Little Women Ch 46

Enjoy this sleep story to help you drift off into a peaceful slumber. Tonight we read chapter 46 of the timeless classic, Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. This chapter describes Mr. Bhaer and Jo walking together in town. This audio is perfect for children or adults who want to relax, discover magic, or find adventure before a great night's sleep.

This beautiful photo was captured in Colorado by Oliver Pierce.

Transcript

LITTLE WOMEN by Louisa May Alcott Chapter 46 Under the Umbrella While Laurie and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets as they set their house in order and planned a blissful future,

Mr.

Bear and Joe were enjoying promenades of a different sort,

Along muddy roads and sodden fields.

"'I always do take a walk toward evening,

And I don't know why I should give it up.

Just because I happened to meet the professor on his way out,

' said Joe to herself,

After two or three encounters.

For though there were two paths to Meg's,

Whichever she took,

She was sure to meet him,

Either going or returning.

He was always walking rapidly,

And never seemed to see her until quite close,

When he would look as if his short-sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till that moment.

Then,

If she was going to Meg's,

He always had something for the babies.

If her face was turned homeward,

He had merely strolled down to see the river,

And was just returning,

Unless they were tired of his frequent calls.

Under the circumstances,

What could Joe do but greet him civilly and invite him in?

If she was tired of his visits,

She concealed her weariness with perfect skill,

And took care that there should be coffee for supper,

As Frederick,

I mean Mr.

Bear,

Doesn't like tea.

By the second week,

Everyone knew perfectly well what was going on,

Yet everyone tried to look as if they were stone blind at the changes in Joe's face.

They never asked why she sang about her work,

Did up her hair three times a day,

And got so blooming with her evening exercise.

And no one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bear,

While talking philosophy with the father,

Was giving the daughter lessons in love.

Joe couldn't even lose her heart in a decorous manner,

But sternly tried to quench her feelings,

And failing to do so,

Led a somewhat agitated life.

She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering,

After her many and vehement declarations of independence.

Glory was her especial dread,

But thanks to the new manager,

He behaved with praiseworthy propriety,

Never called Mr.

Bear a capital old fellow in public,

Never alluded in the remotest manner to Joe's improved appearance,

Or expressed the least surprise at seeing the professor's hat on the march's table nearly every evening.

But he exulted in private,

And longed for the time to come when he could give Joe a piece of plate,

With a bare and ragged staff on it,

As an appropriate coat of arms.

For a fortnight,

The professor came and went with lover-like regularity.

Then he stayed away for three whole days,

And made no sign,

A proceeding which caused everybody to look sober,

And Joe to become pensive,

At first,

And then,

Alas,

For romance.

Very cross.

Disgusted,

I dare say,

And gone home as suddenly as he came.

It's nothing to me,

Of course,

But I should think he would have come and bid us good-bye like a gentleman,

She said to herself,

With a despairing look at the gate,

As she put on her things for the customary walk one dull afternoon.

You'd better take the little umbrella,

Dear.

It looks like rain,

Said her mother,

Observing that she had on her new bonnet,

But not alluding to the fact.

Yes,

Marmy,

Do you want anything in town?

I've got to run in and get some paper,

Returned Joe,

Pulling out the bow under her chin before the glass,

As an excuse for not looking at her mother.

Yes,

I would like some twilled silicea,

A paper of number nine needles,

And two yards of narrow lavender ribbon.

Have you got your thick boots on,

And something warm under your cloak?

I believe so,

Answered Joe absently.

If you happen to meet Mr.

Bear,

Bring him home to tea.

I quite long to see the dear man,

Added Miss March.

Joe heard that,

But made no answer,

Except to kiss her mother,

And walk rapidly away,

Thinking with a glow of gratitude,

In spite of her heartache.

How good she is to me!

What do girls do who haven't any mothers to help them through their troubles?

The dry goods stores were not down among the counting houses,

Banks,

And wholesale warehomes,

Where gentlemen most do congregate,

But Joe found herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand,

Loitering along as if waiting for someone,

Examining engineering instruments in one window,

And samples of wool in another,

With most unfeminine interest,

Tumbling over barrels,

Being half-smothered by descending bales,

And hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as if they wondered how the deuce she got here.

A drop of rain on her cheek recalled her thoughts from baffled hopes to ruined ribbons,

For the drops continued to fall,

And being a woman as well as a lover,

She felt that,

Though it was too late to save her heart,

She might her bonnet.

Now she remembered the little umbrella which she had forgotten to take in her hurry to be off,

But regret was unavailing,

And nothing could be done but borrow one or submit to a drenching.

She looked up at the lowering sky,

Down at the crimson bough already flecked with black,

Forward along the muddy street,

And one long,

Lingering look behind at a certain grimy warehouse,

With Hoffman,

Shorts,

And Co.

Over the door,

She said to herself,

With a sternly reproachful air,

"'It serves me right.

What business had I to put on all my best things,

And come philandering down here hoping to see the Professor?

Joe,

I'm ashamed of you.

Now you shall not go there to borrow an umbrella,

Or find out where he is from his friends.

You shall trudge away,

And do your errands in the rain,

And if you catch your death and ruin your bonnet,

It's no more than you deserve.

Now then.

" With that,

She rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly escaped annihilation from a passing truck,

And precipitated herself into the arms of a stately old gentleman,

Who said,

"'I beg pardon,

Ma'am,

' and looked mortally offended.

Somewhat daunted,

Joe righted herself,

Spread her handkerchief over the devoted ribbons,

And putting temptation behind her,

Hurried on,

With increasing dampness about the ankles,

And much clashing of umbrellas overhead.

The fact that a somewhat dilapidated blue one remained stationary above the unprotected bonnet attracted her attention,

And looking up,

She saw Mr.

Bear looking down.

I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many Norse noses,

And so fast through much mud.

What do you down here,

My friend?

" "'I'm shopping,

' Mr.

Bear smiled,

As he glanced from the pickle factory on one side to the wholesale hide and leather concern on the other.

But he only said politely,

"'You have no umbrella.

May I go also and take for you the bundles?

' "'Yes,

Thank you.

' Joe's cheeks were as red as her ribbon,

And she wondered what he thought of her,

But she didn't care,

For in a minute she found herself walking away arm in arm with her professor,

Feeling as if the sun had suddenly burst out with uncommon brilliancy,

And the world was all right again,

And that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that day.

"'We thought you had gone,

' said Joe hastily,

For she knew he was looking right at her.

Her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face,

And she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidenly.

"'Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who have been so heavenly kind to me?

' he asked so reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion,

And answered heartily,

"'No,

I didn't.

I knew you were busy with your own affairs,

But we rather missed you,

Father and mother especially.

"'And you?

' "'I'm always glad to see you,

Sir.

' In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm,

Joe made it rather cool,

And the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the professor,

For his smile vanished as he said gravely,

"'I thank you,

And come one more time before I go.

' "'You are going then?

' "'I have no longer any business here.

It is done.

' "'Successfully,

I hope,

' said Joe,

For the bitterness of disappointment was in that short reply of his.

"'I ought to think so,

For I have a way open to me by which I can make my bread and give my jugglings much help.

' "'Tell me,

Please.

I like to know all about the—the boys,

' said Joe eagerly.

"'That is so kind,

I gladly tell you.

My friends find for me a place in college,

Where I teach as at home,

And earn enough to make the way smooth for fronds in a mill.

"'For this I should be grateful,

Should I not?

' "'Indeed you should.

How splendid it will be to have you doing what you like,

And to be able to see you often and the boys,

' cried Joe,

Clinging to the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help betraying.

"'Ah,

But we shall not meet often,

I fear,

For this place is at the west.

' "'So far away?

' And Joe left her skirts to their fate,

As if it didn't matter now what became of her clothes or herself.

Mr.

Bear could read several languages,

But he had not learned to read women yet.

He flattered himself that he knew Joe pretty well,

And was therefore much amazed by the contradictions of voice,

Face,

And manner which she showed him in rapid succession that day,

For she was in half a dozen different moods in the course of half an hour.

