Louisa May Alcott - Хорошие жёны / Good wives. Уровень 3

“Are you going to help about the fair, dear?” asked Mrs. Carrol, as Amy sat down beside her.

“Yes, Aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me, and I offered to tend a table. I have nothing but my time to give.”

“I’m not,” put in Jo decidedly. “I hate to be patronized. The Chesters think it’s a great favor to allow us to help with their fair.”

“I want to work. I think it very kind of them to let me share the labor and the fun.”

“Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear. It’s a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts. Some do not, and that is trying,” observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Jo.

“I don’t like favors, they oppress and make me feel like a slave. I’d rather do everything for myself, and be perfectly independent.”

“Ahem!” coughed Aunt Carrol softly, with a look at Aunt March.

“I told you so,” said Aunt March, with a decided nod to Aunt Carrol.

“Do you speak French, dear?” asked Mrs. Carrol, laying a hand on Amy’s.

“Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March,” replied Amy, with a grateful look, which caused the old lady to smile affably.

“How are you about languages?” asked Mrs. Carrol of Jo.

“Don’t know a word. I’m very stupid about studying anything. I hate French, it’s such a slippery, silly sort of language,” was the reply.

Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March said to Amy,

“You are quite strong and well now, dear, I believe? Eyes don’t trouble you any more, do they?”

“Not at all, thank you, ma’am.”

“Good girl! You deserve to go, and I’m sure you will some day,” said Aunt March.

Mrs. Chester’s fair was so very elegant that it was considered a great honor by the young ladies

of the neighborhood to be invited. Everyone was much interested in it. Amy was asked, but Jo was not. Aunt Carrol was there, and talked about something to Mrs. March in a corner. It made the latter lady beam with satisfaction, and watch Amy with a face full of mingled pride and anxiety, though she did not betray the cause of her pleasure till several days later.

A week later a letter came from Aunt Carrol, and Mrs. March’s face was illuminated to such a degree when she read it that Jo and Beth, who were with her, demanded to know, what it said.

“Aunt Carrol is going abroad next month, and wants…”

“Me to go with her!” burst in Jo, flying out of her chair in an uncontrollable rapture.

“No, dear, not you. It’s Amy. I’m afraid it’s partly your own fault, dear. When Aunt spoke to me the other day, she regretted your blunt manners and too independent spirit. Here she writes, as if quoting something you had said – ’I planned at first to ask Jo, but as ‘favors burden her’, and she ‘hates French’, I think I won’t venture to invite her. Amy is more docile, will make a good companion for Flo.”

“Oh, my tongue, my abominable tongue! Why can’t I learn to keep it quiet?” groaned Jo, remembering her own words.

When she heard the explanation of the quoted phrases, Mrs. March said sorrowfully,

“Dear, there is no hope of it this time. Try to bear it cheerfully, and don’t sadden Amy’s pleasure.”

“I’ll try,” said Jo. “I’ll take a leaf out of her book, and try not only to seem glad, but to be so, and not grudge her one minute of happiness. But it won’t be easy, for it is a dreadful disappointment.”

“Jo, dear, I’m very selfish, but I can’t spare you, and I’m glad you are not going quite yet,” whispered Beth. She embraced her with such a loving face that Jo felt comforted in spite of the sharp regret.

By the time Amy came in, Jo was able to take her part in the family happiness. The young lady herself received the news as with great joy, and went about packing her pencils.

“It isn’t a pleasure trip to me, girls,” she said impressively, as she scraped her best palette. “It will decide my career, for if I have any genius, I shall find it out in Rome, and will do something to prove it.”

“Suppose you haven’t?” said Jo.

“Then I shall come home and teach drawing for my living,” replied the aspirant for fame.

“No, you won’t. You hate hard work, and you’ll marry some rich man, and come home to sit in the lap of luxury all your days,” said Jo.

“Your predictions are sometimes right, but I don’t believe that one will be. I’m sure I wish it. If I can’t be an artist myself, I want to help those who are,” said Amy, smiling.

“Hum!” said Jo, with a sigh. “If you wish it you’ll have it, for your wishes are always granted – mine never.”

“Do you want to go?” asked Amy.

“Rather!”

“Well, in a year or two I’ll send for you, and we’ll dig in the Forum for relics, and carry out all the plans we’ve made so many times.”

“Thank you. I’ll remind you of your promise when that joyful day comes, if it ever does,” returned Jo, accepting the vague but magnificent offer gratefully.

There was not much time for preparation. The house was in a ferment till Amy was off. Jo bore up very well until it was done. Then she cried till she couldn’t cry any more. Amy likewise bore up well till the steamer sailed. Then just as the gangway was about to be withdrawn, it suddenly came over her that a whole ocean was soon to roll between her and those who loved her best, and she clung to Laurie, saying with a sob,

“Oh, take care of them for me, and if anything happens…”

“I will, dear, I will, and if anything happens, I’ll come and comfort you,” whispered Laurie, little dreaming that he would be called upon to keep his word.

So Amy sailed away to find the Old World, which is always new and beautiful to young eyes.

London

Dear girls,

Here I really sit at a front window of the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly. It’s not a fashionable place, but Uncle stopped here years ago, and won’t go anywhere else. However, we don’t intend to stay long. Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how I enjoy it all! I never can.

I sent a line from Halifax, when I felt pretty miserable, but after that I got on delightfully, seldom ill, on deck all day, with plenty of pleasant people to amuse me. Everyone was very kind to me, especially the officers. Don’t laugh, Jo, gentlemen are really necessary on the ship.

Aunt and Flo were ill all the way, and liked to be let alone. So I went and enjoyed myself. Such walks on deck, such sunsets, such splendid air and waves! It was almost as exciting as riding a fast horse, when we went rushing on so grandly.

It was all heavenly, but I was glad to see the Irish coast, and found it very lovely, so green and sunny, with brown cabins here and there, ruins on some of the hills, and gentlemen’s countryseats in the valleys, with deer feeding in the parks. It was early in the morning, but I didn’t regret getting up to see it. The bay was full of little boats, the shore so picturesque, and a rosy sky overhead. I shall never forget it.

At Queenstown one of my new acquaintances left us, Mr. Lennox, and when I said something about the Lakes of Killarney, he sighed, and sung, with a look at me,

“Oh, have you ever heard of Kate Kearney?

She lives on the banks of Killarney;

From the glance of her eye,

Shun danger and fly,

For fatal is the glance of Kate Kearney.”

Wasn’t that nonsensical?

We only stopped at Liverpool a few hours. It’s a dirty, noisy place, and I was glad to leave it. Uncle rushed out and bought a pair of dogskin gloves [20] dogskin gloves – лайковые перчатки , some ugly, thick shoes, and an umbrella. I like traveling.