"Do I look like it?" and he sat up with such an injured and indignantface, that she apologized at once; for he certainly did not looklover-like with hay-seed in his hair, several lively crickets playingleap-frog over his back, and a pair of long legs stretching from treeto hay-cock.
"No, you don't; and I humbly beg your pardon for making such anunwarrantable insinuation. It merely occurred to me that the generalupliftedness I observe in you might be owing to that, since it wasn'tpoetry."
"It is the good company I've been keeping, if any thing. A fellowcan't spend 'A Week' with Thoreau, and not be the better for it. I'mglad I show it; because in the scramble life is to most of us, even anhour with such a sane, simple, and sagacious soul as his must helpone," said Mac, taking a much worn book out of his pocket with the airof introducing a dear and honored friend.
"I've read bits, and liked them: they are so original and fresh andsometimes droll," said Rose, smiling to see what natural andappropriate marks of approbation the elements seemed to set upon thepages Mac was turning eagerly; for one had evidently been rained on, acrushed berry stained another, some appreciative field-mouse orsquirrel had nibbled one corner, and the cover was faded with thesunshine, which seemed to have filtered through to the thoughtswithin.
"Here's a characteristic bit for you:--
"'I would rather sit on a pumpkin, and have it all to myself, than becrowded on a velvet cushion. I would rather ride on earth in anox-cart, with free circulation, than go to heaven in the fancy car ofan excursion train, and breathe malaria all the way.'
"I've tried both and quite agree with him," laughed Mac; and, skimmingdown another page, gave her a paragraph here and there.
"'Read the best books first, or you may not have a chance to read themat all.'
"'We do not learn much from learned books, but from sincere humanbooks: frank, honest biographies.'
"'At least let us have healthy books. Let the poet be as vigorous as asugar-maple, with sap enough to maintain his own verdure, besides whatruns into the trough; and not like a vine which, being cut in thespring, bears no fruit, but bleeds to death in the endeavor to healits wounds.'"
"That will do for you," said Rose, still thinking of the new suspicionwhich pleased her by its very improbability.
Mac flashed a quick look at her and shut the book, saying quietly,though his eyes shone, and a conscious smile lurked about his mouth,--
"We shall see, and no one need meddle; for, as my Thoreau says,--
"'Whate'er we leave to God, God does And blesses us: The work we choose should be our own God lets alone.'"
Rose sat silent, as if conscious that she deserved his poeticalreproof.
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"Come, you have catechised me pretty well; now I'll take my turn andask why _you_ look 'uplifted,' as you call it. What have you beendoing to make yourself more like your namesake than ever?" asked Mac,carrying war into the enemy's camp with the sudden question.
"Nothing but live, and enjoy doing it. I actually sit here, day afterday, as happy and contented with little things as Dulce is, and feelas if I wasn't much older than she," answered the girl, feeling as ifsome change was going on in that pleasant sort of pause, but unable todescribe it.
"'As if a rose should shut and be a bud again,'"
murmured Mac, borrowing from his beloved Keats.
"Ah, but I can't do that! I must go on blooming whether I like it ornot, and the only trouble I have is to know what leaf I ought tounfold next," said Rose, playfully smoothing out the white gown, inwhich she looked very like a daisy among the green.
"How far have you got?" asked Mac, continuing his catechism as if thefancy suited him.
"Let me see. Since I came home last year, I've been gay, then sad,then busy, and now I am simply happy. I don't know why; but seem to bewaiting for what is to come next, and getting ready for it, perhapsunconsciously," she said, looking dreamily away to the hills again, asif the new experience was coming to her from afar.
Mac watched her thoughtfully for a minute, wondering how many moreleaves must unfold, before the golden heart of this human flower wouldlie open to the sun. He felt a curious desire to help in some way, andcould think of none better than to offer her what he had found mosthelpful to himself. Picking up another book, he opened it at a placewhere an oak-leaf lay, and, handing it to her, said, as if presentingsomething very excellent and precious,--
"If you want to be ready to take whatever comes in a brave and nobleway, read that, and the one where the page is turned down."
Rose took it, saw the words "Self-Reliance," and, turning the leaves,read here and there a passage which was marked:--
"'My life is for itself, and not for a spectacle.'
"'Insist on yourself: never imitate. That which each can do best, nonebut his Maker can teach him.'
"'Do that which is assigned to you, and you cannot hope or dare toomuch.'"
Then coming to the folded leaf, whose title was "Heroism," she read,and brightened as she read,--
"'Let the maiden, with erect soul, walk serenely on her way; acceptthe hint of each new experience; search in turn all the objects thatsolicit her eye, that she may learn the power and the charm of hernewborn being.'
"'The fair girl who repels interference by a decided and proud choiceof influences inspires every beholder with something of her ownnobleness; and the silent heart encourages her. O friend, never strikesail to a fear! Come into port greatly, or sail with God the seas.'"
"You understand that, don't you?" asked Mac, as she glanced up withthe look of one who had found something suited to her taste and need.
"Yes, but I never dared to read these Essays, because I thought theywere too wise for me."
