Page 377 - Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Every shadowy nook, where seats invited one to stop and rest, was a mass of bloom, every cool grotto had its marble nymph smiling from a veil of flowers and every fountain reflected crim- son, white, or pale pink roses, leaning down to smile at their own beauty. Roses covered the walls of the house, draped the cornices, climbed the pillars, and ran riot over the balustrade of the wide terrace, whence one looked down on the sunny Mediterranean, and the white-walled city on its shore. "This is a regular honeymoon paradise, isn't it? Did you ever see such roses?" asked Amy, pausing on the terrace to enjoy the view, and a luxurious whiff of perfume that came wandering by. "No, nor felt such thorns," returned Laurie, with his thumb in his mouth, after a vain attempt to capture a solitary scarlet flower that grew just beyond his reach. "Try lower down, and pick those that have no thorns," said Amy, gathering three of the tiny cream-colored ones that starred the wall behind her. She put them in his buttonhole as a peace of- fering, and he stood a minute looking down at them with a cu- rious expression, for in the Italian part of his nature there was a touch of superstition, and he was just then in that state of half- sweet, half-bitter melancholy, when imaginative young men find significance in trifles and food for romance everywhere. He had thought of Jo in reaching after the thorny red rose, for vivid flow- ers became her, and she had often worn ones like that from the greenhouse at home. The pale roses Amy gave him were the sort that the Italians lay in dead hands, never in bridal wreaths, and for a moment he wondered if the omen was for Jo or for himself, but the next instant his American common sense got the better of sentimentality, and he laughed a heartier laugh than Amy had heard since he came. "It's good advice, you'd better take it and save your fingers," she said, thinking her speech amused him. "Thank you, I will," he answered in jest, and a few months later he did it in earnest. "Laurie, when are you going to your grandfather?" she asked presently, as she settled herself on a rustic seat. "Very soon." "You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks." "I dare say, short answers save trouble." "He expects you, and you really ought to go." "Hospitable creature! I know it." "Then why don't you do it?" "Natural depravity, I suppose." 375 LOUISA MAY ALCOTT