第八章 乔遭遇恶魔
第八章 乔遭遇恶魔
“姐姐们，你们去哪里？”一个周六的下午，艾美走进房间，看到美格和乔正准备出去，一副神秘兮兮的样子，于是便好奇地问。
“别管，小姑娘家别问这么多。”乔尖刻地回答。
如果有什么可以让我们年轻人伤感情的话，就是有人对我们说“小孩子家别问这么多”。如果说上一句“乖乖，走开点”，会令我们更难受的。艾美听了这样的侮辱怒不可遏，决心即使磨上一个小时，也一定要搞清这个秘密。美格从来都没有长时间拒绝过她，于是她转向美格，花言巧语地说：“告诉我吧！我想你们也会让我一起去的。贝丝整天弹琴，弄得我没事可做，真孤单。”
“不能啊，乖乖，人家可没邀请你。”美格开口了。可乔不耐烦地插话说：“好了，美格，别说了，要不会把整件事搞糟的。艾美，你不能去，别耍小孩子脾气，嘟嘟囔囔的。”
“你们要跟劳里一起去，肯定是。昨天晚上，你们在沙发上说悄悄话，还笑呢。等到我一进来，你们就不说了。是不是要跟他一起出去？”
“是的，没错，现在可以静下来了吧，别烦我们。”
艾美没有再说，只是眼巴巴看着。她看到美格把一把扇子塞进口袋。
“知道了！知道了！你们要去戏院看《宝石湖上七城堡》! ”她嚷嚷道，接着坚决地说，“我要去，妈妈说过这出戏我可以看。我有零用钱的。不立刻告诉我，太小气了。”
“听我说几句，乖。”美格用安慰的口气说，“妈妈不希望你这个礼拜去，你的眼睛还没好，受不了这部童话剧的灯光刺激。下个礼拜，你可以和贝丝、汉娜一起去，再享受也不迟。”
“我想跟你们和劳里一起去，不喜欢和她们。请让我去吧。我感冒这么长时间了，老待在家里。我想找点快乐，想得要命。求求你，美格！我会很听话的。”艾美恳求道，努力装出一副可怜的样子。
“要是我们带上她，只要把她裹得严实点，我想妈妈也不会反对吧？”美格说。
“她去，我就不去。我不去的话，劳里会不高兴的。再说，这样也很没礼貌，他只邀请了我们两个，而我们要拉上艾美一起去。我还以为，不要她的地方，她是不应该去插一杠子的。”乔生气地说，她只想自己痛快一场，不想费神去照看一个坐立不安的小孩。
她的口气和态度激怒了艾美。艾美一边开始穿上靴子，一边用令人恼火的口气说：“我就要去，美格说我可以去。我自己付钱的话，就与劳里无关。”
“又不能和我们坐在一起，我们已经订了座位，你又不能一个人坐，劳里会把他的座位让给你，那我们就会扫兴。他也可能给你再找一个座位，可那不合适，没邀请你嘛。你一步都别动，就待在这里。”乔责骂道，她匆忙中刺痛了手指，变得更加生气。
艾美穿着一只靴子坐在地板上，放声大哭起来。美格劝她，这时劳里在楼下叫，两位姑娘匆匆下楼，任凭妹妹号啕大哭。艾美经常装出一副大人的样子，可她也时常忘记这一点，就像一个宠坏的孩子。两位姐姐刚要出门，艾美在楼梯的扶栏上用威胁的口吻喊道：“乔·马奇，你会后悔的，我们走着瞧。”
“你敢！”乔说着砰地关上了门。
《宝石湖上七城堡》十分精彩，她们看得很过瘾，度过了美妙的时光。不过，尽管红小鬼滑稽可笑，小精灵光彩夺目，王子公主美不胜收，乔的快乐却总是夹杂着些许苦涩。看到美若天仙的王后一头黄色鬈发，她便想到艾美，幕间休息的时间都花在猜测艾美会如何行动来令她后悔。她和艾美在生活中发生过多次激烈的小冲突，两人都是急性子，惹急了都会采取暴力。艾美挑逗乔，乔激怒艾美，偶尔会爆发脾气，事后两人都惭愧不已。乔虽然年长，却最不能自制。她的火暴性子屡屡使她惹祸上身，却着实难以加以约束。她的怒气总是不持久，不久就低三下四地认了错，她便诚心悔改，努力学好。姐妹们常说，她们倒挺喜欢把乔逗得勃然大怒，因为之后她便成了温柔的天使。可怜的乔竭尽全力要学好，但深藏心中的敌人总是随时发脾气，把她扳倒。经过数年的耐心努力，她才稍稍收敛了一些。
美格和乔到家，只见艾美正在客厅里看书。她们进来时，她装出一副受委屈的样子，低头看着书，连眼都不抬，也没问一个问题。要是贝丝没在那里问这问那，听两位姐姐兴奋地描述剧情，好奇心也许就会战胜愤恨，艾美也许就会上去问个明白的。乔走上楼去放她的帽子，她首先看看衣柜，因为上次吵架时，艾美把乔的顶层抽屉倒在地板上翻了个底朝天，以发泄内心的怨恨。还好，一切都没动，乔匆匆地扫视了衣橱、袋子和箱子，接着便认定艾美原谅了自己，忘记了冤屈。
这回乔想错了。第二天，她发现少了件东西，于是引发了一场狂风暴雨。傍晚时分，美格、贝丝和艾美正坐在一起，这时乔冲进房间，神情激动，气喘吁吁地问：“有谁拿了我的书？”
美格和贝丝满脸惊讶，立刻说“没有”。唯独艾美捅了捅炉火，一声不吭。乔见她脸色都变了，便冲过去。
“艾美，你拿了我的书。”
“没有，我没拿。”
“那你知道在哪里！”
“不知道。”
“撒谎！”乔嚷道。她一把抓住艾美的肩膀，神态凶狠，就是比艾美再胆大的孩子见了也会害怕。
“没撒谎。我没拿，也不知道在哪里，得了吧。再说我也不想知道。”
“你肯定心中有数，最好马上说出来，不然，看我怎么收拾你。”乔稍微推搡了她一下。
“随你怎么骂，反正，永远都别想再见到你那本傻乎乎的书。”艾美嚷道，她也变得激动起来。
“为什么？”
“我把它烧了。”
“什么！我那么喜欢那本小书，反复推敲，本来想在爸回家前写完的！你竟然把它烧了，是不是真的？”乔问。她脸色苍白，两眼迸出愤怒的目光，双手神经质地抓住艾美不放。
“是的！烧了！谁叫你昨天发火，我说过要让你付出代价的。于是，我就——”
艾美没有再往下说，因为乔已经怒不可遏。她一边使劲地推搡艾美，弄得艾美牙齿咯咯作响，一边悲愤交加地喊道：
“你这个恶毒的丫头！再也写不出来了，我一辈子都不会原谅你的。”
美格赶紧上前救下艾美，贝丝也过来安慰乔。可乔已无法控制自己，临走时打了妹妹一记耳光，随后冲出房间，跑上阁楼，坐在旧沙发上，单方面结束了争吵。
马奇太太回到家里后，楼下的风暴才平息。她听说了此事，很快就使艾美认识到自己做了对不起姐姐的事。乔的书是她心目中的骄傲，也被全家当作前途无量的文学萌芽。虽只不过是五六则小童话，可乔默默地加以千锤百炼。她全身心地投入了创作，盼望写出些优秀的作品能够发表。她刚仔仔细细地誊抄了一遍，并毁掉了旧草稿，因此艾美的一把火烧掉了她几年的心血。这对别人来说只是个微不足道的损失，可在乔看来，却是一场可怕的灾难，她觉得这是永远都不能弥补的损失。贝丝伤心得像失去了一只小猫咪，美格拒绝保护她的宝贝艾美，马奇太太神色严峻，伤心万分，艾美现在也比谁都后悔，除非她认错道歉，否则没人会爱她了。
茶点的铃声响起时，乔露面了，脸色铁青，对人不理不睬。艾美鼓足勇气怯弱地说：
“请原谅我，乔姐。我真的非常、非常抱歉。”
“永远都不会原谅你的。”乔严厉地回答。从那一刻起，她完全不理艾美了。
没人再提起这场大祸，连马奇太太也不例外。大家都知晓一条经验：乔情绪如此低落时，说什么也白搭。最好的办法就是等待一些小事的发生，或者要靠她自身宽容的天性，来化解内心的愤恨，治愈心灵的创伤。这天晚上，虽然照常做针线活，母亲照样朗读布雷默[1]、司各特[2]、埃奇沃思[3]的作品，但气氛根本不快活，大家若有所失，原来甜蜜、平静的家庭生活打乱了。到了唱歌时间，大家的体会更加深切，贝丝只是默默抚琴，乔呆立一旁，活像个石头人，艾美失声痛哭，只剩下美格和母亲孤军作战地吟唱。但是，虽然她们力图唱得像云雀一样欢快，银铃般的歌喉已失去往日的和谐，全都像是走调了。
乔接受晚安吻别时，马奇太太轻轻地说：“乖乖，别因为心中有恨，就见不到太阳，你们要互相原谅，互相扶持，明天一切都从头开始。”
乔真想扑到妈妈怀里痛哭一场，把悲伤和愤怒都发泄出来，但有道是眼泪属于弱者。而且，她内心感到深深的伤痛，真的不能原谅谁。她勉强地眨眨眼，点了点头。见到艾美在一边听，她便粗声粗气地说：“这么卑鄙可恶，不值得原谅。”
说着，她大步朝卧室走去。那天晚上，姐妹们没有说笑，也没讲悄悄话。
艾美主动求和遭拒，便恼羞成怒，但愿自己没有低声下气，觉得受到了莫大的伤害，于是便炫耀起自己的优良品质，显得特别令人恼火。乔脸上依然乌云密布，这一天，所有事情都乱套了。早晨寒风刺骨，乔把珍贵的酥饼掉到了阴沟里，马奇姑婆坐立不安。美格忧郁着，贝丝等她到家时摆出一副愁眉苦脸、忧思无限的样子，而艾美在大放厥词，指责某些人虽然嘴上老说要学好，可当有人已经做出了表率，她们却还不肯行动。
“每个人都这么怨气冲天，还是找劳里一起滑冰去。他总是那么亲切，那么快活。我知道，和他在一起，心情会好些。”乔心想，然后跨出门去。
艾美听到冰鞋的碰撞声，向外一望，急得大叫：“你看看！她答应过我，下次带上我去，这可是最后一次结冰了。可要这个人带我去，等于白说，瞧，她脾气多暴躁。”
“别这么说。你昨天太不听话了。谁叫你把她的宝贝书烧了呢，她当然不肯轻易原谅你。不过，我想她现在会原谅你的，我猜她会的，只要在适当的时候开口。”美格说，“跟着他们，不要说话，等到乔和劳里有说有笑，你再趁空挡上前，只要吻她一下，或者做件友好的事，我敢说，她又会真心诚意地跟你和解的。”
“我去试试。”艾美说。这个主意正合她意。一阵匆忙之后，她准备好了，朝他们追了上去。而两位朋友正消失在山的那边。
这里离河边不远，两人没等艾美来到就已经准备好了。乔见她过来了，就背过身去。劳里没有看见她，正小心翼翼地沿着河岸滑冰，探测冰层的声音，因为在冰天雪地的前几天有过一段暖和的日子。
“我先到第一个弯口去，看看可不可以滑，然后再开始比赛。”艾美听到劳里这么说。只见他身穿一件皮毛镶边的外套，头戴帽子，就活像一个英俊的俄国小伙子，飞也似的滑去。
乔是听见艾美奔跑来的，在她身后气喘吁吁地跟着跑，一边跺脚，一边穿冰鞋，还往手上呵气。她就是不转身，沿河岸歪歪扭扭地慢慢滑行，妹妹遇到了麻烦，她心里反而感到解气，但也只是一种夹杂着苦涩和不悦的快意。满腔怨恨，越积越深，最后使她丧失了理智，犹如罪恶的念头和情绪，不及时排除，必酿成大祸。劳里转过弯，回头大声喊道：
“要靠岸边滑，中间不安全。”
乔听到了，可艾美还在使劲站稳脚跟，一个字都没听见。乔扭头瞟了她一眼，藏在她心中的小魔鬼在耳边说：
“管她有没有听到，随她去吧。”
劳里绕过转弯处不见了，乔刚好来到转弯处，艾美还远远地落在后面，她正朝河中央平滑的冰面滑去。乔愣了一会儿，心中升起一种不祥的预感。她还是决定继续向前滑行，可莫名的感觉使她停下脚步，回头正好看到妹妹撒开双手，身体往下掉，随之听到一声融冰的破裂声，看到水花溅起，同时传来一声惨叫，吓得乔心都快要停止跳动了。她试图叫劳里，可就是叫不出声；她想往前冲，可双脚疲软无力，不听使唤。她束手无策、满脸恐惧，两眼直勾勾地盯着黑油油水面上的那顶蓝色小帽。一个身影从她身边一闪而过，劳里大声喊道：
“快！快！拿根棍子来。”
她是怎么拿的，连自己都不知道。但在接下来的几分钟里，她好像中了邪似的，茫然地听从劳里的吩咐。劳里则十分镇定，他平卧在冰面上，用手臂和冰球棒勾住艾美。等到乔从篱笆上抽出一根横杆，才一起把孩子拉了出来。艾美吓得要命，幸好没有受伤。
“快，必须尽快把她弄回家，我们的衣服给她盖上，我先要把她这双该死的冰鞋脱掉。”劳里边喊边把自己的皮衣给艾美裹上，他使劲地扯鞋带，解带从来都没有这么麻烦过。
他们把艾美送回了家。她颤抖着，浑身滴着水，还一个劲地哭喊。经历了这场惊心动魄的意外之后，艾美全身裹着毯子，在炉火前睡着了。在这阵手忙脚乱的时候，乔连话都没说，只是急得团团转，脸色苍白，神色慌张，衣服脱去不少，裙子撕了个口子，双手也被冰块、横杆和坚硬的扣子擦伤了。艾美安然入睡，屋子里安静下来，马奇太太坐在床边，把乔叫到身边，替她包扎手上的伤口。
“肯定她没事了吗？”乔轻声问，她望着长满金发的脑袋，心里满是悔恨，这颗脑袋差一点就要在险恶的冰层下消失，再也见不到了。
“没事了，乖乖。她没有受伤，我想连感冒都不会得。你们做得很对，用衣服把她裹住，又马上送回家。”母亲欣慰地说。
“这些都是劳里做的。我当时只是听天由命。妈妈，要是她出了意外，都是我的错。”乔倒在床边，眼里噙满了悔恨的泪水。她诉说着发生的一切，狠狠地责备自己竟然铁石心肠。她泣不成声地祷告，感谢老天，使她幸免了严厉的惩罚。
“都怪我脾气不好！我想努力改正。我还以为已经改好了，谁知比以前更糟了。妈妈啊，我该怎么办？怎么办？”可怜的乔绝望地喊道。
“自己当心，再加上祈祷，乖乖。不要灰心，也不要觉得缺点改不掉。”马奇太太说着，把那蓬乱的脑袋靠到自己肩头上，体贴地亲吻满是泪水的面颊，可乔哭得更凶了。
“您不知道，您猜不到我的脾气有多坏！我发火时好像什么事都干得出来。我会变得很野蛮，谁都会伤害，还幸灾乐祸。我怕有一天会做出可怕的事，毁了自己的一生，谁都会恨我。妈妈，帮帮我吧，求您帮帮我吧！”
“我会的，宝贝，我会的。别哭得这么伤心，要记住这一天，下决心保证不重犯。乖乖，我们都要面临魔鬼的诱惑，有些比你碰到的还要厉害得多，往往要用一生的时间来抵御。你觉得你的脾气是世上最坏的，其实我以前脾气跟你一样坏。”
“您的脾气？怎么，可从没见过妈妈您生气呀！”乔惊讶得暂时忘掉了悔恨。
“四十年来，我一直在努力改正，只是学会了如何控制。在我一生中，几乎每天都生气，可我学会了不发作。我还希望随遇而安，可能又得熬上四十年，才能做到吧。”
她深爱着的母亲脸上所表现出的忍耐和谦卑，对乔来说，是最贤明的教导和最严厉的责备。有了母亲给她的安慰和信心，她立刻舒畅多了。知道母亲也有她这样的缺点，也在努力改正，她更觉得容易承受些。要痛下决心，改正缺点，虽然四十年当心和祈祷的周期，对一个十五岁的少女来讲，显得那么漫长。
“妈妈，当马奇姑婆责骂，或有人烦扰您时，您有时紧闭双唇走出屋外，那是不是在生气？”乔问道，觉得自己跟妈妈越发亲近了。
“是的，我学会了压住冲到嘴边的气话，觉得这些话要不由自主冲口而出时，我就走开一会，为自己的软弱、恶意敲敲警钟。”马奇太太叹口气，笑了笑，边说边把乔散乱的头发理顺、扎好。
“您是怎样学会保持冷静的？我正为此麻烦不断——刻薄话总是不假思索地飞出口；说得越多越糟糕，最后恶语伤人、恶毒攻击成了乐趣。请告诉我您是怎样做的，好妈咪。”
“我的好妈妈过去总是帮我——”
“就像您帮我们一样——”乔插嘴说道，感激地献上一吻。
“但我在比你稍大一点的时候便失去了她。我自尊心极强，不愿对别人坦白自己的弱点，因此多年来只能独自挣扎。我失败过许多次，并为此洒下无数痛苦的泪水。乔，难哪，尽管我非常努力，但似乎总是毫无进展。后来你父亲出现了，我沉浸在幸福之中，发现学好并非难事。但后来，当我膝下有了四个小女儿，家道中落时，老毛病又犯了，因为我天生缺乏耐性，看到孩子们缺这少那，心里便煎熬得厉害。”
“可怜的妈妈！那么是什么帮助了您？”
“你父亲，乔。他从不失去耐心——从不怀疑，从不怨天尤人——而是乐观地企盼、快乐地工作和满怀信心地等待，使人耻于跟他唱对台戏啊。他帮助我，安慰我，让我知道，如果想要女儿拥有美德，自己就要身体力行，我就是楷模呀。想到为你们努力，而不是为自己，事情就容易了；每当我说话太冲，你们投来又惊又骇的目光，这比言语叱责更厉害。我努力以身作则，赢得了孩子的爱戴、尊敬和信任，这就是最美好的报偿。”
“啊，妈妈，我及得上您一半就心满意足了。”乔深受感动地说道。
“我希望你会做得更好，乖乖。但你得时时提防你爸所说的‘藏在心中的敌人’；不然，即使它没有毁掉你一生，也会使你终生痛苦。你已经得到了警示，要牢记在心头，竭尽全力控制自己的暴躁脾气，以免酿成比今天更大的悲剧，抱憾终生。”
“我一定努力，妈妈，真的。但您得帮助我，提醒我，防止我祸从口出。我以前看见，爸爸有时用手指按住双唇，用异常亲切而严肃的眼光望着您，您便紧咬嘴唇，或是走出门去。他这样是不是在提醒您？”乔轻轻问道。
“是的。我叫他这样帮助我，他也从不忘记。看到那个小小的手势和亲切的目光，我的恶言便收口了。”
乔看到母亲讲话时眼睛噙满泪水，嘴唇轻轻颤动，担心是自己说得太多了，便赶紧轻声问道：“这样望着您，跟您谈这个问题不对吗？并非有意冒犯，可是跟您谈心我就畅快，就感到又安全又幸福。”
“我的乔，你可以向母亲倾诉衷肠。女儿向我诉说心里话，并明白我是多么爱她们，这对我来说是最大的幸福，最大的骄傲。”
“我以为使您伤心了呢。”
“不，乖乖，只是提起父亲，我便想到多么想念他，多么感激他，多么应该忠实地为他照看他的四个小女儿，使她们平安、乖巧。”
“但是您却叫他上前线，妈妈。他走时您没哭，现在也从不埋怨，似乎您从不需要帮手。”乔不解地说。
“我把最美好的东西献给我热爱的祖国，一直到他走后才让眼泪流出来。我为何要埋怨呢？我俩只是尽了应尽的责任而已，而且最终一定会因此而更加幸福。我似乎不需要帮助，那是因为我有一个比父亲更好的朋友在安慰我，支持我。孩子，你生活中的烦恼和诱惑在露头，而且可能还会有许多，只要感受到天父的力量和仁爱，正如你感受到地上的父爱一样，你就能战胜它们，超越它们。你对天父之爱越深，信任越大，你就觉得与他越接近，对世俗的力量和智慧依赖就少。天父的慈爱和关怀旷日持久，永远与你同在，它是人生平和、幸福和力量的源泉。坚守这个信念，向上帝尽情倾诉种种苦恼、希望、悲伤和罪过吧，就像你向妈妈倾诉一样。”
乔的唯一反应是紧紧拥抱母亲。随后是沉默，她做了最虔诚的祈祷，做到心如止水，说话便是多余的了；在那悲喜交加的时刻，她不仅懂得了后悔和失望的痛苦，也体会到了自我否定和自我控制的愉悦。在母亲的引导下，她与天父更近了。天父用爱欢迎每一个孩子，这种爱比任何父爱更强烈，比任何母爱更温柔。
艾美在睡梦中动了一下，叹了口气。乔抬头看去，脸上泛起了从未有过的表情，恨不得马上就修正自己的过错。
“我一生气就见不到太阳，我不愿原谅她，今天要不是劳里，就一切都追悔莫及。我怎么会这么缺德？”乔不由得说出声来。她俯身看着妹妹，并轻轻地抚摸着散落在枕头上的湿头发。
艾美似乎听到了，睁开眼睛，伸出双臂，面带笑容，这一笑犹如一股暖流直达乔的心田。两人什么都没说，只是隔着毯子紧紧地互相拥抱，真是一吻泯怨仇。
* * *
[1]瑞典小说家（1801—1865）。
[2]苏格兰作家（1771—1832）。
[3]爱尔兰作家（1767—1849）。
CHAPTER 8 JO MEETS APOLLYON
CHAPTER 8 JO MEETS APOLLYON
“GIRLS, WHERE are you going? ” asked Amy, coming into their room one Saturday afternoon, and finding them getting ready to go out with an air of secrecy which excited her curiosity.
“Never mind. Little girls shouldn't ask questions, ” returned Jo sharply.
Now if there is anything mortifying to our feelings when we are young, it is to be told that; and to be bidden to “run away, dear” is still more trying to us. Amy bridled up at this insult, and determined to find out the secret, if she teased for an hour. Turning to Meg, who never refused her anything very long, she said coaxingly, “Do tell me! I should think you might let me go, too, for Beth is fussing over her piano, and I haven't got anything to do, and am so lonely.”
“I can't, dear, because you aren't invited, ” began Meg, but Jo broke in impatiently, “Now, Meg, be quiet or you will spoil it all. You can't go, Amy, so don't be a baby, and whine about it.”
“You are going somewhere with Laurie, I know you are. You were whispering and laughing together on the sofa last night, and you stopped when I came in. Aren't you going with him? ”
“Yes, we are. Now do be still, and stop bothering.”
