Chapter 1 Playing Pilgrims
　　`Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents,' grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.

　　`It's so dreadful to be poor!' sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.

　　`I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all,' added little Amy, with an injured sniff.

　　`We've got father and mother and each other,' said Beth, contentedly, from her corner.

　　The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly:

　　`We haven't got father, and shall not have him for a long time.' She didn't say `perhaps never', but each silently added it, thinking of father far away, where the fighting was.

　　Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone:

　　`You know the reason mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure when our men are suffering so in the army. We can't do much, but we can make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don't'; and Meg shook her head, and she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted.

　　`But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good. We've each got a dollar, and the army wouldn't be much helped by our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from mother or you, but I do want to buy Undine and Sintram for myself; I've wanted it so long,' said Jo, who was a bookworm.

　　`I planned to spend mine on new music,' said Beth, with a little sigh, which no one heard but the hearth-brush and kettle-holder.

　　`I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing pencils; I really need them,' said Amy, decidedly.

　　`Mother didn't say anything about our money, and she won't wish us to give up everything. Let's each buy what we want, and have a little fun; I'm sure we work hard enough to earn it,' cried Jo, examining the heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.

　　`I know I do - teaching those tiresome children nearly all day when I am longing to enjoy myself at home,' began Meg, in the complaining tone again.

　　`You don't have half such a hard time as I do,' said Jo. `How would you like to be shut up for hours with a nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries you till you're ready to fly out of the window or cry?'

　　`It's naughty to fret; but I do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world. It makes me cross; and my hands get so stiff, I can't practice well at all'; and Beth looked at her rough hands with a sigh that anyone could hear that time.

　　`I don't believe any of you suffer as I do.' cried Amy; `for you don't have to go to school with impertinent girls, who plague you if you don't know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses, and label your father if he isn't rich, and insult you when your nose isn't nice.'

　　`If you mean libel, I'd say so, and not talk about labels, as if papa was a pickle-bottle,' advised Jo, laughing.

　　`I know what I mean, and you needn't be satirical about it. It's proper to use good words, and improve your vocabulary,' returned Amy, with dignity.

　　`Don't peck at one another, children. Don't you wish we had the money papa lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! how happy and good we'd be, if we had no worries!' said Meg, who could remember better times.

　　`You said, the other day, you thought we were a deal happier than the King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in spite of their money.'

　　`So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are; for, though we do have to work, we make fun for ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say.'

　　`Jo does use such slang words!' observed Amy, with a reproving look at the long figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle.

　　`Don't, Jo; it's so boyish!'

　　`That's why I do it.'

　　`I detest rude, unlady-like girls!'

　　`I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!'

　　`Birds in their little nests agree' sang Beth, the peace maker, with such a funny face that both sharp voice softened to a laugh, and the `pecking' ended for that time.

　　`Really, girls, you are both to be blamed,' said Meg, beginning to lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. `You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks, and to behave better Josephine. It didn't matter so much when you were a little girl; but now you are so tall, and turn up your hair, you should remember that you are a young lady.'

　　`I'm not! and if turning up my hair mikes me one, I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty.' cried Jo, pulling off he net, and shaking down her chestnut mane. `I hate to think I've got to grow up, and he Miss March and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China-aster! It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys' games and work an manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being boy; and it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman!' And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and her ball bounded across the room.

　　`Poor Jo! It's too had, hut It can't he helped; so you must try to be contented with making your name boyish, and playing brother to us girls,' said Beth, stroking the rough head at her knee with a hand that all the dish-washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in it touch.

　　`As for you, Amy,' continued Meg, `you are altogether too particular and prim. Your airs are funny now; but you'll grow up an affected little goose, if you don't take care.

　　`I like your nice manners and refined ways of speaking when you don't try to he elegant; but your absurd words are as bad as Jo's slang.'

　　`If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?' asked Beth, ready to share the lecture.

　　`You're a dear, and nothing else,' answered Meg, warmly; and no one contradicted her, for the `Mouse' was the pet of the family.

　　As young readers like to know `how people look', we will take this moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting away in the twilight, while the December snow fell quietly without, and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable old room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain; for a good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and a pleasant atmosphere of home-peace pervaded it.

　　Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, grey eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled in a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth - or Beth, as everyone called her - was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her `Little Tranquillity', and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person - -in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to he found out.

　　The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and everyone brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

　　`They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair.'

　　`I thought I'd get her some with my dollar,' said Beth.

　　`No, I shall!' cried Amy.

　　`I'm the oldest,' began Meg, hut Jo cut in with a decided:

　　`I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone.'

　　`I'll tell you what we'll do,' said Beth; `let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves.'

　　`That's like you, dear! What will we get?' exclaimed Jo. Everyone thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, `I shall give her a nice pair of gloves.'

　　`Army shoes, best to be had,' cried Jo.

　　`Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed,' said Beth.

　　`I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils,' added Amy.

　　`How will we give the things?' asked Meg.

　　`Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to do on our birthdays?' answered Jo.

　　`I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair with the crown on, and see you all come marching round to give the presents, with a kiss. I liked the things and the kisses, but it was dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened the bundles,' said Beth, who was toasting her face and the bread for tea, at the same time.

　　`Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then surprise her. We must go shopping tomorrow afternoon, Meg; there is so much to do about the play for Christmas night,' said Jo, marching up and down, with her hands behind her back and her nose in the air.

　　`I don't mean to act any more after this time; I'm getting too old for such things,' observed Meg, who was as much a child as ever about `dressing-up' frolics.

　　`You won't stop, I know, as long as you can trail round in a white gown with your hair down, and wear gold-paper jewellery. You are the best actress we've got, and there'll be an end of everything if you quit the boards,' said Jo. `We ought to rehearse tonight. Come here, Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a poker in that.'

　　`I can't help it; I never saw anyone faint, and I don't choose to make myself all black and blue, tumbling flat as you do. If I can go down easily, I'll drop: if I can't, I shall fall into a chair and be graceful; I don't care if Hugo does come at me with a pistol,' returned Amy, who was not gifted with dramatic power but was chosen because she was small enough to be borne out shrieking by the villain of the piece.

　　`Do it this way; clasp your hands so, and stagger across the room, crying frantically, "Roderigo! save me! save me!"' and away went Jo, with a melodramatic scream which was truly thrilling. Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly before her, and jerked herself along as if she went by machinery; and her `Ow!' was more suggestive of pins being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave a despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun with interest.

　　`It's no use! Do the best you can when the time comes, and if the audience laugh, don't blame me. Come on, Meg.'

　　Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in a speech of two pages without a single break; Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect; Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies of remorse and arsenic, with a wild `Ha! ha!'

　　`It's the best we've had yet,' said Meg, as the dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows.

　　`I don't see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo. You're a regular Shakespeare!' exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things.

　　`Not quite,' replied Jo modestly. I do think "The Witch's Curse, an Operatic Tragedy", is rather a nice thing; but I'd like to try Macbeth, if we only had a trap-door for Banquo I always wanted to do the killing part. "Is that a dagger I see before me?"' muttered Jo, rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen a famous tragedian do.

　　`No, it's the toasting fork, with mother's shoe on it instead of the bread. Beth's stage-struck!' cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in a general burst of laughter.

　　`Glad to find you so merry, my girls,' said a cheery voice at the door, and actors and audience turned to welcome a tall, motherly lady, with a `can-I-help-you' look about her which was truly delightful. She was not elegantly dressed but a noble-looking woman, and tire girls thought the grey cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the world.

　　`Well, dearies, how have you got on today? There was so much to do, getting the boxes ready to go tomorrow, that I didn't come home to dinner. Has anyone called, Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby.'

　　While making these maternal inquiries, Mrs. March got her wet things off, her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy-chair, drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own way. Meg arranged the tea-table; Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping, overturning, and clattering everything she touched; Beth trotted to and fro between parlour and kitchen, quiet and busy; while Amy gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her hands folded.

　　As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with a particularly happy face, `I've got a treat for you after supper.'

　　A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Beth clapped her ds, regardless of the biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up her napkin, crying, `A letter! a letter! Three cheers for father!'

　　`Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get through the cold season better than we feared. He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls,' said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there.

　　`Hurry and get done! Don't stop to quirk your little finger, and simper over your plate, Amy,' cried Jo, choking in her tea, and dropping her bread, butter side down, on the carpet in her haste to get at the treat. Beth ate no more, but crept away, to sit in her shadowy corner and brood over the delight to come, till the others were ready.

　　`I think it was so splendid of father to go as chaplain when he was too old to be drafted, and not strong enough for a soldier,' said Meg, warmly.

　　`Don't I wish I could go as a drummer, a vivan - what's its name? or a nurse, so I could be near him and help him,' exclaimed Jo, with a groan.

　　`It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and eat all sorts of bad-tasting things, and drink out of a tin mug,' sighed Amy.

　　`When will he come home, Marmee?' asked Beth, with a little quiver in her voice.

　　`Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He will stay and do his work faithfully as long as he can, and we won't ask for him back a minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come and hear the letter.'

　　They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair, with Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the letter should happen to be touching. Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the home-sickness conquered; it was a cheerful, hopeful letter, full of lively descriptions of camp life, marches, and military news; and only at the end did the writer's heart overflow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home.

　　`Give them all my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their affection at all times. A year seems very long to wait before I see them, but remind them that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely and conquer themselves so beautifully, that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women.'

　　Everybody sniffed when they came to that part; Jo wasn't ashamed of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never minded the rumpling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother's shoulder and sobbed out, `I am a selfish girl! but I'll truly try to be better, so he mayn't be disappointed in me by and by.'

　　`We all will!' cried Meg. `I think too much of my looks, and hate to work, but won't any more, if I can help it.'

　　`I'll try and be what he loves to call me, "a little woman", and not be rough and wild; but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else,' said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home was a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.

　　Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army sock, and began to knit with all her might, losing no time in doing the duty that lay nearest her, while she resolved in her quiet little soul to be all that father hoped to find her when the year brought round the happy coming home.

　　Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo's words, by saying in her cheery voice, `Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrim's Progress when you were little things? Nothing delighted you more than to have me tie my piece-bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats and sticks and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to the housetop, where you had all the lovely things you could collect to make a Celestial City.'

　　`What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and passing through the Valley where the hobgoblins were!' said Jo.

　　`I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs,' said Meg.

　　`My favourite part was when we came out on the flat roof where our flowers and arbours and pretty things were, and all stood and sang for joy up there in the sunshine,' said Beth, smiling, as if that pleasant moment had come back to her.

　　`I don't remember much about it, except that I was afraid of the cellar and the dark entry, and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the top. If I wasn't too old for such things, I'd rather like to play it Over again,' said Amy, she began to talk of renouncing childish things at the mature age of twelve.

　　`We never are too old for this, my clear, because it is a play we are playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are here, our road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness is the guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace which is a true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can get before Father comes home.'

　　`Really, Mother? Where are our bundles?' asked Amy, who was a very literal young lady.

　　`Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth; I rather think she hasn't got any,' said her mother.

　　`Yes, I have; mine is dishes and clusters, and envying girls with nice pianos, and being afraid of people.'

　　Beth's bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to laugh; but nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very much.

　　`Let us do it,' said Meg, thoughtfully. `It is only another name for trying to be good, and the story may help us; for though we do want to be good, it's hard work, and we forget, and don't do our best.'

　　`We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, and Mother came and pulled us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions like Christian. What shall we do about that?' asked Jo, delighted with the fancy which lent a little romance to the very dull task of doing her duty.

　　`Look under your pillows, Christmas morning, and you will find your guide-book' replied Mrs. March.

　　They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table; then out came tie four little work-baskets, and the needles flew as the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, but tonight no one grumbled. They adopted Jo's plan of dividing the long seams into four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and in that way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the different countries, as they stitched their way through them.

　　At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual, before they went to bed.

　　No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano; but she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys, and making a pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sang. Meg had a voice like a flute, and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket, and Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, always coming out at the wrong place with a croak or a quaver that spoilt the most pensive tune. They had always done this from the time they could lisp:

　　`Crinkle, crinkle, 'ittle 'tar.'

　　and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice, as she went about the house singing like a lark; and the last sound at night was the same cheery sound, for the girl never grew too old for that familiar lullaby.
 
“没有礼物圣诞节怎么过？”乔躺在小地毯上咕哝。
“贫穷真可怕！”梅格发出一声叹息，低头望着身上的旧衣服。
“有些女孩子拥有荣华富贵，有些却一无所有，我认为这不公平。”艾美鼻子轻轻一哼，三分出于轻蔑，七分出于嫉妒。
“但我们有父母姐妹，”坐在一角的贝思提出抗议。
这句令人愉快的话使炉火映照下的四张年轻的脸庞明亮起来。”我们没有父亲，很长一段时间都将没有，”乔伤心地说。听到这句话，大家的脸又暗淡下去。她虽没说"可能永远没有"，但每个人心里都把这句话悄悄说了一遍，同时想起远在战场的父亲。
大家一时无言。一会梅格换了个声调说：“你们知道妈妈为什么建议今年圣诞节不派礼物吗？因为寒冷的冬天就要来了，而我们的男人在军营里受苦受难，我们不应该花钱寻乐。
虽然我们能力有限，但可以在这方面做出一点小小的牺牲，而且应该做得高高兴兴。不过我可并不高兴。”梅格摇摇脑袋。
想到那些梦寐以求的漂亮礼物，她感到遗憾不已。
“我看我们那丁点儿钱也帮不上什么忙。我们每人只得一元钱，献给部队也没多大用处。我们不要期待妈妈给我们什么礼物，不过我真的很想买一本《水中女神》，那本书我早就想买了，”乔说。她是个蛀书虫。
“我本来打算买些新乐谱，”贝思轻轻叹了口气说，声音轻得谁也听不到。
“我要买一盒精致的费伯氏画笔。我真的很需要，”艾美干脆地说。
“妈妈没说过这钱该怎么花，要是看着我们两手空空，她也不会高兴的。我们倒不如各自买点自己喜欢的东西高兴高兴。为挣这些钱，我们花了我多少心血！“乔大声说道，蛮有绅士风度地审视着自己的鞋跟。
“可不是嘛- 差不多一天到晚都得教那些讨厌的孩子，现在多想回家轻松一下啊！”梅格又开始抱怨了。
“你何尝赶得上我辛苦呢？”乔说，”想想好几个小时和一个吹毛求疵、神经质的老太太关在一起，被她使唤得团团转，她却永远不会感到满意，把你折腾得真想从这个世界上消失或者干脆大哭一场，你会感觉怎样？”“怨天尤人并不好，但我真的觉得洗碗打扫房子是全世界最痛苦的事情。这让我脾气暴躁不算，双手也变得僵硬，连琴也弹不了。”贝思望着自己粗糙的双手叹一口气，这回每个人都听到了。
“我不相信有谁比我更痛苦，”艾美嚷道，”因为你们都不用去上学。那些女孩子粗俗无礼，如果你不懂功课，她们就让你下不了台，她们笑话你的衣着，爸爸没有钱要被她们标价，鼻子长得不漂亮也要被她们侮辱。”“你是说'讥谤'吧？别念成'标价'，好像爸爸是个腌菜瓶子似的，”乔边笑边纠正。
“我知道我在说什么你对此不必'冷嘲日（热）讽'，用好的字眼没什么不对，这有助于增加'字（词）汇'，”艾美义正辞严地反击。
“别斗嘴了，姑娘们。乔，难道你不希望我们拥有爸爸在我们小时候失去的钱吗？哦，如果我们没有烦恼，那该多幸福啊！”梅格说。她还记得过去的好时光。
“但前几天你说我们比起王孙公子来要幸福多了，因为他们虽然有钱，却一天到晚明争暗斗，烦恼不休。”“我是这么说过，贝思，嗯，现在也还是这么想，因为，虽然我们不得不干活，但我们可以互相嬉戏，而且，如乔所说，是蛮快活的一伙。”“乔就是爱用这些粗俗的字眼！”艾美抨击道，用一种谴责的眼光望着躺在地毯上的长身躯。乔立即坐起来，双手插进衣袋，吹起了口哨。
“别这样，乔，只有男孩子才这样做。”
“所以我才吹。”
“我憎恨粗鲁、没有淑女风度的女孩！”“我讨厌虚假、矫揉造作的毛头妹！“'小巢里的鸟儿一致同意，'"和平使者贝思唱起歌儿，脸上的表情滑稽有趣。尖着嗓门的两人化为一笑，”斗嘴"就此结束。
“我说姑娘们，你们两个都不对，”梅格开始以姐姐的身份说教，”约瑟芬，你已经长大了，不应再玩男孩子的把戏，应该检点一些。你还是小姑娘时这倒没有什么，但你现在已长得这么高，而且网起了头发，就得记住自己是个年轻女士。“我不是！如果网起头发就把我当女士的话，我就梳两条辫子，直到二十岁，”乔大声叫起来。她拉掉发网，披落一头栗色的厚发。”我恨我得长大，得做马奇小姐。我恨穿长礼服，恨故作正经的漂亮小姐。我喜欢男孩子的游戏，男孩子的活儿以及男孩子风度，却偏偏是个女孩子，真是倒霉透了。做不成男孩真让我止不住失望，可现在比以往任何时候都要糟，因为我是那么想跟爸爸一起参加战斗，却只能呆坐在家中做女工，像个死气沉沉的老太太！”乔抖动蓝色的军袜，把里头的针弄得铮铮作响，线团也滚落到一边。
“可怜的乔！真是不幸，但有什么办法呢？你只好把自己的名字改得男子气一些，扮演我们姐妹的哥哥，找点安慰。”贝思一面说，一面用柔软的双手轻轻抚摸着靠在她膝上的头发蓬乱的脑袋。
“至于你，艾美，”梅格接着说，”你过于讲究，过于一本正经。你的神态现在看上去挺有趣，但要是一不小心，长大就会变成个装模作样的小傻瓜。如果不刻意作态，你的言谈举止倒是十分优雅的，不过你那些荒谬的言语和乔的傻话却是半斤对八两。”“如果乔是个假小子，艾美是个小傻瓜，请问，我是什么？”贝思问道。
“你是个乖宝贝，再没别的，”梅格亲热地答道。此话无人反驳，因为这位”小胆鼠"是全家人的宠儿。
由于年轻的读者们喜欢知道“人物样貌"，我们趁此机会把坐在黄昏的余辉下做针线活儿的四姐妹概略描述一下。此时屋外的冬雪正轻轻飘落，屋内炉火噼啪欢响。虽然这间旧房子铺着褪了色的地毯，摆设也相当简单，但却显得十分舒适：墙上挂着一两幅雅致的图画，壁凹内堆满了书本，窗台上是绽放的菊花和圣诞花，屋里洋溢着一片宁静、温馨的气氛。
大姐玛格丽特，十六岁，出落得十分标致。她体态丰盈，肌肤洁白，大大的眼睛，甜甜的笑容，一头棕色秀发又浓又厚，双手白皙，这令她颇为自得。十五岁的乔身材修长，皮肤黝黑，见了使人想到一匹小公马，因为她修长的四肢相当碍事，她仿佛总是不知道该如何处置它们。她嘴巴刚毅，鼻子俊俏，灰色的眼睛异常敏锐，似乎能看穿一切，眼神时而炽烈，时而风趣，时而又像在沉思。浓密的长发使她显得特别美丽，但为了方便长发通常被她束入发网。她双肩圆润，大手大脚，穿着又宽又大的衣服。正迅速长成一个成熟的女性，心里却极不愿，因此常常流露出这个阶段的女孩所特有的尴尬神情。伊丽莎白，人称贝思，十三岁，肤色红润，秀发润泽，目如秋波。她举止腼腆，声音羞怯，神情宁静而深远，被父亲称为"小宁静"，此名非她莫属，因为她似乎独个生活在自己的伊甸园中，只敢出来会会几个最亲最信任的人。艾美虽然最小，却是个十分重要的人物。至少她自我感觉如此。她生得纤细端庄，肌骨晶莹，一双蓝眼睛，金黄色的头发卷曲披落肩头，言谈举止十足一个讲究风度的年轻女子。四姐妹的性格如何，我们后面分解。
时钟敲响六下，贝思已经扫干净壁炉地面，把一双便鞋放到上面烘干。看到这双旧鞋子，姑娘们想起妈妈就要回家了，心情明朗起来，准备迎接妈妈。梅格停止了训导，点上了灯。艾美不用人说，就离开了安乐椅。乔则坐起来把鞋子挪近火边，一时忘却了疲倦。
“鞋子太破旧了，妈咪得换双新的。”
“我想用自己的钱给她买一双，”贝思说。
“不，我来买！”艾美嚷道。
“我最大，”梅格刚开口，就被乔坚决地打断了- “爸爸不在家，我就是家里的男子汉了，鞋子我来买。因为爸爸跟我说过，他不在家的时候要我好好照顾妈妈。”“依我说应该这么着，”贝思说，”我们各自给妈妈送件圣诞礼物，我们自己什么都别要了。”“那才像你！好妹妹，送什么好呢？”乔嚷道。
大家都认真想了一会，梅格似乎从自己漂亮的双手得到启发，宣布道：“我要给妈妈送一双精致的手套。”“最好送双军鞋，”乔高声说道。
“我要送些镶边小手帕，”贝思说。
“我会送一小瓶古龙香水。因为妈妈喜欢，而且不用太花钱，我还可以省点钱给自己买铅笔，”艾美接着说。
“我们怎么个送法呢？”梅格问。
“把礼物放在桌上，把妈妈带进来，让她在我们面前亲自拆开礼物。你忘记我们是怎样过生日的吗？”乔回答。
“每当我坐在那张大椅子上，头戴花冠，看着你们一个个上前送上礼物，吻我一下时，心里真是慌得很。我喜欢你们的礼物和亲吻，但要在众目睽睽之下把礼物拆开，我就吓得心里直打鼓儿，”贝思说，边烘茶点，边取暖。
“先别告诉妈咪，让她以为我们是为自己准备的，给她一个惊喜。我们明天下午就得去办货，梅格，圣诞夜的话剧还有许多事情要准备呐。”乔说话的时候倒背着手，仰着头，来回踱步。
“演完这回，以后我就不演了。我年岁大，该退出了，”对"化装游戏"一直童心未泯的梅格说。
“你不会停止的，我知道，只要你能够披下头发，戴上金纸做的珠宝，身披白长裙摇曳而行，你就不会的。因为你是我们的最佳演员，如果你退出，那么一切都完了，”乔说，”我们今晚应该排练一下。来，艾美，试演一下晕厥那一场，你演这幕时生硬得像根拨火棍。”“有什么办法！我从来没见过人晕倒，我也不想像你一样直挺挺地摔倒，弄得自己青一块紫一块的。如果我可以轻轻地倒在地上，我就倒下，否则，还不如体面地倒在椅子上。即使雨果真的用枪指着我也是这句话，”艾美回答。她的表演天赋并不高，被选派这一角色是因为她年纪小，碰上歹徒的尖叫声由她发出更可信。
“这样来：两手这样握着，摇摇晃晃地走过房间，发狂般地叫喊：'罗德力戈！救救我！救救我！'"乔做示范，夸张地尖叫一声，令人毛骨悚然。
艾美跟着模仿，但她伸出的双手僵硬无比，发出的尖叫声与情景相差万里。她那一声"啊！”不像是感到恐惧和极度痛苦，倒像是被针戳了一下。乔失望地叹了一声，梅格却放声大笑，贝思看得有趣，把面包也烤糊了。
“不可救药！演出时尽力而为吧，如果观众笑你，别怪我。
来吧，梅格。”
接下来就顺利多了。唐•佩德罗一口气读下两页挑战世界的宣言；女巫黑格把满满一锅蟾蜍放在火里炖，妖里妖气地给它们念一道可怕的咒语；罗德力戈力拔山河地扯断锁链，雨果狂叫着"哈！哈！”在悔恨和砒霜的折磨下死去。
“这是做得最好的一次，”当"死去"的反角坐起来揉擦肘部时，梅格说。
“乔，你能写出这么好的剧本，而且演得这么出色，简直不可思议！你真是莎士比亚再世！”贝思喊道。她坚信姐妹们才华横溢，无所不能。
“过奖了，”乔谦逊地回答，”《女巫的咒语，一个歌剧式的悲剧》是挺不错的，不过我想演《麦克佩斯》，如果我们能给班柯一扇活地板门的话。我一直想演刺客这一角色。'我眼前看到的是一把刀吗？'"乔轻声朗诵，像她所见过的一位著名悲剧演员一样，转动着眼珠，两手抓向空中。
“错了，这是烧烤叉，你放上去的不是面包，而是妈妈的鞋。贝思看入迷了！“梅格叫起来。众姐妹大笑不已，排练也随之结束。
“看到你们这么快活我真高兴，我的女儿们。”门口传来一串愉快的声音，这些演员和观众转过身来，迎接一位高高个儿、充满母性的女士。她神情可亲、令人愉快。她的衣着虽不华丽，但仪态高贵。在姐妹们心目中，这位身披灰色外套，头戴一顶过时无边小圆软帽的女士是普天下最出色的母亲。
“小宝贝们，今天过得怎么样？我事情太多，要准备好明天就得发出的箱子，没能回家吃饭。有人来过吗，贝思？你感冒好点没有，梅格？乔，你看上去累极了，来吻我吧，宝贝。”马奇太太慈爱地一一询问，一面换去湿衣物，穿上暖和的拖鞋，坐在安乐椅中，把艾美拉到膝边，准备享受繁忙的一天中最幸福的时光。姑娘们纷纷行动起来，各显身手，尽量把一切都布置得舒适怡人。梅格摆茶桌，乔搬木柴并放椅子，却把柴丢落一地，把椅子也打翻，弄得咔嗒直响，贝思在客厅和厨房之间匆匆来回穿梭，忙碌而安静，而艾美则袖手旁观，发号施令。
大家都聚到桌边的时候，马奇太太说：“用饭后，我有好东西给你们。”她的脸上有一种异乎寻常的快乐。
姐妹们脸上立即现出如阳光般灿烂的笑容。贝思顾不得手里拿着饼干，拍起了手掌，乔把餐巾一抛，嚷道：“信！信！
爸爸万岁！”
“是的，一封令人愉快的长信。他一切都好，冬季也不会熬得很苦，我们不必担忧。他祝我们圣诞快乐，事事如意，并特别问候你们这些姑娘们，”马奇太太边说边用手摸着衣袋，似乎里头装着珍宝。
“快点吃饭！别停下来弯起你的小手指边吃边傻笑，艾美，”乔嚷道，她因为急不可耐地要听信，被茶噎了一口，涂了奶油的面包也掉落到地毯上。
贝思不再吃了，她悄悄走到幽暗的屋角坐下，默默想着那即将到来的欢乐，直到大家吃完。
“爸爸已超过征兵年龄，身体也不适宜当兵，我认为他去当随军牧师真是太好了，”梅格热切地说。
“我真想当个鼓手，或者当个--什么来着？或者去当个护士，这样我就可以在他身边帮忙，”乔大声说道，一边哼了一声。
“睡帐篷，吃不堪入口的食物，用大锡杯喝水，这一定十分难受，”艾美叹道。
“他什么时候回家，妈妈？”贝思声音微颤地问道。
“不出几个月，亲爱的，除非他病倒。他在部队一天就会尽忠职守一天。我们也不会要求他提早一分钟回来。现在来读信吧！”她们都围近火边，妈妈坐在大椅子上，贝思坐在她脚边，梅格和艾美一边一个靠在椅子扶手上，乔故意倚在背后，这样读到信中感人的地方时别人也不会觉察到她表情的变化。
在那种艰难的日子里，信，尤其是父亲们写回家的信，往往都催人泪下。但这封信却极少谈及受到的艰难险阻和压抑的乡愁，描述的都是些生动的军营生活、行军情况和部队新闻，读了令人心情振奋，只是在信尾才展露出一颗深沉的慈父爱心以及渴望回家和妻女们团聚的愿望。
“给她们献上我所有的爱和吻。告诉她们我天天想念她们，夜夜为她们祈祷，每时每刻都从她们的爱中得到最大的安慰。要见到她们还要等上漫长的一年，但请提醒她们我可以在等待中工作，不虚度这段难忘的日子。我知道她们会牢记我的话，做好孩子，忠实地做她们该做的事，勇敢地生活、战斗，善于自我控制。等我重返家园的时候，我的四个小妇人一定变得更可爱，更令我感到骄傲。”读到这段，每个人都抽泣鼻子，乔任由大滴大滴的泪珠从鼻尖滚落下来，艾美顾不得一头鬈发会被弄乱，把脸埋在妈妈的肩头上，呜呜咽咽地说：“我是个自私的女孩！但我一定努力进取，不让爸爸失望。”“我们都会努力！”梅格哭着说，”我太注重衣着打扮，而且讨厌工作，以后一定尽量改正。”“我会试着做个'小妇人'，就像爸爸总爱这么叫我的那样，改掉粗野的脾气，做好自己的分内事，不再胡思乱想，“乔说，心里明白在家管好自己的脾气比在南方对付两个敌人还要艰难。
贝思没有言语，只是用深蓝色的军袜抹掉眼泪，拼命埋头编织。她不浪费点滴时间，而是从身边的工作做起，并暗下决心，一定让爸爸回来欢聚的时候如愿以偿。
马奇太太用她愉悦的声音打破了乔说话之后的一阵沉默：“你们还记得演《天路历程》的情形吗？那时候你们还都是些小东西。你们最喜欢我把布袋绑到你们背上做担子，再给你们帽、棍子和纸卷，让你们从屋里走到地窖，也就是'毁灭城'，又再往上一直走到屋顶，在那里你们可以得到许多好东西，这就是'天国'了。“那多好玩啊，特别是走过狮子群，大战'地狱魔王'，路过'妖怪谷'时候！”乔说。
“我喜欢包袱掉下来滚落楼梯这个情节，”梅格说。
“我最喜欢的是我们走出来，上到平坦的屋顶，屋顶满是鲜花、乔木和美丽的东西，我们站在那里，在阳光照耀下，放声欢歌，”贝思微微笑着说，好像又重新回到了那美好的时刻。
“我不大记得了，只记得我挺害怕那个地窖和黑漆漆的入口，还有就是挺喜欢吃屋顶上的蛋糕和牛奶。如果不是年龄太大，我倒挺想再演一回。”年仅十二但已显得成熟的艾美开始谈论告别童真了。
“演这出戏永远没有年龄之分，亲爱的，事实上我们一直都在扮演，只是方式不同而已。我们重担在肩，道路就在眼前，追求善美、追求幸福的愿望引导我们跨越无数艰难险阻，最后踏入圣宁之地--真正的'天国'。来吧，往天国进发的小旅客们，再来一次吧。不是做戏，而是真心真意地去做，看看爸爸回来时你们走了多远的路。”“真的吗，妈妈？我们的重担在哪里？”缺乏想像力的年轻女士艾美问道。
“刚才你们各人都把自己的担子说了出来，只有贝思除外。恐怕她没有哩，”母亲答道。
“有呵，我也有。锅、碗、瓶、盆，扫帚抹布，嫉妒有漂亮钢琴的女孩，害怕生人，这些都是我的担子。”贝思的包袱如此有趣，大家直想笑，不过都没有笑出来，因为这样会大大伤害她的自尊心。
“干这些有什么不好呢？”梅格沉思着说，”这其实就是追求善美，只是说法不同而已，而这个故事可以启发我们，因为尽管我们都有追求善美之心，但因为做起来困难，我们便又忘掉了，不去尽力而为。”“我们今晚本来处于'绝望的深渊'，妈妈像书中的'帮助'一样来把我们拉了出去，我们应该像基督教徒一样有几本指导手册。这事怎么办好呢？”乔问，为自己的想像力给沉闷的任务添加了几分浪漫色彩而自鸣得意。
“圣诞节一早看看你们的枕下，就会找到指导手册了，”马奇太太说。
罕娜嬷嬷收拾桌子时，大家开始讨论新计划，然后取出四个装活计的小篮子，姐妹们开始飞针走线，为马奇太太缝制被单。针线活是个沉闷的活儿，不过今天晚上谁也没有抱怨。她们采纳乔的建议，把长长的缝口分为四段，分别称为欧洲、亚洲、非洲和美洲。这样果然缝得快多了。她们一边缝一边谈论针线穿越的不同国家，更觉进展神速。
九点钟的时候大家停下活儿，像平时那样先唱歌再去睡觉。家里有架老掉牙的钢琴，除了贝思，大家都不大会弹。她轻轻触动泛黄的琴键，大家随着悠扬的琴声唱了起来。梅格的嗓音像芦笛一样动听，她和母亲担任这支小演唱队的领唱。
艾美歌声清脆，如蟋蟀的鸣叫，乔则任由歌声在空中飘荡，总是在不适宜的时候冒出个颤音或怪叫声来，把最深沉的曲调给糟蹋掉。打从牙牙学语的时候开始，她们就一直这样唱：小星星，亮晶晶，如今这已成了家里的惯例，因为她们的母亲就是个天生的歌唱家。早上听到的第一个声音就是她在屋子里走动时唱出的云雀般婉转的歌声，晚上，她那轻快的歌声又成了一天的尾声。这支熟识的摇篮曲姑娘们百听不厌。
Chapter 2 A Merry Christmas
　　Jo was the first to wake in the grey dawn of Christmas morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much disappointed as she did long ago, when a little sock fell down because it was so crammed with goodies. Then she remembered her mother's promise, and, slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out a little crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guide-book for any pilgrim going the long journey. She woke Meg with a `Merry Christmas', and bade her see what was under her pillow. A green-covered book appeared with the same picture inside, and a few words written their mother, which made their one present very precious their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke, to rummage a find their little books also - one, dove-coloured, the other blue; and all sat looking at and talking about them, while the east grew rosy with the coming day.

　　In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet a pious nature, which unconsciously influenced her sister especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed her because her advice was so gently given.

　　`Girls,' said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled head beside her to the two little night-capped ones in the room beyond, `Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and we must begin at once. We used to be faithful about it; but since Father went away, and all this war trouble unsettled us, we have neglected many things. You can do as you please; but I shall keep my book on the table here, and read a little every morning as soon as I wake for I know it will do me good, and help me through the day.'

　　Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm round her, and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also with the quiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face.

　　`How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let's do as they do. I'll help you with the hard words, and they'll explain things if we don't understand,' whispered Beth, very much impressed by the pretty books and her sisters' example. `I'm glad mine is blue,' said Amy; and then the rooms were very still while the pages were softly turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faces with a Christmas greeting.

　　`Where is Mother?' asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her for their gifts, half an hour later. `Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter come a-beggin', and your ma went straight off to see what was needed. There never was such a woman for givin' away vittles and drink, clothes, and firin',' replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was considered by them all more as a friend than a servant.

　　`She will be back soon, I think; so fry your cake, and have everything ready,' said Meg, looking over the presents which were collected in a basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be produced at the proper time. `Why, where is Amy's bottle of cologne?' she added, as the little flask did not appear. `She took it out a minute ago, and went off wit it to put a ribbon on it, or some such notion,' replied Jo dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off the new army-slippers.

　　`How nice my handkerchiefs look, don't they! Hannah washed and ironed them for me, and I marked them a myself,' said Beth, looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters which had cost her such labour.

　　`Bless the child! she's gone and put "Mother" on these instead of "M. March". How funny!' cried Jo, taking up one.

　　`Isn't it right? I thought it was better to do it so, because Meg's initials are `M. M.', and I don't want anyone to use these but Marmee,' said Beth, looking troubled.

　　`It's all right, dear, and a very pretty idea - quite sensible, too, for no one can ever mistake them now. It will please her very much, I know,' said Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth.

　　`There's Mother. Hide the basket, quick!' cried Jo, as door slammed, and steps sounded in the hall.

　　Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters all waiting for her.

　　`Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you?' asked Meg, surprised to see, by her hood and cloak that lazy Amy had been out so early.

　　`Don't laugh at me, Jo! I didn't mean anyone should know till the time came. I only meant to change the little bottle for a big one, and I gave all my money to get it, and I'm truly trying not to be selfish any more.'

　　As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask which replaced the cheap one; and looked so earnest and humble her little effort to forget herself that Meg hugged her on spot, and Jo pronounced her in `a trump', while Beth ran to the window and picked her finest rose to ornament the stately bottle.

　　`You see, I felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talking about being good this morning, so I ran round the corner and changed it the minute I was up; and I'm so glad, for mine is the handsomest now.'

　　Another bang of the street door sent the basket under the sofa, and the girls to the table, eager for breakfast.

　　`Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for our books; we read some, and mean to, every day,' they cried, in chorus.

　　`Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little new-born baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there; and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?'

　　They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke; only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously:

　　`I'm so glad you came before we began!'

　　`May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?' said Beth, eagerly.

　　`I shall take the cream and the muffins,' added Amy, heroically, giving up the articles she most liked.

　　Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one big plate.

　　`I thought you'd do it,' said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. `You shall all go, and help me, and when we come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast, and make it up at dinner-time.'

　　They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went through back streets, few people saw them, and no one laughed at the queer party.

　　A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged bed-clothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm.

　　How the big eyes stared and blue lips smiled as the girl went in!

　　`Ach, mein Gott! it is good angels come to us!' said in poor woman, crying for joy.

　　`Funny angels in hoods and mittens,' said Jo and set them laughing.

　　In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made a fire, and stopped up the broken panes with old hats an her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother tea and gruel and comforted her with promises of help, while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The girls, meantime, spread the table, set the children round the fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds - laughing, talking, and trying to understand the funny broken English.

　　`Das ist gut!'

　　`Die Engelkinder!' cried the poor things, as they ate, and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze.

　　The girls had never been called angel children before and thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered a `Sancho' ever since she was born. That was a very happy breakfast, though they didn't get any of it; and when they went away, leaving comfort behind, I think they were not in all the city four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and milk on Christmas morning.

　　`That's loving our neighbour better than ourselves, and I like it,' said Meg, as they set out their presents, while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels.

　　Not a very splendid show, but there was a great deal of love done up in the few little bundles; and the tall vase red roses, white chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, which stood in the middle, gave quite an elegant air to the table.

　　`She's coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Three cheers for Marmee!' cried Jo, prancing about, while Meg went to conduct Mother to the seat of honour.

　　Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door and Meg enacted escort with great dignity. Mrs. March was both surprised and touched; and smiled with her eyes full a she examined her presents, and read the little notes which accompanied them. The slippers went on at once, a new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well scented with Amy's cologne, the rose was fastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced a `perfect fit'.

　　There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining, in the simple, loving fashion which makes these home festivals so pleasant at the time, so sweet to remember long afterwards, and then all fell to work.

　　The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time that the rest of the day was devoted to preparations for the evening festivities.

　　Not rich enough to afford any great outlay for private performances, the girls put their wits to work, and necessity - being the mother of invention - made whatever they needed. Very clever were some of their productions - paste board guitars, antique lamps made of old-fashioned butter boats covered with silver paper, gorgeous robes of old cotton glittering with tin spangle from a pickle factory, and armour covered with the same useful diamond-shaped bits, left ii the sheets when the lids of tin preserve-pots were cut out. The furniture was used to being turned topsy-turvy, and the big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels.

　　No gentlemen were admitted; so Jo played male parts to her heart's content, and took immense satisfaction in a pair of russet-leather boots given her by a friend. These boots, an old foil, and a slashed doublet once used by an artist for some picture, were Jo's chief treasures, and appeared on all occasions. The smallness of the company made it necessary for the two principal actors to take several parts apiece; ant they certainly deserved some credit for the hard work the did in learning three or four different parts, whisking in ant out of various costumes, and managing the stage besides. It was excellent drill for their memories, a harmless amusement, and employed many hours which otherwise would have been idle, lonely, or spent in less profitable society.

　　On Christmas night, a dozen girls piled on to the bed which was the dress-circle, and sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy. There was a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp-smoke, and an occasional giggles from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment. Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and the Operatic Tragedy began.

　　`A gloomy wood', according to the one play-bill, we represented by a few shrubs in pots, green baize on the floor and a cave in the distance. This cave was made with clothes-horse for a roof, bureaus for walls; and in it was small furnace in full blast, with a black spot on it, and a old witch bending over it. The stage was dark, and the glow of the furnace had a fine effect, especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. A moment was allowed for the first thrill to subside; the: Hugo, the villain, stalked in with a clanking sword at hi side, a slouched hat, black beard, mysterious cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, he struck his forehead, and burst out in a wild strain, singing of his hatred to Roderigo, his love for Zara, and his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other. The gruff tones of Hugo's voice, with an occasional shout when his feeling overcame him, were very impressive, and the audience applauded the moment he paused for breath. Bowing with the air of one accustomed to public praise, he stole to the cavern and ordered Hagar to come forth with a commanding `What ho, minion! I need thee!'

　　Out came Meg, with grey horse-hair hanging about her face, a red and black robe, a staff, and cabbalistic signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded a potion to make Zara adore him, and one to destroy Roderigo. Hagar, in a fine dramatic melody, promised both, and proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring the love philtre:

　　`Hither, hither, from my home,

　　Airy sprite, I bid thee come!

　　Born of roses, fed on dew,

　　Charms and potions canst thou brew?

　　Bring me here, with elfin speed,

　　The fragrant philtre which I need;

　　Make it sweet and swift and strong,

　　Spirit, answer now my song!'

　　A soft strain of music sounded, and then at the back of the cave appeared a little figure in cloudy white, with glittering wings, golden hair, and a garland of roses on its head. Waving a wand, it sang:

　　`Hither I come,

　　From my airy home,

　　Afar in the silver moon.

　　Take this magic spell, And use it well,

　　Or its power will vanish soon!'

　　And, dropping a small, gilded bottle at the witch's feet, the spirit vanished. Another chant from Hagar produced an other apparition - not a lovely one; for, with a bang, as ugly black imp appeared, and, having croaked a reply tossed a dark bottle at Hugo, and disappeared with a mocking laugh. Having warbled his thanks and put the potions is his boots, Hugo departed; and Hagar informed the audience that, as he had killed a few of her friends in times past, she has cursed him, and intends to thwart his plans, and be revenged on him. Then the curtain fell, and the audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the merits of the play.

　　A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again; but when it bme evident what a masterpiece of stage-carpentering had been got ups no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb! A tower rose to the ceiling half-way up appeared a window, with a lamp burning at it and behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came in gorgeous array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut love-locks, guitar, and the boots, of course. Kneeling at the foot of the tower, he sang a serenade in melting tones. Zara replied, and, after a musical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the play. Roderigo produced a rope ladder, with five steps to it, threw up one end, and invited Zara to descend. Timidly she crept from her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo's shoulder, and was about to leap gracefully down, when, in Alas! alas for Zara!' she forgot her train - it caught in the window, the tower tottered, leant forward, fell with a crash, and buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins!

　　A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the wreck, and a golden head emerged, exclaiming, `I told you so! I told you so!' With wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro, the cruel sire, rushed in, dragged out his daughter, with a hasty aside:

　　`Don't laugh! Act as if it was all right!' - and, ordering Roderigo up, banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn. Though decidedly shaken by the fall of the tower upon him, Roderigo defied the old gentleman, and refused to stir. This dauntless example fired Zara: she also defied her sire, and he ordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the castle. A stout little retainer came in with chains, and led them away, looking very much frightened, and evidently forgetting the speech he ought to have made.

　　Act third was the castle hall; and here Hagar appeared, having come to free the lovers and finish Hugo. She hears him coming, and hides; sees him put the potions into two cups of wine, and bid the timid little servant in Bear them to the captives in their cells, and tell them I shall come anon.' The servant takes Hugo aside to tell him something, an Hagar changes the cups for two others which are harmless Ferdinando, the `minion', carries them away, and Hagar puts back the cup which holds the poison meant for Roderigo. Hugo, getting thirsty after a long warble, drinks it, loses his wits, and, after a good deal of clutching and stamping, falls flat and dies; while Hagar informs him what she has done in a song of exquisite power and melody.

　　This was a truly thrilling scene, though some person might have thought that the sudden tumbling down of quantity of long hair rather marred the effect of the villain death. He was called before the curtain, and with great propriety appeared, leading Hagar, whose singing was considered more wonderful than all the rest of the performance put together.

　　Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the point of stabbing himself, because he has been told that Zara has deserted him. Just as the dagger is at his heart, a lovely son is sung under his window, informing him that Zara is true, but in danger, and he can save her, if he will. A key thrown in, which unlocks the door, and in a spasm of rapture he tears off his chains, and rushes away to find an rescue his lady-love.

　　Act fifth opened with a stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro. He wishes her to go into a convent, but she won't hear of it; and, after a touching appeal, is about to fain when Roderigo dashes in and demands her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he is not rich. They shout and gesticulate tremendously, but cannot agree, and Roderigo about to bear away the exhausted Zara, when the timid servant enters with a letter and a bag from Hagar, who ha mysteriously disappeared. The letter informs the party that she bequeaths untold wealth to the young pair, and an awful doom to Don Pedro, if he doesn't make them happy. The bag is opened, and several quarts of tin money shower down upon the stage, till it is quite glorified with the glitter. This entirely softens the in `stern sire': he consents without a murmur, all join in a joyful chorus, and the curtain falls upon the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro's blessing in attitudes of the most romantic grace.

　　Tumultuous applause followed, but received an unexpected check; for the cot-bed, on which the `dress-circle' was built, suddenly shut up, and extinguished the enthusiastic audience. Roderigo and Don Pedro flew to the rescue and all were taken out unhurt, though many were speechless with laughter. The excitement had hardly subsided, when Hannah appeared, with `Mrs. March's compliments, and would the ladies walk down to supper'.

　　This was a surprise, even to the actors; and, when they saw the table, they looked at one another in rapturous amazement. It was like Marmee to get up a little treat for them; but anything so fine as this was unheard of since the departed days of plenty. There was ice-cream - actually two dishes of it, pink and white - and cake and fruit and distracting French bonbons, and, in the middle of the table, four great bouquets of hot-house flowers.

　　It quite took their breath away; and they stared first at the table and then at their mother, who looked as if she enjoyed it immensely.

　　`Is it fairies?' asked Amy.

　　`It's Santa Claus,' said Beth.

　　`Mother did it'; and Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite her grey beard and white eyebrows.

　　`Aunt March had a good fit, and sent the supper,' cried Jo, with a sudden inspiration.

　　`All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it,' replied Mr March.

　　`The Laurence boy's grandfather! What in the world put such a thing into his head? We don't know him!' exclaimed Meg.

　　`Hannah told one of his servants about your breakfast party. He is an odd old gentleman, but that pleased him. He knew my father, years ago; and he sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling towards my children by sending them few trifles in honour of the day. I could not refuse; and you have a little feast at night to make up for the bread-and-milk breakfast.'

　　`That boy put it into his head, I know he did! He's capital fellow, and I wish we could get acquainted. He loon as if he'd like to know us; but he's bashful, and Meg is prim she won't let me speak to him when we pass,' said Jo as the plates went round, and the ice began to melt out sight, with `Ohs!' and `Ahs!' of satisfaction.

　　`You mean the people who live in the big house net door, don't you?' asked one of the girls. `My mother knows old Mr. Laurence; but says he's very proud, and doesn't like to mix with his neighbours. He keeps his grandson shut up, when he isn't riding or walking with his tutor, and make him study very hard. We invited him to our party, but he didn't come. Mother says he's very nice, though he never speaks to us girls.'

　　`Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and we talked over the fence, and were getting on capitally - all about cricket, and so on - when he saw Meg coming, and walked off. I mean to know him some day; for he needs fun, I'm sure he does,' said Jo decidedly.

　　`I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentleman; so I've no objection to your knowing him, if a Proper opportunity comes. He brought the flowers himself; and I should have asked him in, if I had been sure what was going on upstairs. He looked so wistful as he went away, hearing the frolic, and evidently having none of his own.'

　　`It's a mercy you didn't, Mother!' laughed Jo, looking at her boots. `But we'll have another play, some time, that he can see. Perhaps he'll help act; wouldn't that be jolly?'

　　`I never had such a fined bouquet before! How pretty it is!' And Meg examined her flowers with great interest.

　　`They are lovely. But Beth's roses are sweeter to me,' said Mrs. March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt.

　　Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, `I wish I could send my bunch to Father. I'm afraid he isn't having such a merry Christmas as we are.'
 
圣诞节一早，天刚蒙蒙亮，乔便第一个醒来。她看到壁炉边没有挂着袜子，一时深感失望。多年前，她的小袜子因为糖果塞得太满而掉落地上，她也曾这样失望过。稍后她想起母亲的诺言，便悄悄把手伸到枕头下面，果然摸出一本菲红色封面的书。她十分熟悉这本书，因为它记载的是历史上最优秀的人物的经典故事。乔觉得这正是一切踏上漫长征途的朝圣者所需要的指导书。她一声"圣诞快乐“把梅格叫醒，叫她看看枕头下面有什么。梅格掏出一本绿色封面、带有相同插图的书，妈妈在上面题了词，使这件礼物倍添珍贵。不一会，贝思和艾美也醒来了，翻寻到各自的小书--一本乳白色，另一本蓝色 -四姐妹于是坐着边看边讨论，不觉东方已泛起红霞，新的一天又告开始。
玛格丽特虽然有点爱慕虚荣，但她天性温柔善良，颇得姐妹们敬重，特别是乔，更是深深地爱着自己的姐姐，并对她言听计从，因为她无论说什么都总是轻声细语的。
“姑娘们，”梅格严肃地说，看看身边头发蓬乱的一位，又看看房间另一头戴着睡帽的两个小脑袋，”妈妈希望我们爱惜这些书，读好这些书，我们应该立即行动。虽然我们以前做得挺认真，但自从爸爸离家后，战乱七繁，我们忽略了许多事。你们爱怎样我不管，但我要把书放在这张桌上，每天早上一醒来就读一点，因为我知道，这样会有好处，它将伴我度过每一天。”说完她打开新书读了起来，乔用胳膊拥着她，与她并肩而读，不安分的脸上露出少见的宁静。
“梅格真好！来，艾美，我们也一起读吧。我帮你解释生词，我们不懂的地方就由她们来讲解好了，”贝思轻声说。她被漂亮的小书和两位姐姐全神贯注的模样深深感动了。
“真开心，我的封面是蓝色的，”艾美说。接下来除了轻轻的翻书声外，屋里一片宁静。这时，冬日的阳光悄悄潜入屋内，轻柔地抚摸着她们亮丽的头发和严肃的脸庞，向她们致以圣诞节的问候。
“妈妈哪儿去了？”半个小时后，梅格和乔跑下楼，要找妈妈道谢。
“老天才知道。一些穷人来讨东西，你妈马上就去看他们需要什么。她是天底下最菩萨心肠的女人，”罕娜答道。老嬷嬷自打梅格出生以来就一直和她们一家生活在一起，尽管她是个佣人，大家都拿当朋友。
“我想她很快就会回来，你先煎饼，把东西准备好，”梅格一边说一边把装在篮子里的礼物又看了一遍。礼物藏在沙发下面，准备在适当的时候拿出来。”咦，艾美的那瓶古龙水呢？”她接着又问，因为篮子里没有那个小瓶子。
“她刚刚把它拿走了，要系根丝带或者什么小玩意儿，”乔答道。她正在屋子里蹦来蹦去，要把硬邦邦的军鞋穿软和。
“我的手帕漂亮极了，对吧？罕娜把它们洗得干干净净，还熨过了，上面的字都是我亲手绣的，”贝思说着，骄傲地看着那些她费了许多工夫绣成但又不太工整的字体。
“哎呀！她把'马奇太太'绣成'妈妈'了，真有趣！”乔拿起一条手帕嚷道。
“这样不行吗？我原以为这样会更好，因为梅格的首写字母也是Ｍ．Ｍ．，而这些手帕我只想让妈妈用。”贝思的神情显得有点不安。
“这样挺好，亲爱的，而且主意不错--相当有理哩，因为这样就不会弄错了。妈妈一定会很高兴的，”梅格说着，对乔皱皱眉，又向贝思一笑。
“妈妈回来了，藏好篮子，快！”乔立即叫起来。门呯地一响，大厅传来了脚步声。
艾美急匆匆地走进来，看到姐姐们都在等她，显得有点不好意思。
“你到哪儿去了，藏在后面的是什么？”梅格问。看到艾美穿戴整齐，她不由诧异这小懒虫竟然这么早就出去了！
“别笑我，乔！我并不是有意要瞒着你们，我只是花掉全部的钱把小瓶的古龙水换成大瓶的，我真的不想再那么自私了。”艾美一边说一边给大家看她用原先的便宜货换回来的大瓶古龙水。她努力克服私利，显得诚恳而谦恭，梅格一把抱住了她，乔宣布她是个"大好人"，贝思则跑到窗边摘下一朵美丽的玫瑰花来装饰这个漂亮的大瓶子。
“你们知道，今天早上大家一起读书，又谈到要做好孩子，我为自己的礼物感到羞愧，所以起床后马上跑到附近把它换过来，我真高兴，因为我的礼物现在成了最漂亮的啦。”临街的大门又响了一下，篮子再次藏到沙发下面，姑娘们围坐在桌子边，等着吃早餐。
“圣诞快乐，妈咪！谢谢你送给我们的书。我们读了一点，以后每天都要读，“姐妹们齐声喊道。
“圣诞快乐，小姑娘们！真高兴你们马上就开始学习，可要坚持下去埃不过坐下之前我想说几句话。离这儿不远的地方，躺着一个可怜的妇人和一个刚生下来的婴儿。六个孩子为了不被冻僵挤在一张床上，因为他们没有火取暖。那里没有吃的，最大的孩子来告诉我他们又冷又饿。姑娘们，你们愿意把早餐送给他们做圣诞礼物吗？”她们刚才等了差不多一个小时，现在正饿得慌，有一阵子大家都默不作声- 就那么一阵子，只听乔冲口而出道：“我真高兴，早餐还没开始呢！”“我帮着把东西拿给那些可怜的孩子好吗？”贝思热切地问道。
“我来拿奶油和松饼，”艾美接着说，英雄似地放弃了自己最喜欢吃的东西。
梅格已动手把荞麦盖上，把面包堆放到一个大盘子里。
“我早料到你们会这样做，”马奇太太舒心地微笑道，”你们都去帮我，回来后早餐吃点牛奶面包，到正餐的时候再补回来。”大家很快准备妥当，队伍出发了。幸亏时候尚早，她们又打后街穿过，没几个人看到她们，也没人取笑这支奇怪的队伍。
这是一个满目凄凉的贫贱之家，四壁萧然，门窗破败，屋里没有炉火，床上被褥褴褛，病弱的母亲抱着啼哭的婴儿，一群面黄肌瘦、饥肠辘辘的孩子披着一张破被缩成一团。
看见姑娘们走进来，他们惊喜得瞪大眼睛，咧开冻得发紫的嘴唇笑了起来！
“哎呀，老天爷，善良的天使看我们来了！”那个可怜的女人欢喜得叫起来。
“是戴帽子手套的趣怪天使，”乔说道，逗得他们都笑起来。
这情景真让人以为是好心的神灵在显圣呢。罕娜用带来的木柴生起炉火，又用一些旧帽子和自己的斗篷挡住破烂的玻璃窗。马奇太太一边为做母亲的端茶递粥，一边安慰她，让她宽心，又像对待自己的亲生骨肉一样轻柔地为小宝宝穿上衣服。姑娘们摆好桌子，把孩子们安顿到火炉边，像喂一群饥饿的小鸟一样喂他们，并跟他们说笑，尽力想听明白他们有趣而又蹩脚的英语。
“真系（是）好！”“这些天使好心人！”这班可怜的孩子边吃边把发紫的小手伸到温暖的火炉边暖和着。
姑娘们还是第一次被人称作小天使，觉得非常惬意，尤其是乔，她自打娘胎生下来就被大家当作"桑丘"，因此更加得意。虽然她们没有吃上一口早餐，心里却感到无比的舒畅。当这四个饥肠辘辘的小姑娘把温暖留给别人，走在回家的路上时，我想合城里再没人能比她们更幸福了。她们在圣诞节早上把最好的早餐送给穷人，自己却宁愿吃面包和牛奶。
“这就是所谓爱别人胜于爱自己，我喜欢这样，”梅格说。
她们趁母亲上楼为贫穷的赫梅尔一家收集衣物时把礼物摆了出来。
这些小礼物并不贵重，但都经过精心的包装，从中可见一片深情。一只高高的花瓶立在桌子中间，里头插着红色的玫瑰和白色的菊花，衬着几缕垂蔓，平添一份雅致。
“她来了！开始演奏，贝思！开门，艾美！为妈妈欢呼三声！”乔欢跃着大声喊叫，梅格则上前去把妈妈接到贵宾席位。
贝思弹起欢快的进行曲，艾美拉开门，梅格俨然是一个护花使者。马奇太太既惊讶又感动，她含笑端详着她的礼物，读着附在上面的小字条，不由眼中噙满泪水地笑了。她当即穿上便鞋，又把一条散发着古龙水香味的手帕放入衣袋，然后她把那朵玫瑰花别在胸前，又称赞别致的手套"绝对合适"。
大家笑着、吻着、解释着，这种简单而又充满爱意的方式增添了家里的节日气氛，其温馨让人永久难忘。然后，大家又投入了工作。
早上的慈善活动和庆典花了不少时间，余下的时间便用来准备晚上的欢庆活动。由于年龄太小，不宜经常上戏院，又因为经济拮据，支付不起业余表演的大笔费用，姑娘们于是充分发挥才智--需要是发明之母 -需要什么，她们便做什么。她们的创造品有些还挺见心机-用纸板做的吉它，用旧式牛油瓶裹上锡纸做成的古灯，用旧棉布做的鲜艳夺目的长袍，面上亮晶晶地镶着从一家腌菜厂拿来的小锡片，还有镶有同样的钻石形小锡片的盔甲，这些被派上用场的小锡片是腌菜厂做罐头剩下的边角料。屋子里的家具常常被弄得乱七八糟，大房间就是舞台，姑娘们在台上天真无邪地尽兴表演。
由于不收男士，乔便尽情地扮演男角。她对一双黄褐色的长统皮靴尤为满意。因为靴子是她的一个朋友赠送的，这位朋友认识一位女士，女士又认识一位演员。这双靴子、一把旧钝头剑，还有某个艺术家用来画过几幅画的开衩背心，这些便是乔的主要宝藏，任何场合都得登台亮相。因为剧团小，两个主要演员必须分别扮演几个角色。她们同时学习三四个不同角色的表演，飞快地轮番换上各式各样的戏服，同时还要兼顾幕后工作，其努力精神值得称道。这种有益的娱乐活动可以很好地锻炼她们的记忆力，并可以打发闲暇，排遣寂寞，减少无聊的社交。
圣诞之夜，十二个女孩子挤在花楼 -一张床— 的上头，坐在黄蓝二色混合的磨光印花帘幕前面，翘首以盼，焦急地等着看戏。幕后灯光朦胧，不时传来沙沙的响声和悄悄的话语声，偶尔还传来容易激动的艾美在兴奋之中发出的咯咯笑声。不一会铃声响起，帘幕拉开，《歌剧式的悲剧》开始了。
几株盆栽灌木、铺在地板上的绿色厚毛呢，以及远处的一个洞穴构成了节目单上的"阴森森的树林"，洞穴用晒衣架做洞顶，衣柜做墙壁，里头有一个熊熊燃烧着的小炉子，一个老巫婆正俯身把弄炉上的一个黑锅。舞台阴森黑暗，熊熊的炉火营造了良好的舞台效果。女巫揭开锅盖，锅里冒出阵阵蒸气，令人叫绝。第一阵高潮过后，歹徒雨果阔步上常他嘴上蓄着黑胡子，头上歪戴着一顶帽子，脚踏长靴，身披神秘外衣，腰间佩一把当啷作响的宝剑。他焦躁不安地来回走了几步，猛然一拍额头，放声高歌，唱他对罗德力戈的恨、对萨拉的爱，以及要杀掉仇人、赢得莎拉的心愿。雨果粗哑的嗓音和感情暴发时偶然发出的一声大喝给观众留下极其深刻的印象，他刚停下要歇口气，大家便报以热烈的掌声。他习以为常地躬身谢过，又轻轻走到洞穴，大模大样地命黑格出来：“呔！奴才！出来！”梅格出来，脸上挂着灰色马鬃，身穿黑红二色长袍，手持拐杖，大衣上画着神秘符号。雨果向他索取两种魔药，一种可以使莎拉爱他，另一种用来毒死罗德力戈。黑格唱起优美的歌儿，答应把两种魔药都给他，接着他把送魔药的小精灵叫出来。戏文唱道：来吧、来吧，空中的小精灵。
我令你从家里过来！
你玫瑰生成，雨露裹腹，
可知道怎样调制魔药？
快速速给我送来，
我要的芳馥药儿，
要调得既浓又甜，药力神速，
快回答我吧，小精灵！
音乐轻柔地奏起来，接着洞穴后面现出一个小身影：金色的头发，一身乳白色的衣裳，两个翅膀闪闪发亮，头上戴着玫瑰花环。它挥舞魔杖唱道：来了，我来了，从我虚无缥渺的家园，那遥远的银色的月亮。
把魔药拿去，
并用在适当的地方，
不然它的魔力就会很快失去！
小精灵把一个金闪闪的小瓶子扔到女巫脚下，随之消失。黑格再次施用魔法唤来另一个幽灵。只听呯的一声，一个丑陋的黑色小魔鬼出来。它用阴森森的声音作了回答，然后把一个黑色瓶子扔向雨果，冷笑一声，消失得无影无踪。雨果用颤抖的嗓音道过谢，把两瓶魔药放进靴子里，转身离去。黑格告诉观众，因为雨果以前曾杀死过她的几个朋友，她给他下了魔咒，准备挫败他的计划，向他复仇。接着帘幕落下，观众们一边休息和吃糖，一边评长论短。
帘幕迟迟没有拉开，里头传来好一阵锤打声。不过当舞台布景终于出现在眼前时，观众们谁都顾不得抱怨刚才耽误了时间，因为布景实在太美了，简直是巧夺天工！只见一座塔楼耸入屋顶，塔楼半空露出一扇亮着灯光的窗户，白色的帘幕后面莎拉身穿一套漂亮的银蓝二色裙子在等待罗德力戈。罗德力戈盛装走进。他一头栗色鬈发，戴一顶插着羽毛的帽子，身披红色外衣，手拿吉它，脚踏长靴。当然啦，他跪在塔下，柔情万分地唱起一支小夜曲。莎拉回答他，用歌声对了几句话后，同意私奔。接下来是话剧的大场面。罗德力戈拿出一张有五个梯级的草绳软梯，把一端抛上去，请莎拉下来。莎拉含羞从花窗格子爬下来，手扶罗德力戈的肩头，正要优雅地往下跳，突然观众叫起来：“哎呀！哎呀！莎拉！”原来一不留神，她的长裙被窗户绊住了。塔楼摇晃着向前倾斜，轰的一声倒下，把这对倒霉的恋人埋在废墟里！
众人尖声大叫，只见黄褐色皮靴伸出废墟使劲乱摇，一个金发脑袋探出来叫道：“我早就告诉过你会这样！我早就告诉过你会这样！”那位冷酷的父亲唐•佩德罗头脑极为冷静，他冲进去拖出自己的女儿，一把拉向身边。
“别笑！继续演，就当什么也没发生过！”他命令罗德力戈站起来，盛怒而轻蔑地将他驱逐出去。虽然被倒下的塔楼砸得不轻，罗德力戈并没有忘掉自己的角色，他不理睬这位老绅士，就是不动身子。这种大无畏的精神启发了莎拉；她也不理睬父亲。唐•佩得罗于是命令两人一起下到城堡最低层的地牢里。一位稍胖的小侍从手持锁链走进来，神色慌张地把他们带走，显然是把讲的台词忘掉了。
第三幕是城堡的大厅，黑格在此出现，准备解救这对恋人并解决雨果。她听到雨果走进来便藏起来，看他把魔药倒进两个酒杯，又听他吩咐那位腼腆的小侍从：“把酒带给地牢里的囚徒，告诉他们我一会就来。”小侍从把雨果带到一边说了几句话，黑格随即把两杯药酒换成两杯没有药性的。”奴才"费迪南多把酒带走了，黑格把原来要给罗德力戈的那杯毒酒放回去。雨果唱完一支冗长的歌后感到口渴，便喝下那杯毒酒，顿时失去神智，拼命挣扎一番后，挺直身子倒地而死。这时黑格用热烈而优美的曲调唱了一首歌，说明自己刚才使了什么手段。
这真是震撼人心的一幕，虽然有些人或许认为突然跌落的一把长发使歹徒之死显得有些失色。歹徒应观众的要求彬彬有礼地领着黑格走到幕前谢幕。黑格的歌声被认为是全场戏的问鼎之作。
第四幕大家看到罗德力戈听说莎拉离弃了他，万分绝望，准备自杀。他刚刚把剑对准心脏，突然听到窗下传来优美的歌声，告诉他莎拉没有变心，但身处险境，如果他愿意可以把她救出来。接着外面扔进一把钥匙。把门锁打开后，他狂喜地挫断锁链冲出门外，去营救心爱的姑娘。
第五幕开场时，莎拉和唐•佩得罗正闹得不可开交。唐•佩得罗要她进修道院，她坚决不从，并伤心欲绝地求他开恩，正要晕倒时，罗德力戈闯入并向她求婚。唐• 佩德罗不答应，因为他没有钱。两人大吵大闹一番，依然互不相让。罗德力戈正要把筋疲力尽的莎拉背走，羞怯的小侍从拿着黑格交给她的一封信和一个布袋走进来，黑格此时已神秘地消失。
这封信告诉大家她把一大笔财富赠给这对年轻人，如果唐•佩得罗破坏他们的幸福，必遭厄运。接着布袋打开了，大把大把的锡币洒落下来，堆在台上闪闪发亮，极为壮观。”狠心的父亲"这才软下心肠，一声不响地表示同意。众人于是齐声欢唱，一双恋人以极为优雅浪漫的姿态跪下，接受唐•佩德罗的祝福，帘幕随之降下。
接下来响起了热烈的掌声，正当此时，那座用作花楼的帆布床突然折拢，把热情洋溢的观众压倒。罗德力戈和唐•佩德罗飞身前来抢救，众人虽然毫发无损，但全都笑得说不出话来。大家刚刚恢复神态，罕娜进来说：“马奇太太致以祝贺，并请女士们下来用餐。”大家一阵惊喜，连演员亦不例外。看到桌子上摆着的东西，她们高兴得互相对望，同时都感到十分奇怪。妈妈平时也会弄点吃的款待她们，不过自从告别了宽裕的日子以来，这样的好东西连听都没听说过。桌子上摆着雪糕- 而且有两碟，一碟粉红色，一碟白色 还有蛋糕、水果和迷人的法式夹心糖，桌子中间还摆着四束美丽的温室鲜花！
这情景使她们大为惊讶。她们看看饭桌，又看看自己的母亲，母亲也显得非常高兴。
“这是小仙女干的吗？”艾美问。
“是圣诞老人，”贝思说。
“是妈妈干的！”脸上挂着白胡子白眉毛的梅格笑得又甜又美。
“是马奇婶婶心血来潮给我们送来的，”乔灵机一动叫道。
“全都不对，是劳伦斯老先生送来的，”马奇太太答道。
“那男孩的爷爷！他怎么会想到我们的呢？我们和他素不相识呀！”梅格嚷道。
“罕娜把你们早上做的事告诉了他的一个佣人。这位老绅士脾气古怪，但他听后很高兴。他多年前就认识我父亲，今天下午便给我送了张十分客气的字条，说希望我能允许他向我的孩子们表示他的善意，送上一点微不足道的圣诞礼物，我不便拒绝，所以你们晚上就开个小宴会，作为对面包加牛奶早餐的补偿。”“一定是那男孩出的主意，准没错！他是个一流的小伙子，但愿我们可以交朋友。他看来也想认识我们，只是有点怕羞，而梅格又一本正经，我们路过也不让我跟他说句话。”这时碟子传过来，雪糕已开始融化，乔一边说一边呵哈呵哈地吃得津津有味。
“你们说的是住在隔壁那座大房子里的人吗？”一个姑娘问，”我妈妈认识劳伦斯先生，但说他非常高傲，不喜欢与邻里交往。他把自己的孩子关在家里，只让他跟着家庭教师骑马散步，逼他用功读书。我们曾经邀请他参加我们的晚会，但他没来。妈妈说他相当不错，虽然他从不跟我们女孩子说话。”“一次我家的猫儿不见了，是他送回来的。我们隔着篱笆谈了几句，而且相当投机--谈的都是板球一类的东西 -他看到梅格走过来，就走开了。我终有一天要认识他的，因为他需要乐趣，我肯定他很需要，”乔自信地说道。
“他举止彬彬有礼，令人喜爱。如果时机适宜，我不反对你们交朋友。他今天亲自把鲜花送过来，我本应该请他进来的，但因为不知道你们在楼上干什么，就没让他进来。他走的时候似乎闷闷不乐，若有所思；他听到你们在玩闹，而显然他自己没什么玩的。”“幸亏没叫他进来，妈妈！”乔望望自己的靴子笑道，”不过以后我们会做一出他可以看的戏。或许他还可以和我们一起演出呢。那岂不更有趣？”“我从未收到过这样漂亮的花束！真是美极了！”梅格饶有兴致地审视着自己那束鲜花。
“花儿是漂亮！不过依我说贝思的玫瑰花更香，”马奇太太闻闻插在腰带上那几近凋零的花朵说道。
贝思依偎到她的身旁，轻身低语道：“我真希望能把我的那束花送给爸爸。我想他圣诞节恐怕过得没有我们这么快乐呢。”
Chapter 3 The Laurence Boy
　　`Jo! Jo! where are you?' cried Meg, at the foot of the garret stairs.

　　`Here!' answered a husky voice from above; and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window. This was Jo's favourite refuge; and here she loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived near by, and didn't mind her a particle. As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo shook the tears off her cheeks, and waited to hear the news.

　　`Such fun! only see! a regular note of invitation from Mrs. Gardiner for tomorrow night!' cried Meg, waving the precious paper, and then proceeding to read it, with girlish delight.

　　`"Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a little party on New Year's Eve." Marmee is willing we should go; now what shall we wear?'

　　`What's the use of asking that, when you know we shall wear our poplins because we haven't got anything else?' answered Jo, with her mouth full.

　　`If I only had a silk!' sighed Meg. `Mother says I may when I'm eighteen, perhaps; but two years is an everlasting time to wait.'

　　`I'm sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice enough for us. Yours is as good as new, but I forgot the burn and the tear in mine. Whatever shall I do? the burn shows badly and I can't take any out.'

　　`You must sit still all you can, and keep your back out of sight; the front is all right. I shall have a new ribbon for my hair, and Marmee will lend me her little pearl pin, and my new slippers are lovely, and my gloves will do, though they aren't as nice as I'd like.'

　　`Mine are spoilt with lemonade, and I can't get any new ones, so I shall have to go without,' said Jo, who never troubled herself much about dress.

　　`You must have gloves, or I won't go,' cried Meg decidedly, `gloves are more important than anything else. I should be so mortified if you didn't have them.'

　　`Then I'll stay where I am.'

　　`You can't ask Mother for new ones, they are so expensive, and you are so careless. She said, when you spoilt the others, that she shouldn't get you any more this winter. Can't you make them do?' asked Meg anxiously.

　　`I can hold them crumpled up in my hand, so no one will know how stained they are; that's all I can do. No, I'll tell you how we can manage-each wear one good one and carry a bad one; don't you see?'

　　`Your hands are bigger than mine, and you will stretch my glove dreadfully,' began Meg, whose gloves were a tender point with her.

　　`Then I'll go without. I don't care what people say!' cried Jo, taking up her book.

　　`You may have it, you may! only don't stain it, and do behave nicely. Don't put your hands behind you, or stare, "Christopher Columbus!" will you?'

　　`Don't worry about me; I'll be as prim as I can, and not get into any scrapes, if I can help it. Now go and answer your note; and let me finish this splendid story.'

　　So Meg went away to `accept with thanks', look over her dress, and sing blithely as she did up her one real lace frill; while Jo finished her story, her four apples, and had a game of romps with Scrabble.

　　On New Year's Eve the parlour was deserted, for the two younger girls played dressing-maids, and the two older were absorbed in the all-important business of `getting ready for the party'. Simple as the toilets were, there was a great deal of running up and down, laughing and talking, and at one time a strong smell of burnt hair pervaded the house. Meg wanted a few curls about her face, and Jo undertook to pinch the papered locks with a pair of hot tongs.

　　`Ought they to smoke like that?' asked Beth, from her perch on the bed.

　　`It's the dampness drying,' replied Jo.

　　`What a queer smell! it's like burnt feathers,' observed Amy, smoothing her own pretty curls with a superior air.

　　`There, now I'll take off the papers and you'll see a cloud of little ringlets,' said Jo, putting down the tongs.

　　She did take off the papers, but no cloud of ringlets appeared, for the hair came with the papers, and the horrified hairdresser laid a row of little scorched bundles on the bureau before her victim.

　　`Oh, oh, oh! what have you done? I'm spoilt! I can't go! My hair, oh, my hair!' wailed Meg, looking with despair at the uneven frizzle on her forehead.

　　`Just my luck; you shouldn't have asked me to do it; I always spoil everything. I'm so sorry, but the tongs were too hot, and so I've made a mess,' groaned poor Jo, regarding the black pancakes with tears of regret.

　　`It isn't spoilt: just frizzle it, and tie your ribbon so the ends come on your forehead a bit, and it will look like the last fashion. I've seen many girls do it so,' said Amy, consolingly.

　　`Serves me right for trying to be fine. I wish I'd let my hair alone,' cried Meg, petulantly.

　　`So do I, it was so smooth and pretty. But it will soon grow out again,' said Beth, coming to kiss and comfort the shorn sheep.

　　After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last, and by the united exeons of the family, Jo's hair was got up and her dress on. They looked very well in their simple suits. Meg in silvery drab, with a blue velvet snood, lace frills, and the pearl pin; Jo in maroon, with a stiff, gentlemanly linen collar and a white chrysanthemum or two for her only ornament. Each put on the one nice light glove, and carried one soiled one, and all pronounced the effect `quite easy and fine'. Meg's high-heeled slippers were very tight, and hurt her, though she would not own it, and Jo's nineteen hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable; but, dear me, let us be elegant or die!

　　`Have a good time, dearies!' said Mrs. March, as the sisters went daintily down the walk. `Don't eat much supper, and come away at eleven, when I send Hannah for you.' As the gate clashed behind them, a voice cried from a window:

　　`Girls, girls! have you both got nice pocket-handkerchiefs?'

　　`Yes, yes, spandy nice, and Meg has cologne on hers,' cried Jo, adding with a laugh, as they we nt on, `I do believe Marmee would ask that if we were all running away - from an earthquake.'

　　`It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for a real lady is always known by neat boots, gloves, and handkerchief,' replied Meg, who had a good many little `aristocratic tastes' of her own.

　　`Now don't forget to keep the bad breadth out of sight, Jo. Is my sash right? and does my hair look very bad?' said Meg, as she turned from the glass in Mrs. Gardiner's dressing room, after a prolonged prink.

　　`I know I shall forget. If you see me doing anything wrong just remind me by a wink, will you?' returned Jo, giving her collar a twitch and her hair a hasty brush.

　　`No, winking isn't lady-like; I'll lift my eyebrows if anything is wrong, and nod if you are all right. Now hold your shoulders straight and take short steps, and don't shake hands if you are introduced to anyone: it isn't the thing.'

　　`How do you learn all the proper ways? I never can. Isn't that music gay?'

　　Down they went, feeling a trifle timid, for they seldom went to parties, and, informal as this little gathering was, it was an event to them. Mrs. Gardiner, a stately old lady, greeted them kindly, and handed them over to the eldest of her six daughters. Meg knew Sallie, and was at her ease very soon; but Jo, who didn't care much for girls or girlish gossip, stood about, with her back carefully against the wall and felt as much out of place as a colt in a flower-garden. Half a dozen jovial lads were talking about skates in another part of the room, and she longed to go and join them, for skating was one of the joys of her life. She telegraphed her wish to Meg, but the eyebrows went up so alarmingly that she dared not stir. No one came to talk to her, and one by one the group near her dwindled away, till she was left alone. She could not roam about and amuse herself, for the burnt breadth would show, so she stared at people rather forlornly till the dancing began. Meg was asked at once, and the tight slippers tripped about so briskly that none would have guessed the pain their wearer suffered smilingly. Jo saw a big red-headed youth approaching her corner, and fearing he meant to engage her, she slipped into a curtained recess, intending to peep and enjoy herself in peace. Unfortunately, another bashful person had chosen the same refuge; for, as the curtain fell behind her, she found herself face to face with the `Laurence boy'.

　　`Dear me, I didn't know anyone was here!' stammered Jo, preparing to back out as speedily as she had bounced in.

　　But the boy laughed, and said pleasantly, though he looked a little startled:

　　`Don't mind me; stay if you like.'

　　`Shan't I disturb you?'

　　`Not a bit; I only came here because I don't know many people, and I felt rather strange at first, you know.'

　　`So did I. Don't go away, please, unless you'd rather.' The boy sat down again and looked at his pumps, till Jo said, trying to be polite and easy:

　　`I think I've had the pleasure of seeing you before; you live near us, don't you?'

　　`Next door'; and he looked up and laughed outright, for Jo's prim manner was rather funny, when he remembered how they had chatted about cricket when he brought the cat home.

　　That put Jo at her ease; and she laughed too, as she said, her heartiest way:

　　`We did have such a good time over your nice Christmas present.'

　　`Grandpa sent it.'

　　`But you put it into his head, didn't you, now?'

　　`How is your cat, Miss March?' asked the boy, trying to look sober, while his black eyes shone with fun.

　　`Nicely, thank you, Mr. Laurence; but I am not Miss March, I'm only Jo,' returned the young lady.

　　`I'm not Mr. Laurence, I'm only Laurie.'

　　`Laurie Laurence - what an odd name!'

　　`My first name is Theodore, but I don't like it, for the fellows called me Dora, so I made them say Laurie instead.'

　　`I hate my name, too - so sentimental! I wish everyone would say Jo, instead of Josephine. How did you make the boys stop calling you Dora?'

　　`I thrashed 'em.'

　　`I can't thrash Aunt March, so I suppose I shall have to bear it'; and Jo resigned herself with a sigh.

　　`Do you like parties?' she asked in a moment.

　　`Sometimes; you see I've been abroad a good many years, and haven't been in company enough yet to know how you do things here.'

　　`Abroad!' cried Jo. `Oh, tell me about it! I love dearly to hear people describe their travels.'

　　Laurie didn't seem to know where to begin; but Jo's eager questions soon set him going, and he told her how he had been at school in Vevey, where the boys never wore hats, and had a fleet of boats on the lake, and for holiday fun went walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers.

　　`Don't I wish I'd been there!' cried Jo. `Did you go to Paris?'

　　`We spent last winter there.'

　　`Can you talk French?'

　　`We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vevey.'

　　`Do say some! I can read it, but can't pronounce.'

　　`Quel nom a cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolies?' said Laurie, good-naturedly.

　　`How nicely you do it! Let me see - you said, "Who is the young lady in the pretty slippers," didn't you?'

　　`Oui, mademoiselle.'

　　`It's my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do you think she is pretty?'

　　`Yes; she makes me think of the German girls, she looks so fresh and quiet.'

　　Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister, and stored it up to repeat to Meg.

　　Both peeped and criticized and chatted, till they felt like old acquaintances. Laurie's bashfulness soon wore off; for Jo's gentlemanly demeanour amused and set him at his ease, and Jo was her merry self again, because her dress was forgotten, and nobody lifted their eyebrows at her.

　　She liked the `Laurence boy' better than ever, and took several good looks at him, so that she might describe him to the girls; for they had no brothers, very few male cousins, and boys were almost unknown creatures to them.

　　`Curly black hair; brown skin; big, black eyes; handsome nose; fine teeth; small hands and feet; taller than I am, very polite for a boy, and altogether jolly. Wonder how old he is?'

　　It was on the tip of Jo's tongue to ask; but she checked herself in time, and with unusual tact, tried to find out in a roundabout way.

　　`I suppose you are going to college soon? I see you pegging away at your books - no, I mean studying hard'; and Jo blushed at the dreadful `pegging' which had escaped her.

　　Laurie smiled, but didn't seem shocked, and answered, with a shrug:

　　`Not for a year or two; I won't go before seventeen, anyway.'

　　`Aren't you but fifteen?' asked Jo, looking at the tall lad, whom she had imagined seventeen already.

　　`Sixteen, next month.'

　　`How I wish I was going to college! You don't look as if you liked it.'

　　`I hate it! Nothing but grinding or skylarking. And I don't like the way fellows do either in this country.'

　　`What do you like?'

　　`To live in Italy, and to enjoy myself in my own way.'

　　Jo wanted very much to ask what his own way was: but his black brows looked rather threatening as he knit them; so she changed the subject by saying, as her foot kept time, `That's a splendid piano in the next room. Why don't you go and try it?'

　　`If you will come too,' he answered, with a gallant little bow.

　　`I can't; for I told Meg I wouldn't, because——' There Jo stopped, and looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh. `Because what?' asked Laurie, curiously.

　　`You won't tell?'

　　`Never!'

　　`Well, I have a bad trick of standing before the fire, and so I burn my frocks, and I scorched this one; and though it's nicely mended, it shows, and Meg told me to keep still, so no one would see it. You may laugh, if you want to; it is funny, I know.' But Laurie didn't laugh; he only looked down a minute, and the expression of his face puzzled Jo, when he said very gently: `Never mind that. Please come.'

　　Jo thanked him, and gladly went, wishing she had two neat gloves, when she saw the nice, pearl-coloured ones her partner wore.

　　When the music stopped, they sat down; and Laurie was in the midst of an account of a students' festival at Heidelberg, when Meg appeared in search of her sister. She beckoned, and Jo reluctantly followed her into a side room, where she found her on a sofa, holding her foot, and looking pale. `I've sprained my ankle. That stupid high heel turned, and gave me a sad wrench. It aches so I can hardly stand, and I don't know how I'm ever going to get home,' she said, rocking to and fro in pain.

　　`I knew you'd hurt your feet with those silly shoes. I'm sorry. But I don't see what you can do, except get a carriage, or stay here all night,' answered Jo, softly rubbing the poor ankle as she spoke.

　　`I can't have a carriage, without its costing ever so much.'

　　I daresay I can't get one at all; for most people come in their own, and it's a long way to the stable, and no one to lend.'

　　`I'll go.'

　　`No, indeed! It's past nine, and dark as Egypt. I can't stop here, for the house is full. Sallie has some girls staying with her. I'll rest till Hannah comes, and then do the best I can.'

　　`I'll ask Laurie; he will go,' said Jo, looking relieved as the idea occurred to her.

　　`Mercy, no! Don't ask or tell anyone. Get me my rubbers, and put these slippers with our things. As soon as supper is over, watch for Hannah, and tell me the minute she comes.'

　　`They are going out to supper now. I'll stay with you; I'd rather.'

　　`No, dear, run along, and bring me some coffee. I'm so tired, I can't stir!'

　　So Meg reclined, with rubbers well hidden, and Jo went blundering away to the dining room, which she found after going into a china-closet, and opening the door of a room where old Mr. Gardiner was taking a little private refreshment. Making a dart at the table, she secured the coffee, which she immediately spilt, making the front of her dress as bad as the back.

　　`Oh, dear, what a blunderbuss I am!' exclaimed Jo, finishing Meg's glove by scrubbing her gown with it.

　　`Can I help you?' said a friendly voice; and there was Laurie, with a full cup in one hand, and a plate of ice in the other.

　　`I was trying to get something for Meg, who is very tired, and someone shook me; and here I am, in a nice state,' answered Jo, glancing dismally from the stained skirt to the coffee-coloured glove.

　　`Too bad! I was looking for someone to give this to. May I take it to your sister?'

　　`Oh, thank you! I'll show you where she is. I don't offer to take it myself, for I should only get into another scrape if I did.'

　　Jo led the way; and, as if used to waiting on ladies, Laurie drew up a little table, brought a second instalment of coffee and ice for Jo, and was so obliging that even particular Meg pronounced him a `nice boy'. They had a merry time over the bonbons and mottoes, and were in the midst of a quiet game of `Buzz', with two or three other young people who had strayed in, when Hannah appeared. Meg forgot her foot, and rose so quickly that she was forced to catch hold of Jo, with an exclamation of pain.

　　`Hush! Don't say anything,' she whispered, adding aloud, `It's nothing. I turned my foot a little, that's all'; and limped upstairs to put her things on.

　　Hannah scolded, Meg cried, and Jo was at her wit's end, till she decided to take things into her own hands. Slipping out, she ran down, and, finding a servant, asked if he could get her a carriage. It happened to be a hired waiter, who knew nothing about the neighbourhood; and Jo was looking round for help, when Laurie, who had heard what she said, came up, and offered his grandfather's carriage, which had just come for him, he said.

　　`It's so early! You can't mean to go yet?' began Jo, looking relieved, but hesitating to accept the offer.

　　`I always go early - I do, truly! Please let me take you home. It's all on my way, you know, and it rains, they say.'

　　That settled it; and, telling him of Meg's mishap, Jo gratefully accepted, and rushed up to bring down the rest of the party. Hannah hated rain as much as a cat does; so she made no trouble, and they rolled away in the luxurious close carriage, feeling very festive and elegant. Laurie went on the box; so Meg could keep her foot up, and the girls talked over their party in freedom.

　　`I had a capital time. Did you?' asked Jo, rumpling up her hair, and making herself comfortable.

　　`Yes, till I hurt myself. Sallies friend, Annie Moffat, took a fancy to me, and asked me to come and spend a week with her when Sallie does. She is going in the spring, when the opera comes; and it will be perfectly splendid, if Mother only lets me go,' answered Meg, cheering up at the thought.

　　`I saw you with the red-headed man I ran away from.

　　Was he nice?'

　　`Oh, very! His hair is auburn, not red; and he is very polite.'

　　`He looked like a grasshopper in a fit. Laurie and I couldn't help laughing. Did you hear us?'

　　`No; but it was very rude. What were you about all that time, hidden away there?'

　　Jo told her adventures, and, by the time she had finished, they were at home. With many thanks, they said `Good night', and crept in, hoping to disturb no one; but the instant their door creaked, two little night-caps bobbed up, and two sleepy but eager voices cried out:

　　`Tell about the party! tell about the party' With what Meg called "a great want of manners", Jo had saved some bonbons for the little girls; and they soon subsided, after hearing the most thrilling events of the evening. `I declare, it really seems like being a fine young lady to come home from the party in a carriage, and sit in my dressing-gown with a maid to wait on me,' said Meg, as Jo bound up her foot with arnica, and brushed her hair.

　　`I don't believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our burnt hair, old gowns, one glove apiece, and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them.' And I think Jo was quite right.
 
“乔！乔！你在哪里？”梅格站在阁楼楼梯脚下叫道。
“在这里！”上面一个嘶哑的声音应道。梅格跑上去，只见自己的妹妹身上裹着一条羊毛围巾，坐在靠着向阳窗户的一张旧三脚沙发上，一边吃苹果一边抹着眼泪读《莱德克力夫的继承人》。这里是乔最钟爱的避护所；她喜欢带上五六个苹果和一本好书在此逍遥，享受这里的宁静以及和爱鼠作伴的滋味。爱鼠叫做扒扒，住在近处，对她全无顾忌。看到梅格走来，扒扒飞窜入洞。乔抹掉脸颊上的泪珠，看有什么事情。
“多有趣！加德纳夫人正式邀请我们参加明天的晚会。你瞧，这是邀请书！”梅格一边叫一边扬扬那张宝贝字条，以女孩子特有的兴致读起来。
“'加德纳夫人诚邀马奇小姐和约瑟芬小姐参加新年除夕的小舞会。'妈咪也同意我们参加，只是我们穿什么好呢？”“问这个有什么意思？你知道我们除了穿府绸衣裳外，别无选择，”乔嘴里塞得满满的，答道。“如果我有一件丝绸衣裳就好了！”梅格叹息道，”妈妈说我到十八岁时或许会有，但还要等上两年，简直是遥遥无期。”“我敢说我们的府绸衣裳看上去就像丝绸的一样，我们穿上也挺漂亮的。你的就跟新的一样，我倒忘了我那件给烧坏了，而且还裂了个口子。这可该怎么办呢？那块焦痕很明显，而我又拿不出其他衣服来。”“你必须老老实实地坐着不动，不要把背部给人看到；前面是不成问题的。我要用一条新丝带扎头发，妈妈会把她的小珍珠发夹借给我，我的新鞋子很漂亮，手套虽然没有我希望的那么漂亮，但也算可以出出场面。”“我那双被柠檬汁糟蹋了，我又拿不出新的，到时候就不戴了，”乔说。她向来不大注重打扮。
“你一定要戴上手套，否则我就不去，”梅格断然说道，”手套比什么都重要；不戴手套就不能跳舞。如果你不带，我可要羞死了。”“那么我不跳好了。我不大喜欢跟别人跳舞。这么装仪作态地转来转去没趣得很。我喜欢随意走动，轻松谈笑。”“你不能叫妈妈买新的，因为太贵了，而你又这么粗心。
你弄脏了那些手套的时候她就说过今年冬天不该再给你买。
你能让旧的凑合着使吗？”梅格焦虑地问。
“我可以把手套揉成一团握在手里，这样就没有人知道它们有多脏了；我只能做到这样。不！不如这样--我俩各戴上一只好的，拿着一只脏的，你明白吗？”“你的手比我的大，准会把我的手套撑坏，”梅格说道。她视手套如心肝宝贝。
“那么我就不戴好了。我不在乎别人怎么说！”乔一边叫一边拿起书来。
“你可以戴我的，可以！只是别把它弄脏了，而且一定要言行检点。别把手放在身后，不要瞪着眼看人，不要说'我的天哪！'好吗？”“别担心。我会尽量板着面孔，不去闯祸，如果我能做到的话。你现在去给人家回个条吧，让我把这个精彩故事看完。”梅格于是去写她的"万分感谢地接受"等话，把衣裳再过了一次目，又愉快地唱着歌儿把网眼花边镶好。这边乔读完故事，吃掉四个苹果，又和扒扒嬉戏了一番。
除夕，客厅里显得特别的静，两个姐姐在专心致志地做异常重要的事情- "为晚会做准备"，两个妹妹则侍候她们化妆。虽然化妆并不复杂，姐妹们还是跑上跑下，又说又笑，有一阵子屋子里弥漫着一股强烈的烧焦头发的异味。梅格想弄几缕卷曲的刘海，乔便将的头发用纸片包起来，再用一把烧热的火钳夹祝"头发会这样冒烟吗？”贝思倚在床上问。
“这是湿气在蒸发哩，”乔答。
“味道真怪！像是烧焦了的羽毛，”艾美一边评论一边自豪地摸摸自己美丽的曲发。
“好了，我把纸片拿开，你们就会看到一堆小鬈发了，”乔说着放下火钳。
她确实拿开了纸片，但却不见那堆小鬈发，因为头发都断送在纸片里了。吓坏了的发型师把一段烧焦的发束放在受害人前面的柜子上。
“噢，噢，噢！你都干了些什么呀？全完了！教我怎么见人！我的头发，噢，我的头发！”梅格绝望地看着额前参差不齐的头发疙瘩，失声痛哭。
“唉，又倒霉了！你本来就不该叫我来弄。我总是把事情弄得一塌糊涂。真对不起，火钳太烫，所以我弄糟了，”可怜的乔哼哼着说。望着那些黑色烧饼，她心中懊悔万分，泪水夺眶而出。
“没有完哩，把头发卷曲起来，上面扎根丝带，靠近额前打个结，这样看上就像是最时髦的发型。我看到很多女孩子都这样打扮，”艾美安慰道。
“真是活该，谁叫自己臭美。如果我不去动自己的头发就没事了，”梅格使着性子哭道。
“我也这样想，可惜了这一头秀发。不过头发很快就会长出来的。”贝思边安慰边走过来亲吻这头剪了毛的小羊。
又经历了一连串小意外后，梅格终于装扮好了，经过家人的一致努力，乔也弄好了头发，穿上衣裳。虽然衣饰简单，她们却显得相当好看 -梅格身穿银灰色斜纹布衣裳，配蓝色天鹅绒发网，喱士饰边，珍珠发夹；乔一身栗色衣裳，配一件笔挺的男式亚麻布衣领，身上唯一的点缀是两朵白菊花。
两人各戴一只精致干净的手套，拿一只污手套，众人一致称赞这种效果"既自如又优美"。梅格的高跟鞋太紧，脚被夹得生疼，却又不愿承认；乔的十九个齿的发夹似乎要直插入她的脑袋，令她非常不自在；不过，嘿，不潇洒，毋宁死！
“玩得开开心心，宝贝！”马奇太太对优雅地走下人行道的两姐妹说，”晚饭不要吃得太多，十一点钟就回家，我让罕娜来接你们。”大门在她们身后砰地关上了。这时窗子里又传来了喊声- “姑娘们，姑娘们！都带上漂亮的小手帕了吗？”“带上了，漂亮极啦，梅格的还洒上了古龙香水，”乔大声答道，一头走着又笑了一声，“我相信就算我们遇上地震狼狈逃窜，妈妈也要这样问的。”“这是妈妈的一种高贵品味，而且相当合乎体统，因为真正的淑女可以根据洁净的靴子、手套和手帕看出来，”梅格回答。她本人就颇具这些"高贵品味儿"。
“现在记住不要把烧坏了的一面让别人看到，乔。我的腰带这样行吗？头发看上是不是很糟糕？”梅格在加德纳夫人的梳妆室对镜理妆，好一会才转过身来说道。
“我知道我一定会忘掉的。如果你看到我做错了什么事，就眨眨眼提醒我，好吗？”乔说着把衣领一拉，又匆匆理理头发。
“不行，眨眼并非淑女所为。如果你做错了事我就抬抬眼眉，如果做对了就点点头。现在挺直腰，迈小步。如果把你介绍给别人时，不要握手：那不合规矩。“这些规矩你都是怎样学来的？我就是老学不会。听，音乐多轻快！”姐妹两人略带羞怯地走过去。虽然这只是个非正式的小舞会，对于她们来说却是件盛事。加德纳夫人是位神态庄重的老太太，有六个女儿。她和霭可亲地接待了她们，并把她们交给大女儿莎莉。梅格和莎莉相熟，很快便不再拘束，而乔呢，对女孩子和女孩子的闲言碎语一向不大着意，只得站在那里，小心翼翼地背靠着墙，觉得自己就像一匹关在花园里的小野马，很不得要领。五六个快活的小伙子在房间的另一头大谈溜冰，她心痒难禁，恨不得也走过去参与，因为溜冰是她生活中的一大乐趣。她把心头愿望向梅格流露，但梅格的眉毛抬得老高，令她不敢轻举妄动。没有人过来跟他说话；身边的一群人也渐走渐少，最后只剩下她孤零零一个。因为怕露出烧坏了的衣幅，她不敢四处走动去寻找乐趣，只能可怜巴巴地站在那里盯着别人看。这时舞曲响起，梅格马上被请进了舞池。她步态轻快，笑脸盈盈，没有人会想象得到她双脚正被那双鞋子折磨得生疼。乔看到一个大个子红头发的年轻人向她走来，担心会请她跳舞，便赶快溜进一间挂着帘幕的休息室，准备独自一人偷偷窥视，悄悄欣赏。谁料到另一个害羞的人已先看中了这个庇身之处：当帘幕在身后落下时，乔发现自己正与"劳伦斯家的男孩"面对着面。
“噢，我不知道这里有人！”乔张口结舌，准备转身冲出去。
但男孩笑了，愉快地说：“别管我，你喜欢就呆着吧，”尽管他看上去也有点吃惊。
“我会打扰你吗？”
“一点也不会。我进来是因为这里有很多人我都不认识，你知道一开始总有点陌生感。”“我也一样。请不要走开，除非你真的想这样。”男孩又坐下来，低头望着自己的浅口无带皮鞋。乔尽量用礼貌轻松的口吻说：“我想我曾幸会过阁下。阁下就住在我们附近吧？”“隔壁。”他抬起头笑出声来，因为他想起了把猫送回她家时两人一起谈论板球的情景。相比之下，乔这副一本正经的神态显得十分逗趣。
乔轻松下来，也笑了。她诚挚地说：“你送来的美妙的圣诞礼物真令我们开心极了。”“是爷爷送的。”“但这是你出的主意，没错吧？”“你的猫好吗，马奇小姐？”男孩试图严肃一点，但黑色眼睛里却闪着调皮的光芒。
“很好，谢谢，劳伦斯先生；不过我不是什么马奇小姐，我叫乔，”年轻女士答道。
“我也不是劳伦斯先生，我叫劳里。”
“劳里，劳伦斯， -这名字真怪！”
“我的名字是西奥多，但我不喜欢，因为伙伴们把我叫做多拉，所以我让他们改叫劳里。”“我也不喜欢我的名字- 多么伤感！我希望人人都叫我乔，而不叫约瑟芬。你是怎么使那些男孩不再叫你多拉的？”“痛打他们。”“我不可以痛打马奇婶婶，所以我只好随她怎么叫。”乔失望地叹了一口气。
“喜欢跳舞吗，乔小姐？”劳里问，似乎认为这个称呼挺适合她。
“如果场地开阔，大家也都兴高采烈，我倒是挺喜欢的。
但是这样的场合我总会打翻点东西，踩着别人的脚趾头，或者出一些糟糕透顶的洋相，所以我不去胡闹，只由梅格去跳。
你跳舞吗？”
“有时也跳。我在外国生活了好些年，在这里交友尚少，还不大熟悉你们的生活方式。”“外国！”乔叫道，”呵，给我讲讲吧！我最爱听人家谈自己的旅游见闻。”劳里似乎不知道该从哪里说起，但见乔问得热切，便也打开了话匣子，谈他在韦威的学校生活，告诉她那边的男孩从来不戴帽子，而且他们在湖上都有一队小船，休假时大家跟老师们一起走过瑞士等等。
“如果我能去该有多好！”乔叫道，”你去过巴黎吗？”“去年我们在那里过冬。“你能讲法语吗？”“在韦威只许讲法语。”“讲几句吧！我可以读，但不会说。“Ｑｕｅｌｎｏｍａｃｅｔｔｅｊｅｕｎｅｄｅｍｏｉｓｅｌｌｅｅｎｌｅｓｐａｎｔｏｕeｌｅｓｊｏｌｉｓ？”劳里友善地说。
“说得好极了！让我想想--你是说：'那位穿着漂亮鞋子的年轻女士是谁'，可对？”“Ｏｕｉ，ｍａｄｅｍｏｉｓｅｌｌｅ。”“是我姐姐玛格丽特，你早就知道的！你说她漂亮吗？”“漂亮。她使我想起德国姑娘，她看上去俏丽娴雅，舞姿也很优美。”听到一个男孩子这样夸赞自己的姐姐，乔高兴得脸上放光，忙把这些话记在心中，留待回家转告梅格。他们悄悄看着舞池，一边指点一边交谈，彼此都觉得似乎相知已久。劳里很快便不再害羞，乔的男儿气使他感到十分轻松愉快，乔也倍感快乐，因为她忘掉了自己的衣裳，而且现在没有人对她抬眼眉了。她对“劳伦斯家的男孩"越发感到喜爱，不禁再认真地棒打量了几眼，准备回家把他描述给姐妹们，因为她们没有兄弟，也没有什么表兄弟，对男孩子几乎一无所知。
“卷曲的黑头发，棕色皮肤，黑色的大眼睛，好看的鼻子，牙齿洁白，手脚不大，比我略高，显得温文尔雅，不乏风趣。
只是不知他多大年纪？”
乔正开口要问，却又及时收住，转而机智地换了一种婉转的口吻。
“我想你很快就要念大学了吧？我看到你在啃书本 不，我是指用功读书。“乔为自己冲口说了个不雅的"啃"字而涨红了脸。
劳里并没有在意，他微笑着耸耸肩回答：“这一两年内都不会；要到十七岁我才念大学。”“你才十五岁吗？”乔望着这位高高的小伙子问。她以为他已经十七岁了。
“下个月满十六岁。”
“如果我可以念大学就好了！而你似乎不大喜欢呢。”“我讨厌读文学，一味只是灌输和玩乐。我也不喜欢这个国家的生活方式。”“你喜欢什么呢？”“住在意大利，按自己的方式做事。”乔非常想问问他自己的方式是什么，但他锁起双眉，样子显得极为严肃，乔便一边用脚踏着节拍，一边换了个话题：“这支波尔卡舞曲棒极了！你为什么不去跳？”“如果你也一起来的话，”他说道，并颇有修养地轻轻一躬身子。
“我不能，因为我跟梅格说过我不跳，因为— "乔欲言又止，思量着是说出来呢还是一笑了之。
“因为什么？”劳里好奇地问。
“你不会说出去吧？”
“绝对不会！”
“是这样，我有个坏习惯，喜欢站在炉火前烘衣服，一次便把这件衣服烧坏了，虽经精心缝补，还是可以看出来。梅格要我别乱动，这样就不会让人看到。你要笑就尽管笑吧。我知道这很好笑。”但劳里没有笑，他低头沉思了一会，带着令乔诧异的神情轻声说：“不要紧，我告诉你一个办法：那边有一个长长的走廊，我们可以尽兴起舞，没有人会看见我们。请来吧。”乔谢过他，高兴地走过去。看到舞伴戴着精致的乳白色手套，她恨不得自己也有两只干净手套。走廊空无一人，他们在那里尽兴地跳了一曲波尔卡舞。劳里跳得很好，他教乔跳德国舞步，这种舞步活泼轻快，乔十分喜欢。音乐停下后，他们坐在楼梯上喘口气，劳里跟乔谈着海德堡的学生庆祝会，梅格过来找妹妹。她招招手，乔不大情愿地跟着她走进一个侧间，却看到她坐在沙发上，手托着脚，脸色苍白。
“我扭伤了脚踝。那只讨厌的高跟鞋一歪，把我狠狠地扭了一下。真痛呵，我几乎都站不稳了，真不知道该怎么走回家，”她一边说一边痛得直摇晃。
“我早就知道那双笨鞋会弄伤你的脚。我很难过。但我想不出什么法子，除非去叫一辆马车，或者在这里过夜，”乔答道，边说边轻轻擦着梅格那受伤的脚踝。
“叫一辆马车要花不少钱，再说根本也叫不到，因为大多数人都是坐自己的马车来的。这里离马厩有好长一段路，也找不着人去叫。”“我去。”“千万别去！已经过九点了，外面黑黢黢一片。我不能呆在这里，因为屋里满是人。莎莉有几个女孩子陪着。我在这里等罕娜来，到时候再尽我所能吧。”“我去叫劳里；他会去的，”乔说。想到这个主意，她松了一口气。
“求求你，不要去！不要让人知道。把我的橡胶套鞋给我，把这对鞋子放到我们带来的包袱里。我不能再跳了。晚饭一吃完就看罕娜来了没有，她一到马上告诉我。”“他们现在出去吃饭了。我陪着你；我宁愿这样。”“不，亲爱的，快到那边给我弄点咖啡。我累得要命，简直不能动了！”梅格说完斜靠在沙发上，把橡胶套鞋藏得恰到好处，乔便跌跌撞撞地朝饭厅跑去。她闯入一个地方，原来是放瓷器的小房间，又推开一扇房门，却发现加德纳先生在那里独自小憩，最后才找到了饭厅。她冲到桌边好不容易倒好咖啡，匆忙中又把它弄溅了，把衣服的前幅弄得跟后幅一样糟糕。
“噢，天呵，我真是个冒失鬼！”乔叫道，忙用梅格的手套擦拭，谁知又赔上了一只手套。
“我可以帮忙吗？”一个友善的声音问道。原来是劳里。他一手拿着装得满满的杯子，一手拿着放有冰块的小盘子。
“我正想弄点咖啡给梅格，她累坏了。不知谁碰了我一下，便成了这付狼狈相，“乔说着沮丧地看看弄脏了的裙子，又看看变成咖啡色的手套。
“真是太糟糕了！不过我手里的东西正要送给人，可以拿给你姐姐吗？”“噢，谢谢你！我来带路。东西还是你拿着吧，我拿着准会闯祸的，”乔说完在前面引路。
劳里似乎惯于侍候女士，他拉过一张小桌子，又再走一趟为乔取来咖啡和冰块，十分殷勤周到，梅格虽然挑剔，也不禁称他为"不错的小伙子"。大家愉快地吃着各式糖果，跟两三个刚进来的年青人安安静静玩一种"霸士"游戏。这时罕娜来了。梅格忘了脚痛，猛站起身，痛得叫了一声，赶紧扶住乔。
“嘘！什么也别说，”她悄悄地说，接着放大嗓门，”没有什么，我的脚稍微扭了一下，小事情。”说完她一瘸一拐地走上楼收拾包袱。
罕娜骂，梅格哭。乔不知所措，最后终于决定亲自收拾残局。她一溜烟跑下去，找到一个佣人，问他是否能帮她叫辆马车。偏巧这位佣人是雇来的侍者，对周围情况一无所知，乔正在东张西望找人，劳里听到她叫车，走过来，告诉她他爷爷的马车刚到，准备接他回家，她们可以用这辆车子。
“时间还早呢！你不是这么快就走了吧？”乔问，她松了一口气，但又犹豫是否该接受这个好意。
“我总是提早走--真的，不骗你！请让我送你们回家。
反正是顺路，你知道。再者，他们说还下着雨呢。”事情就这样定下来了；乔把梅格的灾难告诉他，感激不尽地接受了他的好意，又跑上去把其他人带下来。罕娜跟猫一样痛恨下雨，所以顺顺当当上了车。她们乘着豪华的封闭式四轮马车驶回家，觉得极为高雅，内心十分得意。劳里坐到车夫座位上，腾出位置让梅格把脚架起来，姐妹俩毫无顾忌地谈论刚才的晚会。
“我玩得开心极了。你呢？”乔问，把头发弄乱，使自己舒服一些。
“开心，直到把脚扭伤。莎莉的朋友安妮•莫法特喜欢上我了，请我随莎莉到她家住一个星期。莎莉准备在春天歌剧团来的时候去，如果妈妈让我去就太美了，“梅格答道。想到这里她愉快起来。
“我看到你跟我躲开的那个红头发小伙子跳舞，他人好吗？”“噢，非常好！他的头发是红褐色的，不是红色，他非常有礼貌，我跟他跳了一个漂亮的瑞多瓦呢。” “他学跳新舞步时像个痉挛的草蜢。我和劳里都忍不住笑起来，你听到了吗？“没有，但这样非常无礼。你们一晚上藏在那里头干什么？”乔把自己的经过告诉她，讲完时恰好到家了。她们谢过劳里，又道了晚安，悄悄溜进门去，不想惊动任何人。但随着门吱嘎一声，两个戴着睡帽的小脑袋突然冒出来，两个困乏但热切的声音喊道- “讲讲舞会！讲讲舞会！”尽管梅格认为这样"极无规矩"，乔还是为两个妹妹带了几块夹心糖；她们听了晚会最刺激的情节后，很快便安静下来。
“我敢说，晚会后有马车送回家，穿着晨衣坐在家中有女侍侍候，上流社会的年轻女士也不过如此，”梅格边说边让乔在她脚上敷上山金车酊，并给她梳头发。
“虽然我们的头发被烧掉了，衣裳又破又旧，手套也不成双，紧鞋子又扭伤了脚踝，但我相信我们比上流社会的年轻女士玩得开心多了。”我认为乔说得对。
Chapter 4 Burdens
　　`Oh, dear, how hard it does seem to take up our packs and jog on,' sighed Meg, the morning after the party; for, now the holidays were over, the week of merry-making did not fit her for going on easily with the task she never liked.

　　`I wish it was Christmas or New Year all the time; wouldn't it be fun?' answered Jo, yawning dismally.

　　`We shouldn't enjoy ourselves half so much as we do now. But it does seem so nice to have little suppers and bouquets, and go to parties, and drive home, and read and rest, and not work. It's like other people, you know, and I always envy girls who do such things; I'm so fond of luxury,' said Meg, trying to decide which of two shabby gowns was the least shabby.

　　`Well, we can't have it, so don't let us grumble, but shoulder our bundles and trudge along as cheerfully as Marmee does.

　　`I'm sure Aunt March is a regular Old Man of the Sea to me, but I suppose when I've learnt to carry her without complaining, she will tumble off, or get so light that I shan't mind her.' This idea tickled Jo's fancy, and put her in good spirits; but Meg didn't brighten, for her burden, consisting of four spoilt children, seemed heavier than ever. She hadn't heart enough even to make herself pretty, as usual, by putting on a blue neck-ribbon, and dressing her hair in the most becoming way.

　　`Where's the use of looking nice, when no one sees me but those cross midgets, and no one cares whether I'm pretty or not?' she muttered, shutting her drawer with a jerk. `I shall have to toil and moil all my days, with only little bits of fun now and then, and get old and ugly and sour, because I'm poor, and can't enjoy my life as other girls do. It's a shame!'

　　So Meg went down, wearing an injured look, and wasn't at all agreeable at breakfast-time. Everyone seemed rather out of sorts, and inclined to croak. Beth had a headache, and lay on the sofa, trying to comfort herself with the cat and three kittens; Amy was fretting because her lessons were not learned, and she couldn't find her rubbers; Jo would whistle and make a great racket getting ready; Mrs. March was very busy trying to finish a letter which must go at once; and Hannah had the grumps, for being up late didn't suit her.

　　`There never was such a cross family!' cried Jo, losing her temper when she had upset an inkstand, broken both bootlacings, and sat down upon her hat.

　　`You're the crossest person in it!' returned Amy, washing out the sum, that was all wrong, with the tears that had fallen on her slate.

　　`Beth, if you don't keep these horrid cats down cellar I'll have them drowned,' exclaimed Meg, angrily, as she tried to get rid of the kitten, which had scrambled up her back, and stuck like a burr just out of reach.

　　Jo laughed, Meg scolded, Beth implored, and Amy wailed, because she couldn't remember how much nine times twelve was.

　　`Girls, girls, do be quiet one minute! I must get this off by the early mail, and you drive me distracted with your worry,' cried Mrs. March, crossing out the third spoilt sentence in her letter.

　　There was a momentary lull, broken by Hannah, who stalked in, laid two hot turnovers on the table, and stalked out again. These turnovers were an institution; and the girls called them `muffs', for they had no others, and found the hot pies very comforting to their hands on cold mornings. Hannah never forgot to make them, no matter how busy or grumpy she might be, for the walk was long and bleak; the poor things got no other lunch, and were seldom home before two.

　　`Cuddle your cats, and get over your headache, Bethy. Good-bye, Marmee; we are a set of rascals this morning, but we'll come home regular angels. Now then, Meg!' and Jo tramped away, feeling that the pilgrims were not setting out as they ought to do.

　　They always looked back before turning the corner, for their mother was always at the window, to nod and smile, and wave her hand to them. Somehow it seemed as if they couldn't have got through the day without that; for, whatever their mood might be, the last glimpse of that motherly face was sure to affect them like sunshine.

　　`If Marmee shook her fist instead of kissing her hand to us, it would serve us right, for more ungrateful wretches than we are were never seen,' cried Jo, taking a remorseful satisfaction in the snowy walk and bitter wind.

　　`Don't use such dreadful expressions,' said Meg, from the depths of the veil in which she had shrouded herself like a nun sick of the world.

　　`I like good strong words that mean something,' replied Jo, catching her hat as it took a leap off her head, preparatory to flying away altogether.

　　`Call yourself any names you like; but I am neither a rascal nor a wretch, and I don't choose to be called so.'

　　`You're a blighted being, and decidedly cross today, because you can't sit in the lap of luxury all the time. Poor dear, just wait till I make my fortune, and you shall revel in carriage and ice-cream and high-heeled slippers and posies carriages and red-headed boys to chat with.'

　　`How ridiculous you are, Jo!' but Meg laughed at the nonsense, and felt better in spite of herself.

　　`Lucky for you I am; for if I put on crushed airs, and tried to be dismal, as you do, we should be in a nice state. Thank goodness, I can always find something funny to keep me up. Don't croak any more but come home jolly, there's a dear.'

　　Jo gave her sister an encouraging pat on the shoulder as they parted for the day, each going a different way, each hugging her little warm turnover, and each trying to be cheerful in spite of wintry weather, hard work, and the unsatisfied desires of pleasure-loving youth.

　　When Mr. March lost his property in trying to help an unfortunate friend, the two oldest girls begged to be allowed to do something towards their own support, at least. Believing that they could not begin too early to cultivate energy, industry, and independence, their parents consented, and both fell to work with the hearty goodwill which, in spite of all obstacles, is sure to succeed at last. Margaret found a place as nursery governess, and felt rich with her small salary. As she said, she was `fond of luxury', and her chief trouble was poverty. She found it harder to bear than the others, because she could remember a time when home was beautiful, life full of ease and pleasure, and want of any kind unknown. She tried not to be envious or discontented but it was very natural that the young girl should long for pretty things, gay friends, accomplishments, and a happy life. At the Kings' she daily saw all she wanted, for the children's older sisters were just out, and Meg caught frequent glimpses of dainty party-dresses and bouquets, heard lively gossip about theatres, concerts, sleighing parties, and merry-makings of all kinds, and saw money lavished on trifles which would have been so precious to her. Poor Meg seldom complained, but a sense of injustice made her feel bitter towards everyone sometimes, for she had not yet learned to know how rich she was in the blessings which alone can make life happy.

　　Jo happened to suit Aunt March, who was lame, and needed an active person to wait upon her. The childless old lady had offered to adopt one of the girls when the troubles came, and was much offended because her offer was declined. Other friends told the Marches that they had lost all chance of being remembered in the rich old lady's will; but the unworldly Marches only said:

　　`We can't give up our girls for a dozen fortunes. Rich or poor, we will keep together and be happy in one another.'

　　The old lady wouldn't speak to them for a time, but, happening to meet Jo at a friend's, something in her comical face and blunt manners struck the old lady's fancy, and she proposed to take her for a companion. This did not suit Jo at all; but she accepted the place since nothing better appeared, and, to everyone's surprise, got on remarkably well with her irascible relative. There was an occasional tempest, and once Jo had marched home, declaring she couldn't bear it any longer; but Aunt March always cleared up quickly, and sent for her back again with such urgency that she could not refuse, for in her heart she rather liked the peppery old lady.

　　I suspect that the real attraction was a large library of fine books, which was left to dust and spiders since Uncle March died. Jo remembered the kind old gentleman, who used to let her build railroads and bridges with his big dictionaries, tell her stories about the queer pictures in his Latin books, and buy her cards of gingerbread whenever he met her in the street. The dim, dusty room, with the busts staring down from the tall bookcases, the cosy chairs, the globes, and, best of all, the wilderness of books, in which she could wander where she liked,, made the library a region of bliss to her. The moment Aunt March took her nar was busy with company Jo hurried to this quiet place, and curling herself up in the easy-chair, devoured poetry, romance, history, travels, and pictures, like a regular book-worm. But, like all happiness, it did not last long; for as sure as she had just reached the heart of the story, the sweetest verse of the song, or the most perilous adventure of her traveller, a shrill voice called, `Josy-phine! Josy-phine!' and she had to leave her paradise to wind yarn, wash the poodle, or read Belsham's Essays by the hour together.

　　Jo's ambition was to do something very splendid; what it was she had no idea, as yet, but left it for time to tell her; and, meanwhile, found her greatest affliction in the fact that she couldn't read, run, and ride as much as she liked. A quick temper, sharp tongue, and restless spirit were always getting her into scrapes, and her life was a series of ups and downs, which were both comic and pathetic. But the training she received at Aunt March's was just what she needed; and the thought that she was doing something to support herself made her happy, in spite of the perpetual `Josy-phine!'

　　Beth was too bashful to go to school; it had been tried., but she suffered so much that it was given up, and she did her lessons at home with her father. Even when he went away, and her mother was called to devote her skill and energy to Soldiers' Aid Societies, Beth went faithfully on by herself, and did the best she could. She was a housewifely little creature, and helped Hannah keep home neat and comfortable for the workers, never thinking of any reward but to be loved. Long, quiet days she spent, not lonely nor idle, for her little world was peopled with imaginary friends, and she was by nature a busy bee. There were six dolls to be taken up and dressed every morning, for Beth was a child still, and loved her pets as well as ever. Not one whole or handsome one among them all were outcasts till Beth took them in; for, when her sisters outgrew these idols, they passed to her, because Amy would have nothing old or ugly. Beth cherished them all the more tenderly for that very reason, and set up a hospital for infirm dolls. No pins were ever stuck into their cotton vitals; no harsh words or blows were ever given them; no neglect ever saddened the heart of the most repulsive: but all were fed and clothed, nursed and caressed, with an affection which never failed.

　　One forlorn fragment of dollanity had belonged to Jo; and, having led a tempestuous life, was left a wreck in the ragbag, from which dreary poor-house it was rescued by Beth, and taken to her refuge. Having no top to its head, she tied on a neat little cap, and, as both arms and legs were gone, she hid those deficiencies by folding it in a blanket, and devoting her best bed to this chronic invalid. If anyone had known the care lavished on that dolly, I think it would have touched their hearts, even while they laughed. She brought it bits of bouquets; she read to it, took it out to breathe the air, hidden under her coat; she sang it lullabies, and never went to bed without kissing its dirty face, and whispering tenderly, `I hope you'll have a good night, my poor dear.'

　　Beth had her troubles as well as the others; and not being an angel, but a very human little girl, she often `wept a little weep', as Jo said, because lessons and have a fine piano. She loved music so dearly, tried so hard to learn, and practised away so patiently at the jingling old instrument, that it did seem as if someone (not to hint Aunt March) ought to help her. Nobody did, however, and nobody saw Beth wipe the tears off the yellow keys, that wouldn't keep in tune, when she was all alone. She sang like a little lark about her work, never was too tired to play for Marmee and the girls, and day after day said hopefully to herself, `I know I'll get my music some time, if I'm good.'

　　There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind.

　　If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest trial of her life was, she would have answered at once, `My nose'. When she was a baby, Jo had accidentally dropped her into the coal-hod, and Amy insisted that the fall had ruined her nose for ever. It was not big, nor red, like poor `Petrea's', it was only rather flat, and all the pinching in the world could not give it an aristocratic point. No one minded it but herself, and it was doing its best to grow, but Amy felt deeply the want of a Grecian nose, and drew whole sheets of handsome ones to console herself.

　　`Little Raphael', as her sisters called her, had a decided talent for drawing, and was never so happy as when copying flowers, designing fairies, or illustrating stories with queer specimens of art. Her teachers complained that, instead of doing her sums, she covered her slate with animals; the blank pages of her atlas were used to copy maps on; and caricatures of the most ludicrous description came fluttering out of all her books at unlucky moments. She got through her lessons as well as she could, and managed to escape reprimands by being a model of deportment. She was a great favourite with her mates, being good-tempered and possessing the happy art of pleasing without effort. Her little airs and graces were much admired, so were her accomplishments; for beside her drawing, she could play twelve tunes, crochet, and read French without mispronouncing more than two-thirds of the words. She had a plaintive way of saying `When Papa was rich we did so-and-so,' which was very touching; and her long words were considered `perfectly elegant' by the girls.

　　Amy was in a fair way to be spoilt; for everyone petted her, and her small vanities and selfishness were growing nicely. One thing, however, rather quenched the vanities; she had to wear her cousin's clothes. Now Florence's mamma hadn't a particle of taste, and Amy suffered deeply at having to wear a red instead of a blue bonnet, unbecoming gowns, and fussy aprons that did not fit. Everything was good, well made, and little worn; but Amy's artistic eyes were much afflicted, especially this winter, when her school dress was a dull purple, with yellow dots, and no trimming.

　　`My only comfort,' she said to Meg, with tears in her eyes, `is that Mother doesn't take tucks in my dresses whenever I'm naughty, as Maria Park's mother does. My dear, it's really dreadful; for sometimes she is so bad, her frock is up to her knees, and she can't come to school. When I think of this deggerredation, I feel that I can bear even my flat nose and purple gown, with yellow sky-rockets on it.'

　　Meg was Amy's confidante and monitor, and, by some strange attraction of opposites, Jo was gentle Beth's. To Jo alone did the shy child tell her thoughts; and over her big harum-scarum sister Beth unconsciously exercised more influence than anyone in the family. The two elder girls were a great deal to one another, but each took one of the younger into her keeping, and watched over her in her own way; `playing mother' they called it, and put their sisters in the places of discarded dolls, with the maternal instincts of little women.

　　`Has anybody got anything to tell? It's been such a dismal day I'm really dying for some amusement,' said Meg, as they sat sewing together that evening.

　　`I had a queer time with aunt today, and, as I got the best of it, I'll tell you about it,' began Jo, who dearly loved to tell stories, was reading that everlasting Belsham, and droning away as I always do, for aunt soon drops off, and then I take out some nice book, and read like fury till she wakes up. I actually made myself sleepy; and, before she began to nod, I gave such a gape that she asked me what I meant by opening my mouth wide enough to take the whole book in at once.

　　`I wish I could and be done with it,' said I, trying not to be saucy.

　　`Then she gave me a long lecture on my sins, and told me to sit and think them over while she just "lost" herself for a moment. She never finds herself very soon; so the minute her cap began to bob, like a top-heavy dahlia, I whipped the Vicar of Wakefield out of my pocket, and read away, with one eye on him, and one on aunt. I'd just got to where they all tumbled into the water, when I forgot, and laughed out loud. Aunt woke up; and, being more good-natured after her nap, told me to read a bit, and show what frivolous work I preferred to the worthy and instructive Belsham. I did my very best, and she liked it, though she only said:

　　`I don't understand what it's all about. Go back and begin it, child.'

　　`Back I went, and made the Primroses as interesting as ever I could. Once I was wicked enough to stop in a thrilling place, and say meekly, "I'm afraid it tires you, ma'am; shan't I stop now?"

　　`She caught up her knitting, which had dropped out of her hands, gave me a sharp look through her specs, and said, in her short way:

　　`Finish the chapter, and don't be impertinent, miss.'

　　`Did she own she liked it?' asked Meg.

　　`Oh, bless you, no! but she let old Belsham rest; and, when I ran back after my gloves this afternoon, there she was, so hard at the Vicar that she didn't hear me laugh as I danced a jig in the hall, because of the good time coming. What a pleasant: life she might have, if she only chose. I don't envy her much, in spite of her money, for after all, rich people have about as many worries as poor ones, think,` added Jo.

　　`That reminds me,' said Meg, `that I've got something to tell. It isn't funny, like Jo's story, but I thought about it a good deal as I came home. At the Kings' today I found everybody in a flurry, and one of the children said that her oldest brother had done something dreadful, and papa had sent him away. I heard Mrs. King crying and Mr. King talking very loud, and Grace and Ellen turned away their faces when they passed me, so I shouldn't see how red their eyes were. I didn't ask any questions, of course; but I felt so sorry for them, and was rather glad I hadn't any wild brothers to do wicked things and disgrace the family.'

　　`I think being disgraced in school is a great deal tryinger than anything bad boys can do,' said Amy, shaking her head, as if her experience of life had been a deep one. `Susie Perkins came to school today with a lovely red carnelian, ring; I wanted it dreadfully, and wished I washer with all my might.

　　`Well, she drew a picture of Mr. Davis, with a monstrous nose and a hump, and the words, `Young ladies, my eye is upon you!,/q> coming out of his mouth in a balloon thing. We were laughing over it, when all of a sudden his eye was on us, and he ordered Susie to bring up her slate. She was parrylized with fright, but she went, and oh, what do you think he did? He took her by the ear - the ear, just fancy how horrid! - and led her to the recitation platform, and made her stand there half an hour, holding that slate so everyone could see it.'

　　`Didn't the girls laugh at the picture?' asked Jo, who relished the scrape.

　　`Laugh! Not one! They sat as still as mice; and Susie cried quarts, I know she did. I didn't envy her then; for I felt that millions of carnelian rings wouldn't have made me happy after that. I never, never should have got over such an agonizing mortification.' And Amy went on with her work, in the proud consciousness of virtue, and the successful utterance of two long words in a breath.

