“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 haf her if I die for it,’ and so I will!” cried Mr. Bhaer, 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 knight, 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 haf a prospect of one to give you, after much time, perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to gif up so much for a poor old fellow, who has no fortune but a little learning?”
“I’m glad you are 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—