_PRINCE CHARMING._
The old glove lay upon the floor forgotten, while Rose sat musing,
till a quick step sounded in the hall, and a voice drew near tunefully
humming.
"As he was walkin' doun the street
The city for to view,
Oh, there he spied a bonny lass,
The window lookin' through."
"Sae licht he jumpèd up the stair,
And tirled at the pin;
Oh, wha sae ready as hersel'
To let the laddie in?"
sung Rose, as the voice paused and a tap came at the door.
"Good morning, Rosamunda; here are your letters, and your most devoted
ready to execute any commissions you may have for him," was Charlie's
greeting, as he came in looking comely, gay, and debonair as usual.
"Thanks: I've no errands unless you mail my replies, if these need
answering; so by your leave, Prince," and Rose began to open the
handful of notes he threw into her lap.
"Ha! what sight is this to blast mine eyes?" ejaculated Charlie, as he
pointed to the glove with a melodramatic start; for, like most
accomplished amateur actors, he was fond of introducing private
theatricals into his "daily walk and conversation."
"Uncle left it."
"'Tis well; methought perchance a rival had been here," and, picking
it up, Charlie amused himself with putting it on the head of a little
Psyche, which ornamented the mantle-piece, humming, as he did so,
another verse of the old song,--
"He set his Jenny on his knee,
All in his Highland dress;
For brawly well he kenned the way
To please a bonny lass."
Rose went on reading her letters, but all the while was thinking of
her conversation with her uncle, and something else, suggested by the
newcomer and his ditty.
During the three months since her return, she had seen more of this
cousin than any of the others; for he seemed to be the only one who
had leisure to "play with Rose," as they used to say years ago. The
other boys were all at work, even little Jamie, many of whose play
hours were devoted to manful struggles with Latin grammar, the evil
genius of his boyish life. Dr. Alec had many affairs to arrange after
his long absence; Phebe was busy with her music; and Aunt Plenty still
actively superintended her housekeeping. Thus it fell out, quite
naturally, that Charlie should form the habit of lounging in at all
hours with letters, messages, bits of news, and agreeable plans for
Rose. He helped her with her sketching, rode with her, sung with her,
and took her to parties, as a matter of course; for Aunt Clara, being
the gayest of the sisters, played chaperon on all occasions.
For a time it was very pleasant; but, by and by, Rose began to wish
Charlie would find something to do like the rest, and not make
dawdling after her the business of his life. The family were used to
his self-indulgent ways: and there was an amiable delusion in the
minds of the boys that he had a right to the best of every thing; for
to them he was still the Prince, the flower of the flock, and in time
to be an honor to the name. No one exactly knew how: for, though full
of talent, he seemed to have no especial gift or bias; and the elders
began to shake their heads, because, in spite of many grand promises
and projects, the moment for decisive action never came.
Rose saw all this, and longed to inspire her brilliant cousin with
some manful purpose, which should win for him respect as well as
admiration. But she found it very hard: for, though he listened with
imperturbable good humor, and owned his shortcomings with delightful
frankness, he always had some argument, reason, or excuse to offer,
and out-talked her in five minutes; leaving her silenced, but
unconvinced.
Of late she had observed that he seemed to feel as if her time and
thoughts belonged exclusively to him, and rather resented the approach
of any other claimant. This annoyed her, and suggested the idea that
her affectionate interest and efforts were misunderstood by him,
misrepresented and taken advantage of by Aunt Clara, who had been most
urgent that she should "use her influence with the dear boy," though
the fond mother resented all other interference. This troubled Rose,
and made her feel as if caught in a snare; for, while she owned to
herself that Charlie was the most attractive of her cousins, she was
not ready to be taken possession of in this masterful way, especially
since other and sometimes better men sought her favor more humbly.
These thoughts were floating vaguely in her mind as she read her
letters, and unconsciously influenced her in the chat that followed.
"Only invitations, and I can't stop to answer them now, or I shall
never get through this job," she said, returning to her work.
"Let me help. You do up, and I'll direct. Have a secretary; do now,
and see what a comfort it will be," proposed Charlie, who could turn
his hand to any thing, and had made himself quite at home in the
sanctum.
"I'd rather finish this myself, but you may answer the notes if you
will. Just regrets to all but two or three. Read the names as you go
along, and I'll tell you which."
"To hear is to obey. Who says I'm a 'frivolous idler' now?" and
Charlie sat down at the writing table with alacrity; for these hours
in the little room were his best and happiest.
"Order is heaven's first law, and the view a lovely one, but I _don't_
see any note-paper," he added, opening the desk and surveying its
contents with interest.
"Right-hand drawer: violet monogram for the notes; plain paper for the
business letter. I'll see to that, though," answered Rose, trying to
decide whether Annabel or Emma should have the laced handkerchief.
"Confiding creature! Suppose I open the wrong drawer, and come upon
the tender secrets of your soul?" continued the new secretary,
rummaging out the delicate note-paper with masculine disregard of
order.
"I haven't got any," answered Rose, demurely.
"What, not one despairing scrawl, one cherished miniature, one faded
floweret, etc., etc.? I can't believe it, cousin," and he shook his
head incredulously.
"If I had, I certainly should not show them to you, impertinent
person! There _are_ a few little souvenirs in that desk, but nothing
very sentimental or interesting."
"How I'd like to see 'em! But I should never dare to ask," observed
Charlie, peering over the top of the half-open lid with a most
persuasive pair of eyes.
"You may if you want to, but you'll be disappointed, Paul Pry. Lower
left-hand drawer with the key in it."
"'Angel of goodness, how shall I requite thee? Interesting moment,
with what palpitating emotions art thou fraught!'" and, quoting from
the "Mysteries of Udolpho," he unlocked and opened the drawer with a
tragic gesture.
"Seven locks of hair in a box, all light; for 'here's your straw
color, your orange tawny, your French crown color, and your perfect
yellow' Shakspeare. They look very familiar, and I fancy I know the
heads they thatched."
"Yes, you all gave me one when I went away, you know; and I carried
them round the world with me in that very box."
"I wish the heads had gone too. Here's a jolly little amber god, with
a gold ring in his back and a most balmy breath," continued Charlie,
taking a long sniff at the scent-bottle.
"Uncle brought me that long ago, and I'm very fond of it."
"This now looks suspicious,--a man's ring with a lotus cut on the
stone and a note attached. I tremble as I ask, Who, when, and where?"
"A gentleman, on my birthday, in Calcutta."
"I breathe again: it was my sire?"
"Don't be absurd. Of course it was, and he did every thing to make my
visit pleasant. I wish you'd go and see him like a dutiful son,
instead of idling here."
"That's what Uncle Mac is eternally telling me; but I don't intend to
be lectured into the tread-mill till I've had my fling first,"
muttered Charlie, rebelliously.
"If you fling yourself in the wrong direction, you may find it hard to
get back again," began Rose, gravely.
"No fear, if you look after me as you seem to have promised to do,
judging by the thanks you get in this note. Poor old governor! I
_should_ like to see him; for it's almost four years since he came
home last, and he must be getting on."
Charlie was the only one of the boys who ever called his father
"governor:" perhaps because the others knew and loved their fathers,
while he had seen so little of his that the less respectful name came
more readily to his lips; since the elder man seemed in truth a
governor issuing requests or commands, which the younger too often
neglected or resented.
Long ago Rose had discovered that Uncle Stephen found home made so
distasteful by his wife's devotion to society, that he preferred to
exile himself, taking business as an excuse for his protracted
absences.
The girl was thinking of this, as she watched her cousin turn the ring
about with a sudden sobriety which became him well; and, believing
that the moment was propitious, she said earnestly,--
"He _is_ getting on. Dear Charlie, do think of duty more than pleasure
in this case, and I'm sure you never will regret it."
"Do _you_ want me to go?" he asked quickly.
"I think you ought."
"And I think you'd be much more charming if you wouldn't always be
worrying about right and wrong! Uncle Alec taught you that along with
the rest of his queer notions."
"I'm glad he did!" cried Rose, warmly; then checked herself, and said
with a patient sort of sigh, "You know women always want the men they
care for to be good, and can't help trying to make them so."
"So they do; and we ought to be a set of angels: but I've a strong
conviction that, if we were, the dear souls wouldn't like us half as
well. Would they now?" asked Charlie, with an insinuating smile.
"Perhaps not; but that is dodging the point. Will you go?" persisted
Rose, unwisely.
"No, I will not."
That was sufficiently decided; and an uncomfortable pause followed,
during which Rose tied a knot unnecessarily tight, and Charlie went on
exploring the drawer with more energy than interest.
