her
shoulders and looked straight up into her eyes.
"Now, Rose Blossom, please don't speak to me in that way. You 're so
queer! First you 're nice about Jack, and then you 're horrid; and when
you 're that way, you are n't nice to _me_ a bit--and I don't like it,
and I don't blame Jack for not liking it either," she added
emphatically. "I remember papa said a year ago that Jack was 'all
heart' for a good many girls, old and young--but I can tell you what, he
won't have any for you, if you whiff round so."
Hazel in her earnestness gave Rose a little shake. Rose smiled, and,
bending her head, kissed her, saying, "F. and F. and you know, Hazel."
"Oh, I know all about 'forgiving and forgetting,' but I don't like it
just the same. He's my cousin and the dearest fellow in the world, and
I don't like to have him treated so."
"How about his treating me?" said Rose, pointing to the innocent box of
underwear, "forgetting even to look; or not caring enough, to see if I
had the right package?"
"Oh, that's different--perhaps the florist made a mistake."
"The florist!" Rose laughed merrily. "I never knew that gentlemen's
underwear and roses grew on the same bush.--There 's Wilkins, and I 'm
not ready."
"De coachman say it's a pow'f ul col' night, an' Miss Rose bettah take
some mo' wraps."
"Thank you, Wilkins," Hazel flew into the dressing-room for a long fur
cloak of her mother's which she had used to wear to the dancing-classes.
She wrapped it about Rose, who stooped suddenly and kissed her again,
whispering, "Hazel, you 've all spoiled me, that's what's the
matter,--but I 'll be good to Jack, for your sake as well as for my
own."
"Now you 're what Doctor Heath calls papa, the most splendid fellow in
the world. There now--I won't crush your gown--" A kiss--"Good-night.
You look like an angel!"
Mr. Clyde thought so, too, as he watched her coming downstairs. She
slipped off the cloak as she stood beneath the soft, but brilliant hall
lights. "Do I look all right?" she asked earnestly, for she had fallen
into the habit, before going anywhere with him or Hazel, of asking for
their criticism.
"I should say so--but where are the flowers? I miss them."
"I thought I wouldn't wear any to-night, just for a change."
"A woman's whim, Rose. But I can't say that you need them--Now, what's
to pay?" he said to himself, as he helped her into the carriage. "I saw
Jack at Dord's this afternoon, and, evidently, something was in the
wind. I hope it has n't been taken out of his sails."
"Sumfin' mighty queah 'bout dat yere box," murmured Wilkins to himself,
as he closed the door, "but Miss Rose doan' need no flow's. Nebber see
sech h--Fo' de good Lawd! Wha' fo' yo' hyar? Yo' Minna-Lu,--skeerin'
mah day-lights out o' mah, shoolin' 'roun' b'hin' dat por' chair,--jes'
lake bug'lahs."
Minna-Lu gurgled. "Yo' jes' straight, Wilkins; nebber see sech ha'r.
Huccome I 'se hyar? Jes' to see dat lillum-white angel--"
"Yo' go 'long, wha' yo' b'long," growled Wilkins, not yet having
recovered from his fright. And Minna-Lu went, with the radiant vision
still before her round, black eyes.
Jack felt a queer tightening about his lower jaw, and one heart-throb,
apparently in his throat, as he entered Aunt Carrie's reception-room.
Then, as with one glance he swept Rose from the crown of her head to the
hem of her dress, a hot, rushing wave of indignant feeling mastered
him--he knew he had staked his all (so a man at twenty-two is apt to
think) and lost. He braced himself, mentally and physically. He was
n't going to show the white-feather--not he.
But Rose--Rose was mystifying, captivating, cordial, merry, and
altogether charming. She knocked out all Jack's calculations as to
life, love, women, girls in general, and one girl in particular, at one
fell swoop. He was brought, necessarily, into unstable equilibrium, so
far as his feelings were concerned--his head he was obliged to keep
level on account of the various figures. Several other heads were
variously askew, and would have been turned, likewise, for good and all,
had the wearer of her mother's India-mull wedding-dress been possessed
of a fortune.
Rose developed social powers that evening that furnished food for
conversation for Aunt Carrie and Mr. Clyde, who watched her with pride
and pleasure. She was evidently enjoying herself thoroughly, and her
enjoyment proved contagious.
"After all," said Jack as, between figures, he found opportunity for a
whispered word or two; "this is n't half so fine a dance as the one in
the barn, last September."
"Why, that's just what I was thinking, myself, that very minute!"
"You were?"
"Yes."
The brown eyes and the blue ones met with such evidence of a perfect
understanding, that Jack failed to see Maude Seaton, who had approached
him for the purpose of taking him out in the four-in-hand.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Jack, starting to his feet, "it's the
'four-in-hand.'"
"Yes, and I think you 'll have to be put into the traces again," she
said, with a meaning smile.
"Not I," retorted Jack, merrily, "I kicked over them nearly a year ago."
"So I heard," replied Miss Seaton, sweetly; and Jack wondered what she
meant.
When Jack found himself again beside Rose, he decided that, flowers or
no flowers, he would ask for an explanation. But his first attempt was
met with such a bewilderingly merry smile, and such confident assurance
that explanations were not in order, that it proved a successful
failure.
When, at last, in the early morning hours he was seated before the open
fire in his bedroom, pulling away reflectively at his pipe, he had time
to think it over. He came to the conclusion that it was trivial in him
to have staked his all on her wearing those flowers, for she
certainly--certainly had led him to think that she was anything but
indifferent to him.
"That look now," mused Jack. "I don't believe that a girl like Rose
Blossom would look that way if she didn't mean it--if she did n't care.
No other girl could look that way." He reached for his watch on the
dressing-case. "I shall get good two hours' sleep before that early
train.--What's that?" He noticed for the first time, that on the bed
lay a familiar-looking box in a brown paper wrapper. In a trice he had
broken the string, whisked off the cover, scattered the tissue paper
right and left.--There lay the violets, white, and sweet, and almost as
fresh as when he gave them his virgin kiss nearly twelve hours before.
Jack sat down stupefied on the bed. _What had he given her, anyway_?
He thought intensely for a full minute.
"Great Scott! the pajamas!" And then Jack Sherrill rolled over on the
bed, ignoring the damage to dress suit and violets, and, burying his
face in the pillow, gave vent to a smothered yell.
There was a merry exchange of notes between Cambridge and New York
during the next two weeks, and Rose had promised to wear any
flowers--and only his--he might send her for the ball at Mrs. Fenlick's
the middle of February, and for which Jack was coming on. It would
occur during the last week of Rose's visit, and Jack thought that
possibly--possibly,--well, he could n't define just what "possibly;" but
it proved to be an infinitely absorbing one, and Jack felt it was "now
or never" with him.
Mrs. Heath had claimed Rose as her guest for the last three weeks, and
the days were filled with pleasures. On the Saturday before the ball,
and a week before Rose was to return to Mount Hunger, two seats in a box
at the opera had been sent in to Mrs. Heath from a friend.
"Look at these, Rose!" Mrs. Heath exclaimed, showing her the note.
"Just exactly what you were wishing to hear, and we thought we could not
arrange it for next week. That opera has been changed for to-day's
matinee, and now you can hear both Lohengrin and Siegfried."
Rose clapped her hands. "I 've just longed to hear Lohengrin; Mrs. Ford
and her son have played so much of it to me. I think it's perfectly
beautiful."
"I 'm so sorry I can't go, dear; but I made a positive engagement for
this afternoon and it must not be broken. But I 'll send round for
Cousin Anna May. She does n't care much for the opera, but she will
chaperone you. She 's not much of a talker either, so you can enjoy the
music in peace. People chatter so abominably there."
From the moment the orchestra sounded the first notes of that pathetic
and thrillingly appealing fore-word of the overture, Rose was lost to
the world about her. She was glad of the darkness, glad no one could
see or notice her intense absorption in the opening scene. Even when
the lights were turned on between the acts, and the subdued murmur in
the house rose to a confusing babble, she was living in the story of
Elsa and her lover Knight. Elderly Cousin Anna May, seeing this, let
her alone, thinking to herself:--"One has to be young to be so
enthusiastic over this wornout theme."
