Хорошие жёны / Good wives. Уровень 3

There will be no ceremonious performances, everything will be as natural and homelike as possible. When Aunt March arrived, she was shocked to see the bride and the bridegroom. The bride herself was running to welcome and lead her in. And the bridegroom himself was fastening up a garland.

“Upon my word, here’s a state of things![8 - here’s a state of things! – что же это такое!]” cried the old lady. She took the seat of honor prepared for her. “Nobody is allowed to see you till the last minute, child.”

“I’m not a show, Aunty, and no one is coming to stare at me, to criticize my dress, or count the cost of my luncheon. I’m too happy to think about what anyone says or thinks. I’m going to have my little wedding just as I like it. John, dear, here’s your hammer.”

And Meg went away to help ‘that man’ in his highly improper employment.

Mr. Brooke didn’t even say, “Thank you,” but as he stooped for the unromantic tool, he kissed his little bride behind the folding door.

There was no bridal procession, but a sudden silence fell upon the room as Mr. March and the young couple took their places under the green arch. Mother and sisters gathered close. The fatherly voice broke more than once, which only seemed to make the service more beautiful and solemn. The bridegroom’s hand trembled visibly, and no one heard his replies. But Meg looked straight up in her husband’s eyes, and said, “I will!” with such tender trust in her own face and voice that her mother’s heart rejoiced and Aunt March sniffed audibly.

Jo did not cry, though she was very near it once. She was only saved from a demonstration by the consciousness that Laurie was staring fixedly at her, with a comical mixture of merriment and emotion in his wicked black eyes. Beth’s face was hidden on her mother’s shoulder. Amy stood like a graceful statue.

No one said anything, till Laurie, who insisted on serving the bride, appeared before her, with a loaded salver in his hand and a puzzled expression on his face.

“Has Jo smashed all the bottles by accident?” he whispered.

“No, your grandfather kindly offered us his best wine. Aunt March actually sent some. But Father put away a little for Beth, and dispatched the rest to the Soldier’s Home. You know he thinks that wine must be used only in illness.”

Meg spoke seriously and expected to see Laurie frown or laugh. But he did not do it, for after a quick look at her, he said,

“I like that! For I’ve seen enough harm from wine. Let other women think as you do.”

“You are not wise because of your experience, I hope?” and there was an anxious accent in Meg’s voice.

“No. I give you my word for it. Don’t think too well of me, either.”

“Come, Laurie, promise, and give me one more reason to call this the happiest day of my life.”

A demand so sudden and so serious made the young man hesitate a moment. He gave her his hand, saying heartily,

“I promise, Mrs. Brooke!”

“I thank you, very, very much.”

“And I drink ‘long life to your resolution’, Teddy,” cried Jo.

After lunch, people strolled about through the house and garden. They were enjoying the sunshine. Meg and John were standing together in the middle of the grass plot. Laurie was seized with an inspiration which put the finishing touch to this unfashionable wedding.

“All the married people take hands and dance round the new husband and wife, as the Germans do!” cried Laurie, promenading down the path with Amy.

Mr. and Mrs. March, Aunt and Uncle Carrol began to dance, others joined in, and soon everyone was dancing. Eventually, want of breath closed the impromptu dancing, and then people began to go.

“I wish you well, my dear, I heartily wish you well. But I think you’ll be sorry for it,” said Aunt March to Meg. Then she added to the bridegroom, as he led her to the carriage, “You’ve got a treasure, young man, see that you deserve it.”

The little house was not far away. The only Meg’s bridal journey was the quiet walk with John from the old home to the new. When she came down, they all gathered about her to say ‘good-by’.

They were watching her, with faces full of love and hope and tender pride as she walked away, leaning on her husband’s arm. Her hands were full of flowers and the June sunshine brightening her happy face – and so Meg’s married life began.

Artistic Attempts[9 - Artistic Attempts – творческие изыскания]

People need a long time to learn the difference between talent and genius, especially ambitious young men and women. Amy was learning this distinction. She attempted every branch of art. For a long time, she devoted herself to the finest pen-and-ink drawing[10 - pen-and-ink drawing – рисунки тушью и пером]. Here she showed such taste and skill that her graceful handwork proved both pleasant and profitable. But over-strained eyes caused her to put the pen and ink aside for a bold and to study poker-sketching[11 - poker-sketching – выжигание по дереву]. She then transitioned from fire to oil and fell to painting. Then came charcoal portraits.

Softened into crayon sketches, they did better, for the likenesses were good, and Amy’s hair, Jo’s nose, Meg’s mouth, and Laurie’s eyes were pronounced ‘wonderfully fine’. A return to clay and plaster followed, and ghostly casts of her acquaintances haunted corners of the house, or tumbled off closet shelves onto people’s heads.

After this Amy subsided, till a mania for sketching from nature set her to haunting river, field, and wood, for picturesque studies. She caught endless colds sitting on damp grass. She sacrificed her complexion floating on the river in the midsummer sun to study light and shade. She got a wrinkle over her nose trying after ‘points of sight’.

If ‘genius is eternal patience’, as Michelangelo affirms, Amy had some claim to the divine attribute[12 - divine attribute – божественное свойство]. She persevered in spite of all obstacles, failures, and discouragements. She is firmly believing that in time she will do something worthy to be called ‘high art’.

“I want to ask a favor of you, Mamma,” Amy said, coming in with an important air one day.

“Well, little girl, what is it?” replied her mother.

“Our drawing class breaks up next week. Before the girls separate for the summer, I want to ask them out here for a day. They are wild to see the river, sketch the broken bridge, and copy some of the things they admire in my book. They have been very kind to me in many ways. I am grateful, for they are all rich and I know I am poor, yet they never made any difference. I want to ask the girls out to lunch next week, to take them for a drive to the places they want to see, a row on the river, perhaps.”

“That looks feasible. What do you want for lunch? Cake, sandwiches, fruit, and coffee will be all that is necessary, I suppose?”

“Oh, dear, no! We must have cold tongue and chicken, French chocolate and ice cream, besides. The girls like such things, and I want my lunch to be proper and elegant.”

“How many young ladies are there?” asked her mother. She began to look sober.

“Twelve or fourteen in the class, but I dare say they won’t all come.”

“Bless me, child.”

“Why, not more than six or eight will probably come, so I shall hire a beach wagon and borrow Mr. Laurence’s cherry-bounce[13 - cherry-bounce – шарабан].”

“All of this will be expensive, Amy.”

“Not very. I’ve calculated the cost, and I’ll pay for it myself.”

“Don’t you think, dear, that as these girls like such things, and the best we can do will be nothing new, that some simpler plan would be pleasanter to them?”

“If I can’t have it as I like, I don’t care to have it at all. I know that I can carry it out perfectly well, if you and the girls will help a little. I don’t see why I can’t if I’m willing to pay for it,” said Amy.

Mrs. March knew that experience was an excellent teacher.

“Very well, Amy, if you want it, I’ll say no more. Talk it over with the girls, and whichever way you decide, I’ll do my best to help you.”

“Thanks, Mother, you are always so kind.”

And away went Amy to lay her plan before her sisters. Meg agreed at once, and promised her aid. But Jo frowned upon the whole project. She wanted to do nothing at first.

“Why do you want to spend your money, worry your family, and turn the house upside down for some girls who don’t care a sixpence for you?” said Jo.

“I don’t truckle, and I hate the situation when someone patronizes as much as you do!” returned Amy. “The girls care for me, and I for them. There’s a great deal of kindness and sense and talent among them, in spite of what you call fashionable nonsense. You don’t care to make people like you – I do, and I mean to make the most of every chance that comes.”

The invitations were sent, nearly all accepted. The following Monday was set apart for the grand event. If not on Monday, the young ladies will come on Tuesday. This arrangement aggravated Jo and Hannah (the March family maid and cook, their only servant) to the last degree.