Rose of Dutcher's Coolly Part 37

Then, too, there was the question of Owen. Soon Mary must see how he set face toward her, but she felt quite equal to answering him when Owen came to speak, because his appeal to her was not in the slightest degree sensuous, as Tom Harris' had been.

She spent the day in deep thought, writing some lines which came to her, and writing a letter home. She filled it full of love and praise for "pappa John," as if in remorse for growing so far away from him.

That done she fell back upon her group of friends; upon the concert, upon thought of that wonderful promenade with Mason.

The world of art seemed so secure and reposeful, so filled with splendor of human endeavor. She drew her breath in a mighty inspiration, and resolved to be a part of it. Art had always seemed to her so far off, something European, and now she seemed to be in immediate contact with it, and soared into exultation for a day, falling soon into dreary doubt.

Her literary ideals were so hopelessly confused. She had lost the desire to write as she had been writing, and there seemed nothing left for her to do. She had so few convictions and so little experience! The door had closed upon her old forms of action, and yet the way Mason had pointed out to her was dark and utterly bewildering. She felt great things moving around her; themes, deeds that were enormous but not defined. She could not quite lay hold upon them.

She went down the street to Dr. Herrick's house, feeling that she was committing herself to something. She knew that Isabel had taken her case in hand, and that she was to meet other young men there. She could not resent it, for the zeal of her new-found friend was manifestly from the heart--it could not be otherwise. Of what advantage to Dr. Herrick could it be to take her up--a poor country girl?

In fact, she was puzzled by this overpowering kindness. There was so little apparent reason for it all. She could not, of course, understand the keen delight of introducing a powerful and fresh young mind to the wonders of the city. She had not grown weary of "sets" and "circles,"

and of meeting the same commonplace people again and again, as Mrs.

Harvey had. Isabel's position was different, but she had an equal delight, more subtle and lasting, in seeing the genius (as she believed) of the girl win its way, and besides, the girl, herself, pleased her mightily.

Isabel Herrick's life was one of deep earnestness and high aims. She was the daughter of a physician in an interior city. She had worked her way up from the bottom in the usual American fas.h.i.+on by plucky efforts constantly directed to one end, and was the head of the house of Herrick, which consisted of her young sister, a brother at college and her aged mother, now an invalid.

She had been one of the first three girls to enter the medical school, and she had been their s.h.i.+eld and fortress in the storm which followed their entrance into the dissecting room. The battle was short but decisive. Her little head was lifted and her face white as she said:

"Men--I won't say gentlemen--I'm here for business, and I'm here to stay. If you're afraid of compet.i.tion from a woman you'd better get out of the profession."

In the dead silence which followed a lank country fellow stepped out and raised his voice.

"She's right, and I'm ready to stand by her, and I'll see she's let alone."

Others shouted: "Of course she's right!" by which it appeared the disturbance was of the few and not the ma.s.s of students, a fact which Isabel inferred. She spoke a grateful word to the lanky student, and Dr.

Sanborn found his wife right there.

There was little for Isabel to learn of the sordid and vicious side of men. She knew them for what they were, polygamous by instinct, insatiable as animals, and yet she had been treated on the whole with courteous--often too courteous--kindness. Her dainty color and her pet.i.te figure won over-gallant footway everywhere, though she often said:

"Gentlemen, I have studied my part. I know what I am doing and I ask only a fair field and no favors."

Thatcher and Sanborn had been her close companions in the stern, hard course they set themselves; each had said with vast resolution to the other: "I'm not to be left behind." And each had sworn to take no mediocre position. Thatcher had made apparently the least mark in the world, but he was writing a monograph which was expected to give important facts to the medical profession. He had written to Sanborn several times: "You have the advantage of a.s.sociation with the 'Little Corporal.'"

They called her "Little Corporal" among themselves. Her sternly sweet face had a suggestion of Napoleon in it, and then she ordered them about so naturally and led them so inevitably in everything she undertook.

It was into the hands of the "Little Corporal" that Rose had fallen, and all Isabel's enthusiasm was roused in her behalf. Her own little sister was a sweet, placid little thing, who had inherited the body, and spirit as well, of her mother, while Isabel had inherited the mind of her father in the body of her mother.

Something of this Thatcher had told Rose, part of it Isabel had told, and it made only one definite impression on Rose--this, that a woman could succeed if she set her teeth hard and did not waste time.

She found Isabel already surrounded by company. She made every other Sunday evening an informal "at home," and certain well-known artists and professional people dropped in to talk awhile, or to sit at her generous table. It was a good place to be and Rose had perception enough to feel that.

"O, you dear child! I'm glad to see you. There's some one here you'll be glad to see."

Rose flushed a little, thinking of Mason.

"It's an old friend--Dr. Thatcher."

Rose clapped her hands: "O, is he? I'm so glad; it's almost like seeing the folks."

"I've asked Elbert Harvey and Mr. Mason also; I didn't want you to think I had no friends but doctors. It must seem to you as if the world is made up of doctors. But it isn't."

Thatcher greeted Rose quietly but with a pressure of the hand which made up for his impa.s.sivity of countenance. He trembled a little as he sat down and watched her greeting Sanborn and Mason.

Fear and admiration were both present in her heart as Mason took her hand.

She forced herself to look into his face, and started to find his eyes so terribly penetrating.

"I burned the packet," she said with a constrained smile.

His eyes grew softer and a little humorous.

"Did you indeed. Without opening it?"

"Yes."

"Heroic girl!"

"Am I not?" she said over her shoulder as Isabel dragged her toward a tall, smooth-faced young fellow who stood talking with Etta.

"Elbert, this is Miss Dutcher--Rose, young Mr. Harvey, son of our hostess at the concert."

Young Harvey seemed much taken back as he faced Rose, and shook hands in current angular fas.h.i.+on. His mind formulated these opinions:

"She's a stunner! Caroline was dead right!" By "Caroline" he meant his mother.

Rose placed him at once. He was another college man. Paul and Etta joined them and they made a fine group. They were soon as free as schoolmates, laughing, telling stories, and fighting over the East and the West.

Rose stoutly defended the western colleges; they had their place, she said.

"So they have," Elbert said, "but let them keep it."

"Their place is at the head, and that's where we'll put them soon," she said.

Elbert told a story about hazing a western boy at Yale. He grew excited and sprang up to dramatize it. He stood on one foot and screwed up his face, while the rest shrieked with laughter, all except Rose, who thought it unjust.

Mason looked on from his low chair with a revealing touch of envious sadness. He had gone past that life--past the land of youth and love--past the islands of mirth and minstrelsy. He was facing a cold, gray sea, with only here and there a grim granite reef gnawing the water into foam.

It made him long to be part of that again, therefore he valued Rose more at that moment than ever before. "The girl has imagination, she has variety. She is not a simple personality. At the concert she was exalted, rapt, her eyes deep. Tonight she is a school-girl. Then it was Wagner--now it is college horse-play."

Isabel came up to sit a moment by him.

"Isn't she fine? I think I surprised young Harvey. I thought I'd like to have her meet him--he's such a fine fellow. She should meet someone else beside us old fogies."

Mason winced a little.

"Well now, that's pleasant! Do you call me an old fogy?"

She laughed: