_SMALL TEMPTATIONS._
"O Rose, I've got something so exciting to tell you!" cried Kitty Van
Tassel, skipping into the carriage next morning when her friend called
for her to go shopping.
Kitty always did have some "perfectly thrilling" communication to
make, and Rose had learned to take them quietly: but the next
demonstration was a new one; for, regardless alike of curious
observers outside and disordered hats within, Kitty caught Rose round
the neck, exclaiming in a rapturous whisper,--
"My dearest creature, I'm engaged!"
"I'm so glad! Of course it is Steve?"
"Dear fellow, he did it last night in the nicest way, and mamma is
_so_ delighted. Now what _shall_ I be married in?" and Kitty composed
herself with a face full of the deepest anxiety.
"How can you talk of that so soon? Why, Kit, you unromantic girl, you
ought to be thinking of your lover and not your clothes," said Rose,
amused, yet rather scandalized at such want of sentiment.
"I _am_ thinking of my lover; for he says he will _not_ have a long
engagement, so I _must_ begin to think about the most important things
at once, mustn't I?"
"Ah, he wants to be sure of you; for you are such a slippery creature
he is afraid you'll treat him as you did poor Jackson and the rest,"
interrupted Rose, shaking her finger at her prospective cousin, who
had tried this pastime twice before, and was rather proud than
otherwise of her brief engagements.
"You needn't scold, for I know I'm right; and, when you've been in
society as long as I have, you'll find that the only way to really
know a man is to be engaged to him. While they want you, they are all
devotion; but when they think they've got you, then you find out what
wretches they are," answered Kitty, with an air of worldly wisdom
which contrasted oddly with her youthful face and giddy manners.
"A sad prospect for poor Steve, unless I give him a hint to look well
to his ways."
"O my dear child, I'm sure of him; for my experience has made me very
sharp, and I'm convinced I can manage him without a bit of trouble.
We've known each other for ages" (Steve was twenty and Kitty
eighteen), "and always been the best of friends. Besides he is quite
my ideal man: I never _could_ bear big hands and feet, and his are
simply adorable. Then he's the best dancer I know, and dresses in
perfect taste. I really do believe I fell in love with his
pocket-handkerchiefs first; they were so enchanting I couldn't
resist," laughed Kitty, pulling a large one out of her pocket, and
burying her little nose in the folds, which shed a delicious fragrance
upon the air.
"Now that looks promising, and I begin to think you _have_ got a
little sentiment after all," said Rose, well pleased; for the merry
brown eyes had softened suddenly, and a quick color came up in Kitty's
cheek, as she answered, still half hiding her face in the beloved
handkerchief,--
"Of course I have, lots of it; only I'm ashamed to show it to most
people, because it's the style to take every thing in the most
nonchalant way. My gracious, Rose, you'd have thought me a romantic
goose last night while Steve proposed in the back parlor: for I
actually cried; he was so dreadfully in earnest when I pretended that
I didn't care for him, and so very dear and nice when I told the
truth. I didn't know he had it in him; but he came out delightfully,
and never cared a particle, though I dropped tears all over his lovely
shirt-front. Wasn't that good of him? for you know he hates his things
to be mussed."
"He's a true Campbell, and has got a good warm heart of his own under
those fine fronts of his. Aunt Jane doesn't believe in sentiment, so
he has been trained never to show any: but it is there, and you must
encourage him to let it out; not foolishly, but in a way to make him
more manly and serious."
"I will if I can; for, though I wouldn't own this to everybody, I like
it in him very much, and feel as if Steve and I should get on
beautifully. Here we are: now be sure not to breathe a word if we meet
any one; I want it to be a profound secret for a week at least," added
Kitty, whisking the handkerchief out of sight, as the carriage stopped
before the fashionable store they were about to visit.
Rose promised with a smile; for Kitty's face betrayed her without
words, so full was it of the happiness which few eyes fail to
understand wherever they see it.
"Just a glance at the silks. You ask my opinion about white ones, and
I'll look at the colors. Mamma says satin; but that is out now, and
I've set my heart on the heaviest corded thing I can find," whispered
Kitty, as they went rustling by the long counters strewn with all that
could delight the feminine eye, and tempt the feminine pocket.
