"That cursed custom! What _can_ a man do when his hostess asks him to drink wine with her?" And Charlie looked as if he could have cursed himself even more heartily. "He can say 'No.'" "I can't." "Ah, that's the trouble! You never learned to say it even to yourself; and now it is so hard you want me to help you." "And you won't." "Yes, I will, by showing you that I _can_ say it to myself, for your sake." And Rose looked up with a face so full of tender sorrow he could not doubt the words which both reproached and comforted him. "My little saint! I don't deserve one half your goodness to me; but I will, and go away without one complaint to do my best, for your sake," he cried, touched by her grief, and stirred to emulation by the example of courage and integrity she tried to set him. Here Steve and Kitty bore down upon them; and, obeying the impulse to put care behind them which makes it possible for young hearts to ache one minute and dance the next, Rose and Charlie banished their troubles, joined in the sport that soon turned the lonely little bay into a ballroom, and enjoyed the splendors of a winter sunset, forgetful of separation and Calcutta. CHAPTER XV. _ALAS FOR CHARLIE!_ In spite of much internal rebellion, Charlie held fast to his resolution; and Aunt Clara, finding all persuasions vain, gave in, and prepared to accompany him, in a state of chronic indignation against the world in general and Rose in particular. The poor girl had a hard time of it, and, but for her uncle, would have fared still worse. He was a sort of shield, upon which Mrs. Clara's lamentations, reproaches, and irate glances fell unavailingly, instead of wounding the heart against which they were aimed. The days passed very quickly now; for every one seemed anxious to have the parting over, and preparations went on rapidly. The big house was made ready to shut up for a year at least, comforts for the long voyage laid in, and farewell visits paid. The general activity and excitement rendered it impossible for Charlie to lead the life of an artistic hermit any longer: and he fell into a restless condition, which caused Rose to long for the departure of the "Rajah," when she felt that he would be safe; for these farewell festivities were dangerous to one who was just learning to say "No." "Half the month safely gone. If we can only get well over these last weeks, a great weight will be off my mind," thought Rose, as she went down one wild, wet morning toward the end of February. Opening the study-door to greet her uncle, she exclaimed, "Why, Archie!" then paused upon the threshold, transfixed by fear; for in her cousin's white face she read the tidings of some great affliction. "Hush! don't be frightened. Come in and I'll tell you," he whispered, putting down the bottle he had just taken from the doctor's medicine-closet. Rose understood and obeyed; for Aunt Plenty was poorly with her rheumatism, and depended on her morning doze.