Sleep Story: Little Women Ch 20

Enjoy this sleep story to help you drift off into a peaceful slumber. Tonight we read chapter 20 of the timeless classic, Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. This chapter describes Mrs. March's reunion with the girls. 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 20 Confidential I don't think I have any words in which to tell the meaning of the mother and daughters.

Such hours are beautiful to live,

But very hard to describe,

So I will leave it to the imagination of my readers.

Merely saying that the house was full of genuine happiness,

And that Meg's tender hope was realized.

For when Beth woke from that long,

Healing sleep,

The first objects on which her eyes fell were the little rose and Mother's face,

Too weak to wander at anything.

She only smiled and nestled close in the loving arms around her,

Feeling that the hungry longing was satisfied at last.

Then she slept again,

And the girls waited upon their mother,

For she would not unclasp the thin hand which clung to hers,

Even in sleep.

Hannah had dished up an astonishing breakfast for the traveler,

Finding it impossible to vent her excitement in any other way,

And Meg and Joe fed their mother like dutiful young storks,

While they listened to her whispered account of Father's state,

Mr.

Brooks' promise to stay and nurse him,

The delays which the storm occasioned on the homeward journey,

And the unspeakable comfort Laurie's hopeful face had given her when she arrived,

Worn out with fatigue,

Anxiety,

And cold.

What a strange yet pleasant day that was,

So brilliant and gay without,

For all the world seemed abroad to welcome the first snow,

So quiet and reposeful within,

For everyone slept,

Spent with watching,

And a Sabbath stillness reigned through the house,

While nodding Hannah mounted guard at the door.

With a blissful sense of burdens lifted off,

Meg and Joe closed their weary eyes and lay at rest,

Like storm-beaten boats,

Safe at anchor in a quiet harbor,

Miss March would not leave Beth's side,

But rested in the big chair,

Waking often to look at,

Touch,

And brood over her child,

Like a miser over some recovered treasure.

Laurie,

Meanwhile,

Posted off to comfort Amy,

And told his story so well that Aunt March actually sniffed herself,

And never once said,

I told you so.

Amy came out so strong on this occasion,

That I think the good thoughts in the little chapel really began to bear fruit.

She dried her tears quickly,

Restrained her impatience to see her mother,

And never even thought of the turquoise ring,

When the old lady heartily agreed in Laurie's opinion,

That she behaved like a capital little woman.

Even Polly seemed impressed,

For he called her a dear girl,

Blessed her buttons,

And begged her to come and take a walk,

Dear,

In his most affable tone.

She would very gladly have gone out to enjoy the bright,

Wintry weather,

But discovering that Laurie was drooping with sleep,

In spite of manful efforts to conceal the fact,

She persuaded him to rest on the sofa,

While she wrote a note to her mother.

She was a long time about it,

And when she returned,

He was stretched out with both arms under his head,

Sound asleep,

While Aunt March had pulled down the curtains,

And sat doing nothing,

In an unusual fit of satisfaction.

After a while,

They began to think he was not going to wake up till night,

And I'm not sure that he would,

Had he not been effectually aroused by Amy's cry of joy,

At sight of her mother.

There probably were a good many happy little girls,

In and about the city that day,

But it is my private opinion,

That Amy was the happiest of all.

When she sat in her mother's lap and told her trials,

Receiving consolation and compensation,

In the shape of approving smiles and fond caresses.

They were alone together in the chapel,

To which her mother did not object,

When its purpose was explained to her.

On the contrary,

I like it very much,

Dear.

Looking from the dusty rosary,

To the well-worn little book,

And the lovely picture with its garland of evergreen.

It is an excellent plan to have some place,

Where we can go to be quiet,

When things vex or grieve us.

There are a good many hard times in this life of ours,

But we can always bear them,

If we ask help in the right way.

I think my little girl is learning this.

Yes,

Mother.

And when I go home,

I mean to have a corner in the big closet,

To put my books,

And the copy of that picture,

Which I've tried to make.

The woman's face is not good.

It's too beautiful for me to draw.

But the baby is done better,

And I love it very much.

I like to think he was a little child once,

For then I don't seem so far away,

And that helps me.

Amy pointed to the smiling Christ child on his mother's knee.

Miss March saw something on the lifted hand that made her smile.

She said nothing,

But Amy understood the look,

And after a minute's pause,

She added gravely,

I wanted to speak to you about this,

But I forgot it.

Aunt gave me the ring today.

She called me to her and kissed me,

And put it on my finger,

And said I was a credit to her,

And she'd like to keep me always.

She gave that funny guard to keep the turquoise on,

As it's too big.

I'd like to wear them,

Mother,

Can I?

They're very pretty,

But I think you're rather too young for such ornaments,

Amy,

Said Aunt March,

Looking at the plump little hand with the band of sky blue stones on the forefinger,

And the quaint guard formed of two tiny gold hands clasped together.

I'll try not to be vain,

Said Amy.

I don't think I like it only because it's so pretty,

But I want to wear it as the girl in the story wore her bracelet,

To remind me of something.

Do you mean Aunt March?

Asked her mother,

Laughing.

No,

To remind me not to be selfish.

Amy looked so earnest and sincere about it,

That her mother stopped laughing,

And listened respectfully to the little plan.

I've thought a great deal lately about my bundle of naughties,

And being selfish is the largest one in it,

So I'm going to try hard to cure it if I can.

Beth isn't selfish,

And that's the reason everyone loves her and feels so bad at the thought of losing her.

People wouldn't feel so bad about me if I was sick,

And I don't deserve to have them,

But I'd like to be loved and missed by a great many friends.

So I'm going to try and be like Beth,

All I can.

I'm apt to forget my resolutions,

But if I had something about me to remind me,

I guess I should do better.

May we try this way?

Yes,

But I have more faith in the corner of the big closet.

Wear your ring,

Dear,

And do your best.

I think you will prosper,

For the sincere wish to be good is half the battle.

Now,

I must go back to Beth.

Keep up your heart,

And we will soon have you home again,

Little daughter.

That evening,

When Meg was writing to her father to report the traveler's safe arrival,

Jo slipped upstairs into Beth's room,

And finding her mother in her usual place,

Stood a minute twisting her fingers in her hair with a worried gesture and an undecided look.

What is it,

Dearie?

Asked Miss March,

Holding out her hand with a face which invited confidence.

I want to tell you something,

Mother.

About Meg?

How quickly you guessed!

Yes,

It's about her,

And though it's a little thing,

It fidgets me.

Beth is asleep.

Speak low and tell me all about it.

That Moffat hasn't been here,

I hope,

Asked Miss March rather sharply.

No,

I should have shut the door in his face if he had,

Said Jo,

Settling herself on the floor at her mother's feet.

Last summer,

Meg left a pair of gloves over at the Lawrence's,

And only one was returned.

We forgot about it,

Till Teddy told me that Mr.

Brooke owned that he liked Meg,

But didn't dare say so.

She was so young,

And he was so poor.

Now,

Isn't it a dreadful state of things?

Do you think Meg cares for him?

Asked Miss March with an anxious look.

Mercy me!

I don't know anything about love and such nonsense,

Cried Jo,

With a funny mixture of interest and contempt.

In novels,

The girl shows it by starting and blushing,

Fainting away,

Growing thin and acting like fools.

Now Meg does not do anything of the sort.

She eats and drinks and sleeps like a sensible creature.

She looks straight in my face when I talk about that man,

And only blushes a little bit when Teddy jokes about lovers.

I forbid him to do it,

But he doesn't mind me as he ought.

Then you fancy that Meg is not interested in John?

Who?

Cried Jo,

Staring.

Mr.

Brooke!

I call him John now.

We fell into the way of doing so at the hospital,

And he likes it.

Oh dear!

I know you'll take his part.

He's been good to Father.

And you won't send him away.

But let Meg marry him if she wants to.

Mean thing to go petting Papa and helping you just to wheedle you into liking him.

And Jo pulled her hair again with a wrathful tweak.

My dear,

Don't get angry about it,

And I will tell you how it happened.

John went with me at Mr.

Lawrence's request and was so devoted to poor Father that we couldn't help getting fond of him.

He was perfectly open and honorable about Meg,

For he told us he loved her,

But would earn a comfortable home before he asked to marry her.

He only wanted our leave to love her and work for her,

And the right to make her love him if he could.

He is a truly excellent young man,

And we could not refuse to listen to him,

But I will not consent to Meg's engaging herself so young.

Of course not.

It would be idiotic.

I knew there was mischief brewing.

I felt it,

And now it's worse than I imagined.

I just wish I could marry Meg myself and keep her safe in the family.

This odd arrangement made Miss March smile,

But she said gravely,

Joe,

I confide in you and don't wish you to say anything to Meg yet.

When John comes back and I see them together,

I can judge better of her feelings toward him.

