But she didn't know.
"I've been thinking, Rosalie; and I want to give you something for
Christmas which will make you happy throughout the year."
"You are such a darling, Jim Crow."
"And I have thought of this--a trip to Europe. You'll let me do it,
won't you? There'll be the art galleries, and you can stay as long as
you like."
I could see that she was puzzled. "Do you mean that I am to go--alone?"
she asked slowly.
"There may be some one going. I'll find out."
There was dead silence.
"You will let me do it?" I asked finally.
She came over to my chair and stood looking down at me.
"Why are you sending me alone, Jim Crow?"
I think, then, that she saw the anguish in my eyes. She sank on her
knees beside my chair.
"I don't want to go alone, Jim Crow. I want to stay--with--you."
* * * * *
Well, the jewel is on her breast and a ring to match is on her finger.
And when the spring comes we are to sail for Italy, for France.
Perhaps we shall never come back. And I am going to give Rosalie all
the loveliness that life can hold for her. Now and then she whispers
that she never knew love until I taught it to her. That what she felt
for Perry was but the echo of his own need of her.
"But I'd tramp the muddy roads with you, Jim Crow."
I wonder if she really means it. I wish with all my heart that I might
know it true. I have never told her of my fears and I believe that I can
make her happy. I shall try not to look too far beyond the days we shall
have in the Louvre and the Uffizi and the Pitti Palace. We shall search
for beauty, and perhaps I can teach her to find it, before it is too
late, in the things that count.