Anxious to smooth the way for Phebe, Rose was up betimes and slipped
into Aunt Plenty's room before the old lady had gotten her cap on.
“Aunty, I've something pleasant to tell you, and while you listen, I'll
brush your hair, as you like to have me,” she began, well aware that the
proposed process was a very soothing one.
“Yes, dear only don't be too particular, because I'm late and must hurry
down or Jane won't get things straight, and it does fidget me to have
the saltcellars uneven, the tea strainer forgotten, and your uncle's
paper not aired,” returned Miss Plenty, briskly unrolling the two gray
curls she wore at her temples.
Then Rose, brushing away at the scanty back hair, led skillfully up to
the crisis of her tale by describing Phebe's panic and brave efforts to
conquer it; all about the flowers Archie sent her; and how Steve forgot,
and dear, thoughtful Archie took his place. So far it went well and Aunt
Plenty was full of interest, sympathy, and approbation, but when Rose
added, as if it was quite a matter of course, “So, on the way home, he
told her he loved her,” a great start twitched the gray locks out of
her hands as the old lady turned around, with the little curls standing
erect, exclaiming, in undisguised dismay: “Not seriously, Rose?”
“Yes, Aunty, very seriously. He never jokes about such things.”
“Mercy on us! What shall we do about it?”
“Nothing, ma'am, but be as glad as we ought and congratulate him as soon
as she says 'yes.'?
“Do you mean to say she didn't accept at once?”
“She never will if we don't welcome her as kindly as if she belonged to
one of our best families, and I don't blame her.”
“I'm glad the girl has so much sense. Of course we can't do anything of
the sort, and I'm surprised at Archie's forgetting what he owes to the
family in this rash manner. Give me my cap, child I must speak to Alec
at once.” And Aunt Plenty twisted her hair into a button at the back of
her head with one energetic twirl.
“Do speak kindly, Aunty, and remember that it was not Phebe's fault. She
never thought of this till very lately and began at once to prepare for
going away,” said Rose pleadingly.
“She ought to have gone long ago. I told Myra we should have trouble
somewhere as soon as I saw what a good-looking creature she was, and
here it is as bad as can be. Dear, dear! Why can't young people have a
little prudence?”
“I don't see that anyone need object if Uncle Jem and Aunt Jessie
approve, and I do think it will be very, very unkind to scold poor Phebe
for being well-bred, pretty, and good, after doing all we could to make
her so.”
“Child, you don't understand these things yet, but you ought to feel
your duty toward your family and do all you can to keep the name
as honorable as it always has been. What do you suppose our blessed
ancestress Lady Marget would say to our oldest boy taking a wife from
the poorhouse?”
As she spoke, Miss Plenty looked up, almost apprehensively, at one
of the wooden-faced old portraits with which her room was hung, as if
asking pardon of the severe-nosed matron who stared back at her from
under the sort of blue dish cover which formed her headgear.
“As Lady Marget died about two hundred years ago, I don't care a pin
what she would say, especially as she looks like a very narrow-minded,
haughty woman. But I do care very much what Miss Plenty Campbell says,
for she is a very sensible, generous, discreet, and dear old lady who
wouldn't hurt a fly, much less a good and faithful girl who has been a
sister to me. Would she?” entreated Rose, knowing well that the elder
aunt led all the rest more or less.
But Miss Plenty had her cap on now and consequently felt herself
twice the woman she was without it, so she not only gave it a somewhat
belligerent air by setting it well up, but she shook her head decidedly,
smoothed down her stiff white apron, and stood up as if ready for
battle.
“I shall do my duty, Rose, and expect the same of others. Don't say any
more now I must turn the matter over in my mind, for it has come upon me
suddenly and needs serious consideration.”
With which unusually solemn address she took up her keys and trotted
away, leaving her niece to follow with an anxious countenance, uncertain
whether her championship had done good or ill to the cause she had at
heart.
She was much cheered by the sound of Phebe's voice in the study, for
Rose was sure that if Uncle Alec was on their side all would be well.
But the clouds lowered again when they came in to breakfast, for Phebe's
heavy eyes and pale cheeks did not look encouraging, while Dr. Alec was
as sober as a judge and sent an inquiring glance toward Rose now and
then as if curious to discover how she bore the news.
