Eight Cousins (Bedtime Story) Chapter 21

Eight Cousins tells the story of young Rose Campbell. One of the central themes of the novel is the contrast between the traditional expectations of women in society and the more liberated, active lifestyle that Uncle Alec advocates. Through Rose’s transformation, Alcott subtly critiques the conventional education and upbringing of girls, promoting instead a more balanced and healthy approach. The novel also explores the idea of family as a source of support and growth, highlighting the positive influence that close familial bonds can have on personal development.

Transcript

CHAPTER XXI A SCARE Brother Alec,

You surely don't mean to allow that child to go out such a bitter cold day as this,

Said Miss Myra,

Looking into the study where the doctor sat reading his paper.

One February morning.

Why not,

If a delicate invalid like yourself can bear it,

Surely my hearty girl can,

Especially as she is dressed for cold weather,

Answered Dr.

Alec with provoking confidence.

But you have no idea how sharp the wind is.

I am chilled to the very marrow of my bones,

Answered Aunt Myra,

Chafing the end of her purple nose with her somber glow.

I don't doubt it,

Ma'am,

If you will wear crepe and silk instead of fur and flannel.

Rosie goes out in all weathers and will be none the worse hours of brisk skating.

Well,

I warn you that you are trifling with the child's health and abandoning too much on the seeming improvement she has made this year.

She is a delicate creature for all that,

And will drop away suddenly at the first serious attack,

As her poor mother did,

Croaked Aunt Myra,

With a despondent wag of the big bonnet.

I will risk it,

Answered Dr.

Alec,

Knitting his brows as he always did,

When any allusion was made to that utter rose.

Mark my words,

You will repent it.

And with that awful prophecy,

Aunt Myra departed like a black shadow.

Now it must be confessed that,

Among the doctor's failings,

And he had his share,

Was a very masculine dislike of advice,

Which was thrust upon him unasked.

He always listened with respect to the great aunts,

And often consulted Mrs.

Jessie,

But the other three ladies tried his patience sorely,

By constant warnings,

Complaints,

And counsels.

Aunt Myra was a special trial,

And he always turned contrary.

He could not help it,

And often laughed about it with comic frankness.

Here now was a sample of it,

For he had just been thinking that Rose had better defer her run till the wind went down,

And the sun was warmer.

But Aunt Myra spoke,

And he could not resist the temptation to make light of her advice,

And let Rose brave the cold.

He had no fear of its harming her,

For she went out every day,

And it was a great satisfaction to him to see her run down the avenue a minute afterward with her skates on her arm,

Looking like rosy-faced Esquimaux,

In her seal-skin suit,

As she smiled at Aunt Myra,

Talking along as solemnly as a crow.

I hope the child won't stay out long,

For this wind is enough to chew the marrow in younger bones than Myra's,

Thought Dr.

Alec,

Half an hour later,

As he drove towards the city to see the few patients he had consented to take for old acquaintance's sake.

The toad returned several times that morning,

For it was truly a bitter day.

In spite of his bare-skin coat,

The doctor shivered,

But he had great faith in Rose's good sense,

And it never occurred to him that she was making a little Casablanca of herself,

With the difference of freezing instead of burning at her post.

You see,

Mac had made an appointment to meet her at a certain spot,

And have a grand skating bout as soon as the few lessons he was allowed were over.

She had promised to wait for him,

And did so with the faithfulness that cost her dear,

Because Mac forgot his appointment when the lessons were done,

And became absorbed in a chemical experiment,

Till a general combustion of gazes drew him out of his laboratory.

Then he suddenly remembered Rose,

And would gladly have hurried away to her,

But his mother forbade his going out,

For the sharp wind would hurt his eyes.

She will wait and wait,

Mother,

For she always keeps her word.

And I told her to hold on till I came,

Explained Mac,

With visions of a shivering little figure,

Watching on the windy hilltop.

Of course your uncle won't let her go out such a day as this.

She will have the sense to come here for you,

Or to go home again when you don't appear,

Said Aunt Jane,

Returning to her what's on the mind.

I wish Stevie would just cut up and see if she's there,

Since I cannot go,

Began Mac anxiously.

Steve won't stir a peg,

Thank you.

He's got his own toast to twelve out,

And wants his dinner,

Answered Dandy,

Just in from school,

And wrestling impatiently with his boots.

So Mac resigned himself,

And Rose waited dutifully till dinner time,

Assured her that her waiting was in vain.

She had done her best to keep warm,

Had skated till she was tired and hot,

Then stood watching others till she was chilled,

Tried to get up low again by trotting up and down the road,

But failed to do so,

And finally cuddled disconsolately under a pine tree,

To wait and watch when she at length started for home.

She was benumbed with cold,

And could hardly make her way against the wind that buffeted the frostbitten Rose most unmercifully.

Dr.

Alec was basking in the warmth of the study fire.

