"I _will_ act like a man, and you shall never be ashamed again. Only
be kind to me: let me put this on, and promise afresh; this time I
swear I'll keep it. Won't you trust me, Rose?"

It was very hard to resist the pleading voice and eyes: for this
humility was dangerous; and, but for Uncle Alec, Rose would have
answered "Yes." The blue forget-me-nots reminded her of her own
promise; and she kept it with difficulty now, to be glad always
afterward. Putting back the offered trinket with a gentle touch, she
said firmly, though she dared not look up into the anxious face
bending toward her,--

"No, Charlie: I can't wear it yet. My hands must be free if I'm to
help you as I ought. I will be kind; I will trust you: but don't swear
any thing, only try to resist temptation, and we'll all stand by you."

Charlie did not like that, and lost the ground he had gained by saying
impetuously,--

"I don't want any one but you to stand by me, and I must be sure you
won't desert me, else, while I'm mortifying soul and body to please
you, some stranger will come and steal your heart away from me. I
couldn't bear that; so I give you fair warning, in such a case I'll
break the bargain, and go straight to the devil."

The last sentence spoilt it all; for it was both masterful and
defiant. Rose had the Campbell spirit in her, though it seldom
showed; as yet she valued her liberty more than any love offered her,
and she resented the authority he assumed too soon,--resented it all
the more warmly, because of the effort she was making to reinstate her
hero, who would insist on being a very faulty and ungrateful man. She
rose straight out of her chair, saying with a look and tone which
rather startled her hearer, and convinced him that she was no longer a
tender-hearted child, but a woman with a will of her own, and a spirit
as proud and fiery as any of her race,--

"My heart is my own, to dispose of as I please. Don't shut yourself
out of it by presuming too much; for you have no claim on me but that
of cousinship, and you never will have unless you earn it. Remember
that, and neither threaten nor defy me any more."

For a minute it was doubtful whether Charlie would answer this flash
with another, and a general explosion ensue; or wisely quench the
flame with the mild answer which turneth away wrath. He chose the
latter course, and made it very effective by throwing himself down
before his offended goddess, as he had often done in jest; this time
it was not acting, but serious earnest, and there was real passion in
his voice, as he caught Rose's dress in both hands, saying eagerly,--

"No, no! don't shut your heart against me, or I shall turn desperate.
I'm not half good enough for such a saint as you, but you can do what
you will with me. I only need a motive to make a man of me, and where
can I find a stronger one than in trying to keep your love?"

"It is not yours yet," began Rose, much moved, though all the while
she felt as if she was on a stage, and had a part to play; for Charlie
had made life so like a melodrama that it was hard for him to be quite
simple even when most sincere.

"Let me earn it, then. Show me how, and I'll do any thing: for you are
my good angel, Rose; and, if you cast me off, I feel as if I shouldn't
care how soon there was an end of me," cried Charlie, getting tragic
in his earnestness, and putting both arms round her, as if his only
safety lay in clinging to this beloved fellow-creature.

Behind footlights it would have been irresistible; but somehow it did
not touch the one spectator, though she had neither time nor skill to
discover why. For all their ardor the words did not ring quite true:
despite the grace of the attitude, she would have liked him better
manfully erect upon his feet; and, though the gesture was full of
tenderness, a subtle instinct made her shrink away, as she said with a
composure that surprised herself, even more than it did him,--

"Please don't. No, I will promise nothing yet; for I must respect the
man I love."

That brought Charlie to his feet, pale with something deeper than
anger; for the recoil told him more plainly than the words how much he
had fallen in her regard since yesterday. The memory of the happy
moment when she gave the rose with that new softness in her eyes, the
shy color, the sweet "for my sake," came back with sudden vividness,
contrasting sharply with the now averted face, the hand out-stretched
to put him back, the shrinking figure: and in that instant's silence
poor Charlie realized what he had lost; for a girl's first thought of
love is as delicate a thing as the rosy morning-glory, that a breath
of air can shatter. Only a hint of evil, only an hour's debasement for
him, a moment's glimpse for her of the coarser pleasures men know, and
the innocent heart, just opening to bless and to be blessed, closed
again like a sensitive plant, and shut him out perhaps for ever.

The consciousness of this turned him pale with fear: for his love was
deeper than she knew; and he proved this when he said in a tone so
full of mingled pain and patience that it touched her to the heart,--

"You _shall_ respect me if I can make you; and when I've earned it may
I hope for something more?"

She looked up then, saw in his face the noble shame, the humble sort
of courage, that shows repentance to be genuine, and gives promise of
success, and, with a hopeful smile that was a cordial to him, answered
heartily,--

"You may."

"Bless you for that! I'll make no promises, I'll ask for none: only
trust me, Rose; and, while you treat me like a cousin, remember that
no matter how many lovers you may have, you'll never be to any of
them as dear as you are to me."

A traitorous break in his voice warned Charlie to stop there: and,
with no other good-by, he very wisely went away, leaving Rose to put
the neglected flowers into water with remorseful care, and lay away
the bracelet, saying to herself,--

"I'll never wear it till I feel as I did before; then he shall put it
on, and I'll say 'Yes.'"

CHAPTER XI.

_SMALL TEMPTATIONS._

"O Rose, I've got something so exciting to tell you!" cried Kitty Van
Tassel, skipping into the carriage next morning when her friend called
for her to go shopping.

Kitty always did have some "perfectly thrilling" communication to
make, and Rose had learned to take them quietly: but the next
demonstration was a new one; for, regardless alike of curious
observers outside and disordered hats within, Kitty caught Rose round
the neck, exclaiming in a rapturous whisper,--

"My dearest creature, I'm engaged!"

"I'm so glad! Of course it is Steve?"

"Dear fellow, he did it last night in the nicest way, and mamma is
_so_ delighted. Now what _shall_ I be married in?" and Kitty composed
herself with a face full of the deepest anxiety.

"How can you talk of that so soon? Why, Kit, you unromantic girl, you
ought to be thinking of your lover and not your clothes," said Rose,
amused, yet rather scandalized at such want of sentiment.

"I _am_ thinking of my lover; for he says he will _not_ have a long
engagement, so I _must_ begin to think about the most important things
at once, mustn't I?"

"Ah, he wants to be sure of you; for you are such a slippery creature
he is afraid you'll treat him as you did poor Jackson and the rest,"
interrupted Rose, shaking her finger at her prospective cousin, who
had tried this pastime twice before, and was rather proud than
otherwise of her brief engagements.

"You needn't scold, for I know I'm right; and, when you've been in
society as long as I have, you'll find that the only way to really
know a man is to be engaged to him. While they want you, they are all
devotion; but when they think they've got you, then you find out what
wretches they are," answered Kitty, with an air of worldly wisdom
which contrasted oddly with her youthful face and giddy manners.

"A sad prospect for poor Steve, unless I give him a hint to look well
to his ways."

"O my dear child, I'm sure of him; for my experience has made me very
sharp, and I'm convinced I can manage him without a bit of trouble.
We've known each other for ages" (Steve was twenty and Kitty
eighteen), "and always been the best of friends. Besides he is quite
my ideal man: I never _could_ bear big hands and feet, and his are
simply adorable. Then he's the best dancer I know, and dresses in
perfect taste. I really do believe I fell in love with his
pocket-handkerchiefs first; they were so enchanting I couldn't
resist," laughed Kitty, pulling a large one out of her pocket, and
burying her little nose in the folds, which shed a delicious fragrance
upon the air.

"Now that looks promising, and I begin to think you _have_ got a
little sentiment after all," said Rose, well pleased; for the merry
brown eyes had softened suddenly, and a quick color came up in Kitty's
cheek, as she answered, still half hiding her face in the beloved
handkerchief,--

"Of course I have, lots of it; only I'm ashamed to show it to most
people, because it's the style to take every thing in the most
nonchalant way. My gracious, Rose, you'd have thought me a romantic
goose last night while Steve proposed in the back parlor: for I
actually cried; he was so dreadfully in earnest when I pretended that
I didn't care for him, and so very dear and nice when I told the
truth. I didn't know he had it in him; but he came out delightfully,
and never cared a particle, though I dropped tears all over his lovely
shirt-front. Wasn't that good of him? for you know he hates his things
to be mussed."

"He's a true Campbell, and has got a good warm heart of his own under
those fine fronts of his. Aunt Jane doesn't believe in sentiment, so
he has been trained never to show any: but it is there, and you must
encourage him to let it out; not foolishly, but in a way to make him
more manly and serious."

"I will if I can; for, though I wouldn't own this to everybody, I like
it in him very much, and feel as if Steve and I should get on
beautifully. Here we are: now be sure not to breathe a word if we meet
any one; I want it to be a profound secret for a week at least," added
Kitty, whisking the handkerchief out of sight, as the carriage stopped
before the fashionable store they were about to visit.

Rose promised with a smile; for Kitty's face betrayed her without
words, so full was it of the happiness which few eyes fail to
understand wherever they see it.

"Just a glance at the silks. You ask my opinion about white ones, and
I'll look at the colors. Mamma says satin; but that is out now, and
I've set my heart on the heaviest corded thing I can find," whispered
Kitty, as they went rustling by the long counters strewn with all that
could delight the feminine eye, and tempt the feminine pocket.

"Isn't that opal the loveliest thing you ever saw? I'm afraid I'm too
dark to wear it, but it would just suit you. You'll need a variety you
know," added Kitty in a significant aside, as Rose stood among the
white silks, while her companion affected great interest in the
delicate hues laid before her.

"But I have a variety now, and don't need a new dress of any sort."

"No matter, get it; else it will be gone: you've worn all yours
several times already, and _must_ have a new one whether you need it
or not. Dear me! if I had as much pocket-money as you have, I'd come
out in a fresh toilet at every party I went to," answered Kitty,
casting an envious eye upon the rainbow piles before her.

The quick-witted shopman saw that a wedding was afoot; for when two
pretty girls whisper, smile, and blush over their shopping, clerks
scent bridal finery, and a transient gleam of interest brightens their
imperturbable countenances, and lends a brief energy to languid voices
weary with crying "Cash!" Gathering both silks with a practised turn
of the hand, he held them up for inspection, detecting at a glance
which was the bride-elect and which the friend; for Kitty fell back to
study the effect of the silvery white folds with an absorbing interest
impossible to mistake, while Rose sat looking at the opal as if she
scarcely heard a bland voice saying, with the rustle of silk so dear
to girlish ears,--

"A superb thing; just opened; all the rage in Paris; very rare shade;
trying to most, as the lady says, but quite perfect for a blonde."

Rose was not listening to those words, but to others which Aunt Clara
had lately uttered; laughed at then, but thought over more than once
since.

"I'm tired of hearing people wonder why Miss Campbell does not dress
more. Simplicity is all very well for school-girls and women who can't
afford any thing better, but _you_ can, and you really ought. Your
things are pretty enough in their way, and I rather like you to have a
style of your own; but it looks odd, and people will think you are
mean if you don't make more show. Besides, you don't do justice to
your beauty, which would be both peculiar and striking, if you'd
devote your mind to getting up ravishing costumes."

Much more to the same effect did her aunt say, discussing the subject
quite artistically, and unconsciously appealing to several of Rose's
ruling passions. One was a love for the delicate fabrics, colors, and
ornaments which refined tastes enjoy, and whose costliness keeps them
from ever growing common; another, her strong desire to please the
eyes of those she cared for, and gratify their wishes in the smallest
matter if she could. And last, but not least, the natural desire of a
young and pretty woman to enhance the beauty which she so soon
discovers to be her most potent charm for the other sex, her passport
to a high place among her maiden peers.

She had thought seriously of surprising and delighting every one, by
appearing in a costume which should do justice to the loveliness which
was so modest that it was apt to forget itself in admiring
others,--what girls call a "ravishing" dress, such as she could
imagine and easily procure by the magic of the Fortunatus' purse in
her pocket. She had planned it all; the shimmer of pale silk through
lace like woven frost-work, ornaments of some classic pattern, and all
the dainty accessaries as perfect as time, taste, and money could make
them.

She knew that Uncle Alec's healthful training had given her a figure
that could venture on any fashion, and Nature blessed her with a
complexion that defied all hues. So it was little wonder that she felt
a strong desire to use these gifts, not for the pleasure of display,
but to seem fair in the eyes that seldom looked at her without a
tender sort of admiration, all the more winning when no words marred
the involuntary homage women love.

These thoughts were busy in Rose's mind, as she sat looking at the
lovely silk, and wondering what Charlie would say if she should some
night burst upon him in a pale, rosy cloud, like the Aurora to whom he
often likened her. She knew it would please him very much, and she
longed to do all she honestly could to gratify the poor fellow; for
her tender heart already felt some remorseful pangs, remembering how
severe she had been the night before. She could not revoke her words,
because she meant them every one; but she might be kind, and show that
she did not wholly shut him out from her regard, by asking him to go
with her to Kitty's ball, and gratify his artistic taste by a lovely
costume. A very girlish but kindly plan; for that ball was to be the
last of her frivolities, so she wanted it to be a pleasant one, and
felt that "being friends" with Charlie would add much to her
enjoyment. This idea made her fingers tighten on the gleaming fabric
so temptingly upheld, and she was about to take it when, "If ye
please, sir, would ye kindly tell me where I'd be finding the flannel
place?" said a voice behind her; and, glancing up, she saw a meek
little Irish-woman looking quite lost and out of place among the
luxuries around her.

"Downstairs, turn to the left," was the clerk's hasty reply, with a
vague wave of the hand which left the inquirer more in the dark than
ever.

Rose saw the woman's perplexity, and said kindly, "I'll show you: this
way."

"I'm ashamed to be throublin' ye, miss; but it's strange I am in it,
and wouldn't be comin' here at all, at all, barrin' they tould me I'd
get the bit I'm wantin' chaper in this big shop than the little ones
more becomin' the like o' me," explained the little woman humbly.

Rose looked again, as she led the way through a well-dressed crowd of
busy shoppers: and something in the anxious, tired face under the old
woollen hood; the bare, purple hands, holding fast a meagre wallet and
a faded scrap of the dotted flannel little children's frocks are so
often made of,--touched the generous heart, that never could see want
without an impulse to relieve it. She had meant only to point the way;
but, following a new impulse, she went on, listening to the poor
soul's motherly prattle about "me baby," and the "throuble" it was to
"find clothes for the growin' childer, when me man is out av work, and
the bit and sup inconvaynient these hard times," as they descended to
that darksome lower world, where necessities take refuge when luxuries
crowd them out from the gayer place above.

The presence of a lady made Mrs. Sullivan's shopping very easy now;
and her one poor "bit" of flannel grew miraculously into yards of
several colors, since the shabby purse was no lighter when she went
away, wiping her eyes on the corner of a big, brown bundle. A very
little thing, and no one saw it but a wooden-faced clerk, who never
told; yet it did Rose good, and sent her up into the light again with
a sober face, thinking self-reproachfully,--

"What right have I to more gay gowns, when some poor babies have none;
or to spend time making myself fine, while there is so much bitter
want in the world?"

Nevertheless the pretty things were just as tempting as ever, and she
yearned for the opal silk with a renewed yearning when she got back. I
am not sure that it would not have been bought in spite of her better
self, if a good angel in the likeness of a stout lady with silvery
curls about the benevolent face, enshrined in a plain bonnet, had not
accosted her as she joined Kitty, still brooding over the wedding
gowns.

"I waited a moment for you, my dear, because I'm in haste, and very
glad to save myself a journey or a note," began the newcomer in a low
tone, as Rose shook hands with the most affectionate respect. "You
know the great box factory was burned a day or two ago, and over a
hundred girls thrown out of work. Some were hurt and are in the
hospital, many have no homes to go to, and nearly all need temporary
help of some sort. We've had so many calls this winter I hardly know
which way to turn; for the want is pressing, and I've had my finger in
so many purses I'm almost ashamed to ask again. Any little
contribution--ah, thank you; I was sure you wouldn't fail me, my good
child," and Mrs. Gardener warmly pressed the hand that went so quickly
into the little portemonnaie, and came out so generously filled.

"Let me know how else I can help, and thank you very much for allowing
me to have a share in your good works," said Rose, forgetting all
about gay gowns, as she watched the black bonnet go briskly away, with
an approving smile on the fine old face inside it.

"You extravagant thing! how could you give so much?" whispered Kitty,
whose curious eye had seen three figures on the single bill which had
so rapidly changed hands.

"I believe if Mrs. Gardener asked me for my head I should give it to
her," answered Rose lightly; then turning to the silks she asked,
"Which have you decided upon; the yellow white or the blue, the corded
or the striped?"

"I've decided nothing, except that _you_ are to have the pink, and
wear it at my--ahem! ball," said Kitty, who _had_ made up her mind,
but could not give her orders till mamma had been consulted.

"No, I can't afford it just yet. I never overstep my allowance, and I
shall have to if I get any more finery. Come, we ought not to waste
time here, if you have all the patterns you want," and Rose walked
quickly away, glad that it was out of her power to break through two
resolutions which hitherto had been faithfully kept,--one to dress
simply for example's sake, the other not to be extravagant for
charity's sake.

As Rosamond had her day of misfortunes, so this seemed to be one of
small temptations to Rose. After she had set Kitty down at home and
been to see her new houses, she drove about doing various errands for
the aunts; and, while waiting in the carriage for the execution of an
order, young Pemberton came by.

As Steve said, this gentleman had been "hard hit," and still hovered
moth-like about the forbidden light. Being the most eligible _parti_
of the season, his regard was considered a distinction to be proud of;
and Rose had been well scolded by Aunt Clara for refusing so honorable
a mate. The girl liked him; and he was the suitor of whom she had
spoken so respectfully to Dr. Alec, because he had no need of the
heiress, and had sincerely loved the woman. He had been away, and she
hoped had got over his disappointment as happily as the rest; but now
when he saw her, and came hurrying up so hungry for a word, she felt
that he had not forgotten, and was too kind to chill him with the bow
which plainly says, "Don't stop."

A personable youth was Pemberton, and had brought with him from the
wilds of Canada a sable-lined overcoat, which was the envy of every
masculine and the admiration of every feminine friend he had; and, as
he stood at her carriage window, Rose knew that this luxurious garment
and its stalwart wearer were objects of interest to the passers-by. It
chanced that the tide of shoppers flowed in that direction; and, as
she chatted, familiar faces often passed with glances, smiles, and
nods of varying curiosity, significance, and wonder.

She could not help feeling a certain satisfaction in giving him a
moment's pleasure, since she could do no more; but it was not that
amiable desire alone which made her ignore the neat white parcels
which the druggist's boy deposited on the front seat, and kept her
lingering a little longer to enjoy one of the small triumphs which
girls often risk more than a cold in the head to display. The sight of
several snow-flakes on the broad shoulders which partially obstructed
her view, as well as the rapidly increasing animation of Pemberton's
chat, reminded her that it was high time to go.

"I mustn't keep you: it is beginning to storm," she said, taking up
her muff, much to old Jacob's satisfaction; for small talk is not
exciting to a hungry man whose nose feels like an icicle.

"Is it? I thought the sun was shining." And the absorbed gentleman
turned to the outer world with visible reluctance, for it looked very
warm and cosey in the red-lined carriage.

"Wise people say we must carry our sunshine with us," answered Rose,
taking refuge in commonplaces; for the face at the window grew pensive
suddenly, as he answered, with a longing look,--

"I wish I could:" then, smiling gratefully, he added, "Thank you for
giving me a little of yours."

"You are very welcome." And Rose offered him her hand, while her eyes
mutely asked pardon for withholding her leave to keep it.

He pressed it silently, and, shouldering the umbrella which he forgot
to open, turned away, with an "up-again-and-take-another" expression,
which caused the soft eyes to follow him admiringly.

"I ought not to have kept him a minute longer than I could help: for
it wasn't all pity; it was my foolish wish to show off and do as I
liked for a minute, to pay for being good about the gown. Oh me! how
weak and silly I am in spite of all my trying!" And Miss Campbell fell
into a remorseful reverie, which lasted till she got home.

"Now, young man, what brought you out in this driving storm?" asked
Rose, as Jamie came stamping in that same afternoon.

"Mamma sent you a new book,--thought you'd like it: _I_ don't mind
your old storms!" replied the boy, wrestling his way out of his coat,
and presenting a face as round and red and shiny as a well-polished
Baldwin apple.

"Much obliged: it is just the day to enjoy it, and I was longing for
something nice to read," said Rose, as Jamie sat down upon the lower
stair for a protracted struggle with his rubber boots.

"Here you are, then--no--yes--I do believe I've forgotten it, after
all!" cried Jamie, slapping his pockets one after the other, with a
dismayed expression of countenance.

"Never mind: I'll hunt up something else. Let me help with those: your
hands are so cold." And Rose, good-naturedly gave a tug at the boots,
while Jamie clutched the banisters; murmuring somewhat incoherently,
as his legs flew up and down,--

"I'll go back if you want me to. I'm so sorry! It's very good of you,
I'm sure. Getting these horrid things on made me forget. Mother would
make me wear 'em, though I told her they'd stick like--like gumdrops,"
he added, inspired by recollections of certain dire disappointments
when the above-mentioned sweetmeat melted in his pockets, and refused
to come out.

"Now what shall we do?" asked Rose, when he was finally extricated.
"Since I've nothing to read, I may as well play."

"I'll teach you to pitch and toss. You catch very well for a girl, but
you can't throw worth a cent," replied Jamie, gambading down the hall
in his slippers, and producing a ball from some of the mysterious
receptacles in which boys have the art of storing rubbish enough to
fill a peck measure.

Of course Rose agreed, and cheerfully risked getting her eyes
blackened and her fingers bruised, till her young preceptor gratefully
observed that "it was no fun playing where you had to look out for
windows and jars and things; so I'd like that jolly book about Captain
Nemo and the 'Nautilus,' please."

Being gratified, he spread himself upon the couch, crossed his legs in
the air, and without another word dived "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under
the Sea," where he remained for two mortal hours, to the general
satisfaction of his relatives.

Bereft both of her unexpected playfellow and the much-desired book,
Rose went into the parlor, there to discover a French novel, which
Kitty had taken from a library and left in the carriage among the
bundles. Settling herself in her favorite lounging-chair, she read as
diligently as Jamie, while the wind howled and snow fell fast without.

For an hour, nothing disturbed the cosey quiet of the house; for Aunt
Plenty was napping upstairs, and Dr. Alec writing in his own sanctum;
at least, Rose thought so, till his step made her hastily drop the
book, and look up with very much the expression she used to wear when
caught in mischief years ago.

"Did I startle you? Have a screen: you are burning your face before
this hot fire." And Dr. Alec pulled one forward.

"Thank you, uncle; I didn't feel it." And the color seemed to deepen
in spite of the screen, while the uneasy eyes fell upon the book in
her lap.

"Have you got the 'Quarterly' there? I want to glance at an article in
it, if you can spare it for a moment," he said, leaning toward her
with an inquiring glance.

"No, sir: I am reading--" And, without mentioning the name, Rose put
the book into his hand.

The instant his eye fell on the title, he understood the look she
wore, and knew what "mischief" she had been in. He knit his brows:
then smiled, because it was impossible to help it; Rose looked so
conscience-stricken in spite of her twenty years.

"How do you find it?--interesting?"

"Oh, very! I felt as if I was in another world, and forgot all about
this."

"Not a very good world, I fancy, if you were afraid or ashamed to be
found in it. Where did this come from?" asked Dr. Alec, surveying the
book with great disfavor.

Rose told him, and added slowly,--

"I particularly wanted to read it, and fancied I might, because you
did when it was so much talked about the winter we were in Rome."

"I did read it to see if it was fit for you."

"And decided that it was not, I suppose; since you never gave it to
me?"

"Yes."

"Then I won't finish it. But, uncle, I don't see why I should not,"
added Rose, wistfully; for she had reached the heart of the romance
and found it wonderfully fascinating.

"You may not _see_, but don't you _feel_ why not?" asked Dr. Alec,
gravely.

Rose leaned her flushed cheek on her hand and thought a minute; then
looked up, and answered honestly,--

"Yes, I do: but can't explain it; except that I know something _must_
be wrong, because I blushed and started when you came in."

"Exactly," and the doctor gave an emphatic nod, as if the symptoms
pleased him.

"But I really don't see any harm in the book so far. It is by a famous
author, wonderfully well written as you know, and the characters so
life-like that I feel as if I should really meet them somewhere."

"I hope not!" ejaculated the doctor, shutting the book quickly, as if
to keep the objectionable beings from escaping.

Rose laughed, but persisted in her defence; for she did want to
finish the absorbing story, yet would not without leave.

"I have read French novels before, and you gave them to me. Not many
to be sure, but the best; so I think I know what is good, and
shouldn't like this if it was harmful."

Her uncle's answer was to reopen the volume and turn the leaves an
instant as if to find a particular place; then he put it into her
hand, saying quietly,--

"Read a page or two aloud, translating as you go. You used to like
that: try it again."

Rose obeyed, and went glibly down a page, doing her best to give the
sense in her purest English. Presently she went more slowly, then
skipped a sentence here and there, and finally stopped short, looking
as if she needed a screen again.

"What's the matter?" asked her uncle, who had been watching her with a
serious eye.

"Some phrases are untranslatable, and it only spoils them to try. They
are not amiss in French, but sound coarse and bad in our blunt
English," she said a little pettishly; for she felt annoyed by her
failure to prove the contested point.

"Ah, my dear! if the fine phrases won't bear putting into honest
English, the thoughts they express won't bear putting into your
innocent mind. That chapter is the key to the whole book; and if you
had been led up, or rather down, to it artfully and artistically, you
might have read it to yourself without seeing how bad it is. All the
worse for the undeniable talent which hides the evil so subtly and
makes the danger so delightful."

He paused a moment, then added with an anxious glance at the book,
over which she was still bending,--

"Finish it if you choose: only remember, my girl, that one may read at
forty what is unsafe at twenty, and that we never can be too careful
what food we give that precious yet perilous thing called
imagination."

And taking his "Review" he went away to look over a learned article
which interested him much less than the workings of a young mind near
by.

Another long silence, broken only by an occasional excited bounce from
Jamie, when the sociable cuttle-fish looked in at the windows, or the
"Nautilus" scuttled a ship or two in its terrific course. A bell rang,
and the doctor popped his head out to see if he was wanted. It was
only a message for Aunt Plenty, and he was about to pop in again when
his eye was caught by a square parcel on the slab.

"What's this?" he asked, taking it up.

"Rose wants me to leave it at Kitty Van's when I go. I forgot to bring
her book from mamma; so I shall go and get it as soon as ever I've
done this," replied Jamie, from his nest.

As the volume in his hands was a corpulent one, and Jamie only a third
of the way through, Dr. Alec thought Rose's prospect rather doubtful;
and, slipping the parcel into his pocket, he walked away, saying with
a satisfied air,--

"Virtue doesn't always get rewarded; but it shall be this time, if I
can do it."

More than half an hour afterward, Rose woke from a little nap, and
found the various old favorites, with which she had tried to solace
herself, replaced by the simple, wholesome story promised by Aunt
Jessie.

"Good boy! I'll go and thank him," she said, half-aloud; jumping up,
wide awake and much pleased.

But she did not go; for, just then, she espied her uncle standing on
the rug warming his hands with a generally fresh and breezy look about
him, which suggested a recent struggle with the elements.

"How did this come?" she asked suspiciously.

"A man brought it."

"This man? O uncle! why did you take so much trouble just to gratify a
wish of mine?" she cried, taking both the cold hands in hers, with a
tenderly reproachful glance from the storm without to the ruddy face
above her.

"Because, having taken away your French bonbons with the poisonous
color on them, I wanted to get you something better. Here it is, all
pure sugar; the sort that sweetens the heart as well as the tongue,
and leaves no bad taste behind."

"How good you are to me! I don't deserve it; for I didn't resist
temptation, though I tried. Uncle, after I'd put the book away, I
thought I _must_ just see how it ended, and I'm afraid I should have
read it all if it had not been gone," said Rose, laying her face down
on the hands she held, as humbly as a repentant child.

But Uncle Alec lifted up the bent head, and looking into the eyes that
met his frankly, though either held a tear, he said, with the energy
that always made his words remembered,--

"My little girl, I would face a dozen storms far worse than this to
keep your soul as stainless as snow; for it is the small temptations
which undermine integrity, unless we watch and pray, and never think
them too trivial to be resisted."

Some people would consider Dr. Alec an over-careful man: but Rose felt
that he was right; and, when she said her prayers that night, added a
meek petition to be kept from yielding to three of the small temptations
which beset a rich, pretty, and romantic girl,--extravagance, coquetry,
and novel-reading.

CHAPTER XII.

_AT KITTY'S BALL._

Rose had no new gown to wear on this festive occasion, and gave one
little sigh of regret as she put on the pale blue silk, refreshed with
clouds of _gaze de Chambrey_. But a smile followed, very bright and
sweet, as she added the clusters of forget-me-not which Charlie had
conjured up through the agency of an old German florist: for one part
of her plan _had_ been carried out, and Prince was invited to be her
escort, much to his delight; though he wisely made no protestations of
any sort, and showed his gratitude by being a model gentleman. This
pleased Rose; for the late humiliation and a very sincere desire to
atone for it, gave him an air of pensive dignity which was very
effective.

Aunt Clara could not go; for a certain new cosmetic, privately used to
improve the once fine complexion, which had been her pride till late
hours impaired it, had brought out an unsightly eruption, reducing her
to the depths of woe, and leaving her no solace for her disappointment
but the sight of the elegant velvet dress spread forth upon her bed in
melancholy state.

So Aunt Jessie was chaperon, to Rose's great satisfaction, and looked
as "pretty as a pink," Archie thought, in her matronly pearl-colored
gown, with a dainty trifle of rich lace on her still abundant hair. He
was very proud of his little mamma, and as devoted as a lover, "to
keep his hand in against Phebe's return," she said laughingly, when he
brought her a nosegay of blush-roses to light up her quiet costume.

A happier mother did not live than Mrs. Jessie, as she sat contentedly
beside Sister Jane (who graced the frivolous scene in a serious black
gown with a diadem of purple asters nodding above her severe brow),
both watching their boys with the maternal conviction that no other
parent could show such remarkable specimens as these. Each had done
her best according to her light; and years of faithful care were now
beginning to bear fruit in the promise of goodly men, so dear to the
hearts of true mothers.

Mrs. Jessie watched her three tall sons with something like wonder;
for Archie was a fine fellow, grave and rather stately, but full of
the cordial courtesy and respect we see so little of now-a-days, and
which is the sure sign of good home-training. "The cadets," as Will
and Geordie called themselves, were there as gorgeous as you please;
and the agonies they suffered that night with tight boots and stiff
collars no pen can fitly tell. But only to one another did they
confide these sufferings, in the rare moments of repose when they
could stand on one aching foot with heads comfortably sunken inside
the excruciating collars, which rasped their ears and made the lobes
thereof a pleasing scarlet. Brief were these moments, however; and
the Spartan boys danced on with smiling faces, undaunted by the hidden
anguish which preyed upon them "fore and aft," as Will expressed it.

Mrs. Jane's pair were an odd contrast, and even the stern
disciplinarian herself could not help smiling as she watched them.
Steve was superb, and might have been married on the spot, so
superfine was his broadcloth, glossy his linen, and perfect the fit of
his gloves; while pride and happiness so fermented in his youthful
bosom, that there would have been danger of spontaneous combustion if
dancing had not proved a safety-valve; for his strong sense of the
proprieties would not permit him to vent his emotions in any other
way.

Kitty felt no such restraint, and looked like a blissful little gypsy,
with her brunette prettiness set off by a dashing costume of cardinal
and cream color, and every hair on her head curled in a Merry
Pecksniffian crop; for youth was her strong point, and she much
enjoyed the fact that she had been engaged three times before she was
nineteen.

To see her and Steve spin round the room was a sight to bring a smile
to the lips of the crustiest bachelor or saddest spinster; for happy
lovers are always a pleasing spectacle, and two such merry little
grigs as these are seldom seen.

Mac, meantime, with glasses astride of his nose, surveyed his
brother's performances "on the light fantastic" very much as a
benevolent Newfoundland would the gambols of a toy terrier, receiving
with thanks the hasty hints for his guidance which Steve breathed into
his ear as he passed, and forgetting all about them the next minute.
When not thus engaged, Mac stood about with his thumbs in his vest
pockets, regarding the lively crowd like a meditative philosopher of a
cheerful aspect, often smiling to himself at some whimsical fancy of
his own, knitting his brows as some bit of ill-natured gossip met his
ear, or staring with undisguised admiration as a beautiful face or
figure caught his eye.

"I hope that girl knows what a treasure she has got. But I doubt if
she ever fully appreciates it," said Mrs. Jane, bringing her
spectacles to bear upon Kitty, as she whisked by, causing quite a gale
with her flying skirts.

"I think she will: for Steve has been so well brought up, she cannot
but see and feel the worth of what she has never had; and being so
young she will profit by it," answered Mrs. Jessie, softly; thinking
of the days when she and her Jem danced together, just betrothed.

"I've done my duty by both the boys, and done it _thoroughly_: or
their father would have spoilt them; for he's no more idea of
discipline than a child," and Aunt Jane gave her own palm a smart rap
with her closed fan, emphasizing the word "thoroughly" in a most
suggestive manner.

"I've often wished I had your firmness, Jane: but, after all, I'm not
sure that I don't like my own way best, at least with my boys; for
plenty of love, and plenty of patience, seem to have succeeded pretty
well;" and Aunt Jessie lifted the nosegay from her lap, feeling as if
that unfailing love and patience were already blooming into her life,
as beautifully as the sweet-breathed roses given by her boy refreshed
and brightened these long hours of patient waiting in a corner.

"I don't deny that you've done well, Jessie; but you've been let
alone, and had no one to hold your hand or interfere. If my Mac had
gone to sea as your Jem did, I never should have been as severe as I
am. Men are so perverse and short-sighted, they don't trouble about
the future as long as things are quiet and comfortable in the
present," continued Mrs. Jane, quite forgetting that the short-sighted
partner of the firm, physically speaking at least, was herself.

"Ah, yes! we mothers love to foresee and foretell our children's lives
even before they are born, and are very apt to be disappointed if they
do not turn out as we planned. I know I am: yet I really have no cause
to complain, and am learning to see that all we can do is to give the
dear boys good principles, and the best training we may, then leave
them to finish what we have begun;" and Mrs. Jessie's eye wandered
away to Archie, dancing with Rose, quite unconscious what a pretty
little castle in the air tumbled down when he fell in love with
Phebe.

"Right, quite right: on that point we agree exactly. I have spared
nothing to give my boys good principles and good habits, and I am
willing to trust them anywhere. Nine times did I whip my Steve to cure
him of fibbing, and over and over again did Mac go without his dinner
rather than wash his hands. But I whipped and starved them both into
obedience, and _now_ I have my reward," concluded the "stern parent,"
with a proud wave of the fan, which looked very like a ferule, being
as big, hard, and uncompromising as such an article could be.

Mrs. Jessie gave a mild murmur of assent, but could not help thinking,
with a smile, that, in spite of their early tribulations, the sins for
which the boys suffered had got a little mixed in their results; for
fibbing Steve was now the tidy one, and careless Mac the truth-teller.
But such small contradictions will happen in the best-regulated
families, and all perplexed parents can do is to keep up a steadfast
preaching and practising, in the hope that it will bear fruit
sometime; for according to the old proverb,--

    "'Children pick up words as pigeons pease,
    To utter them again as God shall please.'"

"I hope they won't dance the child to death among them; for each one
seems bound to have his turn, even your sober Mac," said Mrs. Jessie,
a few minutes later, as she saw Archie hand Rose over to his cousin,
who carried her off with an air of triumph from several other
claimants.

"She's very good to him, and her influence is excellent; for he is of
an age now when a young woman's opinion has more weight than an old
one's. Though he is always good to his mother, and I feel as if I
should take great comfort in him. He's one of the sort who will not
marry till late, if ever, being fond of books and a quiet life,"
responded Mrs. Jane, remembering how often her son had expressed his
belief that philosophers should not marry, and brought up Plato as an
example of the serene wisdom only to be attained by a single man,
while her husband sided with Socrates, for whom he felt a profound
sympathy, though he didn't dare to own it.

"Well, I don't know about that. Since my Archie surprised me by losing
his heart as he did, I'm prepared for any thing, and advise you to do
likewise. I really shouldn't wonder if Mac did something remarkable in
that line, though he shows no signs of it yet, I confess," answered
Mrs. Jessie, laughing.

"It won't be in that direction, you may be sure; for _her_ fate is
sealed. Dear me, how sad it is to see a superior girl, like that,
about to throw herself away on a handsome scapegrace. I won't mention
names, but you understand me;" and Mrs. Jane shook her head, as if she
_could_ mention the name of one superior girl who had thrown herself
away, and now saw the folly of it.

"I'm very anxious, of course, and so is Alec: but it may be the saving
of one party, and the happiness of the other; for some women love to
give more than they receive," said Mrs. Jessie, privately wondering,
for the thousandth time, why brother Mac ever married the learned Miss
Humphries.

"You'll see that it won't prosper; and I shall always maintain that a
wife cannot entirely undo a mother's work. Rose will have her hands
full if she tries to set all Clara's mistakes right," answered Aunt
Jane, grimly; then began to fan violently as their hostess approached
to have a dish of chat about "our dear young people."

Rose was in a merry mood that night, and found Mac quite ready for
fun, which was fortunate, since her first remark set them off on a
droll subject.

"O Mac! Annabel has just confided to me that she is engaged to Fun
See! Think of her going to housekeeping in Canton some day, and having
to order rats, puppies, and birds'-nest soup for dinner," whispered
Rose, too much amused to keep the news to herself.

"By Confucius! isn't that a sweet prospect?" and Mac burst out
laughing, to the great surprise of his neighbors, who wondered what
there was amusing about the Chinese sage. "It is rather alarming,
though, to have these infants going on at this rate. Seems to be
catching; a new sort of scarlet-fever, to judge by Annabel's cheeks
and Kitty's gown," he added, regarding the aforesaid ladies with eyes
still twinkling with merriment.

"Don't be ungallant, but go and do likewise; for it is all the
fashion. I heard Mrs. Van tell old Mrs. Joy that it was going to be a
marrying year; so you'll be sure to catch it," answered Rose, reefing
her skirts; for, with all his training, Mac still found it difficult
to keep his long legs out of the man-traps.

"It doesn't look like a painful disease; but I must be careful, for
I've no time to be ill now. What are the symptoms?" asked Mac, trying
to combine business with pleasure, and improve his mind while doing
his duty.

"If you ever come back I'll tell you," laughed Rose, as he danced away
into the wrong corner, bumped smartly against another gentleman, and
returned as soberly as if that was the proper figure.

"Well, tell me 'how not to do it,'" he said, subsiding for a moment's
talk when Rose had floated to and fro in her turn.

"Oh! you see some young girl who strikes you as particularly
charming,--whether she really is or not doesn't matter a bit,--and you
begin to think about her a great deal, to want to see her, and to get
generally sentimental and absurd," began Rose, finding it difficult to
give a diagnosis of the most mysterious disease under the sun.

"Don't think it sounds enticing. Can't I find an antidote somewhere;
for if it is in the air this year I'm sure to get it, and it may be
fatal," said Mac, who felt pretty lively and liked to make Rose merry;
for he suspected that she had a little trouble from a hint Dr. Alec
had given him.

"I hope you will catch it, because you'll be so funny."

"Will you take care of me as you did before, or have you got your
hands full?"

"I'll help; but really with Archie and Steve and--Charlie, I shall
have enough to do. You'd better take it lightly the first time, and so
won't need much care."

"Very well, how shall I begin? Enlighten my ignorance and start me
right, I beg."

"Go about and see people; make yourself agreeable, and not sit in
corners observing other people as if they were puppets dancing for
your amusement. I heard Mrs. Van once say that propinquity works
wonders; and she ought to know, having married off two daughters, and
just engaged a third to 'a most charming young man.'"

"Good lack! the cure sounds worse than the disease. Propinquity, hey?
Why, I may be in danger this identical moment, and can't flee for my
life," said Mac, gently catching her round the waist for a general
waltz.

"Don't be alarmed, but mind your steps; for Charlie is looking at us,
and I want you to do your best. That's perfect: take me quite round;
for I love to waltz, and seldom get a good turn except with you boys,"
said Rose, smiling up at him approvingly, as his strong arm guided her
among the revolving couples, and his feet kept time without a fault.

"This certainly is a great improvement on the chair business, to
which I have devoted myself with such energy that I've broken the
backs of two partners and dislocated the arm of the old rocker. I took
an occasional turn with that heavy party, thinking it good practice in
case I ever happen to dance with stout ladies," and Mac nodded toward
Annabel, pounding gaily away with Mr. Tokio, whose yellow countenance
beamed as his beady eyes rested on his plump _fiancée_.

Pausing in the midst of her merriment at the image of Mac and the old
rocking-chair, Rose said reprovingly,--

"Though a heathen Chinee, Fun puts you to shame; for _he_ did not ask
foolish questions, but went a wooing like a sensible little man; and
I've no doubt Annabel will be very happy."

"Choose me a suitable divinity, and I will try to adore. Can I do more
than that to retrieve my character?" answered Mac, safely landing his
partner, and plying the fan according to instructions.

"How would Emma do?" inquired Rose, whose sense of the ludicrous was
strong, and who could not resist the temptation of horrifying Mac by
the suggestion.

"Never! It sets my teeth on edge to look at her to-night. I suppose
that dress is 'a sweet thing just out;' but, upon my word, she reminds
me of nothing but a harlequin ice," and Mac turned his back on her
with a shudder; for he was sensitive to discords of all kinds.

"She certainly does; and that mixture of chocolate, pea green, and
pink is simply detestable, though many people would consider it
decidedly 'chic,' to use her favorite word. I suppose you will dress
your wife like a Spartan matron of the time of Lycurgus," added Rose,
much tickled by his new conceit.

"I'll wait till I get her before I decide. But one thing I'm sure
of,--she shall _not_ dress like a Greek dancer of the time of
Pericles," answered Mac, regarding with great disfavor a young lady
who, having a statuesque figure, affected drapery of the scanty and
clinging description.

"Then it is of no use to suggest that classic creature; so, as you
reject my first attempts, I won't go on, but look about me quietly,
and you had better do the same. Seriously, Mac, more gayety and less
study would do you good; for you will grow old before your time, if
you shut yourself up and pore over books so much."

"I don't believe there is a younger or a jollier feeling fellow in the
room than I am, though I may not conduct myself like a dancing
dervish. But I own you may be right about the books; for there are
many sorts of intemperance, and a library is as irresistible to me as
a bar-room to a toper. I shall have to sign a pledge, and cork up the
only bottle that tempts me,--my inkstand."

"I'll tell you how to make it easier to abstain. Stop studying, and
write a novel into which you can put all your wise things, and so
clear your brains for a new start by and by. Do: I should _so_ like
to read it," cried Rose, delighted with the project; for she was sure
Mac could do any thing he liked in that line.

"First live, then write. How can I go to romancing till I know what
romance means?" he asked soberly, feeling that so far he had had very
little in his life.

"Then you must find out, and nothing will help you more than to love
some one very much. Do as I've advised, and be a modern Diogenes going
about with spectacles, instead of a lantern, in search, not of an
honest man, but a perfect woman. I do hope you will be successful,"
and Rose made her courtesy as the dance ended.

"I don't expect perfection, but I _should_ like one as good as they
ever make them now-a-days. If you are looking for the honest man, I
wish you success in return," said Mac, relinquishing her fan with a
glance of such sympathetic significance that a quick flush of feeling
rose to the girl's face, as she answered very low,--

"If honesty was all I wanted, I certainly have found it in you."

Then she went away with Charlie, who was waiting for his turn, and Mac
roamed about, wondering if anywhere in all that crowd his future wife
was hidden, saying to himself, as he glanced from face to face, quite
unresponsive to the various allurements displayed,--

    "What care I how fair she be,
    If she be not fair for me?"

Just before supper, several young ladies met in the dressing-room to
repair damages; and, being friends, they fell into discourse, as they
smoothed their locks, and had their tattered furbelows sewed or pinned
up by the neat-handed Phillis in waiting.

When each had asked the other, "How do I look to-night, dear?" and
been answered with reciprocal enthusiasm, "Perfectly lovely, darling!"
Kitty said to Rose, who was helping her to restore order out of the
chaos to which much exercise had reduced her curls,--

"By the way, young Randal is dying to be presented to you. May I after
supper?"

"No, thank you," answered Rose, very decidedly.

"Well, I'm sure I don't see why not," began Kitty, looking displeased,
but not surprised.

"I think you do, else why didn't you present him when he asked? You
seldom stop to think of etiquette: why did you now?"

"I didn't like to do it till I had--you are so particular--I thought
you'd say 'No;' but I couldn't tell him so," stammered Kitty, feeling
that she had better have settled the matter herself; for Rose _was_
very particular, and had especial reason to dislike this person,
because he was not only a dissipated young reprobate himself, but
seemed possessed of Satan to lead others astray likewise.

"I don't wish to be rude, dear: but I really must decline; for I
cannot know such people, even though I meet them here," said Rose,
remembering Charlie's revelations on New-Year's night, and hardening
her heart against the man who had been his undoing on that as well as
on other occasions, she had reason to believe.

"I couldn't help it! Old Mr. Randal and papa are friends; and, though
I spoke of it, brother Alf wouldn't hear of passing that bad boy
over," explained Kitty, eagerly.

"Yet Alf forbade your driving or skating with him; for he knows better
than we how unfit he is to come among us."

"I'd drop him to-morrow if I could; but I must be civil in my own
house. His mother brought him, and he won't dare to behave here as he
does at their bachelor parties."

"She ought not to have brought him till he had shown some desire to
mend his ways. It is none of my business, I know; but I do wish people
wouldn't be so inconsistent, letting boys go to destruction, and then
expecting us girls to receive them like decent people." Rose spoke in
an energetic whisper, but Annabel heard her, and exclaimed, as she
turned round with a powder-puff in her hand,--

"My goodness, Rose! what is all that about going to destruction?"

"She is being strong-minded; and I don't very much blame her in this
case. But it leaves me in a dreadful scrape," said Kitty, supporting
her spirits with a sniff of aromatic vinegar.

"I appeal to you, since you heard me, and there's no one here but
ourselves: do you consider young Randal a nice person to know?" and
Rose turned to Annabel and Emma with an anxious eye; for she did not
find it easy to abide by her principles when so doing annoyed friends.

"No, indeed: he's perfectly horrid! Papa says he and Gorham are the
wildest young men he knows, and enough to spoil the whole set. I'm so
glad I've got no brothers," responded Annabel, placidly powdering her
pink arms, quite undeterred by the memory of sundry white streaks left
on sundry coat-sleeves.

"_I_ think that sort of scrupulousness is very ill-bred, if you'll
excuse my saying so, Rose. _We_ are not supposed to know any thing
about fastness, and wildness, and so on; but to treat every man alike,
and not be fussy and prudish," said Emma, settling her many-colored
streamers with the superior air of a woman of the world, aged twenty.

"Ah! but we do know; and, if our silence and civility have no effect,
we ought to try something else, and not encourage wickedness of any
kind. We needn't scold and preach, but we _can_ refuse to know such
people; and that will do some good, for they don't like to be shunned
and shut out from respectable society. Uncle Alec told me not to know
that man, and I won't." Rose spoke with unusual warmth, forgetting
that she could not tell the real reason for her strong prejudice
against "that man."

"Well, _I_ know him: _I_ think him very jolly, and I'm engaged to
dance the German with him after supper. He leads quite as well as your
cousin Charlie, and is quite as fascinating, some people think,"
returned Emma, tossing her head disdainfully; for Prince Charming did
not worship at her shrine, and it piqued her vanity.

In spite of her quandary, Rose could not help smiling as she recalled
Mac's comparison; for Emma turned so red with spiteful chagrin, she
seemed to have added strawberry-ice to the other varieties composing
the Harlequin.

"Each must judge for herself. I shall follow Aunt Jessie's advice, and
try to keep my atmosphere as pure as I can; for she says every woman
has her own little circle, and in it can use her influence for good,
if she will. I do will heartily; and I'll prove that I'm neither proud
nor fussy by receiving, here or at home, any respectable man you like
to present to me, no matter how poor or plain or insignificant he may
be."

With which declaration Rose ended her protest, and the four damsels
streamed downstairs together like a wandering rainbow. But Kitty laid
to heart what she had said; Annabel took credit to herself for siding
with her; and Emma owned that _she_ was not trying to keep her
atmosphere pure when she came to dance with the objectionable Randal.
So Rose's "little circle" was the better for the influence she tried
to exert, although she never knew it.

All supper-time, Charlie kept near her, and she was quite content with
him; for he drank only coffee, and she saw him shake his head with a
frown when young Van beckoned him toward an anteroom, from whence the
sound of popping corks had issued with increasing frequency as the
evening wore on.

"Dear fellow, he does try," thought Rose, longing to show how she
admired his self-denial; but she could only say, as they left the
supper-room with the aunts, who were going early,--

"If I had not promised uncle to get home as soon after midnight as
possible, I'd stay and dance the German with you; for you deserve a
reward to-night."

"A thousand thanks! but I am going when you do," answered Charlie,
understanding both her look and words, and very grateful for them.

"Really?" cried Rose, delighted.

"Really. I'll be in the hall when you come down." And Charlie thought
the Fra Angelico angel was not half so bright and beautiful as the one
who looked back at him out of a pale-blue cloud, as Rose went upstairs
as if on wings.

When she came down again, Charlie was not in the hall, however; and,
after waiting a few minutes, Mac offered to go and find him, for Aunt
Jane was still hunting a lost rubber above.

"Please say I'm ready, but he needn't come if he doesn't want to,"
said Rose, not wishing to demand too much of her promising penitent.

"If he has gone into that bar-room, I'll have him out, no matter who
is there!" growled Mac to himself, as he made his way to the small
apartment whither the gentlemen retired for a little private
refreshment when the spirit moved, as it often did.

The door was ajar, and Charlie seemed to have just entered; for Mac
heard a familiar voice call out, in a jovial tone,--

"Come, Prince! you're just in time to help us drink Steve's health
with all the honors."

"Can't stop; only ran in to say good-night, Van. Had a capital time;
but I'm on duty, and must go."

"That's a new dodge. Take a stirrup-cup anyway, and come back in time
for a merry-go-rounder when you've disposed of the ladies," answered
the young host, diving into the wine-cooler for another bottle.

"Charlie's going in for sanctity, and it doesn't seem to agree with
him," laughed one of the two other young men, who occupied several
chairs apiece, resting their soles in every sense of the word.

"Apron-strings are coming into fashion,--the bluer the better: hey,
Prince?" added the other, trying to be witty, with the usual success.

"You'd better go home early yourself, Barrow, or that tongue of yours
will get you into trouble," retorted Charlie, conscious that he ought
to take his own advice, yet lingering, nervously putting on his
gloves, while the glasses were being filled.

"Now, brother-in-law, fire away! Here you are, Prince." And Steve
handed a glass across the table to his cousin, feeling too much elated
with various pleasurable emotions to think what he was doing; for the
boys all knew Charlie's weakness, and usually tried to defend him from
it.

Before the glass could be taken, however, Mac entered in a great
hurry, delivering his message in an abbreviated and rather peremptory
form,--

"Rose is waiting for you. Hurry up!"

"All right. Good-night, old fellows!" And Charlie was off, as if the
name had power to stop him in the very act of breaking the promise
made to himself.

"Come, Solon, take a social drop, and give us an epithalamium in your
best Greek. Here's to you!" And Steve was lifting the wine to his own
lips, when Mac knocked the glass out of his hand, with a flash of the
eye that caused his brother to stare at him, with his mouth open, in
an imbecile sort of way, which seemed to excite Mac still more; for,
turning to his young host, he said, in a low voice, and with a look
that made the gentlemen on the chairs sit up suddenly,--

"I beg pardon, Van, for making a mess; but I can't stand by and see my
own brother tempt another man beyond his strength, or make a brute of
himself. That's plain English: but I can't help speaking out; for I
know not one of you would willingly hurt Charlie, and you will if you
don't let him alone."

"What do you pitch into me for? I've done nothing. A fellow must be
civil in his own house, mustn't he?" asked Van, good-humoredly, as he
faced about, corkscrew in hand.

"Yes, but it is not civil to urge or joke a guest into doing what you
know and he knows is bad for him. That's only a glass of wine to you,
but it is perdition to Charlie; and, if Steve knew what he was about,
he'd cut his right hand off before he'd offer it."

"Do you mean to say I'm tipsy?" demanded Steve, ruffling up like a
little game-cock; for, though he saw now what he had done and was
ashamed of it, he hated to have Mac air his peculiar notions before
other people.

"With excitement, not champagne, I hope; for I wouldn't own you if you
were," answered Mac, in whom indignation was effervescing like the
wine in the forgotten bottle; for the men were all young, friends of
Steve's and admirers of Charlie's. "Look here, boys," he went on more
quietly: "I know I ought not to explode in this violent sort of way,
but upon my life I couldn't help it, when I heard what you were saying
and saw what Steve was doing. Since I _have_ begun I may as well
finish, and tell you straight out that Prince can't stand this sort of
thing. He is trying to flee temptation, and whoever leads him into it
does a cowardly and sinful act; for the loss of one's own self-respect
is bad enough, without losing the more precious things that make life
worth having. Don't tell him I've said this, but lend a hand if you
can, and never have to reproach yourselves with the knowledge that you
helped to ruin a fellow-creature, soul and body."

It was well for the success of Mac's first crusade, that his hearers
were gentlemen and sober: so his outburst was not received with jeers
or laughter, but listened to in silence, while the expression of the
faces changed from one of surprise to regret and respect; for
earnestness is always effective, and championship of this sort seldom
fails to touch hearts as yet unspoiled. As he paused with an eloquent
little quiver in his eager voice, Van corked the bottle at a blow,
threw down the corkscrew, and offered Mac his hand, saying heartily,
in spite of his slang,--

"You are a first-class old brick! I'll lend a hand for one, and do my
best to back up Charlie; for he's the finest fellow I know, and shan't
go to the devil like poor Randal if _I_ can help it."

Murmurs of applause from the others seemed to express a general assent
to this vigorous statement; and, giving the hand a grateful shake, Mac
retreated to the door, anxious to be off now that he had freed his
mind with such unusual impetuosity.

"Count on me for any thing I can do in return for this, Van. I'm sorry
to be such a marplot, but you can take it out in quizzing me after I'm
gone. I'm fair game, and Steve can set you going."

With that, Mac departed as abruptly as he came, feeling that he _had_
"made a mess" of it; but comforting himself with the thought that
perhaps he had secured help for Charlie at his own expense, and
thinking with a droll smile as he went back to his mother,--

"My romance begins by looking after other girls' lovers instead of
finding a sweetheart for myself; but I can't tell Rose, so _she_ won't
laugh at me."

CHAPTER XIII.

_BOTH SIDES._

Steve's engagement made a great stir in the family: a pleasant one
this time; for nobody objected, every thing seemed felicitous, and the
course of true love ran very smoothly for the young couple, who
promised to remove the only obstacle to their union by growing old and
wise as soon as possible. If he had not been so genuinely happy, the
little lover's airs would have been unbearable; for he patronized all
mankind in general, his brother and elder cousins in particular.

"Now that is the way to manage matters," he declared, standing before
the fire in Aunt Clara's billiard room a day or two after the ball,
with his hands behind his back,--"no nonsense, no delay, no domestic
rows or tragic separations. Just choose with taste and judgment, make
yourself agreeable through thick and thin; and, when it is perfectly
evident that the dear creature adores the ground you walk on, say the
word like a man, and there you are."

"All very easy to do that with a girl like Kitty, who has no
confounded notions to spoil her and trip you up every time you don't
exactly toe the mark," muttered Charlie, knocking the balls about as
if it were a relief to hit something; for he was in a gloriously bad
humor that evening, because time hung heavy on his hands since he had
forsworn the company he could not keep without danger to himself.

"You should humor those little notions; for all women have them, and
it needs tact to steer clear of them. Kitty's got dozens; but I treat
them with respect, have my own way when I can, give in without
growling when I can't, and we get on like a couple of--"

"Spoons," put in Charlie, who felt that he had _not_ steered clear,
and so suffered shipwreck in sight of land.

Steve meant to have said "doves," but his cousin's levity caused him
to add with calm dignity, "reasonable beings," and then revenged
himself by making a good shot which won him the game.

"You always were a lucky little dog, Steve. I don't begrudge you a
particle of your happiness, but it does seem as if things weren't
quite fair sometimes," said Archie, suppressing an envious sigh; for,
though he seldom complained, it was impossible to contrast his own and
his cousin's prospects with perfect equanimity.

    "'His worth shines forth the brightest who in hope
    Always confides: the abject soul despairs,'"

observed Mac, quoting Euripides in a conversational tone, as he lay
upon a divan reposing after a hard day's work.

"Thank you," said Archie, brightening a little; for a hopeful word
from any source was very comfortable.

"That's your favorite Rip, isn't it? He was a wise old boy, but you
could find advice as good as that nearer home," put in Steve, who just
then felt equal to slapping Plato on the shoulder; so elated was he at
being engaged "first of all the lot," as he gracefully expressed it.

"Don't halloo till you are out of the wood, Dandy: Mrs. Kit has jilted
two men, and may a third; so you'd better not brag of your wisdom too
soon; for she may make a fool of you yet," said Charlie, cynically,
his views of life being very gloomy about this time.

"No, she won't, Steve, if you do your part honestly. There's the
making of a good little woman in Kitty, and she has proved it by
taking you instead of those other fellows. You are not a Solomon, but
you're not spoilt yet; and she had the sense to see it," said Mac,
encouragingly from his corner; for he and his brother were better
friends than ever since the little scene at the Van Tassels.

"Hear! hear!" cried Steve, looking more than ever like a cheerful
young cockerel trying to crow, as he stood upon the hearth-rug with
his hands under his coat-tails, rising and falling alternately upon
the toes and heels of his neat little boots.

"Come, you've given them each a pat on the head: haven't you got one
for me? I need it enough; for if ever there was a poor devil born
under an evil star, it is C. C. Campbell," exclaimed Charlie, leaning
his chin on his cue with a discontented expression of countenance; for
trying to be good is often very hard work till one gets used to it.

"Oh, yes! I can accommodate you;" and, as if his words suggested the
selection, Mac, still lying flat upon his back, repeated one of his
favorite bits from Beaumont and Fletcher; for he had a wonderful
memory, and could reel off poetry by the hour together.

    "'Man is his own star: and the soul that can
    Render an honest and a perfect man
    Commands all light, all influence, all fate;
    Nothing to him falls early or too late.
    Our acts our angels are; or good or ill,
    Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.'"

"Confoundedly bad angels they are too," muttered Charlie, ruefully;
remembering the one that undid him.

His cousins never knew exactly what occurred on New-Year's night, but
suspected that something was amiss; for Charlie had the blues, and
Rose, though as kind as ever, expressed no surprise at his long
absences. They had all observed and wondered at this state of things,
yet discreetly made no remark, till Steve, who was as inquisitive as a
magpie, seized this opportunity to say in a friendly tone, which
showed that he bore no malice for the dark prophecy regarding his
Kitty's faithfulness,--

"What's the trouble, Prince? You are so seldom in a bad humor that we
don't know what to make of it, and all feel out of spirits when you
have the blues. Had a tiff with Rose?"

"Never you mind, little boy; but this I will say,--the better women
are, the more unreasonable they are. They don't require us to be
saints like themselves, which is lucky; but they do expect us to
render 'an honest and a perfect man' sometimes, and that is asking
rather too much in a fallen world like this," said Charlie, glad to
get a little sympathy, though he had no intention of confessing his
transgressions.

"No, it isn't," said Mac, decidedly.

"Much you know about it," began Charlie, ill pleased to be so flatly
contradicted.

"Well, I know this much," added Mac, suddenly sitting up with his hair
in a highly dishevelled condition. "It is very unreasonable in us to
ask women to be saints, and then expect them to feel honored when we
offer them our damaged hearts, or, at best, ones not half as good as
theirs. If they weren't blinded by love, they'd see what a mean
advantage we take of them, and not make such bad bargains."

"Upon my word, the philosopher is coming out strong upon the subject!
We shall have him preaching 'Women's Rights' directly," cried Steve,
much amazed at this outburst.

"I've begun you see, and much good may it do you," answered Mac,
laying himself placidly down again.

"Well, but look here, man: you are arguing on the wrong side," put in
Archie, quite agreeing with him, but feeling that he must stand by his
order at all costs.

"Never mind sides, uphold the right wherever you find it. You needn't
stare, Steve: I told you I was going to look into this matter, and I
am. You think I'm wrapt up in books: but I see a great deal more of
what is going on round me than you imagine; and I'm getting on in this
new branch, let me tell you; quite as fast as is good for me, I dare
say."

"Going in for perfection, are you?" asked Charlie, both amused and
interested; for he respected Mac more than he owned even to himself,
and though he had never alluded to the timely warning, neither forgot.

"Yes, I think of it."

"How will you begin?"

"Do my best all round: keep good company, read good books, love good
things, and cultivate soul and body as faithfully and wisely as I
can."

"And you expect to succeed, do you?"

"Please God, I will."

The quiet energy of Mac's last words produced a momentary silence.
Charlie thoughtfully studied the carpet; Archie, who had been absently
poking the fire, looked over at Mac as if he thanked him again; and
Steve, forgetting his self-conceit, began to wonder if it was not
possible to improve himself a little for Kitty's sake. Only a minute;
for young men do not give much time to thoughts of this kind, even
when love stirs up the noblest impulses within them. To act rather
than to talk is more natural to most of them, as Charlie's next
question showed; for, having the matter much at heart, he ventured to
ask in an offhand way, as he laughed and twirled his cue,--

"Do you intend to reach the highest point of perfection before you
address one of the fair saints, or shall you ask her to lend a hand
somewhere short of that?"

"As it takes a long lifetime to do what I plan, I think I shall ask
some good woman 'to lend a hand' when I've got any thing worth
offering her. Not a saint, for I never shall be one myself, but a
gentle creature who will help me, as I shall try to help her; so that
we can go on together, and finish our work hereafter, if we haven't
time to do it here."

If Mac had been a lover, he would not have discussed the subject in
this simple and sincere fashion, though he might have felt it far more
deeply; but being quite heart-free he frankly showed his interest,
and, curiously enough, out of his wise young head unconsciously gave
the three lovers before him counsel which they valued, because he
practised what he preached.

"Well, I hope you'll find her!" said Charlie, heartily, as he went
back to his game.

"I think I shall," and, while the others played, Mac lay staring at
the window-curtain, as contentedly as if, through it, he beheld "a
dream of fair women," from which to choose his future mate.

A few days after this talk in the billiard-room, Kitty went to call
upon Rose; for, as she was about to enter the family, she felt it her
duty to become acquainted with all its branches. This branch, however,
she cultivated more assiduously than any other, and was continually
running in to confer with "Cousin Rose," whom she considered the
wisest, dearest, kindest girl ever created. And Rose, finding that, in
spite of her flighty head, Kitty had a good heart of her own, did her
best to encourage all the new hopes and aspirations springing up in it
under the warmth of the first genuine affection she had ever known.

"My dear, I want to have some serious conversation with you upon a
subject in which I take an interest for the first time in my life,"
began Miss Kitty, seating herself and pulling off her gloves, as if
the subject was one which needed a firm grasp.

"Tell away, and don't mind if I go on working, as I want to finish
this job to-day," answered Rose, with a long-handled paint-brush in
her hand, and a great pair of shears at her side.

"You are always so busy! What is it now? Let me help: I can talk
faster when I'm doing something," which seemed hardly possible; for
Kitty's tongue went like a mill-clapper at all hours.

"Making picture-books for my sick babies at the hospital. Pretty work,
isn't it? You cut out, and I'll paste them on these squares of gay
cambric: then we just tie up a few pages with a ribbon; and there is a
nice, light, durable book for the poor dears to look at as they lie in
their little beds."

"A capital idea. Do you go there often? How ever do you find the time
for such things?" asked Kitty, busily cutting from a big sheet the
touching picture of a parent bird with a red head and a blue tail,
offering what looked like a small boa-constrictor to one of its
nestlings; a fat young squab with a green head, yellow body, and no
tail at all.

"I have plenty of time now I don't go out so much; for a party uses up
two days generally,--one to prepare for it, and one to get over it,
you know."

"People think it is so odd of you to give up society all of a sudden.
They say you have 'turned pious,' and it is owing to your peculiar
bringing up. I always take your part, and say it is a pity other girls
haven't as sensible an education; for I don't know one who is as
satisfactory on the whole as you are."

"Much obliged. You may also tell people I gave up gayety because I
valued health more. But I haven't forsworn every thing of the kind,
Kit. I go to concerts and lectures, and all sorts of early things, and
have nice times at home, as you know. I like fun as well as ever: but
I'm getting on, you see, and must be preparing a little for the
serious part of life; one never knows when it may come," said Rose,
thoughtfully, as she pasted a squirrel upside-down on the pink cotton
page before her.

"That reminds me of what I wanted to say. If you'll believe me, my
dear, Steve has got that very idea into his head! Did you or Mac put
it there?" asked Kitty, industriously clashing her shears.

"No, I've given up lecturing the boys lately: they are so big now they
don't like it, and I fancy I'd got into a way that was rather
tiresome."

"Well, then, _he_ is 'turning pious' too. And what is very singular, I
like it. Now don't smile: I really do; and I want to be getting ready
for the 'serious part of life,' as you call it. That is, I want to
grow better as fast as I can; for Steve says he isn't half good enough
for me. Just think of that!"

Kitty looked so surprised and pleased and proud, that Rose felt no
desire to laugh at her sudden fancy for sobriety, but said in her most
sympathetic tone,--

"I'm very glad to hear it; for it shows that he loves you in the right
way."

"Is there more than one way?"

"Yes, I fancy so; because some people improve so much after they fall
in love, and others do not at all. Have you never observed that?"

"I never learned how to observe. Of course, I know that some matches
turn out well and some don't; but I never thought much about it."

"Well, I have; for I was rather interested in the subject lately, and
had a talk with Aunt Jessie and uncle about it."

"Gracious! you don't talk to them about such things, do you?"

"Yes, indeed; I ask any question I like, and always get a good answer.
It is such a nice way to learn, Kitty; for you don't have to poke over
books, but as things come along you talk about them, and remember; and
when they are spoken of afterward you understand and are interested,
though you don't say a word," explained Rose.

"It must be nice; but I haven't any one to do so for me. Papa is too
busy, and mamma always says when I ask questions, 'Don't trouble your
head with such things, child;' so I don't. What did you learn about
matches turning out well? I'm interested in that, because I want mine
to be quite perfect in all respects."

"After thinking it over, I came to the conclusion that uncle _was_
right, and it is _not_ always safe to marry a person just because you
love him," began Rose, trying to enlighten Kitty without betraying
herself.

"Of course not: if they haven't money or are bad. But otherwise I
don't see what more is needed," said Kitty, wonderingly.