When she met him she looked surprised,

Though it was impossible to help suspecting that she had come for that express purpose.

When he offered her his arm,

She took it with a look that filled him with delight,

But when he asked if she missed him,

She gave such a chilly formal reply that despair fell upon him.

On learning his good fortune,

She almost clapped her hands.

Was all the joy all for the boys?

Then on hearing his destination,

She said,

So far away,

In a tone of despair that lifted him on to the pinnacle of hope,

But the next minute she tumbled down again by observing,

Like one entirely absorbed in the matter.

Here's the place for my errands.

Will you come in?

It won't take long.

Joe rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities,

And particularly wished to impress her escort with the neatness and dispatch with which she would accomplish the business,

But owing to the flutter she was in,

Everything went amiss.

She upset the tray of needles,

Forgot the Celestia was to be twilled till it was cut off,

Gave the wrong change,

And covered herself with confusion by asking for lavender ribbon at the calico counter.

Mr.

Bear stood by,

Watching her blush in blunder,

And as he watched,

His own bewilderment seemed to subside,

For he was beginning to see that on some occasions,

Women,

Like dreams,

Go by contraries.

When they came out,

He put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect,

And splashed through the puddles,

As if he rather enjoyed it on the whole.

Should we no do a little what you call shopping for the babies,

And half a farewell feast tonight if I go for my last call at your pleasant home?

He asked,

Stopping before a window full of fruit and flowers.

What will we buy?

Asked Joe,

Ignoring the later part of his speech,

And sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delights as they went in.

May they have oranges and figs?

Asked Mr.

Bear,

With a paternal air.

They eat them when they can get them.

Do you care for nuts?

Like a squirrel.

Hamburg grapes?

Yes,

We shall drink to the fatherland in those.

Joe frowned upon the piece of extravagance,

And asked why he didn't buy a frail of dates,

A cask of raisins,

And a bag of almonds,

And just be done with it.

Thereat Mr.

Bear confiscated her purse,

Produced his own,

And finished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes,

A pot of rosy daisies,

And a pretty jar of honey,

To be regarded in the light of a demijohn.

Then distorting his pockets with knobby bundles,

And giving her the flowers to hold,

He put up the old umbrella,

And they travelled on again.

Miss Marsh,

I have a great favor to ask of you,

Began the professor,

After a moist promenade of half a block.

Yes sir?

And Joe's heart began to beat so hard she was afraid he would hear it.

I am bold to say in spite of the rain,

Because so short a time remains to me.

Yes sir?

And Joe nearly crushed the small flower pot with the sudden squeeze she gave it.

I wish to get a little dress for my Tina,

And I am too stupid to go alone.

Will you kindly give me a word of taste and help?

Yes sir?

And Joe felt as calm and cool all of the sudden,

As if she had stepped into a refrigerator.

Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother.

She is so poor and sick,

And the husband is such a care.

Yes,

Yes,

A thick warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take to the little mother.

I'll do it with pleasure Mr.

Bear.

I'm going very fast,

And he's getting dearer every minute,

Added Joe to herself.

Then with a mental shake she entered into the business with an energy that was pleasant to behold.

Mr.

Bear left it all to her,

So she chose a pretty gown for Tina,

And then ordered out the shawls,

The clerk being a married man,

Condescended to take an interest in the couple who appeared to be shopping for their family.

Your lady may prefer this,

It's a superior article,

A most desirable color,

Quite chaste and genteel,

He said,

Shaking out a comfortable gray shawl,

And throwing it over Joe's shoulders.

Does this suit you Mr.

Bear?

She asked,

Turning her back to him,

And feeling deeply grateful for the chance of hiding her face.

Excellently well,

We will half it,

Answered the professor,

Smiling to himself as he paid for it,

While Joe continued to rummage the counters like a confirmed bargain hunter.

Now shall we go home,

He asked,

As if the words were very pleasant to him.

Yes,

It's late,

And I'm so tired.

Joe's voice was more pathetic than she knew,

For now the sun seemed to have gone in as suddenly as it came out,

And the world grew muddy and miserable again,

And for the first time she discovered that her feet were cold,

Her head ached,

And that her heart was colder than the former,

Fuller of pain than the latter.

Mr.

Bear was going away,

He only cared for her as a friend,

It was all a mistake,

And the sooner it was over the better.

With this idea in her head,

She hailed an approaching omnibus,

With such a hasty gesture that the daisies flew out of the pot and were badly damaged.

This is not our omnibus,

Said the professor,

Waving the loaded vehicle away and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers.

I beg your pardon,

I didn't see the name distinctly.

Never mind,

I can walk,

I'm used to plodding in the mud,

Returned Joe,

Winking hard because she would have rather died rather than openly wipe her eyes.

Mr.

Bear saw the drops on her cheeks,

Though she turned her head away.

The sight seemed to touch him very dearly,

For suddenly stooping down he asked in a tone that meant a great deal.

Heart's dearest,

Why do you cry?

Now if Joe had not been new to this sort of thing,

She would have said she wasn't crying,

Had a cold in her head,

Or told any other feminine fib proper to the occasion,

Instead of which that undignified creature answered with an irrepressible sob,

Because you're going away.

Ach,

Mein Gott,

That is so good,

Cried Mr.

Bear,

Managing to clasp his hands in spite of the umbrella and the bundles.

Joe,

I have nothing but much love to give you.

I came to see if you could care for it,

And I waited to be sure that I was something more than a friend,

Am I?

Can you make a little place in your heart for old Fritz?

He added,

All in one breath.

Oh yes,

Said Joe,

And he was quite satisfied,

For she folded both hands over his arm and looked up at him with an expression that plainly showed how happy she would be to walk through life beside him,

Even though she had no better shelter than the old umbrella,

If he carried it.

It was certainly proposing under difficulties,

For even if he had desired to do so,

Mr.

Bear could not go down upon his knees on account of the mud.

Neither could he offer Joe his hand,

Except figuratively,

For both were full.

Much less could he indulge in tender remonstrations in the open street,

Though he was near it,

So the only way in which he could express his rapture was to look at her,

With an expression which glorified his face to such a degree that there actually seemed to be little rainbows in the drops that sparkled on his beard.

If he had not loved Joe very much,

I don't think he could have done it then,

For she looked far from lovely,

With her skirts in a deplorable state,

Her rubber boots splashed up to the ankle,

And her bonnet a ruin.

Fortunately,

Mr.

Bear considered her the most beautiful living woman,

And she found him more Jove-like than ever,

Though his hat-brim was quite limp with the little rill's trickling fence upon his shoulders,

For he had held the umbrella all over Joe,

And every finger of his gloves needed mending.

Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics,

For they entirely forgot to hail a bus,

And strolled leisurely along,

Oblivious of deepening dusk and fog.

Little they cared what anybody thought,

For they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in life,

The magical moment which bestows youth on the old,

Beauty on the plain,

Wealth on the poor,

And gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven.

The professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom,

And the world had nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss.

All Joe trudged beside him,

Feeling as if her place had always been there,

And wondering how she ever could have chosen any other lot.

Of course,

She was the first to speak.

Intelligibly,

I mean,

For the emotional remarks which followed her impetuous,

Oh yes,

Were not of a coherent or reportable character.

"'Frederick,

Why didn't you—' "'Ah,

Heaven!

She gives me the name that no one speaks since Minna died,

' cried the professor,

Pausing in a puddle to regard her with delightful gratefulness.

"'I always call you so to myself.

I forgot,

But I won't unless you like it.

Like it?

It is more sweet to me than I can tell.

Say thou,

Also,

And I shall say your language is almost as beautiful as mine.

' "'Isn't thou a little sentimental?

' asked Joe,

Privately thinking at a lovely monosyllable.

"'Sentimental?

Yes,

Thank God.

We Germans believe in sentimental,

And keep ourselves young-minted.

Your English U is so cold.

"'Say thou,

Heart's dearest.

It means so much to me,

' pleaded Mr.

Bearer,

More like a romantic student than a grave professor.

"'Well,

Then,

Why didn't thou tell me all this sooner?

' asked Joe bashfully.

"'Now I shall have to show thee all my heart,

And I so gladly will,

Because thou must take care of it hereafter.

See then,

My Joe—' "'Ah,

The dear,

Funny little name.

I had a wish to tell something the day I said good-bye in New York,

But I thought the handsome friend was betrothed to thee,

And so I spoke not.

"'Wouldst thou have said yes then,

If I had spoken?

' "'I don't know,

I'm afraid not,

For I didn't have any heart just then.

Prut,

That I do not believe.

It was asleep till the fairy prince came through the wood and waked it up.

"'Yes,

The first love is the best,

But be so contented,

For I never had another.

Teddy was only a boy,

And soon got over his little fancy,

' said Joe,

Anxious to correct the professor's mistake.

"'Good,

Then I shall rest happy,

And be sure that thou givest me all.

"'I have waited so long.

I am grown selfish,

As thou wilt find,

Professor Inn.

"'I like that,

' cried Joe,

Delighted with her new name.

"'Now tell me what brought you at last,

Just when I wanted you.

' "'This.

' And Mr.

Bear took a little worn paper out of his waistcoat pocket.

Joe unfolded it and looked much abashed,

For it was one of her own contributions to a paper that paid for poetry,

Which accounted for her sending in an occasional attempt.

"'How could that bring you?

' she asked,

Wondering what he meant.

"'I found it by chance.

I knew it by the names and the initials,

And in it there was one little verse that seemed to call me.

Read and find him.

I will see that you will not go in the wet.

In the Garret Four little chests,

All in a row,

Dim with dust and worn by time,

All fashioned and filled long ago,

By children,

Now in their prime.

Four little keys hung side by side,

With faded ribbons brave and gay,

When fastened there with childish pride,

Long ago on a rainy day.

Four little names,

One on each lid,

Carved out by a boyish hand,

And underneath there layeth hid histories of a happy band,

Once playing here and pausing oft to hear the sweet refrain,

That came and went on the roof aloft in the falling summer rain.

Standing on the first lid,

Smooth and fair,

I look in with loving eyes,

For folded here,

With well-known care,

A goodly gathering lies.

The record of a peaceful life,

Gifts to gentle child and girl,

A bridal gown,

Lines to a wife,

A tiny shoe,

A baby curl.

No toys in this first chest remain,

For all are carried away,

In their old age to join again in another small Meg's play.

Ah,

Happy mother,

Well I know,

You hear like a sweet refrain,

Lullabies ever soft and low,

In the falling summer rain.

Joe on the next lid,

Scratched and worn,

And within a motley store,

Of headless dolls,

Of schoolbooks torn,

Birds and beasts that speak no more.

Spoils brought home from the fairy ground,

Only trod by youthful feet,

Dreams of a future never found,

Memories of a past still sweet,

Half-writ poems,

Stories wild,

April letters,

Warm and cold,

Diaries of a willful child,

Hints of a woman early old.

A woman in a lonely home,

Hearing like a sad refrain,

Be worthy love,

And love will come in the falling summer rain.

My Beth,

The dust is always swept,

From the lid that bears your name,

As if by loving eyes that wept,

By careful hands that often came.

Death canyonized for us one saint,

Ever less human than divine,

And still we lay with tender plaint,

Relics in this household shrine.

The silver bell,

So seldom rung,

The little cap which last she wore,

The fair,

Dead Catherine that hung,

By angels born above her door.

The song she sang without lament,

In her prison house of pain,

Forever are they sweetly blent with the falling summer rain.

Upon the last lid's polished field,

Legend now both fair and true,

A gallant knight bears on his shield,

Amy,

In letters gold and blue.

Within lie snoods that bound her hair,

Slippers that have danced their last,

Faded flowers laid by with care,

Fans whose airy toils are past,

Gay valentines,

All ardent flames,

Trifles that have borne their part,

In girlish hopes,

Fears and shames.

The record of a maiden heart,

Now learning fairer,

Truer spells,

Hearing like a blithe refrain,

The silver sound of bridal bells,

In the falling summer rain.

Four little chests,

All in a row,

Dim with dust and worn by time,

Four women taught by wheel and woe,

To love and labor in their prime.

Four sisters,

Parted for an hour,

None lost,

One only gone before,

Made by love's immortal power,

Nearest and dearest evermore.

Oh,

When these hidden stores of ours lie open to the father's sight,

May they be rich in golden hours,

Deeds that show fairer for the light,

Lives whose brave music long shall ring,

Like a spirit stirring strain,

Souls that shall gladly soar and sing,

In the long sunshine after rain.

It's very bad poetry,

But I felt it when I wrote it.

One day when I was very lonely,

And had a good cry on a ragbag,

I never thought it would go where it could tell tales,

Said Jo,

Tearing up the verses the professor had treasured so long.

Let it go,

It has done its duty,

And I will have a fresh one when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets,

Said Mr.

Bear with a smile,

As he watched the fragments fly away on the wind.

Yes,

He added earnestly,

I read that,

And I think to myself,

She has a sorrow,

She is lonely,

She would find comfort in true love.

I have a heart full,

Full for her,

Shall I not go and say,

If this is not too poor a thing to gift for what I shall hope to receive,

Take it in God's name?

And so you came to find that it was not too poor,

But the one precious thing I needed,

Whispered Jo.

I had no courage to think that at first,

Heavenly kind as was your welcome to me,

But soon I began to hope,

And then I said,

I will have her if I die for it,

And so I will,

Cried Mr.

Bear with a defiant nod,

As if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he was to surmount or valiantly knock down.

Jo thought that was splendid,

And resolved to be worthy of her night,

Though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array.

What made you stay away so long,

She asked presently,

Finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful answers that she could not keep silent.

It was not easy,

But I could not find the heart to take you from that so happy home until I could have a prospect of one to give you,

After much time perhaps and hard work.

How could I ask you to give up so much for a poor old fellow who has no fortune but a little learning?

I'm glad you're poor.

I couldn't bear a rich husband,

Said Jo decidedly,

Adding in a softer tone.

Don't fear poverty.

I've known it long enough to lose my dread and be happy working for those I love.

And don't call yourself old.

Forty is the prime of life.

I couldn't help loving you if you were seventy.

The professor found that so touching that he would have been glad of his handkerchief if he could have got at it.

As he couldn't,

Jo wiped his eyes for him and said laughing as she took away a bundle or two.

I may be strong-minded,

But no one can say I'm out of my sphere now,

For women's special mission is supposed to be drying tears and bearing burdens.

I'm to carry my share,

Frederick,

And help to earn the home.

Make up your mind to that,

Or I'll never go,

She added resolutely as he tried to reclaim his load.

We shall see.

Have you patience to wait a long time,

Jo?

I must go away and do my work alone.

I must help my boys first,

Because even for you,

I may not break my word to Minna.

Can you forgive that and be happy while we hope and wait?

Yes,

I know I can,

For we love one another,

And that makes all the rest easy to bear.

I have my duty also and my work.

I couldn't enjoy myself if I neglected them even for you,

So there's no need of hurry or impatience.

You can do your part out west.

I can do mine here,

And both be happy hoping for the best and leaving the future to be as God wills.

Ah,

Thou giftest me such hope and courage,

And I have nothing to gift back but a heart full and these empty hands,

Cried the professor quite overcome.

Jo never,

Never would learn to be proper,

For when he said that as they stood upon the steps she just put both hands into his,

Whispering tenderly,

Not empty now,

And stooping down kissed her Frederick under the umbrella.

It was dreadful,

But she would have done it if the flock of draggle-tailed sparrows on the hedge had been human beings,

For she was very far gone indeed,

And quite regardless of everything but her own happiness.

Although it came in such a very simple guise,

That was the crowning moment of both their lives,

When turning from the night and storm and loneliness to the household light and warmth and peace waiting to receive them.

With a glad welcome home,

Jo led her lover in and shut the door.

And that is the end of our story this evening.

Until next time,

Sweet dreams.