When Mr.Warden died, some four years previously, Roscoe was a lad of about twenty, just home from college, full of dreams of great service to the world in science, expecting to go back for his doctor's degree next year.Instead of which the older man had suddenly dropped beneath the burden he had carried with such visible happiness and pride, such unknown anxiety and straining effort; and the younger one had to step into the harness on the spot.
He was brave, capable, wholly loyal to his mother and sisters, reared in the traditions of older days as to a man's duty toward women.In his first grief for his father, and the ready pride with which he undertook to fill his place, he had not in the least estimated the weight of care he was to carry, nor the time that he must carry it.A year, a year or two, a few years, he told himself, as they passed, and he would make more money; the girls, of course, would marry; he could "retire" in time and take up his scientific work again.Then--there was Diantha.
When he found he loved this young neighbor of theirs, and that she loved him, the first flush of happiness made all life look easier.They had been engaged six months--and it was beginning to dawn upon the young man that it might be six years--or sixteen years--before he could marry.
He could not sell the business--and if he could, he knew of no better way to take care of his family.The girls did not marry, and even when they did, he had figured this out to a dreary certainty, he would still not be free.To pay the mortgages off, and keep up the house, even without his sisters, would require all the money the store would bring in for some six years ahead.The young man set his teeth hard and turned his head sharply toward the road.
And there was Diantha.
She stood at the gate and smiled at him.He sprang to his feet, headacheless for the moment, and joined her.Mrs.Warden, from the lounge by her bedroom window, saw them move off together, and sighed.
"Poor Roscoe!" she said to herself."It is very hard for him.But he carries his difficulties nobly.He is a son to be proud of." And she wept a little.
Diantha slipped her hand in his offered arm--he clasped it warmly with his, and they walked along together.
"You won't come in and see mother and the girls?""No, thank you; not this time.I must get home and get supper.
Besides, I'd rather see just you."
He felt it a pity that there were so many houses along the road here, but squeezed her hand, anyhow.
She looked at him keenly."Headache?" she asked.
"Yes; it's nothing; it's gone already."
"Worry?" she asked.
"Yes, I suppose it is," he answered."But I ought not to worry.I've got a good home, a good mother, good sisters, and--you!" And he took advantage of a high hedge and an empty lot on either side of them.
Diantha returned his kiss affectionately enough, but seemed preoccupied, and walked in silence till he asked her what she was thinking about.
"About you, of course," she answered, brightly."There are things I want to say; and yet--I ought not to.""You can say anything on earth to me," he answered.
"You are twenty-four," she began, musingly.
"Admitted at once."
"And I'm twenty-one and a half."
"That's no such awful revelation, surely!""And we've been engaged ever since my birthday," the girl pursued.
"All these are facts, dearest."
"Now, Ross, will you be perfectly frank with me? May I ask you an--an impertinent question?""You may ask me any question you like; it couldn't be impertinent.""You'll be scandalised, I know--but--well, here goes.What would you think if Madeline--or any of the girls--should go away to work?"He looked at her lovingly, but with a little smile on his firm mouth.
"I shouldn't allow it," he said.
"O--allow it? I asked you what you'd think.""I should think it was a disgrace to the family, and a direct reproach to me," be answered."But it's no use talking about that.None of the girls have any such foolish notion.And I wouldn't permit it if they had."Diantha smiled."I suppose you never would permit your wife to work?""My widow might have to--not my wife." He held his fine head a trifle higher, and her hand ached for a moment.
