Part 57

"He looked at me as though he did not understand me, and I do not suppose he did, although he only said: 'I am delighted to hear that, my dear girl. But how are you going to manage it? How about that hereditary disease you were talking of the other day?'

"'I have nothing to say about that,' I answered; 'but if I live as long as my grandfather did, I do not believe that your being a little older than I am would--I mean that you would not be left alone. Don't you understand?'

"Bernard did not laugh. 'You are the dearest little woman in the world,' he said, 'and I believe you would do anything to make me happy--you would even be willing to survive me, so that I should never lose you. But don't let us talk any more about such doleful things. We are both going to live to be a great deal older than your grandfather. Now I will tell you something pleasant: I had a letter this morning, just as I was starting out. I put it in my pocket, and did not have time to open it until we were eating our lunch. It is from my brother George, who is going to England next month, you know; and as he wants to see something of us before he starts, he intends to spend a few days in the village, so that he can be with us. He is coming to-morrow.'

"A ray of hope shot into my heart so bright that I could almost feel it burn.

"'Well,' said Bernard, 'what have you to say to this? Aren't you glad that George is coming?'

"'Glad!' I replied. 'I am more than delighted.'

"Bernard looked as though he did not understand this extraordinary ecstasy; but as he was used to not understanding me, I do not suppose he thought it worth while to bother himself about it.

"George was a fine young fellow, and, next to Bernard, I thought he was the best man in the world. It will be remembered that I had no brother, and George was always as kind and brotherly as he could be. I was fond of him even before I was married; in fact, I knew him quite well before I became acquainted with Bernard; and I was always glad to see him. But I had never been so delighted to think he was coming as I was then. My face must have shown this, for Bernard laughingly said:

"'You must be awfully glad to see George.'

"'I am glad,' I answered; and as I spoke I thought that if he knew everything he would understand why my eyes glistened, as I am sure they did.

"The reason of my great joy was that a plan had suddenly come into my mind. George had spoken to me several times about marrying, and he had told me just what kind of a wife he wanted; and now, as I remembered what he had said on the subject, it seemed to me he had been describing Margaret Temple. He wanted a wife who was good-looking but not a belle, and she must be sensible and practical, a good housekeeper, and a charming hostess. Besides, she must be intellectual, and fond of books, and appreciate art, and all that. Moreover, he had said he would like her to be just about a year older than himself, because he thought that was a good proportion in a young couple. It was apt to make the man look up to his wife a little, which might not be the case if he were the elder. I remembered this, because when he told me I wished very much that I were a year older than Bernard.

"Now, as I said before, all this seemed as though he had been talking of Miss Temple; and I, knowing her so well, could see other points than those he mentioned in which she would suit him as no other woman could. If George would fall in love with Miss Temple,--and there was no earthly reason why he should not, for Bernard told me he was going to make him stay a week,--then everything would be all right; all my anxieties, my forebodings, and my jealousies would be gone, and I should be as happy as I was before I met that dear girl, Miss Temple.

"This was not all idle fancy. My plan was founded on good, practical ideas. If George married Margaret everything would be settled in an absolutely perfect way. If I should die Bernard would not need to marry anybody; in fact, I did not believe that in this case he would want to. He would go to live with George and Margaret; their home would be his home, and he would always have both of them to take care of him and to make him happy in every possible way in which anybody could make him happy. In my mind's eye I could see him in the best room in the house, with all sorts of comforts and luxuries about him--our present comforts and luxuries would make a great show gathered together in one room; and then I saw Margaret and George standing at the open door, asking if there were anything he would like, and what they could do for him. As this mental picture came before me my eyes involuntarily went around that room to see if there were a picture of me on the wall; and there it was, and no portrait of any other woman anywhere about.

"In a flash the whole thing became so horrible to me that I threw myself on the bed and began to cry convulsively. Bernard heard me, and came up-stairs, and I was obliged to tell him I had a sudden pain. He does not like sudden pains, and sat down and talked to me a good while about what I had been eating. Before long, however, I grew calm, and was able to think about my plans in a common-sense, practical way. Truly there could be nothing better for my present comfort and Bernard's future happiness: Margaret and George to take care of him, and my image undimmed in his heart. I felt like one who has insured his life for the benefit of a loved one, so, no matter what might happen to him, he would have, as long as he lived, the joy of knowing what he had done for the loved one.

"When George came the next day he was just the same splendid old George, and I do not believe any one ever received a warmer welcome from a sister-in-law than I gave him. Bernard made a little fun of me, as usual, and said he believed I would rather see George than him.

"'Nonsense,' said I; 'I am always glad to see you, but I am especially glad to see George.'

"Bernard whistled, and looked at me in the same queer way that he looked at me when he once had said laughingly that he believed if I had never met him I would have married George, and I had answered that if I had been sure he did not exist it might have been a good thing for me to marry George.

"Miss Temple did not come to the house that morning, as she so often did, but I asked Emily to send over and invite her to tea; for I did not wish to lose any time in the carrying out of my plans. It was about the middle of the afternoon when Bernard and his brother came in from a walk. I had been anxious to see George, because I wanted to talk with him about Margaret before he met her. I was going to speak very guardedly, of course; but I knew it would be well to prepare his mind, and I had made up my mind exactly what I was going to say.

"I artfully managed so that George and I walked over the lawn to a bench in the shade of a big tree where there was something or other--I entirely forget what it was--which I said I would show him. Mr. and Mrs. Cheston and Bernard were on the piazza, but I did not ask them to join us.

"We sat down on the bench, and, in a general sort of way, I asked him what he had been doing, meaning presently to bring up the subject of Margaret, for I did not know what time she might drop in. But George was just as anxious to talk as I was, and, being a man, he was a little more pushing, and he said:

"'Now, little Rosa, I am so glad you came down here with me, for I have something on my mind I want to tell you, and I want to do it myself, before anybody else interferes. It is just this: I am engaged to be married, and as soon as I get back from England I am going to--' And then he opened his eyes very wide and looked hard at me. 'What is the matter, Rosa?' he exclaimed. 'Don't you feel well?'

"In one instant all my plans and hopes and happy dreams of the future had dropped to the ground, and had been crushed into atoms.

"'Well!' said I, and I think I spoke in a queer voice. 'I am very well. There is nothing the matter with me. What is her name?'

"He told me; but I had never heard it before, and it was of no more importance to me than the buzzing of a bee.

"'It will be very nice,' I said; 'and now let us go up to the house and tell the others.'

"I think that for a woman who had just received such a blow as had been dealt to me I behaved very well indeed. But I was cold and, I suspect, pale. I listened as the others talked, but I did not say much myself; and, as soon as I could make some excuse, I went up to my room. There I threw myself into a great chair, and gently cried myself to sleep. I did not sob loudly, because I did not want Bernard to come up again. When I awoke I had a dreadful headache, and I made up my mind I would not go down to tea. I could do no good by going down, and, so far as I was concerned, it did not matter in the least whether Margaret was there or not. In fact, I did not care about anything. Let George marry whoever he pleased. If I should die Margaret Temple had promised to take care of Bernard. Everything was settled, and there was no sense in making any more plans. So I got ready for another nap, and when Bernard came up I told him I had a headache, and did not want any tea.

"That evening Bernard sat and looked at me without speaking, as was sometimes his habit, and then he said:

"'Rosa, I do not understand this at all, and I want you to tell me why you were so extravagantly glad when you found my brother George was coming here, and why you were so overcome by your emotions when you heard of his engagement.'