_THE SAD AND SOBER PART._
"How will he look? what will he say? can any thing make us forget and
be happy again?" were the first questions Rose asked herself as soon
as she woke from the brief sleep which followed a long, sad vigil. It
seemed as if the whole world must be changed, because a trouble
darkened it for her. She was too young yet to know how possible it is
to forgive much greater sins than this, forget far heavier
disappointments, outlive higher hopes, and bury loves compared to
which hers was but a girlish fancy. She wished it had not been so
bright a day, wondered how her birds could sing with such shrill
gayety, put no ribbon in her hair, and said, as she looked at the
reflection of her own tired face in the glass,--
"Poor thing! you thought the new leaf would have something pleasant on
it. The story has been very sweet and easy to read so far, but the sad
and sober part is coming now."
A tap at the door reminded her that, in spite of her afflictions,
breakfast must be eaten; and the sudden thought that Charlie might
still be in the house made her hurry to the door, to find Dr. Alec
waiting for her with his morning smile. She drew him in, and whispered
anxiously, as if some one lay dangerously ill near by,--
"Is he better, uncle? Tell me all about it: I can bear it now."
Some men would have smiled at her innocent distress, and told her this
was only what was to be expected and endured; but Dr. Alec believed in
the pure instincts that make youth beautiful, desired to keep them
true, and hoped his girl would never learn to look unmoved by pain and
pity upon any human being vanquished by a vice, no matter how trivial
it seemed, how venial it was held. So his face grew grave, though his
voice was cheerful as he answered,--
"All right, I dare say, by this time; for sleep is the best medicine
in such cases. I took him home last night, and no one knows he came
but you and I."
"No one ever shall. How did you do it, uncle?"
"Just slipped out of the long study-window, and got him cannily off;
for the air and motion, after a dash of cold water, brought him round,
and he was glad to be safely landed at home. His rooms are below, you
know: so no one was disturbed, and I left him sleeping nicely."
"Thank you so much," sighed Rose. "And Brutus? weren't they frightened
when he got back alone?"
"Not at all: the sagacious beast went quietly to the stable, and the
sleepy groom asked no questions; for Charlie often sends the horse
round by himself when it is late or stormy. Rest easy, dear: no eye
but ours saw the poor lad come and go, and we'll forgive it for love's
sake."
"Yes, but not forget it. _I_ never can; and he will never be again to
me the Charlie I've been so proud and fond of all these years. O
uncle, such a pity! such a pity!"
"Don't break your tender heart about it, child; for it is not
incurable, thank God! I don't make light of it; but I am sure that
under better influences Charlie will redeem himself, because his
impulses are good, and this his only vice. I can hardly blame him for
what he is, because his mother did the harm. I declare to you, Rose, I
sometimes feel as if I must break out against that woman, and thunder
in her ears that she is ruining the immortal soul for which she is
responsible to heaven."
Dr. Alec seldom spoke in this way, and when he did it was rather
awful; for his indignation was of the righteous sort, and much thunder
often rouses up a drowsy soul when sunshine has no effect. Rose liked
it, and sincerely wished Aunt Clara had been there to get the benefit
of the outbreak; for she needed just such an awakening from the
self-indulgent dream in which she lived.
"Do it, and save Charlie before it is too late!" she cried, kindling
herself as she watched him; for he looked like a roused lion, as he
walked about the room, with his hand clenched and a spark in his eye,
evidently in desperate earnest, and ready to do almost any thing.
"Will you help?" he asked, stopping suddenly, with a look that made
her stand up straight and strong as she answered with an eager
voice,--
"I will."
"Then don't love him--yet."
That startled her; but she asked steadily, though her heart began to
beat and her color to come,--
"Why not?"
"Firstly, because no woman should give her happiness into the keeping
of a man without fixed principles; secondly, because the hope of being
worthy of you will help him more than any prayers or preaching of
mine. Thirdly, because it will need all our wit and patience to undo
the work of nearly four and twenty years. You understand what I mean?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you say 'No' when he asks you to say 'Yes,' and wait a little for
your happiness?"
"I can."
"And will you?"
"I will."
"Then I'm satisfied, and a great weight taken off my heart. I can't
help seeing what goes on, or trembling when I think of you setting
sail with no better pilot than poor Charlie. Now you answer as I hoped
you would, and I am proud of my girl!"
They had been standing with the width of the room between them, Dr.
Alec looking very much like a commander issuing orders, Rose like a
well-drilled private obediently receiving them; and both wore the air
of soldiers getting ready for a battle, with the bracing of nerves and
quickening of the blood brave souls feel as they put on their armor.
