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“You are very kind, child. Since you are so wise, could you give me a hint how I’d better ‘speak up’, as you elegantly express it?”
“Oh, well, there are various ways, you know. In plays the lovers go down on their knees; but that’s awkward when they have long legs. Ted never does it well, though I drill him for hours. You could say, ‘Be mine, be mine!’ like the old man who threw cucumbers over the wall to Mrs Nickleby, if you want to be gay and easy; or you could write a poetical pop. You’ve tried it, I dare say.”
“But seriously, Jo, I do love Alice, and I think she knows it. I want to tell her so; but I lose my head when I try, and don’t care to make a fool of myself. Thought you might suggest some pretty way; you read so much poetry and are so romantic.”
Demi tried to express himself clearly, but forgot his dignity and his usual reserve in the sweet perplexity of his love, and asked his little sister to teach him how to put the question which a single word can answer. The arrival of his happy cousins had scattered all his wise plans and brave resolutions to wait still longer. The Christmas play had given him courage to hope, and the oration today had filled him with tender pride; but the sight of those blooming brides and beaming grooms was too much for him, and he panted to secure his Alice without an hour’s delay. Daisy was his confidante in all things but this; a brotherly feeling of sympathy had kept him from telling her his hopes, because her own were forbidden. His mother was rather jealous of any girl he admired; but knowing that she liked Alice, he loved on and enjoyed his secret alone, meaning soon to tell her all about it.
Now suddenly Josie and the rose-bush seemed to suggest a speedy end to his tender perplexities; and he was moved to accept her aid as the netted lion did that of the mouse.
“I think I’ll write,” he was slowly beginning, after a pause during which both were trying to strike out a new and brilliant idea.
“I’ve got it! perfectly lovely! just suit her, and you too, being a poet!” cried Josie, with a skip.
“What is it? Don’t be ridiculous, please,” begged the bashful lover, eager, but afraid of this sharp-tongued bit of womanhood.
“I read in one of Miss Edgeworth’s stories about a man who offers three roses to his lady—a bud, a half-blown, and a full-blown rose. I don’t remember which she took; but it’s a pretty way; and Alice knows about it because she was there when we read it. Here are all kinds; you’ve got the two buds, pick the sweetest rose you can find, and I’ll tie them up and put them in her room. She is coming to dress with Daisy, so I can do it nicely.”
Demi mused a moment with his eyes on the bridal bush, and a smile came over his face so unlike any it had ever worn before, that Josie was touched, and looked away as if she had no right to see the dawn of the great passion which, while it lasts, makes a young man as happy as a god.
“Do it,” was all he said, and gathered a full-blown rose to finish his floral love-message.
Charmed to have a finger in this romantic pie, Josie tied a graceful bow of ribbon about the stems, and finished her last nosegay with much content, while Demi wrote upon a card:
Dear Alice, You know what the flowers mean. Will you wear one, or all tonight, and make me still prouder, fonder, and happier than I am?
Yours entirely,
John
Offering this to his sister, he said in a tone that made her feel the deep importance of her mission:
“I trust you, Jo. This means everything to me. No jokes, dear, if you love me.”
Josie’s answer was a kiss that promised all things; and then she ran away to do her “gentle spiriting”, like Ariel, leaving Demi to dream among the roses like Ferdinand.
Mary and Ludmilla were charmed with their bouquets; and the giver had the delight of putting some of the flowers into the dark hair and the light as she played maid at the toilettes of “our brides”, which consoled her for a disappointment in the matter of veils.
No one helped Alice dress; for Daisy was in the next room with her mother; and not even their loving eyes saw the welcome which the little posy received, nor the tears and smiles and blushes that came and went as she read the note and pondered what answer she should give. There was no doubt about the one she wished to give; but duty held her back; for at home there was an invalid mother and an old father. She was needed there, with all the help she could now bring by the acquirements four years of faithful study had given her. Love looked very sweet, and a home of her own with John a little heaven on earth; but not yet. And she slowly laid away the full-blown rose as she sat before the mirror, thinking over the great question of her life.
Was it wise and kind to ask him to wait, to bind him by any promise, or even to put into words the love and honour she felt for him? No; it would be more generous to make the sacrifice alone, and spare him the pain of hope deferred. He was young; he would forget; and she would do her duty better, perhaps, if no impatient lover waited for her. With eyes that saw but dimly, and a hand that lingered on the stem he had stripped of thorns, she laid the half-blown flower by the rose, and asked herself if even the little bud might be worn. It looked very poor and pale beside the others; yet being in the self-sacrificing mood which real love brings, she felt that even a small hope was too much to give, if she could not follow it up with more.
As she sat looking sadly down on the symbols of an affection that grew dearer every moment, she listened half unconsciously to the murmur of voices in the adjoining room. Open windows, thin partitions, and the stillness of summer twilight made it impossible to help hearing, and in a few moments more she could not refrain; for they were talking of John.
“So nice of Ludmilla to bring us all bottles of real German cologne! Just what we need after this tiring day! Be sure John has his! He likes it so!”
“Yes, mother. Did you see him jump up when Alice ended her oration? He’d have gone to her if I hadn’t held him back. I don’t wonder he was pleased and proud. I spoilt my gloves clapping, and quite forgot my dislike of seeing women on platforms, she was so earnest and unconscious and sweet after the first moment.”
“Has he said anything to you, dear?”
“No; and I guess why. The kind boy thinks it would make me unhappy. It wouldn’t. But I know his ways; so I wait, and hope all will go well with him.”
“It must. No girl in her senses would refuse our John, though he isn’t rich, and never will be. Daisy, I’ve been longing to tell you what he did with his money. He told me last night, and I’ve had no time since to tell you. He sent poor young Barton to the hospital, and kept him there till his eyes were saved—a costly thing to do. But the man can work now and care
for his old parents. He was in despair, sick and poor, and too proud to beg; and our dear boy found it out, and took every penny he had, and never told even his mother till she made him.”
Alice did not hear what Daisy answered, for she was busy with her own emotions—happy ones now, to judge from the smile that shone in her eyes and the decided gesture with which she put the little bud in her bosom, as if she said: “He deserves some reward for that good deed, and he shall have it.”
Mrs Meg was speaking, and still of John, when she could hear again:
“Some people would call it unwise and reckless, when John has so little; but I think his first investment a safe and good one, for ‘he who giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord’ and I was so pleased and proud, I wouldn’t spoil it by offering him a penny.”
“It is his having nothing to offer that keeps him silent, I think. He is so honest, he won’t ask till he has much to give. But he forgets that love is everything. I know he’s rich in that; I see and feel it; and any woman should be glad to get it.”
“Right, dear. I felt just so, and was willing to work and wait with and for my John.”
“So she will be, and I hope they will find it out. But she is so dutiful and good, I’m afraid she won’t let herself be happy. You would like it, mother?”
“Heartily; for a better, nobler girl doesn’t live. She is all I want for my son; and I don’t mean to lose the dear, brave creature if I can help it. Her heart is big enough for both love and duty; and they can wait more happily if they do it together—for wait they must, of course.”
“I’m so glad his choice suits you, mother, and he is spared the saddest sort of disappointment.”
Daisy’s voice broke there; and a sudden rustle, followed by a soft murmur, seemed to tell that she was in her mother’s arms, seeking and finding comfort there.
