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
Till now she had not fairly looked at him; for recollections of the
morning made her a little shy. His attitude and appearance surprised
her as much as his words, and the quick change in her face seemed to
remind him of his manners. Getting up, he hastily took off his hat,
and stood looking at her with a curiously fixed yet absent look, as he
said in the same rapid, abrupt way, as if, when once started, he found
it hard to stop,--
"I beg pardon--only joking--very bad taste I know, and won't do it
again. The heat of the room makes me a little dizzy, and I think I got
a chill coming out. It _is_ cold--I _am_ frozen, I dare say--though I
drove like the devil."
"Not that bad horse of yours, I hope? I know it is dangerous, so late
and alone," said Rose, shrinking behind the big chair, as Charlie
approached the fire, carefully avoiding a footstool in his way.
"Danger is exciting--that's why I like it. No man ever called me a
coward--let him try it once. I never give in--and that horse shall
_not_ conquer me. I'll break his neck, if he breaks my spirit doing
it. No--I don't mean that--never mind--it's all right," and Charlie
laughed in a way that troubled her, because there was no mirth in it.
"Have you had a pleasant day?" asked Rose, looking at him intently, as
he stood pondering over the cigar and match which he held, as if
doubtful which to strike and which to smoke.
"Day? oh, yes, capital. About two thousand calls, and a nice little
supper at the Club. Randal can't sing any more than a crow; but I left
him with a glass of champagne upside-down trying to give them my old
favorite,--
"''Tis better to laugh than be sighing;'"
and Charlie burst forth in that bacchanalian melody at the top of his
voice, waving an allumette-holder over his head to represent Randal's
inverted wine-glass.
"Hush! you'll wake aunty," cried Rose, in a tone so commanding that he
broke off in the middle of a _roulade_ to stare at her with a blank
look, as he said apologetically,--
"I was merely showing how it should be done. Don't be angry,
dearest--look at me as you did this morning, and I'll swear never to
sing another note if you say so. I'm only a little gay--we drank your
health handsomely, and they all congratulated me. Told 'em it wasn't
out yet. Stop, though--I didn't mean to mention that. No matter--I'm
always in a scrape; but you always forgive me in the sweetest way. Do
it now, and don't be angry, little darling;" and, dropping the vase,
he went toward her with a sudden excitement that made her shrink
behind the chair.
She was not angry, but shocked and frightened; for she knew now what
the matter was, and grew so pale he saw it, and asked pardon before
she could utter a rebuke.
"We'll talk of that to-morrow: it is very late; go home, now, please,
before uncle comes," she said, trying to speak naturally; yet
betraying her distress by the tremor of her voice, and the sad anxiety
in her eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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