“That will never do, and will displease me very much; I wish you to live as you ought, and if it is on my account you are trying the bread and water system, I am here now and hungry as a fish, so you can indulge for once and order on everything there is.”
There was not much, but a slice of cold ham was found, and some cheese, and jam and pickles, and Axie made a delicious cup of coffee, and brought more bread and butter, and offered to bake him a hoe cake if he would wait, but he was too nearly starved to wait for hoe cakes, he said, and he took his father’s place at the table, and was conscious of a great degree of comfort in and satisfaction with his surroundings, especially with the sight of the young girl who sat opposite to him and poured his coffee, and once or twice laughed heartily at some of his funny remarks. He seemed in excellent spirits, and though much of it was forced for Rossie’s sake, he really was happier than he had been since his father’s death. His future, so far as Josephine was concerned, was settled. He should never attempt to live with her now.
All the evening he sat with Rossie, and piled the wood upon the fire until the flames leaped merrily up the chimney, and infused a genial warmth through the large room. And Rosamond enjoyed it thoroughly because it was done for him. She would never have added a single superfluous chip for herself, lest it should diminish what was one day to go back to him; but for Everard she would almost have burned the house itself and felt she was doing her duty.
The next morning he spent with Beatrice, to whom he told the story of the midnight ride from Albany.
“After seeing and hearing what I did, I cannot ask her to live with me lest she should consent,” he said, and Beatrice could not say a word in Josephine’s defense, but asked what he proposed to do. Was he going away, or would he remain in Rothsay? A few days ago Everard would have answered promptly, “No, anywhere but here, in the place so full of unpleasant memories;” but now matters had somehow changed. That coming home the previous night, that bright fire on the hearth, and more than all, the sweet young face on which the firelight shone, and the eyes which had looked so modestly at him had made him loth to leave Rothsay and go away from the shadowy firelight and the young girl with the new character and the long dress. He might have left the child Rossie in the hands of Beatrice and Lawyer Russell, knowing she would be well cared for, but to leave Miss Hastings was quite another thing, and when Bee questioned him of his intentions, he hesitated a moment and was glad when, in her usual impetuous, helpful way, she said:
“Let me advise you before you decide. I saw Lawyer Russell in your absence, and had a long talk with him, and he thinks the best thing you can do is to stay in the office where you are and accept the guardianship of Rossie and the administration of the estate. That will bring you money which you certainly can have no scruples in taking, as it will be honestly earned and must go to some one. You can still go on with your study of law and write your essays and reviews, and so have plenty of means to satisfy Josephine, if money will do it. I do not suppose you will live at the Forrest House, that might not be best; but you will be in the village near by and can have a general oversight of Rossie herself as well as her affairs. What do you think of my plan?”
The idea of remaining in Rothsay and having an oversight of Rosamond was not distasteful to the young man, and when he left Beatrice he went directly to his father’s office, where he found Lawyer Russell, who made the same suggestion with regard to the guardianship and administration of the estate which Beatrice had done. Of course it was necessary that Rosamond herself should be seen, and the two men went to the Forrest House to consult with her on the subject.
They found her more than willing, and in due time Everard was regularly installed as guardian to Rosamond and administrator of the estate. And then began a conflict with the girl, who manifested a decision of character and dignity of manner with which Everard found it difficult to cope. She insisted upon knowing exactly how much the Forrest property was estimated at, where the money was invested, and when interest on each investment was due. This she wrote down in a book of her own, and then she made an estimate of the annual expenses of the household as it was at present conducted.
“Don’t you think that a great deal?” she asked.
“Father did not find it too much, and he was as close about expenditures as one need to be,” Everard replied; and Rosamond continued: