Rose in Bloom: A Sequel to 'Eight Cousins'Alcott, Louisa May
General
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
There was the charm of novelty about this sort of wooing, and she
tried to guess how he would set about it, felt curious to see how he
would behave when next they met, and was half angry with herself for
not being able to decide how she ought to act. The more she thought
the more bewildered she grew; for, having made up her mind that Mac
was a genius, it disturbed all her plans to find him a lover, and such
an ardent one. As it was impossible to predict what would come next,
she gave up trying to prepare for it; and, tired with vain
speculations, carried Dulce off to bed, wishing she could tuck away
her love-troubles as quietly and comfortably as she did her sleepy
little charge.
Simple and sincere in all things, Mac gave Rose a new surprise by
keeping his promise to the letter,--asked nothing of her, said nothing
of his hope, and went on as if nothing had happened, quite in the old
friendly way. No, not quite; for now and then, when she least expected
it, she saw again that indescribable expression in his face, a look
that seemed to shed a sudden sunshine over her, making her eyes fall
involuntarily, her color rise, and her heart beat quicker for a
moment. Not a word did he say, but she felt that a new atmosphere
surrounded her when he was by; and, although he used none of the
little devices most lovers employ to keep the flame alight, it was
impossible to forget that underneath his quietude there was a hidden
world of fire and force, ready to appear at a touch, a word from her.
This was rather dangerous knowledge for Rose, and she soon began to
feel that there were more subtle temptations than she had suspected;
for it was impossible to be unconscious of her power, or always to
resist the trials of it which daily came unsought. She had never felt
this desire before: for Charlie was the only one who had touched her
heart; and he was constantly asking as well as giving, and wearied her
by demanding too much, or oppressed by offering more than she could
accept.
Mac did neither: he only loved her, silently, patiently, hopefully;
and this generous sort of fidelity was very eloquent to a nature like
hers. She could not refuse or chide, since nothing was asked or urged:
there was no need of coldness, for he never presumed; no call for
pity, since he never complained. All that could be done was to try and
be as just and true as he was, and to wait as trustfully for the end,
whatever it was to be.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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