Being seriously alarmed by the fear of losing the desire of his heart,
Charlie had gone resolutely to work and, like many another young
reformer, he rather overdid the matter, for in trying to keep out of
the way of temptation, he denied himself much innocent enjoyment. The
“artistic fit” was a good excuse for the seclusion which he fancied
would be a proper penance, and he sat listlessly plying crayon or
paintbrush, with daily wild rides on black Brutus, which seemed to do
him good, for danger of that sort was his delight.
People were used to his whims and made light of what they considered a
new one, but when it lasted week after week and all attempts to draw him
out were vain, his jolly comrades gave him up and the family began
to say approvingly, “Now he really is going to settle down and do
something.” Fortunately, his mother let him alone, for though Dr. Alec
had not “thundered in her ear” as he threatened, he had talked with her
in a way which first made her very angry, then anxious, and, lastly,
quite submissive, for her heart was set on the boy's winning Rose and
she would have had him put on sackcloth and ashes if that would have
secured the prize. She made light of the cause of Rose's displeasure,
considering her extremely foolish and straitlaced, “for all young men
of any spirit had their little vices, and came out well enough when the
wild oats were sowed.” So she indulged Charlie in his new vagary, as she
had in all his others, and treated him like an ill-used being, which was
neither an inspiring nor helpful course on her part. Poor soul! She saw
her mistake by and by, and when too late repented of it bitterly.
Rose wanted to be kind, and tried in various ways to help her cousin,
feeling very sure she should succeed as many another hopeful woman has
done, quite unconscious how much stronger an undisciplined will is than
the truest love, and what a difficult task the wisest find it to undo
the mistakes of a bad education. But it was a hard thing to do, for at
the least hint of commendation or encouragement, he looked so hopeful
that she was afraid of seeming to promise too much, and, of all things,
she desired to escape the accusation of having trifled with him.
So life was not very comfortable to either just then; and while Charlie
was “mortifying soul and body” to please her, she was studying how to
serve him best. Aunt Jessie helped her very much, and no one guessed,
when they saw pretty Miss Campbell going up and down the hill with such
a serious face, that she was intent upon anything except taking, with
praiseworthy regularity, the constitutionals which gave her such a
charming color.
Matters were in this state when one day a note came to Rose from Mrs.
Clara.
MY SWEET CHILD, Do take pity on my poor boy and cheer him up with a
sight of you, for he is so triste it breaks my heart to see him. He has
a new plan in his head, which strikes me as an excellent one, if you
will only favor it. Let him come and take you for a drive this fine
afternoon and talk things over. It will do him a world of good and
deeply oblige
Your ever loving
AUNT CLARA.
Rose read the note twice and stood a moment pondering, with her eyes
absently fixed on the little bay before her window. The sight of several
black figures moving briskly to and fro across its frozen surface seemed
to suggest a mode of escape from the drive she dreaded in more ways than
one. “That will be safer and pleasanter,” she said, and going to her
desk wrote her answer.
DEAR AUNTY, I'm afraid of Brutus, but if Charlie will go skating with
me, I should enjoy it very much and it would do us both good. I can
listen to the new plan with an undivided mind there, so give him my
love, please, and say I shall expect him at three.
Affectionately, ROSE.
Punctually at three Charlie appeared with his skates over his arm and
with a very contented face, which brightened wonderfully as Rose came
downstairs in a sealskin suit and scarlet skirt, so like the one she
wore years ago that he involuntarily exclaimed as he took her skates:
“You look so like little Rose I hardly know you, and it seems so like
old times I feel sixteen again.”
“That is just the way one ought to feel on such a day as this. Now let
us be off and have a good spin before anyone comes. There are only a few
children there now, but it is Saturday, you know, and everybody will be
out before long,” answered Rose, carefully putting on her mittens as she
talked, for her heart was not as light as the one little Rose carried
under the brown jacket, and the boy of sixteen never looked at her with
the love and longing she read in the eyes of the young man before her.
Away they went, and were soon almost as merry and warm as the children
around them, for the ice was in good condition, the February sunshine
brilliant, and the keen wind set their blood a-tingle with a healthful
glow.
“Now tell me the plan your mother spoke of,” began Rose as they went
gliding across the wide expanse before them, for Charlie seemed to have
forgotten everything but the bliss of having her all to himself for a
little while.
“Plan? Oh, yes! It is simply this. I'm going out to Father next month.”
“Really?” and Rose looked both surprised and incredulous, for this plan
was not a new one.
“Really. You don't believe it, but I am, and mother means to go with
me. We've had another letter from the governor, and he says if she can't
part from her big baby to come along too, and all be happy together.
What do you think of that?” he asked, eyeing her intently, for they were
face to face as she went backward and he held both of her hands to steer
and steady her.
“I like it immensely, and do believe it now only it rather takes my
breath away to think of Aunty's going, when she never would hear of it
before.”
“She doesn't like the plan very well now and consents to go only on one
condition.”
“What is that?” asked Rose, trying to free her hands, for a look at
Charlie made her suspect what was coming.
“That you go with us.” And, holding the hands fast, he added rapidly,
“Let me finish before you speak. I don't mean that anything is to be
changed till you are ready, but if you go, I am willing to give up
everything else and live anywhere as long as you like. Why shouldn't you
come to us for a year or two? We've never had our share. Father would be
delighted, mother contented, and I the happiest man alive.”
“Who made this plan?” asked Rose as soon as she got the breath which
certainly had been rather taken away by this entirely new and by no
means agreeable scheme.
“Mother suggested it I shouldn't have dared even to dream of such
richness. I'd made up my mind to go alone, and when I told her, she
was in despair till this superb idea came into her head. After that, of
course, it was easy enough for me to stick to the resolution I'd made.”
“Why did you decide to go, Charlie?” And Rose looked up into the eyes
that were fixed beseechingly on hers.
They wavered and glanced aside, then met hers honestly yet full of
humility, which made her own fall as he answered very low: “Because I
don't dare to stay.”
“Is it so hard?” she said pitifully.
“Very hard. I haven't the moral courage to own up and face ridicule, and
it seems so mean to hide for fear of breaking my word. I will keep it
this time, Rose, if I go to the ends of the earth to do it.”
“It is not cowardly to flee temptation, and nobody whose opinion is
worth having will ridicule any brave attempt to conquer one's self.
Don't mind it, Charlie, but stand fast, and I am sure you will succeed.”
“You don't know what it is, and I can't tell you, for till I tried to
give it up I never guessed what a grip it had on me. I thought it was
only a habit, easy to drop when I liked, but it is stronger than I, and
sometimes I feel as if possessed of a devil that will get the better of
me, try as I may.”
He dropped her hands abruptly as he said that, with the energy of
despair; and, as if afraid of saying too much, he left her for a minute,
striking away at full speed, as if in truth he would “go to the ends of
the earth” to escape the enemy within himself.
Rose stood still, appalled by this sudden knowledge of how much greater
the evil was than she had dreamed. What ought she to do? Go with her
cousin, and by so doing tacitly pledge herself as his companion on that
longer journey for which he was as yet so poorly equipped? Both heart
and conscience protested against this so strongly that she put the
thought away. But compassion pleaded for him tenderly, and the spirit of
self-sacrifice, which makes women love to give more than they receive,
caused her to feel as if in a measure this man's fate lay in her hands,
to be decided for good or ill through her. How should she be true both
to him and to herself?
Before this question could be answered, he was back again, looking as if
he had left his care behind him, for his moods varied like the wind. Her
attitude, as she stood motionless and alone with downcast face, was so
unlike the cheerful creature who came to meet him an hour ago, it filled
him with self-reproach, and, coming up, he drew one hand through his
arm, saying, as she involuntarily followed him, “You must not stand
still. Forget my heroics and answer my question. Will you go with us,
Rose?”
“Not now that is asking too much, Charlie, and I will promise nothing,
because I cannot do it honestly,” she answered, so firmly that he knew
appeal was useless.
“Am I to go alone, then, leaving all I care for behind me?”
“No, take your mother with you, and do your best to reunite your
parents. You could not give yourself to a better task.”
“She won't go without you.”
“I think she will if you hold fast to your resolution. You won't give
that up, I hope?”
“No I must go somewhere, for I can't stay here, and it may as well be
India, since that pleases Father,” answered Charlie doggedly.
“It will more than you can imagine. Tell him all the truth, and see how
glad he will be to help you, and how sincerely he will respect you for
what you've done.”
“If you respect me, I don't care much about the opinion of anyone else,”
answered Charlie, clinging with a lover's pertinacity to the hope that
was dearest.
“I shall, if you go manfully away and do the duty you owe your father
and yourself.”
“And when I've done it, may I come back to be rewarded, Rose?” he asked,
taking possession of the hand on his arm as if it was already his.
“I wish I could say what you want me to. But how can I promise when I am
not sure of anything? I don't love you as I ought, and perhaps I never
shall so why persist in making me bind myself in this way? Be generous,
Charlie, and don't ask it,” implored Rose, much afflicted by his
persistence.
“I thought you did love me it looked very like it a month ago, unless
you have turned coquette, and I can't quite believe that,” he answered
bitterly.
“I was beginning to love you, but you made me afraid to go on,” murmured
Rose, trying to tell the truth kindly.
“That cursed custom! What can a man do when his hostess asks him to
drink wine with her?” And Charlie looked as if he could have cursed
himself even more heartily.
“He can say 'no.'”
“I can't.”
“Ah, that's the trouble! You never learned to say it even to yourself,
and now it is so hard, you want me to help you.”
“And you won't.”
“Yes, I will, by showing you that I can say it to myself, for your
sake.” And Rose looked up with a face so full of tender sorrow he could
not doubt the words which both reproached and comforted him.
“My little saint! I don't deserve one half your goodness to me, but I
will, and go away without one complaint to do my best, for your sake,”
he cried, touched by her grief and stirred to emulation by the example
of courage and integrity she tried to set him.
Here Kitty and Steve bore down upon them; and, obeying the impulse to
put care behind them, which makes it possible for young hearts to ache
one minute and dance the next, Rose and Charlie banished their troubles,
joined in the sport that soon turned the lonely little bay into a
ballroom, and enjoyed the splendors of a winter sunset forgetful of
separation and Calcutta.