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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 552 pages of information about Little Women.

“I tried it, but felt wider awake than ever.”

“What did you think of?”

“Handsome faces—­eyes particularly,” answered Meg, smiling to herself in the dark.

“What color do you like best?”

“Brown, that is, sometimes.  Blue are lovely.”

Jo laughed, and Meg sharply ordered her not to talk, then amiably promised to make her hair curl, and fell asleep to dream of living in her castle in the air.

The clocks were striking midnight and the rooms were very still as a figure glided quietly from bed to bed, smoothing a coverlet here, settling a pillow there, and pausing to look long and tenderly at each unconscious face, to kiss each with lips that mutely blessed, and to pray the fervent prayers which only mothers utter.  As she lifted the curtain to look out into the dreary night, the moon broke suddenly from behind the clouds and shone upon her like a bright, benignant face, which seemed to whisper in the silence, “Be comforted, dear soul!  There is always light behind the clouds.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LETTERS

In the cold gray dawn the sisters lit their lamp and read their chapter with an earnestness never felt before.  For now the shadow of a real trouble had come, the little books were full of help and comfort, and as they dressed, they agreed to say goodbye cheerfully and hopefully, and send their mother on her anxious journey unsaddened by tears or complaints from them.  Everything seemed very strange when they went down, so dim and still outside, so full of light and bustle within.  Breakfast at that early hour seemed odd, and even Hannah’s familiar face looked unnatural as she flew about her kitchen with her nightcap on.  The big trunk stood ready in the hall, Mother’s cloak and bonnet lay on the sofa, and Mother herself sat trying to eat, but looking so pale and worn with sleeplessness and anxiety that the girls found it very hard to keep their resolution.  Meg’s eyes kept filling in spite of herself, Jo was obliged to hide her face in the kitchen roller more than once, and the little girls wore a grave, troubled expression, as if sorrow was a new experience to them.

Nobody talked much, but as the time drew very near and they sat waiting for the carriage, Mrs. March said to the girls, who were all busied about her, one folding her shawl, another smoothing out the strings of her bonnet, a third putting on her overshoes, and a fourth fastening up her travelling bag . . .

“Children, I leave you to Hannah’s care and Mr. Laurence’s protection.  Hannah is faithfulness itself, and our good neighbor will guard you as if you were his own.  I have no fears for you, yet I am anxious that you should take this trouble rightly.  Don’t grieve and fret when I am gone, or think that you can be idle and comfort yourselves by being idle and trying to forget.  Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed solace.  Hope and keep busy, and whatever happens, remember that you never can be fatherless.”

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