<p class="h2"><SPAN name="XXII" id="XXII"></SPAN>XXII.</p>
<p class="h2a">PLEASANT MEADOWS.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Like</span> sunshine after storm were the peaceful weeks which followed.
The invalids improved rapidly, and Mr. March began to talk of returning
early in the new year. Beth was soon able to lie on the study
sofa all day, amusing herself with the well-beloved cats, at first, and,
in time, with doll's sewing, which had fallen sadly behindhand. Her
once active limbs were so stiff and feeble that Jo took her a daily airing
about the house in her strong arms. Meg cheerfully blackened
and burnt her white hands cooking delicate messes for "the dear;"
while Amy, a loyal slave of the ring, celebrated her return by giving
away as many of her treasures as she could prevail on her sisters to
accept.</p>
<p class="indent">As Christmas approached, the usual mysteries began to haunt the
house, and Jo frequently convulsed the family by proposing utterly
impossible or magnificently absurd ceremonies, in honor of this unusually
merry Christmas. Laurie was equally impracticable, and
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 270]</span>
would have had bonfires, sky-rockets, and triumphal arches, if he had
had his own way. After many skirmishes and snubbings, the ambitious
pair were considered effectually quenched, and went about
with forlorn faces, which were rather belied by explosions of laughter
when the two got together.</p>
<p class="indent">Several days of unusually mild weather fitly ushered in a splendid
Christmas Day. Hannah "felt in her bones" that it was going to be
an unusually fine day, and she proved herself a true prophetess,
for everybody and everything seemed bound to produce a grand success.
To begin with, Mr. March wrote that he should soon be with
them; then Beth felt uncommonly well that morning, and, being
dressed in her mother's gift,—a soft crimson merino wrapper,—was
borne in triumph to the window to behold the offering of Jo and
Laurie. The Unquenchables had done their best to be worthy of the
name, for, like elves, they had worked by night, and conjured up a
comical surprise. Out in the garden stood a stately snow-maiden,
crowned with holly, bearing a basket of fruit and flowers in one hand,
a great roll of new music in the other, a perfect rainbow of an Afghan
round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her
lips, on a pink paper streamer:—</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b113.png" id="b113.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/b113.png" width-obs="460" height-obs="400" alt="The Jungfrau" title="The Jungfrau" /></div>
<p class="center">"THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH.</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"God bless you, dear Queen Bess!</span><br/>
<span class="i2">May nothing you dismay,</span><br/>
<span class="i0">But health and peace and happiness</span><br/>
<span class="i2">Be yours, this Christmas Day.</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Here's fruit to feed our busy bee,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">And flowers for her nose;</span><br/>
<span class="i0">Here's music for her pianee,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">An Afghan for her toes.</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"A portrait of Joanna, see,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">By Raphael No. 2,</span><br/>
<span class="i0">Who labored with great industry</span><br/>
<span class="i2">To make it fair and true.</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 271]</span>
<span class="i0">"Accept a ribbon red, I beg,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">For Madam Purrer's tail;</span><br/>
<span class="i0">And ice-cream made by lovely Peg,—</span><br/>
<span class="i2">A Mont Blanc in a pail.</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Their dearest love my makers laid</span><br/>
<span class="i2">Within my breast of snow:</span><br/>
<span class="i0">Accept it, and the Alpine maid,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">From Laurie and from Jo."</span></div>
</div>
<p class="indent">How Beth laughed when she saw it, how Laurie ran up and down
to bring in the gifts, and what ridiculous speeches Jo made as she
presented them!</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm so full of happiness, that, if father was only here, I couldn't
hold one drop more," said Beth, quite sighing with contentment as
Jo carried her off to the study to rest after the excitement, and to
refresh herself with some of the delicious grapes the "Jungfrau" had
sent her.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 272]</span>
"So am I," added Jo, slapping the pocket wherein reposed the
long-desired Undine and Sintram.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm sure I am," echoed Amy, poring over the engraved copy of
the Madonna and Child, which her mother had given her, in a pretty
frame.</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course I am!" cried Meg, smoothing the silvery folds of her
first silk dress; for Mr. Laurence had insisted on giving it.</p>
<p class="indent">"How can <i>I</i> be otherwise?" said Mrs. March gratefully, as her
eyes went from her husband's letter to Beth's smiling face, and her
hand caressed the brooch made of gray and golden, chestnut and
dark brown hair, which the girls had just fastened on her breast.</p>
<p class="indent">Now and then, in this work-a-day world, things do happen in the
delightful story-book fashion, and what a comfort that is. Half an
hour after every one had said they were so happy they could only
hold one drop more, the drop came. Laurie opened the parlor door,
and popped his head in very quietly. He might just as well have
turned a somersault and uttered an Indian war-whoop; for his face
was so full of suppressed excitement and his voice so treacherously
