Where was she?
She was just at home. She was in the old familiar wood, the entrance into which she could see from Johnnie’s window. No, there could be no mistake; there was the pool, its silky mantle1 of duckweed now glistening2 with ice. There, yes, there was the gate shaded by the gnarled elm, its branches like a candelabrum of snow.
It is the gate of the wood. Kitty flies along the path till she has reached it. She stands and looks. The dear old home picture is there before her. She sees the old village street, the sweet-stuff shop is just round the corner. There is the square tower of the church, covered with ivy3, and there is her home. Over its red-gabled 251roof the star is shining in a sky, yellow as a bed of cowslips. There is Johnnie’s window; the blue curtains are drawn4 across it. No one is stirring. There is no one in the garden; the house door is closed; the blinds are all down. Kitty looks fondly at the dear tranquil5 scene. It is like the loveliest dream. She feasts her eyes a moment upon it, then comes in her heart the question: “Am I in time? What secret does that blue-curtained window hide? Is Johnnie better or is he—”
Kitty tries to push open the gate. It is locked. She pulls at the latch6: she cannot lift it. She tries to climb over the gate: it seems to grow higher and higher. She cannot reach the top. Then she hammers with her little closed fists at the lock, pushing against it with all the strength of her body.
“Open, open!” she cries.
Will not some one come to open to her?
“Mother, mother!” again cries Kitty with all her might. Will no one open?
Yes, some one is coming. Is it her mother 252coming toward her across the meadow? It is a pale lady robed in white; and as her long fair mantle trails on the ground a flash of rainbow light glows a moment and then fades from the snow.
It is Love. Her face is bright and tender. 253Her gentle fingers are on the latch. The Christmas bells are ringing louder and louder.
A great joy seizes Kitty. She is in time! She is in time!
“Have you resisted all the temptations?” asks Love in her gentle searching voice. “Did you never once lose sight of the star? Did you never hurt your guardian7 child, or play with your naughty sprite?”
“If you say that you did everything that you should not have done, you will not see Johnnie, or hear anything about him. You will have to go back to Punishment Land,” mutters the sprite.
A cold fear seizes Kitty.
“Tell the truth!” whispers her guardian child.
“I must see Johnnie! Oh! I must see Johnnie! Open the gate!” cries Kitty.
“Did you resist the temptations?” asks Love again, her fingers remaining motionless on the latch.
“Do not answer—smile! That will seem good,” whispers the sprite.
254The idea strikes Kitty as a happy one. A smile is not telling a falsehood. She makes an effort as she broadens her lips into what looks like a grin; she thinks Love’s fingers are beginning to press the latch.
“The smile means a falsehood. Tell the truth!” whispers the guardian child.
“You have not answered!” again says Love’s voice.
“Open the gate,” entreats9 Kitty in anguish10. “Why are you called Love when you can stand there and not open the gate for me? I want to see Johnnie. I want to know if he is alive. Oh! it is Christmas morning. Open the gate, open the gate!”
Kitty has pushed her hands through the bars as she implores11. She has caught hold of Love’s fingers, and is trying to force her to push up the latch. But still the strong hands remain motionless.
“Answer!” repeats the gentle, relentless12 voice.
“Say, how could I have come so far to the end of the journey you set me if I had not obeyed?” muttered the sprite.
255Kitty draws a long breath. That seems a right thing to say. It is not false, for she is here at the journey’s end.
She begins, “How could I ha—” when she hears the guardian angel’s whisper:
“Evasion is falsehood. Tell the truth.” Then Kitty falls on her knees.
“Oh, why are you called Love,” she repeats, “when you are so severe? Why will you keep pressing me with questions? It is Christmas morning! Let me see Johnnie! Let me see Johnnie!”
But Love answers only: “The day is dawning. You must answer.”
“Answer truly!” whispers the guardian child. “Never mind what happens. Answer truly.”
Kitty puts her hands over her eyes, not to see that dear home-picture fade away, that curtained window vanish from her sight without knowing the secret that it hides concerning Johnnie.
“I loitered with every temptation,” she says very low but very clearly; “but my guardian 256child helped me to escape, till at last I struck it and drove it away. Then I lost sight of the star, and I played with my naughty sprite.” Kitty’s voice fails here, and with a sob13 she stretches herself down on the snow.
She hides her face. She will not see the mist of Punishment Land rise, and blot14 out that loved familiar scene. She closes her ears, not to hear the tramp of 257the restless feet, the sobbings and cries of the children there.
What sound pierces through the silence and reaches muffled15 through the hands pressed tightly against her ears? She removes them and listens. It is the sound of bells, Christmas bells. Louder and louder, clearer and clearer they ring. The happy chimes fill all the air. Somebody strokes her hair with a caressing16 touch, a voice whispers, “Good old Kitsy; good old Kitsy!”
Kitty looks up. It is her guardian child who is bending over her; with Johnnie’s eyes he looks at her; he is smiling; his wings sparkle; his rainbow dress is like woven fire; his hair shines like a tiny sun about his head.
“You have been out on Christmas Eve,” he whispers; “the night when all the goblins are abroad, when the good and evil spirits walk the earth. But it is the night when love is strongest, and keeps those safe who are true. Look! look! the night has passed; the holy morning has dawned, and you are home.”
“Home!” cries Kitty, starting to her feet.
258Yes, the familiar scene is still there—the old street, the dear red-roofed home, the window with the curtains drawn across it. The fog dims the scene no longer. Love is unseen; but the gate is standing17 open, wide open, and a great web of hoar-frost hangs on the latch. For a moment Kitty remains18 stupidly gazing. She cannot believe it. Then she runs past the gate out into the road uttering a loud cry, “Johnnie! Johnnie!”
Then again another cry, “Johnnie!”
It seems to her that a weak voice answers, “Kitty! Kitty!”
Does that faint voice come out of the star? Does it speak out of the sky to her?
Kitty looks up: her foot trips; she falls—not to the ground, but down, down, down, and still that voice tinkles19 in her ear, “Kitty! Kitty!” Then
“Kitty! Kitty! Merry Christmas, Kitty!” It was Johnnie’s voice.
A tiny face peeped down at her from white 259wrappings and shawls, laughing at her as from a hood8 of snow.
Yes, it was Johnnie—Johnnie wrapped up like an Esquimaux; wrapped out of all shape; a bundle of white wool in their mother’s arms.
She, too, was smiling down upon her little girl.
Kitty had fallen down, down, and while falling had lost all sense of everything except that 260voice, and now here she was back again in her own bed as if nothing had happened. Oh! what cannot Love do?
Kitty started up, and before she could say a word Johnnie was put into her arms, tucked up into the bed beside her, and their mother told her that Johnnie had slept through the night, and that he had turned the bad corner of his illness. “He begged so hard to be allowed to wake you up by calling out ‘Merry Christmas,’ I could not refuse him,” continued the mother, shedding tears of gladness. “Christmas Day has brought a blessing20.”
“Happy Christmas to everybody!” said their father, now putting his head into the room. He looked as if he would like to say something that would make everybody laugh. But instead of that he paused and said instead, in a very husky voice, “God bless little Johnnie!”
“That’s what I say,” cried nurse, whisking a tear away with the corner of her apron21. “I thought it was going to be the most miserable22 Christmas Day that ever was, but Johnnie getting 261better makes it as different—as different—as if this was a Christmas-box come down to this house from heaven.”
Just then who should begin to whistle but the bullfinch? His cage was in a dark corner, and at the sound of that unexpected note Johnnie clapped his tiny hands and crowed with delight. Kitty laughed and cried together. And if the bullfinch did not mean, by bursting into song at that moment, to say, “Happy Christmas to all the world, and God bless little Johnnie, and all the children in it!” I don’t know what it meant, and I give up guessing.
“Oh, Johnnie!” said Kitty in a whisper, when she was left alone with her little brother, “something wonderful happened last night. It is like a story.”
“Is it as wonderful as the story of the blue rose?” asked Johnnie in another whisper.
“E-ver, e-ver so much more wonderful! And it is true,” answered Kitty very low and with a nod that conveyed a great deal more than her words. “It was Christmas Eve. I went out, 262and all the goblins and the elves were out. I saw them and talked to them, but there was Love also taking care of everybody who tried to be good. It is the night when Love has most power, and I saw my guardian child, and my naughty self in the shape of a sprite, and—But hush23! some one is coming, and it is a secret.”
THE END
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收听单词发音
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1
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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2
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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3
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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4
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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5
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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6
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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7
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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8
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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9
entreats
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的第三人称单数 ) | |
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10
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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11
implores
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的第三人称单数 ) | |
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12
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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13
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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14
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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15
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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16
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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17
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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18
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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19
tinkles
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| 丁当声，铃铃声( tinkle的名词复数 )； 一次电话 | |
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20
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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21
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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22
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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23
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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