She got no further, however; for those last words wrought amarvellous change in Mac. Dropping her hands, he stood erect, as ifinspired with sudden energy and hope, while over his face there came abrave, bright look, which for the moment made him a nobler and acomelier man than ever handsome Prince had been.
"It _is_ a comfort!" he said, in a tone of gratitude, that touched hervery much. "You said your love must be founded on respect, and thatyou have given me: why can I not earn the rest? I'm nothing now; butevery thing is possible when one loves with all his heart and soul andstrength. Rose, _I_ will be your hero if a mortal man can, even thoughI have to work and wait for years. I'll _make_ you love me, and beglad to do it. Don't be frightened. I've not lost my wits: I've justfound them. I don't ask any thing: I'll never speak of my hope, but itis no use to stop me; I _must_ try it, and I _will_ succeed!"
With the last words, uttered in a ringing voice, while his faceglowed, his eyes shone, and he looked as if carried out of himself bythe passion that possessed him, Mac abruptly left the room, like oneeager to change words to deeds and begin his task at once.
Rose was so amazed by all this, that she sat down trembling a little,not with fear or anger, but a feeling half pleasure, half pain; and asense of some new power--subtle, strong, and sweet--that had come intoher life. It seemed as if another Mac had taken the place of the oneshe had known so long,--an ardent, ambitious man, ready for any work,now that the magical moment had come, when every thing seems possibleto love. If hope could work such a marvellous change for a moment,could not happiness do it for a lifetime?
It would be an excitingexperiment to try, she thought, remembering the sudden illuminationwhich made that familiar face both beautiful and strange.
She could not help wondering how long this unsuspected sentiment hadbeen growing in his heart, and felt perplexed by its peculiardemonstration; for she had never had a lover like this before. Ittouched and flattered her, nevertheless: and she could not but feelhonored by a love so genuine and generous; for it seemed to make a manof Mac all at once, and a manly man too, who was not daunted bydisappointment, but could "hope against hope", and resolve to _make_her love him if it took years to do it.
There was the charm of novelty about this sort of wooing, and shetried to guess how he would set about it, felt curious to see how hewould behave when next they met, and was half angry with herself fornot being able to decide how she ought to act. The more she thoughtthe more bewildered she grew; for, having made up her mind that Macwas a genius, it disturbed all her plans to find him a lover, and suchan ardent one. As it was impossible to predict what would come next,she gave up trying to prepare for it; and, tired with vainspeculations, carried Dulce off to bed, wishing she could tuck awayher love-troubles as quietly and comfortably as she did her sleepylittle charge.
Simple and sincere in all things, Mac gave Rose a new surprise bykeeping his promise to the letter,--asked nothing of her, said nothingof his hope, and went on as if nothing had happened, quite in the oldfriendly way. No, not quite; for now and then, when she least expectedit, she saw again that indescribable expression in his face, a lookthat seemed to shed a sudden sunshine over her, making her eyes fallinvoluntarily, her color rise, and her heart beat quicker for amoment. Not a word did he say, but she felt that a new atmospheresurrounded her when he was by; and, although he used none of thelittle devices most lovers employ to keep the flame alight, it wasimpossible to forget that underneath his quietude there was a hiddenworld of fire and force, ready to appear at a touch, a word from her.
This was rather dangerous knowledge for Rose, and she soon began tofeel that there were more subtle temptations than she had suspected;for it was impossible to be unconscious of her power, or always toresist the trials of it which daily came unsought. She had never feltthis desire before: for Charlie was the only one who had touched herheart; and he was constantly asking as well as giving, and wearied herby demanding too much, or oppressed by offering more than she couldaccept.
Mac did neither: he only loved her, silently, patiently, hopefully;and this generous sort of fidelity was very eloquent to a nature likehers. She could not refuse or chide, since nothing was asked or urged:there was no need of coldness, for he never presumed; no call forpity, since he never complained. All that could be done was to try andbe as just and true as he was, and to wait as trustfully for the end,whatever it was to be.
For a time she liked the new interest it put into her life, yet didnothing to encourage it; and thought that if she gave this love nofood it would soon starve to death. But it seemed to thrive on air;and presently she began to feel as if a very strong will was slowlybut steadily influencing her in many ways. If Mac had never told herthat he meant to "_make_ her love him", she might have yieldedunconsciously; but now she mistook the impulse to obey thisundercurrent for compassion, and resisted stoutly, not comprehendingyet the reason of the unrest which took possession of her about thistime.
She had as many moods as an April day; and would have much surprisedDr. Alec by her vagaries, had he known them all. He saw enough,however, to guess what was the matter, but took no notice; for he knewthis fever must run its course, and much medicine only does harm. Theothers were busy about their own affairs, and Aunt Plenty was too muchabsorbed in her rheumatism to think of love; for the cold weather setin early, and the poor lady kept her room for days at a time, withRose as nurse.
Mac had spoken of going away in November, and Rose began to hope hewould; for she decided that this silent sort of adoration was bad forher, as it prevented her from steadily pursuing the employments shehad marked out for that year. What was the use of trying to readuseful books, when her thoughts continually wandered to those charmingessays on "Love and Friendship"? to copy antique casts, when all themasculine heads looked like Cupid, and the feminine ones like thePsyche on her mantel-piece? to practise the best music, if it ended insinging over and over the pretty spring-song without Phebe'sbird-chorus? Dulce's company was pleasantest now; for Dulce seldomtalked, so much meditation was possible. Even Aunt Plenty's redflannel, camphor, and Pond's Extract were preferable to generalsociety; and long solitary rides on Rosa seemed the only thing to puther in tune after one of her attempts to find out what she ought to door leave undone.
She made up her mind at last; and arming herself with an unmade pen,like Fanny Squeers, she boldly went into the study to confer with Dr.Alec, at an hour when Mac was usually absent.
"I want a pen for marking: can you make me one, uncle?" she asked,popping in her head to be sure he was alone.
"Yes, my dear," answered a voice so like the doctor's that she enteredwithout delay.
But before she had taken three steps she stopped, looking ratherannoyed; for the head that rose from behind the tall desk was notrough and gray, but brown and smooth, and Mac, not Uncle Alec, satthere writing. Late experience had taught her that she had nothing tofear from a _tete-a-tete_; and, having with difficulty taken aresolution, she did not like to fail of carrying it out.
"Don't get up: I won't trouble you if you are busy; there is nohurry", she said, not quite sure whether it were wiser to stay or runaway.
Mac settled the point, by taking the pen out of her hand and beginningto cut it, as quietly as Nicholas did on that "thrilling" occasion.Perhaps he was thinking of that; for he smiled as he asked,--
"Hard or soft?"
Rose evidently had forgotten that the family of Squeers ever existed,for she answered,--
"Hard, please," in a voice to match. "I'm glad to see you doing that",she added, taking courage from his composure, and going as straight toher point as could be expected of a woman.
"And I am very glad to do it."
"I don't mean making pens, but the romance I advised," and she touchedthe closely written page before him, looking as if she would like toread it.
"That is my abstract of a lecture on the circulation of the blood," heanswered, kindly turning it so that she could see. "I don't writeromances: I'm living one," and he glanced up with the happy, hopefulexpression which always made her feel as if he was heaping coals offire on her head.
"I wish you wouldn't look at me in that way: it fidgets me," she saida little petulantly; for she had been out riding, and knew that shedid not present a "spiritual" appearance, after the frosty air hadreddened nose as well as cheeks.
"I'll try to remember. It does itself before I know it. Perhaps thismay mend matters," and, taking out the blue glasses he sometimes worein the wind, he gravely put them on.
Rose could not help laughing: but his obedience only aggravated her;for she knew he could observe her all the better behind his uglyscreen.
"No, it won't: they are not becoming; and I don't want to look bluewhen I do not feel so," she said, finding it impossible to guess whathe would do next, or to help enjoying his peculiarities.
"But you don't to me; for in spite of the goggles every thing isrose-colored now," and he pocketed the glasses, without a murmur atthe charming inconsistency of his idol.
"Really, Mac, I'm tired of this nonsense: it worries me and wastesyour time."
"Never worked harder. But does it _really_ trouble you to know I loveyou?" he asked anxiously.
"Don't you see how cross it makes me?" and she walked away, feelingthat things were not going as she intended to have them at all.
"I don't mind the thorns if I get the rose at last; and I still hope Imay, some ten years hence," said this persistent suitor, quiteundaunted by the prospect of a "long wait."
"I think it is rather hard to be loved whether I like it or not,"objected Rose, at a loss how to m
ake any headway against suchindomitable hopefulness.
"But you can't help it, nor can I: so I must go on doing it with allmy heart till you marry; and then--well, then I'm afraid I may hatesomebody instead," and Mac spoilt the pen by an involuntary slash ofhis knife.
"Please don't, Mac!"
"Don't which, love or hate?"
"Don't do either: go and care for some one else; there are plenty ofnice girls who will be glad to make you happy," said Rose, intent uponending her disquiet in some way.
"That is too easy. I enjoy working for my blessings; and the harder Ihave to work the more I value them when they come."
"Then if I suddenly grew very kind would you stop caring about me?"asked Rose, wondering if that treatment would free her from a passionwhich both touched and tormented her.
"Try and see;" but there was a traitorous glimmer in Mac's eyes whichplainly showed what a failure it would be.
"No, I'll get something to do, so absorbing I shall forget all aboutyou."
"Don't think about me if it troubles you," he said tenderly.
"I can't help it." Rose tried to catch back the words: but it was toolate; and she added hastily, "That is, I cannot help wishing you wouldforget _me_. It is a great disappointment to find I was mistaken whenI hoped such fine things of you."
"Yes, you were very sure that it was love when it was poetry; and nowyou want poetry when I've nothing on hand but love. Will both togetherplease you?"
"Try and see."
"I'll do my best. Any thing else?" he asked, forgetting the small taskshe had given him, in his eagerness to attempt the greater.
"Tell me one thing. I've often wanted to know; and now you speak of itI'll venture to ask. Did you care about me when you read Keats to melast summer?"
"No."
"When _did_ you begin?" asked Rose, smiling in spite of herself at hisunflattering honesty.
"How can I tell? Perhaps it did begin up there, though; for that talkset us writing, and the letters showed me what a beautiful soul youhad. I loved that first: it was so quick to recognize good things, touse them when they came, and give them out again as unconsciously as aflower does its breath. I longed for you to come home, and wanted youto find me altered for the better in some way as I had found you. Andwhen you came it was very easy to see why I needed you,--to love youentirely, and to tell you so. That's all, Rose."
A short story, but it was enough: the voice that told it with suchsimple truth made the few words so eloquent Rose felt strongly temptedto add the sequel Mac desired. But her eyes had fallen as he spoke;for she knew his were fixed upon her, dark and dilated, with the samerepressed emotion that put such fervor into his quiet tones, and, justas she was about to look up, they fell on a shabby little footstool.Trifles affect women curiously, and often most irresistibly when someagitation sways them: the sight of the old hassock vividly recalledCharlie; for he had kicked it on the night she never liked toremember; like a spark it fired a long train of recollections, and thethought went through her mind,--
"I fancied I loved him, and let him see it; but I deceived myself, andhe reproached me for a single look that said too much. This feeling isvery different, but too new and sudden to be trusted. I'll neitherlook nor speak till I am quite sure; for Mac's love is far deeper thanpoor Charlie's, and I must be very true."
Not in words did the resolve shape itself, but in a quick impulse,which she obeyed,--certain that it was right, since it was hard toyield to it. Only an instant's silence followed Mac's answer, as shestood looking down with fingers intertwined, and color varying in hercheeks. A foolish attitude; but Mac thought it a sweet picture ofmaiden hesitation, and began to hope that a month's wooing was aboutto end in winning for a lifetime. He deceived himself, however; andcold water fell upon his flame, subduing but by no means quenching it,when Rose looked up with an air of determination, which could notescape eyes that were growing wonderfully far-sighted lately.
"I came in here to beg uncle to advise you to go away soon. You arevery patient and forbearing, and I feel it more than I can tell. Butit is not good for you to depend on any one so much for yourhappiness, I think; and I know it is bad for me to feel that I have somuch power over a fellow-creature. Go away, Mac, and see if this isn'tall a mistake. Don't let a fancy for me change or delay your work,because it may end as suddenly as it began, and then we should bothreproach ourselves and each other. Please do! I respect and care foryou so much, I can't be happy to take all and give nothing. I try to,but I'm not sure--I want to think--it is too soon to know yet--"
Rose began bravely, but ended in a fluttered sort of way, as she movedtoward the door; for Mac's face, though it fell at first, brightenedas she went on, and at the last word, uttered almost involuntarily, heactually laughed low to himself, as if this order into exile pleasedhim much.
"Don't say that you give nothing, when you've just shown me that I'mgetting on. I'll go; I'll go at once; and see if absence won't helpyou 'to think, to know, and to be sure,' as it did me. I wish I coulddo something more for you; as I can't, good-by."
"Are you going _now_?" and Rose paused in her retreat, to look backwith a startled face, as he offered her a badly made pen, and openedthe door for her just as Dr. Alec always did; for, in spite ofhimself, Mac did resemble the best of uncles.
"Not yet; but you seem to be."
Rose turned as red as a poppy, snatched the pen, and flew upstairs, tocall herself hard names, as she industriously spoiled all AuntPlenty's new pocket-handkerchiefs by marking them "A. M. C."
Three days later Mac said "Good-by" in earnest; and no one wassurprised that he left somewhat abruptly, such being his way, and acourse of lectures by a famous physician the ostensible reason for atrip to L. Uncle Alec deserted most shamefully at the last moment bysending word that he would be at the station to see the traveller off:Aunt Plenty was still in her room; so, when Mac came down from hisfarewell to her, Rose met him in the hall, as if anxious not to delayhim. She was a little afraid of another _tete-a-tete_, as she fared sobadly at the last, and had assumed a calm and cousinly air, which sheflattered herself would plainly show on what terms she wished topart.
Mac apparently understood, and not only took the hint, but surpassedher in cheerful composure; for, merely saying, "Good-by, cousin; writewhen you feel like it," he shook hands, and walked out of the house astranquilly as if only a day instead of three months were to passbefore they met again. Rose felt as if a sudden shower-bath hadchilled her, and was about to retire, saying to herself withdisdainful decision,--
"There's no love about it after all; only one of the eccentricities ofgenius," when a rush of cold air made her turn, to find herself inwhat appeared to be the embrace of an impetuous overcoat, which wrapther close for an instant, then vanished as suddenly as it came,leaving her to hide in the sanctum, and confide to Psyche with atender sort of triumph in her breathless voice,--
"No, no, it isn't genius: _that_ must be love!"