Amy held her tongue, but used her eyes, and saw Meg slip a fan into her pocket.
“I know!I know!You're going to the theater to see The Seven Castles of the Diamond Lake! ”she cried, adding resolutely,“and I shall go, for Mother said I might see it, and I've got my rag money, and it was mean not to tell me in time.”
“Just listen to me a minute, and be a good child, ” said Meg soothingly.“Mother doesn't wish you to go this week, because your eyes are not well enough yet to bear the light of this fairy piece. Next week you can go with Beth and Hannah, and have a nice time.”
“I don't like that half as well as going with you and Laurie. Please let me. I've been sick with this cold so long, and shut up, I'm dying for some fun. Do, Meg! I'll be ever so good, ” pleaded Amy, looking as pathetic as she could.
“Suppose we take her. I don't believe Mother would mind, if we bundle her up well, ” began Meg.
“If she goes I shan't,and if I don't,Laurie won't like it,and it will be very rude, after he invited only us, to go and drag in Amy. I should think she'd hate to poke herself where she isn't wanted, ” said Jo crossly, for she disliked the trouble of overseeing a fidgety child when she wanted to enjoy herself.
Her tone and manner angered Amy, who began to put her boots on, saying,in her most aggravating way,“I shall go.Meg says I may,and if I pay for myself, Laurie hasn't anything to do with it.”
“You can't sit with us, for our seats are reserved, and you mustn't sit alone, so Laurie will give you his place, and that will spoil our pleasure. Or he'll get another seat for you, and that isn't proper when you weren't asked. You shan't stir a step, so you may just stay where you are, ” scolded Jo, crosser than ever, having just pricked her finger in her hurry.
Sitting on the floor with one boot on, Amy began to cry and Meg to reason with her, when Laurie called from below, and the two girls hurried down, leaving their sister wailing. For now and then she forgot her grown-up ways and acted like a spoiled child. Just as the party was setting out, Amy called over the banisters in a threatening tone, “You'll be sorry for this, Jo March, see if you ain't.”
“Fiddlesticks! ” returned Jo, slamming the door.
They had a charming time, for The Seven Castles of the Diamond Lake was as brilliant and wonderful as heart could wish.But in spite of the comical red imps, sparkling elves, and the gorgeous princes and princesses, Jo's pleasure had a drop of bitterness in it. The fairy queen's yellow curls reminded her of Amy, and between the acts she amused herself with wondering what her sister would do to make her “sorry for it.” She and Amy had had many lively skirmishes in the course of their lives, for both had quick tempers and were apt to be violent when fairly roused. Amy teased Jo, and Jo irritated Amy, and semioccasional explosions occurred, of which both were much ashamed afterward. Although the oldest, Jo had the least self-control, and had hard times trying to curb the fiery spirit which was continually getting her into trouble. Her anger never lasted long, and having humbly confessed her fault, she sincerely repented and tried to do better. Her sisters used to say that they rather liked to get Jo into a fury because she was such an angel afterward. Poor Jo tried desperately to be good, but her bosom enemy was always ready to flame up and defeat her, and it took years of patient effort to subdue it.
When they got home, they found Amy reading in the parlor. She assumed an injured air as they came in, never lifted her eyes from her book, or asked a single question. Perhaps curiosity might have conquered resentment, if Beth had not been there to inquire and receive a glowing description of the play. On going up to put away her best hat, Jo's first look was toward the bureau, for in their last quarrel Amy had soothed her feelings by turning Jo's top drawer upside down on the floor. Everything was in its place, however, and after a hasty glance into her various closets, bags, and boxes, Jo decided that Amy had forgiven and forgotten her wrongs.
There Jo was mistaken, for next day she made a discovery which produced a tempest. Meg, Beth, and Amy were sitting together, late in the afternoon, when Jo burst into the room, looking excited and demanding breathlessly, “Has anyone taken my book? ”
Meg and Beth said, “No, ” at once, and looked surprised. Amy poked the fire and said nothing. Jo saw her color rise and was down upon her in a minute.
“Amy, you've got it! ”
“No, I haven't.”
“You know where it is, then! ”
“No, I don't.”
“That's a fib! ” cried Jo, taking her by the shoulders, and looking fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy.
“It isn't. I haven't got it, don't know where it is now, and don't care.”
“You know something about it, and you'd better tell at once, or I'll make you.” And Jo gave her a slight shake.
“Scold as much as you like, you'll never see your silly old book again, ” cried Amy, getting excited in her turn.
“Why not? ”
“I burned it up.”
“What! My little book I was so fond of, and worked over, and meant to finish before Father got home? Have you really burned it? ” said Jo, turning very pale, while her eyes kindled and her hands clutched Amy nervously.
“Yes, I did! I told you I'd make you pay for being so cross yesterday, and I have, so—”
Amy got no farther, for Jo's hot temper mastered her, and she shook Amy till her teeth chattered in her head, crying in a passion of grief and anger—
“You wicked, wicked girl! I never can write it again, and I'll never forgive you as long as I live.”
Meg flew to rescue Amy, and Beth to pacify Jo, but Jo was quite beside herself; and, with a parting box on her sister's ear, she rushed out of the room up to the old sofa in the garret, and finished her fight alone.
The storm cleared up below, for Mrs. March came home, and, having heard the story, soon brought Amy to a sense of the wrong she had done her sister. Jo's book was the pride of her heart, and was regarded by her family as a literary sprout of great promise. It was only half a dozen little fairy tales, but Jo had worked over them patiently, putting her whole heart into her work, hoping to make something good enough to print. She had just copied them with great care, and had destroyed the old manuscript, so that Amy's bonfire had consumed the loving work of several years. It seemed a small loss to others, but to Jo it was a dreadful calamity, and she felt that it never could be made up to her. Beth mourned as for a departed kitten, and Meg refused to defend her pet. Mrs. March looked grave and grieved, and Amy felt that no one would love her till she had asked pardon for the act which she now regretted more than any of them.
When the tea bell rang, Jo appeared, looking so grim and unapproachable that it took all Amy's courage to say meekly—
“Please forgive me, Jo. I'm very, very sorry.”
“I never shall forgive you” was Jo's stern answer, and from that moment she ignored Amy entirely.
No one spoke of the great trouble—not even Mrs. March, for all had learned by experience that when Jo was in that mood words were wasted,and the wisest course was to wait till some little accident, or her own generous nature, softened Jo's resentment and healed the breach. It was not a happy evening, for though they sewed as usual, while their mother read aloud from Bremer, Scott, or Edgeworth, something was wanting, and the sweet home peace was disturbed. They felt this most when singing time came, for Beth could only play, Jo stood dumb as a stone, and Amy broke down, so Meg and Mother sang alone. But in spite of their efforts to be as cheery as larks, the flutelike voices did not seem to chord as well as usual, and all felt out of tune.
As Jo received her good-night kiss, Mrs. March whispered gently, “My dear, don't let the sun go down upon your anger. Forgive each other, help each other, and begin again tomorrow.”
Jo wanted to lay her head down on that motherly bosom, and cry her grief and anger all away, but tears were an unmanly weakness, and she felt so deeply injured that she really couldn't quite forgive yet.So she winked hard, shook her head, and said gruffly because Amy was listening, “It was an abominable thing, and she doesn't deserve to be forgiven.”
With that she marched off to bed, and there was no merry or confidential gossip that night.
Amy was much offended that her overtures of peace had been repulsed, and began to wish she had not humbled herself, to feel more injured than ever, and to plume herself on her superior virtue in a way which was particularly exasperating. Jo still looked like a thunder cloud, and nothing went well all day. It was bitter cold in the morning, she dropped her precious turnover in the gutter, Aunt March had an attack of the fidgets,Meg was sensitive,Beth would look grieved and wistful when she got home, and Amy kept making remarks about people who were always talking about being good and yet wouldn't even try when other people set them a virtuous example.
“Everybody is so hateful, I'll ask Laurie to go skating. He is always kind and jolly, and will put me to rights, I know, ” said Jo to herself, and off she went.
Amy heard the clash of skates, and looked out with an impatient exclamation.
“There! She promised I should go next time, for this is the last ice we shall have. But it's no use to ask such a crosspatch to take me.”
“Don't say that.You were very naughty,and it is hard to forgive the loss of her precious little book, but I think she might do it now, and I guess she will, if you try her at the right minute, ” said Meg. “Go after them. Don't say anything till Jo has got good-natured with Laurie, then take a quiet minute and just kiss her, or do some kind thing, and I'm sure she'll be friends again with all her heart.”
“I'll try, ” said Amy, for the advice suited her, and after a flurry to get ready, she ran after the friends, who were just disappearing over the hill.
It was not far to the river, but both were ready before Amy reached them. Jo saw her coming, and turned her back. Laurie did not see, for he was carefully skating along the shore, sounding the ice, for a warm spell had preceded the cold snap.
“I'll go on to the first bend, and see if it's all right before we begin to race, ” Amy heard him say, as he shot away, looking like a young Russian in his fur-trimmed coat and cap.
Jo heard Amy panting after her run, stamping her feet and blowing on her fingers as she tried to put her skates on, but Jo never turned and went slowly zigzagging down the river, taking a bitter, unhappy sort of satisfaction in her sister's troubles. She had cherished her anger till it grew strong and took possession of her, as evil thoughts and feelings always do unless cast out at once. As Laurie turned the bend, he shouted back—
“Keep near the shore. It isn't safe in the middle.” Jo heard, but Amy was struggling to her feet and did not catch a word. Jo glanced over her shoulder, and the little demon she was harboring said in her ear—
“No matter whether she heard or not, let her take care of herself.”
Laurie had vanished round the bend, Jo was just at the turn, and Amy, far behind, striking out toward the smoother ice in the middle of the river. For a minute Jo stood still with a strange feeling in her heart, then she resolved to go on, but something held and turned her round, just in time to see Amy throw up her hands and go down, with a sudden crash of rotten ice, the splash of water, and a cry that made Jo's heart stand still with fear. She tried to call Laurie, but her voice was gone. She tried to rush forward, but her feet seemed to have no strength in them, and for a second, she could only stand motionless, staring with a terror-stricken face at the little blue hood above the black water. Something rushed swiftly by her, and Laurie's voice cried out—
“Bring a rail. Quick, quick! ”
How she did it, she never knew; but for the next few minutes she worked as if possessed, blindly obeying Laurie, who was quite self-possessed, and lying flat, held Amy up by his arm and hockey stick till Jo dragged a rail from the fence, and together they got the child out, more frightened than hurt.
“Now then, we must walk her home as fast as we can; pile our things on her, while I get off these confounded skates, ” cried Laurie, wrapping his coat round Amy, and tugging away at the straps which never seemed so intricate before.
Shivering, dripping, and crying, they got Amy home, and after an exciting time of it, she fell asleep, rolled in blankets before a hot fire. During the bustle Jo had scarcely spoken but flown about, looking pale and wild, with her things half off, her dress torn, and her hands cut and bruised by ice and rails and refractory buckles. When Amy was comfortably asleep, the house quiet, and Mrs. March sitting by the bed, she called Jo to her and began to bind up the hurt hands.
“Are you sure she is safe? ” whispered Jo, looking remorsefully at the golden head, which might have been swept away from her sight forever under the treacherous ice.
“Quite safe, dear. She is not hurt, and won't even take cold, I think, you were so sensible in covering and getting her home quickly, ” replied her mother cheerfully.
“Laurie did it all. I only let her go. Mother, if she should die, it would be my fault.” And Jo dropped down beside the bed in a passion of penitent tears, telling all that had happened, bitterly condemning her hardness of heart, and sobbing out her gratitude for being spared the heavy punishment which might have come upon her.
“It's my dreadful temper! I try to cure it; I think I have, and then it breaks out worse than ever. Oh, Mother, what shall I do? What shall I do? ”cried poor Jo, in despair.
“Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying, and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault, ” said Mrs. March, drawing the blowzy head to her shoulder and kissing the wet cheek so tenderly that Jo cried even harder.
“You don't know, you can't guess how bad it is! It seems as if I could do anything when I'm in a passion. I get so savage, I could hurt anyone and enjoy it.I'm afraid I shall do something dreadful some day,and spoil my life, and make everybody hate me. Oh, Mother, help me, do help me! ”
“I will, my child, I will. Don't cry so bitterly, but remember this day, and resolve with all your soul that you will never know another like it. Jo, dear, we all have our temptations, some far greater than yours, and it often takes us all our lives to conquer them. You think your temper is the worst in the world, but mine used to be just like it.”
“Yours, Mother? Why, you are never angry! ” And for the moment Jo forgot remorse in surprise.
“I've been trying to cure it for forty years, and have only succeeded in controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo, but I have learned not to show it, and I still hope to learn not to feel it, though it may take me another forty years to do so.”
The patience and the humility of the face she loved so well was a better lesson to Jo than the wisest lecture, the sharpest reproof. She felt comforted at once by the sympathy and confidence given her. The knowledge that her mother had a fault like hers, and tried to mend it, made her own easier to bear and strengthened her resolution to cure it, though forty years seemed rather a long time to watch and pray to a girl of fifteen.
“Mother, are you angry when you fold your lips tight together and go out of the room sometimes, when Aunt March scolds or people worry you? ” asked Jo, feeling nearer and dearer to her mother than ever before.
“Yes, I've learned to check the hasty words that rise to my lips, and when I feel that they mean to break out against my will, I just go away for a minute, and give myself a little shake for being so weak and wicked, ”answered Mrs. March with a sigh and a smile, as she smoothed and fastened up Jo's disheveled hair.
“How did you learn to keep still? That is what troubles me—for the sharp words fly out before I know what I'm about, and the more I say the worse I get, till it's a pleasure to hurt people's feelings and say dreadful things. Tell me how you do it, Marmee dear.”
“My good mother used to help me—”
“As you do us—” interrupted Jo, with a grateful kiss.
“But I lost her when I was a little older than you are, and for years had to struggle on alone, for I was too proud to confess my weakness to anyone else. I had a hard time, Jo, and shed a good many bitter tears over my failures, for in spite of my efforts I never seemed to get on. Then your father came, and I was so happy that I found it easy to be good. But by-and-by, when I had four little daughters round me and we were poor, then the old trouble began again, for I am not patient by nature, and it tried me very much to see my children wanting anything.”
“Poor Mother! What helped you then? ”
“Your father, Jo. He never loses patience—never doubts or complains—but always hopes, and works and waits so cheerfully that one is ashamed to do otherwise before him. He helped and comforted me, and showed me that I must try to practice all the virtues I would have my little girls possess, for I was their example. It was easier to try for your sakes than for my own. A startled or surprised look from one of you when I spoke sharply rebuked me more than any words could have done; and the love, respect, and confidence of my children was the sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would have them copy.”
“Oh, Mother, if I'm ever half as good as you, I shall be satisfied, ”cried Jo, much touched.
“I hope you will be a great deal better, dear, but you must keep watch over your ‘bosom enemy', as father calls it, or it may sadden, if not spoil your life. You have had a warning. Remember it, and try with heart and soul to master this quick temper, before it brings you greater sorrow and regret than you have known today.”
“I will try, Mother, I truly will. But you must help me, remind me, and keep me from flying out. I used to see Father sometimes put his finger on his lips, and look at you with a very kind but sober face, and you always folded your lips tight and went away. Was he reminding you then? ” asked Jo softly.
“Yes. I asked him to help me so, and he never forgot it, but saved me from many a sharp word by that little gesture and kind look.”
Jo saw that her mother's eyes filled and her lips trembled as she spoke, and fearing that she had said too much, she whispered anxiously, “Was it wrong to watch you and to speak of it? I didn't mean to be rude, but it's so comfortable to say all I think to you, and feel so safe and happy here.”
“My Jo, you may say anything to your mother, for it is my greatest happiness and pride to feel that my girls confide in me and know how much I love them.”
“I thought I'd grieved you.”
“No, dear; but speaking of Father reminded me how much I miss him, how much I owe him, and how faithfully I should watch and work to keep his little daughters safe and good for him.”
“Yet you told him to go, Mother, and didn't cry when he went, and never complain now, or seem as if you needed any help, ” said Jo, wondering.
“I gave my best to the country I love, and kept my tears till he was gone. Why should I complain, when we both have merely done our duty and will surely be the happier for it in the end? If I don't seem to need help, it is because I have a better friend, even than Father, to comfort and sustain me. My child, the troubles and temptations of your life are beginning and may be many, but you can overcome and outlive them all if you learn to feel the strength and tenderness of your Heavenly Father as you do that of your earthly one. The more you love and trust Him, the nearer you will feel to Him, and the less you will depend on human power and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, can never be taken from you, but may become the source of lifelong peace, happiness, and strength. Believe this heartily, and go to God with all your little cares, and hopes, and sins, and sorrows, as freely and confidingly as you come to your mother.”
Jo's only answer was to hold her mother close, and in the silence which followed the sincerest prayer she had ever prayed left her heart without words. For in that sad yet happy hour, she had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial and self-control, and led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to the Friend who always welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer than that of any mother.
Amy stirred and sighed in her sleep, and as if eager to begin at once to mend her fault, Jo looked up with an expression on her face which it had never worn before.
“I let the sun go down on my anger. I wouldn't forgive her, and today, if it hadn't been for Laurie, it might have been too late! How could I be so wicked? ” said Jo, half aloud, as she leaned over her sister softly stroking the wet hair scattered on the pillow.
As if she heard, Amy opened her eyes, and held out her arms, with a smile that went straight to Jo's heart. Neither said a word, but they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss.
