PART 2
46. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
(continued)
"It's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it, one day
when I was very lonely, and had a good cry on a rag bag. I never
thought it would go where it could tell tales," said Jo, tearing
up the verses the Professor had treasured so long.
"Let it go, it has done it's duty, and I will haf a fresh one
when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little
secrets," said Mr. Bhaer with a smile as he watched the fragments
fly away on the wind. "Yes," he added earnestly, "I read that,
and I think to myself, She has a sorrow, she is lonely, she would
find comfort in true love. I haf a heart full, full for her. Shall
I not go and say, "If this is not too poor a thing to gif for what
I shall hope to receive, take it in Gott's name?"
"And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one
precious thing I needed," whispered Jo.
"I had no courage to think that at first, heavenly kind as was
your welcome to me. But soon I began to hope, and then I said,
`I will haf her if I die for it,' and so I will!" cried Mr. Bhaer,
with a defiant nod, as if the walls of mist closing round them were
barriers which he was to surmount or valiantly knock down.
Jo thought that was splendid, and resolved to be worthy of her knight,
though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array.
"What made you stay away so long?" she asked presently, finding
it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful
answers that she could not keep silent.
"It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you
from that so happy home until I could haf a prospect of one to
gif you, after much time, perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask
you to gif up so much for a poor old fellow, who has no fortune
but a little learning?"
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