第三十二章 柔情的烦恼
第三十二章 柔情的烦恼
“乔，我替贝丝担心。”
“为什么，妈妈？双胞胎出世以后，她看起来特别好。”
“我不是担心她的身体，而是精神状态。我肯定她有心事，希望你能搞它清楚。”
“您为什么这么想，妈妈？”
“她经常独自一人坐着，跟你爸谈话也没像以前多。有一天，我发现她抱着双胞胎掉眼泪。她唱的歌总是很伤感，脸上不时出现一种我无法理解的表情。那不像贝丝，让我很着急。”
“您问过她吗？”
“我试过一两次，她要么避而不答，要么显得很痛苦，我只好不问了。我从不强迫孩子们向我袒露心事，靠自觉的，而且等待时间通常不长。”
马奇太太说着看了一眼乔，可是对方那张脸的表情说明，她一点也没有替贝丝隐瞒的烦躁。乔做着针线，思考了一会儿，说：“我想她长大了，所以开始做梦了，有希望，有恐惧，有不安，可又不知道为什么，也解释不清楚。哎唷，妈妈，贝丝十八岁了，我们都没意识到她长大了，还把她当小孩，忘了她是个女人了。”
“那倒是的，心肝宝贝，真快，你们都长大了。”母亲叹口气微笑着说。
“这是没办法的，妈咪，所以您对所有的担忧必须泰然处之，让您的鸟儿一个一个地飞出巢。我答应绝不飞得很远，如果这样对您有点安慰的话。”
“足慰我心，乔。你在家我总感到很踏实，美格出嫁了，贝丝太弱，艾美太年轻还不能靠她。有苦力活的时候，你总是乐于帮着我做。”
“没什么的。您知道我不怕干苦力活，一个家总要有人干的。艾美擅长精细工作，而我不会。当所有的地毯要清理的时候，或者全家有一半人同时病倒的时候，我就觉得自己得心应手。艾美在国外表现很杰出，家里如果有点什么事，我就是您的帮手。”
“那么，我把贝丝交给你，她会首先对她的乔打开她柔弱的心灵。要非常友善，别让她感到有人在观察或者议论她。要是她能恢复健康和快乐，我就再也没什么心愿了。”
“真是幸福的女人！我可有一大堆心愿呢。”
“乖乖，那都是些什么？”
“先把贝丝的麻烦解决掉，再找您说说我的。它们不是很烦人，所以先搁一搁。”乔做着针线，明智地点点头，让妈妈放下心，至少暂时不必为她担心。
乔在表面上专心做自己的事儿，暗地里却观察着贝丝。她作了许多推测，但都不能自圆其说，最终锁定了一个，似乎能解释她的变化。她认为，一件微不足道的小事，给了她解开秘密的线索，接下来的工作可是需要活跃的想象和爱心去完成了。一个礼拜六的下午，她和贝丝单独在一起。她一边装模作样地忙着写些东西，一边注意着妹妹。妹妹这会儿看上去是异乎寻常地安静。贝丝坐在窗边，手里的活儿经常掉落到腿上，她手托着脑袋，神情沮丧，眼睛凝视着外面毫无生气的秋景。忽然有人从下面经过，吹着口哨，像一只歌喉婉转的乌鸫鸟，接着传来了说话声：“万物宁静！今晚见。”
贝丝吃了一惊，身子往前靠着。她又是微笑又是点头，看着这个过路人，直到他急促而沉重的脚步消失在远处，然后温柔地自言自语：“那个可爱的男孩，看上去是多么强壮、健康和幸福啊！”
“哼！”乔脱口而出，目光仍旧盯着妹妹的脸。这张脸上的兴奋红晕来得快，去得也快，微笑突然不见了，接着一颗泪珠掉在窗台上闪闪发亮。贝丝迅速地将它拂去，担心地瞥了一眼乔。乔正在奋笔疾书，显然她全神贯注于《奥林匹亚的誓言》。可是，贝丝一转头，乔又开始观察她，看到贝丝不止一次地轻轻擦眼睛，侧向一边的脸上透出一种温柔的悲哀。乔禁不住热泪盈眶。她生怕暴露目标，念叨着要去拿些纸，赶紧溜走了。
“天哪，贝丝爱上了劳里！”她在自己房间里坐下，为自认的这一新发现震惊得脸色煞白，“做梦都没想到。妈妈会怎么说呢？不知道他会不会——”乔顿住了，突然想到了什么，脸涨得通红。“如果他不回报她的爱，那会多可怕。他必须爱她。我要让他爱她！”她恶狠狠地对着男孩的照片摇摇头。这张照片挂在墙上，神态淘气，正对着她笑呢。“噢，我们都猛然长大了。美格已婚并当了妈妈，艾美在巴黎出风头，贝丝恋爱了，只剩下我一个有足够理智的人不胡闹。”乔注视着照片，凝神想了片刻，然后舒展开额头，朝着对方那张脸决断似的点点头，说道：“不了，谢谢你，先生。你很诱人，但你比风标还不稳定。因此，你不必写动人的纸条，也不必施展谄媚的微笑。这没有意义，我不会接受的。”
接着，她叹口气，想入非非起来，黄昏时分才回过神来。她下楼重新开始观察，却仅仅证实了她的猜测。劳里常常会与艾美调调情，与乔开开玩笑，可他对贝丝永远是特别的友善温和，不过每个人对贝丝都是这个态度的。因此，没有人认为他喜欢贝丝要比喜欢其他人多一点。事实上，最近全家人都有的印象是，“我们的男孩”越来越喜欢乔了，而乔却不愿听相关的话题，如果有人敢暗示一下，她就会激烈地斥骂。要是他们得知，今年乔和劳里之间曾经互通款曲，或者说想通款曲却被扼杀在萌芽状态了，他们会非常满意地说：“我早就跟你说过了。”乔讨厌“滥情”，而且也不允许这种事情发生，总是在危险初露苗头的时候，用玩笑或者微笑把它挡开。
劳里刚上大学那会儿，他大概每个月要坠入情网一次，但这些小火花炽热而短暂，没有任何伤害。乔感到很好玩，以极大的兴趣听着由追求、绝望、放弃等内容交织起来的故事。每礼拜一次的见面，劳里都会向她掏心。但是有一阵子，劳里停止了对众多神龛的朝拜，他暗示专一的激情，有时候沉浸在拜伦[1]式的忧郁里。于是，他干脆避开温情的话题，给乔写起了富有哲理的便条，同时也变得用功起来。他要让乔知道，他在“钻研”，打算以优异的成绩风光地毕业。这比黄昏的交心、温柔的牵手和含情脉脉的眼睛更合乔的胃口，因为她的脑子比心成熟得早。她更喜欢想象中的英雄，而不喜欢真实的人物，因为当她厌烦他们的时候，想象中的英雄可以关进铁皮橱柜里，什么时候想要了再招出来，而真实的人物就不那么好对付了。
有了重大的发现之后，形势就不一样了：那天晚上乔以前所未有的目光注视着劳里。要不是脑子里有了先入为主的印象，她肯定是看不出什么异样的。贝丝很文静，劳里对她很友善。而此刻，乔的想象力异常活跃，一如快马驰骋，由于长期想象或虚构的写作，一般的常识反而贫乏，使她不能自拔。与平常一样，贝丝躺在沙发上，劳里坐在旁边的一张矮椅上海阔天空地神聊，逗她高兴。她很依赖他每周的“胡编”，而他也从来没让她失望过。但那天晚上，在乔的想象中，贝丝的眼神特别快乐地盯着身边那张充满生气的黝黑的脸，饶有兴趣地听他讲某场激动人心的板球赛事，尽管“抢断贴板球”“击球手撞柱子出局”“左外场中三球”之类的术语，对她来说就像听梵语似的一窍不通。乔还想象，很用心地去看，劳里的举止更亲切了，偶尔还放低声音。他的笑声比平时少了，有时还有点心不在焉，他把阿富汗羊皮袄盖在贝丝的脚上，体贴入微，柔情似水。
“谁知道呢？千奇百怪的事情都已经发生了。”乔想着，在屋子里折腾，“她会把他变成一个真正的天使，他会让那乖乖生活得舒适快乐，只要他们相爱。我看他是无法不爱的，我确实相信他会的，只要我们其他人不挡着路。”
除了自己，其他人都没有挡着路，乔开始感到要尽快把自己处理掉。但去哪儿呢？心中燃烧着为姐妹情谊献身的热情，她坐下来解决这个问题。
且说客厅里的那张旧沙发，简直是十足的沙发鼻祖，又长又宽，软软的、低低的，看上去有点儿破旧，也应该破旧了，因为姑娘们婴儿时期就在这沙发上睡觉、爬行；孩提时期，从它靠背后面掏东西，在扶手上骑马，在沙发下养宠物；姑娘时期，在沙发上歇息疲倦了的脑袋、做着美梦、倾听温柔的话语。她们都爱它，因为它是家庭的庇护所，有一个角一直是乔最喜欢的歇息处。装点老资格沙发的众多枕头中，有一个用马毛织物做成的枕头，圆圆硬硬的有点儿扎人，两端各有一个球形的纽扣。这个不讨人喜欢的枕头是她的特殊财产，她用这个枕头作为防卫武器，也用它来设置障碍，或者用它苛刻地防止自己过度睡眠。
劳里很熟悉这个枕头，有理由对它深恶痛绝，因为在嬉戏喧闹的孩提时代，他遭受过它的无情痛击，现在它经常使他无缘坐到沙发角上那个让他垂涎三尺的紧挨着乔的位子。如果这条“香肠”，他们是这样称呼这个枕头的，竖在那里，这是他可以坐过去休息的信号，如果它平躺着横在沙发上，不管是男是女还是小孩，谁敢动它一下，就会倒霉！那天晚上，乔忘了封锁她那个沙发角，坐下来还没到五分钟，一个庞然大物便出现在她的身边，两只手臂摊开着伸到沙发的背上，两条长腿伸展在前面，劳里满足地叹口气说：
“嘿，真爽。”
“不准说俚语。”乔急速叫着，砰地把枕头扔下。但已经来不及了，没有空间了，枕头滚落到地上，并非常神秘地消失了。
“得啦！乔，别这么浑身带刺了。人家用功了一周，全身瘦了一圈，也该得到爱抚了。”
“贝丝会爱抚你的。我很忙。”
“不，她不愿意我去烦她，而你喜欢那样，除非你突然没兴趣了。怎么样？你不喜欢你的男孩了，想朝他扔枕头了？”
再没听到过比这更能哄人的动人请求了，但乔用一个严肃问题熄灭了“她的男孩”的热情：“这个礼拜给兰德尔小姐送了几束花？”
“一束也没送，我保证。她订婚了，怎么样？”
“我真高兴，你愚蠢的挥霍行为之一，就是给那些你一点儿也不在乎的姑娘们送花送物。”乔继续斥责说。
“我在乎的聪明姑娘，不让我送花和礼物，又让我怎么办？我的感情需要‘出口’。”
“妈妈不赞成调情，即便是开玩笑也不行，而你拼命地调情，特迪。”
“假如能回答说‘彼此彼此’，我愿一掷千金啊。正因为不能，我只说，我觉得这个快活的小游戏无伤大雅，如果大家都明白只是开玩笑。”
“行啦，这玩笑确实显得快活，但我学不会怎么开呀。我试过，因为在人堆里不随大流会难为情，但我似乎毫无长进。”乔说，一时间她忘了好为人师的角色。
“向艾美学习，她在这方面很有天赋。”
“是的，她在这方面确实做得漂亮，从来不会显得玩笑过头。我想，有些人不用努力就天生讨人喜欢，而有些人总是在错误的地方说错话做错事。”
“很高兴你不会调情。看到聪明率直的姑娘，实在令人耳目一新，她不用出洋相就可以做到快活、和善。不瞒你说，乔，我认识的一些姑娘确实有点儿犯贱，我都为她们感到羞耻。我相信她们没有恶意，但是如果知道我们男孩事后怎么议论她们，我想她们会改过自新的。”
“她们也不甘落后的，她们的舌头最刻薄，所以被损得最惨的往往是你们。原因是你们和她们一样愚蠢，不差分毫。如果你们放规矩些，她们也会注意些。但是她们知道你们喜欢听她们废话，所以就大肆说废话，而你们又反过来怪她们。”
“你倒是知道得不少，小姐。”劳里说话的口气中带着优越感，“我们不喜欢嬉戏和调情，有时候是装作喜欢而已。我们绅士间从不鄙薄漂亮谦和的姑娘，始终毕恭毕敬的。你真天真无邪！要是处在我的位置一个月，就会看到一些让你吃惊不小的事情。说实话，我看到任何轻浮冒失的女孩，总是要模仿我们的朋友雄歌鸲的声调说：‘滚开，呸呸，厚颜无耻的贱货！'”
劳里在对待女人问题上所表现出来的矛盾让人觉得很滑稽，忍不住要笑话他。一方面，他对女子谦恭有礼，骑士般的殷勤体贴，不愿意说她们的坏话；另一方面他本能地讨厌那些在时髦社会比比皆是的不贤淑的愚蠢行为。乔知道，世俗的妈妈们认为小劳伦斯是最合格的快婿人选，女儿们对他报以青睐，各种年龄的太太都恭维他，使他成了个花花公子。所以她相当妒忌地牢牢看着他，生怕他被宠坏了。当她发现他依旧信任谦和的女孩时，她内心的欣喜溢于言表。她突然回到苦口婆心的口吻，压低声音说：“如果你必须要有个‘出口’，特迪，那就专心致志地去爱一个你真正敬重的漂亮谦和的女孩吧，别把时间浪费在愚蠢的女孩身上了。”
“你真的这么建议？”劳里看着她，脸上的表情怪怪的，又忧虑又欢喜。
“是的，真的这么建议。但最好等到读完大学，一般说来是这样。这期间你得充实自己，以便能胜任这个角色。你离优秀还差得远呢，配不上——呃，不管这个谦和的女孩是谁。”乔的表情也有点怪，都差点儿把一个名字说出来了。
“我确实不配！”劳里默认了，脸上谦卑的表情是以前没有过的。他垂下眼帘，茫然地用手指绕着乔围裙上的穗子。
“天哪！这绝对不行。”乔心里想着，于是大声地说：“去给我唱个歌听听。我很想听歌，而且总是喜欢听你唱。”
“谢谢你，我宁愿待在这里。”
“噢，不行，这里没地方了。去做正事吧，你块头太大，当不了装饰物。你不是讨厌被系在女人的围裙上吗？”乔引用他自己的逆反言辞来反击他。
“啊，那要看是谁穿着这围裙！”劳里大胆地拧了一下穗子。
“你去不去？”乔喝问，跳起来直奔枕头。
他当即逃开，刚刚唱起“快活邓迪抬起帽子”，她就溜走了，没再露面，直到年轻人怒气冲冲地离开。
那天晚上，乔躺着久久不能入睡，正有点迷迷糊糊的时候，传来了强忍着的抽泣声，她冲到贝丝的床边，焦急地问：“出什么事儿啦，乖乖？”
“以为你睡着了呢。”贝丝哭泣着说。
“宝贝，是不是老毛病？”
“不，是新的，但我能忍受。”贝丝努力忍住泪水。
“详细跟我说说，让我来治，像我平常治那个毛病那样。”
“你治不了，没法治了。”贝丝控制不住自己。她抱着姐姐绝望地哭起来，乔被吓坏了。
“哪里疼？我去叫妈妈好吗？”
贝丝没有回答第一个问题，但是，黑暗中她一只手无意识地按住了胸口，好像就是那里疼，另一只手紧紧抱住乔。她急切地低声说道：“不，不，别叫她，别告诉。我一会儿就好，你躺下来，怜抚我的头，我会安静下来睡着的，真的。”
乔依从了，当她的手温柔地在贝丝滚烫的前额和沾满泪水的眼帘上来回抚摸的时候，心里有很多话想说出来。但是尽管她还年轻，却知道心灵就像花朵，不能粗暴地对待，而是要让它自然地绽放，所以，虽然她自信知道贝丝新伤痛的原因，但她只是用最柔和的声音说：“有什么事让你烦吗，乖乖？”
“是的，乔。”过了好一会儿，贝丝才回答说。
“把它说出来是不是会好受些？”
“不是现在，还没到时候。”
“那我就不问了，请记住，小贝丝，妈妈和我永远会很高兴听你的诉说，如果能帮助你，也肯定会帮的。”
“知道，慢慢会告诉你的。”
“现在疼痛好些了吧？”
“哦，是的，好多了，你真会安慰人，乔！”
“睡吧，乖乖。我在这儿陪着你。”
她们就这样脸贴着脸睡着了，到了次日早晨，贝丝似乎恢复了常态。十八岁的年龄，头疼心痛都持续不长，一句爱语可以跟大多数的病下药。
乔已经打定了主意，酝酿了几天之后，她向母亲透露了自己的计划。
“您那天问我有什么心愿。妈咪，现在就告诉您一个。”她们单独坐在一起时，乔开口了，“今年冬天我想到别的地方去，换个环境。”
“怎么了，乔？”母亲迅速抬起头，似乎乔的话里还有话。
乔一边埋头忙着手中的活儿，一边冷静地答道：“想做点新鲜事。我感到坐立不安，真想出去长点见识，增加才干。我自己的小事情盘算得太多了，需要活动一下。再说，今年冬天我没事做，想试着展翅飞翔一下，到不远的地方去。”
“要飞到哪里去？”
“去纽约。昨天我想到一个好主意，就是这个。你知道，柯克太太给您写过信，要找一个正派人教她的孩子学习，并做些针线活。要找适当的还真不那么容易，可我如果努力一下的话，还是合适的。”
“天哪，怎么会想到去那膳宿大公寓里做用人！”马奇太太满脸惊讶，可并非不开心。
“并不全是做用人。柯克太太是你的朋友——是天底下最善良的人——她会让我过得开心的，这我知道。她家和其他房间隔开，在那里没人认识我的。即使有人认识也没关系，又不是什么见不得人的事，我不用难为情。”
“我也不会。可你的写作呢？”
“换个环境，只会更好。能见识一些新东西，获得新灵感，即使那里空闲时间不多，回家的时候，也可以带回大批新素材，写我的那些垃圾。”
“我相信。你突然想起要走，就这原因吗？”
“不，妈妈。”
“还有其他什么原因，能告诉我吗？”
乔抬起头，可又低了下去，突然满脸通红，吞吞吐吐地说：“也许是我自我感觉良好，也许并不是这么回事，可——恐怕——劳里变得过于喜欢我了。”
“他开始喜欢你，这显而易见，难道你不喜欢他吗？”马奇太太满脸愁容地问。
“哎呀，当然！我一向都很喜欢这个可爱的男孩，为他感到非常自豪，可再要有什么，那是不可能的。”
“乔，真要这样，我很高兴。”
“为什么？求您告诉我。”
“因为，乖乖，你俩不般配。做朋友，你们会很开心，可能经常吵架，很快也就没事了。可我怕你们要是成为终身伴侣，两人就会对抗。你们太相像，太喜欢自由，且不提脾气暴躁、个性很强。你们在一起不可能幸福，婚姻不仅需要爱情，还需要无限的耐心和自制。”
“这正是我的感觉，虽然我表达不来。很高兴您也认为他刚刚开始喜欢我。让他不开心我会很难过的，但不能仅仅出于感激之情而爱上这个亲爱的老伙计，您说对吗？”
“你肯定他对你有这种感情吗？”
乔脸颊上的红晕更深了，她的神情很复杂，高兴、自豪、痛苦，女孩子谈起初恋情人时往往是这样。她回答说：“恐怕是的，妈妈。他没说过什么，但他的表情说明了很多。我想最好在这层纸捅破之前躲开。”
“同意。如果这样做行得通的话，你就去吧。”
乔松了口气，沉吟了一会儿，她笑着说：“莫法特太太要是知道了，会很奇怪您是怎么管教孩子的，她也会很高兴安妮仍然有希望。”
“哎，乔，母亲管教孩子的方法各不相同，但愿望是一样的，都希望看到孩子幸福啊。美格感到幸福，我很满意她的成功。你嘛，我让你去享受你的自由，直到有一天你厌倦了。只有到了那时候，你才会发现还有更甜蜜的东西。现在，我主要关心的是艾美，但她有见识，会应付裕如的。至于贝丝，我不奢望别的，只希望她身体好。顺便说说，她最近两天似乎快活点了。你跟她谈过了？”
“是的，她承认有点烦恼的事，答应慢慢告诉我。我没再说什么，我觉得我知道是什么了。”乔讲了这个小故事。
马奇太太摇摇头，并没把事情想得这么浪漫。她神情严肃，重申了自己的看法，为了劳里，乔应该离开一段时间。
“在计划落实下来以前，先不要告诉他。他还没回过神来，还来不及悲伤，我已经走了。贝丝肯定以为，我是为了过得开心才离开，其实也是这么回事。我不能对她说起劳里。可等我走后，她会安慰他的，替他消除浪漫的意识。这种小挫折他见得多了，也习惯了，很快就会摆脱失恋的痛苦。”
乔满怀希望地说着，可心中挥不去那不祥的预感。这次“小挫折”比其他的更难接受，劳里无法像以前那样轻松地摆脱“失恋”的痛苦。
家庭会议讨论并通过了这个计划。柯克太太欣然接受了乔，答应给她安排舒服的生活环境。家教够她自食其力，空闲时间还可以写作赚钱，新环境和新社交既对她的创作有用，又令人愉快。乔憧憬着纽约的日子，迫不及待地想出发，因为家在她看来已经太狭窄，鸟儿要出巢放飞其不平静的个性和冒险精神。一切准备就绪，她战战兢兢地去告诉劳里，但让她吃惊的是，他居然很平静地接受了。他最近比平常更严肃了，但很快乐。当大家开玩笑说，他要翻开新的一页重新做人时，他审慎地回答说：“是的，我要让这一页永远翻开着。”
乔感到很欣慰，劳里的美德心境来得正是时候，使得她能够轻轻松松地打点行装。而贝丝似乎也更高兴了，乔希望自己正在为所有的人尽力。
“有件事儿我要拜托你，你要特别关照。”出发前夜她说。
“你是说你的那些稿件？”贝丝问。
“不，是我的男孩。请你好好待他，可以吗？”
“当然，我会的，但我替代不了你，他会非常想念你的。”
“这伤不了他，所以别忘了，我把他交给你照看，烦扰他，宠爱他，管着他。”
“为了你，我会尽力的。”贝丝答应着，心里纳闷，乔为什么如此奇怪地看着她。
劳里说再见的时候，意味深长地低声说道：“这样做没有一点好处，乔。我的眼睛盯着你呢，所以你做事要小心，否则，我会赶过去把你带回家的。”
* * *
[1]英国诗人（1788—1824）。
CHAPTER 32 TENDER TROUBLES
CHAPTER 32 TENDER TROUBLES
“JO, I'M ANXIOUS ABOUT BETH.”
“Why, Mother, she has seemed unusually well since the babies came.”
“It's not her health that troubles me now, it's her spirits. I'm sure there is something on her mind, and I want you to discover what it is.”
“What makes you think so, Mother? ”
“She sits alone a good deal, and doesn't talk to her father as much as she used. I found her crying over the babies the other day. When she sings, the songs are always sad ones, and now and then I see a look in her face that I don't understand. This isn't like Beth, and it worries me.”
“Have you asked her about it? ”
“I have tried once or twice, but she either evaded my questions or looked so distressed that I stopped. I never force my children's confidence, and I seldom have to wait for long.”
Mrs. March glanced at Jo as she spoke, but the face opposite seemed quite unconscious of any secret disquietude but Beth's, and after sewing thoughtfully for a minute, Jo said, “I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to explain them. Why, Mother, Beth's eighteen, but we don't realize it, and treat her like a child, forgetting she's a woman.”
“So she is. Dear heart, how fast you do grow up, ” returned her mother with a sigh and a smile.
“Can't be helped, Marmee, so you must resign yourself to all sorts of worries, and let your birds hop out of the nest, one by one. I promise never to hop very far, if that is any comfort to you.”
“It's a great comfort, Jo. I always feel strong when you are at home, now Meg is gone. Beth is too feeble and Amy too young to depend upon, but when the tug comes, you are always ready.”
“Why, you know I don't mind hard jobs much, and there must always be one scrub in a family. Amy is splendid in fine works and I'm not, but I feel in my element when all the carpets are to be taken up, or half the family fall sick at once. Amy is distinguishing herself abroad, but if anything is amiss at home, I'm your man.”
“I leave Beth to your hands, then, for she will open her tender little heart to her Jo sooner than to anyone else. Be very kind, and don't let her think anyone watches or talks about her. If she only would get quite strong and cheerful again, I shouldn't have a wish in the world.”
“Happy woman! I've got heaps.”
“My dear, what are they? ”
“I'll settle Beth's troubles, and then I'll tell you mine. They are not very wearing, so they'll keep.” And Jo stitched away, with a wise nod which set her mother's heart at rest about her for the present at least.
While apparently absorbed in her own affairs, Jo watched Beth, and after many conflicting conjectures, finally settled upon one which seemed to explain the change in her. A slight incident gave Jo the clue to the mystery, she thought, and lively fancy, loving heart did the rest. She was affecting to write busily one Saturday afternoon, when she and Beth were alone together; yet as she scribbled, she kept her eye on her sister, who seemed unusually quiet. Sitting at the window, Beth's work often dropped into her lap, and she leaned her head upon her hand, in a dejected attitude, while her eyes rested on the dull, autumnal landscape. Suddenly some one passed below, whistling like an operatic blackbird, and a voice called out,“All serene! Coming in tonight.”
Beth started, leaned forward, smiled and nodded, watched the passer-by till his quick tramp died away, then said softly as if to herself, “How strong and well and happy that dear boy looks.”
“Hum! ” said Jo, still intent upon her sister's face, for the bright color faded as quickly as it came, the smile vanished, and presently a tear lay shining on the window ledge. Beth whisked it off, and glanced apprehensively at Jo, but she was scratching away at a tremendous rate, apparently engrossed in Olympia's Oath.The instant Beth turned,Jo began her watch again, saw Beth's hand go quietly to her eyes more than once, and in her half-averted face read a tender sorrow that made her own eyes fill. Fearing to betray herself, she slipped away, murmuring something about needing more paper.
“Mercy on me, Beth loves Laurie! ” she said, sitting down in her own room, pale with the shock of the discovery which she believed she had just made.“I never dreamed of such a thing.What will Mother say?I wonder if her—” there Jo stopped and turned scarlet with a sudden thought. “If he shouldn't love back again, how dreadful it would be. He must. I'll make him! ” And she shook her head threateningly at the picture of the mischievous-looking boy laughing at her from the wall.“Oh dear,we are growing up with a vengeance. Here's Meg married and a mamma, Amy flourishing away at Paris, and Beth in love. I'm the only one that has sense enough to keep out of mischief.” Jo thought intently for a minute with her eyes fixed on the picture, then she smoothed out her wrinkled forehead and said, with a decided nod at the face opposite, “No thank you, sir, you're very charming, but you've no more stability than a weathercock. So you needn't write touching notes and smile in that insinuating way, for it won't do a bit of good, and I won't have it.”
Then she sighed, and fell into a reverie from which she did not wake till the early twilight sent her down to take new observations, which only confirmed her suspicion. Though Laurie flirted with Amy and joked with Jo, his manner to Beth had always been peculiarly kind and gentle, but so was everybody's. Therefore, no one thought of imagining that he cared more for her than for the others. Indeed, a general impression had prevailed in the family of late that “our boy” was getting fonder than ever of Jo, who, however, wouldn't hear a word upon the subject and scolded violently if anyone dared to suggest it. If they had known the various tender passages which had been nipped in the bud, they would have had the immense satisfaction of saying, “I told you so.” But Jo hated “philandering, ” and wouldn't allow it, always having a joke or a smile ready at the least sign of impending danger.
When Laurie first went to college, he fell in love about once a month, but these small flames were as brief as ardent, did no damage, and much amused Jo, who took great interest in the alternations of hope, despair, and resignation, which were confided to her in their weekly conferences. But there came a time when Laurie ceased to worship at many shrines, hinted darkly at one all-absorbing passion, and indulged occasionally in Byronic fits of gloom. Then he avoided the tender subject altogether, wrote philosophical notes to Jo, turned studious, and gave out that he was going to“dig, ” intending to graduate in a blaze of glory. This suited the young lady better than twilight confidences, tender pressures of the hand, and eloquent glances of the eye, for with Jo, brain developed earlier than heart, and she preferred imaginary heroes to real ones, because when tired of them, the former could be shut up in the tin kitchen till called for, and the latter were less manageable.
Things were in this state when the grand discovery was made, and Jo watched Laurie that night as she had never done before. If she had not got the new idea into her head, she would have seen nothing unusual in the fact that Beth was very quiet, and Laurie very kind to her. But having given the rein to her lively fancy, it galloped away with her at a great pace, and common sense, being rather weakened by a long course of romance writing, did not come to the rescue. As usual Beth lay on the sofa and Laurie sat in a low chair close by, amusing her with all sorts of gossip, for she depended on her weekly “spin”, and he never disappointed her. But that evening Jo fancied that Beth's eyes rested on the lively, dark face beside her with peculiar pleasure, and that she listened with intense interest to an account of some exciting cricket match, though the phrases, “caught off a tice”,“stumped off his ground”, and “the leg hit for three” were as intelligible to her as Sanskrit. She also fancied, having set her heart upon seeing it, that she saw a certain increase of gentleness in Laurie's manner, that he dropped his voice now and then, laughed less than usual, was a little absent-minded, and settled the afghan over Beth's feet with an assiduity that was really almost tender.
“Who knows? Stranger things have happened, ” thought Jo, as she fussed about the room. “She will make quite an angel of him, and he will make life delightfully easy and pleasant for the dear, if they only love each other. I don't see how he can help it, and I do believe he would if the rest of us were out of the way.”
As everyone was out of the way but herself,Jo began to feel that she ought to dispose of herself with all speed. But where should she go? And burning to lay herself upon the shrine of sisterly devotion, she sat down to settle that point.
Now, the old sofa was a regular patriarch of a sofa—long, broad, well-cushioned, and low; a trifle shabby, as well it might be, for the girls had slept and sprawled on it as babies, fished over the back, rode on the arms, and had menageries under it as children, and rested tired heads, dreamed dreams, and listened to tender talk on it as young women. They all loved it, for it was a family refuge, and one corner had always been Jo's favorite lounging place. Among the many pillows that adorned the venerable couch was one, hard, round, covered with prickly horsehair, and furnished with a knobby button at each end. This repulsive pillow was her especial property, being used as a weapon of defense, a barricade, or a stern preventive of too much slumber.
Laurie knew this pillow well, and had cause to regard it with deep aversion, having been unmercifully pummeled with it in former days when romping was allowed, and now frequently debarred by it from the seat he most coveted next to Jo in the sofa corner. If “the sausage” as they called it, stood on end, it was a sign that he might approach and repose; but if it lay flat across the sofa, woe to man, woman, or child who dared disturb it! That evening Jo forgot to barricade her corner, and had not been in her seat five minutes, before a massive form appeared beside her, and with both arms spread over the sofa back, both long legs stretched out before him, Laurie exclaimed, with a sigh of satisfaction—
“Now,this is filling at the price.”
“No slang, ” snapped Jo, slamming down the pillow. But it was too late, there was no room for it, and coasting onto the floor, it disappeared in a most mysterious manner.
“Come, Jo, don't be thorny. After studying himself to a skeleton all the week, a fellow deserves petting and ought to get it.”
“Beth will pet you. I'm busy.”
“No, she's not to be bothered with me; but you like that sort of thing, unless you've suddenly lost your taste for it. Have you? Do you hate your boy, and want to fire pillows at him? ”
Anything more wheedlesome than that touching appeal was seldom heard, but Jo quenched “her boy” by turning on him with a stern query,“How many bouquets have you sent Miss Randal this week? ”
“Not one, upon my word. She's engaged. Now then.”
“I'm glad of it, that's one of your foolish extravagances—sending flowers and things to girls for whom you don't care two pins, ” continued Jo reprovingly.
“Sensible girls for whom I do care whole papers of pins won't let me send them ‘flowers and things', so what can I do? My feelings need a‘vent'.”
“Mother doesn't approve of flirting even in fun, and you do flirt desperately, Teddy.”
“I'd give anything if I could answer, ‘So do you.' As I can't, I'll merely say that I don't see any harm in that pleasant little game, if all parties understand that it's only play.”
“Well, it does look pleasant, but I can't learn how it's done. I've tried, because one feels awkward in company not to do as everybody else is doing, but I don't seem to get on, ” said Jo, forgetting to play mentor.
“Take lessons of Amy, she has a regular talent for it.”
“Yes, she does it very prettily, and never seems to go too far. I suppose it's natural to some people to please without trying, and others to always say and do the wrong thing in the wrong place.”
“I'm glad you can't flirt. It's really refreshing to see a sensible, straightforward girl, who can be jolly and kind without making a fool of herself. Between ourselves, Jo, some of the girls I know really do go on at such a rate I'm ashamed of them. They don't mean any harm, I'm sure, but if they knew how we fellows talked about them afterward, they'd mend their ways, I fancy.”
“They do the same, and as their tongues are the sharpest, you fellows get the worst of it, for you are as silly as they, every bit. If you behaved properly, they would, but knowing you like their nonsense, they keep it up, and then you blame them.”
“Much you know about it, ma'am, ” said Laurie in a superior tone.“We don't like romps and flirts, though we may act as if we did sometimes. The pretty, modest girls are never talked about, except respectfully, among gentleman. Bless your innocent soul! If you could be in my place for a month you'd see things that would astonish you a trifle. Upon my word, when I see one of those harum-scarum girls, I always want to say with our friend Cock Robin—
Out upon you, fie upon you,
Bold-faced jig! ”
It was impossible to help laughing at the funny conflict between Laurie's chivalrous reluctance to speak ill of womankind, and his very natural dislike of the unfeminine folly of which fashionable society showed him many samples. Jo knew that “young Laurence” was regarded as a most eligible parti by worldly mammas, was much smiled upon by their daughters, and flattered enough by ladies of all ages to make a coxcomb of him, so she watched him rather jealously, fearing he would be spoiled, and rejoiced more than she confessed to find that he still believed in modest girls. Returning suddenly to her admonitory tone, she said, dropping her voice,“If you must have a‘Went',Teddy,go and devote yourself to one of the ‘pretty, modest girls' whom you do respect, and not waste your time with the silly ones.”
“You really advise it? ” And Laurie looked at her with an odd mixture of anxiety and merriment in his face.
“Yes, I do, but you'd better wait till you are through college, on the whole, and be fitting yourself for the place meantime. You're not half good enough for—well, whoever the modest girl may be.” And Jo looked a little queer likewise, for a name had almost escaped her.
“That I'm not! ” acquiesced Laurie, with an expression of humility quite new to him, as he dropped his eyes and absently wound Jo's apron tassel round his finger.
“Mercy on us, this will never do.” thought Jo, adding aloud, “Go and sing to me. I'm dying for some music, and always like yours.”
“I'd rather stay here, thank you.”
“Well, you can't, there isn't room. Go and make yourself useful, since you are too big to be ornamental. I thought you hated to be tied to a woman's apron string? ” retorted Jo, quoting certain rebellious words of his own.
“Ah, that depends on who wears the apron! ” and Laurie gave an audacious tweak at the tassel.
“Are you going? ” demanded Jo, diving for the pillow.
He fled at once, and the minute it was well, “Up with the bonnets of bonnie Dundee, ” she slipped away to return no more till the young gentleman departed in high dudgeon.
Jo lay long awake that night, and was just dropping off when the sound of a stifled sob made her fly to Beth's bedside, with the anxious inquiry, “What is it, dear? ”
“I thought you were asleep, ” sobbed Beth.
“Is it the old pain, my precious? ”
“No, it's a new one, but I can bear it.” And Beth tried to check her tears.
“Tell me all about it, and let me cure it as I often did the other.”
“You can't, there is no cure.” There Beth's voice gave way, and clinging to her sister, she cried so despairingly that Jo was frightened.
“Where is it? Shall I call Mother? ”
“No, no, don't call her, don't tell her. I shall be better soon. Lie down here and ‘poor' my head. I'll be quiet and go to sleep, indeed I will.”
Jo obeyed, but as her hand went softly to and fro across Beth's hot forehead and wet eyelids, her heart was very full and she longed to speak. But young as she was, Jo had learned that hearts, like flowers, cannot be rudely handled, but must open naturally, so though she believed she knew the cause of Beth's new pain, she only said, in her tenderest tone, “Does anything trouble you, deary? ”
“Yes, Jo, ” after a long pause.
“Wouldn't it comfort you to tell me what it is? ”
“Not now, not yet.”
“Then I won't ask, but remember, Beth, that Mother and Jo are always glad to hear and help you, if they can.”
“I know it. I'll tell you by-and-by.”
“Is the pain better now? ”
“Oh, yes, much better, you are so comfortable, Jo.”
“Go to sleep, dear. I'll stay with you.”
So cheek to cheek they fell asleep, and on the morrow Beth seemed quite herself again, for at eighteen neither heads nor hearts ache long, and a loving word can medicine most ills.
But Jo had made up her mind, and after pondering over a project for some days, she confided it to her mother.
“You asked me the other day what my wishes were. I'll tell you one of them, Marmee, ” she began, as they sat along together. “I want to go away somewhere this winter for a change.”
“Why, Jo? ” And her mother looked up quickly, as if the words suggested a double meaning.
With her eyes on her work Jo answered soberly, “I want something new. I feel restless and anxious to be seeing, doing, and learning more than I am. I brood too much over my own small affairs, and need stirring up, so as I can be spared this winter, I'd like to hop a little way and try my wings.”
“Where will you hop? ”
“To New York. I had a bright idea yesterday, and this is it. You know Mrs. Kirke wrote to you for some respectable young person to teach her children and sew. It's rather hard to find just the thing, but I think I should suit if I tried.”
“My dear, go out to service in that great boardinghouse! ” And Mrs. March looked surprised, but not displeased.
“It's not exactly going out to service, for Mrs. Kirke is your friend—the kindest soul that ever lived—and would make things pleasant for me, I know. Her family is separate from the rest, and no one knows me there. Don't care if they do. It's honest work, and I'm not ashamed of it.”
“Nor I. But your writing? ”
“All the better for the change. I shall see and hear new things, get new ideas, and, even if I haven't much time there, I shall bring home quantities of material for my rubbish.”
“I have no doubt of it, but are these your only reasons for this sudden fancy? ”
“No, Mother.”
“May I know the others? ”
Jo looked up and Jo looked down, then said slowly, with sudden color in her cheeks. “It may be vain and wrong to say it, but—I'm afraid—Laurie is getting too fond of me.”
“Then you don't care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care for you? ” and Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question.
“Mercy, no! I love the dear boy, as I always have, and am immensely proud of him, but as for anything more, it's out of the question.”
“I'm glad of that, Jo.”
“Why, please? ”
“Because, dear, I don't think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love.”
“That's just the feeling I had, though I couldn't express it. I'm glad you think he is only beginning to care for me. It would trouble me sadly to make him unhappy, for I couldn't fall in love with the dear old fellow merely out of gratitude, could I? ”
“You are sure of his feeling for you? ”
The color deepened in Jo's cheeks as she answered, with the look of mingled pleasure, pride, and pain which young girls wear when speaking of first lovers, “I'm afraid it is so, Mother. He hasn't said anything, but he looks a great deal. I think I had better go away before it comes to anything.”
“I agree with you, and if it can be managed you shall go.”
Jo looked relieved, and after a pause, said, smiling, “How Mrs. Moffat would wonder at your want of management, if she knew, and how she will rejoice that Annie may still hope.”
“Ah, Jo, mothers may differ in their management, but the hope is the same in all—the desire to see their children happy. Meg is so, and I am content with her success. You I leave to enjoy your liberty till you tire of it, for only then will you find that there is something sweeter. Amy is my chief care now, but her good sense will help her. For Beth, I indulge no hopes except that she may be well. By the way, she seems brighter this last day or two. Have you spoken to her? '
“Yes, she owned she had a trouble, and promised to tell me by-and-by. I said no more, for I think I know it.” And Jo told her little story.
Mrs. March shook her head, and did not take so romantic a view of the case, but looked grave, and repeated her opinion that for Laurie's sake Jo should go away for a time.
“Let us say nothing about it to him till the plan is settled, then I'll run away before he can collect his wits and be tragic. Beth must think I'm going to please myself, as I am, for I can't talk about Laurie to her. But she can pet and comfort him after I'm gone, and so cure him of this romantic notion. He's been through so many little trials of the sort, he's used to it, and will soon get over his lovelornity.”
Jo spoke hopefully, but could not rid herself of the foreboding fear that this “little trial” would be harder than the others, and that Laurie would not get over his “lovelornity” as easily as heretofore.
The plan was talked over in a family council and agreed upon, for Mrs. Kirke gladly accepted Jo, and promised to make a pleasant home for her. The teaching would render her independent, and such leisure as she got might be made profitable by writing, while the new scenes and society would be both useful and agreeable. Jo liked the prospect and was eager to be gone, for the home nest was growing too narrow for her restless nature and adventurous spirit. When all was settled, with fear and trembling she told Laurie, but to her surprise he took it very quietly. He had been graver than usual of late, but very pleasant, and when jokingly accused of turning over a new leaf, he answered soberly, “So I am, and I mean this one shall stay turned.”
Jo was very much relieved that one of his virtuous fits should come on just then, and made her preparations with a lightened heart—for Beth seemed more cheerful—and hoped she was doing the best for all.
“One thing I leave in your especial care, ” she said, the night before she left.
“You mean your papers? ” asked Beth.
“No, my boy. Be very good to him, won't you? ”
“Of course I will, but I can't fill your place, and he'll miss you sadly.”
“It won't hurt him, so remember, I leave him in your charge, to plague, pet, and keep in order.”
“I'll do my best, for your sake, ” promised Beth, wondering why Jo looked at her so queerly.
When Laurie said good-by, he whispered significantly, “It won't do a bit of good, Jo. My eye is on you, so mind what you do, or I'll come and bring you home.”