After his drive,

When the sound of stifled sob made him hurry to the door,

And look anxiously into the hall,

Rose lay in a shivering bunch near the register,

With her things half off,

Wringing her hands and trying not to cry,

With the pain returning warmth brought to her half-frozen fingers.

''My darling,

What is it?

'' said Uncle Alec,

At her in his arms in a minute.

''Mag didn't come,

And I can't get warm.

The fire makes me ache.

'' And with a long shiver Rose burst out crying,

And her poor little nose was so blue it made one's heart ache to see it.

In less time than it takes to tell it,

Dr.

Alec had her on the sofa,

Rolled up in the bear-skin coat,

With Phoebe running her coat-feet while he rubbed the aching hands.

Aunt Aunt Plenty made a comfortable hot drink,

And Aunt Peace sent down her own foot-warmer,

An embroidered blanket for the deer.

Uncle Alec worked over his new patient till she declared she was all right again.

He would not let her get up to dinner,

But fed her himself,

And then forgot his own while he sat watching her fall into a drowse,

For Aunt Plenty's cordial made her sleepy.

She lay so several hours with the drowse deepened into heavy sleep,

And Uncle Alec still at his post saw with growing anxiety that the feverish colour began to burn in her cheek,

That her breathing was quick and uneven,

And now and then she gave a little moan as if in pain.

Suddenly she woke up with a start,

And seeing Aunt Plenty bending over her,

Put out her arms like a sick child,

Saying rarely,

''Please,

Could I go to bed?

'' ''The best place for you,

Dearie.

Take her right up,

Alec.

I've got the hot water ready,

And after a nice bath she shall have a cup of my sage tea and be rolled up in a blanket to sleep off her cold,

'' answered the old lady cheerfully.

As she bustled away,

''Are you in pain,

Darling?

'' asked Uncle Alec as he carried her up.

''My side aches when I breathe,

And I feel stiff and queer,

But it isn't bad,

So don't be troubled,

Uncle,

'' whispered Rose with a little hot hand.

But the poor doctor did look troubled and had cause to do so,

For just then Rose tried to laugh at Dolly,

Charging into the room with a warming pan,

But could not,

For the sharp pain took her breath away and made her cry out,

''Curiously,

'' sighed Aunt Plenty from the depths of the bathtub.

''Pneumonia,

'' groaned Dolly,

Burrowing among the bedclothes with the long-handled pan as if bent on fishing up that treacherous disease.

''Oh,

Is it bad,

'' asked Phoebe,

Nearly dropping a pail of hot water in her dismay,

For she knew nothing of sickness,

And Dolly's suggestion had a peculiarly dreadful sound to her.

''Hush,

'' ordered the doctor,

In a tone that silenced all further prediction and made everyone work with the will.

''Make her as comfortable as you can,

And when she is in her little bed I'll come and say good-night,

'' he added,

And the bath was ready and the blankets browning nicely before the fire.

Then he went away to talk quite cheerfully to Aunt Pease about its being only a chill,

After which he tramped up and down the hall,

Pulling his beard and knitting his brows,

Sure signs of great inward perturbation.

I thought it would be good luck to get through the year without a downfall,

Confound my perversity.

Why couldn't I take Myron's advice and keep Rose at home?

It is not fair.

She shall not suffer for it.

Pneumonia,

Indeed!

I defy it!

'' And he shook his fist in the ugly face of an Indian idol that happened to be before him,

As if that particularly hideous god had some spite against his own little goddess.

In spite of his defiance,

His heart sunk,

And he saw Rose again,

For the pain was worse,

And the bath and blankets,

The warming pan,

And piping hot sage tea were all in vain.

For several hours there was no rest for the poor child,

And all manner of gloomy foreboding haunted the minds of those who hovered about her,

With faces full of the tenderest anxiety.

In the midst of the worst paroxysm,

Charlie came to leave a message from his mother,

And was met by Phoebe,

Coming despondently downstairs with a mustard blaster that had brought no relief.

''What the dickens is the matter?

You look as dismal as a tombstone,

'' he said,

As she holed up her hand to stop his lively whistling.

''Miss Rose is dreadful,

Is she?

'' ''The dear she is.

Don't swear,

Mr.

Charlie.

She really is.

And it is Mr.

Mack's fault,

'' and Phoebe told the sad tale in a few sharp words,

For she felt at war with the entire race of boys at that moment.

''I'll give it to him.

Make your mind easy about that,

'' said Charlie,

With an ominous dabbling,

Up of his fist.

''But Rose isn't dangerously ill,

Is she?

'' he added,

As Aunt Wendy was seen to trot across the upper hall,

Shaking a little bottle wildly as she went.

''Oh,

But she is,

Though.

The doctor don't say much,

But he don't call it the chill any more.

It is pleurisy now.

And I am so afraid that it will pneumonia tomorrow,

'' answered Phoebe,

With a despairing glance at the blaster.

