Main  Contacts  
Table of contents
Coming Home
Old Friends with New Faces
Miss Campbell
Thorns Among the Roses
Prince Charming
Polishing Mac
Phebe
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

October gave her child a beautiful good night. 

 

Rose turned around as he entered and, putting down the little girl, 

went to him with the evening red shining on her happy face as she 

said gratefully: "Dear Mac, it was so lovely! I don't know how to 

thank you for it in any way but this." And, drawing down his tall 

head, she gave him the birthday kiss she had given all the others. 

 

But this time it produced a singular effect, for Mac turned scarlet, 

then grew pale, and when Rose added playfully, thinking to relieve 

the shyness of so young a poet, "Never again say you don't write 

poetry, or call your verses rubbish I knew you were a genius, and 

now I'm sure of it," he broke out, as if against his will: "No. It isn't 

genius, it is love!" Then, as she shrank a little, startled at his 

energy, he added, with an effort at self-control which made his 

voice sound strange: "I didn't mean to speak, but I can't suffer you 

to deceive yourself so. I must tell the truth, and not let you kiss me 

like a cousin when I love you with all my heart and soul!" 

 

"Oh, Mac, don't joke!" cried Rose, bewildered by this sudden 

glimpse into a heart she thought she knew so well. 

 

"I'm in solemn earnest," he answered steadily, in such a quiet tone 

that, but for the pale excitement of his face, she might have 

doubted his words. "Be angry, if you will. I expect it, for I know it 

is too soon to speak. I ought to wait for years, perhaps, but you 

seemed so happy I dared to hope you had forgotten." 

 

"Forgotten what?" asked Rose sharply. 

 

"Charlie." 

 

"Ah! You all will insist on believing that I loved him better than I 

did!" she cried, with both pain and impatience in her voice, for the 

family delusion tried her very much at times. 

 

"How could we help it, when he was everything women most 

admire?" said Mac, not bitterly, but as if he sometimes wondered 

at their want of insight. 

 

"I do not admire weakness of any sort I could never love without 

either confidence or respect. Do me the justice to believe that, for 

I'm tired of being pitied." 

 

She spoke almost passionately, being more excited by Mac's 

repressed emotion than she had ever been by Charlie's most 


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