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 Bethy'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 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 mamas, 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 'vent', 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, Bethy, 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 boarding house!" 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."

 

“乔，我为贝思着急。”

“为什么，妈妈？自从有了那两个孩子，她身体似乎比往日好。”“现在我担心的不是她的身体，而是她的情绪。我肯定她有心事。我要你去弄清楚是怎么回事。”“是什么让你这样想的，妈妈？”“她常常一个人坐在那里，不像原先那样常和你爸说话。

她唱歌总唱悲哀的歌。脸上的神情也时常让我捉摸不透。这不像贝思，我真担心。”“你可问过她？”“我试过一两次，可是她要么回避，要么显得很难过，我只好不问。我从不强迫我的孩子们向我吐露心事。我也极少要等很长时间，她们会告诉我的。”马奇太太一边说着，一边扫视着乔。但是对面那张脸上的表情似乎完全不知道贝思的心事。乔若有所思地做了会针线，然后说：“我想她是长大了，开始做梦了，她希望着，担心着，又烦躁不安，她不知道为什么，也没法儿解释。哎呀，妈，贝思已经十八岁了，我们却没有意识到。我们忘了她是个女人，还把她当孩子待。”“可不是嘛，亲爱的宝贝们，你们那么快就长大了。”妈妈笑着又叹了一口气。

“妈咪，这可是没办法的事。所以您就别操那样的烦心事了，让你的小鸟们一只接一只地飞出去吧。我保证我不会飞得很远的，如果那样能使你得到安慰的话。“那真让人宽慰，乔。现在梅格出了门，只要你在家，我总感到有力量。贝思太虚弱，艾美太年轻，依靠不上她们。可是每逢有苦活重活，你都能帮我一把。”“哎呀，你知道我不太在乎干重活的。一个家总得有一个擦擦洗洗的人。艾美擅长做精美的艺术品，而我不行。可要是家里的地毯都需要清理，或者家里有一半人同时生了病，我便感到适得其所。艾美在国外干得很出色。假如家里出了什么事，我就是你的帮手。”“那我就把贝思交给你了，因为，她会最先向她的乔敞开她小小的柔弱的心房。要非常友善，别让她以为别人在观察她，谈论她。只要她能重新强健起来，愉快起来，我什么也不希求了。”“幸福的女人！我也有一大堆烦恼。”“亲爱的，什么烦恼？”“我先解决好贝思的烦心事，然后再把我的告诉你。我的不是太烦人，随它去吧。”乔贤慧地点点头，继续缝着。这使妈妈至少在目前不为她担忧了。

乔表面上忙于自己的事，暗中却在观察着贝思。她作出许多推测，又一一推翻，最后她拿准了一种，似乎能解释贝思的变化。她认为，是一件小事为她提供了解开秘密的线索，剩下的则是由活跃的想象和一颗爱心去解决的。那是一个星期六的下午，她和贝思单独在一起。她假装忙着写东西，可是她一边胡乱写着，一边注意着贝思。贝思看上去很安静。她坐在窗口，针线活不时掉到膝盖上，也不在意，她情绪低落地用手抚着头，目光停留在窗外萧索的秋色上。忽然，有人像爱唱歌的画眉一样吹着口哨从窗下走过，然后便听到一个声音：“一切都好，我今晚来！”贝思一惊，她倾过身子，微笑着点点头，注视着这个过路人，直到他急促的脚步声消失。然后她自言自语般地轻声说：“那可爱的男孩看上去多么健壮，多么快乐啊！”“呀！”乔仍然目不转睛地看着妹妹的脸。那张脸上的红晕来得快去得也快，笑容也没了，一转眼，窗台上滴上了一滴闪光的泪珠。贝思赶忙将它擦去，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》。可是贝思一转头，乔又开始注意她，她看到贝思不止一次地轻轻用手擦眼睛，从贝思半偏的脸上乔察觉到一种动人的哀婉，乔的眼泪也涌出来了。她担心让贝思看见，便嘟囔着还需要些纸，赶紧走开了。

“我的天哪，贝思爱上了劳里！”她在自己房里坐下，为她刚才的发现惊得面色发白。”我做梦也没想到过这种事。妈妈会怎么说呢？我不知道他- "乔打住话头，她突然想起什么，脸红了。”要是他也不爱她，会是多么可怕啊！他一定得爱贝思，我得让他这么做！”她威胁地朝墙上劳里的照片摇了摇头。” 哦，天啊，我们已经完全长大了。梅格结了婚做了妈妈，艾美在巴黎活跃非凡，贝思在恋爱，只有我一个人还有足够的理智不胡闹。”乔盯着照片专心致志地想了一会儿，然后她抚平额上的皱纹，坚定地朝对面墙上的那张脸点点头说道：“不，谢谢你，先生。你是很迷人，但是，你和风向标一样不稳定，随风倒。你不必写那些动人的纸条，也不用那样令人肉麻地微笑。一点用处没有，我可不要那些。”然后，她又叹息着，陷入了沉思，直到薄暮时分才回过神来，下了楼再去观察，结果更证实了她的猜测。虽然劳里和艾美嬉闹，和乔开玩笑，但她对贝思的态度总是特别友善、亲切，可每个人对贝思都是这样的呀，所以没人想到过劳里对贝思比对其他人更关心。确实，这些天全家人普遍感到"我们的男孩"越来越喜欢乔了，而乔对此事一个字也不愿听，假如谁胆敢提及，她就怒骂谁。要是家人知道过去一年里他俩之间说过种种甜言蜜语，或者，想说些甜言蜜语却无法出口，他们必定会非常满意地说：“和你这样说过吧？”然而乔讨厌"调情"，不允许有这种事情。她随时准备着一个笑话或一个微笑，要把方露端倪、迫在眉睫的危险应付过去。

劳里去上大学的时候，大概每月恋爱一次。但是这些小小的恋火燃烧得炽烈却短暂，没起什么坏作用，也让乔感到很好笑。每个星期她和劳里会面时，劳里都向她倾诉。他情绪反复无常，先是希望，继而绝望，最后放弃，乔对这很感兴趣。然而劳里曾一度不再崇拜众多偶像了，他隐约地暗示出一种专心一意的热情，偶尔又处于一阵阵拜伦式的忧郁心境中。后来他又完全避开柔情的话题。他给乔写冷静的便条，变得用起功来。他宣称打算"钻研"了，要以优异的成绩非常荣光地毕业。较之黄昏时分的交心，温柔的手拉手，意味深长的眼色，劳里这些变化更适合这个年轻的女士。因为，对乔来说，头脑比感情成熟得早些。她更喜欢想象中的英雄，而不是真实的英雄。厌倦了他们时，她可以把想象中的英雄关到她那蹩脚的灶间，需要时再让他出来。可是真实的英雄却不好对付。

当乔有了那个重大发现时，情况就是这样。那天晚上，乔以从来没有过的神情注视着劳里。要是她脑中没有这个新的想法，她就不会从贝思很安静，而劳里待她很客气这个事实中发现异样。然而，她让活跃的想象自由发挥，任其飞奔。由于长期写作浪漫传奇，她的常识减弱了，帮不上忙。像往常一样，贝思躺在沙发上，劳里坐在旁边的一张低椅子上，对她天南海北地吹着，逗她，贝思依赖这种每周的"故事"，他也从不让她失望。可是，那天晚上，乔总觉得贝思带着特别快乐的神情，眼睛盯着身旁那张充满生气的黝黑的面孔。她带着极大的兴趣听他讲述一些激动人心的板球赛，虽然那些语句"截住一个贴板球"、"击球员出局"、“一局中三球" 对她像梵语一样高深。乔全神贯注地观察他俩，认为劳里的态度更加亲切了。他有时放低声音，笑得比往常少，还有点心不在焉。他殷勤地用软毛毯盖住贝思的脚，那可真算是至柔之情。

“谁知道呢？更奇怪的事已发生了，”乔在屋子里东转西转地这样想着，“只要他们相爱，她将把他变得相当可爱，他会使他亲爱的人儿生活得舒适、愉快。我看他会这么做的，我真的相信，如果我们其他人不挡道，他会的。”由于除了她以外，没有人在挡道，乔开始感到她应该尽快给自己找个位置。可是她到哪儿去呢？她怀着热情炽烈的姐妹之情，坐下来解决这个问题。

眼下，那张旧沙发成了公认的沙发鼻祖--又长，又宽，填充得饱满，低低的，有点破，也该破了。姑娘们还是婴孩的时候在上面睡觉，躺卧。孩提时，她们在沙发背后掏过东西，也骑过沙发扶手，还把沙发底部当过动物园。长大成小妇人，她们又将疲乏的脑袋靠在上面休息，她们坐在沙发上做着梦，听着柔情绵绵的谈话。大家都爱这张沙发，它是家庭的避难所。沙发的一角一直是乔最喜欢的休息位置。这张历史悠久的长沙发上有许多枕头，其中一个又硬又圆，用有点刺人的马毛呢包住，两头各钉了钮扣，这个叫人不舒服的枕头倒是乔的特殊财产，她用它作防御武器，用它设障，用它严格地防止过多的睡眠。

