Boston, April 19th, 1840.—Forenoon.
Dearest, there came no letter from thee yesterday; and I have been a little disquieted1 with fears that thou art not well and art naughty enough to conceal2 it from thy husband. But this is a misdemeanor of which my Dove ought not to be lightly suspected. Or perhaps, ownest wife, thou didst imagine that I might mean to surprise thee by a visit, last evening, and therefore, instead of writing, didst hope to commune with me in living words. Best belovedest, if I could have come, I would have given thee notice beforehand; for I love not surprises, even joyful3 ones—or at least, I would rather that joy should come quietly, and as a matter of course, and warning us of its approach by casting a placid4 gleam before it. Mine own wife, art thou very well? Thy husband is so, only love-sick—a disease only to be cured by the pressure of a certain heart to his own heart.
Belovedest, what a beautiful day was yesterday. 179 Wert thou abroad in the sky and air? Thy husband's spirit did rebel against being confined in his darksome dungeon5, at the Custom-House; it seemed a sin—a murder of the joyful young day—a quenching6 of the sunshine. Nevertheless, there he was kept a prisoner,—till it was too late to fling himself on a gentle wind and be blown away into the country. I foresee, dearest, that thou wilt7, now that the pleasant days of May and June are coming, be tormented8 quite beyond thine infinite patience, with my groans9 and lamentations at being compelled to lose so much of life's scanty10 summertime. But thou must enjoy for both of us. Thou must listen to the notes of the birds, because the rumbling11 of wheels will be always in my ears—thou must fill thyself with the fragrance12 of wild flowers, because I must breathe in the dust of the city—thy spirit must enjoy a double share of freedom, because thy husband is doomed13 to be a captive. It is thine office now, most sweet wife, to make all the additions that may be made to our common stock of enjoyment14. By and bye, there shall not be so heavy burthen imposed upon thee. When I shall be again free, I will enjoy all things with the fresh simplicity15 of a child of five years old; thou shalt find thine husband grown young again, made over all anew—he 180 will go forth16 and stand in a summer shower, and all the worldly dust that has collected on him shall be washed away at once. Then, dearest, whenever thou art aweary, thou shalt lie down upon his heart as upon a bank of fresh flowers.
Nearly 6—P.M. Thy husband went out to walk, dearest, about an hour ago, and found it very pleasant, though there was a somewhat cool wind. I went round and across the common, and stood on the highest point of it, whence I could see miles and miles into the country. Blessed be God for this green tract17, and the view which it affords; whereby we poor citizens may be put in mind, sometimes, that all God's earth is not composed of brick blocks of houses, and of stone or wooden pavements. Blessed be God for the sky too; though the smoke of the city may somewhat change its aspect—but still it is better than if each street were covered over with a roof. There were a good many people walking on the mall, mechanicks apparently18 and shopkeepers' clerks, with their wives and sweethearts; and boys were rolling on the grass—and thy husband would have liked to lie down and roll too. Wouldst thou not have been ashamed of him? And, Oh, dearest, thou shouldst have been there, to help me to enjoy the green grass, and the far-off hills and fields—to 181 teach me how to enjoy them, for when I view Nature without thee, I feel that I lack a sense. When we are together, thy whole mind and fancy, as well as thy whole heart, is mine; so that all thy impressions from earth, sea, and sky, are added to all mine. How necessary hast thou made thyself to thy husband, my little Dove! When he is weary and out of spirits, his heart yearneth for thee; and when he is among pleasant scenes, he requireth thee so much the more.
My dearest, why didst thou not write to me, yesterday? It were always advisable, methinks, to arrange matters so that a letter may be sent on each Saturday, when I am not coming home; because Sunday leaves me free to muse19 upon thee, and to imagine the state and circumstances in which thou art—and the present Sunday I have been troubled with fancies that thou art ill of body or ill at ease in mind. Do not thou have any such foolish fancies about me, mine ownest. Oh, how we find, at every moment of our lives, that we ought always to be together! Then there would be none of these needless heartquakes; but now how can they be avoided, when we mutually feel that one-half our being is wandering away by itself, without the guidance and guard of the other half! Well; it will not be always so. Doubtless, 182 God has planned how to make us happy; but thy husband, being of a rebellious20 and distrustful nature, cannot help wishing sometimes that our Father would let him into His plans.
点击收听单词发音
1 disquieted | |
v.使不安,使忧虑,使烦恼( disquiet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 joyful | |
adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 dungeon | |
n.地牢,土牢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 quenching | |
淬火,熄 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 wilt | |
v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎;(指人)疲倦,衰弱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 groans | |
n.呻吟,叹息( groan的名词复数 );呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 rumbling | |
n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 doomed | |
命定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 tract | |
n.传单,小册子,大片(土地或森林) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |