Rose did read and digest, and found her days much richer for thegood company she kept, for an introduction to so much that waswise, beautiful, and true could not but make that month amemorable one. It is not strange that while the young man mostadmired "Heroism" and "Self-Reliance," the girl preferred "Love"and "Friendship," reading them over and over like prose poems, asthey are, to the fitting accompaniment of sunshine, solitude, andsympathy, for letters went to and fro with praiseworthy regularity.

Rose much enjoyed this correspondence, and found herselfregretting that it was at an end when she went home in September,for Mac wrote better than he talked, though he could do thatremarkably well when he chose. But she had no chance to expresseither pleasure or regret, for the first time she saw him after herreturn the great change in his appearance made her forgeteverything else. Some whim had seized him to be shaven andshorn, and when he presented himself to welcome Rose, she hardlyknew him. The shaggy hair was nicely trimmed and brushed, thecherished brown beard entirely gone, showing a well-cut mouthand handsome chin and giving a new expression to the whole face.

"Are you trying to look like Keats?" she asked, after a criticalglance, which left her undecided whether the change was animprovement or not.

"I am trying not to look like Uncle," answered Mac coolly.

"And why, if you please?" demanded Rose in great surprise.

"Because I prefer to look like myself, and not resemble any otherman, no matter how good or great he may be."

"You haven't succeeded then, for you look now very much like theyoung Augustus," returned Rose, rather pleased on the whole tosee what a finely shaped head appeared after the rough thatch wasoff.

"Trust a woman to find a comparison for everything under thesun!" laughed Mac, not at all flattered by the one just made. "Whatdo you think of me, on the whole?" he asked a minute later, as hefound Rose still scrutinizing him with a meditative air.

"Haven't made up my mind. It is such an entire change, I don'tknow you, and feel as if I ought to be introduced. You certainlylook much more tidy, and I fancy I shall like it when I'm used toseeing a somewhat distinguished-looking man about the houseinstead of my old friend Orson," answered Rose, with her head onone side to get a profile view.

"Don't tell Uncle why I did it, please he thinks it was for the sakeof coolness and likes it, so take no notice. They are all used to menow, and don't mind," said Mac, roving about the room as if ratherashamed of his whim after all.

"No, I won't, but you mustn't mind if I'm not as sociable as usualfor a while. I never can be with strangers, and you really do seemlike one. That will be a punishment for your want of taste and loveof originality," returned Rose, resolved to punish him for the slightput upon her beloved uncle.

"As you like. I won't trouble you much anyway, for I'm going to bevery busy. May go to L this winter, if Uncle thinks best, and thenmy 'originality' can't annoy you."

"I hope you won't go. Why, Mac, I'm just getting to know andenjoy you, and thought we'd have a nice time this winter readingsomething together. Must you go?" And Rose seemed to forget hisstrangeness, as she held him still by one button while she talked.

"That would be nice. But I feel as if I must go my plans are allmade, and I've set my heart on it," answered Mac, looking so eagerthat Rose released him, saying sadly: "I suppose it is natural foryou all to get restless and push off, but it is hard for me to let yougo one after the other and stay here alone. Charlie is gone, Archieand Steve are wrapped up in their sweethearts, the boys away, andonly Jamie left to 'play with Rose.'?

"But I'll come back, and you'll be glad I went if I bring you my - "began Mac with sudden animation, then stopped abruptly to bitehis lips, as if he had nearly said too much.

"Your what?" asked Rose curiously, for he neither looked noracted like himself.

"I forgot how long it takes to get a diploma," he said, walkingaway again.

"There will be one comfort if you go you'll see Phebe and can tellme all about her, for she is so modest, she doesn't half do it. I shallwant to know how she gets on, if she is engaged to sing ballads inthe concerts they talk of for next winter. You will write, won'tyou?"

"Oh, yes! No doubt of that," and Mac laughed low to himself as hestooped to look at the little Psyche on the mantelpiece. "What apretty thing it is!" he added soberly as he took it up.

"Be careful. Uncle gave it to me last New Year, and I'm very fondof it. She is just lifting her lamp to see what Cupid is like, for shehasn't seen him yet," said Rose, busy putting her worktable inorder.

"You ought to have a Cupid for her to look at. She has beenwaiting patiently a whole year, with nothing but a bronze lizard insight," said Mac with the half-shy, half-daring look which was sonew and puzzling.

"Cupid fled away as soon as she woke him, you know, and she hada bad time of it. She must wait longer till she can find and keephim."

"Do you know she looks like you? Hair tied up in a knot, and aspiritual sort of face. Don't you see it?" asked Mac, turning thegraceful little figure toward her.

"Not a bit of it. I wonder whom I shall resemble next! I've beencompared to a Fra Angelico angel, Saint Agnes, and now 'Syke,' asAnnabel once called her."

"You'd see what I mean, if you'd ever watched your own face whenyou were listening to music, talking earnestly, or much moved,then your soul gets into your eyes and you are like Psyche."

"Tell me the next time you see me in a 'soulful' state, and I'll lookin the glass, for I'd like to see if it is becoming," said Rose merrilyas she sorted her gay worsteds.

murmured Mac under his breath, thinking of the white figure goingup a green slope one summer day; then, as if chiding himself forsentimentality, he set Psyche down with great care and began totalk about a course of solid reading for the winter.

After that, Rose saw very little of him for several weeks, as heseemed to be making up for lost time and was more odd andabsent than ever when he did appear.

As she became accustomed to the change in his externalappearance, she discovered that he was altering fast in other waysand watched the "distinguished-looking gentleman" with muchinterest, saying to herself, when she saw a new sort of dignityabout him alternating with an unusual restlessness of manner, andnow and then a touch of sentiment, "Genius is simmering, just as Ipredicted."

As the family were in mourning, there were no festivities on Rose'stwenty-first birthday, though the boys had planned all sorts ofrejoicings. Everyone felt particularly tender toward their girl onthat day, remembering how "poor Charlie" had loved her, and theytried to show it in the gifts and good wishes they sent her. Shefound her sanctum all aglow with autumn leaves, and on her tableso many rare and pretty things, she quite forgot she was an heiressand only felt how rich she was in loving friends.

One gift greatly pleased her, though she could not help smiling atthe source from whence it came, for Mac sent her a Cupid not thechubby child with a face of naughty merriment, but a slender,winged youth leaning on his unstrung bow, with a broken arrow athis feet. A poem, "To Psyche," came with it, and Rose was muchsurprised at the beauty of the lines, for, instead of being witty,complimentary, or gay, there was something nobler than meresentiment in them, and the sweet old fable lived again in languagewhich fitly painted the maiden Soul looking for a Love worthy topossess it.

Rose read them over and over as she sat among the gold andscarlet leaves which glorified her little room, and each time foundnew depth and beauty in them, looking from the words that mademusic in her ear to the lovely shapes that spoke with their mutegrace to her eye. The whole thing suited her exactly, it was sodelicate and perfect in its way, for she was tired of costly gifts andvalued very much this proof of her cousin's taste and talent, seeingnothing in it but an affectionate desire to please her.

All the rest dropped in at intervals through the day to say a lovingword, and last of all came Mac. Rose happened to be alone withDulce, enjoying a splendid sunset from her western window, forOctober 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 shesaid gratefully: "Dear Mac, it was so lovely! I don't know how tothank you for it in any way but this." And, drawing down his tallhead, 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 relievethe shyness of so young a poet, "Never again say you don't writepoetry, or call your verses rubbish I knew you were a genius, andnow I'm sure of it," he broke out, as if against his will: "No. It isn'tgenius, it is love!" Then, as she shrank a little, startled at hisenergy, he added, with an effort at self-control which made hisvoice sound strange: "I didn't mean to speak, but I can't suffer youto deceive yourself so. I must tell the truth, and not let you kiss melike a cousin when I love you with all my heart and soul!"

"Oh, Mac, don't joke!" cried Rose, bewildered by this suddenglimpse into a heart she thought she knew so well.

"I'm in solemn earnest," he answered steadily, in such a quiet tonethat, but for the pale excitement of his face, she might havedoubted his words. "Be angry, if you will. I expect it, for I know itis too soon to speak. I ought to wait for years, perhaps, but youseemed 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 Idid!" she cried, with both pain and impatience in her voice, for thefamily delusion tried her very much at times.

"How could we help it, when he was everything women mostadmire?" said Mac, not bitterly, but as if he sometimes wonderedat their want of insight.

"I do not admire weakness of any sort I could never love withouteither confidence or respect. Do me the justice to believe that, forI'm tired of being pitied."

She spoke almost passionately, being more excited by Mac'srepressed emotion than she had ever been by Charlie's mosttouching demonstration, though she did not know why.

"But he loved you so!" began Mac, feeling as if a barrier hadsuddenly gone down but not daring to venture in as yet.

"That was the hard part of it! That was why I tried to love him,why I hoped he would stand fast for my sake, if not for his own,and why I found it so sad sometimes not to be able to helpdespising him for his want of courage. I don't know how othersfeel, but, to me, love isn't all. I must look up, not down, trust andhonor with my whole heart, and find strength and integrity to leanon. I have had it so far, and I know I could not live without it."

"Your ideal is a high one. Do you hope to find it, Rose?" Macasked, feeling, with the humility of a genuine love, that he couldnot give her all she desired.

"Yes," she answered, with a face full of the beautiful confidence invirtue, the instinctive desire for the best which so many of us losetoo soon, to find again after life's great lessons are well learned. "Ido hope to find it, because I try not to be unreasonable and expectperfection. Smile if you will, but I won't give up my hero yet," andshe tried to speak lightly, hoping to lead him away from a moredangerous topic.

"You'll have to look a long while, I'm afraid," and all the glow wasgone out of Mac's face, for he understood her wish and knew hisanswer had been given.

"I have Uncle to help me, and I think my ideal grew out of myknowledge of him. How can I fail to believe in goodness, when heshows me what it can be and do?"

"It's no use for me to say any more, for I have very little to offer. Idid not mean to say a word till I earned a right to hope forsomething in return. I cannot take it back, but I can wish yousuccess, and I do, because you deserve the very best." And Macmoved as if he was going away without more words, accepting theinevitable as manfully as he could.

"Thank you that makes me feel very ungrateful and unkind. I wishI could answer you as you want me to for, indeed, dear Mac, I'mvery fond of you in my own way," and Rose looked up with suchtender pity and frank affection in her face, it was no wonder thepoor fellow caught at a ray of hope and, brightening suddenly, saidin his own odd way: "Couldn't you take me on trial while you arewaiting for a true hero? It may be years before you find him;meantime, you could be practicing on me in ways that would beuseful when you get him."

"Oh, Mac! What shall I do with you?" exclaimed Rose, socuriously affected by this very characteristic wooing that she didnot know whether to laugh or cry, for he was looking at her withhis heart in his eyes, though his proposition was the queerest evermade at such a time.

"Just go on being fond of me in your own way, and let me love youas much as I like in mine. I'll try to be satisfied with that." And hetook both her hands so beseechingly that she felt more ungratefulthan ever.

"No, it would not be fair, for you would love the most and, if thehero did appear, what would become of you?"

"I should resemble Uncle Alec in one thing at least fidelity, for myfirst love would be my last."

That went straight to Rose's heart, and for a minute she stoodsilent, looking down at the two strong hands that held hers sofirmly yet so gently, and the thought went through her mind, "Musthe, too, be solitary all his life? I have no dear lover as my motherhad, why cannot I make him happy and forget myself?"

It did not seem very hard, and she owned that, even while she toldherself that compassion was no equivalent for love. She wanted togive all she could, and keep as much of Mac's affection as shehonestly might, because it seemed to grow more sweet andprecious when she thought of putting it away.

"You will be like Uncle in happier ways than that, I hope, for you,too, must have a high ideal and find her and be happy," she said,resolving to be true to the voice of conscience, not be swayed bythe impulse of the moment.

"I have found her, but I don't see any prospect of happiness, doyou?" he asked wistfully.

"Dear Mac, I cannot give you the love you want, but I do trust andrespect you from the bottom of my heart, if that is any comfort,"began Rose, looking up with eyes full of contrition for the pain herreply must give.

She got no further, however, for those last words wrought amarvelous change in Mac. Dropping her hands, he stood erect, asif inspired with sudden energy and hope, while over his face therecame a brave, bright look, which for the moment made him anobler and comelier man than ever handsome Prince had been. "It is a comfort!" he said, in a tone of gratitude that touched hervery much. "You said your love must be founded on respect, andthat you have given me why can I not earn the rest? I'm nothingnow, but everything is possible when one loves with all his heartand soul and strength. Rose, I will be your hero if a mortal mancan, even though I have to work and wait for years. I'll make youlove me, and be glad to do it. Don't be frightened. I've not lost mywits I've just found them. I don't ask anything I'll never speak ofmy hope, but it is no use to stop me. I must try it, and I willsucceed!"

With the last words, uttered in a ringing voice while his faceglowed, his eyes shone, and he looked as if carried out of himselfby the passion that possessed him, Mac abruptly left the room, likeone eager to change words to deeds and begin his task at once.

