That evening, while Meg was writing to her father, to report the traveller's safe arrival, Jo slipped upstairs into Beth's room, and, finding her mother in her usual place, stood a minute twisting her fingers in her hair, with a worried gesture and an undecided look.
What is it, deary?' asked Mrs. March, holding out her hand, with a face which invited confidence.
I want to tell you something, Mother.'
About Meg?'
How quickly you guessed! Yes, it's about her, and though it's a little thing, it fidgets me.'
Beth is asleep; speak low, and tell me all about it. That Moffat hasn't been here, I hope?' asked Mrs. March, rather sharply.
No, I should have shut the door in his face if he had,' said Jo, settling herself on the floor at her mother's feet. `Last summer Meg left a pair of gloves over at the Laurences', and only one was returned. We forgot all about it, till Teddy told me that Mr. Brooke had it. He kept it in his waistcoat pocket, and once it fell out, and Teddy joked him about it, and Mr. Brooke owned that he liked Meg, but didn't dare say so, she was so young and he so poor. Now, isn't it a dreadful state of things?'
Do you think Meg cares for him?' asked Mrs. March, with an anxious look.
Mercy me! I don't know anything about love and such nonsense!' cried Jo, with a funny mixture of interest and contempt. `In novels, the girls show it by starting and blushing, fainting away, growing thin, and acting like fools. Now Meg does not do anything of the sort; she eats and drinks and sleeps, like a sensible creature; she looks straight in my face when I talk about that man, and only blushes a little bit when Teddy jokes about lovers. I forbid him to do it, but he doesn't mind me as he ought.'
Then you fancy that Meg is not interested in John?'
Who?' cried Jo, staring.
Mr. Brooke. I call him "John" now; we fell into the way of doing so at the hospital, and he likes it.'
Oh, dear! I know you'll take his part: he's been good to Father, and you won't send him away, but let Meg marry him, if she wants to. Mean thing! to go petting Papa and helping you, just to wheedle you into liking him'; and Jo pulled her hair again with a wrathful tweak.
My dear, don't get angry about it, and I will tell you how it happened. John went with me at Mr. Laurence's request, and was so devoted to poor Father that we couldn't help getting fond of him. He was perfectly open and honourable about Meg, for he told us he loved her, but would earn a comfortable home before he asked her to marry him. He only wanted our leave to love her and work for her, and the right to make her love him if he could. He is a truly excellent young man, and we could not refuse to listen to him; but I will not consent to Meg engaging herself so young.'
Of course not; it would be idiotic! I knew there was mischief brewing; I felt it; and now it's worse than I imagined. I just wish I could marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family.'
This odd arrangement made Mrs. March smile; but she said gravely, `Jo, I confide in you, and don't wish you to say anything to Meg yet. When John comes back, and I see them together, I can judge better of her feelings towards him.'
She'll see his in those handsome eyes that she talks about, and then it will be all up with her. She's got such a soft heart, it will melt like butter in the sun if anyone looks sentimentally at her. She read the short reports he sent more than she did your letters, and pinched me when I spoke of it, and likes brown eyes, and doesn't think John an ugly name, and she'll go and fall in love, and there's an end of peace and fun, and cosy times together. I see it all! they'll go lovering around the house, and we shall have to dodge; Meg will be absorbed, and no good to me any more; Brooke will scratch up a fortune somehow, carry her off, and make a hole in the family; and I shall break my heart, and everything will be abominably uncomfortable. Oh, dear me! why weren't we all boys, then there wouldn't be any bother.' Jo leaned her chin on her knees, in a disconsolate attitude, and shook her fist at the represhensible John. Mrs. March sighed, and Jo looked up with an air of relief.
You don't like it, Mother? I'm glad of it. Let's send him about his business, and not tell Meg a word of it, but all be happy together as we always have been.'
I did wrong to sigh, Jo. It is natural and right you should all go to homes of your own, in time; but I do want to keep my girls as long as I can; and I am sorry that this happened so soon, for Meg is only seventeen, and it will be some years before John can make a home for her. Your father and I have agreed that she shall not bind herself in any way, nor be married, before twenty. If she and John love one another, they can wait, and test the love by doing so. She is conscientious, and I have no fear of her treating him unkindly. My pretty, tender-hearted girl! I hope things will go happily with her.'
Hadn't you rather have her marry a rich man?' asked Jo, as her mother's voice faltered a little over the last words.
Money is a good and useful thing, Jo; and I hope my girls will never feel the need of it too bitterly, nor be tempted by too much. I should like to know that John was firmly established in some good business, which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make Meg comfortable. I'm not ambitious for a splendid fortune, a fashionable position, or a great name for my girls. If rank and money come with love and virtue, also, I should accept them gratefully, and enjoy your good fortune; but I know, by experience, how much genuine happiness can be had in a plain little house, where the dally bread is earned, and some privations give sweetness to the few pleasures. I am content to see Meg begin humbly, for, if I am not mistaken, she will be rich in the possession of a good man's heart, and that is better than a fortune.'
I understand, Mother, and quite agree; but I'm disappointed about Meg, for I'd planned to have her marry Teddy by and by, and sit in the lap of luxury all her days. Wouldn't it be nice?' asked Jo, looking up, with a brighter face.
He is younger than she, you know,' began Mrs. March; but Jo broke in: `Only a little; he's old for his age, and tall; and can be quite grown-up in his manners if he likes. Then he's rich and generous and good, and loves us all; and I say it's a pity my plan is spoilt.'
I'm afraid Laurie is hardly grown up enough to Meg, and altogether too much of a weathercock, just now, for anyone to depend on. Don't make plans, Jo; but let time and their own hearts mate your friends. We can't meddle safely in such matters, and had better not get "romantic rubbish", as you call it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship.'
Well, I won't; but I hate to see things going all criss-cross and getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip there would straighten it out. I wish wearing flat-irons on our heads would keep us from growing up. But buds will be roses, and kittens, cats - more's the pity!'
What's that about flat-irons and cats?' asked Meg, as she crept into the room, with the finished letter in her hand.
Only one of my stupid speeches. I'm going to bed; come, Peggy,' said Jo, unfolding herself, like an animated puzzle.
Quite right, and beautifully written. Please add that I send my love to John,' said Mrs. March, as she glanced over the letter, and gave it back.
Do you call him "John"?' asked Meg, smiling, with her innocent eyes looking down into her mother's.
Yes; he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him,' replied Mrs. March, returning the look with a keen one.
I'm glad of that, he is so lonely. Good night, Mother dear. It is so inexpressibly comfortable to have you here,' was Meg's quiet answer.
The kiss her mother gave her was a very tender one; and, as she went away, Mrs. March said, with a mixture of satisfaction and regret, `She does not love John yet, but will soon learn to.' |