At the last words he went to her, brushed back the hair, and kissed
her on the forehead with a tender sort of gravity, and a look that
made her feel as if he had endowed her with the Victoria cross for
courage on the field.
No more was said then; for Aunt Plenty called them down, and the day's
duties began. But that brief talk showed Rose what to do, and fitted
her to do it; for it set her to thinking of the duty one owes one's
self in loving as in all the other great passions or experiences which
make or mar a life.
She had plenty of time for quiet meditation that day, because every
one was resting after yesterday's festivity; and she sat in her
little room planning out a new year, so full of good works, grand
successes, and beautiful romances, that if it could have been realized
the Millennium would have begun. It was a great comfort to her,
however, and lightened the long hours haunted by a secret desire to
know when Charlie would come, and a secret fear of the first meeting.
She was sure he would be bowed down with humiliation and repentance,
and a struggle took place in her mind between the pity she could not
help feeling, and the disapprobation she ought to show. She decided to
be gentle, but very frank; to reprove, but also to console, and try to
improve the softened moment by inspiring the culprit with a wish for
all the virtues which make a perfect man.
This fond delusion grew quite absorbing, and her mind was full of it
as she sat watching the sun set from her western window, and admiring
with dreamy eyes the fine effect of the distant hills clear and dark
against a daffodil sky, when the bang of a door made her sit suddenly
erect in her low chair, and say with a catch in her breath,--
"He is coming! I must remember what I promised uncle, and be very
firm."
Usually Charlie announced his approach with music of some sort: now he
neither whistled, hummed, nor sung, but came so quietly Rose was sure
that he dreaded the meeting as much as she did, and, compassionating
his natural confusion, did not look round as the steps drew near. She
thought perhaps he would go down upon his knees, as he used to after a
boyish offence, but hoped not; for too much humility distressed her:
so she waited for the first demonstration anxiously.
It was rather a shock when it came, however; for a great nosegay
dropped into her lap, and a voice, bold and gay as usual, said
lightly,--
"Here she is, as pretty and pensive as you please. Is the world
hollow, our doll stuffed with sawdust, and do we want to go into a
nunnery to-day, cousin?"
Rose was so taken aback by this unexpected coolness that the flowers
lay unnoticed, as she looked up with a face so full of surprise,
reproach, and something like shame, that it was impossible to mistake
its meaning. Charlie did not; and had the grace to redden deeply, and
his eyes fell, as he said quickly, though in the same light tone,--
"I humbly apologize for--coming so late last night. Don't be hard upon
me, cousin: you know America expects every man to do his duty on
New-Year's day."
"I am tired of forgiving! You make and break promises as easily as you
did years ago, and I shall never ask you for another," answered Rose,
putting the bouquet away; for the apology did not satisfy her, and she
would not be bribed to silence.
"But, my dear girl, you are so very exacting, so peculiar in your
notions, and so angry about trifles, that a poor fellow can't please
you, try as he will," began Charlie, ill at ease, but too proud to
show half the penitence he felt, not so much for the fault as for her
discovery of it.
"I am not angry: I am grieved and disappointed; for _I_ expect every
man to do his duty in another way, and keep his word to the uttermost,
as I try to do. If that is exacting, I'm sorry, and won't trouble you
with my old-fashioned notions any more."
"Bless my soul! what a rout about nothing! I own that I forgot: I know
I acted like a fool, and I beg pardon; what more _can_ I do?"
"Act like a man, and never let me be so terribly ashamed of you again
as I was last night," and Rose gave a little shiver as she thought of
it.
That involuntary act hurt Charlie more than her words, and it was his
turn now to feel "terribly ashamed;" for the events of the previous
evening were very hazy in his mind, and fear magnified them greatly.
Turning sharply away, he went and stood by the fire, quite at a loss
how to make his peace this time, because Rose was so unlike herself.
Usually a word of excuse sufficed, and she seemed glad to pardon and
forget; now, though very quiet, there was something almost stern about
her that surprised and daunted him; for how could he know that all the
while her pitiful heart was pleading for him, and the very effort to
control it made her seem a little hard and cold? As he stood there,
restlessly fingering the little ornaments upon the chimney-piece, his
eye brightened suddenly; and, taking up the pretty bracelet lying
there, he went slowly back to her, saying in a tone that was humble
and serious enough now,--
"I _will_ act like a man, and you shall never be ashamed again. Only
be kind to me: let me put this on, and promise afresh; this time I
swear I'll keep it. Won't you trust me, Rose?"
It was very hard to resist the pleading voice and eyes: for this
humility was dangerous; and, but for Uncle Alec, Rose would have
answered "Yes." The blue forget-me-nots reminded her of her own
promise; and she kept it with difficulty now, to be glad always
afterward. Putting back the offered trinket with a gentle touch, she
said firmly, though she dared not look up into the anxious face
bending toward her,--
"No, Charlie: I can't wear it yet. My hands must be free if I'm to
help you as I ought. I will be kind; I will trust you: but don't swear
any thing, only try to resist temptation, and we'll all stand by you."
Charlie did not like that, and lost the ground he had gained by saying
impetuously,--
"I don't want any one but you to stand by me, and I must be sure you
won't desert me, else, while I'm mortifying soul and body to please
you, some stranger will come and steal your heart away from me. I
couldn't bear that; so I give you fair warning, in such a case I'll
break the bargain, and go straight to the devil."
The last sentence spoilt it all; for it was both masterful and
defiant. Rose had the Campbell spirit in her, though it seldom
showed; as yet she valued her liberty more than any love offered her,
and she resented the authority he assumed too soon,--resented it all
the more warmly, because of the effort she was making to reinstate her
hero, who would insist on being a very faulty and ungrateful man. She
rose straight out of her chair, saying with a look and tone which
rather startled her hearer, and convinced him that she was no longer a
tender-hearted child, but a woman with a will of her own, and a spirit
as proud and fiery as any of her race,--
"My heart is my own, to dispose of as I please. Don't shut yourself
out of it by presuming too much; for you have no claim on me but that
of cousinship, and you never will have unless you earn it. Remember
that, and neither threaten nor defy me any more."
For a minute it was doubtful whether Charlie would answer this flash
with another, and a general explosion ensue; or wisely quench the
flame with the mild answer which turneth away wrath. He chose the
latter course, and made it very effective by throwing himself down
before his offended goddess, as he had often done in jest; this time
it was not acting, but serious earnest, and there was real passion in
his voice, as he caught Rose's dress in both hands, saying eagerly,--
"No, no! don't shut your heart against me, or I shall turn desperate.
I'm not half good enough for such a saint as you, but you can do what
you will with me. I only need a motive to make a man of me, and where
can I find a stronger one than in trying to keep your love?"
"It is not yours yet," began Rose, much moved, though all the while
she felt as if she was on a stage, and had a part to play; for Charlie
had made life so like a melodrama that it was hard for him to be quite
simple even when most sincere.
"Let me earn it, then. Show me how, and I'll do any thing: for you are
my good angel, Rose; and, if you cast me off, I feel as if I shouldn't
care how soon there was an end of me," cried Charlie, getting tragic
in his earnestness, and putting both arms round her, as if his only
safety lay in clinging to this beloved fellow-creature.
Behind footlights it would have been irresistible; but somehow it did
not touch the one spectator, though she had neither time nor skill to
discover why. For all their ardor the words did not ring quite true:
despite the grace of the attitude, she would have liked him better
manfully erect upon his feet; and, though the gesture was full of
tenderness, a subtle instinct made her shrink away, as she said with a
composure that surprised herself, even more than it did him,--
"Please don't. No, I will promise nothing yet; for I must respect the
man I love."
That brought Charlie to his feet, pale with something deeper than
anger; for the recoil told him more plainly than the words how much he
had fallen in her regard since yesterday. The memory of the happy
moment when she gave the rose with that new softness in her eyes, the
shy color, the sweet "for my sake," came back with sudden vividness,
contrasting sharply with the now averted face, the hand out-stretched
to put him back, the shrinking figure: and in that instant's silence
poor Charlie realized what he had lost; for a girl's first thought of
love is as delicate a thing as the rosy morning-glory, that a breath
of air can shatter. Only a hint of evil, only an hour's debasement for
him, a moment's glimpse for her of the coarser pleasures men know, and
the innocent heart, just opening to bless and to be blessed, closed
again like a sensitive plant, and shut him out perhaps for ever.
The consciousness of this turned him pale with fear: for his love was
deeper than she knew; and he proved this when he said in a tone so
full of mingled pain and patience that it touched her to the heart,--
"You _shall_ respect me if I can make you; and when I've earned it may
I hope for something more?"
She looked up then, saw in his face the noble shame, the humble sort
of courage, that shows repentance to be genuine, and gives promise of
success, and, with a hopeful smile that was a cordial to him, answered
heartily,--
"You may."
"Bless you for that! I'll make no promises, I'll ask for none: only
trust me, Rose; and, while you treat me like a cousin, remember that
no matter how many lovers you may have, you'll never be to any of
them as dear as you are to me."
A traitorous break in his voice warned Charlie to stop there: and,
with no other good-by, he very wisely went away, leaving Rose to put
the neglected flowers into water with remorseful care, and lay away
the bracelet, saying to herself,--
"I'll never wear it till I feel as I did before; then he shall put it
on, and I'll say 'Yes.'"