"Isn't that opal the loveliest thing you ever saw? I'm afraid I'm too
dark to wear it, but it would just suit you. You'll need a variety you
know," added Kitty in a significant aside, as Rose stood among the
white silks, while her companion affected great interest in the
delicate hues laid before her.
"But I have a variety now, and don't need a new dress of any sort."
"No matter, get it; else it will be gone: you've worn all yours
several times already, and _must_ have a new one whether you need it
or not. Dear me! if I had as much pocket-money as you have, I'd come
out in a fresh toilet at every party I went to," answered Kitty,
casting an envious eye upon the rainbow piles before her.
The quick-witted shopman saw that a wedding was afoot; for when two
pretty girls whisper, smile, and blush over their shopping, clerks
scent bridal finery, and a transient gleam of interest brightens their
imperturbable countenances, and lends a brief energy to languid voices
weary with crying "Cash!" Gathering both silks with a practised turn
of the hand, he held them up for inspection, detecting at a glance
which was the bride-elect and which the friend; for Kitty fell back to
study the effect of the silvery white folds with an absorbing interest
impossible to mistake, while Rose sat looking at the opal as if she
scarcely heard a bland voice saying, with the rustle of silk so dear
to girlish ears,--
"A superb thing; just opened; all the rage in Paris; very rare shade;
trying to most, as the lady says, but quite perfect for a blonde."
Rose was not listening to those words, but to others which Aunt Clara
had lately uttered; laughed at then, but thought over more than once
since.
"I'm tired of hearing people wonder why Miss Campbell does not dress
more. Simplicity is all very well for school-girls and women who can't
afford any thing better, but _you_ can, and you really ought. Your
things are pretty enough in their way, and I rather like you to have a
style of your own; but it looks odd, and people will think you are
mean if you don't make more show. Besides, you don't do justice to
your beauty, which would be both peculiar and striking, if you'd
devote your mind to getting up ravishing costumes."
Much more to the same effect did her aunt say, discussing the subject
quite artistically, and unconsciously appealing to several of Rose's
ruling passions. One was a love for the delicate fabrics, colors, and
ornaments which refined tastes enjoy, and whose costliness keeps them
from ever growing common; another, her strong desire to please the
eyes of those she cared for, and gratify their wishes in the smallest
matter if she could. And last, but not least, the natural desire of a
young and pretty woman to enhance the beauty which she so soon
discovers to be her most potent charm for the other sex, her passport
to a high place among her maiden peers.
She had thought seriously of surprising and delighting every one, by
appearing in a costume which should do justice to the loveliness which
was so modest that it was apt to forget itself in admiring
others,--what girls call a "ravishing" dress, such as she could
imagine and easily procure by the magic of the Fortunatus' purse in
her pocket. She had planned it all; the shimmer of pale silk through
lace like woven frost-work, ornaments of some classic pattern, and all
the dainty accessaries as perfect as time, taste, and money could make
them.
She knew that Uncle Alec's healthful training had given her a figure
that could venture on any fashion, and Nature blessed her with a
complexion that defied all hues. So it was little wonder that she felt
a strong desire to use these gifts, not for the pleasure of display,
but to seem fair in the eyes that seldom looked at her without a
tender sort of admiration, all the more winning when no words marred
the involuntary homage women love.
These thoughts were busy in Rose's mind, as she sat looking at the
lovely silk, and wondering what Charlie would say if she should some
night burst upon him in a pale, rosy cloud, like the Aurora to whom he
often likened her. She knew it would please him very much, and she
longed to do all she honestly could to gratify the poor fellow; for
her tender heart already felt some remorseful pangs, remembering how
severe she had been the night before. She could not revoke her words,
because she meant them every one; but she might be kind, and show that
she did not wholly shut him out from her regard, by asking him to go
with her to Kitty's ball, and gratify his artistic taste by a lovely
costume. A very girlish but kindly plan; for that ball was to be the
last of her frivolities, so she wanted it to be a pleasant one, and
felt that "being friends" with Charlie would add much to her
enjoyment. This idea made her fingers tighten on the gleaming fabric
so temptingly upheld, and she was about to take it when, "If ye
please, sir, would ye kindly tell me where I'd be finding the flannel
place?" said a voice behind her; and, glancing up, she saw a meek
little Irish-woman looking quite lost and out of place among the
luxuries around her.
"Downstairs, turn to the left," was the clerk's hasty reply, with a
vague wave of the hand which left the inquirer more in the dark than
ever.
Rose saw the woman's perplexity, and said kindly, "I'll show you: this
way."
"I'm ashamed to be throublin' ye, miss; but it's strange I am in it,
and wouldn't be comin' here at all, at all, barrin' they tould me I'd
get the bit I'm wantin' chaper in this big shop than the little ones
more becomin' the like o' me," explained the little woman humbly.
Rose looked again, as she led the way through a well-dressed crowd of
busy shoppers: and something in the anxious, tired face under the old
woollen hood; the bare, purple hands, holding fast a meagre wallet and
a faded scrap of the dotted flannel little children's frocks are so
often made of,--touched the generous heart, that never could see want
without an impulse to relieve it. She had meant only to point the way;
but, following a new impulse, she went on, listening to the poor
soul's motherly prattle about "me baby," and the "throuble" it was to
"find clothes for the growin' childer, when me man is out av work, and
the bit and sup inconvaynient these hard times," as they descended to
that darksome lower world, where necessities take refuge when luxuries
crowd them out from the gayer place above.
The presence of a lady made Mrs. Sullivan's shopping very easy now;
and her one poor "bit" of flannel grew miraculously into yards of
several colors, since the shabby purse was no lighter when she went
away, wiping her eyes on the corner of a big, brown bundle. A very
little thing, and no one saw it but a wooden-faced clerk, who never
told; yet it did Rose good, and sent her up into the light again with
a sober face, thinking self-reproachfully,--
"What right have I to more gay gowns, when some poor babies have none;
or to spend time making myself fine, while there is so much bitter
want in the world?"
Nevertheless the pretty things were just as tempting as ever, and she
yearned for the opal silk with a renewed yearning when she got back. I
am not sure that it would not have been bought in spite of her better
self, if a good angel in the likeness of a stout lady with silvery
curls about the benevolent face, enshrined in a plain bonnet, had not
accosted her as she joined Kitty, still brooding over the wedding
gowns.
"I waited a moment for you, my dear, because I'm in haste, and very
glad to save myself a journey or a note," began the newcomer in a low
tone, as Rose shook hands with the most affectionate respect. "You
know the great box factory was burned a day or two ago, and over a
hundred girls thrown out of work. Some were hurt and are in the
hospital, many have no homes to go to, and nearly all need temporary
help of some sort. We've had so many calls this winter I hardly know
which way to turn; for the want is pressing, and I've had my finger in
so many purses I'm almost ashamed to ask again. Any little
contribution--ah, thank you; I was sure you wouldn't fail me, my good
child," and Mrs. Gardener warmly pressed the hand that went so quickly
into the little portemonnaie, and came out so generously filled.
"Let me know how else I can help, and thank you very much for allowing
me to have a share in your good works," said Rose, forgetting all
about gay gowns, as she watched the black bonnet go briskly away, with
an approving smile on the fine old face inside it.
"You extravagant thing! how could you give so much?" whispered Kitty,
whose curious eye had seen three figures on the single bill which had
so rapidly changed hands.
"I believe if Mrs. Gardener asked me for my head I should give it to
her," answered Rose lightly; then turning to the silks she asked,
"Which have you decided upon; the yellow white or the blue, the corded
or the striped?"
"I've decided nothing, except that _you_ are to have the pink, and
wear it at my--ahem! ball," said Kitty, who _had_ made up her mind,
but could not give her orders till mamma had been consulted.
