PART 2
32. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
(continued)
Jo obeyed, but as her hand went softly to and fro across
Beth's hot forehead and wet eyelids, her heart was very full
and she longed to speak. But young as she was, Jo had learned
that hearts, like flowers, cannot be rudely handled, but must
open naturally, so though she believed she knew the cause of
Beth's new pain, she only said, in her tenderest tone, "Does
anything trouble you, deary?"
"Yes, Jo," after a long pause.
"Wouldn't it comfort you to tell me what it is?"
"Not now, not yet."
"Then I won't ask, but remember, Bethy, that Mother and
Jo are always glad to hear and help you, if they can."
"I know it. I'll tell you by-and-by."
"Is the pain better now?"
"Oh, yes, much better, you are so comfortable, Jo."
"Go to sleep, dear. I'll stay with you."
So cheek to cheek they fell asleep, and on the morrow
Beth seemed quite herself again, for at eighteen neither heads
nor hearts ache long, and a loving word can medicine most ills.
But Jo had made up her mind, and after pondering over a
project for some days, she confided it to her mother.
"You asked me the other day what my wishes were. I'll
tell you one of them, Marmee," she began, as they sat along
together. "I want to go away somewhere this winter for a
change."
"Why, Jo?" And her mother looked up quickly, as if the
words suggested a double meaning.
With her eyes on her work Jo answered soberly, "I want
something new. I feel restless and anxious to be seeing,
doing, and learning more than I am. I brood too much over
my own small affairs, and need stirring up, so as I can be
spared this winter, I'd like to hop a little way and try my
wings."
|