Chapter 35 Heartache

Whatever his motive might have been, Laurie studied to some purpose that year, for he graduated with honor, and gave the Latin oration with the grace of a Phillips and the eloquence of a Demosthenes, so his friends said. They were all there, his grandfather--oh, so proud--Mr. and Mrs. March, John and Meg, Jo and Beth, and all exulted over him with the sincere admiration which boys make light of at the time, but fail to win from the world by any after-triumphs.

"I've got to stay for this confounded supper, but I shall be home early tomorrow. You'll come and meet me as usual, girls?" Laurie said, as he put the sisters into the carriage after the joys of the day were over. He said 'girls', but he meant Jo, for she was the only one who kept up the old custom. She had not the heart to refuse her splendid, successful boy anything, and answered warmly . . .

"I'll come, Teddy, rain or shine, and march before you, playing 'Hail the conquering hero comes' on a jew's-harp."

Laurie thanked her with a look that made her think in a sudden panic, "Oh, deary me! I know he'll say something, and then what shall I do?"

Evening meditation and morning work somewhat allayed her fears, and having decided that she wouldn't be vain enough to think people were going to propose when she had given them every reason to know what her answer would be, she set forth at the appointed time, hoping Teddy wouldn't do anything to make her hurt his poor feelings. A call at Meg's, and a refreshing sniff and sip at the Daisy and Demijohn, still further fortified her for the tete-a-tete, but when she saw a stalwart figure looming in the distance, she had a strong desire to turn about and run away.

"Where's the jew's-harp, Jo?" cried Laurie, as soon as he was within speaking distance.

"I forgot it." And Jo took heart again, for that salutation could not be called lover-like.

She always used to take his arm on these occasions, now she did not, and he made no complaint, which was a bad sign, but talked on rapidly about all sorts of faraway subjects, till they turned from the road into the little path that led homeward through the grove. Then he walked more slowly, suddenly lost his fine flow of language, and now and then a dreadful pause occurred. To rescue the conversation from one of the wells of silence into which it kept falling, Jo said hastily, "Now you must have a good long holiday!"

"I intend to."

Something in his resolute tone made Jo look up quickly to find him looking down at her with an expression that assured her the dreaded moment had come, and made her put out her hand with an imploring, "No, Teddy. Please don't!"

"I will, and you must hear me. It's no use, Jo, we've got to have it out, and the sooner the better for both of us," he answered, getting flushed and excited all at once.

"Say what you like then. I'll listen," said Jo, with a desperate sort of patience.

Laurie was a young lover, but he was in earnest, and meant to 'have it out', if he died in the attempt, so he plunged into the subject with characteristic impetuousity, saying in a voice that would get choky now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady . . .

"I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, couldn't help it, you've been so good to me. I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me. Now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer."

"I wanted to save you this. I thought you'd understand . . ." began Jo, finding it a great deal harder than she expected.

"I know you did, but the girls are so queer you never know what they mean. They say no when they mean yes, and drive a man out of his wits just for the fun of it," returned Laurie, entrenching himself behind an undeniable fact.

"I don't. I never wanted to make you care for me so, and I went away to keep you from it if I could."

"I thought so. It was like you, but it was no use. I only loved you all the more, and I worked hard to please you, and I gave up billiards and everything you didn't like, and waited and never complained, for I hoped you'd love me, though I'm not half good enough . . ." Here there was a choke that couldn't be controlled, so he decapitated buttercups while he cleared his 'confounded throat'.

"You, you are, you're a great deal too good for me, and I'm so grateful to you, and so proud and fond of you, I don't know why I can't love you as you want me to. I've tried, but I can't change the feeling, and it would be a lie to say I do when I don't."

"Really, truly, Jo?"

He stopped short, and caught both her hands as he put his question with a look that she did not soon forget.

"Really, truly, dear."

They were in the grove now, close by the stile, and when the last words fell reluctantly from Jo's lips, Laurie dropped her hands and turned as if to go on, but for once in his life the fence was too much for him. So he just laid his head down on the mossy post, and stood so still that Jo was frightened.

"Oh, Teddy, I'm sorry, so desperately sorry, I could kill myself if it would do any good! I wish you wouldn't take it so hard, I can't help it. You know it's impossible for people to make themselves love other people if they don't," cried Jo inelegantly but remorsefully, as she softly patted his shoulder, remembering the time when he had comforted her so long ago.

"They do sometimes," said a muffled voice from the post. "I don't believe it's the right sort of love, and I'd rather not try it," was the decided answer.

There was a long pause, while a blackbird sung blithely on the willow by the river, and the tall grass rustled in the wind. Presently Jo said very soberly, as she sat down on the step of the stile, "Laurie, I want to tell you something."

He started as if he had been shot, threw up his head, and cried out in a fierce tone, "Don't tell me that, Jo, I can't bear it now!"

"Tell what?" she asked, wondering at his violence.

"That you love that old man."

"What old man?" demanded Jo, thinking he must mean his grandfather.

"That devilish Professor you were always writing about. If you say you love him, I know I shall do something desperate;" and he looked as if he would keep his word, as he clenched his hands with a wrathful spark in his eyes.

Jo wanted to laugh, but restrained herself and said warmly, for she too, was getting excited with all this, "Don't swear, Teddy! He isn't old, nor anything bad, but good and kind, and the best friend I've got, next to you. Pray, don't fly into a passion. I want to be kind, but I know I shall get angry if you abuse my Professor. I haven't the least idea of loving him or anybody else."

"But you will after a while, and then what will become of me?"

"You'll love someone else too, like a sensible boy, and forget all this trouble."

"I can't love anyone else, and I'll never forget you, Jo, Never! Never!" with a stamp to emphasize his passionate words.

"What shall I do with him?" sighed Jo, finding that emotions were more unmanagable than she expected. "You haven't heard what I wanted to tell you. Sit down and listen, for indeed I want to do right and make you happy," she said, hoping to soothe him with a little reason, which proved that she knew nothing about love.

Seeing a ray of hope in that last speech, Laurie threw himself down on the grass at her feet, leaned his arm on the lower step of the stile, and looked up at her with an expectant face. Now that arrangement was not conducive to calm speech or clear thought on Jo's part, for how could she say hard things to her boy while he watched her with eyes full of love and longing, and lashes still wet with the bitter drop or two her hardness of heart had wrung from him? She gently turned his head away, saying, as she stroked the wavy hair which had been allowed to grow for her sake--how touching that was, to be sure! "I agree with Mother that you and I are not suited to each other, because our quick tempers and strong wills would probably make us very miserable, if we were so foolish as to . . ." Jo paused a little over the last word, but Laurie uttered it with a rapturous expression.

"Marry--no we shouldn't! If you loved me, Jo, I should be a perfect saint, for you could make me anything you like."

"No, I can't. I've tried and failed, and I won't risk our happiness by such a serious experiment. We don't agree and we never shall, so we'll be good friends all our lives, but we won't go and do anything rash."

"Yes, we will if we get the chance," muttered Laurie rebelliously.

"Now do be reasonable, and take a sensible view of the case," implored Jo, almost at her wit's end.

"I won't be reasonable. I don't want to take what you call 'a sensible view'. It won't help me, and it only makes it harder. I don't believe you've got any heart."

"I wish I hadn't."

There was a little quiver in Jo's voice, and thinking it a good omen, Laurie turned round, bringing all his persuasive powers to bear as he said, in the wheedlesome tone that had never been so dangerously wheedlesome before, "Don't disappoint us, dear! Everyone expects it. Grandpa has set his heart upon it, your people like it, and I can't get on without you. Say you will, and let's be happy. Do, do!"

Not until months afterward did Jo understand how she had the strength of mind to hold fast to the resolution she had made when she decided that she did not love her boy, and never could. It was very hard to do, but she did it, knowing that delay was both useless and cruel.

"I can't say 'yes' truly, so I won't say it at all. You'll see that I'm right, by-and-by, and thank me for it . . ." she began solemnly.

"I'll be hanged if I do!" and Laurie bounced up off the grass, burning with indignation at the very idea.

"Yes, you will!" persisted Jo. "You'll get over this after a while, and find some lovely accomplished girl, who will adore you, and make a fine mistress for your fine house. I shouldn't. I'm homely and awkward and odd and old, and you'd be ashamed of me, and we should quarrel--we can't help it even now, you see--and I shouldn't like elegant society and you would, and you'd hate my scribbling, and I couldn't get on without it, and we should be unhappy, and wish we hadn't done it, and everything would be horrid!"

"Anything more?" asked Laurie, finding it hard to listen patiently to this prophetic burst.

"Nothing more, except that I don't believe I shall ever marry. I'm happy as I am, and love my liberty too well to be in a hurry to give it up for any mortal man."

"I know better!" broke in Laurie. "You think so now, but there'll come a time when you will care for somebody, and you'll love him tremendously, and live and die for him. I know you will, it's your way, and I shall have to stand by and see it," and the despairing lover cast his hat upon the ground with a gesture that would have seemed comical, if his face had not been so tragic.

"Yes, I will live and die for him, if he ever comes and makes me love him in spite of myself, and you must do the best you can!" cried Jo, losing patience with poor Teddy. "I've done my best, but you won't be reasonable, and it's selfish of you to keep teasing for what I can't give. I shall always be fond of you, very fond indeed, as a friend, but I'll never marry you, and the sooner you believe it the better for both of us--so now!"

That speech was like gunpowder. Laurie looked at her a minute as if he did not quite know what to do with himself, then turned sharply away, saying in a desperate sort of tone, "You'll be sorry some day, Jo."

"Oh, where are you going?" she cried, for his face frightened her.

"To the devil!" was the consoling answer.

For a minute Jo's heart stood still, as he swung himself down the bank toward the river, but it takes much folly, sin or misery to send a young man to a violent death, and Laurie was not one of the weak sort who are conquered by a single failure. He had no thought of a melodramatic plunge, but some blind instinct led him to fling hat and coat into his boat, and row away with all his might, making better time up the river than he had done in any race. Jo drew a long breath and unclasped her hands as she watched the poor fellow trying to outstrip the trouble which he carried in his heart.

"That will do him good, and he'll come home in such a tender, penitent state of mind, that I shan't dare to see him," she said, adding, as she went slowly home, feeling as if she had murdered some innocent thing, and buried it under the leaves. "Now I must go and prepare Mr. Laurence to be very kind to my poor boy. I wish he'd love Beth, perhaps he may in time, but I begin to think I was mistaken about her. Oh dear! How can girls like to have lovers and refuse them? I think it's dreadful."

Being sure that no one could do it so well as herself, she went straight to Mr. Laurence, told the hard story bravely through, and then broke down, crying so dismally over her own insensibility that the kind old gentleman, though sorely disappointed, did not utter a reproach. He found it difficult to understand how any girl could help loving Laurie, and hoped she would change her mind, but he knew even better than Jo that love cannot be forced, so he shook his head sadly and resolved to carry his boy out of harm's way, for Young Impetuosity's parting words to Jo disturbed him more than he would confess.

When Laurie came home, dead tired but quite composed, his grandfather met him as if he knew nothing, and kept up the delusion very successfully for an hour or two. But when they sat together in the twilight, the time they used to enjoy so much, it was hard work for the old man to ramble on as usual, and harder still for the young one to listen to praises of the last year's success, which to him now seemed like love's labor lost. He bore it as long as he could, then went to his piano and began to play. The window's were open, and Jo, walking in the garden with Beth, for once understood music better than her sister, for he played the '_Sonata Pathetique_', and played it as he never did before.

"That's very fine, I dare say, but it's sad enough to make one cry. Give us something gayer, lad," said Mr. Laurence, whose kind old heart was full of sympathy, which he longed to show but knew not how.

Laurie dashed into a livelier strain, played stormily for several minutes, and would have got through bravely, if in a momentary lull Mrs. March's voice had not been heard calling, "Jo, dear, come in. I want you."

Just what Laurie longed to say, with a different meaning! As he listened, he lost his place, the music ended with a broken chord, and the musician sat silent in the dark.

"I can't stand this," muttered the old gentleman. Up he got, groped his way to the piano, laid a kind hand on either of the broad shoulders, and said, as gently as a woman, "I know, my boy, I know."

No answer for an instant, then Laurie asked sharply, "Who told you?"

"Jo herself."

"Then there's an end of it!" And he shook off his grandfather's hands with an impatient motion, for though grateful for the sympathy, his man's pride could not bear a man's pity.

"Not quite. I want to say one thing, and then there shall be an end of it," returned Mr. Laurence with unusual mildness. "You won't care to stay at home now, perhaps?"

"I don't intend to run away from a girl. Jo can't prevent my seeing her, and I shall stay and do it as long as I like," interrupted Laurie in a defiant tone.

"Not if you are the gentleman I think you. I'm disappointed, but the girl can't help it, and the only thing left for you to do is to go away for a time. Where will you go?"

"Anywhere. I don't care what becomes of me," and Laurie got up with a reckless laugh that grated on his grandfather's ear.

"Take it like a man, and don't do anything rash, for God's sake. Why not go abroad, as you planned, and forget it?"

"I can't."

"But you've been wild to go, and I promised you should when you got through college."

"Ah, but I didn't mean to go alone!" and Laurie walked fast through the room with an expression which it was well his grandfather did not see.

"I don't ask you to go alone. There's someone ready and glad to go with you, anywhere in the world."

"Who, Sir?" stopping to listen.

"Myself."

Laurie came back as quickly as he went, and put out his hand, saying huskily, "I'm a selfish brute, but--you know--Grandfather--"

"Lord help me, yes, I do know, for I've been through it all before, once in my own young days, and then with your father. Now, my dear boy, just sit quietly down and hear my plan. It's all settled, and can be carried out at once," said Mr. Laurence, keeping hold of the young man, as if fearful that he would break away as his father had done before him.

"Well, sir, what is it?" and Laurie sat down, without a sign of interest in face or voice.

"There is business in London that needs looking after. I meant you should attend to it, but I can do it better myself, and things here will get on very well with Brooke to manage them. My partners do almost everything, I'm merely holding on until you take my place, and can be off at any time."

"But you hate traveling, Sir. I can't ask it of you at your age," began Laurie, who was grateful for the sacrifice, but much preferred to go alone, if he went at all.

The old gentleman knew that perfectly well, and particularly desired to prevent it, for the mood in which he found his grandson assured him that it would not be wise to leave him to his own devices. So, stifling a natural regret at the thought of the home comforts he would leave behind him, he said stoutly, "Bless your soul, I'm not superannuated yet. I quite enjoy the idea. It will do me good, and my old bones won't suffer, for traveling nowadays is almost as easy as sitting in a chair."

A restless movement from Laurie suggested that his chair was not easy, or that he did not like the plan, and made the old man add hastily, "I don't mean to be a marplot or a burden. I go because I think you'd feel happier than if I was left behind. I don't intend to gad about with you, but leave you free to go where you like, while I amuse myself in my own way. I've friends in London and Paris, and should like to visit them. Meantime you can go to Italy, Germany, Switzerland, where you will, and enjoy pictures, music, scenery, and adventures to your heart's content."

Now, Laurie felt just then that his heart was entirely broken and the world a howling wilderness, but at the sound of certain words which the old gentleman artfully introduced into his closing sentence, the broken heart gave an unexpected leap, and a green oasis or two suddenly appeared in the howling wilderness. He sighed, and then said, in a spiritless tone, "Just as you like, Sir. It doesn't matter where I go or what I do."

"It does to me, remember that, my lad. I give you entire liberty, but I trust you to make an honest use of it. Promise me that, Laurie."

"Anything you like, Sir."

"Good," thought the old gentleman. "You don't care now, but there'll come a time when that promise will keep you out of mischief, or I'm much mistaken."

Being an energetic individual, Mr. Laurence struck while the iron was hot, and before the blighted being recovered spirit enough to rebel, they were off. During the time necessary for preparation, Laurie bore himself as young gentleman usually do in such cases. He was moody, irritable, and pensive by turns, lost his appetite, neglected his dress and devoted much time to playing tempestuously on his piano, avoided Jo, but consoled himself by staring at her from his window, with a tragic face that haunted her dreams by night and oppressed her with a heavy sense of guilt by day. Unlike some sufferers, he never spoke of his unrequited passion, and would allow no one, not even Mrs. March, to attempt consolation or offer sympathy. On some accounts, this was a relief to his friends, but the weeks before his departure were very uncomfortable, and everyone rejoiced that the 'poor, dear fellow was going away to forget his trouble, and come home happy'. Of course, he smiled darkly at their delusion, but passed it by with the sad superiority of one who knew that his fidelity like his love was unalterable.

When the parting came he affected high spirits, to conceal certain inconvenient emotions which seemed inclined to assert themselves. This gaiety did not impose upon anybody, but they tried to look as if it did for his sake, and he got on very well till Mrs. March kissed him, with a whisper full of motherly solicitude. Then feeling that he was going very fast, he hastily embraced them all round, not forgetting the afflicted Hannah, and ran downstairs as if for his life. Jo followed a minute after to wave her hand to him if he looked round. He did look round, came back, put his arms about her as she stood on the step above him, and looked up at her with a face that made his short appeal eloquent and pathetic.

"Oh, Jo, can't you?"

"Teddy, dear, I wish I could!"

That was all, except a little pause. Then Laurie straightened himself up, said, "It's all right, never mind," and went away without another word. Ah, but it wasn't all right, and Jo did mind, for while the curly head lay on her arm a minute after her hard answer, she felt as if she had stabbed her dearest friend, and when he left her without a look behind him, she knew that the boy Laurie never would come again.

 

不管出于什么动机，那一年劳里的学业相当成功，他以优异的成绩毕了业。他的拉丁语演说有着菲力气斯的优雅，狄摩西尼的雄辩，他的朋友们这样评论。他们都在常他的祖父哦，那么自豪！ -马奇先生和马奇太太，约翰和梅格，乔和贝思，所有人都带着发自内心的赞赏之情为他狂喜。男孩子们当时或许并不在意，可是经历的成功怕是再难得到如此的激赏了。

“我得留下来吃这该死的晚饭，明天一早我就回家，姑娘们，你们能像平常那样来接我吗？”快乐的一天结束了，劳里将姑娘们送进车厢时这么说。他说"姑娘们"，其实指的是乔，因为只有她一个人保持着这个老习惯。她不想拒绝她成绩卓著的男孩提出的任何事情，便热情地回答道- “我会来的，特迪，无论如何都会来，我会走在你前面，用单簧口琴为你弹奏《为凯旋的英雄欢呼》。”劳里谢了她，他脸上的神色使乔突然恐慌起来。”哦，天哪！我晓得他要说些什么了。我怎么办呢？”晚上的思索、早上的工作稍稍减轻了她的担忧。她作出判断，在她已让人完全知道她会作什么样的答复之后，对方还会提出求婚，这样想是够愚蠢的。于是她在预定的时间出发了，她希望特迪不会有所行动，使她伤害他那可怜的感情。

