Main  Contacts  
Table of contents
Coming Home
Old Friends with New Faces
Miss Campbell
Thorns Among the Roses
Prince Charming
Polishing Mac
Breakers Ahead
New Year's Calls
The Sad and Sober Part
Small Temptations
At Kitty's Ball
Both Sides
Aunt Clara's Plan
Alas for Charlie!
Good Works
Among the Haycocks
Which Was It?
Behind the Fountain
What Mac Did
How Phebe Earned Her Welcome
Short and Sweet

offering more than she could accept. 


Mac did neither; he only loved her, silently, patiently, hopefully, 

and this generous sort of fidelity was very eloquent to a nature like 

hers. She could not refuse or chide, since nothing was asked or 

urged; there was no need of coldness, for he never presumed; no 

call for pity, since he never complained. All that could be done 

was to try and be as just and true as he was, and to wait as 

trustfully for the end, whatever it was to be. 


For a time she liked the new interest it put into her life, yet did 

nothing to encourage it and thought that if she gave this love no 

food it would soon starve to death. But it seemed to thrive on air, 

and presently she began to feel as if a very strong will was slowly 

but steadily influencing her in many ways. If Mac had never told 

her that he meant to "make her love him," she might have yielded 

unconsciously, but now she mistook the impulse to obey this 

undercurrent for compassion and resisted stoutly, not 

comprehending yet the reason for the unrest which took possession 

of her about this time. 


She had as many moods as an April day, and would have much 

surprised Dr. Alec by her vagaries had he known them all. He saw 

enough, however, to guess what was the matter, but took no notice, 

for he knew this fever must run its course, and much medicine 

only does harm. The others were busy about their own affairs, and 

Aunt Plenty was too much absorbed in her rheumatism to think of 

love, for the cold weather set in early, and the poor lady kept her 

room for days at a time with Rose as nurse. 


Mac had spoken of going away in November, and Rose began to 

hope he would, for she decided that this silent sort of adoration 

was bad for her, as it prevented her from steadily pursuing the 

employments she had marked out for that year. What was the use 

of trying to read useful books when her thoughts continually 

wandered to those charming essays on "Love" and "Friendship"? 

To copy antique casts, when all the masculine heads looked like 

Cupid and the feminine ones like the Psyche on her mantelpiece? 

To practice the best music if it ended in singing over and over the 

pretty spring song without Phebe's bird chorus? Dulce's company 

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