劳里对这个枕头很熟悉，他完全有理由十分讨厌它。以前允许他们顽皮嬉闹时，他被枕头无情地痛击过。现在他非常渴求能坐在沙发这一角乔的身边，可是枕头经常挡道。假如他们所称的这个"腊肠球"竖起来放着，这就是暗示他可以接近。但是假如枕头平放在沙发中间，谁还敢去烦她！不管是大人还是小孩，男人还是女人，都得倒霉。那天晚上，乔忘了把她的角落堵住，她在沙发上坐下来还不到五分钟，身旁就出现了个巨大的身体，两只胳膊平放在沙发背上，两条长腿伸在前面。劳里心满意足地叹了口气，叫道- “哎唷，坐这位子可真不容易。”“别说俏皮话，”乔厉声说。她砰地丢下枕头，可是太晚了，枕头没地方放了。枕头滑落到地上，非常神秘地不知滚到哪里去了。

“喂，乔，别那样满身长刺。整整一星期人家苦苦学习，弄得骨瘦如柴。他配得到爱抚，也应该得到爱抚。”“贝思会爱抚你的，我忙着呢。”“不，她不会让我烦她的。而你喜欢，除非你突然没了兴致，是不是？你恨你的男孩子吗？想用枕头砸他？”她从未听过比这更有诱惑力的动人的恳求。然而，她扑灭了"她的男孩"的热情，转向他严厉地问道：“这星期你送给兰德尔小姐多少束花？”“一束也没送，我保证。她已经订了婚，怎么样？”“我很高兴，那可是你的一种愚蠢的放纵行为 -送花和礼物给那些你根本不在乎的女孩们，”乔责备地接着说。

“可是我很在乎的女孩子们却不让我送'花和礼物'，我能怎么办呢？我的感情得有所寄托。”“妈妈不允许谈情说爱，哪怕是闹着玩也不行。特迪，你太过分了。“要是我能说：' 你也这样，'我愿放弃一切。可你不是这样。我只能说，假如大家都懂得那只是一种游戏，我看这种令人愉快的小节目没什么危害。”“是的，看上去是令人愉快，可是这个游戏我学不会，我试过，因为大家在一起时，要是不能和别人一样，那挺让人尴尬。不过，我似乎没什么进步。”乔已忘记她指导人的角色。

“向艾美学着点，她在这方面颇具才能。”“是的。她做得很不错，似乎从不过分。我想，对一些人来说，不用学自然就能讨人喜欢，另一些人总是不分场合说错话，办错事。”“很高兴你不会调情。一个聪明的、坦率的姑娘真是让人耳聪目明。她快乐、和善却不闹笑话。乔，别对人讲，我认识的一些女孩子太疯了，我都为她们不好意思。她们肯定没有恶意，但是，如果她们知道我们男孩子背后是怎么议论她们的，我想，她们会改正的。”“男孩子们一样疯。你们的舌头最刻薄，因此失败的通常是你们，而且你们和女孩子一样傻，完全一样。要是你们举止得体，女孩们也会这样，可是她们知道你们喜欢听她们的疯话，她们也就这样说。可你们反过来又责备人家。”“你懂得可真不少，小姐，”劳里超然地说，”我们不喜欢嬉闹、调情，尽管我们有时表现出喜欢的样子。我们从不议论漂亮、其实的女孩子，除非男士们之间怀着尊敬谈起她们。

天哪，你这么天真无邪！你若是处在我的位置一个月，就会看到一些使你有点吃惊的事。我保证，我看到那种轻率的女孩，总想和我们的朋友科克·罗宾说 “滚，去你的！

不要脸的东西！”

劳里这种滑稽而又相互矛盾的态度令人忍俊不禁。一方面他骑士般地不愿说女性的坏话；另一方面他又很自然地讨厌不娴淑的愚行，在上流社会他看到了许多这样的例子。乔知道，”年轻的劳伦斯"被世俗的母亲们当作最适当的嫁女对象，他也颇得女孩子们的欢心。他还备受老少女士们的宠爱，使他成了个花花公子。所以，乔相当忌妒地注意着他，担心他被宠坏。当她发现他仍然喜欢其实的女孩子时，倒掩饰不住内心的高兴。她突然又用起了忠告的语调，放低声音说： “假如你非要有个'寄托'的话，特迪，就全心全意去爱一个你确实尊重的'漂亮、其实'的女孩吧，别把时间花在那些傻姑娘们身上。”“你真这么建议？”劳里看着她，脸上的表情奇怪、复杂，又是焦急又是高兴。

