With that poor Archie broke down entirely; and, flinging himself into a chair, laid his face on the table, sobbing like a girl. Rose had never seen a man cry before, and it was so unlike a woman's gentler grief that it moved her very much. Putting by her own anguish, she tried to comfort his, and going to him lifted up his head and made him lean on her; for in such hours as this women are the stronger. It was a very little to do, but it did comfort Archie; for the poor fellow felt as if fate was very hard upon him just then, and into this faithful bosom he could pour his brief but pathetic plaint.
"Phebe's gone, and now if Charlie's taken I don't see how I _can_ bear it!"
"Phebe will come back, dear, and let us hope poor Charlie isn't going to be taken yet. Such things always seem worse at first, I've heard people say; so cheer up and hope for the best," answered Rose, seeking for some comfortable words to say, and finding very few.
They took effect, however; for Archie did cheer up like a man. Wiping away the tears which he so seldom shed that they did not know where to go, he got up, gave himself a little shake, and said with a long breath, as if he had been under water,--
"Now I'm all right, thank you. I couldn't help it: the shock of being waked suddenly to find the dear old fellow in such a pitiful state upset me. I ought to go: are these ready?"
"In a minute. Tell uncle to send for me if I can be of any use. Oh, poor Aunt Clara! how does she bear it?"
"Almost distracted. I took mother to her, and she will do all that anybody can. Heaven only knows what aunt will do if--"
"And Heaven only can help her," added Rose, as Archie stopped at the words he could not utter. "Now take them, and let me know often."
"You brave little soul, I will," and Archie went away through the rain with his sad burden, wondering how Rose could be so calm, when the beloved Prince might be dying.
A long dark day followed, with nothing to break its melancholy monotony except the bulletins that came from hour to hour, reporting little change either for better or for worse. Rose broke the news gently to Aunt Plenty, and set herself to the task of keeping up the old lady's spirits; for, being helpless, the good soul felt as if every thing would go wrong without her. At dusk she fell asleep, and Rose went down to order lights and fire in the parlor, with tea ready to serve at any moment; for she felt sure some of the men would come, and that a cheerful greeting and creature comforts would suit them better than tears, darkness, and desolation.