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  Alice heard no more, and shut her window with a guilty feeling but a shining face; for the proverb about listeners failed here, and she had learned more than she dared to hope. Things seemed to change suddenly; she felt that her heart was large enough for both love and duty; she knew now that she would be welcomed by mother and sister; and the memory of Daisy’s less happy fate, Nat’s weary probation, the long delay, and possible separation for ever—all came before her so vividly that prudence seemed cruelty; self-sacrifice, sentimental folly; and anything but the whole truth, disloyalty to her lover. As she thought thus, the half-blown rose went to join the bud; and then, after a pause, she slowly kissed the perfect rose, and added it to the tell-tale group, saying to herself with a sort of sweet solemnity, as if the words were a vow:

  “I’ll love and work and wait with and for my John.”

  It was well for her that Demi was absent when she stole down to join the guests who soon began to flow through the house in a steady stream. The new brightness which touched her usually thoughtful face was easily explained by the congratulations she received as orator, and the slight agitation observable when a fresh batch of gentlemen approached soon passed, as none of them noticed the flowers she wore over a very happy heart.

  Demi meantime was escorting certain venerable personages about the college, and helping his grandfather entertain them with discussion of the Socratic method of instruction, Pythagoras, Pestalozzi, Froebel, and the rest, whom he devoutly wished at the bottom of the Red Sea, and no wonder, for his head and his heart were full of love and roses, hopes and fears. He piloted the “potent, grave, and reverend seigniors” safely down to Plumfield at last, and landed them before his uncle and aunt Bhaer, who were receiving in state, the one full of genuine delight in all men and things, the other suffering martyrdom with a smile, as she stood shaking hand after hand, and affecting utter unconsciousness of the sad fact that ponderous Professor Plock had camped upon the train of her state and festival velvet gown.

  With a long sigh of relief Demi glanced about him for the beloved girl. Most persons would have looked some time before any particular angel could be discovered among the white-robed throng in parlours, hall, and study; but his eye went—like the needle to the pole—to the corner where a smooth dark head, with its braided crown, rose like a queen’s, he thought, above the crowd which surrounded her. Yes, she has a flower at her throat; one, two, oh, blessed sight! he saw it all across the room, and gave a rapturous sigh which caused Miss Perry’s frizzled crop to wave with a sudden gust. He did not see the rose, for it was hidden by a fold of lace; and it was well, perhaps, that bliss came by instalments, or he might have electrified the assembled multitude by flying to his idol, there being no Daisy to clutch him by the coat-tail. A stout lady, thirsting for information, seized him at that thrilling moment, and he was forced to point out celebrities with a saintly patience which deserved a better reward than it received; for a certain absence of mind and incoherence of speech at times caused the ungrateful dowager to whisper to the first friend she met after he had escaped:

  “I saw no wine at any of the spreads; but it is plain that young Brooke has had too much. Quite gentlemanly, but evidently a trifle intoxicated, my dear.”

  Ah, so he was! but with a diviner wine than any that ever sparkled at a class-day lunch, though many collegians know the taste of it; and when the old lady was disposed of, he gladly turned to find the young one, bent on having a single word. He saw her standing by the piano now, idly turning over music as she talked with several gentlemen. Hiding his impatience under an air of scholastic repose, Demi hovered near, ready to advance when the happy moment came, wondering meantime why elderly persons persisted in absorbing young ones instead of sensibly sitting in corners with their contemporaries. The elderly persons in question retired at length, but only to be replaced by two impetuous youths who begged Miss Heath to accompany them to Parnassus and join the dance. Demi thirsted for their blood, but was appeased by hearing George and Dolly say, as they lingered a moment after her refusal:

  “Really, you know, I’m quite converted to co-education and almost wish I’d remained here. It gives a grace to study, a sort of relish even to Greek to see charming girls at it,” said Stuffy, who found the feast of learning so dry, any sauce was welcome; and he felt as if he had discovered a new one.

  “Yes, by Jove! we fellows will have to look out or you’ll carry off all the honours. You were superb today, and held us all like magic, though it was so hot there, I really think I couldn’t have stood it for anyone else,” added Dolly, labouring to be gallant and really offering a touching proof of devotion; for the heat melted his collar, took the curl out of his hair, and ruined his gloves.

  “There is room for all; and if you will leave us the books, we will cheerfully yield the baseball, boating, dancing, and flirting, which seem to be the branches you prefer,” answered Alice sweetly.

  “Ah, now you are too hard upon us! We can’t grind all the time and you ladies don’t seem to mind taking a turn at the two latter ‘branches’ you mention,” returned Dolly, with a glance at George which plainly said, “I had her there.”

  “Some of us do in our first years. Later we give up childish things, you see. Don’t let me keep you from Parnassus” and a smiling nod dismissed them, smarting under the bitter consciousness of youth.

  “You got it there, Doll. Better not try to fence with these superior girls. Sure to be routed, horse, foot, and dragoons,” said Stuffy, lumbering away, somewhat cross with too many spreads.

  “So deuced sarcastic! Don’t believe she’s much older than we are. Girls grow up quicker, so she needn’t put on airs and talk like a grandmother,” muttered Dolly, feeling that he had sacrificed his kids upon the altar of an ungrateful Pallas.

  “Come along and let’s find something to eat. I’m faint with so much talking. Old Plock cornered me and made my head spin with Kant and Hegel and that lot.”

  “I promised Dora West I’d give her a turn. Must look her up; she’s a jolly little thing, and doesn’t bother about anything but keeping in step.”

  And arm in arm the boys strolled away, leaving Alice to read music as diligently as if society had indeed no charms for her. As she bent to turn a page, the eager young man behind the piano saw the rose and was struck speechless with delight. A moment he gazed, then hastened to seize the coveted place before a new detachment of bores arrived.

  “Alice, I can’t believe it—did you understand—how shall I ever thank you?” murmured Demi, bending as if he, too, read the song, not a note or word of which did he see, however.

  “Hush! not now. I understood—I don’t deserve it—we are too young, we must wait, but—I’m very proud and happy, John!”

  What would have happened after that tender whisper I tremble to think, if Tom Bangs had not come bustling up, with the cheerful remark:

  “Music? just the thing. People are thinning out, and we all want a little refreshment. My brain fairly reels with the ’ologies and ’isms I’ve heard discussed tonight. Yes, give us this; sweet thing! Scotch songs are always charming.”

  Demi glowered; but the obtuse boy never saw it, and Alice, feeling that this would be a safe vent for sundry unruly emotions, sat down at once, and sang the song which gave her answer better than she could have done:

  BIDE A WEE

  “The puir auld folk at home, ye mind,

  Are frail and failing sair;

  And weel I ken they’d miss me, lad,

  Gin I come hame nae mair.

  The grist is out, the times are hard,

  The kine are only three;

  I canna leave the auld folk now.

  We’d better bide a wee.

  “I fear me sair theyre failing baith;

  For when I sit apart,

  They talk o Heaven so earnestly,

  It wellnigh breaks my heart.

  So, laddie, dinna urge me now,

  It surely winna be;

  I canna leave the auld
folk yet.

  We’d better bide a wee.”

  The room was very still before the first verse ended; and Alice skipped the next, fearing she could not get through; for John’s eyes were on her, showing that he knew she sang for him and let the plaintive little ballad tell what her reply must be. He took it as she meant it, and smiled at her so happily that her heart got the better of her voice, and she rose abruptly, saying something about the heat.

  “Yes, you are tired; come out and rest, my dearest” and with a masterful air Demi took her into the starlight, leaving Tom to stare after them winking as if a sky-rocket had suddenly gone off under his nose.

  “Bless my soul! the Deacon really meant business last summer and never told me. Won’t Dora laugh?” And Tom departed in hot haste to impart and exult over his discovery.

  What was said in the garden was never exactly known; but the Brooke family sat up very late that night, and any curious eye at the window would have seen Demi receiving the homage of his womankind as he told his little romance. Josie took great credit to herself in the matter, insisting that she had made the match; Daisy was full of the sweetest sympathy and joy, and Mrs Meg so happy that when Jo had gone to dream of bridal veils, and Demi sat in his room blissfully playing the air of “Bide a Wee”, she had her talk about Nat, ending with her arms round her dutiful daughter and these welcome words as her reward:

  “Wait till Nat comes home, and then my good girl shall wear white roses too.”

  CHAPTER 20

  LIFE FOR LIFE

  THE SUMMER days that followed were full of rest and pleasure for young and old, as they did the honours of Plumfield to their happy guests. While Franz and Emil were busy with the affairs of Uncle Hermann and Captain Hardy, Mary and Ludmilla made friends everywhere; for, though very unlike, both were excellent and charming girls. Mrs Meg and Daisy found the German bride a Hausfrau after their own hearts, and had delightful times learning new dishes, hearing about the semi-yearly washes and the splendid linen-room at Hamburg, or discussing domestic life in all its branches. Ludmilla not only taught, but learned, many things, and went home with many new and useful ideas in her blonde head.

  Mary had seen so much of the world that she was unusually lively for an English girl; while her various accomplishments made her a most agreeable companion. Much good sense gave her ballast; and the late experiences of danger and happiness added a sweet gravity at times, which contrasted well with her natural gaiety. Mrs Jo was quite satisfied with Emil’s choice, and felt sure this true and tender pilot would bring him safe to port through fair or stormy weather. She had feared that Franz would settle down into a comfortable, moneymaking burgher, and be content with that; but she soon saw that his love of music and his placid Ludmilla put much poetry into his busy life, and kept it from being too prosaic. So she felt at rest about these boys, and enjoyed their visit with real, maternal satisfaction; parting with them in September most regretfully, yet hopefully, as they sailed away to the new life that lay before them.

  Demi’s engagement was confided to the immediate family only, as both were pronounced too young to do anything but love and wait. They were so happy that time seemed to stand still for them, and after a blissful week they parted bravely—Alice to home duties, with a hope that sustained and cheered her through many trials; and John to his business, full of a new ardour which made all things possible when such a reward was offered.

  Daisy rejoiced over them, and was never tired of hearing her brother’s plans for the future. Her own hope soon made her what she used to be—a cheery, busy creature, with a smile, kind word, and helping hand for all; and as she went singing about the house again, her mother felt that the right remedy for past sadness had been found. The dear Pelican still had doubts and fears, but kept them wisely to herself, preparing sundry searching tests to be applied when Nat came home, and keeping a sharp eye on the letters from London; for some mysterious hint had flown across the sea, and Daisy’s content seemed reflected in Nat’s present cheerful state of mind.

  Having passed through the Werther period, and tried a little Faust—of which experience he spoke to his Marguerite as if it had included an acquaintance with Mephistopheles, Blocksburg, and Auerbach’s wine-cellar—he now felt that he was a Wilhelm Meister, serving his apprenticeship to the great masters of life. As she knew the truth of his small sins and honest repentance, Daisy only smiled at the mixture of love and philosophy he sent her, knowing that it was impossible for a young man to live in Germany without catching the German spirit.

  “His heart is all right; and his head will soon grow clear when he gets out of the fog of tobacco, beer, and metaphysics he’s been living in. England will wake up his common sense, and good salt air blow his little follies all away,” said Mrs Jo, much pleased with the good prospects of her violinist—whose return was delayed till spring, to his private regret, but professional advancement.

  Josie had a month with Miss Cameron at the seaside, and threw herself so heartily into the lesson given her that her energy, promise, and patience laid the foundation of a friendship which was of infinite value to her in the busy, brilliant years to come; for little Jo’s instincts were right; and the dramatic talent of the Marches was to blossom by and by into an actress, virtuous, and beloved.

  Tom and his Dora were peacefully ambling altarward; for Bangs senior was so afraid his son would change his mind again and try a third profession, that he gladly consented to an early marriage, as a sort of anchor to hold the mercurial Thomas fast. Aforesaid Thomas could not complain of cold shoulders now; for Dora was a most devoted and adoring little mate, and made life so pleasant to him that his gift for getting into scrapes seemed lost, and he bade fair to become a thriving man, with undeniable talent for the business he had chosen.

  “We shall be married in the autumn, and live with my father for a while. The governor is getting on, you know, and my wife and I must look after him. Later we shall have an establishment of our own,” was a favourite speech of his about this time, and usually received with smiles; for the idea of Tommy Bangs at the head of an “establishment” was irresistibly funny to all who knew him.

  Things were in this flourishing condition, and Mrs Jo was beginning to think her trials were over for that year, when a new excitement came. Several postal cards had arrived at long intervals from Dan, who gave them “Care of M. Mason, etc.”, as his address. By this means he was able to gratify his longing for home news, and to send brief messages to quiet their surprise at his delay in settling. The last one, which came in September, was dated “Montana”, and simply said:

  Here at last, trying mining again; but not going to stay long. All sorts of luck. Gave up the farm idea. Tell plans soon. Well, busy, and very happy. D. K.

  If they had known what the heavy dash under “happy” meant, that postal would have been a very eloquent bit of pasteboard; for Dan was free, and had gone straight away to the liberty he panted for. Meeting an old friend by accident, he obliged him at a pinch by acting as overseer for a time, finding the society even of rough miners very sweet, and something in the muscular work wonderfully pleasant, after being cooped up in the brush-shop so long. He loved to take a pick and wrestle with rock and earth till he was weary—which was very soon; for that year of captivity had told upon his splendid physique. He longed to go home, but waited week after week to get the prison taint off him and the haggard look out of his face. Meanwhile he made friends of masters and men; and as no one knew his story, he took his place again in the world gratefully and gladly—with little pride now, and no plans but to do some good somewhere, and efface the past.

  Mrs Jo was having a grand clearing-out of her desk one October day, while the rain poured outside, and peace reigned in her mansion. Coming across the postals, she pondered over them, and then put them carefully away in the drawer labelled “Boys’ Letters”, saying to herself, as she bundled eleven requests for autographs into the wastepaper basket:

  “It is quite time for another car
d, unless he is coming to tell his plans. I’m really curious to know what he has been about all this year, and how he’s getting on now.”

  That last wish was granted within an hour; for Ted came rushing in, with a newspaper in one hand, a collapsed umbrella in the other, and a face full of excitement, announcing, all in one breathless jumble:

  “Mine caved in—twenty men shut up—no way out—wives crying—water rising—Dan knew the old shaft—risked his life—got ’em out—most killed—papers full of it—I knew he’d be a hero—hurray for old Dan!”

  “What? Where? When? Who? Stop roaring, and let me read!” commanded his mother, entirely bewildered.

  Relinquishing the paper, Ted allowed her to read for herself, with frequent interruptions from him—and Rob, who soon followed, eager for the tale. It was nothing new; but courage and devotion always stir generous hearts, and win admiration; so the account was both graphic and enthusiastic; and the name of Daniel Kean, the brave man who saved the lives of others at the risk of his own, was on many lips that day. Very proud were the faces of these friends as they read how their Dan was the only one who, in the first panic of the accident, remembered the old shaft that led into the mine—walled up, but the only hope of escape, if the men could be got out before the rising water drowned them; how he was lowered down alone, telling the others to keep back till he saw if it was safe; how he heard the poor fellows picking desperately for their lives on the other side, and by knocks and calls guided them to the right spot; then headed the rescue party, and working like a hero, got the men out in time. On being drawn up last of all, the worn rope broke, and he had a terrible fall, being much hurt, but was still alive. How the grateful women kissed his blackened face and bloody hands, as the men bore him away in triumph, and the owners of the mine promised a handsome reward, if he lived to receive it!