"No, I can't afford it just yet. I never overstep my allowance, and I
shall have to if I get any more finery. Come, we ought not to waste
time here, if you have all the patterns you want," and Rose walked
quickly away, glad that it was out of her power to break through two
resolutions which hitherto had been faithfully kept,--one to dress
simply for example's sake, the other not to be extravagant for
charity's sake.
As Rosamond had her day of misfortunes, so this seemed to be one of
small temptations to Rose. After she had set Kitty down at home and
been to see her new houses, she drove about doing various errands for
the aunts; and, while waiting in the carriage for the execution of an
order, young Pemberton came by.
As Steve said, this gentleman had been "hard hit," and still hovered
moth-like about the forbidden light. Being the most eligible _parti_
of the season, his regard was considered a distinction to be proud of;
and Rose had been well scolded by Aunt Clara for refusing so honorable
a mate. The girl liked him; and he was the suitor of whom she had
spoken so respectfully to Dr. Alec, because he had no need of the
heiress, and had sincerely loved the woman. He had been away, and she
hoped had got over his disappointment as happily as the rest; but now
when he saw her, and came hurrying up so hungry for a word, she felt
that he had not forgotten, and was too kind to chill him with the bow
which plainly says, "Don't stop."
A personable youth was Pemberton, and had brought with him from the
wilds of Canada a sable-lined overcoat, which was the envy of every
masculine and the admiration of every feminine friend he had; and, as
he stood at her carriage window, Rose knew that this luxurious garment
and its stalwart wearer were objects of interest to the passers-by. It
chanced that the tide of shoppers flowed in that direction; and, as
she chatted, familiar faces often passed with glances, smiles, and
nods of varying curiosity, significance, and wonder.
She could not help feeling a certain satisfaction in giving him a
moment's pleasure, since she could do no more; but it was not that
amiable desire alone which made her ignore the neat white parcels
which the druggist's boy deposited on the front seat, and kept her
lingering a little longer to enjoy one of the small triumphs which
girls often risk more than a cold in the head to display. The sight of
several snow-flakes on the broad shoulders which partially obstructed
her view, as well as the rapidly increasing animation of Pemberton's
chat, reminded her that it was high time to go.
"I mustn't keep you: it is beginning to storm," she said, taking up
her muff, much to old Jacob's satisfaction; for small talk is not
exciting to a hungry man whose nose feels like an icicle.
"Is it? I thought the sun was shining." And the absorbed gentleman
turned to the outer world with visible reluctance, for it looked very
warm and cosey in the red-lined carriage.
"Wise people say we must carry our sunshine with us," answered Rose,
taking refuge in commonplaces; for the face at the window grew pensive
suddenly, as he answered, with a longing look,--
"I wish I could:" then, smiling gratefully, he added, "Thank you for
giving me a little of yours."
"You are very welcome." And Rose offered him her hand, while her eyes
mutely asked pardon for withholding her leave to keep it.
He pressed it silently, and, shouldering the umbrella which he forgot
to open, turned away, with an "up-again-and-take-another" expression,
which caused the soft eyes to follow him admiringly.
"I ought not to have kept him a minute longer than I could help: for
it wasn't all pity; it was my foolish wish to show off and do as I
liked for a minute, to pay for being good about the gown. Oh me! how
weak and silly I am in spite of all my trying!" And Miss Campbell fell
into a remorseful reverie, which lasted till she got home.
"Now, young man, what brought you out in this driving storm?" asked
Rose, as Jamie came stamping in that same afternoon.
"Mamma sent you a new book,--thought you'd like it: _I_ don't mind
your old storms!" replied the boy, wrestling his way out of his coat,
and presenting a face as round and red and shiny as a well-polished
Baldwin apple.
"Much obliged: it is just the day to enjoy it, and I was longing for
something nice to read," said Rose, as Jamie sat down upon the lower
stair for a protracted struggle with his rubber boots.
"Here you are, then--no--yes--I do believe I've forgotten it, after
all!" cried Jamie, slapping his pockets one after the other, with a
dismayed expression of countenance.
"Never mind: I'll hunt up something else. Let me help with those: your
hands are so cold." And Rose, good-naturedly gave a tug at the boots,
while Jamie clutched the banisters; murmuring somewhat incoherently,
as his legs flew up and down,--
"I'll go back if you want me to. I'm so sorry! It's very good of you,
I'm sure. Getting these horrid things on made me forget. Mother would
make me wear 'em, though I told her they'd stick like--like gumdrops,"
he added, inspired by recollections of certain dire disappointments
when the above-mentioned sweetmeat melted in his pockets, and refused
to come out.
"Now what shall we do?" asked Rose, when he was finally extricated.
"Since I've nothing to read, I may as well play."
"I'll teach you to pitch and toss. You catch very well for a girl, but
you can't throw worth a cent," replied Jamie, gambading down the hall
in his slippers, and producing a ball from some of the mysterious
receptacles in which boys have the art of storing rubbish enough to
fill a peck measure.
Of course Rose agreed, and cheerfully risked getting her eyes
blackened and her fingers bruised, till her young preceptor gratefully
observed that "it was no fun playing where you had to look out for
windows and jars and things; so I'd like that jolly book about Captain
Nemo and the 'Nautilus,' please."
Being gratified, he spread himself upon the couch, crossed his legs in
the air, and without another word dived "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under
the Sea," where he remained for two mortal hours, to the general
satisfaction of his relatives.
Bereft both of her unexpected playfellow and the much-desired book,
Rose went into the parlor, there to discover a French novel, which
Kitty had taken from a library and left in the carriage among the
bundles. Settling herself in her favorite lounging-chair, she read as
diligently as Jamie, while the wind howled and snow fell fast without.
For an hour, nothing disturbed the cosey quiet of the house; for Aunt
Plenty was napping upstairs, and Dr. Alec writing in his own sanctum;
at least, Rose thought so, till his step made her hastily drop the
book, and look up with very much the expression she used to wear when
caught in mischief years ago.
"Did I startle you? Have a screen: you are burning your face before
this hot fire." And Dr. Alec pulled one forward.
"Thank you, uncle; I didn't feel it." And the color seemed to deepen
in spite of the screen, while the uneasy eyes fell upon the book in
her lap.
"Have you got the 'Quarterly' there? I want to glance at an article in
it, if you can spare it for a moment," he said, leaning toward her
with an inquiring glance.
"No, sir: I am reading--" And, without mentioning the name, Rose put
the book into his hand.
The instant his eye fell on the title, he understood the look she
wore, and knew what "mischief" she had been in. He knit his brows:
then smiled, because it was impossible to help it; Rose looked so
conscience-stricken in spite of her twenty years.
"How do you find it?--interesting?"
"Oh, very! I felt as if I was in another world, and forgot all about
this."
"Not a very good world, I fancy, if you were afraid or ashamed to be
found in it. Where did this come from?" asked Dr. Alec, surveying the
book with great disfavor.
Rose told him, and added slowly,--
"I particularly wanted to read it, and fancied I might, because you
did when it was so much talked about the winter we were in Rome."
"I did read it to see if it was fit for you."
"And decided that it was not, I suppose; since you never gave it to
me?"
"Yes."
"Then I won't finish it. But, uncle, I don't see why I should not,"
added Rose, wistfully; for she had reached the heart of the romance
and found it wonderfully fascinating.
"You may not _see_, but don't you _feel_ why not?" asked Dr. Alec,
gravely.
Rose leaned her flushed cheek on her hand and thought a minute; then
looked up, and answered honestly,--
"Yes, I do: but can't explain it; except that I know something _must_
be wrong, because I blushed and started when you came in."
"Exactly," and the doctor gave an emphatic nod, as if the symptoms
pleased him.
"But I really don't see any harm in the book so far. It is by a famous
author, wonderfully well written as you know, and the characters so
life-like that I feel as if I should really meet them somewhere."
"I hope not!" ejaculated the doctor, shutting the book quickly, as if
to keep the objectionable beings from escaping.
Rose laughed, but persisted in her defence; for she did want to
finish the absorbing story, yet would not without leave.
"I have read French novels before, and you gave them to me. Not many
to be sure, but the best; so I think I know what is good, and
shouldn't like this if it was harmful."
