"No--rests me clear through just to sit 'n' look off onto those slopes,
just about as green as in June."
They sat awhile in silence; then Chi turned and picked up the sunbonnet
that had fallen from her head. He touched it gently.
"Remember the first time you sold berries in that rig, Rose-pose?"
The blood surged into Rose's face, and receded, leaving it strangely
white. Chi felt his heart contract at the change, but he went on:
"First time Jack ever saw you was in that rig.--You ain't changed so
much but he 'd know you again if he saw you in Chiny."
Still there was silence. Chi moistened his lips.
"Can't say as much for him; never saw such a change; he 's all fallen
away to nothin' but skin and bones. Doctor Heath told me just before I
left--'n' he put me aboard the train--that nothin' could set him up
again but this Mountain air, 'n' good food, 'n'--" Chi paused; his
mouth was uncomfortably dry. Rose's face was turned from him, but he
saw a contraction of her delicate throat, as if a dry sob were suddenly
suppressed. Then she spoke in a monotone:
"Why does n't he come, then?"
"_Why!_--" Chi fairly startled himself with his thundering "why," and
Rose half started from the ground. The blood leaped to her very temples;
seeing which, Chi took heart--"Coz he 's every inch a man, Rose Blossom;
'n' he's got too much grit of the right sort to ask a girl twice, he 's
about given his heart's blood for.
"He ain't a-goin' to come crawlin' up here to ask no favors of you after
he knows that you _know_--'n' I glory in his spunk. But I can tell you,
if you don't look out, you 'll come nearer to bein' a real Molly Stark
than you ever thought you could be when you joined the N.B.B.O.O., 'n'
by George Washin'ton! it goes against me to see you breakin' the by-laws
you pledged yourself to stand by, every minute of your life that you
keep so dumb towards Jack Sherrill;--for you 're provin' yourself a
coward in your love, 'n' you 'll have a widowed heart to pay for it
mighty soon, if you keep on, that'll be worse than Molly Stark's any
day--" A whisper stopped him:
"Chi, Chi, tell him to come--I want him so; oh, Chi!"
Chi's hand was laid on the bowed head with its crown of shining,
golden-brown braids: "Rose Blossom, may God Almighty bless you for
proving yourself a true woman, 'n' worthy of the mother that bore you.
I can't say any more."
An hour later March Blossom, with a telegram in his hand, was speeding
on Fleet to Barton's River; and two days afterwards Mr. Blossom and Alan
Ford in the double wagon, and Chi alone in the buggy, drove down to
Barton's to meet the up-train. Mrs. Blossom and Rose stood on the porch
straining their eyes in the quickly-falling September twilight to see
any movement on the lower road. The children had been sent over to
Hunger-ford till after tea, for Jack was not strong enough to bear a too
joyful home-coming.
"They 're coming, Rose," said Mrs. Blossom, in a low tone; then she
turned abruptly, and went into the house, leaving Rose alone on the
step.
"Here we are, safe 'n' sound," said Chi, in an affectedly cheery voice,
as he drove out of the woods'-road. "Just wait a minute, Jack, 'n' I
'll give you an arm gettin' out." He laid the reins on the dasher.
Then he assisted the tall, gaunt figure of the man beside him to alight.
Jack half stumbled, for his eyes were seeking Rose--and Rose?
All her womanhood, all the sacred privileges of wifehood, came to her
aid at that moment. She sprang to the carriage, and, with one hand, put
Chi aside; with the other, she lifted Jack's half-nerveless arm and laid
it over her shoulders; then, encircling him with her own slender one,
she said gently, guiding him to the porch step:
"_Lean on me, dearest._"
On the first of November, one of the short-lived Indian Summer days, the
farmhouse on Mount Hunger literally blossomed like a rose.
A week beforehand there had been an animated discussion as to what
should be the wedding decorations of the "long-room." Hazel, who had
been with them a week already, settled it.
"As if there could be any choice!" she exclaimed. "It's been great fun
to hear you all suggesting this, that, and the other, from ground
hemlock and bitter-sweet, to everlasting! But Jack and I settled it
three weeks ago--how could there be anything for Rose, but roses?
Anyway, that's what Jack wrote, and our florist looked fairly dazed when
I gave him the order--just bushels of them, Rose-pose, lovely La France
ones, like those you threw into the--No, I won't tease you, Cousin
mine," she said, with a merry laugh, as Rose looked at her appealingly.
And now, on the wedding morning of the first of November, the great box
that Chi had brought up from Barton's the night before was opened, and
in Hazel's skilful fingers the exquisite pink blooms lent to the
"long-room" a wonderful grace and beauty.
She was flitting about in her pale pink cashmere dress--"Made specially
to match the roses," she said to March, as she dropped him a curtsy
preparatory to pinning a rose into his buttonhole. "We must all wear
Rose-pose's badge to-day. Where are you, Budd?"
"Here," said her knight, promptly appearing with Cherry from the pantry,
where they had been counting the frosting-roses on the wedding-cake. He
looked down at the slender fingers as they pulled the stem of the pink
bud through the buttonhole of his jacket, and thought--of the ring!
Then he looked up at the tall, beautiful girl bending over him, and,
somehow, the day of his proposal seemed very far away in the Past.
Hazel was so grown up!--as tall as Rose. Still, he was n't going to be
afraid, if she was grown up. Now was his time;--and "Ethan Allan"
always made the most of his opportunities. Budd was in United States
History, this term, and he knew this for a fact.
He drew forth from his breeches' pocket a something that might once have
been white, but, at present, looked more like a shoe-rag, it was so
dingy and soiled.
"I 've kept it, you see, Hazel," he said, his small mouth puckering, his
round, light-blue eyes growing rounder, as he looked up at Hazel, with
twelve-year-old earnestness.
"Kept what?" said Hazel, mystified, and holding up the offering gingerly
between thumb and forefinger to examine it.
"Why, don't you know?--the glove you gave me when you said you 'd be my
Lady-love? don't you remember,--in the barn?" answered Budd, slightly
crestfallen.
Hazel laughed merrily. "Oh, you funny boy!" she said, "to keep an old
glove of mine for nearly a year and a half! Why, it's nearly black and
blue. Have you kept it in your best Sunday-go-to-meeting trousers'
pocket all this time?"
Budd nodded, but soberly. Seeing which, Hazel gave him a pat on the top
of his head, and assured him she would give him one of her cleaned party
gloves once a year till he was twenty-one, if only he would promise not
to keep it in his pocket with spruce-gum, chalk, chestnuts, lead-pencil
sharpenings, top-twine, jack-knives, and ginger cookie crumbs.
"How 'd you know I had all those things in my pocket?" demanded Budd, in
his amazement forgetting his sentiment.
"Oh, a little bird told me," replied Hazel. "Run and ask Chi to come
in, will you? I have his rose ready for him, and it's most time for
them all to come."
It was a quiet wedding. Only those nearest and dearest were about them;
Mr. Sherrill, Aunt Carrie and Uncle Jo, Mr. Clyde and Hazel, Doctor and
Mrs. Heath, the Blossoms and Chi.
Afterwards all the Lost Nation came in to give their heart-felt
blessings and good wishes. They were all there--from Maria-Ann, radiant
in the realization of her own romance, to Miss Alton and the Fords, who
were to leave on the night train to remain six weeks in New York, and
had placed Hunger-ford at the disposal of Rose and Jack during the first
weeks of their marriage. They remained but a little while, for the
excitement was almost more than Jack was able to bear.
The moon rose between six and seven, largely luminous and slightly
reddened through the soft, warm haze of the Indian Summer night. Rose
had insisted, that, if the night were mild, Jack should ride over to
Hunger-ford at a snail's pace on Little Shaver, and that she should lead
him. At first Jack protested, but in the end Rose had her way. Chi, on
Fleet, was to ride on a little ahead to be within call, if anything
should be needed. "Kind of scoutin' to remind us of Cuby, Jack," he
said, laughing, as he helped him into the saddle.
They were all on the porch to see the little cavalcade set forth, the
pony whinnying his delight to find his master on his back. Rose took
the bridle. Suddenly she dropped it, turned, and came back to the steps
where Hazel stood between Mrs. Blossom and March. She put up her arms,
and clasping the young girl about the waist, drew her down to kiss her,
and whisper:
"Oh, Hazel! What if you had n't come to us!--All this happiness is
through you."
And Hazel, but dimly perceiving Rose's meaning, whispered back as she
kissed her:
"And if I had n't come, Rose-pose, _I_ should never have been rich as I
am now; Chi can't call me 'poor' any longer--for you 're all mine, now
that you are Jack's; aren't you?"
March, hearing those whispered words, found his mother's hand,
somehow,--and Mrs. Blossom understood.
"Good-night, Martie dear," cried Rose, love and tears and laughter
struggling in her voice.
"Good-night, Rose dear."
"Good-night, Rose--Good-night, Jack!" cried the twins.
A white slipper filled with rice flew after Little Shaver, and hit him
on the left hock. But he was a well-bred polo pony, and a white satin
slipper with a little rice was as nothing to a swift, long-distance polo
ball; so he gave no sign.
Chi stopped at the little house "over eastwards." Maria-Ann was on the
lookout.
"They 're comin' along just by the turn of the road," he spoke low, "can
you see 'em?"
The road lay white in the moonlight. "Yes, yes," cried Maria-Ann
excitedly, "Oh, Chi, ain't it beautiful!"
"Sh--sh!" said Chi, "they 'll hear you. Hark! By George Washin'ton!
she 's singin'--Get, Fleet." The horse loped along over the moonlit
road, and Maria-Ann went in and shut the door--all but a crack. To that
she put her ear, to hear what the clear, sweet voice was singing:
"'I told thee when love was hopeless;
But now he is wild and sings--
That the stars above
Shine ever on Love,
Though they frown on the fate of kings.'"
Mount Hunger stood bathed in white radiance. The stars came out, but
faintly;--still, they were shining.