“是的，我是这么建议的。但是，你得等到大学毕业。总之，在这之前你得使自己适合那个位置。你现在还不够好，一半都不配--嗯，不管那其实的女孩是谁。“乔看上去也有点怪，因为她差点脱口说出一个名字。

“我是不配！”劳里承认了，他脸上谦恭的表情以前不曾有过。他垂下眼睛，心不在焉地用手指缠绕着围裙上的流苏。

“啊呀，我的天哪！这绝对不行！”乔想。她大声接着说：“去唱歌给我听，我想听死了，特别是听你唱。”“谢谢，我宁愿呆在这里。”“嗯，不行，这里没地方了。去干些有用的事吧。你太大了，不能做装饰品。我想你也讨厌给系在女人的围裙带上吧？”乔还击他，引用了劳里自己说过的一些反抗的话。

“噢，那要看围裙由谁系着！”劳里鲁莽地用力一拉围裙。

“你走不走？”乔问，她伸手去拿枕头。

他赶紧逃跑，开始唱起"活泼的邓迪骑上马"，她便溜走了。直到年轻的先生怒气冲天地离开，她也没再露面。

那天夜里，乔躺着久久不能入眠，刚要睡着，就听见闷声的哭泣。她飞跑到贝思床边，急切地问道：“怎么啦，亲爱的？”“我还以为你睡着了呢，”贝思抽泣着说。

“是不是老地方疼，我的宝贝？”

“不是的，是新出现的，但是我能受得住，”贝思忍着泪说。

“跟我说说，让我来治，像我常治别的毛病那样。”“你治不了，没治了。”说到这里，贝思忍不住哭出声来。

她搂着姐姐，绝望地大哭着，把乔给吓坏了。

“哪儿疼？我去叫妈妈好吗？”

贝思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。她急切地低低说道：“别，别去叫她，别去叫她。我一会儿就好。

你在这里躺下，摸摸我'可怜'的脑袋吧。我会平静下来睡着的，我会的。”乔照着她的话做了。但是，她用手轻轻地来回抚摸着贝思滚烫的额头和潮湿的眼睑时，心中似有千言万语，极想说出来。可是，虽然乔还年轻，她已经懂得心灵和花朵一样，不能粗暴对待，得让其自然开放。所以，尽管她相信自己知道贝思新的痛苦的原因，她还是用亲切的语调说：“你有烦恼，宝贝儿，是不是？”“是的，乔，”沉默了好长一会儿，贝思答道。

“把它告诉我会让你好受些吗？”

“现在还不能告诉你，现在不行。”

“那我就不问了。但请记住，小贝思，假如能够，妈妈和乔总会高兴地听你诉说烦恼，帮助你。”“我知道，将来我会告诉你的。”“现在痛苦好些了吗？”“是的，好多了。乔，你真会安慰人。”“睡吧，亲爱的，我和你在一起睡。”于是，她们脸贴着脸地睡着了。第二天，贝思看上去又恢复了正常。处在十八岁的年龄，头疼、心疼都持续不长，一个爱的字眼便可医治大部分的痛苦。

然而，乔已打定了主意，她把一个计划考虑了几天后跟妈妈谈了。

“前些天你问我有些什么想法，我来告诉你其中一个吧，”当她和妈妈单独在一起时，她开口说道，”今年冬天我想离家到别处换换环境。”“为什么，乔？”妈妈迅速抬起眼，仿佛这句话暗示着双重含义。

乔眼睛不离手中的活计，认真地说：“我想有点新鲜的事情，我感到烦躁不安，我要比现在多见点世面，多做点事情，多学点东西。我过多沉缅于自己的小事上了，需要活动活动。

今年冬天没什么事需要我，因此我想飞到不太远的地方，试试我的翅膀。”“你往哪里飞呢？”“往纽约飞，昨天我想到一个好主意，是这样的，你知道，柯克太太写过信给你，问有没有品行端正的年轻人愿意教她的孩子并帮着缝缝补补。要找到合适的相当不容易，但我想假如我去试试，我会适合干那工作的。”“我的天哪！到那个大公寓去做仆人！”马奇太太好像很惊奇，但并非不快。

“那并不完全是做仆人，因为柯克太太是你的朋友--那可是天底下最和善的人啊 -她会使我感到愉快的，我知道。

她家和外界隔开了，那里也没人认识我，就是认识，我也不在乎。这是个正正派派的工作，我不以为耻。”“我也是这样看，可你的写作呢？”“变换一下环境对写作更有好处。我会接受新的事物，产生新的想法。即使我在那儿呆不久；我也会带回来许许多多的材料写我那些拙劣的东西。”“我毫不怀疑。这是不是你突然要走的唯一原因？”“不，妈妈。”“能让我知道别的原因吗？”乔朝上看看，又向下看看，脸突然红了。她慢慢地说：“这么说也许是自夸，也许错了，但是--我恐怕--劳里越来越过于喜欢我了。”“他开始喜欢你，这是很明显的，难道你不是同样喜欢他吗？”马奇太太神色焦急地问道。