"Why, here's an old thing I gave you ages ago!" he suddenly exclaimed
in a pleased tone, holding up a little agate heart on a faded blue
ribbon. "Will you let me take away the heart of stone and give you a
heart of flesh?" he asked, half in earnest, half in jest, touched by
the little trinket and the recollections it awakened.
"No, I will not," answered Rose, bluntly, much displeased by the
irreverent and audacious question.
Charlie looked rather abashed for a moment; but his natural
light-heartedness made it easy for him to get the better of his own
brief fits of waywardness, and put others in good humor with him and
themselves.
"Now we are even: let's drop the subject and start afresh," he said
with irresistible affability, as he coolly put the little heart in his
pocket, and prepared to shut the drawer. But something caught his eye,
and exclaiming, "What's this? what's this?" he snatched up a
photograph which lay half under a pile of letters with foreign
post-marks.
"Oh! I forgot that was there," said Rose, hastily.
"Who is the man?" demanded Charlie, eying the good-looking countenance
before him with a frown.
"That is the Honorable Gilbert Murry, who went up the Nile with us,
and shot crocodiles and other small deer, being a mighty hunter, as I
told you in my letters," answered Rose gayly, though ill-pleased at
the little discovery just then; for this had been one of the narrow
escapes her uncle spoke of.
"And they haven't eaten him yet, I infer from that pile of letters?"
said Charlie, jealously.
"I hope not. His sister did not mention it when she wrote last."
"Ah! then she is your correspondent? Sisters are dangerous things
sometimes." And Charlie eyed the packet suspiciously.
"In this case, a very convenient thing; for she tells me all about her
brother's wedding as no one else would take the trouble to do."
"Oh! well, if he's married, I don't care a straw about him. I fancied
I'd found out why you are such a hard-hearted charmer. But, if there
is no secret idol, I'm all at sea again." And Charlie tossed the
photograph into the drawer, as if it no longer interested him.
"I'm hard-hearted because I'm particular, and, as yet, do not find any
one at all to my taste."
"No one?" with a tender glance.
"No one," with a rebellious blush, and the truthful addition, "I see
much to admire and like in many persons, but none quite strong and
good enough to suit me. My heroes are old-fashioned, you know."
"Prigs, like Guy Carleton, Count Altenberg, and John Halifax: I know
the pattern you goody girls like," sneered Charlie, who preferred the
Guy Livingston, Beauclerc, and Rochester style.
"Then I'm not a 'goody girl,' for I don't like prigs. I want a
gentleman in the best sense of the word, and I can wait; for I've seen
one, and know there are more in the world."
"The deuce you have! Do I know him?" asked Charlie, much alarmed.
"You think you do," answered Rose, with a mischievous sparkle in her
eye.
"If it isn't Pem, I give it up. He is the best-bred fellow I know."
"Oh, dear, no! far superior to Mr. Pemberton, and many years older,"
said Rose, with so much respect that Charlie looked perplexed as well
as anxious.
"Some apostolic minister, I fancy. You pious creatures always like to
adore a parson. But all we know are married."
"He isn't."
"Give a name, for pity's sake: I'm suffering tortures of suspense,"
begged Charlie.
"Alexander Campbell."
"Uncle? Well, upon my word, that's a relief, but mighty absurd all the
same. So, when you find a young saint of that sort, you intend to
marry him, do you?" demanded Charlie, much amused and rather
disappointed.
"When I find any man half as honest, good, and noble as uncle, I shall
be proud to marry him, if he asks me," answered Rose, decidedly.
"What odd tastes women have!" And Charlie leaned his chin on his hand,
to muse pensively for a moment over the blindness of one woman who
could admire an excellent old uncle more than a dashing young cousin.
Rose, meanwhile, tied up her parcels industriously, hoping she had not
been too severe; for it was very hard to lecture Charlie, though he
seemed to like it sometimes, and came to confession voluntarily,
knowing that women love to forgive when the sinners are of his sort.
"It will be mail-time before you are done," she said presently; for
silence was less pleasant than his rattle.
Charlie took the hint, and dashed off several notes in his best
manner. Coming to the business-letter, he glanced at it, and asked,
with a puzzled expression,--
"What is all this? Cost of repairs, &c., from a man named Buffum?"
"Never mind that: I'll see to it by and by."
"But I do mind, for I'm interested in all your affairs; and, though
you think I've no head for business, you'll find I have, if you'll try
me."
"This is only about my two old houses in the city, which are being
repaired and altered so that the rooms can be let singly."
