“Now I'm going to turn over a new leaf, as I promised. I wonder what
I shall find on the next page?” said Rose, coming down on New Year's
morning with a serious face and a thick letter in her hand.
“Tired of frivolity, my dear?” asked her uncle, pausing in his walk up
and down the hall to glance at her with a quick, bright look she liked
to bring into his eyes.
“No, sir, and that's the sad part of it, but I've made up my mind to
stop while I can because I'm sure it is not good for me. I've had some
very sober thoughts lately, for since my Phebe went away I've had no
heart for gaiety, so it is a good place to stop and make a fresh start,”
answered Rose, taking his arm and walking on with him.
“An excellent time! Now, how are you going to fill the aching void?” he
asked, well pleased.
“By trying to be as unselfish, brave, and good as she is.” And Rose held
the letter against her bosom with a tender touch, for Phebe's strength
had inspired her with a desire to be as self-reliant. “I'm going to set
about living in earnest, as she has; though I think it will be harder
for me than for her, because she stands alone and has a career marked
out for her. I'm nothing but a commonplace sort of girl, with no end
of relations to be consulted every time I wink and a dreadful fortune
hanging like a millstone round my neck to weigh me down if I try to fly.
It is a hard case, Uncle, and I get low in my mind when I think about
it,” sighed Rose, oppressed with her blessings.
“Afflicted child! How can I relieve you?” And there was amusement as
well as sympathy in Dr. Alec's face as he patted the hand upon his arm.
“Please don't laugh, for I really am trying to be good. In the first
place, help me to wean myself from foolish pleasures and show me how
to occupy my thoughts and time so that I may not idle about and dream
instead of doing great things.”
“Good! We'll begin at once. Come to town with me this morning and see
your houses. They are all ready, and Mrs. Gardner has half a dozen
poor souls waiting to go in as soon as you give the word,” answered the
doctor promptly, glad to get his girl back again, though not surprised
that she still looked with regretful eyes at the Vanity Fair, always so
enticing when we are young.
“I'll give it today, and make the new year a happy one to those poor
souls at least. I'm so sorry that it's impossible for me to go with you,
but you know I must help Aunty Plen receive. We haven't been here for
so long that she had set her heart on having a grand time today, and I
particularly want to please her because I have not been as amiable as I
ought lately. I really couldn't forgive her for siding against Phebe.”
“She did what she thought was right, so we must not blame her. I am
going to make my New Year's calls today and, as my friends live down
that way, I'll get the list of names from Mrs. G. and tell the poor
ladies, with Miss Campbell's compliments, that their new home is ready.
Shall I?”
“Yes, Uncle, but take all the credit to yourself, for I never should
have thought of it if you had not proposed the plan.”
“Bless your heart! I'm only your agent, and suggest now and then. I've
nothing to offer but advice, so I lavish that on all occasions.”
“You have nothing because you've given your substance all away as
generously as you do your advice. Never mind you shall never come to
want while I live. I'll save enough for us two, though I do make 'ducks
and drakes of my fortune.'”
Dr. Alec laughed at the toss of the head with which she quoted Charlie's
offensive words, then offered to take the letter, saying, as he looked
at his watch: “I'll post that for you in time for the early mail. I like
a run before breakfast.”
But Rose held her letter fast, dimpling with sudden smiles, half merry
and half shy.
“No thank you, sir. Archie likes to do that, and never fails to call for
all I write. He gets a peep at Phebe's in return and I cheer him up
a bit, for, though he says nothing, he has a hard time of it, poor
fellow.”
“How many letters in five days?”
“Four, sir, to me. She doesn't write to him, Uncle.”
“As yet. Well, you show hers, so it's all right and you are a set of
sentimental youngsters.” And the doctor walked away, looking as if he
enjoyed the sentiment as much as any of them.
Old Miss Campbell was nearly as great a favorite as young Miss Campbell,
so a succession of black coats and white gloves flowed in and out of the
hospitable mansion pretty steadily all day. The clan was out in great
force, and came by in installments to pay their duty to Aunt Plenty
and wish the compliments of the season to “our cousin.” Archie appeared
first, looking sad but steadfast, and went away with Phebe's letter in
his left breast pocket feeling that life was still endurable, though his
love was torn from him, for Rose had many comfortable things to say and
read him delicious bits from the voluminous correspondence lately begun.
Hardly was he gone when Will and Geordie came marching in, looking
as fine as gray uniforms with much scarlet piping could make them and
feeling peculiarly important, as this was their first essay in New
Year's call-making. Brief was their stay, for they planned to visit
every friend they had, and Rose could not help laughing at the droll
mixture of manly dignity and boyish delight with which they drove off
in their own carriage, both as erect as ramrods, arms folded, and caps
stuck at exactly the same angle on each blond head.
“Here comes the other couple Steve, in full feather, with a big bouquet
for Kitty, and poor Mac, looking like a gentleman and feeling like a
martyr, I'm sure,” said Rose, watching one carriage turn in as the
other turned out of the great gate, with its arch of holly, ivy, and
evergreen.
“Here he is. I've got him in tow for the day and want you to cheer him
up with a word of praise, for he came without a struggle though planning
to bolt somewhere with Uncle,” cried Steve, falling back to display his
brother, who came in looking remarkably well in his state and festival
array, for polishing had begun to tell.
“A happy New Year, Aunty, same to you, Cousin, and best wishes for as
many more as you deserve,” said Mac, heeding Steve no more than if he
had been a fly as he gave the old lady a hearty kiss and offered Rose a
quaint little nosegay of pansies.
“Heart's-ease do you think I need it?” she asked, looking up with sudden
sobriety.
“We all do. Could I give you anything better on a day like this?”
“No thank you very much.” And a sudden dew came to Rose's eyes, for,
though often blunt in speech, when Mac did do a tender thing, it always
touched her because he seemed to understand her moods so well.
“Has Archie been here? He said he shouldn't go anywhere else, but I hope
you talked that nonsense out of his head,” said Steve, settling his tie
before the mirror.
“Yes, dear, he came but looked so out of spirits I really felt
reproached. Rose cheered him up a little, but I don't believe he will
feel equal to making calls and I hope he won't, for his face tells the
whole story much too plainly,” answered Aunty Plenty, rustling about her
bountiful table in her richest black silk with all her old lace on.
“Oh, he'll get over it in a month or two, and Phebe will soon find
another lover, so don't be worried about him, Aunty,” said Steve, with
the air of a man who knew all about that sort of thing.
“If Archie does forget, I shall despise him, and I know Phebe won't try
to find another lover, though she'll probably have them she is so sweet
and good!” cried Rose indignantly, for, having taken the pair under her
protection, she defended them valiantly.
“Then you'd have Arch hope against hope and never give up, would you?”
asked Mac, putting on his glasses to survey the thin boots which were
his especial abomination.
“Yes, I would, for a lover is not worth having if he's not in earnest!”
“Exactly. So you'd like them to wait and work and keep on loving till
they made you relent or plainly proved that it was no use.”
“If they were good as well as constant, I think I should relent in
time.”
“I'll mention that to Pemberton, for he seemed to be hit the hardest,
and a ray of hope will do him good, whether he is equal to the ten
years' wait or not,” put in Steve, who liked to rally Rose about her
lovers.
“I'll never forgive you if you say a word to anyone. It is only Mac's
odd way of asking questions, and I ought not to answer them. You will
talk about such things and I can't stop you, but I don't like it,” said
Rose, much annoyed.
“Poor little Penelope! She shall not be teased about her suitors but
left in peace till her Ulysses comes home,” said Mac, sitting down to
read the mottoes sticking out of certain fanciful bonbons on the table.
