Louisa May Alcott

Eight Cousins Louisa May Alcott

Rose sat all alone in the big best parlor, with her little handkerchief laid ready to catchthe first tear, for she was thinking of her troubles, and a shower was expected. She hadretired to this room as a good place in which to be miserable; for it was dark and still, full ofancient furniture, sombre curtains, and hung all around with portraits of solemn oldgentlemen in wigs, severe-nosed ladies in top-heavy caps, and staring children in little bobtailed coats or short-waisted frocks. It was an excellent place for woe; and the fitful springrain that pattered on the window-pane seemed to sob, "Cry away: I'm with you."Rose really did have some cause to be sad; for she had no mother, and had lately lost herfather also, which left her no home but this with her great-aunts. She had been with themonly a week, and, though the dear old ladies had tried their best to make her happy, theyhad not succeeded very well, for she was unlike any child they had ever seen, and they feltvery much as if they had the care of a low-spirited butterfly. They had given her the freedom of the house, and for a day or two she had amusedherself roaming all over it, for it was a capital old mansion, and was full of all manner ofodd nooks, charming rooms, and mysterious passages. Windows broke out in unexpectedplaces, little balconies overhung the garden most romantically, and there was a long upperhall full of curiosities from all parts of the world; for the Campbells had been sea-captainsfor generations.