PART 1
23. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
(continued)
"Not if I chose to learn it, but. . ."
"Please choose to learn, Meg. I love you to teach, and this
is easier than German," broke in John, getting possession of the
other hand, so that she had no way of hiding her face as he bent
to look into it.
His tone was properly beseeching, but stealing a shy look
at him, Meg saw that his eyes were merry as well as tender, and
that he wore the satisfied smile of one who had no doubt of his
success. This nettled her. Annie Moffat's foolish lessons in
coquetry came into her mind, and the love of power, which sleeps
in the bosoms of the best of little women, woke up all of a
sudden and took possession of her. She felt excited and
strange, and not knowing what else to do, followed a
capricious impulse, and, withdrawing her hands, said petulantly,
"I don't choose. Please go away and let me be!"
Poor Mr. Brooke looked as if his lovely castle in the air
was tumbling about his ears, for he had never seen Meg in such
a mood before, and it rather bewildered him.
"Do you really mean that?" he asked anxiously, following
her as she walked away.
"Yes, I do. I don't want to be worried about such things.
Father says I needn't, it's too soon and I'd rather not."
"Mayn't I hope you'll change your mind by-and-by? I'll
wait and say nothing till you have had more time. Don't play
with me, Meg. I didn't think that of you."
"Don't think of me at all. I'd rather you wouldn't," said
Meg, taking a naughty satisfaction in trying her lover's patience
and her own power.
He was grave and pale now, and looked decidedly more like
the novel heroes whom she admired, but he neither slapped his
forehead nor tramped about the room as they did. He just stood
looking at her so wistfully, so tenderly, that she found her
heart relenting in spite of herself. What would have happened
next I cannot say, if Aunt March had not come hobbling in at
this interesting minute.
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