"One should stop and see if it is a wise love, likely to help both
parties, and wear well; for you know it ought to last all one's
lifetime, and it is very sad if it doesn't."

"I declare it quite scares me to think of it; for I don't usually go
beyond my wedding-day in making plans. I remember, though, that when I
was engaged the first time (you don't know the man: it was just after
you went away, and I was only sixteen), some one very ill-naturedly
said I should 'marry in haste and repent at leisure;' and that made me
try to imagine how it would seem to go on year after year with
Gustavus (who had a dreadful temper, by the way), and it worried me so
to think of it that I broke the engagement, and was so glad ever
afterward."

"You were a wise girl; and I hope you'll do it again, if you find,
after a time, that you and Steve do not truly trust and respect as
well as love one another. If you don't, you'll be miserable when it is
too late, as so many people are who do marry in haste and have a
lifetime to repent in. Aunt Jessie says so, and she knows."

"Don't be solemn, Rose. It fidgets me to think about lifetimes, and
respecting, and all those responsible things. I'm not used to it, and
I don't know how to do it."

"But you _must_ think, and you must learn how before you take the
responsibility upon yourself. That is what your life is for; and you
mustn't spoil it by doing a very solemn thing without seeing if you
are ready for it."

"Do you think about all this?" asked Kitty, shrugging up her shoulders
as if responsibility of any sort did not sit comfortably on them.

"One has to sometimes, you know. But is that all you wanted to tell
me?" added Rose, anxious to turn the conversation from herself.

"Oh, dear, no! The most serious thing of all is this. Steve is putting
himself in order generally, and so I want to do my part; and I must
begin right away before my thoughts get distracted with clothes, and
all sorts of dear, delightful, frivolous things that I can't help
liking. Now I wish you'd tell me where to begin. Shouldn't I improve
my mind by reading something solid?" and Kitty looked over at the
well-filled book-case, as if to see if it contained any thing large
and dry enough to be considered "solid."

"It would be an excellent plan, and we'll look up something. What do
you feel as if you needed most?"

"A little of every thing I should say; for when I look into my mind
there really doesn't seem to be much there but odds and ends, and yet
I'm sure I've read a great deal more than some girls do. I suppose
novels don't count, though, and are of no use; for, goodness knows,
the people and things they describe aren't a bit like the real ones."

"Some novels are very useful and do as much good as sermons, I've
heard uncle say; because they not only describe truly, but teach so
pleasantly that people like to learn in that way," said Rose, who knew
the sort of books Kitty had read, and did not wonder that she felt
rather astray when she tried to guide herself by their teaching.

"You pick me out some of the right kind, and I'll apply my mind to
them. Then I ought to have some 'serious views' and 'methods' and
'principles;' Steve said 'principles,' good firm ones, you know," and
Kitty gave a little pull at the bit of cambric she was cutting, as
housewives pull cotton or calico when they want "a good firm article."

Rose could not help laughing now, though much pleased; for Kitty was
so prettily in earnest, and yet so perfectly ignorant how to begin on
the self-improvement she very much needed, that it was pathetic as
well as comical to see and hear her.

"You certainly want some of those, and must begin at once to get them:
but Aunt Jessie can help you there better than I can; or Aunt Jane,
for she has very 'firm' ones, I assure you," said Rose, sobering down
as quickly as possible.

"Mercy on us! I should never dare to say a word about it to Mrs. Mac:
for I'm dreadfully afraid of her, she is so stern; and how I'm ever to
get on when she is my mother-in-law I don't know!" cried Kitty,
clasping her hands in dismay at the idea.

"She isn't half as stern as she looks; and if you go to her without
fear, you've no idea how sensible and helpful she is. I used to be
frightened out of my wits with her, but now I'm not a bit, and we get
on nicely: indeed I'm fond of her, she is so reliable and upright in
all things."

"She certainly is the straightest woman I ever saw, and the most
precise. I never shall forget how scared I was when Steve took me up
to see her that first time. I put on all my plainest things, did my
hair in a meek knob, and tried to act like a sober, sedate young
woman. Steve would laugh at me, and say I looked like a pretty nun, so
I couldn't be as proper as I wished. Mrs. Mac was very kind, of
course; but her eye was so sharp I felt as if she saw right through
me, and knew that I'd pinned on my bonnet-strings, lost a button off
my boot, and didn't brush my hair for ten minutes every night," said
Kitty, in an awe-stricken tone.

"She likes you, though, and so does uncle, and he's set his heart on
having you live with them by and by; so don't mind her eyes, but look
straight up at her, and you'll see how kind they can grow."

"Mac likes me too, and that did please me; for he doesn't like girls
generally. Steve told me he said I had the 'making of a capital little
woman in me.' Wasn't it nice of him? Steve was _so_ proud, though he
does laugh at Mac sometimes."

"Don't disappoint them, dear. Encourage Steve in all the good things
he likes or wants, make friends with Mac, love Aunt Jane, and be a
daughter to uncle, and you'll find yourself a very happy girl."

"I truly will, and thank you very much for not making fun of me. I
know I'm a little goose; but lately I've felt as if I might come to
something if I had the right sort of help. I'll go up and see Aunt
Jessie to-morrow; I'm not a bit afraid of her: and then if you'll just
quietly find out from Uncle Doctor what I must read, I'll work as hard
as I can. Don't tell any one, please; they'll think it odd and
affected, and I can't bear to be laughed at, though I dare say it is
good discipline."

Rose promised, and both worked in silence for a moment; then Kitty
asked rather timidly,--

"Are you and Charlie trying this plan too? Since you've left off going
out so much, he keeps away also; and we don't know what to make of
it."

"He has had what he calls an 'artistic fit' lately, set up a studio,
and is doing some crayon sketches of us all. If he'd only finish his
things, they would be excellent; but he likes to try a great variety
at once. I'll take you in sometime, and perhaps he will do a portrait
of you for Steve. He likes girls' faces, and gets the likenesses
wonderfully well."

"People say you are engaged: but I contradict it; because, of course,
_I_ should know if you were."

"We are not."

"I'm glad of it; for really, Rose, I'm afraid Charlie hasn't got 'firm
principles,' though he is a fascinating fellow and one can't scold
him. You don't mind my saying so, do you, dear?" added Kitty; for Rose
did not answer at once.

"Not in the least: for you are one of us now, and I can speak frankly,
and I will; for I think in one way you _can_ help Steve very much. You
are right about Charlie, both as to the principles and the
fascination: Steve admires him exceedingly, and always from a boy
liked to imitate his pleasant ways. Some of them are very harmless and
do Steve good, but some are not. I needn't talk about it, only you
must show your boy that you depend on him to keep out of harm, and
help him do it."

"I will, I will! and then perhaps, when he is a perfect model, Charlie
will imitate him. I really begin to feel as if I had a great deal to
do," and Kitty looked as if she was beginning to like it also.

"We all have; and the sooner we go to work the better for us and those
we love. You wouldn't think now that Phebe was doing any thing for
Archie, but she is; and writes such splendid letters, they stir him up
wonderfully, and make us all love and admire her more than ever."

"How is she getting on?" asked Kitty, who, though she called herself a
"little goose," had tact enough to see that Rose did not care to talk
about Charlie.

"Nicely; for you know she used to sing in our choir, so that was a
good recommendation for another. She got a fine place in the new
church at L----; and that gives her a comfortable salary, though she
has something put away. She was always a saving creature and kept her
wages carefully; uncle invested them, and she begins to feel quite
independent already. No fear but my Phebe will get on: she has such
energy, and manages so well. I sometimes wish I could run away and
work with her."

"Ah, my dear! we rich girls have our trials as well as poor ones,
though we don't get as much pity as they do," sighed Kitty. "Nobody
knows what I suffer sometimes from worries that I can't talk about,
and I shouldn't get much sympathy if I did; just because I live in a
big house, wear good gowns, and have lots of lovers. Annabel used to
say she envied me above all created beings; but she doesn't now, and
is perfectly absorbed in her dear little Chinaman. Do you see how she
ever could like him?"

So they began to gossip, and the sober talk was over for that time;
but when Kitty departed, after criticising all her dear friends and
their respective sweethearts, she had a helpful little book in her
muff, a resolute expression on her bright face, and so many excellent
plans for self-improvement in her busy brain, that she and Steve bid
fair to turn out the model couple of the century.

CHAPTER XIV.

_AUNT CLARA'S PLAN._

Being seriously alarmed by the fear of losing the desire of his heart,
Charlie had gone resolutely to work, and, like many another young
reformer, he rather overdid the matter; for, in trying to keep out of
the way of temptation, he denied himself much innocent enjoyment. The
artistic fit was a good excuse for the seclusion which he fancied
would be a proper penance; and he sat listlessly plying crayon or
paint-brush, with daily wild rides on black Brutus, which seemed to do
him good; for danger of that sort was his delight.

People were used to his whims, and made light of what they considered
a new one; but, when it lasted week after week and all attempts to
draw him out were vain, his jolly comrades gave him up, and the family
began to say approvingly,--"Now he really _is_ going to settle down
and do something." Fortunately, his mother let him alone; for though
Dr. Alec had not "thundered in her ear," as he threatened, he _had_
talked with her in a way which first made her very angry, then
anxious, and, lastly, quite submissive; for her heart was set on her
boy's winning Rose, and she would have had him put on sackcloth and
ashes if that would have secured the prize. She made light of the
cause of Rose's displeasure, considering her extremely foolish and
straitlaced; "for all young men of any spirit had their little vices,
and came out well enough when the wild oats were sowed." So she
indulged Charlie in his new vagary, as she had in all his others, and
treated him like an ill-used being, which was neither an inspiring nor
helpful course on her part. Poor soul! she saw her mistake by and by,
and when too late repented of it bitterly.

Rose wanted to be kind, and tried in various ways to help her cousin,
feeling very sure she should succeed as many another hopeful woman has
done, quite unconscious how much stronger an undisciplined will is
than the truest love; and what a difficult task the wisest find it to
undo the mistakes of a bad education. But it was a hard thing to do:
for, at the least hint of commendation or encouragement, he looked so
hopeful that she was afraid of seeming to promise too much; and, of
all things, she desired to escape the accusation of having trifled
with him.

So life was not very comfortable to either just then; and, while
Charlie was "mortifying soul and body" to please her, she was studying
how to serve him best. Aunt Jessie helped her very much, and no one
guessed, when they saw pretty Miss Campbell going up and down the hill
with such a serious face, that she was intent on any thing except
taking, with praiseworthy regularity, the constitutionals which gave
her such a charming color.

Matters were in this state, when one day a note came to Rose from Mrs.
Clara.

     "MY SWEET CHILD,--Do take pity on my poor boy, and cheer him
     up with a sight of you; for he is so _triste_ it breaks my
     heart to see him. He has a new plan in his head, which
     strikes me as an excellent one, if you will only favor it.
     Let him come and take you for a drive this fine afternoon,
     and talk things over. It will do him a world of good and
     deeply oblige

    "Your ever loving

    "AUNT CLARA."

Rose read the note twice, and stood a moment pondering, with her eyes
absently fixed on the little bay before her window. The sight of
several black figures moving briskly to and fro across its frozen
surface seemed to suggest a mode of escape from the drive she dreaded
in more ways than one. "That will be safer and pleasanter," she said,
and going to her desk wrote her answer.

     "DEAR AUNTY,--I'm afraid of Brutus; but, if Charlie will go
     skating with me, I should enjoy it very much, and it would
     do us both good. I can listen to the new plan with an
     undivided mind there; so give him my love, please, and say I
     shall expect him at three.

     "Affectionately,

     "ROSE."

Punctually at three, Charlie appeared with his skates over his arm,
and a very contented face, which brightened wonderfully as Rose came
downstairs in a seal-skin suit and scarlet skirt, so like the one she
wore years ago that he involuntarily exclaimed as he took her
skates,--

"You look so like little Rose I hardly know you; and it seems so like
old times I feel sixteen again."

"That is just the way one ought to feel such a day as this. Now let us
be off and have a good spin before any one comes. There are only a few
children there now; but it is Saturday, you know, and everybody will
be out before long," answered Rose, carefully putting on her mittens
as she talked: for her heart was not as light as the one little Rose
carried under the brown jacket; and the boy of sixteen never looked at
her with the love and longing she read in the eyes of the young man
before her.

Away they went, and were soon almost as merry and warm as the children
round them; for the ice was in good condition, the February sunshine
brilliant, and the keen wind set their blood a-tingle with a healthful
glow.

"Now tell me the plan your mother spoke of," began Rose, as they went
gliding across the wide expanse before them; for Charlie seemed to
have forgotten every thing but the bliss of having her all to himself
for a little while.

"Plan? Oh, yes! it is simply this. I'm going out to father next
month."

"Really?" and Rose looked both surprised and incredulous; for this
plan was not a new one.

"Really. You don't believe it, but I am; and mother means to go with
me. We've had another letter from the governor, and he says if she
can't part from her big baby to come along too, and all be happy
together. What do you think of that?" he asked, eying her intently;
for they were face to face, as she went backward and he held both her
hands to steer and steady her.

"I like it immensely, and I do believe it now: only it rather takes my
breath away to think of aunty's going, when she never would hear of it
before."

"She doesn't like the plan very well now, and consents to go only on
one condition."

"What is that?" asked Rose, trying to free her hands; for a look at
Charlie made her suspect what was coming.

"That you go with us;" and, holding the hands fast, he added rapidly,
"Let me finish before you speak. I don't mean that any thing is to be
changed till you are ready; but if _you_ go I'm willing to give up
every thing else, and live anywhere as long as you like. Why shouldn't
you come to us for a year or two? We've never had our share. Father
would be delighted, mother contented, and I the happiest man alive."

"Who made this plan?" asked Rose, as soon as she got the breath which
certainly _had_ been rather taken away by this entirely new and by no
means agreeable scheme.

"Mother suggested it: I shouldn't have dared to even dream of such
richness. I'd made up my mind to go alone; and when I told her she was
in despair, till this superb idea came into her head. After that, of
course it was easy enough for me to stick to the resolution I'd made."

"Why did _you_ decide to go, Charlie?" and Rose looked up into the
eyes that were fixed beseechingly on hers.

They wavered and glanced aside; then met hers honestly, yet full of a
humility which made her own fall as he answered very low,--

"Because I don't _dare_ to stay."

"Is it so hard?" she said pitifully.

"Very hard. I haven't the moral courage to own up and face ridicule,
and it seems so mean to hide for fear of breaking my word. I _will_
keep it this time, Rose, if I go to the ends of the earth to do it."

"It is not cowardly to flee temptation; and nobody whose opinion is
worth having will ridicule any brave attempt to conquer one's self.
Don't mind it, Charlie, but stand fast; and I am sure you will
succeed."

"You don't know what it is, and I can't tell you; for till I tried to
give it up I never guessed what a grip it had on me. I thought it was
only a habit, easy to drop when I liked: but it is stronger than I;
and sometimes I feel as if possessed of a devil that _will_ get the
better of me, try as I may."

He dropped her hands abruptly as he said that, with the energy of
despair; and, as if afraid of saying too much, he left her for a
minute, striking away at full speed, as if in truth he would "go to
the ends of the earth" to escape the enemy within himself.

Rose stood still, appalled by this sudden knowledge of how much
greater the evil was than she had dreamed. What ought she to do? Go
with her cousin, and by so doing tacitly pledge herself as his
companion on that longer journey for which he was as yet so poorly
equipped? Both heart and conscience protested against this so strongly
that she put the thought away. But compassion pleaded for him
tenderly; and the spirit of self-sacrifice, which makes women love to
give more than they receive, caused her to feel as if in a measure
this man's fate lay in her hands, to be decided for good or ill
through her. How should she be true both to him and to herself?

Before this question could be answered, he was back again, looking as
if he had left his care behind him; for his moods varied like the
wind. Her attitude, as she stood motionless and alone with downcast
face, was so unlike the cheerful creature who came to meet him an hour
ago, it filled him with self-reproach; and, coming up, he drew one
hand through his arm, saying, as she involuntarily followed him,--

"You must not stand still. Forget my heroics, and answer my question.
Will you go with us, Rose?"

"Not now: that is asking too much, Charlie, and I will promise
nothing, because I cannot do it honestly," she answered, so firmly
that he knew appeal was useless.

"Am I to go alone, then, leaving all I care for behind me?"

"No, take your mother with you, and do your best to reunite your
parents. You could not give yourself to a better task."

"She won't go without you."

"I think she will if you hold fast to your resolution. You won't give
that up, I hope?"

"No: I must go somewhere, for I can't stay here; and it may as well be
India, since that pleases father," answered Charlie, doggedly.

"It will more than you can imagine. Tell him all the truth, and see
how glad he will be to help you, and how sincerely he will respect you
for what you've done."

"If you respect me, I don't care much about the opinion of any one
else," answered Charlie, clinging with a lover's pertinacity to the
hope that was dearest.

"I shall, if you go manfully away, and do the duty you owe your father
and yourself."

"And, when I've done it, may I come back to be rewarded, Rose?" he
asked, taking possession of the hand on his arm, as if it was already
his.

"I wish I could say what you want me to. But how can I promise when I
am not sure of any thing? I don't love you as I ought, and perhaps I
never shall: so why persist in making me bind myself in this way? Be
generous, Charlie, and don't ask it," implored Rose, much afflicted by
his persistence.

"I thought you did love me: it looked very like it a month ago, unless
you have turned coquette, and I can't quite believe that," he answered
bitterly.

"I _was_ beginning to love you, but you made me afraid to go on,"
murmured Rose, trying to tell the truth kindly.

"That cursed custom! What _can_ a man do when his hostess asks him to
drink wine with her?" And Charlie looked as if he could have cursed
himself even more heartily.

"He can say 'No.'"

"I can't."

"Ah, that's the trouble! You never learned to say it even to yourself;
and now it is so hard you want me to help you."

"And you won't."

"Yes, I will, by showing you that I _can_ say it to myself, for your
sake." And Rose looked up with a face so full of tender sorrow he
could not doubt the words which both reproached and comforted him.

"My little saint! I don't deserve one half your goodness to me; but I
will, and go away without one complaint to do my best, for your sake,"
he cried, touched by her grief, and stirred to emulation by the
example of courage and integrity she tried to set him.

Here Steve and Kitty bore down upon them; and, obeying the impulse to
put care behind them which makes it possible for young hearts to ache
one minute and dance the next, Rose and Charlie banished their
troubles, joined in the sport that soon turned the lonely little bay
into a ballroom, and enjoyed the splendors of a winter sunset,
forgetful of separation and Calcutta.

CHAPTER XV.

_ALAS FOR CHARLIE!_

In spite of much internal rebellion, Charlie held fast to his
resolution; and Aunt Clara, finding all persuasions vain, gave in, and
prepared to accompany him, in a state of chronic indignation against
the world in general and Rose in particular. The poor girl had a hard
time of it, and, but for her uncle, would have fared still worse. He
was a sort of shield, upon which Mrs. Clara's lamentations,
reproaches, and irate glances fell unavailingly, instead of wounding
the heart against which they were aimed.

The days passed very quickly now; for every one seemed anxious to have
the parting over, and preparations went on rapidly. The big house was
made ready to shut up for a year at least, comforts for the long
voyage laid in, and farewell visits paid. The general activity and
excitement rendered it impossible for Charlie to lead the life of an
artistic hermit any longer: and he fell into a restless condition,
which caused Rose to long for the departure of the "Rajah," when she
felt that he would be safe; for these farewell festivities were
dangerous to one who was just learning to say "No."

"Half the month safely gone. If we can only get well over these last
weeks, a great weight will be off my mind," thought Rose, as she went
down one wild, wet morning toward the end of February.

Opening the study-door to greet her uncle, she exclaimed, "Why,
Archie!" then paused upon the threshold, transfixed by fear; for in
her cousin's white face she read the tidings of some great affliction.

"Hush! don't be frightened. Come in and I'll tell you," he whispered,
putting down the bottle he had just taken from the doctor's
medicine-closet.

Rose understood and obeyed; for Aunt Plenty was poorly with her
rheumatism, and depended on her morning doze.

"What is it?" she said, looking about the room with a shiver, as if
expecting to see again what she saw there New-Year's night. Archie was
alone, however, and, drawing her toward the closet, answered, with an
evident effort to be quite calm and steady,--

"Charlie is hurt! Uncle wants more ether, and the wide bandages in
some drawer or other. He told me, but I forget. You keep this place in
order: find them for me. Quick!"

Before he had done, Rose was at the drawer, turning over the bandages
with hands that trembled as they searched.

"All narrow! I must make some. Can you wait?" And, catching up a piece
of old linen, she tore it into wide strips, adding, in the same quick
tone, as she began to roll them,--

"Now tell me."

"I can wait: those are not needed just yet. I didn't mean any one
should know, you least of all," began Archie, smoothing out the strips
as they lay across the table, and evidently surprised at the girl's
nerve and skill.

"I can bear it: make haste! Is he much hurt?"

"I'm afraid he is. Uncle looks sober, and the poor boy suffers so I
couldn't stay," answered Archie, turning still whiter about the lips
that never had so hard a tale to tell before.

"You see, he went to town last evening to meet the man who is going to
buy Brutus--"

"And Brutus did it? I knew he would!" cried Rose, dropping her work to
wring her hands, as if she guessed the ending of the story now.

"Yes, and if he wasn't shot already I'd do it myself with pleasure;
for he's done his best to kill Charlie," muttered Charlie's mate with
a grim look; then gave a great sigh, and added with averted face,--

"I shouldn't blame the brute; it wasn't his fault: he needed a firm
hand, and--" he stopped there, but Rose said quickly,--"Go on. I
_must_ know."

"Charlie met some of his old cronies, quite by accident; there was a
dinner-party, and they made him go, just for a good-by they said. He
couldn't refuse, and it was too much for him. He would come home alone
in the storm, though they tried to keep him as he wasn't fit. Down by
the new bridge,--that high embankment you know,--the wind had put the
lantern out--he forgot--or something scared Brutus, and all went down
together."

Archie had spoken fast and brokenly; but Rose understood, and at the
last word hid her face with a little moan, as if she saw it all.

"Drink this and never mind the rest," he said, dashing into the next
room and coming back with a glass of water, longing to be done and
away; for this sort of pain seemed almost as bad as that he had left.

Rose drank, but held his arm tightly as he would have turned away,
saying in a tone of command he could not disobey,--

"Don't keep any thing back: tell me the worst at once."

"We knew nothing of it," he went on obediently. "Aunt Clara thought he
was with me, and no one found him till early this morning. A workman
recognized him; and he was brought home, dead they thought. I came for
uncle an hour ago. Charlie is conscious now, but awfully hurt; and I'm
afraid from the way Mac and uncle look at one another that--Oh! Oh!
think of it, Rose! crushed and helpless, alone in the rain all night,
and I never knew, I never knew!"

With that poor Archie broke down entirely; and, flinging himself into
a chair, laid his face on the table, sobbing like a girl. Rose had
never seen a man cry before, and it was so unlike a woman's gentler
grief that it moved her very much. Putting by her own anguish, she
tried to comfort his, and going to him lifted up his head and made him
lean on her; for in such hours as this women are the stronger. It was
a very little to do, but it did comfort Archie; for the poor fellow
felt as if fate was very hard upon him just then, and into this
faithful bosom he could pour his brief but pathetic plaint.

"Phebe's gone, and now if Charlie's taken I don't see how I _can_ bear
it!"

"Phebe will come back, dear, and let us hope poor Charlie isn't going
to be taken yet. Such things always seem worse at first, I've heard
people say; so cheer up and hope for the best," answered Rose, seeking
for some comfortable words to say, and finding very few.

They took effect, however; for Archie did cheer up like a man. Wiping
away the tears which he so seldom shed that they did not know where to
go, he got up, gave himself a little shake, and said with a long
breath, as if he had been under water,--

"Now I'm all right, thank you. I couldn't help it: the shock of being
waked suddenly to find the dear old fellow in such a pitiful state
upset me. I ought to go: are these ready?"

"In a minute. Tell uncle to send for me if I can be of any use. Oh,
poor Aunt Clara! how does she bear it?"

"Almost distracted. I took mother to her, and she will do all that
anybody can. Heaven only knows what aunt will do if--"

"And Heaven only can help her," added Rose, as Archie stopped at the
words he could not utter. "Now take them, and let me know often."

"You brave little soul, I will," and Archie went away through the rain
with his sad burden, wondering how Rose could be so calm, when the
beloved Prince might be dying.

A long dark day followed, with nothing to break its melancholy
monotony except the bulletins that came from hour to hour, reporting
little change either for better or for worse. Rose broke the news
gently to Aunt Plenty, and set herself to the task of keeping up the
old lady's spirits; for, being helpless, the good soul felt as if
every thing would go wrong without her. At dusk she fell asleep, and
Rose went down to order lights and fire in the parlor, with tea ready
to serve at any moment; for she felt sure some of the men would come,
and that a cheerful greeting and creature comforts would suit them
better than tears, darkness, and desolation.

Presently Mac arrived, saying the instant he entered the room,--

"More comfortable, cousin."

"Thank Heaven!" cried Rose, unclasping her hands. Then seeing how worn
out, wet, and weary Mac looked as he came into the light, she added in
a tone that was a cordial in itself, "Poor boy, how tired you are!
Come here, and let me make you comfortable."

"I was going home to freshen up a bit; for I must be back in an hour.
Mother took my place so I could be spared, and came off, as uncle
refused to stir."

"Don't go home; for if aunty isn't there it will be very dismal. Step
into uncle's room and refresh, then come back and I'll give you your
tea. Let me, let me! I can't help in any other way; and I _must_ do
something, this waiting is so dreadful."

Her last words betrayed how much suspense was trying her; and Mac
yielded at once, glad to comfort and be comforted. When he came back,
looking much revived, a tempting little tea-table stood before the
fire; and Rose went to meet him, saying with a faint smile, as she
liberally bedewed him with the contents of a cologne flask,--

"I can't bear the smell of ether: it suggests such dreadful things."

"What curious creatures women are! Archie told us you bore the news
like a hero, and now you turn pale at a whiff of bad air. I can't
explain it," mused Mac, as he meekly endured the fragrant shower-bath.

"Neither can I; but I've been imagining horrors all day, and made
myself nervous. Don't let us talk about it; but come and have some
tea."

"That's another queer thing. Tea is your panacea for all human ills;
yet there isn't any nourishment in it. I'd rather have a glass of
milk, thank you," said Mac, taking an easy-chair and stretching his
feet to the fire.

She brought it to him and made him eat something; then, as he shut his
eyes wearily, she went away to the piano, and having no heart to sing,
played softly till he seemed asleep. But, at the stroke of six, he was
up and ready to be off again.

"He gave me that: take it with you and put some on his hair; he likes
it, and I do so want to help a little," she said, slipping the pretty
flagon into his pocket, with such a wistful look, Mac never thought of
smiling at this very feminine request.

"I'll tell him. Is there any thing else I can do for you, cousin?" he
asked, holding the cold hand that had been serving him so helpfully.

"Only this: if there is any sudden change, promise to send for me, no
matter at what hour it is: I _must_ say 'Good-by.'"

"I will come for you. But, Rose, I am sure you may sleep in peace
to-night; and I hope to have good news for you in the morning."

"Bless you for that! Come early, and let me see him soon. I will be
very good, and I know it will not do him any harm."

"No fear of that: the first thing he said when he could speak was,
'Tell Rose carefully;' and, as I came away, he guessed where I was
going, and tried to kiss his hand in the old way, you know."

Mac thought it would cheer her to hear that Charlie remembered her;
but the sudden thought that she might never see that familiar little
gesture any more was the last drop that made her full heart overflow,
and Mac saw the "hero" of the morning sink down at his feet in a
passion of tears that frightened him. He took her to the sofa, and
tried to comfort her; but, as soon as the bitter sobbing quieted, she
looked up and said quite steadily, great drops rolling down her cheeks
the while,--

"Let me cry: it is what I need, and I shall be all the better for it
by and by. Go to Charlie now, and tell him I said with all my heart,
'Good-night!'"

"I will!" and Mac trudged away, marvelling in his turn at the
curiously blended strength and weakness of womankind.

That was the longest night Rose ever spent; but joy came in the
morning with the early message, "He is better. You are to come by and
by." Then Aunt Plenty forgot her lumbago and arose; Aunt Myra, who had
come to have a social croak, took off her black bonnet as if it would
not be needed at present, and the girl made ready to go and say
"Welcome back," not the hard "Good-by."

It seemed very long to wait; for no summons came till afternoon, then
her uncle arrived, and at the first sight of his face Rose began to
tremble.

"I came for my little girl myself, because we must go back at once,"
he said, as she hurried toward him hat in hand.

"I'm ready, sir;" but her hands shook as she tried to tie the ribbons,
and her eyes never left the face that was so full of tender pity for
her.

He took her quickly into the carriage, and, as they rolled away, said
with the quiet directness which soothes such agitation better than any
sympathetic demonstration,--

"Charlie is worse. I feared it when the pain went so suddenly this
morning; but the chief injuries are internal, and one can never tell
what the chances are. He insists that he is better, but will soon
begin to fail, I fear; become unconscious, and slip away without more
suffering. This is the time for you to see him; for he has set his
heart on it, and nothing can hurt him now. My child, it is very hard;
but we must help each other bear it."

Rose tried to say, "Yes, uncle," bravely; but the words would not
come; and she could only slip her hand into his with a look of mute
submission. He laid her head on his shoulder, and went on talking so
quietly that any one who did not see how worn and haggard his face had
grown with two days and a night of sharp anxiety might have thought
him cold.

"Jessie has gone home to rest, and Jane is with poor Clara, who has
dropped asleep at last. I've sent for Steve and the other boys. There
will be time for them later; but he so begged to see you now, I
thought it best to come while this temporary strength keeps him up. I
have told him how it is, but he will not believe me. If he asks you,
answer honestly; and try to fit him a little for this sudden ending of
so many hopes."

"How soon, uncle?"

"A few hours, probably. This tranquil moment is yours: make the most
of it; and, when we can do no more for him, we'll comfort one
another."

Mac met them in the hall: but Rose hardly saw him; she was conscious
only of the task before her; and, when her uncle led her to the door,
she said quietly,--

"Let me go in alone, please."

Archie, who had been hanging over the bed, slipped away into the inner
room as she appeared; and Rose found Charlie waiting for her with such
a happy face, she could not believe what she had heard, and found it
easy to say almost cheerfully, as she took his eager hand in both of
hers,--

"Dear Charlie, I'm so glad you sent for me. I longed to come, but
waited till you were better. You surely are?" she added, as a second
glance showed her the indescribable change which had come upon the
face which at first seemed to have both light and color in it.

"Uncle says not: but I think he is mistaken, because the agony is all
gone; and, except for this odd sinking now and then, I don't feel so
much amiss," he answered feebly, but with something of the old
lightness in his voice.

"You will hardly be able to sail in the 'Rajah,' I fear; but you won't
mind waiting a little, while we nurse you," said poor Rose, trying to
talk on quietly, with her heart growing heavier every minute.

"I shall go if I'm carried! I'll keep that promise, though it costs me
my life. O Rose! you know? they've told you?" and, with a sudden
memory of what brought him there, he hid his face in the pillow.

"You broke no promise; for I would not let you make one, you remember.
Forget all that, and let us talk about the better time that may be
coming for you."

"Always so generous, so kind!" he murmured, with her hand against his
feverish cheek; then, looking up, he went on in a tone so humbly
contrite it made her eyes fill with slow, hot tears.

"I tried to flee temptation: I tried to say 'No;' but I am so pitiably
weak, I couldn't. You must despise me. But don't give me up entirely:
for, if I live, I'll do better; I'll go away to father and begin
again."

Rose tried to keep back the bitter drops; but they would fall, to hear
him still speak hopefully when there was no hope. Something in the
mute anguish of her face seemed to tell him what she could not speak;
and a quick change came over him as he grasped her hand tighter,
saying in a sharp whisper,--

"Have I really got to die, Rose?"

Her only answer was to kneel down and put her arms about him, as if
she tried to keep death away a little longer. He believed it then, and
lay so still, she looked up in a moment, fearing she knew not what.

But Charlie bore it manfully; for he had the courage which can face a
great danger bravely, though not the strength to fight a bosom-sin and
conquer it. His eyes were fixed, as if trying to look into the unseen
world whither he was going, and his lips firmly set that no word of
complaint should spoil the proof he meant to give that, though he had
not known how to live, he did know how to die. It seemed to Rose as if
for one brief instant she saw the man that might have been, if early
training had taught him how to rule himself; and the first words he
uttered with a long sigh, as his eye came back to her, showed that he
felt the failure and owned it with pathetic candor.

"Better so, perhaps; better go before I bring any more sorrow to you,
and shame to myself. I'd like to stay a little longer, and try to
redeem the past; it seems so wasted now: but, if I can't, don't
grieve, Rose; I'm no loss to any one, and perhaps it _is_ too late to
mend."

"Oh, don't say that! no one will fill your place among us: we never
can forget how much we loved you; and you must believe how freely we
forgive as we would be forgiven," cried Rose, steadied by the pale
despair that had fallen on Charlie's face with those bitter words.

"'Forgive us our trespasses!' Yes, I should say that. Rose, I'm not
ready; it is so sudden: what can I do?" he whispered, clinging to her,
as if he had no anchor except the creature whom he loved so much.

"Uncle will tell you: I am not good enough; I can only pray for you,"
and she moved as if to call in the help so sorely needed.

"No, no, not yet! stay by me, darling: read something; there, in
grandfather's old book, some prayer for such as I. It will do me more
good from you than any minister alive."

She got the venerable book,--given to Charlie because he bore the good
man's name,--and, turning to the "Prayer for the Dying," read it
brokenly; while the voice beside her echoed now and then some word
that reproved or comforted.

"The testimony of a good conscience." "By the sadness of his
countenance may his heart be made better." "Christian patience and
fortitude." "Leave the world in peace." "Amen."

There was silence for a little; then Rose, seeing how wan he looked,
said softly, "Shall I call uncle now?"

"If you will; but first--don't smile at my foolishness, dear--I want
my little heart. They took it off: please give it back, and let me
keep it always," he answered, with the old fondness strong as ever,
even when he could only show it by holding fast the childish trinket
which she found and gave him,--the old agate heart with the faded
ribbon. "Put it on, and never let them take it off," he said; and,
when she asked if there was any thing else she could do for him, he
tried to stretch out his arms to her with a look which asked for more.

She kissed him very tenderly on lips and forehead; tried to say
"Good-by," but could not speak, and groped her way to the door.
Turning for a last look, Charlie's hopeful spirit rose for a moment,
as if anxious to send her away more cheerful, and he said with a
shadow of the old blithe smile, a feeble attempt at the familiar
farewell gesture,--

"Till to-morrow, Rose."

Alas, for Charlie! his to-morrow never came: and, when she saw him
next, he lay there looking so serene and noble, it seemed as if it
must be well with him: for all the pain was past; temptation ended;
doubt and fear, hope and love, could no more stir his quiet heart, and
in solemn truth he _had_ gone to meet his Father, and begin again.

CHAPTER XVI.

_GOOD WORKS._

The "Rajah" was delayed awhile, and when it sailed poor Mrs. Clara was
on board; for every thing was ready, all thought she had better go to
comfort her husband, and since her boy died she seemed to care very
little what became of her. So, with friends to cheer the long voyage,
she sailed away, a heavy-hearted woman, yet not quite disconsolate;
for she knew her mourning was excessively becoming, and felt sure that
Stephen would not find her altered by her trials as much as might have
been expected.

Then nothing was left of that gay household but the empty rooms,
silence never broken by a blithe voice any more, and pictures full of
promise, but all unfinished, like poor Charlie's life.

There was much mourning for the bonny Prince, but no need to tell of
it except as it affected Rose; for it is with her we have most to do,
the other characters being of secondary importance.

When time had soothed the first shock of sudden loss, she was
surprised to find that the memory of his faults and failings, short
life and piteous death, grew dim as if a kindly hand wiped out the
record, and gave him back to her in the likeness of the brave, bright
boy she had loved, not as the wayward, passionate young man who had
loved her.

This comforted her very much; and, folding down the last blotted leaf
where his name was written, she gladly turned back to reopen and
reread the happier chapters which painted the youthful knight before
he went out to fall in his first battle. None of the bitterness of
love bereaved marred this memory for Rose, because she found that the
warmer sentiment, just budding in her heart, had died with Charlie,
and lay cold and quiet in his grave. She wondered, yet was glad;
though sometimes a remorseful pang smote her when she discovered how
possible it was to go on without him, feeling almost as if a burden
had been lifted off, since his happiness was taken out of her hands.
The time had not yet come when the knowledge that a man's heart was in
her keeping would make the pride and joy of her life; and while she
waited for that moment she enjoyed the liberty she seemed to have
recovered.

Such being her inward state, it much annoyed her to be regarded as a
broken-hearted girl, and pitied for the loss of her young lover. She
could not explain to all the world, so let it pass, and occupied her
mind with the good works which always lie ready to be taken up and
carried on. Having chosen philanthropy as her profession, she felt
that it was high time to begin the task too long neglected.

Her projects were excellent, but did not prosper as rapidly as she
hoped; for, having to deal with people, not things, unexpected
obstacles were constantly arising. The "Home for Decayed Gentlewomen,"
as the boys insisted on calling her two newly repaired houses,
started finely; and it was a pleasant sight to see the comfortable
rooms filled with respectable women busy at their various tasks,
surrounded by the decencies and many of the comforts which make life
endurable. But, presently, Rose was disturbed to find that the good
people expected her to take care of them in a way she had not
bargained for. Buffum, her agent, was constantly reporting complaints,
new wants, and general discontent if they were not attended to. Things
were neglected, water-pipes froze and burst, drains got out of order,
yards were in a mess, and rents behindhand. Worst of all, outsiders,
instead of sympathizing, only laughed and said, "We told you so,"
which is a most discouraging remark to older and wiser workers than
Rose.

Uncle Alec, however, stood by her staunchly, and helped her out of
many of her woes by good advice, and an occasional visit of
inspection, which did much to impress upon the dwellers there the fact
that, if they did not do their part, their leases would be short ones.

"I didn't expect to make any thing out of it, but I did think they
would be grateful," said Rose, on one occasion when several complaints
had come in at once, and Buffum had reported great difficulty in
collecting the low rents.

"If you do this thing for the sake of the gratitude, then it _is_ a
failure: but if it is done for the love of helping those who need
help it is a success; for in spite of their worry every one of those
women feel what privileges they enjoy and value them highly," said Dr.
Alec, as they went home after one of these unsatisfactory calls.

"Then the least they can do is to say 'Thank you.' I'm afraid I _have_
thought more of the gratitude than the work; but if there isn't any I
must make up my mind to go without," answered Rose, feeling defrauded
of her due.

"Favors often separate instead of attracting people nearer to one
another, and I've seen many a friendship spoilt by the obligation
being all on one side. Can't explain it, but it is so; and I've come
to the conclusion that it is as hard to give in the right spirit as it
is to receive. Puzzle it out, my dear, while you are learning to do
good for its own sake."

"I know one sort of people who _are_ grateful, and I'm going to devote
my mind to them. They thank me in many ways, and helping them is all
pleasure and no worry. Come in to the hospital and see the dear
babies, or the Asylum and carry oranges to Phebe's orphans: _they_
don't complain and fidget one's life out, bless their hearts!" cried
Rose, clearing up suddenly.

After that she left Buffum to manage the "Retreat," and devoted her
energies to the little folks, always so ready to receive the smallest
gift, and repay the giver with their artless thanks. Here she found
plenty to do, and did it with such sweet good-will that she won her
way like sunshine, making many a little heart dance over splendid
dolls, gay picture-books, and pots of flowers, as well as food, fire,
and clothes for the small bodies pinched with want and pain.

As spring came, new plans sprung up as naturally as dandelions. The
poor children longed for the country; and, as the green fields could
not come to them, Rose carried them to the green fields. Down on the
Point stood an old farmhouse, often used by the Campbell tribe for
summer holidays. That spring it was set to rights unusually early,
several women installed as housekeeper, cook, and nurses; and, when
the May days grew bright and warm, squads of pale children came to
toddle in the grass, run over the rocks, and play upon the smooth
sands of the beach. A pretty sight, and one that well repaid those who
brought it to pass.

Every one took an interest in the "Rose Garden," as Mac named it; and
the women-folk were continually driving over to the Point with