She'll see those handsome eyes that she talks about,

And then it will be all up with her.

She's got such a soft heart.

It will melt like butter in the sun if anyone looks sentimentally at her.

She read the short reports he sent more than she did your letters and pinched me when I spoke of it,

And likes brown eyes and doesn't think John an ugly name.

And she'll go fall in love,

And there's an end of peace and fun and cozy times together.

I see it all.

They'll go lovering around the house,

And we shall have to dodge.

Meg will be absorbed and no good to me anymore.

Brooke will scratch up a fortune somehow,

Carry her off,

And make a hole in the family.

And I shall break my heart,

And everything will be abominably uncomfortable.

Oh,

Dear me.

Why weren't we all boys?

Then there wouldn't be any bother.

Joe leaned her chin on her knees in a disconsolate attitude and shook her fist at the reprehensible John.

Miss March sighed,

And Joe looked up with an air of relief.

You don't like it,

Mother?

I'm glad of it.

Let's send him about his business and not tell Meg a word of it,

But I'll be happy together as we always have been.

I did wrong to sigh,

Joe.

It is natural and right you should all go to homes of your own in your own time.

But I do want my girls as long as I can,

And I'm sorry this is about to happen so soon.

For Meg is only seventeen,

And it will be some years before John can make a home for her.

Your father and I have agreed that she shall not bind herself in any way,

Nor be married before twenty.

If she and John love one another,

They can wait and test the love by doing so.

She is conscientious,

And I have no fear of her treating him unkindly.

My pretty,

Tender-hearted girl,

I hope things will go happily with her.

Hadn't you rather have her marry a rich man?

Asked Joe as her mother's voice faltered a little over the last words.

Money is a good and useful thing,

Joe,

And I hope my girls will never feel the need of it too bitterly,

Nor be tempted by it too much.

I should like to know that John was firmly established in some good business,

Which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make Meg comfortable.

I'm not ambitious for a splendid fortune,

A fashionable position,

Or a great name for my girls.

If rank and money come with love and virtue,

Also,

I should accept them gratefully and enjoy your good fortune.

But I know by experience how much genuine happiness can be had in a plain little house,

Where the daily bread is earned,

And some privations give sweetness to the few pleasures.

I am content to see Meg begin humbly,

For if I'm not mistaken,

She will be rich in the possession of a good man's heart,

And that is better than a fortune.

I understand,

Mother,

And quite agree,

But I'm disappointed about Meg,

For I'd planned to have her marry Teddy,

By and by,

And sit in the lap of luxury all her days.

Wouldn't it be nice,

Asked Joe,

Looking up with a brighter face.

He is younger than she,

You know,

Began Miss March,

But Joe broke in.

Only a little.

He's old for his age,

And tall,

And can be quite grown up in his manners if he likes.

Then he's rich,

And generous,

And good,

And loves us all.

And I say it's a pity my plan is spoiled.

I'm afraid Laurie is hardly grown up enough for Meg,

And altogether too much of a weathercock just now for anyone to depend on.

Don't make plans,

Joe,

But let time and their own hearts mate your friends.

We can't meddle safely in such matters,

And had better not get romantic rubbish,

As you call it,

Into our heads,

Lest it spoil our friendship.

Well,

I won't,

But I hate to see things going all crisscross and getting snarled up,

When a pull here and a snip there would straighten it out.

I wish wearing flat irons on our heads would keep us from growing up.

But buds will be roses,

And kittens cats,

More's the pity.

What's that about flat irons and cats?

Asked Meg,

As she crept into the room with the finished letter in her hand.

Only one of my stupid speeches.

I'm going to bed.

Come,

Peggy,

Said Joe,

Unfolding herself like an animated puzzle.

Quite right and beautifully written.

Please add that I send my love to John,

Said Miss March,

As she glanced over the letter and gave it back.

Do you call him John?

Asked Meg,

Smiling,

With her innocent eyes looking down into her mother's.

Yes,

He's been like a son to us,

And we are very fond of him,

Replied Miss March,

Returning the look with a keen one.

I'm glad of that.

He is so lonely.

Good night,

Mother dear.

It is so inexpressibly comfortable to have you here,

Was Meg's answer.

The kiss her mother gave her was a very tender one,

And as she went away,

Miss March said,

With a mixture of satisfaction and regret,

She does not love John yet,

But will soon learn to.

And that is the end of our story this evening.

Until next time,

Sweet dreams.

Reviews

Oooohhh… Romance, eh? So glad that marmee came home! 🏠