The shores of his heart were strewn with the wreckage of the troubled summer,
but if the tide of love is high enough, it washes such things out of
remembrance. He just opened his arms and took Rose to his heart, faults and
all, with joy and gratitude; and she was as happy as a child who has escaped
the scolding it richly deserves, and who determines, for very thankfulness'
sake, never to be naughty again.
"You don't know what you've done for me, Stephen," she whispered, with her
face hidden on his shoulder. "I was just a common little prickly rosebush when
you came along like a good gardener and 'grafted in' something better; the
something better was your love, Stephen dear, and it's made everything
different. The silly Rose you were engaged to long ago has disappeared
somewhere; I hope you won't be able to find her under the new leaves."
"She was all I wanted," said Stephen.
"You thought she was," the girl answered, "because you did n't see the
prickles, but you'd have felt them some time. The old Rose was a selfish
thing, not good enough for you; the new Rose is going to be your wife, and
Rufus's sister, and your mother's daughter, all in one."
Then such a breakfast was spread as Stephen, in his sorry years of bachelor
existence, had forgotten could exist; but before he broke his fast he ran out
to the wagon and served the astonished Alcestis with his wedding refreshments
then and there, bidding him drive back to the River Farm and bring him a
package that lay in the drawer of his shaving-stand,--a package placed there
when hot youth and love and longing had inspired him to hurry on the marriage
day.
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