Rosa was very happy, and just a little ashamed of herself for being so. As she had said, she could not live, and never had lived, on the memories of her first love; though circumstances had at times brought them vividly before her, the very renewal of them had shown her how entirely they were vain. Rosa had a very passionate but by no means a sentimental nature, and both her common-sense and her craving for a vivid, happy life forbade her to find satisfaction, in shadowy recollections.
“I am neither silly enough, nor unworldly enough,” she thought, as she held Mr Fairfax’s letter in her hand, and felt that its offer would be a good exchange for that bitter old sorrow to which she had offered up sacrifices enough already.
And, as for that other dream of ambition, it was tempting, but it was nearly impossible; and Rosa was a woman and had tried what earning her living meant, and could guess pretty well at the taste of the apples of fame, as well as of the Dead-sea fruits of failure. And, as Rosa made up her mind to say yes, she became aware that she was excusing herself for her readiness to do so, not arguing against any lurking unwillingness. It is needless to say that her uncle and aunt were pleased at her good fortune. Everyone would be pleased. And it was wonderful how well Mr Fairfax understood her ideas. Fancy having Violante to stay with her in a pretty little house; or, still better, going with the master of that pretty house to hear Violante sing and feel proud of her talents! It was from such happy visions that Rosa was roused by the sound of Violante’s voice.
She looked a little paler and graver than when they had last met, not quite so happy or so much at her ease; and almost her first words were:
“I have been singing a great deal, Rosina, and I think my voice is good.”
“So you have made up your mind to try to sing again?” said Rosa.
“Yes, Rosina, after the summer I will come home and sing.”
“You shall not do it if it frightens you and makes you unhappy, my darling.”
“But—father will wish it. And I think everyone is unhappy.”
“My dear child, what makes you take such a gloomy view of life?”