“It is this fuss about Archie which has demoralized us all. Even the owl
waked up and hasn't got over the excitement yet, you see. He's had no
experience, poor fellow, so he doesn't know how to behave,” observed
Steve, regarding his bouquet with tender interest.
“That's true, and I asked for information because I may be in love
myself someday and all this will be useful, don't you see?”
“You in love!” And Steve could not restrain a laugh at the idea of the
bookworm a slave to the tender passion.
Quite unruffled, Mac leaned his chin in both hands, regarding them with
a meditative eye as he answered in his whimsical way: “Why not? I intend
to study love as well as medicine, for it is one of the most mysterious
and remarkable diseases that afflict mankind, and the best way to
understand it is to have it. I may catch it someday, and then I should
like to know how to treat and cure it.”
“If you take it as badly as you did measles and whooping cough, it will
go hard with you, old fellow,” said Steve, much amused with the fancy.
“I want it to. No great experience comes or goes easily, and this is the
greatest we can know, I believe, except death.”
Something in Mac's quiet tone and thoughtful eyes made Rose look at him
in surprise, for she had never heard him speak in that way before. Steve
also stared for an instant, equally amazed, then said below his breath,
with an air of mock anxiety: “He's been catching something at the
hospital, typhoid probably, and is beginning to wander. I'll take him
quietly away before he gets any wilder. Come, old lunatic, we must be
off.”
“Don't be alarmed. I'm all right and much obliged for your advice, for I
fancy I shall be a desperate lover when my time comes, if it ever does.
You don't think it impossible, do you?” And Mac put the question so
soberly that there was a general smile.
“Certainly not you'll be a regular Douglas, tender and true,” answered
Rose, wondering what queer question would come next.
“Thank you. The fact is, I've been with Archie so much in his trouble
lately that I've gotten interested in this matter and very naturally
want to investigate the subject as every rational man must, sooner or
later, that's all. Now, Steve, I'm ready.” And Mac got up as if the
lesson was over.
“My dear, that boy is either a fool or a genius, and I'm sure I should
be glad to know which,” said Aunt Plenty, putting her bonbons to rights
with a puzzled shake of her best cap.
“Time will show, but I incline to think that he is not a fool by any
means,” answered the girl, pulling a cluster of white roses out of her
bosom to make room for the pansies, though they did not suit the blue
gown half so well.
Just then Aunt Jessie came in to help them receive, with Jamie to make
himself generally useful, which he proceeded to do by hovering around
the table like a fly about a honey pot when not flattening his nose
against the windowpanes to announce excitedly, “Here's another man
coming up the drive!”
Charlie arrived next in his most sunshiny humor, for anything social
and festive was his delight, and when in this mood the Prince was quite
irresistible. He brought a pretty bracelet for Rose and was graciously
allowed to put it on while she chid him gently for his extravagance.
“I am only following your example, for you know 'nothing is too good
for those we love, and giving away is the best thing one can do,'” he
retorted, quoting words of her own.
“I wish you would follow my example in some other things as well as you
do in this,” said Rose soberly as Aunt Plenty called him to come and see
if the punch was right.
“Must conform to the customs of society. Aunty's heart would be broken
if we did not drink her health in the good old fashion. But don't be
alarmed I've a strong head of my own, and that's lucky, for I shall need
it before I get through,” laughed Charlie, showing a long list as
he turned away to gratify the old lady with all sorts of merry and
affectionate compliments as the glasses touched.
Rose did feel rather alarmed, for if he drank the health of all the
owners of those names, she felt sure that Charlie would need a very
strong head indeed. It was hard to say anything then and there without
seeming disrespect to Aunt Plenty, yet she longed to remind her cousin
of the example she tried to set him in this respect, for Rose never
touched wine, and the boys knew it. She was thoughtfully turning the
bracelet, with its pretty device of turquoise forget-me-nots, when the
giver came back to her, still bubbling over with good spirits.
“Dear little saint, you look as if you'd like to smash all the punch
bowls in the city, and save us jolly young fellows from tomorrow's
headache.”