Rose was so amazed by all this that she sat down trembling a little,not with fear or anger, but a feeling half pleasure, half pain, and asense of some new power subtle, strong, and sweet that had comeinto her life. It seemed as if another Mac had taken the place of theone she had known so long an ardent, ambitious man, ready forany work now that the magical moment had come when everythingseems possible to love. If hope could work such a marvelouschange for a moment, could not happiness do it for a lifetime? Itwould be an exciting experiment to try, she thought, rememberingthe sudden illumination which made that familiar face bothbeautiful and strange.

She could not help wondering how long this unsuspectedsentiment had been growing in his heart and felt perplexed by itspeculiar demonstration, for she had never had a lover like thisbefore. It touched and flattered her, nevertheless and she could notbut feel honored by a love so genuine and generous, for it seemedto make a man of Mac all at once, and a manly man, too, who wasnot daunted by disappointment but could "hope against hope" andresolve to make her love him if it took years to do it.

There was the charm of novelty about this sort of wooing, and shetried to guess how he would set about it, felt curious to see how hewould behave when next they met, and was half angry with herselffor not being able to decide how she ought to act. The more shethought, the more bewildered she grew, for having made up hermind that Mac was a genius, it disturbed all her plans to find him alover, and such an ardent one. As it was impossible to predict whatwould come next, she gave up trying to prepare for it and, tiredwith vain speculations, carried Dulce off to bed, wishing she couldtuck away her love troubles as quietly and comfortably as she didher sleepy little charge.

Simple and sincere in all things, Mac gave Rose a new surprise bykeeping his promise to the letter asked nothing of her, said nothingof his hope, and went on as if nothing had happened, quite in theold friendly way. No, not quite, for now and then, when she leastexpected it, she saw again the indescribable expression on his face,a look that seemed to shed a sudden sunshine over her, making hereyes fall involuntarily, her color rise, and her heart beat quicker fora moment. Not a word did he say, but she felt that a newatmosphere surrounded her when he was by, and although he usednone of the little devices most lovers employ to keep the flamealight, it was impossible to forget that underneath his quietudethere was a hidden world of fire and force ready to appear at atouch, a word from her.

This was rather dangerous knowledge for Rose, and she soonbegan to feel that there were more subtle temptations than she hadexpected, for it was impossible to be unconscious of her power, oralways to resist the trials of it which daily came unsought. She hadnever felt this desire before, for Charlie was the only one who hadtouched her heart, and he was constantly asking as well as giving,and wearied her by demanding too much or oppressed her byoffering 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 likehers. She could not refuse or chide, since nothing was asked orurged; there was no need of coldness, for he never presumed; nocall for pity, since he never complained. All that could be donewas to try and be as just and true as he was, and to wait astrustfully for the end, whatever it was to be.

For a time she liked the new interest it put into her life, yet didnothing to encourage it and thought that if she gave this love nofood 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 slowlybut steadily influencing her in many ways. If Mac had never toldher that he meant to "make her love him," she might have yieldedunconsciously, but now she mistook the impulse to obey thisundercurrent for compassion and resisted stoutly, notcomprehending yet the reason for the unrest which took possessionof her about this time.

She had as many moods as an April day, and would have muchsurprised Dr. Alec by her vagaries had he known them all. He sawenough, however, to guess what was the matter, but took no notice,for he knew this fever must run its course, and much medicineonly does harm. The others were busy about their own affairs, andAunt Plenty was too much absorbed in her rheumatism to think oflove, for the cold weather set in early, and the poor lady kept herroom for days at a time with Rose as nurse.

Mac had spoken of going away in November, and Rose began tohope he would, for she decided that this silent sort of adorationwas bad for her, as it prevented her from steadily pursuing theemployments she had marked out for that year. What was the useof trying to read useful books when her thoughts continuallywandered to those charming essays on "Love" and "Friendship"?To copy antique casts, when all the masculine heads looked likeCupid and the feminine ones like the Psyche on her mantelpiece?To practice the best music if it ended in singing over and over thepretty spring song without Phebe's bird chorus? Dulce's companywas pleasantest now, for Dulce seldom talked, so much meditationwas possible. Even Aunt Plenty's red flannel, camphor, and Pond'sExtract were preferable to general society, and long solitary rideson Rosa seemed the only thing to put her in tune after one of herattempts to find out what she ought to do or leave undone.

She made up her mind at last, and arming herself with an unmadepen, like Fanny Squeers, she boldly went into the study to conferwith Dr. Alec at an hour when Mac was usually absent. "I want a pen for marking can you make me one, Uncle?" sheasked, popping her head in to be sure he was alone.

"Yes, my dear," answered a voice so like the doctor's that sheentered without delay.

But before she had taken three steps she stopped, looking ratherannoyed, for the head that rose from behind the tall desk was notrough and gray, but brown and smooth, and Mac, not Uncle Alec,sat there writing. Late experience had taught her that she hadnothing to fear from a tete-a-tete and, having with difficulty takena resolution, she did not like to fail of carrying it out.

"Don't get up, I won't trouble you if you are busy, there is nohurry," she said, not quite sure whether it were wiser to stay or runaway.

Mac settled the point by taking the pen out of her hand andbeginning to cut it, as quietly as Nicholas did on that "thrilling"occasion. Perhaps he was thinking of that, for he smiled as heasked, "Hard or soft?"

Rose evidently had forgotten that the family of Squeers everexisted, for she answered: "Hard, please," in a voice to match. "I'mglad to see you doing that," she added, taking courage from hiscomposure and going as straight to her point as could be expectedof a woman.

"And I am very glad to do it."

"I don't mean making pens, but the romance I advised," and shetouched the closely written page before him, looking as if shewould like to read it.

"That is my abstract on a lecture on the circulation of the blood,"he answered, kindly turning it so that she could see. "I don't writeromances I'm living one," and he glanced up with the happy,hopeful expression which always made her feel as if he washeaping coals of fire on her head.

"I wish you wouldn't look at me in that way it fidgets me," she saida little petulantly, for she had been out riding, and knew that shedid not present a "spiritual" appearance after the frosty air hadreddened nose as well as cheeks.

"I'll try to remember. It does itself before I know it. Perhaps thismay mend matters." And, taking out the blue glasses he sometimeswore in the wind, he gravely put them on.

Rose could not help laughing, but his obedience only aggravatedher, for she knew he could observe her all the better behind hisugly screen.

"No, it won't they are not becoming, and I don't want to look bluewhen I do not feel so," she said, finding it impossible to guesswhat he would do next or to help enjoying his peculiarities.

"But you don't to me, for in spite of the goggles everything isrose-colored now." And he pocketed the glasses without a murmurat the charming inconsistency of his idol.

"Really, Mac, I'm tired of this nonsense, it worries me and wastesyour time."

"Never worked harder. But does it really trouble you to know Ilove you?" he asked anxiously.

"Don't you see how cross it makes me?" And she walked away,feeling that things were not going as she intended to have them atall.

"I don't mind the thorns if I get the rose at last, and I still hope Imay, some ten years hence," said this persistent suitor, quiteundaunted by the prospect of a "long wait."

"I think it is rather hard to be loved whether I like it or not,"objected Rose, at a loss how to make any headway against suchindomitable hopefulness.

"But you can't help it, nor can I so I must go on doing it with allmy heart till you marry, and then well, then I'm afraid I may hatesomebody instead," and Mac spoilt the pen by an involuntary slashof his knife.

"Please don't, Mac!"

"Do which, love or hate?"

"Don't do either go and care for someone else; there are plenty ofnice girls who will be glad to make you happy," said Rose, intentupon ending her disquiet in some way.

"That is too easy. I enjoy working for my blessings, and the harderI have to work, the more I value them when they come."

"Then if I suddenly grew very kind, would you stop caring aboutme?" asked Rose, wondering if that treatment would free her froma passion which both touched and tormented her.

"Try and see." But there was a traitorous glimmer in Mac's eyeswhich plainly showed what a failure it would be.

"No, I'll get something to do, so absorbing I shall forget all aboutyou."

"Don't think about me if it troubles you," he said tenderly.

"I can't help it." Rose tried to catch back the words, but it was toolate, and she added hastily, "That is, I cannot help wishing youwould forget me. It is a great disappointment to find I wasmistaken when I hoped such fine things of you."

"Yes, you were very sure that it was love when it was poetry, andnow you want poetry when I've nothing on hand but love. Willboth together please you?"

"Try and see."

"I'll do my best. Anything else?" he asked, forgetting the small taskshe had given him in his eagerness to attempt the greater.

"Tell me one thing. I've often wanted to know, and now you speakof it I'll venture to ask. Did you care about me when you readKeats to me last summer?"

"No."

"When did you begin?" asked Rose, smiling in spite of herself athis unflattering honesty.

"How can I tell? Perhaps it did begin up there, though, for that talkset us writing, and the letters showed me what a beautiful soul youhad. I loved that first it was so quick to recognize good things, touse them when they came, and give them out again asunconsciously as a flower does its breath. I longed for you to comehome, and wanted you to find me altered for the better in someway as I had found you. And when you came it was very easy tosee why I needed you to love you entirely, and to tell you so. That'sall, Rose."

A short story, but it was enough the voice that told it with suchsimple truth made the few words so eloquent, Rose felt stronglytempted to add the sequel Mac desired. But her eyes had fallen ashe spoke, for she knew his were fixed upon her, dark and dilated,with the same repressed emotion that put such fervor into his quiettones, and just as she was about to look up, they fell on a shabbylittle footstool. Trifles affect women curiously, and often mostirresistibly when some agitation sways them. The sight of the oldhassock vividly recalled Charlie, for he had kicked it on the nightshe never liked to remember. Like a spark it fired a long train ofrecollections, and the thought went through her mind: "I fancied Iloved him, and let him see it, but I deceived myself, and hereproached me for a single look that said too much. This feeling isvery different, but too new and sudden to be trusted. I'll neitherlook nor speak till I am quite sure, for Mac's love is far deeper thanpoor Charlie's, and I must be very true."

Not in words did the resolve shape itself, but in a quick impulse,which she obeyed certain that it was right, since it was hard toyield to it. Only an instant's silence followed Mac's answer as shestood looking down with fingers intertwined and color varying inher cheeks. A foolish attitude, but Mac thought it a sweet pictureof maiden hesitation and began to hope that a month's wooing wasabout to end in winning for a lifetime. He deceived himself,however, and cold water fell upon his flame, subduing but by nomeans quenching it, when Rose looked up with an air ofdetermination which could not escape eyes that were growingwonderfully farsighted lately.

"I came in here to beg Uncle to advise you to go away soon. Youare very patient and forbearing, and I feel it more than I can tell.But it is not good for you to depend on anyone so much for yourhappiness, I think, and I know it is bad for me to feel that I have somuch power over a fellow creature. Go away, Mac, and see if thisisn't all a mistake. Don't let a fancy for me change or delay yourwork, because it may end as suddenly as it began, and then weshould both reproach ourselves and each other. Please do! I respectand care for you so much, I can't be happy to take all and givenothing. I try to, but I'm not sure I want to think it is too soon toknow yet."

Rose began bravely, but ended in a fluttered sort of way as shemoved toward the door, for Mac's face though it fell at first,brightened as she went on, and at the last word, uttered almostinvoluntarily, he actually laughed low to himself, as if this orderinto exile pleased him much.

"Don't say that you give nothing, when you've just shown me thatI'm getting on. I'll go; I'll go at once, and see if absence won't helpyou 'to think, to know, and to be sure' as it did me. I wish I coulddo something more for you. As I can't, good-bye."

"Are you going now?" And Rose paused in her retreat to look backwith a startled face as he offered her a badly made pen and openedthe door for her just as Dr. Alec always did; for, in spite ofhimself, Mac did resemble the best of uncles.

"Not yet, but you seem to be."

Rose turned as red as a poppy, snatched the pen, and flew upstairs,to call herself hard names as she industriously spoiled all AuntPlenty's new pocket handkerchiefs by marking them "A.M.C."

Three days later Mac said "good-bye" in earnest, and no one wassurprised that he left somewhat abruptly, such being his way, and acourse of lectures by a famous physician the ostensible reason fora trip to L - - . Uncle Alec deserted most shamefully at the lastmoment by sending word that he would be at the station to see thetraveler off, Aunt Plenty was still in her room, so when Mac camedown from his farewell to her, Rose met him in the hall, as ifanxious not to delay him. She was a little afraid of anothertete-a-tete, as she fared so badly at the last, and had assumed acalm and cousinly air which she flattered herself would plainlyshow on what terms she wished to part.

Mac apparently understood, and not only took the hint, butsurpassed her in cheerful composure, for, merely saying"Good-bye, Cousin; write when you feel like it," he shook handsand walked out of the house as tranquilly as if only a day insteadof three months were to pass before they met again. Rose felt as ifa sudden shower bath had chilled her and was about to retire,saying to herself with disdainful decision: "There's no love about itafter all, only one of the eccentricities of genius," when a rush ofcold air made her turn to find herself in what appeared to be theembrace of an impetuous overcoat, which wrapped her close for aninstant, then vanished as suddenly as it had come, leaving her tohide in the sanctum and confide to Psyche with a tender sort oftriumph in her breathless voice: "No, no, it isn't genius that mustbe love!"