一個人的自我由另一個自我所包裹,心靈由動人的榜樣所凈化時,發(fā)誓要自我克制是十分容易的??墒?,以往縈繞耳邊的諄諄教誨已經(jīng)沉默,每日的戒律已經(jīng)結(jié)束,而且心中熱愛的人已經(jīng)離別,所剩下的只有孤獨和悲哀時,喬覺得就很難再去履行自己的諾言了。每當自己的心無休止地疼痛,想念逝去的妹妹時,怎么能夠去安慰父母啊。貝絲離開了居住多年的老家,換了新家,家中原有的光明、溫馨和美好的氣氛似乎都蕩然無存,這時,怎么能夠讓她“給這個家?guī)須g快的情調(diào)”?天底下哪里能夠讓她“找到一份既有用又開心的活兒”,來替代她往日本身就是回報的愛的服侍呢?所以,她只能十分迷茫而無望地干自己的分內(nèi)活兒,同時在內(nèi)心悄然抵制著它。對于喬來說,本來就不多的快樂減少了,肩上的擔(dān)子加重了。她越操勞,生活就越艱苦,這好像很不公平合理。生活對于有些人總是陽光明媚,而對于有些人則總是陰云彌漫,這太不公正了。喬學(xué)好,付出的努力比艾美多,但是,除了感到失意,碰到麻煩和累得要命之外,從未得到任何回報。
可憐的喬啊,她的生活真是暗無天日。每當她想到下半輩子將會在那座寂靜的屋里度過,整天為一些單調(diào)無味的事情操勞,得到些許微小歡樂,而且,自己的分內(nèi)事似乎永遠都不會減輕時,就會感到近乎絕望。“不能這樣下去了。我來到世上可不是要這樣生活的,我知道的,如果沒有人來幫我,我會沖出去,我會鋌而走險的。”每當喬初戰(zhàn)失敗,強烈的意志不得不屈服于不可避免的事態(tài),覺得心情痛苦郁悶時,總是這樣自言自語。
但是,后來確實有人來幫她了,盡管喬沒有一眼辨認出這些善意的天使,因為外形都很眼熟,用的也都是最適合可憐人的簡單魔法。喬經(jīng)常在夜里驚起,以為貝絲在召喚她,看見那張空床,就會情不自禁地傷心落淚。“哦,貝絲,回來吧!回來吧!”果然,她并沒有白白地伸出雙臂,就像她過去迅即聽見妹妹微弱呼叫一樣,母親馬上聽見了她的抽泣,就過來安慰她,不僅以言相勸,而且親切地愛撫她。母親的眼淚默默提醒,她的悲慟比喬更深,母親哽咽的低語比平時的祈禱還要雄辯。雖然她也無可奈何,但她在憂心忡忡的同時,心里總是抱有希望的認命。夜深人靜,莊嚴時刻,心心相印,驅(qū)災(zāi)祈福,這樣,悲哀可以解除,愛心可以增強。喬有了這種感覺,在母親懷抱的安全庇護下,覺得重擔(dān)似乎容易負了,分內(nèi)事兒干起來也有味了,生活看上去要容易忍受了。
痛苦的心得到一點安慰時,煩惱的心靈也會得到救助。一天,喬去了書房。見那善良的灰白頭發(fā)腦袋抬起來,以寧靜的微笑迎接她,她低頭謙卑地說道:“老爸,跟我談一會兒吧,就像跟貝絲一樣。我比她更需要,因為,我完全弄錯了。”
“乖乖,你這么信任我,我感到莫大的安慰。”父親一邊顫聲地說道,一邊摟住喬,似乎他自己也需要別人的幫助,而且不怕懇求。
然后,喬坐在貝絲的小椅子上,緊緊地靠著父親,訴說自己內(nèi)心的苦悶——失去妹妹的憤懣悲哀,碌碌無為的挫折感,缺乏信念使生活看上去那么黯淡,以及我們稱之為絕望的悲觀迷茫。她對父親無所不談,父親也給予她急需的幫助,父女倆都從中得到了寬慰。事到如今,他們交談已經(jīng)不僅僅局限于父女關(guān)系,而且也是男女之間的交談,相互之間都能夠給予同情,都樂于給予關(guān)愛。舊書房里的時光是令人愉快而又讓人思緒萬千的,喬稱為“單人教堂”,她離開這里時總是勇氣倍增,心情從新爽朗,精神更加謙恭。父母親曾經(jīng)教育一個孩子視死如歸,現(xiàn)在又開導(dǎo)另一個不要沮喪地迎接生活,要相信生活,要滿懷謝意,朝氣蓬勃地抓住生活中的各種美好機會。
喬還得到過其他幫助——謙卑、健康的職責(zé)和樂事,無法拒絕它們服侍她的反哺作用,她對此也逐漸地覺察到了,也知道該如何去珍視了?,F(xiàn)在,掃帚和洗碗布再也不會令人討厭了,因為貝絲過去把持著這兩樣?xùn)|西,所以,時至今日,小拖把、舊刷子這些東西似乎仍然讓人想起貝絲勤儉持家的家庭主婦風(fēng)范,都沒有扔掉。喬使用這些東西時,嘴上總是哼著貝絲喜愛的歌曲,模仿她的有條有理,不時地收拾一下東西,把家里安排得井井有條,溫馨舒適。這是營造一個幸福家庭的第一步,但喬一直不知道,直到漢娜贊許地握著她的手說:
“你想得真走(周)到,你決心盡自己的可能,不讓我們過多地想念那可愛的羔羊。我們雖然不多說,但看在眼里,上帝會保佑你的,看著吧。”
喬和美格坐在一塊兒縫紉時,發(fā)現(xiàn)姐姐真是今非昔比了,談吐竟然那么廣博,對于什么是高尚,婦女的內(nèi)心沖動、思想情操都了解得那么透徹,而說到丈夫孩子,她往往喜不自勝,他們彼此互相互愛,相濡以沫。
“畢竟,婚姻是一件好事嘛。假如自己爭取,我不知道結(jié)果能否及得上你的一半?”喬說話時,已經(jīng)在零亂的育兒室為戴米做了一只風(fēng)箏。
“你只要付出本性中女性溫柔的一半就行了,喬。你像一只毛栗子,有人得到你的話,就會發(fā)現(xiàn),其實你僅僅外表帶刺,但內(nèi)心柔軟甜蜜。總有一天,你的真心會隨著愛情而表白,然后,粗糙的外殼也就脫落了。”
“太太,霜凍可以打開栗子的殼,但得使勁抖動才能掉下來。男孩子愛去拾栗子,但我不喜歡他們把我裝進口袋。”喬一邊答道,一邊拼命甩風(fēng)箏,但普通的風(fēng)不可能托起風(fēng)箏,因為,戴茜已經(jīng)把自己粘在了上面當尾巴。
美格笑了,欣慰地看著喬流露出一星半點往日的神態(tài),但她覺得有義務(wù)通過已經(jīng)掌握的每一個論據(jù)加強自己的觀點。姐妹間的閑聊也不浪費,尤其是談孩子的事,這是美格兩個最有效論據(jù),喬非常喜歡他們。悲傷是打開某些人內(nèi)心世界大門最有效的鑰匙。喬基本上準備好裝進口袋了。這時候,栗子的成熟就差一點兒陽光了,但不需要男孩急不可耐地去抖動,只要一個男人伸出手,輕輕地撥開栗殼,就能發(fā)現(xiàn)結(jié)實而香甜的栗心了。如果她猜測到這一點,就會緊緊地自我封閉,比以前更加帶刺了,幸虧她沒有在想自己,所以,后來就水到渠成,瓜熟蒂落了。
假如喬是道德說教故事中的女主角,那么,她在這個年齡就應(yīng)該過著相當圣潔的生活了,她會與世隔絕,戴著帽子,一副苦行的模樣,口袋里放著教會的冊子,四處行善積德。但是,你知道,喬可不是這種主角。她不過就是成千上萬像她一樣在生活中不甘于命運的一個姑娘而已。她僅僅在按照自己的本性行動,就如同情緒所反映的那樣,有時候傷感煩惱,有時候無精打采,當然,有時候也會渾身是勁。從道德規(guī)范來說,我們要學(xué)好,但是,這不可能一蹴而就,而是需要漫長的磨練,奮力的修煉,大家一起做,然后一部分人才能踏上正軌。喬已經(jīng)達到了這一步,試圖干好自己的分內(nèi)事,一旦沒有做到,就會悶悶不樂;而要開開心心地去做——啊,那當然是另外一回事了!她經(jīng)常說,要干一些了不起事情,無論多么艱難困苦。現(xiàn)在,她實現(xiàn)了這個愿望,把自己的一生都獻給父母親,一心一意地讓家庭充滿歡樂,就跟他們曾經(jīng)給自己帶來歡快的日子一樣。有什么事,能夠比這種行為更加壯美感人呢?如果說,為了增加努力的輝煌程度,所碰到的各種困難都是必需的,那么,對于一個一刻都閑不住,具有自我抱負的姑娘來說,毅然放棄了自己的憧憬,人生的藍圖和七情六欲,開開心心地為了別人而活著,有什么能比這更加艱巨?
上帝成全了她的諾言?,F(xiàn)在,任務(wù)就在眼前擺著,不是她所期盼的事情了,但這樣反而更好,因為,里面沒有自我的份額。她能夠做到嗎?她決定去嘗試一下。最初,她就遇到了我所提到過的那種幫助。后來,又得到了一個幫助。然而,她接受幫助時,沒有認為那是對她的一種回報,而是將其理解為對她的寬慰,就跟那攀登名叫“困難”的這座山的基督徒一樣,有時候,也會躺在小樹里休息一陣,得到身心的恢復(fù)。
“你為什么不寫作了呢?過去,你寫作時,總是很高興。”有一次,失望的情緒籠罩了喬的時候,她母親問道。
“我沒有心思寫作,就是寫好了,也沒有人愛看。”
“我們愛看的。給我們寫一些吧,別去管人家。乖乖,可以嘗試一下嘛。我敢肯定,對你會有好處的,我們也會覺得很愉快的。”
“別以為我還能寫作了。”不過喬拉開書桌,開始整理寫了一半的手稿了。
一個小時之后,母親往這邊張望了一眼,見她還在里面,圍著一條黑色的圍裙,全神貫注,伏案疾書,不禁笑著趕緊走開了,對自己的成功建議頗感得意。喬一直都莫名其妙,只知道小說里面溜進了什么東西,它直接打動了讀者的心。家里人跟著故事內(nèi)容,時而大笑,時而流淚。接著,父親不顧她的反對,把小說寄給了一家通俗雜志。令喬感到震驚的是,她不但收到了稿酬,還收到了求稿信。小小說登出來以后,幾位讀者來信,都贊不絕口,給了喬很大的榮譽。不久,報紙也紛紛轉(zhuǎn)載,無論是朋友,還是陌生的讀者,都非常欣賞這篇。當然,僅就這件小東西,她的成功是很大的。喬比當初她的長篇小說同時遭到褒貶時,還要大吃一驚。
“我真不理解。一篇小小說有什么值得這樣贊揚的?”喬十分困惑地問道。
“里面說的是實話,喬,這就是奧秘。幽默加上煽情,使故事活靈活現(xiàn),你最終也找到了自己的風(fēng)格。還有,你寫作時絲毫沒有考慮名利,而是全身心地投入創(chuàng)作。女兒啊,你可是苦盡甘來呀。想想辦法吧,跟我們一樣,為你的成功而歡欣鼓舞吧。”
“如果我寫的東西含有善和真的成分,那其實不是我的創(chuàng)作,完全都歸功于你和母親,還有貝絲。”喬說,使她深受感動的不是外界的任何贊揚,而是父親的諄諄話語。
喬受到了愛和悲的熏陶,所以,寫出了自己的一篇篇小說。她將這些小說投寄出去,使自己結(jié)交了一大批朋友她發(fā)現(xiàn)這是給那些卑微的漂泊者找到了一片慈善的天地。它們在那里受到善意的歡迎,也給家中的母親帶來了令人舒坦的紀念品,就跟孝子賢孫突然交上了好運一樣。
艾美和勞里來信提及兩人訂婚時,馬奇太太擔(dān)心喬難以為此歡天喜地,但不久她就放寬心了。盡管喬起初看上去很沉悶,但仍然平靜地接受了。喬對那兩個孩子寄予了很大的希望,她接著又讀了一通信。信是以二重奏形式寫的,雙方都充滿愛意地夸獎對方,讀起來很舒服,琢磨一下也讓人覺得滿意,沒有人表示反對。
“媽媽,你喜歡這樣?”喬問道。她們將寫滿字的信紙放下,相互對視著。
“是啊,自從艾美信里說拒絕了弗雷德求婚之后,我就希望事情會如愿以償。我當初確信,她靈機一動,之后肯定會比你所謂的‘唯利是圖精神’更加高尚的。而且,她信中經(jīng)常閃爍其詞,更加讓我懷疑愛情和勞里會占上風(fēng)的。”
“媽咪,你真厲害,而且真緘默!你對我一直只字未提。”
“當母親的就需要眼明嘴緊,她們需要管好女兒。我當時有點不敢把這想法告訴你,生怕你事情沒定下來就給寫信祝賀。”
“我可不會跟從前那么沉不住氣??梢韵嘈盼摇,F(xiàn)在我非常冷靜懂事,誰都可以推心置腹的。”
“可不是嗎,乖乖,我早就應(yīng)該跟你推心置腹了。只不過我心想,知道你的特迪愛上了別人,你會痛苦的。”
“哎,媽媽,當初愛情盡管不成熟,卻非常新鮮,我還是拒絕了他,事到如今,你真的以為我那么愚蠢,那么自私嗎?”
“我知道當時你是真心真意,喬,不過,最近我認為,如果特迪回家再次求婚,你或許會喜歡換個答復(fù)的。乖乖,請原諒,我不由自主地看到你孤苦一人,有時候,你那種饑渴眼神直刺我的心啊。所以,我想你的小伙子如果現(xiàn)在懇求的話,就有可能乘虛而入,填補你的感情空白嘛。”
“不,媽媽,現(xiàn)在這樣還是最好。艾美已經(jīng)開始愛上他,我很高興。但有一件事,你是對的。我確實孤獨,也許,假如特迪再次求婚,我有可能說‘行啊’。這倒不是因為我還是喜歡他,而是因為跟他離開時相比,我更加在乎有人愛了。”
“這樣我真高興,這說明你在進步。愛你的人多著呢,所以,現(xiàn)在你就安心守著爸爸媽媽、兄弟姐妹、朋友孩子們吧,就等著最佳愛人的回報吧。”
“母親是世界上最好的愛人,但我不會介意悄悄跟媽咪講,我什么都想試試。奇怪的是,越嘗試各種各樣的人間真情,讓自己滿足,就越感到匱乏。真不明白,人心竟然能夠裝進這么多東西。我的心就很有彈性,永遠不顯得滿足,而在過去,跟一家人在一起,就心滿意足了。真不明白。”
“我明白的。”馬奇太太睿智地笑了。喬則翻過幾頁信,開始回顧艾美對勞里的看法。
“得到愛,像勞里那樣愛我,是一件很美滿的事。這人看上去并不多情。對于這種事,他談得不多,但從他的一言一行中,還是覺察到了,這讓我感到很幸福,也感到很卑賤,覺得自己似乎不是原先的我了。直到現(xiàn)在,我才了解到他是多么好心,多么大度,多么溫柔,他把心都亮給我了,讓我看到他的高尚情操、美好理想和各種打算。得知這些都屬于自己時,我覺得自豪極了。他告訴我,他好像覺得‘現(xiàn)在就能開始進行一次前途似錦的遠航了,有我在輪船上當大副[1],還有無限愛心充當壓艙物’。我在祈禱,他會心想事成的,并且不辜負他對我的一切期望,而我一心一意、盡心盡責(zé)地愛慕這位勇猛的船長,絕不會離開他,愿上帝保佑我們天長地久。噢,媽媽,我從來沒有想過,人彼此相愛,為對方活著時,這個世界便可以成為一個無比美麗的天堂!”
“瞧瞧,這位就是我們冷靜、矜持、世俗的艾美喲!愛情是可以創(chuàng)造奇跡的,千真萬確的。他倆該多么恩愛幸福??!”說罷,喬小心翼翼地理好那幾張嘩嘩作響的信紙,仿佛合上一本催人淚下的愛情故事書似的,因為故事緊緊地吸引讀者,直到結(jié)局出現(xiàn),才讓讀者孤零零地回到俗務(wù)纏人的世界上。
喬慢悠悠地走上樓,天下著雨,不能出去散步。她一時覺得坐立不安,往日的感覺又回來了,沒有以前那么憤懣,但她仍然傷心而無怨地納悶著,為什么一個姐妹要什么有什么,而另一個卻一無所有。她知道,這種看法并不對,盡量不去考慮。然而,渴望親情是人之常情,非常旺盛,再說,艾美的幸福也喚醒了她內(nèi)心如饑似渴的欲望,希望“可以一心一意地愛某人,依附他,愿上帝保佑兩人天長地久。”
心神不寧的漂泊結(jié)束了,喬站在閣樓里,身邊有四只小木板箱并排放著,箱子上都刻著主人的名字,里面放滿了統(tǒng)統(tǒng)一去不復(fù)返的童年時代和少女時期用過的物品。喬往箱內(nèi)看了一眼,看見自己用過的那只箱子時,不禁將下巴靠在箱子邊上,神色木然地凝視著雜亂的收藏。忽然,她看見一捆舊練習(xí)本。于是,就拿了出來,翻開幾本,重溫自己在好心的柯克太太家中度過的愉快冬天。起初,喬在笑,后來,神情專注,若有所思,接著,就滿臉哀傷了。她看見了一張教授當年的親筆字條,嘴唇開始顫抖了,膝上的本子紛紛落地。她坐了下來,開始端詳那親切的字字句句,仿佛現(xiàn)在都具有一層新的含義,觸動了她的心弦。
“朋友,請等著我。也許有點遲到,但我一定會來的。”
“噢,但愿他會來!親愛的老哥弗里茨,總是對我那么和藹可親,那么心誠意切,那么心平氣和。在他身邊時,我對他的珍惜根本不夠,可是現(xiàn)在,我多么想見他呀,因為似乎大家都在疏遠我,我真是孤家寡人了。”
喬緊緊攥著那張紙條,好像那是一紙待履行的承諾書。接著,她把頭靠在一只舒適的碎布袋子上,失聲痛哭,似乎在跟敲打著屋頂?shù)挠挈c唱對臺戲。
這一切是自憐,孤獨,抑或情緒低落?也許是某份感情的蘇醒,它始終像激起漣漪的對方一樣在耐心等待??墒?,誰能說得清呢?
* * *
[1]英語雙關(guān)語,也可以作“佳偶”理解。
It was easy to promise self-abnegation when self was wrapped up in another, and heart and soul were purified by a sweet example; but when the helpful voice was silent, the daily lesson over, the beloved presence gone, and nothing remained but loneliness and grief, then Jo found her promise very hard to keep. How could she “comfort Father and Mother” when her own heart ached with a ceaseless longing for her sister, how could she “make the house cheerful” when all its light and warmth and beauty seemed to have deserted it when Beth left the old home for the new, and where in all the world could she “find some useful, happy work to do, ” that would take the place of the loving service which had been its own reward? She tried in a blind, hopeless way to do her duty, secretly rebelling against it all the while, for it seemed unjust that her few joys should be lessened, her burdens made heavier, and life get harder and harder as she toiled along. Some people seemed to get all sunshine, and some all shadow. It was not fair, for she tried more than Amy to be good, but never got any reward, only disappointment, trouble, and hard work.
Poor Jo, these were dark days to her, for something like despair came over her when she thought of spending all her life in that quiet house, devoted to humdrum cares, a few small pleasures, and the duty that never seemed to grow any easier. “I can't do it. I wasn't meant for a life like this, and I know I shall break away and do something desperate if somebody doesn't come and help me, ” she said to herself, when her first efforts failed and she fell into the moody, miserable state of mind which often comes when strong wills have to yield to the inevitable.
But someone did come and help her, though Jo did not recognize her good angels at once because they wore familiar shapes and used the simple spells best fitted to poor humanity. Often she started up at night, thinking Beth called her, and when the sight of the little empty bed made her cry with the bitter cry of unsubmissive sorrow, “Oh, Beth, come back! Come back! ” she did not stretch out her yearning arms in vain. For, as quick to hear her sobbing as she had been to hear her sister's faintest whisper, her mother came to comfort her, not with words only, but the patient tenderness that soothes by a touch, tears that were mute reminders of a greater grief than Jo's, and broken whispers, more eloquent than prayers, because hopeful resignation went hand-in-hand with natural sorrow. Sacred moments, when heart talked to heart in the silence of the night, turning affliction to a blessing, which chastened grief and strengthned love. Feeling this, Jo's burden seemed easier to bear, duty grew sweeter, and life looked more endurable, seen from the safe shelter of her mother's arms.
When aching heart was a little comforted, troubled mind likewise found help, for one day she went to the study, and leaning over the good gray head lifted to welcome her with a tranquil smile, she said very humbly,“Father, talk to me as you did to Beth. I need it more than she did, for I'm all wrong.”
“My dear, nothing can comfort me like this, ” he answered, with a falter in his voice, and both arms round her, as if he too, needed help, and did not fear to ask for it.
Then, sitting in Beth's little chair close beside him, Jo told her troubles—the resentful sorrow for her loss, the fruitless efforts that discouraged her, the want of faith that made life look so dark, and all the sad bewilderment which we call despair. She gave him entire confidence, he gave her the help she needed, and both found consolation in the act;for the time had come when they could talk together not only as father and daughter, but as man and woman, able and glad to serve each other with mutual sympathy as well as mutual love. Happy, thoughtful times there in the old study which Jo called “the church of one member”, and from which she came with fresh courage, recovered cheerfulness, and a more submissive spirit; for the parents who had taught one child to meet death without fear, were trying now to teach another to accept life without despondency or distrust, and to use its beautiful opportunities with gratitude and power.
Other helps had Jo—humble, wholesome duties and delights that would not be denied their part in serving her, and which she slowly learned to see and value. Brooms and dishcloths never could be as distasteful as they once had been, for Beth had presided over both; and something of her housewifely spirit seemed to linger around the little mop and the old brush, never thrown away. As she used them, Jo found herself humming the songs Beth used to hum, imitating Beth's orderly ways, and giving the little touches here and there that kept everything fresh and cozy, which was the first step toward making home happy, though she didn't know it till Hannah said with an approving squeeze of the hand—
“You thoughtful creeter, you're determined we shan't miss that dear lamb ef you can help it. We don't say much, but we see it, and the Lord will bless you for't, see ef He don't.”
As they sat sewing together, Jo discovered how much improved her sister Meg was, how well she could talk, how much she knew about good, womanly impulses, thoughts, and feelings, how happy she was in husband and children, and how much they were all doing for each other.
“Marriage is an excellent thing, after all. I wonder if I should blossom out half as well as you have, if I tried it? ” said Jo, as she constructed a kite for Demi in the topsy-turvy nursery.
“It's just what you need to bring out the tender womanly half of your nature, Jo. You are like a chestnut burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernal, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart one day, and then the rough burr will fall off.”
“Frost opens chestnut burrs, ma'am, and it takes a good shake to bring them down. Boys go nutting, and I don't care to be bagged by them, ”returned Jo, pasting away at the kite which no wind that blows would ever carry up, for Daisy had tied herself on as a bob.
Meg laughed, for she was glad to see a glimmer of Jo's old spirit, but she felt it her duty to enforce her opinion by every argument in her power, and the sisterly chats were not wasted, especially as two of Meg's most effective arguments were the babies, whom Jo loved tenderly. Grief is the best opener of some hearts, and Jo's was nearly ready for the bag: a little more sunshine to ripen the nut, then, not a boy's impatient shake, but a man's hand reached up to pick it gently from the burr, and find the kernal sound and sweet. If she suspected this, she would have shut up tight, and been more prickly than ever, fortunately she wasn't thinking about herself, so when the time came, down she dropped.
Now, if she had been the heroine of a moral storybook, she ought at this period of her life to have become quite saintly, renounced the world, and gone about doing good in a mortified bonnet, with tracts in her pocket. But, you see, Jo wasn't a heroine, she was only a struggling human girl like hundreds of others, and she just acted out her nature, being sad, cross, listless, or energetic, as the mood suggested. It's highly virtuous to say we'll be good, but we can't do it all at once, and it takes a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together before some of us even get our feet set in the right way. Jo had got so far, she was learning to do her duty, and to feel unhappy if she did not; but to do it cheerfully—ah, that was another thing! She had often said she wanted to do something splendid, no matter how hard; and now she had her wish, for what could be more beautiful than to devote her life to Father and Mother, trying to make home as happy to them as they had to her? And if difficulties were necessary to increase the splendor of the effort, what could be harder for a restless, ambitious girl than to give up her own hopes, plans, and desires, and cheerfully live for others?
Providence had taken her at her word; here was the task, not what she had expected, but better because self had no part in it; now, could she do it? She decided that she would try, and in her first attempt she found the helps I have suggested. Still another was given her, and she took it, not as a reward, but as a comfort, as Christian took the refreshment afforded by the little arbor where he rested, as he climbed the hill called Difficulty.
“Why don't you write? That always used to make you happy, ” said her mother once, when the desponding fit over shadowed Jo.
“I've no heart to write, and if I had, nobody cares for my things.”
“We do. Write something for us, and never mind the rest of the world. Try it, dear. I'm sure it would do you good, and please us very much.”
“Don't believe I can.” But Jo got out her desk and began to overhaul her half-finished manuscripts.
An hour afterward her mother peeped in and there she was, scratching away, with her black pinafore on, and an absorbed expression, which caused Mrs. March to smile and slip away, well pleased with the success of her suggestion. Jo never knew how it happened, but something got into that story that went straight to the hearts of those who read it, for when her family had laughed and cried over it, her father sent it, much against her will, to one of the popular magazines, and to her utter surprise, it was not only paid for, but others requested. Letters from several persons, whose praise was honor, followed the appearance of the little story, newspapers copied it, and strangers as well as friends admired it. For a small thing it was a great success, and Jo was more astonished than when her novel was commended and condemned all at once.
“I don't understand it.What can there be in a simple little story like that to make people praise it so? ” she said, quite bewildered.
“There is truth in it,Jo,that's the secret.Humor and pathos make it alive, and you have found your style at last. You wrote with no thoughts of fame and money, and put your heart into it, my daughter. You have had the bitter, now comes the sweet. Do your best, and grow as happy as we are in your success.”
“If there is anything good or true in what I write,it isn't mine.I owe it all to you and Mother and Beth, ” said Jo, more touched by her father's words than by any amount of praise from the world.
So taught by love and sorrow, Jo wrote her little stories, and sent them away to make friends for themselves and her, finding it a very charitable world to such humble wanderers; for they were kindly welcomed, and sent home comfortable tokens to their mother, like dutiful children whom good fortune overtakes.
When Amy and Laurie wrote of their engagement, Mrs. March feared that Jo would find it difficult to rejoice over it, but her fears were soon set at rest, for though Jo looked grave at first, she took it very quietly, and was full of hopes and plans for “the children” before she read the letter twice. It was a sort of written duet, wherein each glorified the other in loverlike fashion, very pleasant to read and satisfactory to think of, for no one had any objection to make.
“You like it, Mother? ” said Jo, as they laid down the closely written sheets and looked at one another.
“Yes, I hoped it would be so, ever since Amy wrote that she had refused Fred. I felt sure then that something better than what you call the‘mercenary spirit' had come over her, and a hint here and there in her letters made me suspect that love and Laurie would win the day.”
“How sharp you are, Marmee, and how silent! You never said a word to me.”
“Mothers have need of sharp eyes and discreet tongues when they have girls to manage. I was half afraid to put the idea into your head, lest you should write and congratulate them before the thing was settled.”
“I'm not the scatterbrain I was. You may trust me. I'm sober and sensible enough for anyone's confidante now.”
“So you are, my dear, and I should have made you mine, only I fancied it might pain you to learn that your Teddy loved someone else.”
“Now, Mother, did you really think I could be so silly and selfish, after I'd refused his love, when it was freshest, if not best? ”
“I knew you were sincere then, Jo, but lately I have thought that if he came back, and asked again, you might, perhaps, feel like giving another answer. Forgive me, dear, I can't help seeing that you are very lonely, and sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart. So I fancied that your boy might fill the empty place if he tried now.”
“No, Mother, it is better as it is, and I'm glad Amy has learned to love him.But you are right in one thing:I am lonely,and perhaps if Teddy had tried again, I might have said ‘Yes, ' not because I love him any more, but because I care more to be loved than when he went away.”
“I'm glad of that, Jo, for it shows that you are getting on. There are plenty to love you, so try to be satisfied with Father and Mother, sisters and brothers, friends and babies, till the best lover of all comes to give you your reward.”
“Mothers are the best lovers in the world,but I don't mind whispering to Marmee that I'd like to try all kinds. It's very curious, but the more I try to satisfy myself with all sorts of natural affections, the more I seem to want. I'd no idea hearts could take in so many. Mine is so elastic, it never seems full now, and I used to be quite contented with my family. I don't understand it.”
“I do.” And Mrs. March smiled her wise smile, as Jo turned back the leaves to read what Amy said of Laurie.
“It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me. He isn't sentimental, doesn't say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don't seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble impulses and hopes and purposes, and am so proud to know it's mine. He says he feels as if he ‘could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast.' I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him, while God lets us be together. Oh, Mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be, when two people love and live for one another! ”
“And that's our cool, reserved, and worldly Amy! Truly, love does work miracles. How very, very happy they must be! ” And Jo laid the rustling sheets together with a careful hand, as one might shut the covers of a lovely romance, which holds the reader fast till the end comes, and he finds himself alone in the workaday world again.
By-and-by Jo roamed away upstairs, for it was rainy, and she could not walk. A restless spirit possessed her, and the old feeling came again, not bitter as it once was, but a sorrowfully patient wonder why one sister should have all she asked, the other nothing. It was not true, she knew that and tried to put it away, but the natural craving for affection was strong, and Amy's happiness woke the hungry longing for someone to “love with heart and soul, and cling to while God let them be together.”
Up in the garret, where Jo's unquiet wanderings ended stood four little wooden chests in a row, each marked with its owner's name, and each filled with relics of the childhood and girlhood ended now for all. Jo glanced into them, and when she came to her own, leaned her chin on the edge, and stared absently at the chaotic collection, till a bundle of old exercise books caught her eye. She drew them out, turned them over, and relived that pleasant winter at kind Mrs. Kirke's. She had smiled at first, then she looked thoughtful, next sad, and when she came to a little message written in the Professor's hand, her lips began to tremble, the books slid out of her lap, and she sat looking at the friendly words, as they took a new meaning, and touched a tender spot in her heart.
“Wait for me, my friend. I may be a little late, but I shall surely come.”
“Oh, if he only would! So kind, so good, so patient with me always;my dear old Fritz. I didn't value him half enough when I had him, but now how I should love to see him, for everyone seems going away from me, and I'm all alone.”
And holding the little paper fast, as if it were a promise yet to be fulfilled, Jo laid her head down on a comfortable rag bag, and cried, as if in opposition to the rain pattering on the roof.
Was it all self-pity, loneliness, or low spirits? Or was it the waking up of a sentiment which had bided its time as patiently as its inspirer? Who shall say?
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