Her uncle's answer was to reopen the volume and turn the leaves an
instant as if to find a particular place; then he put it into her
hand, saying quietly,--
"Read a page or two aloud, translating as you go. You used to like
that: try it again."
Rose obeyed, and went glibly down a page, doing her best to give the
sense in her purest English. Presently she went more slowly, then
skipped a sentence here and there, and finally stopped short, looking
as if she needed a screen again.
"What's the matter?" asked her uncle, who had been watching her with a
serious eye.
"Some phrases are untranslatable, and it only spoils them to try. They
are not amiss in French, but sound coarse and bad in our blunt
English," she said a little pettishly; for she felt annoyed by her
failure to prove the contested point.
"Ah, my dear! if the fine phrases won't bear putting into honest
English, the thoughts they express won't bear putting into your
innocent mind. That chapter is the key to the whole book; and if you
had been led up, or rather down, to it artfully and artistically, you
might have read it to yourself without seeing how bad it is. All the
worse for the undeniable talent which hides the evil so subtly and
makes the danger so delightful."
He paused a moment, then added with an anxious glance at the book,
over which she was still bending,--
"Finish it if you choose: only remember, my girl, that one may read at
forty what is unsafe at twenty, and that we never can be too careful
what food we give that precious yet perilous thing called
imagination."
And taking his "Review" he went away to look over a learned article
which interested him much less than the workings of a young mind near
by.
Another long silence, broken only by an occasional excited bounce from
Jamie, when the sociable cuttle-fish looked in at the windows, or the
"Nautilus" scuttled a ship or two in its terrific course. A bell rang,
and the doctor popped his head out to see if he was wanted. It was
only a message for Aunt Plenty, and he was about to pop in again when
his eye was caught by a square parcel on the slab.
"What's this?" he asked, taking it up.
"Rose wants me to leave it at Kitty Van's when I go. I forgot to bring
her book from mamma; so I shall go and get it as soon as ever I've
done this," replied Jamie, from his nest.
As the volume in his hands was a corpulent one, and Jamie only a third
of the way through, Dr. Alec thought Rose's prospect rather doubtful;
and, slipping the parcel into his pocket, he walked away, saying with
a satisfied air,--
"Virtue doesn't always get rewarded; but it shall be this time, if I
can do it."
More than half an hour afterward, Rose woke from a little nap, and
found the various old favorites, with which she had tried to solace
herself, replaced by the simple, wholesome story promised by Aunt
Jessie.
"Good boy! I'll go and thank him," she said, half-aloud; jumping up,
wide awake and much pleased.
But she did not go; for, just then, she espied her uncle standing on
the rug warming his hands with a generally fresh and breezy look about
him, which suggested a recent struggle with the elements.
"How did this come?" she asked suspiciously.
"A man brought it."
"This man? O uncle! why did you take so much trouble just to gratify a
wish of mine?" she cried, taking both the cold hands in hers, with a
tenderly reproachful glance from the storm without to the ruddy face
above her.
"Because, having taken away your French bonbons with the poisonous
color on them, I wanted to get you something better. Here it is, all
pure sugar; the sort that sweetens the heart as well as the tongue,
and leaves no bad taste behind."
"How good you are to me! I don't deserve it; for I didn't resist
temptation, though I tried. Uncle, after I'd put the book away, I
thought I _must_ just see how it ended, and I'm afraid I should have
read it all if it had not been gone," said Rose, laying her face down
on the hands she held, as humbly as a repentant child.
But Uncle Alec lifted up the bent head, and looking into the eyes that
met his frankly, though either held a tear, he said, with the energy
that always made his words remembered,--
"My little girl, I would face a dozen storms far worse than this to
keep your soul as stainless as snow; for it is the small temptations
which undermine integrity, unless we watch and pray, and never think
them too trivial to be resisted."
Some people would consider Dr. Alec an over-careful man: but Rose felt
that he was right; and, when she said her prayers that night, added a
meek petition to be kept from yielding to three of the small temptations
which beset a rich, pretty, and romantic girl,--extravagance, coquetry,
and novel-reading.