"I have been waiting here all these days, Rose, in hopes of getting speech of you. You are not bad, or frivolous, or foolish. You are the only woman I have ever cared for, or ever shall. We have been--not very wise, shall I call it?--headstrong and obstinate, and neither would give in; and both, if I may venture to say it, have been miserable in consequence. Forget and forgive, Rose. Let's try again, begin the game anew, and profit by sad experience. It is for that I have been waiting here--to prevent this marriage of yours, if the people say true, which will make both you and me miserable for ever."
"You are kind; but do you not exaggerate? My marriage at least will not leave you inconsolable. You have secured the consoler already. I wish you joy of her. May she make you as happy as you deserve, and----" But here, to her own astonishment--for Rose had felt proud of her bravery and calmness throughout the interview--there came a spasm in her throat, which choked her utterance. The corners of her mouth began to droop, and her eyes sought the ground.
"Do you mean Maida Springer? This is worse than Horatia Simpkins! I am sure I have not flirted with Maida. Come, if you like, and ask her; she is sitting under that tree. She is an acquaintance of very old standing; that is all. She taught my uncle's children long ago, when I was a lad. We saw each other constantly when I was home from Harvard at the vacation. But there is nothing between us--never was. Come, ask her yourself. She is sitting behind this nearest tree: she will be the first to wish us joy."
He took Rose's hand to lead her to the spot, and Rose had moved a step or two before she had recovered self-command enough to resist. The tree was very close. Whoever sat behind it must have overheard the conversation, for both had been too intent to keep their voices low. Rose shrank from meeting the listener. She stopped short, and looked timidly where the eavesdropper was said to be.
There seemed little which need make her feel uneasy. A woman's figure--or was it only a bundle of summer clothing? so limp and collapsed it seemed--lay crouched and huddled together against the bole. The hat was pushed aside, the head bowed between the knees, and two slender hands spread out before it to exclude the light. The hair had come unfastened, and fell in wisps down to the ground, swaying and quivering in the sobbing tremor which shook the woman's frame.
Rose drew away her hand. "It is too late to talk, Bertie. We have chosen our roads in life, and we must keep them. But we will think more kindly of one another now. I am engaged, as you know. I did it freely, and I must keep my word. I will not spoil the life of another--of a man who is as fond of me as this one, and so good and true. We will forgive one another--will we not?--and learn from sad experience more forbearance in our future lots. There he is coming. I shall go and meet him. Goodbye. We must not meet again."
She went, leaving Gilbert elated at his success, but dissatisfied with its incompleteness, and a little doubtful how he ought to return to Maida Springer. They had been reclining rather aimlessly behind the tree, when he looked up and saw Rose almost upon them, and alone. It seemed to be now or never, if he was to have speech with her. He bounded to his feet without a word to his companion, and her own ears must soon have told her why. It felt decidedly awkward to return to Maida; yet what was he to do? He could not follow Rose without imperilling such way as he had made back to her favour, by inducing perhaps an ugly scene with Naylor; and having brought Maida there, he must fetch her back to her friends. It was an uncomfortable task, but it had to be performed. He hardened his soul, expecting to hear something unpleasant, composed his features, and turned round to the tree.
He might have spared his anxiety. The tree was deserted. No one was near. Far up the slope the flutter of a white gown and streaming blue veil might be discerned between the trees, in swift retreat, and Gilbert found that Maida had saved him the unpleasantness of an explanation.