PART 2
41. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
(continued)
Leaving his sentence unfinished, he seized pen and paper
and wrote to Jo, telling her that he could not settle to anything
while there was the least hope of her changing her mind.
Couldn't she, wouldn't she, and let him come home and be happy?
While waiting for an answer he did nothing, but he did it
energetically, for he was in a fever of impatience. It came
at last, and settled his mind effectually on one point, for Jo
decidedly couldn't and wouldn't. She was wrapped up in Beth,
and never wished to hear the word love again. Then she begged
him to be happy with somebody else, but always keep a little
corner of his ghart for his loving sister Jo. In a postscript
she desired him not to tell Amy that Beth was worse, she was
coming home in the spring and there was no need of saddening
the remainder of her stay. That would be time enough, please
God, but Laurie must write to her often, and not let her feel
lonely, homesick or anxious.
"So I will, at once. Poor little girl, it will be a sad
going home for her, I'm afraid." And Laurie opened his desk,
as if writing to Amy had been the proper conclusion of the
sentence left unfinished some weeks before.
But he did not write the letter that day, for as he rummaged
out his best paper, he came across something which
changed his purpose. Tumbling about in one part of the desk
among bills, passports, and business documents of various kinds
were several of Jo's letters, and in another compartment were
three notes from Amy, carefully tied up with one of her blue
ribbons and sweetly suggestive of the little dead roses put
away inside. with a half-repentant, half-amused expression,
Laurie gathered up all Jo's letters, smoothed, folded, and put
them neatly into a small drawer of the desk, stood a minute
turning the ring thoughtfully on his finger, then slowly drew
it off, laid it with the letters, locked the drawer, and went
out to hear High Mass at Saint Stefan's, feeling as if there
had been a funeral, and though not overwhelmed with affliction,
this seemed a more proper way to spend the rest of the day than
in writing letters to charming young ladies.
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