她先去了梅格家，亲吻逗弄黛西和德米，使她精神振奋起来，也更增强了她对谈的信心。然而，一见到远处逼近的壮健身影，她便产生了掉头跑开的强烈愿望。

“单簧口琴在哪里，乔？”一走到能听见说话声之处，劳里便叫了起来。

“我忘了。”乔又鼓起了勇气。这样的招呼算不上情人般的招呼。

过去在这种场合，她总是抱着他的胳膊。现在她不这样做了，他也不抱怨。这可不是好兆头。他一直很快地谈着遥远的话题，直到他们从大路转向一条经过树林通向家的小路。

这时，他步子放慢了，语言也突然不流畅了，谈话不时出现难堪的停顿。为挽回正往沉默之井坠落的谈话，乔急速地说：“现在你得过一个愉快的长假了。”“我是这么打算的。”他的语调里有种坚定的成份，使得乔迅速抬头看他，却发现他正看着她，那种表情使乔确信令人可怕的时刻来到了。

她伸出手恳求着：“不，特迪，请你别说！”“我要说，你必须听我说。没用的，乔，我们得说出来，越早越好，对我们俩都是这样，”他回答说，突然红了脸，激动起来。

“那你就说吧，我听着，”乔说，带着一种豁出去的坚韧之心。

劳里是个没有经验的情人，但他是认真的。即便努力失败，他也打算"说出来“。因此，他带着特有的急躁谈开了这个话题。尽管他以男子汉的脾气竭力想保持声音平稳，可还是时而卡了壳。

“自从我认识你，乔，我就爱上了你，简直没有办法。你待我那么好。我想表示出来，可你不让。现在我要你听下去，给我个答复，因为我不能再这样下去了。“我想让你别这样，我以为你已经理解了- ”乔开口说，她发现情况比她预料的更难办。

“我知道你那样想过。可是女孩子很让人奇怪，你根本无法知道她们真正的意思。她们嘴里说'不'，实际上她们的意思是'是'，只是为了弄着玩儿，把男人弄得晕头转向，”劳里回答。他用这个不可否认的事实自卫。

“我不是那种人。我从来不想让你那样爱我，只要有可能，我总是走开以免你这样。”“我想就是那样，这像是你做的，但是没用。我反而更加爱你了。为了讨你的欢心，我努力学习，我不打台球了，你不喜欢的事我都放弃了。我等待着，从不抱怨，我希望你会爱我，虽然我不够好，一半都不 "说到这里，他嗓子控制不住地哽住了。他瞧着无茛，一边清着他那"该死的喉咙"。

“你，你对我，你对我非常好，我那么感激你，我那么为你骄傲，喜欢你。我不知道为什么我不能像你要求于我的那样爱你。我试过，但是，我的感情改变不了。我不管你时却说爱你，那是说谎。”“真的吗？一点儿也不假吗，乔？”他突然停住脚，捉住她的双手，提出了这个问题，脸上的表情让乔很久忘不了。

“真的，一点也不假，亲爱的。”

现在他们已走进小树林，靠近了篱笆两侧的台阶。当最后一个字不情愿地从乔的口中说出时，劳里放下了双手，转身像是要继续走，但是，就这一次，那个篱笆他越不过去了。

他只能将脑袋靠在生了苔的柱子上，一动不动地站在那儿。乔给吓坏了。

“哦，特迪，我很难过，非常地难过。我愿意杀死我自己，要是这样做有用！希望你别把事看得那么重。我没办法。你知道，要是不爱一个人却非要她去爱是不可能的，”乔生硬却很遗憾地叫着，一边轻轻地拍着他的肩。她记起很久以前他也这样安慰过她。

“有时人们是这样做的，”柱子后传来沉闷的声音。

“我不相信那是真正的爱。我宁愿不这么试，”回答坚定。

长时间的静默。河边的柳树上，一只画眉在欢快地唱着，长长的青草在风中沙沙作响。过了一会儿，乔在篱笆台阶上坐下，非常认真地说：“劳里，我想告诉你一些事。”他吃了一惊，好像挨了一枪似的。他把头一昂，大声叫道：“别告诉我，乔，我现在受不了！”“告诉你什么？”她问，搞不清他为什么发怒。

“你爱那个老头。”

“哪个老头？”乔问。她想他肯定是指他爷爷。

“那个你写信总谈到的魔鬼教授。要是你说你爱他，我知道我会做出不顾一切的事来的。”他眼睛里冒着愤怒的火花，双拳紧握，似乎真的会去践行其言。

乔想笑，可是克制住了自己。这一切使她也激动了，她勇敢地说：“别骂人，特迪。他不老，也不坏。他善良，和蔼。

除了你，他是我最好的朋友。请不要那样勃然大怒。我想表示友好，可要是你污蔑我的教授，我就会生气的。我一点也没想到过要爱他或者任何一个别的人。“可是过一段时间你会爱他的，那我怎么办呢？”“你也会爱上别人的，像一个明智的男孩，忘掉这一切烦恼吧。”“我不会爱任何别的人了，我永远也忘不了你，乔，永远，永远！”他一踩脚，用以强调他那激昂的话语。

