“Oh,” I said, “then you will be tender and helpful and do all in your power to strengthen Louis. He feels so humble. I would hardly have thought it of him. And there are so few young men who have any desire to take such a life upon them. With his means and his talents he can do so much good.”
He stopped suddenly. “Rose, what are you talking about?” he asked. “Did not Louis—”
“He confessed to me his desire—no, it was hardly that, as he is afraid he can never be good enough for a clergyman. But you will assist him—you do not disapprove of it?”
“Louis! Ah, I understand. It would be the delight of my heart. But I thought—I knew he liked you so much. Oh, my little darling!”
He turned and gathered me in his arms. My heart beat and my cheeks were in a blaze as the whole story came to me, dazing me with its strange, sweet suddenness. I believe I cried and then I laughed hysterically, but somehow the cool, steady voice quieted me and made me feel the truth and earnestness of what he was saying, so presently I grew still with a great awe.
“You will come,” he was saying. “We both need you. We want just this steady, cheerful, loving influence. I think I have a tendency to be impatient when people cannot see my ways, perhaps requiring a little too much, and your sweetness will temper this. Then we can both help him.”
Could I? How strange that any one should care for me alone. Not for mamma, or Fanny, but to want me!
“Mr. Duncan,” I began as we were going back to the porch—“have you forgotten that my hair is—red?”
“Well, what of that?” in a gay tone.
“I do not believe you—like it.”