as if
anxious to send her away more cheerful, and he said with a shadow of
the old blithe smile, a feeble attempt at the familiar farewell gesture:
"Till tomorrow, Rose."

Alas for Charlie! His tomorrow never came, and when she saw him next, he
lay there looking so serene and noble, it seemed as if it must be well
with him, for all the pain was past; temptation ended; doubt and fear,
hope and love, could no more stir his quiet heart, and in solemn truth
he had gone to meet his Father, and begin again.

Chapter 16 GOOD WORKS

The Rajah was delayed awhile, and when it sailed poor Mrs. Clara was
on board, for everything was ready. All thought she had better go to
comfort her husband, and since her boy died she seemed to care very
little what became of her. So, with friends to cheer the long voyage,
she sailed away, a heavyhearted woman, yet not quite disconsolate,
for she knew her mourning was excessively becoming and felt sure that
Stephen would not find her altered by her trials as much as might have
been expected.

Then nothing was left of that gay household but the empty rooms, silence
never broken by a blithe voice anymore, and pictures full of promise,
but all unfinished, like poor Charlie's life.

There was much mourning for the bonny Prince, but no need to tell of it
except as it affected Rose, for it is with her we have most to do, the
other characters being of secondary importance.

When time had soothed the first shock of sudden loss, she was surprised
to find the memory of his faults and failings, short life and piteous
death, grew dim, as if a kindly hand had wiped out the record and given
him back to her in the likeness of the brave, bright boy she had loved,
not as the wayward, passionate young man who had loved her.

This comforted her very much, and folding down the last blotted leaf
where his name was written, she gladly turned back to reopen and reread
the happier chapters which painted the youthful knight before he went
out to fall in his first battle. None of the bitterness of love
bereaved marred this memory for Rose, because she found that the warmer
sentiment, just budding in her heart, had died with Charlie and lay cold
and quiet in his grave. She wondered, yet was glad, though sometimes a
remorseful pang smote her when she discovered how possible it was to go
on without him, feeling almost as if a burden had been lifted off, since
his happiness was taken out of her hands. The time