He carefully stirred up the embers of his lost love , but they refused to burst into a blaze . There was only a comfortable glow that warmed and did him good without putting him into a fever , and he was reluctantly obliged to confess that the boyish passion was slowly subsiding into a more tranquil sentiment , very tender , a little sad and resentful still , but that was sure to pass away in time , leaving a brotherly affection which would last unbroken to the end . As the word ` brotherly ' passed through his mind in one of his reveries , he smiled , and glanced up at the picture of Mozart that was before him ... `` Well , he was a great man , and when he could n't have one sister he took the other , and was happy . '' Laurie did not utter the words , but he thought them , and the next instant kissed the little old ring , saying to himself , `` No , I wo n't ! I have n't forgotten , I never can . I 'll try again , and if that fails , why then ... '' Leaving his sentence unfinished , he seized pen and paper and wrote to Jo , telling her that he could not settle to anything while there was the least hope of her changing her mind . Could n't she , would n't she -- and let him come home and be happy ? While waiting for an answer he did nothing , but he did it energetically , for he was in a fever of impatience . It came at last , and settled his mind effectually on one point , for Jo decidedly could n't and would n't . She was wrapped up in Beth , and never wished to hear the word love again . Then she begged him to be happy with somebody else , but always keep a little corner of his heart for his loving sister Jo . In a postscript she desired him not to tell Amy that Beth was worse , she was coming home in the spring and there was no need of saddening the remainder of her stay . That would be time enough , please God , but Laurie must write to her often , and not let her feel lonely , homesick or anxious . `` So I will , at once . Poor little girl , it will be a sad going home for her , I 'm afraid , '' and Laurie opened his desk , as if writing to Amy had been the proper conclusion of the sentence left unfinished some weeks before . But he did not write the letter that day , for as he rummaged out his best paper , he came across something which changed his purpose . Tumbling about in one part of the desk among bills , passports , and business documents of various kinds were several of Jo 's letters , and in another compartment were three notes from Amy , carefully tied up with one of her blue ribbons and sweetly suggestive of the little dead roses put away inside . With a half-repentant , half-amused expression , Laurie gathered up all Jo 's letters , smoothed , folded , and put them neatly into a small drawer of the desk , stood a minute turning the ring thoughtfully on his finger , then slowly drew it off , laid it with the letters , locked the drawer , and went out to hear High Mass at Saint Stefan 's , feeling as if there had been a funeral , and though not overwhelmed with affliction , this seemed a more proper way to spend the rest of the day than in writing letters to charming young ladies . The letter went very soon , however , and was promptly answered , for Amy was homesick , and confessed it in the most delightfully confiding manner . The correspondence flourished famously , and letters flew to and fro with unfailing regularity all through the early spring .
Laurie sold his busts , made allumettes of his opera , and XXXXX back to Paris , hoping somebody would arrive before long .
changed confiding desired forgotten settled smoothed telling tied try went