“I should, for such headaches sometimes end in heartaches, I'm afraid.
Dear Charlie, don't be angry, but you know better than I that this is a
dangerous day for such as you so do be careful for my sake,” she added,
with an unwonted touch of tenderness in her voice, for, looking at the
gallant figure before her, it was impossible to repress the womanly
longing to keep it always as brave and blithe as now.
Charlie saw that new softness in the eyes that never looked unkindly on
him, fancied that it meant more than it did, and, with a sudden fervor
in his own voice, answered quickly: “My darling, I will!”
The glow which had risen to his face was reflected in hers, for at that
moment it seemed as if it would be possible to love this cousin who was
so willing to be led by her and so much needed some helpful influence
to make a noble man of him. The thought came and went like a flash, but
gave her a quick heartthrob, as if the old affection was trembling
on the verge of some warmer sentiment, and left her with a sense of
responsibility never felt before. Obeying the impulse, she said, with a
pretty blending of earnestness and playfulness, “If I wear the bracelet
to remember you by, you must wear this to remind you of your promise.”
“And you,” whispered Charlie, bending his head to kiss the hands that
put a little white rose in his buttonhole.
Just at that most interesting moment they became aware of an arrival in
the front drawing room, whither Aunt Plenty had discreetly retired. Rose
felt grateful for the interruption, because, not being at all sure
of the state of her heart as yet, she was afraid of letting a sudden
impulse lead her too far. But Charlie, conscious that a very propitious
instant had been spoiled, regarded the newcomer with anything but a
benignant expression of countenance and, whispering, “Good-bye, my Rose,
I shall look in this evening to see how you are after the fatigues of
the day,” he went away, with such a cool nod to poor Fun See that the
amiable Asiatic thought he must have mortally offended him.
Rose had little leisure to analyze the new emotions of which she was
conscious, for Mr. Tokio came up at once to make his compliments with
a comical mingling of Chinese courtesy and American awkwardness, and
before he had got his hat on Jamie shouted with admiring energy: “Here's
another! Oh, such a swell!”
They now came thick and fast for many hours, and the ladies stood
bravely at their posts till late into the evening. Then Aunt Jessie went
home, escorted by a very sleepy little son, and Aunt Plenty retired to
bed, used up. Dr. Alec had returned in good season, for his friends were
not fashionable ones, but Aunt Myra had sent up for him in hot haste and
he had good-naturedly obeyed the summons. In fact, he was quite used to
them now, for Mrs. Myra, having tried a variety of dangerous diseases,
had finally decided upon heart complaint as the one most likely to keep
her friends in a chronic state of anxiety and was continually sending
word that she was dying. One gets used to palpitations as well as
everything else, so the doctor felt no alarm but always went and
prescribed some harmless remedy with the most amiable sobriety and
patience.
Rose was tired but not sleepy and wanted to think over several things,
so instead of going to bed she sat down before the open fire in the
study to wait for her uncle and perhaps Charlie, though she did not
expect him so late.
Aunt Myra's palpitations must have been unusually severe, for the clock
struck twelve before Dr. Alec came, and Rose was preparing to end her
reverie when the sound of someone fumbling at the hall door made her
jump up, saying to herself: “Poor man! His hands are so cold he can't
get his latchkey in. Is that you, Uncle?” she added, running to admit
him, for Jane was slow and the night as bitter as it was brilliant.
A voice answered, “Yes.” And as the door swung open, in walked, not Dr.
Alec, but Charlie, who immediately took one of the hall chairs and sat
there with his hat on, rubbing his gloveless hands and blinking as if
the light dazzled him, as he said in a rapid, abrupt sort of tone, “I
told you I'd come left the fellows keeping it up gloriously going to see
the old year out, you know. But I promised never break my word and here
I am. Angel in blue, did you slay your thousands?”
“Hush! The waiters are still about. Come to the study fire and warm
yourself, you must be frozen,” said Rose, going before to roll up the
easy chair.
“Not at all never warmer looks very comfortable, though. Where's
Uncle?” asked Charlie, following with his hat still on, his hands in his
pockets, and his eye fixed steadily on the bright head in front of him.
“Aunt Myra sent for him, and I was waiting up to see how she was,”
answered Rose, busily mending the fire.
Charlie laughed and sat down upon a corner of the library table. “Poor
old soul! What a pity she doesn't die before he is quite worn out.
A little too much ether some of these times would send her off quite
comfortably, you know.”
“Don't speak in that way. Uncle says imaginary troubles are often as
hard to bear as real ones,” said Rose, turning around displeased.
Till now she had not fairly looked at him, for recollections of the
morning made her a little shy. His attitude and appearance surprised her
as much as his words, and the quick change in her face seemed to remind
him of his manners. Getting up, he hastily took off his hat and stood
looking at her with a curiously fixed yet absent look as he said in the
same rapid, abrupt way, as if, when once started, he found it hard to
stop, “I beg pardon only joking very bad taste I know, and won't do it
again. The heat of the room makes me a little dizzy, and I think I got a
chill coming out. It is cold I am frozen, I daresay though I drove like
the devil.”
“Not that bad horse of yours, I hope? I know it is dangerous, so
late and alone,” said Rose, shrinking behind the big chair as Charlie
approached the fire, carefully avoiding a footstool in his way.
“Danger is exciting that's why I like it. No man ever called me a coward
let him try it once. I never give in and that horse shall not conquer
me. I'll break his neck, if he breaks my spirit doing it. No I don't
mean that never mind it's all right,” and Charlie laughed in a way that
troubled her, because there was no mirth in it.
“Have you had a pleasant day?” asked Rose, looking at him intently as he
stood pondering over the cigar and match which he held, as if doubtful
which to strike and which to smoke.
“Day? Oh, yes, capital. About two thousand calls, and a nice little
supper at the Club. Randal can't sing any more than a crow, but I left
him with a glass of champagne upside down, trying to give them my old
favorite:
“'Tis better to laugh than be sighing,”
and Charlie burst forth in that bacchanalian melody at the top of his
voice, waving an allumette holder over his head to represent Randal's
inverted wineglass.
“Hush! You'll wake Aunty,” cried Rose in a tone so commanding that he
broke off in the middle of a roulade to stare at her with a blank look
as he said apologetically, “I was merely showing how it should be done.
Don't be angry, dearest look at me as you did this morning, and I'll
swear never to sing another note if you say so. I'm only a little gay we
drank your health handsomely, and they all congratulated me. Told 'em
it wasn't out yet. Stop, though I didn't mean to mention that. No matter
I'm always in a scrape, but you always forgive me in the sweetest way.
Do it now, and don't be angry, little darling.” And, dropping the vase,
he went toward her with a sudden excitement that made her shrink behind
the chair.
She was not angry, but shocked and frightened, for she knew now what the
matter was and grew so pale, he saw it and asked pardon before she could
utter a rebuke.
“We'll talk of that tomorrow. It is very late. Go home now, please,
before Uncle comes,” she said, trying to speak naturally yet betraying
her distress by the tremor of her voice and the sad anxiety in her eyes.
“Yes, yes, I will go you are tired I'll make it all right tomorrow.” And
as if the sound of his uncle's name steadied him for an instant, Charlie
made for the door with an unevenness of gait which would have told the
shameful truth if his words had not already done so. Before he reached
it, however, the sound of wheels arrested him and, leaning against the
wall, he listened with a look of dismay mingled with amusement creeping
over his face. “Brutus has bolted now I am in a fix. Can't walk home
with this horrid dizziness in my head. It's the cold, Rose, nothing
else, I do assure you, and a chill yes, a chill. See here! Let one of
those fellows there lend me an arm no use to go after that brute. Won't
Mother be frightened though when he gets home?” And with that empty
laugh again, he fumbled for the door handle.
“No, no don't let them see you! Don't let anyone know! Stay here till
Uncle comes, and he'll take care of you. Oh, Charlie! How could you do
it! How could you when you promised?” And, forgetting fear in the sudden
sense of shame and anguish that came over her, Rose ran to him, caught
his hand from the lock, and turned the key; then, as if she could not
bear to see him standing there with that vacant smile on his lips, she
dropped into a chair and covered up her face.
The cry, the act, and, more than all, the sight of the bowed head would
have sobered poor Charlie if it had not been too late. He looked about
the room with a vague, despairing look, as if to find reason fast
slipping from his control, but heat and cold, excitement and reckless
pledging of many healths had done their work too well to make instant
sobriety possible, and owning his defeat with a groan, he turned away
and threw himself face-downward on the sofa, one of the saddest sights
the new year looked upon as it came in.
As she sat there with hidden eyes, Rose felt that something dear to her
was dead forever. The ideal, which all women cherish, look for, and too
often think they have found when love glorifies a mortal man, is hard to
give up, especially when it comes in the likeness of the first lover who
touches a young girl's heart. Rose had just begun to feel that perhaps
this cousin, despite his faults, might yet become the hero that he
sometimes looked, and the thought that she might be his inspiration was
growing sweet to her, although she had not entertained it until
very lately. Alas, how short the tender dream had been, how rude the
awakening! How impossible it would be ever again to surround that fallen
figure with all the romance of an innocent fancy or gift it with the
high attributes beloved by a noble nature!
Breathing heavily in the sudden sleep that kindly brought a brief
oblivion of himself, he lay with flushed cheeks, disordered hair, and
at his feet the little rose that never would be fresh and fair again a
pitiful contrast now to the brave, blithe young man who went so gaily
out that morning to be so ignominiously overthrown at night.
Many girls would have made light of a trespass so readily forgiven by
the world, but Rose had not yet learned to offer temptation with a smile
and shut her eyes to the weakness that makes a man a brute. It always
grieved or disgusted her to see it in others, and now it was very
terrible to have it brought so near not in its worst form, by any means,
but bad enough to wring her heart with shame and sorrow and fill
her mind with dark forebodings for the future. So she could only sit
mourning for the Charlie that might have been while watching the Charlie
that was with an ache in her heart which found no relief till, putting
her hands there as if to ease the pain, they touched the pansies, faded
but still showing gold among the somber purple, and then two great tears
dropped on them as she sighed: “Ah, me! I do need heart's-ease sooner
than I thought!”
Her uncle's step made her spring up and unlock the door, showing him
such an altered face that he stopped short, ejaculating in dismay, “Good
heavens, child! What's the matter?” adding, as she pointed to the sofa
in pathetic silence, “Is he hurt? ill? dead?”
“No, Uncle, he is--” She could not utter the ugly word but whispered
with a sob in her throat, “Be kind to him,” and fled away to her own
room, feeling as if a great disgrace had fallen on the house.
Chapter 10 THE SAD AND SOBER PART
“How will he look? What will he say? Can anything 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 gaiety, 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 someone lay dangerously ill nearby, “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 daresay, 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 around, 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. Oh, 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 such 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 anything.
“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 everyone
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 to try to improve the
softened moment by inspiring the culprit with a wish for all the virtues
which make a perfect man.
The 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's 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 sang, but came so quietly Rose was sure
that he dreaded this meeting as much as she did and, compassionating
his natural confusion, did not look around as the steps drew near. She
thought perhaps he would go down upon his knees, as he used to after a
boyish offense, 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 today,
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 anymore.”
“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 a little hard and cold?
As he stood there, restlessly fingering the ornaments upon the
chimneypiece, 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. 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 anything,
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 anyone 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 spoiled 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 tenderhearted 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 anymore.”
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 were 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 anything, 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 around 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 outstretched 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, which 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 forever.
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-bye, 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.'”