“我拿他怎么办呢？”乔叹了口气。她发现感情比她预想的要难对付。”你还没听到我要告诉你的事呢，坐下来听我说。

我真想把这事处理妥当，使你幸福，”她说。她希望和他讲点道理，以此抚慰他，结果证明她对爱情一无所知。

从乔刚才的这番话，劳里看到了一线希望。他一屁股坐在了草地上乔的脚边，胳膊支在篱笆的下层台阶上，带着期待的神色抬头看着乔。对乔来说，这样的姿态安排使她不能平静地说话，清楚地思考。他这样看着她，眼神里充满爱意与渴求，睫毛还是濡湿的，那是由于她的狠心话使他痛苦地流了几滴泪造成的。在这样的情景中，她怎么能对她的男孩说绝情话呢？她轻轻地把他的头转过去，一边抚弄着他那卷曲的头发，一边说着话。他的头发是为她的缘故蓄养的--确实，那多么令人感动！ “我赞同妈妈的看法，我俩不合适，因为我们的急躁脾气和坚强个性可能会使我们非常痛苦，要是我们愚蠢到要 "乔在最后一个词上停顿了一会儿，但是劳里狂喜地说了出来。

“结婚- 不，我们不会痛苦的！只要你爱我，乔，我会成为一个完美的圣人，因为你想把我变成啥样都行。”“不，我做不到。我试过，但是失败了。我不会用我们的幸福来冒险，做这种认真的试验。我们的意见不一致，永远也不会一致。所以我们一生都将是好朋友，而不要去做任何鲁莽的事。”“不，如果有机会我们就要做，”劳里顽固地咕哝着。

“好了，理智些，明智地看待这件事吧，”乔恳求道。她几乎一筹莫展了。

“我不会理智的，我不要你说的那种明智的看法，它对我没用，只能使你心更狠。我相信你没有任何感情。”“我倒希望没有。”乔的声音有点儿发颤了。劳里把这看作一个好的兆头，他转过身来，使出他所有的说服力，用从来没有过的极有感染力的哄人腔调说：“别让我们失望了，亲爱的！大家都期待着这件事，爷爷下了决心要这样，你家人也喜欢，我没有你不行。说你愿意，让我们幸福，说吧，说吧！”几个月之后乔才懂得她下了多大决心才坚持住她作出的决定：她认定她不爱她的男孩，永远不会。这样说很难，但是她还是说了。她知道延续既无用也残酷。

“我不能真心地说'愿意'，那我就根本不说。以后你会明白我是对的。你会为此感谢我"她严肃地说。

“我死也不会的！”劳里从草地上一跃而起，单单一想到这些他就怒火中烧。

“会的，你会的，”乔坚持道，”过一段时间你就会从这件事中恢复过来，找到一个有教养的可爱姑娘，她会崇拜你，成为你漂亮的房子里优秀的女主人。可我不会，我不漂亮，笨手笨脚，又古怪又老，你会为我感到难为情。我们还会吵架--你看，甚至现在我们都忍不住要吵 -我不喜欢优雅的社会而你喜欢，你会讨厌我乱写乱画，而我没这些不能过。我们会感到不幸福，会希望我们没这样做。一切都会令人不敢想象！”“还有没有了？”劳里问。他感到很难耐心地听完她预言似的这番话。

“没了。还有就是，我想我以后不会结婚的。我这样很幸福，我太爱自由了，不会匆忙地为任何一个凡人放弃它。”“我知道得更清楚，”劳里插话了，”现在你是这样想的。

但是有那么一天你会爱上某个人的。你会狂热地爱她，为他生，为他死。我知道你会的，那是你的方式，而我却不得不在一边旁观。”那绝望的情人把帽子扔到了地上，若不是他脸上的表情那么悲哀，扔帽子的手势就会显得很好笑。

“是的，我会为他生，为他死的，只要他来到我身边，让我情不自禁地爱上他。你必须尽力解脱！”乔叫了出来。她已经对可怜的特迪失去了耐心。”我已经尽了力，可是你不愿放理智些。你这样缠着我索取我不能给你的东西，太自私了。我将永远喜欢你，作为朋友，真的，非常喜欢。但是，我永远不会和你结婚。你相信得越早，对我们两人就越好- 就这样了！”这一番话就像是火燃着了炸药。劳里看了她一会，仿佛不知道自己该怎么做，然后，猛地转过身，用一种决绝的语调说：“你有一天会后悔的，乔。” “噢，你到哪儿去？”她叫了起来。他的表情吓坏了她。