"Going to make tenement-houses of them? Well, that's not a bad idea:
such places pay well, I've heard."
"That is just what I'm _not_ going to do. I wouldn't have a
tenement-house on my conscience for a million of dollars,--not as they
are now," said Rose, decidedly.
"Why, what do _you_ know about it, except that poor people live in
them, and the owners turn a penny on the rents?"
"I know a good deal about them; for I've seen many such, both here
and abroad. It was not all pleasure with us, I assure you. Uncle
was interested in hospitals and prisons, and I sometimes went with
him: but they made me sad; so he suggested other charities, that
I could help about when we came home. I visited Infant Schools,
Working-women's Homes, Orphan Asylums, and places of that sort. You
don't know how much good it did me, and how glad I am that I have the
means of lightening a little some of the misery in the world."
"But, my dear girl, you needn't make ducks and drakes of your fortune
trying to feed and cure and clothe all the poor wretches you see.
Give, of course: every one should do something in that line, and no
one likes it better than I. But don't, for mercy's sake, go at it as
some women do, and get so desperately earnest, practical, and
charity-mad that there is no living in peace with you," protested
Charlie, looking alarmed at the prospect.
"You can do as you please. _I_ intend to do all the good I can by
asking the advice and following the example of the most 'earnest,'
'practical,' and 'charitable' people I know: so, if you don't approve,
you can drop my acquaintance," answered Rose, emphasizing the
obnoxious words, and assuming the resolute air she always wore when
defending her hobbies.
"You'll be laughed at."
"I'm used to that."
"And criticised and shunned."
"Not by people whose opinion I value."
"Women shouldn't go poking into such places."
"I've been taught that they should."
"Well, you'll get some dreadful disease and lose your beauty, and
then where are you?" added Charlie, thinking that might daunt the
young philanthropist.
But it did not; for Rose answered, with a sudden kindling of the eyes
as she remembered her talk with Uncle Alec,--
"I shouldn't like it: but there would be one satisfaction in it; for,
when I'd lost my beauty and given away my money, I should know who
really cared for me."
Charlie nibbled his pen in silence for a moment, then asked, meekly,--
"Could I respectfully inquire what great reform is to be carried on in
the old houses which their amiable owner is repairing?"
"I am merely going to make them comfortable homes for poor but
respectable women to live in. There is a class who cannot afford to
pay much, yet suffer a great deal from being obliged to stay in noisy,
dirty, crowded places like tenement-houses and cheap lodgings. I can
help a few of them, and I'm going to try."
"May I humbly ask if these decayed gentlewomen are to inhabit their
palatial retreat rent-free?"
"That was my first plan; but uncle showed me that it was wiser not to
make genteel paupers of them, but let them pay a small rent and feel
independent. I don't want the money of course, and shall use it in
keeping the houses tidy, or helping other women in like case," said
Rose, entirely ignoring her cousin's covert ridicule.
"Don't expect any gratitude, for you won't get it; nor much comfort
with a lot of forlornities on your hands; and be sure that when it is
too late you will tire of it all, and wish you had done as other
people do."
"Thanks for your cheerful prophecies; but I think I'll venture."
She looked so undaunted that Charlie was a little nettled, and fired
his last shot rather recklessly,--
"Well, one thing I do know: you'll never get a husband if you go on in
this absurd way; and, by Jove! you need one to take care of you and
keep the property together!"
Rose had a temper, but seldom let it get the better of her; now,
however, it flashed up for a moment. Those last words were peculiarly
unfortunate, because Aunt Clara had used them more than once, when
warning her against impecunious suitors and generous projects. She was
disappointed in her cousin, annoyed at having her little plans laughed
at, and indignant with him for his final suggestion.
"I'll never have one, if I must give up the liberty of doing what I
know is right; and I'd rather go into the poor-house to-morrow than
'keep the property together' in the selfish way you mean!"
That was all: but Charlie saw that he had gone too far, and hastened
to make his peace with the skill of a lover; for, turning to the
little cabinet piano behind him, he sung in his best style the sweet
old song,--
"Oh were thou in the cauld blast,"
dwelling with great effect, not only upon the tender assurance that
"My plaid should shelter thee,"
but also that, even if a king,
"The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen."
It was very evident that Prince Charming had not gone troubadouring in
vain; for Orpheus himself could not have restored harmony more
successfully. The tuneful apology was accepted with a forgiving smile,
and a frank,--
"I'm sorry I was cross; but you haven't forgotten how to tease, and
I'm rather out of sorts to-day. Late hours don't agree with me."