“啊呀，不！我是一向喜欢那可爱的男孩，很为他自豪。

可是说到别的，那不可能。”

“那我很高兴，乔。”

“为什么？请告诉我。”

“亲爱的，因为我认为你们两个不适合。作为朋友你们能快乐地相处，你们经常发生的争执很快就烟消云散。但是我担心，要是你们终身结合在一起，两个人都会反抗。你们俩太相像了，太喜欢自由了，更不要说你们的火暴脾气和坚强的个性。这些不能使你们幸福地过活，而幸福的生活不仅需要爱，还需要巨大的容忍与克制。”“虽然我表达不出来，但我就是这样想的。我很高兴你认为他只是刚开始喜欢我。要是使他不幸福，我会感到非常不安的。我不能仅仅出于感激而爱上那可爱的小伙子，是吧？”“你确信他爱你？”乔的脸更红了，她脸上的表情混杂着快乐、骄傲和痛苦，年轻姑娘谈起初恋对象时都会这样。她回答说： “恐怕是这样，妈妈。他什么也没说，可是表情很能说明问题。我想，我最好在事情挑明前避开。”“你说得对，假如这么着有效果你就去吧。”乔舒了口气。她停了一会儿，笑着说：“莫法特太太要是知道了，她会大惊小怪地说你管教子女不严，同时又为安妮仍然有希望得到劳里而欣喜不已。”“哦，乔，母亲们管教子女的方式可能不同，但对子女的希望是相同的--希望看到她们的孩子幸福。梅格过得幸福，我为她的成功感到满足。你嘛，我由着你去，直到你厌倦了自由，只有到那时，你才会发现还有更美好的事情。现在，我最挂心的是艾美，但是她清醒的头脑会帮她的。至于贝思，除了希望她身体好起来，我没有别的奢望了。顺便问问，这两天她情绪似乎好点儿了，你和她谈过吗？”“是的，她承认她有烦恼，答应以后告诉我。我没有再问，我想我已经知道了。”乔接着说出了她的小小经历。

马奇太太摇了摇头，她没把事情看得这么浪漫，她神情严肃地重复了她的看法，为了劳里，乔应该离开一阵子。

“计划实施之前我们什么也别对劳里说。然后，没等他回过神来悲伤，我已经走了。贝思会以为我离开是让自己高兴，事实也是这样。我不能对贝思说起劳里。但是，我走后，她能和他亲昵，安慰他，使他从这种浪漫情绪中解脱出来。劳里已经历过许多这种小考验，他已经习惯了，很快就能摆脱失恋的痛苦。”乔充满希望地说着，但是她心里仍有一种预感，担心这个"小考验"会比其他的那些更难接受，而劳里也不会像以前那样容易地摆脱"失恋"的痛苦。

在家庭会议上大家讨论并通过了这个计划。柯克太太很高兴地接受了乔，保证给她个愉快的家。教学工作能使她自立，她的闲暇时间可用来写作，而新景色、新交往既有益处又令人愉悦。这种前景令乔激动不已，她急切地想走。家已变得太窄了，盛不下她那种不安的个性和爱冒险的精神。一切都落实了，她战战兢兢地告诉了劳里。可使她惊奇的是，劳里平静地接受了这件事。最近他比往日严肃，但仍然很开朗。

大家开玩笑地说他洗心革面，翻开了新的一页。他认真地回答：“确实如此，我是说要让这新的一页一直翻开着。”此刻正赶上劳里心绪不错，乔感到非常欣慰。她心情轻松地打点行装 -因为贝思似乎更加愉快了--乔希望她是在为所有的人尽着力。

“有件事要丢给你特别照管，”出发前夜，她说。

“你是说你的书稿？”贝思问。

“不，是我的男孩。要好好地待他，行吗？”“当然行。可是我代替不了你。他会痛苦地想念你。”“这不会伤害他的。你得记住，我把他委托给你照管，烦他、宠他、管束他。”“为了你，我会尽力而为的，”贝思答应着，不知道为什么乔那样怪怪地看着她。

劳里向她道别时，意味深长地低声说：“这一点儿用也没有，乔。我的眼睛会一直盯着你。别胡来，不然，我就去把你接回家。”