“去见鬼！”回答让人放心。

看着他摇晃着走下河岸朝小河走去，乔的心脏有一会儿停止了跳动。然而，只有做下很大的蠢事，犯了大罪，或者遭受了很深的痛苦，才会使一个年轻人轻生。劳里不是那种一次失败就能击垮的弱者。他没打算作惊人之举，跳入河中，但是盲目的本能冲动使他将帽子和外衣扔进他的小船里，然后拼命划着船走了。他划船的速度超过了许多次比赛的划速。

乔注视着这可怜的家伙，他在力图摆脱心头的烦恼。乔长长地舒了口气，松开了双手。

“那样对他会有好处的。他回到家时，会处于一种敏感、懊悔的情绪中，我倒不敢见他了，”她想。她慢慢地往家走，感到她像是屠杀了某种无辜的东西，然后将之埋在了树叶下面。她又接着想道：“现在我得去找劳伦斯先生，让他非常和善地对待我可怜的男孩。我希望他会爱上贝思，也许以后他会的。然而我又想是不是我误解了她。哦，天哪！女孩子们怎么能又要情人又拒绝他们。这真是太狠心了。”她确信这件事除了她自己没有人能做得更好，因此她直接去找了劳伦斯先生，勇敢地把这难以出口的事情经过告诉了他。然后她垮了，十分沮丧地为她的冷酷无情哭了起来，那和善的老先生虽然也非常失望，却没说一句责备的话。他发现很难理解竟有女孩子不爱劳里，他希望乔会改变主意。但是他比乔更明白，爱是不能强迫的。因此他只是悲哀地摇着头。他决心要让他的孩子远离伤害，因为毛头小伙子和乔分别时说的话使他大为不安，尽管他不愿承认这点。

劳里回到家时，精疲力尽但是相当镇静。爷爷像是没事儿似地迎着他，有一两个小时，爷爷非常成功地保持着这种状况。黄昏时爷孙俩坐到了一起。过去他们特别珍惜这段时间，但是现在老人很难做到像往常一样闲聊，而年轻人就更难倾听老人表扬他去年获得的成功。那次成功现在对他来说似乎是爱的徒劳。他尽力忍受着，后来走到钢琴房开始弹奏。

窗户是开着的。乔和贝思在花园散步，唯有这一次，她对音乐比妹妹理解得更好。劳里弹着《悲怆奏鸣曲》，他以前从来没有像这样弹过。

“弹得非常好，我敢说。但是太悲哀了使人想哭。小伙子，给我们弹个快乐些的，”劳伦斯先生说。和善的老人心中充满同情，他很想表达出来，可是又不知道怎样表达。

劳里弹起了一段欢快些的曲子，他猛烈地弹了几分钟，要不是在一个短暂的间歇听到了马奇太太的声音，他会毅然弹完曲子的。马奇太太叫着：“乔，亲爱的，进来，我需要你。”这正是劳里极想说的话，只是含义不同！他听着，曲子不知弹到哪儿去了，音乐也带着不和谐音停止了。音乐家静静地坐在黑暗里。

“我受不了了，”老人咕哝着。他站起来，摸索着走到钢琴房，慈善地将手放在劳里宽阔的双肩上，像妇人那样亲切地说：“我知道，孩子，我知道。”劳里一时没答腔，然后高声问：“谁告诉你的？”“乔，她自己。”“那就完了！”他不耐烦地抖掉爷爷放在他肩上的手。尽管他感激爷爷的同情，但他男子汉的自尊心使他不能忍受来自男人的怜悯。

“还没完。我要说一件事，然后事情就完了，”劳伦斯先生带着非同寻常的温和口气回答，”你现在也许不愿意呆在家里吧？”“我不打算从一个姑娘面前逃开。乔挡不住我去见她。我愿意呆多久就呆多久，”劳里以挑衅的口气回答。

“如果你像我认为的那样是个绅士，就不会这么做了。我也感到失望，可是那姑娘没办法。你唯一能做的就是离开一段时间。你打算到哪里去呢？”“哪儿都行。我对什么都无所谓了。”劳里满不在乎地笑着站了起来，笑声刺耳，使老人焦虑不安。

“要像个男子汉似地接受这件事，看在上帝的分上，别做鲁莽事。为什么不按你的计划去国外，忘掉这一切呢？”“我做不到。”“可是你一直很想去的，我答应过你，等读完大学让你去的。”“噢，但是我没打算单独一人去！”劳里说。他在屋子里很快地走来走去，脸上的表情爷爷从未见过。

“我没让你一个人去，有个人乐意和你一起去世界上任何地方。”“谁，先生？“他停步倾听。

“我自己。”

劳里像刚才一样快速地走了起来。他伸出手，粗声粗气地说：“我是个自私、残忍的人，可是--你知道--爷爷 ”“上帝保佑，是的，我的确知道。这一切我以前都经历过，先是我年轻时，后是你父亲的事。好了，我亲爱的孩子，静静地坐下来听听我的计划。一切都已安排好，马上就能执行，”劳伦斯先生说。他抓住年轻人，好像害怕他会逃走，像他父亲以前做的那样。

“那么，先生，什么计划？”劳里坐了下来，他的表情和声音都没显露出任何兴趣。

“我在伦敦的业务需要料理。我原打算让你去处理的，不过我自己办更好。这里的事有布鲁克负责，会进行得很好。我的合作者几乎干了所有的事，我只是守着这个位子等你来接替，我随时都可以离开了。”“可是，爷爷，你讨厌旅行。您那么大年纪了，我不能这么要求您，”劳里开口说。他感激爷爷作出的牺牲，但是如果要去的话，他宁愿独自去。

老先生对这一点非常了解，他特别想阻止他一人去，因为，他发现孙子的心境不佳，这使他确信让劳里自行其是不太明智。一想到出门会丢弃家庭的舒适自然感到遗憾，可是老先生抑制了这种遗憾，决然地说：“谢天谢地，我还没老到该淘汰的地步。我很喜欢这个想法。那对我有好处。我的老骨头不会受罪，因为现在的旅行几乎就像坐在椅子里一样舒服。”劳里不安地扭动着，使人想到他坐的椅子不舒服，也就是说他不喜欢这个计划。这使老人赶忙补充道：“我并不想成为好事者或者负担。我以为，我去了你会感到比丢下我要快乐些。我不打算和你一起闲聊，而是由你高兴，愿去哪就去哪，我以我的方式自我消遣。我在伦敦和巴黎都有朋友，我想去拜访他们。同时，你可以去意大利、德国、瑞士，去你想去的地方，尽情欣赏绘画、音乐、风景以及冒险活动。”当时，劳里感到他的心完全碎了，整个世界成了野兽咆哮的荒野。可是一听到老先生在最后一句话里巧妙地夹进去的字眼，碎了的心出乎意料地跳动起来，一两块绿洲也出现在那野兽咆哮的荒野。他叹了口气，无精打采地说：“就照你说的做吧，先生，我去哪里、做什么都没关系。”“对我却有关系。记住这一点，孩子。我给你充分的自由，我相信你会老老实实地利用它的，答应我，劳里。”“你要我怎样就怎样，先生。”“好的，“老先生想，”现在你不在乎，可是有一天这个保证可以阻止你淘气的。不然我就大错特错了。”劳伦斯先生是个精力充沛的人，他趁热打铁，没等到这个失恋者恢复足够的精神来反抗，他们已上了路。在必要的准备期间，劳里的举止和处于这种情况下的年轻人通常所表现的一样，他一会儿郁郁不乐，一会儿恼怒，一会儿又陷入沉思。他食欲不振，不修边幅。他花很长时间在钢琴上狂暴地弹着。他躲着乔，但是却神色悲哀地从窗后盯着她聊以自慰。乔夜里常梦见那张悲哀的面孔，到了白天，那张脸压迫着她，使她产生了沉重的负疚感。不像一些遭受痛苦的人，他从不说起他的单恋，他不允许任何人，甚至马奇太太尝试安慰他或者表示同情。由于一些原因，这使他的朋友们感到宽慰。但是，他出发前的几个星期非常令人不好受。”那可怜的人儿要离开去忘掉烦恼，回家时会快乐起来的。”每个人都为此感到高兴。自然，他带着可怜的傲慢态度对他们的幻想一笑置之。他知道他的忠诚就像他的爱，是不会变更的。

离别之时到来了，他装作兴高采烈，以掩盖某种扰人的情绪，这种情绪似乎有要表现出来的势头。他装出来的欢乐劲并没有感染任何人，但是为了他的缘故，大家都试着做出受感染的样子。他做得很好，后来马奇太太来吻了他，低低说了句什么，话语中充满母亲式的关怀。他觉得很快就要走了，便匆匆拥抱了身边所有的人，连忧伤的罕娜嬷嬷也没忘掉。然后他逃命般地跑下楼去。一分钟后乔随后跟了下来，她打算要是他回头就向他挥手。他真的回头了，他走回来，拥抱她。她站在他上面的一级楼梯，他向上看着他，脸上的神情使他简短的恳求既有说服力，又打动人。

“哦，乔，难道你不能？”

“特迪，亲爱的，我真希望能。”

就这两句话，停顿了一小会，然后劳里站直身，说道：“好的，别在意。”他什么也没再说就走了。哦，事情并不好，乔也确实在意，因为在她作出无情的回答后，劳里的鬈发脑袋在她臂上埋了一会。她感到好像戳了她最亲爱的朋友一刀。

而当他离开她不再回头看时，她知道男孩子劳里是不会再回来的了。