Poor Jo, these were dark days to her, for something like despair came over her when she thought of spending all her life in that quiet house, devoted5 to humdrum6 cares, a few small pleasures, and the duty that never seemed to grow any easier. "I can't do it. I wasn't meant for a life like this, and I know I shall break away and do something desperate if somebody don't come and help me," she said to herself, when her first efforts failed, and she fell into the moody7, miserable8 state of mind which often comes when strong wills have to yield to the inevitable9.
517 But some one did come and help her, though Jo did not recognize her good angels at once, because they wore familiar shapes, and used the simple spells best fitted to poor humanity. Often she started up at night, thinking Beth called her; and when the sight of the little empty bed made her cry with the bitter cry of an unsubmissive sorrow, "O Beth, come back! come back!" she did not stretch out her yearning10 arms in vain; for, as quick to hear her sobbing11 as she had been to hear her sister's faintest whisper, her mother came to comfort her, not with words only, but the patient tenderness that soothes12 by a touch, tears that were mute reminders13 of a greater grief than Jo's, and broken whispers, more eloquent14 than prayers, because hopeful resignation went hand-in-hand with natural sorrow. Sacred moments, when heart talked to heart in the silence of the night, turning affliction to a blessing15, which chastened grief and strengthened love. Feeling this, Jo's burden seemed easier to bear, duty grew sweeter, and life looked more endurable, seen from the safe shelter of her mother's arms.
When aching heart was a little comforted, troubled mind likewise found help; for one day she went to the study, and, leaning over the good gray head lifted to welcome her with a tranquil16 smile, she said, very humbly,—
"Father, talk to me as you did to Beth. I need it more than she did, for I'm all wrong."
"My dear, nothing can comfort me like this," he answered, with a falter17 in his voice, and both arms round her, as if he, too, needed help, and did not fear to ask it.
Jo and her father
Then, sitting in Beth's little chair close beside him, Jo told her troubles,—the resentful sorrow for her loss, the fruitless efforts that discouraged her, the want of faith that made life look so dark, and all the sad bewilderment which we call despair. She gave him entire confidence, he gave her the help she needed, and both found consolation18 in the act; for the time had come when they could talk together not only as father and daughter, but as man and woman, able and glad to serve each other with mutual19 sympathy as well as mutual love. Happy, thoughtful times there in the old study which Jo called "the church of one member," and from which she came with fresh courage, 518 recovered cheerfulness, and a more submissive spirit; for the parents who had taught one child to meet death without fear, were trying now to teach another to accept life without despondency or distrust, and to use its beautiful opportunities with gratitude20 and power.
Other helps had Jo,—humble21, wholesome22 duties and delights that would not be denied their part in serving her, and which she slowly learned to see and value. Brooms and dishcloths never could be as distasteful as they once had been, for Beth had presided over both; and something of her housewifely spirit seemed to linger round the little mop and the old brush, that was never thrown away. As she used them, Jo found herself humming the songs Beth used to hum, imitating Beth's orderly ways, and giving the little touches here and there that kept everything fresh and cosey, which was the first step toward making home happy, though she didn't know it, till Hannah said with an approving squeeze of the hand,—
"You thoughtful creter, you're determined23 we sha'n't miss that dear lamb ef you can help it. We don't say much, but we see it, and the Lord will bless you for't, see ef He don't."
519 As they sat sewing together, Jo discovered how much improved her sister Meg was; how well she could talk, how much she knew about good, womanly impulses, thoughts, and feelings, how happy she was in husband and children, and how much they were all doing for each other.
"Marriage is an excellent thing, after all. I wonder if I should blossom out half as well as you have, if I tried it?" said Jo, as she constructed a kite for Demi, in the topsy-turvy nursery.
"It's just what you need to bring out the tender, womanly half of your nature, Jo. You are like a chestnut-burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernel24, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart some day, and then the rough burr will fall off."
"Frost opens chestnut-burrs, ma'am, and it takes a good shake to bring them down. Boys go nutting, and I don't care to be bagged by them," returned Jo, pasting away at the kite which no wind that blows would ever carry up, for Daisy had tied herself on as a bob.
Meg laughed, for she was glad to see a glimmer25 of Jo's old spirit, but she felt it her duty to enforce her opinion by every argument in her power; and the sisterly chats were not wasted, especially as two of Meg's most effective arguments were the babies, whom Jo loved tenderly. Grief is the best opener for some hearts, and Jo's was nearly ready for the bag: a little more sunshine to ripen26 the nut, then, not a boy's impatient shake, but a man's hand reached up to pick it gently from the burr, and find the kernel sound and sweet. If she had suspected this, she would have shut up tight, and been more prickly than ever; fortunately she wasn't thinking about herself, so, when the time came, down she dropped.
Now, if she had been the heroine of a moral story-book, she ought at this period of her life to have become quite saintly, renounced27 the world, and gone about doing good in a mortified28 bonnet29, with tracts30 in her pocket. But, you see, Jo wasn't a heroine; she was only a struggling human girl, like hundreds of others, and she just acted out her nature, being sad, cross, listless, or energetic, as the mood suggested. It's highly virtuous31 to say we'll be good, but we can't do it all at once, and it takes a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together, before 520 some of us even get our feet set in the right way. Jo had got so far, she was learning to do her duty, and to feel unhappy if she did not; but to do it cheerfully—ah, that was another thing! She had often said she wanted to do something splendid, no matter how hard; and now she had her wish, for what could be more beautiful than to devote her life to father and mother, trying to make home as happy to them as they had to her? And, if difficulties were necessary to increase the splendor32 of the effort, what could be harder for a restless, ambitious girl than to give up her own hopes, plans, and desires, and cheerfully live for others?
Providence33 had taken her at her word; here was the task, not what she had expected, but better, because self had no part in it: now, could she do it? She decided34 that she would try; and, in her first attempt, she found the helps I have suggested. Still another was given her, and she took it, not as a reward, but as a comfort, as Christian35 took the refreshment36 afforded by the little arbor37 where he rested, as he climbed the hill called Difficulty.
"Why don't you write? That always used to make you happy," said her mother, once, when the desponding fit overshadowed Jo.
"I've no heart to write, and if I had, nobody cares for my things."
"We do; write something for us, and never mind the rest of the world. Try it, dear; I'm sure it would do you good, and please us very much."
"Don't believe I can;" but Jo got out her desk, and began to overhaul38 her half-finished manuscripts.
An hour afterward39 her mother peeped in, and there she was, scratching away, with her black pinafore on, and an absorbed expression, which caused Mrs. March to smile, and slip away, well pleased with the success of her suggestion. Jo never knew how it happened, but something got into that story that went straight to the hearts of those who read it; for, when her family had laughed and cried over it, her father sent it, much against her will, to one of the popular magazines, and, to her utter surprise, it was not only paid for, but others requested. Letters from several persons, whose praise was honor, followed the appearance of the little story, newspapers copied it, and strangers as well as friends admired it. For a small thing it was a great success; 521 and Jo was more astonished than when her novel was commended and condemned40 all at once.
"I don't understand it. What can there be in a simple little story like that, to make people praise it so?" she said, quite bewildered.
"There is truth in it, Jo, that's the secret; humor and pathos41 make it alive, and you have found your style at last. You wrote with no thought of fame or money, and put your heart into it, my daughter; you have had the bitter, now comes the sweet. Do your best, and grow as happy as we are in your success."
"If there is anything good or true in what I write, it isn't mine; I owe it all to you and mother and to Beth," said Jo, more touched by her father's words than by any amount of praise from the world.
So, taught by love and sorrow, Jo wrote her little stories, and sent them away to make friends for themselves and her, finding it a very charitable world to such humble wanderers; for they were kindly42 welcomed, and sent home comfortable tokens to their mother, like dutiful children whom good fortune overtakes.
When Amy and Laurie wrote of their engagement, Mrs. March feared that Jo would find it difficult to rejoice over it, but her fears were soon set at rest; for, though Jo looked grave at first, she took it very quietly, and was full of hopes and plans for "the children" before she read the letter twice. It was a sort of written duet, wherein each glorified43 the other in lover-like fashion, very pleasant to read and satisfactory to think of, for no one had any objection to make.
"You like it, mother?" said Jo, as they laid down the closely written sheets, and looked at one another.
"Yes, I hoped it would be so, ever since Amy wrote that she had refused Fred. I felt sure then that something better than what you call the 'mercenary spirit' had come over her, and a hint here and there in her letters made me suspect that love and Laurie would win the day."
"How sharp you are, Marmee, and how silent! You never said a word to me."
"Mothers have need of sharp eyes and discreet44 tongues when they have girls to manage. I was half afraid to put the idea into your head, lest you should write and congratulate them before the thing was settled."
522 "I'm not the scatter-brain I was; you may trust me, I'm sober and sensible enough for any one's confidante now."
"So you are, dear, and I should have made you mine, only I fancied it might pain you to learn that your Teddy loved any one else."
"Now, mother, did you really think I could be so silly and selfish, after I'd refused his love, when it was freshest, if not best?"
"I knew you were sincere then, Jo, but lately I have thought that if he came back, and asked again, you might, perhaps, feel like giving another answer. Forgive me, dear, I can't help seeing that you are very lonely, and sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart; so I fancied that your boy might fill the empty place if he tried now."
"No, mother, it is better as it is, and I'm glad Amy has learned to love him. But you are right in one thing: I am lonely, and perhaps if Teddy had tried again, I might have said 'Yes,' not because I love him any more, but because I care more to be loved than when he went away."
"I'm glad of that, Jo, for it shows that you are getting on. There are plenty to love you, so try to be satisfied with father and mother, sisters and brothers, friends and babies, till the best lover of all comes to give you your reward."
"Mothers are the best lovers in the world; but I don't mind whispering to Marmee that I'd like to try all kinds. It's very curious, but the more I try to satisfy myself with all sorts of natural affections, the more I seem to want. I'd no idea hearts could take in so many; mine is so elastic45, it never seems full now, and I used to be quite contented46 with my family. I don't understand it."
"I do;" and Mrs. March smiled her wise smile, as Jo turned back the leaves to read what Amy said of Laurie.
"It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me; he isn't sentimental47, doesn't say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don't seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble impulses and hopes and purposes, and am so proud to know it's mine. He says he feels as if he 'could make a prosperous 523 voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast.' I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant48 captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him, while God lets us be together. O mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be, when two people love and live for one another!"
"And that's our cool, reserved, and worldly Amy! Truly, love does work miracles. How very, very happy they must be!" And Jo laid the rustling49 sheets together with a careful hand, as one might shut the covers of a lovely romance, which holds the reader fast till the end comes, and he finds himself alone in the work-a-day world again.
By and by Jo roamed away upstairs, for it was rainy, and she could not walk. A restless spirit possessed50 her, and the old feeling came again, not bitter as it once was, but a sorrowfully patient wonder why one sister should have all she asked, the other nothing. It was not true; she knew that, and tried to put it away, but the natural craving51 for affection was strong, and Amy's happiness woke the hungry longing for some one to "love with heart and soul, and cling to while God let them be together."
Up in the garret, where Jo's unquiet wanderings ended, stood four little wooden chests in a row, each marked with its owner's name, and each filled with relics52 of the childhood and girlhood ended now for all. Jo glanced into them, and when she came to her own, leaned her chin on the edge, and stared absently at the chaotic53 collection, till a bundle of old exercise-books caught her eye. She drew them out, turned them over, and re-lived that pleasant winter at kind Mrs. Kirke's. She had smiled at first, then she looked thoughtful, next sad, and when she came to a little message written in the Professor's hand, her lips began to tremble, the books slid out of her lap, and she sat looking at the friendly words, as if they took a new meaning, and touched a tender spot in her heart.
"Wait for me, my friend. I may be a little late, but I shall surely come."
"Oh, if he only would! So kind, so good, so patient with me always; my dear old Fritz, I didn't value him half enough when I had 524 him, but now how I should love to see him, for every one seems going away from me, and I'm all alone."
And holding the little paper fast, as if it were a promise yet to be fulfilled, Jo laid her head down on a comfortable rag-bag, and cried, as if in opposition54 to the rain pattering on the roof.
Jo laid her head on a comfortable rag-bag and cried
Was it all self-pity, loneliness, or low spirits? or was it the waking up of a sentiment which had bided55 its time as patiently as its inspirer? Who shall say?
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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humdrum
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| adj.单调的，乏味的 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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soothes
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| v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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kernel
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| n.(果实的)核，仁；(问题)的中心，核心 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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ripen
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renounced
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| v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
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mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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arbor
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| n.凉亭；树木 | |
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overhaul
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| v./n.大修，仔细检查 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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bided
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| v.等待，停留( bide的过去式 )；居住；等待；面临 | |
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