Charlie exploded into a stifled laugh at the new pronunciation of pneumonia,

To Phoebe's great indignation.

''How can you have the heart to do it?

And she is such in horrid pain,

'' she said with a tragic gesture,

And her black eyes full of fire.

Charlie listened and heard little moans that went to his heart and made his face as sober as Phoebe's.

''Oh,

Uncle,

Please stop the pain,

And let me rest.

Don't tell the boys I wasn't brave.

I tried to bear it,

But it is so sharp I can't help crying,

'' neither could Charlie when he heard the broken voice say that he wouldn't own it,

And said pettishly,

As he rubbed his sleeve across his eyes,

''Don't hold that confounding thing right under my nose.

The mustard makes my eyes marred.

Don't see how it can,

When it hasn't any more strength in it than the meal,

'' the doctor said so.

''And I am going to get some better,

'' began Phoebe,

Not a bit ashamed of the great tears that were bedeeving.

''I'll go,

'' and Charlie was off like a shot,

Glad of an excuse to get out of sight.

When he came back all inconvenient emotion had been disposed of,

And having delivered a bulk the hottest mustard,

Curable for money,

He departed to blow up Mac.

Despite being his next duty in his opinion,

He did it so truly that the poor worm was cast into the depths of remorseful despair,

And went to bed that evening feeling that he was an outcast from among men,

And bore the mark of Cain upon his brow.

Thanks to the skill of the doctor,

Rose grew easier about midnight,

And all hoped that the worst was over.

Phoebe was making tea by the study fire,

For the doctor had forgotten to eat and drink since Rose was ill,

And Aunt Plenty insisted on waving a good cordial dish of tea after his extortion.

A tap on the window startled Phoebe,

And she saw a face peering in.

She was not afraid,

For a second look showed her that it was neither a ghost or a burglar.

But Mac,

Looking pale and wild in the wintry moonlight,

Come and let the fellow in,

He said in a low tone,

And when he stood in the hall he clutched Phoebe's arm,

Whispering roughly,

How is Rose?

Thanks be to goodness.

She's better,

Answered Phoebe with a smile that was like a broad sunshine.

The poor lad's anxious heart,

And she will be all right to-morrow.

Oh,

Dear no,

Dolly says she's sure to have rheumatic fever if she don't have a pneumonia,

Answered Phoebe carefully,

Pronounced the word rightly this time.

Down went Mac's face,

And remorse began to gnaw at him again,

As he gave a great sigh and said doubtfully,

I suppose I couldn't see her.

Of course not at this time of night,

When we want her to go to sleep.

Mac opened his mouth to say something more.

When a sneeze came upon,

A shoo!

Why didn't you stop it?

Said Phoebe reproachfully.

I dare say,

You have waked her up.

I didn't know it was coming.

Just my luck,

Groaned Mac,

Turning to go before his unfortunate present did more harm.

But a voice from the stair-head called softly,

Mac,

Come up.

Rose wants to see you.

Up he went and found his uncle waiting for him.

What brings you here at this hour,

My boy?

Asked the doctor in a whisper.

Charlie said it was all my fault,

And if she died I'd killed her,

He said with such a troubled face and voice that the doctor had not the heart to blame him.

Before he could say anything more,

A feeble voice called,

Mac!

And with a hasty,

Stay a minute,

Just please her,

And then slip away,

For I want her to sleep.

The doctor let him into the room.

The face on the pillow looked very pale and childish,

And the smile that welcomed Mac was very faint,

For Rose was spent with pain.

It could not rest till she had said a word of comfort to her cousin.

I knew your funny sneeze,

And I guess that you came to see how I did,

Though it is very late.

I am better now,

And it is my fault I was ill,

Not yours,

For I needed to have been so silly as to wait in the cold just because I said I would.

Mac hastened to explain,

To beg her not to die on any account,

For Charlie's lecture had made a deep impression on the poor boy's mind.

I didn't know there was any danger of me dying,

And Rose looked up at him with a solemn expression,

Oh,

I hope not,

But people do sometimes,

Go suddenly,

You know.

And I couldn't rest till I had asked you to forgive me,

Faltered Mac,

Thinking that Rose looked very like an angel already,

With the golden hair loose on the pillow and the meekness of suffering on her little white face.

I don't think I shall die.

Uncle won't let me,

But if I do,

Remember I forgave you,

Seeing how pathetic his dumb grief was.

She added softly,

Throwing his head down,

I wouldn't kiss you under the mistletoe,

But I will now,

For I want you to be sure I do forgive and love you just the same.

Not quite upset,

Poor Mac,

He could only murmur his thanks and get out of the room as fast as possible,

To probe his way to the couch at the far end of the hall and lie there till he fell asleep,

Worn out with trying not to make a baby of himself.

Reviews

So scary! What sweet forgiveness though… thank you!!