That was all, but Rose saw her cousin set his lips together and takea long breath, as if she had hit him hard. He bore the disappointmentbravely, however, and asked quite steadily in a minute,
"How soon does he think I can study again?"
It was so hard to answer that! Yet Rose knew she must, for Aunt Jane haddeclared she could not do it, and Uncle Mac had begged her to break thetruth to the poor lad.
"Not for a good many months."
"How many?" he asked with a pathetic sort of gruffness.
"A year, perhaps."
"A whole year! Why, I expected to be ready for college by that time."And, pushing up the shade, Mac stared at her with startled eyes, thatsoon blinked and fell before the one ray of light.
"Plenty of time for that; you must be patient now, and get themthoroughly well, or they will trouble you again when it will be harderto spare them," she said, with tears in her own eyes.
"I won't do it! I will study and get through somehow. It's all humbugabout taking care so long. These doctors like to keep h
old of a fellowif they can. But I won't stand it I vow I won't!" and he banged his fistdown on the unoffending pillow as if he were pommelling the hard-hearteddoctor.
"Now, Mac, listen to me," Rose said very earnestly, though her voiceshook a little and her heart ached. "You know you have hurt your eyesreading by fire-light and in the dusk, and sitting up late, and nowyou'll have to pay for it; the doctor said so. You must be careful, anddo as he tells you, or you will be blind."
"No!"
"Yes, it is true, and he wanted us to tell you that nothing but entirerest would cure you. I know it's dreadfully hard, but we'll all helpyou; I'll read all day long, and lead you, and wait upon you, and try tomake it easier."
She stopped there, for it was evident that he did not hear a sound; theword "blind" seemed to have knocked him down, for he had buried hisface in the pillow, and lay so still that Rose was frightened. She satmotionless for many minutes, longing to comfort him, but not knowinghow, and wishing Uncle Alec would come, for he had promised to tell Mac.
Presently, a sort of choking sound came out of the pillow, and wentstraight to her heart the most pathetic sob she ever heard, for, thoughit was the most natural means of relief, the poor fellow must notindulge in it because of the afflicted eyes. The "French Revolution"tumbled out of her lap, and, running to the sofa, she knelt down byit, saying, with the motherly sort of tenderness girls feel for anysorrowing creature,
"Oh, my dear, you mustn't cry! It is so bad for your poor eyes. Takeyour head out of that hot pillow, and let me cool it. I don't wonder youfeel so, but please don't cry. I'll cry for you; it won't hurt me."
As she spoke she pulled away the cushion with gentle force, and saw thegreen shade all crushed and stained with the few hot tears that told howbitter the disappointment had been. Mac felt her sympathy, but, beinga boy, did not thank her for it; only sat up with a jerk, saying, ashe tried to rub away the tell-tale drops with the sleeve of his jacket,"Don't bother; weak eyes always water. I'm all right."
But Rose cried out, and caught his arm, "Don't touch them with thatrough woollen stuff! Lie down and let me bathe them, there's a dear boy;then there will be no harm done."
"They do smart confoundedly. I say, don't you tell the other fellowsthat I made a baby of myself, will you?" he added, yielding with a sighto the orders of his nurse, who had flown for the eye-wash and linencambric handkerchief.
"Of course I won't; but anyone would be upset at the idea of being welltroubled in this way. I'm sure you bear it splendidly, and you know itisn't half so bad when you get used to it. Besides, it is only for atime, and you can do lots of pleasant things if you can't study. You'llhave to wear blue goggles, perhaps; won't that be funny?"
And while she was pouring out all the comfortable words she could thinkof, Rose was softly bathing the eyes and dabbing the hot forehead withlavender-water, as her patient lay quiet with a look on his face thatgrieved her sadly.
"Homer was blind, and so was Milton, and they did something to beremembered by, in spite of it," he said, as if to himself, in a solemntone, for even the blue goggles did not bring a smile.
"Papa had a picture of Milton and his daughters writing for him. Itwas a very sweet picture, I thought," observed Rose in a serious voice,trying to meet the sufferer on his own ground.
"Perhaps I could study if someone read and did the eye part. Do yousuppose I could, by and by?" he asked, with a sudden ray of hope.
"I dare say, if your head is strong enough. This sunstroke, you know, iswhat upset you, and your brain needs rest, the doctor says."
"I'll have a talk with the old fellow next time he comes, and find outjust what I may do; then I shall know where I am. What a fool I was thatday to be stewing my brains and letting the sun glare on my book tillthe letters danced before me! I see 'em now when I shut my eyes; blackballs bobbing round, and stars and all sorts of queer things. Wonder ifall blind people do?"
"Don't think about them; I'll go on reading, shall I? We shall cometo the exciting part soon, and then you'll forget all this," suggestedRose.
"No, I never shall forget. Hang the old 'Revolution'! I don't want tohear another word of it. My head aches, and I'm hot. Oh, wouldn't I liketo go for a pull in the 'Stormy Petrel!"' and poor Mac tossed about asif he did not know what to do with himself.
"Let me sing, and perhaps you'll drop off; then the day will seemshorter," said Rose, taking up a fan and sitting down beside him.
"Perhaps I shall; I didn't sleep much last night, and when I did Idreamed like fun. See here, you tell the people that I know, and it'sall right, and I don't want them to talk about it or howl over me.That's all; now drone away, and I'll try to sleep. Wish I could for ayear, and wake up cured."
"Oh, I wish, I wish you could!"
Rose said it so fervently that Mac was moved to grope for her apron andhold on to a corner of it, as if it was comfortable to feel her nearhim. But all he said was,
"You are a good little soul, Rosy. Give us 'The Birks'; that is a drowsyone that always sends me off."
Quite contented with this small return for all her sympathy, Rose wavedher fan and sang, in a dreamy tone, the pretty Scotch air, the burden ofwhich is,
"Bonny lassie, will ye gang, will ye gang To the Birks of Aberfeldie?"
Whether the lassie went or not I cannot say, but the laddie was off tothe land of Nod, in about ten minutes, quite worn out with hearing thebad tidings and the effort to bear them manfully.