"The wisest things are sometimes the simplest, I think. Every onewelcomes light and air, and cannot do without them; yet very few couldexplain them truly. I don't ask you to read or understand all ofthat,--don't myself,--but I do recommend the two essays I've marked,as well as 'Love and Friendship.' Try them, and let me know how theysuit. I'll leave you the book."
"Thanks. I wanted something fine to read up here; and, judging by whatI see, I fancy this _will_ suit. Only Aunt Jessie may think I'mputting on airs, if I try Emerson."
"Why should she? He has done more to set young men and women thinking,than any man in this century at least. Don't you be afraid: if it iswhat you want, take it, and go ahead as he tells you,--
"'Without halting, without rest, Lifting Better up to Best.'"
"I'll try," said Rose, meekly; feeling that Mac had been going aheadhimself much faster than she had any suspicion.
Here a voice exclaimed "Hallo!" and, looking round, Jamie wasdiscovered surveying them critically, as he stood in an independentattitude, like a small Colossus of Rhodes in brown linen, with abundle of molasses-candy in one hand, several new fish-hookscherished carefully in the other, and his hat well on the back of hishead, displaying as many freckles as one somewhat limited nose couldreasonably accommodate.
"How are you, young one?" said Mac, nodding.
"Tip-top. Glad it's you: thought Archie might have turned up again,and he's no fun. Where did you come from? What did you come for? Howlong are you going to stay? Want a bit? It's jolly good."
With which varied remarks Jamie approached, shook hands in a manlyway, and, sitting down beside his long cousin, hospitably offeredsticks of candy all round.
"Did you get any letters?" asked Rose, declining the sticky treat.
"Lots: but mamma forgot to give 'em to me, and I was rather in ahurry; for Mrs. Atkinson said somebody had come, and I couldn't wait,"explained Jamie, reposing luxuriously with his head on Mac's legs, andhis mouth full.
"I'll step and get them. Aunty must be tired, and we should enjoyreading the news together."
"She is the most convenient girl that ever was," observed Jamie, asRose departed, thinking Mac might like some more substantialrefreshment than sweetmeats.
"I should think so, if you let her run your errands, you lazy littlescamp," answered Mac, looking after her as she went up the greenslope; for there was something very attractive to him about theslender figure in a plain white gown, with a black sash about thewaist, and all the wavy hair gathered to the top of the head with alittle black bow.
"Sort of pre-Raphaelite, and quite refreshing after the furbelowedcreatures at the hotels," he said to himself, as she vanished underthe arch of scarlet-runners over the garden-gate.
"Oh, well! she likes it. Rose is fond of me, and I'm very good to herwhen I have time," continued Jamie, calmly explaining. "I let her cutout a fish-hook, when it caught in my leg, with a sharp pen-knife; andyou'd better believe it hurt: but I never squirmed a bit, and she saidI was a brave boy. And then, one day I got left on my desertisland,--out in the pond, you know,--the boat floated off, and there Iwas for as much as an hour before I could make any one hear. But Rosethought I might be there; and down she came, and told me to swimashore. It wasn't far; but the water was horrid cold, and I didn'tlike it. I started though, just as she said, and got on all right,till about half way, then cramp or something made me shut up and howl,and she came after me slapdash, and pulled me ashore. Yes, sir, as wetas a turtle, and looked so funny, I laughed; and that cured the cramp.Wasn't I good to mind when she said, 'Come on?'"
"She was, to dive after such a scapegrace. I guess you lead her a lifeof it, and I'd better take you home with me in the morning," suggestedMac, rolling the boy over, and giving him a good-natured pummellingon the hay-cock, while Dulce applauded from her nest.
When Rose returned with ice-cold milk, gingerbread, and letters, shefound the reader of Emerson up in the tree, pelting and being peltedwith green apples, as Jamie vainly endeavored to get at him. The siegeended when Aunt Jessie appeared; and the rest of the afternoon wasspent in chat about home affairs.
Early the next morning Mac was off, and Rose went as far as the oldchurch with him.
"Shall you walk all the way?" she asked, as he strode along besideher, in the dewy freshness of the young day.
"Only about twenty miles, then take car and whisk back to my work," heanswered, breaking a delicate fern for her.
"Are you never lonely?"
"Never: I take my best friends along, you know," and he gave a slap tothe pocket from which peeped the volume of Thoreau.
"I'm afraid you leave your very best behind you," said Rose, alludingto the book he had lent her yesterday.
"I'm glad to share it with you. I have much of it here; and a littlegoes a great way, as you will soon discover," he answered, tapping hishead.
"I hope the reading will do as much for me as it seems to have donefor you. I'm happy; but you are wise and good: I wan
t to be, also."
"Read away, and digest it well; then write, and tell me what you thinkof it. Will you?" he asked, as they paused where the four roads met.
"If you will answer. Shall you have time with all your other work?Poetry--I beg pardon--medicine is very absorbing, you know," answeredRose, mischievously; for just then, as he stood bareheaded with theshadows of the leaves playing over his fine forehead, she rememberedthe chat among the hay-cocks, and he did not look at all like an M.D.
"I'll make time."
"Good-by, Milton."
"Good-by, Sabrina."