joyful, that every one jumped up, though he only said, in a queer,
breathless voice, "Here's another Christmas present for the March
family."</p>
<p class="indent">Before the words were well out of his mouth, he was whisked away
somehow, and in his place appeared a tall man, muffled up to the
eyes, leaning on the arm of another tall man, who tried to say something
and couldn't. Of course there was a general stampede; and
for several minutes everybody seemed to lose their wits, for the strangest
things were done, and no one said a word. Mr. March became
invisible in the embrace of four pairs of loving arms; Jo disgraced
herself by nearly fainting away, and had to be doctored by Laurie
in the china-closet; Mr. Brooke kissed Meg entirely by mistake, as
he somewhat incoherently explained; and Amy, the dignified, tumbled
over a stool, and, never stopping to get up, hugged and cried
over her father's boots in the most touching manner. Mrs. March
was the first to recover herself, and held up her hand with a warning,
"Hush! remember Beth!"</p>
<p class="indent">But it was too late; the study door flew open, the little red wrapper
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 273]</span>
appeared on the threshold,—joy put strength into the feeble
limbs,—and Beth ran straight into her father's arms. Never mind
what happened just after that; for the full hearts overflowed, washing
away the bitterness of the past, and leaving only the sweetness of the
present.</p>
<p class="indent">It was not at all romantic, but a hearty laugh set everybody straight
again, for Hannah was discovered behind the door, sobbing over the
fat turkey, which she had forgotten to put down when she rushed
up from the kitchen. As the laugh subsided, Mrs. March began to
thank Mr. Brooke for his faithful care of her husband, at which Mr.
Brooke suddenly remembered that Mr. March needed rest, and, seizing
Laurie, he precipitately retired. Then the two invalids were ordered to
repose, which they did, by both sitting in one big chair, and talking
hard.</p>
<p class="indent">Mr. March told how he had longed to surprise them, and how,
when the fine weather came, he had been allowed by his doctor to
take advantage of it; how devoted Brooke had been, and how he was
altogether a most estimable and upright young man. Why Mr. March
paused a minute just there, and, after a glance at Meg, who was violently
poking the fire, looked at his wife with an inquiring lift of the
eyebrows, I leave you to imagine; also why Mrs. March gently nodded
her head, and asked, rather abruptly, if he wouldn't have something
to eat. Jo saw and understood the look; and she stalked grimly
away to get wine and beef-tea, muttering to herself, as she slammed
the door, "I hate estimable young men with brown eyes!"</p>
<p class="indent">There never <i>was</i> such a Christmas dinner as they had that day.
The fat turkey was a sight to behold, when Hannah sent him up,
stuffed, browned, and decorated; so was the plum-pudding, which
quite melted in one's mouth; likewise the jellies, in which Amy revelled
like a fly in a honey-pot. Everything turned out well, which
was a mercy, Hannah said, "For my mind was that flustered, mum,
that it's a merrycle I didn't roast the pudding, and stuff the turkey
with raisins, let alone bilin' of it in a cloth."</p>
<p class="indent">Mr. Laurence and his grandson dined with them, also Mr.
Brooke,—at whom Jo glowered darkly, to Laurie's infinite amusement.
Two easy-chairs stood side by side at the head of the table,
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 274]</span>
in which sat Beth and her father, feasting modestly on chicken and a
little fruit. They drank healths, told stories, sung songs, "reminisced,"
as the old folks say, and had a thoroughly good time. A sleigh-ride
had been planned, but the girls would not leave their father; so the
guests departed early, and, as twilight gathered, the happy family sat
together round the fire.</p>
<p class="indent">"Just a year ago we were groaning over the dismal Christmas we
expected to have. Do you remember?" asked Jo, breaking a short
pause which had followed a long conversation about many things.</p>
<p class="indent">"Rather a pleasant year on the whole!" said Meg, smiling at the
fire, and congratulating herself on having treated Mr. Brooke with
dignity.</p>
<p class="indent">"I think it's been a pretty hard one," observed Amy, watching the
light shine on her ring, with thoughtful eyes.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm glad it's over, because we've got you back," whispered Beth,
who sat on her father's knee.</p>
<p class="indent">"Rather a rough road for you to travel, my little pilgrims, especially
the latter part of it. But you have got on bravely; and I think
the burdens are in a fair way to tumble off very soon," said Mr.
March, looking with fatherly satisfaction at the four young faces gathered
round him.</p>
<p class="indent">"How do you know? Did mother tell you?" asked Jo.</p>
<p class="indent">"Not much; straws show which way the wind blows, and I've
made several discoveries to-day."</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, tell us what they are!" cried Meg, who sat beside him.</p>
<p class="indent">"Here is one;" and taking up the hand which lay on the arm of
his chair, he pointed to the roughened forefinger, a burn on the back,
and two or three little hard spots on the palm. "I remember a time
when this hand was white and smooth, and your first care was to
keep it so. It was very pretty then, but to me it is much prettier
now,—for in these seeming blemishes I read a little history. A
burnt-offering has been made of vanity; this hardened palm has
earned something better than blisters; and I'm sure the sewing done
by these pricked fingers will last a long time, so much good-will went
into the stitches. Meg, my dear, I value the womanly skill which
keeps home happy more than white hands or fashionable accomplishments.