An uncomfortable meal, though all tried to seem as usual and talked over
last night's events with all the interest they could. But the old peace
was disturbed by a word, as a pebble thrown into a quiet pool sends
telltale circles rippling its surface far and wide. Aunt Plenty, while
“turning the subject over in her mind,” also seemed intent on upsetting
everything she touched and made sad havoc in her tea tray; Dr. Alec
unsociably read his paper; Rose, having salted instead of sugared her
oatmeal, absently ate it, feeling that the sweetness had gone out of
everything; and Phebe, after choking down a cup of tea and crumbling a
roll, excused herself and went away, sternly resolving not to be a bone
of contention to this beloved family.
As soon as the door was shut Rose pushed away her plate and, going to
Dr. Alec, she peeped over the paper with such an anxious face that he
put it down at once.
“Uncle, this is a serious matter, and we must take our stand at once,
for you are Phebe's guardian and I am her sister,” began Rose with
pretty solemnity. “You have often been disappointed in me,” she
continued, “but I know I never shall be in you because you are too wise
and good to let any worldly pride or prudence spoil your sympathy with
Archie and our Phebe. You won't desert them, will you?”
“Never!” answered Dr. Alec with gratifying energy.
“Thank you! Thank you!” cried Rose. “Now, if I have you and Aunty on my
side, I'm not afraid of anybody.”
“Gently, gently, child. I don't intend to desert the lovers, but I
certainly shall advise them to consider well what they are about. I'll
own I am rather disappointed, because Archie is young to decide his life
in this way and Phebe's career seemed settled in another fashion. Old
people don't like to have their plans upset, you know,” he added more
lightly, for Rose's face fell as he went on.
“Old people shouldn't plan too much for the young ones, then. We are
very grateful, I'm sure, but we cannot always be disposed of in the
most prudent and sensible way, so don't set your hearts on little
arrangements of that sort, I beg,” And Rose looked wondrous wise, for
she could not help suspecting even her best uncle of “plans” in her
behalf.
“You are quite right-we shouldn't, yet it is very hard to help it,”
confessed Dr. Alec with a conscious air, and, returning hastily to the
lovers, he added kindly: “I was much pleased with the straightforward
way in which Phebe came to me this morning and told me all about it, as
if I really was her guardian. She did not own it in words, but it was
perfectly evident that she loves Archie with all her heart, yet, knowing
the objections which will be made, very sensibly and bravely proposes
to go away at once and end the matter as if that were possible, poor
child.” And the tenderhearted man gave a sigh of sympathy that did Rose
good to hear and mollified her rising indignation at the bare idea of
ending Phebe's love affairs in such a summary way.
“You don't think she ought to go, I hope?”
“I think she will go.”
“We must not let her.”
“We have no right to keep her.”
“Oh, Uncle, surely we have! Our Phebe, whom we all love so much.”
“You forget that she is a woman now, and we have no claim on her.
Because we've befriended her for years is the very reason we should not
make our benefits a burden, but leave her free, and if she chooses to do
this in spite of Archie, we must let her with a Godspeed.”
Before Rose could answer, Aunt Plenty spoke out like one having
authority, for old-fashioned ways were dear to her soul and she thought
even love affairs should be conducted with a proper regard to the powers
that be.
“The family must talk the matter over and decide what is best for
the children, who of course will listen to reason and do nothing ill
advised. For my part, I am quite upset by the news, but shall not commit
myself till I've seen Jessie and the boy. Jane, clear away, and bring me
the hot water.”
That ended the morning conference. And, leaving the old lady to soothe
her mind by polishing spoons and washing cups, Rose went away to find
Phebe while the doctor retired to laugh over the downfall of brother
Mac's matchmaking schemes.
The Campbells did not gossip about their concerns in public, but being
a very united family, it had long been the custom to “talk over” any
interesting event which occurred to any member thereof, and everyone
gave his or her opinion, advice, or censure with the utmost candor.
Therefore the first engagement, if such it could be called, created a
great sensation, among the aunts especially, and they were in as much of
a flutter as a flock of maternal birds when their young begin to hop out
of the nest. So at all hours the excellent ladies were seen excitedly
nodding their caps together as they discussed the affair in all its
bearings, without ever arriving at any unanimous decision.
