Rose in Bloom
by Louisa May Alcott · English · Gutenberg #2804 · 525,826 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Rose in Bloom
Author: Louisa May Alcott
Release date: September 1, 2001 [eBook #2804]
Most recently updated: May 20, 2019
Language: English
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ROSE IN BLOOM
A Sequel to “Eight Cousins”
By Louisa May Alcott
Preface
As authors may be supposed to know better than anyone else what they
intended to do when writing a book, I beg leave to say that there is
no moral to this story. Rose is not designed for a model girl, and the
Sequel was simply written in fulfillment of a promise, hoping to afford
some amusement, and perhaps here and there a helpful hint, to other
roses getting ready to bloom.
L. M. Alcott
September 1876
Contents
Chapter 1. Coming Home
Chapter 2. Old Friends with New Faces
Chapter 3. Miss Campbell
Chapter 4. Thorns Among the Roses
Chapter 5. Prince Charming
Chapter 6. Polishing Mac
Chapter 7. Phebe
Chapter 8. Breakers Ahead
Chapter 9. New Year's Calls
Chapter 10. The Sad and Sober Part
Chapter 11. Small Temptations
Chapter 12. At Kitty's Ball
Chapter 13. Both Sides
Chapter 14. Aunt Clara's Plan
Chapter 15. Alas for Charlie!
Chapter 16. Good Works
Chapter 17. Among the Haycocks
Chapter 18. Which Was It?
Chapter 19. Behind the Fountain
Chapter 20. What Mac Did
Chapter 21. How Phebe Earned Her Welcome
Chapter 22. Short and Sweet
Chapter 1 COMING HOME
Three young men stood together on a wharf one bright October day
awaiting the arrival of an ocean steamer with an impatience which found
a vent in lively skirmishes with a small lad, who pervaded the premises
like a will-o'-the-wisp and afforded much amusement to the other groups
assembled there.
“They are the Campbells, waiting for their cousin, who has been abroad
several years with her uncle, the doctor,” whispered one lady to another
as the handsomest of the young men touched his hat to her as he passed,
lugging the boy, whom he had just rescued from a little expedition down
among the piles.
“Which is that?” asked the stranger.
“Prince Charlie, as he's called a fine fellow, the most promising of the
seven, but a little fast, people say,” answered the first speaker with a
shake of the head.
“Are the others his brothers?”
“No, cousins. The elder is Archie, a most exemplary young man. He has
just gone into business with the merchant uncle and bids fair to be an
honor to his family. The other, with the eyeglasses and no gloves, is
Mac, the odd one, just out of college.”
“And the boy?”
“Oh, he is Jamie, the youngest brother of Archibald, and the pet of the
whole family. Mercy on us he'll be in if they don't hold on to him!”
The ladies' chat came to a sudden end just there, for by the time
Jamie had been fished out of a hogshead, the steamer hove in sight and
everything else was forgotten. As it swung slowly around to enter the
dock, a boyish voice shouted, “There she is! I see her and Uncle and
Phebe! Hooray for Cousin Rose!” And three small cheers were given with
a will by Jamie as he stood on a post waving his arms like a windmill
while his brother held onto the tail of his jacket.
Yes, there they were Uncle Alec swinging his hat like a boy, with Phebe
smiling and nodding on one side and Rose kissing both hands delightedly
on the other as she recognized familiar faces and heard familiar voices
welcoming her home.
“Bless her dear heart, she's bonnier than ever! Looks like a Madonna
doesn't she? with that blue cloak round her, and her bright hair flying
in the wind!” said Charlie excitedly as they watched the group upon the
deck with eager eyes.
“Madonnas don't wear hats like that. Rose hasn't changed much, but Phebe
has. Why, she's a regular beauty!” answered Archie, staring with all his
might at the dark-eyed young woman with the brilliant color and glossy
black braids shining in the sun.
“Dear old Uncle! Doesn't it seem good to have him back?” was all Mac
said, but he was not looking at “dear old uncle” as he made the fervent
remark, for he saw only the slender blond girl nearby and stretched out
his hands to meet hers, forgetful of the green water tumbling between
them.
During the confusion that reigned for a moment as the steamer settled to
her moorings, Rose looked down into the four faces upturned to hers and
seemed to read in them something that both pleased and pained her. It
was only a glance, and her own eyes were full, but through the mist of
happy tears she received the impression that Archie was about the same,
that Mac had decidedly improved, and that something was amiss with
Charlie. There was no time for observation, however, for in a moment
the shoreward rush began, and before she could grasp her traveling bag,
Jamie was clinging to her like an ecstatic young bear. She was with
difficulty released from his embrace to fall into the gentler ones
of the elder cousins, who took advantage of the general excitement to
welcome both blooming girls with affectionate impartiality. Then the
wanderers were borne ashore in a triumphal procession, while Jamie
danced rapturous jigs before them even on the gangway.
Archie remained to help his uncle get the luggage through the Custom
House, and the others escorted the damsels home. No sooner were they
shut up in a carriage, however, than a new and curious constraint seemed
to fall upon the young people, for they realized, all at once, that
their former playmates were men and women now. Fortunately, Jamie
was quite free from this feeling of restraint and, sitting bodkinwise
between the ladies, took all sorts of liberties with them and their
belongings.
“Well, my mannikin, what do you think of us?” asked Rose, to break an
awkward pause.
“You've both grown so pretty, I can't decide which I like best. Phebe is
the biggest and brightest-looking, and I was always fond of Phebe, but
somehow you are so kind of sweet and precious, I really think I must hug
you again,” and the small youth did it tempestuously.
“If you love me best, I shall not mind a bit about your thinking Phebe
the handsomest, because she is. Isn't she, boys?” asked Rose, with a
mischievous look at the gentlemen opposite, whose faces expressed a
respectful admiration which much amused her.
“I'm so dazzled by the brilliancy and beauty that has suddenly burst
upon me, I have no words to express my emotions,” answered Charlie,
gallantly dodging the dangerous question.
“I can't say yet, for I have not had time to look at anyone. I will now,
if you don't mind.” And, to the great amusement of the rest, Mac gravely
adjusted his eyeglasses and took an observation.
“Well?” said Phebe, smiling and blushing under his honest stare, yet
seeming not to resent it as she did the lordly sort of approval which
made her answer the glance of Charlie's audacious blue eyes with a flash
of her black ones.
“I think if you were my sister, I should be very proud of you, because
your face shows what I admire more than its beauty truth and courage,
Phebe,” answered Mac with a little bow full of such genuine respect that
surprise and pleasure brought a sudden dew to quench the fire of the
girl's eyes and soothe the sensitive pride of the girl's heart.
Rose clapped her hands just as she used to do when anything delighted
her, and beamed at Mac approvingly as she said: “Now that's a criticism
worth having, and we are much obliged. I was sure you'd admire my Phebe
when you knew her, but I didn't believe you would be wise enough to see
it at once, and you have gone up many pegs in my estimation, I assure
you.”
“I was always fond of mineralogy you remember, and I've been tapping
round a good deal lately, so I've learned to know precious metals when I
see them,” Mac said with his shrewd smile.
“That is the latest hobby, then? Your letters have amused us immensely,
for each one had a new theory or experiment, and the latest was
always the best. I thought Uncle would have died of laughter over the
vegetarian mania it was so funny to imagine you living on bread and
milk, baked apples, and potatoes roasted in your own fire,” continued
Rose, changing the subject again.
“This old chap was the laughingstock of his class. They called him Don
Quixote, and the way he went at windmills of all sorts was a sight to
see,” put in Charlie, evidently feeling that Mac had been patted on the
head quite as much as was good for him.
“But in spite of that the Don got through college with all the honors.
Oh, wasn't I proud when Aunt Jane wrote to us about it and didn't she
rejoice that her boy kept at the head of his class and won the medal!”
cried Rose, shaking Mac by both hands in a way that caused Charlie to
wish “the old chap” had been left behind with Dr. Alec.
“Oh, come, that's all Mother's nonsense. I began earlier than the other
fellows and liked it better, so I don't deserve any praise. Prince is
right, though. I did make a regular jack of myself, but on the whole
I'm not sure that my wild oats weren't better than some I've seen sowed.
Anyway, they didn't cost much, and I'm none the worse for them,” said
Mac placidly.
“I know what 'wild oats' means. I heard Uncle Mac say Charlie was sowing
'em too fast, and I asked Mama, so she told me. And I know that he was
suspelled or expended, I don't remember which, but it was something bad,
and Aunt Clara cried,” added Jamie all in one breath, for he possessed a
fatal gift of making malapropos remarks, which caused him to be a terror
to his family.
“Do you want to go on the box again?” demanded Prince with a warning
frown.
“No, I don't.”
“Then hold your tongue.”
“Well, Mac needn't kick me, for I was only...” began the culprit,
innocently trying to make a bad matter worse.
“That will do,” interrupted Charlie sternly, and James subsided, a
crushed boy, consoling himself with Rose's new watch for the indignities
he suffered at the hands of the “old fellows” as he vengefully called
his elders.
Mac and Charlie immediately began to talk as hard as their tongues could
wag, bringing up all sorts of pleasant subjects so successfully
that peals of laughter made passersby look after the merry load with
sympathetic smiles.
An avalanche of aunts fell upon Rose as soon as she reached home, and
for the rest of the day the old house buzzed like a beehive. Evening
found the whole tribe collected in the drawing rooms, with the exception
of Aunt Peace, whose place was empty now.
Naturally enough, the elders settled into one group after a while, and
the young fellows clustered about the girls like butterflies around two
attractive flowers. Dr. Alec was the central figure in one room and Rose
in the other, for the little girl, whom they had all loved and petted,
had bloomed into a woman, and two years of absence had wrought a curious
change in the relative positions of the cousins, especially the three
elder ones, who eyed her with a mixture of boyish affection and manly
admiration that was both new and pleasant.
Something sweet yet spirited about her charmed them and piqued their
curiosity, for she was not quite like other girls, and rather startled
them now and then by some independent little speech or act which made
them look at one another with a sly smile, as if reminded that Rose was
“Uncle's girl.”
Let us listen, as in duty bound, to what the elders are saying first,
for they are already building castles in air for the boys and girls to
inhabit.
“Dear child how nice it is to see her safely back, so well and happy and
like her sweet little self!” said Aunt Plenty, folding her hands as if
giving thanks for a great happiness.
“I shouldn't wonder if you found that you'd brought a firebrand into the
family, Alec. Two, in fact, for Phebe is a fine girl, and the lads have
found it out already if I'm not mistaken,” added Uncle Mac, with a nod
toward the other room.
All eyes followed his, and a highly suggestive tableau presented itself
to the paternal and maternal audience in the back parlor.
Rose and Phebe, sitting side by side on the sofa, had evidently assumed
at once the places which they were destined to fill by right of youth,
sex, and beauty, for Phebe had long since ceased to be the maid and
become the friend, and Rose meant to have that fact established at once.
Jamie occupied the rug, on which Will and Geordie stood at ease, showing
their uniforms to the best advantage, for they were now in a great
school, where military drill was the delight of their souls. Steve posed
gracefully in an armchair, with Mac lounging over the back of it, while
Archie leaned on one corner of the low chimneypiece, looking down at
Phebe as she listened to his chat with smiling lips and cheeks almost as
rich in color as the carnations in her belt.
But Charlie was particularly effective, although he sat upon a music
stool, that most trying position for any man not gifted with grace in
the management of his legs. Fortunately Prince was, and had fallen into
an easy attitude, with one arm over the back of the sofa, his handsome
head bent a little, as he monopolized Rose, with a devoted air and a
very becoming expression of contentment on his face.
Aunt Clara smiled as if well pleased; Aunt Jessie looked thoughtful;
Aunt Jane's keen eyes went from dapper Steve to broad-shouldered Mac
with an anxious glance; Mrs. Myra murmured something about her “blessed
Caroline”; and Aunt Plenty said warmly, “Bless the dears! Anyone might
be proud of such a bonny flock of bairns as that.”
“I am all ready to play chaperon as soon as you please, Alec, for I
suppose the dear girl will come out at once, as she did not before you
went away. My services won't be wanted long, I fancy, for with her
many advantages she will be carried off in her first season or I'm much
mistaken,” said Mrs. Clara, with significant nods and smiles.
“You must settle all those matters with Rose. I am no longer captain,
only first mate now, you know,” answered Dr. Alec, adding soberly, half
to himself, half to his brother, “I wonder people are in such haste to
'bring out' their daughters, as it's called. To me there is something
almost pathetic in the sight of a young girl standing on the threshold
of the world, so innocent and hopeful, so ignorant of all that lies
before her, and usually so ill prepared to meet the ups and downs of
life. We do our duty better by the boys, but the poor little women are
seldom provided with any armor worth having, and sooner or later they
are sure to need it, for every one must fight her own battle, and only
the brave and strong can win.”
“You can't reproach yourself with neglect of that sort, Alec, for you
have done your duty faithfully by George's girl, and I envy you the
pride and happiness of having such a daughter, for she is that to you,”
answered old Mac, unexpectedly betraying the paternal sort of tenderness
men seldom feel for their sons.
“I've tried, Mac, and I am both proud and happy, but with every year my
anxiety seems to increase. I've done my best to fit Rose for what may
come, as far as I can foresee it, but now she must stand alone, and all
my care is powerless to keep her heart from aching, her life from being
saddened by mistakes, or thwarted by the acts of others. I can only
stand ready to share her joy and sorrow and watch her shape her life.”
“Why, Alec, what is the child going to do that you need look so solemn?”
exclaimed Mrs. Clara, who seemed to have assumed a sort of right to Rose
already.
“Hark! And let her tell you herself,” answered Dr. Alec, as Rose's voice
was heard saying very earnestly, “Now, you have all told your plans for
the future, why don't you ask us ours?”
“Because we know that there is only one thing for a pretty girl to do
break a dozen or so hearts before she finds one to suit, then marry and
settle,” answered Charlie, as if no other reply was possible.
“That may be the case with many, but not with us, for Phebe and I
believe that it is as much a right and a duty for women to do something
with their lives as for men, and we are not going to be satisfied with
such frivolous parts as you give us,” cried Rose with kindling eyes. “I
mean what I say, and you cannot laugh me down. Would you be contented to
be told to enjoy yourself for a little while, then marry and do nothing
more till you die?” she added, turning to Archie.
“Of course not that is only a part of a man's life,” he answered
decidedly.
“A very precious and lovely part, but not all,” continued Rose. “Neither
should it be for a woman, for we've got minds and souls as well as
hearts; ambition and talents as well as beauty and accomplishments;
and we want to live and learn as well as love and be loved. I'm sick of
being told that is all a woman is fit for! I won't have anything to do
with love till I prove that I am something besides a housekeeper and
baby-tender!”
“Heaven preserve us! Here's woman's rights with a vengeance!” cried
Charlie, starting up with mock horror, while the others regarded Rose
with mingled surprise and amusement, evidently fancying it all a girlish
outbreak.
“Ah, you needn't pretend to be shocked you will be in earnest presently,
for this is only the beginning of my strong-mindedness,” continued Rose,
nothing daunted by the smiles of good-natured incredulity or derision on
the faces of her cousins. “I have made up my mind not to be cheated out
of the real things that make one good and happy and, just because I'm a
rich girl, fold my hands and drift as so many do. I haven't lived with
Phebe all these years in vain. I know what courage and self-reliance can
do for one, and I sometimes wish I hadn't a penny in the world so that I
could go and earn my bread with her, and be as brave and independent as
she will be pretty soon.”
It was evident that Rose was in earnest now, for as she spoke she turned
to her friend with such respect as well as love in her face that the
look told better than any words how heartily the rich girl appreciated
the virtues hard experience had given the poor girl, and how eagerly she
desired to earn what all her fortune could not buy for her.
Something in the glance exchanged between the friends impressed the
young men in spite of their prejudices, and it was in a perfectly
serious tone that Archie said, “I fancy you'll find your hands full,
Cousin, if you want work, for I've heard people say that wealth has its
troubles and trials as well as poverty.”
“I know it, and I'm going to try and fill my place well. I've got some
capital little plans all made, and have begun to study my profession
already,” answered Rose with an energetic nod.
“Could I ask what it is to be?” inquired Charlie in a tone of awe.
“Guess!” and Rose looked up at him with an expression half-earnest,
half-merry.
“Well, I should say that you were fitted for a beauty and a belle, but
as that is evidently not to your taste, I am afraid you are going to
study medicine and be a doctor. Won't your patients have a heavenly time
though? It will be easy dying with an angel to poison them.”
“Now, Charlie, that's base of you, when you know how well women have
succeeded in this profession and what a comfort Dr. Mary Kirk was to
dear Aunt Peace. I did want to study medicine, but Uncle thought it
wouldn't do to have so many M.D.'s in one family, since Mac thinks of
trying it. Besides, I seem to have other work put into my hands that I
am better fitted for.”
“You are fitted for anything that is generous and good, and I'll stand
by you, no matter what you've chosen,” cried Mac heartily, for this was
a new style of talk from a girl's lips, and he liked it immensely.
“Philanthropy is a generous, good, and beautiful profession, and I've
chosen it for mine because I have much to give. I'm only the steward
of the fortune Papa left me, and I think, if I use it wisely for the
happiness of others, it will be more blest than if I keep it all for
myself.”
Very sweetly and simply was this said, but it was curious to see how
differently the various hearers received it.
Charlie shot a quick look at his mother, who exclaimed, as if in spite
of herself, “Now, Alec, are you going to let that girl squander a fine
fortune on all sorts of charitable nonsense and wild schemes for the
prevention of pauperism and crime?”
“'They who give to the poor lend to the Lord,' and practical
Christianity is the kind He loves the best,” was all Dr. Alec answered,
but it silenced the aunts and caused even prudent Uncle Mac to think
with sudden satisfaction of certain secret investments he had made which
paid him no interest but the thanks of the poor.
Archie and Mac looked well pleased and promised their advice and
assistance with the enthusiasm of generous young hearts. Steve shook
his head, but said nothing, and the lads on the rug at once proposed
founding a hospital for invalid dogs and horses, white mice, and wounded
heroes.
“Don't you think that will be a better way for a woman to spend her life
than in dancing, dressing, and husband-hunting, Charlie?” asked Rose,
observing his silence and anxious for his approval.
“Very pretty for a little while, and very effective too, for I don't
know anything more captivating than a sweet girl in a meek little bonnet
going on charitable errands and glorifying poor people's houses with
a delightful mixture of beauty and benevolence. Fortunately, the dear
souls soon tire of it, but it's heavenly while it lasts.”
Charlie spoke in a tone of mingled admiration and contempt, and smiled
a superior sort of smile, as if he understood all the innocent delusions
as well as the artful devices of the sex and expected nothing more from
them. It both surprised and grieved Rose, for it did not sound like
the Charlie she had left two years ago. But she only said, with a
reproachful look and a proud little gesture of head and hand, as if she
put the subject aside since it was not treated with respect: “I am sorry
you have so low an opinion of women. There was a time when you believed
in them sincerely.”
“I do still, upon my word I do! They haven't a more devoted admirer
and slave in the world than I am. Just try me and see,” cried Charlie,
gallantly kissing his hand to the sex in general.
But Rose was not appeased, and gave a disdainful shrug as she answered
with a look in her eyes that his lordship did not like, “Thank you. I
don't want admirers or slaves, but friends and helpers. I've lived so
long with a wise, good man that I am rather hard to suit, perhaps, but
I don't intend to lower my standard, and anyone who cares for my regard
must at least try to live up to it.”
“Whew! Here's a wrathful dove! Come and smooth her ruffled plumage, Mac.
I'll dodge before I do further mischief,” and Charlie strolled away into
the other room, privately lamenting that Uncle Alec had spoiled a fine
girl by making her strong-minded.
He wished himself back again in five minutes, for Mac said something
that produced a gale of laughter, and when he took a look over his
shoulder the “wrathful dove” was cooing so peacefully and pleasantly
he was sorely tempted to return and share the fun. But Charlie had been
spoiled by too much indulgence, and it was hard for him to own himself
in the wrong even when he knew it. He always got what he wanted sooner
or later, and having long ago made up his mind that Rose and her fortune
were to be his, he was secretly displeased at the new plans and beliefs
of the young lady, but flattered himself that they would soon be changed
when she saw how unfashionable and inconvenient they were.
Musing over the delightful future he had laid out, he made himself
comfortable in the sofa corner near his mother till the appearance of
a slight refection caused both groups to melt into one. Aunt Plenty
believed in eating and drinking, so the slightest excuse for festivity
delighted her hospitable soul, and on this joyful occasion she surpassed
herself.
It was during this informal banquet that Rose, roaming about from one
admiring relative to another, came upon the three younger lads, who were
having a quiet little scuffle in a secluded corner.
“Come out here and let me have a look at you,” she said enticingly, for
she predicted an explosion and public disgrace if peace was not speedily
restored.
Hastily smoothing themselves down, the young gentlemen presented three
flushed and merry countenances for inspection, feeling highly honored by
the command.
“Dear me, how you two have grown! You big things how dare you get head
of me in this way!” she said, standing on tiptoe to pat the curly pates
before her, for Will and Geordie had shot up like weeds, and now grinned
cheerfully down upon her as she surveyed them in comic amazement.
“The Campbells are all fine, tall fellows, and we mean to be the best of
the lot. Shouldn't wonder if we were six-footers like Grandpa,” observed
Will proudly, looking so like a young Shanghai rooster, all legs and an
insignificant head, that Rose kept her countenance with difficulty.
“We shall broaden out when we get our growth. We are taller than Steve
now, a half a head, both of us,” added Geordie, with his nose in the
air.
Rose turned to look at Steve and, with a sudden smile, beckoned to him.
He dropped his napkin and flew to obey the summons, for she was queen of
the hour, and he had openly announced his deathless loyalty.
“Tell the other boys to come here. I've a fancy to stand you all in a
row and look you over, as you did me that dreadful day when you nearly
frightened me out of my wits,” she said, laughing at the memory of it as
she spoke.
They came in a body and, standing shoulder to shoulder, made such an
imposing array that the young commander was rather daunted for a moment.
But she had seen too much of the world lately to be abashed by a trifle,
and the desire to see a girlish test gave her courage to face the line
of smiling cousins with dignity and spirit.
“Now, I'm going to stare at you as you stared at me. It is my revenge on
you seven bad boys for entrapping one poor little girl and enjoying her
alarm. I'm not a bit afraid of you now, so tremble and beware!”
As she spoke, Rose looked up into Archie's face and nodded approvingly,
for the steady gray eyes met hers fairly and softened as they did so a
becoming change, for naturally they were rather keen than kind.
“A true Campbell, bless you!” she said, and shook his hand heartily as
she passed on.
Charlie came next, and here she felt less satisfied, though scarcely
conscious why, for, as she looked, there came a defiant sort of flash,
changing suddenly to something warmer than anger, stronger than pride,
making her shrink a little and say, hastily, “I don't find the Charlie I
left, but the Prince is there still, I see.”
Turning to Mac with a sense of relief, she gently took off his
“winkers,” as Jamie called them, and looked straight into the honest
blue eyes that looked straight back at her, full of a frank and friendly
affection that warmed her heart and made her own eyes brighten as
she gave back the glasses, saying, with a look and tone of cordial
satisfaction, “You are not changed, my dear old Mac, and I'm so glad of
that!”
“Now say something extra sweet to me, because I'm the flower of the
family,” said Steve, twirling the blond moustache, which was evidently
the pride of his life.
Rose saw at a glance that Dandy deserved his name more than ever, and
promptly quenched his vanities by answering, with a provoking laugh,
“Then the name of the flower of the family is Cockscomb.”
“Ah, ha! who's got it now?” jeered Will.
“Let us off easy, please,” whispered Geordie, mindful that their turn
came next.
“You blessed beanstalks! I'm proud of you only don't grow quite out of
sight, or even be ashamed to look a woman in the face,” answered Rose,
with a gentle pat on the cheek of either bashful young giant, for both
were red as peonies, though their boyish eyes were as clear and calm as
summer lakes.
“Now me!” and Jamie assumed his manliest air, feeling that he did not
appear to advantage among his tall kinsmen. But he went to the head
of the class in everyone's opinion when Rose put her arms around him,
saying, with a kiss, “You must be my boy now, for all the others are too
old, and I want a faithful little page to do my errands for me.”
“I will, I will I'll marry you too, if you'll just hold on till I grow
up!” cried Jamie, rather losing his head at this sudden promotion.
“Bless the baby, what is he talking about?” laughed Rose, looking down
at her little knight as he clung about her with grateful ardor.
“Oh, I heard the aunts say that you'd better marry one of us, and keep
the property in the family, so I speak first, because you are very fond
of me, and I do love curls.”
Alas for Jamie! This awful speech had hardly left his innocent lips when
Will and Geordie swept him out of the room like a whirlwind, and the
howls of that hapless boy were heard from the torture hall, where being
shut into the skeleton case was one of the mildest punishments inflicted
upon him.
Dismay fell upon the unfortunates who remained, but their confusion was
soon ended, for Rose, with a look which they had never seen upon her
face before, dismissed them with the brief command, “Break ranks the
review is over,” and walked away to Phebe.
“Confound that boy! You ought to shut him up or gag him!” fumed Charlie
irritably.
“He shall be attended to,” answered poor Archie, who was trying to bring
up the little marplot with the success of most parents and guardians.
“The whole thing was deuced disagreeable,” growled Steve, who felt that
he had not distinguished himself in the late engagement.
“Truth generally is,” observed Mac dryly as he strolled away with his
odd smile.
As if he suspected discord somewhere, Dr. Alec proposed music at this
crisis, and the young people felt that it was a happy thought.
“I want you to hear both my birds, for they have improved immensely,
and I am very proud of them,” said the doctor, twirling up the stool and
pulling out the old music books.
“I had better come first, for after you have heard the nightingale you
won't care for the canary,” added Rose, wishing to put Phebe at her
ease, for she sat among them looking like a picture, but rather shy and
silent, remembering the days when her place was in the kitchen.
“I'll give you some of the dear old songs you used to like so much. This
was a favorite, I think,” and sitting down she sang the first familiar
air that came, and sang it well in a pleasant, but by no means finished,
manner.
It chanced to be “The Birks of Aberfeldie,” and vividly recalled the
time when Mac was ill and she took care of him. The memory was sweet to
her, and involuntarily her eye wandered in search of him. He was not
far away, sitting just as he used to sit when she soothed his most
despondent moods astride of a chair with his head down on his arms, as
if the song suggested the attitude. Her heart quite softened to him as
she looked, and she decided to forgive him if no one else, for she was
sure that he had no mercenary plans about her tiresome money.
Charlie had assumed a pensive air and fixed his fine eyes upon her with
an expression of tender admiration, which made her laugh in spite of all
her efforts to seem unconscious of it. She was both amused and annoyed
at his very evident desire to remind her of certain sentimental passages
in the last year of their girl- and boy-hood, and to change what she had
considered a childish joke into romantic earnest. Rose had very serious
ideas of love and had no intention of being beguiled into even a
flirtation with her handsome cousin.
So Charlie attitudinized unnoticed and was getting rather out of temper
when Phebe began to sing, and he forgot all about himself in admiration
of her. It took everyone by surprise, for two years of foreign training
added to several at home had worked wonders, and the beautiful voice
that used to warble cheerily over pots and kettles now rang out
melodiously or melted to a mellow music that woke a sympathetic thrill
in those who listened. Rose glowed with pride as she accompanied her
friend, for Phebe was in her own world now a lovely world where no
depressing memory of poorhouse or kitchen, ignorance or loneliness, came
to trouble her, a happy world where she could be herself and rule others
by the magic of her sweet gift.
Yes, Phebe was herself now, and showed it in the change that came over
her at the first note of music. No longer shy and silent, no longer the
image of a handsome girl but a blooming woman, alive and full of the
eloquence her art gave her, as she laid her hands softly together,
fixed her eye on the light, and just poured out her song as simply and
joyfully as the lark does soaring toward the sun.
“My faith, Alec that's the sort of voice that wins a man's heart out
of his breast!” exclaimed Uncle Mac, wiping his eyes after one of the
plaintive ballads that never grow old.
“So it would!” answered Dr. Alec delightedly.
“So it has,” added Archie to himself; and he was right, for just at that
moment he fell in love with Phebe. He actually did, and could fix the
time almost to a second, for at a quarter past nine, he merely thought
her a very charming young person; at twenty minutes past, he considered
her the loveliest woman he ever beheld; at five and twenty minutes past,
she was an angel singing his soul away; and at half after nine he was
a lost man, floating over a delicious sea to that temporary heaven on
earth where lovers usually land after the first rapturous plunge.
If anyone had mentioned this astonishing fact, nobody would have
believed it; nevertheless, it was quite true, and sober, businesslike
Archie suddenly discovered a fund of romance at the bottom of his
hitherto well-conducted heart that amazed him. He was not quite clear
what had happened to him at first, and sat about in a dazed sort of way,
seeing, hearing, knowing nothing but Phebe, while the unconscious idol
found something wanting in the cordial praise so modestly received
because Mr. Archie never said a word.
This was one of the remarkable things which occurred that evening.
Another was that Mac paid Rose a compliment, which was such an
unprecedented fact, it produced a great sensation, though only one
person heard it.
Everybody had gone but Mac and his father, who was busy with the doctor.
Aunt Plenty was counting the teaspoons in the dining room, and Phebe was
helping her as of old. Mac and Rose were alone he apparently in a brown
study, leaning his elbows on the chimneypiece, and she lying back in a
low chair looking thoughtfully at the fire. She was tired, and the quiet
was grateful to her, so she kept silence and Mac respectfully held his
tongue. Presently, however, she became conscious that he was looking at
her as intently as eyes and glasses could do it, and without stirring
from her comfortable attitude, she said, smiling up at him, “He looks as
wise as an owl I wonder what he's thinking about?”
“You, Cousin.”
“Something good, I hope?”
“I was thinking Leigh Hunt was about right when he said, 'A girl is the
sweetest thing God ever made.'”
“Why, Mac!” and Rose sat bolt upright with an astonished face this was
such an entirely unexpected sort of remark for the philosopher to make.
Evidently interested in the new discovery, Mac placidly continued, “Do
you know, it seems as if I never really saw a girl before, or had
any idea what agreeable creatures they could be. I fancy you are a
remarkably good specimen, Rose.”
“No, indeed! I'm only hearty and happy, and being safe at home again
may make me look better than usual perhaps, but I'm no beauty except to
Uncle.”
“'Hearty and happy' that must be it,” echoed Mac, soberly investigating
the problem. “Most girls are sickly or silly, I think I have observed,
and that is probably why I am so struck with you.”
“Of all the queer boys you are the queerest! Do you really mean that
you don't like or notice girls?” asked Rose, much amused at this new
peculiarity of her studious cousin.
“Well, no, I am only conscious of two sorts noisy and quiet ones. I
prefer the latter, but, as a general thing, I don't notice any of them
much more than I do flies, unless they bother me, then I'd like to flap
them away, but as that won't do, I hide.”
Rose leaned back and laughed until her eyes were full. It was so comical
to hear Mac sink his voice to a confidential whisper at the last
words and see him smile with sinful satisfaction at the memory of the
tormentors he had eluded.
“You needn't laugh it's a fact, I assure you. Charlie likes the
creatures, and they spoil him. Steve follows suit, of course. Archie is
a respectful slave when he can't help himself. As for me, I don't
often give them a chance, and when I get caught I talk science and dead
languages till they run for their lives. Now and then I find a sensible
one, and then we get on excellently.”
“A sad prospect for Phebe and me,” sighed Rose, trying to keep sober.
“Phebe is evidently a quiet one. I know she is sensible, or you wouldn't
care for her. I can see that she is pleasant to look at, so I fancy
I shall like her. As for you, I helped bring you up, therefore I am a
little anxious to see how you turn out. I was afraid your foreign polish
might spoil you, but I think it has not. In fact, I find you quite
satisfactory so far, if you don't mind my saying it. I don't quite know
what the charm is, though. Must be the power of inward graces, since you
insist that you have no outer ones.”
Mac was peering at her with a shrewd smile on his lips, but such a
kindly look behind the glasses that she found both words and glance very
pleasant and answered merrily, “I am glad you approve of me, and much
obliged for your care of my early youth. I hope to be a credit to you
and depend on your keeping me straight, for I'm afraid I shall be spoilt
among you all.”
“I'll keep my eye on you upon one condition,” replied the youthful
mentor.
“Name it.”
“If you are going to have a lot of lovers around, I wash my hands of
you. If not, I'm your man.”
“You must be sheep dog and help keep them away, for I don't want any yet
awhile and, between ourselves, I don't believe I shall have any if it is
known that I am strong-minded. That fact will scare most men away like a
yellow flag,” said Rose, for, thanks to Dr. Alec's guardianship, she had
wasted neither heart nor time in the foolish flirtations so many girls
fritter away their youth upon.
“Hum! I rather doubt that,” muttered Mac as he surveyed the damsel
before him.
She certainly did not look unpleasantly strong-minded, and she was
beautiful in spite of her modest denials. Beautiful with the truest sort
of beauty, for nobility of character lent its subtle charm to the bloom
of youth, the freshness of health, the innocence of a nature whose sweet
maidenliness Mac felt but could not describe. Gentle yet full of spirit,
and all aglow with the earnestness that suggests lovely possibilities
and makes one hope that such human flowers may have heaven's purest air
and warmest sunshine to blossom in.
“Wait and see,” answered Rose; then, as her uncle's voice was heard in
the hall, she held out her hand, adding pleasantly, “The old times are
to begin again, so come soon and tell me all your doings and help me
with mine just as you used to do.”
“You really mean it?” And Mac looked much pleased.
“I really do. You are so little altered, except to grow big, that I
don't feel at all strange with you and want to begin where we left off.”
“That will be capital. Good night, Cousin,” and to her great amazement,
he gave her a hearty kiss.
“Oh, but that is not the old way at all!” cried Rose, stepping back
in merry confusion while the audacious youth assumed an air of mild
surprise as he innocently asked: “Didn't we always say good night in
that way? I had an impression that we did and were to begin just as we
left off.”
“Of course not. No power on earth would have bribed you to do it, as you
know well enough. I don't mind the first night, but we are too old for
that sort of thing now.”
“I'll remember. It was the force of habit, I suppose, for I'm sure
I must have done it in former times, it seemed so natural. Coming,
Father!” and Mac retired, evidently convinced he was right.
“Dear old thing! He is as much a boy as ever, and that is such a
comfort, for some of the others have grown up very fast,” said Rose to
herself, recalling Charlie's sentimental airs and Archie's beatified
expression while Phebe sang.
Chapter 2 OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACES
“It is so good to be home again! I wonder how we ever made up our minds
to go away!” exclaimed Rose as she went roaming about the old house next
morning, full of the satisfaction one feels at revisiting familiar nooks
and corners and finding them unchanged.
“That we might have the pleasure of coming back again,” answered Phebe,
walking down the hall beside her little mistress, as happy as she.
“Everything seems just as we left it, even to the rose leaves we used to
tuck in here,” continued the younger girl, peeping into one of the tall
India jars that stood about the hall.
“Don't you remember how Jamie and Pokey used to play Forty Thieves with
them, and how you tried to get into that blue one and got stuck, and the
other boys found us before I could pull you out?” asked Phebe, laughing.
“Yes, indeed, and speaking of angels, one is apt to hear the rustling
of their wings,” added Rose, as a shrill whistle came up the avenue
accompanied by the clatter of hoofs.
“It is the circus!” cried Phebe gaily as they both recalled the red cart
and the charge of the clan.
There was only one boy now, alas, but he made noise enough for half a
dozen, and before Rose could run to the door, Jamie came bouncing in
with a “shining morning face,” a bat over his shoulder, a red and white
jockey cap on his head, one pocket bulging with a big ball, the other
overflowing with cookies, and his mouth full of the apple he was just
finishing off in hot haste.
“Morning! I just looked in to make sure you'd really come and see that
you were all right,” he observed, saluting with bat and doffing the gay
cap with one effective twitch.
“Good morning, dear. Yes, we really are here, and getting to rights as
fast as possible. But it seems to me you are rather gorgeous, Jamie.
What do you belong to a fire company or a jockey club?” asked Rose,
turning up the once chubby face, which now was getting brown and square
about the chin.
“No, ma'am! Why, don't you know? I'm captain of the Base Ball Star
Club. Look at that, will you?” And, as if the fact were one of national
importance, Jamie flung open his jacket to display upon his proudly
swelling chest an heart-shaped red flannel shield decorated with a white
cotton star the size of a tea plate.
“Superb! I've been away so long I forgot there was such a game. And you
the captain?” cried Rose, deeply impressed by the high honor to which
her kinsman had arrived.
“I just am, and it's no joke you'd better believe, for we knock our
teeth out, black our eyes, and split our fingers almost as well as the
big fellows. You come down to the Common between one and two and see us
play a match, then you'll understand what hard work it is. I'll teach
you to bat now if you'll come out on the lawn,” added Jamie, fired with
a wish to exhibit his prowess.
“No, thank you, captain. The grass is wet, and you'll be late at school
if you stay for us.”
“I'm not afraid. Girls are not good for much generally, but you never
used to mind a little wet and played cricket like a good one. Can't you
ever do that sort of thing now?” asked the boy, with a pitying look
at these hapless creatures debarred from the joys and perils of manly
sports.
“I can run still and I'll get to the gate before you, see if I don't.”
And, yielding to the impulse of the moment, Rose darted down the steps
before astonished Jamie could mount and follow.
He was off in a moment, but Rose had the start, and though old Sheltie
did his best, she reached the goal just ahead, and stood there laughing
and panting, all rosy with fresh October air, a pretty picture for
several gentlemen who were driving by.
“Good for you, Rose!” said Archie, jumping out to shake hands while Will
and Geordie saluted and Uncle Mac laughed at Jamie, who looked as if
girls had risen slightly in his opinion.
“I'm glad it is you, because you won't be shocked. But I'm so happy to
be back I forgot I was not little Rose still,” said Atalanta, smoothing
down her flying hair.
“You look very like her, with the curls on your shoulders in the old
way. I missed them last night and wondered what it was. How are Uncle
and Phebe?” asked Archie, whose eyes had been looking over Rose's head
while he spoke toward the piazza, where a female figure was visible
among the reddening woodbines.
“All well, thanks. Won't you come up and see for yourselves?”
“Can't, my dear, can't possibly. Business, you know, business. This
fellow is my right-hand man, and I can't spare him a minute. Come, Arch,
we must be off, or these boys will miss their train,” answered Uncle
Mac, pulling out his watch.
With a last look from the light-haired figure at the gate to the
dark-haired one among the vines, Archie drove away and Jamie cantered
after, consoling himself for his defeat with apple number two.
Rose lingered a moment, feeling much inclined to continue her run and
pop in upon all the aunts in succession, but, remembering her uncovered
head, was about to turn back when a cheerful “Ahoy! ahoy!” made her look
up to see Mac approaching at a great pace, waving his hat as he came.
“The Campbells are coming, thick and fast this morning, and the more the
merrier,” she said, running to meet him. “You look like a good boy going
to school, and virtuously conning your lesson by the way,” she added,
smiling to see him take his finger out of the book he had evidently been
reading, and tuck it under his arm, just as he used to do years ago.
“I am a schoolboy, going to the school I like best,” he answered, waving
a plumy spray of asters as if pointing out the lovely autumn world about
them, full of gay hues, fresh airs, and mellow sunshine.
“That reminds me that I didn't get a chance to hear much about your
plans last night the other boys all talked at once, and you only got a
word now and then. What have you decided to be, Mac?” asked Rose as they
went up the avenue side by side.
“A man first, and a good one if possible. After that, what God pleases.”
Something in the tone, as well as the words, made Rose look up quickly
into Mac's face to see a new expression there. It was indescribable, but
she felt as she had often done when watching the mists part suddenly,
giving glimpses of some mountaintop, shining serene and high against the
blue.
“I think you will be something splendid, for you really look quite
glorified, walking under this arch of yellow leaves with the sunshine on
your face,” she exclaimed, conscious of a sudden admiration never felt
before, for Mac was the plainest of all the cousins.
“I don't know about that, but I have my dreams and aspirations, and
some of them are pretty high ones. Aim at the best, you know, and keep
climbing if you want to get on,” he said, looking at the asters with an
inward sort of smile, as if he and they had some sweet secret between
them.
“You are queerer than ever. But I like your ambition, and hope you will
get on. Only mustn't you begin at something soon? I fancied you would
study medicine with Uncle that used to be our plan, you know.”
“I shall, for the present at least, because I quite agree with you that
it is necessary to have an anchor somewhere and not go floating off into
the world of imagination without ballast of the right sort. Uncle and
I had some talk about it last night and I'm going to begin as soon as
possible, for I've mooned long enough,” and giving himself a shake, Mac
threw down the pretty spray, adding half aloud:
“Chide me not, laborious band,
For the idle flowers I brought:
Every aster in my hand
Goes home laden with a thought.”
Rose caught the words and smiled, thinking to herself, “Oh, that's it
he is getting into the sentimental age and Aunt Jane has been lecturing
him. Dear me, how we are growing up!”
“You look as if you didn't like the prospect very well,” she said
aloud, for Mac had rammed the volume of Shelley into his pocket and the
glorified expression was so entirely gone, Rose fancied she had been
mistaken about the mountaintop behind the mists.
“Yes, well enough I always thought the profession a grand one, and
where could I find a better teacher than Uncle? I've got into lazy ways
lately, and it is high time I went at something useful, so here I go,”
and Mac abruptly vanished into the study while Rose joined Phebe in Aunt
Plenty's room.
The dear old lady had just decided, after long and earnest discussion,
which of six favorite puddings should be served for dinner, and thus had
a few moments to devote to sentiment, so when Rose came in she held out
her arms, saying fondly: “I shall not feel as if I'd got my child back
again until I have her in my lap a minute. No, you're not a bit too
heavy, my rheumatism doesn't begin much before November, so sit here,
darling, and put your two arms round my neck.”