The curtain fell; the house was brilliant with lights; confusion of
talk, confusion of merry chat and laughter were all about Rose; but she
sat unheeding, wondering if the element of evil would be turned into a
factor of good. Her heart was aching with the intensity of feeling for
the two lovers. Suddenly, a few words behind her arrested her
attention. She sat with her back to the speakers--two girls in the next
box, who had annoyed her more than once by their ceaseless, whispering
gabble.
"I told Maude I did n't believe it."
"What did she say?"
"She said it was gospel truth."
"Do tell me what it was, I won't tell."
"Sure?"
"Not a soul."
"Promise?"
"Why, of course. They say he 's got oceans of money."
"Piles--. He 's got his mother's fortune and will have his father's.
Besides, his Uncle Gray is a bachelor, and so Jack will have that, too.
Maude says he 's the best catch in New York."
"I heard Sam say he was in an awfully fast set in college; but Sam likes
him awfully well. Have you seen him?"
"Oh, yes, lots. Maude let me see him one night before dinner at
Newport. I used to see him playing polo at the grounds. I think he 's
fascinating--just like Lohengrin."
"But what was it? Hurry up, do."
"You 'll never tell?"
"Never."
The voice was slightly lowered--confused with the munching of Huyler's;
and Rose, with hypersensitive hearing, could distinguish only a word or
two, or a detached sentence.
"I don't think that's so awful. Sam does that, too, and he 's just as
nice a brother as I want."
"Oh, I don't know anything about that; but I know it's true, for Maude
said so." In the increasing confusion of talk in the house, the voices
were suddenly raised, and Rose caught every word.
"I 'll ask Sam--" began the other, dropping her opera glass and stooping
to pick it up.
"If you do, Minna Grayson, I 'll never speak to you again."
"Oh, I forgot--" laughed the other. "Tell us some more, it's awfully
exciting."
"I won't either," said the other, in a huffy tone. Evidently, they were
school-girls in for the matinee.
"Oh, _do_; what _did_ Maude say?"
"She said, 'No,'" chuckled the other triumphantly.
"But think of his money!'
"She said she did n't mind; she 's got money enough of her own, anyway,
if she does skimp me on allowance ever since grandmamma died."
"I heard Sara say last Christmas when I was home for vacation, that he
was perfectly devoted to that new girl the Clydes have taken up."
"Yes. Maude says it's one of his fads. She gives him six months more
to get over it."
"Everybody says she is a perfect beauty. Sam says that Mrs. Fenlick
says she is the most beautiful creature off of a canvas she has ever
seen."
"Oh, Maude says Mrs. Fenlick raves over everything new. She, the girl,
I mean, made a dead set at him a year ago when he happened to meet her
up in the mountains. You know they had a riding-party last August. But
now they say she seems to be setting her cap for Hazel's father--he has
a million or two more than Jack, and she 's as poor as a church-mouse."
"I did n't know that,--poor?"
"Yes, awfully. Why, Maude says she's seen her selling berries for a
living somewhere up in the mountains--oh, way back in them. People call
them the Lost Nation, they 're so far back; and Maude says she wore
patched shoes and an old calico dress--Sh!--Now we 're going to have
that bridal march, is n't it dandy? It ought to be a part of the
marriage ceremony, Maude says. I 'm so glad it's coming;--Tum, tum, ty
tum--tum, tum, ty tum--here 's just one more candied violet--tum, tum,
ty tum, tum, ty tum, ty ty tum, ty tum--Oh, look! Is n't Elsa just
lovely--"
A burst of applause greeted the beautiful prima donna. Upon Rose's ears
it fell like the thunder of a cataract, like the crash and roll of an
avalanche. She stared at the exquisite scene before her with strained
eyes. The music went on with all the troublous-sweet under-tones of
love, and longing, and forever-parting. Not once did Rose stir until
the curtain fell, then she turned to her companion:--
"Can we get out soon, Mrs. May? The air is a little close here."
"Certainly, my dear;" but to herself she said, "How intense she is. I
'm thankful I never was so strung up over music."