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 275]</span>
I'm proud to shake this good, industrious little hand, and
hope I shall not soon be asked to give it away."</p>
<p class="indent">If Meg had wanted a reward for hours of patient labor, she received
it in the hearty pressure of her father's hand and the approving
smile he gave her.</p>
<p class="indent">"What about Jo? Please say something nice; for she has tried so
hard, and been so very, very good to me," said Beth, in her father's
ear.</p>
<p class="indent">He laughed, and looked across at the tall girl who sat opposite,
with an unusually mild expression in her brown face.</p>
<p class="indent">"In spite of the curly crop, I don't see the 'son Jo' whom I left
a year ago," said Mr. March. "I see a young lady who pins her collar
straight, laces her boots neatly, and neither whistles, talks slang,
nor lies on the rug as she used to do. Her face is rather thin and
pale, just now, with watching and anxiety; but I like to look at it,
for it has grown gentler, and her voice is lower; she doesn't bounce,
but moves quietly, and takes care of a certain little person in a motherly
way which delights me. I rather miss my wild girl; but if I get
a strong, helpful, tender-hearted woman in her place, I shall feel quite
satisfied. I don't know whether the shearing sobered our black sheep,
but I do know that in all Washington I couldn't find anything beautiful
enough to be bought with the five-and-twenty dollars which my
good girl sent me."</p>
<p class="indent">Jo's keen eyes were rather dim for a minute, and her thin face grew
rosy in the firelight, as she received her father's praise, feeling that she
did deserve a portion of it.</p>
<p class="indent">"Now Beth," said Amy, longing for her turn, but ready to wait.</p>
<p class="indent">"There's so little of her, I'm afraid to say much, for fear she will
slip away altogether, though she is not so shy as she used to be,"
began their father cheerfully; but recollecting how nearly he <i>had</i> lost
her, he held her close, saying tenderly, with her cheek against his
own, "I've got you safe, my Beth, and I'll keep you so, please God."</p>
<p class="indent">After a minute's silence, he looked down at Amy, who sat on the
cricket at his feet, and said, with a caress of the shining hair,—</p>
<p class="indent">"I observed that Amy took drumsticks at dinner, ran errands for
her mother all the afternoon, gave Meg her place to-night, and has
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 276]</span>
waited on every one with patience and good-humor. I also observe
that she does not fret much nor look in the glass, and has not even
mentioned a very pretty ring which she wears; so I conclude that
she has learned to think of other people more and of herself less, and
has decided to try and mould her character as carefully as she moulds
her little clay figures. I am glad of this; for though I should be very
proud of a graceful statue made by her, I shall be infinitely prouder
of a lovable daughter, with a talent for making life beautiful to herself
and others."</p>
<p class="indent">"What are you thinking of, Beth?" asked Jo, when Amy had
thanked her father and told about her ring.</p>
<p class="indent">"I read in 'Pilgrim's Progress' to-day, how, after many troubles,
Christian and Hopeful came to a pleasant green meadow, where lilies
bloomed all the year round, and there they rested happily, as we do
now, before they went on to their journey's end," answered Beth;
adding, as she slipped out of her father's arms, and went slowly to the
instrument, "It's singing time now, and I want to be in my old place.
I'll try to sing the song of the shepherd-boy which the Pilgrims heard.
I made the music for father, because he likes the verses."</p>
<p class="indent">So, sitting at the dear little piano, Beth softly touched the keys,
and, in the sweet voice they had never thought to hear again, sung
to her own accompaniment the quaint hymn, which was a singularly
fitting song for her:—</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"He that is down need fear no fall,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">He that is low no pride;</span><br/>
<span class="i0">He that is humble ever shall</span><br/>
<span class="i2">Have God to be his guide.</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"I am content with what I have,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">Little be it or much;</span><br/>
<span class="i0">And, Lord! contentment still I crave,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">Because Thou savest such.</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Fulness to them a burden is,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">That go on pilgrimage;</span><br/>
<span class="i0">Here little, and hereafter bliss,</span><br/>
<span class="i2">Is best from age to age!"</span></div>
</div>
<hr class="hr2" />
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b114.png" id="b114.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG class="border" src="images/b114.png" width-obs="568" height-obs="400" alt="" title="" /><br/> <span class="caption">
"He sat in the big chair by Beth's sofa with the other three close by."—Page 277.</span></div>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 277]</span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />