There were, as the two boats came together, shouts and joyous1 cries and a quick interchange of crews. Dora was in the arms of father and mother. Laughter and tears—the tears of strong emotion—were intermingled with incoherent sobs2. Feelings were beyond the power of human language.
It was then, in the midst of all this, that Master John Rieler, filled with an enthusiasm which could no longer be bottled up, mounted the prow3 of the boat, of which he had that day been the happy engineer, and raising his cap aloft, bellowed4 at the top of his voice:
“Three cheers for——” But John did not finish this splendid sentence, and to this day no one knows for whom he intended the signal honor; for, happening to wave his cap wildly with these opening words, he lost his balance, and plumped into the water.
“Oh!” cried Mr. Benton, pulling off his coat.
“Stay where you are,” called the grinning Rector. “Don’t hurt Rieler’s feelings. To go to his help would be less sensible than carrying coals to Newcastle.”
John rose just then, and, shaking his locks, smiled graciously at the crews of the two boats.
“We don’t want you,” said the Rector.
“Thank you, Father,” John made grateful answer, and once more sank for a long, delicious dive. And thus did the youth continue to disport5 himself while huggings were renewed and Babel continued beside him.
“But, Father,” said Will Benton, “what I can’t understand is this! Dora was lost; after two weeks her body was recovered and she was buried in her coffin6 from our church.”
“You saw the coffin, Will?”
“Yes, Father.”
“But did you see Dora in it?”
“No, Father; you told us she was disfigured and bloated from being so long in the water; and you said we were not to see her.”
“Exactly. The facts are these: On one day, fourteen bodies of the flood victims were recovered. Very soon all were identified except that of a girl dressed in a white dress with a blue sash. I went to view the body, and really couldn’t make up my mind whether it was Dora’s, or not. Everybody insisted that it must be Dora. In the meantime, your mother was so broken-hearted by anxiety that it looked as if she would lose her mind. It occurred to me that even the recovery of the body and the Holy Mass over it would set her at rest, so I took the benefit of the doubt, and allowed the corpse7 in white and blue to be buried as though it were Dora’s. But mind, I never said it was Dora. I allowed the others to do that without contradicting them; and also my intention in having that Mass offered was that if Dora were alive, the Mass should go to the poor abandoned child who took her place.”
“Do you see,” said Dora, “how good our Blessed Mother is? That little girl because she was in blue and white got a Mass and Christian8 burial.”
“Hey, John Rieler,” called the Rector fifteen minutes later, “haven’t you had enough swimming yet?”
“If it’s all the same to you, Father Rector, I’d like to swim home.” John, while disporting9 in the water, had taken off his shoes and thoughtfully aimed them at the head of the admiring and envious10 Clarence.
“It isn’t all the same to me,” responded the Rector. “Here, give me your hand. Now suppose we start.”
And as they spun11 homeward, Dora told her wondering parents the tale of four months on the open road.
“And,” concluded the child, “when I think of dear Ben, who died a saint, and of Dorcas and her children, who join the Church tomorrow, and of Clarence who is going to join——”
“You bet I am,” Clarence broke in from the other boat.
“I can’t say that I am sorry.”
“To those who love God all things work together unto good,” quoted Father Keenan.
“And when I recall,” said Mr. Benton catching12 Dora by the arms and beaming with joy and gratitude13 as he looked upon her radiant face, “how four months ago, you were pale, anaemic, and sentenced by the doctor to death within a few months——”
“What!” gasped14 Will.
“Yes; sentenced to death. The doctor said the child had no sort of constitution.”
“That doctor was loony,” said Rieler indignantly. “You ought to see her run. Those fawns15 you read about in poetry books haven’t anything on her.”
“I should say not,” added Clarence no less indignantly. “You should have seen her skipping up Pictured Rocks Hill. She never lost her wind, never turned a hair, and she’s as sure-footed as a chamois.”
“All the same,” said the happy father, “the doctor was right. He was a specialist and knew his business. He told me to keep her in the open as much as possible; he told me so the very day before the gypsies ran away with her. For four months she has lived the life the doctor prescribed—and lived it, I rather think, more abundantly than had she lived at home. Now, look at her. She is the picture of health.”
“She’s the picture of something more than health,” whispered Clarence into the ear of her big brother. “Do you remember those lines of Wordsworth:
“‘And beauty horn of murmuring sound
?Shall pass into her face’?”
“I don’t read much poetry,” admitted Will Benton.
“Well, I’ve often thought of those lines in regard to Dora, only I make them read:
“‘And beauty born of heavenly thought
Hath passed into her face.’
Good old Ben said she was an angel. If she isn’t she is, as the gentlemanly druggists say, ‘something just as good.’”
“Beware of imitations,” said John Rieler.
Whereupon to the manifest discomfort16 of those in the boat, John and Clarence set playfully to punching each other.
“Well,” sighed Clarence, as he jumped from the boat at the Campion landing, “now for a quiet hour before going to bed.”
“Don’t forget supper,” said John.
“I don’t; but that is a quiet affair.”
“All the same,” continued John, “I’m going to keep near you. If anything happens, I want to be around.”
Then came Dora with her father and mother to greet Clarence; and the child, as she introduced him, made such comments on their short but lovely acquaintance as caused Clarence to blush to the roots of his hair.
“Remember, Clarence,” said Mr. Benton, “that our home is yours, day or night, winter or summer, in any year, in any season. God sent you to our little girl.”
“I think,” said Clarence modestly, “that it was, the other way around. God sent Dora to me. It’s made me—different. Everything I see and hear now I see and hear from a different angle—and a better one.”
As they walked up toward the college, Clarence, ably assisted by the eager John Rieler, pointed17 out their path of progress toward Campion on his first arrival. He was at pains to expatiate18 on John’s delicacy19 as to introducing him personally to the Rector.
“It wasn’t so very wrong, anyhow,” said Rieler.
“Didn’t God send me to save Clarence from drowning?”
“Don’t reason that way,” remonstrated20 Will Benton, whose reputation as a student of logic21 was not brilliant only because his prowess on the athletic22 field blinded the boys to what were in their eyes less shining qualities, “Out of evil God draws good; he took occasion of your breaking the rule to save Clarence’s life.”
“I’m beginning,” said Clarence solemnly, “to lose all faith in the bright-eyed goddess of adventure. As Betsy Prigg said of Sairey Gamp’s Mrs. Harris, I don’t believe there ain’t no sich a person.”
“What are you talking about now?” asked Rieler. “Who’s Betsy Prigg? Who’s Sairey Gamp? Who’s Mrs. Harris? The bright-eyed goddess has gone to your head, and placed a few bats in your belfry.”
“John Rieler,” said Clarence, “at your age you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You ought to know your Dickens. Read Martin Chuzzlewit, and start tonight.”
“No,” continued Clarence, “I disavow here and now, forever and forever, the squint-eyed goddess of adventure. I thought I was in her hands; but now I firmly believe that all along I was in the loving hands of God.”
Father Keenan, who had preceded the party, was now seen coming down the steps of the faculty23 building. He was doing his best to carry off his Indian immobility of face, but with partial success.
“Clarence,” he cried, “come here.”
“Another adventure,” said Rieler.
Clarence turned deathly pale. Something had happened—something serious.
“Oh, Father, what is it?” he cried running to the side of the Rector.
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收听单词发音
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1
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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4
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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disport
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| v.嬉戏，玩 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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8
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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9
disporting
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| v.嬉戏，玩乐，自娱( disport的现在分词 ) | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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15
fawns
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| n.（未满一岁的）幼鹿( fawn的名词复数 )；浅黄褐色；乞怜者；奉承者v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的第三人称单数 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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expatiate
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| v.细说，详述 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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