CHAPTER V.
_PRINCE CHARMING._
The old glove lay upon the floor forgotten, while Rose sat musing,till a quick step sounded in the hall, and a voice drew near tunefullyhumming.
"As he was walkin' doun the street The city for to view, Oh, there he spied a bonny lass, The window lookin' through."
"Sae licht he jumped up the stair, And tirled at the pin; Oh, wha sae ready as hersel' To let the laddie in?"
sung Rose, as the voice paused and a tap came at the door.
"Good morning, Rosamunda; here are your letters, and your most devotedready to execute any commissions you may have for him," was Charlie'sgreeting, as he came in looking comely, gay, and debonair as usual.
"Thanks: I've no errands unless you mail my replies, if these needanswering; so by your leave, Prince," and Rose began to open thehandful of notes he threw into her lap.
"Ha! what sight is this to blast mine eyes?" ejaculated Charlie, as hepointed to the glove with a melodramatic start; for, like mostaccomplished amateur actors, he was fond of introducing privatetheatricals into his "daily walk and conversation."
"Uncle left it."
"'Tis well; methought perchance a rival had been here," and, pickingit up, Charlie amused himself with putting it on the head of a littlePsyche, which ornamented the mantle-piece, humming, as he did so,another verse of the old song,--
"He set his Jenny on his knee, All in his Highland dress; For brawly well he kenned the way To please a bonny lass."
Rose went on reading her letters, but all the while was thinking ofher conversation with her uncle, and something else, suggested by thenewcomer and his ditty.
During the three months since her return, she had seen more of thiscousin than any of the others; for he seemed to be the only one whohad leisure to "play with Rose," as they used to say years ago. Theother boys were all at work, even little Jamie, many of whose playhours were devoted to manful struggles with Latin grammar, the evilgenius of his boyish life. Dr. Alec had many affairs to arrange afterhis long absence; Phebe was busy with her music; and Aunt Plenty stillactively superintended her housekeeping. Thus it fell out, quitenaturally, that Charlie should form the habit of lounging in at allhours with letters, messages, bits of news, and agreeable plans forRose. He helped her with her sketching, rode with her, sung with her,and took her to parties, as a matter of course; for Aunt Clara, beingthe gayest of the sisters, played chaperon on all occasions.
For a time it was very pleasant; but, by and by, Rose began to wishCharlie would find something to do like the rest, and not makedawdling after her the business of his life. The family were used tohis self-indulgent ways: and there was an amiable delusion in theminds of the boys that he had a right to the best of every thing; forto them he was still the Prince, the flower of the flock, and in timeto be an honor to the name. No one exactly knew how: for, though fullof talent, he seemed to have no especial gift or bias; and the eldersbegan to shake their heads, because, in spite of many grand promisesand projects, the moment for decisive action never came.
Rose saw all this, and longed to inspire her brilliant cousin withsome manful purpose, which should win for him respect as well asadmiration. But she found it very hard: for, though he listened withimperturbable good humor, and owned his shortcomings with delightfulfrankness, he always had some argument, reason, or excuse to offer,and out-talked her in five minutes; leaving her silenced, butunconvinced.
Of late she had observed that he seemed to feel as if her time andthoughts belonged exclusively to him, and rather resented the approachof any other claimant. This annoyed her, and suggested the idea thather affectionate interest and efforts were misunderstood by him,misrepresented and taken advantage of by Aunt Clara, who had been mosturgent that she should "use her influence with the dear boy," thoughthe fond mother resented all other interference. This troubled Rose,and made her feel as if caught in a snare; for, while she owned toherself that Charlie was the most attractive of her cousins, she wasnot ready to be taken possession of in this masterful way, especiallysince other and sometimes better men sought her favor more humbly.
These thoughts were floating vaguely in her mind as she read herletters, and unconsciously influenced her in the chat that followed.
"Only invitations, and I can't stop to answer them now, or I shallnever get through this job," she said, returning to her work.
"Let me help. You do up, and I'll direct. Have a secretary; do now,and see what a comfort it will be," proposed Charlie, who could turnhis hand to any thing, and had made himself quite at home in thesanctum.
"I'd rather finish this myself, but you may answer the notes if youwill. Just regrets to all but two or three. Read the names as you goalong, and I'll tell you which."
"To hear is to obey. Who says I'm a 'frivolous idler' now?" andCharlie sat down at the writing table with alacrity; for these hoursin the little room were his best and happiest.
"Order is heaven's first law, and the view a lovely one, but I _don't_see any note-paper," he added, opening the desk and surveying itscontents with interest.
"Right-hand drawer: violet monogram for the notes; plain paper for thebusiness letter. I'll see to that, though," answered Rose, trying todecide whether Annabel or Emma should have the laced handkerchief.
"Confiding creature! Suppose I open the wrong drawer, and come uponthe tender secrets of your soul?" continued the new secretary,rummaging out the delicate note-paper with masculine disregard oforder.
"I haven't got any," answered Rose, demurely.
"What, not one despairing scrawl, one cherished miniature, one fadedfloweret, etc., etc.? I can't believe it, cousin," and he shook hishead incredulously.
"If I had, I certainly should not show them to you, impertinentperson! There _are_ a few little souvenirs in that desk, but nothingvery sentimental or interesting."
"How I'd like to see 'em! But I should never dare to ask," observedCharlie, peering over the top of the half-open lid with a mostpersuasive pair of eyes.
"You may if you want to, but you'll be disappointed, Paul Pry. Lowerleft-hand drawer with the key in it."
"'Angel of goodness, how shall I requite thee? Interesting moment,with what palpitating emotions art thou fraught!'" and, quoting fromthe "Mysteries of Udolpho," he unlocked and opened the drawer with atragic gesture.
"Seven locks of hair in a box, all light; for 'here's your strawcolor, your orange tawny, your French crown color, and your perfectyellow' Shakspeare. They look very familiar, and I fancy I know theheads they thatched."
"Yes, you all gave me one when I went away, you know; and I carriedthem round the world with me in that very box."
"I wish the heads had gone too. Here's a jolly little amber god, witha gold ring in his back and a most balmy breath," continued Charlie,taking a long sniff at the scent-bottle.
"Uncle brought me that long ago, and I'm very fond of it."
"This now looks suspicious,--a man's ring with a lotus cut on thestone and a note attached. I tremble as I ask, Who, when, and where?"
"A gentleman, on my birthday, in Calcutta."
"I breathe again: it was my sire?"
"Don't be absurd. Of course it was, and he did every thing to make myvisit pleasant. I wish you'd go and see him like a dutiful son,instead of idling here."
"That's what Uncle Mac is eternally telling me; but I don't intend tobe lectured into the tread-mill till I've had my fling first,"muttered Charlie, rebelliously.
"If you fling yourself in the wrong direction, you may find it hard toget back again," began Rose, gravely.
"No fear, if you look after me as you seem to have promised to do,judging by the thanks you get in this note. Poor old governor! I_should_ like to see him; for it's almost four years since he camehome last, and he must be getting on."
Charlie was the only one of the boys who ever called his father"governor:" perhaps because the others knew and loved their fathers,while he had seen so little
of his that the less respectful name camemore readily to his lips; since the elder man seemed in truth agovernor issuing requests or commands, which the younger too oftenneglected or resented.
Long ago Rose had discovered that Uncle Stephen found home made sodistasteful by his wife's devotion to society, that he preferred toexile himself, taking business as an excuse for his protractedabsences.
The girl was thinking of this, as she watched her cousin turn the ringabout with a sudden sobriety which became him well; and, believingthat the moment was propitious, she said earnestly,--
"He _is_ getting on. Dear Charlie, do think of duty more than pleasurein this case, and I'm sure you never will regret it."
"Do _you_ want me to go?" he asked quickly.
"I think you ought."
"And I think you'd be much more charming if you wouldn't always beworrying about right and wrong! Uncle Alec taught you that along withthe rest of his queer notions."
"I'm glad he did!" cried Rose, warmly; then checked herself, and saidwith a patient sort of sigh, "You know women always want the men theycare for to be good, and can't help trying to make them so."
"So they do; and we ought to be a set of angels: but I've a strongconviction that, if we were, the dear souls wouldn't like us half aswell. Would they now?" asked Charlie, with an insinuating smile.
"Perhaps not; but that is dodging the point. Will you go?" persistedRose, unwisely.
"No, I will not."
That was sufficiently decided; and an uncomfortable pause followed,during which Rose tied a knot unnecessarily tight, and Charlie went onexploring the drawer with more energy than interest.
"Why, here's an old thing I gave you ages ago!" he suddenly exclaimedin a pleased tone, holding up a little agate heart on a faded blueribbon. "Will you let me take away the heart of stone and give you aheart of flesh?" he asked, half in earnest, half in jest, touched bythe little trinket and the recollections it awakened.
"No, I will not," answered Rose, bluntly, much displeased by theirreverent and audacious question.
Charlie looked rather abashed for a moment; but his naturallight-heartedness made it easy for him to get the better of his ownbrief fits of waywardness, and put others in good humor with him andthemselves.
"Now we are even: let's drop the subject and start afresh," he saidwith irresistible affability, as he coolly put the little heart in hispocket, and prepared to shut the drawer. But something caught his eye,and exclaiming, "What's this? what's this?" he snatched up aphotograph which lay half under a pile of letters with foreignpost-marks.
"Oh! I forgot that was there," said Rose, hastily.
"Who is the man?" demanded Charlie, eying the good-looking countenancebefore him with a frown.
"That is the Honorable Gilbert Murry, who went up the Nile with us,and shot crocodiles and other small deer, being a mighty hunter, as Itold you in my letters," answered Rose gayly, though ill-pleased atthe little discovery just then; for this had been one of the narrowescapes her uncle spoke of.
"And they haven't eaten him yet, I infer from that pile of letters?"said Charlie, jealously.
"I hope not. His sister did not mention it when she wrote last."
"Ah! then she is your correspondent? Sisters are dangerous thingssometimes." And Charlie eyed the packet suspiciously.
"In this case, a very convenient thing; for she tells me all about herbrother's wedding as no one else would take the trouble to do."
"Oh! well, if he's married, I don't care a straw about him. I fanciedI'd found out why you are such a hard-hearted charmer. But, if thereis no secret idol, I'm all at sea again." And Charlie tossed thephotograph into the drawer, as if it no longer interested him.
"I'm hard-hearted because I'm particular, and, as yet, do not find anyone at all to my taste."
"No one?" with a tender glance.
"No one," with a rebellious blush, and the truthful addition, "I seemuch to admire and like in many persons, but none quite strong andgood enough to suit me. My heroes are old-fashioned, you know."
"Prigs, like Guy Carleton, Count Altenberg, and John Halifax: I knowthe pattern you goody girls like," sneered Charlie, who preferred theGuy Livingston, Beauclerc, and Rochester style.
"Then I'm not a 'goody girl,' for I don't like prigs. I want agentleman in the best sense of the word, and I can wait; for I've seenone, and know there are more in the world."
"The deuce you have! Do I know him?" asked Charlie, much alarmed.