The boys took it much more calmly. Mac was the only one who came out
strongly in Archie's favor. Charlie thought the Chief ought to do better
and called Phebe “a siren who had bewitched the sage youth.” Steve was
scandalized and delivered long orations upon one's duty to society,
keeping the old name up, and the danger of mésalliances, while all the
time he secretly sympathized with Archie, being much smitten with Kitty
Van himself. Will and Geordie, unfortunately home for the holidays,
considered it “a jolly lark,” and little Jamie nearly drove his elder
brother distracted by curious inquiries as to “how folks felt when they
were in love.”
Uncle Mac's dismay was so comical that it kept Dr. Alec in good spirits,
for he alone knew how deep was the deluded man's chagrin at the failure
of the little plot which he fancied was prospering finely.
“I'll never set my heart on anything of the sort again, and the young
rascals may marry whom they like. I'm prepared for anything now--so if
Steve brings home the washerwoman's daughter, and Mac runs away with our
pretty chambermaid, I shall say, 'Bless you my children,' with mournful
resignation, for, upon my soul, that is all that's left for a modern
parent to do.”
With which tragic burst, poor Uncle Mac washed his hands of the whole
affair and buried himself in the countinghouse while the storm raged.
About this time Archie might have echoed Rose's childish wish, that
she had not quite so many aunts, for the tongues of those interested
relatives made sad havoc with his little romance and caused him to long
fervently for a desert island where he could woo and win his love in
delicious peace. That nothing of the sort was possible soon became
evident, since every word uttered only confirmed Phebe's resolution to
go away and proved to Rose how mistaken she had been in believing that
she could bring everyone to her way of thinking.
Prejudices are unmanageable things, and the good aunts, like most women,
possessed a plentiful supply, so Rose found it like beating her head
against a wall to try and convince them that Archie was wise in loving
poor Phebe. His mother, who had hoped to have Rose for her daughter not
because of her fortune, but the tender affection she felt for her put
away her disappointment without a word and welcomed Phebe as kindly
as she could for her boy's sake. But the girl felt the truth with the
quickness of a nature made sensitive by love and clung to her resolve
all the more tenaciously, though grateful for the motherly words that
would have been so sweet if genuine happiness had prompted them.
Aunt Jane called it romantic nonsense and advised strong measures “kind,
but firm, Jessie.” Aunt Clara was sadly distressed about “what people
would say” if one of “our boys” married a nobody's daughter. And Aunt
Myra not only seconded her views by painting portraits of Phebe's
unknown relations in the darkest colors but uttered direful prophecies
regarding the disreputable beings who would start up in swarms the
moment the girl made a good match.
These suggestions so wrought upon Aunt Plenty that she turned a deaf
ear to the benevolent emotions native to her breast and, taking refuge
behind “our blessed ancestress, Lady Marget,” refused to sanction any
engagement which could bring discredit upon the stainless name which was
her pride.
So it all ended where it began, for Archie steadily refused to listen
to anyone but Phebe, and she as steadily reiterated her bitter “No!”
fortifying herself half unconsciously with the hope that, by and by,
when she had won a name, fate might be kinder.
While the rest talked, she had been working, for every hour showed her
that her instinct had been a true one and pride would not let her stay,
though love pleaded eloquently. So, after a Christmas anything but
merry, Phebe packed her trunks, rich in gifts from those who generously
gave her all but the one thing she desired, and, with a pocketful of
letters to people who could further her plans, she went away to seek her
fortune, with a brave face and a very heavy heart.
“Write often, and let me know all you do, my Phebe, and remember I shall
never be contented till you come back again,” whispered Rose, clinging
to her till the last.
“She will come back, for in a year I'm going to bring her home, please
God,” said Archie, pale with the pain of parting but as resolute as she.
“I'll earn my welcome then perhaps it will be easier for them to give
and me to receive it,” answered Phebe, with a backward glance at the
group of caps in the hall as she went down the steps on Dr. Alec's arm.
“You earned it long ago, and it is always waiting for you while I am
here. Remember that, and God bless you, my good girl,” he said, with a
paternal kiss that warmed her heart.
“I never shall forget it!” And Phebe never did.