CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

More Secrets

The meeting between mother and daughters was truly joyous. And the two older girls waited on their mother, as she would not let go of little Beth's hand, even as she slept. While Meg and Jo fed their mother, they listened to her whisper about their father's health, Mr Brooke's promise to stay with him, the train's delay during the storm, and the comfort of Laurie's hopeful face when she arrived.

What a strange yet pleasant day that was! Everyone slept that night, feeling safe with their mother returned. Mrs March would not leave Beth's side, but rested in the big chair, waking often to look at, touch, and worry over her child.

Laurie, in the meantime, went off to comfort Amy till her mother could go for a visit. Later that day, however, she was delighted to see her mother walking in the door. Amy showed her mother the little chapel, who was quite pleased to see such changes in her daughter.

"I like it very much, dear. It is an excellent plan to have some place where we can go to be quiet, when things upset us. There are many hard times in this life of ours, but we can always bear them if we have help." "Yes, Mother, and when I go home, I plan to make a chapel in my closet."

As her mother held Amy's little hands, she noticed a large green ring on her finger. She said nothing, but Amy understood the look, and after a minute's pause, said, "I wanted to speak to you about this, but I forgot. Aunt gave me the ring today. She called me to her and kissed me, and put it on my finger, saying she would like to keep me always. I'd like to wear it, Mother, can I?" "The ring is very pretty, but I think you're rather too young for such things, Amy," said Mrs March.

"I don't think I like the ring just because it's so pretty, but I want to wear it to remind me not to be selfish. I've thought a great deal lately about how naughty I've been. Beth isn't selfish, and that's the reason everyone loves her and feels so bad at the thought of losing her. People wouldn't feel half as bad about me if I was sick, and I don't deserve to have them, but I'd like to be loved and missed by many friends, so I'm going to try to be like Beth. I'm sure I'll forget this promise to myself sometimes, but if I had something always to remind me, I guess I would do better. May I try this way?"

"Yes, but I have more faith in your closet chapel. Wear your ring, dear, and do your best. Now, I must go back. Continue to think of your sister, and we will soon have you home again."

That evening, while Meg was writing to her father, Jo went quietly upstairs into Beth's room to find her mother in her usual place on the chair next to the bed. Jo stood for a moment in the doorway, looking worried.

"What is it, dear?" asked Mrs March, holding out her hand.

"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 bothers me."

"Beth is asleep, so speak in a whisper and tell me." "Last summer, Meg left a pair of gloves over at the Laurences' and only one was returned. We forgot all about it, till Laurie told me that Mr Brooke had it. He kept it with him, and once it fell out, and Laurie joked with him about it, and Mr Brooke admitted that he liked Meg, but she was so young and he so poor. Now, isn't that terrible?"

"Do you think Meg cares for him?" asked Mrs March, with an anxious look.

"Dear me! I don't know anything about love and such foolishness!" cried Jo. "Oh, dear! You're going to let Meg marry him after he went to take care of Father just to make you like him."

"My dear, don't get angry about it, and I will tell you how it happened. John—Mr Brooke—went with me at Mr Laurence's request, and has faithfully cared for poor Father since we arrived. He was perfectly open and honorable 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 permission 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 agreeing to marry so young."

"Of course not; it would be quite foolish! I knew something was going on, and now it's worse than I thought. I just wish I could marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family."

This idea made Mrs March smile, but she said, "Jo, you mustn't say anything to Meg yet. When John comes back and I see them together, I will better understand her feelings toward him."

"She'll see those handsome eyes she always talks about, and then it will be her decision. She read the notes he sent more than she did your letters, and likes brown eyes, and doesn't think John an ugly name, and she'll go and fall in love, and leave us!"

"Jo, it is natural and right for you all to go to homes of your own in time, but I do want to keep my girls as long as I can. 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 will not marry before twenty. If she and John love one another, they can wait. I hope things will go happily with her."

"Wouldn't you rather she marry a rich man?" asked Jo.

"Money is a good and useful thing, Jo, and I hope my girls will never need it too terribly nor be tempted by too much. I would like to see John in some good business to earn an income to keep Meg comfortable, but there is no need for a great fortune."

"I understand, Mother, and quite agree, but I'm disappointed about Meg, for I had planned to have her marry Laurie, so she could live a life of great wealth. Wouldn't it be nice?" asked Jo.

"He is younger than she, you know," began Mrs March.

"Only a little," interrupted Jo. "He behaves older than his age. Also, he's rich and generous, and loves us all. I think it's quite a pity that my plan will be ruined."

"I'm afraid Laurie is still not grown-up enough for Meg, and still too young to depend on. Don't make plans, Jo, but let time and their own feelings bring your friends together."

"Well, I wish I could keep us from growing up. What a pity!"

"What is a pity?" asked Meg, coming into the room with a letter in her hand.

"Oh, something silly. Now, I'm going to bed, good night," said Jo.

"What a lovely letter. Please add that I send my love to John," said Mrs March, looking over Meg's letter.

"Do you call him 'John'?" asked Meg, smiling.

"Yes, he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him," replied Mrs March, smiling back at her daughter.

"I'm glad of that, he is so lonely. Good night, Mother, dear. It is such a wonderful comfort to have you here," was Meg's answer.

Her mother kissed her tenderly, and as she went away, Mrs March said to herself, "She does not love John yet, but will soon learn to."

(end of section)