　　`I saw something that I liked this morning, and I meant to tell it at dinner, but I forgot,' said Beth, putting Jo's topsy-turvy basket in order as she talked.

　　`When I went to get some oysters for Hannah, Mr. Laurence was in the fish-shop; but he didn't see me, for I kept behind a barrel, and he was busy with Mr. Cutter, the fishman. A poor woman came in, with a pail and a mop, and asked Mr. Cutter if he would let her do some scrubbing for a bit of fish, because she hadn't any dinner for her children, and had being disappointed of a day's work. Mr. Cutter was in a hurry, and said "No," rather crossly; so she was going away, looking hungry and sorry, when Mr. Laurence hooked up a big fish with the crooked end of his cane, and held it out to her. She was so glad and surprised, she took it right in her arms, and thanked him over and over. He told her to "go along and cook it", and she hurried off, so happy! Wasn't it good of him? Oh, she did look so funny, hugging the big, slippery, fish, and hoping Mr. Laurence's bed in heaven would be 'aisy".'

　　When they had laughed at Beth's story, they asked their mother for one; and, after a moment's thought, she said soberly: `As I sat cutting out blue flannel jackets today, at the rooms, I felt very anxious about Father, and thought how lonely and helpless we should be if anything happened to him. It, was not a wise thing to do; but I kept on worrying till an old man came in, with an order for some clothes. He sat down near me, and I began to talk to him; for he looked poor and tired and anxious.

　　`Have you sons in the army?' I asked; for the note he brought was not to me.

　　`Yes, ma'am. I had four, but two were killed, one is a prisoner, and I'm going to the other, who is very sick in a Washington hospital,' he answered, quietly.

　　`You have done a great deal for your country, sir,' I said, feeling respect now instead of pity.

　　`Not a mite more than I ought, ma'am. I'd go myself, if I was any use; as I ain't, I give my boys, and give 'em free.'

　　`He spoke so cheerfully, looked so sincere, and seemed so glad to give his all, that I was ashamed of myself. I'd given one man, and thought it too much, while he gave four without grudging them. I had all my girls to comfort me at home; and his last son was waiting, miles away, to say "good-bye" to him, perhaps! I felt so rich, so happy, thinking of my blessings, that I made him a nice bundle, gave him some money, and thanked him heartily for the lesson he had taught me.'

　　`Tell another story, Mother - one with a moral to it, like this. I like, to think about them afterwards, if they are real, and not too preachy,' said Jo, after a minute's silence.

　　Mrs. March smiled, and began at once; for she had told stories to this little: audience for many years, and knew how to please them.

　　`Once upon a time, there were four girls, who had enough to eat and drink and wear, a good many comforts and pleasures, kind friends and parents, who loved them dearly, and yet they were not contented.' (Here the listeners stole sly look at one another, and began to sew diligently.) `These girls were anxious to be good, and made many excellent resolutions; but they did not keep them very well, and were constantly saying, "If we only had this," or "If we could only do that," quite forgetting how much they already had, and how many pleasant things they actually could do. So they asked an old woman what spell they could use to make them happy, and she said, `When you feel discontented, think over your blessings and be grateful.' (Here Jo looked up quickly, as if about to speak, but changed her mind, seeing that the story was not done yet.) `Being sensible girls, they decided to try her advice, and soon were surprised to see how well off they were. One discovered that money couldn't keep shame and sorrow out of rich people's houses; another that, though she was poor, she was a great deal happier, with her youth, health, and good spirits, than a certain fretful, feeble old lady, who couldn't enjoy her comforts; a third, that, disagreeable as it was to help get dinner, it was harder still to have to go begging for it; and the fourth, that even carnelian rings were not so valuable as good behaviour. So they agreed to stop complaining, to enjoy the blessings already possessed, and try to deserve them, lest they should be taken away entirely, instead of increased; and I believe they were never disappointed, or sorry that they took the old woman's advice.'

　　`Now, Marmee, that is very cunning of you to turn our own stories against us, and give us a sermon instead of a romance!' cried Meg.

　　`I like that kind of sermon. It's the sort Father used to tell us,' said Beth, thoughtfully, putting the needles straight on Jo's cushion.

　　`I don't complain near as much as the others do, and I shall be more careful than ever now; for I've had warning from Susie's downfall,' said Amy, morally.

　　`We needed that lesson, and we won't forget it. If we do, you just say to us, as old Chloe did in Uncle Tom, "Tink ob yer marcie, chillen! tink ob yer marcies!"' added Jo, who could not for the life of her help getting a morsel of fun out of the little! sermon, though she took it to heart as much as any of them.
 
“唉！又得背起担子往前走了，生活真是一种磨难，”晚会的第二天早上梅格这样叹息道。过节玩了一周，现在又要从事不喜欢的工作，她心里相当不情愿。
“我但愿每天都过圣诞节或者过新年，那就好玩了，”乔说着懒洋洋地打了个呵欠。
“我们能过上现在这种日子已经是三生有幸。但是如果能参加一些宴会舞会，有鲜花马车，每天读书休息，不用工作，那该有多么惬意。你知道有些人就有这样的福气，我总是羡慕这些女孩子，我这人就是向往奢华，”梅格说。她正在比较两条破旧不堪的长裙，看哪一条稍好一点。
“毕竟我们没有这个福气，还是别发牢骚，挑起担子，像妈妈一样乐观地向前走吧。我肯定马奇婶婶就是我的冤家对头，但我想只要我学会忍受，不去埋怨，她就会被丢到脑后，或者变得微不足道。”这主意让乔觉得挺好玩，心情也愉快起来，但梅格却不是很高兴，因为她的担子--四个宠坏了的孩子--现在显得异常沉重。她甚至没有心情像往常一样在领口打上蓝丝，也没有心绪对镜理妆。
“一天到晚都对着几个小捣蛋鬼，我打扮得这么漂亮有谁来看？又有谁来理会我漂亮不漂亮？”她咕哝道，把抽屉猛地一推关上，”我将终生劳碌，只能偶尔得到一点乐趣，逐渐变老变丑，变得尖酸刻薄，就因为我穷，不能像其他女孩子一样享受生活。这是个耻辱！”梅格说完走下去，脸上带着一种受伤的表情，吃早餐时也全无心绪。大家似乎都有点不对劲，个个脸上阴霾满布。贝思头痛，躺在沙发上，试图在那只大猫和三只小猫之中寻找安慰；艾美烦躁不安，因为她没有弄懂功课，而且找不到胶擦；乔真想大吹一声口哨；马奇太太正赶着写一封急信；罕娜因为不喜欢大家晚起，不停地抱怨。
“我从来没见过一家人这么火爆！”乔喊道。她打翻了墨水后，弄断了两根靴带，又坐在自己的帽子上，终于发起了脾气。
“你是最火爆的一个！”艾美反击道，用滴落在写字板上的泪水抹去全算错了的数目。
“贝思，如果你不把这些讨厌的猫放到地窖里去，我就把他们淹死，”梅格一面愤怒地高叫，一面力图摆脱一只爬到她背上牢牢粘着不肯走的小猫。
乔大笑着，梅格责备着，贝思央求着，艾美因为想不起九乘十二等于多少而号哭起来。
“姑娘们，姑娘们，安静一会吧！我必须赶在第一个邮班前把信寄出，你们却乱哄哄地闹得我心神不定，”马奇太太叫道，一边划掉信中第三个写错了的句子。
众人一时安静下来，这时罕娜大步走进来，把两个热气腾腾的卷饼放在桌子上，又大步走出去。这两个卷饼是家里的惯例，姑娘们称之为"手笼"，因为她们发觉寒冷的早上手里笼着个热饼挺暖和，罕娜无论多么忙多么牢骚满腹也不会忘记做上两个，因为路远天寒，两个可怜的姑娘常要在两点以后才回到家里，卷饼便是她们的午饭。
“抱上你的猫，头痛就会好了，贝思。再见，妈妈。我们今早真是一班小坏蛋，不过我们回家时一定还是平日的小天使。走吧，梅格！”乔迈开步伐，觉得她们的天国之旅从一开始就没有走好。
她们转过拐角之前总要回头望望，因为母亲总是倚在窗前点头微笑，向她们挥手道别。不这样她们这一天就似乎过得不踏实，因为无论她们心情如何，她们最后一起所看到的母亲的脸容无异于缕缕阳光，令她们欢欣鼓舞。
“即使妈咪不向我们挥手吻别，而是挥起拳头，我们也是罪有应得，因为我们是天底下最不知道感恩图报的小混帐，”乔在凄风萧瑟的雪路上大声忏悔。
“不要用这么难听的字眼，”梅格说。她用头巾把自己裹得严严实实，看上去就像一个厌世的尼姑。
“我喜欢强有力而有意义的好字眼，”乔答道，用手抓着几乎被风吹落的帽子。
“你爱怎么叫自己就怎么叫吧，我可不是坏蛋，也不是混帐，也不愿意人家这么叫我。”“你是个伤心落魄人，今天这么怒气冲天是因为你不能整天置身于花团锦簇之中。可怜的宝贝，等着吧，等我赚到钱，你就可以享受马车、雪糕、高跟鞋、花束，并和红发小伙子一起跳舞了。”“乔，你真荒唐！”梅格不由被这荒唐话逗笑了。
“幸亏是我呢！如果我也像你一样垂头丧气一副忧郁相，我们可都成了什么样子？谢天谢地，我总可以找到一些有趣的东西来令自己振作。别再发牢骚了，高高兴兴地回家吧，这就对了。”分手时，乔鼓励地拍拍姐姐的肩膀。两人分头而去，各自揣着自己暖烘烘的小卷饼，都想尽量让心情愉快起来，尽管寒风刺骨、工作辛劳，尽管一颗年轻、热爱幸福的心没有得到满足。
当马奇先生为帮助一位不幸的朋友而失去财产时，他的两个大女儿请求让她们出去干点活，这样她们至少可以负担自己的生活。考虑到应该早点培养她们的进取精神和自立能力，父母便同意了。姐妹带着美好的心愿投入工作，相信尽管困难重重，最后一定会取得成功。玛格丽特找到的职业是幼儿家庭教师，薪酬虽少，对她来说却是一笔大数目。正如她自己所说，她"向往奢华"，她的主要烦恼便是贫穷。由于她还记得华屋美服、轻松快乐、无忧无虑的好时光，她比起他姐妹更难接受现实。她也试图知足、试图不嫉妒别人，但年青姑娘爱美、爱交朋友、希望成功和过幸福生活却是天性使然。在金斯家里，她天天都看到她想要的东西，因为孩子们的几个姐姐刚开始参加社交活动。梅格不时看到精致的舞会礼服和漂亮的花束，听到她们热烈地谈论戏剧、音乐会、雪橇比赛等各种娱乐活动，看到她们花钱如流水，随意挥霍。可怜的梅格虽然极少抱怨，但一股不平之气却令她有时对每个人都怀有恨意。她还不明白她其实是多么富有，因为祝福本身就能令人过上幸福的生活。
乔刚好被马奇婶婶看中了。马奇婶婶跛了腿，需要找一个勤快的人来侍候。刚跛腿时这位无儿无女的老太太曾向马奇夫妇提出要收一个姑娘为养女，却被婉言拒绝了，心里老大不高兴。一些朋友告诉马奇夫妇说他们错失了被列入这位阔太太遗嘱继承人的机会，但超尘脱俗的马奇夫妇只是说 "我们不能为钱财而放弃女儿。不论贫富，我们都要厮守一起，共享天伦之乐。”老太太有一段时间都不愿跟他们说话，但一次在朋友家里偶然见到了乔。乔言谈风趣，举止直率，十分合老太太的心意，她便提出让乔跟她作个伴。乔并不乐意，但她找不到更好的差事，便答应下来。出人意料的是，她跟这位性情暴躁的亲戚相处得非常好。但偶尔也会遇到狂风骤雨，一次乔便气得跑回了家，宣布自己忍无可忍；但马奇婶婶总是很快收拾残局，急匆匆地派人请她回去，令她不便拒绝。其实，她内心对这位火辣辣的老太太也颇有好感。
我猜想真正吸引乔的是一个装满了漂亮图书的大藏书室，这个房间自马奇叔叔去世后便积满了灰尘和蜘蛛网。乔记得那位和蔼的老绅士常常让她用大字典堆起铁道桥梁，跟她讲拉丁语书中那些古怪插图的故事，在街上碰到她时给她买姜饼。藏书室光线暗淡，灰尘满布，还有舒适的椅子、精致的地球仪，最妙的是，几个半身人像从书架上俯视地下，书籍凌乱地堆放着，乔可以毫无顾忌地随处走动翻阅，这一切使藏书室成了乔的天堂。每当马奇婶婶打盹儿或顾着跟人闲聊时，乔便匆匆走进这个平静之处，像名符其实的蛀书虫一样大嚼诗歌、浪漫故事、游记、漫画书等等。不过这种令人陶醉的享受却总是不能持久；每当她看得入神，读到精彩之处，必定会传来一声尖叫：“约瑟 芬！约瑟 芬！”这时她便不得不离开自己的天堂，出去绕纱线，给卷毛狗洗澡，或者朗读波尔沙的《随笔》，忙个不停。
乔的理想是做一番宏伟的事业，但这番事业究竟是什么她却一直毫无头绪，也并不急于知道；她觉得自己最大的痛苦是不能尽兴读书、跑步和骑马。她是个急性子，言语尖刻，内心躁动不安，经常把自己推入困境，因此她的生活经历悲喜交集，甜酸苦辣，五味俱全。不过，她在马奇婶婶家里受到的锻炼正是她所需要的，而一想到这样工作可以自立，她就无比高兴，即使是马奇婶婶那没完没了的"约瑟 芬！”也变得微不足道了。
贝思因性格太羞怯而没有上学；她也曾进过学堂，但感到极度痛苦，只得辍学在家，跟着父亲读书。父亲走后，母亲也被派去为"战士援助会"服务，贝思仍忠实不移，坚持尽自己的最大努力自学。她是个贤妻良母型的小姑娘，帮罕娜为工人们把家里打理得整洁舒适，从不乞求报偿，只要被人爱着便心满意足。她静悄悄地度过漫漫长日，从不孤独，从不懒散，因为她的小天地不乏虚构出来的朋友，而她天生就是个勤劳的小蜜蜂。每天一早贝思都要给六个玩具宝宝穿衣装扮，因为她还是个孩子，仍然喜欢宠物。她的小宝贝原来都是弃儿，个个残缺不全，都是两个姐姐长大后不要而传给她的，因为这样又旧又丑的东西艾美是不会要的。正因为如此，贝思对它们呵护有加，专为这些摇摇摆摆的小宝贝设了间医院。她给这些布娃娃一丝不苟地打针，给它们喂饭、穿衣、护理，从不打骂它们，并不忘奉上深情的一吻，即使是最丑陋的玩偶也不会被忽略。一个残缺不堪的"宝宝”原是乔的旧物，经过暴风骤雨的生活洗礼后，四肢不全，五官不整，被弃置在一个破袋子里头，贝思把它从那破旧的包袱里解救出来放到她的避难所。因为头顶不见了，她便扎上一顶雅致的小帽，四肢没有了，便把它裹在毯子里，把缺陷掩盖起来，并把最好的床让给这位长期病员。如果有人知道她是如何细致入微地照料这个玩具娃娃，我想他们即使发笑，也一定会深受感动。她给它送花、读书，把它裹在她的大衣里，带它出去呼吸新鲜空气，给它唱摇篮曲，睡觉前总要吻吻那脏脸孔，并柔声细语：“祝你晚安，可怜的宝贝。”贝思像她的姐妹一样也有自己的烦恼，她并非什么天使，也是个食人间烟火的小姑娘。用乔的话来说，她常常"哭鼻子"，因为不能去上音乐课，因为家里没有一架好钢琴。她酷爱音乐，学得异常用功，并极有耐心地用那架丁当作响的钢琴练习弹奏，似乎真该有人（并非暗指马奇婶婶）来帮她一把。然而没有人帮她，也没有人看到她悄悄把落在五音不全的黄色琴键上的眼泪抹掉。她像只小云雀般为自己的工作歌唱，为妈咪和姐妹们伴奏，永不言累，每天都满怀希望地对自己说：“我知道有一天我一定会学好音乐，只要我乖。”世界上有许许多多个贝思，腼腆平静，默默居于一角，需要时才挺身而出，乐于为别人而牺牲自己。人们只看到她们脸上的笑容，却没有意识到她们所作出的牺牲，直到炉边的小蟋蟀停止了吟唱，和美的阳光消逝而去，空剩下一片寂静和黑暗。
如果有人问艾美生活中最大的痛苦是什么，她会立即回答：“我的鼻子。”当她还是婴孩时，乔一次不小心把她摔落在煤斗里头。艾美认定那次意外永远毁掉了她的鼻子。她的鼻子既不大也不红，只是有点扁。无论怎样捏怎样夹也弄不出个贵族式的鼻尖儿，除了她自己外，并没有人在意，而且鼻子的长势也极好，但艾美总认为自己的鼻梁不够直，便画了一大堆美鼻画儿聊以自慰。
“小拉斐尔"正如她的姐姐们所称，无疑极有绘画天分。
她最大的幸福莫过于摹绘鲜花、设计小仙女，或用古怪的艺术形象说明故事。她的老师抱怨说她的写字板不是用来做算术，而是画满了动物，地图册上的空白版面被她摹满了地图，她的书本一不小心便会弄出许多荒唐滑稽的漫画。她的学习成绩就个人能力而言已属不俗，其行为举止也被大家视为楷模，并因此而逃过数次惩戒。她脾性随和，深谙取悦别人之道，因此在学校深得人心。她姿态略有点做作，但多才多艺，除绘画外，还会弹十二首曲子，善钩织，读法文时读错的字不超过三分之二，令人十分羡慕。她说"爸爸有钱的那个时候我们如何如何"这句话时，悲哀婉转，令人感动，她拖长了的发音也被姑娘们视为"绝顶优雅"。
艾美差不多被大家宠坏了，她的虚荣和自私也成正比例增长。然而有一件事却刺伤了她的虚荣心：她得穿表姐的衣服。由于表姐弗洛伦斯的母亲毫无品味，艾美大受其苦，帽子该配蓝色的却配了红色，衣服与她很不协调，而围裙又过分讲究。其实这些衣物全都不错，做工精细，磨损极少，但艾美的艺术眼光却不能忍受，尤其是这个冬天，她穿的暗紫色校服布满黄点还没有饰边。
“我唯一的安慰，”她对梅格说，眼中泪光闪闪，”是妈妈不像玛莉亚•帕克的妈妈，她在我淘气玩耍时也不会把我的裙子卷起来。哎呀，那真是糟糕透了。有时玛莉亚的长裙子被卷到了膝头上面，不能来上学，当我想到这种屈辱时，我觉得我的扁鼻梁和那件黄火球紫色衣服也可以忍受了。”梅格是艾美的知己和监护人，也许是一种性格上的异性相吸吧，乔和温柔的贝思又是一对。腼腆的贝思独独跟乔倾诉心事；通过这位高大、冒失的姐姐她不知不觉对全家形成举足轻重的影响。两个姐姐互相之间十分要好，但都各以自己的方式照管着一个妹妹--她们称之为“扮妈妈" 并出于一种小妇人的母性对两个妹妹呵护有加。
“你们有什么有趣的事吗？今天闷死了，讲点什么轻松一下，”那天晚上她们坐在一起做针线活儿，梅格这样问。
“今天我和婶婶之间有个不寻常的插曲，因为我占了上风，所以讲给你们听，“极爱讲故事的乔首先说道，”我像往常一样用既单调又沉闷的声调读永远读不完的波尔沙，婶婶很快就被我打发入梦乡，我趁此机会拿出一本好书，如饥似渴地看起来，她醒来的时候我已觉得困了。她问我为什么把嘴巴张得这么大，足可以把整本书一口吞进去。
“'真能这样倒是不错，正好把它作个了结，'我说，尽量不冲撞她。
“她对我的劣行好一顿训斥，并叫我在她'养养神'那一会功夫认真思过。她很快又进入梦乡，头上的帽子像朵头重脚轻的大丽花一样摇摇摆摆。见此情景，我马上从口袋里抽出《威克菲尔德牧师传》读起来，一只眼看书，一只眼留意婶婶。刚刚读到书中人物全都跌入水中时，我一时忘情，笑出了声。婶婶醒过来，心情颇佳，叫我读一点听听，看这本书究竟如何轻薄，竟敢把她那本富有教育意义的宝书波尔沙比下去。我尽力而为，她听得津津有味，但却说 “'我不明白这本书说的是什么。从头再读一次，孩子。'“我从头再读，并尽量读得有声有色。读到扣人心弦之处，我故意停下来低声说：'我担心你会厌烦呢，夫人；要不要停下来？'“她把刚才从手中掉落的编织活计拿起，透过眼镜片狠狠瞪我一眼，用她一贯简洁的口吻说：“把这章读完，不得无礼，小姐。'”“她承认她喜欢这本书吗？”梅格问。
“噢，告诉你吧，不承认！但她把波尔沙扔到了一边，我今天下午跑回去拿手套时，看到她正全神贯注地读那本牧师传，我高兴得在大厅里跳起快步舞，并笑出声来，她竟全然不觉。只要她愿意，她可以过多么愉快的生活啊！尽管她有钱，我并不怎么羡慕她。我想穷人有穷人的烦恼，富人也有富人的烦恼，”乔接着说。
“我也想起一件事来，”梅格说，”这虽不如乔的故事有趣，但它让我回家想了很久。今天我发现金斯家里的人个个都慌慌张张，一个孩子说她大哥犯了件大事，爸爷把他赶走了。我听到金太太在哭，金先生在大骂，格莱丝和艾伦走过我身边时也别过脸，免得眼睛红红的让我看到。当然我什么也没有问，但我很替他们难过，同时很庆幸自己没有这样可恶的兄弟，令家里人蒙受耻辱。”“坏男孩固然可恨，但在学校蒙受耻辱则更加令人难受，”艾美摇着脑袋说，似乎已经历尽沧桑，“苏茜•巴金斯今天戴着一枚精致的红玉戒指上学，我羡慕得不得了，恨不得也有一个。嘿，她给戴维斯先生画了一幅漫画，怪鼻子，驼背，嘴里还吐出一串话：'年轻女士们，我的眼睛在盯着你们！'我们正在大笑，不料他的眼睛果真盯上了我们。他命令苏茜把画板带上去。她吓瘫了，但还是走上去。噢，你们猜他怎么着？他揪着她的耳朵- 耳朵！想想这多恐怖！ 把她揪到背书台上让她在那里站了半个小时，举着画板让大家看。”“姑娘们有没有笑那幅画？”乔问，回味着那尴尬的局面。
“笑？谁敢！她们像老鼠般一声不吱静静地坐着，苏茜泪如雨下，可怜的人。那时我不再羡慕她了，因为我觉得如果这样，即使有千千万万个红玉戒指也不能使我幸福。我永远永远不会忘记这种刻骨铭心的奇耻大辱。”然后艾美继续做她的针线活儿，并为自己的品行和成功地一口气发出两串长长的词组而自鸣得意。
“我今早看到一件我喜欢的事情，吃饭时要说的，却给忘了，”贝思一边说一边整理乔乱七八糟的篮子，”我去为罕娜买些鲜蚝，看到劳伦斯先生也在鱼店里，但他没看到我，因为我站在一个水桶后面，他又忙着跟觓e夫卡特先生说话。一个穷苦女人拿着桶和刷子走进来，问卡特先生能否让她干些洗刮鱼鳞的活儿，因为她的孩子们都饿着肚子，她自己又揽不到活干。卡特先生正忙着，毫不客气地说了声'不'；这个又饥饿又难过的女人正要走开，劳伦斯先生用自己的手杖弯柄勾起一条大鱼递到她面前。她又惊又喜，把鱼抱在怀里，一再道谢。他叫她趁鲜赶快回去把鱼煮了吧，她便高高兴兴地匆匆走开了。劳伦斯先生真是个好心人！噢，她当时的模样也真逗人，抱着滑溜溜的大鱼，口里祝愿劳伦斯先生在天堂的大床'虚虚（舒舒）服服'。”大家听到贝思的故事全笑起来，又请母亲也来一个。母亲略想一想，严肃地说：“今天我在工作间里裁剪蓝色天鹅绒大衣时，非常挂念父亲，我想如果万一他遇到什么不测的话，我们将多么孤独无援。这样想很傻，但我不能自已。这时一个老人走进来交给我一张衣服订单。他在我旁边坐下，我看他模样像个穷苦人家，显得既疲倦又焦虑，便和他攀谈起来。
“'你有儿子在部队吗？'我问，因为他带来的条子不是给我的。
“'有，夫人。有四个，但两个死了，还有一个在监狱，我现在去看另一个，他住在华盛顿医院，病得十分厉害，'他平静地说。
“'你为国家作出了巨大贡献，先生，'我说，这时我对他不再感到怜悯，而是油然起敬。
“'理应如此，夫人。如果用得上我的话，我也会去的；既然用不上，我就献上我的孩子，无偿地献上。'“他声调愉快，神情恳切，似乎奉献自己的一切是一大乐事，我不禁暗自惭愧。我献出一个人便思前想后，他献出了四个却毫无怨言。我在家里有四个好女儿来安慰我，他唯一能见到的儿子却远在数英里之外，可能等着跟他道永别！想到上帝赐给我的恩典，我觉得自己已经很富足，也很幸福。我于是给他打了个漂亮的包裹，给他一些钱，并由衷地感谢他给我上了一课。”“再讲一个，妈妈- 讲个带哲理的，就像这个一样。我喜欢听完后再回味一遍，如果故事真实可信，说教味道又不浓的话，”乔沉默了一会后说。
马奇太太笑笑，马上又讲开了。她跟这班小听众讲了多年故事，知道怎样迎合她们。
“从前，有四个姑娘，她们衣食不愁，安逸舒适，有好心的朋友和深深爱着她们的父母，然而她们并不满足。”这时听众们狡黠地互相交换个眼色，又继续飞针走线。
“这些姑娘们都想做个好孩子，并作了许多宏图大计，但总是不能持久。她们老说：'如果我们有这些东西就好了。'或'如果我们能够这样多好。'完全忘记了自己已身处福中。于是她们问一位老妇人有什么魔法可以使她们幸福。老妇人说：'当你们感到不满足时，想想自己所拥有的东西，并为此而心存感激。'"（这时乔马上抬起头来，似乎有话要说，但想到故事尚未结束，便把话咽了回去。）“姑娘们是聪明人，决定采纳这个建议，不久便惊奇地发现她们是多么富有。一个姑娘发现，金钱并不能使有钱人家免受羞辱和痛苦；另一个发现虽然自己没有钱，但却拥有青春活力和健康的身体，远比愁眉苦脸、年老体弱、不会享受生活乐趣的人幸福；第三个发现下厨做饭虽然不是件快事，但被迫去讨饭的滋味更难接受；第四个发现良好的品行比红玉戒指更加珍贵。于是她们不再牢骚满腹，而是尽情享受已经拥有的一切，并力图报答天恩，唯恐失去而不是更多地享受它们。我相信她们没有后悔接受了老妇人的建议。”“呀，妈咪，你好狡猾，用我们自己的故事来对付我们，不讲故事，却跟我们讲起大道理来了！”梅格嚷道。
“我喜欢这种大道理，爸爸以前也经常这样讲的，”贝思沉思着说道，把针插入乔的针垫里。
“我的怨言没有别人那么多，但从今开始也要更加小心，否则苏茜的下场就是个榜样，”艾美颇有哲理地说。
“我们正需要这么个启示，而且将不会忘记。如果我们忘了，你就学《汤姆叔叔的小屋》里的克洛艾那样，冲我们说：'想想上天的恩典吧，孩子们！想想上天的恩典吧！'"乔情不自禁地从这个小布道中发掘出一点乐趣，虽然她也像其他姐妹一样把它记在心中。
Chapter 5 Being Neighbourly
　　`What in the world are you going to do now, Jo?' asked Meg, one snowy afternoon, as her sister came tramping through the hall, in rubber boots, old sack and hood, with a broom in one hand and a shovel in the other.

　　`Going out for exercise,' answered Jo, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

　　`I should think two long walks this morning would have been enough! It's cold and dull out; and I advise you to stay warm and dry, by the fire, as I do,' said Meg, with a shiver.

　　`Never take advice! Can't keep still all day, and, not being a pussy-cat, I don't like to doze by the fire. I like adventures, and I'm going to find some.'

　　Meg went back to toast her feet and read Ivanhoe; an Jo began to dig paths with great energy. The snow was light, and with her broom she soon swept a path all round the garden, for Beth to walk in when the sun came out; and the invalid dolls needed air. Now the garden separated the Marches' house from that of Mr. Laurence. Both stood in a suburb of the city, which was still country-like, with groves and lawns, large gardens, and quiet streets. A low hedge parted the two estates. On one side was an old, brown house, looking rather bare and shabby, robbed of the vines that in summer covered its walls, and the flowers which then surrounded it. On the other side was a stately stone mansion, plainly betokening every sort of comfort and luxury, from the big coach-house and well-kept grounds to the conservatory and the glimpses of lovely things one caught between the rich curtains. Yet it seemed a lonely, lifeless sort of house; for no children frolicked on the lawn, no motherly face ever smiled at the windows, and few people went in and out, except the old gentleman and his grandson.

　　To Jo's lively fancy, this fine house seemed a kind of enchanted palace, full of splendours and delights, which no one enjoyed. She had long wanted to behold these hidden glories, and to know the `Laurence boy', who looked as if he would like to be known, if he only knew how to begin. Since the party, she had been more eager than ever, and had planned many ways of making friends with him; but he had not been seen lately, and Jo began to think he had gone away, when she one day spied a brown face at an upper window, looking wistfully down into their garden, where Beth and Amy were snowballing one another.

　　`That boy is suffering for society and fun,' she said to herself. `His grandpa does not know what's good for him, and keeps him shut up all alone. He needs a party of jolly boys to play with, or somebody young and lively. I've a great mind to go over and tell the old gentleman so!'

　　The idea amused Jo, who liked to do daring things, and was always scandalizing Meg by her queer performances. The plan of `going over' was not forgotten; and when the snowy afternoon came, Jo resolved to try what could be done. She saw Mr. Laurence drive off, and then sallied out to dig her way down to the hedge, where she paused and took a survey. All quiet - curtains down at the lower windows; servants out of sight, and nothing human visible but a curly black head leaning on a thin hand at the upper window.

　　`There he is,' thought Jo, `poor boy! all alone and sick this dismal day. It's a shame! I'll toss up a snowball, and make him look out, and then say a kind word to him.'

　　Up went a handful of soft snow, and the head turned at once, showing a face which lost its listless look in a minute, as the big eyes brightened and the mouth began to smile. Jo nodded and laughed, and flourished her broom as she called out:

　　`How do you do? Are you sick?'

　　Laurie opened the window, and croaked out as hoarsely as a raven:

　　`Better, thank you. I've had a bad cold, and been shut up a week.'

　　`I'm sorry. What do you amuse yourself with?'

　　`Nothing; it's as dull as tombs up here.'

　　`Don't you read?'

　　`Not much; they won't let me.'

　　`Can't somebody read to you?'

　　`Grandpa does, sometimes; but my books don't interest him and I hate to ask Brooke all the time.'

　　`Have someone come and see you, then.'

　　`There isn't anyone I'd like to see. Boys make such a row, and my head is weak.'

　　`Isn't there some nice girl who'd read and amuse you? Girls are quiet, and like to play nurse.'

　　`Don't know any.'

　　`You know us,' began Jo, then laughed, and stopped.

　　`So I do! Will you come, please?' cried Laurie.

　　`I'm not quiet and nice; but I'll come, if Mother will let me. I'll go ask her. Shut that window, like a good boy, and wait till I come.'

　　With that, Jo shouldered her broom and marched into the house, wondering what they would all say to her. Laurie was in a flutter of excitement at the idea of having company, and flew about to get ready; for, as Mrs. March said, he was `a little gentleman', and did honour to the coming guest by brushing his curly pate, putting on a fresh collar, and trying to tidy up the room, which, in spite of half a dozen servants, was anything but neat. Presently there came a loud ring, then a decided voice, asking for `Mr. Laurie', and a surprised-looking servant came running up to announce a young lady.

　　`All right, show her up, it's Miss Jo,' said Laurie, going to the door of his little parlour to meet Jo, who appeared, looking rosy and kind and quite at her ease, with a covered dish in one hand and Beth's three kittens in the other.

　　`Here I am, bag and baggage,' she said briskly. `Mother sent her love, and was glad if I could do anything for you. Meg wanted me to bring some of her blancmange; she makes it very nicely, and Beth thought her cats would be comforting. I knew you'd laugh at them, but I couldn't refuse, she was so anxious to do something.'

　　It so happened that Beth's funny loan was just the thing; for, in laughing over the kits, Laurie forgot his bashfulness, and grew sociable at once.

　　`That looks too pretty to eat,' he said, smiling with pleasure, as Jo uncovered the dish, and showed the blancmange, surrounded by a garland of green leaves, and the scarlet flowers of Amy's pet geranium.

　　`It isn't anything, only they all felt kindly, and wanted to show it. Tell the girl to put it away for your tea; it's so simple, you can eat it; and, being soft it will slip down without hurting your sore throat. What a cosy room this is!'

　　`It might be if it was kept nice; but the maids are lazy, and I don't know how to make them mind. It worries me, though.'

　　`I'll right it up in two minutes; for it only needs to have the hearth brushed, so - and the things made straight on the mantelpiece, so - and the books put here and the bottles there, and your sofa turned from the light, and the pillows plumped up a bit. Now, then, you're fixed.'

　　And so he was; for, as she laughed and talked, Jo had whisked things into place, and given quite a different air to the room. Laurie watched her in respectful silence; and when she beckoned him to his sofa, he sat down with a sigh of satisfaction, saying gratefully:

　　`How kind you are! Yes, that's what it wanted. Now please take the big chair, and let me do something to amuse my company.

　　`No. I came to amuse you. Shall I read aloud?' and Jo looked affectionately towards some inviting books near by.

　　`Thank you; I've read all those, and if you don't mind I'd rather talk,' answered Laurie.

　　`Not a bit; I'll talk all day if you'll only set me going. Beth says I never know when to stop.'

　　`Is Beth the rosy one, who stays at home a good deal, and sometimes goes out with a little basket?' asked Laurie, with interest.

　　`Yes, that's Beth; she's my girl, and a regular good one she is, too.'

　　`The pretty one is Meg, and the curly-haired one is Amy, I believe?'

　　`How did you find that out?'

　　Laurie coloured up, but answered frankly, `Why, you see, I often hear you calling to one another, and when I'm alone up here, I can't help looking over at your house, you always seem to be having such good times. I beg your pardon for being so rude, but sometimes you forget to put down the curtain at the window where the flowers are; and when the lamps are lighted, it's like looking at a picture to see the fire, and you all round the table with your mother; her face is right opposite, and it looks so sweet behind the flowers, I can't help watching it. I haven't got any mother, you know,' and Laurie poked the fire to hide a little twitching of the lips that he could not control.

　　The solitary, hungry look in his eyes went straight to Jo's warm heart. She had been so simply taught that there was no nonsense in her head, and at fifteen she was as innocent and frank as any child. Laurie was sick and lonely; and, feeling how rich she was in home-love and happiness, she gladly tried to share it with him. Her face was very friendly and her sharp voice unusually gentle as she said:

　　`We'll never draw that curtain any more, and I give you leave to look as much as you like. I just wish, though, instead of peeping, you'd come over and see us. Mother is so splendid, she'd do you heaps of good, and Beth would sing to you if I begged her to, and Amy would dance; Meg and I would make you laugh over our funny stage properties, and we'd have jolly times. Wouldn't your grandpa let you?'

　　`I think he would, if your mother asked him. He's very kind, though he does not look so; and he lets me do what I like, pretty much, only he's afraid I might be a bother to strangers,' began Laurie, brightening more and more.

　　`We are not strangers, we are neighbours, and you needn't think you'd be a bother. We want to know you, and I've been trying to do it this ever so long. We haven't been here a great while, you know, but we have got acquainted with all our neighbours but you.'

　　`You see grandpa lives among his books, and doesn't mind much what happens outside. Mr. Brooke, my tutor, doesn't stay here, you know, and I have no one to go about with me, so I just stop at home and get on as I can.'

　　`That's bad. You ought to make an effort, and go visiting everywhere you are asked; then you'll have plenty of friends, and pleasant places to go to. Never mind being bashful; it won't last long if you keep going.'

　　Laurie turned red again, but wasn't offended at being accused of bashfulness; for there was so much goodwill in Jo, it was impossible not to take her blunt speeches as kindly as they were meant.

　　`Do you like your school?' asked the boy, changing the subject, after a little pause, during which he stared at the fire, and Jo looked about her, well pleased.

　　`Don't go to school; I'm a business man - girl, I mean. I go to wait on my great-aunt, and a dear, cross old soul she is, too,' answered Jo.

　　Laurie opened his mouth to ask another question; but remembering just in time that it wasn't manners to make too many inquiries into people's affairs, he shut it again, and looked uncomfortable. Jo liked his good breeding, and didn't mind having a laugh at Aunt March, so she gave him a lively description of the fidgety old lady, her fat poodle, the parrot that talked Spanish, and the library where she revelled. Laurie enjoyed that immensely; and when she told about the prim old gentleman who came once to woo Aunt March, and in the middle of a fine speech, how Polly had tweaked his wig off, to his great dismay, the boy lay back and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and a maid popped her head in to see what was the matter.

　　`Oh! that does me no end of good. Tell on, please,' he said, taking his face out of the sofa cushions, red and shining with merriment.

　　Much elated with her success, Jo did `tell on', all about their plays and plans, their hopes and fears for father, and the most interesting events of the little world in which the sisters lived. Then they got to talking about books; and to Jo's delight, she found that Laurie loved them as well as she did, and had read even more than herself.

　　`If you like them so much, come down and see ours. Grandpa is out, so you needn't be afraid,' said Laurie, getting up.

　　`I'm not afraid of anything,' returned Jo, with a toss of the head.

　　`I don't believe you are!' exclaimed the boy, looking at her with much admiration, though he privately thought she would have good reason to be a trifle afraid of the old gentleman, if she met him in some of his moods.

　　The atmosphere of the whole house being summer-like, Laurie led the way from room to room, letting Jo stop to examine whatever struck her fancy; and so at last they came to the library, where she clapped her hands, and pranced, as she always did when especially delighted. It was lined with books, and there were pictures and statues and distracting little cabinets full of coins and curiosities, and sleepy-hollow chairs and queer tables, and bronzes; and, best of all, a great open fireplace, with quaint tiles all round it.

　　`What richness!' sighed Jo, sinking into the depth of a velvet chair, and gazing about her with an air of intense satisfaction. `Theodore Laurence, you ought to be the happiest boy in the world,' she added impressively.

　　`A fellow can't live on books,' said Laurie, shaking his head, as he perched on a table opposite.

　　Before he could say more, a bell rang, and Jo flew up, exclaiming with alarm, `Mercy me! it's your grandpa!'

　　`Well, what if it is? You are not afraid of anything, you know,' returned the boy, looking wicked.

　　`I think I am a little bit afraid of him, but I don't know why I should be. Marmee said I might come, and I don't think you're any the worse for it,' said Jo, composing herself, though she kept her eyes on the door.

　　`I'm a great deal better for it, and ever so much obliged. I'm only afraid you are very tired talking to me; it was so peasant, I couldn't bear to stop,' said Laurie, gratefully.

　　`The doctor to see you, sir,' and the maid beckoned as she spoke.

　　`Would you mind if I left you for a minute? I suppose I must see him,' said Laurie.

　　`Don't mind me. I'm as happy as a cricket here,' answered Jo.

　　Laurie went away, and his guest amused herself in her own way. She was standing before a fine portrait of the old gentleman, when the door opened again, and without turning, she said decidedly, `I'm sure now that I shouldn't be afraid of him, for he's got kind eyes, though his mouth is grim, and he looks as if he had a tremendous will of his own. He isn't as handsome as my grandfather, but I like him.'

　　`Thank you, ma'am,' said a gruff voice behind her; and there, to her great dismay, stood old Mr. Laurence.

　　Poor Jo blushed till she couldn't blush any redder, and her heart began to beat uncomfortably fast as she thought what she had said. For a minute a wild desire to run away possessed her; but that was cowardly, and the girls would laugh at her; so she resolved to stay, and get out of the scrape if she could.

　　A second look showed her that the living eyes, under the bushy grey eyebrows,re kinder even than the painted ones; and there was a sly twinkle in them which lessened her fear a good deal. The gruff voice was gruffer than ever, as the old gentleman said abruptly, after that dreadful pause, `So you're not afraid of me, hey?'

　　`Not much, sir.'

　　`And you don't think me as handsome as your grandfather?'

　　`Not quite, sir.'

　　`And I've got a tremendous will, have I?'

　　`I only said I thought so.'

　　`But you like me, in spite of it?'

　　`Yes, I do, sir.'

　　That answer pleased the old gentleman; he gave a short laugh, shook hands with her, and, putting his fingers under her chin, turned up her face, examined it gravely, and let it go, saying, with a nod, `You've got your grandfather's spirit, if you haven't his face. He was a fine man, my dear; but, what is better, he was a brave and honest one, and I was proud to be his friend.' `Thank you, sir'; and Jo was quite comfortable after that, for it suited her exactly.

　　`What have you been doing to this boy of mine, hey?' was the next question, sharply put.

　　`Only trying to be neighbourly, sir'; and Jo told how her visit came about.

　　`You think he needs cheering up a bit, do you?'

　　`Yes, sir; he seems a little lonely, and young folks would do him good, perhaps. We are only girls, but we should be glad to help if we could, for we don't forget the splendid Christmas present you sent us,' said Jo, eagerly.

　　`Tut, tut, tut! that was the boy's affair. How is the poor woman?'

　　`Doing nicely, sir'; and off went Jo, talking very fast, as she told all about the Hummels, in whom her mother had interested richer friends than they were.

　　`Just her father's way of doing good. I shall come and see your mother some fine day. Tell her so. There's the tea-bell; we have it early, on the boy's account. Come down, and go on being neighbourly.'

　　`If you'd like to have me, sir.'

　　`Shouldn't ask you if I didn't'; and Mr. Laurence offered her his arm with old-fashioned courtesy.

　　`What would Me say to this?' thought Jo, as she was marched away, while her eyes danced with fun as she imagined herself telling the story at home.

　　`Hey! Why, what the dickens has come to the fellow?' said the old gentleman, as Laurie came running downstairs, and brought up with a start of surprise at the astonishing sight of Jo arm-in-arm with his redoubtable grandfather.

　　`I didn't know you'd come, sir,' he began, as Jo gave him a triumphant little glance.

　　`That's evident, by the way you racket downstairs. Come to your tea, sir, and behave like a gentleman'; and having pulled the boy's hair by way of a caress, Mr. Laurence walked on, while Laurie went through a series of comic evolutions behind their backs, which nearly produced an explosion of laughter from Jo. The old gentleman did not say much as he drank his four cups of tea, but he watched the young people, who soon chatted away like old friends, and the change in his grandson did not escape him. There was colour, light, and life in the boy's face now, vivacity in his manner, and genuine merriment in his laugh.

　　`She's right; the lad is lonely. I'll see what these little girls can do for him,' thought Mr. Laurence, as he looked and listened. He liked Jo, for her odd, blunt ways suited him; and she seemed to understand the boy almost as well as if she had been one herself.

　　If the Laurences had been what Jo called `prim and poky' she would not have got on at all, for such people always made her shy and awkward; but finding them free and easy, she was so herself, and made a good impression. When they rose, she proposed to go, but Laurie said he had something more to show her, and took her away to the conservatory, which had been lighted for her benefit. It seemed quite fairylike to Jo, as she went up and down the walks, enjoying the blooming walls on either side, the soft light, the damp, sweet air, and the wonderful vines and trees that hung above her - while her new friend cut the finest flowers till his hands were full; then he tied them up, saying, with the happy look Jo liked to see, `Please give these to your mother, and tell her I like the medicine she sent me very much.'

　　They found Mr. Laurence standing before the fire in the great drawing room, but Jo's attention was entirely absorbed by a grand piano, which stood open.

　　`Do you play?' she asked, turning to Laurie with a respectful expression.

　　`Sometimes,' he answered, modestly.

　　`Please do now. I want to hear it so I can tell Beth.'

　　`Won't you first?'

　　`Don't know how; too stupid to learn, but I love music dearly.'

　　So Laurie played, and Jo listened, with her nose luxuriously buried in heliotrope and tea-roses. Her respect and regard for the `Laurence boy' increased very much, for he played remarkably well, and didn't put on any airs. She wished Beth could hear him, but she did not say so; only praised him till he was quite abashed and his grandfather came to the rescue. `That will do, that will do, young lady. Too many sugar-plums are not good for him. His music isn't bad, but I hope he will do as well in more important things. Going? Well, I'm much obliged to you, and I hope you'll come again. My respects to your mother. Good night, Doctor Jo.'

　　He shook hands kindly, but looked as if something did not please him. When they got into the hall, Jo asked Laurie if she had said anything amiss. He shook his head.

　　`No, it was me; he doesn't like to hear me play.'

　　`Why not?'

　　`I'll tell you some day. John is going home with you, as I can't.'

　　`No need of that; I am not a young lady, and it's only a step. Take care of yourself, won't you?'

　　`Yes; but you will come again, I hope?'

　　`If you promise to come and see us after you are well.'

　　`I will.'

　　`Good night, Laurie!'

　　`Good night, Jo, good night!'

　　When all the afternoon's adventures had been told, the family felt inclined to go visiting in a body, for each found something very attractive in the big house on the other side of the hedge: Mrs. March wanted to talk of her father with the old man who had not forgotten him; Meg longed to walk in the conservatory; Beth sighed for the grand piano; and Amy was eager to see the fine pictures and statues.

　　`Mother, why didn't Mr. Laurence like to have Laurie play?' asked Jo, who was of an inquiring disposition.

　　`I am not sure, but I think it was because his son, Laurie's father, married an Italian lady, a musician, which displeased the old man, who is very proud. The lady was good and lovely and accomplished, but he did not like her, and never saw his son after he married. They both died when Laurie was a little child, and then his grandfather took him home. I fancy the boy, who was born in Italy, is not very strong, and the old man is afraid of losing him, which makes him so careful. Laurie comes naturally by his love of music, for he is like his mother, and I dare say his grandfather fears that he may want to be a musician; at any rate, his skill reminds him of the woman he did not like, and so he "glowered", as Jo said.'

　　`Dear me, how romantic!' exclaimed Meg.

　　`How silly!' said Jo. `Let him be a musician, if he wants to, and not plague his life out sending him to college, when he hates to go.'

　　`'That's why he has such handsome black eyes and pretty manners, I suppose. Italians are always nice,' said Meg, who was a little sentimental.

　　`What do you know about his eyes and his manners? You never spoke to him, hardly,' cried Jo, who was not sentimental.

　　`I saw him at the party, and what you tell shows that he knows how to behave. That was a nice little speech about the medicine Mother sent him.'

　　`He meant the blancmange, I suppose.'

　　`How stupid you are, child! He meant you, of course.'

　　`Did he?' and Jo opened her eyes as if it had never occurred to her before.

　　`I never saw such a girl! You don't know a compliment when you get it,' said Meg, with the air of a young lady who knew all about the matter.

　　`I think they are great nonsense, and I'll thank you not to be silly, and spoil my fun. Laurie's a nice boy, and I like him, and I won't have any sentimental stuff about compliments and such rubbish. We'll all be good to him, because he hasn't got any mother, and he may come over and see us, mayn't he, Marmee?'

　　`Yes, Jo, your little friend is very welcome, and I hope Meg will remember that children should be children as long as they can.'

　　`I don't call myself a child, and I'm not in my teens yet,' observed Amy. `What do you say, Beth?'

　　`I was thinking about our Pilgrim's Progress,' answered Beth, who had not heard a word. `How we got out of the Slough and through the Wicket Gate by resolving to be good, and up the steep hill by trying; and that maybe the house over there full of splendid things, is going to be our Palace Beautiful.'

　　`We have got to get by the lions, first,' said Jo, as if she rather liked the prospect.
 
“你究竟是去干什么，乔？”梅格问道。时值午后，雪花起飞，她看到妹妹脚踏胶靴，头戴雪帽，披着旧布袋，一手拿着把扫帚，一手提着个铁锹，正大步走过大厅。
“出去锻炼，”乔答，眼睛调皮地一闪一闪。
“今天早上散了两次步，还不够么？外面又冷又闷，我劝你还是呆在火边暖和暖和，就像我一样，”梅格说着打了个冷颤。
“不接受意见！我不能一整天都安静地呆着，我又不是小猫咪，不喜欢在火炉边打盹儿，我喜欢探险，我这就打算去。”
梅格走回去烤脚，读她的《艾凡赫》，乔则开始使劲挖路。积雪不厚，她很快便用扫帚绕着花园扫出一条小道，这样，太阳出来时，贝思便可以在这里散步，把病娃娃抱出来呼吸新鲜空气。马奇家的屋子和劳伦斯家的只有一园之隔。两座屋子地处市郊，颇富乡村风味，周围是草皮、小树林、大花园，还有静静的街道。一道低矮的树篱把两户人家分隔开来。树篱的一面是一所破旧的棕色房子，显得颓败荒芜，夏天盖在墙上的藤叶和绕屋的鲜花早已凋零。另一面是一栋很有气派的石楼，内设大型马车房和植物温室，地面保持得干干净净，透过华丽的窗帘布，隐约可以看到漂亮精致的家居布置，一望而知里头的主人过着安逸豪华的生活。然而这栋房子似乎孤单寂寞、缺乏生气，草皮上没有孩子在玩耍，窗边见不到母亲的笑脸，门庭冷落，进进出出，只能见到老绅士和他的孙子。
在富有想像力的乔眼里，这栋富丽的楼房就像是一座幻想中的宫殿，流光溢彩，富丽堂皇，但却无人欣赏。她早就想看看里头究竟藏着什么宝物，并结识那位"劳伦斯家的男孩"。他看来也有意想交个朋友，只是不知从何做起。自从那次晚会之后，她这种愿望尤其强烈，心里盘算了许多与他交朋友的方法；但最近他却很少露面，乔正以为他出了远门，一天却突然发现楼上一扇窗边露出一个脸孔，若有所思地往下望着她们的花园，花园里贝思和艾美正在一起玩雪球。
“这个小伙子没有朋友，没有欢乐，”她心里说，”他爷爷不知道他需要什么，总是把他孤零零地关在屋里。其实他很需要一班快乐的小伙子来陪他玩，需要活泼有朝气的年青人作伴。我真想走过去把这些话告诉那位老绅士！”想到这里乔乐了，她是个有胆识的姑娘，常常做出一些出奇不意的事情，令梅格震惊不已。”走过去"这个计划一直在乔的脑海里纠缠；这天下午雪花飘落时，乔决定采取行动。她看到劳伦斯先生坐车出了门，便开始挖路，一直挖到树篱边，这才停下来望望。四处悄无声息 -楼下窗户帘幕低垂，佣人也全无踪影，独见楼上窗边露出一个黑色鬈发的脑袋靠在纤薄的手掌上。
“他在上头呢，”乔想，”多可怜的人！这么阴沉沉的日子孤独一人，郁郁不乐。简直，岂有此理！我要抛个雪球上去，引他望过来，再跟他好好说上几句话。“乔抛出一捧软绵绵的雪花，楼上的人马上转过头来，脸上无精打采的神情一扫而光，大眼睛闪闪发亮，嘴角露出笑意。乔点点头笑了，挥舞着手中的扫帚叫道— “你好吗？是不是病了？”劳里打开窗，像个渡鸦般嘶哑着嗓子答道- “好点了，谢谢你。我得了重感冒，在屋里关了一个星期了。”“真遗憾。有什么消遣吗？”“没有。这里头闷得像个坟墓。”“你不看书吗？”“不大看。他们不让我看。”“没有人念给你听吗？”“爷爷有时念一点，但我的书他不感兴趣，我又不愿意老叫布鲁克来念。”
“那么叫人来看望你吧。”
“我腻烦见人。男孩子吵闹起哄，我头痛受不了。”“不能找个好女孩来跟你念书消遣吗？女孩子天性文静，而且喜欢照顾别人。”“不认识。”“你认识我们，“乔提醒他，然后含笑起来，又赶忙停下。
“可不是吗！能请你过来吗？”劳里叫道。
“我不文静，也并非什么好女孩，但如果妈妈允许的话，我就过来。我去问问她。你乖乖关上窗子，我一会就来。”言毕，乔肩扛扫帚走进屋里，一面思忖大家会怎么说。劳里想到将有人作伴，欣喜不已，四处奔忙做准备；正如马奇太太所说，他是个"小绅士"，为对客人的光临表示敬意，他把卷曲的头发梳理一遍，换上一条干净领带，并试着整理房间，虽说有六个佣人，房间仍然零乱不堪。一会，铃声大响，一个沉着的声音请求见"劳里先生"，一位满脸疑云的佣人跑上楼来，对劳里说有一位小姐求见。
“好极了，把她带上来，那是乔小姐，”劳里边说边走到他的小客厅门前迎接乔。乔走进来，脸色绯红，亲切可人，一手着个盖着盖的碟子，一手捧着贝思的三只小猫，神态相当自如。
“我来了，带着全部家当，”她爽快地说，”妈妈谨致爱意，若我能为你效劳的话，她深感高兴。梅格要我送上她做的牛奶冻，她做得好极了。贝思认为她的小猫咪可以安慰你。我知道你一定会取笑它们，但我不能拒绝，她是这么想帮助别人。”贝思想得不错，她借出的小猫咪还真管用，劳里被这种有趣的礼物逗得大笑，他顾不得害羞，马上变得活跃起来。
“做得太精美了，叫人舍不得吃。”看着乔揭开碟子上的盖儿，露出牛奶冻，里面围着一圈绿叶和艾美最喜爱的绛红色天竺葵花朵，他快乐地笑了。
“这不值什么，只是她们的好意而已。叫女佣人拿去给你做茶点：区区一物，你不必客气，因为它又软又滑，喉咙酸痛吃下去也不碍事。你这房间真舒服！”“如果打理得当，倒是挺舒服的；但女佣们都懒，我又不知怎样才能让她们用心。这令我挺伤脑筋呢。”“我两分钟就可以把它弄妥，其实只需要扫扫壁炉地面，这么着- 把壁炉台上的东西竖起来，这么着--书放在这边，瓶子放那边，你的沙发不要直对光线，枕头鼓满一点。行了，一切妥当。”真的一切妥当；因为谈笑之间，乔已经把东西收拾得有条不紊，并给房间带来一种特别的气氛。劳里恭敬地默默注视着她，当她示意他坐到沙发上时，他坐下来满意地舒了一口气，感激地说道— “你心地真好！房间是需要这么收拾一下。现在请坐到这张大椅子上，让我为我的客人效劳点什么。”“不，是我来为你效劳。我朗读好吗？”乔热切地望着近处几本诱人的书。
“谢谢你！那些书我都已读过，如果你不介意，我倒宁愿交谈，”劳里回答。
“当然不介意。如果你愿意听，我可以讲上一天。贝思常说我从不懂得适可而止。”“贝思是不是常呆在家里，有时提着个小篮子出来，脸色红润润的那一位？“对了，那就是贝思。十足的乖乖女，我最疼爱她了。”“漂亮的那位是梅格，鬈发的是艾美，对吗？”“你是怎么知道的？”劳里红了脸，不过还是坦白回答：“嗯，你知道，我常听到你们叫唤对方，当我在楼上孤零零一个人时，就忍不住望向你们的屋子，你们似乎总是玩得很开心。请原谅我这样无礼，但有时你们忘记放下摆着鲜花的那扇窗户的帘子，灯亮时简直就像是看一幅画，炉火下你们和母亲绕桌而坐，她的脸刚好对着我，在鲜花的掩映下显得异常甜美，我忍不住要看。我没有妈妈，你知道。”劳里的嘴唇忍不住轻轻抽搐了一下，他捅捅炉火借以掩饰。
劳里孤独、渴望的眼神直刺入乔炽热的心胸。她受到的教育十分单纯，心中全无一丝杂念，年届十五，仍像孩子一样坦诚直率、天真无邪。劳里有病而且孤独，极羡慕她享有家庭温暖和幸福，她也很想与他一同分享。她神情十分友好，尖嗓子也变得非同寻常地轻柔，说“那个窗的帘幕我们以后不再拉上，你尽可以看个够。不过，我却希望你能过来看望我们，而不只是偷偷观望。妈妈非同凡响，你一定会受益良多；贝思可以唱歌给你听，如果我请求她的话；而艾美则可以为你跳舞，我和梅格可以给你看我们有趣的舞台道具，让你笑一常我们一定会玩得很开心。你爷爷会让你来吗？”“如果你妈妈跟他说，我想会的。他心地最善良，只是不表露出来；可以说他相当纵容我，只不过担心我会妨碍陌生人，”劳里说，神情越发亢奋。
“我们不是陌生人，我们是邻居，你不必见外。我们想认识你，我老早就想这么做了。我们在这里住得不算久，你知道，但我们邻近的人家都认识了，就差你家。”
“爷爷就爱看书，对外面发生的事情不大关心。我的私人教师布鲁克先生又不住在这里，没有人跟我一起玩，所以我只是呆在家里自己过。”“太可惜了。如果有人邀请，你应该多外出拜会，这可以交许多朋友，去许多有趣的地方。别老惦着害羞，你不想它就没事了。”劳里脸又红起来，但却没有生气，虽然乔言语唐突，责备他害羞，但言谈之间那一番真情实意，却令他非常感激。
“你喜欢你的学校吗？”男孩凝视着火光停顿了一会儿，然后换了个话题问道。
乔正四下打量着，显得非常愉快。
“我没有上学，我是个实干家--我的意思是实干女孩。
我侍奉我的叔伯母，一个既可爱又专横的老太太，”乔回答。
劳里刚要张口再问，猛然想到打探太多别人的私事不礼貌，便闭口不语，神态显得颇不自然。乔喜欢他这样有教养，但觉得谈谈马奇婶婶的趣事并无妨，便活灵活现地跟他描绘那位烦躁不安的老太太，她的胖卷毛狗，会讲西班牙语的鹦鹉鹦哥，还有自己最喜爱的藏书室。劳里听得如痴如醉；她说到一次一位庄重的老绅士来向马奇婶婶求婚，正当他甜言蜜语之际，鹦哥扯下了他的假发，令他大为懊丧。劳里听到这儿身子向后一仰，笑得眼泪都流了出来，引得一个女佣探头进来看个究竟。
“啊！真是灵丹妙药，请接着再说，”劳里从沙发上抬起头来，脸上兴奋得红光闪闪地说道。
乔为自己的成功洋洋得意，便"接着再说"，谈她们的话剧、计划、她们对父亲的盼望和担心，以及她们姐妹圈中最有趣的事儿。接着他们谈起书，乔高兴地发现劳里跟她一样爱读书，而且读得比她更多。
“如果你这么喜欢书，下来看看我家的吧。爷爷出去了，你不用害怕，”劳里边说边站起来。
“我什么也不怕，”乔答，把头一抬。
“这话我也相信！”男孩叫道，并羡慕不已地望着她，虽然心中暗想如果遇上老人心情不佳，她一定也会有一点害怕。
整座屋里的气氛与夏天无异，劳里领着乔沿房间逐一观赏，遇到乔感兴趣的地方便驻足细看一番；这样走走停停，最后来到藏书室，乔旋即兴奋得手舞足蹈，一如她平日特别高兴时那样。藏书室里头一层一层摆满了书本，放着图画、雕塑、装满了钱币和古玩的引人注目的小橱柜，还有《睡谷传奇》里的椅子、古怪的桌子和青铜器，最令人叫绝的是一个用精致的花砖砌成的敞开式大壁炉。
“你家真富有！”乔赞叹道，身子一歪重重坐在一张天鹅绒椅子上，神情极为满足地凝望周围。”西奥多•劳伦斯，你应该是世界上最幸福的孩子，”她接着说，神态让人难忘。
“人不能光是靠书活着，”劳里摇摇头说，坐在对面一张桌子上。
他正要说下去，门铃响了，乔飞快地站起来，慌张地叫道：“哎呀！是你爷爷！“咦，是他又如何？你不是说什么也不怕吗？”男孩调皮地对她说。
“我想我是有点怕他，但我不明白为什么会这样。妈妈说我可以过来，我也觉得这样对你没有坏处，”乔定定神说，眼睛却一直望着房门。
“你来我精神好多了，真是不胜感激。我只怕你跟我谈话累着了呢；这样交谈令人愉快极了，我简直不想停下来，”劳里感激地说。
“医生要见你，少爷，”女佣招手道。
“我走开一会行吗？看来我得见他，”劳里说。
“别管我。我在这里快乐得像个蟋蟀，”乔答道。
劳里走出去，留下客人独个自娱自乐。她正站在那位老绅士的肖像前，门忽地又打开了，她没有回头，自信地说：“现在我肯定不会怕他。虽然他的嘴唇冷峻，但他有一双善良的眼睛，看样子他很有个性。虽然他不及我外公英俊，但我喜欢他。”“承蒙夸奖，夫人。”一个生硬的声音从她身后传来，原来进来的是劳伦斯老人，乔窘得恨不能找个地缝儿钻进去。
可怜的乔脸色红得不能再红，想到自己方才说的话，心里慌得怦怦乱跳。她一开始很想马上跑掉，但那是懦夫的行为，姐妹们一定会嘲笑她的；于是她决定按兵不动，尽自己的能力摆脱困境。她又望了一眼老人，发现灰白浓眉下面的两只眼睛比起像片上的更加善良，目光中还闪着一丝狡黠，于是心里轻松了许多。突然，老人打破可怕的沉默，用更为生硬的声音问道：“那么说你不怕我，嗯？”“不是很怕，先生。”“你觉得我不如你外公英俊？”“不错，先生。”“我很有个性，对吗？”“我只是说我这么认为。”“但尽管如此，你还喜欢我？”“是的，是这样，先生。”这个回答使老人很高兴，他笑一笑，跟她握手，然后用手指托着她的下巴，把她的脸抬起来，严肃地细看一回，放下手点头说道：“虽然你没有继承你外公的相貌，但你继承了他的精神。他是个好人，孩子；但更难得的是，他勇敢正直。
我为自己是他的朋友而自豪。”
“谢谢您，先生。”乔现在觉得相当舒服了，因为这话说得非常中听。
“你对我这孩子做了什么，嗯？”他接着毫不客气地问道。
“只是尽量做个好邻居而已，先生。”乔接着把来龙去脉说了出来。
“你认为他需要振作一点，对吗？”
“是的，先生，他似乎有点孤独，年轻伙伴可能会对他有好处。我们不过是女孩子，但如果可以帮上忙的话，我们会很高兴，我们可没有忘记您送给我们的圣诞大礼，”乔热切地说。
“啧！啧！啧！那是那孩子做的事。那个可怜的女人过得还好吗？”“过得挺好，先生。”乔接着便一口气介绍了赫梅尔一家的情况，并告诉他母亲已说服了比她们更富有的人来关心此事。
“她父亲也是这么乐善好施。改日我要去登门拜访，把这话告诉她。用茶的铃声响了，为了那孩子的缘故，我们很早就吃茶点。下来继续做好邻居吧。”“如果您喜欢的话，先生。”“如果我不喜欢，就不会请你，”劳伦斯先生说着行旧式礼节，向她伸出手臂。
“不知梅格对此会有何话说？”乔一边走一边揣测，想象到自己在家里讲这个故事的情景，眼睛高兴得直忽闪。
这时劳里跑下楼梯，看到乔居然和他那令人畏惧的爷爷手挽着手，吓得怔住了。”嘿！怎么了，这家伙到底怎么了？”老人问。
“我不知道您会来，先生，”他开口说。乔得意地跟他使个眼色。
“显然如此，看你冲下楼梯的样子就知道。过来吃茶吧，先生，放斯文一点。“劳伦斯先生怜爱地扯扯男孩的头发，又继续向前走，劳里在他们身后傻乎乎地发呆，逗得乔差点忍不住大笑。
老人喝下四杯茶，两个年青人很快就谈得像对老朋友，老人看在眼里，并不多言，他孙子的变化更逃不过他的眼睛。现在男孩的脸上红润生动起来，他神态活泼，笑声充满真正的快乐。
“她说得对，小伙子是太孤单。我倒要看看这小姑娘能为他做什么，”劳伦斯先生一面看他们说话一面想。他喜欢乔，因为她与众不同，她那古怪、率直的方式很合自己的性格，而且她似乎非常理解这孩子，简直好像是他身上的一分子。
假如劳伦斯一家真如乔原来所说的那样"既严肃，又冷漠"的话，乔便不可能和他们相处下去，因为这种人总会使她感到羞怯和尴尬；但她现在却发现他们很随和，和他们在一起，她自己便也轻松下来，谈笑自如，给主人留下了良好的印象。当他们站起来的时候，她提出告辞，但劳里说他还有些东西要给她看，随之把她带到温室。温室里专为她而点亮了灯。乔在走道上徘徊往返，在柔和的灯光下仔细欣赏墙边盛开的鲜花，以及周围千奇百怪的藤蔓灌木，尽情呼吸湿润清新、芬芳怡人的空气，仿佛置身于神仙景界。她的新朋友剪下满满一捧亮丽的鲜花，然后绑起来，带着令她愉快的神情说：“请把它交给你妈妈，就说我很感激她送给我的药。”他们发觉劳伦斯先生站在大客厅的炉火前，但乔的注意力却被一架打开着的大钢琴牢牢吸引住了。
“你弹琴吗？”她望着劳里问道，脸上露出敬佩的神情。
“偶尔弹一点，”他谦虚地回答。
“能弹一首吗？我现在想听听，回去告诉贝思。”“你先请吧。”“不会弹。太笨学不会，但我酷爱音乐。”于是劳里弹琴，乔把鼻子深深埋在天莱花和香水月季里留神细听。劳里弹得妙极了，而且毫不矫揉造作。乔对这位"劳伦斯家的男孩"更添一层敬意。她想如果贝思也来听就好了，但却没有说出来，只是对他赞不绝口，夸得他挺不好意思。爷爷赶忙过来解围：“行了，行了，小姐。甜言蜜语太多他吃不消。他的音乐是不错，但我希望其他更重要的事情他也一样能干好。要回去了？好吧，我非常感谢你，并希望你再来。问候你母亲。晚安，乔医生。”他慈爱地跟她握手，但神色似乎有点不快。当他们走入大厅时，乔问劳里是否自己说错了话，劳里摇摇头。
“没有，原因在我；他不喜欢听我弹琴。”“为什么？”“以后我会告诉你。约翰送你回家，恕我不能送了。”“用不着。我不是娇小姐，而且只有一步之隔。多多保重，好吗？”“好的，但你会再来吧，我希望。”“如果你答应病好后来看望我们的话。”“我会来的。”“晚安，劳里！”“晚安，乔，晚安！”听了乔这个下午的奇遇后，一家人都感到有必要全体作一次访问，因为大家都觉得树篱那边的大房子有一种说不出来的魅力。马奇太太想跟老人谈谈自己的父亲，因为老人还没有忘记他，梅格渴望到温室里走走，贝思为那架大钢琴而叹息不已，艾美则很想看看那些精致的图画和雕塑。
“妈妈，为什么劳伦斯先生不喜欢劳里弹琴？”爱寻根问底的乔问。
“这我不是很清楚，但我想是因为他的儿子，劳里的父亲娶了位意大利女子—-一个音乐家，这事令自尊心极强的老人很不愉快。其实那个女子贤淑可爱，而且多才多艺，但他不喜欢她，他们婚后他便没有再见儿子。劳里还很小的时候，他们便去世了，爷爷把他接回家。那男孩在意大利出生，身子骨不大壮实，我想老人是害怕失去他，因此格外小心。劳里像他母亲，天生热爱音乐。我敢说他爸爸害怕他有当音乐家的念头。不论怎样，他的琴艺使老人想起了自己不喜欢的那个女人，所以他 '怒目而视'，就像乔说的那样。”“哎哟，多浪漫！”梅格叫道。
“多傻！”乔说，”如果他想做个音乐家就让他做去，他不喜欢念大学就别把他送进去受折磨。”“我想，正因为这样，他才有一双漂亮的大眼睛和优雅的举止。意大利人总是风度翩翩，”有点多愁善感的梅格说。
“他的眼睛和举止你知道什么？你几乎没跟他说过话，”乔嚷道。她可并不多愁善感。
“我在晚会里见过他，你讲的故事说明了他言谈得体。他说的有关妈妈送给他的药那几句话多有意思。”“我猜他指的是牛奶冻。”“真是个笨姑娘！他指的是你，绝对没错。”“是吗？”乔睁大眼睛，仿佛以前从来没有这样想过。
“我从来没有见过这样的女孩！人家恭维你还不知道，”梅格说，好像她对这种事情无所不知。
“我认为这种事荒唐之极。你别傻，别扫我的兴，我便多谢了。劳里是个好男孩，我喜欢他，我不要听什么情呀意呀之类的废话。我们都要对他好，因为他没有母亲。他也可以过来看我们，您说对吗，妈妈？”“对，乔，非常欢迎你的小朋友，我也希望梅格记住，儿童就应该尽量天真无邪。”“我认为自己不算儿童，我还不到十岁呢，”艾美说，”你说呢，贝思？”“我正在想我们的'天路历程'，”贝思答道。她一句话也没有听进去。”我们怎样下定决心做好孩子，走出'深渊'，穿过'边门’，努力爬上陡坡；也许那边那座装满漂亮东西的屋子便是我们的'丽宫'。”“我们得先走过狮子群，”乔满怀憧憬地说。
Chapter 6 Beth Finds The Palace Beautiful
　　The big house did prove a Palace Beautiful, though it took some time for all to get in, and Beth found it very hard to pass the lions. Old Mr. Laurence was the biggest one; but after he had called, said something funny or kind to each one of the girls, and talked over old times with their mother, nobody felt much afraid of him, except timid Beth. The other lion was the fact that they were poor and Laurie rich; for this made them shy of accepting favours which they could not return. But, after a while they found that he considered them the benefactors, and could not do enough to show how grateful he was for Mrs. March's motherly welcome, their cheerful society, and the comfort he took in that humble home of theirs. So they soon forgot their pride, and interchanged kindnesses without stopping to think which was the greater.

　　All sorts of pleasant things happened about that time; for the new friendshipourished like grass in spring. Everyone liked Laurie, and he privately informed his tutor that `the Marches were regular splendid girls'. With the delightful enthusiasm of youth they took the solitary boy into their midst, and made much of him, and he found something very charming in the innocent companionship of these simple-hearted girls. Never having known mother or sisters, he was quick to feel the influences they brought about him; and their busy, lively ways made him ashamed of the indolent life he led. He was tired of books, and found people so interesting now that Mr. Brooke was obliged to make very unsatisfactory reports; for Laurie was always playing truant and running over to the Marches'.

　　`Never mind; let him take a holiday, and make it up afterwards,' said the old gentleman. `The good lady next door says he is studying too hard, and needs young society, amusement, and exercise. I suspect she is right, and that I've been coddling the fellow as if I'd been his grandmother. Let him do what he likes, as long as he is happy. He can't get into mischief in that little nunnery over there; and Mrs. March is doing more for him than we can.'

　　What good times they had, to be sure! Such plays and tableaux, such sleigh-rides and skating frolics, such pleasant evenings in the old parlour, and now and then such gay little parties at the great house. Meg could walk in the conservatory whenever she liked, and revel in bouquets; Jo browsed over the new library voraciously, and convulsed the old gentleman with her criticisms. Amy copied pictures and enjoyed beauty to her heart's content; and Laurie played `lord of the manor' in the most delightful style.

　　But Beth, though yearning for the grand piano, could not pluck up courage to go to the `Mansion of Bliss', as Meg called it. She went once with Jo; but the old gentleman, not being aware of her infirmity, stared at her so hard from under his heavy eyebrows, and said `Hey!' so loud, that he frightened her so much her `feet chattered on the floor', she told her mother; and she ran away, declaring she would never go there any more, not even for the dear piano. No persuasions or enticements could overcome her fears, till the fact coming to Mr. Laurence's ear in some mysterious way, he set about mending matters. During one of the brief calls he made, he artfully led the conversation to music, and talked away about great singers whom he had seen, fine organs he had heard, and told such charming anecdotes that Beth found it impossible to stay in her distant comer, but crept nearer and nearer, as if fascinated. At the back of his chair she stopped, and stood listening, with her great eyes wide open, and her cheeks red with the excitement of this unusual performance. Taking no more notice of her than if she had been a fly, Mr. Laurence talked on about Laurie's lessons and teachers; and presently, as if the idea had just occurred to him, he said to Mrs. March:

　　`The boy neglects his music now, and I'm glad of it, for he was getting too fond of it. But the piano suffers for want of use. Wouldn't some of your girls like to run over, and practise on it now and then, just to keep it in tune, you know, ma'am?'

　　Beth took a step forward, and pressed her hands tightly together to keep from clapping them, for this was an irresistible temptation; and the thought of practising on that splendid instrument quite took her breath away. Before Mrs. March could reply, Mr. Laurence went on with an odd little nod and smile:

　　`They needn't see or speak to anyone, but run in at any time; for I'm shut up in my study at the other end of the house, Laurie is out a great deal, and the servants are never near the drawing room after nine o'clock.'

　　Here he rose, as if going, and Beth made up her mind to speak, for that last arrangement left nothing to be desired. `Please tell the young ladies what I say; and if they don't care to come, why, never mind.' Here a little hand slipped into his, and Beth looked up at him with a face full of gratitude, as she said, in her earnest, yet timid way:

　　`Oh, sir, they do care, very, very much!'

　　`Are you the musical girl?' he asked, without any startling `Hey!' as he looked down at her very kindly.

　　`I'm Beth. I love it dearly, and I'll come, if you are quite sure nobody will hear me - and be disturbed,' she added, fearing to be rude, and trembling at her own boldness as she spoke.

　　`Not a soul, my dear. The house is empty half the day; so come and drum away as much as you like, and I shall be obliged to you.'

　　`How kind you are, sir!'

　　Beth blushed like a rose under the friendly look he wore; but she was not frightened now, and gave the big hand a grateful squeeze, because she had no words to thank him for the precious gift he had given her. The old gentleman softly stroked the hair of her forehead, and stooping down, he kissed her, saying, in a tone few people ever heard:

　　`I had a little girl once, with eyes like these. God bless you, my dear! Good day, madam'; and away he went, in a great hurry.

　　Beth had a rapture with her mother, and then rushed up to impart the glorious news to her family of invalids, as the girls were not at home. How blithely she sang that evening, and how they all laughed at her, because she woke Amy in the night by playing the piano on her face in her sleep. Next day, having seen both the old and the young gentlemen out of the house, Beth, after two or three retreats, fairly got in at the side-door and made her way, as noiselessly as any mouse, to the drawing room where her idol stood. Quite by accident of course, some pretty, easy music lay on the piano; and, with trembling fingers, and frequent stops to listen and look about, Beth at last touched the great instrument, and straightaway forgot her fear, herself, and everything else but the unspeakable delight which the music gave her, for it was like the voice of a beloved friend.

　　She stayed till Hannah came to take her home to dinner; but she had no appetite, and could only sit and smile upon everyone in a general state of beatitude.

　　After that, the little brown hood slipped through the hedge nearly every day, and the great drawing room was haunted by a tuneful spirit that came and went unseen. She never knew that Mr. Laurence often opened his study door to hear the old-fashioned airs he liked; she never saw Laurie mount guard in the hall to warn the servants away; she never suspected that the exercise-books and new songs which she found in the rack were put there for her especial benefit; and when he talked to her about music at home, she only thought how kind he was to tell things that helped her so much. So she enjoyed herself heartily, and found, what isn't always the case, that her granted wish was all she had hoped. Perhaps it was because she was so grateful for this blessing that a greater was given her; at any rate she deserved both.

　　`Mother, I'm going to work Mr. Laurence a pair of slippers. He is so kind to me, I must thank him, and I don't know any other way. Can I do it?' asked Beth, a few weeks after that eventful call of his.

　　`Yes, dear. It will please him very much, and be a nice way of thanking him. The girls will help you about them, and I will pay for the making up,' replied Mrs. March, who took peculiar pleasure in granting Beth's requests, because she so seldom asked anything for herself.

　　After many serious discussions with Meg and Jo, the pattern was chosen, the materials bought, and the slippers begun. A cluster of grave yet cheerful pansies on a deeper purple ground was pronounced very appropriate and pretty; and Beth worked away early and late, with occasional lifts over hard parts. She was a nimble little needle-woman, and they were finished before anyone got tired of them. Then she wrote a very short, simple note, and, with Laurie's help, got them smuggled on to the study-table one morning before the old gentleman was up.

　　When this excitement was over, Beth waited to see what would happen. All that day passed, and a part of the next, before any acknowledgement arrived, and she was beginning to fear she had offended her crotchety friend. On the afternoon of the second day, she went out to do an errand, and give poor Joanna, the invalid doll, her daily exercise. As she came up the street, on her return, she saw three, yes, four, heads popping in and out of the parlour windows, and the moment they saw her, several hands were waved, and several joyful voices screamed:

　　`Here's a letter from the old gentleman! Come quick, and read it!'

　　`Oh, Beth, he's sent you——' began Amy, gesticulating with unseemly energy; but she got no further, for Jo quenched her by slamming down the window.

　　Beth hurried on in a flutter of suspense. At the door, her sisters seized and bore her to the parlour in a triumphal procession, all pointing, and all saying at once, `Look there! look there!' Beth did look, and turned pale with delight and surprise; for there stood a little cabinet piano, with a letter lying on the glossy lid, directed, like a signboard, to `Miss Elizabeth March'.

　　`For me?' gasped Beth, holding on to Jo, and feeling as if she should tumble down, it was such an overwhelming thing altogether.

　　`Yes; all for you, my precious! Isn't it splendid of him? Don't you think he's the dearest old man in the world? Here's the key in the letter. We didn't open it, but we are dying to know what he says,' cried Jo, hugging her sister, and offering the note.

　　`You read it! I can't! I feel so queer! Oh, it is too lovely!' and Beth hid her face in Jo's apron, quite upset by her present.

　　Jo opened the paper, and began to laugh, for the first words she saw were:

　　`MISS MARCH:

　　`Dear Madam' -

　　`How nice it sounds! I wish someone would write to me so!' said Amy, who thought the old-fashioned address very elegant.

　　`I have had many pairs of slippers in my life, but I never had any that suited me so well as yours,' continued Jo. `Heart's ease is my favourite flower, and these will always remind me of the gentle giver. I like to pay my debts; so I know you will allow `the old gentleman' to send you something which once belonged to the little granddaughter he lost. With hearty thanks and best wishes, I remain, your grateful friend and humble servant,

　　`JAMES LAURENCE.'

　　`There, Beth, that's an honour to be proud of, I'm sure. Laurie told me how fond Mr. Laurence used to be of the child who died, and how he kept all her little things carefully. Just think, he's given you her piano. That comes of having big blue eyes, and loving music,' said Jo, trying to soothe Beth, who trembled, and looked more excited than she had ever been before.

　　`See the cunning brackets to hold candles, and the nice green silk, puckered up, with a gold rose in the middle, and the pretty rack and stool, all complete,' added Meg, opening the instrument and displaying its beauties.

　　`"Your humble servant, James Laurence"; only think of his writing that to you. I'll tell the girls. They'll think it's splendid,' said Amy, much impressed by the note.

　　`Try it, honey. Let's hear the sound of the baby pianny,' said Hannah, who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows.

　　So Beth tried it; and everyone pronounced it the most remarkable piano ever heard. It had evidently been newly tuned and put in apple-pie order; but perfect as it was, I think the real charm of it lay in the happiest of all happy faces which leaned over it, as Beth lovingly touched the beautiful black and white keys and pressed the bright pedals.

　　`You'll have to go and thank him,' said Jo, by way of a joke; for the idea of the child's really going never entered her head.

　　`Yes, I mean too. I guess I'll go now, before I get frightened thinking about it.' And, to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the Laurences' door.

　　`Well, I wish I may die if it ain't the queerest thing I ever see. The pianny has turned her head! She'd never have gone in her right mind,' cried Hannah, staring after her, while the girls were rendered quite speechless by the miracle.

　　They would have been still more amazed if they had seen what Beth did afterwards. If you will believe me, she went and knocked at the study door before she gave herself time to think; and when a gruff voice called out, `Come in!' she did go in, right up to Mr. Laurence, who looked quite taken aback, and held out her hand, saying, with only a small quaver in her voice, `I came to thank you, sir, for——' But she didn't finish; for he looked so friendly, that she forgot her speech, and, only remembering that he had lost the little girl he loved, she put both arms round his neck, and kissed him.

　　If the roof of the house had suddenly flown off, the old gentleman wouldn't have been more astonished; but he liked it - oh, dear, yes, he liked it amazingly! - and was so touched and pleased by that confiding little kiss, that all his crustiness vanished; and he just set her on his knee, and laid his wrinkled cheek against her rosy one, feeling as if he had got his own little granddaughter back again. Beth ceased to fear him from that moment and sat there talking to him as cosily as if she had known him all her life; for love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride. When she went home, he walked with her to her own gate, shook hands cordially, and touched his hat as he marched back again, looking very stately and erect, like a handsome, soldierly old gentleman, as he was. When the girls saw that performance, Jo began to dance a jig, by way of expressing her satisfaction; Amy nearly fell out of the window in her surprise; and Meg exclaimed, with uplifted hands, `Well, I do believe the world is coming to an end!'
 
那座大楼确实是个"丽宫"，不过众人颇费时日才全部走进去，贝思更是觉得很难走过"狮子群"。劳伦斯老先生就是最大的狮子。不过，自他到她们家拜访，跟众姐妹逐个谈笑一番并和她们母亲交谈旧事后，大家便不再害怕他了，只有腼腆的贝思例外。另一头狮子是两家贫富悬殊这个现实，这使她们不好意思接受她们报答不了的恩惠。不过，后来她们发觉他反把她们视为恩人，他对马奇太太的亲切款待、姐妹们的温馨情意，以及他在那间简陋的屋子里所得到的温暖深表感激。于是她们不再自卑，更加亲热往来，不再理会谁付出的更多。
新的友谊像春草一样茁壮成长，各种美好的事情都在那个时候发生。人人喜欢劳里，他也悄悄告诉他的私人教师"马奇家的姑娘们十分出众"。充满热情的年轻姑娘们把孤独的男孩带进她们的圈子里，对他悉心照顾。她们心地善良而单纯，劳里在这种天真无邪的交往中感到十分陶醉。由于他从小失去母亲，又没有姐妹，因此很快便感受到她们给他带来的影响。她们忙碌、活跃的生活方式使他对自己的懒惰生活感到惭愧。他现在厌倦读书，发现与人交往极有乐趣。布鲁克先生不得不非常不满意地向劳伦斯先生告状，因为劳里常常逃学跑到马奇家去。
“不要紧，让他放个假，以后再补回来，”老人说，”邻居那位好太太说他学习太用功，需要年轻人作伴，需要娱乐活动。我想她说得有道理，我一直溺爱这小子，都像他奶奶了。
只要他快乐，他爱干什么就干什么吧。他在那边的小尼姑庵里不会捣蛋的，马奇太太比我们更能管教他。”这样的时光多么美好！他们一起演戏，一起滑雪，一起在旧客厅度过愉快的夜晚，有时也在大楼举行快乐的小晚会。
梅格可以随意进入温室，采摘大捧大捧的鲜花，乔在新藏书室里贪婪地浏览，向老人发表高见，艾美摹绘图画，尽情地沐浴在美的享受中，劳里则非常可爱地扮演"庄园主"的角色。
而贝思，虽然对大钢琴朝思暮想，却鼓不起勇气走进那间被梅格称为"极乐大厦"的屋子。她也曾随乔去过一次，但老人不知道她天性懦弱，浓眉下的一双眼睛紧紧盯着她，大叫一声"嗨！”吓得她"双脚在地板上乱抖"，这是她后来告诉妈妈的；她夺路而逃，并宣布以后永不踏足此地，对大钢琴也忍痛割爱了。大家百般劝哄无效，后来，劳伦斯先生不知从何处听到了这事，亲自着手弥补。在一次短暂的拜访中，他巧妙地把话题扯到音乐，大谈他所见所闻的歌唱家和弦琴珍曲等奇闻趣事。呆在远远一角的贝思听入迷了，忍不住渐渐靠上前来，站在他椅子背后悄悄聆听，眼睛瞪大，脸颊因自己不寻常的举动而羞得通红。劳伦斯先生对她视如不见，继续谈劳里的功课和教师，一会，他似乎突然想起了什么，对马奇太太说“那孩子现在不大理音乐了，我倒挺高兴，因为他原来喜欢得有点过头。不过钢琴闲置着太可惜，你家姑娘们愿不愿意过来时不时弹弹，免得荒废了。你说呢，夫人？”贝思上前一步，双手紧紧握住才没有拍起掌来。这个诱惑不可抗拒，想到在那架漂亮的钢琴上弹奏，她真是又惊又喜。还没等马奇太太回答，劳伦斯先生古怪地轻轻点点头，微笑道- “她们用不着跟人说，随时都可以跑进来；因为我总呆在屋子另一头的书房里，劳里常常不在家，九点钟后佣人也从不走近客厅。”说到这他站起来，似乎要告辞了。贝思下定决心要讲两句话，因为最后的安排完全乘了她的心愿。”请把我的话转告年轻女士们，如果她们不想来，嘿，那就算了。”这时一只小手塞进他的手里，贝思满脸感激地仰头望着他，诚恳而腼腆地说“噢，先生，她们想的，非常非常想！”“你就是弹琴的姑娘？”他问道，没有吓人地叫"嗨！”而是非常慈爱地望着她。
“我是贝思。我很喜欢音乐。如果您肯定没有人会听到我弹琴- 被我骚扰的话，我会来的，”她接着说，唯恐出言不敬，边说边因自己的勇敢而颤抖。
“不会有人听到，亲爱的。屋子有半天空着；你尽管过来弹吧，非常欢迎你。“您真是菩萨心肠，先生！”贝思被他友善的眼光看得脸红耳赤；不过她现在不再害怕，因为找不到话来感谢他送给自己的珍贵礼物，便感激地把那只大手紧紧攥祝老人轻轻拨开她额上的头发，俯下身来吻了一下，用一种少有的声调说 “我曾经有个小姑娘，眼睛跟你的一模一样。上帝保佑你，亲爱的孩子！再见，夫人，”说毕他匆匆离去。
贝思与母亲狂喜一番后，因为姑娘们不在家，便冲上去把好消息告诉那班残破不堪的布娃娃。那天晚上她高兴得唱个不停，半夜，她睡梦中在艾美脸上弹钢琴，把艾美闹醒，引得姐妹们大笑不已。第二天，贝思看到一老一少两位绅士都出了门，犹豫再三后，从侧门走进去，轻手轻脚地朝搁置着钢琴的客厅走去。碰巧，当然啦，钢琴上摆着几张简单而动听的乐谱，贝思不时四面窥探，终于用颤抖的手指弹响了琴键，旋即便忘掉了恐惧，忘掉了自己和周围的一切，音乐声仿如一位挚友的声音，给她带来难以言喻的快乐。
她一直弹到罕娜过来带她回家吃饭；但她毫无食欲，只是坐在一边，无比快乐地望着大家痴笑。
从此以后，一个戴着棕色小帽的身影几乎每天都溜过树篱，一个静悄悄的音乐精灵常常在那间大客厅出没。她不知道劳伦斯先生经常打开书房门聆听他喜欢的旧曲子；没有看到劳里在大厅放哨，提醒佣人不要走近；也从不怀疑乐器架上的练习书和新歌是特意为她放置的；劳伦斯先生在家里跟她谈论音乐，使她大获裨益，她也只以为他是出于好心而已。
因此她尽情陶醉在音乐的天地中，有时甚至觉得自己已经得偿毕生之愿。也许正因为她对这种恩赐常怀感激之心，更大的恩赐接踵而来，但无论怎样，她都受之无愧。
“妈妈，我想为劳伦斯先生做一双便鞋，他对我这么好，我得感谢他，其他方法我又不会。您说可以吗？”贝思问母亲。
这时距老人那次重要拜访已有好几个星期。
“可以，亲爱的。他会非常高兴，这是感谢他的好办法。
姐妹们会帮你做，缝制费用我来出，”马奇太太答道。她特别乐于答应贝思的要求，因为她极少为自己要求什么。
贝思跟梅格和乔严肃讨论后，选定了图案，接着便购买材料，开始动工。大家一致称紫黑色底衬着一丛庄重而生机勃勃的三色堇非常合适漂亮。贝思夜以继日地缝制，只是难做的部分才偶尔要人帮忙。她做缝纫活儿心灵手巧，众人还未感到厌倦鞋子便完工了。然后她写了一张简单的便条，一天早上趁老人尚未起床，让劳里帮她悄悄把它们捎到书房，放在书桌上。
此后，贝思怀着紧张的心情等着看老人的反应。当天无事发生，第二天中午仍然无声无息，她开始担心自己冒犯了那位怪癖的朋友。下午，她出去办点差事，并带乔安娜，一个残破的洋娃娃，去做日常锻炼。回来走近大街时，她看到三个，对了，是四个人在客厅的窗边探头探脑。看到她走来，她们一起招手，快乐地尖声高叫- “老先生来了一封信！快，快来读吧！”“噢，贝思，他送你- "艾美争先说，笨拙地使劲打着手势，不过她没再往下说，因为乔砰的一声关上窗户，把她的话堵了回去。
贝思悬着一颗心加快了脚步，刚走到门边，姐妹们便将她一把抓住，众星拱月般地把她拥到大厅，一起指着说：“看哪！看哪！”贝思仔细一看，惊喜得脸色发白，原来地上放着一架小巧精致的钢琴，光滑的琴盖上放着一封信，像个招牌一样摆着，上书"致伊丽莎白•马奇小姐"。
“给我的？”贝思气喘吁吁，她扶着乔，觉得自己就要跌倒。这事来得毕竟太突然了，令她难以承受。
“对，就是给你的，我的宝贝！他是不是棒极了？你说他是不是天底下最可爱的老人？这是信里头的钥匙。信我们没拆，但我们都急着想知道他怎么说，”乔喊道，紧紧搂着妹妹，把信递上。
“你念吧！我念不了，我觉得头晕目眩！呵，这太美了！”贝思把脸埋在乔的围裙里，她被这件礼物搅得六神无主。
乔展开信笺，笑出声来，因为首先映入眼帘的几个字是- "马奇小姐：亲爱的女士 ”“动听极了！但愿有人会这样跟我写信！”艾美说。她认为旧式称呼非常优雅。
“'我一生中穿过无数双鞋子，但没有一双像你做的那么适合我，'"乔接着往下念，”'三色堇是我最喜欢的花，它将使我永远记住温柔的赠花人。我想报答你的恩惠，我知道你会允许"老绅士"给你送上这件一度属于他失去了的小孙女的礼物。谨致诚挚的谢意及美好的祝愿。
“'衷心感激，并愿效犬马之劳。
“'詹姆士•劳伦斯'
“嘿，贝思，这无疑是件值得骄傲的光彩事儿！劳里跟我说过劳伦斯先生最疼爱那死去的孩子了，他把她用过的东西一一小心保存起来。想想看，他竟把她的铜琴送给了你。那是因为你有一对蓝色的大眼睛，而且热爱音乐，”乔说，试图使兴奋得全身发抖的贝思冷静下来。
“你看这些精致的烛台，这些折叠得漂漂亮亮的绿绸子，中间还镶着一朵金色的玫瑰，再看漂亮的凳子和架构，简直是十全十美，”梅格一面接着说一面打开钢琴向大家展览。
“'愿效犬马之劳，詹姆士•劳伦斯'。多有绅士风度！我要告诉学校的姑娘们，她们一定会赞不绝口，”艾美说。她十分欣赏那封信。
“弹一弹吧，小乖乖。让大家听听这架宝贝钢琴的声音，”罕娜说。她一向和她们一家人甘苦与共。
贝思便弹起来，众人齐称这是有史以来听到过的最美妙的琴声。钢琴显然新近调校了音调，并收拾得十分齐整。贝思脚踩亮油油的踏板，轻抚漂亮的黑白色琴键，众人把头聚拢琴边，脸上洋溢着无限的幸福，此情此景，真动人心弦。
“你得去谢谢他哩，”乔开玩笑地说。她并没有想到贝思会真的去。
“是的，我要去。我想现在就去，再犹豫就会害怕了，”说罢，贝思竟然不慌不忙地走过花园，穿过树篱，从劳伦斯家的门口走进去，令一家人大为惊讶。
“老天爷！我发誓我从没见过这么离奇古怪的事情！小钢琴弄得她神魂颠倒了！她脑子正常的话，绝不会去的，”罕娜喊道，呆呆地目送着她走进去，姐妹三人则惊诧得不能言语。
如果她们看到贝思后来做的事情一定会更加惊异。真的，她径直走到书房门口，毫不思索便叩门。一个生硬的声音叫道：“进来！”她果真走进去，走到大吃一惊的劳伦斯先生面前，伸出手，声音微颤地说道：“我来谢谢您，先生。谢谢你- "一语未毕，劳伦斯先生慈爱友善的目光令她忘记了要说的话，她只记得他失去了最钟爱的小孙女，于是伸出双臂抱住他的颈部，吻了他一下。
即使屋顶突然飞落，老人也不会这么震惊，但他非常欢喜 啊，真的，欢喜得难以言喻！ -那流露真情的轻轻一吻使他深深感动、非常愉快，他彻底软化了。他把她放在膝头上，把自己满布皱纹的脸颊贴住她玫瑰色的脸颊，仿佛自己又寻回了自己的小孙女。贝思从那一刻起不再怕他，她坐在那里与他亲密地交谈，仿佛从一生下来就已经认识他一般，因为爱可以驱除恐惧，感激可以征服自尊。她回家时劳伦斯先生把她一直送到家门口，跟她诚挚地握手，往回走时又轻触帽檐向她致意，腰身挺直，神态庄重，活像个英俊勇敢的老绅士，而事实也正是如此。
看到这一幕，乔跳起了快步舞，来表达心里的快慰，艾美惊讶得差一点摔出窗户，梅格则高举双手大叫：“呵，我真相信世界末日到了！”
Chapter 8 Jo Meets Apollyon
　　`Girls, where are you going?' asked Amy, coming into their room one Saturday afternoon, and finding them getting ready to go out, with an air of secrecy, which excited her curiosity.

　　`Never mind; little girls shouldn't ask questions,' returned Jo, sharply.

　　Now if there is anything mortifying to our feelings, when we are young, it is to be told that; and to be bidden to `run away, dear', is still more trying to us. Amy bridled up at this insult, and determined to find out the secret, if she teased for an hour. Turning to Meg, who never refused her anything very long, she said coaxingly, `Do tell me! I should think you might let me go too; for Beth is fussing over her piano, and I haven't got anything to do, and am so lonely.'

　　`I can't, dear, because you aren't invited,' began Meg; but Jo broke in impatiently, `Now, Meg, be quiet, or you will spoil it all. You can't go, Amy; so don't be a baby and whine about it.'

　　`You are going somewhere with Laurie, I know you are; you were whispering and laughing together, on the sofa, last night, and you stopped when I came in. Aren't you going with him?'

　　`Yes, we are; now do be still and stop bothering.' Amy held her tongue, but used her eyes, and saw Meg slip a fan into her pocket.

　　`I know! I know! you're going to the hall to see "The Seven Castles"!' she cried, adding resolutely, `and I shall go, for Mother said I might see it; and I've got my rag-money, and it was mean not to tell me in time.'

　　`Just listen to me a minute, and be a good child,' said Meg, soothingly. `Mother doesn't wish you to go this week, because your eyes are not well enough yet to bear the light of this fairy piece. Next week you can go with Beth and Hannah, and have a nice time.'

　　`I don't like that half as well as going with you and Laurie. Please let me; I've been sick with this cold so long, and shut up, I'm dying for some fun. Do, Meg! I'll be ever so good,' pleaded Amy, looking as pathetic as she could.

　　`Suppose we take her. I don't believe Mother would mind, if we bundle her up well,' began Meg.

　　`If she goes I shan't; and if I don't, Laurie won't like it; and it will be very rude, after he invited only us, to go and drag in Amy. I should think she'd hate to poke herself where she isn't wanted,' said Jo, crossly, for she disliked the trouble of overseeing a fidgety child, when she wanted to enjoy herself. Her tone and manner angered Amy, who began to put her boots on, saying, in her most aggravating way, `I shall go; Meg says I may; and if I pay for myself, Laurie hasn't anything to do with it.'

　　`You can't sit with us, for our seats are reserved, and you mustn't sit alone; so Laurie will give you his place, and that will spoil our pleasure; or he'll get another seat for you, and that isn't proper, when you weren't asked. You shan't stir a step; so you may just stay where you are,' scolded Jo, crosser than ever, having just pricked her finger in her hurry.

　　Sitting on the floor, with one boot on, Amy began to cry, and Meg to reason with her, when Laurie called from below, and the two girls hurried down, leaving their sister wailing; for now and then she forgot her grown-up ways, and acted like a spoilt child. Just as the party were setting out, Amy called over the bannisters, in a threatening voice, `You'll be sorry for this, Jo March; see if you ain't.'

　　`Fiddlesticks!' returned Jo, slamming the door.

　　They had a charming time, for "The Seven Castles of the Diamond Lake" was as brilliant and wonderful as heart could wish. But, in spite of the comical red imps, sparkling elves, and gorgeous princes and princesses, Jo's pleasure had a drop of bitterness in it; the fairy queen's yellow curls reminded her of Amy; and between the acts she amused herself with wondering what her sister would do to make her "sorry for it". She and Amy had had many lively skirmishes in the course of their lives, for both had quick tempers, and were apt to be violent when fairly roused. Amy teased Jo, Jo irritated Amy, and semi-occasional explosions occurred, of which both were much ashamed afterwards. Although the oldest, Jo had the least self-control, and had hard times trying to curb the fiery spirit which was continually getting her into trouble; her anger never lasted long, and having humbly confessed her fault she sincerely repented and tried to do better. Her sisters used to say that they rather liked to get Jo into a fury because she was such an angel afterwards. Poor Jo tried desperately to be good, but her bosom enemy was always ready to flame up and defeat her; and it took years of patient effort to subdue it.

　　When they got home they found Amy reading in the parlour. She assumed an injured air as they came in; never lifted her eyes from her book, or asked a single question. Perhaps curiosity might have conquered resentment, if Beth had not been there to inquire, and receive a glowing description of the play. On going up to put away her best hat, Jo's first look was towards the bureau; for, in their last quarrel, Amy had soothed her feelings by turning Jo's top drawer upside down on the floor. Everything was in its place, however, and after a hasty glance into her various closets, bags, and boxes, Jo decided that Amy had forgiven and forgotten her wrongs.

　　There Jo was mistaken; for next day she made a discovery which produced a tempest. Meg, Beth, and Amy were sitting together, late in the afternoon, when Jo burst into the room, looking excited, and demanding breathlessly, `Has anyone taken my book?'

　　Meg and Beth said `No,' at once, and looked surprised; Amy poked the fire, and said nothing. Jo saw her colour rise, and was down upon her in a minute.

　　`Amy, you've got it.'

　　`No, I haven't.'

　　`You know where it is, then!'

　　`No, I don't.'

　　`That's a fib!' cried Jo, taking her by the shoulders and looking fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy.

　　`It isn't. I haven't got it, don't know where it is now, and don't care.'

　　`You know something about it, and you'd better tell at once, or I'll make you,' and Jo gave her a slight shake.

　　`Scold as much as you like, you'll never see your silly old book again,' cried Amy, getting excited in her turn.

　　`Why not?'

　　`I burnt it up.'

　　`What! my little book I was so fond of, and worked over, and meant to finish before Father got home! Have you really burnt it?' said Jo, turning very pale, while her eyes kindled and her hands clutched Amy nervously.

　　`Yes, I did! I told you I'd make you pay for being so cross yesterday, and I have, so——'

　　Amy got no further, for Jo's hot temper mastered her, and she shook Amy till her teeth chattered in her head; crying in a passion of grief and anger:

　　`You wicked, wicked girl! I never can write it again and I'll never forgive you as long as I live.'

　　Meg flew to rescue Amy, and Beth to pacify Jo, but Jo was quite beside herself; and with a parting box on her sister's ear, she rushed out of the room up to the old sofa in the garret, and finished her fight alone.

　　The storm cleared up below, for Mrs. March came home, and, having heard the story, soon brought Amy to a sense of the wrong she had done her sister. Jo's book was the pride of her heart, and was regarded by her family as a literary sprout of great promise. It was only half a dozen little fairy tales, but Jo had worked over them patiently, putting her whole heart into her work, hoping to make something good enough to print. She had just copied them with great care, and had destroyed the old manuscript, so that Amy's bonfire had consumed the loving work of several years. It seemed a small loss to others, but to Jo it was a dreadful calamity, and she felt that it never could be made up to her. Beth mourned as for a departed kitten, and Meg refused to defend her pet; Mrs. March looked grave and grieved, and Amy felt that no one would love her till she had asked pardon for the act which she now regretted more than any of them.

　　When the tea-bell rang Jo appeared, looking so grim and unapproachable, that it took all Amy's courage to say meekly:

　　`Please forgive me, Jo; I'm very, very sorry.'

　　`I never shall forgive you,' was Jo's stern answer; and from that moment she ignored Amy entirely.

　　No one spoke of the great trouble - not even Mrs. March - for all had learned by experience that when Jo was in that mood words were wasted; and the wisest course was to wait till some little accident, or her own generous nature, softened Jo's resentment, and healed the breach. It was not a happy evening; for though they sewed as usual, while their mother read aloud from Bremer, Scott, or Edgeworth, something was wanting and the sweet home peace was disturbed. They felt this most when singing time came; for Beth could only play, Jo stood dumb as a stone, and Amy broke down, so Meg and Mother sang alone. But in spite of their efforts to be as cheery as larks, the flute-like voices did not seem to chord as well as usual, and all felt out of tune.

　　As Jo received her good-night kiss, Mrs. March whispered gently:

　　`My dear, don't let the sun go down upon your anger; forgive each other, help each other, and begin again tomorrow.'

　　Jo wanted to lay her head down on that motherly bosom, and cry her grief and anger all away, but tears were an unmanly weakness, and she felt so deeply injured that she really couldn't quite forgive yet. So she winked hard, shook her head, and said gruffly, because Amy was listening: `It was an abominable thing, and she don't deserve to be forgiven.'

　　With that she marched off to bed, and there was no merry or confidential gossip that night.

　　Amy was much offended that her overtures of peace had been repulsed, and began to wish she had not humbled herself, to feel more injured than ever, and to plume herself on her superior virtue in a way which was particularly exasperating. Jo still looked like a thundercloud, and nothing went well all day.

　　It was bitter cold in the morning, she dropped her precious turnover in the gutter, Aunt March had an attack of fidgets, Meg was pensive, Beth would look grieved and wistful when she got home, and Amy kept making remarks about people who were always talking about being good, and yet wouldn't try, when other people set them a virtuous example.

　　`Everybody is so hateful, I'll ask Laurie to go skating. He is always kind and jolly, and will put me to rights, I know,' said Jo to herself, and off she went.

　　Amy heard the clash of skates, and looked out with an impatient exclamation: `There! she promised I should go next time, for this is the last ice we shall have. But it's no use to ask such a cross-patch to take me.'

　　`Don't say that; you were very naughty, and it is hard to forgive the loss of her precious little book; but I think she might do it now, and I guess she will, if you try her at the right minute,' said Meg. `Go after them; don't say anything till Jo has got good-natured with Laurie, then take a quiet minute, and just kiss her, or do some kind thing, and I'm sure she'll be friends again with all her heart.'

　　`I'll try,' said Amy, for the advice suited her; and, after a flurry to get ready, she ran after the friends, who were just disappearing over the hill. It was not far to the river, but both were ready before Amy reached them. Jo saw her coming, and turned her back; Laurie did not see, for he was carefully skating along the shore, sounding the ice, for a warm spell had preceded the cold snap.

　　`I'll go on to the first bend, and see if it's all right, before we begin to race,' Amy heard him say, as he shot away, looking like a young Russian, in his fur-trimmed coat and cap. Jo heard Amy panting after her run, stamping her feet and blowing her fingers, as she tried to put her skates on; but Jo never turned, and went slowly zigzagging down the river, taking a bitter, unhappy sort of satisfaction in her sister's troubles. She had cherished her anger till it grew strong, and took possession of her, as evil thoughts and feelings always do, unless cast out at once. As Laurie turned the bend, he shouted back: `Keep near the shore, it isn't safe in the middle.'

　　Jo heard, but Amy was just struggling to her feet, and did not catch a word. Jo glanced over her shoulder, and the little demon she was harbouring said in her ear: `No matter whether she heard or not, let her take care of herself.' Laurie had vanished round the bend; Jo was just at the turn, and Amy, far behind, striking out towards the smoother ice in the middle of the river. For a minute Jo stood still, with a strange feeling at her heart; then she resolved to go on, but something held and turned her round, just in time to see Amy throw up her hands and go down, with a sudden crash of rotten ice, the splash of water, and a cry that made Jo's heart stand still with fear. She tried to call Laurie, but her voice was gone; she tried to rush forward, but her feet seemed to have no strength in them; and, for a second, she could only stand motionless, staring, with a terror-stricken face, at the little blue hood above the black water. Something rushed swiftly by her, and Laurie's voice cried out: `Bring a rail; quick, quick!'

　　How she did it, she never knew; but for the next few minutes she worked as if possessed, blindly obeying Laurie, who was quite self-possessed, and, lying flat, held Amy up by his arm and hockey stick till Jo dragged a rail from the fence, and together they got the child out, more frightened than hurt.

　　`Now then, we must walk her home as fast as we can; pile our things on her, while I get off these confounded skates,' cried Laurie, wrapping his coat round Amy, and tugging away at the straps, which never seemed so intricate before.

　　Shivering, dripping, and crying, they got Amy home; and, after an exciting time of it, she fell asleep, rolled in blankets, before a hot fire. During the bustle Jo had scarcely spoken, but flown about looking pale and wild, with her things half off, her dress torn, and her hands cut and bruised by ice and rails and refractory buckles. When Amy was comfortably asleep, the house quiet, and Mrs. March sitting by the bed, she called Jo to her, and began to bind up the hurt hands.

　　`Are you sure she is safe?' whispered Jo, looking remorsefully at the golden head, which might have been swept away from her sight for ever under the treacherous ice.

　　`Quite safe, dear; she is not hurt, and won't even take cold, I think, you were so sensible in covering her and getting her home quickly,' replied her mother, cheerfully.

　　`Laurie did it all; I only let her go. Mother, if she should de, it would be my fault'; and Jo dropped down beside the bed, in a passion of penitent tears, telling all that had happened, bitterly condemning her hardness of heart, and sobbing out her gratitude for being spared the heavy punishment which might have come upon her.

　　`It's my dreadful temper! I try to cure it; I think I have, and then it breaks out worse than ever. Oh, Mother, what shall I do? what shall I do?' cried poor Jo, in despair.

　　`Watch and pray, dear; never get tired of trying; and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault,' said Mrs. March, drawing the blowzy head to her shoulder, and kissing the wet cheek so tenderly that Jo cried harder than ever.

　　`You don't know, and you can't guess how bad it is! It seems as if I could do anything when I'm in a passion; I get so savage, I could hurt anyone, and enjoy it. I'm afraid I shall do something dreadful some day, and spoil my life, and make everybody hate me. Oh, Mother, help me, do help me!'

　　`I will, my child, I will. Don't cry so bitterly, but remember this day, and resolve, with all your soul, that you will never know another like it. Jo, dear, we all have our temptations, some far greater than yours, and it often takes us all our lives to conquer them. You think your temper is the worst in the world; but mine used to be just like it.'

　　`Yours, Mother? Why, you are never angry!' and, for the moment, Jo forgot remorse in surprise.

　　`I've been trying to cure it for forty years, and have only succeeded in controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo; but I have learned not to show it; and I still hope to learn not to feel it, though it may take me another forty years to do so.'

　　The patience and the humility of the face she loved so well was a better lesson to Jo than the wisest lecture, the sharpest reproof. She felt comforted at once by the sympathy and confidence given her; the knowledge that her mother had a fault like hers, and tried to mend it, made her own easier to bear and strengthened her resolution to care it; though forty years seemed rather a long time to watch and pray, to a girl of fifteen.

　　`Mother, are you angry when you fold your lips tight together, and go out of the room sometimes, when Aunt March scolds, or people worry you?' asked Jo, feeling nearer and dearer to her mother than ever before.

　　`Yes, I've learned to check the hasty words that rise to my lips; and when I feel that they mean to break out against my will, I just go away a minute, and give myself a little shake for being so weak and wicked,' answered Mrs. March, with a sigh and a smile, as she smoothed and fastened up Jo's dishevelled hair.

　　`How did you learn to keep still? That is what troubles me - for the sharp words fly out before I know what I'm about; and the more I say the worse I get, till it's a pleasure to hurt people's feelings, and say dreadful things. `Tell me how you do it, Marmee dear.'

　　`My good mother used to help me——'

　　`As you do us——' interrupted Jo, with a grateful kiss.

　　`But I lost her when I was a little older than you are, and for years had to struggle on alone, for I was too proud to confess my weakness to anyone else. I had a hard time, Jo, and shed a good many bitter tears over my failures; for, in spite of my efforts, I never seemed to get on. Then your father came, and I was so happy that I found it easy to be good. But by and by, when I had four little daughters round me, and we were poor, then the old trouble began again; for I am not patient by nature, and it tried me very much to see my children wanting anything.'

　　`Poor Mother! What helped you then?'

　　`Your father, Jo. He never loses patience - never doubts or complains - but always hopes and works and waits so cheerfully that one is ashamed to do otherwise before him. He helped and comforted me, and showed me that I must try to practise all the virtues I would have my little girls possess, for I was their example. It was easier to try for your sakes than for my own; a startled or surprised look from one of you, when I spoke sharply, rebuked me more than any words could have done; and the love, respect, and confidence of my children was the sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would have them copy.

　　`Oh Mother, if I'm ever half as good as you, I shall be satisfied,' cried Jo, much touched.

　　`I hope you will be a great deal better, dear; but you must keep watch over your "bosom enemy" as Father calls it, or it may sadden, if not spoil your life. You have had a warning; remember it, and try with heart and soul to master this quick temper, before it brings you greater sorrow and regret than you have known today.'

　　`I will try, Mother: I truly will. But you must help me, remind me, and keep me from flying out. I used to see Father sometimes put his finger on his lips, and look at you with a very kind but sober face, and you always folded your lips tight or went away: was he reminding you then?' asked Jo, softly.

　　`Yes; I asked him to help me so, and he never forgot it, but saved me from many a sharp word by that little gesture and kind look.'

　　Jo saw that her mother's eyes filled and her lips trembled as she spoke; and, fearing that she had said too much, she whispered, anxiously, `Was it wrong to watch you, and to speak of it! I didn't mean to be rude, but it's so comfortable to say all I think if you, and feel so safe and happy here.'

　　`My Jo, you may say anything to your mother, for it is my greatest happiness and pride to feel that my girls confide in me, and know how much I love them.'

　　`I thought I'd grieved you.'

　　`No, dear; but speaking of Father reminded me how much I miss him, how much I owe him, and how faithfully I should watch and work to keep his little daughters safe and good for him.'

　　`Yet you told him to go, Mother, and didn't cry when he went, and never complain now, or seem as if you needed any help,' said Jo, wondering.

　　`I gave my best to the country I love, and kept my tears till he was gone. Why should I complain, when we both have merely done our duty, and will surely be the happier for it in the end? If I don't seem to need help, it is because I have a better friend even than Father to comfort and sustain me. My child, the troubles and temptations of your life are beginning, and may be many; but you can overcome and outlive them all if you learn to feel the strength and tenderness of your Heavenly Father as you do that of your earthly one. The more you love and trust Him, the nearer you will feel to Him, and the less you will depend on human power and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, can never be taken from you, but may become the source of lifelong peace, happiness, and strength. Believe this heartily, and go to God with all your little cares, and hopes, and sins, and sorrows, as freely and confidingly as you come to your mother.'

　　Jo's only answer was to hold her mother close, and, in the silence which followed, the sincerest prayer she had ever prayed left her heart without words; for in that sad yet happy hour she had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial and self-control; and, led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to the friend who welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer than that of any mother.

　　Amy stirred, and sighed in her sleep; and, as if eager to begin at once to mend her fault, Jo looked up with an expression on her face which it had never worn before.

　　`I let the sun go down on my anger; I wouldn't forgive her, and today, if it hadn't been for Laurie, it might have been too late! How could I be so wicked?' said Jo, half aloud, as she leaned over her sister, softly stroking the wet hair scattered on the pillow.

　　As if she heard, Amy opened her eyes, and held out her arms, with a smile that went straight to Jo's heart. Neither said a word, but they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss.
 
　　`Girls, where are you going?' asked Amy, coming into their room one Saturday afternoon, and finding them getting ready to go out, with an air of secrecy, which excited her curiosity.
　　`Never mind; little girls shouldn't ask questions,' returned Jo, sharply.
　　Now if there is anything mortifying to our feelings, when we are young, it is to be told that; and to be bidden to `run away, dear', is still more trying to us. Amy bridled up at this insult, and determined to find out the secret, if she teased for an hour. Turning to Meg, who never refused her anything very long, she said coaxingly, `Do tell me! I should think you might let me go too; for Beth is fussing over her piano, and I haven't got anything to do, and am so lonely.'
　　`I can't, dear, because you aren't invited,' began Meg; but Jo broke in impatiently, `Now, Meg, be quiet, or you will spoil it all. You can't go, Amy; so don't be a baby and whine about it.'
　　`You are going somewhere with Laurie, I know you are; you were whispering and laughing together, on the sofa, last night, and you stopped when I came in. Aren't you going with him?'
　　`Yes, we are; now do be still and stop bothering.' Amy held her tongue, but used her eyes, and saw Meg slip a fan into her pocket.
　　`I know! I know! you're going to the hall to see "The Seven Castles"!' she cried, adding resolutely, `and I shall go, for Mother said I might see it; and I've got my rag-money, and it was mean not to tell me in time.'
　　`Just listen to me a minute, and be a good child,' said Meg, soothingly. `Mother doesn't wish you to go this week, because your eyes are not well enough yet to bear the light of this fairy piece. Next week you can go with Beth and Hannah, and have a nice time.'
　　`I don't like that half as well as going with you and Laurie. Please let me; I've been sick with this cold so long, and shut up, I'm dying for some fun. Do, Meg! I'll be ever so good,' pleaded Amy, looking as pathetic as she could.
　　`Suppose we take her. I don't believe Mother would mind, if we bundle her up well,' began Meg.
　　`If she goes I shan't; and if I don't, Laurie won't like it; and it will be very rude, after he invited only us, to go and drag in Amy. I should think she'd hate to poke herself where she isn't wanted,' said Jo, crossly, for she disliked the trouble of overseeing a fidgety child, when she wanted to enjoy herself. Her tone and manner angered Amy, who began to put her boots on, saying, in her most aggravating way, `I shall go; Meg says I may; and if I pay for myself, Laurie hasn't anything to do with it.'
　　`You can't sit with us, for our seats are reserved, and you mustn't sit alone; so Laurie will give you his place, and that will spoil our pleasure; or he'll get another seat for you, and that isn't proper, when you weren't asked. You shan't stir a step; so you may just stay where you are,' scolded Jo, crosser than ever, having just pricked her finger in her hurry.
　　Sitting on the floor, with one boot on, Amy began to cry, and Meg to reason with her, when Laurie called from below, and the two girls hurried down, leaving their sister wailing; for now and then she forgot her grown-up ways, and acted like a spoilt child. Just as the party were setting out, Amy called over the bannisters, in a threatening voice, `You'll be sorry for this, Jo March; see if you ain't.'
　　`Fiddlesticks!' returned Jo, slamming the door.
　　They had a charming time, for "The Seven Castles of the Diamond Lake" was as brilliant and wonderful as heart could wish. But, in spite of the comical red imps, sparkling elves, and gorgeous princes and princesses, Jo's pleasure had a drop of bitterness in it; the fairy queen's yellow curls reminded her of Amy; and between the acts she amused herself with wondering what her sister would do to make her "sorry for it". She and Amy had had many lively skirmishes in the course of their lives, for both had quick tempers, and were apt to be violent when fairly roused. Amy teased Jo, Jo irritated Amy, and semi-occasional explosions occurred, of which both were much ashamed afterwards. Although the oldest, Jo had the least self-control, and had hard times trying to curb the fiery spirit which was continually getting her into trouble; her anger never lasted long, and having humbly confessed her fault she sincerely repented and tried to do better. Her sisters used to say that they rather liked to get Jo into a fury because she was such an angel afterwards. Poor Jo tried desperately to be good, but her bosom enemy was always ready to flame up and defeat her; and it took years of patient effort to subdue it.
　　When they got home they found Amy reading in the parlour. She assumed an injured air as they came in; never lifted her eyes from her book, or asked a single question. Perhaps curiosity might have conquered resentment, if Beth had not been there to inquire, and receive a glowing description of the play. On going up to put away her best hat, Jo's first look was towards the bureau; for, in their last quarrel, Amy had soothed her feelings by turning Jo's top drawer upside down on the floor. Everything was in its place, however, and after a hasty glance into her various closets, bags, and boxes, Jo decided that Amy had forgiven and forgotten her wrongs.
　　There Jo was mistaken; for next day she made a discovery which produced a tempest. Meg, Beth, and Amy were sitting together, late in the afternoon, when Jo burst into the room, looking excited, and demanding breathlessly, `Has anyone taken my book?'
　　Meg and Beth said `No,' at once, and looked surprised; Amy poked the fire, and said nothing. Jo saw her colour rise, and was down upon her in a minute.
　　`Amy, you've got it.'
　　`No, I haven't.'
　　`You know where it is, then!'
　　`No, I don't.'
　　`That's a fib!' cried Jo, taking her by the shoulders and looking fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy.
　　`It isn't. I haven't got it, don't know where it is now, and don't care.'
　　`You know something about it, and you'd better tell at once, or I'll make you,' and Jo gave her a slight shake.
　　`Scold as much as you like, you'll never see your silly old book again,' cried Amy, getting excited in her turn.
　　`Why not?'
　　`I burnt it up.'
　　`What! my little book I was so fond of, and worked over, and meant to finish before Father got home! Have you really burnt it?' said Jo, turning very pale, while her eyes kindled and her hands clutched Amy nervously.
　　`Yes, I did! I told you I'd make you pay for being so cross yesterday, and I have, so——'
　　Amy got no further, for Jo's hot temper mastered her, and she shook Amy till her teeth chattered in her head; crying in a passion of grief and anger:
　　`You wicked, wicked girl! I never can write it again and I'll never forgive you as long as I live.'
　　Meg flew to rescue Amy, and Beth to pacify Jo, but Jo was quite beside herself; and with a parting box on her sister's ear, she rushed out of the room up to the old sofa in the garret, and finished her fight alone.
　　The storm cleared up below, for Mrs. March came home, and, having heard the story, soon brought Amy to a sense of the wrong she had done her sister. Jo's book was the pride of her heart, and was regarded by her family as a literary sprout of great promise. It was only half a dozen little fairy tales, but Jo had worked over them patiently, putting her whole heart into her work, hoping to make something good enough to print. She had just copied them with great care, and had destroyed the old manuscript, so that Amy's bonfire had consumed the loving work of several years. It seemed a small loss to others, but to Jo it was a dreadful calamity, and she felt that it never could be made up to her. Beth mourned as for a departed kitten, and Meg refused to defend her pet; Mrs. March looked grave and grieved, and Amy felt that no one would love her till she had asked pardon for the act which she now regretted more than any of them.
　　When the tea-bell rang Jo appeared, looking so grim and unapproachable, that it took all Amy's courage to say meekly:
　　`Please forgive me, Jo; I'm very, very sorry.'
　　`I never shall forgive you,' was Jo's stern answer; and from that moment she ignored Amy entirely.
　　No one spoke of the great trouble - not even Mrs. March - for all had learned by experience that when Jo was in that mood words were wasted; and the wisest course was to wait till some little accident, or her own generous nature, softened Jo's resentment, and healed the breach. It was not a happy evening; for though they sewed as usual, while their mother read aloud from Bremer, Scott, or Edgeworth, something was wanting and the sweet home peace was disturbed. They felt this most when singing time came; for Beth could only play, Jo stood dumb as a stone, and Amy broke down, so Meg and Mother sang alone. But in spite of their efforts to be as cheery as larks, the flute-like voices did not seem to chord as well as usual, and all felt out of tune.
　　As Jo received her good-night kiss, Mrs. March whispered gently:
　　`My dear, don't let the sun go down upon your anger; forgive each other, help each other, and begin again tomorrow.'
　　Jo wanted to lay her head down on that motherly bosom, and cry her grief and anger all away, but tears were an unmanly weakness, and she felt so deeply injured that she really couldn't quite forgive yet. So she winked hard, shook her head, and said gruffly, because Amy was listening: `It was an abominable thing, and she don't deserve to be forgiven.'
　　With that she marched off to bed, and there was no merry or confidential gossip that night.
　　Amy was much offended that her overtures of peace had been repulsed, and began to wish she had not humbled herself, to feel more injured than ever, and to plume herself on her superior virtue in a way which was particularly exasperating. Jo still looked like a thundercloud, and nothing went well all day.
　　It was bitter cold in the morning, she dropped her precious turnover in the gutter, Aunt March had an attack of fidgets, Meg was pensive, Beth would look grieved and wistful when she got home, and Amy kept making remarks about people who were always talking about being good, and yet wouldn't try, when other people set them a virtuous example.
　　`Everybody is so hateful, I'll ask Laurie to go skating. He is always kind and jolly, and will put me to rights, I know,' said Jo to herself, and off she went.
　　Amy heard the clash of skates, and looked out with an impatient exclamation: `There! she promised I should go next time, for this is the last ice we shall have. But it's no use to ask such a cross-patch to take me.'
　　`Don't say that; you were very naughty, and it is hard to forgive the loss of her precious little book; but I think she might do it now, and I guess she will, if you try her at the right minute,' said Meg. `Go after them; don't say anything till Jo has got good-natured with Laurie, then take a quiet minute, and just kiss her, or do some kind thing, and I'm sure she'll be friends again with all her heart.'
　　`I'll try,' said Amy, for the advice suited her; and, after a flurry to get ready, she ran after the friends, who were just disappearing over the hill. It was not far to the river, but both were ready before Amy reached them. Jo saw her coming, and turned her back; Laurie did not see, for he was carefully skating along the shore, sounding the ice, for a warm spell had preceded the cold snap.
　　`I'll go on to the first bend, and see if it's all right, before we begin to race,' Amy heard him say, as he shot away, looking like a young Russian, in his fur-trimmed coat and cap. Jo heard Amy panting after her run, stamping her feet and blowing her fingers, as she tried to put her skates on; but Jo never turned, and went slowly zigzagging down the river, taking a bitter, unhappy sort of satisfaction in her sister's troubles. She had cherished her anger till it grew strong, and took possession of her, as evil thoughts and feelings always do, unless cast out at once. As Laurie turned the bend, he shouted back: `Keep near the shore, it isn't safe in the middle.'
　　Jo heard, but Amy was just struggling to her feet, and did not catch a word. Jo glanced over her shoulder, and the little demon she was harbouring said in her ear: `No matter whether she heard or not, let her take care of herself.' Laurie had vanished round the bend; Jo was just at the turn, and Amy, far behind, striking out towards the smoother ice in the middle of the river. For a minute Jo stood still, with a strange feeling at her heart; then she resolved to go on, but something held and turned her round, just in time to see Amy throw up her hands and go down, with a sudden crash of rotten ice, the splash of water, and a cry that made Jo's heart stand still with fear. She tried to call Laurie, but her voice was gone; she tried to rush forward, but her feet seemed to have no strength in them; and, for a second, she could only stand motionless, staring, with a terror-stricken face, at the little blue hood above the black water. Something rushed swiftly by her, and Laurie's voice cried out: `Bring a rail; quick, quick!'
　　How she did it, she never knew; but for the next few minutes she worked as if possessed, blindly obeying Laurie, who was quite self-possessed, and, lying flat, held Amy up by his arm and hockey stick till Jo dragged a rail from the fence, and together they got the child out, more frightened than hurt.
　　`Now then, we must walk her home as fast as we can; pile our things on her, while I get off these confounded skates,' cried Laurie, wrapping his coat round Amy, and tugging away at the straps, which never seemed so intricate before.
　　Shivering, dripping, and crying, they got Amy home; and, after an exciting time of it, she fell asleep, rolled in blankets, before a hot fire. During the bustle Jo had scarcely spoken, but flown about looking pale and wild, with her things half off, her dress torn, and her hands cut and bruised by ice and rails and refractory buckles. When Amy was comfortably asleep, the house quiet, and Mrs. March sitting by the bed, she called Jo to her, and began to bind up the hurt hands.
　　`Are you sure she is safe?' whispered Jo, looking remorsefully at the golden head, which might have been swept away from her sight for ever under the treacherous ice.
　　`Quite safe, dear; she is not hurt, and won't even take cold, I think, you were so sensible in covering her and getting her home quickly,' replied her mother, cheerfully.
　　`Laurie did it all; I only let her go. Mother, if she should de, it would be my fault'; and Jo dropped down beside the bed, in a passion of penitent tears, telling all that had happened, bitterly condemning her hardness of heart, and sobbing out her gratitude for being spared the heavy punishment which might have come upon her.
　　`It's my dreadful temper! I try to cure it; I think I have, and then it breaks out worse than ever. Oh, Mother, what shall I do? what shall I do?' cried poor Jo, in despair.
　　`Watch and pray, dear; never get tired of trying; and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault,' said Mrs. March, drawing the blowzy head to her shoulder, and kissing the wet cheek so tenderly that Jo cried harder than ever.
　　`You don't know, and you can't guess how bad it is! It seems as if I could do anything when I'm in a passion; I get so savage, I could hurt anyone, and enjoy it. I'm afraid I shall do something dreadful some day, and spoil my life, and make everybody hate me. Oh, Mother, help me, do help me!'
　　`I will, my child, I will. Don't cry so bitterly, but remember this day, and resolve, with all your soul, that you will never know another like it. Jo, dear, we all have our temptations, some far greater than yours, and it often takes us all our lives to conquer them. You think your temper is the worst in the world; but mine used to be just like it.'
　　`Yours, Mother? Why, you are never angry!' and, for the moment, Jo forgot remorse in surprise.
　　`I've been trying to cure it for forty years, and have only succeeded in controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo; but I have learned not to show it; and I still hope to learn not to feel it, though it may take me another forty years to do so.'
　　The patience and the humility of the face she loved so well was a better lesson to Jo than the wisest lecture, the sharpest reproof. She felt comforted at once by the sympathy and confidence given her; the knowledge that her mother had a fault like hers, and tried to mend it, made her own easier to bear and strengthened her resolution to care it; though forty years seemed rather a long time to watch and pray, to a girl of fifteen.
　　`Mother, are you angry when you fold your lips tight together, and go out of the room sometimes, when Aunt March scolds, or people worry you?' asked Jo, feeling nearer and dearer to her mother than ever before.
　　`Yes, I've learned to check the hasty words that rise to my lips; and when I feel that they mean to break out against my will, I just go away a minute, and give myself a little shake for being so weak and wicked,' answered Mrs. March, with a sigh and a smile, as she smoothed and fastened up Jo's dishevelled hair.
　　`How did you learn to keep still? That is what troubles me - for the sharp words fly out before I know what I'm about; and the more I say the worse I get, till it's a pleasure to hurt people's feelings, and say dreadful things. `Tell me how you do it, Marmee dear.'
　　`My good mother used to help me——'
　　`As you do us——' interrupted Jo, with a grateful kiss.
　　`But I lost her when I was a little older than you are, and for years had to struggle on alone, for I was too proud to confess my weakness to anyone else. I had a hard time, Jo, and shed a good many bitter tears over my failures; for, in spite of my efforts, I never seemed to get on. Then your father came, and I was so happy that I found it easy to be good. But by and by, when I had four little daughters round me, and we were poor, then the old trouble began again; for I am not patient by nature, and it tried me very much to see my children wanting anything.'
　　`Poor Mother! What helped you then?'
　　`Your father, Jo. He never loses patience - never doubts or complains - but always hopes and works and waits so cheerfully that one is ashamed to do otherwise before him. He helped and comforted me, and showed me that I must try to practise all the virtues I would have my little girls possess, for I was their example. It was easier to try for your sakes than for my own; a startled or surprised look from one of you, when I spoke sharply, rebuked me more than any words could have done; and the love, respect, and confidence of my children was the sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would have them copy.
　　`Oh Mother, if I'm ever half as good as you, I shall be satisfied,' cried Jo, much touched.
　　`I hope you will be a great deal better, dear; but you must keep watch over your "bosom enemy" as Father calls it, or it may sadden, if not spoil your life. You have had a warning; remember it, and try with heart and soul to master this quick temper, before it brings you greater sorrow and regret than you have known today.'
　　`I will try, Mother: I truly will. But you must help me, remind me, and keep me from flying out. I used to see Father sometimes put his finger on his lips, and look at you with a very kind but sober face, and you always folded your lips tight or went away: was he reminding you then?' asked Jo, softly.
　　`Yes; I asked him to help me so, and he never forgot it, but saved me from many a sharp word by that little gesture and kind look.'
　　Jo saw that her mother's eyes filled and her lips trembled as she spoke; and, fearing that she had said too much, she whispered, anxiously, `Was it wrong to watch you, and to speak of it! I didn't mean to be rude, but it's so comfortable to say all I think if you, and feel so safe and happy here.'
　　`My Jo, you may say anything to your mother, for it is my greatest happiness and pride to feel that my girls confide in me, and know how much I love them.'
　　`I thought I'd grieved you.'
　　`No, dear; but speaking of Father reminded me how much I miss him, how much I owe him, and how faithfully I should watch and work to keep his little daughters safe and good for him.'
　　`Yet you told him to go, Mother, and didn't cry when he went, and never complain now, or seem as if you needed any help,' said Jo, wondering.
　　`I gave my best to the country I love, and kept my tears till he was gone. Why should I complain, when we both have merely done our duty, and will surely be the happier for it in the end? If I don't seem to need help, it is because I have a better friend even than Father to comfort and sustain me. My child, the troubles and temptations of your life are beginning, and may be many; but you can overcome and outlive them all if you learn to feel the strength and tenderness of your Heavenly Father as you do that of your earthly one. The more you love and trust Him, the nearer you will feel to Him, and the less you will depend on human power and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, can never be taken from you, but may become the source of lifelong peace, happiness, and strength. Believe this heartily, and go to God with all your little cares, and hopes, and sins, and sorrows, as freely and confidingly as you come to your mother.'
　　Jo's only answer was to hold her mother close, and, in the silence which followed, the sincerest prayer she had ever prayed left her heart without words; for in that sad yet happy hour she had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial and self-control; and, led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to the friend who welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer than that of any mother.
　　Amy stirred, and sighed in her sleep; and, as if eager to begin at once to mend her fault, Jo looked up with an expression on her face which it had never worn before.
　　`I let the sun go down on my anger; I wouldn't forgive her, and today, if it hadn't been for Laurie, it might have been too late! How could I be so wicked?' said Jo, half aloud, as she leaned over her sister, softly stroking the wet hair scattered on the pillow.
　　As if she heard, Amy opened her eyes, and held out her arms, with a smile that went straight to Jo's heart. Neither said a word, but they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss.
 
“姑娘们，你们上哪儿去？”这是一个星期六的下午，艾美走进房间，发现二位姐姐正准备悄悄溜出去，便好奇地问道。
“别管闲事。小姑娘不应该多嘴，”乔尖薄地回答。
如果有什么东西让我们年轻人伤心，那就是听到这种说话；如果我们听到"走开，亲爱的"，那就更加难受。艾美听到这句刺心话发起怒来，决意即使纠缠一个小时也要弄清楚这个秘密。她转向一贯迁就她的梅格撒娇道：“告诉我吧！我知道你们会让我一起去的，因为贝思光顾着弹钢琴，我无事可干，这么孤单。”“不行，亲爱的，因为没有邀请你，”梅格开口了。
但乔不耐烦地打断她：“嘿，梅格，别说了，不然你会把事情弄糟。你不能去，艾美，别像个三岁小孩，嘀嘀咕咕的。”“你们要和劳里一起出去，我知道是这样；你们昨晚在沙发上又说又笑，见我进来就不做声了。你们是不是跟他去？”“对，是跟他去；现在别做声了，不要缠着我们。”艾美住了嘴，但眼睛却在观察，她看到梅格把一把扇子塞进衣袋里。
“我知道了！我知道了！你们要上剧院看《七个城堡》！”她喊道，接着又坚决地说，”我要去，妈妈说这出戏我可以看；再说我也有钱。你们不早点告诉我，可真够卑鄙。”“乖乖听我说吧，”梅格安慰道，”妈妈不想你这个星期去，因为你眼睛还没有完全恢复，不能受这个童话剧的灯光刺激。
下星期你可以跟贝思和罕娜去，玩得痛痛快快。”“那怎么比得上跟你们和劳里一起去有意思。让我去吧。
我感冒病了这么久，老关在家里，想出去玩都想得发疯了。让我去吧，梅格！我一定乖乖听话，”艾美请求道，一副楚楚可怜的样子。
“假如我们带她去，只要帮她穿暖和点，我想妈妈也不会生气，”梅格说。
“如果她去我就不去；如果我不去，劳里就会不高兴；这样很不礼貌，他原只请了我们两人，我们却非要拉上艾美。她该识趣一点，不要涉足自己不受欢迎的地方，”乔生气地说。
她想痛痛快快看场戏，不愿费神看管一个坐立不宁的孩子。
她的声调和神态激怒了艾美，她开始穿上靴子，用最使人恼火的口吻说：“我就是要去，梅格都说我可以去；如果我自个儿付钱，这事就与劳里不相干。”“你不能和我们一起坐，因为我们的座位是预定的。而你又不能一个人坐，那么劳里就会把他的位子让给你，这就扫了大家的兴；要不他就会另外给你找个座位，这也不合适，因为人家原来并没有请你。你一步也别动，好生呆着吧，”乔责备着，匆忙中她把手指扎伤了，更加生气。
艾美穿着一只靴子坐在地上，放声大哭，梅格好言相劝，这时劳里在下面叫她们，两位姑娘赶忙下楼，留下妹妹在那里嚎啕大哭；这位妹妹有时会忘掉自己的大人风度，表现得像个宠坏了的孩子。就在这班人正要出发之际，艾美倚在楼梯扶手上用威胁的声调叫道：“你一定会后悔的，乔•马奇，走着瞧吧！”“废话！“乔回敬道，砰的一声关上门。
《钻石湖的七个城堡》精彩绝伦，那天他们度过了一段十分迷人的时光。不过，尽管红色小魔鬼滑稽趣怪，小精灵熠熠生辉，王子公主羡煞神仙，乔的快乐心情却总是夹杂着一丝歉意：看到美若天仙的王后一头黄色鬈发，她便想到艾美，幕间休息时便猜测艾美会采取什么行动来令她"后悔"。到底会采取什么行动呢？她和艾美在生活中发生过多次小冲突，两人都是急性子，惹急了都会发怒。艾美挑逗乔，乔激怒艾美，凡此种种，纠缠不清，极偶然便会爆发出雷霆风暴，事后两人都追悔不已。乔虽然年长，却最不善于控制自己。她的刚烈性格屡屡使她惹祸上身，她为了驾驭这匹脱缰野马吃了不少苦头，她的怒气总是消得很快，一待乖乖地认了错，她便诚心悔改，努力补偿。她的姐妹们常说她们到挺喜欢把乔逗得勃然大怒，因为狂风骤雨之后她便成了无比温顺的天使。可怜的乔拼尽全力要做个好孩子，但深藏心中的敌人总是随时跳出来，把她打倒。经过数年的耐心努力之后，这匹野马才被征服。
回到家时，她们看到艾美在客厅读书。她们进来的时候她装出一副受伤的神情，看着书眼也不抬，也不问一句话。若非贝思在那里问长问短，听两位姐姐热情洋溢地把话剧描绘一番，艾美也许就会顾不得怨恨，自己也去问个明白了。乔上楼去放她自己最好的帽子时，首先望望衣柜，因为上次吵架后艾美把乔的顶层抽屉底朝天倒翻地上，借以出气。幸好，一切都原封不动。匆匆扫一眼自己各式各样的衣橱、袋子、箱子等物后，乔自信艾美已原谅了自己，忘记了她的过错。
乔这回可想错了。第二天她发现少了一样东西，于是一场狂风骤雨倾然爆发。傍晚时分，梅格、贝思和艾美正坐在一处，乔冲入房间，神情激动，气喘吁吁地问道：“有人拿了我的书没有？”梅格和贝思马上答：“没有，”觉得十分惊讶。艾美捅捅火苗，一言不发。乔发现她马上脸色飞红，好一会才恢复常态。
“艾美，你拿了！”
“不，我没拿。”
“起码你知道书在哪里！”
“不，我不知道。”
“撒谎！”乔嚷道，两手抓住她的肩膀，神态凶猛，足以吓倒一个比艾美更大胆的孩子。
“这不是谎话。我没拿，我不知道它在什么地方，也不想知道。”“你一定心中有数，最好马上讲出来，否则就让你尝尝我的厉害。”乔轻轻摇了她一下。
“你爱骂就骂个够吧，你永远也不会看到你那本无聊的旧书了，”艾美叫道，也激动起来。
“为什么？”
“我把它烧掉了。”
“什么！我最最心爱的小书，我呕心沥血想赶在爸爸回家前写完的小书？你真的把它烧掉了吗？”乔问道，脸色变得灰白，双目炯炯，两手神经质地把艾美抓得紧紧。
“对，烧掉了！你昨天对我发脾气，我说过要让你后悔的，我这样做了，所以- "艾美不敢往下再说，因为乔早已怒发冲冠，她狠劲猛摇艾美，把她弄得牙齿在脑袋里头格格作响，一面悲愤交加地大叫道- “你这个狠心、歹毒的女孩！我再也写不出这样的书来，我这辈子都不会原谅你！”梅格飞身上前营救艾美，贝思则赶忙上来安抚乔，但乔仍然怒不可遏，她给妹妹一记耳光作为临别纪念，冲出房间，跑上阁楼，坐在那张旧沙发上，独个结束这场战斗。
楼下的风暴已开始停息。马奇太太回来听到这事后，三言两语便使艾美认识到自己做了伤害姐姐的错事。乔的书是她心中的骄傲，被一家人视为极有前途的文学萌芽。书里只写了六个神话小故事，但却是乔耐心耕耘所得。她把全身心投入工作，希望写好后能够出版。她刚刚小心翼翼地把故事抄好，并毁掉了草稿，因此艾美的一把火便把她数年的心血毁于一旦。这对于别人来说可能是个小损失，但对乔却是灭顶之灾，她觉得无论怎样补救都无济于事。贝思犹如死掉了一只小猫咪一样沉痛哀悼，梅格拒绝为自己的宠儿说话；马奇太太神情严峻，伤心万分，艾美后悔不迭，心想如果自己不向乔道歉，就再也没有人爱她了。
喝茶的铃声响起时，乔露脸了，冷冰冰地板着脸，不瞅不睬，艾美鼓足勇气，细声细气地说道- “原谅我吧，乔，我非常、非常抱歉。”“我绝不会原谅你！”乔硬邦邦地抛出一句。从那一刻起她完全不再理会艾美。
大家对这件不幸的事情绝口不提--连马奇太太也不例外--因为大家得出一条经验，但凡乔情绪如此低落，说什么都没有用，最明智的办法是等一些偶然的小事或她本身宽容的天性来化解怨恨，治愈创伤。这天晚上虽然她们如常一样做针线活，母亲照样朗读布雷默、司各特、埃奇沃思的文章，但气氛总是不对劲儿，大家毫无心情，原来甜蜜、温馨的家庭生活泛起了波澜。到了唱歌时间，大家的感觉更加难受，贝思只是默默抚琴，乔呆立一旁，活像个石头人，艾美失声痛哭，只剩下梅格和母亲孤军作战。但是，虽然她们力图唱得像云雀一样轻快，银铃般的嗓音已失去往日的和谐，全都走音走调。
当乔接受晚安吻别时，马奇太太柔声低语道：“亲爱的，别让愤怒的乌云遮住了太阳；互相原谅，互相帮助，明天再重新开始。”乔想把头伏在母亲怀里，哭去一切悲伤和愤怒；但男儿有泪不轻弹，而且，她觉得受到的伤害是如此之深，一时实在不能原谅。因此她拼命眨巴着眼睛，摇摇头，因为知道艾美在一旁听着，于是硬绷绷地说：“这种事情卑鄙之极，她罪不可耍"言毕她大步走回寝室。那个晚上姐妹们没有说笑，也没有讲悄悄话。
艾美因自己主动求和而遭严厉拒绝，不禁恼羞成怒，她后悔自己太低声下气，觉得自己受到了前所未有的伤害，于是更故意摆出一副高姿态，令人十分恼火。乔的脸上依然阴云密布，这一天事情全出了岔儿。早晨寒风飕飕；乔把卷饼掉落沟里，马奇婶婶大发脾气，梅格郁郁寡欢，贝思在家里总是一副伤感而心事重重的样子，艾美则大发宏论，批评某些人口里常说要做好孩子，现在人家已为他们树立了榜样了，却又不愿去做。
“这些人个个如此可恨，我要叫劳里溜冰去。他心地善良，幽默风趣，一定会使我恢复情绪的，”乔心里说着，便走了出去。
艾美听到溜冰鞋发出的响声，向外一望，急得大叫起来。
“瞧！她答应过下次带我去，因为这是最后一个冰期了，但叫这么个火爆性子带上我，也等于白说。”“别这样说。你也确实太淘气了。你烧掉了她的宝贝书稿，要她原谅可不那么容易；不过我想现在她或许会这样做的，只要你在适当的时候试探她，我想她会心软的，”梅格说，”跟着他们；什么也别说，单等乔跟劳里玩得情绪好转了，你才静静上前去给她一吻，或是做些什么讨人喜欢的事情。我敢说她会全心全意再做朋友的。”“我一定努力，”艾美说，觉得这个忠告正中下怀。她一阵风似地收拾一番，向他们追出去，两位朋友正渐行渐远，身影逐渐消失在山的那面。
这里离河不远，两人在艾美来到前已做好准备。乔看到她走来，转过身去。劳里却没有看见，他正小心翼翼地沿岸滑行，探测冰块的声音，因为刚才冰川雪地之间袭来一股暖流。
“我去第一个弯口看看情况，没有问题我们再开始竞赛。”艾美听他说完，就见他如离弦之箭飞驰而去，一身毛边大衣和暖帽衬得他活脱脱像个俄罗斯小伙子。
乔听到艾美跑得生气喘吁吁，一面跺脚，一面吹着手指，试图把溜冰鞋穿上去，但乔就是不回头，而是沿河慢慢作之字形行走，心里对妹妹遇到的麻烦感到一种苦涩和不安的快意。
她一腔怒火早窝在胸中，渐积渐深，已使她失去了理智，这好比邪恶的想法和感情一样，如不立即发泄，必成祸患。劳里在弯口转弯时，回头大声喊道- “靠岸边走，中间不安全。”乔听到了，但艾美正使着劲儿穿鞋，一个字也没有听到。
乔转头望了一眼，藏在心里的小魔鬼在她耳边使劲唤道- “不论她有没有听到，让她自己照顾自己吧！”劳里绕过弯口消失了身影，乔来到弯口边，远远跟在后面的艾美正迈步向河中间较为平滑的冰面走去。乔呆立了一会，她心中升起一种奇怪的感觉；接着她决定继续向前走，但一种莫名的感觉使她停下脚步，转过身来，正好看见艾美举起双手，身子往下跌，破裂的冰块突然嘎嚓一响，水花四溅，同时传来一声尖叫，吓得乔心脏都几乎停止了跳动。她想叫劳里，声音却不听使唤；她想冲上前去，但双脚却疲软无力；有一小会儿功夫，她只能一动不动地呆立着，死死盯着黑色冰面上那顶小蓝帽，惊恐得脸上变了颜色。这时，一个身影从她身边疾驰而过，只听劳里大声喊道- “拿根横杆来。快，快！”她不知道自己是怎样做的，但接下来的几分钟她犹如着了魔一样，盲目听从劳里吩咐。劳里相当镇静，他平卧下去，用手臂和曲棍球棒拉起艾美，乔从栅栏拔出一根栏杆，两人齐心合力，把艾美弄了出来。艾美伤势不重，只是这一惊非同小可。
“来吧，我们得赶快把她送回家；把我们的衣服披在她身上，待我把讨厌的溜冰鞋脱掉，”劳里边叫边使劲扯开衣带，用自己的大衣裹住艾美。
两人打着冷颤送艾美回家，水珠儿泪珠儿一起往下滴。一阵手忙脚乱之后，艾美裹着毛毯在暖和的炉火前睡着了。乔由始至终几乎一言不发，只是团团乱转，脸色苍白，衣饰凌乱不堪，裙子撕破了，双手被冰块、栅栏和坚硬的衣扣刮得肿起了青块。当艾美舒舒服服地睡着了，屋里也安静下来之后，马奇太太坐在床边，把乔叫过来，给她包扎弄伤了的双手。
“您肯定她没有事吗？”乔悄声问道，悔恨交加地望着那个险些在惊险的冰层下永远从她视线中消失的金发脑袋。
“没有事，亲爱的。她没有受伤，我想也不会患上感冒，你用衣服包着她，把她立即送回家，十分明智哩，”母亲舒心地答道。
“这些都是劳里做的。我当时只是生死由她。妈妈，如果她会死，那就是我的错。”乔痛悔不已，涕泪交流，重重坐在床边，把事情经过讲述一遍，痛责自己当时心肠太狠，呜呜咽咽地说自己差一点受到严厉的惩罚，幸亏事情化险为夷，着实谢天谢地。
“都怪我的坏性子！我想努力把它改好；我以为已经改好了，谁知发作起来，越发不可收拾。噢，妈妈，我该怎么办？
我该怎么办？”可怜的乔绝望地叫道。
“提防和祈祷吧，亲爱的，千万不要气馁，千万不要以为你的缺点不可征服，“马奇太太说着，把乔头发蓬乱的脑袋靠在自己肩上，无限温柔地吻吻她湿漉漉的脸颊，乔哭得越发伤心。
“您不知道，您想象不出我性子有多坏！我发火时似乎可以无所不为；我变得毫无人性，可以做出伤害别人的事，而且还乐在其中。我担心有一天我会做出可怕的事情，毁掉自己的一生，使天下人都憎恨我。噢，妈妈，帮帮我吧，千万帮帮我！”“我会的，孩子，我会的。别哭得这么伤心，但要记住这一天，并且要痛下决心不再让这种事情重演。乔，亲爱的，我们都会遇到诱惑，有些甚至比这种大得多，我们常常要用一生时间来征服它们。你以为自己的脾气是天下最坏的了，但我的脾气以前就跟你的一模一样。”“您有脾气，妈妈？您从来都不生气啊！”乔惊讶得暂时忘掉了悔恨。
“我努力改了四十年，现在才刚刚控制祝我过去几乎每天都生气，乔，但我学会了不把它表露出来；我还希望学会不把它感觉出来，虽然可能又得花上四十年的功夫。”她深爱的母亲的脸孔流露出一种忍耐和谦卑，乔觉得这比最振振有词的训导和最严厉的斥责都更有说服力。母亲的安慰和信任使她心里好受多了；知道自己的母亲也有照自己一样的缺点，并且努力改正，她觉得自己更要下决心改正过来，虽然四十年对于一个十五岁的少女来说似乎相当漫长。
“妈妈，当马奇婶婶责骂您或有人烦
Chapter 9 Meg Goes To Vanity Fair
　　`I do think it was the most fortunate thing in the world that those children should have the measles just now,' said Meg, one April day, as she stood packing the "go abroady" trunk in her room, surrounded by her sisters.

　　`And so nice of Annie Moffat not to forget her promise. A whole fortnight of fun will be regularly splendid,' replied Jo, looking like a windmill, as she folded skirts, with her long arms.

　　`And such lovely weather; I'm so glad of that,' added Beth, tidily sorting neck and hair ribbons in her best box, lent for the great occasion.

　　`I wish I was going to have a fine time, and wear all these nice things,' said Amy, with her mouth full of pins, as she artistically replenished her sister's cushion.

　　`I wish you were all going; but as you can't, I shall keep my adventures to tell you when I come back. I'm sure it's the least I can do, when you have been so kind, lending me things, and helping me get ready,' said Meg, glancing round the room at the very simple outfit, which seemed nearly perfect in their eyes.

　　`What did Mother give you out of the treasure-box?' asked Amy, who had not been present at the opening of a certain cedar chest, in which Mrs. March kept a few relics of past splendour as gifts for her girls when the proper time came.

　　`A pair of silk stockings, that pretty carved fan, and a lovely blue sash. I wanted the violet silk; but there isn't time to make it over, so I must be contented with my old tarlatan.'

　　`It will look nicely over my new muslin skirt, and the sash will set it off beautifully. I wish I hadn't smashed my coral bracelet, for you might have had it,' said Jo, who loved to give and lend, but whose possessions were usually too dilapidated to be of much use. `There is a lovely old-fashioned pearl set in the treasure-box; but Mother said real flowers were the prettiest ornament for a young girl, and Laurie promised to send me all I want,' replied Meg. `Now, let me see; there's my new grey walking-suit - just curl up the feather in my hat, Beth - then my poplin, for Sunday, and the small party - it looks heavy for spring, doesn't it? The violet silk would be so nice; oh dear.'

　　`Never mind; you've got the tarlatan for the big party, and you always look like an angel in white,' said Amy, brooding over the little store of finery in which her soul delighted.

　　`It isn't low-necked, and it doesn't sweep enough, but it will have to do. My blue house-dress looks so well, turned and freshly trimmed, that I feel as if I'd got a new one. My silk sacque isn't a bit the fashion, and my bonnet doesn't look like Sallie's; I didn't like to say anything, but I was sadly disappointed in my umbrella. I told Mother black, with a white handle, but she forgot and bought a green one, with a yellowish handle. It's strong and neat, so I ought not to complain, but I know I shall feel ashamed of it beside Annie's silk one with a gold top,' sighed Meg, surveying the little umbrella with great disfavour.

　　`Change it,' advised Jo.

　　`I won't be so silly, or hurt Marmee's feelings, when she took so much pains to get my things. It's a nonsensical notion of mine, and I'm not going to give up to it. My silk stockings and two pairs of new gloves are my comfort. You are a dear, to lend me yours, Jo. I feel so rich, and sort of elegant, with two new pairs, and the old ones cleaned up for common'; and Meg took a refreshing peep at her glove box.

　　`Annie Moffat has blue and pink bows on her night-caps; would you put some on mine?' she asked, as Beth brought up a pile of snowy muslins, fresh from Hannah's hands.

　　`No, I wouldn't; for the smart caps won't match the plain gowns, without any trimming on them. Poor folks shouldn't rig,' said Jo, decidedly.

　　`I wonder if I shall ever be happy enough to have real lace on my clothes, and bows on my caps?' said Meg, impatiently.

　　`You said the other day that you'd be perfectly happy if you could only go to Annie Moffat's,' observed Beth, in her quiet way.

　　`So I did! Well, I am happy and I won't fret; but it does seem as if the more one gets the more one wants, doesn't it? There now, the trays are ready, and everything in but my party-dress, which I shall leave for Mother to pack,' said Meg, cheering up, as she glanced from the half-filled trunk to the many-times pressed and mended white tarlatan, which she called her "party-dress", with an important air.

　　The next day was fine, and Meg departed in style, for a fortnight of novelty and pleasure. Mrs. March had consented to the visit rather reluctantly, fearing that Margaret would come back more discontented than she went. But she had begged so hard, and Sallie had promised to take good care of her, and a little pleasure seemed so delightful after a winter of irksome work, that the mother yielded, and the daughter went to take her first taste of fashionable life.

　　The Moffats were very fashionable, and simple Meg was rather daunted, at first, by the splendour of the house and the elegance of its occupants. But they were kindly people in spite of the frivolous life they led, and soon put their guest at her ease. Perhaps Meg felt, without understanding why, that they were not particularly cultivated or intelligent people and that all their gilding could not quite conceal the ordinary material of which they were made. It certainly was agreeable to fare sumptuously, drive in a fine carriage, wear her best frock every day, and do nothing but enjoy herself. It suited her exactly; and soon she began to imitate the manners and conversation of those about her; to put on little airs and graces, use French phrases, crimp her hair, take in her dresses, and talk about the fashions as well as she could. The more she saw of Annie Moffat's pretty things, the more she envied her, and sighed to be rich. Home now looked bare and dismal as she thought of it, work grew harder than ever, and she felt that she was a very destitute and much-injured girl, in spite of the new gloves and silk stockings.

　　She had not much time for repining, however, for the three young girls were busily employed in "having a good time". They shopped, walked, rode, and called all day; went to theatres and operas, or frolicked at home in the evening; for Annie had many friends and knew how to entertain them. Her older sisters were very fine young ladies, and one was engaged, which was extremely interesting and romantic, Meg thought. Mr. Moffat was a fat, jolly old gentleman, who knew her father; and Mrs. Moffat a fat, jolly old lady, who took as great a fancy to Meg as her daughter had done. Everyone petted her; and `Daisy', as they called her, was in a fair way to have her head turned.

　　When the evening for the `small party' came, she found that the poplin wouldn't do at all, for the other girls were putting on thin dresses, and making themselves very fine indeed; so out came the tarlatan, looking older, limper, and shabbier than ever, beside Sallie's crisp new one. Meg saw the girls glance at it and then at one another, and her cheeks began to burn, for, with all her gentleness, she was very proud. No one said a word about it, but Sallie offered to dress her hair, and Annie to tie her sash, and Belle, the engaged sister, praised her white arms; but in their kindness Meg saw only pity for her poverty, and her heart felt very heavy as she stood by herself, while the others laughed, chattered, and flew about like gauzy butterflies. The hard, bitter feeling was getting pretty bad, when the maid brought in a box of flowers. Before she could speak, Annie had the cover off, and all were exclaiming at the lovely roses, heath, and fern within.

　　`It's for Belle, of course; George always sends her some, but these are altogether ravishing,' cried Annie, with a great sniff.

　　`They are for Miss March, the man said. And here's a note,' put in the maid, holding it to Meg.

　　`What fun! Who are they from? Didn't know you had a lover,' cried the girls, fluttering about Meg in a high state of curiosity and surprise.

　　`The note is from Mother, and the flowers from Laurie,' said Meg, simply, yet much gratified that he had not forgotten her.

　　`Oh, indeed!' said Annie, with a funny look, as Meg slipped the note in her pocket, as a sort of talisman against envy, vanity, and false pride; for the few loving words had done her, good, and the flowers cheered her up by their beauty.

　　Feeling almost happy again, she laid by a few ferns and roses for herself, and quickly made up the rest in dainty bouquets for the breasts, hair, or skirts of her friends, offering them so prettily that Clara, the elder sister, told her she was `the sweetest little thing she ever saw'; and they looked quite charmed with her small attention. Somehow the kind act finished her despondency, and when all the rest went to show themselves to Mrs. Moffat, she saw a happy, bright-eyed face in the mirror, as she laid her ferns against her rippling hair, and fastened the roses in the dress that didn't strike her as so very shabby now. She enjoyed herself very much that evening; everyone was very kind, and she had three compliments. Annie made her sing, and someone said she had a remarkably fine voice; Major Lincoln asked who the "fresh little girl, with the beautiful eyes" was; and Mr. Moffat insisted on paying special attention to her during the evening. So, altogether, she had a very nice time, till she overheard a bit of a conversation, which disturbed her extremely. She was sitting just inside the conservatory, waiting for someone to bring her an ice, when she heard a voice ask, on the other side of the flowery wall: `How old is he?'

　　`Sixteen or seventeen, I should say,' replied another voice.

　　`It would be a grand thing for one of those girls, wouldn't it? Sallie says they are very intimate now, and the old man quite dotes on them.'

　　`Mrs. M. has made her plans, I dare say, and will play her cards well, early as it is. The girl evidently doesn't think of it yet,' said Mrs. Moffat.

　　`She told that fib about her mamma as if she did know, and coloured up when the flowers came quite prettily. Poor thing! she'd be so nice if she was only got up in style. Do you think she'd be offended if we offered to lend her a dress for Thursday?' asked another voice.

　　`She's proud, but I don't believe she'd mind, for that dowdy tarlatan is all she has got. She may tear it tonight, and that will be a good excuse for offering a decent one.'

　　`We'll see. I shall ask young Laurence, as a compliment to her, and we'll have fun about it afterwards.'

　　Here Meg's friend appeared, to find her looking much flushed and rather agitated. She was proud, and her pride was useful just then, for it helped her hide her mortification, anger, and disgust at what she had just heard; for innocent and unsuspicious as she was, she could not help understanding the gossip of her friends. She tried to forget it, but could not, and kept repeating to herself, `Mrs. M. has made her plans', `that fib about her mamma', and `dowdy tarlatan', till she was ready to cry, and rush home to tell her troubles and ask for advice. As that was impossible, she did her best to seem gay, and, being rather excited, she succeeded so well that no one dreamed what an effort she was making. She was very glad when it was all over, and she was quiet in her bed, where she could think and wonder and fume till her head ached, and her hot cheeks were cooled by a few natural tears. Those foolish, yet well-meant words had opened a new world to Meg, and much disturbed the peace of the old one, in which, till now, she had lived as happily as a child. Her innocent friendship with Laurie was spoilt by the silly speeches she had overheard; her faith in her mother was a little shaken by the worldly plans attributed to her by Mrs. Moffat, who judged others by herself; and the sensible resolution to be contented with the simple wardrobe which suited a poor man's daughter was weakened by the unnecessary pity of girls who thought a shabby dress one of the greatest calamities under heaven.

　　Poor Meg had a restless night, and got up heavy-eyed, unhappy, half resentful towards her friends, and half ashamed of herself for not speaking out frankly and setting everything right. Everybody dawdled that morning, and it was noon before the girls found energy enough even to take up their worsted work. Something in the manner of her friends struck Meg at once; they treated her with more respect, she thought, took quite a tender interest in what she said, and looked at her with eyes that plainly betrayed curiosity. All this surprised and flattered her, though she did not understand it till Miss Belle looked up from her writing and said, with a sentimental air:

　　`Daisy, dear, I've sent an invitation to your friend, Mr. Laurence, for Thursday. We should like to know him, and it's only a proper compliment to you.'

　　Meg coloured, but a mischievous fancy to tease the girls made her reply, demurely:

　　`You are very kind, but I'm afraid he won't come.'

　　`Why not, cherie?' asked Miss Belle.

　　`He's too old.'

　　`My child, what do you mean? What is his age, I beg to know!' cried Miss Clara.

　　`Nearly seventy, I believe,' answered Meg, counting stitches to hide the merriment in her eyes.

　　`You sly creature! Of course we meant the young man,' exclaimed Miss Belle, laughing.

　　`There isn't any, Laurie is only a little boy,' and Meg laughed also at the queer look which the sisters exchanged as she thus described her supposed lover.

　　`About your age,' Nan said.

　　`Nearer my sister Jo's; I am seventeen in August,' returned Meg, tossing her head.

　　`It's very nice of him to send you flowers, isn't it?' said Annie looking wise about nothing.

　　`Yes, he often does to all of us, for their house is full and we are so fond of them. My mother and old Mr. Laurence are friends, you know, so it is quite natural that we children should play together'; and Meg hoped they would say no more.

　　`It's evident Daisy isn't out yet,' said Miss Clara to Belle, with a nod.

　　`Quite a pastoral state of innocence all round,' returned Miss Belle, with a shrug.

　　`I'm going out to get some little matters for my girls; can I do anything for you, young ladies?' asked Mrs. Moffat, lumbering in, like an elephant, in silk and lace.

　　`No, thank you, ma'am,' replied Sallie. `I've got my new pink silk for Thursday, and don't want a thing.'

　　`Nor I——' began Meg, but stopped, because it occurred to her that she did want several things, and could not have them.

　　`What shall you wear?' asked Sallie.

　　`My old white one again, if I can mend it fit to be seen; it got sadly torn last night,' said Meg, trying to speak quite easily, but feeling very uncomfortable.

　　`Why don't you send home for another?' said Sallie, who was not an observing young lady.

　　`I haven't got any other.' It cost Meg an effort to say that, but Sallie did not see it, and exclaimed, in amiable surprise:

　　`Only that? How funny——' She did not finish her speech, for Belle shook her head at her, and broke in, saying kindly:

　　`Not at all; where is the use of having a lot of dresses when she isn't out? There's no need of sending home, Daisy, even if you had a dozen, for I've got a sweet blue silk laid away, which I've outgrown, and you shall wear it to please me, won't you, dear?'

　　`You are very kind, but I don't mind my old dress, if you don't; it does well enough for a little girl like me,' said Meg.

　　`Now do let me please myself by dressing you up in style. I admire to do it, and you'd be a regular little beauty with a touch here and there. I shan't let anyone see you till you are done, and then we'll burst upon them like Cinderella and her godmother going to the ball,' said Belle, in her persuasive tone. Meg couldn't refuse the offer so kindly made, for a desire to see if she would be `a little beauty' after touching up, caused her to accept, and forget all her former uncomfortable feelings towards the Moffats.

　　On the Thursday evening Belle shut herself up with her maid; and between them they turned Meg into a fine lady. They crimped and curled her hair, they polished her neck and arms with some fragrant powder, touched her lips with coralline salve, to make them redder, and Hortense would have added `a soup鏾n of rouge', if Meg had not rebelled. They laced her into a sky-blue dress which was so tight she could hardly breathe, and so low in the neck that modest Meg blushed at herself in the mirror. A set of silver filigree was added, bracelets, necklace, broach, and even earrings, for Hortense tied them on with a bit of pink silk which did not show. A cluster of tea-rosebuds at the bosom and a ruche reconciled Meg to the display of her pretty white shoulders, and a pair of high-heeled blue silk boots satisfied the last wish of her heart. A laced handkerchief, a plumy fan, and a bouquet in a silver holder finished her off; and Miss Belle surveyed her with the satisfaction of a little girl with a newly dressed doll.

　　`Mademoiselle is charmante, tres jolie, is she not?' cried Hortense, clasping her hands in an affected rapture.

　　`Come and show yourself,' said Miss Belle, leading the way to the room where the others were waiting.

　　As Meg went rustling after her, with her long skirts trailing, her earrings tling, her curls waving, and her heart beating, she felt as if her "fun" had really begun at last, for the mirror had plainly told her that she was "a little beauty". Her friends repeated the pleasing phrase enthusiastically; and for several minutes she stood, like the jackdaw in the fable, enjoying her borrowed plumes, while the rest chattered like a party of magpies. `While I dress, do you drill her, Nan, in the management of her skirt, and those French heels, or she will trip herself up. Take your silver butterfly, and catch up that long curl on the left side of her head, Clara, and don't any of you disturb the charming work of my hands,' said Belle, as she hurried away, looking well pleased with her success.

　　`I'm afraid to go down, I feel so queer and stiff and half-dressed,' said Meg to Sallie, as the bell rang, and Mrs. Moffat sent to ask the young ladies to appear at once.

　　`You don't look a bit like yourself, but you are very nice. I'm nowhere beside you, for Belle has heaps of taste, and you're quite French, I assure you. Let your flowers hang; don't be so careful of them, and be sure you don't trip,' returned Sallie; trying not to care that Meg was prettier than herself. Keeping that warning carefully in mind, Margaret got safely downstairs, and sailed into the drawing rooms, where the Moffats and a few early guests were assembled. She very soon discovered that there is a charm about fine clothes which attracts a certain class of people, and secures their respect. Several young ladies who had taken no notice of her before, were very affectionate all of a sudden; several young gentlemen, who had only stared at her at the other party, now not only stared, but asked to be introduced, and said all manner of foolish but agreeable things to her; and several old ladies, who sat on sofas and criticized the rest of the party, inquired who she was, with an air of interest. She heard Mrs. Moffat reply to one of them: `Daisy March - father a colonel in the army - one of our first families, but reverses of fortune, you know; intimate friends of the Laurences; sweet creature, I assure you; my Ned is quite wild about her.'

　　`Dear me!' said the old lady, putting up her glass for another observation of Meg, who tried to look as if she had not heard, and been rather shocked at Mrs. Moffat's fibs.

　　The "queer feeling" did not pass away, but she imagined herself acting the new part of a fine lady, and so got on pretty well, though the tight dress gave her a side-ache, the train kept getting under her feet, and she was in constant fear lest her earrings should fly off, and get lost or broken. She was flirting her fan, and laughing at the feeble jokes of a young gentleman who tried to be witty, when she suddenly stopped laughing, and looked confused; for, just opposite, she saw Laurie. He was staring at her with undisguised surprise, and disapproval also, she thought, for, though he bowed and smiled, yet something in his honest eyes made her blush, and wish she had her old dress on. To complete her confusion, she saw Belle nudge Annie, and both glance from her to Laurie, who, she was happy to see, looked unusually boyish and shy.

　　`Silly creatures, to put such thoughts into my head! I won't care for it, or let it change me a bit,' thought Meg, and rustled across the room to shake hands with her friend.

　　`I'm glad you've come, I was afraid you wouldn't,' she said, with her most grown-up air.

　　`Jo wanted me to come, and tell her how you looked, so I did,' answered Laurie, without turning his eyes upon her, though he half smiled at her maternal tone.

　　`What shall you tell her?' asked Meg, full of curiosity to know his opinion of her, yet feeling ill at ease with him, for the first time.

　　`I shall say I didn't know you; for you look so grown-up, and unlike yourself, I'm quite afraid of you,' he said, fumbling at his glove-button.

　　`How absurd of you! The girls dressed me up for fun, and I rather like it. Wouldn't Jo stare if she saw me?' said Meg, bent on making him say whether he thought her improved or not.

　　`Yes, I think she would,' returned Laurie, gravely.

　　`Don't you like me so?' asked Meg.

　　`No, I don't,' was the blunt reply.

　　`Why not?' in an anxious tone.

　　He glanced at her frizzled head, bare shoulders, and fantastically trimmed dress, with an expression that abashed her more than his answer, which had not a particle of his usual politeness about it.

　　`I don't like fuss and feathers.'

　　That was altogether too much from a lad younger than herself, and Meg walked away, saying petulantly: `You are the rudest boy I ever saw.'

　　Feeling very much ruffled, she went and stood at a quiet window to cool her cheeks, for the tight dress gave her an uncomfortably brilliant colour. As she stood there, Major Lincoln passed by, and, a minute after, she heard him saying to his mother: `They are making a fool of that little girl; I wanted you to see her, but they have spoilt her entirely; she's nothing but a doll tonight.'

　　`Oh dear!' sighed Meg; `I wish I'd been sensible, and worn my own things; then I should not have disgusted other people or felt so uncomfortable and ashamed of myself.'

　　She leaned her forehead on the cool pane, and stood half hidden by the curtains, never minding that her favourite song had begun, till someone touched her; and, turning, she saw Laurie, looking penitent, as he said, with his very best bow, and his hand out:

　　`Please forgive my rudeness, and come and have an ice with me.'

　　`I'm afraid it will be too disagreeable to you,' said Meg, trying to look offended, and failing entirely.

　　`Not a bit of it. Come, I'll be good; I don't like your gown, but I do think you are - just splendid'; and he waved his hands, as if words failed to express his admiration.

　　Meg smiled and relented, and whispered, as they stood waiting: `Take care my skirt don't trip you up; it's the plague of my life, and I was a goose to wear it.'

　　`Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful', said Laurie, looking down at the little blue boots, which he evidently approved of.

　　`Laurie, I want you to do me a favour; will you?' said Meg.

　　`Won't I!' said Laurie, with alacrity.

　　`Please don't tell them at home about my dress tonight. They won't understand the joke, and it will worry Mother.'

　　`Then why did you do it?' said Laurie's eyes, so plainly that Meg hastily added: `I shall tell them myself all about it and "'fess" to Mother how silly I've been. But I'd rather do it myself; so you'll not tell, will you?'

　　`I give you my word I won't; only what shall I say when they ask me?'

　　`Just say I looked pretty well, and was having a good time.'

　　`I'll say the first with all my heart; but how about the other? You don't look as if you were having a good time; are you?' and Laurie looked at her with an expression which made her answer, in a whisper: `No, not just now. Don't think I'm horrid; I only wanted a little fun, but this sort doesn't pay, I find, and I'm getting tired of it.'

　　`Here comes Ned Moffat; what does he want?' said Laurie, knitting his black brows as if he did not regard his young host in the light of a pleasant addition to the party.

　　`What a bore!' said Meg, assuming a languid air, which amused Laurie immensely.

　　He did not speak to her again till supper-time, when he saw her drinking champagne with Ned and his friend Fisher, who were behaving `like a pair of fools', as Laurie said to himself, for he felt a brotherly sort of right to watch over the Marches, and fight their battles whenever a defender was needed.

　　`You'll have a splitting headache tomorrow, if you drink that stuff. I wouldn't, Meg; your mother doesn't like it, you know,' he whispered, leaning over her chair, as Ned turned to refill her glass, and Fisher stooped to pick up her fan.

　　`I'm not Meg tonight; I'm a "doll", who does all sorts of crazy things. Tomorrow I shall put away my "fuss and feathers", and be desperately good again,' she answered, with an affected little laugh.

　　`Wish tomorrow was here, then,' muttered Laurie, walking off, ill-pleased at the change he saw in her.

　　Meg danced and flirted, chattered and giggled, as the other girls did; after supper she undertook the German polka, and blundered through it, nearly upsetting her partner with her long skirt, and romping in a way that scandalized Laurie, who looked on, and meditated a lecture. But he got no chance to deliver it, for Meg kept away from him till he came to say good night.

　　`Remember!' she said, trying to smile, for the splitting headache had already begun.

　　`Silence * la mort,' relied Laurie, with a melodramatic flourish, as he went away.

　　This little bit of byplay excited Annie's curiosity; but Meg was too tired for gossip, and went to bed feeling as if she had been to a masquerade, and hadn't enjoyed herself as much as she expected. She was sick all the next day, and on Saturday went home, quite used up with her fortnight's fun, and feeling that she had `sat in the lap of luxury' long enough.

　　`It does seem pleasant to be quiet, and not have company manners on all the time. Home is a nice place, though it isn't splendid,' said Meg, looking about her with a restful expression as she sat with her mother and Jo on the Sunday evening.

　　`I'm glad to hear you say so, dear, for I was afraid home would seem dull and poor to you after your fine quarters,' replied her mother, who had given her many anxious looks that day; for motherly eyes are quick to see any change in children's faces. Meg had told her adventures gaily, and said over and over what a charming time she had had; but something still seemed to weigh upon her spirits, and, when the younger girls were gone to bed, she sat thoughtfully staring at the fire, saying little, and looking worried.

　　As the clock struck nine, and Jo proposed bed, Meg suddenly left her chair, and taking Beth's stool, leaned her elbows on her mother's knee, saying bravely:

　　`Marmee, I want to "'fess".'

　　`I thought so; what is it, dear?'

　　`Shall I go away?' asked Jo, discreetly.

　　`Of course not; don't I always tell you everything? I was ashamed to speak of it before the children, but I want you to know all the dreadful things I did at the Moffats'.'

　　`We are prepared,' said Mrs. March, smiling, but looking a little anxious.

　　`I told you they dressed me up, but I didn't tell you that they powdered and squeezed and frizzled, and made me look like a fashion-plate. Laurie thought I wasn't proper; I know he did, though he didn't say so, and one man called me "a doll". I knew it was silly, but they flattered me, and said I was a beauty, and quantities of nonsense, so I let them make a fool of me.'

　　`Is that all?' asked Jo, as Mrs. March looked silently at the downcast face of her pretty daughter, and could not find it in her heart to blame her little follies.

　　`No; I drank champagne, and romped, and tried to flirt and was altogether abominable,' said Meg, self-reproachfully.

　　`There is something more, I think,' and Mrs. March smoothed the soft cheek, which suddenly grew rosy, as Meg answered slowly:

　　`Yes; it's very silly, but I want to tell it, because I hate to have people say and think such things about us and Laurie.'

　　Then she told the various bits of gossip she had heard at the Moffats'; and, as she spoke, Jo saw her mother fold her lips tightly, as if ill pleased that such ideas should be put into Meg's innocent mind.

　　`Well, if that isn't the greatest rubbish I ever heard,' cried Jo, indignantly. `Why didn't you pop out and tell them so, on the spot?'

　　`I couldn't, it was so embarrassing for me. I couldn't help hearing at first, and then I was so angry and ashamed, I didn't remember that I ought to go away.'

　　`Just wait till I see Annie Moffat, and I'll show you how to settle such ridiculous stuff. The idea of having "plans", and being kind to Laurie because he's rich, and may marry us by and by! Won't he shout when I tell him what those silly things say about us poor children?' and Jo laughed, as if, on second thoughts, the thing struck her as a good joke.

　　`If you tell Laurie, I'll never forgive you! She mustn't, must she, Mother?' said Meg, looking distressed.

　　`No; never repeat that foolish gossip, and forget it as soon as you can,' said Mrs. March, gravely. `I was very unwise to let you go among people of whom I know so little - kind, I dare say, but worldly, ill-bred, and full of these vulgar ideas about young people. I am more sorry than I can express for the mischief this visit may have done you, Meg.'

　　`Don't be sorry, I won't let it hurt me; I'll forget all the bad, and remember only the good; for I did enjoy a great deal, and thank you very much for letting me go. I'll not be sentimental or dissatisfied, Mother; I know I'm a silly little girl, and I'll stay with you till I'm fit to take care of myself. But it is nice to be praised and admired, and I can't help saying I like it,' said Meg, looking half ashamed of the confession. `That is perfectly natural, and quite harmless, if the liking does not become a passion, and lead one to do foolish or unmaidenly things. Learn to know and value the praise which is worth having, and to excite the admiration of excellent people by being modest as well as pretty, Meg.'

　　Margaret sat thinking a moment, while Jo stood with her hands behind her, looking both interested and a little perplexed; for it was a new thing to see Meg blushing and talking about admiration, lovers, and things of that sort; and Jo felt as if, during that fortnight, her sister had grown up amazingly, and was drifting away from her into a world where she could not follow.

　　`Mother, do you have "plans", as Mrs. Moffat said?' asked Meg, bashfully.

　　`Yes, my dear, I have a great many; all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat's, I suspect. I will tell you some of them, for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and heart of yours right on a very serious subject. You are young, Meg, but not too young to understand me; and mother's lips are the fittest to speak of such things to girls like you. Jo, your turn will come in time, perhaps, so listen to my "plans", and help me carry them out if they are good.'

　　Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they were about to join in some very solemn affair. Holding a hand of each, and watching the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said, in her serious yet cheery way:

　　`I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be admired, loved, and respected; to have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman; and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg; right to hope and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it; so that, when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world - marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious thing - and, when well used, a noble thing - but I never want you to think of it as the first or only prize to strive for. I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace.'

　　`Poor girls don't stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put themselves forward,' sighed Meg.

　　`Then we'll be old maids,' said Jo, stoutly.

　　`Right, Jo; better be happy old maids than unhappy wives or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands,' said Mrs. March, decidedly. `Don't be troubled, Meg; poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of the best and most honoured women I know were poor girls, but so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these things to time. Make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing remember, my girls; Mother is always ready to be your confidante, Father to be your friend; and both of us trust and hope that our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives.'

　　`We will, Marmee, we will!' cried both, with all their hearts, as she bade them good night.
 
“那班孩子刚好出麻疹，真是最幸运不过了，”梅格说。时值四月，她站在自己房间里往大皮箱装行李，姐妹们围绕在她身边。
“安妮•莫法特没有忘记自己的诺言，这实在太棒了。足足两个星期让你尽情快活，那有多么痛快，”乔一面搭过话儿，一面用长胳膊把几件裙子折起来，形象颇像个风车。
“而且天气晴朗，我真高兴这样，”贝思边说边利索地从自己的宝贝箱子里挑出几条围巾和丝带，供姐姐出席盛会。
“但愿我也能去好好玩玩，把这些漂亮东西全穿戴上，”艾美说。她嘴里衔了满满一口的针，巧妙地插进姐姐的针垫里。
“我真希望大家都能去，既然不能，那就等我回来再跟你们讲遇到的奇闻趣事。你们对我这么好，把东西借给我，帮我收拾行装，我一定尽此绵力，”梅格说着环视房间，眼光落在行装上面。这套行装虽然十分简单，但在她们眼中却几乎十全十美。
“妈妈从那只宝箱里拿出什么给你？”艾美问。马奇太太有个杉木箱子，里头装着几件曾经辉煌一时的旧物，准备在适当的时候送给四个女儿。那天打开箱子时，艾美恰好不在场，故有此一问。
“一对丝袜，一把精致的雕花扇子，还有一条漂亮的蓝色腰带。我原想要那件紫罗兰色的真丝裙子，但却没时间改制了，只好穿我那条旧塔拉丹薄纱裙。”“这比起我的新薄纱裙子还要好看，衬上腰带就更加漂亮了。我真后悔我的珊瑚手镯给砸坏了，不然你便可以戴上它，”乔说。她生性豪爽大方，只是她的财物大都破旧不堪，派不上什么用常"宝箱里有一套漂亮的旧式珍珠首饰，但妈妈说鲜花才是年轻姑娘最美丽的饰物，而劳里答应把我要的全都送来，”梅格回答，”来，让我看看，这是我的新灰色旅行衣- 把羽毛卷进我的帽子里，贝思 -那是星期天和小型晚会穿的府绸裙子- 春天穿显得沉了点，对吧？如果是紫罗兰色的丝绸裙子就好了；唉！”“不要紧，你参加大型晚会还有塔拉丹呢，再说，你穿白衣裳就像个天使，”艾美说道，凝神欣赏着那一小堆漂亮衣饰。
“可它领口太高，拖曳感也不够，但也只好这样应付了。
我那件蓝色家居服倒是挺好，翻了新，并刚刚镶了饰边，和新的一样。我的丝绸外衣一点都不时髦，帽子也不像莎莉那顶；我原不想多说，但我对自己的伞失望极了。我原叫妈妈买一把白柄子的黑伞，她却忘了，带回一把黄柄子的绿桑这把伞结实雅致，因此我不该抱怨，但如果把它跟艾美那把金顶丝绸伞摆在一起，我就要羞死了。”梅格边叹息边极不满意地审视着那把小桑"把它换过来，”乔提议。
“我不会这么傻，妈妈为我花钱已经很不容易了，我不想伤她的心。这只是我的荒唐想法罢了，我不会不分好歹的。幸好我的丝袜和两对新手套可以出出场面。你把自己的借给我，真是好妹妹，乔。我有两对新的，旧的也洗得干干净净，我觉得已经十分气派了。”梅格又朝她放手套的箱子瞄了一眼。
“安妮•莫法特的晚礼帽上头有几个蓝色和粉红色的蝴蝶结；你可以帮我打上几个吗？”她问，这时贝思拿来一堆刚刚从罕娜手中接过的雪白薄纱。
“不，我不想打，因为太醒目的帽子，配没有饰边的素净衣服不好看，”乔断然说道。
“我哪一天才有福气穿上锁有真花边的衣服，戴上打了蝴蝶结的帽子？”梅格不耐烦地说。
“那天你说只要可以去安妮•莫法特家，你就心满意足了，”贝思轻声提醒她。
“我是这样说过！哦，我是很满足，我也不会为此烦恼，不过似乎人得到的越多，野心也就越大，对不？噢，行了，行李装好了，一切齐备，单剩我的舞会礼服了，那要等妈妈来收拾，”梅格说着，眼光从装得半满的行李箱落到熨补过多次、被她郑重其事地称为"舞会礼服"的白色塔拉丹薄纱裙上，心情愉快起来。
第二天天气不错，梅格体面堂皇地辞别大家，准备体验十四天新奇快乐的生活。马奇太太一开始不同意这次出行，担心玛格丽特回来后会比去时更添一层不满。但梅格纠缠不休，莎莉也答应会好好照顾她，而且，干了一个冬天的烦闷工作后，到外面玩玩也是一大乐事，母亲便答应下来，让女儿去一尝上流社会的生活滋味。
莫法特一家确实非常时髦。楼宇富丽堂皇，主人举止优雅，单纯的梅格一开始吃惊不校不过，尽管莫法特一家生活奢华放纵，但他们都是善良的人家，很快便使客人轻松下来。不知为什么，梅格隐隐觉得他们并非特别有教养，也并非特别聪明，虽然他们衣着华丽，其实内中也不过俗人一个而已。生活奢侈，乘坐豪华辇车，每天穿上漂亮衣服，除享乐之外一无所事，这种生活自然十分惬意。这正是梅格所思慕的生活。她很快便模仿身边那些人的言谈举止，摆点小架子，装点腔势，说话时搭上一句半句法语，把头发卷曲，把衣服弄窄，并学着评论流行服式。安妮•莫法特的漂亮东西她见得越多，就越是羡慕不已，自叹不如。如今家在她的心目中已经变得空无一物、沉闷无趣，工作变得比任何时候都要艰苦。她觉得自己是个一贫如洗、受到严重伤害的姑娘，即使有两对新手套和丝袜也无济于事。
不过，她并没有多少时间来烦恼，因为三位年轻姑娘忙于打发"快乐时光"。她们整天逛商店、散步、骑马、探访朋友，晚上则上剧院或留在家里嬉戏，因为安妮结交了不少朋友，熟谙待客之道。她的几个姐姐都是十分漂亮的年轻女子，一个已经订婚，而订婚是极为有趣而浪漫的，梅格想。莫法特先生是个体胖、快活的老绅士，认识她的父亲；莫法特太太，一位体胖、快活的老太太，跟自己的女儿一样十分喜欢梅格。一家人全都宠爱她，”黛茜"，如他们所称，被惯得有点头脑发热。
临到"小型晚会"那天晚上，她发现那件府绸裙子根本应付不了场面，因为其他姑娘们全都穿着薄薄的裙子，个个打扮得美若天仙；于是塔拉丹出动了，但跟莎莉簇新的裙子一比，立即相形失色，显得残旧不堪、寒酸落伍。梅格看到姑娘们扫了它一眼后，都互相交换个眼色，双颊顿时烧得通红。她虽然性格温柔，但自尊心极强。大家对此并没有说什么，不过莎莉主动提出跟她梳理头发，安妮帮她扎腰带，贝儿，那位订了婚的姐姐，则称赞她洁白的双臂。虽然大家全出于好意，但梅格看到的只是对贫穷的怜悯而已。她独自站立一旁，心情十分沉重，而姑娘们则又说又笑，像披着薄纱的蝴蝶一样到处跑来跑去。正当梅格心酸难受之际，女佣人突然送进来一箱鲜花。未等她说话，安妮已把盖子打开，众人随即发出一阵惊呼，原来里头装的全是绚丽的玫瑰、杜鹃和绿蕨。
“准是送给贝儿的，乔治常常送她一些，不过这些可真是太美了，”安妮叫道，深深地闻了一下。
“那位先生说，这些花是送给马奇小姐的。这里有张字条，”女佣人插话说，并把字条递给梅格。
“多有趣，是谁送来的？不知道你还有个情人呢，”姑娘们嚷起来，围着梅格转来转去，显得十分好奇和惊讶。
“字条是妈妈写的，鲜花是劳里送的，”梅格简单地回答，暗暗感激劳里没有忘掉自己。
“噢，原来如此！”安妮怪模怪样地说了一句。梅格把字条塞进口袋，把它当作一种抵御妒忌、虚荣和伪自尊的护身符。里头寥寥数语，一片慈爱真情，梅格看后精神为之一振，而美丽动人的鲜花也使她心情好转起来。
梅格几乎恢复了愉快的心情，她拈出几支绿蕨和玫瑰留给自己，随即将其余的分成几把精美的花束，分给朋友们点缀在胸前、头发和衣裙上。
她做得既愉快又得体，大姐卡莱拉不禁称她为"她所见到的最甜美的小东西"，众人也十分欣赏她的小心意。这一善举把她的沮丧心情一驱而散。其他人都跑到莫法特太太跟前展览去了，她独个儿把几支绿蕨插在自己的鬈发上，又把几朵玫瑰在裙子上别好，这时裙子在她心目中变得没有那么难看了，临镜一照，看到了一张喜气洋洋双目明亮的脸孔。
那天晚上她尽兴起舞，玩得十分开心；大家都非常友善，她还被人奉承了三次。安妮让她唱歌，有人称赞她声音十分甜美。林肯少校问"那位水灵灵的美目小姑娘" 是谁，莫法特先生坚持要和她跳舞，因为她"不躲懒、舞步轻快有力"，他很有风度地说。这一切都使她的心情十分愉快，不料，她后来不经意听到了几句闲话，情绪顿时一落千丈。那时她正坐在温室里面，等舞伴给她带冰块过来，突然听到花墙的另一面传来一个声音问道- “她有多大？”“十六七岁吧，我想，”另一个声音答道。
“这将对那些姑娘们的其中一个大有好处，你说是吧？莎莉说他们现在关系很密切，老人挺宠爱他们。”“马奇太太早有计划，我敢说，而且一定马到功成，虽然这事早了一点，那姑娘显然还没有往这方面想过，”莫法特太太说。
“她刚才撒了个小谎，好像真的知道纸条是她妈妈写的；鲜花送进来时还飞红了脸。可怜的人！如果她打扮得时髦一点，一定漂亮极了。你说如果我们提出借条裙子给她星期四穿，她会生气吗？”另一个声音问。
“她是有点傲气，但我不相信她会介意，因为那条邋遢的塔拉丹就是她的一切。她大可今天晚上把它撕破，那就有借口给她送条体面的了。”“走着瞧吧。我要特意为她邀请小劳伦斯，那我就有好戏看了。”这时梅格的舞伴走回来，看到她脸红耳赤，情绪相当激动。她确实是个傲气的姑娘，也幸亏如此，她才忍住了没有发作，虽然她对刚才听到的闲话感到又羞又气、十分厌恶；因为无论她多么天真无邪，也不至于不明白这种闲话的意思。这些话挥之不去，一直在她耳边纠缠：什么"马奇太太早有计划"，”撒了个小谎"，”邋遢的塔拉丹"，等等。她真想大哭一场，冲回家去倾诉苦恼，寻求忠告。无奈这是不可能的事，她只得强装笑脸。由于心情激动，她一点也没有露出破绽，没有人想象得出她心里正在翻江倒海。终于盼到人散灯灭，她静静躺在床上，千思百想，愤愤不平，一直弄得脑袋生痛，又洒下几滴清泪，凉丝丝地落在烧得赤热的脸颊上。那些没有恶意的无聊话为梅格开辟了一个新天地，把她一直以来孩子般生活着的纯真、平静的旧天地搅得涟漪阵阵。她和劳里天真无邪的友谊被无意听来的废话蒙上了一层阴影；她对妈妈的信心也因以小人之心度人的莫法特太太 "早有计划 "几个字而产生了一点动摇；她原以为自己是穷人家的女儿，衣着简朴乃是无可非议的事情，所以一向知足，岂料这帮姑娘看到旧裙子就如同看到普天之下最大的灾难一样，滥发同情之心，她不禁也对自己的信念产生了一丝怀疑。
可怜的梅格一夜无眠，起床时眼皮沉重，心情极坏。她既怨自己的朋友无事生非，又愧自己不敢坦诚说出真相，以正视听。那天早上姑娘们全都慵慵懒懒，直到中午时分才提起劲头做毛线活。梅格马上意识到她的朋友们神色异常；她们待她更加敬重，对她的言谈十分关注，并且用十分好奇的眼光看着她。这一切令她既惊奇又得意，只是丈二和尚摸不着头脑。最后，贝儿把头从书本里抬起来，嗲声嗲气地说 “黛茜，亲爱的，我给你的朋友劳伦斯先生送了一份请帖，请他星期四过来。我们也想认识认识他，这可是特意为你而请的哟。”梅格红了脸，但她突然想捉弄一下这些姑娘们，于是装作一本正经地回答：“你们的心意我领了，只是我恐怕他不会来。”“为什么，ｃｈéｒｉｅ？”贝儿小姐问。
“他太老了。”
“我的孩子，你说什么？他究竟有多大年纪？”卡莱拉小姐嚷道。
“差不多七十吧，我想，”梅格答道，假装数数打了多少针，拼命忍住笑。
“你这狡猾的家伙！我们指的当然是年青的那位，”贝儿小姐笑了，喊道。“哪里有什么年青人！劳里只是个小男孩。”姑娘们听到梅格这样形容自己的所谓“情人"，不禁互相使了古怪的眼色，梅格见状也笑了。
“和你年纪相仿，”南妮说。
“和我妹妹乔差不多年纪，我八月份就十七岁了，”梅格把头一仰，答道。
“他真棒，给你送鲜花，对吧？”不识趣的安妮还想试探下去。
“不错，他经常这样做，送给我们全家人，因为他们家里多的是，而我们又这么喜欢鲜花。我妈妈和劳伦斯是朋友，你们知道，两家孩子在一起玩是相当自然的事情。”梅格希望她们能够就此住口。
“显然黛茜还没有参加过社交，”卡莱拉小姐朝贝儿点点头说。
“是天真无邪得可以，”贝儿小姐耸耸肩说道。
“我准备出门给我家姑娘们买点东西；各位小姐要我捎点什么吗？”穿着一身镶边丝绸裙子的莫法特太太像头大笨象一样缓缓走进屋来，问道。
“不用费心了，夫人，”莎莉回答，”我星期四已经有一条粉红色的新丝绸裙子，不想要什么了。”“我也不 "梅格话到嘴边又缩了回去，因为她突然想到自己确实想要几样东西，但是却得不到。
“你那天穿什么？”莎莉问。
“还是那条白色的旧裙子，要是我能把它补得能见人的话，昨晚可惜给撕破了。“梅格想尽量讲得自然一点，但却感到很不自在。
“为什么不捎信回家再要一条？”不善察颜观色的莎莉问。
“我只有这一条，”梅格好不容易才说出这话。
但莎莉仍然没有明白过来，她友好地惊叫起来：“只有那么一条？真好笑 ”她的话只说了半截，因为贝儿赶紧朝她摇头，插进来友善地说 “这并没有什么好笑；她又不出去社交，要这么多衣服有什么用？即使你有一打，黛茜，也不必往家里要。我有一条漂亮的蓝色真丝裙子，我穿着嫌小了些，白白搁在一边，倒不如你来穿上，遂遂我的心意，好吗，亲爱的？”“谢谢你的好意，但如果你们不在意，我倒不在乎穿我的旧裙子，像我这样的小姑娘这样穿挺合适，” 梅格说。
“请您一定让我把你打扮得气派一点。我喜欢这样做。装点一番后，你准是个标准的小美人。我要把你装扮好才让你见人，然后我们像参加舞会的灰姑娘和仙姑一样突然出现在大家面前，”贝儿用富有说服力的声调说。
梅格无法拒绝如此友好的提议，因为她很想看着自己打扮后是否会变成个"小美人"，于是点头同意，把原来对莫法特一家的不满抛诸脑后。
星期四晚上，贝儿把自己和女佣关在房里，两人合力把梅格变成一个绝代佳人。她们把她的头发烫曲，在她的颈脖和胳膊扑上一种香粉，在她的双唇抹上珊瑚色的唇膏，使它们显得更红，如果不是梅格反抗，霍丹斯还会加上"一点点胭脂“。她们把她裹进天蓝色的裙子里，裙子又紧又窄，她几乎透不过起来，领口开得极低，矜持的梅格对着镜子羞得红晕满脸。一套银丝首饰也被戴上了：手镯、项链、胸针、甚至耳环，因为霍丹斯用一条看不出来的粉红色丝线把它们系了起来。一丛点缀胸前的香水月季花蕾和一条花边褶带衬得梅格一双玉肩优美动人，一对高跟蓝色丝靴也使她的最后一道心愿得到满足。一条镶边手帕、一把羽毛扇和一束银枝礼花，终于把她打扮完毕。贝儿小姐满意地审视着自己的杰作，就像一个小姑娘在看一个刚刚打扮好的洋娃娃一样。
“小姐真Ｃｈａｒｍａｎｔｅ，ｔｒèｓｊｏｌｉｅ，不是吗？”霍丹斯为做作地拍手欢叫。
“出去让大家看看吧，”贝儿小姐一边说一边领梅格去见在房间里等着的姑娘们。
梅格拖着长裙跟在后面，裙子窸窣有声，耳环一摇一晃，鬈发上下波动，心儿砰砰猛跳。刚才那面镜子已明明白白地告诉她自己是个"小美人"，她觉得似乎她的" 好戏"真的已经开始了。朋友们热情洋溢，不断地称她为"小美人"，她站在那里，好像寓言里的寒鸦，尽情享受着自己借来的羽毛，起他人则像一班喜鹊，叽叽喳喳地叫个不停。
“趁我换衣裳，南妮，你教她怎样走步，别让她被裙子和法式高跟鞋绊倒。卡莱拉，你用银蝴蝶发夹把她左边的那绺长鬈发夹起来。你们谁也别弄糟了我这一手漂亮功夫，”贝儿说着匆匆走开，对自己的成功显得相当得意。
“我不敢走下去，我觉得头晕目眩，身子僵硬，好像只穿了一半衣服，”梅格对莎莉说。此时铃声响起，莫法特太太派人来请年轻女士们立即赴会。
“你完全变了个样子，不过这样很漂亮。我在你身边简直没地方站了，都亏贝儿品味高，当然你也很有法国味。就让你的花儿这么随意挂着，小心不要绊倒，“莎莉回答，努力不去在意梅格比自己漂亮这个事实。
梅格牢牢记着这个教导，安然步下楼梯，款款走进客厅。
莫法特夫妇和几个早到的客人已经聚集在那里。她很快发现华丽的衣服有一种魅力，就是能吸引那么一些人，获得他们的尊敬。几位以前没有正眼瞧过她的年轻小姐突然变得十分亲热；几个上次舞会只是盯着她看的年轻绅士现在不只盯着她看，还要求介绍介绍，而且向她极尽奉承，说了许多愚不可及但十分入耳的话；几位坐在沙发上指指点点的老太太感兴趣地打探她是何方人氏。梅格听到莫法特太太回答其中一个说 “黛茜•马奇- 父亲是部队的上校 -我们的远亲，可惜时运不济，你知道；劳伦斯家的密友；甜姐儿，告诉你吧；我家内德对她很是着迷哩。”“噢！”那老太太戴上眼镜把梅格又再细看一遍。听到莫法特太太谎话连篇，梅格只装作好像没有听见，也并不震惊。
那种"头晕目眩"的感觉仍然没有消失，但她想象自己正在扮演这一新角色，倒也觉得相当愉快，不过，她的两胁被紧身裙勒得隐隐作痛，双脚不断踩到长裙，还老得提防那对耳环，担心它们突然甩出来，弄丢或摔破了。她正手摇折扇，咯咯笑着听一位卖弄诙谐的年轻人讲并不好笑的笑话，突然止住了笑声，显得手足无措，原来，她看到劳里正站在对面。他紧紧地盯着她，毫不掩饰心中的惊愕，还有不快，她想，因为他虽然躬身致礼，面露微笑，但坦诚的眼睛却流露出一种眼光，令她羞红了脸，只恨没有穿上自己的旧裙子。她看到贝儿用肘子碰碰安妮，两人的目光从她身上扫到劳里身上，更加心乱如麻，幸亏劳里看上去孩子气十足，而且十分害羞，她这才安下心来。
“无聊的东西，把这种念头放进我脑子里。我可不在乎，该怎样做就怎样做。“想到这里，梅格一路窸窸窣窣地响着走到房间对面和她的朋友握手。
“你来了我真高兴，我还担心你不会来呢，”她摆出一副大姐姐的神态说。
“乔希望我来，并告诉她你的情况，我便来了，”劳里回答，他对她那副老成持重的腔调感到有点好笑，但并不正眼看她。
“你会告诉她什么呢？”梅格问。她很想知道劳里对自己的看法，然而却第一次觉得在他面前很不自然。
“我会说我不认识你了，因为你看上去这么成熟，一点都不像你自己，我挺害怕的，”他摸着手套上的钮扣，说道。
“你真荒谬！这些姑娘们把我打扮成这个样子，只是为了好玩，我也挺乐意的。你说乔看到我会不会把眼睛瞪直了呢？”梅格说，想引他说出他是不是觉得自己更好看。
“我想她会，”劳里严肃地回答。
“你不喜欢这个样子吗？”梅格问。
“不，不喜欢！”回答得干脆率直。
“为什么不？”声调甚为着急。
他扫了一眼她那披着鬈发的脑袋、裸露的双肩，以及镶着漂亮花边的裙子，那种神情把她窘得无地自容，接着他的回答也一反往日彬彬有礼的风度。
“我不喜欢轻浮炫耀。”
这话出自一个比自己年轻的小伙子口里，叫梅格如何接受。她转身就走，一面恨恨地说道：“我从来没有见过你这样无礼的男孩子。”她又气又恼地走到一扇窗边，站在无人之处，让自己的双颊凉下来，因为紧身裙箍得她头热脑胀，很不舒服。这么呆站着时，林肯少校从她身边走过，不一会儿，她听到他跟他自己的母亲说道- “他们在愚弄那个小姑娘；我原想让你见见她的，但他们把她全毁了；今天晚上一无是处，只是一个洋娃娃。”“唉，上帝！”梅格叹息道，“如果我理智一点，穿上自己的衣服，就不会令人厌恶，也不会生出这般烦恼，自惭自愧。“她把额头靠在冰凉的窗棂上面，任由窗帘半掩着自己的身影，她最喜欢的华尔兹已经开始，她也仿佛全然不觉。这时，一个人碰碰她；她回过身来，看到了劳里。他一脸悔色，郑重其事地向她鞠了个躬，伸出手来 “请恕我一时无礼，来和我跳个舞吧。”“恐怕这会委屈了你呢。”梅格试图装出一副生气的样子，却一点也装不出来。
“绝对不会，我打心眼里想跟你跳呢。来吧，我不会惹你生气的。我虽然不喜欢你的衣服，但我真的觉得你- 反正漂亮极了。”他挥挥手，似乎语言还不足以表达他的仰慕之情。
梅格一笑，心软了下来。当他们站在一起等着和上音乐节拍时，她悄悄说道：“小心我的裙子把你绊倒了；它使我受尽折磨，我穿上它真是个傻瓜。”“把它围着领口别起来就行了，”劳里说着，低头看看那双小蓝靴，显然对它们很满意。
他们敏捷而优雅地迈开舞步，由于在家里练习过，这对活泼的年轻人配合得相当默契，给舞场平添了快乐的气氛。他们欢快地旋转起舞，觉得经历了这次小口角之后，彼此更加接近了。
“劳里，我想你帮我个忙，愿意吗？”梅格说。她刚跳一会便气喘吁吁地停下来，也不解释，劳里便站在一边替她扇扇子。
“那还用说！”劳里欣然回答。
“回到家里千万不要告诉她们我今天晚上的打扮。她们不会明白这个玩笑，妈妈听到会担心的。”“那你为什么这样做？”劳里的眼睛显然是在这样问。梅格急得又说 “我会亲自把一切告诉她们，向妈妈'坦白'我有多傻。
但我宁愿自己来说；你别说，行吗？”
“我向你保证我不会说，只是她们问我时该怎样回答？”“就说我看上去挺好，玩得很开心。”“第一项我会全心全意地说的，只是第二项怎么说？你看上去并不像玩得开心，不是吗？”劳里盯着她，那种神情促使她悄声说道- “是，刚才是不开心。不要以为我那么讨厌。我只是想开个小玩笑，但我发现这种玩笑毫无益处，我已经开始厌倦了。”“内德•莫法特走过来了，他想干什么？”劳里边说边皱起黑色的眉头，仿佛并不欢迎这位年轻主人的到来。
“他认下了三场舞，我想他是来找舞伴的。烦死人！”梅格说完摆出一副倦怠的神情，把劳里也逗乐了。
他一直到晚饭时候才再跟她说上话，当时她正跟内德和他的朋友费希尔一起喝香槟。劳里觉得那两人表现得"十足一对傻瓜"，他觉得自己有权像兄弟一样监护马奇姐妹，必要时站出来保护她们。
“如果你喝多了，明天就会头痛得厉害。我可不这样做。
梅格，你妈妈不喜欢这样，你知道，”他在她椅边俯下身来低声说道，此时内德正转身把她的杯子重新斟满，费希尔则弯腰捡起她的扇子。
“今天晚上我不是梅格，而是个轻狂的'洋娃娃'。明天我就会收拾起这副'轻浮炫耀'的嘴脸，重新做个好女孩子，”她佯笑一声答道。
“那么，但愿明天已经到来，”劳里咕哝着，怏怏走开了。
看到她变成这副样子，他心里很不高兴。
梅格一边跳舞一边调情卖俏，嘀嘀咕咕地聊着傻笑着，就像别的姑娘们一样；晚饭后她跳华尔兹舞，由始至终跌跌撞撞，那条长裙子也差点把她的舞伴绊倒。劳里见到她这种轻蹦乱跳的模样心生反感，他一边看着，心里想好了一番忠告，但却没有机会告诉她，因为梅格总是躲着他，一直到他过去道晚安为止。
“记住！”她说道，勉强笑笑，因为剧烈的头痛已经开始了。
“Ｓｉｌｅｎｃｅàｌａｍｏｒｔ，”劳里回答，使劲挥挥手，转身离去。
这小小的一幕激发了安妮的好奇心，但梅格累得不想再扯闲话，她走上床，觉得自己像参加了一场化装舞会，但却玩得并不开心。她第二天整天都昏昏沉沉，星期六就回家了。
两个星期的玩乐弄得她筋疲力尽，她自觉在那"繁华世界"已经呆得太久。
“安安静静，不用整天客套应酬，这才是令人愉快的日子。
家是个好地方，虽然它并不华丽，”星期天晚上梅格跟母亲和乔坐在一起，悠然四顾，说道。
“你这样说我很高兴，亲爱的，我一直担心你经过这番阅历后会把家看得又穷又闷，”妈妈答道。她那天不时担心地望一眼女儿，因为孩子们脸上的任何变化都逃不过母亲的眼睛。
梅格快乐地跟大家讲了她的经历，并一再说她玩得十分痛快，但她的情绪似乎仍然有点不对劲。当两个
Chapter 10 The P.C. And P.O.
　　As spring came on, a new set of amusements became the fashion, and the lengthening days gave long afternoons for work and play of all sorts. The garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what she liked with. Hannah used to say, `I'd know which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny'; and so she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters. Meg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange tree in it. Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying experiments; this year it was to be a plantation of sunflowers, the seeds of which cheerful and aspiring plant were to feed `Aunt Cockle-top' and her family of chicks. Beth had old-fashioned, fragrant flowers in her garden - sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed for the bird, and catnip for the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers - rather small and earwiggy, but very pretty to look at - with honeysuckles and morning-glories hanging their coloured horns and bells in graceful wreaths all over it; tall white lilies, delicate ferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants as would consent to blossom there.

　　Gardening, walks, rows on the river, and flower-hunts employed the fine days; and for rainy ones they had house diversions, some old, some new - all more or less original. One of these was the `P.C.'; for, as secret societies were the fashion, it was thought proper to have one; and, as all of the girls admired Dickens, they called themselves the Pickwick Club. With a few interruptions, they had kept this up for a year, and met every Saturday evening in the big garret, on which occasions the ceremonies were as follows: Three chairs were arranged in a row before a table, on which was a lamp, also four white badges, with a big "P.C." in different colours on each, and the weekly newspaper, called The Pickwick Portfolio, to which all contributed something; while Jo, who revelled in pens and ink, was the editor. At seven o'clock the four members ascended to the club room, tied their badges round their heads, and took their seats with great solemnity. Meg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick; Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass; Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman; and Amy, who was always trying to do what she couldn't, was Nathaniel Winkle. Pickwick, the president, read the paper, which was filled with original tales, poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which they good-naturedly reminded each other of their faults and shortcomings. On one occasion Mr. Pickwick put on a pair of spectacles without any glasses, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and, having stared hard at Mr. Snodgrass, who was tilting back in his chair till he arranged himself properly, began to read:

　　THE PICKWICK PORTFOLIO

　　MAY 20, 18——

　　Poet's Corner.

　　ANNIVERSARY ODE.

　　Again we meet to celebrate, With badge and solemn rite, Our fifty-second anniversary,

　　In Pickwick Hall, to-night. We all are here in perfect health, None gone from our small band; Again we see each well-known face, And press each friendly hand.

　　Our Pickwick, always at his post, With reverence we greet, As, spectacles on nose, he reads Our well-filled weekly sheet.

　　Although he suffers from a cold, We joy to hear him speak, For words of wisdom from him fall, In spite of croak or squeak.

　　Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high With elephantine grace, And beams upon the company With brown and jovial face.

　　Poetic fire lights up his eye, He struggles 'gainst his lot Behold ambition on his brow, And on his nose a blot!

　　Next our peaceful Tupman comes, So rosy, plump, and sweet, Who chokes with laughter at the puns, And tumbles off his seat.

　　Prim little Winkle too is here, With every hair in place, A model of propriety, Though he hates to wash his face.

　　The year is gone, we still unite To joke and laugh and read, And tread the path of literature That doth to glory lead.

　　Long may our paper prosper well, Our club unbroken be, And coming years their blessings pour On the useful gay "P.C."

　　A. SNODGRASS

　　THE MASKED MARRIAGE.

　　A TALE OF VENICE

　　Gondola after gondola swept up to the marble steps, and left its lovely load to swell the brilliant throng that filled the stately halls of Count de Adelon. Knights and ladies, elves and pages, monks and flower-girls, all mingled gaily in the dance. Sweet voices and rich melody filled the air; and so with mirth and music the masquerade went on.

　　`Has your Highness seen the Lady Viola tonight?' asked a gallant troubadour of the fairy queen who floated down the hall upon his arm.

　　`Yes; is she not lovely, though so sad? Her dress is well chosen, too, for in a week she weds Count Antonio, whom she passionately hates.'

　　`By my faith, I envy him. Yonder he comes arrayed like a bridegroom, except the black mask. When that is off we shall see how he regards the fair maid whose heart he cannot win, though her stern father bestows her hand,' returned the troubadour.

　　`'Tis whispered that she loves the young English artist who haunts her steps, and is spurned by the old count,' said the lady, as they joined the dance.

　　The revel was at its height when a priest appeared, and, withdrawing the young pair to an alcove hung with purple velvet, he motioned them to kneel. Instant silence fell upon the gay throng; and not a sound, but the dash of fountains or the rustle of orange-groves sleeping in the moonlight, broke the hush, as Count de Adelon spoke thus——

　　`My lords and ladies, pardon the ruse by which I have gathered you here to witness the marriage of my daughter. Father we wait your services.'

　　All eyes turned toward the bridal party, and a low murmur of amazement went through the throng, for neither bride nor groom removed their masks. Curiosity and wonder possessed all hearts, but respect restrained all tongues till the holy rite was over. Then the eager spectators gathered round the count, demanding an explanation.

　　`Gladly would I give it if I could; but I only know that it was the whim of my timid Viola, and I yielded to it. Now, my children, let the play end. Unmask, and receive my blessing.'

　　But neither bent the knee; for the young bridegroom replied, in a tone that startled all listeners, as the mask fell, disclosing the noble face of Ferdinand Devereux, the artist lover; and, leaning on the breast where now flashed the star of an English earl, was the lovely Viola, radiant with joy and beauty.

　　`My lord, you scornfully bade me claim your daughter when I could boast as high a name and vast a fortune as the Count Antonio. I can do more; for even your ambitious soul cannot refuse the Earl of Devereux and De Vere, when he gives his ancient name and boundless wealth in return for the beloved hand of this fair lady now my wife.'

　　The count stood like one changed to stone; and, turning to the bewildered crowd, Ferdinand added, with a gay smile of triumph,

　　"To you, my gallant friends, I can only wish that your wooing may prosper as mine has done; and that you may all win as fair a bride as I have by this masked marriage."

　　S. PICKWICK.

　　Why is the P.C. like the Tower of Babel? It is full of unruly members.

　　THE HISTORY OF A SQUASH.

　　Once upon a time a farmer planted a little seed in his garden, and after a while it sprouted and became a vine, and bore many squashes. One day in October, when they were ripe, he picked one and took it to market. A grocerman bought and put it in his shop. That same morning, a little girl, in a brown hat and blue dress, with a round face and a snub nose, went and bought it for her mother. She lugged it home, cut it up, and boiled it in the big pot; mashed some of it, with salt and butter, for dinner; and to the rest she added a pint of milk, two eggs, four spoons of sugar, nutmeg, and some crackers; put it in a deep dish, and baked it till it was brown and nice; and next day it was eaten by a family named March.

　　T. TUPMAN.

　　MR PICKWICK, Sir:——

　　I address you upon the subject of sin the sinner I mean is a man named Winkle who makes trouble in his club by laughing and sometimes won't write his piece in this fine paper I hope you will pardon his badness and let him send a French fable because he can't write out of his head as he has so many lessons to do and no brains in future I will try to take time by the fetlock and prepare some work which will be all commy la fo that means all right I am in haste as it is nearly school time. Yours respectably, N. WINKLE.

　　[The above is a manly and handsome acknowledgement of past misdemeanours. If our young friend studied punctuation, it would be well.]

　　A SAD ACCIDENT

　　On Friday last we were startled by a violent shock in our basement, followed by cries of distress. On rushing, in a body, to the cellar, we discovered our beloved President prostrate on the floor, having tripped and fallen while getting wood for domestic purposes. A perfect scene of ruin met our eyes; for in his fall Mr Pickwick had plunged his head and shoulders into a tub of water, upset a keg of soft soap upon his manly form, and torn his garments badly. On being removed from his perilous situation, it was discovered that he had suffered no injury but several bruises; and, we are happy to add, is now doing well. ED.

　　The Public Bereavement.

　　It is our painful duty to record the sudden and mysterious disappearance of our cherished friend, Mrs Snowball Pat Paw. This lovely and beloved cat was the pet of a large circle of warm and admiring friends; for her beauty attracted all eyes, her grace and virtues endeared her to all hearts, and her loss is deeply felt by the whole community.

　　When last seen, she was sitting at the gate, watching the butcher's cart; and it is feared that some villain, tempted by her charms, basely stole her. Weeks have passed but no trace of her has been discovered; and we relinquish all hope, tie a black ribbon to her basket, set aside her dish, and weep for her as one lost to us for ever.

　　A sympathising friend sends the following gem:——

　　A LAMENT. FOR S. B. PAT PAW.

　　We mourn the loss of our little pet, And sigh o'er her hapless fate, For never more by the fire she'll sit, Nor play by the old green gate.

　　The little grave where her infant sleeps Is 'neath the chestnut tree; But o'er her grave we may not weep, We know not where it may be.

　　Her empty bed, her idle ball, Will never see her more; No gentle tap, no loving purr Is heard at the parlour door.

　　Another cat comes after her mice, A cat with a dirty face; But she does not hunt as our darling did, Nor play with her airy grace.

　　Her stealthy paws tread the very hall Where Snowball used to play, But she only spits at the dogs our pet So gallantly drove away.

　　She is useful and mild, and does her best, But she is not fair to see; And we cannot give her your place, dear, Nor worship her as we worship thee.

　　A. S.

　　ADVERTISEMENTS.

　　Miss Oranthy Bluggage, the accomplished Strong-Minded Lecturer, will deliver her famous Lecture on "WOMAN AND HER POSITION", at Pickwick Hall, next Saturday Evening, after the usual performances.

　　A weekly meeting will be held at Kitchen Place, to teach young ladies how to cook. Hannah Brown will preside; and all are invited to attend.

　　The dustpan society will meet on Wednesday next, and parade in the upper story of the Club House. All members to appear in uniform and shoulder their brooms at nine precisely.

　　Mrs Beth Bouncer Will open her new assortment of Doll's Millinery next week. The latest Paris Fashions have arrived, and orders are respectfully solicited.

　　A new play will appear at the Barnville Theatre, in the course of a few weeksh will surpass anything ever seen on the American stage. "The Greek Slave, or Constantine the Avenger", is the name of this thrilling drama!

　　HINTS.

　　If S. P. didn't use so much soap on his hands, he wouldn't always be late at breakfast. A. S. is requested not to whistle in the street. T. T. please don't forget Amy's napkin. A. W. must not fret because his dress has not nine tucks.

　　WEEKLY REPORT.

　　Meg - Good.

　　Jo - Bad.

　　Beth - Very good.

　　Amy - Middling.

　　As the President finished reading the paper (which I beg leave to assure my readers is a bona fide copy of one written by bona fide girls once upon a time), a round of applause followed and then Mr. Snodgrass rose to make a proposition.

　　`Mr. President and gentlemen,' he began, assuming a parliamentary attitude and tone, `I wish to propose the admission of a new member - one who highly deserves the honour, would be deeply grateful for it, and would add immensely to the spirit of the club, the literary value of the paper, and be no end jolly and nice. I propose Mr. Theodore Laurence as an honorary member of the P.C. Come now, do have him.'

　　Jo's sudden change of tone made the girls laugh; but all looked rather anxious, and no one said a word, as Snodgrass took his seat.

　　`We'll put it to the vote,' said the President. `All in favour of this motion please to manifest it by saying "Ay".'

　　A loud response from Snodgrass, followed, to everybody's surprise, by a timid one from Beth.

　　`Contrary minded say "No".'

　　Meg and Amy were contrary minded; and Mr. Winkle rose to say, with great eloquence. `We don't wish any boys; they only joke and bounce about. This is a ladies' club, and we wish to be private and proper.'

　　`I'm afraid he'll laugh at our paper, and make fun of us afterwards,' observed Pickwick, pulling the little curl on her forehead, as she always did when doubtful.

　　Up rose Snodgrass, very much in earnest. `Sir, I give you my word as a gentleman, Laurie won't do anything of the sort. He likes to write, and he'll give a tone to our contributions, and keep us from being sentimental, don't you see? We can do so little for him, and he does so much for us, I think the least we can do is to offer him a place here, and make him welcome if he comes.'

　　This artful allusion to benefits conferred brought Tupman to his feet, looking as if he had quite made up his mind.

　　`Yes, we ought to do it, even if we are afraid. I say he may come, and his grandpa too, if he likes.'

　　This spirited outburst from Beth electrified the club, and Jo left her seat to shake hands approvingly. `Now then, vote again. Everybody remember it's our Laurie, and say "Ay!"' cried Snodgrass, excitedly.

　　`Ay! ay! ay!' replied three voices at once.

　　`Good! Bless you! Now, as there's nothing like "taking time by the fetlock", as Winkle characteristically observes, allow me to present the new member'; and, to the dismay of the rest of the club, Jo threw open the door of the closet, and displayed Laurie sitting on a rag-bag, flushed and twinkling with suppressed laughter.

　　`You rogue! you traitor! Jo, how could you?' cried the three girls, as Snodgrass led her friend triumphantly forth; and, producing both a chair and a badge, installed him in a jiffy.

　　`The coolness of you two rascals is amazing,' began Mr. Pickwick, trying to get up an awful frown, and only succeeding in producing an amiable smile. But the new member was equal to the occasion; and, rising, with a graceful salutation to the Chair, said, in the most engaging manner, `Mr. President and ladies - I beg pardon, gentlemen - allow me to introduce myself as Sam Weller, the very humble servant of the club.'

　　`Good! good!' cried Jo, pounding with the handle of the old warming-pan, on which she leaned.

　　`My faithful friend and noble patron,' continued Laurie, with a wave of the hand, `who has so flatteringly presented me, is not to be blamed for the base stratagem of tonight. I planned it, and she only gave in after lots of teasing.'

　　`Come now, don't lay it all on yourself; you know I proposed the cupboard,' broke in Snodgrass, who was enjoying the joke amazingly.

　　`Never you mind what she says. I'm the wretch that did it, sir,' said the new member, with a Welleresque nod to Mr. Pickwick. `But on my honour I never will do so again, and henceforth devote myself to the interest of this immortal club.'

　　`Hear! hear!' cried Jo, clashing the lid of the warming-pan like a cymbal.

　　`Go on, go on!' added Winkle and Tupman, while the President bowed benignly.

　　`I merely wish to say, that as a slight token of my gratitude for the honour done me, and as a means of promoting friendly relations between adjoining nations, I have set up a post-office in the hedge in the lower corner of the garden; a fine, spacious building, with padlocks on the doors, and every convenience for the mails - also the females, if I may be allowed the expression. It's the old martin-house; but I've stopped up the door, and made the roof open, so it will hold all sorts of things, and save our valuable tim. le. Letters, manuscripts, books, and bundles can be passed in there; and, as each nation has a key, it will be uncommonly nice, I fancy. Allow me to present the club key; and, with many thanks for your favour, take my seat.' Great applause as Mr. Weller deposited a little key on the table, and subsided; the warming-pan clashed and waved wildly, and it was some time before order could be restored. A long discussion followed, and everyone came out surprisingly for everyone did her best; so it was an unusually lively meeting, and did not adjourn till a late hour, when it broke up with three shrill cheers for the new member. No one ever regretted the admittance of Sam Weller, for a more devoted, well-behaved, and jovial member no club could have. He certainly did add `spirit' to the meeting and `a tone' to the paper; for his orations convulsed his hearers, and his contributions were excellent, being patriotic, classical, comical, or dramatic, but never sentimental. Jo regarded them as worthy of Bacon, Milton, or Shakespeare; and remodelled her own works with good effect, she thought. The P.O. was a capital little institution, and flourished wonderfully, for nearly as many queer things passed through it as through the real office. Tragedies and cravats, poetry and pickles, garden-seeds and long letters, music and gingerbread, rubbers, invitations, scoldings and puppies. The old gentleman liked the fun, and amused himself by sending odd bundles, mysterious messages, and funny telegrams; and his gardener, who was smitten with Hannah's charms, actually sent a love-letter to Jo's care. How they laughed when the secret came out, never dreaming how many love-letters that little post-office would hold in the years to come!
 
冬去春来，一套新游戏又盛行起来了，春日渐长，下午也有了更多的时间进行劳作和嬉戏。院子也该打理了，四姐妹各有一小块地皮，可以按自己的心思料理。罕娜常说：“只要我从烟囱一看，就知道哪块地是属于谁的。”她说得不错，因为姐妹们的趣味就像她们的性格一样，各出一辙。梅格的地里种了玫瑰、长春花，还有一棵小橙树。乔喜欢做实验，园圃里每季都必定换个新花样；今年种的是蓬勃向上的向日葵，葵花子送给科克尔托婶婶和她的小鸡吃。贝思的园子则是老花样，种着各式芬芳扑鼻的鲜花 -甜蜿豆、木犀草、飞燕草、石竹、三色堇、香蒿，还有给小鸟吃的繁缕。艾美的园子弄了个小花荫，虽然弯弯扭扭，倒也十分好看，上面攀满了一圈圈色彩斑斓的忍冬花和牵牛花，一朵朵、一串串，煞为雅致，还有高高的白百合，娇嫩的草蕨等奇葩异草，临风盛开，争奇斗妍。
天气晴朗时，她们或是浇花培土、散步、到河中划艇，或是出去采花，下雨时则呆在家里玩游戏 -一些是旧游戏，一些是新游戏 -全都颇具创意。其中一种叫做"匹克威克社"，因为时下流行建神秘社团，她们认为也该建一个；又因姐妹们都崇拜狄更斯，便把社命名为"匹克威克社"。虽然偶有几次中断，但这个社坚持了足足一年。每到星期六晚上，她们便来到大阁楼会合，举行社团仪式，平时三张椅子并排摆在一张桌子前面，桌上摆着一盏灯和四个白色会徽，上面各印着不同颜色的"匹克威克"几个大字，还摆着一份名为《匹克威克文逊的周报。四姐妹都是这份社报的撰稿人，编辑大人是酷爱舞文弄墨的乔。七点正，四位社员登上阁楼，把会徽绑在头上，庄严坐下。梅格最大，号称塞缪尔•匹克威克；富有文学才情的乔号为奥古斯都•斯诺格拉斯，胖乎乎、肤色红润的贝思号称特雷西•托曼；做事总是不自量力的艾美号纳撒尼尔•温克尔。主席匹克威克宣读社报。报纸里头写满了匠心独运的故事、诗歌、当地新闻、有趣的广告，以及对各人缺点的好意提示。这天，匹克威克先生戴上一副没有镜片的眼镜，敲一下桌子，清清嗓子，使劲瞪一眼斜靠在椅子上的斯诺格拉斯先生，等他坐正了，这才开始读：“匹克威克文选"１８ ，５，２０-诗人角-周年纪念颂今晚，我们再次相聚在匹克威克大堂。
庄严肃穆，头戴徽章，
庆祝我们第五十二个辉煌。
又看到一张张熟悉的面孔，
又握紧了友谊之手；
我们全部到齐，
个个精神抖擞。
我们恭敬地问候，
尽忠职守的匹克威克，
他鼻子上架一副眼镜，
朗读我们精彩的报纸。
虽然感冒使他声音嘶哑，
我们还是听得津津有味，
因为他吐出的字句，
全部充满了智慧。
六尺的斯诺格拉斯高高盘踞，
优雅的姿势透出一股傻气，
棕色的面孔快乐无比，
向伙伴们传送笑意。
诗歌之火燃亮了他的眼睛，
他勇敢地抗争自己的命运。
他眉宇之间写着凌云壮志，
鼻子上却沾了一块墨渍！
接下来是我们文静的托曼，
多么红润、丰满、可爱，
听到俏皮话笑得说不出话来，
还从椅子上滚了下来。
严肃的小温克尔也在这里，
每根头发都摆弄得有条有理，
十足一个礼仪典范，
虽然她最恨洗自己的脸蛋。
岁月无声，一年已逝，
我们仍然团结一致，
欢笑与共，奇文共赏，
在文学殿堂里翱翔。
愿我们的社报长盛不衰，
愿我们的社团永不中断，
愿来年把祝福赐给
朝气蓬勃的匹克威克社。
Ａ．斯诺格拉斯
戴面具的婚礼
威尼斯传奇
船儿一艘接一艘摇过来，停
靠在大理石台阶下，衣着华丽的
人们从船里鱼贯而出，走进阿德
龙伯爵富丽堂皇、宾客如云的大
厅，融会到人海里头，武士、贵
妇人、小精灵、小侍从、僧侣及
卖花女，全都兴高彩烈地随曲起
舞。软语飘荡，妙韵飞扬，化装
舞会正在欢笑声和音乐声中进
行。
“殿下今晚见到维奥拉小姐
了吗？”一位殷勤的行吟诗人问
正靠在他臂膀上在大厅里翩翩
起舞的仙女般的女王。
“见到了，真是绝世佳人，虽
然看上去黯然神伤！她的裙子也
是精心挑选的，因为一个星期后
她就要嫁给安东尼奥伯爵-
一个她恨之入骨的人了。”
“说实话，我嫉妒他。他从那
边走过来了，打扮得像个新郎，
只是戴着黑色面具。摘下面具
后，我们就知道他对那位并不爱
他、但却被严厉的父亲逼着嫁给
他的漂亮姑娘有什么看法了，”
行吟诗人说。
“有消息说她爱上了一个年
轻的英国艺术家，小伙子把她家
的门槛都踏破了，但却遭到老伯
爵的轻蔑拒绝，”女士边舞边说。
当一个牧师出现时舞会达
到了高潮。牧师把这对年轻人带
到挂着紫色天鹅绒帘幕的壁龛
前，示意他们跪下。欢乐的人群
立即安静下来；四面静悄悄一
片，只听到喷泉的洒水声和橙林
在月光下发出的沙沙声。这时阿
德龙伯爵说道：
“各位嘉宾，请原谅我设下
此计请你们来观看我女儿的婚
礼。神父，我们恭候仪式开始。”
众人把眼光一起投向新郎
新娘，人群中响起了一阵惊奇的
低语声，因为两个新人都没有摘
下面具。大家心里异常惊奇，但
出于礼仪都没有做声。一待神圣
的婚礼结束，心急的观众便围着
伯爵追问根由。
“我也是莫明其妙呢，只知
道这是我生性害羞的维奥拉想
出来的怪点子，我也只好由她
了。好了，我的孩子们，游戏到
此为止，摘下面具接受我的祝福
吧。”
但两人并没有跪下来，年轻
的新郎摘下面具，出现在大家面
前的是艺术家情人费迪南德•
德弗罗气质高贵的面孔。他胸佩
一枚闪闪发亮的英国伯爵星徽，
可爱的维奥拉幸福地倚在他的
怀里，艳光四射，神采飞扬。新
郎回答他的口吻震惊四座：
“大人，您轻蔑地叫我等到
和安东尼奥起名并和他一样有
钱的那一天再来娶您的女儿。您
太低估我了，即使您的野心也拒
绝不了德弗罗和德维尔伯爵。他
的姓氏历史悠久，家财富可敌
国，为了和这位漂亮的小姐，也
即我的妻子缔结姻缘，他不惜献
出这一切。”
老伯爵站在那里如泥塑木
雕一般。费迪南德转向迷惑不解
的人群，带着胜利的微笑喜悦地
说道：“勇敢的朋友们，我祝愿你
们求婚也能像我一样马到功成，
祝福你们也能用这种戴面具的
婚礼娶得和我的新娘一样美丽
的姑娘。”
Ｓ．匹克威克
为什么匹克威克社像一盆
散沙？因为它的成员们个个都无
规无矩。
南瓜记
从前，有个农夫在自己的园
子里栽了一粒小种子，不久种子
破土而出，长成一株藤蔓，上面
结了许多南瓜。十月的一天，瓜
儿成熟了。他摘下一个带到市
常一个食品杂货商把瓜买下，
放在自己的商店里。这天早上，
一个戴棕色帽子穿蓝色裙子圆
脸扁鼻的小姑娘来替妈妈把瓜
买去。她把瓜拖回家，切好，放
在大锅里煮；把其中一些拌上盐
和牛油捣烂，用作晚餐时吃；
其余的她加上一品脱牛奶、两个鸡
蛋、四调羹糖、肉豆冠和一些饼
干，然后放在盘子里烘焙，直到
色泽金黄、清香扑鼻为止。第二
天，瓜便被名为"马奇"的一家
子吃掉了。
Ｔ．托曼
匹克威克先生，阁下：
我与阁下讨论罪行问题，罪
人是个名叫温克尔的小子他发
出笑声给匹社制造麻烦有时甚
至不愿意为这份好报写稿我希
望您能原谅他的恶行让他送上
一则法国寓言因为他笨头笨脑
而且还有许多功课要做所以脑
袋不能使得太尽以后我一定抓
紧时间准备一些Ｃｏｍｍｙｌａeｏ
意思是像样的作起来恕我行笔
匆匆因为上课时间又到了。
你尊敬的Ｎ．温克尔
［上文对自己以往的劣行供
认不讳，此种男子气概值得嘉
奖。如果我们这位年轻朋友学习
过句读的话，那就更好了。］
一次不幸事故
上星期五，我们被地窖里头
一下强烈的震动声和紧接而至
的痛苦叫声吓得胆战心惊。我们
一起冲进地窖，发现尊敬的主席
大人倒卧地上，原来他在搬木柴
时绊了一跤。我们看到遍地狼
藉，因为匹克威克先生跌倒时把
头和肩膀插入一桶水里，强壮的
身躯带翻了一小桶软皂，衣服也
被撕烂了。把他抬出险境后，我
们发现他并无受伤，只是擦破了
几处皮肤而已；现在，我们可以
高兴地告诉大家他一切正常。
编辑
痛失爱猫
我们有责任把这件事痛苦
地记录下来：我们珍贵的朋友
雪球•帕特•鲍太太突然神秘
失踪。这只漂亮可爱的猫是一
大班仰慕她的热心朋友的宠
儿，她的美丽引人瞩目，她的优
雅姿态和良好品德赢得了大家
的欢心。众人无不为失去她而
深感痛惜。
最后一次见到她时，她正
坐在门边，盯着屠夫的运货马
车；据推测，可能某个歹徒垂诞
于她的美色，卑鄙地把她偷走。
几个星期已经过去，猫儿仍然
无影无踪。我们放弃了一切希
望，在她的篮子系上黑绸带，把
她的盘子放到一边，并为失去
她而痛哭流涕。
一位富有同情心的朋友送
来如下美文：
挽歌
致Ｓ．Ｂ．帕特•鲍
我们哀悼小猫的失去，
叹息她不幸的命运，
火炉边不再见到她的身影，
门边也没有她淘气的痕迹。
她的孩子气息的小坟，
是栗子树下的一坯净土；
但我们却不能在她坟前洒泪，
因为不知道她魂归何处。
她空着的床，她闲置的球，
再也见不到主人归来；
轻柔的步拍，悦耳的喵叫，
不再从门边传来。
另一只猫来抓老鼠，
那可是个脏面孔；
她不像我们的爱猫机灵，
玩的姿势也比不上她美丽。
她在雪球玩过的大厅，
悄悄溜来溜去。
但她对狗只是呼噜怒叫，
而雪球却勇敢地把它们赶跑。
她温顺尽力，也派得上用场，
但模样却登不上大雅之堂；
你在我们心中的位置，亲爱的，
她怎么能够比上？
Ａ．Ｓ。
广告
奥伦丝•布拉格小姐，成功
的独立见解演讲人，将于下周晚
例行活动之后在匹克威克大厅
讲演其著名专题"论妇女及其地
位"。
每周例会将在厨房举行，教
导年轻女士烹调。主讲人罕娜•
布朗，诚邀全体成员参加。
“畚箕协会"将于下周三集
合，列队开进"社屋"顶层。所
有队员需穿工作服，带扫帚，并
于九点正准时会齐。
贝思•邦斯太太将于下周
展览新式玩偶女帽。最新的巴
黎式样现已到货，欢迎订购。
一场新话剧将于数周后在
巴维尔戏剧院举行，该剧将超越
美国舞台上上演过的任何戏剧。
该剧震撼人心，剧名为：“希腊奴
隶，或复仇者康士坦丁"！
提示：
如果Ｓ．Ｐ．洗手时少用点肥
皂，早餐便不会老是迟到。请Ａ。
Ｓ．不要在街上吹口哨。Ｔ．Ｔ．请
别忘记艾美的手帕。Ｖ．Ｗ．不
必为裙子上有九道横褶而烦恼。
一周总结
梅格--良。
乔- 差。
贝思 -优。
艾美--中。
主席读完报（请读者相信，这是当年一班ｂｏｎａeｉｄｅ的女孩子ｂｏｎａeｉｄｅ写出的报纸），社员发出一轮掌声，接着斯诺格拉斯先生气身提议。
“主席先生，各位先生，”他摆出一副国会议员的架势，郑重其事地说，”我提议接纳一位新成员 -一位实至名归、能够将本社精神发扬光大、提高社报的文学价值、快乐有趣的人士。我提议西奥多•劳伦斯先生成为匹克威克社的名誉成员。来吧，欢迎他吧。” 看到乔突然改变了语调，姑娘们都笑了起来，但大家都显得有点顾虑，斯诺格拉斯落座的时候大家都不做声。
“我们投票决定吧，”主席说，”赞成这项提议的请说：'同意。'"斯诺格拉斯首先大叫一声，使众人吃惊的是，贝思接着也羞答答地表了态。
“持反对意见的请说：'不。'”
梅格和艾美持反对意见。只见温克尔先生站起来，十分优雅地说道：“我们不想要男孩子，他们只会取笑我们，而且淘气捣蛋。这是个女子社团，我们希望名符其实，不受外人干扰。”“我担心他会笑话我们的报纸，进而取笑我们，”匹克威克扯着额前的一小绺鬈发说道。她拿不定主意的时候便是这副样子。
斯诺格拉斯一跃而起，十分着急。”先生，我以一个绅士的名义向你保证，劳里不会做出这种事情。他喜欢写作，他会使我们的稿子另添一种格调，让我们不用多愁善感，你明白吗？他帮了我们许多忙，我们无以为报。我想我们至少可以为他提供一席之地，欢迎他入社。”这番关于既得好处的巧妙暗示令得托曼站起身来，他似乎下定了决心。
“对，我们应该这样，哪怕我们担心也好。依我说，他可以入社，他爷爷也可以，如果他愿意的话。”贝思充满感情的寥寥数语使社员们个个动容，乔离座赞许地与她握手。”好了，再投一次票。大家记住这是我们的劳里，说：'同意！'"斯诺格拉斯激动地叫道。
“同意！同意！同意！”三姐妹异口同声地回答。
“好极了！主保佑你们！现在，正如温克尔那富有个性的说法，最要紧的是'抓紧时间'，那么，请允许我请出我们的新成员。”众人尚在迷惑不解之中，乔已一把拉开柜门，只见劳里坐在一个破布袋上，脸色通红，强忍住笑，双眼闪闪发亮。
“你这淘气鬼！你这叛徒！乔，你怎么可以这样？”三个姑娘喊道。斯诺格拉斯得意洋洋地把她的朋友带上前来，拿出一把椅子和一个会徽，立即把他安置妥当。
“你们两个坏家伙真是冷血动物，”匹克威克开口说道，试图皱起蛾眉，却化作温柔一笑。
不过，新成员善于临机应变。他站起来，向主席感激地行个礼，风度翩翩地说道：“主席先生和女士们--请原谅，先生们--请允许在下自我介绍：山姆•维勒，愿为各位效犬马之劳。”“好！好！”乔把靠着的旧取暖气把手碰得呼呼作响，叫道。
“我忠实的朋友和高贵的恩人，”劳里挥挥手，接着说，”那位不遗余力地把我介绍给各位的人，不应为今晚的卑鄙行径受到责备。这是我出的主意，经我软磨硬缠她才作了让步。”“算了，别包揽一切了，你知道藏在柜子里头是我出的主意，“斯诺格拉斯打断他的话，觉得这个玩笑十分有趣。
“别尽信她说，我才是罪魁祸首，先生，”新成员向匹克威克先生行了个维勒式的点头礼，说道，”不过我用名誉担保，以后决不故伎重演，从此以后我要为这个不朽的社团竭尽全力。”“听哪！听哪！”乔叫道，把取暖器的盖子当作铙钹乱敲一气。
“往下说，往下说！”温克尔和托曼说道，主席则温厚地一躬身子。
“我只想说，承蒙厚爱，不胜惶恐，为表示感激之情，为加强我们邻里之间的友好关系，我在花园低矮一角的树篱里设了一个邮箱。那是间宽敞漂亮的小屋，各道门都上了挂锁，鱼雁贯通，方便之极。它原是一间旧燕屋，但我已把门堵上，把屋顶打开，这样便可以取各种物件，节省我们的宝贵时间。
那些信件、手稿、书本、包裹等等，都可以在那里传递，我们两家各执一枚钥匙，我相信这样一定妙趣横生。请允许我献上这把社匙，并衷心感谢各位的厚意，并承蒙赐座。”当维勒先生把一枚小钥匙放在桌上退下时，掌声热烈响起，取暖器当当作响、乱晃一气，秩序好一会才恢复过来。接着是长时间的讨论，大家充分发挥，个个的表现都出人意料；会议开得异常活跃，足足开了近一个小时才在为新成员发出的三下欢呼声中结束。对于吸收山姆•维勒入社，大家从不感到后悔，因为他富有献身精神，表现出色，活泼快乐，堪称社员的楷模。他无疑发扬光大了各项会议的"精神"，给社报增添了一种"格调"，因为他的演说震撼人心，他的文稿格调优美清新，富有爱国热忱，而且幽默生动，从不多愁善感，乔觉得这些文章堪可媲美培根、弥尔顿、莎士比亚的大作，并对自己的文风也有很大影响。
邮箱确实妙不可言，它的业务十分繁荣，其作用足以与真正的邮局媲美，因为各种各样离奇古怪的东西都经那里传递：乐器、姜饼、胶擦、邀请信、训斥信，还有小狗，等等。
连劳伦斯老人都感到有趣，也送一些古怪包裹、神秘字条和滑稽的电报来凑热闹；而他那位拜倒在罕娜石榴裙下的园丁，竟送了一封情书让乔转交。当秘密泄漏时大家笑得前仰后合，绝没有想到这个小小的邮箱日后还会容纳多少情书！
Chapter 11 Experiments
　　`The first of June! The Kings are off to the seashore tomorrow, and I'm free. Three months' vacation - how I shall enjoy it!' exclaimed Meg, coming home one warm day to find Jo laid upon the sofa in an unusual state of exhaustion, while Beth took off her dusty boots, and Amy made lemonade for the refreshment of the whole party.

　　`Aunt March went today, for which, oh, be joyful!' said Jo. `I was mortally afraid she'd ask me to go with her; if she had, I should have felt as if I ought to do it; but Plumfield is about as gay as a churchyard, you know, and I'd rather be excused.

　　`We had a flurry getting the old lady off, and I had a fright every time she spoke to me, for I was in such a hurry to be through that I was uncommonly helpful and sweet, and feared she'd find it impossible to part from me. I quaked till she was fairly in the carriage, and had a final fright, for, as it drove off, she popped out her head, saying, "Josyphine, won't you - ?" I didn't hear any more, for I basely turned and fled; I did actually run, and whisked round the corner, where I felt safe.'

　　`Poor old Jo! she came in looking as if bears were after her,' said Beth, as she cuddled her sister's feet with a motherly air.

　　`Aunt March is a regular samphire, is she not?' observed Amy, tasting her mixture critically.

　　`She means vampire, no seaweed; but it doesn't matter; it's too warm to be particular about one's parts of speech,' murmured Jo.

　　`What shall you do all your vacation?' asked Amy, changing the subject, with tact. `I shall lie abed late and do nothing,' replied Meg, from the depths of the rocking-chair. `I've been routed up early all winter, and had to spend my days working for other people; so now I'm going to rest and revel to my heart's content.'

　　`No,' said Jo; `that dosy way wouldn't suit me. I've laid in a heap of books, and I'm going to improve my shining hours reading on my perch in the old apple-tree, when I'm not having l——'

　　`Don't say "larks"!' implored Amy, as a return snub for the `samphire' correction.

　　`I'll say "nightingales", then, with Laurie; that's proper and appropriate, since he's a warbler.'

　　`Don't let us do any lessons, Beth, for a while, but play all the time, and rest, as the girls mean to,' proposed Amy.

　　`Well, I will, if Mother doesn't mind. I want to learn some new songs, and my children need fitting up for the summer; they are dreadfully out of order, and really suffering for clothes.'

　　`May we, Mother?' asked Meg, turning to Mrs. March, who sat sewing in what they called `Marmee's corner'.

　　`You may try your experiment for a week, and see how you like it. I think by Saturday night you will find that all play and no work is as bad as all work and no play.'

　　`Oh, dear, no! it will be delicious, I'm sure,' said Meg, complacently.

　　`I now propose a toast, as my "friend and pardner, Sairy Gamp", says. Fun for ever, and no grubbing!' cried Jo, rising, glass in hand, as the lemonade went round.

　　They all drank it merrily, and began the experiment by lounging for the rest of the day. Next morning Meg did not appear till ten o'clock; her solitary breakfast did not taste nice and the room seemed lonely and untidy; for Jo had not filled the vases, Beth had not dusted, and Amy's books lay scattered about. Nothing was neat and pleasant but `Marmee's corner', which looked as usual; and there Meg sat, to `rest and read', which meant yawn, and imagine what pretty summer dresses she would get with her salary. Jo spent the morning on the river with Laurie, and the afternoon reading and crying over The Wide, Wide World, up in the apple-tree. Beth began by rummaging everything out of the big closet where her family resided; but, getting tired before half done, she left her establishment topsy-turvy, and went to her music, rejoicing that she had no dishes to wash. Amy arranged her bower, put on her best white frock, smoothed her curls, and sat down to draw, under the honeysuckles, hoping someone would see and inquire who the young artist was. As no one appeared but an inquisitive daddy long-legs, who examined her work with interest, she went for a walk, got caught in a shower, and came home dripping.

　　At tea-time they compared notes, and all agreed that it had been a delightful, though unusually long day. Meg, who went shopping in the afternoon, and got a `sweet blue muslin', had discovered, after she had cut the breadths off, that it wouldn't wash, which mishap made her slightly cross. Jo had burnt the skin off her nose boating, and got a raging headache by reading too long. Beth was worried by the confusion of her closet, and the difficulty of Teaming three or four songs at once; and Amy deeply regretted the damage done her frock, for Katy Brown's party was to be the next day, and now, like Flora M'Flimsey, she had `nothing to wear'. But these were mere trifles; and they assured their mother that the experiment was working finely. She smiled, said nothing, and, with Hannah's help, did their neglected work, keeping home pleasant, and the domestic machinery running smoothly. It was astonishing what a peculiar and uncomfortable state of things was produced by the `resting and revelling' process. The days kept getting longer and longer; the weather was unusually variable, and so were tempers; an unsettled feeling possessed everyone, and Satan found plenty of mischief for the idle hands to do. As the height of luxury, Meg put out some of her sewing, and then found time hang so heavily that she fell to snipping and spoiling her clothes, in her attempts to furbish them up * la Moffat. Jo read till her eyes gave out, and she was sick of books; got so fidgety that even good-natured Laurie had a quarrel with her, and so reduced in spirits that she desperately wished she had gone out with Aunt March. Beth got on pretty well, for she was constantly forgetting that it was to be all play, and no work, an fell back into her old ways now and then; but something in the air affected her, and more than once her tranquillity was much disturbed; so much so, that, on one occasion, she actually shook poor dear Joanna, and told her she was a `fright'. Amy fared worst of all, for her resources were small; and when her sisters left her to amuse and care for herself, she soon found that accomplished and important little self a great burden. She didn't like dolls, fairy tales were childish, and one couldn't draw all the time; tea parties didn't amount to much, neither did picnics, unless very well conducted. `If one could have a fine house, full of nice girls, or go travelling, the summer would be delightful; but to stay at home with three selfish sisters and a grown-up boy was enough to try the patience of a "Boaz",' complained Miss Malaprop, after several days devoted to pleasure, fretting, and ennui. No one would own that they were tired of the experiment; but, by Friday night, each acknowledged to herself that she was glad the week was nearly done. Hoping to impress the lesson more deeply, Mrs. March, who had a good deal of humour, resolved to finish off the trial in an appropriate manner; so she gave Hannah a holiday, and let the girls enjoy the full effect of the play system. When they got up on Saturday morning, there was no fire in the kitchen, no breakfast in the dining room, and no mother anywhere to be seen.

　　`Mercy on us! what has happened?' cried Jo, staring about her in dismay.

　　Meg ran upstairs, and soon came back again, looking relieved, but rather bewildered, and a little ashamed.

　　`Mother isn't sick, only very tired, and she says she is going to stay quietly in her room all day, and let us do the best we can. It's a very queer thing for her to do, she doesn't act a bit like herself; but she says it has been a hard week for her, so we mustn't grumble, but take care of ourselves.'

　　`That's easy enough, and I like the idea; I'm aching for something to do - that is, some new amusement, you know,' added Jo, quickly.

　　In fact it was an immense relief to them all to have a little work, and they k hold with a will, but soon realized the truth of Hannah's saying, `Housekeeping ain't no joke.' There was plenty of food in the larder, and, while Beth and Amy set the table, Meg and Jo got breakfast, wondering, as they did so, why servants ever talked about hard work.

　　`I shall take some up to Mother, though she said we were not to think of her, for she'd take care of herself,' said Meg, who presided, and felt quite matronly behind the teapot.

　　So a tray was fitted out before anyone began, and taken up with the cook's compliments. The boiled tea was very bitter, the omelette scorched, and the biscuits speckled with saleratus; but Mrs. March received her repast with thanks, and laughed heartily over it after Jo was gone.

　　`Poor little souls, they will have a hard time, I'm afraid; but they won't suffer, and it will do them good,' she said, producing the more palatable viands with which she had provided herself, and disposing of the bad breakfast, so that their feelings might not be hurt - a motherly little deception for which they were grateful.

　　Many were the complaints below, and great the chagrin of the head cook at her failures. `Never mind, I'll get the dinner and be servant; you be mistress, keep your hands nice, see company, and give orders,' said Jo, who knew still less than Meg about culinary affairs.

　　This obliging offer was gladly accepted; and Margaret retired to the parlour, which she hastily put in order by whisking the litter under the sofa, and shutting the blinds, to save the trouble of dusting. Jo, with perfect faith in her own powers, and a friendly desire to make up the quarrel, immediately put a note in the office, inviting Laurie to dinner.

　　`You'd better see what you have got before you think about having company,' said Meg, when informed of the hospitable but rash act.

　　`Oh, there's corned beef and plenty of potatoes; and I shall get some asparagus, and a lobster, "for a relish", as Hannah says. We'll have lettuce, and make a salad. I don't know how, but the book tells. I'll have blancmange and strawberries for dessert; and coffee, too, if you want to be elegant.'

　　`Don't try too many messes, Jo, for you can't make anything but gingerbread and molasses candy fit to eat. I wash my hands of the dinner-party; and since you have asked Laurie on your own responsibility, you may just take care of him.'

　　`I don't want you to do anything but be civil to him, and help with the pudding. You'll give me your advice if I get in a muddle, won't you?' asked Jo, rather hurt.

　　`Yes; but I don't know much, except about bread, and a few trifles. You had better ask Mother's leave before you order anything,' returned Meg, prudently.

　　`Of course I shall; I'm not a fool,' and Jo went off in a huff at the doubts expressed of her powers.

　　`Get what you like, and don't disturb me; I'm going out to dinner, and can't worry about things at home,' said Mrs. March, when Jo spoke to her.

　　`I never enjoyed housekeeping, and I'm going to take a vacation today, and read, and write, go visiting, and amuse myself.'

　　The unusual spectacle of her busy mother rocking comfortably and reading, early in the morning, made Jo feel as if some natural phenomenon had occurred; for an eclipse, an earthquake, or a volcanic eruption would hardly have seemed stranger.

　　`Everything is out of sorts somehow,' she said to herself, going downstairs. `There's Beth crying; that's a sure sign that something is wrong with this family. If Amy is bothering, I'll shake her.'

　　Feeling very much out of sorts herself, Jo hurried into the parlour to find Beth sobbing over Pip, the canary, who lay dead in the cage, with his little claws pathetically extended, as if imploring the food for want of which he had died.

　　`It's all my fault - I forgot him - there isn't a seed or a drop left. O Pip! O Pip! how could I be so cruel to you?' cried Beth, taking the poor thing in her hands, and trying to restore him.

　　Jo peeped into his half-open eye, felt his little heart, and finding him stiff and cold shook her bead, and offered her domino box for a coffin.

　　`Put him in the oven, and maybe he will get warm and revive,' said Amy, hopefully.

　　`He's been starved, and he shan't be baked, now he's dead. I'll make him a shroud, and he shall be buried in the garden; and I'll never have another bird, never, my Pip! for I'm too bad to own one,' murmured Beth, sitting on the floor with her pet folded in her hands.

　　`The funeral shall be this afternoon, and we will all go. Now, don't cry, Betty; it's a pity, but nothing goes right this week, and Pip has had the worst of the experiment. Make the shroud, and lay him in my box; and, after the dinner party, we'll have a nice little funeral,' said Jo, beginning to feel as if she had undertaken a good deal.