Rose obeyed, and neither spoke for a moment as the old woman held the
young one close and appeased the two years' longing of a motherly heart
by the caresses women give the creatures dearest to them. Right in the
middle of a kiss, however, she stopped suddenly and, holding out one
arm, caught Phebe, who was trying to steal away unobserved.
“Don't go there's room for both in my love, though there isn't in my
lap. I'm so grateful to get my dear girls safely home again that I
hardly know what I'm about,” said Aunt Plenty, embracing Phebe so
heartily that she could not feel left out in the cold and stood there
with her black eyes shining through the happiest tears.
“There, now I've had a good hug, and feel as if I was all right again. I
wish you'd set that cap in order, Rose I went to bed in such a hurry,
I pulled the strings off it and left it all in a heap. Phebe, dear, you
shall dust round a mite, just as you used to, for I haven't had anyone
to do it as I like since you've been gone, and it will do me good to see
all my knickknacks straightened out in your tidy way,” said the elder
lady, getting up with a refreshed expression on her rosy old face.
“Shall I dust in here too?” asked Phebe, glancing toward an inner room
which used to be her care.
“No, dear, I'd rather do that myself. Go in if you like, nothing is
changed. I must go and see to my pudding.” And Aunt Plenty trotted
abruptly away with a quiver of emotion in her voice which made even her
last words pathetic.
Pausing on the threshold as if it was a sacred place, the girls looked
in with eyes soon dimmed by tender tears, for it seemed as if the gentle
occupant was still there. Sunshine shone on the old geraniums by the
window; the cushioned chair stood in its accustomed place, with the
white wrapper hung across it and the faded slippers lying ready. Books
and basket, knitting and spectacles, were all just as she had left them,
and the beautiful tranquility that always filled the room seemed so
natural, both lookers turned involuntarily toward the bed, where Aunt
Peace used to greet them with a smile. There was no sweet old face upon
the pillow now, yet the tears that wet the blooming cheeks were not for
her who had gone, but for her who was left, because they saw something
which spoke eloquently of the love which outlives death and makes the
humblest things beautiful and sacred.
A well-worn footstool stood beside the bed, and in the high-piled
whiteness of the empty couch there was a little hollow where a gray head
nightly rested while Aunt Plenty said the prayers her mother taught her
seventy years ago.
Without a word, the girls softly shut the door. And while Phebe put the
room in the most exquisite order, Rose retrimmed the plain white cap,
where pink and yellow ribbons never rustled now, both feeling honored
by their tasks and better for their knowledge of the faithful love and
piety which sanctified a good old woman's life.
“You darling creature, I'm so glad to get you back! I know it's
shamefully early, but I really couldn't keep away another minute. Let
me help you I'm dying to see all your splendid things. I saw the trunks
pass and I know you've quantities of treasures,” cried Annabel Bliss all
in one breath as she embraced Rose an hour later and glanced about the
room bestrewn with a variety of agreeable objects.
“How well you are looking! Sit down and I'll show you my lovely
photographs. Uncle chose all the best for me, and it's a treat to see
them,” answered Rose, putting a roll on the table and looking about for
more.
“Oh, thanks! I haven't time now one needs hours to study such things.
Show me your Paris dresses, there's a dear I'm perfectly aching to see
the last styles,” and Annabel cast a hungry eye toward certain large
boxes delightfully suggestive of French finery.
“I haven't got any,” said Rose, fondly surveying the fine photographs as
she laid them away.
“Rose Campbell! You don't mean to say that you didn't get one Paris
dress at least?” cried Annabel, scandalized at the bare idea of such
neglect.
“Not one for myself. Aunt Clara ordered several, and will be charmed to
show them when her box comes.”
“Such a chance! Right there and plenty of money! How could you love your
uncle after such cruelty?” sighed Annabel, with a face full of sympathy.
Rose looked puzzled for a minute, then seemed to understand, and assumed
a superior air which became her very well as she said, good-naturedly
opening a box of laces, “Uncle did not forbid my doing it, and I had
money enough, but I chose not to spend it on things of that sort.”
“Could and didn't! I can't believe it!” And Annabel sank into a chair,
as if the thought was too much for her.
“I did rather want to at first, just for the fun of the thing. In fact,
I went and looked at some amazing gowns. But they were very expensive,
very much trimmed, and not my style at all, so I gave them up and kept
what I valued more than all the gowns Worth every made.”
“What in the world was it?” cried Annabel, hoping she would say
diamonds.
“Uncle's good opinion,” answered Rose, looking thoughtfully into the
depths of a packing case, where lay the lovely picture that would always
remind her of the little triumph over girlish vanity, which not only
kept but increased “Uncle's good opinion.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Annabel blankly, and fell to examining Aunt Plenty's
lace while Rose went on with a happy smile in her eyes as she dived into
another trunk.
“Uncle thinks one has no right to waste money on such things, but he
is very generous and loves to give useful, beautiful, or curious gifts.
See, all these pretty ornaments are for presents, and you shall choose
first whatever you like.”
“He's a perfect dear!” cried Annabel, reveling in the crystal, filigree,
coral, and mosaic trinkets spread before her while Rose completed her
rapture by adding sundry tasteful trifles fresh from Paris.
“Now tell me, when do you mean to have your coming-out party? I ask
because I've nothing ready and want plenty of time, for I suppose it
will be the event of the season,” asked Annabel a few minutes later as
she wavered between a pink coral and a blue lava set.
“I came out when I went to Europe, but I suppose Aunty Plen will want to
have some sort of merry-making to celebrate our return. I shall begin
as I mean to go on, and have a simple, sociable sort of party and invite
everyone whom I like, no matter in what 'set' they happen to belong. No
one shall ever say I am aristocratic and exclusive so prepare yourself
to be shocked, for old friends and young, rich and poor, will be asked
to all my parties.”
“Oh, my heart! You are going to be odd, just as Mama predicted!” sighed
Annabel, clasping her hands in despair and studying the effect of three
bracelets on her chubby arm in the midst of her woe.
“In my own house I'm going to do as I think best, and if people call me
odd, I can't help it. I shall endeavor not to do anything very dreadful,
but I seem to inherit Uncle's love for experiments and mean to try some.
I daresay they will fail and I shall get laughed at. I intend to do it
nevertheless, so you had better drop me now before I begin,” said Rose
with an air of resolution that was rather alarming.
“What shall you wear at this new sort of party of yours?” asked Annabel,
wisely turning a deaf ear to all delicate or dangerous topics and
keeping to matters she understood.
“That white thing over there. It is fresh and pretty, and Phebe has one
like it. I never want to dress more than she does, and gowns of that
sort are always most becoming and appropriate to girls of our age.”
“Phebe! You don't mean to say you are going to make a lady of her!”
gasped Annabel, upsetting her treasures as she fell back with a gesture
that made the little chair creak again, for Miss Bliss was as plump as a
partridge.
“She is one already, and anybody who slights her slights me, for she is
the best girl I know and the dearest,” cried Rose warmly.
“Yes, of course I was only surprised you are quite right, for she may
turn out to be somebody, and then how glad you'll feel that you were so
good to her!” said Annabel, veering around at once, seeing which way the
wind blew.
Before Rose could speak again, a cheery voice called from the hall,
“Little mistress, where are you?”
“In my room, Phebe, dear,” and up came the girl Rose was going to “make
a lady of,” looking so like one that Annabel opened her china-blue eyes
and smiled involuntarily as Phebe dropped a little curtsey in playful
imitation of her old manner and said quietly: “How do you do, Miss
Bliss?”
“Glad to see you back, Miss Moore,” answered Annabel, shaking hands in a
way that settled the question of Phebe's place in her mind forever, for
the stout damsel had a kind heart in spite of a weak head and was really
fond of Rose. It was evidently “Love me, love my Phebe,” so she made up
her mind on the spot that Phebe was somebody, and that gave an air of
romance even to the poorhouse.
She could not help staring a little as she watched the two friends work
together and listened to their happy talk over each new treasure as
it came to light, for every look and word plainly showed that years
of close companionship had made them very dear to one another. It was
pretty to see Rose try to do the hardest part of any little job herself
still prettier to see Phebe circumvent her and untie the hard knots,
fold the stiff papers, or lift the heavy trays with her own strong
hands, and prettiest of all to hear her say in a motherly tone, as she
put Rose into an easy chair: “Now, my deary, sit and rest, for you
will have to see company all day, and I can't let you get tired out so
early.”
“That is no reason why I should let you either. Call Jane to help or
I'll bob up again directly,” answered Rose, with a very bad assumption
of authority.
“Jane may take my place downstairs, but no one shall wait on you here
except me, as long as I'm with you,” said stately Phebe, stooping to put
a hassock under the feet of her little mistress.
“It is very nice and pretty to see, but I don't know what people will
say when she goes into society with the rest of us. I do hope Rose won't
be very odd,” said Annabel to herself as she went away to circulate
the depressing news that there was to be no grand ball and, saddest
disappointment of all, that Rose had not a single Paris costume with
which to refresh the eyes and rouse the envy of her amiable friends.
“Now I've seen or heard from all the boys but Charlie, and I suppose he
is too busy. I wonder what he is about,” thought Rose, turning from the
hall door, whither she had courteously accompanied her guest.
The wish was granted a moment after, for, going into the parlor to
decide where some of her pictures should hang, she saw a pair of brown
boots at one end of the sofa, a tawny-brown head at the other, and
discovered that Charlie was busily occupied in doing nothing.
“The voice of the Bliss was heard in the land, so I dodged till she went
upstairs, and then took a brief siesta while waiting to pay my respects
to the distinguished traveler, Lady Hester Stanhope,” he said, leaping
up to make his best bow.
“The voice of the sluggard would be a more appropriate quotation, I
think. Does Annabel still pine for you?” asked Rose, recalling certain
youthful jokes upon the subject of unrequited affections.
“Not a bit of it. Fun has cut me out, and the fair Annabella will be
Mrs. Tokio before the winter is over if I'm not much mistaken.”
“What, little Fun See? How droll it seems to think of him grown up and
married to Annabel of all people! She never said a word about him, but
this accounts for her admiring my pretty Chinese things and being so
interested in Canton.”
“Little Fun is a great swell now, and much enamored of our fat friend,
who will take to chopsticks whenever he says the word. I needn't ask how
you do, Cousin, for you beat that Aurora all hollow in the way of color.
I should have been up before, but I thought you'd like a good rest after
your voyage.”
“I was running a race with Jamie before nine o'clock. What were you
doing, young man?”
“'Sleeping I dreamed, love, dreamed, love, of thee,'” began Charlie, but
Rose cut him short by saying as reproachfully as she could, while the
culprit stood regarding her with placid satisfaction: “You ought to have
been up and at work like the rest of the boys. I felt like a drone in
a hive of very busy bees when I saw them all hurrying off to their
business.”
“But, my dear girl, I've got no business. I'm making up my mind, you
see, and do the ornamental while I'm deciding. There always ought to
be one gentleman in a family, and that seems to be rather my line,”
answered Charlie, posing for the character with an assumption of languid
elegance which would have been very effective if his twinkling eyes had
not spoilt it.
“There are none but gentlemen in our family, I hope,” answered Rose,
with the proud air she always wore when anything was said derogatory to
the name of Campbell.
“Of course, of course. I should have said gentleman of leisure. You see
it is against my principles to slave as Archie does. What's the use?
Don't need the money, got plenty, so why not enjoy it and keep jolly
as long as possible? I'm sure cheerful people are public benefactors in
this world of woe.”
It was not easy to object to this proposition, especially when made by
a comely young man who looked the picture of health and happiness as he
sat on the arm of the sofa smiling at his cousin in the most engaging
manner. Rose knew very well that the Epicurean philosophy was not the
true one to begin life upon, but it was difficult to reason with Charlie
because he always dodged sober subjects and was so full of cheery
spirits, one hated to lessen the sort of sunshine which certainly is a
public benefactor.
“You have such a clever way of putting things that I don't know how to
contradict you, though I still think I'm right,” she said gravely. “Mac
likes to idle as well as you, but he is not going to do it because he
knows it's bad for him to fritter away his time. He is going to study
a profession like a wise boy, though he would much prefer to live among
his beloved books or ride his hobbies in peace.”
“That's all very well for him, because he doesn't care for society and
may as well be studying medicine as philandering about the woods
with his pockets full of musty philosophers and old-fashioned poets,”
answered Charlie with a shrug which plainly expressed his opinion of
Mac.
“I wonder if musty philosophers, like Socrates and Aristotle, and
old-fashioned poets, like Shakespeare and Milton, are not safer company
for him to keep than some of the more modern friends you have?” said
Rose, remembering Jamie's hints about wild oats, for she could be a
little sharp sometimes and had not lectured “the boys” for so long it
seemed unusually pleasant.
But Charlie changed the subject skillfully by exclaiming with an anxious
expression: “I do believe you are going to be like Aunt Jane, for that's
just the way she comes down on me whenever she gets the chance!
Don't take her for a model, I beg she is a good woman but a mighty
disagreeable one in my humble opinion.”
The fear of being disagreeable is a great bugbear to a girl, as this
artful young man well knew, and Rose fell into the trap at once, for
Aunt Jane was far from being her model, though she could not help
respecting her worth.
“Have you given up your painting?” she asked rather abruptly, turning to
a gilded Fra Angelico angel which leaned in the sofa corner.
“Sweetest face I ever saw, and very like you about the eyes, isn't
it?” said Charlie, who seemed to have a Yankee trick of replying to one
question with another.
“I want an answer, not a compliment,” and Rose tried to look severe as
she put away the picture more quickly than she had taken it up.
“Have I given up painting? Oh, no! I daub a little in oils, slop a
little in watercolors, sketch now and then, and poke about the studios
when the artistic fit comes on.”
“How is the music?”
“More flourishing. I don't practice much, but sing a good deal in
company. Set up a guitar last summer and went troubadouring round in
great style. The girls like it, and it's jolly among the fellows.”
“Are you studying anything?”
“Well, I have some lawbooks on my table good, big, wise-looking chaps
and I take a turn at them semioccasionally when pleasure palls or
parents chide. But I doubt if I do more than learn what 'a allybi' is
this year,” and a sly laugh in Charlie's eye suggested that he sometimes
availed himself of this bit of legal knowledge.
“What do you do then?”
“Fair catechist, I enjoy myself. Private theatricals have been the rage
of late, and I have won such laurels that I seriously think of adopting
the stage as my profession.”
“Really!” cried Rose, alarmed.
“Why not? If I must go to work, isn't that as good as anything?”
“Not without more talent than I think you possess. With genius one can
do anything without it one had better let the stage alone.”
“There's a quencher for the 'star of the goodlie companie' to which I
belong. Mac hasn't a ray of genius for anything, yet you admire him for
trying to be an M.D.,” cried Charlie, rather nettled at her words.
“It is respectable, at all events, and I'd rather be a second-rate
doctor than a second-rate actor. But I know you don't mean it, and only
say so to frighten me.”
“Exactly. I always bring it up when anyone begins to lecture and it
works wonders. Uncle Mac turns pale, the aunts hold up their hands in
holy horror, and a general panic ensues. Then I magnanimously promise
not to disgrace the family and in the first burst of gratitude the dear
souls agree to everything I ask, so peace is restored and I go on my way
rejoicing.”
“Just the way you used to threaten to run off to sea if your mother
objected to any of your whims. You are not changed in that respect,
though you are in others. You had great plans and projects once,
Charlie, and now you seem to be contented with being a 'jack of all
trades and master of none'”.
“Boyish nonsense! Time has brought wisdom, and I don't see the sense of
tying myself down to one particular thing and grinding away at it year
after year. People of one idea get so deucedly narrow and tame, I've
no patience with them. Culture is the thing, and the sort one gets by
ranging over a wide field is the easiest to acquire, the handiest to
have, and the most successful in the end. At any rate, it is the kind I
like and the only kind I intend to bother myself about.”
With this declaration, Charlie smoothed his brow, clasped his hands over
his head, and, leaning back, gently warbled the chorus of a college song
as if it expressed his views of life better than he could:
“While our rosy fillets shed
Blushes o'er each fervid head,
With many a cup and many a smile
The festal moments we beguile.”
“Some of my saints here were people of one idea, and though they were
not very successful from a worldly point of view while alive, they were
loved and canonized when dead,” said Rose, who had been turning over a
pile of photographs on the table and just then found her favorite, St.
Francis, among them.
“This is more to my taste. Those worn-out, cadaverous fellows give me
the blues, but here's a gentlemanly saint who takes things easy and does
good as he goes along without howling over his own sins or making other
people miserable by telling them of theirs.” And Charlie laid a handsome
St. Martin beside the brown-frocked monk.
Rose looked at both and understood why her cousin preferred the
soldierly figure with the sword to the ascetic with his crucifix. One
was riding bravely through the world in purple and fine linen, with
horse and hound and squires at his back; and the other was in a
lazar-house, praying over the dead and dying. The contrast was a strong
one, and the girl's eyes lingered longest on the knight, though she said
thoughtfully, “Yours is certainly the pleasantest and yet I never heard
of any good deed he did, except divide his cloak with a beggar, while
St. Francis gave himself to charity just when life was most tempting and
spent years working for God without reward. He's old and poor, and in a
dreadful place, but I won't give him up, and you may have your gay St.
Martin if you want him.”
“No, thank you, saints are not in my line but I'd like the golden-haired
angel in the blue gown if you'll let me have her. She shall be my little
Madonna, and I'll pray to her like a good Catholic,” answered Charlie,
turning to the delicate, deep-eyed figure with the lilies in its hand.
“With all my heart, and any others that you like. Choose some for your
mother and give them to her with my love.”
So Charlie sat down beside Rose to turn and talk over the pictures for
a long and pleasant hour. But when they went away to lunch, if there
had been anyone to observe so small but significant a trifle, good St.
Francis lay face downward behind the sofa, while gallant St. Martin
stood erect upon the chimneypiece.
Chapter 3 MISS CAMPBELL
While the travelers unpack their trunks, we will pick up, as briefly as
possible, the dropped stitches in the little romance we are weaving.
Rose's life had been a very busy and quiet one for the four years
following the May day when she made her choice. Study, exercise,
housework, and many wholesome pleasures kept her a happy, hearty
creature, yearly growing in womanly graces, yet always preserving
the innocent freshness girls lose so soon when too early set upon the
world's stage and given a part to play.
Not a remarkably gifted girl in any way, and far from perfect; full of
all manner of youthful whims and fancies; a little spoiled by much love;
rather apt to think all lives as safe and sweet as her own; and,
when want or pain appealed to her, the tender heart overflowed with a
remorseful charity which gave of its abundance recklessly. Yet, with
all her human imperfections, the upright nature of the child kept her
desires climbing toward the just and pure and true, as flowers struggle
to the light; and the woman's soul was budding beautifully under the
green leaves behind the little thorns.
At seventeen, Dr. Alec pronounced her ready for the voyage around the
world, which he considered a better finishing off than any school
could give her. But just then Aunt Peace began to fail and soon slipped
quietly away to rejoin the lover she had waited for so long. Youth
seemed to come back in a mysterious way to touch the dead face with lost
loveliness, and all the romance of her past to gather around her memory.
Unlike most aged women, her friends were among the young, and at her
funeral the grayheads gave place to the band of loving girls who made
the sweet old maiden ready for her rest, bore her pall, and covered her
grave with the white flowers she had never worn.
When this was over poor Aunt Plenty seemed so lost without her lifelong
charge that Dr. Alec would not leave her, and Rose gladly paid the debt
she owed by the tender service which comforts without words. But Aunt
Plenty, having lived for others all her days, soon rebelled against this
willing sacrifice, soon found strength in her own sincere piety, solace
in cheerful occupation, and amusement in nursing Aunt Myra, who was a
capital patient, as she never died and never got well.
So at last the moment came when, with free minds, the travelers could
set out, and on Rose's eighteenth birthday, with Uncle Alec and the
faithful Phebe, she sailed away to see and study the big, beautiful
world which lies ready for us all if we only know how to use and enjoy
it.
Phebe was set to studying music in the best schools, and while she
trained her lovely voice with happy industry, Rose and her uncle roamed
about in the most delightful way till two years were gone like a dream
and those at home clamored for their return.
Back they came, and now the heiress must make ready to take her place,
for at twenty-one she came into possession of the fortune she had been
trying to learn how to use well. Great plans fermented in her brain,
for, though the heart was as generous as ever, time had taught her
prudence and observation shown her that the wisest charity is that which
helps the poor to help themselves.
Dr. Alec found it a little difficult to restrain the ardor of this young
philanthropist who wanted to begin at once to endow hospitals, build
homes, adopt children, and befriend all mankind.
“Take a little time to look about you and get your bearings, child. The
world you have been living in is a much simpler, honester one than that
you are now to enter. Test yourself a bit and see if the old ways seem
best after all, for you are old enough to decide, and wise enough to
discover, what is for your truest good, I hope,” he said, trying to feel
ready to let the bird escape from under his wing and make little flights
alone.
“Now, Uncle, I'm very much afraid you are going to be disappointed in
me,” answered Rose with unusual hesitation yet a very strong desire
visible in her eyes. “You like to have me quite honest, and I've learned
to tell you all my foolish thoughts so I'll speak out, and if you find
my wish very wrong and silly, please say so, for I don't want you to
cast me off entirely, though I am grown up. You say, wait a little, test
myself, and try if the old ways are best. I should like to do that, and
can I in a better way than leading the life other girls lead? Just for a
little while,” she added, as her uncle's face grew grave.
He was disappointed, yet acknowledged that the desire was natural and
in a moment saw that a trial of this sort might have its advantages.
Nevertheless, he dreaded it, for he had intended to choose her society
carefully and try to keep her unspoiled by the world as long as
possible, like many another fond parent and guardian. But the spirit of
Eve is strong in all her daughters forbidden fruit will look rosier to
them than any in their own orchards, and the temptation to take just one
little bite proves irresistible to the wisest. So Rose, looking out from
the safe seclusion of her girlhood into the woman's kingdom which she
was about to take possession of, felt a sudden wish to try its pleasures
before assuming its responsibilities, and was too sincere to hide the
longing.
“Very well, my dear, try it if you like, only take care of your health
be temperate in your gaiety and don't lose more than you gain, if that
is possible,” he added under his breath, endeavoring to speak cheerfully
and not look anxious.
“I know it is foolish, but I do want to be a regular butterfly for a
little while and see what it is like. You know I couldn't help seeing a
good deal of fashionable life abroad, though we were not in it, and here
at home the girls tell me about all sorts of pleasant things that are to
happen this winter, so if you won't despise me very much, I should like
to try it.”
“For how long?”
“Would three months be too long? New Year is a good time to take a fresh
start. Everyone is going to welcome me, so I must be gay in spite of
myself, unless I'm willing to seem very ungrateful and morose,” said
Rose, glad to have so good a reason to offer for her new experiment.
“You may like it so well that the three months may become years.
Pleasure is very sweet when we are young.”
“Do you think it will intoxicate me?”
“We shall see, my dear.”
“We shall!” And Rose marched away, looking as if she had taken a pledge
of some sort, and meant to keep it.
It was a great relief to the public mind when it became known that Miss
Campbell was really coming out at last, and invitations to Aunt Plenty's
party were promptly accepted. Aunt Clara was much disappointed about the
grand ball she had planned, but Rose stood firm, and the dear old lady
had her way about everything.
The consequence was a delightfully informal gathering of friends to
welcome the travelers home. Just a good, old-fashioned, hospitable
housewarming, so simple, cordial, and genuine that those who came to
criticize remained to enjoy, and many owned the charm they could neither
describe nor imitate.
Much curiosity was felt about Phebe, and much gossip went on behind fans
that evening, for those who had known her years ago found it hard to
recognize the little housemaid in the handsome young woman who bore
herself with such quiet dignity and charmed them all with her fine
voice. “Cinderella has turned out a princess,” was the general verdict,
and Rose enjoyed the little sensation immensely, for she had had many
battles to fight for her Phebe since she came among them, and now her
faith was vindicated.
Miss Campbell herself was in great demand and did the honors so prettily
that even Miss Bliss forgave her for her sad neglect of Worth, though
she shook her head over the white gowns, just alike except that Phebe
wore crimson and Rose, blue trimmings.
The girls swarmed eagerly around their recovered friend, for Rose had
been a favorite before she went away and found her throne waiting for
her now. The young men privately pronounced Phebe the handsomest “But
then you know there's neither family nor money, so it's no use.” Phebe,
therefore, was admired as one of the ornamental properties belonging to
the house and left respectfully alone.
But bonny Rose was “all right,” as these amiable youths expressed it,
and many a wistful eye followed the bright head as it flitted about the
rooms as if it were a second Golden Fleece to be won with difficulty,
for stalwart kinsmen hedged it round, and watchful aunts kept guard.
Little wonder that the girl found her new world an enchanting one and
that her first sip of pleasure rather went to her head, for everybody
welcomed and smiled on her, flattered and praised, whispered agreeable
prophecies in her ear, and looked the compliments and congratulations
they dared not utter till she felt as if she must have left her old self
somewhere abroad and suddenly become a new and wonderfully gifted being.
“It is very nice, Uncle, and I'm not sure I mayn't want another three
months of it when the first are gone,” she whispered to Dr. Alec as he
stood watching the dance she was leading with Charlie in the long hall
after supper.
“Steady, my lass, steady, and remember that you are not really a
butterfly but a mortal girl with a head that will ache tomorrow,” he
answered, watching the flushed and smiling face before him. “I almost
wish there wasn't any tomorrow, but that tonight would last forever it
is so pleasant, and everyone so kind,” she said with a little sigh of
happiness as she gathered up her fleecy skirts like a white bird pluming
itself for flight.
“I'll ask your opinion about that at two A.M.,” began her uncle with a
warning nod.
“I'll give it honestly,” was all Rose had time to say before Charlie
swept her away into the particolored cloud before them.
“It's no use, Alec train a girl as wisely as you choose, she will break
loose when the time comes and go in for pleasure as eagerly as the most
frivolous, for ''tis their nature to,'” said Uncle Mac, keeping time
to the music as if he would not mind “going in” for a bit of pleasure
himself.
“My girl shall taste and try, but unless I'm much mistaken, a little
bit of it will satisfy her. I want to see if she will stand the test,
because if not, all my work is a failure and I'd like to know it,”
answered the doctor with a hopeful smile on his lips but an anxious look
in his eyes.
“She will come out all right bless her heart! so let her sow her
innocent wild oats and enjoy herself till she is ready to settle down.
I wish all our young folks were likely to have as small a crop and get
through as safely as she will,” added Uncle Mac with a shake of the head
as he glanced at some of the young men revolving before him.
“Nothing amiss with your lads, I hope?”
“No, thank heaven! So far I've had little trouble with either, though
Mac is an odd stick and Steve a puppy. I don't complain, for both will
outgrow that sort of thing and are good fellows at heart, thanks to
their mother. But Clara's boy is in a bad way, and she will spoil him as
a man as she has as a boy if his father doesn't interfere.”
“I told brother Stephen all about him when I was in Calcutta last year,
and he wrote to the boy, but Clara has got no end of plans in her head
and so she insisted on keeping Charlie a year longer when his father
ordered him off to India,” replied the doctor as they walked away.
“It is too late to 'order' Charlie is a man now, and Stephen will find
he has been too easy with him all these years. Poor fellow, it has been
hard lines for him, and is likely to be harder, I fancy, unless he comes
home and straightens things out.”
“He won't do that if he can help it. He has lost all his energy living
in that climate and hates worry more than ever, so you can imagine what
an effort it would be to manage a foolish woman and a headstrong boy. We
must lend a hand, Mac, and do our best for poor old Steve.”
“The best we can do for the lad is to marry and settle him as soon as
possible.”
“My dear fellow, he is only three and twenty,” began the doctor, as
if the idea was preposterous. Then a sudden change came over him as
he added with a melancholy smile, “I forget how much one can hope and
suffer, even at twenty-three.”
“And be all the better for, if bravely outlived,” said Uncle Mac, with
his hand on his brother's shoulder and the sincerest approval in
his voice. Then, kindly returning to the younger people, he went on
inquiringly, “You don't incline to Clara's view of a certain matter, I
fancy?”
“Decidedly not. My girl must have the best, and Clara's training would
spoil an angel,” answered Dr. Alec quickly.
“But we shall find it hard to let our little Rose go out of the family.
How would Archie do? He has been well brought up and is a thoroughly
excellent lad.”
The brothers had retired to the study by this time and were alone, yet
Dr. Alec lowered his voice as he said with a tender sort of anxiety
pleasant to see: “You know I do not approve of cousins marrying, so I'm
in a quandary, Mac, for I love the child as if she were my own and feel
as if I could not give her up to any man whom I did not know and trust
entirely. It is of no use for us to plan, for she must choose for
herself yet I do wish we could keep her among us and give one of our
boys a wife worth having.”
“We must, so never mind your theories but devote yourself to testing our
elder lads and making one of them a happy fellow. All are heart-whole,
I believe, and, though young still for this sort of thing, we can be
gently shaping matters for them, since no one knows how soon the moment
may come. My faith it is like living in a powder mill to be among a lot
of young folks nowadays! All looks as calm as possible till a sudden
spark produces an explosion, and heaven only knows where we find
ourselves after it is over.”
And Uncle Mac sat himself comfortably down to settle Rose's fate while
the doctor paced the room, plucking at his beard and knitting his brows
as if he found it hard to see his way.
“Yes, Archie is a good fellow,” he said, answering the question he had
ignored before. “An upright, steady, intelligent lad who will make an
excellent husband if he ever finds out that he has a heart. I suppose
I'm an old fool, but I do like a little more romance in a young man than
he seems to have more warmth and enthusiasm, you know. Bless the boy! He
might be forty instead of three or four and twenty, he's so sober, calm,
and cool. I'm younger than he is, and could go a-wooing like a Romeo if
I had any heart to offer a woman.”
The doctor looked rather shamefaced as he spoke, and his brother
burst out laughing. “See here, Alec, it's a pity so much romance and
excellence as yours should be lost, so why don't you set these young
fellows an example and go a-wooing yourself? Jessie has been wondering
how you have managed to keep from falling in love with Phebe all this
time, and Clara is quite sure that you waited only till she was safe
under Aunt Plenty's wing to offer yourself in the good old-fashioned
style.”
“I!” And the doctor stood aghast at the mere idea, then he gave a
resigned sort of sigh and added like a martyr, “If those dear women
would let me alone, I'd thank them forever. Put the idea out of their
minds for heaven's sake, Mac, or I shall be having that poor girl flung
at my head and her comfort destroyed. She is a fine creature and I'm
proud of her, but she deserves a better lot than to be tied to an old
fellow like me whose only merit is his fidelity.”
“As you please, I was only joking,” and Uncle Mac dropped the subject
with secret relief. The excellent man thought a good deal of family and
had been rather worried at the hints of the ladies. After a moment's
silence he returned to a former topic, which was rather a pet plan of
his. “I don't think you do Archie justice, Alec. You don't know him as
well as I do, but you'll find that he has heart enough under his cool,
quiet manner. I've grown very fond of him, think highly of him, and
don't see how you could do better for Rose than to give her to him.”
“If she will go,” said the doctor, smiling at his brother's businesslike
way of disposing of the young people.
“She'll do anything to please you,” began Uncle Mac in perfect good
faith, for twenty-five years in the society of a very prosaic wife had
taken nearly all the romance out of him.
“It is of no use for us to plan, and I shall never interfere except to
advise, and if I were to choose one of the boys, I should incline to my
godson,” answered the doctor gravely.
“What, my Ugly Duckling!” exclaimed Uncle Mac in great surprise.
“The Ugly Duckling turned out a swan, you remember. I've always been
fond of the boy because he's so genuine and original. Crude as a green
apple now, but sound at the core, and only needs time to ripen. I'm sure
he'll turn out a capital specimen of the Campbell variety.”
“Much obliged, Alec, but it will never do at all. He's a good fellow,
and may do something to be proud of by and by, but he's not the mate
for our Rose. She needs someone who can manage her property when we are
gone, and Archie is the man for that, depend upon it.”
“Confound the property!” cried Dr. Alec impetuously. “I want her to
be happy, and I don't care how soon she gets rid of her money if it is
going to be a millstone round her neck. I declare to you, I dreaded the
thought of this time so much that I've kept her away as long as I could
and trembled whenever a young fellow joined us while we were abroad.
Had one or two narrow escapes, and now I'm in for it, as you can see
by tonight's 'success' as Clara calls it. Thank heaven I haven't many
daughters to look after!”
“Come, come, don't be anxious take Archie and settle it right up safely
and happily. That's my advice, and you'll find it sound,” replied the
elder conspirator, like one having experience.
“I'll think of it, but mind you, Mac, not a word of this to the sisters.
We are a couple of old fools to be matchmaking so soon but I see what is
before me and it's a comfort to free my mind to someone.”
“So it is. Depend on me not a breath even to Jane,” answered Uncle Mac,
with a hearty shake and a sympathetic slap on the shoulder.
“Why, what dark and awful secrets are going on here? Is it a Freemason's
Lodge and those the mystic signs?” asked a gay voice at the door; and
there stood Rose, full of smiling wonder at the sight of her two uncles
hand in hand, whispering and nodding to one another mysteriously.
They stared like schoolboys caught plotting mischief and looked so
guilty that she took pity on them, innocently imagining the brothers
were indulging in a little sentiment on this joyful occasion, so she
added quickly, as she beckoned, without crossing the threshold, “Women
not allowed, of course, but both of you dear Odd Fellows are wanted, for
Aunt Plenty begs we will have an old-fashioned contra dance, and I'm to
lead off with Uncle Mac. I chose you, sir, because you do it in style,
pigeon wings and all. So, please come and Phebe is waiting for you,
Uncle Alec. She is rather shy you know, but will enjoy it with you to
take care of her.”
“Thank you, thank you!” cried both gentlemen, following with great
alacrity.
Unconscious, Rose enjoyed that Virginia reel immensely, for the
pigeon wings were superb, and her partner conducted her through the
convolutions of the dance without a fault, going down the middle in his
most gallant style. Landing safely at the bottom, she stood aside to let
him get his breath, for stout Uncle Mac was bound to do or die on that
occasion and would have danced his pumps through without a murmur if she
had desired it.
Leaning against the wall with his hair in his eyes, and a decidedly
bored expression of countenance, was Mac, Jr., who had been surveying
the gymnastics of his parent with respectful astonishment.
“Come and take a turn, my lad. Rose is fresh as a daisy, but we old
fellows soon get enough of it, so you shall have my place,” said his
father, wiping his face, which glowed like a cheerful peony.
“No, thank you, sir I can't stand that sort of thing. I'll race you
round the piazza with pleasure, Cousin, but his oven is too much for
me,” was Mac's uncivil reply as he backed toward the open window, as if
glad of an excuse to escape.
“Fragile creature, don't stay on my account, I beg. I can't leave my
guests for a moonlight run, even if I dared to take it on a frosty night
in a thin dress,” said Rose, fanning herself and not a bit ruffled by
Mac's refusal, for she knew his ways and they amused her.
“Not half so bad as all this dust, gas, heat, and noise. What do you
suppose lungs are made of?” demanded Mac, ready for a discussion then
and there.
“I used to know, but I've forgotten now. Been so busy with other things
that I've neglected the hobbies I used to ride five or six years ago,”
she said, laughing.
“Ah, those were times worth having! Are you going in for much of
this sort of thing, Rose?” he asked with a disapproving glance at the
dancers.
“About three months of it, I think.”
“Then good-bye till New Year.” And Mac vanished behind the curtains.
“Rose, my dear, you really must take that fellow in hand before he gets
to be quite a bear. Since you have been gone he has lived in his books
and got on so finely that we have let him alone, though his mother
groans over his manners. Polish him up a bit, I beg of you, for it is
high time he mended his odd ways and did justice to the fine gifts he
hides behind them,” said Uncle Mac, scandalized at the bluntness of his
son.
“I know my chestnut burr too well to mind his prickles. But others do
not, so I will take him in hand and make him a credit to his family,”
answered Rose readily.
“Take Archie for your model he's one of a thousand, and the girl who
gets him gets a prize, I do assure you,” added Uncle Mac, who found
matchmaking to his taste and thought that closing remark a deep one.
“Oh, me, how tired I am!” cried Rose, dropping into a chair as the last
carriage rolled away somewhere between one and two.
“What is your opinion now, Miss Campbell?” asked the doctor, addressing
her for the first time by the name which had been uttered so often that
night.
“My opinion is that Miss Campbell is likely to have a gay life if she
goes on as she has begun, and that she finds it very delightful so far,”
answered the girl, with lips still smiling from their first taste of
what the world calls pleasure.
Chapter 4 THORNS AMONG THE ROSES
For a time everything went smoothly, and Rose was a happy girl. The
world seemed a beautiful and friendly place, and fulfillment of her
brightest dreams appeared to be a possibility. Of course this could not
last, and disappointment was inevitable, because young eyes look for a
Paradise and weep when they find a workaday world which seems full of
care and trouble till one learns to gladden and glorify it with high
thoughts and holy living.
Those who loved her waited anxiously for the disillusion which must come
in spite of all their cherishing, for till now Rose had been so busy
with her studies, travels, and home duties that she knew very little
of the triumphs, trials, and temptations of fashionable life. Birth and
fortune placed her where she could not well escape some of them, and Dr.
Alec, knowing that experience is the best teacher, wisely left her to
learn this lesson as she must many another, devoutly hoping that it
would not be a hard one.
October and November passed rapidly, and Christmas was at hand, with all
its merry mysteries, home gatherings, and good wishes.
Rose sat in her own little sanctum, opening from the parlor, busily
preparing gifts for the dear five hundred friends who seemed to grow
fonder and fonder as the holidays drew near. The drawers of her commode
stood open, giving glimpses of dainty trifles, which she was tying up
with bright ribbons.
A young girl's face at such moments is apt to be a happy one, but Rose's
was very grave as she worked, and now and then she threw a parcel into
the drawer with a careless toss, as if no love made the gift precious.
So unusual was this expression that it struck Dr. Alec as he came in
and brought an anxious look to his eyes, for any cloud on that other
countenance dropped its shadow over his.
“Can you spare a minute from your pretty work to take a stitch in my old
glove?” he asked, coming up to the table strewn with ribbon, lace, and
colored papers.
“Yes, Uncle, as many as you please.”
The face brightened with sudden sunshine; both hands were put out
to receive the shabby driving glove, and the voice was full of that
affectionate alacrity which makes the smallest service sweet.
“My Lady Bountiful is hard at work, I see. Can I help in any way?” he
asked, glancing at the display before him.
“No, thank you, unless you can make me as full of interest and pleasure
in these things as I used to be. Don't you think preparing presents a
great bore, except for those you love and who love you?” she added in a
tone which had a slight tremor in it as she uttered the last words.
“I don't give to people whom I care nothing for. Can't do it, especially
at Christmas, when goodwill should go into everything one does. If all
these 'pretties' are for dear friends, you must have a great many.”
“I thought they were friends, but I find many of them are not, and
that's the trouble, sir.”
“Tell me all about it, dear, and let the old glove go,” he said, sitting
down beside her with his most sympathetic air.
But she held the glove fast, saying eagerly, “No, no, I love to do
this! I don't feel as if I could look at you while I tell what a bad,
suspicious girl I am,” she added, keeping her eyes on her work.
“Very well, I'm ready for confessions of any iniquity and glad to get
them, for sometimes lately I've seen a cloud in my girl's eyes and
caught a worried tone in her voice. Is there a bitter drop in the cup
that promised to be so sweet, Rose?”
“Yes, Uncle. I've tried to think there was not, but it is there, and I
don't like it. I'm ashamed to tell, and yet I want to, because you will
show me how to make it sweet or assure me that I shall be the better for
it, as you used to do when I took medicine.”
She paused a minute, sewing swiftly; then out came the trouble all in
one burst of girlish grief and chagrin.
“Uncle, half the people who are so kind to me don't care a bit for me,
but for what I can give them, and that makes me unhappy, because I was
so glad and proud to be liked. I do wish I hadn't a penny in the world,
then I should know who my true friends were.”
“Poor little lass! She has found out that all that glitters is not
gold, and the disillusion has begun,” said the doctor to himself, adding
aloud, smiling yet pitiful, “And so all the pleasure is gone out of the
pretty gifts and Christmas is a failure?”
“Oh, no not for those whom nothing can make me doubt! It is sweeter than
ever to make these things, because my heart is in every stitch and I
know that, poor as they are, they will be dear to you, Aunty Plen, Aunt
Jessie, Phebe, and the boys.”
She opened a drawer where lay a pile of pretty gifts, wrought with
loving care by her own hands, touching them tenderly as she spoke and
patting the sailor's knot of blue ribbon on one fat parcel with a smile
that told how unshakable her faith in someone was. “But these,” she
said, pulling open another drawer and tossing over its gay contents with
an air half sad, half scornful, “these I bought and give because they
are expected. These people care only for a rich gift, not one bit for
the giver, whom they will secretly abuse if she is not as generous as
they expect. How can I enjoy that sort of thing, Uncle?”
“You cannot, but perhaps you do some of them injustice, my dear. Don't
let the envy or selfishness of a few poison your faith in all. Are you
sure that none of these girls care for you?” he asked, reading a name
here and there on the parcels scattered about.
“I'm afraid I am. You see I heard several talking together the other
evening at Annabel's, only a few words, but it hurt me very much, for
nearly everyone was speculating on what I would give them and hoping it
would be something fine. 'She's so rich she ought to be generous,' said
one. 'I've been perfectly devoted to her for weeks and hope she won't
forget it,' said another. 'If she doesn't give me some of her gloves, I
shall think she's very mean, for she has heaps, and I tried on a pair in
fun so she could see they fitted and take a hint,' added a third. I did
take the hint, you see.” And Rose opened a handsome box in which lay
several pairs of her best gloves, with buttons enough to satisfy the
heart of the most covetous.
“Plenty of silver paper and perfume, but not much love went into that
bundle, I fancy?” And Dr. Alec could not help smiling at the disdainful
little gesture with which Rose pushed away the box.
“Not a particle, nor in most of these. I have given them what they
wanted and taken back the confidence and respect they didn't care for.
It is wrong, I know, but I can't bear to think all the seeming goodwill
and friendliness I've been enjoying was insincere and for a purpose.
That's not the way I treat people.”
“I am sure of it. Take things for what they are worth, dear, and try to
find the wheat among the tares, for there is plenty if one knows how to
look. Is that all the trouble?”
“No, sir, that is the lightest part of it. I shall soon get over my
disappointment in those girls and take them for what they are worth as
you advise, but being deceived in them makes me suspicious of others,
and that is hateful. If I cannot trust people I'd rather keep by myself
and be happy. I do detest maneuvering and underhanded plots and plans!”
Rose spoke petulantly and twitched her silk till it broke, while regret
seemed to give place to anger as she spoke.
“There is evidently another thorn pricking. Let us have it out, and
then I'll kiss the place to make it well as I used to do when I took the
splinters from the fingers you are pricking so unmercifully,” said the
doctor, anxious to relieve his pet patient as soon as possible.
Rose laughed, but the color deepened in her cheeks as she answered with
a pretty mixture of maidenly shyness and natural candor.
“Aunt Clara worries me by warning me against half the young men I meet
and insisting that they want only my money. Now that is dreadful, and
I won't listen, but I can't help thinking of it sometimes, for they
are very kind to me and I'm not vain enough to think it is my beauty. I
suppose I am foolish, but I do like to feel that I am something besides
an heiress.”
The little quiver was in Rose's voice again as she ended, and Dr. Alec
gave a quick sigh as he looked at the downcast face so full of the
perplexity ingenuous spirits feel when doubt first mars their faith
and dims the innocent beliefs still left from childhood. He had been
expecting this and knew that what the girl just began to perceive and
try modestly to tell had long ago been plain to worldlier eyes. The
heiress was the attraction to most of the young men whom she met. Good
fellows enough, but educated, as nearly all are nowadays, to believe
that girls with beauty or money are brought to market to sell or buy as
the case may be.
Rose could purchase anything she liked, as she combined both advantages,
and was soon surrounded by many admirers, each striving to secure the
prize. Not being trained to believe that the only end and aim of a
woman's life was a good match, she was a little disturbed, when the
first pleasing excitement was over, to discover that her fortune was her
chief attraction.
It was impossible for her to help seeing, hearing, guessing this from a
significant glance, a stray word, a slight hint here and there, and
the quick instinct of a woman felt even before it understood the
self-interest which chilled for her so many opening friendships. In her
eyes love was a very sacred thing, hardly to be thought of till it came,
reverently received and cherished faithfully to the end. Therefore, it
is not strange that she shrank from hearing it flippantly discussed and
marriage treated as a bargain to be haggled over, with little thought
of its high duties, great responsibilities, and tender joys. Many
things perplexed her, and sometimes a doubt of all that till now she had
believed and trusted made her feel as if at sea without a compass,
for the new world was so unlike the one she had been living in that it
bewildered while it charmed the novice.
Dr. Alec understood the mood in which he found her and did his best to
warn without saddening by too much worldly wisdom.
“You are something besides an heiress to those who know and love you, so
take heart, my girl, and hold fast to the faith that is in you. There
is a touchstone for all these things, and whatever does not ring true,
doubt and avoid. Test and try men and women as they come along, and I
am sure conscience, instinct, and experience will keep you from any dire
mistake,” he said, with a protecting arm about her and a trustful look
that was very comforting.
After a moment's pause she answered, while a sudden smile dimpled around
her mouth and the big glove went up to hide her telltale cheeks: “Uncle,
if I must have lovers, I do wish they'd be more interesting. How can I
like or respect men who go on as some of them do and then imagine women
can feel honored by the offer of their hands? Hearts are out of fashion,
so they don't say much about them.”
“Ah, ha! That is the trouble, is it? And we begin to have delicate
distresses, do we?” said Dr. Alec, glad to see her brightening and full
of interest in the new topic, for he was a romantic old fellow, as he
had confessed to his brother.
Rose put down the glove and looked up with a droll mixture of amusement
and disgust in her face. “Uncle, it is perfectly disgraceful! I've
wanted to tell you, but I was ashamed, because I never could boast of
such things as some girls do, and they were so absurd I couldn't feel as
if they were worth repeating even to you. Perhaps I ought, though,
for you may think it proper to command me to make a good match, and of
course I should have to obey,” she added, trying to look meek.
“Tell, by all means. Don't I always keep your secrets and give you the
best advice, like a model guardian? You must have a confidant, and where
find a better one than here?” he asked, tapping his waistcoat with an
inviting gesture.
“Nowhere so I'll tell all but the names. I'd best be prudent, for I'm
afraid you may get a little fierce you do sometimes when people vex
me,” began Rose, rather liking the prospect of a confidential chat with
Uncle, for he had kept himself a good deal in the background lately.
“You know our ideas are old-fashioned, so I was not prepared to have
men propose at all times and places with no warning but a few smiles and
soft speeches. I expected things of that sort would be very interesting
and proper, not to say thrilling, on my part but they are not, and I
find myself laughing instead of crying, feeling angry instead of glad,
and forgetting all about it very soon. Why, Uncle, one absurd boy
proposed when we'd met only half a dozen times. But he was dreadfully in
debt, so that accounted for it perhaps.” And Rose dusted her fingers, as
if she had soiled them.
“I know him, and I thought he'd do it,” observed the doctor with a
shrug.
“You see and know everything, so there's no need of going on, is there?”
“Do, do! Who else? I won't even guess.”
“Well, another went down upon his knees in Mrs. Van's greenhouse and
poured forth his passion manfully, with a great cactus pricking his poor
legs all the while. Kitty found him there, and it was impossible to keep
sober, so he has hated me ever since.”
The doctor's “Ha! Ha!” was good to hear, and Rose joined him, for it was
impossible to regard these episodes seriously, since no true sentiment
redeemed them from absurdity.
“Another sent me reams of poetry and went on so Byronically that I
began to wish I had red hair and my name was Betsy Ann. I burnt all the
verses, so don't expect to see them, and he, poor fellow, is consoling
himself with Emma. But the worst of all was the one who would make love
in public and insisted on proposing in the middle of a dance. I seldom
dance round dances except with our boys, but that night I did because
the girls laughed at me for being so 'prudish,' as they called it. I
don't mind them now, for I found I was right, and felt that I deserved
my fate.”
“Is that all?” asked her uncle, looking “fierce,” as she predicted,
at the idea of his beloved girl obliged to listen to a declaration,
twirling on the arm of a lover.
“One more but him I shall not tell about, for I know he was in earnest
and really suffered, though I was as kind as I knew how to be. I'm young
in these things yet, so I grieved for him, and treat his love with the
tenderest respect.”
Rose's voice sank almost to a whisper as she ended, and Dr. Alec bent
his head, as if involuntarily saluting a comrade in misfortune. Then
he got up, saying with a keen look into the face he lifted by a finger
under the chin: “Do you want another three months of this?”
“I'll tell you on New Year's Day, Uncle.”
“Very well. Try to keep a straight course, my little captain, and if you
see dirty weather ahead, call on your first mate.”
“Aye, aye, sir. I'll remember.”
Chapter 5 PRINCE CHARMING
The old glove lay upon the floor forgotten while Rose sat musing, till a
quick step sounded in the hall and a voice drew near, tunefully humming.
“As he was walkin' doun the street
The city for to view,
Oh, there he spied a bonny lass,
The window lookin' through.”
“Sae licht he jumpèd up the stair,
And tirled at the pin;
Oh, wha sae ready as hersel'
To let the laddie in?”
sang Rose as the voice paused and a tap came at the door.
“Good morning, Rosamunda, here are your letters, and your most devoted
ready to execute any commissions you may have for him,” was Charlie's
greeting as he came in looking comely, gay, and debonair as usual.
“Thanks. I've no errands unless you mail my replies, if these need
answering, so by your leave, Prince,” and Rose began to open the handful
of notes he threw into her lap.
“Ha! What sight is this to blast mine eyes?” ejaculated Charlie, as
he pointed to the glove with a melodramatic start, for, like most
accomplished amateur actors, he was fond of introducing private
theatricals into his daily talk and conversation.
“Uncle left it.”
“'Tis well. Methought perchance a rival had been here,” and, picking
it up, Charlie amused himself with putting it on the head of a little
Psyche which ornamented the mantelpiece, softly singing as he did so,
another verse of the old song:
“He set his Jenny on his knee,
All in his Highland dress;
For brawly well he kenned the way
To please a bonny lass.”
Rose went on reading her letters, but all the while was thinking of her
conversation with her uncle as well as something else suggested by the
newcomer and his ditty.
During the three months since her return she had seen more of this
cousin than any of the others, for he seemed to be the only one who had
leisure to “play with Rose,” as they used to say years ago. The other
boys were all at work, even little Jamie, many of whose play hours were
devoted to manful struggles with Latin grammar, the evil genius of
his boyish life. Dr. Alec had many affairs to arrange after his long
absence; Phebe was busy with her music; and Aunt Plenty still actively
superintended her housekeeping. Thus it fell out, quite naturally, that
Charlie should form the habit of lounging in at all hours with letters,
messages, bits of news, and agreeable plans for Rose. He helped her with
her sketching, rode with her, sang with her, and took her to parties
as a matter of course, for Aunt Clara, being the gaiest of the sisters,
played chaperon on all occasions.
For a time it was very pleasant, but, by and by, Rose began to wish
Charlie would find something to do like the rest and not make dawdling
after her the business of his life. The family was used to his
self-indulgent ways, and there was an amiable delusion in the minds of
the boys that he had a right to the best of everything, for to them
he was still the Prince, the flower of the flock, and in time to be an
honor to the name. No one exactly knew how, for, though full of talent,
he seemed to have no especial gift or bias, and the elders began to
shake their heads because, in spite of many grand promises and projects,
the moment for decisive action never came.
Rose saw all this and longed to inspire her brilliant cousin with some
manful purpose which should win for him respect as well as admiration.
But she found it very hard, for though he listened with imperturbable
good humor, and owned his shortcomings with delightful frankness, he
always had some argument, reason, or excuse to offer and out-talked her
in five minutes, leaving her silenced but unconvinced.
Of late she had observed that he seemed to feel as if her time and
thoughts belonged exclusively to him and rather resented the approach
of any other claimant. This annoyed her and suggested the idea that
her affectionate interest and efforts were misunderstood by him,
misrepresented and taken advantage of by Aunt Clara, who had been most
urgent that she should “use her influence with the dear boy,” though the
fond mother resented all other interference. This troubled Rose and made
her feel as if caught in a snare, for, while she owned to herself that
Charlie was the most attractive of her cousins, she was not ready to be
taken possession of in this masterful way, especially since other and
sometimes better men sought her favor more humbly.
These thoughts were floating vaguely in her mind as she read her letters
and unconsciously influenced her in the chat that followed.
“Only invitations, and I can't stop to answer them now or I shall never
get through this job,” she said, returning to her work.
“Let me help. You do up, and I'll direct. Have a secretary, do now, and
see what a comfort it will be,” proposed Charlie, who could turn his
hand to anything and had made himself quite at home in the sanctum.
“I'd rather finish this myself, but you may answer the notes if you
will. Just regrets to all but two or three. Read the names as you go
along and I'll tell you which.”
“To hear is to obey. Who says I'm a 'frivolous idler' now?” And Charlie
sat down at the writing table with alacrity, for these hours in the
little room were his best and happiest.
“Order is heaven's first law, and the view a lovely one, but I don't see
any notepaper,” he added, opening the desk and surveying its contents
with interest.
“Right-hand drawer violet monogram for the notes, plain paper for the
business letter. I'll see to that, though,” answered Rose, trying to
decide whether Annabel or Emma should have the laced handkerchief.
“Confiding creature! Suppose I open the wrong drawer and come upon the
tender secrets of your soul?” continued the new secretary, rummaging out
the delicate notepaper with masculine disregard of order.
“I haven't got any,” answered Rose demurely.
“What, not one despairing scrawl, one cherished miniature, one faded
floweret, etc., etc.? I can't believe it, Cousin,” and he shook his head
incredulously.
“If I had, I certainly should not show them to you, impertinent
person! There are a few little souvenirs in that desk, but nothing very
sentimental or interesting.”
“How I'd like to see 'em! But I should never dare to ask,” observed
Charlie, peering over the top of the half-open lid with a most
persuasive pair of eyes.
“You may if you want to, but you'll be disappointed, Paul Pry. Lower
left-hand drawer with the key in it.”
“'Angel of goodness, how shall I requite thee? Interesting moment, with
what palpitating emotions art thou fraught!'” And, quoting from the
“Mysteries of Udolpho,” he unlocked and opened the drawer with a tragic
gesture.
“Seven locks of hair in a box, all light, for 'here's your straw color,
your orange tawny, your French crown color, and your perfect yellow'
Shakespeare. They look very familiar, and I fancy I know the heads they
thatched.”
“Yes, you all gave me one when I went away, you know, and I carried them
round the world with me in that very box.”
“I wish the heads had gone too. Here's a jolly little amber god with
a gold ring in his back and a most balmy breath,” continued Charlie,
taking a long sniff at the scent bottle.
“Uncle brought me that long ago, and I'm very fond of it.”
“This now looks suspicious man's ring with a lotus cut on the stone and
a note attached. I tremble as I ask, who, when, and where?”
“A gentleman, on my birthday, in Calcutta.”
“I breathe again it was my sire?”
“Don't be absurd. Of course it was, and he did everything to make my
visit pleasant. I wish you'd go and see him like a dutiful son, instead
of idling here.”
“That's what Uncle Mac is eternally telling me, but I don't intend to
be lectured into the treadmill till I've had my fling first,” muttered
Charlie rebelliously.
“If you fling yourself in the wrong direction, you may find it hard to
get back again,” began Rose gravely.
“No fear, if you look after me as you seem to have promised to do,
judging by the thanks you get in this note. Poor old governor! I should
like to see him, for it's almost four years since he came home last and
he must be getting on.”
Charlie was the only one of the boys who ever called his father
“governor,” perhaps because the others knew and loved their fathers,
while he had seen so little of his that the less respectful name came
more readily to his lips, since the elder man in truth seemed a governor
issuing requests or commands, which the younger too often neglected or
resented.
Long ago Rose had discovered that Uncle Stephen found home made so
distasteful by his wife's devotion to society that he preferred to exile
himself, taking business as an excuse for his protracted absences.
The girl was thinking of this as she watched her cousin turn the ring
about with a sudden sobriety which became him well; and, believing that
the moment was propitious, she said earnestly: “He is getting on. Dear
Charlie, do think of duty more than pleasure in this case and I'm sure
you never will regret it.”
“Do you want me to go?” he asked quickly.
“I think you ought.”
“And I think you'd be much more charming if you wouldn't always be
worrying about right and wrong! Uncle Alec taught you that along with
the rest of his queer notions.”
“I'm glad he did!” cried Rose warmly, then checked herself and said with
a patient sort of sigh, “You know women always want the men they care
for to be good and can't help trying to make them so.”
“So they do, and we ought to be a set of angels, but I've a strong
conviction that, if we were, the dear souls wouldn't like us half as
well. Would they now?” asked Charlie with an insinuating smile.
“Perhaps not, but that is dodging the point. Will you go?” persisted
Rose unwisely.
“No, I will not.”
That was sufficiently decided and an uncomfortable pause followed,
during which Rose tied a knot unnecessarily tight and Charlie went on
exploring the drawer with more energy than interest.
“Why, here's an old thing I gave you ages ago!” he suddenly exclaimed in
a pleased tone, holding up a little agate heart on a faded blue ribbon.
“Will you let me take away the heart of stone and give you a heart of
flesh?” he asked, half in earnest, half in jest, touched by the little
trinket and the recollections it awakened.
“No, I will not,” answered Rose bluntly, much displeased by the
irreverent and audacious question.
Charlie looked rather abashed for a moment, but his natural
lightheartedness made it easy for him to get the better of his own
brief fits of waywardness and put others in good humor with him and
themselves.
“Now we are even let's drop the subject and start afresh,” he said with
irresistible affability as he coolly put the little heart in his pocket
and prepared to shut the drawer. But something caught his eye, and
exclaiming, “What's this? What's this?” he snatched up a photograph
which lay half under a pile of letters with foreign postmarks.
“Oh! I forgot that was there,” said Rose hastily.
“Who is the man?” demanded Charlie, eyeing the good-looking countenance
before him with a frown.
“That is the Honorable Gilbert Murray, who went up the Nile with us and
shot crocodiles and other small game, being a mighty hunter, as I told
you in my letters,” answered Rose gaily, though ill pleased at the
little discovery just then, for this had been one of the narrow escapes
her uncle spoke of.
“And they haven't eaten him yet, I infer from the pile of letters?” said
Charlie jealously.
“I hope not. His sister did not mention it when she wrote last.”
“Ah! Then she is your correspondent? Sisters are dangerous things
sometimes.” And Charlie eyed the packet suspiciously.
“In this case, a very convenient thing, for she tells me all about her
brother's wedding, as no one else would take the trouble to do.”
“Oh! Well, if he's married, I don't care a straw about him. I fancied
I'd found out why you are such a hard-hearted charmer. But if there is
no secret idol, I'm all at sea again.” And Charlie tossed the photograph
into the drawer as if it no longer interested him.
“I'm hard-hearted because I'm particular and, as yet, do not find anyone
at all to my taste.”
“No one?” with a tender glance.
“No one” with a rebellious blush, and the truthful addition “I see
much to admire and like in many persons, but none quite strong and good
enough to suit me. My heroes are old-fashioned, you know.”
“Prigs, like Guy Carleton, Count Altenberg, and John Halifax I know the
pattern you goody girls like,” sneered Charlie, who preferred the Guy
Livingston, Beauclerc, and Rochester style.
“Then I'm not a 'goody girl,' for I don't like prigs. I want a gentleman
in the best sense of the word, and I can wait, for I've seen one, and
know there are more in the world.”
“The deuce you have! Do I know him?” asked Charlie, much alarmed.
“You think you do,” answered Rose with a mischievous sparkle in her eye.
“If it isn't Pem, I give it up. He's the best-bred fellow I know.”
“Oh, dear, no! Far superior to Mr. Pemberton and many years older,”
said Rose, with so much respect that Charlie looked perplexed as well as
anxious.
“Some apostolic minister, I fancy. You pious creatures always like to
adore a parson. But all we know are married.”
“He isn't.”
“Give a name, for pity's sake I'm suffering tortures of suspense,”
begged Charlie.
“Alexander Campbell.”
“Uncle? Well, upon my word, that's a relief, but mighty absurd all the
same. So, when you find a young saint of that sort, you intend to marry
him, do you?” demanded Charlie much amused and rather disappointed.
“When I find any man half as honest, good, and noble as Uncle, I shall
be proud to marry him if he asks me,” answered Rose decidedly.
“What odd tastes women have!” And Charlie leaned his chin on his hand
to muse pensively for a moment over the blindness of one woman who could
admire an excellent old uncle more than a dashing young cousin.
Rose, meanwhile, tied up her parcels industriously, hoping she had not
been too severe, for it was very hard to lecture Charlie, though he
seemed to like it sometimes and came to confession voluntarily, knowing
that women love to forgive when the sinners are of his sort.
“It will be mail time before you are done,” she said presently, for
silence was less pleasant than his rattle.
Charlie took the hint and dashed off several notes in his best manner.
Coming to the business letter, he glanced at it and asked, with a
puzzled expression: “What is all this? Cost of repairs, etc., from a man
named Buffum?”
“Never mind that I'll see to it by and by.”
“But I do mind, for I'm interested in all your affairs, and though you
think I've no head for business, you'll find I have if you'll try me.”
“This is only about my two old houses in the city, which are being
repaired and altered so that the rooms can be let singly.”
“Going to make tenement houses of them? Well, that's not a bad idea such
places pay well, I've heard.”
“That is just what I'm not going to do. I wouldn't have a tenement house
on my conscience for a million dollars not as they are now,” said Rose
decidedly.
“Why, what do you know about it, except that people live in them and the
owners turn a pretty penny on the rents?”
“I know a good deal about them, for I've seen many such, both here
and abroad. It was not all pleasure with us, I assure you. Uncle was
interested in hospitals and prisons, and I sometimes went with him, but
they made me sad so he suggested other charities that I could be of
help about when we came home. I visited infant schools, working women's
homes, orphan asylums, and places of that sort. You don't know how much
good it did me and how glad I am that I have the means of lightening a
little some of the misery in the world.”
“But, my dear girl, you needn't make ducks and drakes of your fortune
trying to feed and cure and clothe all the poor wretches you see. Give,
of course everyone should do something in that line and no one likes it
better than I. But don't, for mercy's sake, go at it as some women do
and get so desperately earnest, practical, and charity-mad that there is
no living in peace with you,” protested Charlie, looking alarmed at the
prospect.
“You can do as you please. I intend to do all the good I can by asking
the advice and following the example of the most 'earnest,' 'practical,'
and 'charitable' people I know so, if you don't approve, you can drop
my acquaintance,” answered Rose, emphasizing the obnoxious words and
assuming the resolute air she always wore when defending her hobbies.
“You'll be laughed at.”
“I'm used to that.”
“And criticized and shunned.”
“Not by people whose opinion I value.”
“Women shouldn't go poking into such places.”
“I've been taught that they should.”
“Well, you'll get some dreadful disease and lose your beauty, and then
where are you?” added Charlie, thinking that might daunt the young
philanthropist.
But it did not, for Rose answered, with a sudden kindling of the eyes as
she remembered her talk with Uncle Alec: “I shouldn't like it. But there
would be one satisfaction in it, for when I'd lost my beauty and given
away my money, I should know who really cared for me.”
Charlie nibbled his pen in silence for a moment, then asked, meekly,
“Could I respectfully inquire what great reform is to be carried on in
the old houses which their amiable owner is repairing?”
“I am merely going to make them comfortable homes for poor but
respectable women to live in. There is a class who cannot afford to
pay much, yet suffer a great deal from being obliged to stay in noisy,
dirty, crowded places like tenement houses and cheap lodgings. I can
help a few of them and I'm going to try.”
“May I humbly ask if these decayed gentlewomen are to inhabit their
palatial retreat rent-free?”
“That was my first plan, but Uncle showed me that it was wiser not
make genteel paupers of them, but let them pay a small rent and feel
independent. I don't want the money, of course, and shall use it in
keeping the houses tidy or helping other women in like case,” said Rose,
entirely ignoring her cousin's covert ridicule.
“Don't expect any gratitude, for you won't get it; nor much comfort with
a lot of forlornities on your hands, and be sure that when it is too
late you will tire of it all and wish you had done as other people do.”
“Thanks for your cheerful prophecies, but I think I'll venture.”
She looked so undaunted that Charlie was a little nettled and fired his
last shot rather recklessly: “Well, one thing I do know you'll never get
a husband if you go on in this absurd way, and by Jove! you need one to
take care of you and keep the property together!”
Rose had a temper, but seldom let it get the better of her; now,
however, it flashed up for a moment. Those last words were peculiarly
unfortunate, because Aunt Clara had used them more than once when
warning her against impecunious suitors and generous projects. She was
disappointed in her cousin, annoyed at having her little plans laughed
at, and indignant with him for his final suggestion.
“I'll never have one, if I must give up the liberty of doing what I know
is right, and I'd rather go into the poorhouse tomorrow than 'keep the
property together' in the selfish way you mean!”
That was all but Charlie saw that he had gone too far and hastened to
make his peace with the skill of a lover, for, turning to the little
cabinet piano behind him, he sang in his best style the sweet old song:
“Oh were thou in the cauld blast,”
dwelling with great effect, not only upon the tender assurance that “My
plaid should shelter thee,”
but also that, even if a king,
“The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.”
It was very evident that Prince Charming had not gone troubadouring
in vain, for Orpheus himself could not have restored harmony more
successfully. The tuneful apology was accepted with a forgiving smile
and a frank “I'm sorry I was cross, but you haven't forgotten how to
tease, and I'm rather out of sorts today. Late hours don't agree with
me.”
“Then you won't feel like going to Mrs. Hope's tomorrow, I'm afraid,”
and Charlie took up the last note with an expression of regret which was
very flattering.
“I must go, because it is made for me, but I can come away early and
make up lost sleep. I do hate to be so fractious,” and Rose rubbed the
forehead that ached with too much racketing.
“But the German does not begin till late I'm to lead and depend upon
you. Just stay this once to oblige me,” pleaded Charlie, for he had set
his heart on distinguishing himself.
“No I promised Uncle to be temperate in my pleasures and I must keep my
word. I'm so well now, it would be very foolish to get ill and make him
anxious not to mention losing my beauty, as you are good enough to call
it, for that depends on health, you know.”
“But the fun doesn't begin till after supper. Everything will be
delightful, I assure you, and we'll have a gay old time as we did last
week at Emma's.”
“Then I certainly will not, for I'm ashamed of myself when I remember
what a romp that was and how sober Uncle looked as he let me in at three
in the morning, all fagged out my dress in rags, my head aching, my feet
so tired that I could hardly stand, and nothing to show for five
hours' hard work but a pocketful of bonbons, artificial flowers, and
tissue-paper fool's caps. Uncle said I'd better put one on and go to
bed, for I looked as though I'd been to a French bal masque. I never
want to hear him say so again, and I'll never let dawn catch me out in
such a plight anymore.”
“You were all right enough, for mother didn't object and I got you
both home before daylight. Uncle is notional about such things, so I
shouldn't mind, for we had a jolly time and we were none the worse for
it.”
“Indeed we were, every one of us! Aunt Clara hasn't gotten over her cold
yet. I slept all the next day, and you looked like a ghost, for you'd
been out every night for weeks, I think.”
“Oh, nonsense! Everyone does it during the season, and you'll get used
to the pace very soon,” began Charlie, bent on making her go, for he
was in his element in a ballroom and never happier than when he had his
pretty cousin on his arm.
“Ah! But I don't want to get used to it, for it costs too much in the
end. I don't wish to get used to being whisked about a hot room by men
who have taken too much wine, to turn day into night, wasting time that
might be better spent, and grow into a fashionable fast girl who can't
get along without excitement. I don't deny that much of it is pleasant,
but don't try to make me too fond of gaiety. Help me to resist what I
know is hurtful, and please don't laugh me out of the good habits Uncle
has tried so hard to give me.”
Rose was quite sincere in her appeal, and Charlie knew she was right,
but he always found it hard to give up anything he had set his heart on,
no matter how trivial, for the maternal indulgence which had harmed the
boy had fostered the habit of self-indulgence, which was ruining the
man. So when Rose looked up at him, with a very honest desire to save
him as well as herself from being swept into the giddy vortex which
keeps so many young people revolving aimlessly, till they go down or
are cast upon the shore, wrecks of what they might have been, he gave a
shrug and answered briefly: “As you please. I'll bring you home as early
as you like, and Effie Waring shall take your place in the German. What
flowers shall I send you?”
Now, that was an artful speech of Charlie's, for Miss Waring was a fast
and fashionable damsel who openly admired Prince Charming and had given
him the name. Rose disliked her and was sure her influence was bad, for
youth made frivolity forgivable, wit hid want of refinement, and beauty
always covers a multitude of sins in a man's eyes. At the sound of
Effie's name, Rose wavered, and would have yielded but for the memory
of the “first mate's” last words. She did desire to “keep a straight
course”; so, though the current of impulse set strongly in a southerly
direction, principle, the only compass worth having, pointed due north,
and she tried to obey it like a wise young navigator, saying steadily,
while she directed to Annabel the parcel containing a capacious pair of
slippers intended for Uncle Mac: “Don't trouble yourself about me. I can
go with Uncle and slip away without disturbing anybody.”
“I don't believe you'll have the heart to do it,” said Charlie
incredulously as he sealed the last note.
“Wait and see.”
“I will, but I shall hope to the last.” And kissing his hand to her, he
departed to post her letters, quite sure that Miss Waring would not lead
the German.
It certainly looked for a moment as if Miss Campbell would, because she
ran to the door with the words “I'll go” upon her lips. But she did not
open it till she had stood a minute staring hard at the old glove on
Psyche's head; then like one who had suddenly gotten a bright idea, she
gave a decided nod and walked slowly out of the room.
Chapter 6 POLISHING MAC
“Please could I say one word?” was the question three times repeated
before a rough head bobbed out from the grotto of books in which Mac
usually sat when he studied.
“Did anyone speak?” he asked, blinking in the flood of sunshine that
entered with Rose.
“Only three times, thank you. Don't disturb yourself, I beg, for I
merely want to say a word,” answered Rose as she prevented him from
offering the easy chair in which he sat.
“I was rather deep in a compound fracture and didn't hear. What can I do
for you, Cousin?” And Mac shoved a stack of pamphlets off the chair near
him with a hospitable wave of the hand that sent his papers flying in
all directions.
Rose sat down, but did not seem to find her “word” an easy one to
utter, for she twisted her handkerchief about her fingers in embarrassed
silence till Mac put on his glasses and, after a keen look, asked
soberly: “Is it a splinter, a cut, or a whitlow, ma'am?”
“It is neither. Do forget your tiresome surgery for a minute and be the
kindest cousin that ever was,” answered Rose, beginning rather sharply
and ending with her most engaging smile.
“Can't promise in the dark,” said the wary youth.
“It is a favor, a great favor, and one I don't choose to ask any of the
other boys,” answered the artful damsel.
Mac looked pleased and leaned forward, saying more affably, “Name it,
and be sure I'll grant it if I can.”
“Go with me to Mrs. Hope's party tomorrow night.”
“What!” And Mac recoiled as if she had put a pistol to his head.
“I've left you in peace a long time, but it is your turn now, so do your
duty like a man and a cousin.”
“But I never go to parties!” cried the unhappy victim in great dismay.
“High time you began, sir.”
“But I don't dance fit to be seen.”
“I'll teach you.”
“My dress coat isn't decent, I know.”
“Archie will lend you one he isn't going.”
“I'm afraid there's a lecture that I ought not to cut.”
“No, there isn't I asked Uncle.”
“I'm always so tired and dull in the evening.”
“This sort of thing is just what you want to rest and freshen up your
spirits.”
Mac gave a groan and fell back vanquished, for it was evident that
escape was impossible.
“What put such a perfectly wild idea into your head?” he demanded,
rather roughly, for hitherto he had been left in peace and this sudden
attack decidedly amazed him.
“Sheer necessity, but don't do it if it is so very dreadful to you. I
must go to several more parties, because they are made for me, but after
that I'll refuse, and then no one need be troubled with me.”
Something in Rose's voice made Mac answer penitently, even while he knit
his brows in perplexity. “I don't mean to be rude, and of course I'll go
anywhere if I'm really needed. But I don't understand where the sudden
necessity is, with three other fellows at command, all better dancers
and beaus than I am.”
“I don't want them, and I do want you, for I haven't the heart to drag
Uncle out anymore, and you know I never go with any gentleman but those
of my own family.”
“Now look here, Rose if Steve has been doing anything to tease you,
just mention it and I'll attend to him,” cried Mac, plainly seeing that
something was amiss and fancying that Dandy was at the bottom of it, as
he had done escort duty several times lately.
“No, Steve has been very good, but I know he had rather be with Kitty
Van, so of course I feel like a marplot, though he is too polite to hint
it.”
“What a noodle that boy is! But there's Archie he's steady as a church
and has no sweetheart to interfere,” continued Mac, bound to get at the
truth and half suspecting what it was.
“He is on his feet all day, and Aunt Jessie wants him in the evening.
He does not care for dancing as he used, and I suppose he really does
prefer to rest and read.” Rose might have added, “And hear Phebe sing,”
for Phebe did not go out as much as Rose did, and Aunt Jessie often came
to sit with the old lady when the young folks were away and, of course,
dutiful Archie came with her, so willingly of late!
“What's amiss with Charlie? I thought he was the prince of cavaliers.
Annabel says he dances 'like an angel,' and I know a dozen mothers
couldn't keep him at home of an evening. Have you had a tiff with Adonis
and so fall back on poor me?” asked Mac, coming last to the person of
whom he thought first but did not mention, feeling shy about alluding to
a subject often discussed behind her back.
“Yes, I have, and I don't intend to go with him any more for some time.
His ways do not suit me, and mine do not suit him, so I want to be
quite independent, and you can help me if you will,” said Rose, rather
nervously spinning the big globe close by.
Mac gave a low whistle, looking wide awake all in a minute as he said
with a gesture, as if he brushed a cobweb off his face: “Now, see here,
Cousin, I'm not good at mysteries and shall only blunder if you put me
blindfold into any nice maneuver. Just tell me straight out what you
want and I'll do it if I can. Play I'm Uncle and free your mind come
now.”
He spoke so kindly, and the honest eyes were so full of merry goodwill,
that Rose thought she might confide in him and answered as frankly as
he could desire: “You are right, Mac, and I don't mind talking to you
almost as freely as to Uncle, because you are such a reliable fellow
and won't think me silly for trying to do what I believe to be right.
Charlie does, and so makes it hard for me to hold to my resolutions. I
want to keep early hours, dress simply, and behave properly no matter
what fashionable people do. You will agree to that, I'm sure, and stand
by me through thick and thin for principle's sake.”
“I will, and begin by showing you that I understand the case. I don't
wonder you are not pleased, for Charlie is too presuming, and you do
need someone to help you head him off a bit. Hey, Cousin?”
“What a way to put it!” And Rose laughed in spite of herself, adding
with an air of relief, “That is it, and I do want someone to help me
make him understand that I don't choose to be taken possession of in
that lordly way, as if I belonged to him more than to the rest of the
family. I don't like it, for people begin to talk, and Charlie won't see
how disagreeable it is to me.”
“Tell him so,” was Mac's blunt advice.
“I have, but he only laughs and promises to behave, and then he does
it again when I am so placed that I can't say anything. You will never
understand, and I cannot explain, for it is only a look, or a word, or
some little thing but I won't have it, and the best way to cure him is
to put it out of his power to annoy me so.”
“He is a great flirt and wants to teach you how, I suppose. I'll speak
to him if you like and tell him you don't want to learn. Shall I?” asked
Mac, finding the case rather an interesting one.
“No, thank you that would only make trouble. If you will kindly play
escort a few times, it will show Charlie that I am in earnest without
more words and put a stop to the gossip,” said Rose, coloring like a
poppy at the recollection of what she heard one young man whisper to
another as Charlie led her through a crowded supper room with his most
devoted air, “Lucky dog! He is sure to get the heiress, and we are
nowhere.”
“There's no danger of people gossiping about us, is there?” And Mac
looked up with the oddest of all his odd expressions.
“Of course not you're only a boy.”
“I'm twenty-one, thank you, and Prince is but a couple of years older,”
said Mac, promptly resenting the slight put upon his manhood.
“Yes, but he is like other young men, while you are a dear old bookworm.
No one would ever mind what you did, so you may go to parties with me
every night and not a word would be said or, if there was, I shouldn't
mind since it is 'only Mac,'” answered Rose, smiling as she quoted a
household phrase often used to excuse his vagaries.
“Then I am nobody?” he said, lifting his brows as if the discovery
surprised and rather nettled him.
“Nobody in society as yet, but my very best cousin in private, and I've
just proved my regard by making you my confidant and choosing you for my
knight,” said Rose, hastening to soothe the feelings her careless words
seemed to have ruffled slightly.
“Much good that is likely to do me,” grumbled Mac.
“You ungrateful boy, not to appreciate the honor I've conferred upon
you! I know a dozen who would be proud of the place, but you only care
for compound fractures, so I won't detain you any longer, except to ask
if I may consider myself provided with an escort for tomorrow night?”
said Rose, a trifle hurt at his indifference, for she was not used to
refusals.
“If I may hope for the honor.” And, rising, he made her a bow which was
such a capital imitation of Charlie's grand manner that she forgave him
at once, exclaiming with amused surprise: “Why, Mac! I didn't know you
could be so elegant!”
“A fellow can be almost anything he likes if he tries hard enough,” he
answered, standing very straight and looking so tall and dignified
that Rose was quite impressed, and with a stately courtesy she retired,
saying graciously: “I accept with thanks. Good morning, Dr. Alexander
Mackenzie Campbell.”
When Friday evening came and word was sent up that her escort had
arrived, Rose ran down, devoutly hoping that he had not come in a
velveteen jacket, top-boots, black gloves, or made any trifling mistake
of that sort. A young gentleman was standing before the long mirror,
apparently intent upon the arrangement of his hair, and Rose paused
suddenly as her eye went from the glossy broadcloth to the white-gloved
hands, busy with an unruly lock that would not stay in place.
“Why, Charlie, I thought--” she began with an accent of surprise in her
voice, but got no further, for the gentleman turned and she beheld Mac
in immaculate evening costume, with his hair parted sweetly on his brow,
a superior posy at his buttonhole, and the expression of a martyr on his
face.
“Ah, don't you wish it was? No one but yourself to thank that it isn't
he. Am I right? Dandy got me up, and he ought to know what is what,”
demanded Mac, folding his hands and standing as stiff as a ramrod.
“You are so regularly splendid that I don't know you.”
“Neither do I.”
“I really had no idea you could look so like a gentleman,” added Rose,
surveying him with great approval.
“Nor that I could feel so like a fool.”
“Poor boy! He does look rather miserable. What can I do to cheer him up
in return for the sacrifice he is making?”
“Stop calling me a boy. It will soothe my agony immensely and give me
courage to appear in a low-necked coat and curl on my forehead, for I'm
not used to such elegancies and I find them no end of a trial.”
Mac spoke in such a pathetic tone, and gave such a gloomy glare at the
aforesaid curl, that Rose laughed in his face and added to his woe
by handing him her cloak. He surveyed it gravely for a minute, then
carefully put it on wrong side out and gave the swan's-down hood a good
pull over the head, to the utter destruction of all smoothness to the
curls inside.
Rose uttered a cry and cast off the cloak, bidding him learn to do it
properly, which he meekly did and then led her down the hall without
walking on her skirts more than three times on the way. But at the door
she discovered that she had forgotten her furred overshoes and bade Mac
get them.
“Never mind it's not wet,” he said, pulling his cap over his eyes and
plunging into his coat, regardless of the “elegancies” that afflicted
him.
“But I can't walk on cold stones with thin slippers, can I?” began Rose,
showing him a little white foot.
“You needn't, for there you are, my lady.” And, unceremoniously picking
her up, Mac landed her in the carriage before she could say a word.
“What an escort!” she exclaimed in comic dismay, as she rescued her
delicate dress from a rug in which he was about to tuck her up like a
mummy.
“It's 'only Mac,' so don't mind,” and he cast himself into an
opposite corner with the air of a man who had nerved himself to the
accomplishment of many painful duties and was bound to do them or die.
“But gentlemen don't catch up ladies like bags of meal and poke them
into carriages in this way. It is evident that you need looking after,
and it is high time I undertook your society manners. Now, do mind what
you are about and don't get yourself or me into a scrape if you can help
it,” besought Rose, feeling that on many accounts she had gone further
and fared worse.
“I'll behave like a Turveydrop see if I don't.”
Mac's idea of the immortal Turveydrop's behavior seemed to be a peculiar
one; for, after dancing once with his cousin, he left her to her own
devices and soon forgot all about her in a long conversation with
Professor Stumph, the learned geologist. Rose did not care, for one
dance proved to her that that branch of Mac's education had been sadly
neglected, and she was glad to glide smoothly about with Steve, though
he was only an inch or two taller than herself. She had plenty of
partners, however, and plenty of chaperons, for all the young men were
her most devoted, and all the matrons beamed upon her with maternal
benignity.
Charlie was not there, for when he found that Rose stood firm, and had
moreover engaged Mac as a permanency, he would not go at all and retired
in high dudgeon to console himself with more dangerous pastimes. Rose
feared it would be so, and even in the midst of the gaiety about her an
anxious mood came over her now and then and made her thoughtful for a
moment. She felt her power and wanted to use it wisely, but did not know
how to be kind to Charlie without being untrue to herself and giving him
false hopes.
“I wish we were all children again, with no hearts to perplex us and no
great temptations to try us,” she said to herself as she rested a minute
in a quiet nook while her partner went to get a glass of water. Right
in the midst of this half-sad, half-sentimental reverie, she heard
a familiar voice behind her say earnestly: “And allophite is the new
hydrous silicate of alumina and magnesia, much resembling pseudophite,
which Websky found in Silesia.”
“What is Mac talking about!” she thought, and, peeping behind a great
azalea in full bloom, she saw her cousin in deep conversation with the
professor, evidently having a capital time, for his face had lost its
melancholy expression and was all alive with interest, while the elder
man was listening as if his remarks were both intelligent and agreeable.
“What is it?” asked Steve, coming up with the water and seeing a smile
on Rose's face.
She pointed out the scientific tete-a-tete going on behind the azalea,
and Steve grinned as he peeped, then grew sober and said in a tone
of despair: “If you had seen the pains I took with that fellow, the
patience with which I brushed his wig, the time I spent trying to
convince him that he must wear thin boots, and the fight I had to get
him into that coat, you'd understand my feelings when I see him now.”
“Why, what's the matter with him?” asked Rose.
“Will you take a look and see what a spectacle he has made of himself.
He'd better be sent home at once or he will disgrace the family by
looking as if he'd been in a row.”
Steve spoke in such a tragic tone that Rose took another peep and did
sympathize with Dandy, for Mac's elegance was quite gone. His tie was
under one ear, his posy hung upside down, his gloves were rolled into a
ball, which he absently squeezed and pounded as he talked, and his hair
looked as if a whirlwind had passed over it, for his ten fingers set
it on end now and then, as they had a habit of doing when he studied or
talked earnestly. But he looked so happy and wide awake, in spite of his
dishevelment, that Rose gave an approving nod and said behind her fan:
“It is a trying spectacle, Steve yet, on the whole, I think his own odd
ways suit him best and I fancy we shall be proud of him, for he knows
more than all the rest of us put together. Hear that now.” And Rose
paused that they might listen to the following burst of eloquence from
Mac's lips: “You know Frenzal has shown that the globular forms of
silicate of bismuth at Schneeburg and Johanngeorgenstadt are not
isometric, but monoclinic in crystalline form, and consequently he
separates them from the old eulytite and gives them the new name
Agricolite.”
“Isn't it awful? Let us get out of this before there's another avalanche
or we shall be globular silicates and isometric crystals in spite of
ourselves,” whispered Steve with a panic-stricken air, and they fled
from the hailstorm of hard words that rattled about their ears, leaving
Mac to enjoy himself in his own way.
But when Rose was ready to go home and looked about for her escort, he
was nowhere to be seen, for the professor had departed, and Mac with
him, so absorbed in some new topic that he entirely forgot his cousin
and went placidly home, still pondering on the charms of geology. When
this pleasing fact dawned upon Rose her feelings may be imagined. She
was both angry and amused it was so like Mac to go mooning off and leave
her to her fate. Not a hard one, however; for, though Steve was gone
with Kitty before her plight was discovered, Mrs. Bliss was only too
glad to take the deserted damsel under her wing and bear her safely
home.
Rose was warming her feet and sipping the chocolate which Phebe always
had ready for her, as she never ate supper, when a hurried tap came
at the long window whence the light streamed and Mac's voice was heard
softly asking to be let in “just for one minute.”
Curious to know what had befallen him, Rose bade Phebe obey his call
and the delinquent cavalier appeared, breathless, anxious, and more
dilapidated than ever, for he had forgotten his overcoat; his tie was at
the back of his neck now; and his hair as rampantly erect as if all the
winds of heaven had been blowing freely through it, as they had, for
he had been tearing to and fro the last half hour, trying to undo the
dreadful deed he had so innocently committed.
“Don't take any notice of me, for I don't deserve it. I only came to see
that you were safe, Cousin, and then go hang myself, as Steve advised,”
he began in a remorseful tone that would have been very effective if
he had not been obliged to catch his breath with a comical gasp now and
then.
“I never thought you would be the one to desert me,” said Rose with a
reproachful look, thinking it best not to relent too soon, though she
was quite ready to do it when she saw how sincerely distressed he was.
“It was that confounded man! He was a regular walking encyclopedia,
and, finding I could get a good deal out of him, I went in for general
information, as the time was short. You know I always forget everything
else when I get hold of such a fellow.”
“That is evident. I wonder how you came to remember me at all,” answered
Rose, on the brink of a laugh it was so absurd.
“I didn't till Steve said something that reminded me then it burst upon
me, in one awful shock, that I'd gone and left you, and you might have
knocked me down with a feather,” said honest Mac, hiding none of his
iniquity.
“What did you do then?”
“Do! I went off like a shot and never stopped till I reached the Hopes'”
“You didn't walk all the way?” cried Rose.
“Bless you, no I ran. But you were gone with Mrs. Bliss, so I pelted
back again to see with my own eyes that you were safe at home,” answered
Mac with a sigh of relief, wiping his hot forehead.
“But it is three miles at least each way, and twelve o'clock, and dark
and cold. Oh, Mac! How could you!” exclaimed Rose, suddenly realizing
what he had done as she heard his labored breathing, saw the state of
the thin boots, and detected the absence of an overcoat.
“Couldn't do less, could I?” asked Mac, leaning up against the door and
trying not to pant.
“There was no need of half killing yourself for such a trifle. You might
have known I could take care of myself for once, at least, with so many
friends about. Sit down this minute. Bring another cup, please, Phebe
this boy isn't going home till he is rested and refreshed after such a
run as that,” commanded Rose.
“Don't be good to me I'd rather take a scolding than a chair, and drink
hemlock instead of chocolate if you happen to have any ready,” answered
Mac with a pathetic puff as he subsided onto the sofa and meekly took
the draft Phebe brought him.
“If you had anything the matter with your heart, sir, a race of this
sort might be the death of you so never do it again,” said Rose,
offering her fan to cool his heated countenance.
“Haven't got any heart.”
“Yes, you have, for I hear it beating like a trip-hammer, and it is
my fault I ought to have stopped as we went by and told you I was all
right.”
“It's the mortification, not the miles, that upsets me. I often take
that run for exercise and think nothing of it but tonight I was so mad
I made extra-good time, I fancy. Now don't you worry, but compose
your mind and 'sip your dish of tea,' as Evelina says,” answered Mac,
artfully turning the conversation from himself.
“What do you know about Evelina?” asked Rose in great surprise.
“All about her. Do you suppose I never read a novel?”
“I thought you read nothing but Greek and Latin, with an
occasional glance at Websky's pseudophites and the monoclinics of
Johanngeorgenstadt.”
Mac opened his eyes wide at this reply, then seemed to see the joke and
joined in the laugh with such heartiness that Aunt Plenty's voice was
heard demanding from above with sleepy anxiety: “Is the house afire?”
“No, ma'am, everything is safe, and I'm only saying good night,”
answered Mac, diving for his cap.
“Then go at once and let that child have her sleep,” added the old lady,
retiring to her bed.
Rose ran into the hall, and catching up her uncle's fur coat, met Mac as
he came out of the study, absently looking about for his own.
“You haven't any, you benighted boy! So take this, and have your wits
about you next time or I won't let you off so easily,” she said, holding
up the heavy garment and peeping over it, with no sign of displeasure in
her laughing eyes.
“Next time! Then you do forgive me? You will try me again, and give me a
chance to prove that I'm not a fool?” cried Mac, embracing the big coat
with emotion.
“Of course I will, and, so far from thinking you a fool, I was much
impressed with your learning tonight and told Steve that we ought to be
proud of our philosopher.”
“Learning be hanged! I'll show you that I'm not a bookworm but as much
a man as any of them, and then you may be proud or not, as you like!”
cried Mac with a defiant nod that caused the glasses to leap wildly off
his nose as he caught up his hat and departed as he came.
A day or two later Rose went to call upon Aunt Jane, as she dutifully
did once or twice a week. On her way upstairs she heard a singular sound
in the drawing room and involuntarily stopped to listen.
“One, two, three, slide! One, two, three, turn! Now, then, come on!”
said one voice impatiently.
“It's very easy to say 'come on,' but what the dickens do I do with my
left leg while I'm turning and sliding with my right?” demanded another
voice in a breathless and mournful tone.
Then the whistling and thumping went on more vigorously than before,
and Rose, recognizing the voices, peeped through the half-open door to
behold a sight which made her shake with suppressed laughter. Steve,
with a red tablecloth tied around his waist, languished upon Mac's
shoulder, dancing in perfect time to the air he whistled, for Dandy was
proficient in the graceful art and plumed himself upon his skill. Mac,
with a flushed face and dizzy eye, clutched his brother by the small
of his back, vainly endeavoring to steer him down the long room without
entangling his own legs in the tablecloth, treading on his partner's
toes, or colliding with the furniture. It was very droll, and Rose
enjoyed the spectacle till Mac, in a frantic attempt to swing around,
dashed himself against the wall and landed Steve upon the floor. Then
it was impossible to restrain her laughter any longer and she walked in
upon them, saying merrily: “It was splendid! Do it again, and I'll play
for you.”
Steve sprang up and tore off the tablecloth in great confusion, while
Mac, still rubbing his head, dropped into a chair, trying to look quite
calm and cheerful as he gasped out: “How are you, Cousin? When did you
come? John should have told us.”
“I'm glad he didn't, for then I should have missed this touching tableau
of cousinly devotion and brotherly love. Getting ready for our next
party, I see.”
“Trying to, but there are so many things to remember all at once keep
time, steer straight, dodge the petticoats, and manage my confounded
legs that it isn't easy to get on at first,” answered Mac with a sigh of
exhaustion, wiping his hot forehead.
“Hardest job I ever undertook and, as I'm not a battering ram, I decline
to be knocked round any longer,” growled Steve, dusting his knees and
ruefully surveying the feet that had been trampled on till they tingled,
for his boots and broadcloth were dear to the heart of the dapper youth.
“Very good of you, and I'm much obliged. I've got the pace, I think,
and can practice with a chair to keep my hand in,” said Mac with such a
comic mixture of gratitude and resignation that Rose went off again so
irresistibly that her cousins joined her with a hearty roar.
“As you are making a martyr of yourself in my service, the least I
can do is lend a hand. Play for us, Steve, and I'll give Mac a lesson,
unless he prefers the chair.” And, throwing off her hat and cloak, Rose
beckoned so invitingly that the gravest philosopher would have yielded.
“A thousand thanks, but I'm afraid I shall hurt you,” began Mac, much
gratified, but mindful of past mishaps.
“I'm not. Steve didn't manage his train well, for good dancers always
loop theirs up. I have none at all, so that trouble is gone and the
music will make it much easier to keep step. Just do as I tell you, and
you'll go beautifully after a few turns.”
“I will, I will! Pipe up, Steve! Now, Rose!” And, brushing his hair out
of his eyes with an air of stern determination, Mac grasped Rose and
returned to the charge bent on distinguishing himself if he died in the
attempt.
The second lesson prospered, for Steve marked the time by a series of
emphatic bangs; Mac obeyed orders as promptly as if his life depended on
it; and, after several narrow escapes at exciting moments, Rose had the
satisfaction of being steered safely down the room and landed with a
grand pirouette at the bottom. Steve applauded, and Mac, much elated,
exclaimed with artless candor: “There really is a sort of inspiration
about you, Rose. I always detested dancing before, but now, do you know,
I rather like it.”
“I knew you would, only you mustn't stand with your arm round your
partner in this way when you are done. You must seat and fan her, if
she likes it,” said Rose, anxious to perfect a pupil who seemed so
lamentably in need of a teacher.
“Yes, of course, I know how they do it.” And, releasing his cousin, Mac
raised a small whirlwind around her with a folded newspaper, so full of
zeal that she had not the heart to chide him again.
“Well done, old fellow. I begin to have hopes of you and will order
you a new dress coat at once, since you are really going in for
the proprieties of life,” said Steve from the music stool, with the
approving nod of one who was a judge of said proprieties. “Now, Rose,
if you will just coach him a little in his small talk, he won't make
a laughingstock of himself as he did the other night,” added Steve. “I
don't mean his geological gabble that was bad enough, but his chat with
Emma Curtis was much worse. Tell her, Mac, and see if she doesn't think
poor Emma had a right to think you a first-class bore.”
“I don't see why, when I merely tried to have a little sensible
conversation,” began Mac with reluctance, for he had been unmercifully
chaffed by his cousins, to whom his brother had betrayed him.
“What did you say? I won't laugh if I can help it,” said Rose, curious
to hear, for Steve's eyes were twinkling with fun.
“Well, I knew she was fond of theaters, so I tried that first and got
on pretty well till I began to tell her how they managed those things in
Greece. Most interesting subject, you know?”
“Very. Did you give her one of the choruses or a bit of Agamemnon, as
you did when you described it to me?” asked Rose, keeping sober with
difficulty as she recalled that serio-comic scene.
“Of course not, but I was advising her to read Prometheus when she gaped
behind her fan and began to talk about Phebe. What a 'nice creature' she
was, 'kept her place,' dressed according to her station, and that sort
of twaddle. I suppose it was rather rude, but being pulled up so short
confused me a bit, and I said the first thing that came into my head,
which was that I thought Phebe the best-dressed woman in the room
because she wasn't all fuss and feathers like most of the girls.”
“Oh, Mac! That to Emma, who makes it the labor of her life to be always
in the height of fashion and was particularly splendid that night. What
did she say?” cried Rose, full of sympathy for both parties.
“She bridled and looked daggers at me.”
“And what did you do?”
“I bit my tongue and tumbled out of one scrape into another. Following
her example, I changed the subject by talking about the charity concert
for the orphans, and when she gushed about the 'little darlings,' I
advised her to adopt one and wondered why young ladies didn't do that
sort of thing, instead of cuddling cats and lapdogs.”
“Unhappy boy! Her pug is the idol of her life, and she hates babies,”
said Rose.
“More fool she! Well, she got my opinion on the subject, anyway, and
she's very welcome, for I went on to say that I thought it would not
only be a lovely charity, but excellent training for the time when they
had little darlings of their own. No end of poor things die through the
ignorance of mothers, you know,” added Mac, so seriously that Rose dared
not smile at what went before.
“Imagine Emma trotting round with a pauper baby under her arm instead of
her cherished Toto,” said Steve with an ecstatic twirl on the stool.
“Did she seem to like your advice, Monsieur Malapropos?” asked Rose,
wishing she had been there.
“No, she gave a little shriek and said, 'Good gracious, Mr. Campbell,
how droll you are! Take me to Mama, please,' which I did with a thankful
heart. Catch me setting her pug's leg again,” ended Mac with a grim
shake of the head.
“Never mind. You were unfortunate in your listener that time. Don't
think all girls are so foolish. I can show you a dozen sensible ones who
would discuss dress reform and charity with you and enjoy Greek
tragedy if you did the chorus for them as you did for me,” said Rose
consolingly, for Steve would only jeer.
“Give me a list of them, please, and I'll cultivate their acquaintance.
A fellow must have some reward for making a teetotum of himself.”
“I will with pleasure; and if you dance well they will make it very
pleasant for you, and you'll enjoy parties in spite of yourself.”
“I cannot be a 'glass of fashion and a mold of form' like Dandy here,
but I'll do my best: only, if I had my choice, I'd much rather go round
the streets with an organ and a monkey,” answered Mac despondently.
“Thank you kindly for the compliment,” and Rose made him a low courtesy,
while Steve cried, “Now you have done it!” in a tone of reproach which
reminded the culprit, all too late, that he was Rose's chosen escort.
“By the gods, so I have!” And casting away the newspaper with a gesture
of comic despair, Mac strode from the room, chanting tragically the
words of Cassandra, “'Woe! woe! O Earth! O Apollo! I will dare to die; I
will accost the gates of Hades, and make my prayer that I may receive a
mortal blow!'”
Chapter 7 PHEBE
While Rose was making discoveries and having experiences, Phebe was
doing the same in a quieter way, but though they usually compared notes
during the bedtime tete-a-tete which always ended their day, certain
topics were never mentioned, so each had a little world of her own into
which even the eye of friendship did not peep.
Rose's life just now was the gaiest but Phebe's the happiest. Both went
out a good deal, for the beautiful voice was welcomed everywhere, and
many were ready to patronize the singer who would have been slow to
recognize the woman. Phebe knew this and made no attempt to assert
herself, content to know that those whose regard she valued felt her
worth and hopeful of a time when she could gracefully take the place she
was meant to fill.
Proud as a princess was Phebe about some things, though in most as
humble as a child; therefore, when each year lessened the service she
loved to give and increased the obligations she would have refused from
any other source, dependence became a burden which even the most fervent
gratitude could not lighten. Hitherto the children had gone on together,
finding no obstacles to their companionship in the secluded world
in which they lived. Now that they were women their paths inevitably
diverged, and both reluctantly felt that they must part before long.
It had been settled, when they were abroad, that on their return Phebe
should take her one gift in her hand and try her fortunes. On no
other terms would she accept the teaching which was to fit her for the
independence she desired. Faithfully had she used the facilities so
generously afforded both at home and abroad and now was ready to prove
that they had not been in vain. Much encouraged by the small successes
she won in drawing rooms, and the praise bestowed by interested friends,
she began to feel that she might venture on a larger field and begin her
career as a concert singer, for she aimed no higher.
Just at this time much interest was felt in a new asylum for orphan
girls, which could not be completed for want of funds. The Campbells
well had borne their part and still labored to accomplish the
much-needed charity. Several fairs had been given for this purpose,
followed by a series of concerts. Rose had thrown herself into the work
with all her heart and now proposed that Phebe should make her debut at
the last concert, which was to be a peculiarly interesting one, as all
the orphans were to be present and were expected to plead their own
cause by the sight of their innocent helplessness as well as touch
hearts by the simple airs they were to sing.
Some of the family thought Phebe would object to so humble a beginning,
but Rose knew her better and was not disappointed, for when she made her
proposal Phebe answered readily: “Where could I find a fitter time and
place to come before the public than here among my little sisters in
misfortune? I'll sing for them with all my heart only I must be one of
them and have no flourish made about me.”
“You shall arrange it as you like, and as there is to be little vocal
music but yours and the children's, I'll see that you have everything as
you please,” promised Rose.
It was well she did, for the family got much excited over the prospect
of “our Phebe's debut” and would have made a flourish if the girls had
not resisted. Aunt Clara was in despair about the dress because Phebe
decided to wear a plain claret-colored merino with frills at neck and
wrists so that she might look, as much as possible, like the other
orphans in their stuff gowns and white aprons. Aunt Plenty wanted to
have a little supper afterward in honor of the occasion, but Phebe
begged her to change it to a Christmas dinner for the poor children. The
boys planned to throw bushels of flowers, and Charlie claimed the honor
of leading the singer in. But Phebe, with tears in her eyes, declined
their kindly offers, saying earnestly: “I had better begin as I am to go
on and depend upon myself entirely. Indeed, Mr. Charlie, I'd rather
walk in alone, for you'd be out of place among us and spoil the pathetic
effect we wish to produce.” And a smile sparkled through the tears as
Phebe looked at the piece of elegance before her and thought of the
brown gowns and pinafores.
So, after much discussion, it was decided that she should have her way
in all things and the family content themselves with applauding from the
front.
“We'll blister our hands every man of us, and carry you home in a
chariot and four see if we don't, you perverse prima donna!” threatened
Steve, not at all satisfied with the simplicity of the affair.
“A chariot and two will be very acceptable as soon as I'm done. I shall
be quite steady till my part is all over, and then I may feel a little
upset, so I'd like to get away before the confusion begins. Indeed, I
don't mean to be perverse, but you are all so kind to me, my heart is
full whenever I think of it, and that wouldn't do if I'm to sing,” said
Phebe, dropping one of the tears on the little frill she was making.
“No diamond could have adorned it better,” Archie thought as he watched
it shine there for a moment, and felt like shaking Steve for daring to
pat the dark head with an encouraging “All right. I'll be on hand and
whisk you away while the rest are splitting their gloves. No fear of
your breaking down. If you feel the least bit like it, though, just look
at me and I'll glare at you and shake my fist, since kindness upsets
you.”
“I wish you would, because one of my ballads is rather touching and I
always want to cry when I sing it. The sight of you trying to glare will
make me want to laugh and that will steady me nicely, so sit in front,
please, ready to slip out when I come off the last time.”
“Depend upon me!” And the little man departed, taking great credit to
himself for his influence over tall, handsome Phebe.
If he had known what was going on in the mind of the silent young
gentleman behind the newspaper, Steve would have been much astonished,
for Archie, though apparently engrossed by business, was fathoms deep in
love by this time. No one suspected this but Rose, for he did his wooing
with his eyes, and only Phebe knew how eloquent they could be. He had
discovered what the matter was long ago had made many attempts to reason
himself out of it, but, finding it a hopeless task, had given up trying
and let himself drift deliciously. The knowledge that the family would
not approve only seemed to add ardor to his love and strength to
his purpose, for the same energy and persistence which he brought to
business went into everything he did, and having once made up his mind
to marry Phebe, nothing could change this plan except a word from her.
He watched and waited for three months, so that he might not be accused
of precipitation, though it did not take him one to decide that this was
the woman to make him happy. Her steadfast nature, quiet, busy ways,
and the reserved power and passion betrayed sometimes by a flash of the
black eyes, a quiver of the firm lips, suited Archie, who possessed many
of the same attributes himself. The obscurity of her birth and isolation
of her lot, which would have deterred some lovers, not only appealed to
his kindly heart, but touched the hidden romance which ran like a vein
of gold through his strong common sense and made practical, steady-going
Archie a poet when he fell in love. If Uncle Mac had guessed what dreams
and fancies went on in the head bent over his ledgers, and what emotions
were fermenting in the bosom of his staid “right-hand man,” he would
have tapped his forehead and suggested a lunatic asylum. The boys
thought Archie had sobered down too soon. His mother began to fear that
the air of the counting room did not suit him, and Dr. Alec was deluded
into the belief that the fellow really began to “think of Rose,” he
came so often in the evening, seeming quite content to sit beside her
worktable and snip tape or draw patterns while they chatted.
No one observed that, though he talked to Rose on these occasions, he
looked at Phebe, in her low chair close by, busy but silent, for she
always tried to efface herself when Rose was near and often mourned that
she was too big to keep out of sight. No matter what he talked about,
Archie always saw the glossy black braids on the other side of the
table, the damask cheek curving down into the firm white throat, and the
dark lashes, lifted now and then, showing eyes so deep and soft he dared
not look into them long. Even the swift needle charmed him, the little
brooch which rose and fell with her quiet breath, the plain work she
did, and the tidy way she gathered her bits of thread into a tiny bag.
He seldom spoke to her; never touched her basket, though he ravaged
Rose's if he wanted string or scissors; very rarely ventured to bring
her some curious or pretty thing when ships came in from China only
sat and thought of her, imagined that this was his parlor, this her
worktable, and they two sitting there alone a happy man and wife.
At this stage of the little evening drama he would be conscious of such
a strong desire to do something rash that he took refuge in a new form
of intoxication and proposed music, sometimes so abruptly that Rose
would pause in the middle of a sentence and look at him, surprised to
meet a curiously excited look in the usually cool gray eyes.
Then Phebe, folding up her work, would go to the piano, as if glad to
find a vent for the inner life which she seemed to have no power of
expressing except in song. Rose would follow to accompany her, and
Archie, moving to a certain shady corner whence he could see Phebe's
face as she sang, would give himself up to unmitigated rapture for
half an hour. Phebe never sang so well as at such times, for the kindly
atmosphere was like sunshine to a bird, criticisms were few and gentle,
praises hearty and abundant, and she poured out her soul as freely as a
spring gushes up when its hidden source is full.
In moments such as these Phebe was beautiful with the beauty that makes
a man's eye brighten with honest admiration and fills his heart with a
sense of womanly nobility and sweetness. Little wonder, then, that the
chief spectator of this agreeable tableau grew nightly more enamored,
and while the elders were deep in whist, the young people were playing
that still more absorbing game in which hearts are always trumps.
Rose, having Dummy for a partner, soon discovered the fact and lately
had begun to feel as she fancied Wall must have done when Pyramus wooed
Thisbe through its chinks. She was a little startled at first, then
amused, then anxious, then heartily interested, as every woman is in
such affairs, and willingly continued to be a medium, though sometimes
she quite tingled with the electricity which seemed to pervade the air.
She said nothing, waiting for Phebe to speak, but Phebe was silent,
seeming to doubt the truth till doubt became impossible, then to shrink
as if suddenly conscious of wrongdoing and seize every possible pretext
for absenting herself from the “girls' corner,” as the pretty recess was
called.
The concert plan afforded excellent opportunities for doing this, and
evening after evening she slipped away to practice her songs upstairs
while Archie sat staring disconsolately at the neglected work basket
and mute piano. Rose pitied him and longed to say a word of comfort, but
felt shy he was such a reserved fellow so left him to conduct his quiet
wooing in his own way, feeling that the crisis would soon arrive.
She was sure of this as she sat beside him on the evening of the
concert, for while the rest of the family nodded and smiled, chatted and
laughed in great spirits, Archie was as mute as a fish and sat with his
arms tightly folded, as if to keep in any unruly emotions which might
attempt to escape. He never looked at the program, but Rose knew when
Phebe's turn came by the quick breath he drew and the intent look, so
absent before, that came into his eyes.
But her own excitement prevented much notice of his, for Rose was in
a flutter of hope and fear, sympathy and delight, about Phebe and her
success. The house was crowded; the audience sufficiently mixed to make
the general opinion impartial; and the stage full of little orphans with
shining faces, a most effective reminder of the object in view.
“Little dears, how nice they look!” “Poor things, so young to be
fatherless and motherless.” “It will be a disgrace to the city if those
girls are not taken proper care of.” “Subscriptions are always in order,
you know, and pretty Miss Campbell will give you her sweetest smile if
you hand her a handsome check.” “I've heard this Phebe Moore, and she
really has a delicious voice such a pity she won't fit herself for
opera!” “Only sings three times tonight; that's modest, I'm sure, when
she's the chief attraction, so we must give her an encore after the
Italian piece.” “The orphans lead off, I see. Stop your ears if you
like, but don't fail to applaud or the ladies will never forgive you.”
Chat of this sort went on briskly while fans waved, programs rustled,
and ushers flew about distractedly, till an important gentleman
appeared, made his bow, skipped upon the leader's stand, and with a wave
of his baton caused a general uprising of white pinafores as the orphans
led off with that much-enduring melody “America” in shrill small voices,
but with creditable attention to time and tune. Pity and patriotism
produced a generous round of applause, and the little girls sat down,
beaming with innocent satisfaction.
An instrumental piece followed, and then a youthful gentleman, with his
hair in picturesque confusion, and what his friends called a “musical
brow,” bounded up the steps and, clutching a roll of music with a pair
of tightly gloved hands, proceed to inform the audience, in a husky
tenor voice, that “It was a lovely violet.”
What else the song contained in the way of sense or sentiment it was
impossible to discover as the three pages of music appeared to consist
of variations upon that one line, ending with a prolonged quaver which
flushed the musical brow and left the youth quite breathless when he
made his bow.
“Now she's coming! Oh, Uncle, my heart beats as if it were myself!”
whispered Rose, clutching Dr. Alec's arm with a little gasp as the piano
was rolled forward, the leader's stand pushed back, and all eyes turned
toward the anteroom door.
She forgot to glance at Archie, and it was as well perhaps, for his
heart was thumping almost audibly as he waited for his Phebe. Not from
the anteroom, but out among the children, where she had sat unseen in
the shadow of the organ, came stately Phebe in her wine-colored dress,
with no ornament but her fine hair and a white flower at her throat.
Very pale, but quite composed, apparently, for she stepped slowly
through the narrow lane of upturned faces, holding back her skirts lest
they should rudely brush against some little head. Straight to the front
she went, bowed hastily, and, with a gesture to the accompanist, stood
waiting to begin, her eyes fixed on the great gilt clock at the opposite
end of the hall.
They never wandered from that point while she sang, but as she ended
they dropped for an instant on an eager, girlish countenance bending
from a front seat; then, with her hasty little bow, she went quickly
back among the children, who clapped and nodded as she passed, well
pleased with the ballad she had sung.
Everyone courteously followed their example, but there was no
enthusiasm, and it was evident that Phebe had not produced a
particularly favorable impression.
“Never sang so badly in her life,” muttered Charlie irefully.
“She was frightened, poor thing. Give her time, give her time,” said
Uncle Mac kindly.
“I know she was, and I glared like a gorgon, but she never looked at
me,” added Steve, smoothing his gloves and his brows at the same time.
“That first song was the hardest, and she got through much better than
I expected,” put in Dr. Alec, bound not to show the disappointment he
felt.
“Don't be troubled. Phebe has courage enough for anything, and she'll
astonish you before the evening's over,” prophesied Mac with unabated
confidence, for he knew something the rest did not.
Rose said nothing, but under cover of her burnous gave Archie's hand a
sympathetic squeeze, for his arms were unfolded now, as if the strain
was over, and one lay on his knee while with the other he wiped his hot
forehead with an air of relief.
Friends about them murmured complimentary fibs and affected great
delight and surprise at Miss Moore's “charming style,” “exquisite
simplicity,” and “undoubted talent.” But strangers freely criticized,
and Rose was so indignant at some of their remarks, she could not listen
to anything on the stage, though a fine overture was played, a man with
a remarkable bass voice growled and roared melodiously, and the orphans
sang a lively air with a chorus of “Tra, la, la,” which was a great
relief to little tongues unused to long silence.
“I've often heard that women's tongues were hung in the middle and went
at both ends now I'm sure of it,” whispered Charlie, trying to cheer her
up by pointing out the comical effect of some seventy-five open mouths
in each of which the unruly member was wagging briskly.
Rose laughed and let him fan her, leaning from his seat behind with the
devoted air he always assumed in public, but her wounded feelings were
not soothed and she continued to frown at the stout man on the left who
had dared to say with a shrug and a glance at Phebe's next piece, “That
young woman can no more sing this Italian thing than she can fly, and
they ought not to let her attempt it.”
Phebe did, however, and suddenly changed the stout man's opinion by
singing it grandly, for the consciousness of her first failure
pricked her pride and spurred her to do her best with the calm sort of
determination which conquers fear, fires ambition, and changes defeat
to success. She looked steadily at Rose now, or the flushed, intent face
beside her, and throwing all her soul into the task, let her voice
ring out like a silver clarion, filling the great hall and setting the
hearers' blood a-tingle with the exulting strain.
That settled Phebe's fate as a cantatrice. The applause was genuine and
spontaneous this time and broke out again and again with the generous
desire to atone for former coldness. But she would not return, and the
shadow of the great organ seemed to have swallowed her up, for no eye
could find her, no pleasant clamor win her back.
“Now I can die content,” said Rose, beaming with heartfelt satisfaction
while Archie looked steadfastly at his program, trying to keep his face
in order, and the rest of the family assumed a triumphant air, as if
they had never doubted from the first.
“Very well, indeed,” said the stout man with an approving nod. “Quite
promising for a beginner. Shouldn't wonder if in time they made a second
Cary or Kellogg of her.”
“Now you'll forgive him, won't you?” murmured Charlie in his cousin's
ear.
“Yes, and I'd like to pat him on the head. But take warning and never
judge by first appearances again,” whispered Rose, at peace now with all
mankind.
Phebe's last song was another ballad; she meant to devote her talent to
that much neglected but always attractive branch of her art. It was
a great surprise, therefore, to all but one person in the hall when,
instead of singing “Auld Robin Grey,” she placed herself at the piano,
and, with a smiling glance over her shoulder at the children, broke out
in the old bird song which first won Rose. But the chirping, twittering,
and cooing were now the burden to three verses of a charming little
song, full of springtime and the awakening life that makes it lovely. A
rippling accompaniment flowed through it all, and a burst of delighted
laughter from the children filled up the first pause with a fitting
answer to the voices that seemed calling to them from the vernal woods.
It was very beautiful, and novelty lent its charm to the surprise, for
art and nature worked a pretty miracle and the clever imitation, first
heard from a kitchen hearth, now became the favorite in a crowded
concert room. Phebe was quite herself again; color in the cheeks now;
eyes that wandered smiling to and fro; and lips that sang as gaily and
far more sweetly than when she kept time to her blithe music with a
scrubbing brush.
This song was evidently intended for the children, and they appreciated
the kindly thought, for as Phebe went back among them, they clapped
ecstatically, flapped their pinafores, and some caught her by the skirts
with audible requests to “Do it again, please; do it again.”
But Phebe shook her head and vanished, for it was getting late for such
small people, several of whom “lay sweetly slumbering there” till roused
by the clamor round them. The elders, however, were not to be denied and
applauded persistently, especially Aunt Plenty, who seized Uncle Mac's
cane and pounded with it as vigorously as “Mrs. Nubbles” at the play.
“Never mind your gloves, Steve; keep it up till she comes,” cried
Charlie, enjoying the fun like a boy while Jamie lost his head with
excitement and, standing up, called “Phebe! Phebe!” in spite of his
mother's attempts to silence him.
Even the stout man clapped, and Rose could only laugh delightedly as she
turned to look at Archie, who seemed to have let himself loose at last
and was stamping with a dogged energy funny to see.
So Phebe had to come, and stood there meekly bowing, with a moved look
on her face that showed how glad and grateful she was, till a sudden
hush came; then, as if inspired by the memory of the cause that brought
her there, she looked down into the sea of friendly faces before her,
with no trace of fear in her own, and sang the song that never will grow
old.
That went straight to the hearts of those who heard her, for there was
something inexpressibly touching in the sight of this sweet-voiced woman
singing of home for the little creatures who were homeless, and Phebe
made her tuneful plea irresistible by an almost involuntary gesture of
the hands which had hung loosely clasped before her till, with the last
echo of the beloved word, they fell apart and were half outstretched, as
if pleading to be filled.
It was the touch of nature that works wonders, for it made full purses
suddenly weigh heavily in pockets slow to open, brought tears to eyes
unused to weep, and caused that group of red-gowned girls to grow
very pathetic in the sight of fathers and mothers who had left little
daughters safe asleep at home. This was evident from the stillness that
remained unbroken for an instant after Phebe ended; and before people
could get rid of their handkerchiefs she would have been gone if the
sudden appearance of a mite in a pinafore, climbing up the stairs
from the anteroom with a great bouquet grasped in both hands, had not
arrested her.
Up came the little creature, intent on performing the mission for which
rich bribes of sugarplums had been promised, and trotting bravely across
the stage, she held up the lovely nosegay, saying in her baby voice,
“Dis for you, ma'am.” Then, startled by the sudden outburst of applause,
she hid her face in Phebe's gown and began to sob with fright.
An awkward minute for poor Phebe, but she showed unexpected presence
of mind and left behind her a pretty picture of the oldest and youngest
orphan as she went quickly down the step, smiling over the great bouquet
with the baby on her arm.
Nobody minded the closing piece, for people began to go, sleepy children
to be carried off, and whispers grew into a buzz of conversation. In the
general confusion Rose looked to see if Steve had remembered his promise
to help Phebe slip away before the rush began. No, there he was putting
on Kitty's cloak, quite oblivious to any other duty. Turning to ask
Archie to hurry out, Rose found that he had already vanished, leaving
his gloves behind him.
“Have you lost anything?” asked Dr. Alec, catching a glimpse of her
face.
“No, sir, I've found something,” she whispered back, giving him the
gloves to pocket along with her fan and glass, adding hastily as the
concert ended, “Please, Uncle, tell them all not to come with us. Phebe
has had enough excitement and ought to rest.”
Rose's word was law to the family in all things concerning Phebe. So
word was passed that there were to be no congratulations until tomorrow,
and Dr. Alec got his party off as soon as possible. But all the way
home, while he and Aunt Plenty were prophesying a brilliant future for
the singer, Rose sat rejoicing over the happy present of the woman.
She was sure that Archie had spoken and imagined the whole scene with
feminine delight how tenderly he had asked the momentous question, how
gratefully Phebe had given the desired reply, and now how both were
enjoying that delicious hour which Rose had been given to understand
never came but once. Such a pity to shorten it, she thought, and
begged her uncle to go home the longest way the night was so mild,
the moonlight so clear, and herself so in need of fresh air after the
excitement of the evening.
“I thought you would want to rush into Phebe's arms the instant she got
done,” said Aunt Plenty, innocently wondering at the whims girls took
into their heads.
“So I should if I consulted my own wishes, but as Phebe asked to be let
alone I want to gratify her,” answered Rose, making the best excuse she
could.
“A little piqued,” thought the doctor, fancying he understood the case.
As the old lady's rheumatism forbade their driving about till midnight,
home was reached much too soon, Rose thought, and tripped away to warn
the lovers the instant she entered the house. But study, parlor, and
boudoir were empty; and, when Jane appeared with cake and wine, she
reported that “Miss Phebe went right upstairs and wished to be excused,
please, being very tired.”
“That isn't at all like Phebe I hope she isn't ill,” began Aunt Plenty,
sitting down to toast her feet.
“She may be a little hysterical, for she is a proud thing and represses
her emotions as long as she can. I'll step up and see if she doesn't
need a soothing draft of some sort.” And Dr. Alec threw off his coat as
he spoke.
“No, no, she's only tired. I'll run up to her she won't mind me and I'll
report if anything is amiss.”
Away went Rose, quite trembling with suspense, but Phebe's door was
shut, no light shone underneath, and no sound came from the room within.
She tapped and receiving no answer, went on to her own chamber, thinking
to herself: “Love always makes people queer, I've heard, so I suppose
they settled it all in the carriage and the dear thing ran away to think
about her happiness alone. I'll not disturb her. Why, Phebe!” said Rose,
surprised, for, entering her room, there was the cantatrice, busy about
the nightly services she always rendered her little mistress.
“I'm waiting for you, dear. Where have you been so long?” asked Phebe,
poking the fire as if anxious to get some color into cheeks that were
unnaturally pale.
The instant she spoke Rose knew that something was wrong, and a glance
at her face confirmed the fear. It was like a dash of cold water and
quenched her happy fancies in a moment; but being a delicate-minded
girl, she respected Phebe's mood and asked no questions, made no
comments, and left her friend to speak or be silent as she chose.
“I was so excited I would take a turn in the moonlight to calm my
nerves. Oh, dearest Phebe, I am so glad, so proud, so full of wonder at
your courage and skill and sweet ways altogether that I cannot half tell
you how I love and honor you!” she cried, kissing the white cheeks with
such tender warmth they could not help glowing faintly as Phebe held
her little mistress close, sure that nothing could disturb this innocent
affection.
“It is all your work, dear, because but for you I might still be
scrubbing floors and hardly dare to dream of anything like this,” she
said in her old grateful way, but in her voice there was a thrill of
something deeper than gratitude, and at the last two words her head went
up with a gesture of soft pride as if it had been newly crowned.
Rose heard and saw and guessed at the meaning of both tone and gesture,
feeling that her Phebe deserved both the singer's laurel and the bride's
myrtle wreath. But she only looked up, saying very wistfully: “Then it
has been a happy night for you as well as for us.”
“The happiest of my life, and the hardest,” answered Phebe briefly as
she looked away from the questioning eyes.
“You should have let us come nearer and help you through. I'm afraid you
are very proud, my Jenny Lind.”
“I have to be, for sometimes I feel as if I had nothing else to keep
me up.” She stopped short there, fearing that her voice would prove
traitorous if she went on. In a moment she asked in a tone that was
almost hard: “You think I did well tonight?”
“They all think so, and were so delighted they wanted to come in a body
and tell you so, but I sent them home because I knew you'd be tired out.
Perhaps I ought not to have done it and you'd rather have had a crowd
about you than just me?”
“It was the kindest thing you ever did, and what could I like better
than 'just you,' my darling?”
Phebe seldom called her that, and when she did her heart was in the
little word, making it so tender that Rose thought it the sweetest in
the world, next to Uncle Alec's “my little girl.” Now it was almost
passionate, and Phebe's face grew rather tragical as she looked down at
Rose. It was impossible to seem unconscious any longer, and Rose said,
caressing Phebe's cheek, which burned with a feverish color now: “Then
don't shut me out if you have a trouble, but let me share it as I let
you share all mine.”
“I will! Little mistress, I've got to go away, sooner even than we
planned.”
“Why, Phebe?”
“Because Archie loves me.”
“That's the very reason you should stay and make him happy.”
“Not if it caused dissension in the family, and you know it would.”
Rose opened her lips to deny this impetuously, but checked herself and
answered honestly: “Uncle and I would be heartily glad, and I'm sure
Aunt Jessie never could object if you loved Archie as he does you.”
“She has other hopes, I think, and kind as she is, it would be a
disappointment if he brought me home. She is right, they all are, and I
alone am to blame. I should have gone long ago I knew I should, but it
was so pleasant, I couldn't bear to go away alone.”
“I kept you, and I am to blame if anyone, but indeed, dear Phebe, I
cannot see why you should care even if Aunt Myra croaks and Aunt Clara
exclaims or Aunt Jane makes disagreeable remarks. Be happy, and never
mind them,” cried Rose, so much excited by all this that she felt the
spirit of revolt rise up within her and was ready to defy even that
awe-inspiring institution “the family” for her friend's sake.
But Phebe shook her head with a sad smile and answered, still with the
hard tone in her voice as if forcing back all emotion that she might see
her duty clearly: “You could do that, but I never can. Answer me this,
Rose, and answer truly as you love me. If you had been taken into a
house, a friendless, penniless, forlorn girl, and for years been heaped
with benefits, trusted, taught, loved, and made, oh, so happy! could
you think it right to steal away something that these good people valued
very much? To have them feel that you had been ungrateful, had deceived
them, and meant to thrust yourself into a high place not fit for you
when they had been generously helping you in other ways, far more than
you deserved. Could you then say as you do now, 'Be happy, and never
mind them'?”
Phebe held Rose by the shoulders now and searched her face so keenly
that the other shrank a little, for the black eyes were full of fire and
there was something almost grand about this girl who seemed suddenly to
have become a woman. There was no need for words to answer the question
so swiftly asked, for Rose put herself in Phebe's place in the drawing
of a breath, and her own pride made her truthfully reply: “No I could
not!”
“I knew you'd say that, and help me do my duty.” And all the coldness
melted out of Phebe's manner as she hugged her little mistress close,
feeling the comfort of sympathy even through the blunt sincerity of
Rose's words.
“I will if I know how. Now, come and tell me all about it.” And,
seating herself in the great chair which had often held them both, Rose
stretched out her hands as if glad and ready to give help of any sort.
But Phebe would not take her accustomed place, for, as if coming to
confession, she knelt down upon the rug and, leaning on the arm of the
chair, told her love story in the simplest words.
“I never thought he cared for me until a little while ago. I fancied it
was you, and even when I knew he liked to hear me sing I supposed it was
because you helped, and so I did my best and was glad you were to be
a happy girl. But his eyes told the truth. Then I saw what I had been
doing and was frightened. He did not speak, so I believed, what is quite
true, that he felt I was not a fit wife for him and would never ask me.
It was right I was glad of it, yet I was proud and, though I did not
ask or hope for anything, I did want him to see that I respected myself,
remembered my duty, and could do right as well as he. I kept away. I
planned to go as soon as possible and resolved that at this concert I
would do so well, he should not be ashamed of poor Phebe and her one
gift.”
“It was this that made you so strange, then, preferring to go alone and
refusing every little favor at our hands?” asked Rose, feeling very sure
now about the state of Phebe's heart.
“Yes, I wanted to do everything myself and not owe one jot of my
success, if I had any, to even the dearest friend I've got. It was bad
and foolish of me, and I was punished by the first dreadful failure.
I was so frightened, Rose! My breath was all gone, my eyes so dizzy I
could hardly see, and that great crowd of faces seemed so near, I dared
not look. If it had not been for the clock I never should have gotten
through,
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