"As thy heart bleedeth so My heart hath bled;
As I have need of thee
Thou needest me."
—FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT.
All evening John McIntyre had been sitting alone in the doorway1. He was to resume work in the mill to-morrow, and as it was his last night at home, he had half expected his boy to spend it with him. But Tim had not come, and as he sat waiting, John McIntyre had picked up the Bible. It was the first time he had opened it of his own accord, and he had intended merely to glance into it to pass the time. But he had read on and on, till now the light had faded from the evening skies, and the bare phantom2 trees of the Drowned Lands had vanished in the night. The whip-poor-will that all evening had been mourning on the hillside, and the loon3 that had called across the water, were hushed. The faint stars looked down on the silent blackness of the woods and the gray mists of the water beyond. But in those mists the lonely man at the doorway could discern a picture—a scene the Book had just now revealed to him. It was a weary group of Galilean fishermen approaching the shore, after a night of fruitless toil4, while on the sands, shrouded5 in mists, stood One waiting for them in the dawn. One man in the little boat, straining his eyes to discern that mysterious Figure, suddenly felt his heart awake. He uttered in a thrilling whisper, "It is the Lord!" And without waiting for a word of reply, Peter, the disciple6, who had so lately denied that One with curses, flung himself headlong into the sea and swam straight to Him.
John McIntyre's heart swelled7. Well he understood the feeling that prompted Peter's act, for there was in his own homesick soul a longing8 to do the same, to plunge9 through the sea of loss and disappointment and go back to his denied Master. For this man's long night of storm and stress and fruitless toil was almost over, too. All unknown to himself, he had been slowly nearing the shore. The companionship and artless devotion of the boy—his enemy's child, but his now by all the rights of love—the kindness of the village folk in spite of rebuffs, the young doctor's care, and, above all, the tender message of the Book he had been constrained10 to read, had combined to guide him to the harbor. Yes, he was nearing the shore, and though he had not yet been able to discern Him through the night mists, there stood One waiting for him just behind the dawn.
Long into the night he sat, filled with a feeling of expectancy11. He was half-consciously waiting for something, he knew not what. Supposing that same One had been watching for him to return, all this weary time of sorrow and rebellion? The thought made his breath come quicker. Could it be possible? Could it be that the same Man who stood that morning on the shore of Galilee was waiting for even him—waiting with no rebuke12 for the curses and the denial, but only with outstretched, crucified hands, and the tender question He had put to that other faithless disciple, "Lovest thou me?"
A tear slipped down John McIntyre's hollow cheek, the first tear he had shed since he and Mary had laid their last baby in its little grave. It fell upon his toil-hardened hand unnoticed, for a resolution was forming in his heart. He arose, stumbled hurriedly indoors, and lit his lamp. He must look once more into that Book. He must find out at once if this wonderful thing could be true, if life and happiness might still be his. With trembling hands he took up the Bible, as though it held for him a sentence of life or death, and turned over the leaves in a groping way. His movements were like those of a man in darkness, fumbling13 for a door that he hopes will lead him out into light and freedom. He stopped and gazed at the open page with a great wonder in his eyes. Perhaps he had been searching haphazard14, or perhaps, under Divine guidance, his fingers, so long familiar with those pages, had gone unerringly to that marvelous story of the Fatherhood of God. For this was the message:
"And while he was yet a great way off his Father saw him and had compassion15, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him."
The Book dropped to the floor; John McIntyre sank to his knees beside it, his gray head bowed to the ground. He uttered an inarticulate cry. It was like the sound a babe utters when first it sees its mother's face after a day's absence—a cry that contains both the anguish16 of their separation and the joy of their reunion. He could form no coherent prayer, but the supreme17 thought of his homing soul burst from him: "My Father!" he sobbed18, "my Father! I've been away! I've been away!" How long he knelt thus he had no idea. But in that meeting with his lost Master he lived through a supreme joy that far outmeasured all the bitterness of the past. He was aroused by the sound of footsteps near his door. Two figures were coming slowly up the pathway. Half dazed, John McIntyre arose and went forward with the lamp. As the light fell upon the two men he uttered an exclamation20 of concern. Dr. Allen, pale and exhausted21, and splashed with mud, was standing22 there, supporting a staggering, half-drowned man.
"I found an old friend caught in the swamp," faltered23 the young man weakly. "May I bring him in for a minute, Mr. McIntyre?"
"Yes! yes! Come in! come in!" cried John McIntyre, setting down the lamp and hurrying forward with a chair. "I'll fix up the bed——" He stopped suddenly and gazed stupidly at the stranger. His eyes dilated24, his face became overspread with the awe25 and wonder of some discovery too great to be grasped. The chair fell from his hands with a crash. He uttered a single word, and in it there was a world of unbelieving joy and fear.
"Martin!" he whispered.
The stranger raised his drooping26 head. He stared in turn at the stooped shoulders, the drawn27 face, and the white hair of John McIntyre, and his strength seemed suddenly to return. He pushed Gilbert aside as if he had been a child, and caught the man's shoulders in a mighty28 grip. He held him away from him for a moment, and then broke into a great sob19:
"John! My God! old John! Have I found you?"
With a face of deep wonder, Gilbert slipped softly outside, closing the door behind him. And as he looked toward the place where he had so lately had a desperate struggle with death, he saw that the night mists were slowly vanishing. The whole dark earth was awakening29 in one grand bird-chorus, for the dawn was breaking over the Drowned Lands.
点击收听单词发音
1 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 loon | |
n.狂人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 shrouded | |
v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 );保密 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 disciple | |
n.信徒,门徒,追随者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 expectancy | |
n.期望,预期,(根据概率统计求得)预期数额 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 rebuke | |
v.指责,非难,斥责 [反]praise | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 fumbling | |
n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 haphazard | |
adj.无计划的,随意的,杂乱无章的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 sobbed | |
哭泣,啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 ); 哭诉,呜咽地说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 exclamation | |
n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 dilated | |
adj.加宽的,扩大的v.(使某物)扩大,膨胀,张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |