The Morgesons Part 27

"Never while I have breath."

In an hour she told Phoebe, who told Alice, who told Charles, and there it ended. It was an offer, as Charlotte predicted. My first! I was crestfallen! I wrote a reply, waited till everybody had gone to breakfast, and slipping into his room, pinned it to the pincushion.

In the evening he asked if I ever sang "_Should these fond hopes e'er forsake thee."_ I gave him the "_Pirate's Serenade_" instead, which his mother declared beautiful. I saw Alice and Charles laughing, and could hardly help joining them, when I looked at Bill, in whose countenance relief and grief were mingled.

It was a satisfaction to us when they went away. Their visit was shortened, I suspected, by the representations Bill made to his mother. She said, "Good-by," with coldness; but he shook hands with me, and said it was all right he supposed.

The day they went I had a letter from father which informed me that mother would not come to Rosville. He reminded me that I had been in Rosville over a year. "I am going home soon," I said to myself, putting away the letter. It was a summer day, bright and hot. Alice, busy all day, complained of fatigue and went to bed soon after tea.

The windows were open and the house was perfumed with odors from the garden. At twilight I went out and walked under the elms, whose pendant boughs were motionless. I watched the stars as they came out one by one above the pale green ring of the horizon and glittered in the evening sky, which darkened slowly. I was coming up the gravel walk when I heard a step at the upper end of it which arrested me. I recognized it, and slipped behind a tree to wait till it should pa.s.s by me; but it ceased, and I saw Charles pulling off a twig of the tree, which brushed against his face. Presently he sprang round the tree, caught me, and held me fast.

"I am glad you are here, my darling. Do you smell the roses?"

"Yes; let me go."

"Not till you tell me one thing. Why do you stay in Rosville?"

The baby gave a loud cry in Alice's chamber which resounded through the garden.

"Go and take care of your baby," I said roughly, "and not busy yourself with me."

"Ca.s.sandra," he said, with a menacing voice, "how dare you defy me?

How dare you tempt me?"

I put my hand on his arm. "Charles, is love a matter of temperament?"

"Are you mad? It is life--it is heaven--it is h.e.l.l."

"There is something in this soft, beautiful, odorous night that makes one mad. Still I shall not say to you what you once said to me."

"Ah! you do not forget those words--'_I love you_.'"

Some one came down the lane which ran behind the garden whistling an opera air.

"There is your Providence," he said quietly, resting his hand against the tree.

I ran round to the front piazza, just as Ben Somers turned out of the lane, and called him.

"I have wandered all over Rosville since sunset," he said "and at last struck upon that lane. To whom does it belong?"

"It is ours, and the horses are exercised there."

"'In such a night, Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night.'"

'"In such a night, Stood Dido with a willow in her hand, Upon the wild sea banks, and waved her love To come again to Carthage.'"

"Talk to me about Surrey, Ca.s.sandra."

"Not a word."

"Why did you call me?"

"To see what mood you were in."

"How disagreeable you are! What is the use of venturing one's mood with you?"

CHAPTER XXI.

Alice called me to her chamber window one morning. "Look into the lane. Charles and Jesse are there with that brute. He goes very well, now that they have thrown the top of the chaise back; he quivered like a jelly at first."

"I must have a ride, Alice."

"Charles," she called. "Breakfast is waiting."

"What shall be his name, girls?" he asked.

"Aspen," I suggested.

"That will do," said Alice.

"Shall we ride soon?" I asked.

"Will you?" he spoke quickly. "In a day or two, then."

"Know what you undertake, Ca.s.s," said Alice.

"She always does," he answered.

"Let me go, papa," begged Edward.

"By and by, my boy."

"What a compliment, Ca.s.s! He does not object to venture you."

He proposed Fairtown, six miles from Rosville, as he had business there. The morning we were to go proved cloudy, and we waited till afternoon, when Charles, declaring that it would not rain, ordered Aspen to be harnessed. I went into Alice's room tying my bonnet; he was there, leaning over the baby's crib, who lay in it crowing and laughing at the snapping of his fingers. Alice was hemming white muslin.

"Take a shawl with you, Ca.s.s; I think it will rain, the air is so heavy."

"I guess not," said Charles, going to the window. "What a nuisance that lane is, so near the garden! I'll have it plowed soon, and enclosed."

"For all those wild primroses you value so?" she asked.

"I'll spare those."