"Then you won't feel like going to Mrs. Hope's to-morrow night, I'm
afraid," and Charlie took up the last note with an expression of
regret which was very flattering.
"I must go, because it is made for me; but I can come away early, and
make up lost sleep. I do hate to be so fractious," and Rose rubbed the
forehead that ached with too much racketing.
"But the German does not begin till late: I'm to lead, and depend upon
you. Just stay this once to oblige me," pleaded Charlie; for he had
set his heart on distinguishing himself.
"No: I promised uncle to be temperate in my pleasures, and I must keep
my word. I'm so well now, it would be very foolish to get ill and make
him anxious: not to mention losing my beauty, as you are good enough
to call it; for that depends on health, you know."
"But the fun doesn't begin till after supper. Every thing will be
delightful, I assure you; and we'll have a gay old time as we did last
week at Emma's."
"Then I certainly will not; for I'm ashamed of myself when I remember
what a romp that was, and how sober uncle looked, as he let me in at
three in the morning, all fagged out; my dress in rags, my head
aching, my feet so tired I could hardly stand, and nothing to show for
five hours' hard work but a pocketful of bonbons, artificial flowers,
and tissue-paper fool's-caps. Uncle said I'd better put one on and go
to bed; for I looked as if I'd been to a French Bal Masqué. I never
want to hear him say so again, and I'll never let dawn catch me out in
such a plight any more."
"You were all right enough; for mother didn't object, and I got you
both home before daylight. Uncle is notional about such things, so I
shouldn't mind; for we had a jolly time, and we were none the worse
for it."
"Indeed we were, every one of us! Aunt Clara hasn't got over her cold
yet; I slept all the next day; and you looked like a ghost, for you'd
been out every night for weeks, I think."
"Oh, nonsense! every one does it during the season, and you'll get
used to the pace very soon," began Charlie, bent on making her go; for
he was in his element in a ballroom, and never happier than when he
had his pretty cousin on his arm.
"Ah! but I don't want to get used to it; for it costs too much in the
end. I don't wish to get used to being whisked about a hot room by men
who have taken too much wine; to turn day into night, wasting time
that might be better spent; and grow into a fashionable fast girl who
can't get on without excitement. I don't deny that much of it is
pleasant, but don't try to make me too fond of gayety. Help me to
resist what I know is hurtful, and please don't laugh me out of the
good habits uncle has tried so hard to give me."
Rose was quite sincere in her appeal, and Charlie knew she was right:
but he always found it hard to give up any thing he had set his heart
upon, no matter how trivial; for the maternal indulgence which had
harmed the boy had fostered the habit of self-indulgence which was
ruining the man. So when Rose looked up at him, with a very honest
desire to save him as well as herself from being swept into the giddy
vortex which keeps so many young people revolving aimlessly, till they
go down or are cast upon the shore wrecks of what they might have
been, he gave a shrug and answered briefly,--
"As you please. I'll bring you home as early as you like, and Effie
Waring can take your place in the German. What flowers shall I send
you?"
Now, that was an artful speech of Charlie's; for Miss Waring was a
fast and fashionable damsel, who openly admired Prince Charming, and
had given him the name. Rose disliked her, and was sure her influence
was bad; for youth made frivolity forgivable, wit hid want of
refinement, and beauty always covers a multitude of sins in a man's
eyes. At the sound of Effie's name, Rose wavered, and would have
yielded but for the memory of the "first mate's" last words. She did
desire to "keep a straight course;" so, though the current of impulse
set strongly in a southerly direction, principle, the only compass
worth having, pointed due north, and she tried to obey it like a wise
young navigator, saying steadily, while she directed to Annabel the
parcel containing a capacious pair of slippers intended for Uncle
Mac,--
"Don't trouble yourself about me. I can go with uncle, and slip away
without disturbing anybody."
"I don't believe you'll have the heart to do it," said Charlie,
incredulously, as he sealed the last note.
"Wait and see."
"I will, but shall hope to the last," and, kissing his hand to her, he
departed to post her letters, quite sure that Miss Waring would not
lead the German.
It certainly looked for a moment as if Miss Campbell _would_, because
she ran to the door with the words "I'll go" upon her lips. But she
did not open it till she had stood a minute staring hard at the old
glove on Psyche's head; then, like one who had suddenly got a bright
idea, she gave a decided nod and walked slowly out of the room.