Rose in Bloom: A Sequel to 'Eight Cousins'Alcott, Louisa May
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Rose in Bloom: A Sequel to 'Eight Cousins'
Alcott, Louisa May
Cousins -- Juvenile fiction; Families -- Juvenile fiction; New England -- Juvenile fiction; Young women -- Juvenile fiction
"That's your favorite Rip, isn't it? He was a wise old boy, but you
could find advice as good as that nearer home," put in Steve, who just
then felt equal to slapping Plato on the shoulder; so elated was he at
being engaged "first of all the lot," as he gracefully expressed it.
"Don't halloo till you are out of the wood, Dandy: Mrs. Kit has jilted
two men, and may a third; so you'd better not brag of your wisdom too
soon; for she may make a fool of you yet," said Charlie, cynically,
his views of life being very gloomy about this time.
"No, she won't, Steve, if you do your part honestly. There's the
making of a good little woman in Kitty, and she has proved it by
taking you instead of those other fellows. You are not a Solomon, but
you're not spoilt yet; and she had the sense to see it," said Mac,
encouragingly from his corner; for he and his brother were better
friends than ever since the little scene at the Van Tassels.
"Hear! hear!" cried Steve, looking more than ever like a cheerful
young cockerel trying to crow, as he stood upon the hearth-rug with
his hands under his coat-tails, rising and falling alternately upon
the toes and heels of his neat little boots.
"Come, you've given them each a pat on the head: haven't you got one
for me? I need it enough; for if ever there was a poor devil born
under an evil star, it is C. C. Campbell," exclaimed Charlie, leaning
his chin on his cue with a discontented expression of countenance; for
trying to be good is often very hard work till one gets used to it.
"Oh, yes! I can accommodate you;" and, as if his words suggested the
selection, Mac, still lying flat upon his back, repeated one of his
favorite bits from Beaumont and Fletcher; for he had a wonderful
memory, and could reel off poetry by the hour together.
"'Man is his own star: and the soul that can
Render an honest and a perfect man
Commands all light, all influence, all fate;
Nothing to him falls early or too late.
Our acts our angels are; or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.'"
"Confoundedly bad angels they are too," muttered Charlie, ruefully;
remembering the one that undid him.
His cousins never knew exactly what occurred on New-Year's night, but
suspected that something was amiss; for Charlie had the blues, and
Rose, though as kind as ever, expressed no surprise at his long
absences. They had all observed and wondered at this state of things,
yet discreetly made no remark, till Steve, who was as inquisitive as a
magpie, seized this opportunity to say in a friendly tone, which
showed that he bore no malice for the dark prophecy regarding his
Kitty's faithfulness,--
"What's the trouble, Prince? You are so seldom in a bad humor that we
don't know what to make of it, and all feel out of spirits when you
have the blues. Had a tiff with Rose?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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