　　Leaving the others to console Beth, she departed to the kitchen, which was in a most discouraging state of confusion. Putting on a big apron she fell to work, and got the dishes piled up ready for washing, when she discovered that the fire was out. `Here's a sweet prospect!' muttered Jo, slamming the stove-door open, and poking vigorously among the cinders.

　　Having rekindled the fire, she thought she would go to market while the water heated. The walk revived her spirits; and flattering herself that she had made good bargains, she trudged home again, after buying a very young lobster, some very old asparagus, and two boxes of acid strawberries. By the time she got cleared up the dinner arrived, and the stove was red-hot. Hannah had left a pan of bread to rise, Meg had worked it up early, set it on the hearth for a second rising, and forgotten it. Meg was entertaining Sallie Gardiner in the parlour, when the door flew open, and a floury, crocky, flushed, and dishevelled figure appeared, demanding tartly:

　　`I say, isn't bread "riz" enough when it runs over the pans?'

　　Sallie began to laugh; but Meg nodded, and lifted her eyebrows as high as they would go, which caused the apparition to vanish, and put the sour bread into the oven without further delay. Mrs. March went out, after peeping here and there to see how matters went, also saying a word of comfort to Beth, who sat making a winding sheet, while the dear departed lay in state in the domino box. A strange sense of helplessness fell upon the girls as the grey bonnet vanished round the comer; and despair seized them when, a few minutes later, Miss Crocker appeared, and said she'd come to dinner. Now, this lady was a thin, yellow spinster, with a sharp nose and inquisitive eyes, who saw everything, and gossiped about all she saw. They disliked her, but had been taught to be kind to her, simply because she was old and poor, and had few friends. So Meg gave her the easy-chair, and tried to entertain her, while she asked questions, criticized everything, and told stories of the people who she knew.

　　Language cannot describe the anxieties, experiences, and exertions which Jo underwent that morning; and the dinner she served up became a standing joke. Fearing to ask any more advice, she did her best alone, and discovered that something more than energy and goodwill is necessary to make a cook. She boiled the asparagus for an hour, and was grieved to find the heads cooked off and the stalks harder than ever. The bread burnt black, for the salad-dressing so aggravated her that she let everything else go till she had convinced herself that she could not make it fit to eat. The lobster was a scarlet mystery to her, but she hammered and poked till it was unshelled, and its meagre proportions concealed in a grove of lettuce leaves. The potatoes had to be hurried, not to keep the asparagus waiting, and were not done at last. The blancmange was lumpy, and the strawberries not as ripe as they looked, having been skilfully `deaconed'

　　`Well, they can eat beef, and bread and butter, if they are hungry; only it's mortifying to have to spend your whole morning for nothing,' thought Jo, as she rang the bell half an hour later than usual, and stood, hot, tired, and dispirited, surveying the feast spread for Laurie, accustomed to all sorts of elegance, and Miss Crocker, whose curious eyes would mark all failures, and whose tattling tongue would report them far and wide.

　　Poor Jo would gladly have gone under the table, as one thing after another was tasted and left; while Amy giggled, Meg looked distressed, Miss Crocker pursed up her lips, and Laurie talked and laughed with all his might, to give a cheerful tone to the festive scene. Jo's one strong point was the fruit, for she had sugared it well, and had a pitcher of rich cream to eat with it. Her hot cheeks cooled a trifle, and she drew a long breath, as the pretty glass plates went round, and everyone looked graciously at the little rosy islands floating in a sea of cream. Miss Crocker tasted first, made a wry face, and drank some water hastily. Jo, who had refused, thinking there might not be enough, for they dwindled sadly after the picking over, glanced at Laurie, but he was eating away manfully, though there was a slight pucker about his mouth, and he kept his eye fixed on his plate. Amy, who was fond of delicate fare, took a heaping spoonful, choked, hid her face in her napkin, and left the table precipitately.

　　`Oh, what is it?' exclaimed Jo, trembling.

　　`Salt instead of sugar, and the cream is sour,' replied Meg, with a tragic gesture.

　　Jo uttered a groan, and fell back in her chair; remembering that she had given a last hasty powdering to the berries out of one of the two boxes on the kitchen table, and had neglected to put the milk in the refrigerator. She turned scarlet, and was on the verge of crying, when she met Laurie's eyes, which would look merry in spite of his heroic efforts; the comical side of the affair suddenly struck her, and she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. So did everyone else, even `Croaker', as the girls called the old lady; and the unfortunate dinner ended gaily, with bread and butter, olives, and fun.

　　`I haven't strength of mind enough to clear up now, so we will sober ourselves with a funeral,' said Jo, as they rose; and Miss Crocker made ready to go, being eager to tell the new story at another friend's dinner-table. They did sober themselves for Beth's sake; Laurie dug a grave under the ferns in the grove, little Pip was laid in, with many tears, by his tender-hearted mistress, and covered with moss, while a wreath of violets and chickweed was hung on the stone which bore his epitaph, composed by Jo while she struggled with the dinner:

　　Here lies Pip March,

　　Who died the 7th of June;

　　Loved and lamented sore,

　　And not forgotten soon.

　　At the conclusion of the ceremonies, Beth retired to her room, overcome with emotion and lobster; but there was no place of repose, for the beds were not made, and she found her grief much assuaged by beating up pillows and putting things in order. Meg helped Jo clear away the remains of the feast, which took half the afternoon, and left them so tired that they agreed to be contented with tea and toast for supper. Laurie took Amy for a drive, which was a deed of charity, for the sour cream seemed to have had a bad effect upon her temper. Mrs. March came home to find the three older girls hard at work in the middle of the afternoon, and a glance at the closet gave her an idea of the success of one part of the experiment.

　　Before the housewives could rest several people called, and there was a scramble to get ready to see them; then tea must be got, errands done; and one or two necessary bits of sewing neglected till the last minute. As twilight fell, dewy and still, one by one they gathered in the porch where the June roses were budding beautifully, and each groaned or sighed as she sat down as if tired or troubled.

　　`What a dreadful day this has been!' began Jo, usually the first to speak.

　　`It has seemed shorter than usual, but so uncomfortable,' said Meg.

　　`Not a bit like home,' added Amy.

　　`It can't seem so without Marmee and little Pip,' sighed Beth, glancing with full eyes at the empty cage above her head.

　　`Here's Mother, dear; and you shall have another bird tomorrow, if you want it.'

　　As she spoke, Mrs. March came and took her place among them, looking as if her holiday had not been much pleasanter than theirs.

　　`Are you satisfied with your experiment, girls, or do you want another week of it?' she asked, as Beth nestled up to her, and the rest turned towards her with brightening faces, as flowers turn towards the sun.

　　`I don't,' cried Jo, decidedly.

　　`Nor I,' echoed the others.

　　`You think, then, that it is better to have a few duties, and live a little for others, do you?'

　　`Longing and larking doesn't pay,' observed Jo, shaking her head. `I'm tired of it, and mean to go to work at something right off.'

　　`Suppose you learn plain cooking; that's a useful accomplishment which no woman should be without,' said Mrs. March, laughing inaudibly at the recollection of Jo's dinner-party; for she had met Miss Crocker, and heard her account of it.

　　`Mother, did you go away and let everything be, just to see how we'd get on?' cried Meg, who had had suspicions all day.

　　`Yes; I wanted you to see how the comfort of all depends on each doing her share faithfully. While Hannah and I did your work you got on pretty well, though I don't think you were very happy or amiable; so I thought, as a little lesson, I would show you what happens when everyone thinks only of herself. Don't you feel that it is pleasanter to help one another, to have dally duties which make leisure sweet when it comes, and to bear and forbear, that home may be comfortable and lovely to us all?'

　　`We do, Mother, we do!' cried the girls.

　　`Then let me advise you to take up your little burdens again; for though they seem heavy sometimes, they are good for us, and lighten as we learn to carry them. Work is wholesome, and there is plenty for everyone; it keeps us from ennui an mischief, is good for health and spirits, and gives us a sense of power and independence better than money or fashion.'

　　`We'll work like bees, and love it too; see if we don't!' said Jo. `I'll learn plain cooking for my holiday task; and the next dinner-party I have shall be a success.'

　　`I'll make the set of shirts for Father, instead of letting you do it, Marmee. I can and I will, though I'm not fond of sewing; that will be better than fussing over my own things, which are plenty nice enough as they are,' said Meg.

　　`I'll do my lessons every day, and not spend so much time with my music and dolls. I am a stupid thing, and ought to be studying, not playing,' was Beth's resolution; while Amy followed their example by heroically declaring, `I shall learn to make buttonholes, and attend to my parts of speech.'

　　`Very good! then I am quite satisfied with the experiment, and fancy that we shall not have to repeat it; only don't go to the other extreme, and delve like slaves. Have regular hours for work and play; make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age will bring few regrets, and life become a beautiful success, in spite of poverty.'

　　`We'll remember, Mother!' and they did.
 
“六月一号！明天金斯一家便要到海滩去，我自由了。三个月的假期--我一定玩得很开心！”梅格叫道。这天天气和暖，她回家时发现乔疲倦不堪地躺在沙发上，贝思帮她脱下沾满尘土的靴子，艾美在做柠檬汁为大家提神。
“马奇婶婶今天走了，噢，我可真高兴！”乔说，”我很害怕她会叫我跟她一起去；如果她开口，我就会觉得自己也应该去，但梅园却跟教堂的墓地一样沉闷，你知道，我宁可她放过我。我们慌慌张张地打发老太太起程，每次她开口跟我说话，我心里都打个愣儿，因为我为了早点完事，干得特别卖力特别殷勤，所以怕她反而离不开了。她终于上了马车，我这才松了一口气。谁知车子正要开时，她伸出头来说：'约瑟芬，你能不能- ？'这一吓可非同小可，我转身撒腿就逃，下面的话也没听清楚，一直跑到拐角处才放下心来。”“可怜的乔！她进来的样子就像身后有只熊追她似的，”贝思像慈母一样抱着姐姐的双脚说道。
“马奇婶婶真是个海蓬子，对吗？”艾美一边评论一边挑剔地品尝着她的混合饮料。
“她是说吸血鬼，不是海草，不过也无伤大雅；天气这么暖和，不必对修辞太讲究，”乔咕哝道。
“你们这个假期怎么过？”艾美问，巧妙地转开话题。
“我要躺在床上，什么也不做，”梅格从摇椅深处回答，”我这个冬季每天一早就被唤醒，整天为别人操劳，现在我要随心所欲，美美地睡个痛快。”“不成，”乔说，”这种养神功夫不适合我。我搬进了一大堆书，我要躲到那棵苹果树上头充实我的好时光，如果不玩— ”“别说玩耍！”艾美要求道，借以回击"海蓬子"这一箭之仇。
“那我就说'玩唱'；和劳里一起，这词够贴切了，反正他歌唱得好。”“我们别做功课了，贝思，让我们玩个痛快，好好歇歇，女孩子们应该那样，”艾美建议。
“嗯，如果妈妈没意见的话，我就不做了。我想学几首新歌，夏天到了，我的孩子们也要添置点东西；它们衣服短缺，一派混乱。”“行吗，妈妈？”梅格把头转向坐在她们称之为"妈咪角"的地方做针线活的马奇太太，问道。
“你们可以试上一个星期，看看滋味如何。我想到了星期六晚上你们就会发现，光玩不干活和光干活不玩一样难受。”“噢，哎哟，不会的！我肯定这一定会其乐无穷，”梅格美滋滋地说。
“现在我提议大家干一杯。永远快乐，不用辛劳！”这时柠檬汁传过来，乔站起来，举杯在手，叫道。
大家快乐地一饮而尽，于是试验开始，那天的剩余时间便被懒洋洋地打发过去了。第二天早上，梅格直到十点钟才露面。她独个儿吃早餐，却食之无味；由于乔没有在花瓶里插上花，贝思也没有打扫，艾美又把书丢得满地都是，房间显得空空落落，十分零乱，只有"妈咪角"仍然跟平常一样井井有条，令人愉快。梅格便坐在那里，”休息读书"，也就是说一面打呵欠一面胡思乱想，盘算着用自己的薪水买什么式样的漂亮夏装。乔在河边和劳里玩了一个早上，下午爬到苹果树上读《大世界》读得泪流满面。贝思从洋娃娃家族居住的大衣柜里头把东西全部翻出来整理，未及一半便倦了，于是把她的大家族横七竖八地躲在一边去弹钢琴，暗暗庆幸自己不用洗碗碟。艾美把花荫收拾一番，穿上漂亮的白色上衣，把鬈发梳理一遍，坐在忍冬花下画画，希望有人看到她，询问这位年轻的艺术家是谁。可惜只来了一只好事的长脚蜘蛛，饶有兴趣地把她的作品审视一番，她只好去散步，却遭大雨淋了一顿，回家时湿得像个落汤鸡。
到了喝茶的时候，她们互相交流心得，一致认为这天过得相当愉快，只是日子似乎格外长。梅格下午上街买了一幅"漂亮的蓝薄纱"，把幅面裁开后才发现这种布不经洗，这一小小的不幸令她脾气有点暴躁。乔划船时晒脱了鼻子上的皮，长时间看书又害得她脑袋生疼。贝思因为衣柜混乱不堪而忧心忡忡，一下子学三四首歌又力不从心。艾美淋湿了上衣，后悔不迭，第二天就是凯蒂•布朗的晚会，现在，她就像弗洛拉•麦克弗里姆西一样，”没有衣服穿"。不过，这些都只是小事一桩，她们告诉母亲进展顺利。母亲笑笑，不做声，和罕娜一起把姐妹们丢下的工作接过来，把家操持得整齐舒适，使家庭机构顺利运作。这种"休息和享乐”产生的结果出人意料：大家都有一种奇怪的、极不自在的感觉。日子变得越来越长，天气也跟她们的脾气一样变化无常，大家心里全都无头无绪，空空落落。而魔鬼撒旦可不会让你两手白闲着，他总会找出一些事来让你做。作为最高享受，梅格把一些针线活拿出去让人做，但接着便发现时间十分沉闷，熬不住又操起裁剪活，结果在莫法特家刷新衣服时因为使劲太大而把自己的衣服弄坏了。乔书不离手，一直读得两眼昏花，见书生厌，脾气也变得异常烦躁，连性子极好的劳里也跟她吵了一架，她于是伤心落泪，只恨未能早跟了马奇婶婶去。贝思倒过得相当安稳，因为她常常忘记了这是光玩不工作时间，不时重新操起旧活；但大家的情绪感染了她，性子一向温柔平和的她也变得有几分烦躁不安 -一次甚至把可怜的宠儿乔安娜摇了几下，骂她是个"怪物"。最难受的要数艾美，她的娱乐圈子窄，三位姐姐把她丢下，让她自己玩并自己照顾自己，她很快发现自己这个多才多艺、举足轻重的小人儿其实是个大包袱。她不喜欢洋娃娃，童话故事又太幼稚，而人也总不能一天到晚光画画；茶会没什么意思，野餐也不过如此，除非组织得极好。”如果能有一栋漂亮的房子，里头住满了善解人意的姑娘，或者外出旅游，这夏天才会过得开心。但跟三个自私的姐姐和一个大男孩呆在家里，（圣）神人也会发火，”我们的错词小姐心里抱怨道。这几天她充分体验了欢乐、烦恼，继而厌倦无聊的况味。
没有人愿意承认自己对这个试验感到厌倦，但到星期五晚上大家都暗暗松了一口气，窃喜一个星期终于熬到了头。富有幽默感的马奇太太为了加深这个教训的印象，决定用一种恰如其分的方式来结束这个试验。她放罕娜一天假，让姑娘们充分享受光玩不干活的滋味。
星期六早上姐妹们一觉醒来，发现厨房里没有生火，饭厅里没有早餐，母亲也不见了影踪。
“嗳呀！出了什么事？”乔嚷道，惊愕地瞪大眼睛四面看。
梅格跑上楼，很快便折回来，神态不再紧张，但却显得颇为困惑，并有几分惭愧。
“妈妈没生病，只是非常累。她说要在自己房间里静养一天，让我们自己好自为之。这真奇怪，一点都不像她平时的作为；但她说这个星期她干得很辛苦，所以我们别发牢骚，还是自己照顾自己吧。”“那还不容易！这主意正合我的心思，我正愁没事干--意思是，没新玩法，你们知道，”乔飞快地又添了一句。
事实上，此时此刻，做一点工作对她们来说是一种很好的放松。她们决心把活干好，但“做家务可不是闹儿戏”，她们很快便会认识到罕娜这话的实际意义了。食品柜里有很多存货，贝思和艾美摆桌子，梅格和乔做早餐，一面做一面还奇怪为什么佣人说家务难做。
“虽然妈妈说我们不用管她，她会自个照顾自己，我还是要拿一些上去，”梅格说。她站在锅碗瓢盆后面指挥，觉得挺像回事儿。
于是她们先匀出一碟，乔把碟子连同厨师的问候一同送上去。虽然茶烧得又苦又涩，鸡蛋煎得焦糊，饼干也被小苏打弄得斑斑点点，马奇太太还是接过了她的早餐，并表示赞赏和感谢；乔走后，她由衷地笑了。
“可怜的小家伙，恐怕她们会十分扫兴呢，不过这样对她们有益无害。”她取出早已备好的食物，把煮坏了的早餐悄悄丢掉，免得伤害了她们的自尊心--这是一种令她们十分感激的母亲式的小蒙蔽。
下面怨声一片，大厨师面对失败委屈极了。”不要紧。午饭我来弄，我做佣人，你做女主人，别弄脏了手，你陪着客人，发号施令就行了，”对烹饪的认识比梅格还要糟糕的乔说。
玛格丽特高兴地接受了这个恳切的提议，退到客厅，把沙发下面乱七八糟的东西扫掉，把窗帘拉上以省却打扫灰尘的麻烦，三两下子便把客厅收拾干净。乔对自己的能力坚信不疑，她想弥补因吵架而造成的隔阂，于是当即写下一张字条，邀请劳里来吃饭。
“你最好先看看有什么好吃的再请人不迟，”梅格获悉后说道。
“噢，这里有咸牛肉，还有大量土豆，我去买些芦笋，买个大螯虾'换个口味'，正如罕娜所说。我们可以弄些莴苣做色拉，我虽不会做，但有烹调书。再弄些牛奶冻和草莓做甜点。如果你想高雅一点还可以弄点咖啡。”“不要好高鹜远，乔，因为你做的东西只有姜饼和糖块可以吃得下去。这个宴会我是洗手不干的，既然是你要叫劳里，那就你来款待他好了。”“我不要你做什么，你只需招呼客人，帮我做布叮如果我遇到麻烦，你来指教我，怎么样？”乔受到了不小的打击。
“可以，但我除了面包和几种小玩意外，其他都不大会做。
你做之前最好先征得妈妈同意，”梅格谨慎地说。
“那当然，我又不是傻瓜，”乔说罢走开。居然有人怀疑自己的能力，她感到十分不快。
“你们喜欢怎么样就怎么样，别来打扰我。我要出去吃饭，不能为你们分忧，“马奇太太对前来讨教的乔说，”我一向不喜欢家务事，今天我要休个假，读书、写字、串门儿，自个好好乐乐。”看到平常忙碌的母亲一早优游轻松地坐在摇椅上读书，乔觉得就好像发生了什么自然现象，因为即使日食、地震、或者火山爆发也不会比这奇怪多少。
“怎么搞的，事情全都古里古怪，”她一面想一面走下楼梯，”贝思在那边哭，不用说，我们家肯定出了什么事情。如果艾美烦我，我一定狠狠摇她几下。”乔心里很不舒服，她匆匆走进客厅，发现贝思正对着她们的金丝雀呜呜咽咽地哭。小鸟直挺挺地躺在笼子里，显然已经饿死，可怜的小爪向前伸出，似乎正在乞求食物。
“都是我的错--我把它忘了--饲料一粒不剩，水也一滴没有。噢，！噢，！我怎么能对你这么残忍？”贝思哭道，把可怜的小鸟放在手里，试图把它救醒。
乔瞄瞄小鸟半开的眼睛，摸摸它的心脏，发现它早已僵硬冰冷，于是摇摇脑袋，主动提出用自己的衣盒来给它装殓。
“把它放在炉边，或者会暖和苏醒过来，”艾美满怀希望地说。
“它是饿坏的。既然已经死了，就不要再去烤它。我要给它做一件寿衣，把它葬在园子里。我以后再不养鸟了，再不了，我不配，”贝思低声哭诉着，双手捧着宠鸟坐在地板上。
“葬礼今天下午举行，我们都参加。好了，别哭了，贝思；这事大家都不好受，但这星期事情全都乱了套，匹普便是这个试验的最大牺牲品。给它做好寿衣，把它放在我的盒子里，宴会后，我们举行一个隆重的小葬礼。”乔开始尝到了苦头。
她让梅格、艾美留下安慰贝思，自己则走到厨房，里头乱七八糟，一片狼藉。她系上大围裙开始干活，刚堆好碟子准备洗，却发现炉火熄了。
“真是形势大好！”乔咕哝道，砰地打开炉门，使劲捅里头的炉渣。
把炉火重新捅亮后，她想趁烧水的功夫上一趟市常这么一走动，兴致又上来了。她买了一只十分幼小的大螯虾，一些老掉牙的芦笋，还有两盒酸溜溜的草莓。因为做成了几笔廉价交易，她心中十分得意，于是跋涉回家。待她收拾好后，午饭也备齐了，炉子也烧红了。罕姆走前留下一盘要发酵的面包，梅格早早便把面包做好，放在炉边再发酵一次，然后便把它忘掉了。她正在客厅里招呼莎莉•加德纳，门突然飞开，一个身上沾满面粉煤屑、头发蓬乱的怪物露出来，赤红着脸尖叫道- “嘿，面包不沾盘子是不是已经发酵够了？”莎莉被逗笑了，梅格点点头，把眉毛抬得要多高有多高，怪物见状立即消失，赶紧把酸面包放到炉上。贝思坐在一边做寿衣，将心爱的鸟放在衣盒里任人凭吊。马奇太太出来瞅瞅情况，安慰了贝思几句，然后出门而去。当母亲那灰色的帽子消失在拐角处时，姑娘们突然有一种奇怪的孤立无援的感觉。没隔几分钟，克罗克小姐来访，并说是来吃午饭，姑娘们简直陷入了绝望的境地。这位女士是个又黄又瘦的老姑婆，脸上镶着一个尖鼻子和一双好奇的眼睛，她绝不错过任何芝麻绿豆的小事，看到什么都要去绕舌鼓噪一番。她们并不喜欢她，但马奇太太教她们要友善待她，只因她年老家贫，又没有什么朋友。梅格于是把安乐椅给她，并尽量去跟她拉话儿，她则在一边问这问那，指指点点，说西家长，道东家短。
那天早上乔真是被弄得焦头烂额、精疲力尽，其中滋味一言难荆她做的午餐成了一个不折不扣的大笑话。因为不敢再向梅格请教，她独个儿使出浑身解数，发现做个厨师光凭一股劲头和良好的心愿并不够。她把芦笋煮了一个小时，痛苦地发现笋头全都煮掉了，主茎却变得更硬。面包烧得乌黑、因为她做色拉时把味道调得一塌糊涂，一急之下，决定对一切听之任之，直到自信面包已经不能吃为止。大螯虾神秘地变成了猩红色，她捶开虾壳，把里头的肉捅出来，那一丁点儿肉落到莴苣叶堆里便不见了。土豆得快点煮，不能让芦笋等得太久，结果没有煮熟。牛奶冻结成一团一团，草莓被手段高明的小贩弄了假，看上去已经熟透，吃起来却酸溜溜的。
“如果他们肚子饿的话，牛肉、面包和牛油倒也可以吃，只是白白忙活了一整个上午，岂不着死人了，”乔想着拉响开饭铃。这顿饭比平时足足晚了半个小时，乔又热又累，垂头丧气，站在那里审视着为劳里和克罗克小姐准备的盛宴，要知道这两位客人一个是养尊处优惯了的公子，一个是绝不错过任何笑料，专爱搬弄是非的绕舌妇。
菜被一一尝过，然后又被搁置一边，可怜的乔恨不得钻到桌子底下。艾美咯咯直笑，梅格表情悲痛，克罗克小姐噘起嘴，劳里拼命说笑，试图活跃宴席气氛。乔的拿手好戏是水果，因为她放糖放得恰到好处，而且和上了一大罐香喷喷的奶油。当精致的玻璃盘子逐一摆上席面时，乔炽热的脸颊凉了一点，并长长地舒了一口气。大家望着浸在奶油里的呈玫瑰红的小山堆，全都垂涎欲滴。克罗克小姐先尝了一口，做了个鬼脸，急忙喝水。乔看到水果上桌后很快所剩无多，唯恐不够，于是自己不吃，她瞅一眼劳里，见他正勇敢地继续吃下去，但嘴巴却微微噘着，眼睛一直盯着自己的盘子。喜欢美食的艾美满满舀了一调匙，却呛了一口，用餐巾掩着脸，仓促离席。
“噢，怎么回事？”乔颤抖着高声问道。
“你放的是盐，不是糖，奶油也变酸了，”梅格悲痛地打了个手势答道。
乔呻吟了一声，倒在椅子上，方想起最后放糖的时候自己仓促之间把厨房桌上面放着的两个盒子随手拿了一个，匆匆往草莓上一撒了事，牛奶也忘记放冰箱了。她脸色涨得通红，止不住就要哭出来。正在这时，她与劳里恰好四目相对。
虽然劳里努力摆出一副英雄式的样子，但眼神仍透着一股活气劲儿；她突然觉得这件事十分滑稽，于是放声大笑，直笑得眼泪都流了出来。在坐各位，包括被姑娘们称为"呱呱叫"的老小姐也全都笑了起来。大家吃着面包、牛油、橄榄，说说笑笑。这顿不幸的午餐最后在愉快的气氛中结束。
“我现在没有心思洗碗，为了严肃气氛，我们为小鸟举行个葬礼吧，”乔看到大家站起来便说道。克罗克小姐一心赶着要在下一个朋友的餐桌边编派这个新故事，便向大家告辞。
为了贝思，他们全都严肃下来；劳里在丛林里的蕨草下面挖了个墓穴，小匹普被安放在里头，它那柔情万丈的女主人哭得成了个泪人儿。墓穴盖上苔藓，上立一块石碑，碑上挂一个用紫罗兰和繁缕编成的花环，并刻了墓志铭。铭文是乔一面做饭一面想出来的：这里躺着匹普•马奇，它在六月七日死去；黯然断魂，伤心憾事，难忘，难忘记！
仪式一结束，贝思便退回自己的房间，心情十分沉重；但她却找不到地方休息，因为几张床全都没有收拾，她只得把枕头掸拂干净，把各样东西收拾整齐，这样心里倒好受了一些。梅格帮乔收拾碗碟，用了半个下午才洗完。两人都疲倦不堪，于是一致赞成晚饭只吃茶和烤面包。酸奶油似乎对艾美的脾气有种不良的影响，劳里便做好事，把她带出去骑马。
马奇太太回家时发现三个大女儿竟然在午间辛勤工作，再瞅一眼壁橱，便明白实验已经成功了一部分。
几位小主妇未及休息，便有几位客人来访，于是急忙准备招呼客人；接着又得泡茶，跑腿买东西，一两件非做不可的针线活只得放到最后才做。
黄昏带着露珠悄悄降临，姐妹们陆续聚集到门廊，门廊周围开满了六月的玫瑰，花蕾朵朵，十分美丽。大家坐下时或哼哼一声，或叹一口气，似乎筋疲力尽，又似乎烦恼无边。
“今天倒霉透了！”通常第一个说话的乔首先说道。
“日子好像没有平时长，但却很不好过，”梅格说。
“一点都不像个家，”艾美接着说。
“没有妈咪和小匹普，家似乎就不成样子了。”贝思叹口气，深情地望一眼挂在上面的空鸟笼。
“妈妈在这里呢，亲爱的，你明天可以再养一只鸟，如果你想的话。”马奇太太边说边走过来坐在她们中间，看样子，她的假日也并不比她们的愉快多少。
“这个试验你们满意了吗，姑娘们？要不要再试一个星期？”她问。这时贝思依偎到她的身边，共余三姐妹也把头转向她，脸上放光，犹如鲜花朝向太阳。
“我不要！”乔坚决地喊道。
“我也不要，”其他人齐声回答。
“那么，你们的意思是，担负一些责任，替别人着想一下为好，对吧？”“闲混戏耍毫无益处，”乔评论道，摇摇脑袋，”我腻透了，真想现在就做点什么。”“建议你学做饭；这个本事十分有用，女人都得学会，”马奇太太说。想到乔的宴会，她无声地笑了，因为克罗克小姐早就把故事告诉她了。
“妈妈，您走出去什么也不管，是不是故意看我们怎么做？”梅格叫起来。她整天都在怀疑这事。
“是的，我想让你们明白，只有每个人都尽忠职守，大家才能过舒服日子。当我和罕娜替你们工作时，你们过得满不错，但我看你们并不高兴，并不领情；所以我想给你们一个小小的教训，看如果人人都只想着自己时结果会如何。只有彼此帮助，承担日常工作，生活才会更愉快，休闲起来才有意思，宽容忍耐，才会使家庭舒适幸福。你们同意吗？”“同意，妈妈，我们同意！”姑娘们齐声喊道。
“那么我建议你们再一次挑起自己的小担子。虽然有时担子似乎很沉重，但对我们有好处，如果学会了怎么挑，担子就会变轻了。工作是一件好事，而我们每个人都有许多工作要干；它有益于身心健康，使我们不会感到无聊，不会干坏事。比起金钱和时装来，它更能给我们一种能力感和独立感。”“我们会像蜜蜂一样工作，并且热爱工作，看着吧！”乔说，”我要把做饭当作我的假日任务来学，下一次宴会一定会成功。”“我要帮爸爸做衬衣，而不用您来操劳，妈咪。我能做到的，也愿意这样做，虽然我并不喜欢针线活；这样做比成天讲究自己的衣着更有好处，事实上我的衣着也已经很不错了，”梅格说。
“我要每天做功课，不再花这么多时间弹琴和玩洋娃娃。
我天性愚笨，应该多看书学习，而不是玩。”贝思下定了决心。
艾美则学姐姐们的样子大声宣布：“我要学会开钮孔和区分各种词类。”“很好！既然这样，我对这个试验感到很满意，看来我们不必再做一次了，只是不要走到另一极端，劳碌过度。要定时作息，使每一天都过得充实愉快，你们明白时间是无价之宝，那么就更要善于利用时间。这样，即使我们没有钱，青春也会充满快乐，生活也会美满成功，年老的时候也不会有什么遗憾了。”“我们会记住的，妈妈！”她们也确实把话记在了心上。
Chapter 12 Camp Laurence
　　Beth was postmistress, for, being most at home, she could attend to it regularly, and dearly liked the daily task of unlocking the little door and distributing the mail. One July day she came in with her hands full, and went about the house leaving letters and parcels like the penny post.

　　`Here's your posy, Mother! Laurie never forgets that,' she said, putting the fresh nosegay in the vase which stood in `Marmee's corner', and was kept supplied by the affectionate boy.

　　`Miss Meg March, one letter and a glove,' continued Beth, delivering the article to her sister, who sat near her mother, stitching wristbands.

　　`Why, I left a pair over there, and here is only one,' said Meg looking at the grey cotton glove. `Didn't you drop the other in the garden?'

　　`No, I'm sure I didn't; for there was only one in the office.'

　　`I hate to have odd gloves! Never mind, the other may be found. My letter is only a translation of the German song I wanted; I think Mr. Brooke did it, for this isn't Laurie's writing.'

　　Mrs. March glanced at Meg, who was looking very pretty in her gingham morning gown, with the little curls blowing about her forehead, and very womanly, as she sat sewing at her little work-table, full of tiny white rolls; so unconscious of the thought in her mother's mind as she sewed and sung, while her fingers flew, and her thoughts were busied with girlish fancies as innocent and fresh as the pansies in her belt, that Mrs. March smiled, and was satisfied.

　　`Two letters for Doctor Jo, a book, and a funny old hat, which covered the whole post-office, stuck outside,' said Beth, laughing, as she went into the study, where Jo sat writing.

　　`What a sly fellow Laurie is! I said I wished bigger hats were the fashion, because I burn my face every hot day. He said, `Why mind the fashion? Wear a big hat and be comfortable!' I said I would if I had one, and he has sent me this to try me. I'll wear it, for fun, and show him I don't care for the fashion'; and hanging the antique broad-brim on a bust of Plato, Jo read her letters.

　　One from her mother made her cheeks glow and her eyes fill, for it said to her:

　　My Dear - I write a little word to tell you with how much satisfaction I watch your efforts to control your temper. You say nothing about your trials, failures, or successes, and think, perhaps, that no one sees them but the friend whose help you daily ask, if I may trust the well-worn cover of your guide book. I, too, have seen them all, and heartily believe in the sincerity of your resolution, since it begins to bear fruit. Go on, dear, patiently and bravely, and always believe that no one sympathises more tenderly with you than your loving

　　MOTHER

　　`That does me good! that's worth millions of money and pecks of praise. Oh, Marmee, I do try! I will keep on trying, and not get tired, since I have you to help me.'

　　Laying her head on her arm, Jo wet her little romance with a few happy tears, for she had thought no one saw and appreciated her efforts to do good; and this assurance was doubly precious, doubly encouraging, because unexpected, and from the person whose commendation she most valued. Feeling stronger than ever to meet and subdue her Apollyon, she pinned the note inside her frock, as a shield and a reminder, lest she be taken unawares, and proceeded to open her other letter, quite ready for either good or bad news. In a big, dashing hand, Laurie wrote:

　　Dear Jo,

　　What ho!

　　Some English girls and boys are coming to see me tomorrow, and I want to have a jolly time. If it's fine, I'm going to pitch my tent in Longmeadow, and row up the whole crew to lunch and croquet - have a fire, make messes, gipsy fashion, and all sorts of larks. They are nice people, and like such things. Brooke will go, to keep us boys steady, and Kate Vaughn will play propriety for the girls. I want you all to come; can't let Beth off at any price, and nobody shall worry her. Don't bother about rations - I'll see to that, and everything else - only do come, there's a good fellow!

　　In a tearing hurry,

　　Yours ever, LAURIE

　　`Here's richness!' cried Jo, flying in to tell the news to Meg. `Of course we can go, Mother? it will be such a help to Laurie, for I can row, and Meg see to the lunch, and the children be useful in some way.'

　　`I hope the Vaughns are not fine, grown-up people. Do you know anything about them, Jo?' asked Meg.

　　`Only that there are four of them. Kate is older than you, Fred and Frank (twins) about my age, and a little girl (Grace), who is nine or ten. Laurie knew them abroad, and liked the boys; I fancied, from the way he primmed up his mouth in speaking of her, that he didn't admire Kate much.'

　　`I'm so glad my French print is clean; it's just the thing, and so becoming!' observed Meg complacently. `Have you anything decent, Jo?'

　　`Scarlet and grey boating suit, good enough for me. I shall row and tramp about, so I don't want any starch to think of. You'll come, Betty?'

　　`If you won't let any of the boys talk to me.'

　　`Not a boy!'

　　`I like to please Laurie; and I'm not afraid of Mr. Brooke, he is so kind; but I don't want to play, or sing, or say anything. I'll work hard and not trouble anyone; and you'll take care of me, Jo, so I'll go.'

　　`That's my good girl; you do try to fight off your shyness, and I love you for it. Fighting faults isn't easy, as I know; and a cheery word kind of gives a lift. Thank you, Mother,' and Jo gave the thin cheek a grateful kiss, more precious to Mrs. March than if it had given back the rosy roundness of her youth.

　　`I had a box of chocolate drops, and the picture I wanted to copy,' said Amy, showing her mail.

　　`And I got a note from Mr. Laurence asking me to come over and play to him tonight before the lamps are lighted, and I shall go,' added Beth, whose friendship with the old gentleman prospered finely.

　　`Now let's fly round and do double duty today, so that we can play tomorrow with free minds,' said Jo, preparing to replace her pen with a broom.

　　When the sun peeped into the girls' room early the next morning, to promise them a fine day, he saw a comical sight. Each had made such preparation for the f阾e as seemed necessary and proper. Meg had an extra row of little curl papers across her forehead, Jo had copiously anointed her afflicted face with cold cream, Beth had taken Joanna to bed with her to atone for the approaching separation, and Amy had capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her nose, to uplift the offending feature. It was one of the kind artists used to hold the paper on their drawing-boards, therefore quite appropriate and effective for the purpose to which it was now put. This funny spectacle appeared to amuse the sun, for he burst out with such radiance that Jo woke up, and roused all her sisters by a hearty laugh at Amy's ornament.

　　Sunshine and laughter were good omens for a pleasure party, and soon a lively bustle began in both houses. Beth, who was ready first, kept reporting what went on next door, and enlivened her sisters' toilets by frequent telegrams from the window.

　　`There goes the man with the tent! I see Mrs. Barker doing up the lunch in a hamper and a great basket. Now Mr. Laurence is looking up at the sky and the weathercock; I wish he would go too. There's Laurie, looking like a sailor - nice boy! Oh, mercy me! here's a carriage full of people - a tall lady, a little girl, and two dreadful boys. One is lame; poor thing, he's got a crutch. Laurie didn't tell us that. Be quick, girls! it's getting late. Why, there is Ned Moffat, I do declare. Look, Meg, isn't that the man who bowed to you one day when we were shopping?'

　　`So it is. How queer that he should come. I thought he was at the Mountains. There is Sallie; I'm glad she's got back in time. Am I all right, Jo?' cried Meg, in a flutter.

　　`A regular daisy. Hold up your dress and put your hat straight; it looks sentimental tipped that way, and will fly off at the first puff. Now then, come on!'

　　`Oh, Jo, you are not going to wear that awful hat? It's too absurd! You shall not make a guy of yourself,' remonstrated Meg, as Jo tied down, with a red ribbon, the broad-brimmed old-fashioned Leghorn Laurie had sent for a joke.

　　`I just will, though, for it's capital - so shady, light, and big. It will make fun; and I don't mind being a guy if I'm comfortable.' With that Jo marched straight away, and the rest followed - a bright little band of sisters, all looking their best, in summer suits, with happy faces under the jaunty hat-brims.

　　Laurie ran to meet and present them to his friends in the most cordial manner. The lawn was the reception room, and for several minutes a lively scene was enacted there. Meg was grateful to see that Miss Kate, though twenty, was dressed with a simplicity that American girls would do well to imitate; and she was much flattered by Mr. Ned's assurances that he came especially to see her. Jo understood why Laurie `primmed up his mouth' when speaking of Kate, for that young lady had a stand-off-don't-touch-me air, which contrasted strongly with the free and easy demeanour of the other girls. Beth took an observation of the new boys, and decided that the lame one was not `dreadful', but gentle and feeble, and she would be kind to him on that account. Amy found Grace a well-mannered, merry little person; and after staring dumbly at one another for a few minutes, they suddenly became very good friends.

　　Tents, lunch, and croquet utensils had been sent on beforehand, the party was soon embarked, and the two boats pushed off together, leaving Mr. Laurence waving his hat on the shore. Laurie and Jo rowed one boat; Mr. Brooke and Ned the other; while Fred Vaughn, the riotous twin, did his best to upset both by paddling about in a wherry like a disturbed water-bug. Jo's funny hat deserved a word of thanks, for it was of general utility; it broke the ice in the beginning, by producing a laugh; it created quite a refreshing breeze, flapping to and fro as she rowed, and would make an excellent umbrella for the whole party if a shower came up, she said. Kate looked rather amazed at Jo's proceedings, especially as she exclaimed `Christopher Columbus!' when she lost her oar; and Laurie said, `My dear fellow, did I hurt you?' when he tripped over her feet in taking his place. But after putting up her glass to examine the queer girl several times, Miss Kate decided that she was `odd, but rather clever', and smiled upon her from afar.

　　Meg, in the other boat, was delightfully situated, face to face with the rowers, who both admired the prospect, and feathered their oars with uncommon `skill and dexterity'. Mr. Brooke was a grave, silent young man, with handsome brown eyes and a pleasant voice. Meg liked his quiet manners, and considered him a walking encyclopedia of useful knowledge. He never talked to her much, but he looked at her a good deal, and she felt sure that he did not regard her with aversion. Ned, being in college, of course put on all the airs which freshmen think it their bounden duty to assume; he was not very wise, but very good-natured, and altogether an excellent person to carry on a picnic. Sallie Gardiner was absorbed in keeping her white piqu* dress clean, and chattering with the ubiquitous Fred, who kept Beth in constant terror by his pranks.

　　It was not far to Longmeadow; but the tent was pitched and the wickets down by the time they arrived. A pleasant green field, with three wide-spreading oaks in the middle, and a smooth strip of turf for the croquet.

　　`Welcome to Camp Laurence!' said the young host, as they landed, with exclamations of delight.

　　`Brooke is commander-in-chief; I am commissary-general; the other fellows are staff-officers; and you, ladies, are company. The tent is for your especial benefit, and that oak is your drawing room; this is the messroom, and the third is the camp-kitchen. Now, let's have a game before it gets hot, and then we'll see about dinner.'

　　Frank, Beth, Amy, and Grace sat down to watch the game played by the other eight. Mr. Brooke chose Meg, Kate, and Fred; Laurie took Sallie, Jo, and Ned. The Englishers played well; but the Americans played better, and contested every inch of the ground as strongly as if the spirit of '76 inspired them. Jo and Fred had several skirmishes, and once narrowly escaped high words. Jo was through the last wicket, and had missed the stroke, which failure ruffled her a good deal. Fred was close behind her, and his turn came before hers; he gave a stroke, his ball hit the wicket, and stopped an inch on the wrong side. No one was very near; and running up to examine, he gave it a sly nudge with his toe, which put it just an inch on the right side.

　　`I'm through! Now, Miss Jo, I'll settle you, and get in first,' cried the young gentleman, swinging his mallet for another blow.

　　`You pushed it! I saw you; it's my turn now,' said Jo, sharply.

　　`Upon my word, I didn't move it; it rolled a bit, perhaps, but that is allowed; so stand off, please, and let me have a go at the stake.'

　　`We don't cheat in America, but you can, if you choose, said Jo, angrily.

　　`Yankees are a deal the most tricky, everybody knows. There you go!' returned Fred, croqueting her ball far away.

　　Jo opened her lips to say something rude, but checked herself in time, coloured up to her forehead, and stood a minute hammering down a wicket with all her might, while Fred hit the stake, and declared himself out with much exultation. She went off to get her ball, and was a long time finding it among the bushes; but she came back, looking cool and quiet, and waited her turn patiently. It took several strokes to regain the place she had lost; and, when she got there, the other side had nearly won, for Kate's ball was the last but one, and lay near the stake.

　　`By George, it's all up with us! Good-bye, Kate. Miss Jo owes me one, so you are finished,' cried Fred, excitedly, as they all drew near to see the finish.

　　`Yankees have a trick of being generous to their enemies,' said Jo, with a look that made the lad redden, `especially when they beat them,' she added, as, leaving Kate's ball untouched, she won the game by a clever stroke.

　　Laurie threw up his hat; then remembering that it wouldn't do to exult over the defeat of his guests, he stopped in the middle of a cheer to whisper to his friend: `Good for you, Jo! He did cheat, I saw him; we can't tell him so, but he won't do it again, take my word for it.'

　　Meg drew her aside, under pretence of pinning up a loose braid, and said approvingly: `It was dreadfully provoking; but you kept your temper, and I'm so glad, Jo.'

　　`Don't praise me, Meg, for I could box his ears this minute. I should certainly have boiled over if I hadn't stayed among the nettles till I got my rage under enough to hold my tongue. It's simmering now, so I hope he'll keep out of my way,' returned Jo, biting her lips, as she glowered at Fred from under her big hat.

　　`Time for lunch,' said Mr. Brooke, looking at his watch. `Commissary-general, will you make the fire and get water, while Miss March, Miss Sallie and I spread the table? Who can make good coffee? `

　　`Jo can!' said Meg, glad to recommend her sister. So Jo, feeling that her late lessons in cookery were to do her honour, went to preside over the coffee-pot, while the children collected dry sticks, and the boys made a fire, and got water from a spring near by. Miss Kate sketched, and Frank talked to Beth, who was making little mats of braided rushes to serve as plates. The commander-in-chief and his aides soon spread the tablecloth with an inviting array of eatables and drinkables, prettily decorated with green leaves. Jo announced that the coffee was ready, and everyone settled themselves to a hearty meal; for youth is seldom dyspeptic, and exercise develops wholesome appetites. A very merry lunch it was; for everything seemed fresh and funny, and frequent peals of laughter startled a venerable horse who fed near by. There was a pleasing inequality in the table, which produced many mishaps to cups and plates; acorns dropped into the milk, little black ants partook of the refreshments without being invited, and fuzzy caterpillars swung down from the tree to see what was going on. Three white-headed children peeped over the fence, and an objectionable dog barked at them from the other side of the river with all his might and main.

　　`There's salt here, if you prefer it,' said Laurie, as he handed Jo a saucer of berries.

　　`Thank you, I prefer spiders,' she replied, fishing up two unwary little ones who had gone to a creamy death. `How dare you remind me of that horrid dinner-party, when yours is so nice in every way?' added Jo, as they both laughed, and ate out of one plate, the china having run short.

　　`I had an uncommonly good time that day, and haven't got over it yet. This is no credit to me, you know; I don't do anything; it's you and Meg and Brooke who make it go, and I'm no end obliged to you. What shall we do when we can't eat any more?' asked Laurie, feeling that his trump card had been played when lunch was over.

　　`Have games till it's cooler. I brought "Authors", and I dare say Miss Kate knows something new and nice. Go and ask her; she's company, and you ought to stay with her more.

　　`Aren't you company, too? I thought she'd suit Brooke; but he keeps talking to Meg, and Kate just stares at them through that ridiculous glass of hers. I'm going, so you needn't try to preach propriety, for you can't do it, Jo.'

　　Miss Kate did know several new games; and as the girls would not, and the boys could not, eat any more, they all adjourned to the drawing room to play `Rigmarole'.

　　`One person begins a story, any nonsense you like, and tells as long as he pleases, only taking care to stop short at some exciting point, when the next takes it up and does the same. It's very funny when well done, and makes a perfect jumble of tragical comical stuff to laugh over. Please start it, Mr. Brooke,' said Kate with a commanding air, which surprised Meg, who treated the tutor with as much respect as any other gentleman.

　　Lying on the grass at the feet of the two young ladies, Mr. Brooke obediently began the story, with the handsome brown eyes steadily fixed upon the sunshiny river.

　　`Once upon a time a knight went out into the world to seek his fortune, for he had nothing but his sword and his shield. He travelled a long while, nearly eight-and-twenty years, and had a hard time of it, till he came to the palace of a good old king, who had offered a reward to any who would tame and train a fine but unbroken colt of which he was very fond. The knight agreed to try, and got on slowly but surely; for the colt was a gallant fellow, and soon learned to love his new master, though he was freakish and wild. Everyday, when he gave his lessons to this pet of the king's, the knight rode him through the city; and, as he rode, he looked everywhere for a certain beautiful face, which he had seen many times in his dreams, but never found. One day, as he went prancing down a quiet street, he saw at the window of a ruinous castle the lovely face. He was delighted, inquired who lived in this old castle, and was told that several captive princesses were kept there by a spell, and spun all day to lay up money to buy their liberty. The knight wished intensely that he could free them; but he was poor, and could only go by each day, watching for the sweet face, and longing to see it out in the sunshine. At last he resolved to get into the castle and ask how he could help them. He went and knocked; the great door flew open, and he beheld——'

　　`A ravishingly lovely lady, who exclaimed, with a cry of rapture, "At last! at last"', continued Kate, who had read French novels, and admired the style. `"'Tis she!" cried Count Gustave, and fell at her feet in an ecstasy of joy. "Oh, rise!" she said, extending a hand of marble fairness. "Never! till you tell me how I may rescue you," swore the knight, still kneeling. "Alas, my cruel fate condemns me to remain here till my tyrant is destroyed." "Where is the villain!" "In the mauve salon. Go, brave heart, and save me from despair." `I obey, and return victorious or dead!" With these thrilling words he rushed away, and flinging open the door of the mauve salon, was about to enter, when he received——'

　　`A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon, which an old fellow in a black gown fired at him,' said Ned. `Instantly Sir What's his-name recovered himself, pitched the tyrant out of the window, and turned to join the lady victorious, but with a bump on his brow; found the door locked, tore up the curtains, made a rope ladder, got half way down when the ladder broke, and he went head first into the moat, sixty feet below. Could swim like a duck, paddled round the castle till he came to a little door guarded by two stout fellows; knocked their heads together till they cracked like a couple of nuts, then, by a trilling exertion of his prodigious strength, he smashed in the door, went up a pair of stone steps covered with dust a foot thick, toads as big as your fist, and spiders that would frighten you into hysterics, Miss March. At the top of these steps he came plump upon a sight that took his breath away and chilled his blood——'

　　`A tall figure, all in white, with a veil over its face, and a lamp in its wasted hand,' went on Meg. `It beckoned, gliding noiselessly before him down a corridor as dark and cold as any tomb. Shadowy effigies in armour stood on either side, a dead silence reigned, the lamp burned blue, and the ghostly figure ever and anon turned its face towards him showing the glitter of awful eyes through its white veil. They reached a curtained door, behind which sounded lovely music; he sprang forward to enter, but the spectre plucked him back, and waved threateningly before him a——'

　　`Snuff-box,' said Jo, in a sepulchral tone, which convulsed the audience. `"Thankee," said the knight, politely, as he took a pinch, and sneezed seven times so violently that his head fell off. "Ha! ha!" laughed the ghost; and having peeped through the keyhole at the princesses spinning away for dear life, the evil spirit picked up her victim and put him in a large tin box, where there were eleven other knights packed together without their heads, like sardines, who all rose and began to——'

　　`Dance a hornpipe,' cut in Fred, as Jo paused for breath; `and, as they danced, the rubbishy old castle turned to a man-of-war in full sail. "Up with the jib, reef the tops'l halliards, helm hard a-lee, and man the guns!" roared the captain, as a Portuguese pirate hove in sight, with a flag black as ink flying from her foremast. "Go in and win my hearties!" says the captain; and a tremendous fight began. Of course the British beat; they always do.'

　　`No, they don't,' cried Jo, aside.

　　`Having taken the pirate captain prisoner, sailed slap over the schooner, whose decks were piled with dead, and whose leescuppers ran blood, for the order had been "Cutlasses, and die hard!" "Bosun's mate, take a bright of the flying jib sheet, and start this villain if he don't confess his sins double quick," said the British captain. The Portuguese held his tongue like a brick, and walked the plank, while the jolly tars cheered like mad. But the sly dog dived, came up under the man-of-war, scuttled her, and down she went, with all sail set, "To the bottom of the sea, sea, sea," where——'

　　`Oh, gracious! what shall I say?' cried Sallie, as Fred ended his rigmarole, in which he had jumbled together, pell-mell, nautical phrases and facts out of one of his favourite books. `Well, they went to the bottom, and a nice mermaid welcomed them, but was much grieved on finding the box of headless knights, and kindly pickled them in brine, hoping to discover the mystery about them, for, being a woman, she was curious. By and by, a diver came down, and the mermaid said, "I'll give you this box of pearls if you can take it up"; for she wanted to restore the poor things to life, and couldn't raise the heavy load herself. So the diver hoisted it up, and was much disappointed to find no pearls. He left it in a great lonely field, where it was found by a——'

　　`Little goosegirl, who kept a hundred fat geese in the field,' said Amy, when Sallies invention gave out. `The little girl was sorry for them, and asked an old woman what she should do to help them. "Your geese will tell you, they know everything," said the old woman. So she asked what she should use for new heads, since the old ones were lost, and all the geese opened their hundred mouths and screamed——'

　　`"Cabbages!"' continued Laurie, promptly. `"Just the thing," said the girl, and ran to get twelve fine ones from her garden. She put them on, the knights revived at once, thanked her, and went on their way rejoicing, never knowing the difference, for there were so many other heads like them in the world that no one thought anything of it. The knight in whom I'm interested went back to find the pretty face, and learned that the princesses had spun themselves free, and all gone to be married but one. He was in a great state of mind at that; and mounting the colt, who stood by him through thick and thin, rushed to the castle to see which was left. Peeping over the hedge, he saw the queen of his affections picking flowers in her garden. "Will you give me a rose?" said he. "You must come and get it. I can't come to you; it isn't proper," said she, as sweet as honey. He tried to climb over the hedge, but it seemed to grow higher and higher; then he tried to push through, but it grew thicker and thicker and he was in despair. So he patiently broke twig after twig till he had made a little hole, through which he peeped, saying imploringly, "Let me in! let me in." But the pretty princess did not seem to understand, for she picked her roses quietly, and left him to fight his way in. Whether he did or not, Frank will tell you.'

　　`I can't; I'm not playing, I never do,' said Frank, dismayed at the sentimental predicament out of which he was to rescue the absurd couple. Beth had disappeared behind Jo, and Grace was asleep.

　　`So the poor knight is to be left sticking in the hedge, is he?' asked Mr. Brooke, still watching the river and playing with the wild rose in his buttonhole.

　　`I guess the princess gave him a posy, and opened the gate after a while,' said Laurie, smiling to himself, as he threw acorns at his tutor.

　　`What a piece of nonsense we have made! With practice we might do something quite clever. Do you know "Truth"?' asked Sallie, after they had laughed over their story.

　　`I hope so,' said Meg, soberly.

　　`The game, I mean?'

　　`What is it?' said Fred.

　　`Why, you pile up your hands, choose a number, and draw out in turn, and the person who draws at the number has to answer truly any questions put by the rest. It's great fun.'

　　`Let's try it,' said Jo, who liked new experiments.

　　Miss Kate and Mr. Brooke, Meg, and Ned declined, but Fred, Sallie, Jo, and Laurie piled and drew; and the lot fell to Laurie.

　　`Who are your heroes?' asked Jo.

　　`Grandfather and Napoleon.'

　　`Which lady here do you think prettiest?' said Sallie.

　　`Margaret.'

　　`Which do you like best?' from Fred.

　　`Jo, of course.'

　　`What silly questions you ask!' and Jo gave a disdainful shrug, as the rest laughed at Laurie's matter-of-fact tone.

　　`Try again; Truth isn't a bad game,' said Fred.

　　`It's, a very good one for you,' retorted Jo, in a low voice.

　　Her turn came next.

　　`What is your greatest fault?' asked Fred, by way of testing in her the virtue he lacked himself.

　　`A quick temper.'

　　`What do you most wish for?' said Laurie.

　　`A pair of boot-lacings,' returned Jo, guessing and defeating his purpose.

　　`Not a true answer; you must say what you really do want most.'

　　`Genius; don't you wish you could give it to me, Laurie?' and she slyly smiled in his disappointed face.

　　`What virtues do you most admire in a man?' asked Sallie.

　　`Courage and honesty.'

　　`Now my turn,' said Fred, as his hand came last.

　　`Let's give it to him,' whispered Laurie to Jo, who nodded, and asked at once: `Didn't you cheat at croquet?'

　　`Well, yes, a little bit.'

　　`Good! Didn't you take your story out of The Sea-Lion?' said Laurie.

　　`Rather.'

　　`Don't you think the English nation perfect in every respect?' asked Sallie.

　　`I should be ashamed of myself if I didn't.'

　　`He's a true John Bull. Now, Miss Sallie, You shall have a chance without waiting to draw. I'll harrow up your feelings first by asking if you don't think you are something of a flirt,' said Laurie, as Jo nodded to Fred, as a sign that peace was declared.

　　`You impertinent boy! of course I'm not,' exclaimed Sallie, with an air that proved the contrary.

　　`What do you hate most?' asked Fred.

　　`Spiders and rice-pudding.'

　　`What do you like best?' asked Jo.

　　`Dancing and French gloves.'

　　`Well, I think Truth is a very silly play; let's have a sensible game of Authors, to refresh our minds,' proposed Jo.

　　Ned, Frank, and the little girls joined in this, and while it went on the three elder sat apart talking. Miss Kate took out her sketch again, and Margaret watched her, while Mr. Brooke lay on the grass, with a book which he did not read.

　　`How beautifully you do it! I wish I could draw,' said Meg, with mingled admiration and regret in her voice.

　　`Why don't you learn? I should think you had taste and talent for it,' replied Miss Kate, graciously.

　　`I haven't time.'

　　`Your mamma prefers other accomplishments, I fancy. So did mine; but I proved to her that I had talent by taking a few lessons privately, and then she was quite willing I should go on. Can't you do the same with your governess?'

　　`I have none.'

　　`I forgot; young ladies in America go to school more than with us. Very fine schools they are, too, papa says. You go to a private one, I suppose?'

　　`I don't go at all; I am a governess myself.'

　　`Oh, indeed!' said Miss Kate; but she might as well have said, `Dear me, how dreadful!' for her tone implied it, and something in her face made Meg colour, and wish she had not been so frank.

　　Mr. Brooke looked up, and said quickly, `Young ladies in America love independence as much as their ancestors did, and are admired and respected for supporting themselves.'

　　`Oh, yes; of course it's very nice and proper in them to do so. We have many most respectable and worthy young women who do the same, and are employed by the nobility, because, being the daughters of gentlemen, they are both well-bred and accomplished, you know,' said Miss Kate in a patronising tone, that hurt Meg's pride, and made her work seem not only more distasteful, but degrading.

　　`Did the German song suit, Miss March?' inquired Mr. Brooke, breaking an awkward pause.

　　`Oh yes; it was very sweet, and I'm much obliged to whoever translated it for me'; and Meg's downcast face brightened as she spoke.

　　`Don't you read German?' asked Miss Kate, with a look of surprise.

　　`Not very well. My father, who taught me, is away, and I don't get on very fast alone, for I've no one to correct my pronunciation.'

　　`Try a little now; here is Schiller's Mary Stuart, an a tutor who loves to teach,' and Mr. Brooke laid his book on her lap, with an inviting smile.

　　`It's so hard, I'm afraid to try,' said Meg, grateful, but bashful in the presence of the accomplished young lady beside her.

　　`I'll read a bit to encourage you'; and Miss Kate read one of the most beautiful passages in a perfectly correct but perfectly expressionless manner.

　　Mr. Brooke made no comment as she returned the book to Meg, who said innocently:

　　`I thought it was poetry.'

　　`Some of it is. Try this passage.'

　　There was a queer smile about Mr. Brooke's mouth as he opened at poor Mary's lament.

　　Meg, obediently following the long grass blade which her new tutor used to point with, read slowly and timidly, unconsciously making poetry of the hard words by the soft intonation of her musical voice. Down the page went the green guide, and presently forgetting her listener in the beauty of the sad scene Meg read as if alone, giving a little touch of tragedy to the words of the unhappy queen. If she had seen the brown eyes then, she would have stopped short; but she never looked up, and the lesson was not spoiled for her.

　　`Very well indeed!' said Mr. Brooke, as she paused, quite ignoring her many mistakes, and looking as if he did, indeed, `love to teach'.

　　Miss Kate put up her glass, and having taken a survey of the little tableau before her, shut her sketch-book, saying, with condescension:

　　`You've a nice accent, and in time will be a clever reader. I advise you to learn, for German is a valuable accomplishment to teachers. I must look after Grace, she is romping'; and Miss Kate strolled away adding to herself, with a shrug, `I didn't come to chaperone a governess, though she is young and pretty. What odd people these Yankees are; I'm afraid Laurie will be quite spoilt among them.'

　　`I forgot that English people rather turn up their noses at governesses, and don't treat them as we do,' said Meg, looking after the retreating figure with an annoyed expression.

　　`Tutors, also, have rather a hard time of it there, as I know to my sorrow. There's no place like America for us workers, Miss Margaret', and Mr. Brooke looked so contented and cheerful, that Meg was ashamed to lament her hard lot. `I'm glad I live in it, then. I don't like my work, but I get a good deal of satisfaction out of it after all, so I won't complain; I only wish I liked teaching as you do.'

　　`I think you would if you had Laurie for a pupil. I shall be very sorry to lose him next year,' said Mr. Brooke, busily punching holes in the turf.

　　`Going to college, I suppose?' Meg's lips asked that question, but her eyes added, `And what becomes of you?'

　　`Yes; it's high time he went, for he is ready; and as soon as he is off I shall turn soldier. I am needed.'

　　`I am glad of that!' exclaimed Meg. `I should think every young man would want to go; though it is hard for the mothers and sisters who stay at home,' she added, sorrowfully.

　　`I have neither, and very few friends, to care whether I live or die,' said Mr. Brooke, rather bitterly, as he absently put the dead rose in the hole he had made and covered it up, like a little grave.

　　`Laurie and his grandfather would care a great deal, and we should all be very sorry to have any harm happen to you,' said Meg, heartily.

　　`Thank you; that sounds pleasant,' began Mr. Brooke, looking cheerful again; but before he could finish his speech, Ned, mounted on the old horse, came lumbering up to display his equestrian skill before the young ladies, and there was no more quiet that day.

　　`Don't you love to ride?' asked Grace of Amy, as they stood resting, after a race round the field with the others, led by Ned.

　　`I dote upon it; my sister Meg used to ride when papa was rich but we don't keep any horses now, except Ellen Tree,' added Amy, laughing.

　　`Tell me about Ellen Tree; is it a donkey?' asked Grace, curiously.

　　`Why, you see, Jo is crazy about horses, and so am I, but we've only got an old side-saddle, and no horse. But in our garden is an apple-tree, that has a nice low branch; so Jo put the saddle on it, fixed some reins on the part that turns up, and we bounce away on Ellen Tree whenever we like.'

　　`How funny!' laughed Grace. `I have a pony at home, and ride nearly every day in the park, with Fred and Kate; it's very nice, for my friends go too, and the Row is full of ladies and gentlemen.'

　　`Dear, how charming! I hope I shall go abroad some day; but I'd rather go to Rome than the Row,' said Amy, who had not the remotest idea what the Row was, and wouldn't have asked for the world.

　　Frank, sitting just behind the little girls, heard what they were saying, and pushed his crutch away from him with an impatient gesture, as he watched the active lads going through all sorts of comical gymnastics. Beth, who was collecting the scattered Author-cards, looked up, and said, in her shy yet friendly way:

　　`I'm afraid you are tired; can I do anything for you?'

　　`Talk to me, please; it's dull, sitting by myself,' answered Frank, who had evidently been used to being made much of at home.

　　If he had asked her to deliver a Latin oration, it would not have seemed a more impossible task to bashful Beth; but there was no place to run to, no Jo to hide behind now, and the poor boy looked so wistfully at her, that she bravely resolved to try.

　　`What do you like to talk about?' she asked, fumbling over the cards, and dropping half as she tried to tie them up.

　　`Well, I like to hear about cricket and boating and hunting,' said Frank, who had not yet learnt to suit his amusements to his strength.

　　`My heart! what shall I do? I don't know anything about them,' thought Beth; and, forgetting the boy's misfortune in her flurry, she said, hoping to make him talk, `I never saw any hunting, but I suppose you know all about it.'

　　`I did once; but I can never hunt again, for I got hurt leaping a confounded five-barred gate; so there are no more horses and hounds for me,' said Frank, with a sigh that made Beth hate herself for her innocent blunder.

　　`Your deer are much prettier than our ugly buffaloes,' she said, turning to the prairies for help, and feeling glad that she had read one of the boy's books in which Jo delighted.

　　Buffaloes proved soothing and satisfactory; and, in her eagerness to amuse another, Beth forgot herself, and was quite unconscious of her sisters' surprise and delight at the unusual spectacle of Beth talking away to one of the dreadful boys, against whom she had begged protection.

　　`Bless her heart! She pities him, so she is good to him,' said Jo, beaming at her from the croquet ground.

　　`I always said she was a little saint,' added Meg, as if there could be no further doubt about it.

　　`I haven't heard Frank laugh so much for ever so long,' said Grace to Amy, as they sat discussing dolls, and making tea-sets out of the acorn-cups.

　　`My sister Beth is a very fastidious girl when she likes to be,' said Amy, well pleased at Beth's success. She meant `fascinating', but as Grace didn't know the exact meaning of either word `fastidious' sounded well, and made a good impression. An impromptu circus, fox and geese, and an amicable game of croquet finished the afternoon. At sunset the tent was struck, hampers packed, wickets pulled up, boats loaded, and the whole party floated down the river, singing at the tops of their voices. Ned, getting sentimental, warbled a serenade with the pensive refrain:

　　`Alone, alone, ah! woe, alone,'

　　and at the lines:

　　`We each are young, we each have a heart, Oh, why should we thus stand coldly apart,'

　　he looked at Meg with such a lackadaisical expression that she laughed outright and spoilt his song.

　　`How can you be so cruel to me?' he whispered, under cover of a lively chorus. `You've kept close to that starched-up English woman all day, and now you snub me.'

　　`I didn't mean to; but you looked so funny I really couldn't help it,' replied Meg, passing over the first part of his reproach; for it was quite true that she had shunned him, remembering the Moffat party and the talk after it.

　　Ned was off ended, and turned to Sallie for consolation, saying to her, rather pettishly, `There isn't a bit of flirt in that girl, is there?'

　　`Not a particle; but she's a dear,' returned Sallie, def ending her friend, even while confessing her shortcomings.

　　`She's not a stricken deer, anyway,' said Ned, trying to be witty, and succeeding as well as very young gentlemen usually do. On the lawn, where it had gathered, the little party separated, with cordial good nights and good-byes, for the Vaughns were going to Canada. As the four sisters went home through the garden, Miss Kate looked after them, saying, without the patronising tone in her voice, `In spite of their demonstrative manners, American girls are very nice when one knows them.'

　　`I quite agree with you,' said Mr. Brooke.
 
贝思是个女邮政局长，因为她在家的时间最多，可以定时收寄邮件，而且她也十分喜欢每天打开那扇小门，分派信件。七月的一天，她双手捧得满满地走进来，像邮递员一样，满屋子派发信件包裹。
“这是您的花，妈妈！劳里总是把这事记在心上，”她边说边把鲜花插进摆在“妈咪角"的花瓶里。那位感情细腻的男孩子每天都要送上一束鲜花供她们插瓶。
“梅格•马奇小姐，一封信和一只手套。”贝思继续把邮件递给坐在妈妈身边缝衣袖口的姐姐。
“咦，我在那边丢了一双，怎么现在只有一只？”梅格望望灰色的棉手套。”你是不是把另一只丢在园子里头了？”“没有，我保证没有，因为邮箱里就只有一只。 “我讨厌单只手套！不过不要紧，另一只会找到的，我的信只是我要的一首德语歌的译文。我想是布鲁克写的，因为不是劳里的字迹。”马奇太太瞅一眼梅格，只见她穿着一袭方格花布晨衣，额前的小鬈发随风轻轻飘动，显得美丽动人，娇柔可爱。她坐在堆满整整齐齐的白布匹的小工作台边哼着歌儿飞针走线，脑子里只顾做着五彩斑斓、天真无邪的少女美梦、一点也没有觉察到妈妈的心事。马奇太太笑了，感到十分满意。
“乔博士有两封信，一本书，还有一顶趣怪的旧帽子，把整个邮箱都盖住了，还伸出外面，”贝里边说边笑着走进书房，乔正坐在书房里写作。
“劳里真是个狡猾的家伙。我说如果流行大帽子就好了，因为我每到天热就会把脸晒焦。他说：'何必管它流行不流行？
就戴一顶大帽，别难为了自己！'我说如果我有就会戴，他就送了这顶来试我。我偏要戴上它，跟他闹着玩，让他知道我不在乎流行不流行的。”乔把这顶旧式阔边帽子挂到柏拉图的半身像上，开始读信。
一封是妈妈写的，她读着便飞红了双颊，眼睛也潮湿了，因为信上说 -亲爱的：我写几句话告诉你，看到你为控制自己的脾气作出了巨大的努力，我感到多么高兴。你对自己的痛苦、失败、或成功只字不提，可能以为除了那位每天给你帮助的"朋友”外（我敢相信是你那本封面卷了角的指导书），没有人注意到这一切。不过，我也一一看在眼里，而且完全相信你的诚意和决心，因为你的决心已经开始结果了。继续努力吧，亲爱的，耐着性子，鼓足勇气，记住有一个人比任何人都更关心你，更爱护你，他就是你亲爱的妈妈“这些话对我很有好处，这封信抵得上万千金钱和无数溢美之辞。噢，妈咪，我确实是在努力！在您的帮助下，我一定不屈不挠地坚持下去。”乔把头埋在双臂上，为这小小的罗曼史洒下几滴热泪。她原以为没有人看到和欣赏她的努力，现在却意外地受到了母亲的赞扬，她一向最敬重母亲的话，因此这封信显得更加珍贵、更加鼓舞人心。她把纸条当作护身符别在上衣里面，以便时刻提醒自己，更增加了征服困难的信心。她接着打开另一封信，准备接受这个不知是好是坏的消息，展现在眼前的是劳里龙飞凤舞的大字--亲爱的乔，嗬！
几个英国女孩和男孩明天来看望我，我想好好玩玩。如果天气好，我准备在长草坪上搭帐篷，全班人马划船过去吃午饭，玩槌球游戏 点篝火，野餐，自由戏耍，享受天然野趣。布鲁克也一起去，看管我们这班男孩子，凯特•沃恩则看管女孩子。恳请你们各位光临，无论如何不能漏了贝思，没有人会烦扰她的。不用担心野餐食物--一切由我来负责--千万出席这才是好朋友呢！
请恕行笔匆匆。
你永远的劳里
“好消息！”乔叫道，冲进去向梅格报讯。
“我们当然可以去，妈妈，对吧？这样还可以帮劳里的大忙呢，因为我会划船，梅格可以做午饭，两个妹妹也多少可以帮点忙。”“我希望沃恩姐弟不是拘泥古板、成熟老到这一类人。你了解他们吗，乔？”梅格问。
“只知道他们是四姐弟。凯特年纪比你大，弗雷德和弗兰克（双胞胎）年纪跟我差不多，还有个小姑娘（格莱丝）约莫十岁。劳里是在国外认识他们的，他喜欢那两个男孩子；我想，他不怎么赞赏凯特，因为他谈起她便一本正经地抿起嘴巴。”“我真高兴我的法式印花布服装还干干净净，这种场合穿正合适，又好看！“梅格喜滋滋地说，”你有什么出得场面的吗，乔？”“红、灰两色的划艇衣就够好了。我要划船，到处跑动，只想穿随便一点。你也来吧，贝蒂？”“那你得别让那些男孩子跟我说话。”“一个也不让！”“我想让劳里高兴，我也不怕布鲁克先生，他是个大好人；但是我不想玩，不想唱，也不想说话。我会埋头干活，不打扰别人。你来照看我，乔，那我就去。”“这才是我的好妹妹，你在努力克服自己的害羞心理呢，我真高兴。改正缺点并不容易，这我知道，而一句鼓励的话儿就能使人精神一振。谢谢您，妈妈，”乔说着感激地吻了一下母亲瘦削的脸庞，这一吻对于马奇太太来说比任何东西都要宝贵。
“我收到一盒巧克力糖和我想要的图画，”艾美说着把邮件打开给大家看。
“我收到劳伦斯先生一张字条，叫我今晚点灯前过去弹琴给他听，我会去的，“贝思接着说，她跟老人的友谊进展得非常快。
“我们马上行动起来吧，今天干双倍活，明天就可以玩得无忧无虑了，”乔说道，准备放下笔杆，拿起扫帚。
第二天一早，当太阳把头探进姑娘们的闺房向她们预告好天气时，他看到了一幅妙趣横生的景象：姐妹们个个下足功夫，为野营盛会做好充分准备。梅格的前额排列着一排小卷发纸；乔在晒焦了的脸上厚厚地涂了一层冷霜；贝思因为即将和乔安娜分离，把她带到床上共寝以弥补损失；艾美更是令人叫绝，她用衣夹夹住鼻子，试图把令人烦恼的扁鼻梁托高。这种夹子正是艺术家们用来在画板上夹画纸的那种，因此用在这里尤其合适。这幅滑稽图显然把太阳公公逗乐了，他笑得喷出万道金光，把乔照醒。看到艾美这付尊容，她禁不住大笑出声，遂把众姐妹闹醒了。
阳光和笑声是野营盛会的吉兆。两家屋子的人开始活跃忙碌起来。贝思第一个准备停当，她靠在窗前不断报告邻居的新动态，把正在梳妆打扮的三姐妹弄得越发紧张忙碌。
“一个人带着帐篷出来了！我看到巴克太太把午饭放到一个盖箱和大篓里。现在劳伦斯先生仰头望望天空和风标；但愿他也一起去。那是劳里，打扮得像个水手-- 帅小伙子！噢，啊呀！一整车的人--一个高个女士，一个小姑娘，还有两个可怕的男孩子。一个跛了腿：可怜的人！他拄着支拐杖。劳里没跟我们说过。快点，姑娘们！时间不早了。呀，那是内德•莫法特，没错。瞧，梅格，这不是那天我们上街时向你行礼的那个人吗？”“果然不错。他怎么也来了？我还以为他在山里头呢。那是莎莉；太好了，她回来得正是时候。你看我这样行吗，乔？”梅格焦急地问道。
“漂亮极了。提起裙子，把帽子戴正，这样斜翘着看上去有种感伤情调，而且风一吹便要飞走了。好了，我们出发吧！”“噢，乔，你不是要戴这顶糟帽子去吧？这太荒唐了，你不该把自己弄得像个男人，”梅格规劝道。此时乔正把劳里开玩笑送来的旧式阔边意大利草帽用一根红丝带围系起来。
“我正是要戴着去，它棒极了--又挡荫，又轻，又大。
戴上它更添情趣，再说，只要舒服，我不在乎做个男人，”乔说罢迈步就走，姐妹们紧跟其后--每人穿一身夏装，戴一顶逍遥自在的帽子，春风满脸，十分好看，俨然一支活泼快乐的小队伍。
劳里跑上前来迎接她们，十分热情地把她们介绍给各位朋友。草坪成了会客厅，大家在那里逗留了几分钟，气氛十分活跃。梅格看到凯特小姐虽然年方二十，穿着打扮却相当简扑，心里松了一口气，因为这种风格美国姑娘不费吹灰之力就能学会。她听内德先生一再声明自己特为见她一面而来，心里更加受用。乔终于明白劳里为什么一提到凯特就"一本正经地抿起嘴巴"，因为这位女士神态孤高冷傲，不像其他姑娘那样无拘无束、轻松随和。贝思观察了一下新来的男孩子，认为跛足这位并不"可怕"，反倒温顺柔弱，她因此想善待他。
艾美觉得格莱丝是个举止优雅、活泼快乐的小人儿，她俩默默对视了几分钟后，马上成了十分要好的朋友。
帐篷、午饭、槌球游戏用具等先行送走后，大家随即登上小艇。两叶轻舟并驾齐驱，岸上只剩下挥着帽子的劳伦斯先生一人。劳里和乔共划一艘艇，布鲁克先生和内德先生划另一艘，而淘气反叛的双胞胎兄弟弗雷德•沃恩则使劲划着一只单人赛艇，像只受了惊的水蝽一样在两叶小舟之间乱冲乱撞。乔那顶风趣的帽子用途十分广泛，值得击掌鸣谢：它一开始便打破隔膜，逗得众人笑一来，她划船时帽子上下摆动，扇出阵阵清风，如果下起雨来它还可以给全班人马当作一把大伞使用，她说。凯特对乔的一举一动都觉得十分新奇，她丢了桨时大叫一声" 我的妈哟！”；而劳里就坐时不小心在她脚上绊了一下，他说：“我的好伙伴，弄痛了你没有？”这些更叫她纳罕不已。戴上眼镜把这位奇怪的姑娘审视几遍后，凯特小姐认定乔"古怪，但挺聪明"，于是远远对着她微笑起来。
另一只艇上的梅格舒舒服服地坐在两个荡桨手的对面，两个小伙子喜之不尽，各自使出不一般的"技巧和机敏"，把艇划得十分稳当。布鲁克先生是个严肃、沉默寡言的年青人，声音悦耳动听，一对棕色的眼睛明亮有神。梅格喜欢他性格沉静，把他看作是一部活百科全书，里头装满了各种有用的知识。他跟她不大说话，但眼光却常常落在她身上，梅格肯定他对自己并不反感。内德是大学新生，当然摆足派头。他并不特别聪明，但性情随和，不失为野营活动的好伙伴。莎莉•加德纳一面打足精神护着自己的白裙子，以免被水平脏，一面和到处乱冲乱撞的弗雷德交谈。弗雷德不断做出各式各样的恶作剧，把贝思吓得心惊胆战。
长草坪相隔并不远，他们到达时帐篷已搭好了，三柱门也支了起来。这是一片令人心旷神怡的绿地，中间挺立着三棵枝繁叶茂的橡树，还有一块玩槌球用的平滑狭长的草坪。
“欢迎光临劳伦斯营地！”大家登上绿地，高兴得发出阵阵赞叹的时候，年轻主人说道。
“布鲁克任总指挥，我任军需官，其他各位男士任参谋官，而你们，女士们，则是陪同。这个帐篷专为你们而搭，那棵橡树是你们的客厅，第二棵是餐室，第三棵是营地厨房。好了，天未热我们先玩个游戏，然后再来做饭。”弗兰克、贝思、艾美和格莱丝坐下观看其他八人玩游戏。
布鲁克选了梅格、凯特和弗雷德；劳里则选了莎莉、乔和内德。英国孩子打得不错，但美国孩子打得更好，而且冲劲十足。乔和弗雷德发生了几次小冲突，一次还几乎吵了起来。乔过最后一道三柱门时失了一球，很是光火。弗雷德紧跟其后，这回先轮到他发球，接着才轮到乔。他把球一击，球打在三柱门上，然后停了下来，离球门仅有一英寸之距。大家离得较远，于是跑上来看个究竟。他狡猾地用脚指头把球轻轻一碰，球便刚好滑进了球门。
“我进了！哈，乔小姐，我要把你击败，第一个进球，”年轻人挥舞着球棍叫道，准备再击一球。
“你推了球，我亲眼看见的；这回轮到我，”乔厉声说。
“我发誓，我没动它；球也许是滚了一点，但这并不犯规；还是请站开一点，让我好好击球吧。”“我们美国人不作弊，但你们可以，如果你们喜欢。”乔十分生气。
“美国佬最有手段，这谁不知道。去你的球吧！”弗雷德回击道，把她的球打出老远。
乔张口要骂，却又忍住了，只觉得热血直冲脑门，她怔了一会，用尽全力把一个三柱门捶倒，而弗雷德则击中目标，狂喜地宣布自己胜出。乔走开去拾球，好一会功夫才在矮树丛里把球找到。但她走回来，神态冷静，一言不发，耐心地等着发球。她打了好几球才追回到原来的位置；当她追上时，对方差不多就要赢了，因为凯特的球是倒数第二个，正停在目标旁边。
大家围上前来观看最后一战，弗雷德紧张地叫道：“啊呀，我们完蛋了！不用打了，凯特。乔小姐欠我一球，因此你完了。”“美国佬的手段是对敌人宽宏大量，“乔说着看了他一眼，小伙子脸上腾地红了起来。”尤其是当他们打败敌人的时候，“她接着说，并不去动凯特的球，而是把自己的球漂亮一击，赢了比赛。
劳里把自己的帽子向空中一扔，却突然想起败方是自己的客人，不可太露轻狂，于是赶紧收住喊出嘴边的喝彩声，悄悄跟自己的朋友说：“做得对，乔！他确实是作弊，我也看到了；但我们不能跟他直说，不过他下回不敢再犯了，相信我吧。”梅格把她拉过一边，假装帮她夹起一绺松脱下来的辫子，赞赏地说：“这事叫人怒不可遏，但你竟忍住了，没有发脾气，我真高兴，乔。”“别夸我，梅格，我这会还想赏他一个耳光呢。我刚才在蓖麻树丛里呆了许久，压下一腔怒火才没有出声，要不，早就火冒三丈了。我的火这会还热着呢，所以他最好离我远点，“乔答道，紧咬双唇，从那顶大帽子下面悻悻地瞪了弗雷德一眼。
“该吃午饭了，”布鲁克先生看看手表说，”军需官，你去生火、打水，我跟马奇小姐、莎莉小姐一起布置饭桌，怎么样？哪位擅长煮咖啡？”“乔会。”梅格高兴地推荐妹妹。乔知道自己新近学会的烹饪技术不会给自己丢脸，便走过去摆弄咖啡壶，两个小姑娘捡来干树枝，男孩子生气火，从附近一个水泉打来清水。凯特小姐写生，贝思编结灯心草小垫子来做盘子，弗兰克在一旁跟她拉话儿。
总指挥和他的助手们很快便在桌布上摆满了各式诱人的食物和饮料，并用绿叶点缀得十分雅致。乔宣布咖啡已经煮好，众人各就各位，坐下饱吃一顿。年青人消化能力强，加上做了运动，所以胃口特别好。这顿午餐吃得十分愉快，一切都似乎新鲜有趣，大家谈笑风生，惊动了在近处吃草的一匹老马。饭桌凹凸不平，常常弄得杯碟东倒西歪，十分逗趣，橡树子掉进牛奶里头，小黑蚂蚁不请自来，一起分享美点，爱管闲事的毛虫从树上晃荡下来，想看看发生了什么事。三个白发小童隔着篱笆探头探脑，一只讨厌的狗在河对面向他们汪汪狂吠。
“这里有盐，要不要来一点？”劳里给乔递上一碟草莓，说。
“多谢了，我倒宁可要蜘蛛，”她答着，挑起两只不小心被奶油淹死了的小蜘蛛。”你还敢提那次糟糕透顶的宴会？你自己的办得有声有色，倒来取笑我？”乔又说，于是两人都笑起来，由于瓷碟不够，便凑着一个碟子一起吃。
“我那天玩得特别开心，至今仍意犹未荆这顿午饭我可不敢贪功，你知道，我什么也没做，都是你和梅格、布鲁克他们做的，我对你们真感激不尽呢。我们吃饱后该干什么？”劳里问。吃罢午饭，他觉得下面没棋了。
“玩游戏，直到天凉下来，我带来了'作者'游戏卡。凯特小姐也一定有些好玩的新花样。去问问她吧；她是客人，你该多陪陪她。”“你就不是客人了？我原以为她和布鲁克合得来，但他却老跟梅格说话，凯特只是透过她那副怪眼镜一个劲地瞪着他们。我去了，你也不用跟我谈什么礼节规矩，因为你自己就做不来，乔。“凯特确实知道几种新游戏，因姑娘们不愿再吃，男孩们又不能再吃，大家便移到“客厅"玩"废话连篇"的游戏。
“一人起个头，给大家讲故事，内容不拘、长短不限，但要注意一到紧要关头便得停下，第二个人立即接上，如法炮制。如果玩得好，这个游戏十分有趣，里头故事杂乱无章，或悲或喜，令人捧腹。请起个头，布鲁克先生，”凯特用一种命令式的语气说。梅格对这位私人教师十分敬重，把他跟其他几位男士一样看待，见状不禁大为惊讶。
草地上，布鲁克先生躺在两位年青小姐的脚边遵命起头，漂亮的棕色眼睛凝视着披满阳光的小河。
“从前，一个武士穷得只剩下一把剑和一张盾，于是出去闯世界。他历尽艰辛，周游了差不多二十八年，最后来到一个好心的老国王的宫殿。老国王有一匹心爱的小马，漂亮无比，但尚未驯服，他颁令如有人把这骑马驯好，将获得一笔丰厚的酬金。武士同意试一试，这匹雄壮骁勇的马儿很快就和新主人建立了感情，虽然它性子暴烈，狂野不羁，但还是慢慢被驯服了。每天训练时武士都骑着国王的宝马穿过闹市，边走边四面寻找一张在他梦中出现过无数次的漂亮脸孔，但一直没有找到。一天，当他策马走过一条寂静无人的街道时，他在一座废弃的城堡的窗口里看到了那张动人的脸孔。他惊喜万分，便询问是谁住在这座旧城堡里头，原来是几个被掳来的公主，她们被施了魔咒，关在里头，夜以继日地纺纱织布，以蓄钱赎取自由。武士非常希望能把她们解救出来，但他一贫如洗，只能每天走到那里，盼望着那张美丽的脸孔能再次出现，期望公主能够出来走到阳光下面。最后他决定闯进城堡，看看怎样才能帮助她们。他走过去敲门，大门马上拉开，他看到了- ”“一位绝色佳人，她狂喜地大叫一声，高呼：'盼到啦！盼到啦！'”凯特接上故事，她读过法国小说，喜欢那种风格。
“'是她！潘顾虿艚械溃老踩艨竦毓蛟谒慕畔隆*
'啊，起来！'她伸出纤纤玉手说道。'不！除非你告诉我怎样才能把你救出樊牢，”武士跪在那里发誓。'呵，残酷的命运把我囚在这里，暴君不死，我就没有出头之日。''恶棍在哪里？''在紫红色的大厅里。去吧，勇敢的爱人，快把我救出绝境。''遵命，我一定与他决一死战！'说完这几句豪言壮语后，他冲出去，砰的一声打开紫红色大厅的大门，正要走进去，却遭到 ”“一下痛击，一个披黑衣的老家伙向他下了手，”内德说，”某某爵士马上回过神来，把暴君丢出窗外，转身去与佳人相会，顶着眉头上的大包，凯旋而归；但却发现门被锁上了，只好撕破窗帘做成一张绳梯，下到半途绳梯突然断裂，他一头栽进六十英尺下面的护城河。他熟谙水性，涉水绕城堡而行，最后来到一扇有两壮汉守着的小门，把两个脑袋互相对碰，直碰得格格作响，接着，大力士毫不费劲便破门而入，走上一段石阶，上面积满了一英尺厚的灰尘，癞蛤蟆跟你的拳头一样大，蜘蛛准把你吓得歇斯底里尖叫，马奇小姐。在石阶上头，他蓦地看到了一东西，令他大惊失色，毛骨悚然，他看到 ”“一个高高的身影，穿着一身白衣服，脸上蒙了０一条脸纱
Chapter 13 Castles In The Air 
Laurie lay luxuriously swinging to and fro in his hammock one warm September afternoon, wondering what his neighbours were about, but too lazy to go and find out. He was in one of his moods; for the day had been both unprofitable and unsatisfactory, and he was wishing he could live it over again. The hot weather made him indolent, and he had shirked his studies, tried Mr. Brooke's patience to the utmost, displeased his grandfather by practising half the afternoon, frightened the maid-servants half out of their wits by mischievously hinting that one of his dogs was going mad, and, after high words with the stableman about some fancied neglect of his horse, he had flung himself into his hammock, to fume over the stupidity of the world in general, till the peace of the lovely day quieted him in spite of himself. Staring up into the green gloom of the horse-chestnut trees above him, he dreamed dreams of all sorts, and was just imagining himself tossing on the ocean, in a voyage round the world, when the sound of voices brought him ashore in a flash. Peeping through the meshes of his hammock, he saw the Marches coming out, as if bound on some expedition. 

What in the world are those girls about now?' thought Laurie, opening his sleepy eyes to take a good look, for there was something rather peculiar in the appearance of his neighbours. Each wore a large, flapping hat, a brown linen pouch slung over one shoulder, and carried a long staff. Meg had a cushion, Jo a book, Beth a basket, and Amy a portfolio. All walked quietly through the garden, out at the little back gate, and began to climb the hill that lay between the house and the river. 

Well, that's cool!' said Laurie to himself, `to have a picnic and never ask me. They can't be going in the boat, for they haven't got the key. Perhaps they forgot it; I'll take it to them, and see what's going on.' 

Though possessed of half a dozen hats, it took him some time to find one; then there was a hunt for the key, which was at last discovered in his pocket; so that the girls were quite out of sight when he leaped the fence and ran after them. Taking the shortest way to the boathouse, he waited for them to appear: but no one came, and he went up the hill to take an observation. A group of pines covered one part of it, and from the heart of this green spot came a clearer sound than the soft sigh of the pines or the drowsy chirp of the crickets. 

Here's a landscape!' thought Laurie, peeping through the bushes, and looking wide awake and good-natured already. 

It was rather a pretty little picture; for the sisters sat together in the shady nook, with sun and shadow flickering over them, the aromatic wind lifting their hair and cooling their hot cheeks, and all the little wood-people going on with their affairs, as if these were no strangers, but old friends. Meg sat upon her cushion, sewing daintily with her white hands, and looking as fresh and as sweet as a rose, in her pink dress among the green. Beth was sorting the cones that lay thick under the hemlock near by, for she made pretty things of them. Amy was sketching a group of ferns, and Jo was knitting as she read aloud. A shadow passed over the boy's face as he watched them, feeling that he ought to go away, because uninvited; yet lingering, because home seemed very lonely, and this quiet party in the woods most attractive to his restless spirit. He stood so still that a squirrel, busy with its harvesting, ran down a pine close beside him, saw him suddenly and skipped back, scolding so shrilly that Beth looked up, espied the wistful face behind the birches, and beckoned with a reassuring smile. 

May I come in, please? or shall I be a bother?' he asked, advancing slowly. 

Meg lifted her eyebrows, but Jo scowled at her defiantly, and said at once, `Of course you may. We should have asked you before, only we thought you wouldn't care for such a girl's game as this.' 

I always liked your games; but if Meg doesn't want me, I'll go away.' 

I've no objection, if you do something; it's against the rules to be idle here,' replied Meg, gravely but graciously. 

Much obliged; I'll do anything if you'll let me stop a bit, for it's as dull as the Desert of Sahara down there. Shall I sew, read, cone, draw, or do all at once? Bring on your bears; I'm ready,' and Laurie sat down, with a submissive expression delightful to behold. 

Finish this story while I set my heel,' said Jo, handing him the book. 

Yes'm,' was the meek answer, as he began, doing his best to prove his gratitude for the favour of an admission into the `Busy Bee Society'. 

The story was not a long one, and, when it was finished, he ventured to ask a few questions, as a reward of merit. 

Please, ma'am, could I inquire if this highly instructive and charming institution is a new one?' 

Would you tell him?' asked Meg of her sisters. 

He'll laugh,' said Amy, warningly. 

Who cares?' said Jo. 

I guess he'll like it,' added Beth. 

Of course I shall! I give you my word I won't laugh. Tell away, Jo, and don't be afraid.' 

The idea of being afraid of you! Well, you see we used to play Pilgrim's Progress, an we have been going on with it in earnest all winter and summer.' 

Yes, I know,' said Laurie, nodding wisely. 

Who told you?' demanded Jo. 

Spirits.' 

No, I did; I wanted to amuse him one night when you were all away, and he was rather dismal. He did like it, so don't scold, Jo,' said Beth, meekly. 

You can't keep a secret. Never mind; it saves trouble now.' `Go on, please,' said Laurie, as Jo became absorbed in her work, looking a trifle displeased. 

Oh, didn't she tell you about this new plan of ours? Well, we have tried not to waste our holiday, but each has had a task, and worked at it with a will. The vacation is nearly over, the stints are all done, and we are ever so glad that we didn't dawdle.' 

Yes, I should think so'; and Laurie thought regretfully of his own idle ways. 

Mother likes to have us out of doors as much as possible; so we bring our work here, and have nice times. For the fun of it we bring our things in these bags, wear the old hats, use poles to climb the hill, and play pilgrims, as we used to do years ago. We call this hill the "Delectable Mountain", for we can look far away and see the country where we hope to live some time.' 

Jo pointed, and Laurie sat up to examine; for through an opening in the wood one could look across the wide blue river, the meadows on the other side, far over the outskirts of the great city, to the green hills that rose to meet the sky. The sun was low, and the heavens glowed with the splendour of an autumn sunset. Gold and purple clouds lay on the hilltops; and rising high into the ruddy light were silvery white peaks, that shone like the airy spires of some Celestial City. 

How beautiful that is!' said Laurie, softly, for he was quick to see and feel beauty of any kind. 

It's often so; and we like to watch it, for it is never the same, but always splendid,' replied Amy, wishing she could paint it. 

Jo talks about the country where we hope to live some time - the real country, she means, with pigs and chickens and haymaking. It would be nice, but I wish the beautiful country up there was real, and we could ever go to it,' said Beth, musingly. 

There is a lovelier country even than that, where we shall go by and by, when we are good enough,' answered Meg, with her sweet voice. 

It seems so long to wait, so hard to do; I want to fly away at once, as those swallows fly, and go in at that splendid gate.' 

You'll get there, Beth, sooner or later; no fear of that,' said Jo; `I'm the one that will have to fight and work, and climb and wait, and maybe never get in after all.' 

You'll have me for company, if that's any comfort. I shall have to do a deal of travelling before I come in sight of your Celestial City. If I arrive late, you'll say a good word for me, won't you, Beth?' 

Something in the boy's face troubled his little friend; but she said cheerfully, with her quiet eyes on the changing clouds, `If people really want to go, and really try all their lives, I think they will get in; for I don't believe there are any locks on that door, or any guards at the gate. I always imagine it is as it is in the picture, where the shining ones stretch out their hands to welcome poor Christian, as he comes up from the river.' 

Wouldn't it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true, and we could live in them?' said Jo, after a little pause. 

I've made such quantities it would be hard to choose which I'd have,' said Laurie, lying flat, and throwing cones at the squirrel who had betrayed him. 

You'd have to take your favourite one. What is it?' asked Meg. 

If I tell mine, will you tell yours?' 

Yes, if the girls will too.' 

We will. Now, Laurie.' 

After I'd seen as much of the world as I want to, I'd like to settle in Germany, and have just as much music as I choose. I'm to be a famous musician myself, and all creation is to rush to hear me; and I'm never to be bothered about money or business, but just enjoy myself, and live for what I like. That's my favourite castle. What's yours, Meg?' 

Margaret seemed to find it a little hard to tell hers, and waved a brake before her face, as if to disperse imaginary gnats, while she said slowly, `I should like a lovely house, full of all sorts of luxurious things - nice food, pretty clothes, handsome furniture, pleasant people, and heaps of money. I am to be mistress of it, and manage it as I like, with plenty of servants, so I never need work a bit. How I should enjoy it! for I wouldn't be idle, but do good and make everyone love me dearly.' 

Wouldn't you have a master for your castle in the air?' asked Laurie, slyly. 

I said "pleasant people", you know'; and Meg carefully tied up her shoe as she spoke, so that no one saw her face. 

Why don't you say you'd have a splendid, wise, good husband, and some angelic little children? You know your castle wouldn't be perfect without,' said blunt Jo, who had no tender fancies yet, and rather scorned romance, except in books.

You'd have nothing but horses, inkstands, and novels in yours,' answered Meg, petulantly. 

Wouldn't I, though? I'd have a stable full of Arabian steeds, rooms piled with books, and I'd write out of a magic inkstand, so that my works should be as famous as Laurie's music. I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle - something heroic or wonderful, that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous: that would suit me, so that is my favourite dream.' 

Mine is to stay at home safe with Father and Mother, and help take care of the family,' said Beth, contentedly. 

Don't you wish for anything else?' asked Laurie. 

Since I had my little piano, I am perfectly satisfied. I only wish we may all keep well and be together; nothing else.' 

I have ever so many wishes, but the pet one is to be an artist, and go to Rome, and do fine pictures, and be the best artist in the whole world,' was Amy's modest desire. 

We're an ambitious set, aren't we? Every one of us, but Beth, wants to be rich and famous, and gorgeous in every respect. I do wonder if any of us will ever get our wishes,' said Laurie, chewing grass, like a meditative calf. 

I've got the key to my castle in the air; but whether I can unlock the door remains to be seen,' observed Jo, mysteriously. `I've got the key to mine, but I'm not allowed to try it. Hang college!' muttered Laurie, with an impatient sigh. 

Here's mine!' and Amy waved her pencil. 

I haven't got any,' said Meg, forlornly. 

Yes, you have,' said Laurie at once. 

Where?' 

In your face.' 

Nonsense; that's of no use.' 

Wait and see if it doesn't bring you something worth having,' replied the boy, laughing at the thought of a charming little secret which he fancied he knew. 

Meg coloured behind the brake, but asked no questions, and looked across the river with the same expectant expression which Mr. Brooke had worn when he told the story of the knight. 

If we are all alive ten years hence, let's meet, and see how many of us have got our wishes, or how much nearer we are then than now,' said Jo, always ready with a plan. 

Bless me! how old I shall be - twenty-seven!' exclaimed Meg, who felt grown up already, having just reached seventeen. 

You and I will be twenty-six, Teddy, Beth twenty-four, and Amy twenty-two. What a venerable party!' said Jo. 

I hope I shall have done something to be proud of by that time; but I'm such a lazy dog, I'm afraid I shall "dawdle", Jo.' 

You need a motive, Mother says; and when you get it she is sure you'll work splendidly.' 

Is she? By Jupiter! I will, if I only get the chance!' cried Laurie, sitting up with sudden energy. `I ought to be satisfied to please Grandfather, and I do try, but it's working against the grain, you see, and comes hard. He wants me to be an India merchant, as he was, and I'd rather be shot. I hate tea and silk and spices, and every sort of rubbish his old ships bring, and I don't care how soon they go to the bottom when I own them. Going to college ought to satisfy him, for if I give him four years he ought to let me off from business; but he's set, and I've got to do just as he did, unless I break away and please myself, as my father did. If there was anyone left to stay with the old gentleman, I'd do it tomorrow.' 

Laurie spoke excitedly, and looked ready to carry his threat into execution on the slightest provocation; for he was growing up very fast, and, in spite of his indolent ways, had a young man's hatred of subjection, a young man's restless longing to try the world for himself. 

I advise you to sail away in one of your ships, and never come home again till you have tried your own way,' said Jo, whose imagination was fired by the thought of such a daring exploit, and whose sympathy was excited by what she called `Teddy's wrongs'. 

That's not right, Jo; you mustn't talk in that way, and Laurie mustn't take your bad advice.' 

You should do just what your grandfather wishes, my dear boy,' said Meg, in her most maternal tone. `Do your best at college, and when he sees that you try to please him, I'm sure he won't be hard or unjust to you. As you say, there is no one else to stay with and love him, and you'd never forgive yourself if you left him without his permission. Don't be dismal, or fret, but do your duty; and you'll get your reward, as good Mr. Brooke has, by being respected and loved.' 

What do you know about him?' asked Laurie, grateful for the good advice, but objecting to the lecture, and glad to turn the conversation from himself, after his unusual outbreak. 

Only what your grandpa told us about him - how he took good care of his own mother till she died, and wouldn't go abroad as tutor to some nice person, because he wouldn't leave her; and how he provides now for an old woman who nursed his mother; and never tells anyone, but is just as generous and patient and good as he can be.' 

So he is, dear old fellow!' said Laurie, heartily, as Meg paused, looking flushed and earnest with her story. `It's like Grandpa to find out all about him without letting him know, and to tell all his goodness to others, so that they might like him. Brooke couldn't understand why your mother was so kind to him, asking him over with me, and treating him in her beautiful, friendly way. He thought she was just perfect, and talked about it for days and days, and went on about you all in flaming style. If ever I get my wish, you see what I'll do for Brooke.' 

Begin to do something now, by not plaguing his life out,' said Meg, sharply. 

How do you know I do, Miss?' 

I can always tell by his face when he goes away. If you have been good, he looks satisfied and walks briskly; if you have plagued him, he's sober and walks slowly, as if he wanted to go back and do his work better.' 

Well, I like that! So you keep an account of my good and bad marks in Brooke's face, do you! I see him bow and smile as he passes your window, but I didn't know you'd got up a telegraph.' 

We haven't; don't be angry, and oh, don't tell him I said anything! It was only to show that I cared how you get on, and what is said here is said in confidence, you know,' cried Meg, much alarmed at the thought of what might follow from her careless speech. 

I don't tell tales,' replied Laurie, with his `high and mighty' air, as Jo called a certain expression which he occasionally wore, `only, if Brooke is going to be a barometer, I must mind and have fair weather for him to report.' 

Please don't be offended. I didn't mean to preach or tell tales or be silly; I only thought Jo was encouraging you in a feeling which you'd be sorry for by and by. You are so kind to us, we feel as if you were our brother, and say just what we think. Forgive me. I meant it kindly.' And Meg offered her hand with a gesture both affectionate and timid. 

Ashamed of his momentary pique, Laurie squeezed the kind little hand, and said frankly, `I'm the one to be forgiven; I'm cross, and have been out of sorts all day. I like to have you tell me my faults and be sisterly, so don't mind if I am grumpy sometimes; I thank you all the same.' 

Bent on showing that he was not offended, he made himself as agreeable as possible - wound cotton for Meg, recited poetry to please Jo, shook down cones for Beth, and helped Amy with her ferns, proving himself a fit person to belong to the `Busy Bee Society'. In the midst of an animated discussion on the domestic habits of turtles (one of those amiable creatures having strolled up from the river), the faint sound of a bell warned them that Hannah had put the tea `to draw', and they would just have time to get home to supper. 

May I come again?' asked Laurie. 

Yes, if you are good, and love your book, as the boys in the primer are told to do,' said Meg, smiling. 

I'll try.' 

Then you may come, and I'll teach you to knit as the Scotchmen do; there's a demand for socks just now,' added Jo, waving hers, like a big, blue worsted banner, as they parted at the gate. 

That night, when Beth played to Mr. Laurence in the twilight, Laurie, standing in the shadow of the curtain, listened to the little David, whose simple music always quieted his moody spirit, and watched the old man, who sat with his grey head on his hand, thinking tender thoughts of the dead child he had loved so much. Remembering the conversation of the afternoon, the boy said to himself, with the resolve to make the sacrifice cheerfully, `I'll let my castle go, and stay with the dear old gentleman while he needs me, for I am all he has.'
 
一个热烘烘的九月下午，劳里舒舒服服地躺在吊床上摇来晃去，很想知道邻居姐妹们在干什么却又懒得去弄清楚。他正在闹情绪，因为这天过得既无意义又不舒心，他很想从头再来一次。炎热的天气使他懒洋洋的，他书也不读了，惹得布鲁克先生忍无可忍，又花了半个下午弹琴，弄得爷爷很不高兴，还恶作剧地暗示他的一只狗即将发疯，把女佣们吓得几乎神经错乱，接着又毫无根据地指责马夫疏忽了他的马儿，和马夫吵了一架，之后便跳上吊床，怒火中烧，认定世人全都愚不可及。夏日明媚，四处静悄悄一片，他不知不觉安静了下来。盯着头上绿森森的七叶树，他做开了形形式式的白日梦。正想象着自己在海洋上颠簸作环球航行，突然一阵声音传来，转瞬间便把他带回到岸上。透过吊床的网孔一望，他看到马奇姐妹走出来，好像要去进行什么探险似的。
“这个时候那些姑娘们到底要去干什么？”劳里想，一面睁开睡意惺忪的双眼看个究竟，因为他的邻居们打扮相当古怪。每人戴一顶悬垂着边儿的大帽，肩头斜挎一个棕色的亚麻布小袋，手拿一根长棍棒。梅格带着一个垫子，乔拿本书，贝思提个篮子，艾美夹个画夹。她们静静走过花园，出了后院小门，开始攀登位于屋子和小河之间的一座小山丘。
“好啊！”劳里自语道，”去野餐竟然不叫我！她们不会去乘那只艇吧？她们没有钥匙埃或者她们忘了呢；我把钥匙带给她们，看看是怎么回事。”虽然帽子有半打之多，他花了不少功夫才找出一顶；接着又四处翻找钥匙，最后发现原来就在自己的衣袋里。这么一来，当他跃过围栏追过去时，姑娘们已经消失得无影无踪。
他抄近路来到停放小艇的地方，等她们露面，却不见有人过来，便爬到小山丘顶上张望。小山丘的一面被松树林掩映着，绿林深处传来一个声音，其清脆怡人胜似松叶蝉鸣。
“风景这边独好！”劳里暗自说了一句。他从灌木丛中偷偷一看，顿时睡意全无，心神畅快。
这果然是一幅漂亮的小图画，只见四姐妹一起坐在树荫一角，斑驳的日影在她们身上摇曳不定，清风撩起她们的发梢，吹凉她们炽热的脸颊，林子里的几个小孩子全都继续忙着自己的事情，似乎她们是老朋友而不是陌生人。梅格穿着一身粉红色衣裙，坐在她带来的垫子上，用白皙的双手灵巧地穿针引线，林木青青，更显得她像玫瑰花般娇艳。贝思在挑拣铁杉树下堆了厚厚一层的松果，用来做精致的小玩意。艾美对着一丛蕨类植物写生，乔则一面编织一面大声朗读。男孩望着她们，脸上闪过一丝乌云，他觉得自己应该走开，因为人家并没有邀请自己，但却徘徊不去，因为他的家似乎十分孤寂乏味，而林中这个宁静的队伍又牢牢吸引着他那颗不安分的心。他呆呆静立一旁，一只忙着觅食的小松鼠从他身旁的一棵松树上溜下来，突然发现了他，吓得往后一跳，尖声叫了起来。贝思闻声抬起头，看见了白桦树后那张若有所思的脸孔，于是展颜一笑，向他致意。
“请问我可以过来吗？会不会令人讨厌？”他问，慢慢走过来。
梅格抬起眉头，但乔对着她把眼一瞪，随即说道：“当然可以，我们早就应该叫上你，只是我们以为你不会喜欢这种女孩子的游戏。”“我一向喜欢你们的游戏；但如果梅格不愿意我来，那我就走开。”“我不反对，如果你干点活儿的话，懒惰是违反这里的规矩的，”梅格严肃而又不失优雅地回答。
“万分感激。如果你们让我逗留一会，我什么事情都愿意做，因为那边闷得像撒哈拉大沙漠。我该做针线活、朗读、拣松果呢，还是画画？或者通通一起做？请吩咐吧，我恭敬从命。”劳里言毕坐下来，神情毕恭毕敬，令人愉快。
“趁我弄鞋的当儿把这个故事念完吧，”乔说着把书递给他。
“遵命，小姐，”他温顺地回答，一面极其认真地读起来，以证明自己对有幸成为"繁忙的蜜蜂会”的成员而感恩戴德。
故事并不长，读完后，他斗胆提出几个问题，以犒赏犒赏自己。
“请问，女士们，我能否知道这个富有魅力和教育意义的学校是不是个新组织？“你们愿意告诉他吗？”梅格问三个妹妹。
“他会笑的，”艾美警告道。
“管他呢？”乔说。
“我想他会喜欢的，”贝思接着说。
“我当然会喜欢！我保证不会笑你们。说出来吧，乔，别害怕。”“害怕你？哦，你知道我们过去常常玩'天路历程'。我们一直没有中断，整个冬季和夏季都热诚地投入进去。”“是的，我知道，”劳里说，机灵地点点头。
“谁告诉你了？”乔问。
“小精灵。”
“不，是我。那天晚上你们都出去了，他心情不大好，我便告诉了他，跟他解闷。他很喜欢呢，所以别骂，乔，”贝思怯怯地说。
“你守不住秘密。不过算了，现在倒用不着解释了。”“说吧，求你了，”劳里看到乔专心做开了活儿，样子有点不高兴，便说。
“噢，她没告诉你我们这个新计划吗？是这样，为了不虚度假期，我们每人都定下一个任务，并全力执行。假期即将结束，我们定下的工作也全部完成了，我们很高兴自己没有虚度光阴。”“不错，做得不错。”劳里想到自己无所事事地打发日子，十分后悔。
“妈妈喜欢我们多到户外活动，我们便把活计带到这来，过得开开心心。为了使这个活动增添趣味，我们把东西放在这些布袋里头，头戴旧帽子，手持登山用的棍子，扮演香客，就跟我们几年前玩的一样。我们把这座山丘叫做'快乐山'，因为从这里可以远远望到我们日后希望居住的地方。”乔用手指去，劳里坐起来凝神观望。透过林中的空隙之处，可以看到宽阔、碧蓝的河流，隔河那边青青的草地，以及草地之外一望无际的郊野。极目之处，一脉绿色的山脉耸入云霄。时值秋季，夕阳西斜，天边霞光万道，蔚为壮观。山顶祥云缭绕，紫气千条，高高耸入红霞之中的银白色山峰金光灿烂，仿如传说中"天国"的塔尖。
“真美！”劳里轻声赞叹。他对美的感受能力十分敏锐。
“那边的景色常常都这么令人陶畔，我们很喜欢观望，因为它从不雷同，但总是这样迷人壮观，”艾美答，恨不得把这道风景绘下来。
“乔谈到我们日后希望居住的地方 -她指的是真正的乡村，里头有猪有鸡，还可以翻晒干草。这自然令人神往，但我倒希望山顶上那个美丽的地方是真的，我们真的可以置身其中，”贝思沉思道。
“还有一个比这更美好的地方，我们什么时候积满了德行，就可以进去，”梅格柔声说道。
“那我们还要走漫漫长路，还要付出巨大的劳动。我真想此刻生一双翅膀，像燕子一样飞呀飞，飞进那扇金碧辉煌的大门。”“你会飞到那里的，贝思，迟早都会，用不着担心，”乔说，”但我却要奋斗、工作，还要攀登、等待，而且可能永远也进不去。”“那我会陪着你，只要你乐意。我还要走许多许多路才能看到你们的' 天国'。如果我迟到，你会替我说句好话，是吗，贝思？”小伙子那副郑重其事的神情令他的小朋友心慌意乱，但她用平静的眼睛注视着变幻不定的云彩，兴致勃勃地说：“只要一个人真心想去，而且毕其一生不懈努力，我想他就可以进去。我不相信'天国'之门上了锁，也不相信门口有卫兵把守。我总是把它想象得跟图画里的一样：金光照人的众神伸出双手，迎接从河里上来的可怜的基督徒。”“如果我们营造的空中楼阁都能成真，而且我们可以住进里头，那不是很有趣吗？”沉默一会之后，乔说道。
“我的楼阁多得数也数不清，选一个还真难，”劳里平躺在地上说，一面向暴露了他的那只松鼠扔松果。
“你得选最喜欢的一个。是什么呢？”梅格问。
“如果我说出来，你也会把自己的说出来吗？”“行，只要她们也说。”“我们会的。说吧，劳里。”“等我们世界游览个够后，我想在德国定居下来，尽情欣赏音乐。我自己要做个著名的音乐家，全世界的人都得跑来听我演奏；我不用牵挂什么金钱、生意，而是尽情享受生活，爱怎么活便怎么活。这便是我最喜欢的空中楼阁。你的呢，梅格？”玛格丽特似乎觉得自己的有点不好说，她用一枝蕨在面前扇扇，似乎要赶走并不存在的小昆虫，一边慢吞吞地说：“我想要一栋漂亮的屋子，里面装满了各种各样奢侈的东西 -美味的食物、漂亮的衣服、典雅的家具、合心意的人，还有一堆堆钱。我自己是屋子的女主人，可以随意支配一切，还有许多佣人，这样我便什么活也不用干。我一定活得有声有色！我不会闲呆着的，我会做善事，让每个人都深深爱我。”“你的空中楼阁里不要一个男主人么？”劳里狡黠地问。
“我说了'合心意的人'，你知道，”梅格一面说一面十分仔细地绑好鞋带，免得大家看到她的脸孔。
“你为什么不说你要一个既聪明又体贴的丈夫，还要几个天使般的小孩？你明知没有他们你的空中楼阁就不会完美，”直肠直肚的乔说。她尚处于天真蒙昧的阶段，颇看不起儿女之情，除非是在小说里头。
“你就只会要马匹、墨水台和小说，”梅格生气地回击。
“这有何不好？我要一个养满阿拉伯骏马的马厩，还要几间堆满书本的房子，我要用一枝生花妙笔来写作，这样我的作品便可以跟劳里的音乐一样出名。我在走进自己的楼阁前想实现一个伟业 -一个崇高美好、可以传世留芳的事业。我不知道这是什么，但我正在酝酿之中，决意将来一鸣惊人。我想我会写书，并因此而致富成名；这挺适合我。这便是我最喜欢的梦想了。”“我的梦想是和爸爸妈妈平安呆在家里，帮忙料理家务，”贝思满足地说。
“你不想要其他什么吗？”劳里问。
“我有自己的小钢琴便已十分满足。我只求我们能够平平安安，常在一起，再没别的。”“我的愿望太多了，不过最大的愿望是做一个艺术家，去罗马，画漂亮的图画，做全世界最出色的艺术家。”这是艾美的小小愿望。
“我们是一班野心勃勃的家伙，不是吗？除贝思外，我们个个都想阔绰有钱、成名成家，样样都称心称意。我倒要看谁能够梦想成真，”劳里嚼着青草说，模样像头正在沉思的小牛。
“我已经有打开空中楼阁的钥匙，但能不能把门打开要等将来才能见分晓，”乔神秘兮兮地说。
“我也有开门的钥匙，但可恨不能自由使用。该死的大学！”劳里不耐烦地叹了一口气，咕哝道。
“这是我的钥匙！”艾美摇摇手中的笔。
“我没有，”梅格可怜巴巴地说。
“不，你有，”劳里随即说道。
“在哪？”
“在你脸上。”
“荒唐，那全无用处。”
“等着瞧吧，它不为你带来好东西才怪呢，”小伙子回答。
他自以为自己知道一个小秘密，想到其中妙处，笑了起来。
梅格躲在蕨后的脸腾地飞红了，但她没有问下去，而是望着河对面，眼睛流露出殷切期待的神情，就像布鲁克先生讲述武士故事时一样。
“如果十年后我们仍然活在世上，我们就相聚一堂，看看有几个人实现了梦想，看看到那时离我们的梦想比现在又近了多少，”乔说。她的点子总是来得特别快。“啊约！我那时都要老掉牙了- 二十七岁！”梅格叫起来。她虽然年方十七，却觉得自己已经长大成人。
“我和你是二十六岁，特迪。贝思二十四，艾美二十二。
真是个大团体！”乔说。
“我希望到那时能做出一点引以为荣的成绩，但我是条大懒虫，只怕会'虚郑（掷）光阴'呢，乔。”“你需要一个动力，妈妈说，一旦有了动力，你肯定就会干得十分出色。”“真的？我发誓一定会，但哪里有这样的机会！”劳里叫道，冲动地坐起来，”我很应该讨爷爷的欢心，我也确实尽力而为，但这样做跟我的性格格格不入，你们知道，我因此十分痛苦。他要我做个像他一样的印度商人，这还不如把我杀掉。我痛恨茶叶、丝绸、香料，痛恨他的破船运来的每一种垃圾。这些船只归到我名下后，什么时候沉到海底我都不会在乎。我读大学应该遂了他的心，我献给他四年，他便该放过我，不用我做生意；但他铁定了心，非要我步他的后尘不可，除非我像父亲一样逃离家门，走自己喜欢的路。如果家里有人陪着老人的话，我明天就远走高飞。”劳里言辞激越，似乎一点点小事就能惹得他采取行动。他正处于急飞猛进的发育时期，虽然行动懒懒洋洋，却有一种年轻人的叛逆心理，内心躁动不安，渴望能自由闯荡天下。
“我有个主意，你乘上你家的大船出走，闯荡一番后再回家，”乔说。想到这么大胆的行为，她的想像力一发不可收拾，同情心也被她所谓的"特迪的冤屈"激发起来。
“那样不对，乔，你不能这样说话，劳里也不能接受你的５８１小坏主意。你应该按照你爷爷的意愿行事，好孩子。”梅格摆出一副大姐姐的口吻。”努力念好大学，当他看到你尽自己的能力来取悦他，我肯定他对你便不会这么强硬，这么不讲理。你也说了，家里再无别人来陪伴他，爱他。如果你擅自把他抛下，你也永不会原谅自己的。不要烦恼消沉，做自己该做的，这样你就能受人敬爱，得到好的报偿，就像好人布鲁克先生一样。”“你知道他些什么？”劳里问。他对这个好建议心存感激，但对这番教诲却不以为然，刚才他不同寻常地发泄了一番，现在很高兴把话题从自己身上转开。
“只知道你爷爷告诉我们的那些 -他如何精心照顾自己的母亲，一直到她去世为止。由于不愿抛下母亲，国外很好的人家请他当私人教师他也不去。还有他如何赡养一位照顾过他母亲的老太太，却从不告诉别人，而是尽力而为，慷慨、坚忍、善良。”“说得一点不错，他是个大好人！”劳里由衷地说。而梅格这时沉默不语，双颊通红，神情热切。”我爷爷就是喜欢这样，背地里把人家了解得一清二楚，然后到处宣传他的美德，使大家都喜欢他。布鲁克不会明白为什么你母亲会待他这样好。她请他跟我一同过去，把他敬如上宾，款待得十分亲切周到。他认为她简直十全十美，回来后好些天都把她挂在嘴边，接着又热情如火地谈论你们众姐妹。若我有朝一日梦想成真，一定为布鲁克做点什么。”“不如从现在做起，不要再把他气得七窍生烟，”梅格尖刻地说。
“你怎么知道我让他生气呢，小姐？”
“每次他走的时候看他的脸色就知道了。如果你表现好，他就神采飞扬，脚步轻快；如果你淘气了，他就脸色阴沉，脚步缓慢，仿佛想走回去把工作重新做好。” “啊哈，好啊！这么说来，你通过看布鲁克的脸色就把我的成绩全都记录下来了，对吧？我看到他经过你家窗口时躬身微笑，却不知道你从中收到一封电报呢。” “没有的事。别生气，还有，噢，别告诉他我说了什么！
我这么说不过是关心你而已。我们这里说的全是机密话儿，你知道，”梅格叫起来，想到自己说话一时大意，可能招致的后果心里很是不安。
“我从不搬弄是非，”劳里答道，脸上露出一种他特有的"正义凛然"的神气，乔如此描述他偶然露出的一种表情。
“如果布鲁克要做个温度计，我就得注意让他有准确的天气可报告。”“请别生气。我刚才并非是要说教或搬弄是非，也并非出于无聊。我只是觉得乔这么怂恿你，你日后会后悔的。你对我们这么好，我们把你当作亲兄弟，把心里话儿都跟你说出来。对不起了，我也是一片好心。”梅格热情而又腼腆地打了个手势，伸出手来。
想到自己刚才一时负气，劳里不好意思了，他紧紧握住那只小手，坦诚地说：“说对不起的应该是我。我脾气暴躁，而且今天一整天都心情不好。你们指出我的缺点，像亲姐妹一样待我，我心里不知有多高兴。如果我一时有冲撞无礼之处，请不要放在心上，我还要谢谢你呢。”为了表示自己没有生气，他使出浑身解数来取悦姐妹们--为梅格绕棉线，替乔朗诵诗歌，帮贝思把松果摇下来，帮艾美画蕨类植物，证明自己是名符其实的"繁忙的蜜蜂会"成员。正当他们兴致勃勃地讨论着海龟的驯养习惯的时候（起时一只和善可亲的海龟从河里爬了上来），一阵铃声远远飘过来，通知姐妹们罕娜已把茶泡下，是回家吃晚饭的时候了。
“我可以再来吗？”劳里问。
“可以，但你要听话，并要热爱读书，就像识字课本里要求孩子们所做的那样，“梅格微笑说。
“我一定努力。”
“那么你就来吧，我还要教你像苏格兰男子一样打毛线。
现在正需要袜子呢，”乔接着说，一画使劲扬扬手里的蓝色毛线袜子。大家说着便在大门外分了手。
那天晚上，当贝思在黄昏下为劳伦斯先生弹奏时，劳里站在帘幕暗处倾听。这位小大卫弹出的简单的音乐声总能使他那颗喜怒无常的心平静下来。他细细端详坐在一边的老人，只见他用一只手托着白发斑斑的脑袋，无限柔情地在追忆他那逝去的宝贝小女儿。想到下午的谈话，小伙子决定心甘情愿她作出牺牲。他对自己说：“让我的空中楼阁滚蛋吧。
只要需要，我就和这位亲爱的老人呆在一起，我可是他的唯一所有呵。”
Chapter 14 Secrets
Jo was very busy in the garret, for the October days began to grow chilly, and the afternoons were short. For two or three hours the sun lay warmly in the high window, showing Jo seated on the old sofa, writing busily, with her papers spread out upon a trunk before her, while Scrabble, the pet rat, promenaded the beams overhead, accompanied by his young fellow, who was evidently very proud of his whiskers. Quite absorbed in her work, Jo scribbled away till the last page was filled, when she signed her name with a flourish, and threw down her pen, exclaiming: 

There, I've done my best! If this won't suit, I shall have to wait till I can do better.' 

Lying back on the sofa, she read the manuscript carefully through, making dashes here and there, and putting in many exclamation points, which looked like little balloons; then she tied it up with a smart, red ribbon, and sat a minute looking at it with a sober, wistful expression, which plainly showed how earnest her work had been. Jo's desk up here was an old tin kitchen, which hung against the wall. In it she kept her papers and a few books, safely shut away from Scrabble, who, being likewise of a literary turn, was fond of making a circulating library of such books as were left in his way, by eating the leaves. From this tin receptacle, Jo produced another manuscript; and, putting both in her pocket, crept quietly downstairs, leaving her friends to nibble her pens and taste her ink. 

She put on her hat and jacket as noiselessly as possible, and, going to the back entry window, got out upon the roof of a low porch, swung herself down to the grassy bank, and took a roundabout way to the road. Once there, she composed herself, hailed a passing omnibus, and rolled away to town, looking very merry and mysterious. 

If anyone had been watching her he would have thought her movements decidedly peculiar; for, on alighting, she went off at a great pace till she reached a certain number in a certain busy street; having found the place with some difficulty, she went into the doorway, looked up the dirty stairs, and, after standing stock still a minute, suddenly dived into the street, and walked away as rapidly as she came. This manoeuvre she repeated several times, to the great amusement of a black-eyed young gentleman lounging in the window of the building opposite. On returning for the third time, Jo gave herself a shake, pulled her hat over her eyes, and walked up the stairs, looking as if she were going to have all her teeth out. 

There was a dentist's sign, among others which adorned the entrance, and, after staring a minute at the pair of artificial jaws which slowly opened and shut to draw attention to a fine set of teeth, the young gentleman put on his coat, took his hat, and went down to post himself in the opposite doorway, saying, with a smile and a shiver: 

It's like her to come alone, but if she has a bad time she'll need someone to help her home.' 

In ten minutes Jo came running downstairs with a very red face, and the general appearance of a person who had just passed through a trying ordeal of some sort. 

When she saw the young gentleman she looked anything but pleased, and passed him with a nod; but he followed, asking with an air of sympathy: 

Did you have a bad time?' 

Not very.' 

You got through quickly.' 

Yes, thank goodness!' 

Why did you go alone?' 

Didn't want anyone to know.' 

You're the oddest fellow I ever saw. How many did you have out?' 

Jo looked at her friend as if she did not understand him; then began to laugh, as if mightily amused at something. 

There are two which I want to have come out, but I must wait a week.' 

What are you laughing at? You are up to some mischief, Jo,' said Laurie, looking mystified. 

So are you. What were you doing, sir, up in that billiard saloon?' 

Begging your pardon, ma'am, it wasn't a billiard saloon, but a gymnasium, and I was taking a lesson in fencing.' 

I'm glad of that.' 

Why?' 

You can teach me, and then when we play Hamlet, you can be Laertes, and we'll make a fine thing of the fencing scene.' 

Laurie burst out with a hearty boy's laugh, which made several passers-by smile in spite of themselves. 

I'll teach you, whether we play Hamlet or not; it's grand fun, and will straighter, you up capitally. But I don't believe that was your reason for saying "I'm glad", in that decided way; was it, now?' 

No, I was glad that you were not in the saloon, because I hope you never go to such places. Do you?' 

Not often.' 

I wish you wouldn't.' 

It's no harm, Jo. I have billiards at home, but it's no fun unless you have good players, so, as I'm fond of it, I come sometimes and have a game with Ned Moffat or some of the other fellows.' 

Oh dear, I'm so sorry, for you'll get to liking it better and better, and will waste time and money, and grow like those dreadful boys. I did hope you'd stay respectable, and be a satisfaction to your friends,' said Jo, shaking her head. 

Can't a fellow take a little innocent amusement now and then without losing his respectability?' asked Laurie, looking nettled. 

That depends upon how and where he takes it. I don't like Ned and his set, and wish you'd keep out of it. Mother won't let us have him at our house, though he wants to come; and if you grow like him she won't be willing to have us frolic together as we do now.' 

Won't she?' asked Laurie, anxiously. 

No, she can't bear fashionable young men, and she'd shut us all up in bandboxes rather than have us associate with them.' 

Well, she needn't get out her bandboxes yet; I'm not a fashionable party, and don't mean to be; but I do like harmless larks now and then, don't you?' 

Yes, nobody minds them, so lark away, but don't get wild, will you? or there will be an end of all our good times.' 

I'll be a double-distilled saint.' 

I can't bear saints; just be a simple, honest, respectable boy, and we'll never desert you. I don't know what I should do if you acted like Mr. King's son; he had plenty of money, but didn't know how to spend it, and got tipsy, and gambled, and ran away, and forged his father's name, I believe, and was altogether horrid.' 

You think I'm likely to do the same? Much obliged.' 

No, I don't - oh, dear, no! - but I hear people talking about money being such a temptation, and I sometimes wish you were poor; I shouldn't worry then.' 

Do you worry about me, Jo?' 

A little, when you look moody or discontented, as you sometimes do; for you've got such a strong will, if you once get started wrong, I'm afraid it would be hard to stop you.' 

Laurie walked in silence for a few minutes, and Jo watched him, wishing she had held her tongue, for his eyes looked angry though his lips still smiled as if at her warnings. 

Are you going to deliver lectures all the way home?' he asked presently. 

Of course not; why?' 

Because, if you are, I'll take a bus; if you are not, I'd like to walk with you, and tell you something very interesting.' 

I won't preach any more, and I'd like to hear the news immensely.' 

Very well, then; come on. It's a secret, and if I tell you, you must tell me yours.' 

I haven't got any,' began Jo, but stopped suddenly, remembering that she had. 

You know you have you can't hide anything; so up and 'fess, or I won't tell,' cried Laurie. 

Is your secret a nice one?' 

Oh, isn't it! all about people you know, and such fun! You ought to hear it, and I've been aching to tell it this long time. Come, you begin.' 

You'll not say anything about it at home, will you?' 

Not a word.' 

And you won't tease me in private?' 

I never tease.' 

Yes, you do; you get everything you want out of people. I don't know how you do it, but you are a born wheedler.' 

Thank you; fire away.' 

Well, I've left two stories with a newspaper man, and he's to give his answer next week,' whispered Jo, in her confidant's ear. 

Hurrah for Miss March, the celebrated American authoress!' cried Laurie, throwing up his hat and catching it again, to the great delight of two ducks, four cats, five hens, and half a dozen Irish children; for they were out of the city now. 

Hush! It won't come to anything, I dare say; but I couldn't rest till I had tried, and I said nothing about it, because I didn't want anyone else to be disappointed.' 

It won't fail. Why, Jo, your stories are works of Shakespeare, compared to half the rubbish that is published every day. Won't it be fun to see them in print; and shan't we feel proud of our authoress?' 

Jo's eyes sparkled, for it is always pleasant to be believed in; and a friend's praise is always sweeter than a dozen newspaper puffs. 

Where's your secret? Play fair, Teddy, or I'll never believe you again,' she said, trying to extinguish the brilliant hopes that blazed up at a word of encouragement. 

I may get into a scrape for telling; but I didn't promise not to, so I will, for I never feel easy in my mind till I've told you any plummy bit of news I get. I know where Meg's glove is.' 

Is that all?' said Jo, looking disappointed, as Laurie nodded and twinkled, with a face full of mysterious intelligence. `It's quite enough for the present, as you'll agree when I tell you where it is.' 

Tell then.' 

Laurie bent, and whispered three words in Jo's ear, which produced a comical change. She stood and stared at him for a minute, looking both surprised and displeased, then walked on, saying sharply, `How do you know?' 

Saw it.' 

Where?' 

Pocket.' 

All this time?' 

Yes; isn't that romantic?' 

No, it's horrid.' 

Don't you like it?' 

Of course I don't. It's ridiculous; it won't be allowed. My patience! what would Meg say?' 

You are not to tell anyone; mind that.' 

I didn't promise.' 

That was understood, and I trusted you.' 

Well, I won't for the present, anyway; but I'm disgusted, and wish you hadn't told me.' 

I thought you'd be pleased.' 

At the idea of anybody coming to take Meg away? No, thank you.' 

You'll feel better about it when somebody comes to take you away.' 

I'd like to see anyone try it,' cried Jo, fiercely. 

So should I!' and Laurie chuckled at the idea. 

I don't think secrets agree with me; I feel rumpled up in my mind since you told me that,' said Jo, rather ungratefully. 

Race down this hill with me, and you'll be all right,' suggested Laurie. 

No one was in sight; the smooth road sloped invitingly before her; and finding the temptation irresistible, Jo darted away, soon leaving hat and comb behind her, and scattering hairpins as she ran. Laurie reached the goal first, and was quite satisfied with the success of his treatment; for his Atalanta came panting up, with flying hair, bright eyes, ruddy cheeks, and no signs of dissatisfaction in her face. 

I wish I was a horse; then I could run for miles in this splendid air, and not lose my breath. It was capital; but see what a guy it's made me. Go, pick up my things, like a cherub as you are,' said Jo, dropping down under a maple-tree which was carpeting the bank with crimson leaves. 

Laurie leisurely departed to recover the lost property, and Jo bundled up her braids, hoping no one would pass by till she was tidy again. But someone did pass by, and who should it be but Meg, looking particularly ladylike in her state and festival suit, for she had been making calls. 

What in the world are you doing here?' she asked, regarding her dishevelled sister with well-bred surprise. 

Getting leaves,' meekly answered Jo, sorting the rosy handful she had just swept up. 

And hairpins,' added Laurie, throwing half a dozen into Jo's lap. `They grow on this road, Meg; so do combs and brown straw hats.' 

You have been running, Jo; how could you? When will you be stopping such romping ways?' said Meg, reprovingly, as she settled her cuffs, and smoothed her hair, with which the wind had taken liberties. 

Never till I'm stiff and old, and have to use a crutch. Don't try to make me grow up before my time, Meg: it's hard enough to have you change all of a sudden; let me be a little girl as long as I can.' 

As she spoke, Jo bent over the leaves to hide the trembling of her lips; for lately she had felt that Margaret was fast getting to be a woman, and Laurie's secret made her dread the separation which must surely come some time, and now seemed very near. He saw the trouble in her face, and drew Meg's attention from it by asking quickly, `Where have you been calling all so fine?' 

At the Gardiners', and Sallie has been telling me all about Belle Moffat's wedding. It was very splendid, and they have gone to spend the winter in Paris. Just think how delightful that must be!' 

Do you envy her, Meg?' said Laurie. 

I'm afraid I do.' 

I'm glad of it,' muttered Jo, tying on her hat with a jerk. 

Why?' asked Meg, looking surprised. 

Because if you care much about riches, you will never go and marry a poor man,' said Jo, frowning at Laurie, who was mutely warning her to mind what she said. 

I shall never "go and marry" anyone,' observed Meg, walking on with great dignity, while the others followed, laughing, whispering, skipping stones, and `behaving like children', as Meg said to herself, though she might have been tempted to join them if she had not had her best dress on. 

For a week or two, Jo behaved so queerly that her sisters were quite bewildered. She rushed to the door when the postman rang; was rude to Mr. Brooke whenever they met; would sit looking at Meg with a woebegone face, occasionally jumping up to shake, and then to kiss her, in a very mysterious manner; Laurie and she were always making signs to one another and talking about `Spread Eagles' till the girls declared they had both lost their wits. On the second Saturday after Jo got out of the window, Meg, as she sat sewing at her window, was scandalized by the sight of Laurie chasing Jo all over the garden, and finally capturing her in Amy's bower. What went on there, Meg could not see; but shrieks of laughter were heard, followed by the murmur of voices and a great flapping of newspapers. 

What shall we do with that girl? She never will behave like a young lady,' sighed Meg, as she watched the race with a disapproving face. 

I hope she won't; she is so funny and dear as she is,' said Beth, who had never betrayed that she was a little hurt at Jo's having secrets with anyone but her. 

It's very trying, but we can never make her commy la fo,' added Amy, who sat making some new frills for herself, with her curls tied up in a very becoming was - two agreeable things, which made her feel unusually elegant and ladylike. 

In a few minutes Jo bounced in, laid herself on the sofa, and affected to read. 

Have you anything interesting there?' asked Meg, with condescension. 

Nothing but a story; won't amount to much, I guess,' returned Jo, carefully keeping the name of the paper out of sight. 

You'd better read it aloud; that will amuse us and keep you out of mischief,' said Amy, in her most grown-up tone. 

What's the name?' asked Beth, wondering why Jo kept her face behind the sheet. 

The Rival Painters.' 

That sounds well; read it,' said Meg. 

With a loud `Hem' and a long breath, Jo began to read very fast. The girls listened with interest, for the tale was romantic, and somewhat pathetic, as most of the characters died in the end. 

I like that about the splendid picture,' was Amy's approving remark, as Jo paused. 

I prefer the lovering part. Viola and Angelo are two of our favourite names; isn't that queer?' said Meg, wiping her eyes, for the `lovering part' was tragical. 

Who wrote it?' asked Beth, who had caught a glimpse of Jo's face. 

The reader suddenly sat up, cast away the paper, displaying a flushed countenance, and, with a funny mixture of solemnity and excitement, replied in a loud voice, `Your sister.' 

You?' cried Meg, dropping her work. 

It's very good,' said Amy, critically. 

I knew it! I knew it! Oh, my Jo, I am so proud!' and Beth began to hug her sister, and exult over this splendid success. 

Dear me, how delighted they all were, to be sure! how Meg wouldn't believe it till she saw the words `Miss Josephine March' actually printed in the paper; how graciously Amy criticised the artistic parts of the story, and offered hints for a sequel, which unfortunately couldn't be carried out, as the hero and heroine were dead; how Beth got excited, and skipped and sung with joy; how Hannah came in to exclaim `Sakes alive, well I never!' in great astonishment at `that Jo's doin's'; how proud Mrs. March was when she knew it; how Jo laughed, with tears in her eyes, as she declared she might as well be a peacock and done with it; and how the `Spread Eagle' might be said to flap his wings triumphantly over the House of March, as the paper passed from hand to hand. 

Tell us all about it.' 

When did it come?' 

How much did you get for it?' 

What will Father say?' 

Won't Laurie laugh?' cried the family, all in one breath, as they clustered about Jo; for these foolish, affectionate people made a jubilee of every little household joy. 

Stop jabbering, girls, and I'll tell you everything,' said Jo, wondering if Miss Burney felt any grander over her Evelina, than she did over her Rival Painters. Having told how she disposed of her tales, Jo added, `And when I went to get my answer, the man said he liked them both, but didn't pay beginners, only let them print in his paper, and noticed the stories. It was good practice, he said; and when the beginners improved, anyone would pay. So I let him have the two stories, and today this was sent to me, and Laurie caught me with it, and insisted on seeing it, so I let him; and he said it was good, and I shall write more, and he's going to get the next paid for, and I am so happy, for in time I may be able to support myself and help the girls.' 

Jo's breath gave out here; and., wrapping her head in the paper, she bedewed her little story with a few natural tears; for to be independent, and earn the praise of those she loved, were the dearest wishes of her heart, and this seemed to be the first step towards that happy end.
 
乔在阁楼上十分忙碌，因为十月已到，天气开始寒冷，下午也变短了。温煦的阳光从高高的窗子射进来。两三个小时过去了，乔仍然坐在旧沙发上，把稿纸摊在面前的一个大箱子上头，奋笔疾书，她的爱鼠扒扒则在梁上大模大样地蹓跶，乔全神贯注地挥笔疾书，一直写满最后一页，然后龙飞凤舞地签上自己的名字，把笔一丢，大声说 “好啦，我已使足了劲儿！如果这还不行，我只得等到下次啦。”她向后靠在沙发上，把稿子仔细阅读一遍，在这儿那儿划上破折号，又添上许多看上去像小气球一样的感叹号，然后用一根漂亮的红绸带把稿纸扎起来，又严肃地望着它出了一会儿神，可见这篇作品凝聚了她多少心血。乔这上头的书桌是一个挂在墙上的旧锡制碗柜，里头放着她的手稿和几本书，十分安全，只要把柜门一关，同样富有文学才情、见书就啃的扒扒便只能望柜兴叹了。乔从这个锡柜里拿出另一份手镐，把两份稿子放进衣袋，悄悄下了楼梯，任由她的朋友把她的钢笔墨水大啃大喝。
她蹑手蹑脚地戴上帽子，穿好外衣，从后屋窗口出来，站在一个低矮的门廊顶棚上头，悬空一跳，落在一块草地上，然后兜个圈子来到公路边，定定神儿，扬手拦了一辆出租马车，一路驶进城里，脸上的神情快乐而又神秘。
如果这时有人看到她，一定会觉得她的行动希奇古怪。她一下车便快步如飞，一直奔到位于一条繁忙大街的一个门牌前面，这才缓下脚步；颇费一番功夫后，她找到了要找的地方，于是踏进门口，抬头望望肮肮脏脏的楼梯，又站着一动不动地呆了一会，突然一头扎进大街，往回疾走。这样来而复去，几次三番，把对面楼上，凭窗而望的一位黑眼睛年轻人逗得开怀大乐。第三次折回来时，乔使劲摇摇脑袋，把帽沿拉下遮住眼睛，走上楼梯，脸上挂着一副准备把牙统统拔光的表情。
楼门口挂着几面牌子，其中一面是牙医招牌，一对假颌慢慢地开而又合，以吸引人注意里头一副洁白的牙齿。方才那位年轻人盯着假颌看了一会，拿起自己的帽子，穿上大衣，走下楼来站在对面门口，打了个哆嗦，微笑说：“她素爱独来独往，但万一她痛得难受，就要有人送她回家了。”十分钟后乔涨红着脸跑下楼梯，一望而知刚刚经受了一场磨难。当她看到年轻人时，神情一点也不显得高兴，只点个头便走了过去；但他跟上去，同情地问：“刚才是不是很难受？”“有点。”“这么快就好了？”“是，谢天谢地。”“为什么一个人来？”“不想别人知道。”“真是个空前绝后的怪人。你弄出了几个？”乔望着自己的朋友，似乎莫明其妙，接着便笑得乐不可支。
“我想弄出两个来，但得等上一个星期。”“你笑什么？你在淘气，乔，”劳里说，神情显得迷惑不解。
“你也是。你在上面那间桌球室干什么，先生？”“对不起，小姐，那不是桌球室，而是健身房，我刚才在学击剑。”“那我真高兴。”“为什么？”“你可以教我，这样我们演《哈姆雷特》时，你便可以扮累尔提斯，我们演击剑一幕就有好戏做了。”
劳里放声大笑，那由衷的笑声引得几个过路人也不禁笑起来。
“演不演《哈姆雷特》我都会教你，这种娱乐简直妙不可言，令人精神大振。不过，你刚才说'高兴'说得那么一本正经，我想一定另有原因，对吗，嗯？”“对，我真高兴你没有上桌球室，因为我决不希望你去那种地方。你平时去吗？”“不常去。”“我但愿你别去。”“这并无害处，乔，我在家也玩桌球，但如果没有好球手，就不好玩了，因为我喜欢桌球，有时便和内德•莫法特或起他伙伴来比试比试。”“噢，是吗？我真为你感到惋惜，因为你慢慢就会玩上瘾，就会糟蹋时间和金钱，变得跟那些可恶的小子一样。我一直希望你会自尊自爱，不令朋友失望，“乔摇着脑袋说。
“难道男孩子偶尔玩一下无伤大雅的游戏就丧失尊严了吗？”劳里恼火地问。
“那得看他怎么玩和在什么地方玩。我不喜欢内德这帮人，也希望你别粘上他们。妈妈不许我们请他到家玩，虽然他想来，如果你变得像他一样，她便不会让我们再这么一起嬉闹了。”“真的？”劳里焦虑地问。
“当然，她看不惯赶时髦的年青人，她宁愿把我们全都关进硬纸匣里，也不让我们跟他们拉扯上。”“哦，她倒不必拿出她的硬纸匣来，我不是赶时髦的那种人，也不想做那种人，但我有时真喜欢没有害处的玩乐，你不喜欢吗？”“喜欢，没有人反对这样的娱乐，你爱玩便玩吧，只是别玩野了心，好吗？不然，我们的好日子就完了。”“我会做个不折不扣的圣人。”“我可受不了圣人，就做个其实、正派的好小伙吧，我们便永不离弃你。如果你像金斯先生的儿子那样，我可真不知道该怎么办；他有很多饯，但却不知怎么用，反而酗酒聚赌，离家出逃，还盗用他父亲的名字，可谓劣迹斑斑。”“你以为我也会做出这种事？过奖了！”“不，不是-- 噢，哎呀，不是的！ 但我听人说金钱是个蛊惑人心的魔鬼，有时我真希望你没有钱财，那我就不必担心了。”“你担心我吗，乔？”“你有时显得情绪低落，内心不满，这时我便有点儿担心；因为你个性极强，如果一旦走上歪路，我恐怕很难阻挡你。”劳里一言不发，默默而行。乔望着他，暗恨自己快嘴快舌没有遮拦，因为虽然他的嘴唇依旧挂着微笑，似乎在嘲笑她的忠告，一双眼睛却分明含着怒意。
“你是不是打算一路上给我训话？”过了好一会儿他问。
“当然不是。为什么？”
“如果是，我就乘公共汽车回家；如果不是，我就和你一块步行，并告诉你一件顶顶有趣的新闻。”“那我不再说教了，我很想听听你的新闻。”“那很好，不过，这是个秘密，如果我告诉你，你得把你的告诉我。”“我没有什么秘密。”乔一语未毕，又猛然住了口，想起自己还真有一个。
“你知道自己有的--你什么也藏不住，还是乖乖说出来吧，不然我就不说，”劳里叫道。
“你的那个是好消息吗？”
“噢，怎么不是！都和你认识的人有关，简直妙不可言！
你应该听听，我憋了好久了，一直想讲出来。来吧，你先开始。”“你在家一个字也不能提，好吗？”“只字不提。”“你不会私下取笑我？”“我从来不取笑人。 “不，你取笑的，你什么都可以从人家嘴里套出来。我不知你是怎么做的，但你天生是个哄人的专家。”“谢谢了，请说吧。”“嗯，我把两篇故事交给了一位报社编辑，他下个星期就答复我，”乔向她的密友耳语道。
“好一个马奇小姐，著名的美国女作家！”劳里叫道，把自己的帽子向空中一抛，然后接祝这时他们已走到城郊，两只鸭、四头猫、五只鸡和六个爱尔兰小童见状全都大乐不已。
“小声！我敢说这不会有什么结果，但我总要试一试才会甘心。我不想让其他人失望，所以只字未提。”“你一定得偿所愿。嘿，乔，现在每天出笼的文章有半数是垃圾，跟它们一比，你的故事堪称是莎士比亚的大作。看到你的大作印在报上该多有意思！我们怎能不为我们的女作家而感到自豪？”乔眼睛闪闪发亮。劳里相信她，她心里感到甜丝丝的，而朋友的赞扬总是比一打报上吹捧自己的文章还要动听。
“你的秘密呢？公平交易，特迪，否则我再不会相信你的，”她说，试图把因劳里的鼓励而燃起的巨大希望打消掉。
“我说出来或者会尴尬，但我并没说要保密，所以我要说，但凡我知道一星半点好消息，如果不告诉你心里就不会舒坦。
我知道梅格的手套在哪儿。”
“仅此而已？”乔失望地说。劳里点点头，高深莫测地眨眨眼睛。
蛊“已经足够了，我说出来后你自然会明白。”“那么，请说吧。”劳里俯下身，在乔耳边悄悄说了几个字，乔神色随即变得十分古怪。她诧异万分地呆站着，忿忿地瞪了他一会儿，又继续往前走，厉声问道：“你怎么知道的？”“看到的。 “在哪？”“口袋。”“一直都是？”“对，是不是很浪漫？”“不，叫人恶心。”“你不喜欢吗？”“当然不喜欢。这种事荒唐透顶，是不允许的。啊呀！梅格会怎么说？”“你不能告诉任何人，请注意。”“我并没许诺。”“你早就明白的，而我也相信你。”“嗯，我目前不会说出去，但我恶心死了，宁愿你没告诉我。”“我以为你会高兴呢。”“高兴别人来把梅格夺走？想得真美！”“等到也有人来把你夺走时，你心里就会好受一点了。”“我倒要看看谁敢，”乔恶狠狠地叫道。
“我也一样！”想到这种情景，劳里抿着嘴暗笑。
“我认为悄悄话和我的性格格格不入，听了你的话后我脑蛊子里乱糟糟的，”乔有点忘恩负义地说。
“跟我一起冲下这个山坡，你就没事了，”劳里建议。
路上不见行人，平滑倾斜的公路诱惑地摆在她面前，使她不可抗拒，乔于是直冲而下，不一会便把帽子和梳子跌掉了，发夹也落了一地，劳里先跑到目标，为自己成功地理好了情绪而感到十分满意，只见他的阿特兰特气喘吁吁，乱发齐飞，眼睛闪闪发亮，双颊绯红，脸上的不快之色早已消失得干干净净了。
“我真想变一匹马儿，那我就可以沐浴在这清新的空气中尽情驰骋而不用气喘吁吁了。这么跑步真是太棒了，但看我弄成了什么样子。去，把我的东西捡起来，就像小天使一样，你本来就是嘛，”乔说着坐到河岸边一棵挂满绯红叶子的枫树下面。
劳里慢悠悠地去收拾丢落的东西，乔束起辫子，只望这当儿千万不要有人走过，撞见她这副狼狈样子，但一个人恰恰走过来，此人不是别人，正是梅格。她出门拜访朋友，穿着一身整齐的节日服装，更显得一派淑女的风韵。
“你究竟在这里干什么？”她问，惊讶而不失风度地望着头发蓬乱的妹妹。
“捡树叶，”乔温顺地回答，一面挑选刚刚拢来的一捧红叶。
“还有发夹，”劳里接过话头，把半打发夹丢到乔膝上，蛊“这条路长了发夹，梅格，还长了梳子和棕色的草帽。”“你刚刚跑步来，乔。你怎么能这样？你什么时候才不再胡闹？”梅格责备道，一面理理袖口，又把被风吹起的头发抚平。
“等我老得走不动了，不得不用上拐杖，那时再说吧。别使劲催我提早长人，梅格，看到你一下子变了个人已经够难受了，就让我做个小姑娘吧，能做多久是多久。”乔边说边埋下头，让红叶遮住自己那轻轻抖动的双唇。她最近感觉到玛格丽特正迅速长成一个女人，姐妹分离是一定的事情，但劳里的秘密使这一天变得似乎近在眼前，她心中十分恐惧。劳里看到她满脸悲泣，为了分散梅格的注意力，赶紧问：“你刚才上哪儿去来，穿得这么漂亮。”“加德纳家。莎莉跟我谈了贝儿•莫法特的婚礼。婚礼极尽奢华，一对新人已去巴黎过冬了。想想那该有多么浪漫！”“你是不是嫉妒她，梅格？”劳里问。
“恐怕是吧。”
“谢天谢地！”乔咕哝道，把帽子猛地一拉戴上。
“为什么？”梅格奇怪地问。
“因为如果你看重金钱，就绝不会去嫁一个穷人，”乔说。
劳里赶紧示意她说话小心，她却不悦地对他皱皱眉头。
“我不会'去嫁'什么人，”梅格说罢昂然而去。乔和劳里跟在后面，一面笑一面窃窃私语，还向河中投掷石头。”表现得就像一对小孩子，”梅格心里这样说，不过如果不是穿着最漂亮的衣服，她可能也忍不住和他们一起闹了。
此后的一段日子里，乔行为古怪，令姐妹们个个摸不着蛊头脑。但逢邮递员一按门铃，她便冲到门前，每当见到布鲁克先生，她就粗声粗气，常常坐在一边愁眉苦脸地望着梅格，一会跳起来摇摇她，然后又莫明其妙地亲她一下；劳里和她常常互相打暗号，并谈论什么"展翼鹰"。姐妹们终于断言这对人物全都失了魂儿。在乔从窗子跳出去后的第二个星期六，梅格坐在窗边做针线活，看到劳里满园子追逐乔，最后在艾美的花荫下把乔捉住了，不免心生反感。她看不到两人在里头干什么，只听到一阵尖笑声，随后听到一阵咕咕哝哝的低语声和一声响亮的拍击报纸声。
“我们真拿这姑娘没办法，她就是不肯像个淑女一样文文静静。”梅格一面不悦地望着两人赛跑，一面叹息。
“我倒希望她不肯；她现在这样多风趣可爱，”贝思说。看到乔与别人而不是和自己分享秘密，她心里有点不受用，但却绝不表露出来。
“她这样令人十分难堪，但我们从来都不能使她规矩下来，”艾美接着说。她坐在那里为自己制一些新饰边，一头鬈发漂漂亮亮地扎成两股，十分好看，令她自觉优雅无比，仪态万千。
几分钟后乔冲进来，一头躺在沙发上，假装看报。
“你看到什么有趣的文章吗？”梅格屈尊问道。
“一则故事而已；并非什么大作，我想，”乔答，小心翼翼地不让大家看到报纸的名字。
“你最好把它读出来；这样我们大家高兴，你也不至于胡闹，”艾美用一副大人的腔调说。
“故事是什么题目？”贝思问，一面奇怪乔为什么把脸藏蛊在报纸后面。
“《画家争雄》。”
“挺好听的；念出来吧，”梅格说。
乔重重地咳了一下，吸了一口长气，开始很快地往下念。
故事优美浪漫，而且不乏哀婉动人之处，因为到最后大多数角色都死掉了。姐妹们听得津津有味。
“我喜欢有关漂亮图画的那一节，”乔停下来时艾美满意地说。
“我更喜欢爱情那一节。维奥拉和安吉洛是我最喜欢的两个名字，你们说怪不怪？”梅格擦着眼睛说，因为"爱情那一节"十分凄婉。
“谁写的？”贝思问。她瞥见了乔的脸色。
读报人突然坐起来，扔开报纸，露出一张涨得通红的脸孔，尽力控制着兴奋的心情，强作严肃地高声回答：“你姐姐。”“你！”梅格叫道，手里的活计掉了下来。
“这太好了，”艾美评论道。
“我早就知道会有今天！我早就知道会有今天！噢，我的乔，我是多么骄傲！“贝思跑上去紧紧拥抱姐姐，为这一辉煌成就欢呼雀跃。
哦，姐妹们的兴奋真是难以言状！梅格怎么也不相信这是真的，直到看到"约瑟芬•马奇小姐"白纸黑字印在报上时，这才信了；艾美彬彬有礼地对艺术性章节批评一番，又提供一些写续集的线索，可惜故事不能再续，因为男女主角都死掉了；贝思兴奋不已，高兴得又唱又跳；罕娜进来看到"乔的东西"时惊愕得大喊大叫；马奇太太知道后更是倍感自蛊豪；乔笑得流出了眼泪，宣布自己已出足了风头，就是死也是值得的了；报纸从大家手上传来传去，这份"展翼鹰"就像真正的雄鹰一样在马奇家上空振翅高飞！
“跟我们说说吧，什么时候来的？”“得了多少稿费？”“爸爸会怎么说？劳里一定会很开心吧？”全家人簇拥着乔一口气par叫道。每逢家里有一点什么芝麻大的喜事，这些痴情的人都要兴高采烈地庆祝一番。
“别叽叽喳喳了，姑娘们，听我把事情从头道来，”为自己的《画家争雄》倍感得意的乔说，怀疑伯尼小姐对她的《埃维莉娜》是不是感到更光荣一些。她告诉大家自己如何把两篇故事送出，然后又说：“当我去询问结果时，编辑说两其他都喜欢，但处女作没有稿酬，他们只把作者的名字登在报上，并对故事进行评论。这是一种很好的锻炼，编辑说，处女作作者的水平提高后，谁都愿意付钱。所以我把两篇故事都交由他发表。今天我收到了这一篇，劳里撞见了，一定要看看，我便让他看了；他说写得好，我准备再写一些，他去弄妥下次的稿酬。我真高兴死了，因为不久后我便能够养活自己并帮助各位姐妹。”乔喘了一口气，把头藏在报纸里头，情不自禁地洒下几滴泪珠，把自己的小故事滴湿了；自食其力、赢得所爱的人的称赞是她心头最大的愿望，今天的成功似乎是迈向幸福终点的第一步。
Chapter 15 A Telegram
November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year' said Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frost-bitten garden. 

That's the reason I was born in it,' observed Jo, pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose. 

If something very pleasant should happen now, we should think it a delightful month,' said Beth, who took a hopeful view of everything, even November. 

I dare say; but nothing pleasant ever does happen in this family,' said Meg, who was out of sorts. `We go grubbing along day after day, without a bit of change, and very little fun. We might as well be in a treadmill.' 

My patience, how blue we are!' cried Jo. `I don't much wonder, poor dear, for you see other girls having splendid times, while you grind, grind, year in and year out. Oh, don't I wish I could manage things for you as I do for my heroines! You're pretty enough and good enough already, so I'd have some rich relation leave you a fortune unexpectedly; then you'd dash out as an heiress, scorn everyone who has slighted you, go abroad and come home my Lady Something, in a blaze of splendour and elegance.' 

People don't have fortunes left them in that style nowadays; men have to work, and women to marry for money. It's a dreadful unjust world,' said Meg, bitterly. 

Jo and I are going to make fortunes for you all; just wait ten years, and see if we don't,' said Amy, who sat in a corner, making mud pies, as Hannah called her little clay models of birds, fruit, and faces. 

Can't wait, and I'm afraid I haven't much faith in ink and dirt, though I'm grateful for your good intentions.' Meg sighed, and turned to the frost-bitten garden again; Jo groaned, and leaned both elbows on the table, in a despondent attitude, but Amy patted away energetically; and Beth, who sat at the other window, said, smiling, `Two pleasant things are going to happen right away; Marmee is coming down the street, and Laurie is tramping through the garden as if he had something nice to tell.' 

In they both came, Mrs. March with her usual question, 

Any letter from Father, girls?' and Laurie to say in his persuasive way, `Won't some of you come for a drive? I've been working away at mathematics till my head is in a muddle, and I'm going to freshen my wits by a brisk turn. It's a dull day, but the air isn't bad, and I'm going to take Brooke home, so it will be gay inside, if it isn't out. Come, Jo, you and Beth will go, won't you?' 

Of course we will.' 

Much obliged, but I'm busy'; and Meg whisked out her work-basket, for she had agreed with her mother that it was best, for her at least, not to drive often with the young gentleman. 

We three will be ready in a minute,' cried Amy, running away to wash her hands. 

Can I do anything for you, Madam Mother?' asked Laurie, leaning over Mrs. March's chair, with the affectionate look and tone he always gave her. 

No, thank you, except call at the office, if you'll be so kind, dear. It's our day for a letter, and the postman hasn't been. Father is as regular as the sun, but there's some delay on the way, perhaps.' 

A sharp ring interrupted her, and a minute after Hannah came in with a letter. 

It's one of them horrid telegraph things, mum,' she said, handing it as if she was afraid it would explode and do some damage. 

At the word `telegraph', Mrs. March snatched it, read the two lines it contained, and dropped back into her chair as white as if the little paper had sent a bullet to her heart. Laurie dashed downstairs for water, while Meg and Hannah supported her, and Jo read aloud, in a frightened voice: 

MRS. MARCH: 

Your husband is very ill. Come at once. 

S. HALE, 

Blank Hospital, Washington.' 

How still the room was as they listened breathlessly, how strangely the day darkened outside, and how suddenly the whole world seemed to change, as the girls gathered about their mother, feeling as if all the happiness and support of their lives was about to be taken from them. Mrs. March was herself again directly; read the message over, and stretched out her arms to her daughters, saying, in a tone they never forgot, `I shall go at once, but it may be too late. Oh, children, children, help me to bear it!' For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of sobbing in the room, mingled with broken words of comfort, tender assurances of help, and hopeful whispers that died away in tears. Poor Hannah was the first to recover, and with unconscious wisdom she set all the rest a good example; for, with her, work was the panacea for most afflictions. 

The Lord keep the dear man! I won't waste no time a cryin', but git your things ready right away, mum,' she said, heartily, as she wiped her face on her apron, gave her mistress a warm shake of the hand with her own hard one, and went away, to work like three women in one. 

She's right; there's no time for tears now. Be calm, girls, and let me think.' 

They tried to be calm, poor things, as their mother sat up, looking pale, but steady, and put away her grief to think and plan for them. 

Where's Laurie?' she asked presently, when she had collected her thoughts, and decided on the first duties to be done. 

Here, ma'am. Oh, let me do something!' cried the boy, hurrying from the next room, whither he had withdrawn, feeling that their first sorrow was too sacred for even his friendly eyes to see. 

Send a telegram saying I will come at once. The next train goes early in the morning. I'll take that.' 

What else? The horses are ready; I can go anywhere, do anything,' he said, looking ready to fly to the ends of the earth. 

Leave a note at Aunt March's. Jo, give me that pen and paper.' 

Tearing off the blank side of one of her newly-copied pages, Jo drew the table before her mother, well knowing that money for the long, sad journey must be borrowed, and feeling as if she could do anything to add a little to the sum for her father. 

Now go, dear; but don't kill yourself driving at a desperate pace; there is no need of that.' 

Mrs. March's warning was evidently thrown away; for five minutes later Laurie tore by the window on his own fleet horse, riding as if for his life. 

Jo, run to the rooms and tell Mrs. King that I can't come. On the way get these things. I'll put them down; they'll be needed, and I must go prepared for nursing. Hospital stores are not always good. Beth, go and ask Mr. Laurence for a couple of bottles of old wine: I'm not too proud to beg for Father; he shall have the best of everything. Amy, tell Hannah to get down the black trunk; and Meg, come and help me find my things, for I'm half bewildered.' 

Writing, thinking, and directing, all at once, might well bewilder the poor lady, and Meg begged her to sit down quietly in her room for a little while, and let them work. Everyone scattered like leaves before a gust of wind; and the quiet, happy household was broken up as suddenly as if the paper had been an evil spell. 

Mr. Laurence came hurrying back with Beth, bringing every comfort the kind old gentleman could think of for the invalid, and friendliest promises of protection for the girls during the mother's absence, which comforted her very much. There was nothing he didn't offer, from his own dressing-gown to himself as escort. But that last was impossible. Mrs. March would not hear of the old gentleman's undertaking the long journey; yet an expression of relief was visible when he spoke of it, for anxiety ill fits one for travelling. He saw the look, knit his heavy eyebrows, rubbed his hands, and marched abruptly away, saying he'd be back directly. No one had time to think of him again till, as Meg ran through the entry, with a pair of rubbers in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, she came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke. 

I'm very sorry to hear of this, Miss March,' he said, in the kind, quiet tone which sounded pleasantly to her perturbed spirit. `I came to offer myself as escort to your mother. Mr. Laurence has commissions for me in Washington, and it will give me real satisfaction to be of service to her there.' 

Down dropped the rubbers, arid the tea was very near following, as Meg put out her hand, with a face so full of gratitude, that Mr. Brooke would have felt repaid for a much greater sacrifice than the trilling one of time and comfort which he was about to make. 

How kind you all are! Mother will accept, I'm sure; and it will be such a relief to know that she has someone to take care of her. Thank you very, very much!' 

Meg spoke earnestly, and forgot herself entirely, till something in the brown eyes looking down at her made her remember the cooling tea, and lead the way into the parlour, saying she would call her mother. 

Everything was arranged by the time Laurie returned with a note from Aunt March enclosing the desired sum, and a few lines repeating what she had often said before - that she had always told them it was absurd for March to go into the army, always predicted that no good would come of it, and she hoped they would take her advice next time. Mrs. March put the note in the fire, the money in her purse, and went on with her preparations, with her lips folded tightly, in a way which Jo would have understood if she had been there. 

The short afternoon wore away; all the other errands were done, and Meg and her mother busy at some necessary needlework, while Beth and Amy got tea, and Hannah finished her ironing with what she called a `slap and a bang', but still Jo did not come. They began to get anxious; and Laurie went off to find her, for no one ever knew what freak Jo might take into her head. He missed her, however, and she came walking in with a very queer expression of countenance, for there was a mixture of fun and fear, satisfaction and regret in it, which puzzled the family as much as did the roll of bills she laid before her mother, saying, with a little choke in her voice, `That's my contribution towards making Father comfortable, and bringing him home!' 

My dear, where did you get it? Twenty-five dollars? Jo, I hope you haven't done anything rash?' 

No, it's mine honestly; I didn't beg, borrow, or steal it. I earned it; and I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own.' 

As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short. 

Your hair! Your beautiful hair!' 

Oh, Jo, how could you? Your one beauty.' 

My dear girl, there was no need of this.' 

She doesn't look like my Jo any more, but I love her dearly for it!' 

As everyone exclaimed, and Beth hugged the cropped head tenderly, Jo assumed an indifferent air, which did not deceive anyone a particle, and said, rumpling up the brown bush, and trying to look as if she liked it, `It doesn't affect the fate of the nation, so don't wail, Beth. It will be good for my vanity; I was getting too proud of my wig. It will do my brains good to have that mop taken off; my head feels deliciously light and cool, and the barber said I could soon have a curly crop, which will be boyish, becoming, and easy to keep in order. I'm satisfied; so please take the money, and let's have supper.' 

Tell me all about it, Jo. I am not quite satisfied, but I can't blame you, for I know how willingly you sacrificed your vanity, as you call it, to your love. But, my dear, it was not necessary, and I'm afraid you will regret it, one of these days,' said Mrs. March. 

No, I won't!' returned Jo, stoutly, feeling much relieved that her prank was not entirely condemned. 

What made you do it?' asked Amy, who would as soon have thought of cutting off her head as her pretty hair. 

Well, I was wild to do something for Father,' replied Jo, as they gathered about the table, for healthy young people can eat even in the midst of trouble. `I hate to borrow as much as Mother does, and I knew Aunt March would croak; she always does, if you ask for a nine-pence. Meg gave all her quarterly salary toward the rent, and I only got some clothes with mine, so I felt wicked, and was bound to have some money, if I sold the nose off my face to get it.' 

You needn't feel wicked, my child; you had no winter things, and got the simplest with your own hard earnings, said Mrs. March, with a look that warmed Jo's heart. 

I hadn't the least idea of selling my hair at first, but as I went along I kept thinking what I could do, and feeling as if I'd like to dive into some of the rich stores and help myself. In a barber's window I saw tails of hair with the prices marked; and one black tail, not so thick as mine, was forty dollars. It came over me all of a sudden that I had one thing to make money out of, and without stopping to think, I walked in, asked if they bought hair, and what they would give for mine.' 

I don't see how you dared to do it,' said Beth, in a tone of awe. 

Oh, he was a little man who looked as if he merely lived to oil his hair. He rather stared, at first, as if he wasn't used to having girls bounce into his shop and ask him to buy their hair. He said he didn't care about mine, it wasn't the fashionable colour, and he never paid much for it in the first place; the work put into it made it dear, and so on. It was getting late, and I was afraid, if it wasn't done right away, that I shouldn't have it done at all, and you know when I start to do a thing, I hate to give it up; so I begged him to take it, and told him why I was in such a hurry. It was silly, I dare say, but it changed his mind, for I got rather excited, and told the story in my topsy-turvy way, and his wife heard, and said so kindly: "Take it, Thomas, and oblige the young lady; I'd do as much for our Jimmy any day if I had a spire of hair worth selling".' 

Who was Jimmy?' asked Amy, who liked to have things explained as they went along. 

Her son, she said, who was in the army. How friendly such things make strangers feel, don't they? She talked away all the time the man clipped, and diverted my mind nicely.' 

Didn't you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?' asked Meg, with a shiver. 

I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that; I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table, and felt only the short, rough ends on my head. It almost seemed as if I'd an arm or a leg off. The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I'll give it to you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by; for a crop is so comfortable I don't think I shall ever have a mane again.' 

Mrs. March folded the wavy chestnut lock, and laid it away with a short grey one in her desk. She only said, `Thank you, deary', but something in her face made the girls change the subject, and talk as cheerfully as they could about Mr. Brooke's kindness, the prospect of a fine day tomorrow, and the happy times they would have when Father came home to be nursed. 

No one wanted to go to bed, when, at ten o'clock, Mrs. March put by the last finished job, and said, `Come, girls.' Beth went to the piano and played the father's favourite hymn; all began bravely, but broke down one by one, till Beth was left alone, singing with all her heart, for to her music was always a sweet consoler. 

Go to bed and don't talk, for we must be up early, and shall need all the sleep we can get. Good night, my darlings,' said Mrs. March, as the hymn ended, for no one cared to try another. 

They kissed her quietly, and went to bed as silently as if the dear invalid lay in the next room. 

Beth and Amy soon fell asleep in spite of the great trouble, but Meg lay awake, thinking the most serious thoughts she had ever known in her short life. Jo lay motionless, and her sister fancied that she was asleep, till a stifled sob made her exclaim, as she touched a wet cheek: `Jo, dear, what is it? Are you crying about Father?' 

No, not now.' 

What then?' 

My - my hair!' burst out poor Jo, trying vainly to smother her emotion in the pillow. 

It did not sound at all comical to Meg, who kissed and caressed the afflicted heroine in the tenderest manner. 

I'm not sorry,' protested Jo, with a choke. `I'd do it again tomorrow, if I could. It's only the vain, selfish part of me that goes and cries in this silly way. Don't tell anyone, it's all over now. I thought you were asleep, so I just made a little private moan for my one beauty. How came you to be awake?' 

I can't sleep, I'm so anxious,' said Meg. 

Think about something pleasant, and you'll soon drop off.' 

I tried it, but felt wider awake than ever.' 

What did you think of?' 

Handsome faces - eyes particularly,' answered Meg, smiling to herself, in the dark. 

What colour do you like best?' 

Brown - that is, sometimes; blue are lovely.' 

Jo laughed, and Meg sharply ordered her not to talk, then amiably promised to make her hair curl, and fell asleep to dream of living in her castle in the air. 

The clocks were striking midnight, and the rooms were very still, as a figure glided quietly from bed to bed, smoothing a coverlet here, settling a pillow there, and pausing to look long and tenderly at each unconscious face, to kiss each with lips that mutely blessed, and to pray the fervent prayers which only mothers utter. As she lifted the curtain to look out into the dreary night, the moon broke suddenly from behind the clouds, and shone upon her like a bright, benignant face, which seemed to whisper in the silence, `Be comforted, dear soul! There is always light behind the clouds.'
 
“一年之中就数十一月最讨厌了，”这天下午天气阴沉沉的，梅格站在窗边，看着外面花木萧条的园子说道。
“怪不得我在这个月出生，”乔郁郁不乐地说，全没注意到自己鼻子上沾了墨渍。
“如果这会儿有喜事临门，我们就会觉得这是个好月份了，”贝思说。她对所有事情都持乐观态度，即使对十一月。
“也许吧，但这个家从来都没有什么喜事，”心情欠佳的梅格说，”我们日复一日辛苦操劳，但却没有丝毫变化，生活还是枯燥乏味，这不等于活受罪嘛。”“啊呀，我们真是牢骚满腹！”乔叫道，”我倒不怎么奇怪，可怜的人儿，因为你看到别的姑娘们风光快乐，自己却长年累月辛辛苦苦地干啊干埃噢，我但愿能为你安排命运，就像我为自己笔下的女主人公所做的那样！你天生丽质，更兼心地善良，我要安排某个有钱的亲戚出人意料地给你留下一笔财产；于是你成了女继承人，出人头地，对曾经小看你的人不屑一顾，飘洋出国，最后成了高雅的贵夫人衣锦还乡。”“这种事情，今天是不会再有的了。男人得工作，女人得嫁人，这样才能有钱。这个世界好不公平，”梅格苦涩地说。
蛊“我和乔要为你们大家赚钱；等上十年吧，我们赚不到钱才怪呢，”艾美说。她坐在一角做泥饼- 罕娜这样称呼她那些小鸟、水果、脸谱等陶土制的小模型。
“不能等了，再说我对你们的笔墨和泥土也没什么信心，虽然我很感激你们的美意。”梅格叹了一声，又把头转向寒霜满布的园子。乔咕哝着垂头丧气地把双肘支在桌子上，艾美却激动地继续争吵，这时坐在另一面窗边的贝思微笑说：“两桩喜事马上就要临门了：妈咪正从街上走过来；劳里大步穿过园子，好像有好消息要宣布。”两人双双走进来，马奇太太习惯地问道：“爸爸有信来吗，姑娘们？”劳里则邀她们：“你们有谁愿意出去驾车兜风吗？我做数学做得头昏脑涨，想出去兜一圈清醒一下。天气沉闷，不过空气还不坏，我准备接布鲁克回家，所以即使车子外头乏味，里头也是热闹的。来吧，乔，你和贝思都来，好吗？”“我们当然来。 “你的心意我领了，但我没空。”梅格赶快拿出篮子，因为她和母亲商定，最好，至少对她来说，不要经常和这位年轻绅士驾车外出。
“我们三个马上就准备好，”艾美叫道，一面跑去洗手。
“我能帮你捎带点什么吗，太太？”劳里在马奇太太椅边俯下身来，用充满感情的神气和声调问道。他跟她说话向来都是这样。
“不用了，谢谢你。不过，请你到邮局看看，亲爱的孩子。
今天应该有信来，但邮递员却没来。爸爸的信是雷打不动的，蛊恐怕是在路上给耽搁了。”一阵尖锐的铃声打断了她的话，不一会，罕娜手持一封信走进来。
“一封讨厌的什么电报，太太。”她小心翼翼地把电报递过来，仿佛担心它会轰然爆炸并造成伤害。
听到"电报"二字，马奇太太把它一把夺过来，看了里头两行字，便一头倒在椅子上，脸如白纸，仿佛这片小小的纸头似利箭穿心。劳里赶紧冲下楼去拿水，梅格和罕娜则扶着她，乔颤抖着声音念道--马奇太太：你丈夫病重。速来。
华盛顿布兰克医院
Ｓ．黑尔
大家气平静息地听着，房间一片死寂，外面也奇怪地变得昏昏惨惨，世界好像突然变了个模样，姐妹们围着母亲，只觉得仿佛所有的幸福和她们的生活支柱都要被夺走了。马奇太太旋即恢复了神态，她把电报看了一遍，伸出手臂扶着几个女儿，用一种令她们永远也不会忘记的声调说：“我这就动身，但也可能太迟了。哦，孩子们，孩子们，帮我承受这一切吧！”有好一会儿房间里只听到一片啜齐声，夹杂着断断续续的安慰声和轻柔的宽解声。大家呜呜咽咽，话不成语。可怜的罕娜首先恢复了常态，不知不觉地为大家树立了榜样，因蛊为，对于她来说，工作就是解除痛苦的灵丹妙药。
“上帝保佑好人！我不想流眼泪浪费时间，赶紧收拾行李吧，太太，”她由衷地说道，一面用围裙擦擦脸，用粗糙的手紧紧地握了握女主人的手，转身离去，用一个顶三的劲头干起活来。
“她说得对，现在没时间流眼泪。镇静，姑娘们，让我想想。”可怜的姑娘们努力镇定下来，母亲坐起来，脸色苍白而平静。她强忍着悲痛，思量该怎么办。
“劳里在哪儿？”定下神后，她决定了首先要做的几件事，随即问道。
“在这里，太太。噢，让我干点什么吧！”小伙子赶忙从隔壁房间走出来叫道。他刚才觉得她们的悲哀异常神圣，即使是他友好的眼睛也不能亵渎，于是悄悄退下。
“发封电报，说我马上就来。明天一早有一趟车开出，我就搭这趟车。”“还有什么吩咐吗？马匹已经备好；我无论上哪儿、干什么都行。”看样子他已经准备好飞到天涯海角。
“送张便条给马奇婶婶。乔，把笔和纸给我。”乔从刚刚抄好的稿子里撕下一页空白稿纸，把桌子拉到母亲面前。她很清楚必须筹借一笔钱才能应付这次遥远而悲伤的旅行，她真想不惜牺牲一切，为父亲多筹集哪怕是小小的一笔钱。
“去吧，亲爱的，不过别把车驾得太快摔坏了自己；这没蛊有必要。”马奇太太的警告显然被扔到了九霄云外。五分钟后，劳里驾着自己的骏马，拼了命似地从窗边狂奔而过。
“乔，赶快到寓所告诉金斯夫人我不能来了。顺路把这些东西买来。我把它们写下来，它们会派上用场的，我得做好护理的准备，医院的商店不一定好。贝思，去向劳伦斯先生要两瓶陈年葡萄酒：为父亲我可以放下面子向人乞求，他应该得到最好的东西。艾美，告诉罕娜把黑色行李箱拿下来；梅格，你来帮我找找要用的东西，我脑子乱极了。”既要写字动脑筋，又要发号施令，这样大可以使这可怜的女士头脑昏乱，梅格便请她在自己的房间里静静小坐一会，让她们来干。众人分头散去，就像随风而去的树叶；那封电报犹如一纸恶符，一下子便把宁静温馨的家庭拆散。
劳伦斯先生随贝思匆匆而来，好心的老人给病人带来了他能想到的各种慰问品，并友好地承诺在马奇太太离家期间照顾姑娘们，这使马奇太太倍感欣慰。他更主动施以援手，提供各项帮助，小至自己的晨衣，大至亲自当护驾，等等。当护驾是不可能的了，因为马奇太太不愿让老人长途跋涉。不过，当她听到他这样说时脸上流露出一丝宽慰的神情，因为她忧心如焚确实不适宜孤身上路。老人看到她的神情，浓眉一皱，擦擦双手，突然抬脚就走，口里说这就回来。大家忙乱之中便把他给忘了。不料当梅格一手拿着一对橡皮套鞋，一手拿着一杯茶跑出门口时，却突然碰到了布鲁克先生。
“听到这个消息我万分难过，马奇小姐，”他说，声调亲切轻柔。心乱如麻的梅格觉得这声音十分动听。”我来请求当蛊你妈妈的护驾。劳伦斯先生交代我在华盛顿办点事，能在那边为她效劳将是我一大乐事。”橡皮套鞋落到了地上，茶也差一点就溢了出来，梅格伸出手，脸上充满感激之情，布鲁克先生见状恨不能以身相报，更别说付出一点时间来照顾马奇太太了。
“你们都是菩萨心肠！我肯定妈妈会答应的。知道她有人照顾，我们就放心了。真是非常、非常感谢你！”梅格激动得完全忘掉了自己，布鲁克先生低头望着她，棕色的眼睛流露出一种异样的神情，她这才想起将要凉了的茶水，忙把他带进客厅，一面说她这就去叫母亲。
到劳里回来的时候，一切已安排就绪。他从马奇婶婶处带来一张便条，内附她们所希望的金额和几句她以前常常唠叨的话 -她早就再三告诫她们，让马奇参军是桩荒唐事，不会有什么好结果的，她希望她们下次能够听她的劝告。马奇太太看后把纸条放到火炉里，把钱装进钱包，紧闭双唇，继续收拾行装。要是乔在场的话，乔一定能懂得她那副神情。
下午很快就过去了，大小事情已一一办妥，梅格和母亲忙着做一些必需的针线活，贝思和艾美泡茶，罕娜嬷嬷乓乓地，如她所说，熨好衣服，但乔仍没回来。众人开始有点担心，大家都不知道与众不同的乔会起什么念头，劳里便出去找她。他没碰上她，乔却古里古怪地走了进来，神情若喜若悲，似笑似恨，大家正在诧异不解之间，她又把一卷钞票摆在母亲面前，哽哽咽咽地说：“这是我献给爸爸的礼物，让他舒舒服服，平安回家！”“好孩子，这钱是怎么来的？二十五元！乔，你不是干了蛊什么傻事吧？”“不是，这钱千真万确是我的。我没讨，没借，也没偷。
我是自己赚来的，我想你一定不会责备我，我只是卖掉了自己的东西。”乔说着摘下帽子，大家一起惊呼起来，只见一头又浓又密的长发变得短不溜秋。
“你的头发！你那漂亮的头发！”“噢，乔你怎能这样？你秀美的头发！”“好女儿，你没必要这么做。”“她不像我的乔了，但我因此而更深爱她。”在大家的叫声中，贝思把乔剪成平头的脑袋紧紧搂在怀里，乔故意装出一副满不在乎的神态，但却骗不过大家；她用手拨弄一下棕色的短发，以示自己喜欢这种发式，说：“这又不是什么惊天动地的大事，别这么嚎啕大哭了，贝思。这正好可以治治我的虚荣心，我原来对自己的头发也太自鸣得意了点儿。现在剪掉这头乱发，还可以健脑益智，我的脑袋变得又轻便又好使，理发师说短发很快就可以卷曲起来，这样既活泼好看，又容易梳理。我高兴着呢，收起钞票，我们吃饭吧。”“把事情经过告诉我，乔。我并不是十分满意，但我不能责怪你，因为我知道你是多么愿意为自己所爱的人牺牲你所谓的虚荣心。不过，亲爱的，你没必要这样，我怕你有一天会后悔呢，”马奇太太说。
“不，我不会的！”乔坚定地回答。这次胡闹没有遭到严厉谴责，她心里轻松多了。
“是什么促使你这样做的？”艾美问。对于她来说，剪掉蛊一头秀发还不如剪掉她的脑袋。
“嗯，我十分渴望能为爸爸做点事，”乔回答。这时大家已经围在桌边，年青人身体健康，即便遇上烦恼也能照样吃饭。”我像妈妈一样憎恨向人借钱，我知道马奇婶婶又要呱呱乱叫，她向来就是这样，只要你向她借上一文钱。梅格把她这季度的薪水全交了房租，我的却用来买了衣服，我觉得自己很坏，决心无论如何要筹点钱，哪怕是卖掉自己脸上的鼻子。”“你不必为这事而觉得自己很坏，我的孩子。你没有冬衣，用自己辛苦赚来的钱买几件最扑素不过的衣服，这并没有错，“马奇太太说着慈爱地看了乔一眼。
“开始我一点也没想到要卖头发，后来我边走边盘算自己能做点什么，真想窜进富丽堂皇的商店里不问自龋我看到理发店的橱窗摆了几个发辫，都标了价，一个黑色发辫，还不及我的粗，标价四十元。我突然想到我有一样东西可以换钱，于是我顾不上多想便走了进去，问他们要不要头发，我的他们给多少钱。”“我不明白你怎么这样勇敢。”贝思肃然起敬。
“哦。老板是个小个子男人，看他的样子似乎他活着就是为了给他的头发上油。他一开始有点吃惊，看来他不习惯女孩子闯进他的店子里叫他买头发。他说他对我的没什么兴趣，因为颜色并不时髦，首先他不会出高价；这头发要经过加工才值钱，等等。天色将晚，我担心如果我不马上做成这桩买卖，那就根本做不成了，你们也知道我做事不喜欢半途而废；于是我求他把头发买下，并告诉他我为何这样着急。这样做蛊当然很傻，但他听后改变了主意，因为我当时相当激动，话说得语无伦次。他妻子听到了，好心地说：'买下吧，汤姆斯，成全这位小姐吧，如果我有一把值钱的头发，我也会为我们的吉米这样做的。'”“吉米是谁？”逢事喜欢让人解释的艾美问道。
“她的儿子，她说也在军队里头。这种事情使陌生人一见如故，可不是吗？那男人帮我剪发时，她一路跟我拉话儿，分散我的注意力。”“剪刀剪下去的时候你觉得心寒吗？”梅格打了个哆嗦，问。
“趁那男人做准备的当儿，我看了自己的头发最后一眼，仅此而已。我从不为这种小事浪费感情。不过我承认当我看到自己的宝贝头发摆在桌上，摸摸脑袋只剩下又短又粗的发脚时，心里很不自在。这种滋味简直有点像掉了一只手臂一条腿。那女人看到我盯着头发，便捡起一绺长发给我保存。我现在把它交给您，妈妈，以此纪念我昔日的光彩，因为短发舒服极了，我想我以后再也不会留长发了。“马奇太太把卷曲的栗色发绺折起来，把它和一绺灰白色的短发一起放在她的桌子里头，只说了一句：“难为你了，宝贝。”但她脸上的神色、使姑娘们换了个话题。她们强打精神，谈论布鲁克先生是怎样一个好人，又说明天一定天气晴朗，爸爸回来养病的时候大家就可以共享天伦之乐了，等等。
到了十点钟大家仍不愿上床睡觉，马奇太太把刚刚做完的活计搁在一边，说：“来吧，姑娘们。”贝思便走到钢琴前、弹奏父亲最喜欢的圣歌；大家勇敢地唱了起来，但又一个接蛊一个停下了歌声，最后，只剩贝思一人独自纵情歌唱，因为对于她来说，音乐就是心灵最好的慰藉。
“上床睡觉，别讲话，我们得起个大早，要抓紧时间好好休息。晚安，孩子们，“圣歌唱完后马奇太太这样说，因为这时大家都没有心情再唱下去了。
她们静静地亲亲母亲，轻手轻脚地走上床，仿佛生病的父亲就躺在隔壁房间里。尽管挂虑父亲，贝思和艾美还是很快就睡着了，梅格却全无睡意，躺在床上思考她短短的一生以来所遇到的最为严肃的问题。乔躺着也不动，梅格以为她早已入睡，不料却听到一下低低的抽齐声，她一伸手，摸到一张湿漉漉的脸颊，不禁叫起来 “乔，亲爱的，怎么回事？是为爸爸伤心吗？”“不，这会儿不是。”“那是为什么？”“我-—我的头发！”可怜的乔冲口说道。她用枕头死死堵住嘴巴，试图掩住激动的啜齐声，但却徒费功夫。
梅格一点也不觉得好笑，她亲亲这位伤心的女英雄，一边十分温柔地抚摸着她。
“我并不后悔，”乔哽噎了一下声明，”如果可能，我明天还会这样做。这只是我身上的私心在作怪。不要告诉别人，现在好了。我以为你睡着了，所以悄悄为我的一把美发洒几滴眼泪。你怎么也没睡？”“睡不着，我心里很乱，”梅格说。
“想想愉快的事情，就会很快睡着了。”
“我试过了，但反而更清醒。”
蛊“你在想什么？”
“英俊的脸孔 -特别是眼睛，”梅格答道，黑暗中自个微笑起来。
“你最喜欢什么颜色？”
“棕色 -我的意思是，有时候，不过蓝色也很漂亮。”乔笑了，梅格严厉地命她不许再说，接着又笑着答应替她把头发卷曲，随后便酣然入梦，走进她的空中楼阁去了。
时钟敲响十二点，更深夜静，一个人影在床间悄悄移动，把这边的被角掖好，把那边的枕头摆正，又停下来深情地久久凝视着每张熟睡的面孔，轻轻吻吻她们，然后带着无限的爱意热诚祈祷。当她拉起窗帘，望着沉沉夜色时，月亮穿云破雾，倏忽而出，向她洒下一片祥和的光辉，似乎在静夜中悄悄低语：“别着急，善良的人！守得云开见月明。”
Chapter 16 Letters
In the cold grey dawn the sisters lit their lamp, and read their chapter with an earnestness never felt before; for now the shadow of a real trouble had come, the little books were full of help and comfort; and, as they dressed, they agreed to say good-bye cheerfully and hopefully, and send their mother on her anxious journey unsaddened by tears or complaints from them. Everything seemed very strange when they went down - so dim and still outside, so full of light and bustle within. Breakfast at that early hour seemed odd, and even Hannah's familiar face looked unnatural as she flew about her kitchen with her night-cap on. The big trunk stood ready in the hall, Mother's cloak and bonnet lay on the sofa, and Mother herself sat trying to eat, but looking so pale and worn, with sleeplessness and anxiety, that the girls found it very hard to keep their resolution. Meg's eyes kept filling in spite of herself; Jo was obliged to hide her face in the kitchen roller more than once; and the little girls wore a grave, troubled expression, as if sorrow was a new experience to them. 

Nobody talked much, but as the time drew very near, and they sat waiting for the carriage, Mrs. March said to the girls, who were all busied about her, one folding her shawl, another smoothing out the strings of her bonnet, a third putting on her overshoes, and a fourth fastening up her travelling bag: 

Children, I leave you to Hannah's care and Mr. Laurence's protection. Hannah is faithfulness itself, and our good neighbour will guard you as if you were his own. I have no fears for you, yet I am anxious that you should take this trouble rightly. Don't grieve and fret when I am gone, or think that you can comfort yourselves by being idle and trying to forget. Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed solace. Hope and keep busy; and whatever happens, remember that you never can be fatherless.' 

Yes, Mother.' 

Meg, dear, be prudent, watch over your sisters, consult Hannah, and, in any perplexity, go to Mr. Laurence. Be patient, Jo, don't get despondent or do rash things; write to me often, and be my brave girl, ready to help and cheer us all. Beth, comfort yourself with your music, and be faithful to the little home duties; and you, Amy, help all you can, be obedient, and keep happy safe at home.' 

We will, Mother! we will!' 

The rattle of an approaching carriage made them all start and listen. That was the hard minute, but the girls stood it well; no one cried, no one ran away or uttered a lamentation, though their hearts were very heavy as they sent loving messages to Father, remembering, as they spoke, that it might be too late to deliver them. They kissed their mother quietly, clung about her tenderly, and tried to wave their hands cheerfully when she drove away. 

Laurie and his grandfather came over to see her off, and Mr. Brooke looked so strong and sensible and kind that the girls christened him `Mr. Greatheart' on the spot. 

Good-bye, my darlings! God bless and keep us all!' whispered Mrs. March, as she kissed one dear little face after the other, and hurried into the carriage. 

As she rolled away, the sun came out, and, looking back, she saw it shining on the group at the gate, like a good omen. They saw it also, and smiled and waved their hands; and the last thing she beheld, as she turned the corner, was the four bright faces, and behind them, like a bodyguard, old Mr. Laurence, faithful Hannah, and devoted Laurie. 

How kind everyone is to us!' she said, turning to find fresh proof of it in the respectful sympathy of the young man's face. 

I don't see how they can help it,' returned Mr. Brooke, laughing so infectiously that Mrs. March could not help smiling; and so the long journey began with the good omens of sunshine, smiles, and cheerful words. 

I feel as if there had been an earthquake,' said Jo, as their neighbours went home to breakfast, leaving them to rest and refresh themselves. 

It seems as if half the house was gone,' added Meg, forlornly. 

Beth opened her lips to say something, but could only point to the pile of nicely minded hose which lay on Mother's table, showing that even in her last hurried moments she had thought and worked for them. It was a little thing, but it went straight to their hearts; and, in spite of their brave resolutions, they all broke down and cried bitterly. 

Hannah wisely allowed them to relieve their feelings, and, when the shower showed signs of clearing up, she came to the rescue, armed with a coffee-pot. 

Now, my dear young ladies, remember what your ma said, and don't fret. Come and have a cup of coffee all round, and then let's fall to work and be a credit to the family.' 

Coffee was a treat, and Hannah showed great tact in making it that morning. No one could resist her persuasive nods, or the fragrant invitation issuing from the nose of the coffee-pot. They drew up to the table, exchanged their handkerchiefs for napkins, and in ten minutes were all right again. 

"Hope and keep busy", that's the motto for us, so let's see who will remember it best. I shall go to Aunt March, as usual. Oh, won't she lecture though!' said Jo, as she sipped with returning spirit. 

I shall go to my Kings, though I'd much rather stay at home and attend to things here,' said Meg, wishing she hadn't made her eyes so red. 

No need of that, Beth and I can keep house perfectly well,' put in Amy, with an important air. 

Hannah will tell us what to do, and we'll have everything nice when you come home,' added Beth, getting out her mop and dish-tub without delay. 

I think anxiety is very interesting,' observed Amy, eating sugar, pensively. 

The girls couldn't help laughing, and felt better for it, though Meg shook her head at the young lady who could find consolation in a sugar-bowl. 

The sight of the turnovers made Jo sober again; and when the two went out to their daily tasks, they looked sorrowfully back at the window where they were accustomed to see their mother's face. It was gone; but Beth had remembered the little household ceremony, and there she was, nodding away at them like a rosy-faced mandarin. 

That's so like my Beth!' said Jo, waving her hat, with a grateful face. `Good-bye, Meggy; I hope the Kings won't trail today. Don't fret about Father, dear,' she added, as they parted. 

And I hope Aunt March won't croak. Your hair is becoming, and it looks very boyish and nice,' returned Meg, trying not to smile at the curly head, which looked comically small on her tall sister's shoulders. 

That's my only comfort'; and, touching her hat, * la Laurie, away went Jo, feeling like a shorn sheep on a wintry day. 

News from their father comforted the girls very much; for, though dangerously ill, the presence of the best and tenderest of nurses had already done him good. Mr. Brooke sent a bulletin every day, and, as the head of the family, Meg insisted on reading the dispatches, which grew more and more cheering as the week passed. At first, everyone was eager to write, and plump envelopes were carefully poked into the letter-box by one or other of the sisters, who felt rather important with their Washington correspondence. As one of these packets contained characteristic notes from the party, we will rob an imaginary mail, and read them: 

My Dearest Mother - It is impossible to tell you how happy your last letter made us, for the news was so good we couldn't help laughing and crying over it. How very kind Mr. Brooke is, and how fortunate that Mr. Laurence's business detains him near you so long, since he is so useful to you and Father. The girls are all as good as gold. Jo helps me with the sewing, and insists on doing all sorts of hard jobs. I should be afraid she might overdo, if I didn't know that her `moral fit' wouldn't last long. Beth is as regular about her tasks as a clock, and never forgets what you told her. She grieves about Father, and looks sober except when she is at her little piano. Amy minds me nicely, and I take great care of her. She does her own hair, and I am teaching her how to make buttonholes, and mend her stockings. She tries very hard, and I know you will be pleased with her improvement when you come. Mr. Laurence watches over us like a motherly old hen, as Jo says; and Laurie is very kind and neighbourly. He and Jo keep us merry, for we get pretty blue sometimes, and feel like orphans, with you so far away. Hannah is a perfect saint; she does not scold at all, and always calls me Miss `Margaret', which is quite proper, you know, and treats me with respect. We are all well and busy; but we long day and night to have you back. Give my dearest love to Father, and believe me, ever your own. 

Meg. 

This note, prettily written on scented paper, was a great contrast to the next, which was scribbled on a big sheet of thin foreign paper, ornamented with blots and all manner of flourishes and curly-tailed letters: 

was in the right. He didn't come; and just at night I remembered what you said when Amy fell into the river. I read my little book, felt better, resolved not to let the sun set on my anger, and ran over to tell Laurie I was sorry. I met him at the gate, coming for the same thing. We both laughed, begged each other's pardon, and felt all good and comfortable again. 

I made a `pome' yesterday, when I was helping Hannah wash; and, as Father likes my silly little things, I put it in to amuse him. Give him the lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself a dozen times for your 

Topsy-Turvy Jo. 

A Song From The Suds 

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing, 

While the white foam rises high; 

And sturdily wash and rinse and wring, 

And fasten the clothes to dry; 

Then out in the free, fresh air they swing, 

Under the sunny sky. 

I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls 

The stains of the week away, 

And let water and air by their magic make 

Ourselves as pure as they; 

Then on the earth there would be indeed 

A glorious washing day! 

Along the path of a useful life, 

Will heart's-ease ever bloom; 

The busy mind has no time to think 

Of sorrow or care or gloom; 

And anxious thoughts may be swept away, 

As we bravely wield a broom. 

I am glad a task to me is given, 

To labour at day by day; 

For it brings me health and strength and hope, 

And I cheerfully learn to say, - 

Head, you may think, Heart, you may feel, 

But, Hand, you shall work alway!' 

Dear Mother - There is only room for me to send my love and some pressed pansies from the root I have been keeping safe in the house for Father to see. I read every morning, try to be good all day, and sing myself to sleep with Father's tune. I can't sing `Land of the Leal' now; it makes me cry. Everyone is very kind, and we are as happy as we can be without you. Amy wants the rest of the page, so I must stop. I didn't forget to cover the holders, and I wind the clock and air the rooms every day. 

Kiss dear Father on the cheek he calls mine. Oh, do come soon to your loving 

Little Beth. 

Ma Chere Mamma - We are all well I do my lessons always and never corroberate the girls - Meg says I mean contradick so I put in both words and you can take the properest. Meg is a great comfort to me and lets me have jelly every night at tea its so good for me Jo says because it keeps me sweet tempered. Laurie is not as respeckful as he ought to be now I am almost in my teens, he calls me Chick and hurts my feelings by talking French to me very fast when I say Merci or Bon jour as Hattie King does. The sleeves of my blue dress were all worn out, and Meg put in new ones, but the full front came wrong and they are more blue than the dress. I felt bad but did not fret I bear my troubles well but I do wish Hannah would put more starch in my aprons and have buckwheats every day. Can't she? Didn't I make that interrigation point nice? Meg says my punchtuation and spelling are disgraceful and I am mortyfied but dear me I have so many things to do, I can't stop. Adieu, I send heaps of love to papa - Your affectionate daughter 

Amy Curtis March. 

Dear Miss March - I jes drop a line to say we git on fust rate. The girls is clever and fly round right smart. Miss Meg is going to make a proper good housekeeper; she has the liking for it, and gifts the hang of things surprisin quick. Jo doos beat all for going ahead, but she don't stop to cal'k'late fusty, and you never know where she's like to bring up. She done out a tub of clothes on Monday, but she starched em afore they was wrenched, and blued a pink calico dress till I thought I should a died a laughing. Beth is the best of little creeters, and a sight of help to me, bein so forehanded and dependable. She tries to learn everything, and really goes to market beyond her years; likewise keeps accounts, with my help, quite wonderful. We have got on very economical so fur; I don't let the girls hev coffee only once a week, according to your wish, and keep em on plain wholesome vittles. Amy does well about frettin, wearing her best clothes and eatin sweet stuff. Mr. Laurie is as full of didoes as usual, and turns the house upside down frequent; but he heartens up the girls, and so I let em hev full swing. The old gentleman sends heaps of things, and is rather wearing, but means wal, and it aint my place to say nothin. My bread is riz, so no more at this time. I send my duty to Mr. March, and hope he's seen the last of his Pewmonia - Yours Respectful, 

Hannah Mullet. 

Head Nurse Of Ward No. 2 - All serene on the Rappahannock, troops in fine condition, commissary department well conducted, the Home Guard under Colonel Teddy always on duty, Commander-in-Chief General Laurence reviews the army daily, Quartermaster Mullet keeps order in camp, and Major Lion does picket duty at night. A salute of twenty-four guns was fired on receipt of good news from Washington, and a dress parade took place at head-quarters. Commander-in-Chief sends best wishes, in which he is heartily joined by 

Colonel Teddy. 

Dear Madam - The little girls are all well; Beth and my boy report daily; Hannah is a model servant, and guards pretty Meg like a dragon. Glad the fine weather holds; pray make Brooke useful, and draw on me for funds if expenses exceed your estimate. Don't let your husband want anything. Thank God he is mending - Your sincere friend and servant, 

James Laurence.
 
天方蒙蒙亮，姐妹们便冒着严寒，点亮灯，以前所未有的热诚阅读她们的小册子，因为一项真正的麻烦已经降临到她们身上，而这些小书当中随处可以寻到帮助和宽慰。穿衣的时候，她们约定要高高兴兴地跟母亲道别、不流泪、不诉苦，让她轻松上路。她们走下楼时一切都似乎变得十分陌生--外头天色灰暗、鸦雀无声，里头却灯火透亮、一片忙乱。
这么早便吃早餐显得有点古里古怪，罕娜戴着睡帽在厨房里跑上跑下，那张熟识的面孔也好像与往日不同。大行李箱已在大厅里放好，母亲的外套和帽子摆在沙发上。母亲坐在那里，正吃力地把早点咽下去，因昨晚忧思劳神、一夜无眠，脸色显得十分苍白憔悴，姑娘们见状几乎把持不祝梅格忍不住泪如雨下，乔不得不三番四次地躲到厨房的碾子后面抹眼泪，两个小妹妹也神情严肃，愁眉不展，仿佛悲伤对于她们来说是一种新体验。
大家都没有怎么说话，出发的时间就要到了，大家坐着在等马车，姑娘们围着母亲忙忙碌碌，一个替她叠围巾，一个把她的帽带弄起，一个为她穿上套鞋，一个为她系好行李袋。马奇太太对她们说 “孩子们，我把你们交给罕娜和劳伦斯先生照顾。罕娜一向忠心耿耿，我们的好邻居劳伦斯先生也会把你们当作自己的女儿一样看待，这些我都不担心，我只希望你们要正确对待这次变故。我走后你们不要烦恼悲伤，也不要慵慵懒懒，或者试图忘记现实，以为这样就能安慰自己。要照常工作，因为工作就是最大的安慰。怀抱希望，不要偷闲，无论发生什么事情，都要记着，你们决不会失去父亲的。”“是，妈妈。”“梅格，好孩子，谨慎行事，带好几个妹妹，凡事与罕娜商量，遇到困难时请教劳伦斯先生。要忍耐，乔，不要灰心泄气、鲁莽行事，多写信给我，要做个勇敢的好姑娘，帮助鼓舞大家。贝思，好好弹琴，有时间帮忙做好家务。你呢，艾美，尽能力帮忙，乖乖听话，不要惹祸。”“我们会的，妈妈！”“我们会的！”这时传来嘎嗒嘎嗒的马车声，大家跳起来侧耳细听。痛苦的时刻到了，但姑娘们强忍悲伤：她们让母亲转达对父亲的问候，虽然她们想到这些话或许已经太迟。没有人哭泣，没有人躲避，也没有叹息，虽然她们心里都感到沉甸甸的；大家轻轻吻别母亲，然后目送着马车离去，强作欢颜，挥手告别。
劳里和爷爷也过来送行，布鲁克先生身强力健，和气可亲，更兼善解人意，姑娘们当场赠他一个外号"大好人先生"。
“再见，宝贝们！上帝保佑大家平平安安！”马奇太太轻声说。她在每张小脸上逐一亲亲，然后快步登上马车。
马车缓缓向前移动，此时太阳正冉冉升起。马奇太太回头望去，只见吉祥的朝霞洒在大门口的众人身上。他们也看到了太阳，都微笑着挥起了手；四姐妹面露笑容，身后站着俨然护花使者一般的劳伦斯老人、忠实的罕娜和忠心耿耿的劳里。马车转过街角，这一切都从马奇太太的视线里消失了。
“大家待我们真好！”她说着转头，望着年青人。年青人脸上那种恭敬和同情的神色又一次证明了这句话的正确性。
“他们就是这样的人。”布鲁克先生朗声而笑，那富有感染力的笑声令马奇太太也不禁微笑起来；漫长的旅行于是在祥和的阳光、微笑和欢快的言谈中开始了。
劳里和爷爷回去吃早饭，姑娘们留在家里稍作休息，邻居一走，乔便说：“我觉得好像经历了一场地震。”“屋子也仿佛变得空空荡荡的，”梅格凄凄切切地接着说。
贝思张嘴要说什么，却说不下去，只用手指指母亲桌面上一叠缝补得整整齐齐的长筒袜；母亲在极度紧张忙碌的时刻也没有忘记照料自己的女儿。这虽然只是一件小事，却令她们深受感动；大家都情不自禁地伤心痛哭。
罕娜也不去劝，任由她们尽情地释放自己的感情，看她们昏天黑地哭得差不多了，便手持咖啡壶走过来救驾。
“好了，年轻女士们，记住你们阿妈说过的话，不要伤心。
都来喝杯咖啡，然后动身干活，为这个家争口气。”喝咖啡乃一大乐事，再说罕娜那天早上把咖啡煮得出神入化。她点头相劝，让人不可抗拒，咖啡壶嘴里冒出来的阵阵香气也令人垂涎欲滴。姐妹们凑到饭桌边，用身上的手帕权且充作餐巾，一会儿功夫便都平静下来。
“'怀抱希望，不要偷闲。'这是我们的座右铭，看谁最能记住这句话。我要照常上马奇婶婶那儿去。唉，又得听她训话了！”乔呷着咖啡便来了精神。
“我也要上金斯家去，不过我倒宁愿呆在家里做家务，”梅格说道，很后悔自己把眼睛哭红了。
“用不着。我和贝思可以把家管理得井井有条，”艾美郑重其事地插话说。
贝思赶紧拿出洗碗刷和洗碗盘说：“罕娜会教我们怎样做，你们回来的时候我们会把一切都弄得好好的。”“我觉得忧思挺有趣儿，”艾美沉思着边吃糖边说。
大家全忍不住笑起来，心里也好受多了。梅格则对这位可以在糖碗里找到安慰的年轻小姐摇摇脑袋。
看到卷饼，乔严肃起来，当姐妹两人出门去上班的时候，她们凄凄切切地不断回头向窗口望去，平时母亲一定倚在窗边和她们道别，但此时却人面不再。不过，贝思却没有忘记这个小小的家庭仪式，她站在窗前，向两位姐姐点头致意，像个穿中国衣服的红脸摆头娃娃。
“真是我的好贝思！”乔说，挥挥帽子，露出一脸感激之情。”再见，梅格，我希望金斯兄弟今天不会让你生气。别担忧爸爸，亲爱的，”临分手时她又说。
“我也希望马奇婶婶不会唠唠叨叨，你的头发很好看，又精神又有朝气，”梅格回答。妹妹的脑袋披着短短的鬈发，衬在高高的身架上，显得又小又滑稽，梅格极力忍着不去笑她。
“这是我唯一的安慰。”乔摸摸劳里送她的大帽子，转身而去，觉得自己就像一头在瑟瑟寒风中被剪了毛的羊。
父亲方面传来的消息使姑娘们大感欣慰。尽管病情严重，在医院经过精心的医护理后，他已逐渐康复。布鲁克先生每天都寄来一份病情报告。梅格身为一家之长，每次都坚持自己来读。随着时间的推移，信中的消息越来越令人振奋。起初四姐妹都争着写信，写好后，由其中一人小心翼翼地把厚厚的信封塞进邮筒，大家都郑重其事地看待这些华盛顿通信。
信中有几封皮具代表性，我们不妨截下来读一读：我亲爱的妈妈：读了您的来信后，我们的喜悦心情简直没法形容，您捎来的大好消息令我们高兴得又笑又哭。布鲁克先生不愧是菩萨心肠，由于劳伦斯先生生意上的缘故，他能在你们身边陪伴多时，并悉心照顾，实乃万幸，因为他对你和父亲来说是那么有用。妹妹们个个乖巧听话。乔帮我干针线活，还坚持要做各种最难做的工夫。幸亏我知道她的"道德冲动"有如昙花一现，才不至于担心她操劳过度。贝思尽忠职守，从不忘记您告诉她的话，她思虑爸爸，终日心事重重，只有坐在她的小钢琴边时才显得轻松开怀。艾美很听我的话，我也十分细心地照顾她。她自己梳头，我正教她开钮孔和缝补袜子。她干得很起劲，您回来的时候一定会对她的进步感到满意。劳伦斯先生像老母鸡一样照看我们--这是乔说的话，劳里待我们也十分热情友好。你们远在他方，我们有时悒悒不乐，觉得自己像个孤儿，是劳里和乔使我们快乐起来。罕娜是个大圣人；她从不骂人，总是称我为"玛格丽特小姐"，这称呼十分体面，您知道，而且待我十分尊重。我们人人安好，个个忙碌，只是日夜盼望你们回来。请转达我对爸爸最诚挚的爱。永远属于您的梅格和这张字迹秀丽的香笺形成鲜明对照的，是下面这张潦潦草草地写在薄信纸上、墨迹斑斑、龙飞凤舞的大纸条：我亲爱的妈咪：为亲爱的爸爸欢呼三声！布鲁克一待爸爸身体好转便飞速电告我们，堪称好人。收到信时我冲上阁楼，试图感谢上帝对我们的厚爱，但却只哭着说：“我好高兴！我好高兴！”这不也跟真正的祈祷一样吗？因为我心中充满了感激之情。我们的日子过得有滋有味；我已经开始享受这种生活了，因为大家互爱互助，家里就像一个无比温暖的雀巢。若您看到梅格坐在首席，努力做个好妈妈的模样，一定会忍俊不禁。她越来越漂亮了，有时候我竟爱上她了。
两个妹妹是名符其实的天使，我呢--嗯，我就是我，我是乔。哦，我得告诉您我差点和劳里吵了一架。我对一桩小事直言不讳地批评了几句，他便恼了。我并没有错，只是说话过火了点儿，他便径直走回家，说除非我先认错他才会再来。我宣布我不会求他原谅，我气疯了，整整一天都心神恍惚，十分希望您就在我的身边。我和劳里自尊心都特别强，很难放下面子认错，但我以为他会来向我赔不是的，因为我是对的。他没有来，晚上我想起艾美掉进河那遭您跟我说的话，又读了我的小册子，心里受用了一点，决定不能因一时之怒而不分好歹，于是便跑过去向劳里道歉。谁知就在门口遇到了他，也是跑来向我道歉的。我们都笑起来，于是互相说过对不起，又和好如初了。
昨天我帮罕娜洗衣服时诌了一首"侍（诗）"；因为爸爸喜欢我这些小玩意，现寄上博他一笑。紧紧拥抱爸爸，也代我好好亲亲您自己。您的"混乱大王"乔洗衣歌洗衣女神哟，你看洁白的泡沫高高泛起，我一面欢歌，一面使劲又洗又搓，拧干后把衣服晾起来，让悠悠清风把它们吹干，天上白云飘飘，阳光灿烂。
我祝愿能把世俗的尘污，
从我们的心灵洗去。
让水和清风施展魔法，
让我们和它们一样纯净。
那么地球上就将有一个
灿烂辉煌的冲洗日！
生活充实，内心平静，
人生路上风雨不惊；
忙碌的脑袋顾不上去想
悲伤、烦恼和忧郁，
每当我们勇敢地挥动扫帚，
忧虑就会离我们远去。
我高高兴兴地肩负
每天劳动的任务；
它使我身体强舰充满希望。
我快乐地学会说
“头脑用于思考，心灵用于感觉，
但手，你必须永远工作！”
亲爱的妈妈：
我仅有地方送上我的挚爱和我一直保存在屋里留待爸爸观赏的三色堇标本。我每天早上读书，白天努力工作，晚间哼着爸爸的曲子入睡。我现在不能唱"天国之歌"，因为它使我感极而泣。大家都和睦共处，日子过得还算相当愉快，艾美要我把下面的地方留给她，因此我得搁笔了。我没有忘记盖好架子，每天都打扫房间，给时钟上发条。
亲亲爸爸的脸颊。噢，务必赶快回到我的身边。
你疼爱的
小贝思
ＭＡＣＨＥＲＥＭＡＭＭＡ：
我们都很好我老做功课从不和姐姐们合着（作） -梅格说我的意思是驳策（斥）所以我把两个词都写上等你来挑眩梅格待我棒极了每晚进茶点时都让我吃果子冻乔说这东西对我很有好处因为它使我脾气温和。劳里对人不够尊重现在我已差不多十岁出头了，他还管我叫"黄毛丫头"，当我像海蒂•金一样说Ｍｅｒｃｉ或者Ｂｏｎｊｏｕｒ的时候他就说很快的法语来伤我的心。我那条蓝套裙的袖子全磨破了，梅格换了一对新的，但前面却换错了颜色变得比裙子还要蓝。我心里不好受但没有着恼我经得起波折但我真希望罕娜把我的围裙浆硬一点并每天做荞麦。她不可以吗？我的问号画得够漂亮吧？梅格说我的标点付（符）号和拚写很不雅我很感屈侮（辱），但是哎呀我有这么多事情要做，有什么办法。
再会，给爸爸送上我无数的爱。
深深爱您的女儿，
艾美•科蒂斯•马奇
亲爱的马奇太太：
我只写几句话告诉你我们过得蛮好。姑娘们又聪明又勤快。梅格小姐很快就能成为一个顶好的管家；她对这方面有兴趣，而且很快就能掌握里头的窍门儿。乔样样都走在头里，你永远不会知道她下一步会出什么花样。她星期一洗了一桶衣服，但是还没绞干就给上了浆，还把一条粉红色的印花裙儿弄成蓝色，把我差一点笑死了。这班小家伙要数贝思最乖，她又节俭又可靠，是我的好帮手。她什么都努力去学，小小年纪就上市场买菜了；还在我的指点下记帐，很像回事呢。我们一直都俭省，按照您的意思，我每周只让姑娘们喝一次咖啡，给她们吃简单又健康的主食。艾美有好衣服穿，有甜品吃，也不发牢骚了。劳里还是那么淘气，常把屋子折腾得翻天覆地；不过他能使姑娘们心情振作，所以我任他们胡闹去。那位老先生送来好多东西，简直有点让人厌烦了，不过他是出于好心，我做下人的也不该说三道四。向马奇先生致敬，祝愿他不会再患肺炎。
罕娜•莫莱特
敬上
２号病房护士长：
营地一切平静，队伍处于良好状态，军需部运转正常，特迪上校手下的家兵一直尽忠职守，总指挥劳伦斯将军每天巡视军部，军需官莫莱特掌管军中秩序，赖昂少校专司晚间巡哨。收到华盛顿方面的佳讯后，我军鸣枪二十四响致敬，并于总部举行阅兵典礼。总指挥致以美好祝愿。
特迪上校
同祝
尊敬的女士：
小姑娘们个个安好；贝思和我孙儿每天都向我汇报；罕娜是个模范仆人，像一条龙一样保护美丽的梅格。所幸天气一直晴好；请尽管使唤布鲁克，如果经费超出预算，请向我支取资金。别让你丈夫短缺什么。感谢上帝他正在康复。
你诚挚的朋友和仆人，
詹姆士•劳伦斯
Chapter 17 Little Faithful
For a week the amount of virtue in the old house would have supplied the neighbourhood. It was really amazing, for everyone seemed in a heavenly frame of mind, and self-denial was all the fashion. Relieved of their first anxiety about their father the girls insensibly relaxed their praiseworthy efforts a little, and began to fall back into the old ways. They did not forget their motto, but hoping and keeping busy seemed to grow easier; and after such tremendous exertions, they felt that Endeavor deserved a holiday, and gave it a good many. 

Jo caught a bad cold through neglect to cover the shorn head enough, and was ordered to stay at home till she was better, for Aunt March didn't like to hear people read with colds in their heads. Jo liked this, and after an energetic rummage from garret to cellar, subsided on the sofa to nurse her cold with arsenicum and books. Amy found that housework and art did not go well together, and returned to her mud pies. Meg went daily to her pupils, and sewed, or thought she did, at home, but much time was spent in writing long letters to her mother, or reading the Washington dispatches over and over. Beth kept on, with only slight relapses into idleness or grieving. 

All the little duties were faithfully done each day, and many of her sisters' also, for they were forgetful, and the house seemed like a clock whose pendulum was gone a-visiting. When her heart got heavy with longings for Mother or fears for Father, she went away into a certain closet, hid her face in the folds of a certain dear old gown, and made her little moan and prayed her little prayer quietly by herself. Nobody knew what cheered her up after a sober fit, but everyone felt how sweet and helpful Beth was, and fell into a way of going to her for comfort or advice in their small affairs. 

All were unconscious that this experience was a test of character; and when the first excitement was over, felt that they had done well, and deserved praise. So they did; but their mistake was in ceasing to do well, and they learned this lesson through much anxiety and regret. 

Meg, I wish you'd go and see the Hummels; you know Mother told us not to forget them,' said Beth, ten days after Mrs. March's departure. 

I'm too tired to go this afternoon,' replied Meg, rocking comfortably as she sewed. 

Can't you, Jo?' asked Beth. 

Too stormy for me with my cold.' 

I thought it was almost well.' 

It's well enough for me to go out with Laurie, but not well enough to go to the Hummels', said Jo, laughing, but looking a little ashamed of her inconsistency. 

Why don't you go yourself?' asked Meg. 

I have been every day, but the baby is sick, and I don't know what to do for it. Mrs. Hummel goes away to work, and Lottchen takes care of it; but it gets sicker and sicker, and I think you or Hannah ought to go.' 

Beth spoke earnestly, and Meg promised she would go tomorrow. 

Ask Hannah for some nice little mess, and take it round, Beth; the air will do you good,' said Jo, adding apologetically, `I'd go, but I want to finish my writing.' 

My head aches and I'm tired, so I thought maybe some of you would go,' said Beth. 

Amy will be in presently, and she will run down for us,' suggested Meg. 

Well, I'll rest a little and wait for her.' 

So Beth lay down on the sofa, and others returned to their work, and the Hummels were forgotten. An hour passed: Amy did not come; Meg went to her room to try on a new dress; Jo was absorbed in her story, and Hannah was sound asleep before the kitchen fire, when Beth quietly put on her hood, filled her basket with odds and ends f or the poor children, and went out into the chilly air, with a heavy head, and a grieved look in her patient eyes. It was late when she came back, and no one saw her creep upstairs and shut herself into her mother's room. Half an hour after, Jo went to `Mother's closet' for something, and there found Beth sitting on the medicine chest looking very grave, with red eyes, and a camphor-bottle in her hand. 

Christopher Columbus! What's the matter?' cried Jo, as Beth put out her hand as if to warn her off, and asked quickly: 

You've had the scarlet fever, haven't you?' 

Years ago, when Meg did. Why?' 

Then I'll tell you. Oh, Jo, the baby's dead!' 

What baby?' 

Mrs. Hummel's; it died in my lap before she got home,' cried Beth, with a sob. 

My poor dear, how dreadful for you! I ought to have gone,' said Jo, taking her sister in her arms as she sat down in her mother's big chair, with a remorseful face. 

It wasn't dreadful, Jo, only so sad! I saw in a minute that it was sicker, but Lottchen said her mother had gone for a doctor, so I took baby and let Lotty rest. It seemed asleep, but all of a sudden it gave a little cry, and trembled, and then lay very still. I tried to warm its feet, and Lotty gave it some milk, but it didn't stir, and I knew it was dead.' 

Don't cry, dear! What did you do?' 

I just sat and held it softly till Mrs. Hummel came with the doctor. He said it was dead, and looked at Heinrich and Minna, who have got sore throats. "Scarlet fever, ma'am. Ought to have called me before," he said, crossly. Mrs. Hummel told him she was poor, and had tried to cure baby herself, but now it was too late, and she could only ask him to help the others, and trust to charity for his pay. He smiled then, and was kinder; but it was very sad, and I cried with them till he turned round, all of a sudden, and told me to go home and take belladonna right away, or I'd have the fever.' 

No, you won't!' cried Jo, hugging her close, with a frightened look. `Oh, Beth, if you should be sick I never could forgive myself! What shall we do?' 

Don't be frightened, I guess I shan't have it badly. I looked in Mother's book, and saw that it begins with headache, sore throat, and queer feelings like mine, so I did take some belladonna, and I feel better,' said Beth, laying her cold hands on her hot forehead, and trying to look well. 

If Mother was only at home!' exclaimed Jo, seizing the book, and feeling that Washington was an immense way off. She read a page, looked at Beth, felt her head, peeped into her throat, and then said gravely, `You've been over the baby for more than a week, and among the others who are going to have it; so I'm afraid you are going to have it, Beth. I'll call Hannah, she knows all about sickness.' 

Don't let Amy come: she never had it, and I should hate to give it to her. Can't you and Meg have it over again?' asked Beth anxiously. 

I guess not; don't care if I do; serve me right, selfish pig, to let you go, and stay writing rubbish myself!' muttered Jo, as she went to consult Hannah. 

The good soul was wide awake in a minute, and took the lead at once, assuring Jo that there was no need to worry, everyone had scarlet fever, and, if rightly treated, nobody died - all of which Jo believed, and felt much relieved as they went up to call Meg. 

Now I'll tell you what we'll do,' said Hannah, when she had examined and questioned Beth; `we will have Dr. Bangs, just to take a look at you, dear, and see that we start right; then we'll send Amy off to Aunt March's for a spell, to keep her out of harm's way, and one of you girls can stay at home and amuse Beth for a day or two.' 

I shall stay, of course; I'm oldest,' began Meg, looking anxious and self-reproachful. 

I shall, because it's my fault she is sick; I told Mother I'd do the errands, and I haven't,' said Jo, decidedly. 

Which will you have, Beth? there ain't no need of but one,' said Hannah. 

Jo, please,' and Beth leaned her head against her sister, with a contented look, which effectually settled that point. 

I'll go and tell Amy,' said Meg, feeling a little hurt, yet rather relieved on the whole, for she did not like nursing, and Jo did.

Amy rebelled outright, and passionately declared that she had rather have the fever than go to Aunt March. Meg reasoned, pleaded, and commanded: all in vain. Amy protested that she would not go; and Meg left her in despair, to ask Hannah what should be done. Before she came back, Laurie walked into the parlour to find Amy sobbing, with her head in the sofa cushions. She told her story, expecting to be consoled; but Laurie only put his hands in his pockets, and walked about the room, whistling softly, as he knit his brows in deep thought. Presently he sat down beside her, and said, in his most wheedlesome tone, `Now, be a sensible little woman, and do as they say. No, don't cry, but hear what a jolly plan I've got. You go to Aunt March's, and I'll come and take you out every day driving or walking, and we'll have capital times. Won't that be better than moping here?' 

I don't wish to be sent off as if I was in the way,' began Amy, in an injured voice. 

Bless your heart, child, it's to keep you well. You don't want to be sick, do you?' 

No, I'm sure I don't; but I dare say I shall be, for I've been with Beth all the time.' 

That's the very reason you ought to go away at once, so that you may escape it. Change of air and care will keep you well, I dare say; or, if it does not entirely, you will have the fever more lightly. I advise you to be off as soon as you can, for scarlet fever is no joke, miss.' 

But it's dull at Aunt March's, and she is so cross,' said Amy, looking rather frightened. 

It won't be dull with me popping in every day to tell you how Beth is, and take you out gallivanting. The old lady likes me, and I'll be as sweet as possible to her, so she won't peck at us, whatever we do.' 

Will you take me out in the trotting waggon with Puck?' 

On my honour as a gentleman.' 

And come every single day?' 

See if I don't.' 

And bring me back the minute Beth is well?' 

The identical minute.' 

And go to the hall, truly?' 

A dozen halls, if we may.' 

Well - I guess - I will,' said Amy, slowly. 

Good girl! Call Meg, and tell her you'll give in,' said Laurie, with an approving pat, which annoyed Amy more than the `giving in'. 

Meg and Jo came running down to behold the miracle which had been wrought and Amy, feeling very precious and self-sacrificing, promised to go, if the doctor said Beth was going to be ill. 

How is the little dear?' asked Laurie; for Beth was his especial pet, and he felt more anxious about her than he liked to show. 

She is lying down on Mother's bed, and feels better. The baby's death troubled her, but I dare say she has only got cold. Hannah says she thinks so; but she looks worried, and that makes me fidgety,' answered Meg. 

What a trying world it is!' said Jo, rumpling up her hair in a fretful sort of way. `No sooner do we get out of one trouble than down comes another. There doesn't seem to be anything to hold on to when Mother's gone; so I'm all at sea.' 

Well, don't make a porcupine of yourself, it isn't becoming. Settle your wig, Jo, and tell me if I shall telegraph to your mother or do anything?' asked Laurie, who never had been reconciled to the loss of his friend's one beauty. 

That is what troubles me,' said Meg. `I think we ought to tell her if Beth is really ill, but Hannah says we mustn't, for Mother can't leave Father, and it will only make them anxious. Beth won't be sick long, and Hannah knows just what to do, and Mother said we were to mind her, so I suppose we must, but it doesn't seem quite right to me.' 

Hum, well, I can't say; suppose you ask grandfather after the doctor has been.' 

We will. Jo, go and get Dr. Bangs at once,' commanded Meg; `we can't decide anything till he has been.' 

Stay where you are, Jo; I'm errand-boy to this establishment,' said Laurie, taking up his cap. 

I'm afraid you are busy,' began Meg. 

No, I've done my lessons for today.' 

Do you study in vacation time?' asked Jo. 

I follow the good example my neighbours set me,' was Laurie's answer, as he swung himself out of the room. 

I have great hopes of my boy,' observed Jo, watching him fly over the fence with an approving smile. 

He does very well - for a boy,' was Meg's somewhat ungracious answer, for the subject did not interest her. 

Dr. Bangs came, said Beth had symptoms of the fever, but thought she would have it lightly, though he looked sober over the Hummel story. Amy was ordered off at once, and, provided with something to ward off danger, she departed in great state, with Jo and Laurie as escort. 

Aunt March received them with her usual hospitality. 

What do you want now?' she asked, looking sharply over her spectacles, while the parrot, sitting on the back of her chair, called out: 

Go away. No boys allowed here.' 

Laurie retired to the window, and Jo told her story. 

No more than I expected, if you are allowed to go poking about among poor folks. Amy can stay and make herself useful, if she isn't sick, which I've no doubt she will be - looks like it now. Don't cry, child, it worries me to hear people sniff.' 

Amy was on the point of crying, but Laurie slyly pulled the parrot's tail, which caused Polly to utter an astonished croak, and call out, `Bless my boots!' in such a funny way, that she laughed instead. 

What do you hear from your mother?' asked the old lady, gruffly. 

Father is much better,' replied Jo, trying to keep sober. 

Oh, is he? Well, that won't last long, I fancy; March never had any stamina,' was the cheerful reply. 

Hah, ha! never say die, take a pinch of snuff, good-bye, good-bye!' squalled Polly, dancing on her perch, and clawing at the old lady's cap as Laurie tweaked him in the rear. 

Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird! and, Jo, you'd better go at once; it isn't proper to be gadding about so late with a rattle-pated boy like--' 

Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird!' cried Polly, tumbling off the chair with a bounce, and running to peck the `rattle-pated boy', who was shaking with laughter at the last speech. 

I don't think I can bear it, but I'll try,' thought Amy, as she was left alone with Aunt March. 

Get along, you fright!' screamed Polly; and at that rude speech Amy could not restrain a sniff.
 
整整一个星期这间旧屋子都洋溢着一股勤勉、谦和之风，其风之盛，足以延及邻里。这颇令人费解，因为大家似乎心情奇佳，个个都自我克制。但当她们思虑父亲的心情得到缓解之后，姑娘们便不知不觉地放松了劲儿，又开始回复到旧日的样子。她们并没有忘记自己的座右铭，只是这种期待、忙碌的日子似乎变得没有那么难熬了，经过了种种劳顿之后，她们觉得应该放个假来犒赏犒赏自己的努力，于是一放便放了许多。
乔因一时大意，没有包好剪了头发的脑袋，得了重感冒，被勒令呆在家里养病，因为马奇婶婶不喜欢听人读书发出塞鼻音。乔喜之不尽，使足了九牛二虎之力翻箱倒柜，从阁楼搜罗到地窖，然后坐到沙发上服药看书，悠悠然地养起病来。
艾美发现家务和艺术原来并不是一回事，便又摆弄她的泥饼去了。梅格天天去教她的学生，在家时便做些针线活，或自以为是在做，却常常拈着针线出神儿，而更多的时候是给妈妈写长信，反复咀嚼来自华盛顿的快信。只有贝思坚持不懈，极少躲懒或悲天悯人。
贝思每天都忠实地做好一切琐碎的家务。因为她的姐妹们都善忘，再兼屋子里群龙无首，她便把许多属于她们的工作也揽了过来。每当她思念父母、心情沉重的时候，她就独自走到一个衣柜边，把脸埋在旧衣服里，悄悄呜咽一阵，轻声祷告几句。没有人知道是什么使她在一阵哭泣之后重新振作起来，但大家都分明感觉到她是多么的温柔可亲、善解人意、乐于助人，于是每逢遇上哪怕是丁点儿的小问题都喜欢找她排解。
大家都没有意识到这次经历是对品格的一种考验。当第一阶段的紧张过后，她们都觉得自己表现良好，值得赞扬。她们也确实表现不俗，但却犯了一个错误，那就是没有再坚持下去。这个错误使她们付出了沉重的代价，令她们忧心如焚，痛悔不已。
“梅格，我想你去看看赫梅尔一家；你知道妈妈吩咐过我们别把他们给忘了，“贝思在马奇太太离别后的第十天这样说。
“今天下午不行，我累得走不了，”梅格答道，一面做针线活一面舒服地坐在椅子里摇着。
“你去行吗，乔？”贝思又问。
“风太大，我感冒不能出去。”
“我以为你已经好了呢。”
“跟劳里出去还可以，但去赫梅尔家就不行。”乔笑一声，想勉强自圆其说，但神情却显得有点惭愧。
“你为什么自己不去？”梅格问。
“我每天都去的，但是婴儿病了，我不知道该怎么办。赫梅尔太太出去上班了，婴儿由洛珊照顾，但他的病越来越重，我想你们或者罕娜应该去看看。”贝思说得十分恳切，梅格答应明天去一趟。
“向罕娜要点好吃的东西带过去，贝思，外面的空气对你有好处，”乔说，又抱歉地加上一句，”我也愿意去，但我想把故事写完。”“我头痛，而且疲倦得很，我想你们哪个能去一趟，”贝思说。
“艾美马上就要回来了，让她代我们跑一趟，”梅格提议。
“那好吧，我歇一歇，等等她。”
贝思说罢在沙发上躺下来，两位姐姐重新操起自己的活儿，赫梅尔一家的事被抛到九霄云外。一个小时过去了；艾美没有回来，梅格走进自己的房间试她的新裙子，乔全神贯注地写她的故事，罕娜对着厨房的炉火酣睡，这时，贝思轻手轻脚地戴上帽子，往篮子里装上一些零碎的东西，带给可怜的孩子们，然后挺着沉重的脑袋，走进了刺骨的寒风中，她那宽容的眼睛中分明有一种伤心的神色。
她回来时天色已晚，她悄悄爬到楼上，把自己独自关在母亲的房间里，没有人注意到她。半小时后，乔到"妈咪角"找东西，这才发现贝思坐在药箱上，神情极为严峻，眼睛哭得通红，手里还拿着一个樟脑瓶。
“我的天哪！出了什么事？”乔叫了起来。贝思伸出手，似要示意她避开，一面快声问道：“你以前得过猩红热，对吗？”“好些年前了，和梅格一同得的。怎么了？”“那我就告诉你。噢，乔，那婴儿死了！”“什么婴儿？”“赫梅尔太太家的；在赫梅尔太太回家之前，他就死在了我膝上，”贝思啜泣道。
“我可怜的宝贝，这对于你来说是多么恐怖！应该是我去的，”乔边说边伸出双臂扶着妹妹在母亲的大椅子上坐下来，露出一脸痛悔之色。
“我不觉得恐怖，乔，只觉得伤心欲绝！我一下子就看出他病得很重了，但洛珊说她妈妈出去找医生了，我便抱过婴儿，让洛蒂歇歇。当时他似乎痉挛起来，然后便一动不动地躺着。我跟他焐脚，洛蒂喂他牛奶，但他却纹丝不动，我知道他死了！”“别哭，亲爱的，那你怎么办呢？”“我坐在那儿轻轻地抱着他，直到赫梅尔太太把医生带来。医生说他已咽了气，接着又瞧瞧患喉咙痛的海因里希和明娜。'猩红热，太太，你应该早一点叫我，'他怒气冲冲地说。赫梅尔太太解释说，她很穷，只好自己替婴儿治病，但现在一切都已经太迟了，她只能求他帮其他几个孩子看看，费用等慈善机构支付。他听后才露出了笑意，态度也亲切了一些。婴儿死得这么惨，我和大家一起伤心痛哭，这时地突然回过头来，叫我马上回家服颠茄叶，不然，我也会得这个病的。”“不，你不会的！”乔叫道，紧紧抱着妹妹，脸上露出恐惧的神色，”噢，贝思，如果你得病，我不会原谅自己！我们该怎么办？”“别害怕，我想我不会病得很重的。我翻了翻妈妈的书，知道这种病开始时感到头痛，喉咙痛，浑身不得劲，就像我现在这样，于是便服了些颠茄叶，现在觉得好点儿了，”贝思说，一面把冰凉的手放在热辣辣的额头上，强装作没事一般。
“如果妈妈在家就好了！”乔叫道，觉得华盛顿是那么的遥远。她一把夺过书，看了一页，望望贝思，摸摸她的额头，又瞄瞄她的喉咙，严肃地说：“你一个多星期以来每天都在婴儿身边，又和其他几个将要发病的孩子们呆一起；我恐怕你也会得这个病，贝思。我去叫罕娜来，她什么病都懂。”“别让艾美来，她没有得过这种病，我不想传染给她。你和梅格不会再一次得病吧？”贝思担心地问。
“我想不会；要是真得了也不要紧；那是活该，自私的蠢猪，让你去，自己却呆在这里写废话！”乔咕哝着去找罕娜商量。
好罕娜一听吓得睡意全无，马上领头就走，一面安慰乔不用焦急；人人都会患猩红热，只要治得当，谁也不会死--乔相信不疑，心里也觉得轻松多了，两人一面说一面上去叫梅格。
“现在我告诉你们该怎么办，”罕娜说。她把贝思检查了一遍，又问了些问题。“我们请邦斯医生来给你看看，亲爱的，让他指点我们该怎么做；然后我们送艾美上马奇婶婶家躲几天，免得她也被传染上。你们姐妹留一个在家，陪贝思一两天。“当然是我留，我最大！”梅格抢先说道，她看上去十分焦急和自责。
“应该我留，因为她得病全是我的错；我跟妈妈说过我来跑差事，但却没有做到，”乔坚定地说。
“你要哪一个呢，贝思？一个就行了，”罕娜说。
“乔吧。”贝思心满意足地把头靠在姐姐身上，问题于是迎刃而解。
“我去告诉艾美，”梅格说。她有点不高兴，但也松了口气，因为她并不喜欢当护理，乔却喜欢。
艾美死不从命，激动地宣布她宁愿得猩红热也不愿去马奇婶婶家。梅格跟她又是商量，又是恳求，又是逼迫，无奈都是白费心机，艾美坚决反抗，就是不肯去。梅格只得绝望地弃下她去找罕娜求救。就在她出去的当儿，劳里走进客厅，看到艾美把头埋在沙发垫里抽抽咽咽哭得好不伤心。她诉出自己的委屈，满心希望能得到一番安慰。但劳里只是把双手插在口袋里，在房间里踱来踱去，一面轻轻吹着口哨，一面拧紧眉头苦苦思索。不一会，他在她身边坐下来，又诱又哄地说道：“做个明事理的小妇人吧，听她们的话。好了，别哭了，我告诉你一条妙计。你去马奇婶婶家，我每天都来接你出去，或是乘车，或是散步，我们玩个痛快。那岂不比闷在这里要好？”“我不想被这么打发走，好像我碍着她们似的，”艾美用一种受伤的口吻说道。
“你怎么能这样想，这都是为你好。你也不想生病吧？”“不想，当然不想；但我敢说我可能也会得病，因为我一直跟贝思在一起。”“那你就更应该马上离开，免得被传染上。换一个环境，小心保养，这样对你的身体更有好处，即使有病，也不至于病得那么严重。我建议你尽早起程，猩红热可不是闹着玩的，小姐。”“但马奇婶婶家那么沉闷，她脾气又这么坏，”艾美面露惧色地说。
“有我每天上那里告诉你贝思的情况，带你出去游逛，你就不会闷了，老太太喜欢我，我多哄哄她，她就会由着我们，不来找我们的茬了。”“你能用那辆小跑车接我出去吗？”“我以绅士的名誉保证。”“每天都来？”“绝无戏言。”“贝思的病一好就带我回来？”“一言为定。”
“真的上戏院？”
“上一打戏院，如果可能的话。”
“嗯--那么--我答应，”艾美慢慢地说。
“好姑娘！叫梅格来，告诉她你服从了。”劳里满意地在艾美身上轻轻一拍，却不知这一拍比方才"服从"二字更令艾美恼火。
梅格和乔跑下楼来观看这一奇迹，艾美自命不凡，觉得自己正在作出自我牺牲，答应如果医生证明贝思真的有病，她就去。
“小贝思情况怎么样？”劳里问。他特别宠爱贝思，因此心中万分焦急，但却不想表露出来。
“她现在躺在妈妈的床上，感到好些了，婴儿的死使她受了刺激，但我敢说她只是患了伤风，罕娜说她是这么认为的，但她显得神不守舍，这就让我担心死了，”梅格回答。
“真是祸不单行！”乔说道，情急之中把头发拨得纷乱，”我们一波未平，一波又起。妈妈不在，我们就像失了主心骨，我一点主意也没有了。”“喂，别把自己弄得像头箭猪，这样并不好看。把头发弄好，乔，告诉我是发封电报给你妈妈呢，还是做点什么？”劳里问。他一直对他的朋友把一头秀发剪掉耿耿于怀。
“我正为这犯难，”梅格说，”如果贝思真的得了病，按理我们应该告诉她，但罕娜说我们不必这样做，因为妈妈不能搁下爸爸，告诉她只能让他们干着急。贝思不会病很久，罕娜知道该怎么做，再说妈妈吩咐过我们要听她的话，所以我想我们还是不要发电报，但我总觉得有点不对劲。”“唔，这个，我也说不清。不如等医生来看过之后你问问爷爷。”“对。乔，快去请邦斯医生，”梅格下达命令，“要等他来了我们才能作出决定。”“你别动，乔。跑腿工夫我来做，”劳里说着拿起帽子。
“我怕会耽搁你的时间呢，”梅格说。
“不会，我已经做好今天的作业了。”
“你假期也学习吗？”乔问。
“我是向我的好邻居学习而已，”劳里答罢一头冲出房间。
“我的好小伙日后必成大器。”乔望着他跃过篱笆，微笑赞叹。
“他干得很不错--对一个男孩子而言，”梅格颇不识趣地回答。她对这个话题不感兴趣。
邦斯医生诊断后，说贝思有猩红热的症状，但不会得什么大玻不过，他听了赫梅尔家的事后，显得十分严肃。艾美被命立即离开，并带上防治猩红热的药用品隆重启程，乔和劳里伴随左右，一路护送而去。
马奇婶婶拿出一贯的待客之道接待他们。”你们现在想怎么样？”她问道，两道锐利的目光从眼镜上框射出来，此时，站在她椅子后头的鹦鹉大声叫道--“走开。男孩子不能进来。”劳里退到窗边，乔道出原委。
“果然不出我所料，一让你们混到穷人堆里就出事了。艾美如果没有得病，可以留下干点活儿，不过我肯定她也会病的--看这模样就像有玻别哭，孩子，一听到人抽鼻子我就心烦。”艾美正要哭出来，劳里狡猾地扯扯鹦鹉的尾巴，鹦哥吓得嘎地叫了一声：“哎呀，完了！”模样十分滑稽，引得艾美破涕为笑。
“你们母亲来信怎么说？”老太太硬邦邦地问道。
“父亲好多了，”乔拚命忍着笑，答道。
“哦，是吗？下过，我看也熬不了多久。马奇一向都没有什么耐力。”老太太的回答确实让人不敢恭维。
“哈，哈！千万别说死，吸一撮鼻烟，再见，再见！”鹦哥尖声高叫，在椅子上跳来跳去，劳里在它的尾部一捏，它便一把抓住了老太太的帽子。
“闭嘴，你这下作的破鸟！嗳，乔，你最好现在就走，这成何体统，这么晚了还跟一个没头没脑的小伙子游荡--”“闭嘴，你这下作的破鸟！”鹦哥高叫道，从椅子上一跃而起，冲过来啄这位"没头没脑"的小伙子，劳里听到最后一句早已笑得身子直颤。
“这种生活我不能忍受，但我要尽量忍着，”孤零零地留在马奇婶婶身边的艾美这样想。
“去你的，丑八怪！”鹦哥尖叫。听到这句粗话，艾美也止不住嗤的一声笑了。
Chapter 18 Dark Days
Beth did have the fever, and was much sicker than anyone but Hannah and the doctor suspected. The girls knew nothing about illness, and Mr. Laurence was not allowed to see her, so Hannah had everything all her own way, and busy Dr. Bangs did his best, but left a good deal to the excellent nurse. Meg stayed at home, lest she should infect the Kings, and kept house, feeling very anxious and a little guilty when she wrote letters in which no mention was made of Beth's illness. She could not think it right to deceive her mother, but she had been bidden to mind Hannah, and Hannah wouldn't hear of `Mrs. March bein' told, and worried just for sech a trifle'. Jo devoted herself to Beth day and night; not a hard task, for Beth was very patient, and bore her pain uncomplainingly, as long as she could control herself. But there came a time when during the fever fits she began to talk in a hoarse, broken voice, to play on the coverlet, as if on her beloved little piano, and try to sing with a throat so swollen that there was no music left; a time when she did not know the familiar faces round her, but addressed them by wrong names, and called imploringly for her mother. Then Jo grew frightened, Meg begged to be allowed to write the truth, and even Hannah said she `would think of it, though there was no danger yet'. A letter from Washington added to their trouble, for Mr. March had had a relapse, and could not think of coming home for a long while. 

How dark the days seemed now, how sad and lonely the house, and how heavy were the hearts of the sisters as they worked and waited, while the shadow of death hovered over the once happy home! Then it was that Margaret, sitting alone with tears dropping often on her work, felt how rich she had been in things more precious than any luxuries money could buy - in love, protection, peace, and health, the real blessings of life. Then it was that Jo, living in the darkened room with that suffering little sister always before her eyes, and that pathetic voice sounding in her ears, learned to see the beauty and the sweetness of Beth's nature, to feel how deep and tender a place she filled in all hearts, and to acknowledge the worth of Beth's unselfish ambition to live for others, and make home happy by the exercise of those simple virtues which all may possess, and which all should love and value more than talent, wealth, or beauty. And Amy, in her exile, longed eagerly to be at home, that she might work for Beth, feeling now that no service would be hard or irksome, and remembering, with regretful grief, how many neglected tasks those willing hands had done for her. Laurie haunted the house like a restless ghost, and Mr. Laurence locked the grand piano, because he could not bear to be reminded of the young neighbour who used to make the twilight pleasant for him. Everyone missed Beth. The milkman, baker, grocer, and butcher inquired how she did; poor Mrs. Hummel came to beg pardon for her thoughtlessness, and to get a shroud for Minna; the neighbours sent all sorts of comforts and good wishes, and even those who knew her best, were surprised to find how many friends shy little Beth had made. 

Meanwhile she lay on her bed with old Joanna at her side, for even in her wanderings she did not forget her forlorn protégée. She longed for her cats, but would not have them brought, lest they should get sick; and, in her quiet hours, she was full of anxiety about Jo. She sent loving messages to Amy, bade them tell her mother that she would write soon; and often begged for pencil and paper to try and say a word, that Father might not think she had neglected him. But soon even these intervals of consciousness ended, and she lay hour after hour, tossing to and fro, with incoherent words on her lips, or sank into a heavy sleep which brought her no refreshment. Dr. Bangs came twice a day, Hannah sat up at night, Meg kept a telegram in her desk all ready to send off at any minute, and Jo never stirred from Beth's side. 

The first of December was a wintry day indeed to them, for a bitter wind blew, snow fell fast, and the year seemed getting ready for its death. When Dr. Bangs came that morning, he looked long at Beth, held the hot hand in both his own a minute, and laid it gently down, saying, in a low tone, to Hannah: `If Mrs. March can leave her husband she'd better be sent for.' 

Hannah nodded without speaking, for her lips twitched nervously; Meg dropped down into a chair, as the strength seemed to go out of her limbs at the sound of those words: and Jo, after standing with a pale face for a minute, ran to the parlour, snatched up the telegram, and, throwing on her things, rushed out into the storm. She was soon back, and, while noiselessly taking off her cloak, Laurie came in with a letter, saying that Mr. March was mending again. Jo read it thankfully, but the heavy weight did not seem lifted off her heart, and her face was so full of misery that Laurie asked quickly: `What is it? is Beth worse?' 

I've sent for Mother,' said Jo, tugging at her rubber boots with a tragical expression. 

Good for you, Jo! Did you do it on your own responsibility?' asked Laurie, as he seated her in the hall chair, and took off the rebellious boots, seeing how her hands shook. 

No, the doctor told us to.' 

Oh, Jo, it's not so bad as that?' cried Laurie, with a startled face. 

Yes, it is; she doesn't know us, she doesn't even talk about the flocks of green doves, as she calls the vine leaves on the wall; she doesn't look like my Beth, and there's nobody to help us bear it; Mother and Father both gone, and God seems so far away I can't find him.' 

As the tears streamed fast down poor Jo's cheeks, she stretched out her hand in a helpless sort of way, as if groping in the dark, and Laurie took it in his, whispering as well as he could, with a lump in his throat: `I'm here. Hold on to me, Jo, dear!' 

She could not speak, but she did `Hold on', and the warm grasp of the friendly human hand comforted her sore heart, and seemed to lead her nearer to the Divine arm which alone could uphold her in her trouble. Laurie longed to say something tender and comfortable, but no fitting words came to him, so he stood silent, gently stroking her bent head as her mother used to do. It was the best thing he could have done; far more soothing than the most eloquent words, for Jo felt the unspoken sympathy, and in the silence, teamed the sweet solace which affection administers to sorrow. Soon she dried the tears which had relieved her, and looked up with a grateful face. 

Thank you, Teddy, I'm better now; I don't feel so forlorn, and will try to bear it if it comes.' 

Keep hoping for the best; that will help you, Jo. Soon your mother will be here, and then everything will be right.' 

I'm so glad Father is better; now she won't feel so bad about leaving him. Oh, me! it does seem as if all the troubles came in a heap, and I got the heaviest part on my shoulders,' sighed Jo, spreading her wet handkerchief over her knees to dry. 

Doesn't Meg pull fair?' asked Laurie, looking indignant. 

Oh, yes; she tries to, but she can't love Bethy as I do; and she won't miss her as I shall. Beth is my conscience, and I can't give her up. I can't! I can't!' Down went Jo's face into the wet handkerchief, and she cried despairingly; for she had kept up bravely till now, and never shed a tear. Laurie drew his hand across his eyes, but could not speak till he had subdued the choking feeling in his throat and steadied his lips. It might be unmanly, but he couldn't help it, and I'm glad of it. Presently as Jo's sobs quieted, he said hopefully, `I don't think she will die; she's so good, and we all love her so much, I don't believe God will take her away yet.' 

The good and dear people always do die,' groaned Jo, but she stopped crying, for her friend's words cheered her up, in spite of her own doubts and fears. 

Poor girl, you're worn out. It isn't like you to be forlorn. Stop a bit; I'll hearten you up in a jiffy.' 

Laurie went off two stairs at a time, and Jo laid her wearied head down on Beth's little brown hood, which no one had thought of moving from the table where she left it. It must have possessed some magic, for the submissive spirit of its gentle owner seemed to enter into Jo; and, when Laurie came running down with a glass of wine, she took it with a smile and said bravely, `I drink health to my Beth! You are a good doctor, Teddy, and such a comfortable friend; how can I ever pay you?' she added; the kind words had refreshed her troubled mind. 

I'll send in my bill, by and by; and tonight I'll give you something that will warm the cockles of your heart better than quarts of wine,' said Laurie, beaming at her with a face of suppressed satisfaction at something. 

What is it?' cried Jo, forgetting her woes for a minute, in her wonder. 

I telegraphed to your mother yesterday, and Brooke answered she'd come at once, and she'll be here tonight, and everything will be all right. Aren't you glad I did it?' 

Laurie spoke very fast, and turned red and excited all in a minute, for he had kept his plot a secret, for fear of disappointing the girls or harming Beth. 

Jo grew quite white, flew out of her chair, and the moment he stopped speaking she electrified him by throwing her arms round his neck, and crying out, with a joyful cry, `Oh, Laurie! Oh, Mother! I am so glad!' She did not weep again, but laughed hysterically, and trembled and clung to her friend as if she was a little bewildered by the sudden news.

Laurie, though decidedly amazed, behaved with great presence of mind; he patted her back soothingly and, finding that she was recovering, followed it up by a bashful kiss or two, which brought Jo round at once. Holding on to the banisters, she put him gently away, saying breathlessly, `Oh, don't! I didn't mean to; it was dreadful of me; but you were such a dear to go and do it in spite of Hannah that I couldn't help flying at you. Tell me all about it, and don't give me wine again; it makes me act so stupidly.' 

I don't mind,' laughed Laurie, as he settled his tie. 

Why, you see I got fidgety, and so did grandpa. We thought Hannah was overdoing the authority business, and your mother ought to know. She'd never forgive us if Beth - well, if anything happened, you know. So I got grandpa. to say it was high time we did something, and off I pelted to the office yesterday, for the doctor looked sober, and Hannah 'most took my head off when I proposed a telegram. I never can bear to be "lorded" over, so that settled my mind, and I did it. Your mother will come, I know, and the late train is in at 2 a.m. I shall go for her, and you've only got to bottle up your rapture, and keep Beth quiet, till that blessed lady gets here.' 

Laurie, you're an angel! How shall I ever thank you?' 

Fly at me again; I rather like it,' said Laurie, looking mischievous - a thing he had not done for a fortnight. 

No, thank you. I'll do it by proxy, when your grandpa comes. Don't tease, but go home and rest, for you'll be up half the night. Bless you, Teddy, bless you!' 

Jo had backed into a corner; and, as she finished her speech, she vanished precipitately into the kitchen, where she sat down upon a dresser, and told the assembled cats, that she was `happy, oh, so happy!' while Laurie departed, feeling that he had made rather a neat thing of it. 

That's the interferingest chap I ever see; but I forgive him, and do hope Mrs. March is coming on right away,' said Hannah, with an air of relief, when Jo told the good news. 

Meg had a quiet rapture, and then brooded over the letter, while Jo set the sickroom in order, and Hannah `knocked up a couple of pies in case of company unexpected'. A breath of fresh air seemed to blow through the house, and something better than sunshine brightened the quiet rooms. Everything appeared to feel the hopeful change; Beth's bird began to chirp again, and a half-blown rose was discovered on Amy's bush in the window, and fires seemed to burn with unusual cheeriness; and every time the girls met, their pale faces broke into smiles as they hugged one another, whispering encouragingly, `Mother's coming, dear! Mother's coming!' Everyone rejoiced but Beth; she lay in that heavy stupor, alike unconscious of hope and joy, doubt and anger. It was a piteous sight - the once rosy face so changed and vacant, the once busy hands so weak and wasted, the once smiling lips quite dumb, and the once pretty, well-kept hair scattered rough and tangled on the pillow. 

All day she lay so, only rousing now and then to mutter, `Water!' with lips so parched they could hardly shape the word; all day Jo and Meg hovered over her, watching, waiting, hoping, and trusting in God and Mother; and all day the snow fell, the bitter wind raged, and the hours dragged slowly by. But night came at last; and every time the clock struck, the sisters, still sitting on either side of the bed, looked at each other with brightening eyes, for each hour brought help nearer. The doctor had been in to say that some change, for better or worse, would probably take place about midnight, at which time he would return. 

Hannah, quite worn out, lay down on the sofa at the bed's foot, and fell fast asleep; Mr. Laurence marched to and fro in the parlour, feeling that he would rather face a rebel battery than Mrs. March's anxious countenance as she entered; Laurie lay on the rug, pretending to rest, but staring into the fire with the thoughtful look which made his black eyes beautifully soft and clear. 

The girls never forgot that night, for no sleep came to them, as they kept their watch with that dreadful sense of powerlessness which comes to us in hours like those. 

If God spares Beth I never will complain again,' whispered Meg, earnestly. 

If God spares Beth I'll try to love and serve him all my life,' answered Jo, with equal fervour. 

I wish I had no heart, it aches so,' sighed Meg, after a pause. 

If life is often as hard as this, I don't see how we ever shall get through it,' added her sister, despondently. 

Here the clock struck twelve, and both forgot themselves in watching Beth, for they fancied a change passed over her wan face. The house was still as death, and nothing but the wailing of the wind broke the deep hush. Weary Hannah slept on, and no one but the sisters saw the pale shadow which seemed to fall upon the little bed. An hour went by, and nothing happened except Laurie's quiet departure for the station. Another hour - still no one came; and anxious fears of delay in the storm or accidents by the way, or, worst of all, a great grief at Washington, haunted the poor girls. 

It was past two, when Jo, who stood at the window thinking how dreary the world looked in its winding-sheet of snow, heard a movement by the bed, and, turning quickly, saw Meg kneeling before her mother's easy-chair, with her face hidden. A dreadful fear passed coldly over Jo, as she thought, `Beth is dead, and Meg is afraid to tell me.' She was back in her post in an instant, and to her excited eyes a great change seemed to have taken place. The fever flush and the look of pain were gone, and the beloved little face looked so pale and peaceful in its utter repose, that Jo felt no desire to weep or to lament. Leaning low over this dearest of her sisters, she kissed the damp forehead with her heart on her lips, and softly whispered, `Good-bye, my Beth; good-bye!' 

As if waked by the stir, Hannah started out of her sleep, hurried to the bed, looked at Beth, felt her hands, listened at her lips, and then, throwing her apron over her head, sat down to rock to and fro, exclaiming, under her breath, `The fever's turned; she's sleeping nat'ral; her skin's damp, and she breathes easy. Praise be given! Oh, my goodness me!' 

Before the girls could believe the happy truth, the doctor came to confirm it. He was a homely man, but they thought his face quite heavenly when he smiled, and said, with a fatherly look at them, `Yes, my dears, I think the little girl will pull through this time. Keep the house quiet; let her sleep, and when she wakes, give her--' What they were to give, neither heard; for both crept into the dark hall, and sitting on the stairs, held each other close, rejoicing with hearts too full for words. When they went back to be kissed and cuddled by faithful Hannah, they found Beth lying, as she used to do, with her cheek pillowed on her hand, the dreadful pallor gone, and breathing quietly, as if just fallen asleep. 

If Mother would only come now!' said Jo, as the winter night began to wane. 

See,' said Meg, coming up with a white, half-opened rose, `I thought this would hardly be ready to lay in Beth's hand tomorrow if she - went away from us. But it has blossomed in the night, and now I mean to put it in my vase here, so that when the darling wakes, the first things she sees will be the little rose, and Mother's face.' 

Never had the sun risen so beautifully, and never had the world seemed so lovely, as it did to the heavy eyes of Meg and Jo, as they looked out in the early morning, when their long, sad vigil was done. 

It looks like a fairy world,' said Meg, smiling to herself, as she stood behind the curtain, watching the dazzling sight. 

Hark!' cried Jo, starting to her feet. 

Yes, there was a sound of bells at the door below, a cry from Hannah, and then Laurie's voice saying, in a joyful whisper, `Girls, she's come! she's come!'
 
贝思果然得了猩红热，病情比大家估计的要严重得多，但罕娜和医生认为并无大碍。姑娘们对疾病一无所知，劳伦斯先生又因医生的嘱咐不能来看她，于是一切都由罕娜做主，忙碌的邦斯医生也尽力而为，但把许多功夫留给优秀护理乔来做。梅格为避免把病传染给金斯一家而留在家里料理家事，每当她提起笔来写信时，心里就焦虑不安，并有一种负罪感，因为她不能在信中提及贝思的玻她觉得瞒着母亲并不对，但母亲吩咐过要听罕娜的话，而罕娜却不愿"让马奇太太知道，为这么一桩小事而操心"。乔日以继夜地侍候贝思 -这任务并不艰巨，因为贝思十分坚强，一声不吭地忍受着身体上的痛苦，只要她能控制住自己。但有一次猩红热发作时，她声音嘶哑地说起了胡话，把床罩当作自己心爱的小钢琴弹起来，并试图唱歌，终因喉咙肿胀而无法唱出来；另一次，她连身边那几张熟悉的面孔也认不出来，竟把亲人叫错了，还一声声地哀叫母亲。乔被吓坏了，梅格也求罕娜让她写信告知真相，甚至罕娜也说：“虽然还没有危险，但同意考虑考虑。”而此时，华盛顿又发来一信，告知她们马奇先生病情恶化了，短期内不可能回家，这更增添了她们的烦恼。
日子变得黯然无光，屋子里满目凄凉，冷冷清清，一度幸福洋溢的家现在笼罩在一片死寂般的阴影下，姐妹们边干边等待，心情是何等沉重！梅格常常独坐一角，一面干活一面掉眼泪。她深深体会到有些宝贵的东西是无法用金钱买到的- 爱、平安、健康和真正的人生幸福，自己以前能拥有这一切是多么富足。乔住在阴沉的房间里，亲眼看着妹妹遭受病痛的折磨，听到妹妹因病痛而发出的呻吟声，更体会到贝思的天性是多么善良、美好，她在大家心目中的位置又是多么重要。为他人无私奉献、为家庭创造幸福，每个人都应该把这当作比财富、美貌都更有价值的东西来热爱和珍惜。
寄人篱下的艾美热切地盼望着能够回家为贝思尽点心意，她现在不再觉得家务是件令人烦闷的苦差事了。每当想到贝思自愿为她做的许多被忽略掉的活儿时，她就又是惭愧又是心酸。劳里整日愁眉锁眼，像个不安宁的鬼魂一样在屋子里游转。劳伦斯先生锁上了大钢琴，因为他无法忍受一看到大钢琴就想到他的小邻居曾给他带来多少黄昏的慰藉。大家都惦记着贝思。送奶的、面包师傅、杂货店老板、肉贩都询问她的情况，可怜的赫梅尔太太过来为明娜拿寿衣时请求大家原谅她的愚昧无知，邻居们也纷纷送上各式各样的慰问品和祝福，连最熟悉她的人此刻都诧异，腼腆的小贝思竟然交了这么多朋友。
此时贝思躺在床上，身边是她心爱的乔安娜，即使在神志恍惚之际她也没有忘记这个身世悲惨的玩偶。她也舍不得那几只猫儿，但因担心它们会染上病而没有让人把它们放在身边。病情安定的时候，她总是忧心忡忡，唯恐乔会有个三长两短。她问候艾美，请姐妹们告诉母亲她很快就会写信去，并常常求她们给她纸和笔，勉强写上片言只语，使父亲不至于以为自己忽略了他。但不久这种短暂的清醒状态也结束了，她一卧不起，在床上翻来覆去，语无伦次地说些胡话，有时又昏昏睡去，醒来时仍然气息奄奄。邦斯医生一天来两次，罕娜晚间守夜，梅格写好一封电报放在书桌上，准备随时发出，乔更是不敢从贝思身边移开半步。
十二月一日对她们来说是个名符其实的严冬。这天寒风呼啸、大雪纷飞，似乎预示着这一年气数已荆当邦斯医生这天早上过来的时候，他久久望着贝思，把她那热得烫人的手放在自己双手里紧紧握了一会，然后轻轻放下，声调低沉地对罕娜说：“如果马奇太太能够离开丈夫，最好现在回来一趟。”罕娜点点头，说不出一句话语，只是紧张得双唇不断地抖动；梅格闻听此言，仿佛四肢的力量被抽了个精光，一下跌倒在椅子上；乔脸色煞白地呆了一会，跑到客厅，一把抓起电报，仓皇披上衣帽，一头冲进狂风暴雪之中。她很快便回来了，正轻轻脱下大衣的时候，劳里手持一封信走进来，告诉她马奇先生的病情又好转了。乔激动地把信读了一遍，但心情仍然异常沉重，劳里见她神情悲恸，忙问：“怎么了？贝思的病又重了吗？”“我已经通知了妈妈，”乔说，阴沉着脸使劲脱她的胶靴。
“做得对，乔！是你的主意吗？”劳里问道。他看到乔双手直抖，靴子一时脱不下来，便把她扶到大厅里的椅子上坐下帮她脱。
“不。是医生吩咐的。”
“啊呀，乔，不至于这么糟糕吧？”劳里大吃一惊，叫了起来。
“正是这么糟糕；她已认不出我们，也不谈她的绿鸽子了，她原来一直把爬在墙上的藤叶叫做绿鸽子的。她变得不像我的贝思了。现在没有人能帮助我们，爸爸妈妈都不在，上帝也似乎遥不可及。”泪水顺着乔的双颊大滴大滴滚落，她六神无主地伸出手，仿佛在黑暗中摸索，劳里一把把她的手握住，只觉得喉咙也哽住了，好不容易才轻声说道：“我在这里呢。抓紧我吧，乔，亲爱的！”乔说不出话，但却真的把他"抓紧"了。这样执着劳里温暖友好的手，她又酸又痛的心舒缓了一些，在她遇到困境的时候可以独立支撑她的上帝之手仿佛也离她更近了些。劳里很想说几句贴心的宽慰话，一时却找不到合适的词语，只是一言不发地站着，无限怜爱地轻轻抚摸着她低下来的脑袋。
这种无声的抚慰胜似千言万语。乔感到了这无声的怜爱，在静默之中体会到了这由喜爱加在悲哀中的甜甜的宽慰，心里觉得好受些了，便把眼泪擦干，感激地抬起头来。
“谢谢你，特迪，我现在好些了，也没那么绝望了。万一真的发生什么不测，我也会勇敢面对的。”“保持乐观，那会给你力量的，乔。你妈妈很快就会回来，那时一切都会好起来的。”“幸好爸爸病情好转了；这样妈妈回来也不至于放心不下。噢，老天！怎么灾祸来了一个又一个，我身上的担子比？谁的都重。”乔叹了一口气，把她的湿手绢打开，铺在膝头上风干。
“难道梅格不和你分担吗？”劳里气愤地问。
“噢，分的，她也努力分担，但她不能像我这样爱贝思，也不会像我那么怀念她。贝思是我的心肝，我不能失去她。我不能！我不能！”乔把脸埋在湿手绢里，失声痛哭，刚才她一直坚强地忍着，没有流一滴泪。劳里用手抹抹眼睛，想说点什么，但只觉得嗓子眼被什么东西堵住了，嘴唇也在不停颤抖。这也许没有男子气，但他忍不住，我对此深感高兴。一会儿，待乔的啜平静了下来，他这才满怀希望地说：“我想她不会死的；她这么善良，我们又这么爱她，我不信上帝就这样把她夺走。”“好人总是活不长，”乔咕咕哝哝地说道，不过她止住了哭，因为尽管她心里充满了怀疑和恐惧，但朋友的话却使她精神一振。
“可怜的姑娘，你是累坏了。你不是这么悲观的人。歇口气儿，我这就让你抖擞起来。”劳里两级并作一级跑上楼去，乔把昏沉沉的脑袋伏在贝思那顶棕色小帽上面。这顶小帽子被主人放在桌子上，一直原封未动。大概它拥有一种魔力，因为乔似乎变得跟它的主人一样柔顺。此时劳里捧着一杯酒跑下楼来，她微笑着接过，坚强地说：“我喝--为贝思的身体健康！你是个好医生，特迪，又是个这么善解人意的朋友，我不知道怎样才能报答你？”她又加了一句，这时酒恢复了她的体力，劳里的宽慰话也让她的精神为之一振。
“不消多久我自会向你讨债，不过今晚我想送你一样比酒更能让你心里暖和的东西，”劳里边说边望着她笑，脸上情不自禁地露出得意之色。
“什么东西？”乔惊讶地问，暂时忘记了痛苦。
“我昨天给你妈妈发了一封电报，布鲁克回电说马上回来，今天晚上就能到家，那时一切都好办了。我这样做你喜欢吗？”劳里说得很快，脸色转眼间便因激动而变得通红。由于担心会令姑娘们失望和伤了贝思的心，他一直守着这个秘密。
乔脸色发白地从座椅中一跃而起，待他一住口便直扑过去，用双臂搂紧他的膀子，高兴地又叫又喊：“啊，劳里！啊，妈妈！
我高兴死了！”她不再啜泣，而是歇斯底里地笑起来，一面颤抖一面搂紧她的朋友，仿佛被这突如起来的消息弄得意乱神迷。
劳里大吃了一惊，却表现得相当镇定；他轻轻拍着她的背脊，见她正逐渐恢复过来，便腼腆地在她脸上吻了一两下。
乔刹那间如梦方醒。她扶着楼梯扶手，把他轻轻推开，气喘吁吁地说： “噢，别这样！我刚才昏了头，不是故意要扑向你，你这么听话，竟然不顾罕娜的反对给妈妈发电报，所以我忍不祝把事情经过告诉我吧，别再给我酒喝了，它令我胡作非为。”“这我倒不介意，”劳里笑道，一面理好领带，”是这样，你知道我和爷爷都十分焦急，我们认为罕娜僭越职权，而你妈妈应该知道这事。如果贝思 -如果一旦出了事，她永远都不会原谅我们。所以我让爸爸说出该采取行动这话，昨天便飞快赶到邮局，你也知道医生神色严峻，而罕娜一听说发电报就几乎要拧下我的脑袋。我一向不能忍受被人'管制'，于是打定主意，把电报发了。你妈妈就要回来，我知道火车凌晨两点到站，我去接，你只需收敛一下你的狂喜之情，安顿好贝思，专候佳音。”“劳里，你是个天使！我该如何谢你？”“扑向我吧；我真喜欢那样，”劳里调皮地说。他足足两个星期没有露出这种神色了。
“不，谢谢了。我会找个人代理，等你爷爷来再说吧。别取笑我了，回家休息去吧，你半夜还要起来呢。上帝保佑你，特迪，保佑你！”乔退到一角，话方说完便仓促冲进厨房，消失了身影。她坐在食具柜上告诉那群猫儿她"高兴，呵，真高兴！”此时劳里离开了，觉得自己把事情干得相当利索。
“我从来没见过这么好管闲事的家伙，不过我原谅他，希望马奇太太马上就来，“当乔宣布好消息时，罕娜松了一口气，说道。
梅格不露声色地狂喜一番，然后对信沉思；乔整理病房，罕娜则在"赶快做两个饼，免得还有什么人会一起来"。屋子里仿佛吹过了一阵清风，寂静的房间也被什么比阳光还要明亮的东西照得亮堂起来。每种事情都好像感觉到了这充满希望的变化；贝思的小鸟开始重新鸣唱，艾美的花丛里发现了一朵半开的玫瑰；炉火也燃烧得特别欢畅；梅格和乔每次碰面，苍白的脸上都绽出笑容，她们紧紧拥抱，悄声鼓励：“妈妈就要回来了，亲爱的！妈妈就要回来了！”大家都欢欣鼓舞，只有贝思昏迷不醒，躺在床上，无知无觉，无喜无忧。她的形容令人心碎--原来红润的脸庞变得没有一点血色，原来灵巧的双手瘦得只剩下皮包骨头，原来微笑的双唇几乎找不到气息，原来漂亮整齐的头发零乱不堪地散落在枕头上。整整一天她都这么躺着，只是偶尔醒来才含混不清地说一声：“水！”由于唇干舌燥，声音几乎发不出来；乔和梅格整天都在她身边侍候，照看着、等待着、盼望着，相信上帝和母亲能创造奇迹；整整一天大雪纷飞，狂风怒吼，时间过得特别缓慢。最后，黑夜终于降临。姐妹俩仍然各坐在床的一边，每当时钟敲响便互相交换一下眼色，眼睛闪闪发亮，因为时钟每响一下，希望就拉近一步。医生来过，说大约午夜时分病情就可见分晓，或是好转，或是恶化，他届时再来看视。
疲倦不堪的罕娜倒在床脚边的沙发上，呼呼大睡；劳伦斯先生在客厅里踱来踱去，他宁愿面对一个造反的炮兵连，也不愿看到马奇太太进来时焦不安的神色；劳里躺在地毯上，佯作休息，其实是在盯着火苗想心事，那若有所思的神情使他的黑眼睛显得清澈温柔，异常漂亮。
姐妹两人永远不会忘记那个晚上，她们全无睡意地守候着，深深感受到我们在这种时刻都会感受到的无能为力的痛苦。
“如果上帝赐给贝思一条生路，我一定不再抱怨，”梅格虔诚低语。
“如果上帝赐给贝思一条生路，我一定爱他敬他，终生做他的奴仆，”乔同样热诚地回答。
梅格一阵无言，转而叹了一口气：“我宁愿做个无心之人，免遭这种钻心之痛。“如果生活是这样灾难深重，我不知道我们怎样才能熬到出头，”乔沮丧地说。
此时时钟敲响十二下，两人一心守护着贝思，早就忘掉了自己，恍惚间觉得那张状如死灰的脸庞掠过一丝变化。屋里依然一片死寂，只有呼号的狂风打破这深深的寂静。倦极的罕娜仍在酣睡，姐妹两人看到贝思的脸色开始泛白，犹如有一个白色的幽灵在床上作祟。一个小时过去了，情况依旧，只听到劳里的车悄悄往车站去了。又过了一个小时 -仍不见有人来，姐妹俩心里开始七上八下，一会儿担心母亲被暴风雪耽搁，一会儿又担心路上发生意外，更害怕华盛顿那边发生什么不测。
已是深夜两点多钟，乔站在窗边，正在感叹这雪花漫卷的世界是多么乏味，突然听到床边什么东西响了一下，赶紧回头一望，只见梅格掩脸跪在母亲的安乐椅前。乔吓得心胆俱裂，浑身发凉，暗暗想道：“贝思去了，梅格不敢告诉我。”她立即走回床前，激动的双眼仿佛看到了惊人的变化。贝思退了烧，痛苦的神情已经消失，仿佛沉沉睡去，那张可爱的小脸显得异常苍白而平静，乔见状竟感觉不到生离死别的痛苦。她弯下身子，注视着这位自己最疼爱的妹妹，在她湿漉漉的额头上深深一吻，轻声说道：“再见！我的贝思，再见！”也许是听到了响动，罕娜蓦然惊醒，三步并作两步走到床前，看看贝思，摸摸她的双手，听一下鼻息，接着把围裙向头上一抛，坐在椅子上摇来摇去，压低声音叫道：“烧热退掉了！她正在熟睡，皮肤汗津津的，气息也平和了。谢天谢地！噢，老天可怜！”姐妹两人尚在半信半疑，医生进来证实了这个喜讯。医生是一个普通的男人，但此刻她们觉得他的面孔简直是超凡卓绝。他用慈父般的眼神看着她们，微笑说：“不错，好孩子，我想小姑娘这次可以闯过难关的。保持房间安静，让她睡去，她醒来的时候，给她- "到底给她什么，两人都没有听到，她们悄悄走进漆黑的大厅，坐在楼梯上，互相紧紧拥抱，心中那份狂喜非笔墨可以形容。当她们走回去接受忠诚的罕娜的吻和拥抱时，她们发现贝思像往常一样，手枕脸颊而睡，原来死灰般的脸色已经变得有了生气，呼吸轻柔，仿佛刚刚进入梦乡。
“如果妈妈现在出现就好了！”乔说。此时冬夜已开始进入尾声。
“看，”梅格手持一朵半开的白玫瑰走过来说道，”我原以为这朵花明天还不能绽开，赶不及放到贝思手中，如果她--离开我们的话。但它竟在夜间开了，我这就把它插到花瓶里供着，摆在这儿，这样等好贝思醒来的时候，她第一眼看见的就是这朵小玫瑰和妈妈的面孔。”痛苦的漫漫长夜终于过去了，第二天一早，不眠不歇地守了整整一夜的乔和梅格睁着疲倦的眼睛向外望去，只见云蒸霞蔚，整个世界显得异常美丽动人。
“真像个童话世界。”梅格站在帘后，观赏着这异彩纷呈的景色，独自微笑起来。
“听！”乔跳起来叫道。
此时，下面门口传来一阵铃声，只听得罕娜叫了一声，接着又听到了劳里欣喜地悄悄说道：“姑娘们，她来了！她来了！”
Chapter 20 Confidential
I don't think I have any words in which to tell the meeting of the mother and daughters; such hours are beautiful to live, but very hard to describe, so I will leave it to the imagination of my readers, merely saying that the house was full of genuine happiness, and that Meg's tender hope was realized; for when Beth woke from that long, healing sleep, the first objects on which her eyes fell were the little rose and Mother's face. Too weak to wonder at anything, she only smiled, and nestled close into the loving arms about her, feeling that the hungry longing was satisfied at last. Then she slept again, and the girls waited upon their mother; for she would not unclasp the thin hand which clung to hers even in sleep. 

Hannah had "dished up" an astonishing breakfast for the traveller, finding it impossible to vent her excitement in any other way; and Meg and Jo fed their mother like dutiful young storks, while they listened to her whispered account of Father's state, Mr. Brooke's promise to stay and nurse him, the delays which the storm occasioned on the homeward journey, and the unspeakable comfort Laurie's hopeful face had given her when she arrived, worn out with fatigue, anxiety, and cold. 

What a strange, yet pleasant day that was! so brilliant and gay without, for all the world seemed abroad to welcome the first snow; so quiet and reposeful within, for everyone slept, spent with watching, and a sabbath stillness reigned through the house, while nodding Hannah mounted guard at the door. With a blissful sense of burdens lifted off, Meg and Jo closed their weary eyes, and lay at rest, like storm-beaten boats, safe at anchor in a quiet harbour. Mrs. March would not leave Beth's side, but rested in the big chair, waking often to look at, touch, and brood over her child, like a miser over some recovered treasure. 

Laurie, meanwhile, posted off to comfort Amy, and told his story so well that Aunt March actually "sniffed" herself, and never once said, "I told you so". Amy came out so strong on this occasion that I think the good thoughts in the little chapel really began to bear fruit. She dried her tears quickly, restrained her impatience to see her mother, and never even thought of the turquoise ring, when the old lady heartily agreed in Laurie's opinion, that she behaved "like a capital little woman". Even Polly seemed impressed, for he called her "good girl", blessed her buttons, and begged her to `come and take a walk, dear!' in his most affable tone. She would very gladly have gone out to enjoy the bright wintry weather; but, discovering that Laurie was dropping with sleep in spite of manful efforts to conceal the fact, she persuaded him to rest on the sofa, while she wrote a note to her mother. She was a long time about it, and, when she returned, he was stretched out, with both arms under his head, sound asleep, while Aunt March had pulled down the curtains, and sat doing nothing in an unusual fit of benignity. 

After a while, they began to think he was not going to wake till night, and I'm not sure that he would, had he not been effectually roused by Amy's cry of joy at sight of her mother. There probably were a good many happy little girls in and about the city that day, but it is my private opinion that Amy was the happiest of all, when she sat in her mother's lap and told her trials, receiving consolation and compensation in the shape of approving smiles and fond caresses. They were alone together in the little room, to which her mother did not object when its purpose was explained to her. 

On the contrary, I like it very much, dear,' looking from the footstool to the well-worn little book, and the lovely picture with its garland of evergreen. `It is an excellent plan to have some place where we can go to be quiet, when things vex or grieve us. There are a good many hard times in this life of ours, but we can always bear them if we ask help in the right way. I think my little girl is learning this?' 

Yes, Mother; and when I go home I mean to have a corner in the big closet to put my books, and the copy of that picture which I've tried to make. The woman's face is not good - it's too beautiful for me to draw - but the baby is done better, and I love it very much. I like to think he was a little child once, for then I don't seem so far away, and that helps me.' 

As Amy pointed to the smiling Christ-child on His mother's knee, Mrs. March saw something on the lifted hand that made her smile. She said nothing, but Amy understood the look, and, after a minute's pause, she added, gravely: 

I wanted to speak to you about this, but I forgot it. Aunt gave me the ring today; she called me to her and kissed me, and put it on my finger, and said I was a credit to her, and she'd like to keep me always. She gave me that funny guard to keep the turquoise on, as it's too big. I'd like to wear them, Mother; can I?' 

They are very pretty, but I think you're rather too young for such ornaments, Amy,' said Mrs. March, looking at the plump little hand, with the band of sky-blue stones on the forefinger, and the quaint guard, formed of two tiny golden hands clasped together. 

I'll try not to be vain,' said Amy. `I don't think I like it only because it's so pretty; but I want to wear it as the girl in the story wore her bracelets, to remind me of something.' 

Do you mean Aunt March?' asked her mother, laughing. 

No, to remind me not to be selfish.' Amy looked so earnest and sincere about it, that her mother stopped laughing, and listened respectfully to the little plan. 

I've thought a great deal lately about my "bundle of naughties", and being selfish is the largest one on it; so I'm going to try hard to cure it, if I can. Beth isn't selfish, and that's the reason everyone loves her and feels so bad at the thought of losing her. People wouldn't feel half so bad about me if I was sick, and I don't deserve to have them; but I'd like to be loved and missed by a great many friends, so I'm going to try and be like Beth all I can. I'm apt to forget my resolutions; but if I had something always about me to remind me, I guess I should do better. May I try this way?' 

Yes; but I have more faith in the corner of the big closet. Wear your ring, dear, and do your best; I think you will prosper, for the sincere wish to be good is half the battle. Now I must go back to Beth. Keep up your heart, little daughter, and we will soon have you home again.'

That evening, while Meg was writing to her father, to report the traveller's safe arrival, Jo slipped upstairs into Beth's room, and, finding her mother in her usual place, stood a minute twisting her fingers in her hair, with a worried gesture and an undecided look. 

What is it, deary?' asked Mrs. March, holding out her hand, with a face which invited confidence. 

I want to tell you something, Mother.' 

About Meg?' 

How quickly you guessed! Yes, it's about her, and though it's a little thing, it fidgets me.' 

Beth is asleep; speak low, and tell me all about it. That Moffat hasn't been here, I hope?' asked Mrs. March, rather sharply. 

No, I should have shut the door in his face if he had,' said Jo, settling herself on the floor at her mother's feet. `Last summer Meg left a pair of gloves over at the Laurences', and only one was returned. We forgot all about it, till Teddy told me that Mr. Brooke had it. He kept it in his waistcoat pocket, and once it fell out, and Teddy joked him about it, and Mr. Brooke owned that he liked Meg, but didn't dare say so, she was so young and he so poor. Now, isn't it a dreadful state of things?' 

Do you think Meg cares for him?' asked Mrs. March, with an anxious look. 

Mercy me! I don't know anything about love and such nonsense!' cried Jo, with a funny mixture of interest and contempt. `In novels, the girls show it by starting and blushing, fainting away, growing thin, and acting like fools. Now Meg does not do anything of the sort; she eats and drinks and sleeps, like a sensible creature; she looks straight in my face when I talk about that man, and only blushes a little bit when Teddy jokes about lovers. I forbid him to do it, but he doesn't mind me as he ought.' 

Then you fancy that Meg is not interested in John?' 

Who?' cried Jo, staring. 

Mr. Brooke. I call him "John" now; we fell into the way of doing so at the hospital, and he likes it.' 

Oh, dear! I know you'll take his part: he's been good to Father, and you won't send him away, but let Meg marry him, if she wants to. Mean thing! to go petting Papa and helping you, just to wheedle you into liking him'; and Jo pulled her hair again with a wrathful tweak. 

My dear, don't get angry about it, and I will tell you how it happened. John went with me at Mr. Laurence's request, and was so devoted to poor Father that we couldn't help getting fond of him. He was perfectly open and honourable about Meg, for he told us he loved her, but would earn a comfortable home before he asked her to marry him. He only wanted our leave to love her and work for her, and the right to make her love him if he could. He is a truly excellent young man, and we could not refuse to listen to him; but I will not consent to Meg engaging herself so young.' 

Of course not; it would be idiotic! I knew there was mischief brewing; I felt it; and now it's worse than I imagined. I just wish I could marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family.' 

This odd arrangement made Mrs. March smile; but she said gravely, `Jo, I confide in you, and don't wish you to say anything to Meg yet. When John comes back, and I see them together, I can judge better of her feelings towards him.' 

She'll see his in those handsome eyes that she talks about, and then it will be all up with her. She's got such a soft heart, it will melt like butter in the sun if anyone looks sentimentally at her. She read the short reports he sent more than she did your letters, and pinched me when I spoke of it, and likes brown eyes, and doesn't think John an ugly name, and she'll go and fall in love, and there's an end of peace and fun, and cosy times together. I see it all! they'll go lovering around the house, and we shall have to dodge; Meg will be absorbed, and no good to me any more; Brooke will scratch up a fortune somehow, carry her off, and make a hole in the family; and I shall break my heart, and everything will be abominably uncomfortable. Oh, dear me! why weren't we all boys, then there wouldn't be any bother.' Jo leaned her chin on her knees, in a disconsolate attitude, and shook her fist at the represhensible John. Mrs. March sighed, and Jo looked up with an air of relief. 

You don't like it, Mother? I'm glad of it. Let's send him about his business, and not tell Meg a word of it, but all be happy together as we always have been.' 

I did wrong to sigh, Jo. It is natural and right you should all go to homes of your own, in time; but I do want to keep my girls as long as I can; and I am sorry that this happened so soon, for Meg is only seventeen, and it will be some years before John can make a home for her. Your father and I have agreed that she shall not bind herself in any way, nor be married, before twenty. If she and John love one another, they can wait, and test the love by doing so. She is conscientious, and I have no fear of her treating him unkindly. My pretty, tender-hearted girl! I hope things will go happily with her.' 

Hadn't you rather have her marry a rich man?' asked Jo, as her mother's voice faltered a little over the last words. 

Money is a good and useful thing, Jo; and I hope my girls will never feel the need of it too bitterly, nor be tempted by too much. I should like to know that John was firmly established in some good business, which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make Meg comfortable. I'm not ambitious for a splendid fortune, a fashionable position, or a great name for my girls. If rank and money come with love and virtue, also, I should accept them gratefully, and enjoy your good fortune; but I know, by experience, how much genuine happiness can be had in a plain little house, where the dally bread is earned, and some privations give sweetness to the few pleasures. I am content to see Meg begin humbly, for, if I am not mistaken, she will be rich in the possession of a good man's heart, and that is better than a fortune.' 

I understand, Mother, and quite agree; but I'm disappointed about Meg, for I'd planned to have her marry Teddy by and by, and sit in the lap of luxury all her days. Wouldn't it be nice?' asked Jo, looking up, with a brighter face. 

He is younger than she, you know,' began Mrs. March; but Jo broke in: `Only a little; he's old for his age, and tall; and can be quite grown-up in his manners if he likes. Then he's rich and generous and good, and loves us all; and I say it's a pity my plan is spoilt.' 

I'm afraid Laurie is hardly grown up enough to Meg, and altogether too much of a weathercock, just now, for anyone to depend on. Don't make plans, Jo; but let time and their own hearts mate your friends. We can't meddle safely in such matters, and had better not get "romantic rubbish", as you call it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship.' 

Well, I won't; but I hate to see things going all criss-cross and getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip there would straighten it out. I wish wearing flat-irons on our heads would keep us from growing up. But buds will be roses, and kittens, cats - more's the pity!' 

What's that about flat-irons and cats?' asked Meg, as she crept into the room, with the finished letter in her hand. 

Only one of my stupid speeches. I'm going to bed; come, Peggy,' said Jo, unfolding herself, like an animated puzzle. 

Quite right, and beautifully written. Please add that I send my love to John,' said Mrs. March, as she glanced over the letter, and gave it back. 

Do you call him "John"?' asked Meg, smiling, with her innocent eyes looking down into her mother's. 

Yes; he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him,' replied Mrs. March, returning the look with a keen one. 

I'm glad of that, he is so lonely. Good night, Mother dear. It is so inexpressibly comfortable to have you here,' was Meg's quiet answer. 

The kiss her mother gave her was a very tender one; and, as she went away, Mrs. March said, with a mixture of satisfaction and regret, `She does not love John yet, but will soon learn to.'
 
我认为我找不到任何词语来描述她们母女重逢的情形；这种温馨、美好的时光是难以用笔墨来形容的，我只好把它留给我的读者们去想象，只能说屋子里洋溢着真正的快乐，梅格美好的心愿也成为现实；因为贝思睡了长长一觉醒来，她第一眼看到的正是那朵小玫瑰花和母亲慈爱的面孔。因身体仍极度虚弱，她没有气力发出惊叹，只是露出微笑，紧紧依偎在母亲慈爱的臂膀中，那种感觉就像久旱的禾苗终于盼到了甘露。然后她又睡了过去，姐妹俩则熬夜守候在母亲身边，因为母亲不愿放弃女儿沉睡中依然紧紧攥着她的瘦削的手。
罕娜一时找不到其他方法来排解自己的兴奋心情，便为远道归来的亲人"装盘上菜"地上了一顿丰盛的早餐；梅格和乔像恪守职责的幼鹳一样喂母亲进餐，一面听她轻声讲述父亲的情况，以及布鲁克先生如何答应留下来照顾父亲，她在回家的路上被暴风雪耽搁了时间，到站的时候，忧心如焚，又冷又累，是劳里充满希望的面孔使她得到了难以言喻的安慰。
这一天是多么奇特，多么喜气洋洋！屋外阳光灿烂，到处洋溢着欢声笑语，人们似乎全都走了出来，迎接这场初雪；屋里却无声无息，一片宁静，大家因一夜未眠，此刻全都进入了梦乡，屋子里静得连针尖落地的声音也能听到。罕娜打着瞌睡在门边守护，梅格和乔仿佛卸下了一身重担，也都双双合上疲倦的眼睛躺下来休息，就像两只小船，经过风吹浪打后，终于安全泊进了平静的港湾。马奇太太不愿离开贝思身边，便坐在大椅子上休息，不时醒来看一看、摸一摸自己的孩子，看着贝思发一会儿呆，其神态就像一个重新找回了自己财宝的吝啬鬼。
同时劳里匆匆赶去安慰艾美，他讲故事讲得十分成功，马奇婶婶听了竟"从鼻子里头笑了一声"，而且没有再说"我早就告诉过你"。艾美这回显得十分坚强，看来她在小教堂里下的功夫开始开花结果了。她很快就把泪水擦干，按捺住要见母亲的急切心情，当劳里说她表现得"像个卓尔不凡的小妇人"，而老太太也由衷地表示赞同时，她竟没有想到那个绿松石戒指，甚至鹦哥也似乎对她大加赞赏，因为它叫她"好姑娘"，请上帝保佑她，并用极其友好的声调求她"来散个步，亲爱的“。她本来很想出去高高兴兴地在阳光明媚的雪地里玩个痛快，但发现劳里尽管男子气地装着没什么，但他的身子困得直往下倒，便劝他在沙发上躺躺，自己则给母亲写封信。
过了好一会她才把信写完，等她再次来到劳里身边时，劳里头枕双臂，直挺挺地睡得十分香甜。马奇婶婶拉下了窗帘，闲坐在一边，脸上露出一种罕有的慈祥宽厚的神情。
过了一会，她们开始想他要睡到晚上才能醒来了，如果不是艾美看见母亲发出的欢叫声把他惊醒，我肯定他会一直睡下去的。那天，城里城外可能有许许多多幸福的小姑娘，但依我看艾美要算是最最幸福的一个，她坐在母亲的膝头上诉说自己是怎样熬过这段日子的，母亲则报以赞赏的微笑和百般爱抚。两人一起来到小教堂，艾美解释了它的来龙去脉，母亲听后并不反对。
“相反。我很喜欢它呢，亲爱的。”她把眼光从沾满灰尘的念珠移到翻得卷了毛边的小册子和点缀着长青树花环的漂亮图画上。”当我们身处逆境，烦恼悲伤时，能找个地方清静一下是件大好事。人生的道路充满了坎坷，但只要我们正确寻求帮助，就能克服困难。我想我的小女儿正在领悟这个道理呢。”“是的，妈妈，回家后我打算在大房间的一角放上我的书和我画的那幅图画的摹本。圣母的面孔画得不好--她太美了，我画不来 但那婴儿还画得不错，我很喜欢它。我喜欢想他也曾经是个小孩，这样我似乎就离'他'更近了，这样一想，心里就好受了。”艾美指指笑着坐在圣母膝上的圣婴，马奇太太看到她举着的手戴着一样东西，不觉微微一笑。她没有说什么，但艾美明白了她的眼神，迟疑了一会后，她郑重其事地说：“我原来要把这事告诉你的，但一时忘了。婶婶今天把这个戒指送给我；她叫我走到她跟前。吻了我一下，把它戴在我的手指上，说我替她增了光，她愿意把我永远留在身边。因为绿松石戒指太大，她便把这有趣的护圈给我戴上。我想戴着它们，妈妈，可以吗？”“它们很浇亮，不过我认为你年龄尚小，不大适宜戴这种饰物，艾美。”马奇太太看着那只胖嘟嘟的小手，它的食指上戴着一圈天蓝色宝石和一个由两个金色小箍扣在一起组成的古怪护圈。
“我会努力做到不贪慕虚荣的，”艾美说，”我并不只是因为这枚戒指漂亮才喜欢它，我戴上它是因为它能时刻提醒我一些东西，就像故事里的那女孩戴的手镯一样。”“你是指马奇婶婶吗？”母亲笑着问。
“不是，提醒我不要自私。”艾美的神情十分诚恳，母亲不禁止住了笑，严肃地倾听女儿的小计划。
“我最近常常反省自己的'一大堆毛病'，发现其中最大的一项是自私；我要尽最大的努力克服这个缺点。贝思就不自私，所以大家都爱她，一想到要失去她就那么伤心。如果我病了，大家就远远不会这么伤心，我也不配让他们这样；不过我很希望能有许许多多的朋友爱我、怀念我，所以我要努力向贝思学习。只是我常常忘了自己的决心，如果有什么东西在身边提醒我，我想就会好一点。我这样做行吗？”“当然，不过我倒是对你的小册子和祈祷更有信心。戴着戒指吧，亲爱的，尽力而为。我相信你会有长进的，因为决心向善便是成功的一半。现在我得回去看贝思了。振作精神，小女儿，我们很快就会接你回家的。”那天晚上，梅格正在给父亲写信，告知母亲已平安到家，乔悄悄溜上楼，走进贝思的房间。看到坐在老地方的母亲，她用手指揪着头发，呆站了一会，神色焦虑。
“怎么啦，好女儿？”马奇太太问，伸出手来，神情关注，鼓励女儿说出心事。
“我想告诉你一件事，妈妈。”
“和梅格有关吗？”
“你猜得真快！对，和她有关，虽然这只是一件小事，但它令我烦躁不安。“贝思睡着了，小点声把事情全告诉我。莫法特那小子没有来过吧，我希望？”马奇太太单刀直入地问道。
“没有，如果他来，我一定让他吃闭门羹，”乔说着在地板上挨着母亲脚边坐下来，”去年夏天梅格在劳伦斯家丢了一双手套，后来只还回来一只。我们已经把这事忘了，但一天特迪告诉我另一只在布鲁克先生手里。他把它收在马甲衣袋里，一次它掉了出来，特迪便打趣他，布鲁克先生承认自己喜欢梅格，但不敢说出来，因为她还这样年轻，而自己又这样穷。您看，这不是糟糕透顶了吗？”“你觉得梅格在乎他吗？”马奇太太焦虑地问道。
“上帝！我对情呀爱呀这些荒唐事一无所知！”乔叫道，显得既感兴趣又鄙夷，神情十分滑稽，”在小说里，害相思病的姑娘们不是一会吓一惊，一会红了脸，就是昏过去、瘦下去，一举一动都像个傻瓜。但梅格并没有这些举动：她照吃照喝照睡，跟平常没什么两样，我谈起那个男人时，她也正眼望着我，只有当特迪拿那些多情男女开玩笑时，她才红一下脸。
我不许他这样做，但他并不怎么听。”
“那么你觉得梅格对约翰不感兴趣吗？”“谁？”乔双眼圆睁，叫道。
“布鲁克先生。我现在称他约翰；我们在医院里开始这样叫他，他也喜欢这样。“噢，天哪！我知道你们会接受他的：他一直待父亲很好，你们不会把他打发走的，而是让梅格嫁给他，如果她愿意的话。不要脸的东西！去讨好爸爸，帮您的忙，就是要哄得你们的欢心。”乔气得七窍生烟，又揪起自己的头发。
“亲爱的，别生气，我告诉你是怎么一回事。约翰奉劳伦斯先生之命陪我一起去医院，他对重病缠身的父亲照顾得十分周到，我们怎能不喜欢他呢？他并没有隐瞒对梅格的感情，开诚布公地告诉我们他爱她，但要等赚够成家立室的钱后才向她求婚。他只希望我们允许他爱她并为她效劳，尽一切努力博取她的爱情，如果他有这个本事的话。我们不能拒绝他的诚意，他确实是个人品出众的年轻人，不过我不同意让梅格这么年轻就订婚。”“当然不能同意；那其不是愚蠢之极！我早就知道这里头有文章，我有直觉，不过现在它比我想象的更糟。我真想自己来娶梅格，让她安全留在家里。”这一古怪的安排令马奇太太笑了起来，但她严肃地说：“乔，我把事情全告诉你，你可别跟梅格说什么。等约翰回来，他们两人在一起时，我就能更好地判断她对他的感情了。”“她会被她说的那对漂亮的眼睛迷惑住，那时就一切都完了。她心肠最软，如果有人含情脉脉地看着她，她的心就会像阳光下的牛油一样化掉。她读他寄来的病情报告比读你的信还多，我说她两句她就来拧我，她喜欢棕色的眼睛，而且不认为约翰是个难听的名字，她会掉进爱河，那我们在一起的那种宁静、欢乐、温馨的日子必将一去不返。我全料到了！
他们会在屋子附近谈情说爱，我们不得不东躲西避；梅格一定会爱得神魂颠倒，不再对我好了；布鲁克也会筹集到一笔血汗钱，将她娶走，把我们一家拆散；而我就会伤透了心，那时一切都会变得令人讨厌。啊，天啊！我们为什么全都不是男孩子，那样可以免遭多少烦恼！”乔无可奈何地把下巴靠在膝头上，对那位该死的约翰猛挥拳头。马奇太太叹了一口气，乔抬起头来，如释重负地舒了一口气。
“你不喜欢这样吧，妈妈？这真叫我高兴。我们把他赶走，半个字也不要告诉梅格，一家人还跟原来一样一起快乐生活。”“刚才叹气是我不对，乔，你们日后各自另立新家是自然不过的事情，也很应该如此，但我何尝不想我的女儿们在我身边多留几年；我很遗憾这件事来得这么快，因为梅格只有十七岁，而约翰也要过好几年才有能力成家立室。我和你父亲的意见是，二十岁前她不能订下任何盟誓，也不能结婚。如果她和约翰相爱，他们可以等，这样也可以考验他们的爱情。
她并非轻浮浅薄之流。我倒不担心她会待他不好。我美丽、善良的女儿！我希望她姻缘美满。”“您难道不希望她嫁个富家子弟吗？”乔问。说到最后，母亲的声音有些颤抖。
“金钱是一种很有用处的好东西，乔，我不希望我的女儿穷困潦倒，也不希望她们过于受金钱的诱惑。我希望约翰有份稳定的好职业，其收入足以维持家庭开支，使梅格生活舒适。我并不奢求我的女儿嫁入名门望族，大富大贵。如果地位和金钱是建立在爱情和品行的基础上，我感激地接受，并分享你们的幸福；但根据经验，我知道普通的小户人家虽然每天都要为生活操劳，却可以拥有真正的幸福，他们的生活虽然清贫，却不失甜蜜温馨。看到梅格从低微起步，我也心满意足，如果我没有看错的话，约翰是个好男人，她将因拥有他的心而变得富有，而这比金钱更为宝贵。”“我明白，妈妈，也很赞同，但我可以说对梅格十分失望，我一向计划让她日后嫁给特迪，一生享尽荣华富贵。那不好吗？”乔仰头问道。脸色明朗了一点。
“他比她年纪小，你知道。”马奇太太刚说了一句，乔便打断她- “只是小一点儿，他老成持重，个子又高，如果他喜欢，他的言谈举止可以十足像个大人。再说他富有、慷慨、人品好，而且爱我们全家。这计划成了泡影，我感到十分惋惜。”“我恐怕劳里对梅格来说像个小弟弟，而且谁也不知道他以后会怎样，现在怎么能指望他呢？别多操心，乔，让时间和他们自己的心来成就你的朋友们，干预这种事情很可能弄巧成拙，我们还是不要去'臭浪漫'，正如你所说，免得我们的友谊因此尽毁。”“嗯，那自然，但我痛恨看到本来可以弄好的事情变得乱七八糟、纠缠不清。如果可以不长大，就是头上压一把熨斗我也愿意。可恨花蕾终要绽开，小猫咪终要长成大猫 总之令人烦恼！”“你们谈什么熨斗啊猫儿的？”梅格手持写好了的信静静走入房间，问道。
“我在瞎扯而已。我要去睡觉了；来吧，佩吉。”乔的回答无异于一个猜不透的谜。
“写得不错，文笔也优美。请加上一句说我问候约翰。”马奇太太把信扫了一遍后交给梅格。
“您叫他'约翰'吗？”梅格微笑着问道，天真无邪的眼睛直视着母亲。
“对，他就像我们的儿子一样，我们非常喜欢他呢，”马奇太太答道，也紧紧地盯着女儿。
“那我真高兴，他是多么孤独。晚安，妈妈，有您在这里我们便感到无比舒坦，“梅格这样回答。
母亲无限爱怜地给了女儿一吻。梅格走后，马奇太太又满意又遗憾地自语：“她还没有爱上约翰，但很快就会爱上的。”
Chapter 21 Laurie Makes Mischief, And Jo Makes Peace
Jo's face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her, and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg observed it, but did not trouble herself to make inquiries, for she had learned that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so she felt sure of being told everything if she did not ask. She was rather surprised, therefore, when the silence remained unbroken, and Jo assumed a patronizing air, which decidedly aggravated Meg, who in her turn assumed an air of dignified reserve, and devoted herself to her mother. This left Jo to her own devices; for Mrs. March had taken her place as nurse, and bade her rest, exercise, and amuse herself after her long confinement. Amy being gone, Laurie was her only refuge; and, much as she enjoyed his society, she rather dreaded him just then, for he was an incorrigible tease, and she feared he would coax her secret from her. 

She was quite right; for the mischief-loving lad no sooner suspected a mystery than he set himself to find it out, and led Jo a trying life of it. He wheedled, bribed, ridiculed, threatened, and scolded; affected indifference, that he might surprise the truth from her; declared he knew, then that he didn't care; and, at last, by dint of perseverance, he satisfied himself that it concerned Meg and Mr. Brooke. Feeling indignant that he was not taken into his tutor's confidence, he set his wits to work to devise some proper relation for the slight. 

Meg meanwhile had apparently forgotten the matter, and was absorbed in preparations for her father's return; but all of a sudden a change seemed to come over her, and, for a day or two, she was quite unlike herself. She started when spoken to, blushed when looked at, was very quiet, and sat over her sewing, with a timid, troubled look on her face. To her mother's inquiries she answered that she was quite well, and Jo's she silenced by begging to be let alone. 

She feels it in the air - love, I mean - and she's going very fast. She's got most of the symptoms - is twittery and cross, doesn't eat, lies awake, and mopes in corners. I caught her singing that song he gave her, and once she said "John", as you do, and then turned as red as a poppy. Whatever shall we do?' said Jo, looking ready for any measures, however violent. 

Nothing but wait. Let her alone, be kind and patient, and Father's coming will settle everything,' replied her mother. 

Here's a note to you, Meg, all sealed up! How odd! Teddy never seals mine,' said Jo, next day, as she distributed the contents of the little post-office. 

Mrs. March and Jo were deep in their own affairs, when a sound from Meg made them look up to see her staring at her note with a frightened face. 

My child, what is it?' cried her mother, running to her, while Jo tried to take the paper which had done the mischief. 

It's all a mistake - he didn't send it. Oh, Jo, how could you do it?' and Meg hid her face in her hands, crying as if her heart was quite broken. 

Me! I've done nothing! What's she talking about?' cried Jo, bewildered. 

Meg's mild eyes kindled with anger as she pulled a crumpled note from her pocket, and threw it at Jo, saying reproachfully: `You wrote it, and that bad boy helped you. How could you be so rude, so mean, and cruel to us both?' Jo hardly heard her, for she and her mother were reading the note, which was written in a peculiar hand. 

My Dearest Margaret - I Can no longer restrain my passion and must know my fate before I return. I dare not tell your parents yet, but I think they would consent if they knew that we adore one another. Mr. Laurence will help me to some good place, and then, my sweet girl, you will make me happy. I implore you to say nothing to your family yet, but to send one word of hope through Laurie to 

Your devoted John. 

Oh, the little villain! that's the way he meant to pay me for keeping my word to Mother. I'll give him a hearty scolding, and bring him over to beg pardon,' cried Jo, burning to execute immediate justice. But her mother held her back, saying, with a look she seldom wore: `Stop, Jo, you must clear yourself first. You have played so many pranks, that I am afraid you have had a hand in this.' 

On my word, Mother, I haven't! I never saw that note before, and I don't know anything about it, as true as I live!' said Jo, so earnestly that they believed her. `If I had taken a part in it I'd have done it better than this, and have written a sensible note. I should think you'd have known Mr. Brooke wouldn't write such stuff as that,' she added, scornfully tossing down the paper. 

It's like his writing,' faltered Meg, comparing it with the note in her hand. 

Oh, Meg, you didn't answer it?' cried Mrs. March, quickly. 

Yes, I did!' and Meg hid her face again, overcome with shame. 

Here's a scrape! Do let me bring that wicked boy over to explain, and be lectured. I can't rest till I get hold of him'; and Jo made for the door again. 

Hush! let me manage this, for it is worse than I thought. Margaret, tell me the whole story,' commanded Mrs. March, sitting down by Meg, yet keeping hold of Jo, lest she should fly off. 

I received the first letter from Laurie, who didn't look as if he knew anything about it,' began Meg, without looking up. `I was worried at first, and meant to tell you; then I remembered how you liked Mr. Brooke, so I thought you wouldn't mind if I kept my little secret for a few days. I'm so silly that I liked to think no one knew; and, while I was deciding what to say I felt like the girls in books, who have such things to do. 

Forgive me, Mother, I'm paid for my silliness now; I never can look him in the face again.' 

What did you say to him?' asked Mrs. March. 

I only said I was too young to do anything about it yet; that I didn't wish to have secrets from you, and he must speak to Father. I was very grateful for his kindness, and would be his friend, but nothing more, for a long while.' 

Mrs. March smiled, as if pleased, and Jo clapped her hands, exclaiming, with a laugh: 

You are almost equal to Caroline Percy, who was a pattern of prudence! Tell on, Meg. What did he say to that?' 

He writes in a different way entirely, telling me that he never sent any love letter at all, and is very sorry that my roguish sister, Jo, should take such liberties with our names. It's very kind and respectful, but think how dreadful for me!' 

Meg leaned against her mother, looking the image of despair, and Jo tramped about the room, calling Laurie names. All of a sudden, she stopped, caught up the two notes, and, after looking at them closely, said decidedly, `I don't believe Brooke ever saw either of these letters. Teddy wrote both, and keeps yours to crow over me with, because I wouldn't tell him my secret.' 

Don't have any secrets Jo; tell it to Mother, and keep out of trouble, as I should have done,' said Meg, warningly. 

Bless you, child! Mother told me.' 

That will do, I'll comfort Meg while you go and get Laurie. I shall sift the matter to the bottom, and put a stop to such pranks at once.' 

Away ran Jo, and Mrs. March gently told Meg Mr. Brooke's real feelings. `Now, dear, what are your own? Do you love him enough to wait till lie can make a home for you, or will you keep yourself quite free for the present?' 

I've been so scared and worried, I don't want to have anything to do with lovers for a long while - perhaps never,' answered Meg, petulantly. `If John doesn't know anything about this nonsense, don't tell him, and make Jo and Laurie hold their tongues. I won't be deceived and plagued and made a fool of - it's a shame!' 

Seeing that Meg's usually gentle temper was roused, and her pride hurt by this mischievous joke, Mrs. March soothed her by promises of entire silence, and great discretion for the future. 

The instant Laurie's step was heard in the hall, Meg fled into the study, and Mrs. March received the culprit alone. Jo had not told him why he was wanted, fearing he wouldn't come; but he knew the minute he saw Mrs. March's face, and stood twirling his hat, with a guilty air which convicted him at once. Jo was dismissed, but chose to march up and down the hall like a sentinel, having some fear that the prisoner might bolt. The sound of voices in the parlour rose and fell for half an hour; but what happened during that interview the girls never knew. 

When they were called in, Laurie was standing by their mother, with such a penitent face that Jo forgave him on the spot, but did not think it wise to betray the fact. Meg received his humble apology, and was much comforted by the assurance that Brooke knew nothing of the joke. 

I'll never tell him to my dying day - wild horses shan't drag it out of me; so you'll forgive me, Meg, and I'll do anything to show how out-and-out sorry I am,' he added, looking very much ashamed of himself. 

I'll try; but it was a very ungentlemanly thing to do. I didn't think you could be so sly and malicious, Laurie, replied Meg, trying to hide her maidenly confusion under a gravely reproachful air. 

It was altogether abominable, and I don't deserve to be spoken to for a month; but you will, though, won't you?' and Laurie folded his hands together with such an imploring gesture, as he spoke in his irresistibly persuasive tone, that it was impossible to frown upon him, in spite of his scandalous behaviour. Meg pardoned him, and Mrs. March's grave face relaxed, in spite of her efforts to keep sober, when she heard him declare that he would atone for his sins by all sorts of penances and abase himself like a worm before the injured damsel. Jo stood aloof, meanwhile, trying to harden her heart against him, and succeeding only in primming up her face into an expression of entire disapprobation. Laurie looked at her once or twice, but, as she showed no sign of relenting, he felt injured, and turned his back on her till the others were done with him, when he made her a low bow, and walked off without a word. 

As soon as he had gone, she wished she had been more forgiving; and when Meg and her mother went upstairs she felt lonely and longed for Teddy. After resisting for some time, she yielded to the impulse and, armed with a book to return, went over to the big house. 

Is Mr. Laurence in?' asked Jo, of a housemaid, who was coming downstairs. 

Yes, miss; but I don't believe he's seeable just yet.' 



Why not? is he ill?' 

La, no, miss, but he's had a scene with Mr. Laurie, who is in one of his tantrums about something, which vexes the old gentleman, so I dursn't go nigh him.' 

Where is Laurie?' 

Shut up in his room, and he won't answer, though I've been a-tapping. I don't know what's to become of the dinner, for it's ready, and there's no one to eat it.' 

I'll go and see what the matter is. I'm not afraid of either of them.' 

Up went Jo, and knocked smartly at the door of Laurie's little study. 

Stop that, or I'll open the door and make you!' called out the young gentleman, in a threatening tone.

Jo immediately knocked again; the door flew open, and in she bounced, before Laurie could recover from his surprise. Seeing that he really was out of temper, Jo, who knew how to manage him, assumed a contrite expression, and going artistically down upon her knees, said meekly, `Please forgive me for being so cross. I came to make it up, and can't go away till I have.' 

It's all right. Get up, and don't be a goose, Jo,' was the cavalier reply to her petition. 

Thank you; I will. Could I ask what's the matter? You don't look exactly easy in your mind.' 

I've been shaken, and I won't bear it!' growled Laurie, indignantly. 

Who did it?' demanded Jo. 

Grandfather; if it had been anyone else I'd have--' And the injured youth finished his sentence by an energetic gesture of the right arm. 

That's nothing; I often shake you, and you don't mind,' said Jo, soothingly. 

Pooh! you're a girl, and it's fun; but I'll allow no man to shake me.' 

I don't think anyone would care to try it, if you looked as much like a thundercloud as you do now. Why were you treated so?' 

Just because I wouldn't say what your mother wanted me for. I'd promised not to tell, and of course I wasn't going to break my word.' 

Couldn't you satisfy your grandpa in any other way?' 

No; he would have the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I'd have told my part of the scrape, if I could without bringing Meg in. As I couldn't, I held my tongue, and bore the scolding till the old gentleman collared me. Then I got angry, and bolted, for fear I should forget myself.' 

It wasn't nice, but he's sorry, I know; so go down and make up. I'll help you.' 

Hanged if I do! I'm not going to be lectured and pummelled by everyone, just for a bit of a frolic. I was sorry about Meg, and begged pardon like a man; but I won't do it again, when I wasn't in the wrong.' 

He didn't know that.' 

He ought to trust me, and not act as if I was a baby. It's no use, Jo; he's got to learn that I'm able to take care of myself, and don't need anyone's apron strings to hold on by.' 

What pepper-pots you are!' sighed Jo. `How do you mean to settle this affair?' 

Well, he ought to beg pardon, and believe me when I say I can't tell him what the fuss is about.' 

Bless you! he won't do that.' 

I won't go down till he does.' 

Now, Teddy, be sensible; let it pass, and I'll explain what I can. You can't stay here, so what's the use of being melodramatic?' 

I don't intend to stay here long, anyway. I'll slip off and take a journey somewhere, and when grandpa misses me he'll come round fast enough.' 

I dare say; but you ought not to go and worry him.' 

Don't preach. I'll go to Washington and see Brooke; it's gay there, and I'll enjoy myself after the troubles.' 

What fun you'd have! I wish I could run off too,' said Jo, forgetting her part of Mentor in lively visions of material life at the capital. 

Come on, then! Why not? You go and surprise your father, and I'll stir up old Brooke.' 

It would be a glorious joke; let's do it, Jo. We'll leave a letter saying we are all right, and trot off at once. I've got money enough; it will do you good, and be no harm, as you go to your father.' 

For a moment Jo looked as if she would agree; for, wild as the plan was, it just suited her. She was tired of care and confinement, longed for change, and thoughts of her father blended temptingly with the novel charms of camps and hospitals, liberty and fun. Her eyes kindled as they turned wistfully toward the window, but they fell on the old house opposite. And she shook her head with sorrowful decision. 

If I was a boy, we'd run away together, and have a capital time; but as I'm a miserable girl, I must be proper, and stop at home. Don't tempt me, Teddy, it's a crazy plan.' 

That's the fun of it,' began Laurie, who had got a wilful fit on him, and was possessed to break out of bounds in some way. 

Hold your tongue!' cried Jo, covering her ears. ` "Prunes and prisms" are my doom, and I may as well make up my mind to it. I came here to moralise, not to hear about things that make me skip to think of.' 

I know Meg would wet-blanket such a proposal, but I thought you had more spirit,' began Laurie, insinuatingly. 

Bad boy, be quiet! Sit down and think of your own sins, don't go making me add to mine. If I get grandpa to apologize for the shaking, will you give up running away?' asked Jo, seriously. 

Yes, but you won't do it,' answered Laurie, who wished to `make up', but felt that his outraged dignity must be appeased first. 

If I can manage the young one I can the old one,' muttered Jo, as she walked away, leaving Laurie bent over a railroad map, with his head propped up on both hands. 

Come in!' and Mr. Laurence's gruff voice sounded gruffer than ever, as Jo tapped at his door. 

It's only me, sir, come to return a book,' she said, blandly, as she entered. 

Want any more?' asked the old gentleman, looking grim and vexed, but trying not to show it. 

Yes, please. I like old Sam so well, I think I'll try the second volume,' returned Jo, hoping to propitiate him by accepting a second dose of Boswell's Johnson as he had recommended that lively work. 

The shaggy eyebrows unbent a little, as he rolled the steps towards the shelf where the Johnsonian literature was placed. Jo skipped up, and sitting on the top step, affected to be searching for her book, but was really wondering how best to introduce the dangerous object of her visit. Mr. Laurence seemed to suspect that something was brewing in her mind; for, after taking several brisk turns about the room, he faced round on her, speaking so abruptly that Rasselas tumbled face downward on the floor. 

What has that boy been about? Don't try to shield him. I know he has been in mischief by the way he acted when he came home. I can't get a word from him; and when I threatened to shake the truth out of him he bolted upstairs, and locked himself into his room.' 

He did do wrong, but we forgave him, and all promised not to say a word to anyone,' began Jo, reluctantly. 

That won't do; he shall not shelter himself behind a promise from you softhearted girls. If he's done anything amiss, he shall confess, beg pardon, and be punished. Out with it, Jo! I won't be kept in the dark.' 

Mr. Laurence looked so alarming, and spoke so sharply, that Jo would gladly have run away, if she could, but she was perched aloft on the steps, and he stood at the foot, a lion in the path, so she had to stay and brave it out. 

Indeed, sir, I cannot tell; Mother forbade it. Laurie has confessed, asked pardon, and been punished quite enough. We don't keep silence to shield him, but someone else, and it will make more trouble if you interfere. Please don't; it was partly my fault, but it's all right now; so let's forget it, and talk about the Rambler, or something pleasant.' 

Hang the Rambler! come down and give me your word that this harum-scarum boy of mine hasn't done anything ungrateful or impertinent. If he has, after all your kindness to him, I'll thrash him with my own hands.' 

The threat sounded awful, but did not alarm Jo, for she knew the irascible old gentleman would never lift a finger against his grandson, whatever he might say to the contrary. She obediently descended, and made as light of the prank as she could without betraying Meg or forgetting the truth. 

Hum - ha - well, if the boy held his tongue because he promised, and not from obstinacy, I'll forgive him. He's a stubborn fellow, and hard to manage, said Mr. Laurence, rubbing up his hair till it looked as if he had been out in a gale, and smoothing the frown from his brow with an air of relief. 

So am I; but a kind word will govern me when all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't,' said Jo, trying to say a kind word for her friend, who seemed to get out of one scrape only to fall into another. 

You think I'm not kind to him, hey?' was the sharp answer. 

Oh, dear, no, sir; you are rather too kind sometimes, and then just a trifle hasty when he tries your patience. Don't you think you are?' 

Jo was determined to have it out now, and tried to look quite placid, though she quaked a little after her bold speech. To her great relief and surprise, the old gentleman only threw his spectacles on to the table, with a rattle, and exclaimed frankly: `You're right, girl, I am! I love the boy, but he tries my patience past bearing, and I don't know how it will end, if we go on so.' 

I'll tell you, he'll run away.' Jo was sorry for that speech the minute it was made; she meant to warn him that Laurie would not bear much restraint, and hoped he would be more forbearing with the lad. 

Mr. Laurence's ruddy face changed suddenly, and he sat down, with a troubled glance at the picture of a handsome man, which hung over his table. It was Laurie's father, who had run away in his youth, and married against the imperious old man's will. Jo fancied he remembered and regretted the past, and she wished she had held her tongue. 

He won't do it unless he is very much worried, and only threatens it sometimes, when he gets tired of studying. I often think I should like to, especially since my hair was cut; so, if you ever miss us, you may advertise for two boys, and look among the ships bound for India.' 

She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Laurence looked relieved, evidently taking the whole thing as a joke. 

You hussy, how dare you talk in that way? Where's your respect for me, and your proper bringing up? Bless the boys and girls! What torments they are; yet we can't do without them,' he said, pinching her cheeks good-humouredly. `Go and bring that boy down to his dinner, tell him it's all right, and advise him not to put on tragedy airs with his grandfather. I won't bear it.' 

He won't come, sir; he feels badly because you didn't believe him when he said he couldn't tell. I think the shaking hurt his feelings very much.' 

Jo tried to look pathetic, but must have failed, for Mr. Laurence began to laugh, and she knew the day was won. `I'm sorry for that, and ought to thank him for not shaking me, I suppose. What the dickens does the fellow expect?' and the old gentleman looked a trifle ashamed of his own testiness. 

If I were you, I'd write him an apology, sir. He says he won't come down till he has one, and talks about Washington, and goes on in an absurd way. A formal apology will make him see how foolish he is, and bring him down quite amiable. Try it; he likes fun, and this way is better than talking. I'll carry it up, and teach him his duty.' 

Mr. Laurence gave her a sharp look, and put on his spectacles, saying slowly, `You're a sly puss, but I don't mind being managed by you and Beth. Here, give me a bit of paper, and let us have done with this nonsense.' 

The note was written in the terms which one gentleman would use to another after offering some deep insult. Jo dropped a kiss on the top of Mr. Laurence's bald head, and ran up to slip the apology under Laurie's door, advising him, through the keyhole, to be submissive, decorous, and a few other agreeable impossibilities. Finding the door locked again, she left the note to do its work, aid was going quietly away, when the young gentleman slid down the banisters, and waited for her at the bottom, saying, with his most virtuous expression of countenance, `What a good fellow you are, Jo! Did you get blown up?' he added, laughing. 

No; he was pretty mild, on the whole.' 

Ah! I got it all round; even you cast me off over there, and I felt just ready to go to the deuce,' he began, apologetically. 

Don't talk in that way; turn over a new leaf and begin again, Teddy, my son.' 

I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copy-books; and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end,' he said, dolefully. 

Go and eat your dinner; you'll feel better after it. Men always croak when they are hungry,' and Jo whisked out at the front door after that. 

That's a "label" on my "sect"', answered Laurie, quoting Amy, as he went to partake of humble-pie dutifully with his grandfather, who was quite saintly in temper, and overwhelmingly respectful in manner, all the rest of the day. 

Everyone thought the matter ended and the little cloud blown over; but the mischief was done, for, though others forgot it, Meg remembered. She never alluded to a certain person, but she thought of him a good deal, dreamed dreams more than ever; and once Jo, rummaging her sister's desk for stamps, found a bit of paper scribbled over with the words, "Mrs. John Brooke"; whereat she groaned tragically, and cast it into the fire, feeling that Laurie's prank had hastened the evil day for her.
 
第二天乔的脸色令人捉摸不透。那个秘密在她心头挥之不去，她很难装得若无其事。梅格觉察到她神秘兮兮，心事重重，但她不忙追问，她知道让乔就范的最好办法是反其道而行之，她肯定只要她不问，乔一定自己把心事全倒出来。令她颇为诧异的是，乔仍然守口如瓶，而且摆出一副傲慢的神态，这可把梅格气坏了，她转而也装出一副凛然不可犯的神气，寡言少语，一应大小事情只和母亲商量。马奇太太此时已接替了乔的护理工作，并嘱久困在家的女儿好好休息，尽兴玩乐，这么一来，乔倒没有人烦她了。艾美又不在家，劳里便成了唯一可以慰藉她的人；她虽然十分喜欢劳里作伴，此刻却有点怕他，因为他有一种不可救药的劣根- 爱戏弄别人，她担心他会用甜言蜜语把秘密从她口里套出来。
她果然没有估错，这位爱调皮捣蛋的小伙子发觉乔有点异样，疑心顿起，立即穷追不舍，乔从此开始受苦受难。他诱哄、贿赂、嘲笑、威胁、责备；装漠不关心，以求出其不意地套出真相；宣称他知道，然后又说他不在乎；最后，凭着这般锲而不舍的劲头，他终于满意地相信此事与梅格和布鲁克先生有关。自家私人教师的秘密竟不让他知道，他心中愤愤不平，于是苦苦思索如何好好地出一口怨气。
梅格此时显然已忘记了此事，一心一意为父亲的归来作准备，但突然，似乎发生了一种变化，有一两天变得跟从前判若两人。听到有人叫她便猛吃一惊，人家望她一眼她便脸红耳赤，整日不言不语，做针线活时独坐一边，羞答答的，心事重重。母亲过问时她回答自己一切正常，乔问她时她便求她别管。
“她在空气中感受到这种东西 -我的意思是，爱 而且她变得很快。那些症状她几乎全得了- 颤抖、暴躁、不吃、不睡，背着人愁眉锁眼。我还发现她唱他给她的那首歌，一次她竟然像您一样说'约翰'，然后又转过身去，脸红得像朵罂粟花。我们到底该怎么办？”乔说。看样子她准备采取任何措施，无论这些措施是多么猛烈。
“只有等待。不要干涉她，要和气耐心，等爸爸回来事情就能解决了，”母亲回答。
“这是你的信，梅格，封得严严实实的。真奇怪！特迪从来不封我的信，”第二天乔分派小邮箱里的邮件时这样说。
马奇太太和乔正全神贯注地于着自己的事情，突然听到梅格叫了一声，两人抬起头来，只见她盯着那封信，一脸惊恐的神色。
“我的儿，出了什么事？”母亲边叫边跑向女儿，乔则伸手去夺那封惹祸的信。
“这全是误会--信不是他寄的。噢，乔，你怎能做出这种事情？”梅格双手掩面，痛哭了起来，仿佛心碎了一般。
“我！我什么也没做！她在说什么？”乔被弄糊涂了，叫道。
梅格温柔的眼睛因愤怒而激动得闪闪发亮，她从衣袋里掏出一张揉皱了的纸条，向乔一把扔去，怒声呵斥：“信是你写的，那坏小子帮着你。你们怎能对我这么卑鄙无礼，这么残酷？”乔没有听她说话，她和母亲忙着读这封字迹怪异的信。
“亲亲玛格丽特-
我再也不能控制自己的感情，务必在我归来前知道自己的命运。我还不敢告诉你父母，但我想如果他们知道我们相爱，他们一定会同意。劳伦斯先生将帮我找到一个好职位，而你，我的宝贝，将令我幸福。我求你先别跟你家里人说什么，只请写上一句知心话交劳里转给衷心爱你的约翰。”“噢，这个小坏蛋！我为妈妈保密，他就这样报复我。我去把他痛骂一顿，带他过来求饶，”乔叫道，恨不得立即把真凶缉拿归案。但母亲拦住她，脸上带着一种少见的神情，说道- “站住，乔，你首先得澄清自己。你一向胡闹惯了，我怀疑这事你也有一手。”“我发誓，妈妈，我没有！我从来没看过这封信，更不知道这是怎么一回事，我绝无虚言！“乔说话时神情极其认真，母亲和梅格相信了她。”如果我参与了这事，我会干得更漂亮一些，写一封合情合理的信。我想你们也知道布鲁克先生不会写出这种东西，”她接着说，轻蔑地把信往地下一抛。
“但这字像是他写的，”梅格结结巴巴地说，把这封信和手中的一封比较。
“哎呀，梅格，你没回信吧？”马奇太太急问。
“我，我回了！”梅格再次掩着脸，羞愧得无地自容。
“那可糟透了！快让我把那可恶的小子带过来教训一顿，让他解释清楚。不把他抓来我决不罢休。”乔又向门口冲去。
“冷静！这事让我来处理，它比我原来想象的更糟。玛格丽特，把这事完完整整地告诉我。”马奇太太一面下令一面在梅格身边坐下，一只手却抓着乔不放，以免她溜脱出去。
“我从劳里那儿收到第一封信，他看上去似乎对这事一无所知，”梅格低着头说，”我一开始的时候感到惶恐不安，打算告诉您，后来想起你们十分喜欢布鲁克先生，我便想，即使我把这件小小的心事藏上几天，你们也不会怪我的。我真傻，以为这事没有人知道，而当我在考虑怎么回答时，我觉得自己就像书里头那些坠入爱河的女孩子。原谅我，妈妈，我做的傻事现在得到了报应；我再也没脸见他了。”“你跟他说了些什么？”马奇太太问。
“我只说我年龄尚小，还不适宜谈这种事情，说我不想瞒着你们，他必须跟父亲说。我对他的心意万分感激，愿做他的朋友，但仅此而已，其他以后再说。”马奇太太听完露出了欣慰的笑容，乔双手一拍，笑着叫道：“你可真是个卡罗琳•珀西。她是谨言慎行的楷模哩！往下说，梅格。他对此怎么说？”“他回了一封风格完全不同的信，告诉我他从来没有写过什么情信，他很遗憾我那淘气捣蛋的妹妹乔竟这样冒用我们的名字。信中言辞委婉，对我十分敬重，但想想我有多尴尬！“梅格靠在母亲身上，哭得成了个泪人儿，乔急得一面叫着劳里的名字，一面在屋子里团团乱转。忽然，她停下来，拿起两张纸条，细细看了一回，断然说道：“我看这两封信没有一封是布鲁克写的，都是特迪写的，他把你的信留着，好向我抖抖威风，因为我不把自己的心事告诉他。”“不要藏什么心事，乔。告诉妈妈，免招灾祸，我本该那么做的，”梅格警告道。
“说得好，梅格！妈妈也这样跟我说过。”“行了，乔。我陪着梅格，你去把劳里找来。我要细细查究此事，立即终止这出恶作剧。”
乔跑出去，马奇太太轻声跟梅格说出布鲁克先生的真实感情。”嗯，亲爱的，你自己的意思呢？你是否爱他？爱得足以等到他有能力为你筑一个爱巢的那一天？或者你宁可暂时无牵无挂、无拘无束？”“我吃够了担惊受怕的苦头，起码很长一段时间内我都不想跟情呀爱的有什么联系了，也许永远都不，”梅格使着性子说道， “如果约翰不知道这桩荒唐事，那就别告诉他，让乔和劳里闭上嘴。我不想被人蒙在鼓里当傻子耍 -这是个耻辱！”梅格素来性格温柔，此时却被这个恶作剧气得使上了性子，自尊心也受到了伤害，马奇太太连忙劝慰她，允诺一定万分小心，绝不泄漏秘密。大厅里传来了劳里的脚步声。梅格立即躲入书房，马奇太太独自一人接待这位"罪犯"。乔怕他不来，并没有说明把他叫来的原因，但他一看到马奇太太的脸色就明白了，于是愧疚不安地站着，帽子转过来又转过去，让人一眼就看出他正是罪魁祸首。乔撤出了房间，但却像个看守一样在客厅里大步徘徊，仿佛担心囚犯会逃走似的。
客厅里的声音忽高忽低，持续了半个小时，但两人到底谈了些什么姑娘们却无从知道。
当她们被叫进去时，劳里站在母亲身边，满脸悔意，乔见了心里一软，当场便原谅了他，只是不愿表露出来。劳里低声下气地向梅格赔不是，并安慰她布鲁克先生完全不知道这个玩笑，梅格心里才松了一口气，并接受了他的道歉。
“我到死也不会告诉他- 即使严刑拷问也不说；这样你会原谅我了吧，梅格？我真想为你做任何事，来证明我是多么后悔，”他说道，满脸羞愧之色。
“我尽量吧，但这实在不是绅士的作风。我料不到你竟这样狡诈恶毒，劳里，“梅格佯装严厉地责备道，借以掩饰自己的窘态。
“我深知自己罪无可恕，你们一个月不跟我说话我也是罪有应得，但你们不会这样对我的，是吗？”他说话时可怜巴巴地把双手十指交叉叠在一起，他的声调具有不可抗拒的说服力，大家都没法再对他横眉怒目，尽管他犯下了如此恶行。梅格宽恕了他，马奇太太虽然竭力保持严肃，但听他说愿意做牛做马将功折罪，愿意在受到伤害的梅格面前卑躬屈膝，那凝重的脸色也缓和下来。
乔独自走到一边，试图铁起心肠，不吃他这一套，结果成功地把面孔绷得老紧，仿佛对他深恶痛绝。劳里看了她两回，但她全无一点怜悯的意思，他觉得受了伤害，便转身把背脊对着她，一直等母亲和梅格说完了，才向她深深一弯身子，一言不发，径自走出门去。
他一走，乔便后悔自己刚才做得太无情，待梅格和母亲上了楼后，她感到十分孤独，很想见一见特迪。踌躇了半天，她还是向自己的冲动屈服了，于是携了一本书，径直走到那座大房子前。
“劳伦斯先生在家吗？”乔问一位走下楼梯的女佣。
“在的，小姐。但我想他现在不便见客。”“为什么？他病了吗？”“唉，不是，小姐，他和劳里先生当众吵了一架，小先生不知为什么发脾气，惹得老先生火气冲天，所以我这会不敢走近他。”“劳里在哪儿？”“关在自己的房间里，凭我怎样敲门他都不理。我不知道拿这顿饭这么办，饭菜准备好了，却没有人来吃。”“我去看看怎么回事。我不怕他们。”乔走上去，来到劳里的小书房前，使劲敲门。
“别敲！不然我打开门揍你一顿！”年青人大声恫吓道。
乔接着又敲，门突然打开，趁劳里惊讶得一时没有反应过来，乔快步冲了进去。乔知道怎样驾驭他，看到他果然大动肝火，便装出一副幡然悔悟的样子，双膝轻轻跪下，柔声说道：“请恕我一时无礼，我特来讲和，讲不成便不走。”“行了，起来吧，别像个傻瓜，乔。”他态度傲慢地答应了乔的请求。
“谢谢，我起来了。我能问问出了什么事吗？你似乎心里很不畅快。”“我被人摇了肩膀，我忍无可忍！”劳里愤怒地咆吼道。
“谁摇你了？”乔问。
“爷爷。如果换了别人我保准 "这位心灵受创的年青人右手狠狠一挥，把话止祝"那有什么。我也常常摇你，你从不生气，”乔安慰道。
“呸！你是个姑娘家，那样摇摇是一种乐趣。但我不允许男人摇我。”“如果你像现在这样暴跳如雷，被人摇两下也不足为怪。
你爷爷为什么那样对你？”
“就因为我不肯告诉他你妈妈为什么把我叫去。我答应过不说的，当然不能失信。”“你不能换个法儿满足一下他老人家吗？”“不能，他就是要听真相，完完整整的真相，其他一概不听。假如能不拉扯上梅格，我可以告诉他部分真相。既然不能，我便一句话也不说，由他去骂，最后他竟一把抓住我的领口。我气坏了，赶紧脱身溜掉，担心自己气昏了头，会做出什么事来。”“这是他不对，但我知道他后悔了，还是下去和解吧。我来帮你说。”“那我宁可去死，我不过开了一个玩笑，难道便要被你们每个人轮流教训、挨揍不成？我是对不起梅格，也已经堂堂正正地道了歉；但我不会再向谁卑躬屈膝，如果我没有做错。”“但他并不知道埃”“他应该信任我，不要把我当小孩子对待。没有用的，乔，他得明白我能够照顾自己，不需要牵着人家的围裙带子走。”“真是个辣椒罐子！”乔叹道，”你说这事该怎么解决？”“哦。地应该跟我道歉，我说过这事不能告诉他，他应该相信我。”“哎呀！他不会这样做的。”“那我就不下去。”“听我说，特迪，理智一点。让这事过去吧，我会尽我所能解释清楚的。你总不能老呆在这里吧，这样激动有什么用呢？”“我可并不打算在这里久留。我要离家出走，漂泊异乡，当爷爷想我时，他很快就会回心转意了。”“但你恐怕不该这样伤他的心。”“别啰嗦。我要去华盛顿看布鲁克；那地方充满乐趣，我要无忧无虑地痛玩一常”“那有多痛快！我恨不能也跟了去。”乔脑海里展现出一幅幅生动的军人生活画面，不觉忘记了自己现在充当的角色。
“那就一起走吧，嗨！为什么不呢？你给父亲一个惊喜，我给布鲁克一个突然袭击。这个玩笑妙不可言；干吧，乔。我们留一封平安信，然后立即出发。我有足够的钱；这样做对你也有益无害，因为你是去看父亲。”乔似乎就要点头了，因为这个计划虽然轻率，却正适合她的性格。她早已厌倦了的禁闭式的护理生活，渴望改变一下环境，想到父亲，想到新奇、有趣、充满魅力的军营和医院，想到自由自在的生活，她不禁意乱神迷。她憧憬地向窗外望去，一双眼睛闪闪发亮，但她的眼光落到了对面的老屋上面，她摇摇头，伤心地作出了决定。
“假如我是个男孩子，我们就可以一起出走，玩个痛痛快快；但我是个可怜的女孩子，只能规规矩矩守在家里。别引诱我了，特迪，这是个疯狂的计划。”“这正是乐趣之所在，”劳里说。他天生任性固执，一时冲动之下，竟然一心要做出出格的事情。
“别说了！”乔捂着耳朵叫道，”'恪守妇道'就是我的命运。我还是认命吧。我是来感化你的，不是来听你教唆我。”“我知道梅格一定会败我的兴，但我以为你更有胆略呢。”劳里用激将法。
“坏小子，住嘴吧！坐下好好反思自己的罪过，别撺掇得我也罪孽深重。如果我让你爷爷来向你赔个不是，你就不走了吧？”乔严肃地问。
“嗯，但你办不到，”劳里答道，他愿意和解，但觉得必须先平息心头的一股怨气。
“如果我能对付小的，就能对付老的，”乔一面走一面喃喃自语，劳里则留在原地，双手托着头，弯腰看铁路图。
“进来！”乔敲门时，劳伦斯先生的声音听起来越发硬邦邦的。
“是我，先生，来还书，”乔走进门，温和地说道。
“还要再借吗？”老人脸色十分难看，却尽量装得若无起事。
“要的。我迷上了老萨姆，想读读第二部，”乔答道，希望藉再借一本鲍斯威尔的《约翰生》来平息老人的心头之怒，因为他以前推荐过这本生动传神的著作。
他把踏梯推到放约翰生文学的书架前，拧紧的浓眉舒展了一些。乔跳上去，坐在踏梯顶上，假装找书，心里却在盘算怎样开口最好，才能提及她来访的危险的目的。劳伦斯先生似乎猜到了她的心事，他在屋子里快步兜了几圈，然后转头看着她，突然发问，吓得乔把《拉塞勒斯》掉到了地上。
“那小子干了什么？别护着他。看他回家后神不守舍的样子，我就知道他惹了祸。但他一个字也不说，我摇他的领口，想吓他说出真话，地却逃上楼，把自己反锁在房间里。”“他是做错了事，但我们已经原谅了他，而且一致许诺不跟别人说，”乔犹犹豫豫地开口说。
“那不行，不能因为你们姑娘们心肠软，他便可以逍遥法外。如果他干了坏事，就应该承认道歉，并受到惩罚。说出来吧，乔，我不想被蒙在鼓里。”劳伦斯先生形容可怖，声调严厉，乔真想拔腿就跑，但她正坐在高高的踏梯上，而他就站在脚下，俨如一只挡道的狮子，她只好原地不动，鼓足勇气开了口。
“真的，先生，我不能说。妈妈不许说。劳里已经坦白承认了，道了歉，并受到了重罚。我们不说出来并非要护他，而是要护另外一个人，如果你干预，那只会徒添麻烦。请你不要管吧；我也有部分责任，不过现在没事了；我们还是把它忘掉，谈谈《漫游者》或什么令人愉快的东西吧。”“去他的《漫游者》！下来向我保证我那冒冒失失的小子没有做出什么忘恩负义、鲁莽无礼的事情。如果他做了，居然对你们恩将仇报，那我就亲手揍扁他。”此话虽然说得十分严重，却并没有吓倒乔，因为她知道这个脾气暴躁的老绅士绝不会动他的孙子一个指头的，他说的话要反过来听。她依言走下踏梯，把恶作剧尽量轻描淡写地复述一遍，既不把梅格牵涉进去，也不背离事实。
“唔- 啊 好吧，如果那小子是因为守诺言才不说，而不是因为执拗，我就原谅他。这家伙是个牛脾气，很难管祝"劳伦斯先生边说边把头发搔得像被大风吹过一样，紧锁的眉头也舒展开来。
“我也一样，一意孤行起来就像脱僵的野马，怎样拉也拉不住，不过，一句好话却能化解我。”乔想替她倒霉的朋友说句好话，而她的朋友却好像接二连三地又陷入了困境。
“你以为我待他不好吗，嗯？”老人敏锐地问。
“噢，哎呀，不是的，先生，其实您有时对他甚至还太宠爱了一点儿，而当他淘气捣蛋时，您又稍微心急了一点儿。您看是不是这样？”乔决定这回把心里话全倒出来，她壮着胆子说完，激动得微微颤抖，但却努力装得十分镇静。出乎意料的是--这也令她舒了一口气-老人只是把自己的眼镜啪的一声扔到桌子上，坦诚地叫道 - “你说得对，姑娘，我就是这样！我爱这孩子，但他把我折磨得受不了啦，如果这样下去，我不知道会有什么结果。”“我告诉您，他要离家出走。”话方说出乔便后悔了；她其实是想警告他劳里不能忍受太严格的管制，希望地对小伙子能更宽容一点。
劳伦斯先生红润的脸膛霎时变了颜色，他坐下来，焦虑不安地扫了一眼挂在桌子上方的一幅美男子图像。那是劳里的父亲，他年轻时离家出走，违背老人的旨意结了婚。乔相信他又在追悔痛苦的往事，直希望自己刚才闭着嘴巴。
“除非是逼急了他才会这样做，书读倦了的时候他也会这样恫吓两句。我也常有这个念头呢，尤其是在剪了头发之后，所以如果您想我们了，不妨发个寻人广告，并在开往印度的轮船上查查有没有两个小伙子。”她说着笑起来，劳伦斯先生舒了一口气，显然把这当作是一个玩笑。
“你这莽撞鬼，怎敢这样说话？你眼里头还有没有我，这样没有规矩？这些姑娘小伙子啊！他们真会折磨人，但没有他们我们又活不下去，”他说着愉快地拧拧她的脸颊，”去，把那小子带来吃饭，告诉他没事了，劝他别在他爷爷面前装得愁眉苦脸的，我受不了。”“他不会下来的，先生；他心情很坏，因为当他说他不能告诉你的时候，你不信他的话，我想您这样摇他大大伤害了他的感情。”乔努力装出一副可怜巴巴的样子，但一定没有装好，因为劳伦斯先生笑了，她知道她胜利了。
“我为此道歉，而且还应该感谢他没有反过来摇我呢，我想。那家伙到底想怎么样？”老人显然为自己的暴躁感到有点不好意思。
“如果我是您，我就给他写一封道歉信，先生。他说要您道了歉才下来，还说起华盛顿，而且越说越不像话。一封正式的道歉信可以让他意识到自己是多么愚蠢，并让他心平气和地下来。写吧；他喜欢闹着玩，而这样比当面说更有趣儿。
我把信带上去，跟他摆明道理。”
劳伦斯先生敏锐地盯了她一眼，带上眼镜，一字一句地说：“你是只狡猾的小猫，不过我不介意被你和贝思牵着走。
来，给我一张纸，我们把这桩荒唐事来个了断。”信中所用的措辞诚恳恭敬，表达了一位绅士对伤害了另一位的深深歉意。乔在劳伦斯先生的秃顶上印了一个吻，跑上楼把道歉信从劳里的门缝下面塞进去，透过钥匙孔谆谆告诫他要听话、有涵养，又讲了一些大道理。看到门又锁上了，她便把信留在那儿让劳里看，自己悄悄走开，才走了几步，年青人从楼梯扶手上滑下来，站在下面等她，脸上流露出一种无比圣洁的神情。”你真好，乔！刚才有没有碰得头破血流？”他笑着说。
“没有，总的说来，他相当心平气和呢。”“啊哈！我全想通了，虽说我被你独自遗弃在屋里，精神到了崩溃的边缘，”他内疚地说。
“别这么说，翻过新的一页重新开始，特迪，我的儿。”“我不断翻过新页，又把它们一一毁掉，就像我以前毁掉自己的练习本一样；我开的头太多了，永远不会有结果，”他悲哀地说道。
“去吃你的饭吧，吃饱了你就会好受一些。男人肚子饿的时候喜欢发牢骚。”乔说毕飞步走出，来到前门。
“这是对'我派'的'标价'，”劳里学着艾美的话回答，乖乖地和爷爷一起进餐去了。此后一整天老人心情奇佳，言谈举止也极其谦和恭敬。
人人都以为云开雾散，事情就此结束了，谁知这个恶作剧却带来了严重的后果。因为虽然大家都把它忘得一干二净，梅格却把它记在心里。她虽然在人前只字不提，心里却经常想到那位年青人，而且夜里频频做梦。一次，乔在她姐姐的书桌里头找邮票，居然搜得一张上面涂鸦般写满了"约翰•布鲁克太太"字样的纸片，恨得她咬牙切齿，把纸片投进火中，她知道劳里的玩笑使她又恨又怕的那一天加速到来了。
Chapter 22 Pleasant Meadows
Like sunshine after storm were the peaceful weeks which followed. The invalids improved rapidly, and Mr. March began to talk of returning early in the new year. Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day, amusing herself with the well-beloved cats at first, and, in time, with dolls' sewing, which had fallen sadly behindhand. Her once active limbs were so stiff and feeble that Jo took her a daily airing about the house in her strong arms. Meg cheerfully blackened and burnt her white hands cooking delicate messes for the "dear"; while Amy, a loyal slave of the ring, celebrated her return by giving away as many of her treasures as she could prevail on her sisters to accept. 

As Christmas approached, the usual mysteries began to haunt the house, and Jo frequently convulsed the family by proposing utterly impossible or magnificently absurd ceremonies, in honour of this unusually merry Christmas. Laurie was equally impractical, and would have had bonfires, sky-rockets, and triumphal arches, if he had his own way. After many skirmishes and snubbings, the ambitious pair were considered effectually quenched, and went about with forlorn faces, which were rather belied by explosions of laughter when the two got together. 

Several days of unusually mild weather fitly ushered in a splendid Christmas Day. Hannah "felt in her bones" that it was going to be an unusually fine day, and she proved herself a true prophetess, for everybody and everything seemed bound to produce a grand success. To begin with, Mr. March wrote that he should soon be with them; then Beth felt uncommonly well that morning, and, being dressed in her mother's gift - a soft crimson merino wrapper - was borne in triumph to the window to behold the offering of Jo and Laurie. The Unquenchables had done their best to be worthy of the name, for, like elves, they had worked by night, and conjured up a comical surprise. Out in the garden stood a stately snow-maiden, crowned with holly, bearing a basket of fruit and flowers in one hand, a great roll of new music in the other, a perfect rainbow of an Afghan round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her lips, on a pink paper streamer: 

THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH 

God bless you, dear Queen Bess! 

May nothing you dismay, 

But health and peace and happiness 

Be yours, this Christmas Day. 

Here's fruit to feed our busy bee, 

And flowers for her nose; 

Here's music for her pianee, 

An Afghan for her toes. 

A portrait of Joanna, see, 

By Raphael No. 2, 

Who laboured with great industry 

To make it fair and true. 

Accept a ribbon red, I beg, 

For Madam Purrer's tail; 

And ice-cream made by lovely Peg - 

A Mont Blanc in a pail. 

Their dearest love, my makers laid 

Within my breast of snow: 

Accept it, and the Alpine maid, 

From Laurie and from Jo. 

How Beth laughed when she saw it, how Laurie ran up and down to bring in the gifts, and what ridiculous speeches Jo made as she presented them! 

"I'm so full of happiness, that, if Father was only here, I couldn't hold one drop more," said Beth, quite sighing with contentment, as Jo carried her off to the study to rest after the excitement and to refresh herself with some of the delicious grapes the "Jungfrau" had sent her. 

"So am I," added Jo, slapping the pocket wherein reposed the long-desired Undine and Sintram. 

"I'm sure I am," echoed Amy, poring over the engraved copy of the Madonna and Child, which her mother had given her, in a pretty frame. 

"Of course I am!" cried Meg, smoothing the silvery folds of her first silk dress; for Mr. Laurence had insisted on giving it. 

"How can I be otherwise?" said Mrs. March, gratefully, as her eyes went from her husband's letter to Beth's smiling face, and her hand caressed the broach made of grey and golden, chestnut and dark brown hair, which the girls had just fastened on her breast. Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful story-book fashion, and what a comfort that is. Half an hour after everyone had said they were so happy they could only hold one drop more, the drop came. Laurie opened the parlour door, and popped his head in very quietly. He might just as well have turned a somersault and uttered an Indian war-whoop; for his face was so full of suppressed excitement and his voice so treacherously joyful, that everyone jumped up, though he only said, in a queer breathless voice, "Here's another Christmas present for the March family." 

Before the words were well out of his mouth, he was whisked away somehow, and in his place appeared a tall man, muffled up to the eyes, leaning on the arm of another tall man, who tried to say something and couldn't. Of course there was a general stampede; and for several minutes everybody seemed to lose their wits, for the strangest things were done, and no one said a word. Mrs. March became invisible in the embrace of four pairs of loving arms; Jo disgraced herself by nearly fainting away, and had to be doctored by Laurie in the china-closet; Mr. Brooke kissed Meg entirely by mistake, as he somewhat incoherently explained; and Amy, the dignified, tumbled over a stool, and, never stopping to get up, hugged and cried over her father's boots in the most touching manner. Mrs. March was the first to recover herself, and held up her hand with a warning, "Hush! remember Beth!" 

But it was too late; the study door flew open, the little red wrapper appeared on the threshold - joy put strength into the feeble limbs - and Beth ran straight into her father's arms. Never mind what happened just after that; for the full hearts overflowed, washing away the bitterness of the past, and leaving only the sweetness of the present. 

It was not at all romantic, but a hearty laugh set everybody straight again, for Hannah was discovered behind the door, sobbing over the fat turkey, which she had forgotten to put down when she rushed up from the kitchen. As the laugh subsided, Mrs. March began to thank Mr. Brooke for his faithful care of her husband, at which Mr. Brooke suddenly remembered that Mr. March needed rest, and, seizing Laurie, he precipitately retired. Then the two invalids were ordered to repose, which they did, by both sitting in one big arm-chair, and talking hard. 

Mr. March told how he had longed to surprise them, and how when the fine weather came, he had been allowed by his doctor to take advantage of it; how devoted Brooke had been, and how he was altogether a most estimable and upright young man. Why Mr. March paused a minute just there, and, after a glance at Meg, who was violently poking the fire, looked at his wife with an inquiring lift of the eyebrows, I leave you to imagine; also why Mrs. March gently nodded her head, and asked, rather abruptly, if he wouldn't have something to eat. Jo saw and understood the look; and she stalked grimly away to get beef-tea, muttering to herself, as she slammed the door, "I hate estimable young men with brown eyes!"

There never was such a Christmas dinner as they had that day. The fat turkey was a sight to behold, when Hannah sent him up, stuffed, browned, and decorated; so was the plum-pudding, which quite melted in one's mouth; likewise the jellies, in which Amy revelled like a fly in a honeypot. Everything turned out well; which was a mercy, Hannah said, "For my mind was that flustered, mum, that it's a merrycle I didn't roast the pudding, and stuff the turkey with raisins, let alone bilin' of it in a cloth." 

Mr. Laurence and his grandson dined with them, also Mr. Brooke - at whom Jo glowered darkly, to Laurie's infinite amusement. Two easy-chairs stood side by side at the head of the table, in which sat Beth and her father, feasting modestly on chicken and a little fruit. They drank healths, told stories, sang songs, "reminisced", as the old folk say, and had a thoroughly good time. A sleigh-ride had been planned, but the girls would not leave their father; so the guests departed early, and, as twilight gathered, the happy family sat together round the fire. 

"Just a year ago we were groaning over the dismal Christmas we expected to have. Do you remember?" asked Jo, breaking a short pause which had followed a long conversation about many things. "Rather a pleasant year on the whole!" said Meg, smiling at the fire, and congratulating herself on having treated Mr. Brooke with dignity. 

"I think it's been a pretty hard one," observed Amy, watching the light shine on her ring, with thoughtful eyes. 

"I'm glad it's over, because we've got you back," whispered Beth, who sat on her father's knee. 

"Rather a rough road for you to travel, my little pilgrims, especially the latter part of it. But you have got on bravely; and I think the burdens are in a fair way to tumble off very soon," said Mr. March, looking with fatherly satisfaction at the four young faces gathered round him. 

"How do you know? Did Mother tell you?" asked Jo. 

"Not much; straws show which way the wind blows, and I've made several discoveries today." 

"Oh, tell us what they are!" cried Meg, who sat beside him. 

"Here is one!" and taking up the hand which lay on the ann of his chair, he pointed to the roughened forefinger, a burn on the back, and two or three little hard spots on the palm. 

"I remember a time when this hand was white and smooth, and your first care was to keep it so. It was very pretty then, but to me it is much prettier now - for in these seeming blemishes I read a little history. A burnt-offering has been made of vanity; this hardened palm has earned something better than blisters; and I'm sure the sewing done by these pricked fingers will last a long time, so much goodwill went into the stitches. Meg, my dear, I value the womanly skill which keeps home happy more than white hands or fashionable accomplishments. I'm proud to shake this good, industrious little hand, and hope I shall not soon be asked to give it away." 

If Meg had wanted a reward for hours of patient labour, she received it in the hearty pressure of her father's hand, and the approving smile he gave her. 

"What about Jo? Please say something nice; for she has tried so hard, and been so very, very good to me," said Beth, in her father's ear. He laughed, and looked across at the tall girl who sat opposite, with an unusually mild expression in her brown face. 

"In spite of the curly crop, I don't see the "son Jo" whom I left a year ago," said Mr. March. "I see a young lady who pins her collar straight, laces her boots neatly, and neither whistles, talks slang, nor lies on the rug as she used to do. Her face is rather thin and pale, just now, with watching and anxiety; but I like to look at it, for it has grown gentler, and her voice is lower; she doesn't bounce, but moves quietly, and takes care of a certain little person in a motherly way which delights me. I rather miss my wild girl; but if I get a strong, helpful, tender-hearted woman in her place, I shall feel quite satisfied. I don't know whether the shearing sobered our black sheep, but I do know that in all Washington I couldn't find anything beautiful enough to be bought with the five-and-twenty dollars which my good girl sent me." 

Jo's keen eyes were rather dim for a minute, and her thin face grew rosy in the firelight, as she received her father's praise, feeling that she did deserve a portion of it. 

"Now, Beth," said Amy, longing for her turn, but ready to wait. 

"There's so little of her, I'm afraid to say much, for fear she will slip away altogether, though she is not so shy as she used to be," began their father cheerfully; but recollecting how nearly he had lot her, he held her close, saying tenderly, with her cheek against his own, "I've got you safe, my Beth, and I'll keep you so, please God." 

After a minute's silence, he looked down at Amy, who sat on the cricket at his feet, and said, with a caress of the shining hair: 

"I observed that Amy took drumsticks at dinner, ran errands for her mother all the afternoon, gave Meg her place tonight, and has waited on everyone with patience and good-humour. I also observe that she does not fret much nor look in the glass, and has not even mentioned a very pretty ring which she wears; so I conclude that she has learned to think of other people more and of herself less, and has decided to try and mould her character as carefully as she moulds her little clay figures. I am glad of this; for though I should be very proud of a graceful statue made by her, I shall be infinitely prouder of a lovable daughter, with a talent for making life beautiful to herself and others." 

"What are you thinking of, Beth?" asked Jo, when Amy had thanked her father and told about her ring. 

"I read in Pilgrim's Progress today, how, after many troubles, Christian and Hopeful came to a pleasant green meadow, where lilies bloomed all the year round, and there they rested happily, as we do now, before they went on to their journey's end," answered Beth; adding, as she slipped out of her father's arms, and went slowly to the instrument, "It's singing time now, and I want to be in my old place. I'll try to sing the song of the shepherd-boy which the pilgrims heard. I made the music for Father, because he likes the verses." 

So, sitting at the dear little piano, Beth softly touched the keys, and, in the sweet voice they had never thought to hear again, sung to her own accompaniment the quaint hymn, which was a singularly fitting song for her: 

"He that is down need fear no fall, 

He that is low no pride; 

He that is humble ever shall 

Have God to be his guide. 

"I am content with what I have, 

Little be it or much; 

And, Lord! contentment still I crave, 

Because thou savest such. 

"Fullness to them a burden is, 

That go on pilgrimage; 

Here little, and hereafter bliss, 

Is best from age to age!"
 
所谓雨过天晴，之后的几个星期风平浪静。病人恢复得非常快，马奇先生开始谈到他新年初回家。贝思很快便可以整天躺在书房的沙发上玩乐，起初是跟那几只宠爱的猫儿玩，后来便掂起了洋娃娃活计，吃力地慢慢缝制，让人见了伤心。
她一向灵活的四肢如今变得僵硬无力，乔每天得用力把她抱到屋外呼吸新鲜空气。梅格愉快地为"乖乖女"烹调各式美味伙食，把一双雪白的手熏得黑糊糊的，而艾美，这位姐姐们的忠实仆从，则费尽唇舌地劝说姐姐们接受她的宝藏，以纪念她回家之喜。
圣诞节一天天临近了，屋里开始弥漫着一股神秘的节日气氛。乔为这个不同寻常的"快乐圣诞"频频献计，提出许多完全没有可能或滑天下之大稽的庆祝活动，令全家人捧腹大笑。劳里同样不切合实际，竟然出些点大篝火、放焰火、搭凯旋门的主意。大家唇枪舌剑，各不相让，最后，那对野心勃勃的朋友终于偃旗息鼓，拉长着脸乱兜圈子，大家正以为他们就此罢休了，却又看到两人走到一起，叽叽喳喳，哈哈大笑。
近日来天气异常暖和，恰到好处地带来了一个阳光灿烂的圣诞节。罕娜"从骨子里头感觉到"这一天将会是一个不同寻常的大好日子，事实证明她的预言完全正确，因为似乎一切顺利，人人心想事成。首先，马奇先生来信说他很快就要和她们团聚。然后，那天贝思早上觉得特别精神，她穿着妈妈送给她的礼物--一件柔软的深红色美利奴羊毛晨衣- 被背到窗前观赏乔和劳里的献礼。两位誓不罢休者大展身手，为了自己的名声，一夜之间像小精灵一样创造了一个妙趣横生的奇观。只见外面花园里耸立着一个庄严高贵的雪人少女，头戴冬青枝花冠，一只手挽一篮水果鲜花，另一只手执一大卷新乐谱，冰冷的肩膀上披一条彩虹般缤纷的阿富汗披围巾，嘴里吐出一首圣诞颂歌，歌词写在一面粉红色的纸幡上：高山少女致贝思上帝保佑你，亲爱的贝思女王！
愿你永不失望，快乐、平和、健康，
在这喜庆的圣诞。
送上水果给我们勤劳的蜜蜂品尝，
送上鲜花让她闻闻馥郁的芬芳；
送上乐谱让她在小钢琴上弹奏，
送上阿富汗披巾让她翩翩起舞。
送上一幅乔安娜的画像，呀，
这可是拉斐尔第二的作品，
为了画得形神兼备，
她可是下足了功力。
再赠你一条红绸巾，
用来点缀"佩儿小姐"的尾巴；
还有一桶佩格做的冰淇淋-
堆得像勃朗峰一样高耸入云。
我的创造者把他们的挚爱
放进我雪白的心胸：
请从乔和劳里的手中
收下这份爱吧，连同这位高山少女。
贝思看到这份歌词笑得好不开心，劳里跑上跑下把礼物拿进来，乔则语无伦次地向大家发表致词。
兴奋过后，乔把贝思抱到书房休息，贝思吃着"高山少女"送给她的又鲜又甜的菩提子提神，心满意足地叹息道：“我感到太幸福了，可惜爸爸不在这里，否则就十全十美了。”“我也一样，”乔拍拍装着渴望已久的《水中女神》一书的口袋说。
“我当然也一样，”艾思响应道。她正在认真研究母亲镶在精致的画框中送给她的版画“圣母和圣婴”。
“我也是！”梅格叫道。她正在抚平平生第一件丝质衣裳上面的折皱，这件银色丝绸裙子是劳伦斯先生坚持让她收下的。
“我又怎能不是呢？”马奇太太看着丈夫写来的信，又看着贝思的笑脸，轻轻抚摸着那枚刚刚由女儿们别在她胸前，用灰色、金色、栗色和深棕色头发做成的胸针，心中充满感激之情。
真是无巧不成书，这沉闷乏味的俗世有时确实会发生一些令人愉快的巧事，给人带来极大的安慰。半个小时前，大家都还在说只可惜了一件事，否则就十全十美了，哪想到这件事说来就来。劳里打开客厅大门，悄悄地把头伸进来。他刚才也许是翻了个筋斗，或是发了一声印地安战场上的那种呐喊声，因为他脸上露出抑制不住的兴奋之情，声音显得欣喜又神秘，大家禁不住全跳了起来。只听他怪腔怪调、气喘吁吁地说道：“马奇家的又一个圣诞礼物现在到来！”话音未落，他便被轻轻推到一边，取而代之的是一个高个子男人，蒙着脸，只露出一双眼睛，靠在另一个高个子男人的手臂上，那男人想说什么却又说不出来。情形当即大乱，大家一时似乎全都失去了理智，她们不发一言，却做出极起离奇古怪的举动。母女四人一拥而上，动情地把马奇先生紧紧围抱起来，乔几乎晕倒，不得不在瓷器间里接受劳里的救治，大失淑女风度；布鲁克先生亲吻梅格，那是纯属误会，他后来结结巴巴地解释；而艾美，这位高贵小姐，被凳子绊了一跤，也不爬起来，而是就势抱着她父亲的双脚动情大哭。马奇太太第一个恢服了常态，举起手来示意：“嘘！别忘了贝思！”但已经太迟了；书房门猛然打开，穿着红色晨衣的小人儿跨出门槛 欢乐给软弱无力的四肢注入了力量 贝思直扑进父亲的怀中。此后发生了什么已无关重要。洋溢心头的幸福之情已冲走了昨天的痛苦，此时此刻，大家心中只有一片甜蜜，一片温馨。
此时发生一了一件虽不浪漫但却令人捧腹的事情，把大家重新带回到现实生活之中。大家发现罕娜站在门后，捧着肥硕的火鸡抽抽噎噎：原来她从厨房冲出来时忘了把火鸡放下。大家笑过后，马奇太太开始向布鲁克先生道谢，感谢他精心照顾自己的丈夫，布鲁克先生突然想起马奇先生需要休息，赶快拽起劳里仓促撤离。众人命两位病人休息，两人不敢违命，便一同坐在一张大椅子上谈个不停。
马奇先生诉说了自己是如何想让她们惊喜一番，医生是如何让他趁天气暖和出院，布鲁克这年轻人又是如何热心，如何正直有涵养等等。说到这里马奇先生顿一顿，扫了一眼正在捅炉火的梅格，扬起双眉望望妻子，似乎在询问什么，起中深意何在，请读者们自己想象；马奇太太也轻轻点点头，然后颇为突然地问他是否要吃点什么。乔明白这个眼色的意思，便板着面孔去拿牛肉汁和酒，一面把门呼的一声带上，咕咕哝哝地自语道：“我憎恨棕色眼睛有涵养的年轻人！”那天的圣诞晚餐是有史以来最为丰盛的一次。罕娜端上的火鸡又肥又大，里头塞满了填料，烤得赤里透红，而且点缀得十分好看；葡萄干布丁也同样令人垂涎欲滴，放进口里就溶化了；还有令人胃口大开的果子冻，把艾美喜得就像落到了蜜罐里的苍蝇，吃得痛快淋漓。一切都尽如人意，这真是上天可怜，罕娜说：“因为我当时心里头别提有多慌张，太太，我没有错把布丁烤熟，把菩提子干塞到火鸡里头，把火鸡包在布里煮，已经是一个奇迹了。”劳伦斯先生和他的孙子跟他们一起进餐，还有布鲁克先生--乔悻悻地对他怒目而视，令劳里乐不可支。贝思和父亲并排坐在桌子前面的两张安乐椅上，适度地吃一点鸡肉和少许水果。他们为健康干杯，讲故事，唱歌，”话旧"，如老人家所说，玩得十分痛快。有人提议滑雪橇，但姑娘们不愿离开父亲；于是客人们早早告辞。夜幕降临之际，幸福的一家人围着炉火团团而坐。
大家谈了许多许多，然后停顿了一会，乔打破沉静，问：“一年前我们在沉闷乏味的圣诞节前夕大发牢骚。你们还记得吗？”“总的来说这一年过得相当愉快！“梅格笑微微地望着火苗说，暗暗庆幸自己刚才在布鲁克先生面前没有失态。
“我认为这一年相当艰苦，”艾美评论道，若有所思地看着手上亮光闪闪的戒指。
“我庆幸这一年已经过去了，因为我们把您盼回来了，”坐在父亲膝上的贝思轻声说道。
“你们走的路确实不平坦，我的小香客们，尤其是后半部分。但你们勇敢地向前走，我想你们肩上的担子很快就能落下来的，”马奇先生慈爱地望着围绕身边的四张年轻面孔，满意地说。
“你怎么知道的？妈妈跟你说了吗？”乔问。
“不多。不过，草动知风向，我今天有几个发现呢。”“噢，告诉我们是哪几个！”坐在他身旁的梅格叫道。
“这便是一个。”他把放在他椅子扶手上的手拿起来，指指变得粗糙的食指、手背上一个灼伤的疤痕，以及手掌上面三个小水泡。”我记得这只手曾经又白又嫩，而你最关心的是怎样把它保养好。它那时确实非常美，但在我眼中它现在变得更美了--因为上面的每一个疤痕都有一个小故事。祭拜神灵不过是一种虚浮的仪式，而这只长满老茧的手给我们带来许多实在的东西，我相信由这些戳满针孔的手指缝制出来的活计一定经久耐用，因为里头一针一线凝聚了多少苦心。梅格，我的好孩子，我认为女红比纤纤玉手和时髦的才艺更为宝贵，因为它能带来家庭幸福。我很荣幸能握紧这只灵巧、勤劳的小手，并希望能握久一些。”父亲紧紧握着梅格的小手，并向她投去赞赏的微笑，如果梅格希望她冗长乏味的工作能获得报酬的话，现在终于如愿以偿了。
“还有乔呢？请夸奖几句吧，她可拚命了，为我操尽了心，”贝思凑到父亲耳边说。
他笑了，望望坐在对面那位身材修长的姑娘，只见她棕色皮肤的脸庞上展现出一种非比寻常的柔情。
“虽然披着一头卷曲的短发，我看到的已经不是一年前我离开时的'乔小子'了，“马奇先生说，”我看到的是一位衣领别得笔挺、靴带系得利索、谈吐斯文，既不吹口哨、也不像以前一样随便躺在地毯上的年轻女士。由于照顾病人，忧虑劳碌，她这会儿面容瘦削苍白，但我喜欢看这张脸，因为它变得更温柔可爱了。她说话的声音也更轻柔了；她不再蹦跳，而是款款而行，并像慈母一样照顾一个小人儿，令我十分快慰。我很怀念我的野姑娘，但如果她变成一个坚强、能帮助人、心地善良的女子，我也该心满意足了。我不知道我们的小黑羊是否因剪了毛而变得严肃庄重，但我知道华盛顿的东西再多再漂亮，也没有一样值得我用好女儿寄来的二十五元钱购买。”听到父亲的夸奖，乔明亮的双眼有点模糊了，瘦削的面孔在炉火映照下升起了两朵红晕，她觉得这话并不是很过分。
“现在轮到贝思。”艾美一心想轮到自己，但准备等下去。
“对于她我不敢多说，担心说多了会把她吓走，虽说她现在没有以前那么害羞了，”父亲笑嘻嘻地说。但想到自己差一点就要失去这个女儿，他把她紧紧抱住，和她脸贴着脸，动情地说：“你平安在我身边，我的贝思，我要你一生平安，上帝保佑你！”他沉默了一会，然后低头望着坐在他脚边垫脚凳上的艾美，吻吻她亮丽的头发，说 “我注意到艾美吃饭时也吃鸡脚了，整个下午都替妈妈打杂，今天晚上又让位给梅格坐，耐心而愉快地帮大家的忙。我还注意到她不再动辄愁眉苦脸，不再照镜子，也不提她戴着一个漂亮戒指；由此我得出一个结论，她已经学会了多想别人，少想自己，并决心像塑造自己的小泥塑人物一样认真塑造自己的性格。我对此感到很高兴，我为女儿拥有艺术才华而感到十分骄傲，但我更为女儿拥有为别人、为自己美化生活的才华而感到无比自豪。”“你在想什么，贝思？“当艾美谢过父亲并介绍了戒指的来历后，乔问。
“今天我读《天路历程》，读到'基督教徒'和'希望'如何排除万难来到一片长年开满百合花的怡人的草地上，在那儿愉快地歇息，如我们现在一样，然后继续向他们的目的地进发，”贝思答道，一面从父亲的臂膀中溜脱出来，慢慢走到钢琴前，又说，”唱歌时间到了，我想做回自己的旧角儿。我来试着唱唱朝圣者们听到的那首牧羊童子唱的歌儿。因为父亲喜欢这首歌的歌词，我特地为他作了曲。”说着，贝思坐到宝贝小钢琴前，轻轻触动琴键，边弹边唱，那种柔和甜美的声音他们从来没有听过。这首古雅的圣歌仿佛专为她而作：位低者无惧跌落，家贫者无需虚骄；谦和者心中自有，万能的上帝引导。
我心长知足，
贫富又何如；
呵，主！我惟求知足常乐，
只因此乐难求。
漫漫人生之旅，
负担使生活充实；
此生微不足道，
来世自有大光明。
Chapter 23 Aunt March Settles The Question
Like bees swarming after their queen, mother and daughters hovered about Mr. March the next day, neglecting everything to look at, wait upon, and listen to the new invalid, who was in a fair way to be killed by kindness. As he sat propped up in a big chair by Beth's sofa, with the other three close by, and Hannah popping in her head now and then to "peek at the dear man", nothing seemed needed to complete their happiness. But something was needed, and the elder ones felt it, though none confessed the fact. Mr. and Mrs. March looked at one another with an anxious expression, as their eyes followed Meg. Jo had sudden fits of sobriety, and was seen to shake her fist at Mr. Brooke's umbrella, which had been left in the hall; Meg was absent-minded, shy, and silent, started when the bell rang, and coloured when John's name was mentioned; Amy said, `Everyone seemed waiting for something, and couldn't settle down, which was queer, since Father was safe at home,' and Beth innocently wondered why their neighbours didn't run over as usual. 

Laurie went by in the afternoon, and, seeing Meg at the window, seemed suddenly possessed with a melodramatic fit, for he fell down upon one knee in the snow, beat his breast, tore his hair, and clasped his hands imploringly, as if begging some boon; and when Meg told him to behave himself and go away, he wrung imaginary tears out of his handkerchief, and staggered round the corner as if in utter despair. 

What does the goose mean?' said Meg, laughing, and trying to look unconscious. 

He's showing you how your John will go on by and by. Touching, isn't it?' answered Jo, scornfully. 

Don't say my John, it isn't proper or true'; but Meg's voice lingered over the words as if they sounded pleasant to her. `Please don't plague me, Jo; I've told you I don't care much about him, and there isn't to be anything said, but we are all to be friendly, and go on as before.' 

We can't, for something has been said, and Laurie's mischief has spoilt you for me. I see it, and so does Mother; you are not like your old self a bit, and seem ever so far away from me. I don't mean to plague you, and will bear it like a man, but I do wish it was all settled. I hate to wait; so if you mean ever to do it, make haste and have it over quickly,' said Jo, pettishly. 

I can't say or do anything till he speaks, and he won't, because Father said I was too young,' began Meg, bending over her work, with a queer little smile, which suggested that she did not quite agree with her father on that point. 

If he did speak, you wouldn't know what to say, but would cry or blush, or let him have his own way, instead of giving a good, decided No.' 

I'm not so silly and weak as you think. I know just what I should say, for I've planned it all, so I needn't be taken unawares; there's no knowing what may happen, and I wish to be prepared.' 

Jo couldn't help smiling at the important air which Meg had unconsciously assumed, and which was as becoming as the pretty colour varying in her cheeks. 

Would you mind telling me what you'd say?' asked Jo, more respectfully. 

Not at all; you are sixteen now, quite old enough to be my confidante, and my experience will be useful to you by-and-by, perhaps, in your own affairs of this sort.' 

Don't mean to have any; it's fun to watch other people philander, but I should feel like a fool doing it myself,' said Jo, looking alarmed at the thought. 

I think not, if you liked anyone very much, and he liked you.' Meg spoke as if to herself, and glanced out at the lane, where she had often seen lovers walking together in the summer twilight. 

I thought you were going to tell your speech to that man,' said Jo, rudely shortening her sister's little reverie. 

Oh, I should merely say, quite calmly and decidedly, `Thank you, Mr. Brooke, you are very kind, but I agree with Father that I am too young to enter into any engagement at present; so please say no more, but let us be friends as we were."' 

Hum! that's stiff and cool enough. I don't believe you'll ever say it, and I know he won't be satisfied if you do. If he goes on like the rejected lovers in books, you'll give in, rather than hurt his feelings.' 

No, I won't. I shall tell him I've made up my mind, and shall walk out of the room with dignity.' 

Meg rose as she spoke, and was just going to rehearse the dignified exit, when a step in the hall made her fly into her seat and begin to sew as if her life depended on finishing that particular seam in a given time. Jo smothered a laugh at the sudden change, and, when someone gave a modest tap, opened the door with a grim aspect, which was anything but hospitable. 

Good afternoon. I came to get my umbrella - that is, to see how your father finds himself today,' said Mr. Brooke, getting a trifle confused as his eye went from one tell-tale face to the other. 

It's very well, he's in the rack, I'll get him, and tell it you are here,' and having jumbled her father and the umbrella well together in her reply, Jo slipped out of the room to give Meg a chance to make her speech and air her dignity. But the instant she vanished, Meg began to sidle towards the door, murmuring, `Mother will like to see you. Pray sit down, I'll call her.' 

Don't go; are you afraid of me, Margaret?' and Mr. Brooke looked so hurt that Meg thought she must have done something very rude. She blushed up to the little curls on her forehead, for he had never called her Margaret before, and she was surprised to find how natural and sweet it seemed to hear him say it. Anxious to appear friendly and at her ease, she put out her hand with a confiding gesture, and said gratefully: `How can I be afraid when you have been so kind to Father? I only wish I could thank you for it.' 

Shall I tell you how?' asked Mr. Brooke, holding the small hand fast in both his own, and looking down at Meg with so much love in the brown eyes, that her heart began to flutter, and she both longed to run away and to stop and listen. 

Oh no, please don't - I'd rather not,' she said, trying to withdraw her hand, and looking frightened in spite of her denial. 

I won't trouble you, I only want to know if you care for me a little, Meg. I love you so much, dear,' added Mr. Brooke tenderly. 

This was the moment for the calm, proper speech, but Meg didn't make it; she forgot every word of it, hung her head, and answered, `I don't know,' so softly, that John had to stoop down to catch the foolish little reply. 

He seemed to think it was worth the trouble, for he smiled to himself as if quite satisfied, pressed the plump hand gratefully, and said, in his most persuasive tone, `Will you try and find out? I want to know so much; for I can't go to work with any heart until I learn whether I am to have my reward in the end or not.' 

I'm too young,' faltered Meg, wondering why she was so fluttered, yet rather enjoying it. 

I'll wait; and in the meantime, you could be learning to like me. Would it be a very hard lesson, dear?' 

Not if I chose to learn it, but--' 

Please choose to learn, Meg. I love to teach, and this is easier than German,' broke in John, getting possession of the other hand, so that she had no way of hiding her face, as he bent to look into it. 

His tone was properly beseeching; but, stealing a shy look at him, Meg saw that his eyes were merry as well as tender, and that he wore the satisfied smile of one who had no doubt of his success. This nettled her; Annie Moffat's foolish lessons in coquetry came into her mind, and the love of power, which sleeps in the bosoms of the best of little women, woke up all of a sudden and took possession of her. She felt excited and strange, and, not knowing what to do, followed a capricious impulse, and, withdrawing her hands, said petulantly, `I don't choose. Please go away and let me be!' 

Poor Mr. Brooke looked as if his lovely castle in the air was tumbling about his ears, for he had never seen Meg in such a mood before, and it rather bewildered him. 

Do you really mean that?' he asked anxiously, following her as she walked away. 

Yes, I do; I don't want to be worried about such things. Father says I needn't; it's too soon and I'd rather not.' 

Mayn't I hope you'll change your mind by-and-by? I'll wait, and say nothing till you have had more time. Don't play with me, Meg. I didn't think that of you.' 

Don't think of me at all. I'd rather you wouldn't,' said Meg, taking a naughty satisfaction in trying her lover's patience and her own power. He was grave and silent now; and looked decidedly more like the novel heroes whom she admired; but he neither slapped his forehead nor tramped about the room, as they did; he just stood looking at her so wistfully, so tenderly, that she found her heart relenting in spite of her. What would have happened next I cannot say, if Aunt March had not come hobbling in at this interesting minute. 

The old lady couldn't resist her longing to see her nephew; for she had met Laurie as she took her airing, and, hearing of Mr. March's arrival, drove straight out to see him. The family were all busy in the back part of the house, and she had made her way quietly in, hoping to surprise them. She did surprise two of them so much that Meg started as if she had seen a ghost, and Mr. Brooke vanished into the study. 

Bless me, what's all this?' cried the old lady, with a rap of her cane, as she glanced from the pale young gentleman to the scarlet young lady. 

It's Father's friend. I'm so surprised to see you!' stammered Meg, feeling that she was in for a lecture now. 

That's evident,' returned Aunt March, sitting down. `But what is Father's friend saying to make you look like a peony? There's mischief going on, and I insist upon knowing what it is,' with another rap. 

We were merely talking. Mr. Brooke came for his umbrella,' began Meg, wishing that Mr. Brooke and the umbrella were safely out of the house. 

Brooke? That boy's tutor? Ah! I understand now. I know all about it. Jo blundered into a wrong message in one of your father's letters, and I made her tell me. You haven't gone and accepted him, child?' cried Aunt March, looking scandalized. 

Hush! he'll hear. Shan't I call Mother?' said Meg, much troubled. 

Not yet. I've something to say to you, and I must free my mind at once. Tell me, do you mean to marry this Cook? If you do, not one penny of my money ever goes to you. Remember that, and be a sensible girl,' said the old lady, impressively. 

Now Aunt March possessed in perfection the art of rousing the spirit of opposition in the gentlest people, and enjoyed doing it. The best of us have a spice of perversity in us, especially when we are young and in love. If Aunt March had begged Meg to accept John Brooke, she would probably have declared she couldn't think of it; but as she was peremptorily ordered not to like him, she immediately made up her mind that she would. Inclination as well as perversity made the decision easy, and, being already much excited, Meg opposed the old lady with unusual spirit. 

I shall marry whom I please, Aunt March, and you can leave your money to anyone you like,' she said, nodding her head with a resolute air. 

Highty tighty! Is that the way you take my advice, miss? You'll be sorry for it, by and by, when you've tried love in a cottage, and found it a failure.' 

It can't be a worse one than some people find in big houses,' retorted Meg. 

Aunt March put on her glasses and took a look at the girl, for she did not know her in this new mood. Meg hardly knew herself, she felt so brave and independent - so glad to defend John, and assert her right to love him, if she liked. Aunt March saw that she had begun wrong, and, after a little pause, made a fresh start, saying, as mildly as she could, `Now, Meg, my dear, be reasonable, and take my advice. I mean it kindly, and don't want you to spoil your whole life by making a mistake at the beginning. You ought to marry well, and help your family; it's your duty to make a rich match, and it ought to be impressed upon you.' 

Father and Mother don't think so; they like John, though he is poor.' 

Your parents, my dear, have no more worldly wisdom than two babies.' 

I'm glad of it,' cried Meg, stoutly. 

Aunt March took no notice, but went on with her lecture, `This Rook is poor, and hasn't got any rich relations, has he?' 

No, but he has many warm friends.' 

You can't live on friends; try it, and see how cool they'll grow. He hasn't any business, has he?' 

Not yet; Mr. Laurence is going to help him.' 

That won't last long. James Laurence is a crotchety old fellow, and not to be depended upon. So you intend to marry a man without money, position, or business, and go on working harder than you do now, when you might be comfortable all your days by minding me and doing better? I thought you had more sense, Meg.' 

I couldn't do better if I waited half my life! John is good and wise; he's got heaps of talent; he's willing to work, and sure to get on, he's so energetic and brave. Everyone likes and respects him, and I'm proud to think he cares for me, though I'm so poor and young and silly,' said Meg, looking prettier than ever in her earnestness. 

He knows you have got rich relations, child; that's the secret of his liking, I suspect.'

Aunt March, how dare you say such a thing? John is above such meanness, and I won't listen to you a minute if you talk so,' cried Meg, indignantly, forgetting everything but the injustice of the old lady's suspicions. `My John wouldn't marry for money, any more than I would. We are willing to work, and we mean to wait. I'm not afraid of being poor, for I've been happy so far and I know I shall be with him, because he loves me, and I--' 

Meg stopped there, remembering all of a sudden that she hadn't made up her mind; that she had told "her John" to go away, and that he might be overhearing her inconsistent remarks. 

Aunt March was very angry, for she had set her heart on having her pretty niece make a fine match, and something in the girl's happy young face made the lonely old woman feel both sad and sour. 

Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair. You are a willful child, and you've lost more than you know by this piece of folly. No, I won't stop; I'm disappointed in you, and haven't spirits to see your father now. Don't expect anything from me when you are married; your Mr. Book's friends must take care of you. I've done with you for ever.' 

And, slamming the door in Meg's face, Aunt March drove off in high dudgeon. She seemed to take all the girl's courage with her; for, when left alone, Meg stood a moment, undecided whether to laugh or cry. Before she could make up her mind, she was taken possession of by Mr. Brooke, who said, all in one breath, `I couldn't help hearing, Meg. Thank you for defending me and Aunt March for proving that you do care for me a little bit.' 

I didn't know how much till she abused you,' began Meg. 

And I needn't go away, but may stay and be happy, may I, dear?' 

Here was another fine chance to make the crushing speech and the stately exit, but Meg never thought of doing either, and disgraced herself for ever in Jo's eyes by meekly whispering, `Yes, John,' and hiding her face on Mr. Brooke's waistcoat. 

Fifteen minutes after Aunt March's departure, Jo came softly downstairs, paused an instant at the parlor door, and, hearing no sound within, nodded and smiled, with a satisfied expression, saying to herself, `She has sent him away as we planned, and that affair is settled. I'll go and hear the fun, and have a good laugh over it.' 

But poor Jo never got her laugh, for she was transfixed upon the threshold by a spectacle which held her there, staring with her mouth nearly as wide open as her eyes. Going to exult over a fallen enemy, and to praise a strong-minded sister for the banishment of an objectionable lover, it certainly was a shock to behold the aforesaid enemy serenely sitting on the sofa, with the strong-minded sister enthroned upon his knee, and wearing an expression of the most abject submission. Jo gave a sort of gasp as if a cold shower-bath had suddenly fallen upon her - for such an unexpected turning of the tables actually took her breath away. At the odd sound the lovers turned and saw her. Meg jumped up, looking both proud and shy; but "that man", as Jo called him, actually laughed, and said coolly, as he kissed the astonished newcomer, `Sister Jo, congratulate us!' That was adding insult to injury - it was altogether too much - and making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo vanished without a word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids by exclaiming tragically, as she burst into the room: 

Oh, do somebody go down quick; John Brooke is acting dreadfully, and Meg likes it!' 

Mr. and Mrs. March left the room with speed; and, casting herself upon the bed, Jo cried and scolded tempestuously, as she told the awful news to Beth and Amy. The little girls, however, considered it a most agreeable and interesting event, and Jo got little comfort from them; so she went up to her refuge in the garret, and confided her troubles to the rats. 

Nobody ever knew what went on in the parlor that afternoon, but a great deal of talking was done, and quiet Mr. Brooke astonished his friends by the eloquence and spirit with which he pleaded his suit, told his plans, and persuaded them to arrange everything just as he wanted it. 

The tea-bell rang before he had finished describing the paradise which he meant to earn for Meg, and he proudly took her in to supper, both looking so happy that Jo hadn't the heart to be jealous or dismal. Amy was very much impressed by John's devotion and Meg's dignity, Beth beamed at them from a distance, while Mr. and Mrs. March surveyed the young couple with such tender satisfaction that it was perfectly evident Aunt March was right in calling them as "unworldly as a pair of babies". No one ate much, but everyone looked very happy, and the old room seemed to brighten up amazingly when the first romance of the family began there. 

You can't say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, Meg?' said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in the sketch she was planning to make. 

No, I'm sure I can't. Flow much has happened since I said that! It seems a year ago,' answered Meg, who was in a blissful dream, lifted far above such common things as bread and butter. 

The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I rather think the changes have begun,' said Mrs. March. `In most families there comes, now and then, a year full of events; this has been such a one, but it ends well after all.' 

Hope the next will end better,' muttered Jo, who found it very hard to see Meg absorbed in a stranger before her face; for Jo loved a few persons very dearly, and dreaded to have their affection lost or lessened in any way. 

I hope the third year from this will end better; I mean it shall, if I live to work out my plans,' said Mr. Brooke, smiling at Meg, as if everything had become possible to him now. 

Doesn't it seem very long to wait?' asked Amy, who was in a hurry for the wedding. 

I've got so much to learn before I shall be ready, it seems a short time to me,' answered Meg, with a sweet gravity in her face, never seen there before. 

You have only to wait; I have to do the work,' said John, beginning his labors by picking up Meg's napkin, with an expression which caused Jo to shake her head, and then say to herself, with an air of relief, as the front door banged, `Here comes Laurie. Now we shall have a little sensible conversation.' But Jo was mistaken; for Laurie came prancing in flowing with spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for "Mrs. John Brooke", and evidently laboring under the delusion that the whole affair had been brought about by his excellent management. `I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does; for when he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it's done, though the sky falls,' said Laurie, when he had presented his offering and his congratulations. 

Much obliged for that recommendation. I take it as a good omen for the future, and invite you to my wedding on the spot,' answered Mr. Brooke, who felt at peace with all mankind, even his mischievous pupil. 

I'll come if I'm at the ends of the earth; for the sight of Jo's face alone on that occasion would be worth a long journey. You don't look festive, ma'am; what's the matter?' asked Laurie, following her into a corner of the parlor, whither all had adjourned to greet Mr. Laurence. 

I don't approve of the match, but I've made up my mind to bear it, and shall not say a word against it,' said Jo, solemnly. `You can't know how hard it is for me to give up Meg,' she continued, with a little quiver in her voice. 

You don't give her up. You only go halves,' said Laurie, consolingly. It never can be the same again. I've lost my dearest friend,' sighed Jo. 

You've got me, anyhow. I'm not good for much, I know; but I'll stand by you, Jo, all the days of my life; upon my word I will!' and Laurie meant what he said. 

I know you will, and I'm ever so much obliged; you are always a great comfort to me, Teddy,' returned Jo, gratefully shaking hands. 

Well, now, don't be dismal, there's a good fellow. It's all right, you see. Meg is happy; Brooke will fly round and get settled immediately; grandpa will attend to him, and it will be very jolly to see Meg in her own little house. We'll have capital times after she is gone, for I shall be through college before long, and then we'll go abroad, or some nice trip or other. Wouldn't that console you?' 

I rather think it would; but there's no knowing what may happen in three years,' said Jo, thoughtfully. 

That's true. Don't you wish you could take a look forward and see where we shall all be then? I do,' returned Laurie. I think not, for I might see something sad; and everyone looks so happy now, I don't believe they could be much improved'; and Jo's eyes went slowly round the room, brightening as they looked, for the prospect was a pleasant one. 

Father and Mother sat together, quietly re-living the first chapter of the romance which for them began some twenty years ago. Amy was drawing the lovers, who sat apart in a beautiful world of their own, the light of which touched their faces with a grace the little artist could not copy. Beth lay on her sofa, talking cheerily with her old friend, who held her little hand as if he felt that it possessed the power to lead him along the peaceful way she walked. Jo lounged in her favorite low seat, with the grave, quiet look which best became her; and Laurie, leaning on the back of her chair, his chin on a level with her curly head, smiled with his friendliest aspect, and nodded at her in the long glass which reflected them both. 

So grouped, the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. 

Whether it ever rises again, depends upon the reception given to the first act of the domestic drama called "Little Women"
 
第二天母亲和女儿们围着马奇先生转来转去，正如蜜蜂围着它们的蜂后转一样，她们把一切置诸脑后，只顾侍候这位新病人，看着他，听他说话，把个马奇先生弄得差点招架不住了。他靠在贝思沙发旁边的一张大椅子上，另外三个女儿围坐身边，罕娜不时探头进来，”偷偷看一眼这位好人"，此时此刻，一切都似乎达到了完美的境地。但空气中又似乎有点什么不对劲儿，除了两个妹妹外，大家都感觉到了，只是都不说出来。马奇先生和太太不时看一眼梅格，然后忧心忡忡地互相交换一个眼色。乔有时突然变得十分严肃，大家甚至看到她对布鲁克先生遗落在大厅里的雨伞晃起拳头；梅格像失去了魂儿，腼腆不安，沉默寡言，一听到门铃响便心惊肉跳，一听到约翰的名字便脸红耳热；艾美说：“每个人都似乎在等待什么，显得心神不定，这就奇怪了，因为爸爸已经平安回来了呀。”贝思则天真地猜疑为何邻居们不像以前一样往这边跑。
下午劳里来了，看到梅格坐在窗边，仿佛一下子心血来潮，单膝跪在雪地上，捶胸扯发，还哀求地十指交叉握紧两手，犹如乞讨什么恩典；梅格叫他放尊重一点，命他走开，他又用自己的手帕绞出几滴假泪，然后绕着墙角摇摇晃晃而去，仿佛伤心欲绝。
“那傻子是什么意思？”梅格故作莫明其妙地笑着问。
“他在向你示范你的约翰日后会怎么做。感人吧，哼！”乔奚落道。
“别说我的约翰，这不合适，也并非事实。”但梅格的声音却恋恋不舍地在这四个字上头慢慢拖过，似在品尝其中滋味。”别烦我了，乔，我跟你说过我对他并没有特别的意思，这事也没什么可说的，我们还像以前一样友好来往。”“我们办不到，因为已经说出来了，劳里的恶作剧已毁了你在我心中的形象。我看出来了，妈妈也一样；你完完全全换了一个人，似乎离我那么遥远。我不想烦你，而且会像一个男子汉一样承受此事，但我很想它有个了断。我痛恨等待，所以如果你有意的话，就请快刀斩乱麻，”乔没好气地说。
“除非他开口，否则我没法说或者做什么，但他不会说的，因为爸爸说我还太年轻，”梅格说，一面低着头做活，脸上露出一丝异样的微笑，表明在这一点上他不很赞同父亲的意见。
“如果他真的开口了，你就不知道如何是好，只会哭鼻子，脸红，让他得偿所愿，而不是明智、坚决地说一声'不'。”“我可不是你想象的那么傻，那么软弱。我知道该说什么，因为我已经计划好了，免得措手不及；谁也不知道会发生什么事，我希望自己有备无患。”看到梅格不知不觉摆出一副煞有介事的神气，脸颊上两朵美丽的红晕变幻不定，十分动人，乔禁不住微笑起来。
“能告诉我你会说什么吗？”乔问得尊重些了。
“当然能，你也十六岁了，足可成为我的知己，再说我的经验日后或许会对你在这种事情上有好处。”“不打算涉足；看着别人家谈情说爱倒是挺有趣儿的，但如果换了是自己，我就一定觉得愚不可及，”乔说。想到这，她不觉心头一惊。
“我不这样看，如果你很喜欢一个人，而他也喜欢你的话。”梅格仿佛自言自语，眼光向外面一条小巷望去。她常常看到恋人们在夏日的黄昏下在这条小巷双双散步。
“我想你是准备把这番话告诉那个男人，”乔说，不客气地打断她姐姐的痴想。
“哦，我只会十分沉着十分干脆地说：'谢谢你，布鲁克先生，你的心意我领了，但我和爸爸都认为我还太年轻，暂且不宜订约，此事请不必再提，我们仍如以前一样做朋友。'”“哼！说得真够气派！我不信你会这样说，即使说了他也不会甘心。如果他像小说里头那些遭到拒绝的年青人一样纠缠不休，你就会答应他，而不愿伤害他的感情。”“不，我不会。我会告诉他我主意已定，然后很有尊严地走出房间。”梅格说着站起来，正准备排练那尊严退出的一幕，突然客厅里传来一阵脚步声，她吓得飞身走回座位，赶紧拿起针线活，飞快地缝起来，仿佛她的生命全系于那一针一线之间。
乔见状忍着笑，这时有人轻轻敲了一下门，她没好气地打开门，板着一张脸孔，令人望而生畏。
“下午好。我来拿我的雨伞 -顺便，看看你爸爸今天怎么样，”布鲁克先生说。看到姐妹二人神色异常，他感到有点诧异。
“很好，他在搁物架上，我去找他，告诉它你来了。”乔回答时把父亲和雨伞混为一谈，然后溜出房间，给梅格一个显示尊严的说话机会。但她的身影刚一消失，梅格便侧身向门口行去，吞吞吐吐地说 “妈妈一定很高兴见你。请坐下，我去叫她。”“别走。你是不是怕我，玛格丽特？”布鲁克先生显得十分沮丧，梅格以为自己干了什么极端无礼粗鲁的事情。他以前从来没叫过她玛格丽特，现在这话从他口里发出，她不知为何脸涨得红至发根。她急于表明自己的善意和轻松心情，于是做了个信任的姿势，伸出一只手来，感激地说“你对爸爸这么好，我怎么会怕你呢？感谢你还不及呢。”“要不要我告诉你怎样谢？”布鲁克先生问道，双手紧紧握住那只小手，低头望着梅格，棕色的眼睛流露出无限爱意。
梅格心头怦怦乱跳，既想跑开，又想停下细听。
“噢，不，请不要这样- 还是别说好，”她边说边试图把手抽回，脸上忍不住流露出惊慌的神色。
“我不会烦你，我只想知道我在你心里头是不是有一丁点儿的位置，梅格。我是这么爱你，亲爱的，”布鲁克先生温柔地说。
这本来到了镇静自若地说那番漂亮话的时候了，但梅格却没有说；她一个字也记不起来了，只是低垂着头，答：“我不知道。”声音又轻又软，约翰得弯下腰来才勉强听到这句傻气的回答。
他似乎一点也不嫌麻烦，只见他自顾自笑起来，仿佛畅心满意，感激地握紧那只胖胖的小手，诚恳地劝说道：“你能试着弄清楚吗？我很想知道，不弄清楚我最终是否能得偿所愿，我就连工作也没有心情。”“我年龄尚小，”梅格颤抖着声音说，她不明白自己为何抖个不停，但心中颇感到高兴。
“我可以等，在此期间，你可以学着喜欢我。这门课是否太难，亲爱的？”“如果我想学就不难，不过- ”“那就学吧，梅格。我乐意教，这可比德语容易，“约翰打断她，把她另一只手也握住，这样她的脸便无处可藏，他可以弯下腰来细看一番了。
他说得情真意切，但梅格含羞偷偷看他一眼，却看到他一双含情脉脉的眼睛藏着喜意，嘴角挂着一丝成功在握的微笑，十分得意，心中不觉着了恼。此时安妮•莫法特教给她的愚蠢的卖俏邀宠之道，闯进了她的脑海，一股潜藏于小妇人内心深处的支配欲在心中突然升起，令她失去自制。由于兴奋激动，她头昏眼花，手足无措，一时冲动，竟把双手抽出，怒声说道：“我不想学。请走开。别烦我！“可怜的布鲁克先生神色大变，仿佛他那漂亮的空中楼阁在身边轰然倒落。他以前从来没见过梅格发这样的大火，心中不觉糊涂起来。
“你真的这样想？”他焦急地问，在后面跟着她走。
“一点不假。我不想为这种事情烦恼。爸爸说我不必，这太早了，我也宁可不去想它。”“你可以慢慢改变主意吗？我愿意默默等待，直到你有更多的时间。不要捉弄我，梅格。我想你不是这种人。”“对我你最好什么也别想，”梅格说。一句话既逞了自己的威风，又使得情人心如火煎，她心中升起一股淘气的快意。
他脸色立时变得阴沉煞白，神态与她所崇拜的小说中的男主人公大有相近之处，但他没有像他们那样拍额头，或迈着沉重的脚步在屋子里乱转，只是呆呆站在那儿，温情脉脉地痴痴看着她，她心里不由得软了下来。如果不是马奇婶婶在这有趣的当儿一瘸一拐地走进来，接下来会发生何事就不得而知了。
老太太在户外散步时碰到了劳里，听说马奇先生已经到家，止不住就要见见自己的侄儿，于是立即驱车而至。此时一家人正在后屋忙乱，她便静静走入，意图给他们一个意外惊喜。她果然令二人大吃一惊：梅格吓得魂飞魄散，如同撞着了鬼，布鲁克先生身子一闪溜入书房。
“啊哟，出了什么事？”老太太早看到了那位面色灰白的年青人。她把手中的藤杖一叩，望着脸红耳赤的梅格叫道。
“他是爸爸的朋友。你让我吓了一跳！”梅格结结巴巴地说，自知这回又有一番教诲好听了。
“显而易见，”马奇婶婶回答，一面坐下，”但你爸爸的朋友说了什么，叫你脸上像搽了生姜一样？一定有什么事情瞒着我，还是老实说出来吧。”又一叩手杖。
“我们只是闲谈而已。布鲁克先生来拿自己的雨伞，”梅格开口说，只盼望布鲁克先生和雨伞已双双安全撤出屋外。
“布鲁克？那孩子的家庭教师？啊！我明白了。这事我全知道。乔一次在读你爸爸的信时说漏了嘴，我让她说出来。你还不至于应承了他吧，孩子？”马奇婶婶愤愤地叫道。
“嘘！他会听到的。我去叫妈妈吧？”梅格说，显得惊慌失措。
“等等。我有话要跟你说，我必须立即把话说明。告诉我，你是不是想嫁给这个傻瓜？如果你这样做，我一分钱也不会留给你。记着这话，做个明事理的姑娘，“老太太一字一句地说。
马奇婶婶可谓专擅于撩起最温柔儒雅的人的逆反心理，而且乐在其中。我们大多数人骨子里头都有一种刚愎任性的意气，尤其是在少不更事和坠入爱河之时。假若马奇婶婶劝梅格接受约翰•布鲁克，她大有可能说一声"不"；但她却颐指迫使地命她不要喜欢他，她于是当即决定要反其道而行之。
她本来早有此意，再经马奇婶婶这一激，下此决心便十分容易。在莫名的激动亢奋之下，梅格以非同寻常的脾气一口回绝了老太太。
“我愿意嫁给谁就嫁给谁，马奇太太，而你喜欢把钱留给哪一个我们也悉听尊便，”她点着头坚决地说。
“好有骨气！你就这样对待我的忠告吗，小姐？等你在草棚茅舍里头做你的爱情梦去吧，过不多久你就会尝到失败的滋味，到那一天你一定后悔莫及。”“但有些嫁入豪门的人失败得更惨，”梅格反击。
马奇婶婶从未见过这个姑娘如此动气，于是戴上眼镜把她仔细审视一番。梅格此时几乎不知道自己是谁，只感到勇气十足，毫无羁束--十分高兴能为约翰说话并维护自己爱他的权利，如果她愿意。马奇婶婶发现自己开错了头，寻思了少顷，决定再开一次，于是尽量温和地说：“嗳，梅格，好孩子，懂事，听我的话。我是一片好心，不希望你一开始便走错路，因此一生尽毁。你应该寻头好亲，帮补家庭；你有责任嫁一个有钱人，这话你一定要记祝”“爸爸妈妈可不这么看，虽然约翰穷，他们也一样喜欢他。”“你的父母，好孩子，幼稚得跟两个婴儿一样，根本不懂世故。”“我为此感到高兴，”梅格坚定不移地大声说。
马奇婶婶并不在意，继续说教。”这妻子不但穷，也没有什么有钱的亲戚，对吗？”“对。但他有很多热心的朋友。”“你不能靠朋友生活，有事求他们时你就知道他们会变得多么冷淡。他没有什么生意吧？”“还没有。劳伦斯先生准备帮助他。”“这不会持久。詹姆士•劳伦斯是个怪老头，靠不祝这么说来你是打算嫁给一个没有地位、没有生意的穷小子，干比现在更苦的活儿，而不愿听我一句话，嫁头好亲，过一辈子安乐日子啰？我以为你更有头脑呢，梅格。”“即使我等上半生也不会做得比这更好！约翰善良聪明，才华横溢，他愿意工作，也一定会做出成绩，他是这样勇敢，这样充满活力。大家都喜欢地，尊敬他。他喜欢我，不计较我家道清贫、年幼无知，我感到很自豪，”梅格说，神情因激动而显得异常美丽。
“他知道你的亲戚有钱，孩子；我猜这就是他喜欢你的原因。”“马奇婶婶，你怎么能这样说话？约翰不是这种卑鄙小人，如果你这样说下去，我一分钟都不要再听，”梅格气得叫起来，对老太太的不公正猜测感到十分愤慨，”我不会为钱而嫁，我的约翰更不会为钱而娶。我们愿意自食其力，也打算等待。我不怕穷，因为我一直都很快乐。我知道我会跟他在一起，因为他爱我，而我也 "说到此处梅格止住了，突然想起自己还没有打定主意，而且已经叫"她的约翰"走开，或许他这会正在偷听她这番自相矛盾的话呢。
马奇婶婶勃然大怒。她原来一心想让她的漂亮侄女寻一头上好姻缘，却不料遭此辜负。看到姑娘那张幸福洋溢、充满青春魅力的面孔，孤独的老太太心中不禁升起一股又苦又酸的滋味。
“很好，这事我从此放开不理！你是个一意孤行的孩子，这番傻话将令你蒙受重大损失。不，我还有话说。我对你感到万分失望，现在也没有心情见你父亲了。你结婚时别指望我给你一分钱；等你那位布鲁克先生的朋友们来照顾你吧。我俩从今以后一刀两断。”马奇婶婶当着梅格的面把门砰地一关，怒气冲冲地登上车，绝尘而去。她似乎把姑娘的勇气也全带走了。她一走，梅格便一个人站着发呆，不知是笑好还是哭好。她还没来得及理清头绪，便被布鲁克先生一把抱住，只听他一口气说道：“我忍不住留下来偷听，梅格。感谢你这样维护我，也感谢马奇婶婶证明了你心里确实有我。”“直到她诋毁你时我才知道自己是多么在乎，”梅格说。
“那我不用走开了，可以高高兴兴留下来，是吗，亲爱的？”这本来又是一个发表那篇决定性的讲话，然后堂而皇之地退下的大好机会，但梅格一点也没有这个意思，反而驯服地低声说：“是，约翰。”并把脸埋在布鲁克先生的马甲上，使自己在乔面前永远抬不起头来。
在马奇婶婶离去十五分钟之后，乔轻轻走下楼梯，在大厅门口稍立片刻，听到里头悄然无声，点头满意而笑，自语道：“她已按计划把他打发走了，此事已经了断。让我去听听这个趣话儿，痛痛快快笑一常"不过可怜的乔永远也笑不出来，她刚踏入门口便吓得呆若木鸡，身子牢牢钉在门坎上，嘴巴张得几乎跟圆瞪着的眼睛一样大。只见布鲁克先生沉着地坐在沙发上，而意志坚强的姐姐则高高坐在他的膝上，脸上挂着一副天底下最卑下的百依百顺的神情。她原要进去为击退了敌人而狂欢一番，称赞姐姐意志坚强，终将讨厌的情人逐出门外，不料却见到这番景象，这一惊非同小可。乔猛吸了一口冷气，犹如一盆冷水兜头泼下-绝没料到情形变得如此恶劣，不禁大惊失色。
听到响声，这对恋人回过头来，看到了她。梅格跳起来，神情既骄傲又腼腆，但"那个男人"，如乔所称，竟自笑起来，吻了吻惊得目噔口呆的乔，冷静地说道： “乔妹妹，祝贺我们吧！”这无异于伤害之外又加侮辱--这口气如何咽得下去 -乔怒不可遏，两手狠狠一甩，一声不发便冲了出去。她跑上楼，一头闯进房间，痛心疾首地大叫：“啊，你们快下楼；约翰•布鲁克正在干不要脸的事，而梅格竟然喜欢！”把两个病人吓得大惊失色。
马奇先生夫妇赶紧跑出房间；乔一头把自己摔在床上，一面哭一面骂不绝口，又把这个可怕的消息告诉贝思、艾美。两位小姑娘却觉得这是一件顶顶愉快顶顶有趣的盛事，乔心里方好受了一点，这才爬起身，躲到阁楼上的避难所中，把万般烦恼向她的老鼠们倾诉。
没有人知道那天下午客厅里发生了什么事；但大家谈了许多。一向沉默寡言的布鲁克先生滔滔不绝，他向梅格求婚，介绍自己的计划，又说服大家按他的想法安排一切事情，起能言善辩的口才及穷追不舍的精神令大家刮目相看。
他正在描绘自己打算为梅格创造的乐园，用茶的铃声响了。他骄傲地携梅格入席，两人全都喜形于色，乔见状早已无心妒忌或苦闷。艾美对约翰的忠心耿耿和梅格的端庄高贵印象尤深，贝思远远望着他们微笑致意，而马奇先生夫妇万分怜爱地望着这对年轻人，显得十分满意，可见马奇婶婶所言不差，他们确实"像两个不懂世故的婴儿一样"。大家吃得不多，但显得喜气洋洋，旧房间也仿佛由于家里发生了第一桩喜事而变得不可思议地亮堂起来。
“现在你不能说从来没有一件遂心的事情了吧，梅格？”艾美说，一边构思如何把这对恋人双双画进画中。
“对，不能这样说。自打我说这话来发生了多少事情！那是一年前的事了吧，“梅格回答。她此刻正在做着远远超越了面包牛油这类俗物的美梦。
“在我们经历了种种悲伤之后，现在欢乐接踵而来，我倒希望从此出现转机，“马奇太太说，”不少家庭有时会遇上多事之秋；这一年便发生了许多事情，但无论怎么说，结局总算不错。”“但愿来年更好，”乔咕哝道。看到梅格仿佛被一个陌生人摄掉了魂魄，她心里酸溜溜的。乔对一些人爱之甚深，唯恐会失去他们。
“我希望从今开始的第三年会有一个更好的结局。我对这有信心，只要我努力实施自己的计划，”布鲁克先生笑微微地望着梅格说，仿佛现在对于他来说一切都成为可能。
“等三年是不是太久了？”艾美问，恨不得婚礼立即举行。
“我还有许多东西要学，还嫌时间不够用呢，”梅格回答，甜甜的脸上露出一种前所未有的严肃劲头。
“你只需等着，活由我来干，”约翰边说边付诸行动，捡起梅格的餐巾，脸上的表情令乔直摇脑袋。这时前门砰地响了一声，乔松了一口气，自忖道：“劳里来了。我们终于可以谈点正经事了。”但乔想错了。只见劳里兴冲冲地雀跃而入，手里捧着一大束似模似样的"喜花"，送给"约翰•布鲁克太太"，俨然把自己当成了这桩好事的促成者。
“我早就知道布鲁克一定马到功成，他一向如此；只要他下了决心要做一件事，即使天塌下来也能做好，”劳里把花献上，又祝贺道。
“承蒙夸奖，不胜感激。我把这话当作一个好兆头，这就邀请你参加我的婚礼，“布鲁克先生答。他待人一向平和，即使对自己淘气捣蛋的学生也不例外。
“我即使远在天边也要赶回来参加，单单乔那天的脸色就值得我回来一看了。你好像不大高兴呢，小姐。怎么回事？”劳里问，一面跟乔随众人一起来到客厅一角，迎接刚刚进来的劳伦斯先生。
“我不赞成这头姻缘，但我已决定把它忍下来，一句坏话也不说，”乔严肃地说。”你不会明白我失去梅格有多么难受，”她接着说，声音微微颤抖。
“你并不是失去她，只是与人平分而已，”劳里安慰道。
“再也不会一样。我失去了至亲至爱的朋友，”乔叹息道。
“但你有我呢。我虽不配，但我一定会和你站在一起的，我知道，乔，一生一世。一定！我发誓！”劳里此话绝非戏言。
“我知道你一定会的，你待我真好。你总是给我带来莫大的安慰，特迪，”乔答道，感激地握着劳里的手。
“嗳，好了，别愁眉苦脸啦，这就对了。这事并没有什么不好，你瞧。梅格感到幸福，布鲁克很快就能成家立业。爷爷会帮助他。看到梅格在自己的小屋里该是多么令人羡慕。她走后我们会过得十分开心，因为我很快就读完大学，那时我们便结伴到国外好好游览一下。这样你心里好受了吧？”“但愿能够如此。但谁知道这三年里会发生什么事情，”乔心事重重地说。
“那倒是事实。但难道你不愿意向前看，想象一下我们将来怎么样吗？我可愿意，”劳里回答。
“不看也罢，因为我会看到一些伤心事。现在大家都这么高兴，我想他们将来也不会再高兴到哪里去，”乔说着把房间慢慢扫视一遍，眼睛随之一亮，因为她看到了一个令人愉快的景象。
父亲和母亲坐在一起，悄悄重温着他们约二十年前的初恋情节。艾美正把一对恋人画下来，他们独自坐在一边，如痴如醉，爱情在他们的验庞上轻轻抹上了一层光辉，给他们蒙上一种描画不出来的美。贝思躺在沙发上，和她的老朋友劳伦斯先生愉快地交谈，老人执着她的手，仿佛觉得它有一种力量，可以领着他走过她所走的宁静的道路。乔靠在自己最喜欢的低椅上，沉静深思，别具一种风韵，劳里倚在她的椅背，下巴贴在她的鬈发上面，在映着两人形容的穿衣镜里头向她点头由衷而笑。
写到此处，帘幕落下，有关梅格、乔、贝思和艾美的故事暂告一个段落。是否再次起幕全看读者们是否接受这部家庭故事剧《小妇人》的第一部。
Chapter 7 Amy's Valley Of Humiliation
　　`That boy is a perfect Cyclops, isn't he?' said Amy, one day, as Laurie clattered by on horseback, with a flourish of his whip as he passed.
　　`How dare you say so, when he's got both his eyes? and very handsome ones they are, too,' cried Jo, who resented any slighting remarks about her friend.
　　`I didn't say anything about his eyes, and I don't see why you need fire up when I admire his riding.'
　　`Oh, my goodness! that little goose means a centaur, and she called him a Cyclops,' exclaimed Jo, with a burst of laughter.
　　`You needn't be so rude; it's only a "lapse of lingy", as Mr. Davis says,' retorted Amy, finishing Jo with her Latin. `I just wish I had a little of the money Laurie spends on that horse,' she added, as if to herself, yet hoping her sisters would hear.
　　`Why?' asked Meg, kindly, for Jo had gone off in another laugh at Amy's second blunder.
　　`I need it so much; I'm dreadfully in debt, and it won't be my turn to have the rag-money for a month.'
　　`In debt, Amy? What do you mean?' and Meg looked sober.
　　`Why, I owe at least a dozen pickled limes, and I can't pay them, you know, till I have money, for Marmee forbade my having anything charged at the shop.'
　　`Tell me all about it. Are limes the fashion now? It used to be pickling bits of rubber to make balls'; and Meg tried to keep her countenance, Amy looked so grave and important.
　　`Why, you see, the girls are always buying them, and unless you want to be thought mean, you must do it too. It's nothing but limes now, for everyone is sucking them in their desks in school-time, and trading them off for pencils, bead-rings, paper dolls, or something else at recess. If one girl likes another she gives her a lime; if she's mad with her she eats one before her face, and don't offer even a suck. They treat by turns; and I've had ever so many, but haven't returned them; and I ought, for they are debts of honour, you know.'
　　`How much will pay them off, and restore your credit?' asked Meg, taking out her purse.
　　`A quarter would more than do it, and leave a few cents over for a treat for you. Don't you like limes?'
　　`Not much; you may have my share. Here's the money. Make it last as long as you can, for it isn't very plenty, you know.'
　　`Oh, thank you! It must be so nice to have pocket-money! I'll have a grand feast, for I haven't tasted a lime this week. I felt delicate about taking any, as I couldn't return them, and I'm actually suffering for one.'
　　Next day Amy was rather late at school; but could not resist the temptation of displaying, with pardonable pride, a moist, brown-paper parcel, before she consigned it to the inmost recesses of her desk. During the next few minutes the rumour that Amy March had got twenty-four delicious limes (she ate one on the way), and was going to treat, circulated through her `set', and the attentions of her friends became quite overwhelming. Katy Brown invited her to her next party on the spot; Mary Kingsley insisted on lending her her watch till recess; and Jenny Snow, a satirical young lady, who had basely twitted Amy upon her limeless state, promptly buried the hatchet, and offered to furnish answers to certain appalling sums. But Amy had not forgotten Miss Snow's cutting remarks about `some persons whose noses were not too flat to smell other people's limes, and stuck-up people who were not too proud to ask for them'; and she instantly crushed that `Snow girl's' hopes by the withering telegram, `You needn't be so polite all of a sudden, for you won't get any.'
　　A distinguished personage happened to visit the school that morning, and Amy's beautifully drawn maps received praise, which honour to her foe rankled in the soul of Miss Snow, and caused Miss March to assume the airs of a studious young peacock. But, alas, alas! pride goes before a fall, and the revengeful Snow turned the tables with disastrous success. No sooner had the guest paid the usual stale compliments, and bowed himself out than Jenny, under pretence of asking an important question, informed Mr. Davis, the teacher, that Amy March had pickled limes in her desk.
　　Now Mr. Davis had declared limes a contraband article, and solemnly vowed to ferrule publicly the first person who was found breaking the law. This much-enduring man had succeeded in banishing chewing-gum after a long and stormy war, and had made a bonfire of the confiscated novels and newspapers, had suppressed a private post office, had forbidden distortions of the face, nicknames, and caricatures, and done all that one man could do to keep half-a-hundred rebellious girls in order. Boys are trying enough to human patience, goodness knows! but girls are infinitely more so, especially to nervous gentlemen, with tyrannical tempers, and no more talent for teaching than Dr. Blimber. Mr. Davis knew any quantity of Greek, Latin, Algebra, and ologies of all sorts, so he was called a fine teacher, and manners, morals, feelings, and examples were not considered of any particular importance. It was a most unfortunate moment for denouncing Amy, and Jenny knew it. Mr. Davis had evidently taken his coffee too strong that morning; there was an east wind, which always affected his neuralgia; and his pupils had not done him the credit which he felt he deserved: therefore, to use the expressive, if not elegant, language of a schoolgirl, `he was as nervous as a witch, and as cross as a bear'. The word `limes' was like fire to powder; his yellow face flushed, and he rapped on his desk with an energy which made jenny skip to her seat with unusual rapidity.
　　`Young ladies, attention, if you please!'
　　At the stern order the buzz ceased, and fifty pairs of blue, black, grey, and brown eyes were obediently fixed upon his awful countenance.
　　`Miss March, come to the desk.'
　　Amy rose to comply with outward composure, but a secret fear oppressed her, for the limes weighed upon her conscience.
　　`Bring with you the limes you have in your desk,' was the unexpected command which arrested her before she got out of her seat.
　　`Don't take all,' whispered her neighbour, a young lady of great presence of mind.
　　Amy hastily shook out half a dozen, and laid the rest down before Mr. Davis, feeling that any man possessing a human heart would relent when that delicious perfume met his nose. Unfortunately Mr. Davis particularly detested the odour of the fashionable pickle, and disgust added to his wrath.
　　`Is that all?'
　　`Not quite,' stammered Amy.
　　`Bring the rest immediately.'
　　With a despairing glance at her set, she obeyed.
　　`You are sure there are no more?'
　　`I never lie, sir.'
　　`So I see. Now take these disgusting things two by two, and throw them out of the window.'
　　There was a simultaneous sigh, which created quite a little gust, as the last hope fled, and the treat was ravished from their longing lips. Scarlet with shame and anger, Amy went to and fro six dreadful times; and as each doomed couple - looking oh! so plump and juicy - fell from her reluctant hands, a shout from the street completed the anguish of the girls, for it told them that their feast was being exulted over by the little Irish children, who were their sworn foes. This - this was too much; all flashed indignant or appealing glances at the inexorable Davis, and one passionate limelover burst into tears.
　　As Amy returned from her last trip, Mr. Davis gave a portentous `Hem!' and said, in his most impressive manner - `Young ladies, you remember what I said to you a week ago. I am sorry this has happened; but I never allow my rules to be infringed, and I never break my word. Miss March, hold out your hand.'
　　Amy started and put both hands behind her, turning on him an imploring look wh pleaded for her better than the words she could not utter. She was rather a favourite with `old Davis', as, of course, he was called, and it's my private belief that he would have broken his word if the indignation of one irrepressible young lady had not found vent in a hiss. That hiss, faint as it was, irritated the irascible gentleman, and sealed the culprit's fate.
　　`Your hand, Miss March!' was the only answer her mute appeal received; and, too proud to cry or beseech, Amy set her teeth, threw back her head defiantly, and bore without flinching several tingling blows on her little palm. They were neither many nor heavy, but that made no difference to her. For the first time in her life she had been struck; and the disgrace, in her eyes, was as deep as if he had knocked her down.
　　`You will now stand on the platform till recess,' said Mr. Davis, resolved to do the thing thoroughly, since he had begun. That was dreadful. It would have been bad enough to go to her seat, and see the pitying faces of her friends, or the satisfied ones of her few enemies; but to face the whole school with that shame fresh upon her, seemed impossible, and for a second she felt as if she could only drop down where she stood, and break her heart with crying. A bitter sense of wrong, and the thought of Jenny Snow, helped her to bear it; and, taking the ignominious place, she fixed her eyes on the stove-funnel above what now seemed a sea of faces, and stood there, so motionless and white that the girls found it very hard to study, with that pathetic figure before them.
　　During the fifteen minutes that followed, the proud and sensitive little girl suffered a shame and pain which she never forgot. To others it might seem a ludicrous or trivial affair, but to her it was a hard experience; for during the twelve years of her life she had been governed by love alone, and a blow of that sort had never touched her before. The smart of her hand and the ache of her heart were forgotten in the sting of the thought - `I shall have to tell at home, and they will be so disappointed in me!' The fifteen minutes seemed an hour; but they came to an end at last, and the word `Recess!' had never seemed so welcome to her before.
　　`You can go, Miss March,' said Mr. Davis, looking, as he felt, uncomfortable.
　　He did not soon forget the reproachful glance Amy gave him, as she went, without a word to anyone, straight into the ante-room, snatched her things, and left the place `forever', as she passionately declared to herself. She was in a sad state when she got home; and when the older girls arrived, some time later, an indignation meeting was held at once. Mrs. March did not say much, but looked disturbed, and comforted her afflicted little daughter in her tenderest manner. Meg bathed the insulted hand with glycerine and tears; Beth felt that even her beloved kittens would fail as a balm for griefs like this; Jo wrathfully proposed that Mr. Davis be arrested without delay; and Hannah shook her fist at the `villain', and pounded potatoes for dinner as if she had him under her pestle.
　　No notice was taken of Amy's flight, except by her mates; but the sharp-eyed demoiselles discovered that Mr. Davis was quite benignant in the afternoon, also unusually nervous. Just before school closed Jo appeared, wearing a grim expression, as she stalked up to the desk, and delivered a letter from her mother; then collected Amy's property and departed, carefully scraping the mud from her boots on the door-mat, as if she shook the dust of the place off her feet.
　　`Yes, you can have a vacation from school, but I want you to study a little every day with Beth,' said Mrs. March that evening. `I don't approve of corporal punishment, especially for girls. I dislike Mr. Davis's manner of teaching, and don't think the girls you associate with are doing you any good, so I shall ask your father's advice before I send you anywhere else.'
　　`That's good! I wish all the girls would leave, and spoil his old school. It's perfectly maddening to think of those lovely limes,' sighed Amy, with the air of a martyr.
　　`I am not sorry you lost them, for you broke the rules, and deserved some punishment for disobedience,' was the severe reply, which rather disappointed the young lady, who expected nothing but sympathy.
　　`Do you mean you are glad I was disgraced before the whole school?' cried Amy.
　　`I should not have chosen that way of mending a fault,' replied her mother; `but I'm not sure that it won't do you more good than a milder method. You are getting to be rather conceited, my dear, and it is quite time you set about correcting it. You have a good many little gifts and virtues, but there is no need of parading them, for conceit spoils the finest genius. There is not much danger that real talent or goodness will be overlooked long; even if it is, the consciousness of possessing and using it well should satisfy one, and the great charm of all power is modesty.'
　　`So it is!' cried Laurie, who was playing chess in a corner with Jo. `I knew a girl, once, who had a really remarkable talent for music, and she didn't know it, never guessed what sweet little things she composed when she was alone, and wouldn't have believed it if anyone had told her.'
　　`I wish I'd known that nice girl; maybe she would have helped me, I'm so stupid,' said Beth, who stood beside him, listening eagerly.
　　`You do know her, and she helps you better than anyone else could,' answered Laurie, looking at her with such mischievous meaning in his merry black eyes, that Beth suddenly turned very red, and hid her face in the sofa-cushion, quite overcome by such an unexpected discovery.
　　Jo let Laurie win the game, to pay for that praise of her Beth, who could not be prevailed upon to play for them after her compliment.
　　So Laurie did his best, and sang delightfully, being in a particularly lively humour, for to the Marches he seldom showed the moody side of his character. When he was gone, Amy, who had been pensive all the evening, said suddenly, as if busy over some new idea: `Is Laurie an accomplished boy?'
　　`Yes; he has had an excellent education, and has much talent; he will make a fine man, if not spoilt by petting,' replied her mother.
　　`And he isn't conceited, is he?' asked Amy.
　　`Not in the least; that is why he is so charming, and we all like him so much.'
　　`I see; it's nice to have accomplishments, and be elegant; but not to show off, or get perked up,' said Amy, thoughtfully.
　　`These things are always seen and felt in a person's manner and conversation, if modestly used; but it is not necessary to display them,' said Mrs. March. `Any more than it's proper to wear all your bonnets and gowns and ribbons at once, that folks may know you've got them,' added Jo; and the lecture ended in a laugh.
 
“那小伙子真像希腊神话中的独眼巨人，你说呢？”艾美说。这时劳里正骑马得得而行，经过时还把马鞭一扬。
“你怎敢这样说话？他一双眼睛完整无缺，而且漂亮得很哩，”乔叫起来。她容不得人家说她的朋友半点闲话。
“我并没有说他的眼睛怎么了，我也不明白你怎么会火冒三丈，我只是羡慕他的马上功夫而已。”“噢，老天爷！这小傻瓜的意思是骑马高手，却把他叫成了独眼巨人，”乔爆发出一阵大笑，叫道。
“你不用如此无礼，这只是戴维斯先生说的'口吴（误）'而已，”艾美反驳道，用拉丁语把乔镇祝"我真希望我能有一丁点儿劳里花在那骑马上的钱，”她仿佛自言自语，但却希望两个姐姐听到。
“为什么？”梅格好意问道。乔却因艾美第二次用错词而再次大笑起来。
“我负了一身债，急需用钱，但我还要等一个月才能领到钱。”“负债，艾美？怎么回事？”梅格神情严肃地问。
“哦，我至少欠下一打腌酸橙。你知道我得有钱才能清还。
因为妈妈不许我在商店赊帐。”
“把事情详细道来。现在时兴酸橙了吗？以前可是刺橡胶块来做圆球。”梅格尽量不动声色，而艾美则神情庄重，一本正经。
“哦，是这样的。姑娘们成天都买酸橙，你也得跟着买，除非你想别人觉得你小气。现在只有酸橙当红，上课时人人都埋在书桌下咂酸橙，课休时用酸橙交换铅笔、念珠戒指、纸娃娃等物。如果一个女孩喜欢另一个，她就送她一个酸橙；如果她憎恶她，便当着她的面吃一个酸橙，不叫她咂一口。她们轮流做东，我已经得了人家不少，至今没有还礼，我理当偿还，因为那是信用债。”“还差多少钱才能使你恢复信用？”梅格一面问，一面拿出钱包。
“二角五分已经绰绰有余，还可剩几分钱给你买一点。你不喜欢酸橙吗？”“不怎么喜欢，我那份你要吧。给你钱。省着点使，钱不多，你知道。”“噢，好姐姐！有零花钱真是太好了！我要犒赏犒赏自己，这星期还没有尝过酸橙味儿呢。我不好意思再要她们的，因为自己还不起。现在我可想得要疯了。”第二天，艾美回到学校已经不早，但却抵挡不住诱惑，为自得地把一个濡湿的棕色纸包炫耀一番，这才把它放到书桌的最里头。不消几分钟，艾美•马奇带了廿四个美味酸橙（她自己在路上吃了一个）并准备供诸同好的小道消息在她的"同伙"之中不胫而走，朋友们对她刮目相看。凯蒂•布朗当场邀请她参加下次晚会；玛丽•金斯利坚持要把自己的手表借给她戴到下课；珍妮•斯诺，一个曾经粗俗地挖苦过艾美的尖酸刻薄的年轻女子，立即偃旗息鼓，主动提供某些难题的答案。但是艾美并没有忘记斯诺小姐说过的那些刺心话：“有些人鼻子虽扁，却仍然闻得到别人的酸橙味儿；有些人虽然狂妄自大，却仍得求人家的酸橙吃。”她用令人泄气的言辞把那位"斯诺女"的希望当场击得粉碎：“你用不着一下子这么殷勤，因为你半个也捞不着。”那天早上恰巧有一位重要人物访问学校，艾美的地图画得极好，受到了赞扬。斯诺小姐对敌人的这种荣誉怀恨在心，马奇小姐因此更摆出一副自命不凡的架势。不过，唉！骄兵必败！斯诺报仇心切，她反戈一击，打了场完全彻底的漂亮仗。一待客人照例讲究一番陈词滥调的客套话躬身出去后，珍妮立即佯装提问，悄悄告诉老师戴维斯先生，艾美•马奇把腌酸橙藏在书桌里头。
原来戴维斯先生早已宣布酸橙为违禁品，并庄重发誓要把第一个违法者公开绳之以法。这位相当不朽的仁兄曾经发动过一场激烈持久的战争，成功取缔了香口胶糖，烧毁了没收的小说画报，镇压了一所地下邮局，并禁止了做鬼脸、起花名、画漫画等一类事情，竭尽全力要把五十个反叛的姑娘们训导得规规矩矩。老天作证，男孩子已经使人大伤脑筋，但是女孩子更难伺候，这对于脾气粗暴、缺乏教学天才、神经紧张的人来说更是如此。戴维斯先生希腊语、拉丁语、代数以及各门学科无所不通，于是被称为好老师，而言行、道德、情操及表率却被认为无关重要。珍妮心里明白，这种时候告发艾美活该她倒霉。戴维斯先生那天早上显然喝了冲得太浓的咖啡，东风又刺激了他的神经痛。而他的学生竟然在这种时候往他脸上抹黑；用一位女同学虽不优雅但相当贴切的话来形容：“他紧张得像个女巫，粗暴得像一头熊。”“酸橙"两字犹如引爆炸药的火苗。他把黄脸孔憋得通红，使劲敲击讲台，吓得珍妮飞速溜回座位。
“年轻女士们，请你们注意！”
这么厉声一喝，嘁喳声嘎然而止，五十双蓝色、黑色、灰色，以及棕色的眼睛全都乖乖地盯住他那可怖的脸容。
“马奇小姐，到讲台来。”
艾美依令站起来，她虽然外表镇静，内心却是又惊又怕，因为酸橙压得她心里沉甸甸的。
“把书桌里的酸橙带过来！”她尚未走出座位，又收到第二道出乎意料的命令。
“不要全都带去，”坐在她身边的那位女士头脑十分冷静，悄声说道。
艾美匆忙抖出六只，把其余的放在戴维斯先生面前，心想任何铁石心肠的人闻到那股喷香的味道都会软下来。不幸的是，戴维斯先生特别讨厌这种时髦腌果的味道，他越发勃然大怒。
“就这些吗？”
“还有几个，”艾美结结巴巴地说。
“马上把其余的拿来。”
她绝望地望了一眼她那班伙伴，顺从了。
“你肯定再没有了吗？”
“我从不撒谎，先生。”
“那好，现在把这些讨厌的东西两个两个拿起扔出窗外。”眼看着最后一丝希望破灭，到了嘴边的东西被夺走，姑娘们都发出一阵叹息声。艾美又羞又恼，脸色涨得通红，忍辱来回走了足足六趟。每当一对倒霉的酸橙- 呵！多么饱满圆润- 从她极不情愿的手中落下时，街上便传来一声欢叫。姑娘们简直心碎欲绝，因为叫声告诉大家她们的美食落在了她们不共戴天的敌人爱尔兰小孩的手上，成为他们的美餐，令他们狂喜雀跃。这--这简直不能忍受。众人向冷酷无情的戴维斯投去气愤而恳求的目光，一位热烈的酸橙爱好者忍不住热泪暗流。
当艾美扔掉最后一个酸橙走回来时，戴维斯先生令人颤栗地"哼！”了一声，装腔作势地训斥道- “年轻女士们，你们记得我一星期前说的话吧。发生了这种事我很遗憾，但我绝对不会姑息这种违反纪律的行为，而且决不食言。马奇小姐，伸出手来。” 艾美吓了一跳，把双手藏在背后，用祈求的目光望着他，说不出半句话来，其情堪可怜悯。她本来是"老戴维斯"，当然啦，如大家所称，颇为得意的门生，如果不是一个姑娘"嘘"了一声以泄怨愤的话，我个人相信，戴维斯先生完全可能破例食言。但那嘘声尽管细若游丝，却激怒了这位脾气暴躁的绅士，并决定了犯规者的命运。
“伸出手，马奇小姐！”这一声便是对她无声恳求的答复；自尊好强的艾美不愿哭求，她咬紧牙关，对抗地把头向后一甩，任由小手掌挨了几下痛笞。虽然打得不重，但这对她来说没什么不同，她平生第一次挨揍，这就像他把她击倒地上一样，是一种奇耻大辱。
“现在站到讲坛上，一直到下课为止，”戴维斯先生说。既然做开了头，他就决心做个彻底。
这实在是太可怕了。走回座位，看朋友们的怜悯目光和个别敌人的痛快脸色已经糟糕透顶，而要面对全班同学，含耻忍辱，她简直做不到。刹那间她觉得自己就要摔倒地上，伤心痛哭。但那种刺心的屈辱感和对珍妮•斯诺的恨使她挺住了。她踏上那个不光彩的位置，下面仿佛成了人的海洋。她两眼死死盯着火炉烟囱管，一动不动地站在那里，面如白纸。
姑娘们面对这么一个心碎欲绝的人物，也再无心思上课。
此后的十五分钟里，这位傲慢敏感的小姑娘尝尽了铭心刻骨的耻辱和痛苦的滋味。别人或许觉得此乃小事一桩，荒唐好笑而已，而她却觉得伤透了心。她有生十二年以来，一直与爱为伴，从未领教过这种打击。而一想到"回到家我不得不把这事说出来，她们一定会对我失望之极！”她连手掌和心上的痛苦也顾不上了。
这十五分钟就像一个小时那么漫长，但最后还是走到了尽头，她终于盼到一声"下课！”的命令。
“你可以走了，马奇小姐，”戴维斯先生说。看得出来，他心里头很不自在。
艾美横了他一眼，眼光充满谴责，令他不敢轻易忘怀。她一声不吱，径直走进前堂，一把抓起自己的东西，心里狠狠发誓，”永远"离开了这个伤心之地。回到家里她仍伤心不已。
不久，姐妹们相继归来。一个义愤填膺的会议随即召开。马奇太太虽然神情激动，但没有多说，只是无限温柔地宽慰自己受了伤的小女儿。梅格边掉泪边用甘油涂洗艾美那遭受凌辱的手掌。贝思觉得即使自己可爱的小猫咪也安慰不了如此深重的痛楚，乔怒发冲冠，提议戴维斯先生应该立即逮捕，罕娜对那"坏蛋"挥起拳头，捣土豆做饭时也敲打得劈啪作响，仿佛那"坏蛋”就躲在她的捣下面。
除了她的几个伙伴外，没有人注意到艾美没来上学；但眼尖的姑娘们发现戴维斯先生下午变得相当宽厚，而且格外紧张。将放学时，乔露面了。她神情严峻，大步走近讲台，把母亲写的一封信交上去，然后收拾起艾美的物品，转身离去，在门垫上狠狠蹭掉靴上的泥土，似乎要把这儿的脏物从脚上抖干净。
“好了，你可以放个假，但我要求你每天都和贝思一起学一点东西，”那天晚上马奇太太说，”我不赞成体罚，尤其不赞成体罚女孩子。我不喜欢戴维斯先生的教学方法，不过你结交的女孩子也不是什么益友。我要先征求你父亲的意思，再把你送到别的学校。”“太好了！我希望姑娘们全走掉，毁掉他的旧学堂。一想到那些令人馋涎欲滴的酸橙，我就气得发疯。”艾美叹息着，神情就像一个殉难者。
“你失去酸橙我并不难过，因为你破坏了纪律，应该受到惩罚，”母亲严厉地回答。一心只想得到同情的年轻女士，听到这话颇为失望。
“您的意思是我当着全体同学的面受侮辱您很高兴了？”艾美喊道。
“我不会选择这种方法来纠正错误，”她的母亲回答，”但我不敢说换一种温和一点的方法你就会从中得到教训。你现在有点过于自大了，亲爱的，很应该着手改正过来。你有很多天赋和优点，但不必摆出来展览，因为自大会把最优秀的天才毁掉。真正的才华或品行不怕被人长期忽视；即使真的无人看到，只要你知道自己拥有它，并妥善用它，你就会感到心满意足。谦虚才能使人充满魅力。”“完全正确！”劳里叫道。他正跟乔在一角下象棋。”我曾认识一个女孩，她音乐天赋极高，却并不自知，她从不知道自己作的小曲有多美，即使别人告诉她，她自己也不会相信。”“我能认识那位好女孩就好了，她或许可以帮助我，我这么笨，“贝思说。她正站在劳里身边认真倾听。
“你确实认识她，她比任何人都更能帮你，”劳里答道，快乐的黑眼睛调皮地望着她，贝思霎时飞红了脸，把脸埋在沙发垫里，被这出乎意料的发现弄得不知所措。
乔让劳里赢了棋，以奖励他称赞了她的贝思。贝思经这么一夸，怎么也不肯出来弹琴了。于是劳里一展身手，他边弹边唱，心情显得特别轻松愉快，因为他在马奇一家人面前极少流露自己的忧郁性格。在他走后，整个晚上一直郁郁寡欢的艾美似乎若有所思，突然问道：“劳里是否称得上多才多艺？”“当然，他接受过优等教育，又富有天赋，如果没有宠坏，他会成为一个出色的人才，”她母亲回答。
“而且他不自大，对吗？”艾美问。
“一点也不。这便是他这么富有魅力的原因，也是我们全都这么喜欢他的原因。“我明白了。多才多艺、举止优雅固然很好，但向人炫耀或翘尾巴就不好了，”艾美若有所思地说。
“如果态度谦虚，这些气质总会在一个人的言谈举止中流露出来，无需向人卖弄，”马奇太太说。
“譬如你一下子把全部帽子、衣服、饰物等都穿戴出来，唯恐别人不知道你有这些东西，这样自然不妥，”乔插言道。
Chapter 19 Amy's Will
While these things were happening at home, Amy was having hard times at Aunt March's. She felt her exile deeply, and, for the first time in her life, realized how much she was beloved and petted at home. Aunt March never petted anyone; she did not approve of it; but she meant to be kind, for the well-behaved little girl pleased her very much, and Aunt March had a soft place in her old heart for her nephew's children, though she didn't think proper to confess it. She really did her best to make Amy happy, but, dear me, what mistakes she made! Some old people keep young at heart in spite of wrinkles and grey hair, can sympathize with children's little cares and joys, make them feel at home, and can hide wise lessons under pleasant plays, giving and receiving friendship in the sweetest way. But Aunt March had not this gift, and she worried Amy very much with her rules and orders, her prim ways, and long, prosy talks. Finding the child more docile and amiable than her sister, the old lady felt it her duty to try and counteract, as far as possible, the bad effects of home freedom and indulgence. So she took Amy in hand, and taught her as she herself had been taught sixty years ago - a process which carried dismay to Amy's soul, and made her feel like a fly in the web of a very strict spider.
She had to wash the cups every morning, and polish up the old-fashioned spoons, the fat silver tea-pot, and the glasses, till they shone. Then she must dust the room, and what a trying job that was! Not a speck escaped Aunt March's eye, and all the furniture had claw legs, and much carving, which was never dusted to suit. Then Polly must be fed, the lap-dog combed, and a dozen trips upstairs and down, to get things, to deliver orders, for the old lady was very lame, and seldom left her big chair. After these tiresome labours, she must do her lessons, which was a daily trial of every virtue she possessed. Then she was allowed one hour for exercise or play, and didn't she enjoy it? Laurie came every day, and wheedled Aunt March, till Amy was allowed to go out with him, when they walked and rode, and had capital times. After dinner, she had to read aloud, and sit still while the old lady slept, which she usually did for an hour, as she dropped off over the first page. Then patchwork or towels appeared, and Amy sewed with outward meekness and inward rebellion till dusk, when she was allowed to amuse herself as she liked till tea-time. The evenings were the worst of all, for Aunt March fell to telling long stories about her youth, which were so unutterably dull that Amy was always ready to go to bed, intending to cry over her hard fate, but usually going to sleep before she had squeezed out more than a tear or two.
If it had not been for Laurie, and old Esther, the maid, she felt that she never could have got through that dreadful time. The parrot alone was enough to drive her distracted, for he soon felt that she did not admire him, and revenged himself by being as mischievous as possible. He pulled her hair whenever she came near him, upset his bread and milk to plague her when she had newly cleaned his cage, made Mop bark by pecking at him while Madam dozed; called her names before company, and behaved in all respects like a reprehensible old bird. Then she could not endure the dog - a fat, cross beast, who snarled and yelped at her when she made his toilet, and who lay on his back, with all his legs in the air and a most idiotic expression of countenance when he wanted something to eat, which was about a dozen times a day. The cook was bad-tempered, the old coachman deaf, and Esther the only one who ever took any notice of the young lady.
Esther was a Frenchwoman, who had lived with `Madame', as she called her mistress, for many years, and who rather tyrannized over the old lady, who could not get along without her. Her real name was Estelle, but Aunt March ordered her to change it, and she obeyed, on condition that she was never asked to change her religion. She took a fancy to Mademoiselle, and amused her very much, with odd stories of her life in France, when Amy sat with her while she got up Madame's laces. She also allowed her to roam about the great house, and examine the curious and pretty things stored away in the big wardrobes and the ancient chests; for Aunt March hoarded like a magpie. Amy's chief delight was an Indian cabinet, full of queer drawers, little pigeonholes, and secret places, in which were kept all sorts of ornaments, some precious, some merely curious, all more or less antique. To examine and arrange these things gave Amy great satisfaction, especially the jewel-cases, in which, on velvet cushions, reposed the ornaments which had adorned a belle forty years ago. There was the garnet set which Aunt March wore when she came out, the pearls her father gave her on her wedding day, her lover's diamonds, the jet mourning rings and pins, and queer rockets, with portraits of dead friends, and weeping willows made of hair inside; the baby bracelets her one little daughter had worn; Uncle March's big watch, with the red seal so many childish hands had played with, and in a box, all by itself, lay Aunt March's wedding-ring, too small now for her fat finger, but put carefully away, like the most precious jewel of them all.
Which would Mademoiselle choose if she had her will?' asked Esther, who always sat near to watch over and lock up the valuables.
I liked the diamonds best, but there is no necklace among them, and I'm fond of necklaces, they are so becoming. I should choose this if I might,' replied Amy, looking with great admiration at a string of gold and ebony beads, from which hung a heavy cross of the same.
I, too, covet that, but not as a necklace; ah, no! to me it is a rosary, and as such I should use it like a good Catholic,' said Esther, eyeing the handsome thing wistfully.
Is it meant to use as you use the string of good-smelling wooden beads hanging over your glass?' asked Amy.
Truly, yes, to pray with. It would be pleasing to the saints if one used so fine a rosary as this, instead of wearing it as a vain bijou. If Mademoiselle went apart each day to meditate and pray, as did the good mistress whom I served before Madame, it would be well. She had a little chapel, and in it found solacement for much trouble.'
Would it be right for me to do so too?' asked Amy, who, in her loneliness, felt the need of help of some sort, and found that she was apt to forget her little book, now that Beth was not there to remind her of it.
It would be excellent and charming; and I shall gladly arrange the little dressing-room for you if you like it. Say nothing to Madame, but when she sleeps go you and sit alone a while to think good thoughts, and pray the dear God to preserve your sister.'
Esther was truly pious, and quite sincere in her advice; for she had an affectionate heart, and felt much for the sisters in their anxiety. Amy liked the idea and gave her leave to arrange the light closet next her room, hoping it would do her good.
I wish I knew where all these pretty things would go when Aunt March dies,' she said, as she slowly replaced the shining rosary, and shut the jewel-cases one by one.
To you and your sisters. I know it; Madame confides in me; I witnessed her will, and it is to be so,' whispered Esther, smiling.
How nice! but I wish she'd let us have them now. Procras-ti-nation is not agreeable,' observed Amy, taking a last look at the diamonds.
It is too soon yet for the young ladies to wear these things. The first one who is affianced will have the pearls - Madame has said it; and I have a fancy that the little turquoise ring will be given to you when you go, for Madame approves your good behaviour and charming manners.
Do you think so? Oh, I'll be a lamb, if I can only have that lovely ring! It's ever so much prettier than Kitty Bryant's. I do like Aunt March after all'; and Amy tried on the blue ring with a delightful face, and a firm resolve to earn it.
From that day she was a model of obedience, and the old lady complacently admired the success of her training. Esther fitted up the closet with a little table, placed a footstool before it, and over it a picture taken from one of the shut-up rooms. She thought it was of no great value, but, being appropriate, she borrowed it, well knowing that Madame would never know it, nor care if she did. It Was, however, a very valuable copy of one of the famous pictures of the world, and Amy's beauty-loving eyes were never tired of looking up at the sweet face of the divine mother, while tender thoughts of her own were busy at her heart. On the table she laid her little testament and hymn-book, kept a vase always full of the best flowers Laurie brought her, and came every day to sit alone, `thinking good thoughts, and praying the dear God to preserve her sister'. Esther had given her a rosary of black beads, with a silver cross, but Amy hung it up and did not use it, feeling more than doubtful as to its fitness for Protestant prayers.
The little girl was very sincere in all this, for, being left alone outside the safe home-nest, she felt the need of some kind hand to hold by so sorely, that she instinctively turned to the strong and tender friend, Whose fatherly love most closely surrounds His little children. She missed her mother's help to understand and rule herself, but having been taught where to look, she did her best to find the way, and walk in it confidingly. But Amy was a young pilgrim, and just now her burden seemed very heavy. She tried to forget herself, to keep cheerful, and be satisfied with doing right, though no one saw or praised her for it. In her first effort at being very, very good, she decided to make her will, as Aunt March had done; so that if she did fall ill and die, her possessions might be justly and generously divided. It cost her a pang even to think of giving up the little treasures which in her eyes were as precious as the old lady's jewels.
During one of her play-hours she wrote out the important document as well as she could, with some help from Esther as to certain legal terms, and, when the good-natured Frenchwoman had signed her name, Amy felt relieved, and laid it by to show Laurie, whom she wanted as a second witness. As it was a rainy day, she went upstairs to amuse herself in one of the large chambers, and took Polly with her for company. In this room there was a wardrobe full of old-fashioned costumes, with which Esther allowed her to play, and it was her favourite amusement to array herself in the faded brocades, and parade up and down before the long mirror, making stately courtesies, and sweeping her train about, with a rustle which delighted her ears. So busy was she on this day that she did not hear Laurie's ring, nor see his face peeping in at her, as she gravely promenaded to and fro, flirting her fan and tossing her head, on which she wore a great pink turban, contrasting oddly with her blue brocade dress and yellow quilted petticoat. She was obliged to walk carefully, for she had on high-heeled shoes, and, as Laurie told Jo afterwards, it was a comical sight to see her mince along in her gay suit, with Polly sidling and bridling just behind her, imitating her as well as he could, and occasionally stopping to laugh or exclaim, `Ain't we fine? Get along, you fright! Hold your tongue! Kiss me, dear! Ha! ha!'
Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merriment lest it should offend her majesty, Laurie tapped, and was graciously received.
Sit down and rest while I put these things away; then I want to consult you about a very serious matter,' said Amy, when she had shown her splendour, and driven Polly into a corner. `That bird is the trial of my life,' she continued, removing the pink mountain from her head, while Laurie seated himself astride of a chair. `Yesterday, when Aunt was asleep, and I was trying to be as still as a mouse, Polly began to squall and flap about in his cage; so I went to let him out, and found a big spider there. I poked it out, and it ran under the book-case; Polly marched straight after it, stooped down and peeped under the book-case, saying, in his funny way, with a cock of his eye, "Come out and take a walk, my dear." I couldn't help laughing, which made Poll swear, and Aunt woke up and scolded us both.'
Did the spider accept the old fellow's invitation?' asked Laurie, yawning.
Yes; out it came, and away ran Polly, frightened to death, and scrambled up on Aunt's chair, calling out, "Catch her! catch her! catch her!" as I chased the spider.'
That's a lie! Oh, lor!' cried the parrot, pecking at Laurie's toes.
I'd wring your neck if you were mine, you old torment,' cried Laurie, shaking his fist at the bird, who put his head on one side, and gravely croaked, `Allyluyer! bless your buttons, dear!'
Now I'm ready,' said Amy, shutting the wardrobe, and taking a paper out of her pocket. `I want you to read that, please, and tell me if it is legal and right. I felt that I ought to do it, for life is uncertain and I don't want any ill-feeling over my tomb.'
Laurie bit his lips, and turning a little from the pensive speaker read the following document, with praiseworthy gravity, considering the spelling:
My Last Will And Testament'
I, Amy Curtis March, being in my sane mind, do give and bequeath all my earthly property - viz., to wit: - namely
To my Father, my best pictures, sketches, maps, and works of art, including frames. Also my $100, to do what he likes with.
To my Mother, all my clothes, except the blue apron with pockets - also my likeness, and my medal, with much love.
To my dear sister Margaret, I give my turkquoise ring (if I get it), also my green box with the doves on it, also my piece of real lace for her neck, and my sketch of her as a memorial of her "little girl".
To Jo I leave my breast-pin, the one mended with sealing wax, also my bronze inkstand - she lost the cover - and my most precious plaster rabbit, because I am sorry I burnt up her story.
To Beth (if she lives after me) I give my dolls and the little bureau, my fan, my linen collars, and my new slippers if she can wear them being thin when she gets well. And I herewith also leave her my regret that I ever made fun of old Joanna.
To my friend and neighbour Theodore Laurence I bequeath my paper marshay portfolio, my clay model of a horse though he did say it hadn't any neck. Also in return for his great kindness in the hour of affliction any one of my artistic works he likes, Noter Dame is the best.
To our venerable benefactor Mr. Laurence I leave my purple box with a looking glass in the cover which will be nice for his pens and remind him of the departed girl who thanks him for his favours to her family, specially Beth.
I wish my favourite play mate Kitty Bryant to have the blue silk apron and my gold bead ring with a kiss.
To Hannah I give the bandbox she wanted and all the patch work I leave hoping she will "remember me, when it you see".
And now having disposed of my most valuable property I hope all will be satisfied and not blame the dead. I forgive everyone, and trust we may all meet when the trump shall sound. Amen.
To this will and testament I set my hand and seal on this 20th day of Nov. Anni Domino 1861.
Amy Curtis March.
Witnesses
Estelle Valnor
Theodore Laurence.'
The last name was written in pencil, and Amy explained that he was to rewrite it in ink, and seal it up for her properly.
What put it into your head? Did anyone tell you about Beth's giving away her things?' asked Laurie, soberly, as Amy laid a bit of red tape, with sealing-wax, a taper, and a standish before him.
She explained; and then asked anxiously, `What about Beth?'
I'm sorry I spoke: but as I did I'll tell you. She felt so ill one day that she wanted to give her piano to Meg, her cats to you, and the poor old doll to Jo, who would love it for her sake. She was sorry she had so little to give, and left locks of hair to the rest of us, and her best love to grandpa. She never thought of a will.'
Laurie was signing and sealing as he spoke, and did not look up till a great tear dropped on the paper. Amy's face was full of trouble; but she only said, `Don't people put sort of postscripts to their wills, sometimes?'
Yes; "codicils", they call them.'
Put one in mine, then - that I wish all my curls cut off, and given round to my friends. I forgot it; but I want it done, though it will spoil my looks.'
Laurie added it, smiling at Amy's last and greatest sacrifice. Then he amused her for an hour, and was much interested in all her trials. But when he came to go, Amy held him back to whisper, with trembling lips, `Is there really any danger about Beth?'
I'm afraid there is; but we must hope for the best, so don't cry, dear'; and Laurie put his arm about her with a brotherly gesture which was very comforting.
When he had gone, she went to her little room, and sitting in the twilight, prayed for Beth, with streaming tears and an aching heart, feeling that a million turquoise rings would not console her for the loss of her gentle little sister.
 
当家里发生这一连串事情的时候，艾美正在马奇太太家中挨日子。此刻她深深体会到寄人篱下的滋味，第一次认识到自己在家里是如何受到亲人的宠爱。马奇婶婶从不宠爱人，她不赞成这样；当然也是出于好意，因为小姑娘的表现十分讨她的欢心，而老人对侄儿几个孩子心里也未尝不爱，但她认为这种爱不宜表露出来。她的确在竭尽全力要令艾美幸福，但是，老天作证，她的方法却糟糕透顶！一些老人尽管皱纹累累、白发苍苍，心中却仍然充满朝气，能够和孩子们同忧共喜，友好相处，使他们感到无拘无束，并能寓教于乐，以最温柔的方式给予和得到友谊。不幸的是马奇婶婶却没有这个天分，她规矩森严，整日板着一副面孔，说话啰啰嗦嗦，冗长乏味，令艾美吃尽了苦头。发现艾美比她的姐姐更乖巧听话，老太太觉得自己有责任把她从家里带来的娇气和懒气尽量铲除掉。因此她把艾美置于股掌之中，用自己六十年前所接受的教育方法来教导她-其结果只有令艾美越发糊涂，她觉得自己像只落网苍蝇，落到了一个一丝不苟的蜘蛛手上。
她每天早上都得洗净茶杯，把旧式汤匙、一个圆肚银茶壶、几面镜子擦拭得锃光发亮。接着便得打扫房间，这个任务非同小可！几乎没有一粒尘埃可以躲得过马奇婶婶的眼睛，而家具全部都是爪型腿脚，并刻有很多永远打扫不干净的浮雕。然后又得喂鹦哥，给叭儿狗梳毛，还得取东西，传达命令，楼上楼下跑上十多个来回，因为老太太腿疾严重，极少离开自己的大座椅。干完这些累人的活儿后，她还得做一件伤透脑筋的事- 做功课。之后她可以自由活动一个小时，这是她最心花怒放的时候。劳里每天都过来，甜言蜜语地哄马奇婶婶，直到她答应让艾美跟他一同外出为止。然后他们一齐散步、骑马，尽兴而归。吃过午饭后，她得大声朗读，并坐着一动不动，老太太则在打瞌睡，常常是一页没听完就睡着了，一睡就是一个小时。接着是缝缀各色布匹或缝制手巾，艾美表面不敢言语，心里却在拼命反抗，就这样一直缝到傍晚，才可以随意玩玩，一直玩到吃茶时间。晚上的时光最为难熬，因为马奇婶婶开始大讲她年青时候的故事，这些故事沉闷不堪，艾美每次都盼着上床睡觉，打算为自己的悲惨命运一哭，但每次都是还没有挤出一星半点眼泪便已睡着了。
如果不是有劳里和女佣人埃丝特老人，这种日子简直是一天也过不下去。单单是那只鹦鹉就足以令她神经错乱，因为它不久便发觉艾美并不喜欢自己，于是做出种种淘气异常的事来，以泄心头之愤。每当她走到跟前，它便抓她的头发，她刚洗净了鸟笼，它便把面包和牛奶打翻，趁夫人打瞌睡又去啄"莫普"，把它弄得吠叫不止，还在客人面前叫她的名字，总之一举一动都表现得十足一个该死的破鸟。她也忍受不了那只狗 -一只肥胖、无礼的畜牲，每逢给它洗澡它就向她狂吼怒叫，当它想吃东西时，它就以背着地躺倒地上，四脚朝天，脸上一副痴呆的表情，而这样求食一天足有十余次之多。厨师脾气粗暴，年老的马车夫是个聋子，唯一理会她的人只有埃丝特。
埃丝特是个法国女人，她和"夫人"，她这样称呼自己的女主人，共同生活了多年，对老太太有一定的操纵权，因为老太太没有她便活不下去。她的真名叫做埃丝特尔，但马奇太太命她更改名字，她遵从了，条件是永远不能要求她改变自己的宗教信仰。她喜欢上了艾美小姐，和她一起坐时常常一边烫"夫人"的花边，一边跟她讲自己在法国遇到的奇闻怪事，令艾美大开眼界。她还允许"小姐"在这间大屋子里头四处游荡，仔细欣赏藏在大衣橱和旧式柜子里的奇珍异宝，因为马奇婶婶藏品极多。艾美最中意的是一个印度木柜，内设许多奇形怪状的抽屉、小分类架和暗格，里头装着各种各样的饰物，有些贵重，有些只是怪异而已，都或多或少有了一些年头。欣赏和摆弄这些东西给予艾美一种巨大的满足感，尤其是那些珠宝箱子，天鹅绒垫子上摆着各式四十年前装点美女的首饰。这里头有一套马奇婶婶出席社交场合戴的石榴石饰物、她出阁时父亲送给她的珠宝、情人的钻石、出席葬礼戴的煤玉戒指和发夹，还有一些怪模怪样的金属小盒子，里头镶着已故朋友的照片、头发制成的垂柳、她一个小女儿戴过的婴儿手镯、马奇叔叔的大挂表和被许多小孩把玩过的红印章。马奇婶婶的结婚戒子大模大样地摆在一个盒子里，因为她的手指长胖了，现在已经戴不进去，于是被当作最最宝贵的珠宝小心翼翼地收藏起来。
“如果她立遗嘱，小姐想选哪一样呢？”埃丝特问。她总是坐在跟前看守着，并把贵重物品锁起来。
“我最爱这些钻石，可惜里头没有项链，而我最喜欢项链，它们漂亮极了，如果可能，我就选这一个，”艾美答道，羡慕不已地望着一串纯金乌木珠链，链子上头沉甸甸地挂着一个用相同材料做成的十字架。
“我也瞄着这个呢，但并非想要来做项链；啊，不！在我眼里它是一串念珠，我要虔诚地持着它诵经祈祷，”埃丝特说道，若有所思地端详着漂亮的首饰。
“你的意思是把它当作挂在你镜子上头的那串香木珠链一样使用吗？”艾美问。
“对，正是这样，用来做祷告。如果我们用这么精美的东西来做念珠，而不是把它当作轻薄的珠宝来佩戴，圣神们一定更高兴。”“你似乎能从自己的祷告中寻找到极大安慰，埃丝特，每次祷告后你都显得平静、满足。但愿我也能这样。”“如果小姐是个天主教徒，就能找到真正的安慰；既然不是，你也不妨每天独处一室，思考并祈祷，我在夫人之前侍候的那位好女主人便是这样。她有个小教堂，在那里她找到了极大的安慰。”“我这样做合适吗？”艾美问。她在孤独寂寞中深感需要一种帮助，由于贝思不在身边提醒自己，她觉得自己都快要把那本小册子给忘掉了。
“那将再好不过，如果你喜欢，我很乐意把化妆室收拾好给你用。不用告诉夫人，她睡觉时你可以进去静坐一会，幽思反省，祈求上帝保佑你姐姐。”埃丝特十分虔诚，真情相劝，因为她心地善良，对艾美姐妹们的处境感同身受。艾美觉得这个主意不错，便同意她把自己房间隔壁一个光线明亮的小密室收拾出来，希望这样能对自己有帮助。
“不知马奇婶婶死后这些好东西流落何方，”她一面说，一面慢腾腾地把光彩照人的念珠放回原处，把珠宝箱逐一关上。
“落到你和你几个姐姐手上。这个我知道，夫人常向我诉说心事。我看过她的遗嘱，不会有错，”埃丝特耳语道，一边微笑。
“好极了！不过我希望她现在就能给我们。拖延时间并非什么好事，”艾美一面评论一面向那些钻石望了最后一眼。
“年青女士佩戴这些首饰为时尚早。谁第一个订婚就可以得到那套珍珠首饰- 夫人这样说过。我想你离开时会得到那只小绿松石戒指，因为夫人认为你举止有礼，规矩听话。”“是吗？噢，如果真的能得到那个漂亮戒指，即使做个小羊羔我也是甘心的！它比吉蒂•布莱恩的不知要好看多少倍。
不论怎么说，我还是喜欢马奇婶婶的。”艾美兴冲冲地把那只蓝色戒指戴上试试，下定决心要得到它。
从这天开始她成了驯服听话的典范，老太太看到自己的训练大见成效，喜得心花怒放。埃丝特在小房间里放上一张小桌子，前面摆一张脚凳，上面挂一幅从一间锁着的屋子里拿来的图画。她认为这画没有什么价值，但因合适，便把它借来，心里以为夫人永远不会知道，即使知道了也不会管。殊不知这是一幅价值连城的世界名画。爱美的艾美仰望着圣母亲切温柔的面孔，心里头千丝万缕，百感交集，眼睛从不觉得一点疲倦。她在桌上放上自己的小圣约书和赞美诗集，摆上一个花瓶，每天换上劳里带来的最美丽的花儿，并来"静坐一会，幽思反省，祈求上帝保佑姐姐"。埃丝特送给她一串带银十字架的黑色念珠，但艾美怀疑它是否适合新教徒做祈祷用，只是把它挂在一边。
这小女孩儿做这一切是非常诚挚的。由于离开了安全温暖的家，一个人孤身在外，她强烈地感到需要一双善良的手扶她一把，于是本能地向那位强大而慈悲的"朋友"求助，他父亲般的爱是如此亲近地环抱着他幼小的孩子们。她一度忘记了母亲要独立思考和自我约束的话，但现在有人向她指点了方向，她便努力去寻找道路，并义无反顾地踏上行程。不过艾美是个新香客，此刻她肩上的担子似乎万分沉重。她试图忘掉自己，保持乐观，问心无愧地做人，尽管没有人看到，也没有人为此而赞扬她。为了使自己非常非常地好，她作出的第一个努力是，像马奇婶婶那样立一个遗嘱，这样假使她真的身染沉疴撒手尘寰，她的财产也可以得到公平慷慨的分割。只要一想到跟自己小小的"珍藏"分手，她便心如刀割，因为她把这些小玩意看得跟老太太的珠宝一样珍贵。
她花了一小时娱乐时间绞尽脑汁拟出这份重要文件，埃丝特帮助她纠正某些法律用词。当这位好心的法国女人签上自己的大名后，艾美舒了一口气，把它放在一边，准备拿给圣约是指《圣经》中神与人之间立的誓约，小圣约书指艾美的那本小册24子。
劳里看，她希望他做自己的第二证人。因这天下雨，她走到楼上一间大房子里找点开心的事做，并带上鹦哥作伴。房子里放着满满一衣橱的旧式戏服，埃丝特允许她穿着这些戏服玩，她于是乐此不疲，穿上褪了色的锦缎衣裳，对着全身镜来回检阅，行仪态万千的屈膝礼，穿着长裙摇曳而行，让它发出悦耳的瑟瑟声。这一天她忙得不亦乐乎，连劳里敲门也没有听到。劳里悄悄探头望进去，恰好见到她手摇扇子，摇头摆脑，煞有介事地踱过来踱过去。她头上缠一条巨大的粉红色头巾，与身上穿着的蓝缎子衣裳和胀鼓鼓的黄裙子相映成趣，由于穿着高跟鞋，走路必须十分谨慎，正如劳里事后向乔所述，她穿着鲜艳夺目的服装忸忸怩怩，鹦哥紧跟后面，时而缩头缩脑，时而昂首挺胸，全力模仿她的一举一动，偶尔又停下来笑一声或高叫：“我们不是挺好吗？去你的，丑八怪！闭嘴！亲亲我，宝贝！哈！哈！”其情其景，令人捧腹。
劳里好不容易才忍住了即将爆发出来的笑声，以免惹怒公主殿下。他敲敲门，艾美优雅地把他迎进去。
“坐下歇一会，待我把这些东西卸掉，我有一件十分严肃的事情要跟你商量，“在展示完自己的光彩并把鹦哥赶到一角后，她这样说。”这只鸟真是我命中的克星，”她接着又说，一面摘下头上粉红色的庞然大物。劳里则跨坐在一张椅子上。
“昨天，婶婶睡着了，我正敛息不敢吱一声，鹦哥却在笼子里尖声高叫，乱七乱动；我便过去把它放出来，发现笼子里有一只大蜘蛛，我用火钳把它捅出来，它却溜到书架下面；鹦哥紧追过去，弯低脖子向书架下面瞪直双眼，怪模怪样地说：'出来散个步，宝贝。'我忍不住笑出了声，鹦哥听到叫骂起来，婶婶被吵醒了，把我们两个痛斥一顿。”“蜘蛛接受了那老家伙的邀请吗？”劳里打了个呵欠，问。
“接受了，它走出来，鹦哥却拔脚就跑，吓得半死，它狠命跳到婶婶椅子上，一面看我追蜘蛛一面大叫：'抓住她！抓住她！抓住她！'”“撒谎！呵，上帝！”鹦鹉叫起来，又去啄劳里的脚趾。
“如果你是我养的我就拧断你的脖子，你这孽畜！”劳里向鸟儿晃晃头叫道。鹦哥把头一侧躲过，扯着嗓子庄严地嘎嘎大叫：“阿利路亚！上帝保佑，宝贝！”“好了。”艾美把衣橱门关上，从口袋里掏出一张纸。”我想请你看看这份文件，告诉我它是否合法、妥当。我觉得我应该这样做，因为生命无常，我不想死后引起纷争，令大家不快。”劳里咂咂嘴唇，把眼光从这位悲天悯人的朋友身上移开，微微背转身子，带着颇值嘉许的认真劲头读起了下面这份有错字的文件：我的遗愿和遗属我，艾美•科蒂斯•马奇，在此心智健全之际，把我的全部财产曾（赠）送并遗曾（赠）如下- 即，就是--也就是给父亲：我最好的图画、素描、地图及艺术品，包括画框。还有一百美元给他自由支配。
给母亲：诚挚送上我的全部衣服，有口袋的蓝围裙除外--以及我的肖像、奖章。
给亲爱的姐姐玛格丽特：曾（赠）送我的录（绿）松石戒指（如果我能得到），以及装鸽子用的录（绿）色箱子，以及我的上等花边给她戴，还有我给她画的肖像，以纪念她的“小姑娘"。
给乔，我留给她我的胸针，被封蜡补过的那个，以及我的铜墨水台 -她弄丢了盖子- 还有我最珍爱的塑胶兔子，因为我很后悔烧掉了她的故事。
给贝思（如果我先她而去）我送给她我的玩偶和小衣柜、扇子、亚麻布衣领和我的新鞋子，如果她病好后身体瘦弱可以穿下的话。在此我一并为以前取笑过乔安娜而致歉。
给我的朋友和邻居西奥多•劳伦斯，我遗曾（赠）我的制型纸文件夹，陶土模型马，虽然他说过这马没有颈。以及他喜欢的我的任何一件艺术品，以报答他在我们痛苦之际对我们的大恩大德，最好是《圣母玛利亚》。
给我们尊敬的恩人劳伦斯先生我留给他一面盖子上镶有镜子的紫色盒子，这给他装钢笔用最为漂亮，并可以使他睹物思人，想起那位对他感激涕零的逝去了的姑娘。她感谢他帮助了她一家，尤其是贝思。
我希望我最要好的伙伴吉蒂•布莱恩得到那条28妇人蓝绸缎围裙和我的金殊戒子，连同一吻。
给罕娜我送她想要的硬纸匣和我留下的全部拼凑布匹，希望她“看到它时就会想起我"。
我最有价值的财产现已处理完毕，我希望大家满意，不会责备死者。我原谅所有人，并相信号角响起时我们会再见。阿门。
我于今天公元一八六一年十一月二十日在此遗属（嘱）上签字盖章。
艾美•科蒂斯•马奇
证人：
埃丝特尔•梵尔奈
西奥多•劳伦斯
最后一个名字是用铅笔写上的，艾美解释说他要用墨水笔重写一次。并替她把文件妥善封好。
“你怎么会想出这个主意？有人告诉你贝思要分派自己的东西了吗？”劳里严肃地问。此时艾美在他面前放上一段扎文件用的红带，连同封蜡、一支小蜡烛、一个墨水台。
她于是解释一番，然后焦急地问：“贝思怎么样？”“我本不该说的，但既然说了，我便告诉你。一天她觉得自己已病入膏肓，便告诉乔她想把她的钢琴送给梅格，她的猫儿给你，她可怜的旧玩偶给乔，乔会为她而爱惜这个玩偶的，她很遗憾自己没有更多的东西留给大家，便把自己的头发一人一绺分给我们和其他人、把挚爱留给爷爷。她根本没想到什么遗嘱。”劳里一面说一面签字盖章，久久没有抬起头来，直到一颗硕大的泪珠慢慢滑落到纸上。艾美神色大变；但她只是问道：“人们有时会在遗嘱上加插附言之类的东西吗？”“会的，他们把它叫做'补遗'。”“那么我的也加上一条--我希望把我的鬈发通通剪掉，分送给朋友们留念。我刚才忘了，但我想现在补上，虽然这会毁掉我的相貌。”劳里把这条加上去，为艾美作出这最后一个也是最伟大的一个牺牲而微笑起来。之后他又陪她玩了一个小时，并耐心听她倾吐苦水。当他准备告辞时，艾美把他拉住，颤抖着嘴唇悄声问道：“贝思是不是真会有什么危险？”“恐怕是这样，但我们必须抱最好的希望。别哭，亲爱的。”劳里像哥哥一样伸出手臂护着她，使她感到了莫大的安慰。
劳里走后，她来到自己的小教堂，静坐于蒙蒙暮光之中，为贝思祈祷，一面心酸落泪。假如失去了温柔可爱的小姐姐，即使有一千个一万个绿松石戒指，也不能给她带来安慰埃
Chapter 24 Gossip
In order that we may start afresh and go to Meg's wedding with free minds, it will be well to begin with a little gossip about the Marches. And here let me premise that if any of the elders think there is too much 'lovering' in the story, as I fear they may (I'm not afraid the young folks will make that objection), I can only say with Mrs. March, "What can you expect when I have four gay girls in the house, and a dashing young neighbor over the way?"
The three years that have passed have brought but few changes to the quiet family. The war is over, and Mr. March safely at home, busy with his books and the small parish which found in him a minister by nature as by grace, a quiet, studious man, rich in the wisdom that is better than learning, the charity which calls all mankind 'brother', the piety that blossoms into character, making it august and lovely.
These attributes, in spite of poverty and the strict integrity which shut him out from the more worldly successes, attracted to him many admirable persons, as naturally as sweet herbs draw bees, and as naturally he gave them the honey into which fifty years of hard experience had distilled no bitter drop. Earnest young men found the gray-headed scholar as young at heart as they; thoughtful or troubled women instinctively brought their doubts to him, sure of finding the gentlest sympathy, the wisest counsel. Sinners told their sins to the pure-hearted old man and were both rebuked and saved. Gifted men found a companion in him. Ambitious men caught glimpses of nobler ambitions than their own, and even worldlings confessed that his beliefs were beautiful and true, although 'they wouldn't pay'.
To outsiders the five energetic women seemed to rule the house, and so they did in many things, but the quiet scholar, sitting among his books, was still the head of the family, the household conscience, anchor, and comforter, for to him the busy, anxious women always turned in troublous times, finding him, in the truest sense of those sacred words, husband and father.
The girls gave their hearts into their mother's keeping, their souls into their father's, and to both parents, who lived and labored so faithfully for them, they gave a love that grew with their growth and bound them tenderly together by the sweetest tie which blesses life and outlives death.
Mrs. March is as brisk and cheery, though rather grayer, than when we saw her last, and just now so absorbed in Meg's affairs that the hospitals and homes still full of wounded 'boys' and soldiers' widows, decidedly miss the motherly missionary's visits.
John Brooke did his duty manfully for a year, got wounded, was sent home, and not allowed to return. He received no stars or bars, but he deserved them, for he cheerfully risked all he had, and life and love are very precious when both are in full bloom. Perfectly resigned to his discharge, he devoted himself to getting well, preparing for business, and earning a home for Meg. With the good sense and sturdy independence that characterized him, he refused Mr. Laurence's more generous offers, and accepted the place of bookkeeper, feeling better satisfied to begin with an honestly earned salary than by running any risks with borrowed money.
Meg had spent the time in working as well as waiting, growing womanly in character, wise in housewifely arts, and prettier than ever, for love is a great beautifier. She had her girlish ambitions and hopes, and felt some disappointment at the humble way in which the new life must begin. Ned Moffat had just married Sallie Gardiner, and Meg couldn't help contrasting their fine house and carriage, many gifts, and splendid outfit with her own, and secretly wishing she could have the same. But somehow envy and discontent soon vanished when she thought of all the patient love and labor John had put into the little home awaiting her, and when they sat together in the twilight, talking over their small plans, the future always grew so beautiful and bright that she forgot Sallie's splendor and felt herself the richest, happiest girl in Christendom.
Jo never went back to Aunt March, for the old lady took such a fancy to Amy that she bribed her with the offer of drawing lessons from one of the best teachers going, and for the sake of this advantage, Amy would have served a far harder mistress. So she gave her mornings to duty, her afternoons to pleasure, and prospered finely. Jo meantime devoted herself to literature and Beth, who remained delicate long after the fever was a thing of the past. Not an invalid exactly, but never again the rosy, healthy creature she had been, yet always hopeful, happy, and serene, and busy with the quiet duties she loved, everyone's friend, and an angel in the house, long before those who loved her most had learned to know it.
As long as _The Spread Eagle_ paid her a dollar a column for her 'rubbish', as she called it, Jo felt herself a woman of means, and spun her little romances diligently. But great plans fermented in her busy brain and ambitious mind, and the old tin kitchen in the garret held a slowly increasing pile of blotted manuscript, which was one day to place the name of March upon the roll of fame.
Laurie, having dutifully gone to college to please his grandfather, was now getting through it in the easiest possible manner to please himself. A universal favorite, thanks to money, manners, much talent, and the kindest heart that ever got its owner into scrapes by trying to get other people out of them, he stood in great danger of being spoiled, and probably would have been, like many another promising boy, if he had not possessed a talisman against evil in the memory of the kind old man who was bound up in his success, the motherly friend who watched over him as if he were her son, and last, but not least by any means, the knowledge that four innocent girls loved, admired, and believed in him with all their hearts.
Being only 'a glorious human boy', of course he frolicked and flirted, grew dandified, aquatic, sentimental, or gymnastic, as college fashions ordained, hazed and was hazed, talked slang, and more than once came perilously near suspension and expulsion. But as high spirits and the love of fun were the causes of these pranks, he always managed to save himself by frank confession, honorable atonement, or the irresistible power of persuasion which he possessed in perfection. In fact, he rather prided himself on his narrow escapes, and liked to thrill the girls with graphic accounts of his triumphs over wrathful tutors, dignified professors, and vanquished enemies. The 'men of my class', were heroes in the eyes of the girls, who never wearied of the exploits of 'our fellows', and were frequently allowed to bask in the smiles of these great creatures, when Laurie brought them home with him.
Amy especially enjoyed this high honor, and became quite a belle among them, for her ladyship early felt and learned to use the gift of fascination with which she was endowed. Meg was too much absorbed in her private and particular John to care for any other lords of creation, and Beth too shy to do more than peep at them and wonder how Amy dared to order them about so, but Jo felt quite in her own element, and found it very difficult to refrain from imitating the gentlemanly attitudes, phrases, and feats, which seemed more natural to her than the decorums prescribed for young ladies. They all liked Jo immensely, but never fell in love with her, though very few escaped without paying the tribute of a sentimental sigh or two at Amy's shrine. And speaking of sentiment brings us very naturally to the 'Dovecote'.
That was the name of the little brown house Mr. Brooke had prepared for Meg's first home. Laurie had christened it, saying it was highly appropriate to the gentle lovers who 'went on together like a pair of turtledoves, with first a bill and then a coo'. It was a tiny house, with a little garden behind and a lawn about as big as a pocket handkerchief in the front. Here Meg meant to have a fountain, shrubbery, and a profusion of lovely flowers, though just at present the fountain was represented by a weather-beaten urn, very like a dilapidated slopbowl, the shrubbery consisted of several young larches, undecided whether to live or die, and the profusion of flowers was merely hinted by regiments of sticks to show where seeds were planted. But inside, it was altogether charming, and the happy bride saw no fault from garret to cellar. To be sure, the hall was so narrow it was fortunate that they had no piano, for one never could have been got in whole, the dining room was so small that six people were a tight fit, and the kitchen stairs seemed built for the express purpose of precipitating both servants and china pell-mell into the coalbin. But once get used to these slight blemishes and nothing could be more complete, for good sense and good taste had presided over the furnishing, and the result was highly satisfactory. There were no marble-topped tables, long mirrors, or lace curtains in the little parlor, but simple furniture, plenty of books, a fine picture or two, a stand of flowers in the bay window, and, scattered all about, the pretty gifts which came from friendly hands and were the fairer for the loving messages they brought.
I don't think the Parian Psyche Laurie gave lost any of its beauty because John put up the bracket it stood upon, that any upholsterer could have draped the plain muslin curtains more gracefully than Amy's artistic hand, or that any store-room was ever better provided with good wishes, merry words, and happy hopes than that in which Jo and her mother put away Meg's few boxes, barrels, and bundles, and I am morally certain that the spandy new kitchen never could have looked so cozy and neat if Hannah had not arranged every pot and pan a dozen times over, and laid the fire all ready for lighting the minute 'Mis. Brooke came home'. I also doubt if any young matron ever began life with so rich a supply of dusters, holders, and piece bags, for Beth made enough to last till the silver wedding came round, and invented three different kinds of dishcloths for the express service of the bridal china.
People who hire all these things done for them never know what they lose, for the homeliest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them, and Meg found so many proofs of this that everything in her small nest, from the kitchen roller to the silver vase on her parlor table, was eloquent of home love and tender forethought.
What happy times they had planning together, what solemn shopping excursions, what funny mistakes they made, and what shouts of laughter arose over Laurie's ridiculous bargains. In his love of jokes, this young gentleman, though nearly through college, was a much of a boy as ever. His last whim had been to bring with him on his weekly visits some new, useful, and ingenious article for the young housekeeper. Now a bag of remarkable clothespins, next, a wonderful nutmeg grater which fell to pieces at the first trial, a knife cleaner that spoiled all the knives, or a sweeper that picked the nap neatly off the carpet and left the dirt, labor-saving soap that took the skin off one's hands, infallible cements which stuck firmly to nothing but the fingers of the deluded buyer, and every kind of tinware, from a toy savings bank for odd pennies, to a wonderful boiler which would wash articles in its own steam with every prospect of exploding in the process.
In vain Meg begged him to stop. John laughed at him, and Jo called him 'Mr. Toodles'. He was possessed with a mania for patronizing Yankee ingenuity, and seeing his friends fitly furnished forth. So each week beheld some fresh absurdity.
Everything was done at last, even to Amy's arranging different colored soaps to match the different colored rooms, and Beth's setting the table for the first meal.
"Are you satisfied? Does it seem like home, and do you feel as if you should be happy here?" asked Mrs. March, as she and her daughter went through the new kingdom arm in arm, for just then they seemed to cling together more tenderly than ever.
"Yes, Mother, perfectly satisfied, thanks to you all, and so happy that I can't talk about it," with a look that was far better than words.
"If she only had a servant or two it would be all right," said Amy, coming out of the parlor, where she had been trying to decide whether the bronze Mercury looked best on the whatnot or the mantlepiece.
"Mother and I have talked that over, and I have made up my mind to try her way first. There will be so little to do that with Lotty to run my errands and help me here and there, I shall only have enough work to keep me from getting lazy or homesick," answered Meg tranquilly.
"Sallie Moffat has four," began Amy.
"If Meg had four, the house wouldn't hold them, and master and missis would have to camp in the garden," broke in Jo, who, enveloped in a big blue pinafore, was giving the last polish to the door handles.
"Sallie isn't a poor man's wife, and many maids are in keeping with her fine establishment. Meg and John begin humbly, but I have a feeling that there will be quite as much happiness in the little house as in the big one. It's a great mistake for young girls like Meg to leave themselves nothing to do but dress, give orders, and gossip. When I was first married, I used to long for my new clothes to wear out or get torn, so that I might have the pleasure of mending them, for I got heartily sick of doing fancywork and tending my pocket handkerchief."
"Why didn't you go into the kitchen and make messes, as Sallie says she does to amuse herself, though they never turn out well and the servants laugh at her," said Meg.
"I did after a while, not to 'mess' but to learn of Hannah how things should be done, that my servants need not laugh at me. It was play then, but there came a time when I was truly grateful that I not only possessed the will but the power to cook wholesome food for my little girls, and help myself when I could no longer afford to hire help. You begin at the other end, Meg, dear, but the lessons you learn now will be of use to you by-and-by when John is a richer man, for the mistress of a house, however splendid, should know how work ought to be done, if she wishes to be well and honestly served."
"Yes, Mother, I'm sure of that," said Meg, listening respectfully to the little lecture, for the best of women will hold forth upon the all absorbing subject of house keeping. "Do you know I like this room most of all in my baby house," added Meg, a minute after, as they went upstairs and she looked into her well-stored linen closet.
Beth was there, laying the snowy piles smoothly on the shelves and exulting over the goodly array. All three laughed as Meg spoke, for that linen closet was a joke. You see, having said that if Meg married 'that Brooke' she shouldn't have a cent of her money, Aunt March was rather in a quandary when time had appeased her wrath and made her repent her vow. She never broke her word, and was much exercised in her mind how to get round it, and at last devised a plan whereby she could satisfy herself. Mrs. Carrol, Florence's mamma, was ordered to buy, have made, and marked a generous supply of house and table linen, and send it as her present, all of which was faithfully done, but the secret leaked out, and was greatly enjoyed by the family, for Aunt March tried to look utterly unconscious, and insisted that she could give nothing but the old-fashioned pearls long promised to the first bride.
"That's a housewifely taste which I am glad to see. I had a young friend who set up housekeeping with six sheets, but she had finger bowls for company and that satisfied her," said Mrs. March, patting the damask tablecloths, with a truly feminine appreciation of their fineness.
"I haven't a single finger bowl, but this is a setout that will last me all my days, Hannah says." And Meg looked quite contented, as well she might.
A tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with a cropped head, a felt basin of a hat, and a flyaway coat, came tramping down the road at a great pace, walked over the low fence without stopping to open the gate, straight up to Mrs. March, with both hands out and a hearty . . .
"Here I am, Mother! Yes, it's all right."
The last words were in answer to the look the elder lady gave him, a kindly questioning look which the handsome eyes met so frankly that the little ceremony closed, as usual, with a motherly kiss.
"For Mrs. John Brooke, with the maker's congratulations and compliments. Bless you, Beth! What a refreshing spectacle you are, Jo. Amy, you are getting altogether too handsome for a single lady."
As Laurie spoke, he delivered a brown paper parcel to Meg, pulled Beth's hair ribbon, stared at Jo's big pinafore, and fell into an attitude of mock rapture before Amy, then shook hands all round, and everyone began to talk.
"Where is John?" asked Meg anxiously.
"Stopped to get the license for tomorrow, ma'am."
"Which side won the last match, Teddy?" inquired Jo, who persisted in feeling an interest in manly sports despite her nineteen years.
"Ours, of course. Wish you'd been there to see."
"How is the lovely Miss Randal?" asked Amy with a significant smile.
"More cruel than ever. Don't you see how I'm pining away?" and Laurie gave his broad chest a sounding slap and heaved a melodramatic sigh.
"What's the last joke? Undo the bundle and see, Meg," said Beth, eying the knobby parcel with curiosity.
"It's a useful thing to have in the house in case of fire or thieves," observed Laurie, as a watchman's rattle appeared, amid the laughter of the girls.
"Any time when John is away and you get frightened, Mrs. Meg, just swing that out of the front window, and it will rouse the neighborhood in a jiffy. Nice thing, isn't it?" and Laurie gave them a sample of its powers that made them cover up their ears.
"There's gratitude for you! And speaking of gratitude reminds me to mention that you may thank Hannah for saving your wedding cake from destruction. I saw it going into your house as I came by, and if she hadn't defended it manfully I'd have had a pick at it, for it looked like a remarkably plummy one."
"I wonder if you will ever grow up, Laurie," said Meg in a matronly tone.
"I'm doing my best, ma'am, but can't get much higher, I'm afraid, as six feet is about all men can do in these degenerate days," responded the young gentleman, whose head was about level with the little chandelier.
"I suppose it would be profanation to eat anything in this spick-and-span bower, so as I'm tremendously hungry, I propose an adjournment," he added presently.
"Mother and I are going to wait for John. There are some last things to settle," said Meg, bustling away.
"Beth and I are going over to Kitty Bryant's to get more flowers for tomorrow," added Amy, tying a picturesque hat over her picturesque curls, and enjoying the effect as much as anybody.
"Come, Jo, don't desert a fellow. I'm in such a state of exhaustion I can't get home without help. Don't take off your apron, whatever you do, it's peculiarly becoming," said Laurie, as Jo bestowed his especial aversion in her capacious pocket and offered her arm to support his feeble steps.
"Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about tomorrow," began Jo, as they strolled away together. "You must promise to behave well, and not cut up any pranks, and spoil our plans."
"Not a prank."
"And don't say funny things when we ought to be sober."
"I never do. You are the one for that."
"And I implore you not to look at me during the ceremony. I shall certainly laugh if you do."
"You won't see me, you'll be crying so hard that the thick fog round you will obscure the prospect."
"I never cry unless for some great affliction."
"Such as fellows going to college, hey?" cut in Laurie, with suggestive laugh.
"Don't be a peacock. I only moaned a trifle to keep the girls company."
"Exactly. I say, Jo, how is Grandpa this week? Pretty amiable?"
"Very. Why, have you got into a scrape and want to know how he'll take it?" asked Jo rather sharply.
"Now, Jo, do you think I'd look your mother in the face and say 'All right', if it wasn't?" and Laurie stopped short, with an injured air.
"No, I don't."
"Then don't go and be suspicious. I only want some money," said Laurie, walking on again, appeased by her hearty tone.
"You spend a great deal, Teddy."
"Bless you, I don't spend it, it spends itself somehow, and is gone before I know it."
"You are so generous and kind-hearted that you let people borrow, and can't say 'No' to anyone. We heard about Henshaw and all you did for him. If you always spent money in that way, no one would blame you," said Jo warmly.
"Oh, he made a mountain out of a molehill. You wouldn't have me let that fine fellow work himself to death just for want of a little help, when he is worth a dozen of us lazy chaps, would you?"
"Of course not, but I don't see the use of your having seventeen waistcoats, endless neckties, and a new hat every time you come home. I thought you'd got over the dandy period, but every now and then it breaks out in a new spot. Just now it's the fashion to be hideous, to make your head look like a scrubbing brush, wear a strait jacket, orange gloves, and clumping square-toed boots. If it was cheap ugliness, I'd say nothing, but it costs as much as the other, and I don't get any satisfaction out of it."
Laurie threw back his head, and laughed so heartily at this attack, that the felt hat fell off, and Jo walked on it, which insult only afforded him an opportunity for expatiating on the advantages of a rough-and-ready costume, as he folded up the maltreated hat, and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Don't lecture any more, there's a good soul! I have enough all through the week, and like to enjoy myself when I come home. I'll get myself up regardless of expense tomorrow and be a satisfaction to my friends."
"I'll leave you in peace if you'll only let your hair grow. I'm not aristocratic, but I do object to being seen with a person who looks like a young prize fighter," observed Jo severely.
"This unassuming style promotes study, that's why we adopt it," returned Laurie, who certainly could not be accused of vanity, having voluntarily sacrificed a handsome curly crop to the demand for quarter-inch-long stubble.
"By the way, Jo, I think that little Parker is really getting desperate about Amy. He talks of her constantly, writes poetry, and moons about in a most suspicious manner. He'd better nip his little passion in the bud, hadn't he?" added Laurie, in a confidential, elder brotherly tone, after a minute's silence.
"Of course he had. We don't want any more marrying in this family for years to come. Mercy on us, what are the children thinking of?" and Jo looked as much scandalized as if Amy and little Parker were not yet in their teens.
"It's a fast age, and I don't know what we are coming to, ma'am. You are a mere infant, but you'll go next, Jo, and we'll be left lamenting," said Laurie, shaking his head over the degeneracy of the times.
"Don't be alarmed. I'm not one of the agreeable sort. Nobody will want me, and it's a mercy, for there should always be one old maid in a family."
"You won't give anyone a chance," said Laurie, with a sidelong glance and a little more color than before in his sunburned face. "You won't show the soft side of your character, and if a fellow gets a peep at it by accident and can't help showing that he likes it, you treat him as Mrs. Gummidge did her sweetheart, throw cold water over him, and get so thorny no one dares touch or look at you."
"I don't like that sort of thing. I'm too busy to be worried with nonsense, and I think it's dreadful to break up families so. Now don't say any more about it. Meg's wedding has turned all our heads, and we talk of nothing but lovers and such absurdities. I don't wish to get cross, so let's change the subject;" and Jo looked quite ready to fling cold water on the slightest provocation.
Whatever his feelings might have been, Laurie found a vent for them in a long low whistle and the fearful prediction as they parted at the gate, "Mark my words, Jo, you'll go next."
 
我们稍稍聊些马奇家的事，就此重起炉灶，轻轻松松地去参加梅格的婚礼。假若长者中有谁说这个故事中"谈情说爱"太多，我估摸他们会这样看（我不担心年青人会提出那样的反对意见），在此我只得说，我只有拿马奇太太的话来搪塞了：“家里有四个快乐的姑娘，那边还有一个年轻帅气的邻居，你还能指望别的什么呢？” 逝去的三年光阴仅仅给这个安宁的家庭带来少许的变化。战争已经结束，马奇先生平安地回到了家里，埋头读书，忙于小教区的事务。他的性格、他的风度显示出他天生就是一个牧师 -一个沉静、勤勉的男人，富于无学究气的那种智慧、视全人类为"兄弟"的善心，以及融入性格之中的诚信，这一切使他显得既威严又谦和。
尽管贫穷和耿直的性格摒他于世俗的功利之外，这些品德依然吸引着许多可敬的人，如同芳香的花草吸引蜜蜂一般自然。自然地，他给予他们的甜蜜是他从五十年艰辛生涯中提炼出的甜美的蜜汁。热忱的年青人发现，这位头发花白的学者内心和他们一样年轻；心事重重或满腹焦虑的妇女们本能地向他倾诉她们的烦恼与忧愁，她们确信能从他那儿得到最亲切的同情和最明智的建议；罪人们向这位心地纯净的老人忏悔，祈得训戒与拯救；天资聪颖的人们视他为知友；自命不凡的人隐约感到他比自己有更高尚的怀抱；即便凡夫俗子也承认，他的信仰美而且真，虽然"它们带不来实惠"。
在局外人看来，似乎是五个精力充沛的女人统治着这个家庭，在许多事情上也确实如此；但是，坐在书堆里的那位沉静的学者依然是一家之主，是这个家庭的良知、靠山和安慰者，因为，遇到困境时，忙碌焦躁的女人们总是转而向他讨主意，发现丈夫、父亲这两个神圣的字眼对于他名符其实。
姑娘们将心交与妈妈，将灵魂交与爸爸，将爱奉献给为她们活着、操劳着的双亲，并且这爱随着年龄的增长而与日俱增，如同赐福人生并超越死亡的美妙纽带将他们温柔地系在了一起。
马奇太太虽然比我们前面看到时衰老多了，却依旧生气勃勃，精神饱满。现在她一心用在梅格的婚事上，这样一来，依旧挤满受伤的"男孩们"和士兵的未亡人的医院和收容所，无疑要怀念她那慈爱垂悯的探访了。
约翰•布鲁克勇敢地服了一年兵役，受了伤，被送回家，没再让他回到部队。他的领章上既未加星也未加军阶线，然而他无愧于这些，生命与爱情之花灿然开放是多么可贵，而他冒着失去这一切的危险，精神抖擞地毅然从军。约翰完全听从退役安排，一心一意地恢复身体，准备经商，为与梅格组合家庭挣钱。他明白事理，刚毅自强，因此，他谢绝了劳伦斯先生的慷慨相助，接受了簿记员的职位，觉得以自己劳动所得来创业比借贷冒险要心安理得。
梅格在工作和等待中度过时光，女人气质愈加丰满，理家艺术日臻完善，人也益发娇媚，原来爱情是功效非凡的美容佳品。她怀抱女孩们通常具有的那种志向与希冀，却又对不得不以卑微的方式开始新生活而感到有些失望。内德•莫法特刚刚娶了萨莉•加德纳，梅格不由自主地将他们华丽的居室、马车、大量的礼品、精美的服饰与自己的比较，心中暗自希望也能拥有同样的一切。然而，不知怎么，当她想到约翰为迎接她的小家而付出的挚爱与辛劳时，那种忌妒与不平便很快消失得无影无踪。暮霭中他们坐在一起谈论他们的那些小计划，这时，未来总是变得那么美丽而璀璨，萨利的豪华也被抛到了九霄云外，而她仿佛感到自己就是基督教世界最富有、最幸福的姑娘。
乔再也没回到马奇婶婶那里，因为老太太是那样赏识艾美，她提出要让当今最好的老师来教她绘画，以此讨好她。由于这件好事的缘故，艾美便得去服侍这个很难侍候的老太。这样，艾美上午去为姑老太尽义务，下午则去享受绘画的乐趣，两不爽失。乔全副心思用在文学和贝思身上。贝思患猩红热已成往事，可身体却从此一直很虚弱。确切地说，她已没病，却再也不似往昔那样面色红润，体质健康了；然而她还是那样满怀希望，幸福而宁静，默默地忙这忙那。她乐于这样。她是每个人的朋友、家庭中的天使，早在这以前，那些深爱她的人就已悉知这一切。
只要《展翼鹰》为她称之为"废话"的故事支付一专栏一美元的稿酬，乔就觉得自己是个有收入的女人，她勤奋地编造着小传奇故事。但是，她那忙碌的脑袋和发热的思想里却酝酿着伟大的计划。阁楼上她那旧锡盒里，墨渍斑斑的手稿在慢慢地增加着，将来有一天它们会使马奇的姓载入名人录。
劳里为让爷爷高兴，顺从地去上了大学，现在，他尽可能地以最轻松的方式完成学业而不使自己失去快乐。他人缘极好，肯散财，有教养，天赋又高。他有一副菩萨心肠，想把别人拉出困境，却常常让自己陷进去。他极有被骄纵的危险，就像许多别的有出息的年青人那样，如果不是拥有一个避邪的护符，也许真的如此。这就是由于有位仁慈的老人与他的成功相维系而居于他的记忆中；还有位母亲般的朋友，照拂他如同亲生儿子。最后，也决非微不足道的便是，他知道那四位天真无邪的姑娘全部由衷地爱他，敬重他，信赖他。
劳里也只是个"快活的性情中人"，他当然也就要嬉闹，打情骂俏，洋溢着公子哥气，随大流，感情用事，热衷体育，一如大学中流行的时尚。作弄人也被人作弄，放言无忌，满口村词野语，不止一次地险些被停学和开除。但这些恶作剧都起因于好激动和喜欢寻开心，他也总能坦率地认错，体面地悔过，或者巧言如簧不容置疑地辩解，从而化险为夷。事实上，他对每次侥幸脱险颇为称意自得，乐于向易受感动的姑娘绘声绘色地描述他如何成功地战胜了恼怒不已的导师、凛然不可犯的教授，又怎样击败自己的对手。在姑娘们眼里，”我班上的男人"是英雄，”我们自己人"的丰功伟绩她们是百听不厌。劳里带她们到家里来，她们常得到这些伟人们的恩宠。
艾美尤为欣赏这一殊荣，她成了这个圈子中的美人儿，因为这位小姐很早便意识到并懂得施展她天赋的魅力。梅格过于沉缅于她的约翰，因而不在意任何其他的男人。贝思太羞涩，只能偷看他们几眼，仅此而已。她诧异艾美竟能如此支使他们。乔却感到如鱼得水，她发现很难控制自己不去仿效绅士的姿态、辞令和行为，对她来说这些似乎比为年轻小姐们规定的礼仪更合于她的本性。男孩子们都非常喜欢乔，但决不会爱上她，虽然极少有谁能在艾美的石榴裙下不发出一两声充满柔情的赞叹。说到柔情，很自然地将我们带到了"鸽屋"。
那是布鲁克先生为梅格准备的新家--一幢棕色小屋。
劳里为它起的名，他说这对温柔的情人非常贴切，他们"就像一对斑鸠似地一起过活，先是互相接吻，再喁喁谈情"。这是一座小屋子，屋后有个小花园，屋前有块手帕般的袖珍草坪。梅格打算在这里建一个喷水池，植些小灌木，还要有许多可爱的花儿，虽然眼下喷水池由一个饱经风雨的水瓮代替，水瓮很像一个破旧的装盛残羹剩饭的盂盆；灌木丛不过是几株生死未卜的落叶松幼苗，而花瓶只是插了许多枝条，标志着那里已撒下了花籽。然而，屋里的一切都赏心悦目。从阁楼到地下室，都令幸福的新娘无可挑剔。确实，门厅太窄了，幸好他们还没有钢琴，因为整架钢琴无法弄进去。餐厅太小，六个人便会挤得转不过身来。厨房的楼梯口似乎是专门建来存放煤箱的，仆人们连同乱七八糟的瓷器都归属其间。然而，一旦习惯了这些小小的瑕疵，就会感到没有别的屋比它更加完美了。因为屋子的装饰显示出独特的见地与雅致的情趣，从而别具一番韵味。没有大理石铺面的桌子，没有长长的穿衣镜，小客厅里也没有饰有花边的窗帘，而摆放着简洁的家具、丰富的书籍、一两幅美丽的画，吊窗台上放着插花，四处散放着漂亮的礼物，它们出自友爱之手而爱意深长。
劳里送的礼物是一尊白色细瓷爱神，约翰将它的托架去掉了，但我想爱神并未因此而损失丝毫美感。极富艺术灵感的艾美为她装饰了素净的棉布窗帘，任何装饰商都不能比艾美更别出心裁。乔和妈妈将梅格仅有的几个箱子、桶和包裹放进了她的储藏室，也放进去她们美好的祝愿、愉快的话语和幸福的希望。我想不出还有哪一间储藏室会有这一间丰富多彩。罕娜将所有的盆盆罐罐安排了十几次，做好了生火的一切准备，一俟"布鲁克太太来家"便能点着。我确信，若不是如此，这间崭新的厨房看上去不可能这样舒适整洁。我还怀疑有没有别的主妇开始新生活时会有如此之多的擦布、夹子和碎布袋，因为，贝思为她准备得足以用到银婚之日来临。她还发明了三种不同的抹布，专门用来擦拭新娘的瓷器。
那些雇人做这些工作的人们根本不知道他们失去了什么，这些最平常的事务由充满爱意的手来做，便会产生美感。
梅格从很多地方得到了印证。她小窝里的每一件物品，从厨房里的擀面棍到客厅桌上的银花瓶，都明白地显示出家人的爱心与细致的筹谋。
他们一起计划着，多么幸福的时光！多么庄严的嫁妆采购！他们犯了些多么可笑的错误！劳里买来些滑稽的便宜货，又引起了怎样的阵阵笑声啊！这位年轻先生爱开玩笑，尽管就快大学毕业了，仍旧孩子气十足。他最近突发奇想，每周来访时，为年轻的管家妇带来些新奇有用的精巧物品。先是一袋奇异的衣类，接着是一个绝妙的肉豆蔻粉碎机，可是第一次试用便散了架。还有一个刀具除垢器，却弄脏了所有的刀具；一个除尘器，能打扫干净地毯的毛绒，却留下了污垢；省力的肥皂，用时洗掉了手上的皮肤；可靠的胶泥，能牢牢粘住上当的买主的手指，却不粘别物；还有各种白铁工艺品，从放零钱的玩具储蓄罐到奇妙的汽锅，那锅产生的蒸气可洗涤物品，使用过程中却极可能爆炸。
梅格徒然地让他就此打住，约翰笑话他，乔叫他为"拜拜先生"。可是他正被这种狂热所左右，非要赞助美国人新奇的设计，让他朋友的家适宜地装备起来不可。因此，大家每周都会看到新鲜的、滑稽可笑的事情。
终于一切准备就绪，包括艾美为不同颜色的房间配备的不同颜色的肥皂，以及贝思为第一顿饭安排的餐桌。
“你满意了吗？它看上去像家吗？在这儿你感到幸福吗？”马奇太太问，母女俩正手挽着手在这新王国里进进出出。此时，她们似乎比以前更温柔地相互依恋了。
“是的，妈妈。我十分满意。感谢你们大家。我太幸福了，倒说不出什么了，“梅格回答，她的表情胜于言语。
“要是她有一两个仆人就好了，”艾美从客厅走出来说道。
她在那里试图敲定，墨丘利铜像放在玻璃柜里还是壁炉台上更好。
“妈和我谈过这事，我决心先试试她的办法。我有洛蒂帮我做活，忙这忙那，该不会有多少事情要做的了。我要干的活儿，只足以使我免于懒惰和想家，”梅格平静地回答道。
“萨利•莫法特有四个仆人，”艾美开口说。
“要是梅格有四个，她的屋子也没法住下，这样先生与夫人只好在花园里扎营了，”乔插了嘴。她身系一条蓝色大围裙，正在为门把手做最后的加工。
“萨莉可不是穷人的妻子，众多的女仆也正般配她的华宅。梅格和约翰起点低，可是我觉得，小屋里会有和大房子里同样多的幸福。像梅格这样的年青姑娘若是啥事不干，只是打扮、发号施令、闲聊，那就荒谬之极了。我刚结婚时，总是盼望我的新衣服穿坏或磨破，这样我就有缝缝补补的乐趣了。我烦透了钩编织品，摆弄手绢。”“你为什么不去厨房瞎忙乎呢？萨利说她就是这样以此为乐的，尽管烹饪从不成功，仆人们也总笑她，”梅格说道。
“后来我是那么做的，但不是'瞎忙乎'，而是向罕娜学习该怎么做。我的仆人们没有必要笑话我，当时那不过是游戏。可是，有一度我雇不起仆人的时候，我不仅有决心，也有能力为我的小姑娘们烧煮有益健康的食物。我自个儿为此感到很受用。梅格，亲爱的，你是从另一头开始的。但是你现在学得的教训渐渐地会派上用常当约翰富裕了一些时，对家庭主妇来说，不管多么显赫荣耀，都应知道活儿该怎样去做，如果她希望被人尽心尽意地侍候的话。”“是的，妈妈，我相信，“梅格说，她毕恭毕敬地听着这个小小的教诲。就管家这引人入胜的话题来说，大部分妇女都会滔滔不绝地发表意见的。”你知道吗？这些小房间我最喜欢的是这一间，”一会儿后，她们上了楼，梅格看着她装满亚麻织品的衣橱，接着说道。
贝思正在那儿，她将雪白的织品齐整地摆放在橱架上，为这一大批漂亮的织品得意非凡。梅格说话时三个人都笑了起来，因为那亚麻织品是个笑话。要知道，马奇婶婶曾说过，假如梅格嫁给"那个布鲁克"，将得不到她的一文钱。可是，当时间平息了她的怒气，当她为她发的誓后悔时，老太太左右为难了。她从不食言，便绞尽脑汁如何转这个弯子。最后她设计了一个能使她满意的方案。卡罗尔太太，弗洛伦斯的妈妈受命去购买、缝制、设计了一大批装饰屋子和桌子的亚麻织品，并作为她的礼品送给梅格。卡罗尔太太忠实地做了这一切，但是秘密泄露了出来，全家人大为欣赏，马奇婶婶试图做出全然不觉的样子，坚持说她不给梅格别的礼物，只给她那串老式的珍珠项链，那是早就应诺要送给第一个新娘的。
“我很高兴，这是会当家才有的审美能力。以前我有个年青朋友，开始成家时只有六床被单，但因有洗指钵伴着她而再无所求。”马奇太太带着道地的女性鉴赏力轻轻拍打着绣花台布。
“我连一个洗指钵也没有，但是，我的这份家当够我用一辈子了，罕娜也这样说。”梅格看上去一副知足的样子，她也满可以这样知足。
“'拜拜'来了，”乔在楼下叫了起来，大家便一起下楼迎劳里。在她们平静的生活里，劳里的每周来访是件大事。
一个高个儿、宽肩膀的年青人迈着有力的步子快速走了过来，他理着短发，头戴毡帽，身上的衣服宽宽大大。他没有停步去开那低矮的篱笆门，而是跨了过来，径直走向马奇太太，一边伸出双手，热诚地说道：“我来了，妈妈！啊，一切都好。”他后面的话回答了老夫人神情里流露出的询问。他漂亮的双眼露出坦率的目光，迎接这种关切的神情。这样，小小的仪式像往常一样，以母亲的一吻结束。
“这个给约翰•布鲁克太太，顺致制作人的恭贺与赞美。
贝思，上帝保佑你！乔，你真是别有韵致。艾美，你出落得太漂亮了，不好再当单身小姐了。”劳里一边说着，一边丢给梅格一个牛皮纸包，扯了扯贝思的发结，盯着乔的大围裙。在艾美面前做出一副带嘲弄味的痴迷样，然后和众人一握手，大家便谈起话来。
“约翰在哪儿？”梅格焦急地问道。
“丢下一切为明天办理结婚证书做准备去了，夫人。”“比赛哪边赢了，特迪？“乔问道。尽管已经十九岁，乔一如既往地对男人们的运动感兴趣。
“当然是我们了。真希望你也在常”
“那位可爱的兰德尔小姐怎么样了？”艾美意味深长地笑着问。
“比以前更残忍了，你看不出我是怎样憔悴？”劳里呯呯地拍着他宽阔的胸膛，神情夸张地叹息道。
“这最后一个玩笑是什么？梅格，打开包裹瞧瞧，”贝思好奇地打量着鼓鼓囊囊的包裹说道。
“家里有这个很有用，以防火灾或盗贼，”劳里说道。在姑娘们的笑声中，一个更夫用的响铃出现在众人眼前。
“一旦约翰不在家，而你又感到害怕的时候，梅格夫人，只要你在前窗摇它，立刻就能惊动邻居。这东西很妙，是不是？”劳里示范其功效，姑娘们不由捂住了耳朵。
“你们的配合真让我感激！说到感激，我想到一件事，你们得谢谢罕娜，她使婚宴蛋糕免遭毁灭。我过来时看到了蛋糕，要不是她英勇地护卫着它，我就会吃上几口的。它看上去好极了。”“真不知你可会长大，劳里，”梅格带着主妇的口气说道。
“我尽力而为，夫人。可是，我恐怕再长不了多大了。在这种衰败的年代，六英尺大约就是所有男人能长到的高度了，”年轻先生回答道，他的头大约和那小枝形吊灯平齐了。
“我想，在这样整洁的屋子里吃东西会亵渎神灵，可我饿极了，因此，我提议休会，”过了一会儿，他补充道。
“我和妈妈要等约翰，最后还有些事情要解决，”梅格说着，急急忙忙走开了。
“我和贝思要去告蒂•布莱恩家为明天多弄些鲜花，”艾美接过话头。她在美丽的鬈发上戴着一顶别致的帽子，和大家一样大为欣赏如此装扮的效果。
“乔，来吧，别丢开我。我疲倦极了，没人帮助回不了家。
不管你做什么，别解下围裙，它怪模怪样还挺漂亮，”劳里说道。乔将那个他特别讨厌的围裙放入她硕大的口袋里，伸出胳膊，支撑他无力的脚步。
“好了，特迪，我要和你认真谈谈明天的事，”他们一起踱步离开时，乔开口说道，”你必须保证好好表现，别搞恶作剧，破坏我们的计划。”“决不再犯。”“我们该严肃时，别说可笑的事情。”“我决不说。你才会那样做呢。”“还有，我求你在仪式进行中别看我。你要是看，我肯定要笑的。”“你不会看到我的。你会哭得很厉害，厚厚的泪雾将模糊你的视线。”“除非有很深的痛苦，我从不会哭的。”“比方人家去上大学，嘿？”劳里笑着插嘴暗示她。
“别神气十足了，我只是随着姐妹们一起哭了一小会。”“真的是这样。我说，乔，爷爷这星期怎么样？脾气很温和吗？”“非常温和。怎么？你有麻烦了，想知道他会怎样？”乔很尖锐地问道。
“哎呀，乔，你以为，如果我有了麻烦，还能直视你妈妈，说'一切都好'吗？“劳里突然停步，露出受了伤害的神色。
“不，我不这么以为。”
“那么，别这样疑神疑鬼。我只需要些钱，”劳里说道。她恳切的语调抚慰了他，他继续走路。
“你花钱太厉害了，特迪。”
“天哪，不是我花了钱，而是钱自己花掉了。不知怎么搞的，我还没反应过来，钱已没了。”“你那么慷慨大方，富于同情心。你借钱给别人，对谁的要求都不拒绝。我们听说了亨肖的事，听说了你为他做的一切。要是你一直像那样花钱，没人会责怪你，”乔热情地说。
“噢，他小题大做了。他一人抵一打我们这样的懒家伙，你总不会让我眼看着他只为需要一点点帮助而去干活累死吧，是不是？”“当然不会。但是，你有十七件背心，数不清的领带，每次回家都戴一顶新帽子，我看不出这有什么益处。我以为你已经过了讲究浮华服饰的时期。可是，这毛病时不时又在新的地方冒了头。如今丑陋的打扮倒成了时髦--你把头弄成了矮灌木丛，穿紧身夹克，戴桔色手套，穿厚底方头靴。要是这种难看的打扮不费钱，我不说什么，可它花钱和别的装束一样多，而且我一点也不满意。”对于这一攻击，劳里仰头大笑，结果毡帽掉到了地上，乔从帽上踩了过去。这个侮辱只为他提供了阐述粗糙服装优点的机会。他折起那顶受了虐待的帽子，将它塞进了口袋。
“别再教训人了，好人儿！我一个星期够烦的了，回家来想快活快活。明天，我还是要不考虑花费，打扮起来，让我的朋友们满意。”“你只要把头发蓄起来我就不烦你了。我并不讲贵族派头，但我不愿让人看见和一个貌似职业拳击手的年轻人在一起，”乔严肃地说。
“这种其实的发型促进学习，我们因此而采用它，”劳里回答。他心甘情愿地牺牲了漂亮的鬈发，迁就这种只有四分之一英寸长的短发茬，这样当然不能指责他爱慕虚荣。
“顺便说说，乔，我看那个小帕克真的是为了艾美而不顾一切了。他不停地谈论她，为她写诗，神情痴迷，态度真让人起疑。他最好将他稚嫩的热情消灭于萌芽状态，是不是？”沉默了片刻，劳里以推心置腹的、兄长般的口气接着说道。
“他当然该这样。我们不希望几年内家里又有什么婚姻大事。我的天哪，这些孩子们在想些什么啊？”乔看上去大为震惊，仿佛艾美和小帕克已经不是少年了。
“这是个高速时代，我不知道我们会有什么样的结局，你只是个孩子，乔，但是，下一个将是你出嫁，把我们留下来悲叹。”劳里对这堕落的时代大摇其头。
“别惊慌，我不是那种可人儿，没有人要我，那也是神的恩赐，因为一家之中总要有个老处女的。”“你不会给任何人机会的，”劳里说着瞥了她一眼，晒黑的脸庞上泛起了一点红晕，”你不会将你性格里温柔的一面示人的。假如谁偶然窥视到这一面，不由自主地表示他喜欢你，你会像戈米基夫人对她的情人所做的那样- 对他泼冷水 变得满身长刺，没有人敢碰你、看你。”“我不喜欢那种事。我太忙了，无暇去考虑那些废话。我觉得以那种方式解散家庭太可怕了。好了，别再说这事了。梅格的婚礼使我们大家的脑子都错乱了。我们没谈别的，光谈情人以及这类荒唐事儿。我不愿由此发脾气，因此我们换个话题吧。”乔看上去严阵以待，稍稍一激便会大泼冷水。
不管劳里有什么样的感情，他得到了发泄。他们在门口分手时，劳里低声吹了个长口哨，并作了可怕的预测：“记住我的话，乔，下一个出嫁的是你。”
Chapter 25 The First Wedding
The June roses over the porch were awake bright and early on that morning, rejoicing with all their hearts in the cloudless sunshine, like friendly little neighbors, as they were. Quite flushed with excitement were their ruddy faces, as they swung in the wind, whispering to one another what they had seen, for some peeped in at the dining room windows where the feast was spread, some climbed up to nod and smile at the sisters as they dressed the bride, others waved a welcome to those who came and went on various errands in garden, porch, and hall, and all, from the rosiest full-blown flower to the palest baby bud, offered their tribute of beauty and fragrance to the gentle mistress who had loved and tended them so long.
Meg looked very like a rose herself, for all that was best and sweetest in heart and soul seemed to bloom into her face that day, making it fair and tender, with a charm more beautiful than beauty. Neither silk, lace, nor orange flowers would she have. "I don't want a fashionable wedding, but only those about me whom I love, and to them I wish to look and be my familiar self."
So she made her wedding gown herself, sewing into it the tender hopes and innocent romances of a girlish heart. Her sisters braided up her pretty hair, and the only ornaments she wore were the lilies of the valley, which 'her John' liked best of all the flowers that grew.
"You do look just like our own dear Meg, only so very sweet and lovely that I should hug you if it wouldn't crumple your dress," cried Amy, surveying her with delight when all was done.
"Then I am satisfied. But please hug and kiss me, everyone, and don't mind my dress. I want a great many crumples of this sort put into it today," and Meg opened her arms to her sisters, who clung about her with April faces for a minute, feeling that the new love had not changed the old.
"Now I'm going to tie John's cravat for him, and then to stay a few minutes with Father quietly in the study," and Meg ran down to perform these little ceremonies, and then to follow her mother wherever she went, conscious that in spite of the smiles on the motherly face, there was a secret sorrow hid in the motherly heart at the flight of the first bird from the nest.
As the younger girls stand together, giving the last touches to their simple toilet, it may be a good time to tell of a few changes which three years have wrought in their appearance, for all are looking their best just now.
Jo's angles are much softened, she has learned to carry herself with ease, if not grace. The curly crop has lengthened into a thick coil, more becoming to the small head atop of the tall figure. There is a fresh color in her brown cheeks, a soft shine in her eyes, and only gentle words fall from her sharp tongue today.
Beth has grown slender, pale, and more quiet than ever. The beautiful, kind eyes are larger, and in them lies an expression that saddens one, although it is not sad itself. It is the shadow of pain which touches the young face with such pathetic patience, but Beth seldom complains and always speaks hopefully of 'being better soon'.
Amy is with truth considered 'the flower of the family', for at sixteen she has the air and bearing of a full-grown woman, not beautiful, but possessed of that indescribable charm called grace. One saw it in the lines of her figure, the make and motion of her hands, the flow of her dress, the droop of her hair, unconscious yet harmonious, and as attractive to many as beauty itself. Amy's nose still afflicted her, for it never would grow Grecian, so did her mouth, being too wide, and having a decided chin. These offending features gave character to her whole face, but she never could see it, and consoled herself with her wonderfully fair complexion, keen blue eyes, and curls more golden and abundant than ever.
All three wore suits of thin silver gray (their best gowns for the summer), with blush roses in hair and bosom, and all three looked just what they were, fresh-faced, happy-hearted girls, pausing a moment in their busy lives to read with wistful eyes the sweetest chapter in the romance of womanhood.
There were to be no ceremonious performances, everything was to be as natural and homelike as possible, so when Aunt March arrived, she was scandalized to see the bride come running to welcome and lead her in, to find the bridegroom fastening up a garland that had fallen down, and to catch a glimpse of the paternal minister marching upstairs with a grave countenance and a wine bottle under each arm.
"Upon my word, here's a state of things!" cried the old lady, taking the seat of honor prepared for her, and settling the folds of her lavender moire with a great rustle. "You oughtn't to be seen till the last minute, child."
"I'm not a show, Aunty, and no one is coming to stare at me, to criticize my dress, or count the cost of my luncheon. I'm too happy to care what anyone says or thinks, and I'm going to have my little wedding just as I like it. John, dear, here's your hammer." And away went Meg to help 'that man' in his highly improper employment.
Mr. Brooke didn't even say, "Thank you," but as he stooped for the unromantic tool, he kissed his little bride behind the folding door, with a look that made Aunt March whisk out her pocket handkerchief with a sudden dew in her sharp old eyes.
A crash, a cry, and a laugh from Laurie, accompanied by the indecorous exclamation, "Jupiter Ammon! Jo's upset the cake again!" caused a momentary flurry, which was hardly over when a flock of cousins arrived, and 'the party came in', as Beth used to say when a child.
"Don't let that young giant come near me, he worries me worse than mosquitoes," whispered the old lady to Amy, as the rooms filled and Laurie's black head towered above the rest.
"He has promised to be very good today, and he can be perfectly elegant if he likes," returned Amy, and gliding away to warn Hercules to beware of the dragon, which warning caused him to haunt the old lady with a devotion that nearly distracted her.
There was no bridal procession, but a sudden silence fell upon the room as Mr. March and the young couple took their places under the green arch. Mother and sisters gathered close, as if loath to give Meg up. The fatherly voice broke more than once, which only seemed to make the service more beautiful and solemn. The bridegroom's hand trembled visibly, and no one heard his replies. But Meg looked straight up in her husband's eyes, and said, "I will!" with such tender trust in her own face and voice that her mother's heart rejoiced and Aunt March sniffed audibly.
Jo did not cry, though she was very near it once, and was only saved from a demonstration by the consciousness that Laurie was staring fixedly at her, with a comical mixture of merriment and emotion in his wicked black eyes. Beth kept her face hidden on her mother's shoulder, but Amy stood like a graceful statue, with a most becoming ray of sunshine touching her white forehead and the flower in her hair.
It wasn't at all the thing, I'm afraid, but the minute she was fairly married, Meg cried, "The first kiss for Marmee!" and turning, gave it with her heart on her lips. During the next fifteen minutes she looked more like a rose than ever, for everyone availed themselves of their privileges to the fullest extent, from Mr. Laurence to old Hannah, who, adorned with a headdress fearfully and wonderfully made, fell upon her in the hall, crying with a sob and a chuckle, "Bless you, deary, a hundred times! The cake ain't hurt a mite, and everything looks lovely."
Everybody cleared up after that, and said something brilliant, or tried to, which did just as well, for laughter is ready when hearts are light. There was no display of gifts, for they were already in the little house, nor was there an elaborate breakfast, but a plentiful lunch of cake and fruit, dressed with flowers. Mr. Laurence and Aunt March shrugged and smiled at one another when water, lemonade, and coffee were found to be to only sorts of nectar which the three Hebes carried round. No one said anything, till Laurie, who insisted on serving the bride, appeared before her, with a loaded salver in his hand and a puzzled expression on his face.
"Has Jo smashed all the bottles by accident?" he whispered, "or am I merely laboring under a delusion that I saw some lying about loose this morning?"
"No, your grandfather kindly offered us his best, and Aunt March actually sent some, but Father put away a little for Beth, and dispatched the rest to the Soldier's Home. You know he thinks that wine should be used only in illness, and Mother says that neither she nor her daughters will ever offer it to any young man under her roof."
Meg spoke seriously and expected to see Laurie frown or laugh, but he did neither, for after a quick look at her, he said, in his impetuous way, "I like that! For I've seen enough harm done to wish other women would think as you do."
"You are not made wise by experience, I hope?" and there was an anxious accent in Meg's voice.
"No. I give you my word for it. Don't think too well of me, either, this is not one of my temptations. Being brought up where wine is as common as water and almost as harmless, I don't care for it, but when a pretty girl offers it, one doesn't like to refuse, you see."
"But you will, for the sake of others, if not for your own. Come, Laurie, promise, and give me one more reason to call this the happiest day of my life."
A demand so sudden and so serious made the young man hesitate a moment, for ridicule is often harder to bear than self-denial. Meg knew that if he gave the promise he would keep it at all costs, and feeling her power, used it as a woman may for her friend's good. She did not speak, but she looked up at him with a face made very eloquent by happiness, and a smile which said, "No one can refuse me anything today."
Laurie certainly could not, and with an answering smile, he gave her his hand, saying heartily, "I promise, Mrs. Brooke!"
"I thank you, very, very much."
"And I drink 'long life to your resolution', Teddy," cried Jo, baptizing him with a splash of lemonade, as she waved her glass and beamed approvingly upon him.
So the toast was drunk, the pledge made and loyally kept in spite of many temptations, for with instinctive wisdom, the girls seized a happy moment to do their friend a service, for which he thanked them all his life.
After lunch, people strolled about, by twos and threes, through the house and garden, enjoying the sunshine without and within. Meg and John happened to be standing together in the middle of the grass plot, when Laurie was seized with an inspiration which put the finishing touch to this unfashionable wedding.
"All the married people take hands and dance round the new-made husband and wife, as the Germans do, while we bachelors and spinsters prance in couples outside!" cried Laurie, promenading down the path with Amy, with such infectious spirit and skill that everyone else followed their example without a murmur. Mr. and Mrs. March, Aunt and Uncle Carrol began it, others rapidly joined in, even Sallie Moffat, after a moment's hesitation, threw her train over her arm and whisked Ned into the ring. But the crowning joke was Mr. Laurence and Aunt March, for when the stately old gentleman chasseed solemnly up to the old lady, she just tucked her cane under her arm, and hopped briskly away to join hands with the rest and dance about the bridal pair, while the young folks pervaded the garden like butterflies on a midsummer day.
Want of breath brought the impromptu ball to a close, and then people began to go.
"I wish you well, my dear, I heartily wish you well, but I think you'll be sorry for it," said Aunt March to Meg, adding to the bridegroom, as he led her to the carriage, "You've got a treasure, young man, see that you deserve it."
"That is the prettiest wedding I've been to for an age, Ned, and I don't see why, for there wasn't a bit of style about it," observed Mrs. Moffat to her husband, as they drove away.
"Laurie, my lad, if you ever want to indulge in this sort of thing, get one of those little girls to help you, and I shall be perfectly satisfied," said Mr. Laurence, settling himself in his easy chair to rest after the excitement of the morning.
"I'll do my best to gratify you, Sir," was Laurie's unusually dutiful reply, as he carefully unpinned the posy Jo had put in his buttonhole.
The little house was not far away, and the only bridal journey Meg had was the quiet walk with John from the old home to the new. When she came down, looking like a pretty Quakeress in her dove-colored suit and straw bonnet tied with white, they all gathered about her to say 'good-by', as tenderly as if she had been going to make the grand tour.
"Don't feel that I am separated from you, Marmee dear, or that I love you any the less for loving John so much," she said, clinging to her mother, with full eyes for a moment. "I shall come every day, Father, and expect to keep my old place in all your hearts, though I am married. Beth is going to be with me a great deal, and the other girls will drop in now and then to laugh at my housekeeping struggles. Thank you all for my happy wedding day. Goodby, goodby!"
They stood watching her, with faces full of love and hope and tender pride as she walked away, leaning on her husband's arm, with her hands full of flowers and the June sunshine brightening her happy face--and so Meg's married life began.
 
六月的那个早晨，覆盖游廊的玫瑰花儿们一大早便睁开了睡眼，露出灿烂的笑容。它们在艳阳下怒放，如同友好的小邻居，事实正是这样。花儿们激动得满脸通红，在风中摇曳摆动，窃窃私语，议论着它们所见之事。因为，一些花儿透过饭厅窗户窥视到那儿摆着宴席。另一些花儿往上攀着，笑着向正在打扮新娘的妹妹们点头致意，其他的花儿在招手欢迎那些忙这忙那，穿梭于花园、游廊、大厅的人们。所有的玫瑰，无论是鲜艳盛开的花朵，还是色彩最淡的蓓蕾，都以它们的美貌和芬芳向它们那和善的女主人致敬。女主人爱它们，照料它们已经很长时间了。
梅格看上去就像一朵玫瑰，那天，心灵中最甜美的东西，似乎都荡漾在她脸上，使那张脸充满魅力、温柔，美丽无比。
她不要丝绸衣服和花边，也不要山梅花。”今天我不想看上去和往日有什么不同，也不想盛装打扮，”她说，”我不要时髦的婚礼，只要身边我爱的人们。我希望，在他们眼里，我还是熟悉的老样子。”因此，她亲手缝制结婚礼服，将女孩心中温柔的希望与天真浪漫都缝进了礼服。妹妹们把她漂亮的头发辫成辫子，她身上唯一的装饰是山谷里的百合花。百花之中，”她的约翰"最钟爱百合。
“你看上去真的就是我们家亲爱的梅格，只是太漂亮、太可爱了。要不是会把你衣服弄皱，我就要拥抱你了，”打扮完毕，艾美欣喜地打量着姐姐，叫了出来。
“那我就满意了。可是，请你们每个人都来拥抱我，亲吻我。别管我的衣服，我今天想让衣服带上许许多多这样的折皱。”梅格向妹妹们伸出了胳膊，好一会儿妹妹们满面春风地依偎着姐姐，感到新的爱情并未改变昔日的姊妹之情。
“好了，我得去为约翰系领带了。然后我要和爸爸在书房里安静地呆一会儿。“梅格跑下楼去行这些小小的礼节，之后便跟在妈妈的身前身后，一步不离。她意识到尽管妈妈脸上露着笑容，内心却隐藏着悲哀：鸟巢里的第一只鸟儿就要展翅高飞了。
眼下，三个姑娘站在一起，为她们朴素的装扮做最后的修饰。我们正好利用这段时间描述一下三年时光给姑娘们的容颜带来的变化。此时此刻，所有的一切使她们看上去动人之极。
乔的棱角已磨平了许多。她学会了虽不很优雅但也自如地展露风情。卷毛的小平头已长满密密长长的鬈发，目光柔和清亮。如今，从她那从不饶人的舌头上吐出来的只有轻柔的话语。
贝思更加纤弱、苍白，也更加沉静。她那双美丽、友善的眼睛更大了。虽然这双眼睛本身并不悲伤，但眼神却让人伤感。痛苦的阴影触摸着年轻的脸庞，透出一种哀婉动人的坚韧。然而，贝思极少抱怨，总是充满希望地说"不久就会好起来"。
艾美是名符其实的"家庭之花"。十六岁的她已经具有成熟女性的风韵举止 -说不上漂亮，但具有一种无法描绘的魅力。那是一种优雅的韵致。从她形体的曲线，从她的举手投足，从她衣服的平垂，头发的散落，人们都能发现这种魅力 —不是有意为之，却协调一致，如同美貌本身，对许多人产生了吸引力。艾美的鼻子仍使她痛苦，因为，鼻子决不会长直了。她的嘴巴也让她苦恼，嘴巴太阔，而且还有着一个坚毅的下巴。这些恼人的特征赋予她整个脸蛋以个性，而她却视而不见。她宽慰自己，她有着白皙的皮肤，敏锐的蓝眼睛，和比以前更浓密的金色鬈发。
三个女孩都穿着银灰色的薄裙（她们最好的夏装），发辫和胸口都插着红色的玫瑰。三个人看上去都具有这个年龄女孩们应有的特征 -脸上透着活力，心中荡漾着幸福，在忙碌的生活中暂停片刻，带着渴望的眼神，阅读女子浪漫故事中最甜美的一章　。
没有各种仪式，一切都尽可能地轻松自然。因此，当马奇婶婶到来时，看到眼前的一切不由大为震惊：新娘竟跑出来迎她，而新郎却忙着固定一只掉下来的花环，身为父亲的牧师则两只胳膊下各夹着一瓶酒一本正经地往楼上走。
“嗳呀，真是乱七八糟！”老太太叫道，一屁股坐在为她准备的雅座上，摆弄着她那淡紫色波纹绸衣的皱褶，发出好一阵沙沙声，”孩子，要到最后一刻你才能被人看见埃”“婶子，我不是展品，没有人来盯着我看，评判我的衣服，或估算婚宴的费用。我太幸福了，顾不上别人怎么说、怎么想。我要以我喜欢的方式举行我的婚礼。约翰，亲爱的，给你锤子。”梅格就这样走开了，去帮"那人"干那件完全不适合他的工作。
布鲁克先生甚至没有说声"谢谢"。但他弯腰去接那毫无浪漫色彩的工具时，在折门后吻了他的小新娘。那种景象使马奇婶婶急速掏出手帕，抹去突然涌进她锐利老眼的泪滴。
哗啦一声，叫声，劳里的笑声，伴随着不雅的惊叹：“天啊！好家伙！乔又把蛋糕毁了！”引起了一阵忙乱。这边还没完，那边又来了一群堂表兄妹。正像贝思小时候常说的：“大队人马驾到。”“别让那小巨人靠近我。他比蚊子还让我烦，“马奇婶婶对艾美耳语道。屋子里挤满了人，而劳里的黑色头顶超出所有的人。
“他答应过我今天好好表现。如果他愿意，他能做到非常优雅，”艾美回答道。她溜过去警告海格立斯当心这位严厉的婶婶，可警告倒使他一门心思缠住老太太，让老太太差点发疯。
没有婚礼上常见的列队行进，但马奇先生和一对新人在绿色的拱门下站定时，屋里一片寂静。妈妈和妹妹们挨得紧紧的，好像极不情愿送走梅格。爸爸不止一次停下话来，这使得仪式更加美丽、庄严。新郎的手在颤抖，谁也没听清他的回答；然而，梅格直盯着丈夫的双眼说道：“我愿意！”她的面容、她的声音都带着温柔的信任，这让母亲感到欣慰，马奇婶婶却嗤之以鼻。
乔没有哭，尽管差一点儿就哭出来。她意识到劳里正盯着她看，淘气的黑眼睛带着既欢乐又伤感的可笑神色。她这才忍住没哭。贝思把头埋在妈妈肩膀里。艾美站在那儿，就像一座优雅的雕像，一束阳光抚摸着她白皙的额角和头上的花束，好看极了。值得一提的还有很多，可婚礼一完，梅格哭了出来：“第一个吻给妈咪！”她转过身，用充满爱意的唇，吻了吻妈妈。接下来的十五分钟，她看上去愈发像一朵玫瑰了，因为从劳伦斯先生到罕娜嬷嬷，每个人都最大限度地利用这一特权。老罕娜围着条精巧的大头巾，在大厅里倚在梅格身上，又是哭又是笑，叫着：“祝福你，亲爱的，一百遍！
蛋糕一点儿也没事，一切看上去都好。”然后大家都振奋起来，说了些或试着说些鼓舞人心的话。
他们做得很好，轻快的心情容易产生笑声。没有展示礼物，因为礼物已经陈列在小屋中了；也没有精心烹制的早餐，但是午餐很丰盛，蛋糕、水果，全用鲜花装饰着。劳伦斯先生和马奇婶婶耸耸肩，相视而笑，他们发现三个斟酒女神。巡回传递的饮品只是水、柠檬汁和咖啡。但是谁也没吱声，直到劳里出现在新娘面前。他手端装满食物的托盘，脸上带着迷惑的神情，坚持让新娘吃东西。
“是不是乔不慎把酒瓶都打碎了？”他轻声问，”或许我只是自找没趣，我早上看见地上有一些碎酒瓶。”“不是，你爷爷很客气，把他最好的酒拿来给我们了，而且，马奇婶婶也送过来一些。但是爸爸给贝思留了一些，将剩下的送给军人之家了。你知道，他认为只有生病时才能喝酒。妈妈说，她和她的女儿们都不会在家中用酒招待年轻人。”梅格认真地说着，她想劳里会皱眉或笑笑，但他既没皱眉也没笑，而是迅速地扫了她一眼，像他惯常一样冲动地说：“我喜欢那样。我看够了喝酒造成的危害，希望别的女人们也能像你们这样想。”“并不是经验使你变聪明的吧，我想。”梅格的语调含着担心。
“不是，我保证。但也别把我想得太好。这不是我面临的一个诱惑。在我长大的地方，酒和水一样普遍，而且几乎无害。我不喜欢酒，但是，如果一个美丽的姑娘向你敬酒，你就不想拒绝了，是吧？”“可你会拒绝的，即使不为你自己，也要为别人着想。劳里，答应我，给我加条理由，让今天成为我一生中最幸福的日子。”这样突然、认真的请求使年轻人犹豫了一会，因为嘲弄比自我克制更难忍受。梅格知道，一旦他作出许诺，他将不顾一切遵守诺言。她感觉到了她的力量，为了朋友好，她以女人的方式运用了她的力量。她没有说话，抬头看着他。幸福使她的脸富于表情，她的笑容似乎在说：“今天谁也不能拒绝我的要求。”劳里当然不能。带着会意的笑容，他把手伸给她，由衷地说道：“我答应你，布鲁克太太。“谢谢你，非常感谢。”“为你的决心干杯，特迪，”乔叫着，倒了一杯柠檬汁为他洗礼。她摇着杯子，赞许地朝他微笑。
就这样，祝了酒，发了誓，尽管有许多的诱惑，劳里还是忠实地遵守了诺言。女孩们有着本能的智慧，瞅准了这样一个幸福时刻为她们的朋友做了件好事，为此劳里终身感谢她们。
午餐后，人们三三两两穿过房子、花园随意散步，享受着屋里屋外的阳光。梅格和约翰碰巧一起站在草地中央。劳里突然来了灵感，一下给这不时髦的婚礼最后润了色。
“所有结了婚的拉起手来，围着新郎新娘跳舞，就像德国人那样，我们单身汉、未婚女在外围捉对跳！”劳里喊道，他正和艾美沿着小路散步。他的话很有技巧，极具感染力，大家毫无异议，跟着跳起来。马奇先生和马奇太太，卡罗尔叔叔和婶婶先开了头，别的人很快加入进去。萨莉•莫法特犹豫了一小会，也将裙裾搭在臂上，迅速将内德拖进舞圈。最可笑的是劳伦斯先生和马奇婶婶这一对。老先生跳着稳重庄严的快步过来邀请老太太，老太太将拐杖往胳膊下一夹，便轻快地随着老先生和其他人一起绕着新人跳起来。而年轻人们像仲夏时节的蝴蝶一样在花园里翩翩起舞。
大家跳得气喘吁吁，即兴舞会这才结束。然后人们开始离开。
“祝你幸福，亲爱的。衷心愿你一切都好，可我想不久你会后悔的，”马奇婶婶对梅格说。新郎送她上马车，她又接着说：“年轻人，你得了个宝贝，留神，你要配得上她。”“内德，这婚礼一点也不时髦，但这是我参加过的最美好的婚礼，也不知是为什么，”在驾车离开时，莫法特太太对丈夫这样评论道。
“劳里，我的孩子，你如果也想享这种福，就在她们姐妹里头找一个来帮帮你，我会十分满意的，”上午的兴奋已过，劳伦斯先生一边说着，一边坐进安乐椅休息。
“我会尽量让您满足的，先生，”劳里非比寻常地恭敬回答，一边仔细拿下乔为他别在钮扣孔的花束。
小屋并不远，梅格的新婚之旅便是随着约翰静静地从老屋走向新房。她走下楼来，身着暖灰色的长裙，头戴系着白结的草帽，看上去就像个美丽的贵格会女教徒。大家都围过来，友爱地向他道别，仿佛她就要去作远途旅行。
“亲爱的妈咪，别以为我和您分开了，别以为我这么爱约翰对您的爱就减少了，“她热泪盈眶地偎着妈妈说。过了一会儿，她又说：“爸，我每天都要回家。我是结了婚，可我想在你们大家心中保留老位置。贝思要常来陪伴我。乔和艾美要时常过来看我管家出洋相。大家让我度过了幸福的结婚日，谢谢，再见，再见！”大家脸上充满爱意、希望与自豪，站在那里目送梅格手捧鲜花，依偎着丈夫走远了。六月的阳光照亮了她幸福的面庞- 就这样，梅格的新婚生活开始了。
Chapter 26 Artistic Attempts
It takes people a long time to learn the difference between talent and genius, especially ambitious young men and women. Amy was learning this distinction through much tribulation, for mistaking enthusiasm for inspiration, she attempted every branch of art with youthful audacity. For a long time there was a lull in the 'mud-pie' business, and she devoted herself to the finest pen-and-ink drawing, in which she showed such taste and skill that her graceful handiwork proved both pleasant and profitable. But over-strained eyes caused pen and ink to be laid aside for a bold attempt at poker-sketching. While this attack lasted, the family lived in constant fear of a conflagration, for the odor of burning wood pervaded the house at all hours, smoke issued from attic and shed with alarming frequency, red-hot pokers lay about promiscuously, and Hannah never went to bed without a pail of water and the dinner bell at her door in case of fire. Raphael's face was found boldly executed on the underside of the moulding board, and Bacchus on the head of a beer barrel. A chanting cherub adorned the cover of the sugar bucket, and attempts to portray Romeo and Juliet supplied kindling for some time.
From fire to oil was a natural transition for burned fingers, and Amy fell to painting with undiminished ardor. An artist friend fitted her out with his castoff palettes, brushes, and colors, and she daubed away, producing pastoral and marine views such as were never seen on land or sea. Her monstrosities in the way of cattle would have taken prizes at an agricultural fair, and the perilous pitching of her vessels would have produced seasickness in the most nautical observer, if the utter disregard to all known rules of shipbuilding and rigging had not convulsed him with laughter at the first glance. Swarthy boys and dark-eyed Madonnas, staring at you from one corner of the studio, suggested Murillo; oily brown shadows of faces with a lurid streak in the wrong place, meant Rembrandt; buxom ladies and dropiscal infants, Rubens; and Turner appeared in tempests of blue thunder, orange lightning, brown rain, and purple clouds, with a tomato-colored splash in the middle, which might be the sun or a bouy, a sailor's shirt or a king's robe, as the spectator pleased.
Charcoal portraits came next, and the entire family hung in a row, looking as wild and crocky as if just evoked from a coalbin. Softened into crayon sketches, they did better, for the likenesses were good, and Amy's hair, Jo's nose, Meg's mouth, and Laurie's eyes were pronounced 'wonderfully fine'. A return to clay and plaster followed, and ghostly casts of her acquaintances haunted corners of the house, or tumbled off closet shelves onto people's heads. Children were enticed in as models, till their incoherent accounts of her mysterious doings caused Miss Amy to be regarded in the light of a young ogress. Her efforts in this line, however, were brought to an abrupt close by an untoward accident, which quenched her ardor. Other models failing her for a time, she undertook to cast her own pretty foot, and the family were one day alarmed by an unearthly bumping and screaming and running to the rescue, found the young enthusiast hopping wildly about the shed with her foot held fast in a pan full of plaster, which had hardened with unexpected rapidity. With much difficulty and some danger she was dug out, for Jo was so overcome with laughter while she excavated that her knife went too far, cut the poor foot, and left a lasting memorial of one artistic attempt, at least.
After this Amy subsided, till a mania for sketching from nature set her to haunting river, field, and wood, for picturesque studies, and sighing for ruins to copy. She caught endless colds sitting on damp grass to book 'a delicious bit', composed of a stone, a stump, one mushroom, and a broken mullein stalk, or 'a heavenly mass of clouds', that looked like a choice display of featherbeds when done. She sacrificed her complexion floating on the river in the midsummer sun to study light and shade, and got a wrinkle over her nose trying after 'points of sight', or whatever the squint-and-string performance is called.
If 'genius is eternal patience', as Michelangelo affirms, Amy had some claim to the divine attribute, for she persevered in spite of all obstacles, failures, and discouragements, firmly believing that in time she should do something worthy to be called 'high art'.
She was learning, doing, and enjoying other things, meanwhile, for she had resolved to be an attractive and accomplished woman, even if she never became a great artist. Here she succeeded better, for she was one of those happily created beings who please without effort, make friends everywhere, and take life so gracefully and easily that less fortunate souls are tempted to believe that such are born under a lucky star. Everybody liked her, for among her good gifts was tact. She had an instinctive sense of what was pleasing and proper, always said the right thing to the right person, did just what suited the time and place, and was so self-possessed that her sisters used to say, "If Amy went to court without any rehearsal beforehand, she'd know exactly what to do."
One of her weaknesses was a desire to move in 'our best society', without being quite sure what the best really was. Money, position, fashionable accomplishments, and elegant manners were most desirable things in her eyes, and she liked to associate with those who possessed them, often mistaking the false for the true, and admiring what was not admirable. Never forgetting that by birth she was a gentlewoman, she cultivated her aristocratic tastes and feelings, so that when the opportunity came she might be ready to take the place from which poverty now excluded her.
"My lady," as her friends called her, sincerely desired to be a genuine lady, and was so at heart, but had yet to learn that money cannot buy refinement of nature, that rank does not always confer nobility, and that true breeding makes itself felt in spite of external drawbacks.
"I want to ask a favor of you, Mamma," Amy said, coming in with an important air one day.
"Well, little girl, what is it?" replied her mother, in whose eyes the stately young lady still remained 'the baby'.
"Our drawing class breaks up next week, and before the girls separate for the summer, I want to ask them out here for a day. They are wild to see the river, sketch the broken bridge, and copy some of the things they admire in my book. They have been very kind to me in many ways, and I am grateful, for they are all rich and I know I am poor, yet they never made any difference."
"Why should they?" and Mrs. March put the question with what the girls called her 'Maria Theresa air'.
"You know as well as I that it does make a difference with nearly everyone, so don't ruffle up like a dear, motherly hen, when your chickens get pecked by smarter birds. The ugly duckling turned out a swan, you know." and Amy smiled without bitterness, for she possessed a happy temper and hopeful spirit.
Mrs. March laughed, and smoothed down her maternal pride as she asked, "Well, my swan, what is your plan?"
"I should like to ask the girls out to lunch next week, to take them for a drive to the places they want to see, a row on the river, perhaps, and make a little artistic fete for them."
"That looks feasible. What do you want for lunch? Cake, sandwiches, fruit, and coffee will be all that is necessary, I suppose?"
"Oh, dear, no! We must have cold tongue and chicken, French chocolate and ice cream, besides. The girls are used to such things, and I want my lunch to be proper and elegant, though I do work for my living."
"How many young ladies are there?" asked her mother, beginning to look sober.
"Twelve or fourteen in the class, but I dare say they won't all come."
"Bless me, child, you will have to charter an omnibus to carry them about."
"Why, Mother, how can you think of such a thing? Not more than six or eight will probably come, so I shall hire a beach wagon and borrow Mr. Laurence's cherry-bounce." (Hannah's pronunciation of char-a-banc.)
"All of this will be expensive, Amy."
"Not very. I've calculated the cost, and I'll pay for it myself."
"Don't you think, dear, that as these girls are used to such things, and the best we can do will be nothing new, that some simpler plan would be pleasanter to them, as a change if nothing more, and much better for us than buying or borrowing what we don't need, and attempting a style not in keeping with our circumstances?"
"If I can't have it as I like, I don't care to have it at all. I know that I can carry it out perfectly well, if you and the girls will help a little, and I don't see why I can't if I'm willing to pay for it," said Amy, with the decision which opposition was apt to change into obstinacy.
Mrs. March knew that experience was an excellent teacher, and when it was possible she left her children to learn alone the lessons which she would gladly have made easier, if they had not objected to taking advice as much as they did salts and senna.
"Very well, Amy, if your heart is set upon it, and you see your way through without too great an outlay of money, time, and temper, I'll say no more. Talk it over with the girls, and whichever way you decide, I'll do my best to help you."
"Thanks, Mother, you are always so kind." and away went Amy to lay her plan before her sisters.
Meg agreed at once, and promised her aid, gladly offering anything she possessed, from her little house itself to her very best saltspoons. But Jo frowned upon the whole project and would have nothing to do with it at first.
"Why in the world should you spend your money, worry your family, and turn the house upside down for a parcel of girls who don't care a sixpence for you? I thought you had too much pride and sense to truckle to any mortal woman just because she wears French boots and rides in a coupe," said Jo, who, being called from the tragic climax of her novel, was not in the best mood for social enterprises.
"I don't truckle, and I hate being patronized as much as you do!" returned Amy indignantly, for the two still jangled when such questions arose. "The girls do care for me, and I for them, and there's a great deal of kindness and sense and talent among them, in spite of what you call fashionable nonsense. You don't care to make people like you, to go into good society, and cultivate your manners and tastes. I do, and I mean to make the most of every chance that comes. You can go through the world with your elbows out and your nose in the air, and call it independence, if you like. That's not my way."
When Amy had whetted her tongue and freed her mind she usually got the best of it, for she seldom failed to have common sense on her side, while Jo carried her love of liberty and hate of conventionalities to such an unlimited extent that she naturally found herself worsted in an argument. Amy's definition of Jo's idea of independence was such a good hit that both burst out laughing, and the discussion took a more amiable turn. Much against her will, Jo at length consented to sacrifice a day to Mrs. Grundy, and help her sister through what she regarded as 'a nonsensical business'.
The invitations were sent, nearly all accepted, and the following Monday was set apart for the grand event. Hannah was out of humor because her week's work was deranged, and prophesied that "ef the washin' and ironin' warn't done reg'lar, nothin' would go well anywheres". This hitch in the mainspring of the domestic machinery had a bad effect upon the whole concern, but Amy's motto was 'Nil desperandum', and having made up her mind what to do, she proceeded to do it in spite of all obstacles. To begin with, Hannah's cooking didn't turn out well. The chicken was tough, the tongue too salty, and the chocolate wouldn't froth properly. Then the cake and ice cost more than Amy expected, so did the wagon, and various other expenses, which seemed trifling at the outset, counted up rather alarmingly afterward. Beth got a cold and took to her bed. Meg had an unusual number of callers to keep her at home, and Jo was in such a divided state of mind that her breakages, accidents, and mistakes were uncommonly numerous, serious, and trying.
If it was not fair on Monday, the young ladies were to come on Tuesday, an arrangement which aggravated Jo and Hannah to the last degree. On Monday morning the weather was in that undecided state which is more exasperating than a steady pour. It drizzled a little, shone a little, blew a little, and didn't make up its mind till it was too late for anyone else to make up theirs. Amy was up at dawn, hustling people out of their beds and through their breakfasts, that the house might be got in order. The parlor struck her as looking uncommonly shabby, but without stopping to sigh for what she had not, she skillfully made the best of what she had, arranging chairs over the worn places in the carpet, covering stains on the walls with homemade statuary, which gave an artistic air to the room, as did the lovely vases of flowers Jo scattered about.
The lunch looked charming, and as she surveyed it, she sincerely hoped it would taste well, and that the borrowed glass, china, and silver would get safely home again. The carriages were promised, Meg and Mother were all ready to do the honors, Beth was able to help Hannah behind the scenes, Jo had engaged to be as lively and amiable as an absent mind, and aching head, and a very decided disapproval of everybody and everything would allow, and as she wearily dressed, Amy cheered herself with anticipations of the happy moment when, lunch safely over, she should drive away with her friends for an afternoon of artistic delights, for the 'cherry bounce' and the broken bridge were her strong points.
Then came the hours of suspense, during which she vibrated from parlor to porch, while public opinion varied like the weathercock. A smart shower at eleven had evidently quenched the enthusiasm of the young ladies who were to arrive at twelve, for nobody came, and at two the exhausted family sat down in a blaze of sunshine to consume the perishable portions of the feast, that nothing might be lost.
"No doubt about the weather today, they will certainly come, so we must fly round and be ready for them," said Amy, as the sun woke her next morning. She spoke briskly, but in her secret soul she wished she had said nothing about Tuesday, for her interest like her cake was getting a little stale.
"I can't get any lobsters, so you will have to do without salad today," said Mr. March, coming in half an hour later, with an expression of placid despair.
"Use the chicken then, the toughness won't matter in a salad," advised his wife.
"Hannah left it on the kitchen table a minute, and the kittens got at it. I'm very sorry, Amy," added Beth, who was still a patroness of cats.
"Then I must have a lobster, for tongue alone won't do," said Amy decidedly.
"Shall I rush into town and demand one?" asked Jo, with the magnanimity of a martyr.
"You'd come bringing it home under your arm without any paper, just to try me. I'll go myself," answered Amy, whose temper was beginning to fail.
Shrouded in a thick veil and armed with a genteel traveling basket, she departed, feeling that a cool drive would soothe her ruffled spirit and fit her for the labors of the day. After some delay, the object of her desire was procured, likewise a bottle of dressing to prevent further loss of time at home, and off she drove again, well pleased with her own forethought.
As the omnibus contained only one other passenger, a sleepy old lady, Amy pocketed her veil and beguiled the tedium of the way by trying to find out where all her money had gone to. So busy was she with her card full of refractory figures that she did not observe a newcomer, who entered without stopping the vehicle, till a masculine voice said, "Good morning, Miss March," and, looking up, she beheld one of Laurie's most elegant college friends. Fervently hoping that he would get out before she did, Amy utterly ignored the basket at her feet, and congratulating herself that she had on her new traveling dress, returned the young man's greeting with her usual suavity and spirit.
They got on excellently, for Amy's chief care was soon set at rest by learning that the gentleman would leave first, and she was chatting away in a peculiarly lofty strain, when the old lady got out. In stumbling to the door, she upset the basket, and--oh horror!--the lobster, in all its vulgar size and brilliancy, was revealed to the highborn eyes of a Tudor!
"By Jove, she's forgotten her dinner!" cried the unconscious youth, poking the scarlet monster into its place with his cane, and preparing to hand out the basket after the old lady.
"Please don't--it's--it's mine," murmured Amy, with a face nearly as red as her fish.
"Oh, really, I beg pardon. It's an uncommonly fine one, isn't it?" said Tudor, with great presence of mind, and an air of sober interest that did credit to his breeding.
Amy recovered herself in a breath, set her basket boldly on the seat, and said, laughing, "Don't you wish you were to have some of the salad he's going to make, and to see the charming young ladies who are to eat it?"
Now that was tact, for two of the ruling foibles of the masculine mind were touched. The lobster was instantly surrounded by a halo of pleasing reminiscences, and curiosity about 'the charming young ladies' diverted his mind from the comical mishap.
"I suppose he'll laugh and joke over it with Laurie, but I shan't see them, that's a comfort," thought Amy, as Tudor bowed and departed.
She did not mention this meeting at home (though she discovered that, thanks to the upset, her new dress was much damaged by the rivulets of dressing that meandered down the skirt), but went through with the preparations which now seemed more irksome than before, and at twelve o'clock all was ready again. Feeling that the neighbors were interested in her movements, she wished to efface the memory of yesterday's failure by a grand success today, so she ordered the 'cherry bounce', and drove away in state to meet and escort her guests to the banquet.
"There's the rumble, they're coming! I'll go onto the porch and meet them. It looks hospitable, and I want the poor child to have a good time after all her trouble," said Mrs. March, suiting the action to the word. But after one glance, she retired, with an indescribable expression, for looking quite lost in the big carriage, sat Amy and one young lady.
"Run, Beth, and help Hannah clear half the things off the table. It will be too absurd to put a luncheon for twelve before a single girl," cried Jo, hurrying away to the lower regions, too excited to stop even for a laugh.
In came Amy, quite calm and delightfully cordial to the one guest who had kept her promise. The rest of the family, being of a dramatic turn, played their parts equally well, and Miss Eliott found them a most hilarious set, for it was impossible to control entirely the merriment which possessed them. The remodeled lunch being gaily partaken of, the studio and garden visited, and art discussed with enthusiasm, Amy ordered a buggy (alas for the elegant cherry-bounce), and drove her friend quietly about the neighborhood till sunset, when 'the party went out'.
As she came walking in, looking very tired but as composed as ever, she observed that every vestige of the unfortunate fete had disappeared, except a suspicious pucker about the corners of Jo's mouth.
"You've had a loverly afternoon for your drive, dear," said her mother, as respectfully as if the whole twelve had come.
"Miss Eliott is a very sweet girl, and seemed to enjoy herself, I thought," observed Beth, with unusual warmth.
"Could you spare me some of your cake? I really need some, I have so much company, and I can't make such delicious stuff as yours," asked Meg soberly.
"Take it all. I'm the only one here who likes sweet things, and it will mold before I can dispose of it," answered Amy, thinking with a sigh of the generous store she had laid in for such an end as this.
"It's a pity Laurie isn't here to help us," began Jo, as they sat down to ice cream and salad for the second time in two days.
A warning look from her mother checked any further remarks, and the whole family ate in heroic silence, till Mr. March mildly observed, "salad was one of the favorite dishes of the ancients, and Evelyn . . ." Here a general explosion of laughter cut short the 'history of salads', to the great surprise of the learned gentleman.
"Bundle everything into a basket and send it to the Hummels. Germans like messes. I'm sick of the sight of this, and there's no reason you should all die of a surfeit because I've been a fool," cried Amy, wiping her eyes.
"I thought I should have died when I saw you two girls rattling about in the what-you-call-it, like two little kernels in a very big nutshell, and Mother waiting in state to receive the throng," sighed Jo, quite spent with laughter.
"I'm very sorry you were disappointed, dear, but we all did our best to satisfy you," said Mrs. March, in a tone full of motherly regret.
"I am satisfied. I've done what I undertook, and it's not my fault that it failed. I comfort myself with that," said Amy with a little quiver in her voice. "I thank you all very much for helping me, and I'll thank you still more if you won't allude to it for a month, at least."
No one did for several months, but the word 'fete' always produced a general smile, and Laurie's birthday gift to Amy was a tiny coral lobster in the shape of a charm for her watch guard.
 
人们花很长时间才能区分天赋和天才，有抱负的年轻男女尤其如此。艾美经过许多磨难才知道两者的区别。她误将热情当作灵感，带着年轻人的冒险心理尝试了各门艺术。有好长一段时间她的"泥饼"作坊停业了。她全身心地投入到极精细的钢笔画习作中，在这门艺术中展露出鉴赏力与技巧。
她的雅致的作品令人合意且有利可图。但作钢笔画太伤眼睛，她收起了笔墨，又开始大胆地尝试烙画。
在她进行工作品间，全家人始终害怕会有大火灾，因为屋子里整天弥漫着燃烧的木头气味，烟不时从阁楼、棚屋窜出来。地上乱放着烧红的拨火棍。罕娜睡觉前总是准备好一桶水，门边放好用餐铃，以防万一失火。拉斐尔的头像被醒目地烙在擀面板下面。酒神巴克斯给画在了脾酒桶盖上。一个唱歌的小天使装饰着糖罐。绘制罗密欧与朱丽叶的尝试，使燃烧持续了一段时间。
手指灼痛了，从火到油彩便成了自然的转折。艾美热情丝毫不减地投入到绘画中。一个艺术家朋友用他废弃的调色板、刷子、水彩将艾美装备起来，艾美便开始涂抹，画出陆上海上从来见不到的田园风光、海洋景色。她画的牛群丑陋怪异，永远不要指望它们能在农市上获奖；她画的船只危险地颠簸，对一个最懂得航海的观众来说，第一眼看到这张全然不顾造船及帆缆准则的画幅，若不是笑得前仰后合，便会晕起船来。黝黑的男孩和黑眼睛的圣母从画室的一角凝视着你，暗示出牟利罗的风格；面孔上油腻的棕色阴影带着错位的俗艳条纹，这是伦勃朗的画法；丰满的妇女和浮肿的婴孩，则是鲁本斯的笔致；透纳的画风出现在描绘暴风雨的画面中：蓝色的雷、桔色的电、棕色的雨、紫色的云，中间飘洒着西红柿颜色的一块，可能是太阳或救生圈，也可能是海员的衬衫或国王的长袍，欣赏者爱怎么理解都行。
随后艾美又搞起了木炭肖像画。全家人的肖像挂成一排，看上去毛草草、黑乎乎，仿佛是刚从煤箱里弄出来的。到画铅笔素描时，情况得以改善，画像的相似度不错，艾美的头发、乔的鼻子、梅格的嘴巴以及劳里的眼睛被宣布"极像"。
紧接着，艾美又回头摆弄起粘土和石膏。艾美熟人们的模型幽灵般地出没于屋子的角角落落，要不便从壁橱架掉下来砸在人们头上。孩子们被诱来当模特，后来他们支离破碎地描述艾美神秘的做法，听起来她仿佛是个小女妖似的。可是一场不愉快的事故突然终止了她在这方面的努力，同时也熄灭了她的热情，有一度她制作其他模型失败了，便开始制作自己美丽的脚。一天，全家人被一种可怕的撞击声和叫声弄得惊恐万状，大家跑过来救援，发现年轻的艺术狂在棚屋里乱蹦乱跳，一只脚紧紧粘在满满一盆石膏里，石膏出人意料地那么快就变硬了。大家费力地、危险地将她挖了出来，因为乔挖掘时，笑得太厉害，刀子挖得太深，伤了那只可怜的脚，像艾美的艺术尝试一样，给艾美留下了永久的纪念。
打那以后，艾美平静下来。可后来又迷上了风景素描，这使得她常去河边、田野、树林研究景色，她渴望能临摹遗迹。
她坐在潮湿的草地上画下"美妙的随笔"，一块石头，一个树桩，一个蘑菇，一根折断的毛蕊花茎，或者"一大片祥云"，画下来就像是羽毛褥垫精疲。就这样她老是感冒。她在仲夏的烈日下泛舟河中研究光影，也不管这样会晒黑皮肤。她试着找准"视点"，也就是眯着眼睛调角度什么的，鼻子上弄出了皱纹也不在乎。
米开朗琪罗曾断言：“天才就是永恒的耐心。”假如真的这样，那么艾美便具有这样非凡的气质。尽管她遇到了许多障碍，遭受了失败和挫折，她还是坚持下去了。她坚信总有一天她会创作出值得称为"高雅艺术"的作品。
她学着，干着，同时也欣赏着别的东西。因为即便她成不了伟大的艺术家，她也决心成为一个迷人的有才艺的妇人。
在这方面，她较为成功。她是那种生性乐天的人，那种人广交朋友，不用费力便可讨人喜欢，他们生活得优雅轻松，致使一些运气不佳的人认为他们是在幸运星照耀下降临人世的。艾美本能地知道做什么既讨人喜欢又恰如其分。她总是见什么人说什么话，而且会相机行事。她沉着冷静，姐姐们总是说：“即使艾美事先毫无准备，走上法庭她也完全知道怎样去做。”艾美的一个弱点是渴望打进"上流社会"。其实她并不确定到底什么是上流。在她看来，钱、地位、时髦的才艺、优雅的风度是最需要的。她喜欢和拥有这一切的人们来往，往往错将假的当成真的，赞美不该赞美的。她从未忘记她生来就是一个淑女，只因家道清贫而没有地位，于是她培养着贵族趣味和感情，随时准备打入上流社会。
朋友们称她"贵夫人"，她自己也衷心希望能成为真正的贵夫人，但她也由衷地懂得，钱买不来优雅的性情，地位不能赋于人贵族气质。有些人外表上尽管失意，身上还是显示出纯正的教养。
“妈妈，我想请你帮个忙，”一天，艾美走进家门，郑重其事地说。
“噢，什么忙，小姑娘？”妈妈答道。在妈妈的眼里，这个高贵的年轻女士依旧是"宝宝"。
“下星期我们绘画班放假，姑娘们将离开学校回家过暑假。我想在这之前邀请她们来我们家玩一天。她们很想看看这里的河，画下那座断桥，临摹我画册里的那些东西，她们对那些很欣赏。在很多方面她们对我都很好，我感激她们，因为她们都很富有，也知道我贫穷，但她们并没有对我另眼相待。”“她们怎么会这样呢？”妈妈带着姑娘们称之为"玛丽亚•特蕾西亚的神气"提出了问题。
“你我都晓得，几乎每个人都确实嫌贫爱富。你也别学那可爱的抱鸡婆，看到小鸡崽遭到强鸟啄，便竖起羽毛发怒。要知道，丑小鸭也会变成天鹅的。”艾美温和地笑了笑。她有个好脾气，而且性格开朗。
马奇太太笑起来，她按下做母亲的自尊心问道：“那么，我的天鹅，你打算怎样？”“我想下星期请姑娘们过来吃饭，带她们坐车去她们想看的地方，也可能去划船，为她们开一个艺术游园会。”“听起来能行。你准备用什么作午宴？得有蛋糕、三明治、水果和咖啡，是吧？”“噢，不，亲爱的！我们得吃冷舌肉、鸡、法国巧克力，还要冰淇淋。那些女孩们习惯吃这些东西。虽然我不过在挣钱糊口，我还是希望我的午宴优雅得体。”“有多少姑娘？”妈妈问，态度认真起来。
“班里有十二或十四个，可我敢说她们不会都来。”“天哪！孩子，那你得包一辆车把她们接来。”“哎呀，妈，您想到哪儿去了。也可能只来六个或八个。
这样，我只要租部旅行汽车，再借上劳伦斯先生的'樱木弹跳车'。”（罕娜就是这么念敞篷大马车的。）"这会花掉许多钱的，艾美。”“不太多，我已算过帐，我自己出钱。”“亲爱的，你可想过，这些女孩已习惯了这一切。我们尽力做到的对她们毫无新意。也许简单点的计划会更令她们满意。比方来点变化，尝试一种违反时尚的风格，这样，那些我们不需要的东西，就用不着去买呀借呀，对我们也许更好。”“要是不能按我的心意去办，我就根本不想办了。我晓得，假如你和姐姐们能帮一点忙，我会操办得很好。我不懂干嘛我自己愿意出钱还不能办，”艾美语气坚决地说，反对意见使她固执起来。
马奇太太懂得，经验是良师。只要可能，她就让孩子们自己去从经验中吸取教训。要是孩子们不像在前面说的盐和山扁豆事件中那样拒不听取建议，她会乐意使教训变得轻一些。
“那好，艾美，要是你一心一意这样做，你觉得这样不会花太多的钱和时间，不会太伤神，我就什么也不说了。去和姐姐们商量商量，不管你怎样决定，我都会尽力帮你的。”“谢谢您，妈，你总是这么好。”艾美走开去向姐姐们谈她的计划了。
梅格当即应允，许诺帮忙，并乐意提供她所有的一切，从她的小屋到她最好的盐匙。然而乔皱着眉反对整个计划，一开头就不愿插手。
“你到底为什么要花掉自己的钱，还要烦扰家人，把家里搞得天翻地覆，来讨好那一群一点也不喜欢你的女孩子们？我还以为你有足够的自尊心，不会因为哪个平常女子穿着法国靴子，坐着小轿车，就去向她献媚呢？”乔说道。她的小说正写到悲伤的高潮，给打断了，没一点儿情绪谈社交活动。
“我没有献媚，而且我和你一样也讨厌受人恩惠，”艾美气愤地反驳。这两姐妹一碰到这种问题，还是要吵。”那些女孩就是喜欢我，我也喜欢她们。即便你胡说她们时髦不好，但她们非常友善，头脑清楚，又有天赋。你不在乎培养风度、情趣，进入上流社会，让别人喜欢你，可我在乎。我是说我要充分利用每一个到来的机会。要是愿意，你尽可过贫穷清高的日子，说那是自立，我不会那样。”一旦艾美磨快了舌锋，放开了思路，总是她占上风。她这一边总是合乎常理，而乔喜欢自由，讨厌习俗，争吵中又走极端，结果总是输。艾美给乔的自立观下的定义恰如其分，两个人都哈哈大笑起来。争论也转而温和了些。最后，乔完全违反了自己的意愿，同意放弃一天时间不去格伦迪夫人那儿，帮妹妹干完她认为"毫无意义的事情"。
发出的请帖几乎都被收下了。这件大事准备在下星期一。
罕娜不太高兴，因为她一周的工作给打乱了。她预言：“要是衣服不能按时洗、熨，所有事儿都会搅成一团糟。”家庭机器运转的这一关键处要是出了故障，可要令大家焦虑的。但是，艾美的格言是"决不绝望"，既然她抱定了主意这么做，就开始着手排除障碍干起来。首先，罕娜的烹调不能令人满意：鸡烧老了，舌肉太咸了，巧克力做得不对劲。接着，蛋糕和冰淇淋的花费超出了艾美的预算。马车和各种其他费用也是如此。开初算来似乎数目不大，结果算下来数字惊人。贝思感冒了卧床休息。梅格来的客人多出往日，出不了门。乔情绪对立，结果失手摔坏东西，引起事故，出的错又多又大，令人难堪。
“要不是有妈帮忙，我那天根本过不了关，”艾美后来充满感激地回忆着，平时大家已完全忘了"那一季节最好笑的事"。
那个星期一假如天气不好，小姑娘们就星期二来 -这样的安排让乔和罕娜恼火到极点。星期一早上，天气反复无常，比持续下雨更让人烦心。下了一点毛毛雨，出了会太阳，又刮了点风，等到稳定下来时，再作决定已为时过晚。艾美天刚亮就起床了，她逼着家人也早早起床，吃完早饭，这样好将屋子收拾得井井有条。她突然觉得客厅太破烂不堪了，顾不上为她缺少的东西叹息，便很有技巧地充分利用起她所拥有的东西。她在地毯的破旧处安放些椅子，用常春藤镶边的画儿遮着墙上的污迹，用自制的雕像填充空荡的屋角。乔将插着鲜花的花瓶四处乱放着，这一来，屋子里有了一种艺术格调。
她审视了准备好的午餐，看上去不错。她由衷希望吃起来味道也好，希望能安安全全地将借用的杯子、瓷器、银餐具拿回去。车子有了着落，梅格和妈妈都准备好效劳，贝思可以在厨房帮罕娜，乔答应像没事儿似地做出愉快可亲的样子，她坚决反对这让人头痛的一切，可总还得迁就她。艾美一边疲倦地打扮着，一边企盼着幸福的时刻。顺利地用毕午餐后，她将领着朋友们坐车去过一下艺术瘾：那"樱木弹跳车"和断桥是她值得炫耀的东西。想到这些，艾美情绪又好了起来。
接下来的两小时让人焦虑不安。艾美来来回回地从客厅晃到游廊，大家对客人是否会来意见不一，像风标一样变化不停。姑娘们应在十二点到达的，可十一点时下了一场阵雨，显然这雨浇灭了她们的热情。一个人也没来。两点了，烈日炎炎，精疲力尽的一家人坐下来将午宴中易馊的食物吃掉，免得浪费。
“今天天气不会有问题，她们肯定会来。我们得忙起来，作好准备，”第二天早上，艾美被太阳一照醒便说。她嘴上说得轻快，心下却暗暗后悔不该说星期二的话。她的兴趣和那蛋糕一样有点不新鲜了。
“我买不到龙虾，今天你们将就着不吃色拉吧，”半小时后，马奇先生进屋，神色沮丧却平和地说。
“那就用鸡肉吧，鸡肉老一点做色拉不影响，”他夫人建议道。
“罕娜把鸡在厨房桌上放了一小会，小猫们舔过了。艾美，我真抱歉，”贝思接了茬。她仍然是猫们的女施主。
“那我非得要龙虾，光是舌肉是不行的，”艾美口气坚决地说。
“要不要我赶去镇上买一只来？”乔问，显出殉道者的宽宏大量。
“你会不用纸包，把龙虾夹在胳膊下就带回来，让我不放心。我自己去，”艾美答道，她已开始忍不住脾气了。
她披上厚面纱，拎着个时髦的旅行篮子出发了，心下想着乘车凉快一下能平息怒气，也好应付今天的劳作。耽搁了一些时候，要买的都买了，还买了一瓶调味品，以防家里没有又再浪费时间。她坐上回程的车，为她的先见之明庆幸。旅行车里另外只有一个打着盹的老太太。艾美将面纱放进口袋，试着核算出钱都花到哪里去了，以打发沉闷的旅途时光。她手持划满复杂数字的卡片，忙得不亦乐乎，竟没注意又上来了旅客。这个人没喊停车。艾美只听到一个男性的声音：“早上好，马奇小姐。”她抬头见是劳里的一个最文雅的大学朋友。
艾美强烈地希望他在她前面下车，她完全不管脚边的篮子了。
她庆幸自己穿的是新的旅行服装。她以平常的温顺心性向年轻人回了早安。
他们谈得很投机，因为艾美得知这位先生将先下车，她最担心的事也就不怕了。她以一种特别高贵的语气谈个不停，就在这时，老太太要下车了。她蹒跚着走向车门，把篮子给打翻了- 哎哟，糟糕！ -形象俗艳的龙虾一下子暴露在这位仿佛都铎王朝王室成员般高贵的人的眼前。
“天哪，她忘了带走午饭，”年轻人不知真相，叫了起来。
他用手杖将鲜红的龙虾弄回原处，准备将篮子递给老太太。
“请别--这是--这是我的，”艾美咕哝着，脸红得像龙虾。
“噢，真的，请原谅。这龙虾真是不错，是不？”“都铎"沉着镇定，依然兴致勃勃而又认真地说着，显得很有教养。
艾美很快恢复了镇静，她勇敢地将篮子放在了座位上，笑着说：“你难道不想尝用它做的色拉，再见见那些享用它的迷人的年轻姑娘们？”这样说很机智，因为触到了男人的两个主要弱点：龙虾立即罩上了逗人遐想的光环，对"迷人的年轻姑娘们"的好奇也使他不再注意这喜剧式的不幸事件。
“我想他会和劳里一起笑话这件事的，可我听不到，这就没关系了，”当"都铎"向她鞠躬告别时，她这么想着。
回到家她没有提起这场相遇（虽然她发现因为篮子翻了，调味汁顺着衣服曲曲弯弯流到裙子上，把新衣服给毁了）。她做着各种准备，现在这些准备工作似乎更令人厌倦了。十二点，一切就绪。艾美感到邻居们对她的行动产生了兴趣，因此极希望今天能大获成功，以抹去昨天失败的记忆。她叫来了"樱木弹跳车"，昂然驶去载接客人们赴宴。
“听到轱辘声了，她们来了。我到游廊去迎接，这样礼节周到些。这可怜的孩子遇到这么多麻烦，我要让她玩得开心，”马奇太太一边说一边往游廊走去。可是，她往外瞥了一眼，便退了回来，脸上表情无法言传，因为在那大大的车厢里，仅仅坐着表情茫然的艾美和一个姑娘。
“贝思，快跑去帮罕娜撤下桌上的一半食物。把供给十二个人吃的午餐放在一个女孩面前太荒唐了，”乔叫着，匆匆走到隐蔽处，激动得顾不上停下来笑个够。
艾美进来了，她相当镇定，极快乐地热情招待这个唯一遵守诺言的客人。家庭其他成员都有戏剧表演的才能，因此各自的角色都扮演得很好。埃利奥特小姐发现这一家人很有趣，洋溢在他们身上的欢乐情绪无法抑制。愉快地用完调整过的午餐，看过画室与花园，热烈地讨论了艺术，艾美叫了部双轮轻便马车（哎呀，可惜了，那豪华的樱木弹跳车！），带着朋友静静地观赏周围景色，直到日落时分，这时"大队人马退场"。
艾美走进屋，看上去很疲惫，但是镇静如常。她看到除去乔嘴角有一条可疑的皱纹外，这个倒霉的招待会没留下一丝痕迹。
“你们下午驾车玩得开心吧，亲爱的？”妈妈殷勤地问道，好像十二个女孩都来了一样。
“埃利奥特小姐很甜。我想，她看上去玩得很开心，”贝思带着难得的热情评论道。
“能把蛋糕分给我一些吗？我客人不少，确实需要些，我做不出味道这样好的蛋糕，”梅格认真地问。
“都拿去吧，这边只我一个人爱吃甜食，吃不掉会长霉的，”艾美回答，想到那样充足的准备落了这么个结局，不由叹了口气。
“真可惜，劳里不在这里，不能帮忙，”乔说道。大家坐下来，两天中第二次吃冰淇淋和色拉。
妈妈使了个警告的眼色，止住乔不再说话，全家人默默地大吃起来，后来马奇先生委婉地说道：“色拉是古人最爱吃的一道菜，伊夫林- "话没说完，众人爆发出一阵大笑，打断了"色拉的历史"，让博学的先生大为惊讶。
“把所有东西都装到篮子里送给赫梅尔一家吧，德国人喜欢杂烩。我见到这些就作呕。我当了回傻瓜，可没有理由让你们吃得过多噎死。”艾美擦着眼睛哭起来。
“当我看到你们两个女孩坐在那个你叫什么来着的车里颠簸，就像一个大坚果里的两个小果仁，而妈妈却郑重其事地准备迎候一群客人时。我真是要笑死了，“乔叹息着说，身子笑得发软。
“你感到失望我真难过，亲爱的，可我们大家都尽了力让你满意。”马奇太太语调里充满了母亲的遗憾。
“我确实满意了。我已做了我答应做的事。聊以自慰的是，失败不是我的错，“艾美声音有点发颤地说，”非常感谢大家的帮助，可要是你们不再提起这事，我更感谢你们，一个月，至少。”有好几个月没人提起这件事。但是，一说到"招待会"这个字眼，大家都会笑起来。劳里送给艾美的生日礼物是一个挂表链的装饰品 -小珊瑚龙虾。
Chapter 27 Literary Lessons
Fortune suddenly smiled upon Jo, and dropped a good luck penny in her path. Not a golden penny, exactly, but I doubt if half a million would have given more real happiness then did the little sum that came to her in this wise.
Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and 'fall into a vortex', as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace. Her 'scribbling suit' consisted of a black woolen pinafore on which she could wipe her pen at will, and a cap of the same material, adorned with a cheerful red bow, into which she bundled her hair when the decks were cleared for action. This cap was a beacon to the inquiring eyes of her family, who during these periods kept their distance, merely popping in their heads semi-occasionally to ask, with interest, "Does genius burn, Jo?" They did not always venture even to ask this question, but took an observation of the cap, and judged accordingly. If this expressive article of dress was drawn low upon the forehead, it was a sign that hard work was going on, in exciting moments it was pushed rakishly askew, and when despair seized the author it was plucked wholly off, and cast upon the floor. At such times the intruder silently withdrew, and not until the red bow was seen gaily erect upon the gifted brow, did anyone dare address Jo.
She did not think herself a genius by any means, but when the writing fit came on, she gave herself up to it with entire abandon, and led a blissful life, unconscious of want, care, or bad weather, while she sat safe and happy in an imaginary world, full of friends almost as real and dear to her as any in the flesh. Sleep forsook her eyes, meals stood untasted, day and night were all too short to enjoy the happiness which blessed her only at such times, and made these hours worth living, even if they bore no other fruit. The devine afflatus usually lasted a week or two, and then she emerged from her 'vortex', hungry, sleepy, cross, or despondent.
She was just recovering from one of these attacks when she was prevailed upon to escort Miss Crocker to a lecture, and in return for her virtue was rewarded with a new idea. It was a People's Course, the lecture on the Pyramids, and Jo rather wondered at the choice of such a subject for such an audience, but took it for granted that some great social evil would be remedied or some great want supplied by unfolding the glories of the Pharaohs to an audience whose thoughts were busy with the price of coal and flour, and whose lives were spent in trying to solve harder riddles than that of the Sphinx.
They were early, and while Miss Crocker set the heel of her stocking, Jo amused herself by examining the faces of the people who occupied the seat with them. On her left were two matrons, with massive foreheads and bonnets to match, discussing Women's Rights and making tatting. Beyond sat a pair of humble lovers, artlessly holding each other by the hand, a somber spinster eating peppermints out of a paper bag, and an old gentleman taking his preparatory nap behind a yellow bandanna. On her right, her only neighbor was a studious looking lad absorbed in a newspaper.
It was a pictorial sheet, and Jo examined the work of art nearest her, idly wondering what fortuitous concatenation of circumstances needed the melodramatic illustration of an Indian in full war costume, tumbling over a precipice with a wolf at his throat, while two infuriated young gentlemen, with unnaturally small feet and big eyes, were stabbing each other close by, and a disheveled female was flying away in the background with her mouth wide open. Pausing to turn a page, the lad saw her looking and, with boyish good nature offered half his paper, saying bluntly, "want to read it? That's a first-rate story."
Jo accepted it with a smile, for she had never outgrown her liking for lads, and soon found herself involved in the usual labyrinth of love, mystery, and murder, for the story belonged to that class of light literature in which the passions have a holiday, and when the author's invention fails, a grand catastrophe clears the stage of one half the dramatis personae, leaving the other half to exult over their downfall.
"Prime, isn't it?" asked the boy, as her eye went down the last paragraph of her portion.
"I think you and I could do as well as that if we tried," returned Jo, amused at his admiration of the trash.
"I should think I was a pretty lucky chap if I could. She makes a good living out of such stories, they say." and he pointed to the name of Mrs. S.L.A.N.G. Northbury, under the title of the tale.
"Do you know her?" asked Jo, with sudden interest.
"No, but I read all her pieces, and I know a fellow who works in the office where this paper is printed."
"Do you say she makes a good living out of stories like this?" and Jo looked more respectfully at the agitated group and thickly sprinkled exclamation points that adorned the page.
"Guess she does! She knows just what folks like, and gets paid well for writing it."
Here the lecture began, but Jo heard very little of it, for while Professor Sands was prosing away about Belzoni, Cheops, scarabei, and hieroglyphics, she was covertly taking down the address of the paper, and boldly resolving to try for the hundred-dollar prize offered in its columns for a sensational story. By the time the lecture ended and the audience awoke, she had built up a splendid fortune for herself (not the first founded on paper), and was already deep in the concoction of her story, being unable to decide whether the duel should come before the elopement or after the murder.
She said nothing of her plan at home, but fell to work next day, much to the disquiet of her mother, who always looked a little anxious when 'genius took to burning'. Jo had never tried this style before, contenting herself with very mild romances for _The Spread Eagle_. Her experience and miscellaneous reading were of service now, for they gave her some idea of dramatic effect, and supplied plot, language, and costumes. Her story was as full of desperation and despair as her limited acquaintance with those uncomfortable emotions enabled her to make it, and having located it in Lisbon, she wound up with an earthquake, as a striking and appropriate denouement. The manuscript was privately dispatched, accompanied by a note, modestly saying that if the tale didn't get the prize, which the writer hardly dared expect, she would be very glad to receive any sum it might be considered worth.
Six weeks is a long time to wait, and a still longer time for a girl to keep a secret, but Jo did both, and was just beginning to give up all hope of ever seeing her manuscript again, when a letter arrived which almost took her breath away, for on opening it, a check for a hundred dollars fell into her lap. For a minute she stared at it as if it had been a snake, then she read her letter and began to cry. If the amiable gentleman who wrote that kindly note could have known what intense happiness he was giving a fellow creature, I think he would devote his leisure hours, if he has any, to that amusement, for Jo valued the letter more than the money, because it was encouraging, and after years of effort it was so pleasant to find that she had learned to do something, though it was only to write a sensation story.
A prouder young woman was seldom seen than she, when, having composed herself, she electrified the family by appearing before them with the letter in one hand, the check in the other, announcing that she had won the prize. Of course there was a great jubilee, and when the story came everyone read and praised it, though after her father had told her that the language was good, the romance fresh and hearty, and the tragedy quite thrilling, he shook his head, and said in his unworldly way . . .
"You can do better than this, Jo. Aim at the highest, and never mind the money."
"I think the money is the best part of it. What will you do with such a fortune?" asked Amy, regarding the magic slip of paper with a reverential eye.
"Send Beth and Mother to the seaside for a month or two," answered Jo promptly.
To the seaside they went, after much discussion, and though Beth didn't come home as plump and rosy as could be desired, she was much better, while Mrs. March declared she felt ten years younger. So Jo was satisfied with the investment of her prize money, and fell to work with a cheery spirit, bent on earning more of those delightful checks. She did earn several that year, and began to feel herself a power in the house, for by the magic of a pen, her 'rubbish' turned into comforts for them all. The Duke's Daughter paid the butcher's bill, A Phantom Hand put down a new carpet, and the Curse of the Coventrys proved the blessing of the Marches in the way of groceries and gowns.
Wealth is certainly a most desirable thing, but poverty has its sunny side, and one of the sweet uses of adversity is the genuine satisfaction which comes from hearty work of head or hand, and to the inspiration of necessity, we owe half the wise, beautiful, and useful blessings of the world. Jo enjoyed a taste of this satisfaction, and ceased to envy richer girls, taking great comfort in the knowledge that she could supply her own wants, and need ask no one for a penny.
Little notice was taken of her stories, but they found a market, and encouraged by this fact, she resolved to make a bold stroke for fame and fortune. Having copied her novel for the fourth time, read it to all her confidential friends, and submitted it with fear and trembling to three publishers, she at last disposed of it, on condition that she would cut it down one third, and omit all the parts which she particularly admired.
"Now I must either bundle it back in to my tin kitchen to mold, pay for printing it myself, or chop it up to suit purchasers and get what I can for it. Fame is a very good thing to have in the house, but cash is more convenient, so I wish to take the sense of the meeting on this important subject," said Jo, calling a family council.
"Don't spoil your book, my girl, for there is more in it than you know, and the idea is well worked out. Let it wait and ripen," was her father's advice, and he practiced what he preached, having waited patiently thirty years for fruit of his own to ripen, and being in no haste to gather it even now when it was sweet and mellow.
"It seems to me that Jo will profit more by taking the trial than by waiting," said Mrs. March. "Criticism is the best test of such work, for it will show her both unsuspected merits and faults, and help her to do better next time. We are too partial, but the praise and blame of outsiders will prove useful, even if she gets but little money."
"Yes," said Jo, knitting her brows, "that's just it. I've been fussing over the thing so long, I really don't know whether it's good, bad, or indifferent. It will be a great help to have cool, impartial persons take a look at it, and tell me what they think of it."
"I wouldn't leave a word out of it. You'll spoil it if you do, for the interest of the story is more in the minds than in the actions of the people, and it will be all a muddle if you don't explain as you go on," said Meg, who firmly believed that this book was the most remarkable novel ever written.
"But Mr. Allen says, 'Leave out the explanations, make it brief and dramatic, and let the characters tell the story'," interrupted Jo, turning to the publisher's note.
"Do as he tells you. He knows what will sell, and we don't. Make a good, popular book, and get as much money as you can. By-and-by, when you've got a name, you can afford to digress, and have philosophical and metaphysical people in your novels," said Amy, who took a strictly practical view of the subject.
"Well," said Jo, laughing, "if my people are 'philosophical and metaphysical', it isn't my fault, for I know nothing about such things, except what I hear father say, sometimes. If I've got some of his wise ideas jumbled up with my romance, so much the better for me. Now, Beth, what do you say?"
"I should so like to see it printed soon," was all Beth said, and smiled in saying it. But there was an unconscious emphasis on the last word, and a wistful look in the eyes that never lost their childlike candor, which chilled Jo's heart for a minute with a forboding fear, and decided her to make her little venture 'soon'.
So, with Spartan firmness, the young authoress laid her first-born on her table, and chopped it up as ruthlessly as any ogre. In the hope of pleasing everyone, she took everyone's advice, and like the old man and his donkey in the fable suited nobody.
Her father liked the metaphysical streak which had unconsciously got into it, so that was allowed to remain though she had her doubts about it. Her mother thought that there was a trifle too much description. Out, therefore it came, and with it many necessary links in the story. Meg admired the tragedy, so Jo piled up the agony to suit her, while Amy objected to the fun, and, with the best intentions in life, Jo quenched the spritly scenes which relieved the somber character of the story. Then, to complicate the ruin, she cut it down one third, and confidingly sent the poor little romance, like a picked robin, out into the big, busy world to try its fate.
Well, it was printed, and she got three hundred dollars for it, likewise plenty of praise and blame, both so much greater than she expected that she was thrown into a state of bewilderment from which it took her some time to recover.
"You said, Mother, that criticism would help me. But how can it, when it's so contradictory that I don't know whether I've written a promising book or broken all the ten commandments?" cried poor Jo, turning over a heap of notices, the perusal of which filled her with pride and joy one minute, wrath and dismay the next. "This man says, 'An exquisite book, full of truth, beauty, and earnestness.' 'All is sweet, pure, and healthy.'" continued the perplexed authoress. "The next, 'The theory of the book is bad, full of morbid fancies, spiritualistic ideas, and unnatural characters.' Now, as I had no theory of any kind, don't believe in Spiritualism, and copied my characters from life, I don't see how this critic can be right. Another says, 'It's one of the best American novels which has appeared for years.' (I know better than that), and the next asserts that 'Though it is original, and written with great force and feeling, it is a dangerous book.' 'Tisn't! Some make fun of it, some overpraise, and nearly all insist that I had a deep theory to expound, when I only wrote it for the pleasure and the money. I wish I'd printed the whole or not at all, for I do hate to be so misjudged."
Her family and friends administered comfort and commendation liberally. Yet it was a hard time for sensitive, high-spirited Jo, who meant so well and had apparently done so ill. But it did her good, for those whose opinion had real value gave her the criticism which is an author's best education, and when the first soreness was over, she could laugh at her poor little book, yet believe in it still, and feel herself the wiser and stronger for the buffeting she had received.
"Not being a genius, like Keats, it won't kill me," she said stoutly, "and I've got the joke on my side, after all, for the parts that were taken straight out of real life are denounced as impossible and absurd, and the scenes that I made up out of my own silly head are pronounced 'charmingly natural, tender, and true'. So I'll comfort myself with that, and when I'm ready, I'll up again and take another."
 
乔突然交上了好运，她的生活道路上落下了幸运钱币。尽管未必是金币，但我怀疑五十万块钱也换不来她以这种方式得到的一小笔钱所带给她的快乐。
每隔几星期，她就把自己关在屋里，穿上她的涂抹工作服，像她自己说的，“掉进漩涡"，一门心思地写起小说来。小说一天没写完，她就一天不得安宁，她的"涂抹服"是一条黑色的羊毛围裙，可以随意在上面擦拭钢笔。还有一顶同样质地的帽子，上面装饰着一个怡人的红蝴蝶结，一旦准备动手写作，她便把头发束进蝴蝶结里。在家人好奇的眼里，这顶帽子是个信号，在乔写作的这段时间里，她们离她远远的，只是偶尔饶有兴趣地伸头探问：“乔，来灵感了吗？”即便这样，她们也不敢贸然发问，只是观察帽子的动静，并由此作出判断。若是这个富有表现力的服饰低低地压在前额，那表明她正在苦苦思索；写到激动时，帽子便时髦地斜戴着；文思枯竭时，帽子便给扯下来了。在这种时刻，谁闯进屋子都得默然而退，不到那天才的额头上竖起欢快的蝴蝶结，谁也不敢和乔说话。
她根本不把自己看作天才，然而一旦来了写作冲动，她便全部身心投入进去。她活得极快乐，一旦坐下来进入她的想象世界，便感到平安、幸福 -在那里有许多和现实生活中一样亲切的、活生生的朋友，令她意识不到贫困、忧虑，甚至糟糕的天气。她废寝忘食，因为享受这种快乐的时光太短了，而只有在这个时候，她才感到幸福，感到活得有意义，尽管这段时间她没做出别的什么。这种天才的灵感通常要持续一两个星期，然后，她从她的"漩涡"里冒出头来，又饿又困，脾气暴躁，要么便心灰意懒。
有一回，她刚从这样的一次发作中恢复过来，便被劝说陪伴克罗克小姐去听一个讲座。作为对她善行的回报，这次听课使她产生了个新想法。这是为教徒开的课程，讲座是关于金字塔的。乔弄不清为什么对这样的听众选这样的主题。可她想当然地认定，这些满脑子想着煤炭、面粉价格的听众们，成日里要解开的谜比斯芬克司提出的更难，对他们展示法老们的荣耀，能够大大减少社会的弊端，满足他们贪婪的欲求。
她们去早了。乘克罗克小姐调正长统袜跟的时候，乔打量着坐在她们周围的人们的面孔，以此消遣。她的左边坐着两个家庭主妇，硕大的额头配着宽大的帽子。她们一边编着织物，一边讨论着妇女权利问题。再过去，坐着一对谦恭的情人，毫不掩饰地手拉着手；一个忧郁的老处女正从纸袋里拿薄荷糖吃；一个老先生盖着黄头巾打盹，作好听课准备。乔的右边，她唯一的邻座是个看上去很好学的小伙子，正在专心地读着报纸。
那是张画报，乔观赏着靠近她一面的艺术画儿。画面上，一个身着全套战服的印第安人跌倒在悬岩边，一只狼正扑向她的咽喉。附近两位愤怒的年轻绅士正在互相厮杀，他俩的脚小得出奇，眼睛却大得出奇。背景中一个披头散发的女人大张着嘴正奔跑着想逃开。乔悠闲地想着到底是怎样一种不幸的事件，需要如此夸张地渲染。小伙子停下来翻画页时，见乔也在看，便递给她半张，直率地说：“想看看？那可是一流的故事。”乔微笑着接过来，她喜欢小伙子们，年龄增长也改变不了。很快乔就埋头干这类故事常有的错综复杂的爱情情节、神秘事件和凶杀中去了。这个故事属于那种热情奔放的通俗文学。当作家智穷力竭时，便来一场大灾难，去掉舞台上一半的剧中人物，让那另一半人物为这些人的覆灭幸灾乐祸。
“棒极了，是不是？”小伙子问。乔还在扫视着这半张报纸的最后一段。
“我看，假如要写的话，你我同样能写这么好，”乔回答道，她为小伙子赞赏这种无聊的作品感到可笑。
“要是我能写的话，就太幸运了。听说她写这种故事赚了很多钱。”他指着故事标题下的姓名，Ｓ．Ｌ．Ａ．Ｎ．Ｇ．诺思布里夫人。
“你认识她？”乔突然来了兴趣。
“不，她的作品我都读过。我认识的一个朋友就在印这份报纸的地方工作。”“你是说她写这种故事赚了很多钱？”乔看着布满报纸的惊叹号和令人揪心的这几个人，有些起敬了。
“我想是的！她晓得人们爱看什么，写这些能赚好多钱。”这时，讲座开始了，乔几乎一个字都没听进去。当桑兹教授啰啰嗦嗦地讲贝尔佐尼、基奥普斯、圣甲虫雕饰物和象形文字时，她偷偷摸摸地抄下了报纸的地址。报纸征集轰动一时的故事，并提供一百美元的奖金。乔决心大胆一试。等到讲座结束，听众醒来时，她已为自己积聚了一笔可观的财富（这不是第一次从报纸上挣的）。她沉浸在故事的策划中，只是拿不定决斗场面放在私奔前还是放在谋杀后。
回到家，她只字没提她的计划。第二天立即开始工作，这使妈妈非常不安，因为，”天才冒火花"时，妈妈看上去总是有点焦虑。乔以前从未写过这种风格的东西，为《展翼鹰》报写这种非常柔和的浪漫传奇，她洋洋自得。她的戏剧表演经验和广博的阅读现在派上了用场，这使她掌握了一些戏剧效果，并为她提供了情节、语言及服装。她的故事里充满了绝望和沮丧，因为她有限的几个熟人中有着这种使人非常难受的情绪，她也就在故事里予以体现。故事的场景设在里斯本，以一场地震结束，这样的结局出人意料，却又合情合理。她悄悄地寄走了手稿，并附上便条，谦虚地声称如果中不了奖，这故事值多少钱就给她多少钱，她会很高兴的。她没敢想过中奖。
六个月的等待是很长的一段时间，一个女孩子要保密，六个月就显得更长了。但是，乔既等了，又守住了秘密。她开始放弃再见到手稿的希望了。这时，来了一封信，使她人吃一惊。因为，一打开信封，一张一百元支票便落在了她的膝盖上。有那么一会儿，她盯着支票看，好像那是条蛇。然后，她读了信，哭了起来，假如那位可爱的先生早知道他写的这样一封客套信会给他的同胞带来这样强烈的幸福，我想，他一有空闲时间，便会全用来写信了。乔把那封信看得比钱还重，因为信给了他鼓励，而且在多年努力之后，终于发现自己学会了某些事情，真让她高兴，尽管只写了个有点耸人听闻的故事。
当乔平静下来后，一手拿着信，一手拿着支票，出现在家人面前，宣布她已获奖的时候，人们很难见到比乔更得意的年轻女人了。全家人一下子震惊不已，当然更少不了狂欢庆祝。故事发出来后，每个人都读了，并大加赞赏。爸爸对她说，故事语言不错，爱情表现得生动、热烈，悲剧扣人心弦。然后他超然地摆着头说 “你能写点更好的东西，乔。瞄准最高的目标，千万别去在乎钱。”“我倒是觉得这件事最好的部分是钱。这么多钱你将怎么花呢？”艾美虔诚地看着这张具有魔力的支票问道。
“送贝思和妈妈到海边过一两个月，”乔即刻回答。
“啊，太妙了！不，我不能去，亲爱的，那样太自私了，”贝思叫了起来。她拍了拍纤弱的手，深吸了口气，好像渴望着新鲜的海风，然后停下来，推开了姐姐在她面前挥动的支票。
“哦，你得去，就这么定了。我写故事就为这个，因此才会成功。我只想着自己时，从来干不好事情，你看，为写作挣钱也成全了我自己，对吗？而且，妈咪也需要换换空气，她不会丢开你，所以你一定得去。等你长胖了回来，面色红润，那该多好！乔医生万岁！她总能治好她的病人！”反复讨论后，她们终于去了海边。回来时尽管贝思没有像希望的那样长胖，面色变红，但身体感觉好多了。而马奇太太声称她感到年轻了十岁。因此，乔对她的奖金投资很满意，情绪饱满地又开始写作，一心要多挣些令人愉快的支票。
那一年，她确实挣了不少，并开始意识到自己在家中的分量。
因为通过笔的魔力，她的"废话"使全家人过得很舒适。《公爵之女》付了买肉钱，《幽灵的手》铺下了一条新地毯，《考文垂的咒语》让马奇一家过上了丰衣足食的小康生活。
财富的确是人们非常渴望的，然而贫穷也有它光明的一面。逆境的好处之一是人们从自己艰苦卓绝的奋斗中感到真正的愉快。我们存在于世间的智慧、美丽与能力，有一半得之于困境的激励。乔沉醉于这种愉快的感觉中，不再羡慕那些有钱的女孩。她知道她能不向别人要一分钱而为自己提供需要的一切，从中她获得巨大的安慰。
小说并未引起多大的注意，但销路不错。她为之鼓舞，决心为名利大胆一搏。她把小说抄了四遍，念给她所有的知心朋友听，怀着一颗惴惴不安的心寄给了三个出版商。小说终于被接受了，不过条件是得删去三分之一，其中还有那些自己最为得意的地方。
“现在，我必须要么把小说塞回我那蹩脚的灶间加工一下，然后自费出版；要么按出版商的要求将它删短，得我那一份钱。对这个家来说，出名声是件好事，可有钱更合宜，所以我想听听你们对这件大事的意见，”乔说着召开了家庭会议。
“别把书弄毁了，我的姑娘，这故事还有你没想到的含意，而且，故事构思得不错。放一放，等待时机成熟吧。”这是爸爸的建议，他躬行己言，三十多年来，一直耐心等待着自己人生的果实成熟，即使如今已瓜果飘香，他也并不急于收获。
“依我看，试一试比等待更有利，”马奇太太说道，”评论是这种事情最好的检验，能指出她未曾料到的价值和不足之处，促使她下次写得更好。我们的意见过于偏袒她，可是外人对她的褒贬会有用的，即使她得不到什么钱。”“是的。”乔皱起了眉头。”情况就是这样。这么长时间我一直忙着这个故事，我真的不知道它是好是坏，还是没有多大意思。让人不带偏见地谈一谈，告诉我他们的意见，将对我大有帮助。”“假如是我，一个字也不删，你要是删了就会毁了它。故事里面人物的思想比行动更让人感兴趣。如果一直写下去不加解释，会让人摸不着头脑，“梅格说，她坚持这是个最最出色的小说。
“可是艾伦先生说：'去掉解释，使故事简洁、戏剧化，让人物说故事。'"乔提起出版商的意见，打断了梅格。
“照他说的做，他知道什么有销路，我们却不知道。写本好的畅销书，尽可能地赚钱。渐渐地你就会有名气，就能够改变风格，写一些理性的、玄奥的人物，“艾美说，对这件事她的看法的确实用。
“喔，”乔说着笑起来，”要是我的人物是'理性的、玄奥的'，那不是我的错，我对那些一窍不通，只是有时听爸爸谈起。要是我的传奇故事里能掺进些爸爸的博学思想，对我来说更好。哎，贝思，你怎么看？”“我就是希望故事快点印出来。“贝思笑着只说了这一句话，她无意中加重了"快点"这两个字的语气，眼神里流露出渴望。她的眼睛里总有一股孩子般的率真。听了她的话，乔心里一阵发冷，一种不祥的预感使她打定主意"快点"小试一番。
就这样，带着斯巴达式的吃苦耐劳精神，年轻的女作家将她的处女作放在桌上，像神话中的吃人妖魔一样不留情地开始大加删改。为了让家人高兴，每个人的意见她都采纳了，就像老人和驴那则寓言所说的那样，结果谁也不中意。
爸爸喜欢那作品无意带上的玄奥特色，因此，尽管乔有疑虑，还是保留了这些。妈妈认为描述部分确实多了些，就这么着，连同许多必要的环节，全给删掉了。梅格欣赏悲剧部分，所以乔大肆渲染痛苦以合她的心意。而艾美不赞成逗乐，乔便好心好意地扼杀了用来点缀故事中严肃人物的欢快场面。她还砍掉了故事的三分之一，就这样完全把它毁了。这个可怜的小传奇故事就像一只拔了毛的知更鸟，乔深信不疑地将它交付给热闹的大千世界去碰碰运气。
还不错，印出来了。乔得了三百美元，同时也得到了许多赞扬和批评。她没料到有这么多意见，一下陷入迷惑之中，好一段时间不能自拔。
“妈，你说过，评论能帮助我。可评论太矛盾了，搞得我不晓得到底是写了本挺不错的书，还是破了十诫，这样能帮我吗？”可怜的乔翻阅着一叠评论大声叫着。她时而充满自信、快乐，时而愤怒、沮丧。”这个人说：'一本绝妙的书，充满真善美。一切都那么美好、纯净、健康。'"困惑的女作家接着读，”下一个：'书的理论不好，满是令人毛骨悚然的幻想、精神主义至上的念头，以及怪异的人物。'你瞧我没有任何理论，我也不相信精神主义至上论，我的人物来自生活，我认为这个评论家怎也不能说是对。另一个这么说：'这是美国近年来出版的最杰出的小说之一'（我知道得更清楚）；'再下一个断言：'这是本危险的书，尽管它内容新颖，写得有气势，有激情。'可不是嘛！一些人嘲笑它，一些人吹捧它，几乎所有的人都坚信我想阐述一种深奥的理论，可是我写它只是为了玩儿，为了钱。我真希望没删节全部印出来，不然不如不樱真讨厌被人误评。”家人和朋友们都极力劝慰她，可是对精神高尚、生性敏感的乔来说，这是件十分难受的事。她显然是好心却干出了错事。然而，这件事对她还是有益的，那些有价值的批评意见使作者受到了最好的教益，最初的难受劲过去后，她就能自嘲那本可怜的小书了，而且仍不乏自信。虽然遭受了打击，她感到自己更聪明、更有力了。
“我不是济慈那样的天才，但这又有何妨！”她勇敢地说，“毕竟，我也有笑他们的地方。我取材于现实生活的部分被贬毁为不可能，荒唐。而我傻脑袋里编出来的场景却被赞誉为'自然、温柔、真实，具有魅力'。所以，我可以用这些安慰自己。等我准备好了，我还会重整齐鼓，写些别的。”
Chapter 28 Domestic Experiences
Like most other young matrons, Meg began her married life with the determination to be a model housekeeper. John should find home a paradise, he should always see a smiling face, should fare sumptuously every day, and never know the loss of a button. She brought so much love, energy, and cheerfulness to the work that she could not but succeed, in spite of some obstacles. Her paradise was not a tranquil one, for the little woman fussed, was over-anxious to please, and bustled about like a true Martha, cumbered with many cares. She was too tired, sometimes, even to smile, John grew dyspeptic after a course of dainty dishes and ungratefully demanded plain fare. As for buttons, she soon learned to wonder where they went, to shake her head over the carelessness of men, and to threaten to make him sew them on himself, and see if his work would stand impatient and clumsy fingers any better than hers.
They were very happy, even after they discovered that they couldn't live on love alone. John did not find Meg's beauty diminished, though she beamed at him from behind the familiar coffee pot. Nor did Meg miss any of the romance from the daily parting, when her husband followed up his kiss with the tender inquiry, "Shall I send some veal or mutton for dinner, darling?" The little house ceased to be a glorified bower, but it became a home, and the young couple soon felt that it was a change for the better. At first they played keep-house, and frolicked over it like children. Then John took steadily to business, feeling the cares of the head of a family upon his shoulders, and Meg laid by her cambric wrappers, put on a big apron, and fell to work, as before said, with more energy than discretion.
While the cooking mania lasted she went through Mrs. Cornelius's Receipt Book as if it were a mathematical exercise, working out the problems with patience and care. Sometimes her family were invited in to help eat up a too bounteous feast of successes, or Lotty would be privately dispatched with a batch of failures, which were to be concealed from all eyes in the convenient stomachs of the little Hummels. An evening with John over the account books usually produced a temporary lull in the culinary enthusiasm, and a frugal fit would ensue, during which the poor man was put through a course of bread pudding, hash, and warmed-over coffee, which tried his soul, although he bore it with praiseworthy fortitude. Before the golden mean was found, however, Meg added to her domestic possessions what young couples seldom get on long without, a family jar.
Fired a with housewifely wish to see her storeroom stocked with homemade preserves, she undertook to put up her own currant jelly. John was requested to order home a dozen or so of little pots and an extra quantity of sugar, for their own currants were ripe and were to be attended to at once. As John firmly believed that 'my wife' was equal to anything, and took a natural pride in her skill, he resolved that she should be gratified, and their only crop of fruit laid by in a most pleasing form for winter use. Home came four dozen delightful little pots, half a barrel of sugar, and a small boy to pick the currants for her. With her pretty hair tucked into a little cap, arms bared to the elbow, and a checked apron which had a coquettish look in spite of the bib, the young housewife fell to work, feeling no doubts about her success, for hadn't she seen Hannah do it hundreds of times? The array of pots rather amazed her at first, but John was so fond of jelly, and the nice little jars would look so well on the top shelf, that Meg resolved to fill them all, and spent a long day picking, boiling, straining, and fussing over her jelly. She did her best, she asked advice of Mrs. Cornelius, she racked her brain to remember what Hannah did that she left undone, she reboiled, resugared, and restrained, but that dreadful stuff wouldn't 'jell'.
She longed to run home, bib and all, and ask Mother to lend her a hand, but John and she had agreed that they would never annoy anyone with their private worries, experiments, or quarrels. They had laughed over that last word as if the idea it suggested was a most preposterous one, but they had held to their resolve, and whenever they could get on without help they did so, and no one interfered, for Mrs. March had advised the plan. So Meg wrestled alone with the refractory sweetmeats all that hot summer day, and at five o'clock sat down in her topsy-turvey kitchen, wrung her bedaubed hands, lifted up her voice and wept.
Now, in the first flush of the new life, she had often said, "My husband shall always feel free to bring a friend home whenever he likes. I shall always be prepared. There shall be no flurry, no scolding, no discomfort, but a neat house, a cheerful wife, and a good dinner. John, dear, never stop to ask my leave, invite whom you please, and be sure of a welcome from me."
How charming that was, to be sure! John quite glowed with pride to hear her say it, and felt what a blessed thing it was to have a superior wife. But, although they had had company from time to time, it never happened to be unexpected, and Meg had never had an opportunity to distinguish herself till now. It always happens so in this vale of tears, there is an inevitability about such things which we can only wonder at, deplore, and bear as we best can.
If John had not forgotten all about the jelly, it really would have been unpardonable in him to choose that day, of all the days in the year, to bring a friend home to dinner unexpectedly. Congratulating himself that a handsome repast had been ordered that morning, feeling sure that it would be ready to the minute, and indulging in pleasant anticipations of the charming effect it would produce, when his pretty wife came running out to meet him, he escorted his friend to his mansion, with the irrepressible satisfaction of a young host and husband.
It is a world of disappointments, as John discovered when he reached the Dovecote. The front door usually stood hospitably open. Now it was not only shut, but locked, and yesterday's mud still adorned the steps. The parlor windows were closed and curtained, no picture of the pretty wife sewing on the piazza, in white, with a distracting little bow in her hair, or a bright-eyed hostess, smiling a shy welcome as she greeted her guest. Nothing of the sort, for not a soul appeared but a sanginary-looking boy asleep under the current bushes.
"I'm afraid something has happened. Step into the garden, Scott, while I look up Mrs. Brooke," said John, alarmed at the silence and solitude.
Round the house he hurried, led by a pungent smell of burned sugar, and Mr. Scott strolled after him, with a queer look on his face. He paused discreetly at a distance when Brooke disappeared, but he could both see and hear, and being a bachelor, enjoyed the prospect mightily.
In the kitchen reigned confusion and despair. One edition of jelly was trickled from pot to pot, another lay upon the floor, and a third was burning gaily on the stove. Lotty, with Teutonic phlegm, was calmly eating bread and currant wine, for the jelly was still in a hopelessly liquid state, while Mrs. Brooke, with her apron over her head, sat sobbing dismally.
"My dearest girl, what is the matter?" cried John, rushing in, with awful visions of scalded hands, sudden news of affliction, and secret consternation at the thought of the guest in the garden.
"Oh, John, I am so tired and hot and cross and worried! I've been at it till I'm all worn out. Do come and help me or I shall die!" and the exhausted housewife cast herself upon his breast, giving him a sweet welcome in every sense of the word, for her pinafore had been baptized at the same time as the floor.
"What worries you dear? Has anything dreadful happened?" asked the anxious John, tenderly kissing the crown of the little cap, which was all askew.
"Yes," sobbed Meg despairingly.
"Tell me quick, then. Don't cry. I can bear anything better than that. Out with it, love."
"The . . . The jelly won't jell and I don't know what to do!"
John Brooke laughed then as he never dared to laugh afterward, and the derisive Scott smiled involuntarily as he heard the hearty peal, which put the finishing stroke to poor Meg's woe.
"Is that all? Fling it out of the window, and don't bother any more about it. I'll buy you quarts if you want it, but for heaven's sake don't have hysterics, for I've brought Jack Scott home to dinner, and . . ."
John got no further, for Meg cast him off, and clasped her hands with a tragic gesture as she fell into a chair, exclaiming in a tone of mingled indignation, reproach, and dismay . . .
"A man to dinner, and everything in a mess! John Brooke, how could you do such a thing?"
"Hush, he's in the garden! I forgot the confounded jelly, but it can't be helped now," said John, surveying the prospect with an anxious eye.
"You ought to have sent word, or told me this morning, and you ought to have remembered how busy I was," continued Meg petulantly, for even turtledoves will peck when ruffled.
"I didn't know it this morning, and there was no time to send word, for I met him on the way out. I never thought of asking leave, when you have always told me to do as I liked. I never tried it before, and hang me if I ever do again!" added John, with an aggrieved air.
"I should hope not! Take him away at once. I can't see him, and there isn't any dinner."
"Well, I like that! Where's the beef and vegetables I sent home, and the pudding you promised?" cried John, rushing to the larder.
"I hadn't time to cook anything. I meant to dine at Mother's. I'm sorry, but I was so busy," and Meg's tears began again.
John was a mild man, but he was human, and after a long day's work to come home tired, hungry, and hopeful, to find a chaotic house, an empty table, and a cross wife was not exactly conductive to repose of mind or manner. He restrained himself however, and the little squall would have blown over, but for one unlucky word.
"It's a scrape, I acknowledge, but if you will lend a hand, we'll pull through and have a good time yet. Don't cry, dear, but just exert yourself a bit, and fix us up something to eat. We're both as hungry as hunters, so we shan't mind what it is. Give us the cold meat, and bread and cheese. We won't ask for jelly."
He meant it to be a good-natured joke, but that one word sealed his fate. Meg thought it was too cruel to hint about her sad failure, and the last atom of patience vanished as he spoke.
"You must get yourself out of the scrape as you can. I'm too used up to 'exert' myself for anyone. It's like a man to propose a bone and vulgar bread and cheese for company. I won't have anything of the sort in my house. Take that Scott up to Mother's, and tell him I'm away, sick, dead, anything. I won't see him, and you two can laugh at me and my jelly as much as you like. You won't have anything else here." and having delivered her defiance all on one breath, Meg cast away her pinafore and precipitately left the field to bemoan herself in her own room.
What those two creatures did in her absence, she never knew, but Mr. Scott was not taken 'up to Mother's', and when Meg descended, after they had strolled away together, she found traces of a promiscuous lunch which filled her with horror. Lotty reported that they had eaten "a much, and greatly laughed, and the master bid her throw away all the sweet stuff, and hide the pots."
Meg longed to go and tell Mother, but a sense of shame at her own short-comings, of loyalty to John, "who might be cruel, but nobody should know it," restrained her, and after a summary cleaning up, she dressed herself prettily, and sat down to wait for John to come and be forgiven.
Unfortunately, John didn't come, not seeing the matter in that light. He had carried it off as a good joke with Scott, excused his little wife as well as he could, and played the host so hospitably that his friend enjoyed the impromptu dinner, and promised to come again, but John was angry, though he did not show it, he felt that Meg had deserted him in his hour of need. "It wasn't fair to tell a man to bring folks home any time, with perfect freedom, and when he took you at your word, to flame up and blame him, and leave him in the lurch, to be laughed at or pitied. No, by George, it wasn't! And Meg must know it."
He had fumed inwardly during the feast, but when the flurry was over and he strolled home after seeing Scott off, a milder mood came over him. "Poor little thing! It was hard upon her when she tried so heartily to please me. She was wrong, of course, but then she was young. I must be patient and teach her." He hoped she had not gone home--he hated gossip and interference. For a minute he was ruffled again at the mere thought of it, and then the fear that Meg would cry herself sick softened his heart, and sent him on at a quicker pace, resolving to be calm and kind, but firm, quite firm, and show her where she had failed in her duty to her spouse.
Meg likewise resolved to be 'calm and kind, but firm', and show him his duty. She longed to run to meet him, and beg pardon, and be kissed and comforted, as she was sure of being, but, of course, she did nothing of the sort, and when she saw John coming, began to hum quite naturally, as she rocked and sewed, like a lady of leisure in her best parlor.
John was a little disappointed not to find a tender Niobe, but feeling that his dignity demanded the first apology, he made none, only came leisurely in and laid himself upon the sofa with the singularly relevant remark, "We are going to have a new moon, my dear."
"I've no objection," was Meg's equally soothing remark. A few other topics of general interest were introduced by Mr. Brooke and wet-blanketed by Mrs. Brooke, and conversation languished. John went to one window, unfolded his paper, and wrapped himself in it, figuratively speaking. Meg went to the other window, and sewed as if new rosettes for slippers were among the necessaries of life. Neither spoke. Both looked quite 'calm and firm', and both felt desperately uncomfortable.
"Oh, dear," thought Meg, "married life is very trying, and does need infinite patience as well as love, as Mother says." The word 'Mother' suggested other maternal counsels given long ago, and received with unbelieving protests.
"John is a good man, but he has his faults, and you must learn to see and bear with them, remembering your own. He is very decided, but never will be obstinate, if you reason kindly, not oppose impatiently. He is very accurate, and particular about the truth--a good trait, though you call him 'fussy'. Never deceive him by look or word, Meg, and he will give you the confidence you deserve, the support you need. He has a temper, not like ours--one flash and then all over--but the white, still anger that is seldom stirred, but once kindled is hard to quench. Be careful, be very careful, not to wake his anger against yourself, for peace and happiness depend on keeping his respect. Watch yourself, be the first to ask pardon if you both err, and guard against the little piques, misunderstandings, and hasty words that often pave the way for bitter sorrow and regret."
These words came back to Meg, as she sat sewing in the sunset, especially the last. This was the first serious disagreement, her own hasty speeches sounded both silly and unkind, as she recalled them, her own anger looked childish now, and thoughts of poor John coming home to such a scene quite melted her heart. She glanced at him with tears in her eyes, but he did not see them. She put down her work and got up, thinking, "I will be the first to say, 'Forgive me'", but he did not seem to hear her. She went very slowly across the room, for pride was hard to swallow, and stood by him, but he did not turn his head. For a minute she felt as if she really couldn't do it, then came the thought, "This is the beginning. I'll do my part, and have nothing to reproach myself with," and stooping down, she softly kissed her husband on the forehead. Of course that settled it. The penitent kiss was better than a world of words, and John had her on his knee in a minute, saying tenderly . . .
"It was too bad to laugh at the poor little jelly pots. Forgive me, dear. I never will again!"
But he did, oh bless you, yes, hundreds of times, and so did Meg, both declaring that it was the sweetest jelly they ever made, for family peace was preserved in that little family jar.
After this, Meg had Mr. Scott to dinner by special invitation, and served him up a pleasant feast without a cooked wife for the first course, on which occasion she was so gay and gracious, and made everything go off so charmingly, that Mr. Scott told John he was a lucky fellow, and shook his head over the hardships of bachelorhood all the way home.
In the autumn, new trials and experiences came to Meg. Sallie Moffat renewed her friendship, was always running out for a dish of gossip at the little house, or inviting 'that poor dear' to come in and spend the day at the big house. It was pleasant, for in dull weather Meg often felt lonely. All were busy at home, John absent till night, and nothing to do but sew, or read, or potter about. So it naturally fell out that Meg got into the way of gadding and gossiping with her friend. Seeing Sallie's pretty things made her long for such, and pity herself because she had not got them. Sallie was very kind, and often offered her the coveted trifles, but Meg declined them, knowing that John wouldn't like it, and then this foolish little woman went and did what John disliked even worse.
She knew her husband's income, and she loved to feel that he trusted her, not only with his happiness, but what some men seem to value more--his money. She knew where it was, was free to take what she liked, and all he asked was that she should keep account of every penny, pay bills once a month, and remember that she was a poor man's wife. Till now she had done well, been prudent and exact, kept her little account books neatly, and showed them to him monthly without fear. But that autumn the serpent got into Meg's paradise, and tempted her like many a modern Eve, not with apples, but with dress. Meg didn't like to be pitied and made to feel poor. It irritated her, but she was ashamed to confess it, and now and then she tried to console herself by buying something pretty, so that Sallie needn't think she had to economize. She always felt wicked after it, for the pretty things were seldom necessaries, but then they cost so little, it wasn't worth worrying about, so the trifles increased unconsciously, and in the shopping excursions she was no longer a passive looker-on.
But the trifles cost more than one would imagine, and when she cast up her accounts at the end of the month the sum total rather scared her. John was busy that month and left the bills to her, the next month he was absent, but the third he had a grand quarterly settling up, and Meg never forgot it. A few days before she had done a dreadful thing, and it weighed upon her conscience. Sallie had been buying silks, and Meg longed for a new one, just a handsome light one for parties, her black silk was so common, and thin things for evening wear were only proper for girls. Aunt March usually gave the sisters a present of twenty-five dollars apiece at New Year's. That was only a month to wait, and here was a lovely violet silk going at a bargain, and she had the money, if she only dared to take it. John always said what was his was hers, but would he think it right to spend not only the prospective five-and-twenty, but another five-and-twenty out of the household fund? That was the question. Sallie had urged her to do it, had offered to lend the money, and with the best intentions in life had tempted Meg beyond her strength. In an evil moment the shopman held up the lovely, shimmering folds, and said, "A bargain, I assure, you, ma'am." She answered, "I'll take it," and it was cut off and paid for, and Sallie had exulted, and she had laughed as if it were a thing of no consequence, and driven away, feeling as if she had stolen something, and the police were after her.
When she got home, she tried to assuage the pangs of remorse by spreading forth the lovely silk, but it looked less silvery now, didn't become her, after all, and the words 'fifty dollars' seemed stamped like a pattern down each breadth. She put it away, but it haunted her, not delightfully as a new dress should, but dreadfully like the ghost of a folly that was not easily laid. When John got out his books that night, Meg's heart sank, and for the first time in her married life, she was afraid of her husband. The kind, brown eyes looked as if they could be stern, and though he was unusually merry, she fancied he had found her out, but didn't mean to let her know it. The house bills were all paid, the books all in order. John had praised her, and was undoing the old pocketbook which they called the 'bank', when Meg, knowing that it was quite empty, stopped his hand, saying nervously . . .
"You haven't seen my private expense book yet."
John never asked to see it, but she always insisted on his doing so, and used to enjoy his masculine amazement at the queer things women wanted, and made him guess what piping was, demand fiercely the meaning of a hug-me-tight, or wonder how a little thing composed of three rosebuds, a bit of velvet, and a pair of strings, could possibly be a bonnet, and cost six dollars. That night he looked as if he would like the fun of quizzing her figures and pretending to be horrified at her extravagance, as he often did, being particularly proud of his prudent wife.
The little book was brought slowly out and laid down before him. Meg got behind his chair under pretense of smoothing the wrinkles out of his tired forehead, and standing there, she said, with her panic increasing with every word . . .
"John, dear, I'm ashamed to show you my book, for I've really been dreadfully extravagant lately. I go about so much I must have things, you know, and Sallie advised my getting it, so I did, and my New Year's money will partly pay for it, but I was sorry after I had done it, for I knew you'd think it wrong in me."
John laughed, and drew her round beside him, saying goodhumoredly, "Don't go and hide. I won't beat you if you have got a pair of killing boots. I'm rather proud of my wife's feet, and don't mind if she does pay eight or nine dollars for her boots, if they are good ones."
That had been one of her last 'trifles', and John's eye had fallen on it as he spoke. "Oh, what will he say when he comes to that awful fifty dollars!" thought Meg, with a shiver.
"It's worse than boots, it's a silk dress," she said, with the calmness of desperation, for she wanted the worst over.
"Well, dear, what is the 'dem'd total', as Mr. Mantalini says?"
That didn't sound like John, and she knew he was looking up at her with the straightforward look that she had always been ready to meet and answer with one as frank till now. She turned the page and her head at the same time, pointing to the sum which would have been bad enough without the fifty, but which was appalling to her with that added. For a minute the room was very still, then John said slowly--but she could feel it cost him an effort to express no displeasure--. . .
"Well, I don't know that fifty is much for a dress, with all the furbelows and notions you have to have to finish it off these days."
"It isn't made or trimmed," sighed Meg, faintly, for a sudden recollection of the cost still to be incurred quite overwhelmed her.
"Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I've no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat's when she gets it on," said John dryly.
"I know you are angry, John, but I can't help it. I don't mean to waste your money, and I didn't think those little things would count up so. I can't resist them when I see Sallie buying all she wants, and pitying me because I don't. I try to be contented, but it is hard, and I'm tired of being poor."
The last words were spoken so low she thought he did not hear them, but he did, and they wounded him deeply, for he had denied himself many pleasures for Meg's sake. She could have bitten her tongue out the minute she had said it, for John pushed the books away and got up, saying with a little quiver in his voice, "I was afraid of this. I do my best, Meg." If he had scolded her, or even shaken her, it would not have broken her heart like those few words. She ran to him and held him close, crying, with repentant tears, "Oh, John, my dear, kind, hard-working boy. I didn't mean it! It was so wicked, so untrue and ungrateful, how could I say it! Oh, how could I say it!"
He was very kind, forgave her readily, and did not utter one reproach, but Meg knew that she had done and said a thing which would not be forgotten soon, although he might never allude to it again. She had promised to love him for better or worse, and then she, his wife, had reproached him with his poverty, after spending his earnings recklessly. It was dreadful, and the worst of it was John went on so quietly afterward, just as if nothing had happened, except that he stayed in town later, and worked at night when she had gone to cry herself to sleep. A week of remorse nearly made Meg sick, and the discovery that John had countermanded the order for his new greatcoat reduced her to a state of despair which was pathetic to behold. He had simply said, in answer to her surprised inquiries as to the change, "I can't afford it, my dear."
Meg said no more, but a few minutes after he found her in the hall with her face buried in the old greatcoat, crying as if her heart would break.
They had a long talk that night, and Meg learned to love her husband better for his poverty, because it seemed to have made a man of him, given him the strength and courage to fight his own way, and taught him a tender patience with which to bear and comfort the natural longings and failures of those he loved.
Next day she put her pride in her pocket, went to Sallie, told the truth, and asked her to buy the silk as a favor. The good- natured Mrs. Moffat willingly did so, and had the delicacy not to make her a present of it immediately afterward. Then Meg ordered home the greatcoat, and when John arrived, she put it on, and asked him how he liked her new silk gown. One can imagine what answer he made, how he received his present, and what a blissful state of things ensued. John came home early, Meg gadded no more, and that greatcoat was put on in the morning by a very happy husband, and taken off at night by a most devoted little wife. So the year rolled round, and at midsummer there came to Meg a new experience, the deepest and tenderest of a woman's life.
Laurie came sneaking into the kitchen of the Dovecote one Saturday, with an excited face, and was received with the clash of cymbals, for Hannah clapped her hands with a saucepan in one and the cover in the other.
"How's the little mamma? Where is everybody? Why didn't you tell me before I came home?" began Laurie in a loud whisper.
"Happy as a queen, the dear! Every soul of 'em is upstairs a worshipin'. We didn't want no hurrycanes round. Now you go into the parlor, and I'll send 'em down to you," with which somewhat involved reply Hannah vanished, chuckling ecstatically.
Presently Jo appeared, proudly bearing a flannel bundle laid forth upon a large pillow. Jo's face was very sober, but her eyes twinkled, and there was an odd sound in her voice of repressed emotion of some sort.
"Shut your eyes and hold out your arms," she said invitingly.
Laurie backed precipitately into a corner, and put his hands behind him with an imploring gesture. "No, thank you. I'd rather not. I shall drop it or smash it, as sure as fate."
"Then you shan't see your nevvy," said Jo decidedly, turning as if to go.
"I will, I will! Only you must be responsible for damages." and obeying orders, Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms. A peal of laughter from Jo, Amy, Mrs. March, Hannah, and John caused him to open them the next minute, to find himself invested with two babies instead of one.
No wonder they laughed, for the expression of his face was droll enough to convulse a Quaker, as he stood and stared wildly from the unconscious innocents to the hilarious spectators with such dismay that Jo sat down on the floor and screamed.
"Twins, by Jupiter!" was all he said for a minute, then turning to the women with an appealing look that was comically piteous, he added, "Take 'em quick, somebody! I'm going to laugh, and I shall drop 'em."
Jo rescued his babies, and marched up and down, with one on each arm, as if already initiated into the mysteries of babytending, while Laurie laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.
"It's the best joke of the season, isn't it? I wouldn't have told you, for I set my heart on surprising you, and I flatter myself I've done it," said Jo, when she got her breath.
"I never was more staggered in my life. Isn't it fun? Are they boys? What are you going to name them? Let's have another look. Hold me up, Jo, for upon my life it's one too many for me," returned Laurie, regarding the infants with the air of a big, benevolent Newfoundland looking at a pair of infantile kittens.
"Boy and girl. Aren't they beauties?" said the proud papa, beaming upon the little red squirmers as if they were unfledged angels.
"Most remarkable children I ever saw. Which is which?" and Laurie bent like a well-sweep to examine the prodigies.
"Amy put a blue ribbon on the boy and a pink on the girl, French fashion, so you can always tell. Besides, one has blue eyes and one brown. Kiss them, Uncle Teddy," said wicked Jo.
"I'm afraid they mightn't like it," began Laurie, with unusual timidity in such matters.
"Of course they will, they are used to it now. Do it this minute, sir!" commanded Jo, fearing he might propose a proxy.
Laurie screwed up his face and obeyed with a gingerly peck at each little cheek that produced another laugh, and made the babies squeal.
"There, I knew they didn't like it! That's the boy, see him kick, he hits out with his fists like a good one. Now then, young Brooke, pitch into a man of your own size, will you?" cried Laurie, delighted with a poke in the face from a tiny fist, flapping aimlessly about.
"He's to be named John Laurence, and the girl Margaret, after mother and grandmother. We shall call her Daisey, so as not to have two Megs, and I suppose the mannie will be Jack, unless we find a better name," said Amy, with aunt-like interest.
"Name him Demijohn, and call him Demi for short," said Laurie
"Daisy and Demi, just the thing! I knew Teddy would do it," cried Jo clapping her hands.
Teddy certainly had done it that time, for the babies were 'Daisy' and 'Demi' to the end of the chapter.
 
像大多数别的年轻主妇一样，梅格带着当个模范管家的决心，开始了她的婚姻生活。应该让约翰感到家像伊甸园，看到妻子笑脸常开，日子过得豪华舒适，若是衣服上的钮扣掉了，就及时钉上，决不让他察觉。梅格对家务倾注了无数的爱心、精力与诚心，因此，尽管遇到了一些困难，她必然还是会成功。她的伊甸园并不宁静，因为小妇人过分急于讨丈夫欢心。她像个真正的马大，忙忙碌碌，为家事拖累着。有时，她累得甚至笑不出来— 吃了美味佳肴，约翰反弄得消化不良，忘恩负义地要求吃清淡饭菜。至于钮扣，她不久就学会惊叹它们又掉到哪儿去了，然后摇头说男人粗心，威胁要让他自己钉，看看他钉的扣子是否更能经得住他笨手笨脚的急扯乱拽。
他们非常幸福，即便后来发现光有爱情不能过活。梅格隔着平常的咖啡壶向丈夫微笑。约翰发现妻子姿色未减。梅格也能从日常的分别中领略到浪漫柔情。丈夫吻过她便柔声轻问：“亲爱的，晚餐要小牛肉还是要羊肉？”小屋不再是华居，而成了过日子的处所，年轻的夫妇不久就认识到这是好的变化。开始，他们做着过家家的游戏，孩子般地嬉戏着。后来，约翰作为一家之主感到肩膀上责任重大，稳步经起商来。
梅格脱下麻纱披肩，系上大围裙，像前面说的那样，不加考虑，干劲十足地投入家务中。
趁着对烹调的热衷，她读完了科尼利厄斯夫人的《菜品》，耐心细致地解决烹饪疑难，好像那是数学作业。有时，成功了她便邀请全家人过来帮忙吃掉丰盛的宴席，失败了便私下派洛蒂将食物送给小赫梅尔们去吃，以便掩人耳目。晚间和约翰一起结算家庭收支，这常使她的烹调热情一度止歇，接下来过一阵子节俭日子，那可怜的人儿只能吃到面包布盯大杂烩，喝再加热的咖啡，令她大伤脑筋，尽管他坚毅的忍受力值得称道。可是不久，梅格虽没找到持家的"中庸之道"，却又为家庭财产添了件年轻夫妇非有不可的东西 家用腌坛。
带着主妇燃烧的热情，为了贮藏室存满家制食品，梅格着手腌制栗果冻。她让约翰定购一打左右的小坛子，另外买些糖，因为，他们自家的醋栗已经成熟，需要立即处理。约翰坚信"我的妻无所不能"，自然也为她的技艺自豪，他决意满足妻子的愿望，让他们唯一的果实以最悦人的形态贮存起来预备冬用。于是，四打可爱的小坛子、半桶糖给运回来了，还带回个小男孩帮她摘醋栗。年轻的主妇将漂亮的头发束进一顶小帽里，袖子挽到胳膊，系上条格子花围裙，开始了工作。她这条围裙虽说有围嘴，看上去还挺俏。她对成功深信不疑，难道不是见过罕娜做过上百次吗？开始，那一排坛子着实使她吃了一惊，不过约翰非常喜欢吃果冻，橱子顶层放一排可爱的小坛子，看上去也不错。因此，梅格打算把所有的坛子都装满。她花了一整天时间，摘呀，煮呀，滤呀，忙着制她的果冻。她竭尽了全力，向科尼利厄斯夫人的书本讨教，绞尽脑汁想回忆起她没做好的地方罕娜是怎么做的。她重复，重新加糖，重新过滤，然而，那讨厌的东西就是"不结冻”。
她真想就这样系着围裙跑回家求妈帮忙。可是她和约翰曾商定决不让他的小家的烦恼、试验、争吵去烦扰家人。争吵一词当时使她们发笑，好像这个词包含的意思荒唐可笑。她们履行了决议，尽量自己解决问题，也没人干预他们，因为这个计划是由马奇太太提议的。梅格只好在那个酷热的复日，与不好对付的蜜饯孤军奋战。到了五点，她坐在乱七八糟的厨房里，绞着一双弄脏了的手，放声大哭起来。
梅格刚开始令人兴奋异常的新生活时，总说：“只要他高兴，我丈夫什么时候都可以带朋友来家，我会随时都准备好，不会忙乱，不会责怪他，也不会让他感到不舒服。他会看到一个整洁的屋子，一个愉快的妻子，和一顿丰盛的晚餐。约翰，亲爱的，别等着我批准，想请谁就请谁。他们肯定能得到我的欢迎。”的确，那是多么诱人！听到这么说，约翰得意洋洋，有这样优秀的妻子真是福气。然而，尽管他们经常有客人，可是客人们从来没有不期而至，到目前为止，梅格根本就没有机会表现。现实世界总是有这种情况发生，而且不可避免，我们只能惊诧、懊恼，并尽力忍受。
一年有那么多天，约翰偏偏选中那一天出人意料地带了一个朋友回家。若不是因为他全忘了果冻的事，实在不可原谅。约翰庆幸早晨定购了一些美食，并且确信这时已经做好了，他沉浸在美妙的期待中：饭菜可口，娇妻跑着前来迎接夫君。带着年轻主人兼丈夫的满足感，他伴随朋友走向自己的宅第。
他来到鸽房，大失所望。前门通常是好客地敞开着，现在不仅关着，而且锁上了。台阶上昨日踩上的污泥犹在，客厅的窗户紧团，窗帘拉着，游廊里见不着他身穿白衣、头戴迷人小蝴蝶结、手是做着针线活的漂亮妻子，也见不着眼睛明亮的女主人羞怯地笑迎客人。没有那回事，除了一个粗野小子在醋栗丛下睡觉，屋里没一个人影。
“恐怕出了什么事，斯科特，到花园里来，我得去看看布鲁克太太。”约翰被寂静冷落的气氛弄得惊慌起来。
随着一股刺鼻的烧焦的糖味，他匆匆绕过屋子。斯科特先生不紧不慢地跟在后面，满脸疑惑。他小心翼翼地和约翰保持一定距离。突然布鲁克消失了，但是斯科特很快既能看见也能听见眼前的一切了。作为一个单身汉，他十分欣赏眼前的景象。
厨房里笼罩着混乱与绝望。一种类似果冻的东西从一个坛子滴到另一个坛子。一只坛子躺在地上，还有一只在炉上欢快地烧着。具有条顿民族冷淡气质的洛蒂，正平静地吃着面包，喝着醋栗酒，因为那果冻还只是一种无可奈何的液体状，而布鲁克太太正用围裙捂着头，坐在那里沮丧地抽泣。
“我最亲爱的姑娘，出了什么事？”约翰冲进去叫了起来，他看到了妻子烫伤的手，方才知道她的痛苦，真是糟糕的景象。又想到花园里的客人，不由暗地惊惶。
“噢，约翰，我真是太累了，又热又躁又急。我一直在弄这果冻，最后筋疲力荆你得帮我一把，不然我要死了！”说着，疲倦之极的主妇一下扑进他的怀里，给了他一个甜蜜的欢迎，这个欢迎很实在，因为，她的围裙和地板同时都受过了洗礼。
“亲爱的，啥事让你烦心？发生了什么可怕的事？”约翰焦急地问道，一边温柔地吻着小帽顶，小帽子已经歪到一边了。
“是的。”梅格绝望地抽泣着。
“那么，快快告诉我，别哭了，再坏的事儿我都能承受，快说出来，我的爱。“那个-那果冻不结冻，我不知道咋办。”约翰•布鲁克大笑起来，那种笑以后再也没敢有过。它给了可怜的梅格痛苦的最后一击，好嘲弄的斯科特听见这开心的笑声也忍不住笑了起来。
“就这些？把它们都扔到窗外，别再烦心了，你想要果冻我给你买上几夸脱，看在老天的分上，别这样发作了，我带了杰克•斯科特来吃晚饭，而且- "约翰没说下去，因为梅格一把推开了他，拍着手做了个悲惨的手势，坐进了椅子，用混合着愤怒、责备、沮丧的语调高声叫道- “带人来吃饭，到处乱七八糟！约翰•布鲁克，你怎么能做出这种事？”“嘘，他就在花园里！我把这倒霉的果冻给忘了，可现在没法子了。”约翰焦急地看着眼前的这一切。
“你本来应该传个话回来，或者早上和我说一声，你本该记住我有多忙，”梅格负气地接着说道。惹恼了的斑鸠也会啄人的。
“早上我还不知道呢，况且没时间传话回来，我出去的路上碰到他的。我从未想过要你批准，因为你总说我可以随意带人来。我以前从来没试过。我死也不会再这么做了！”约翰委屈地补了一句。
“我倒是希望你不这么做！立刻把他带走，我不见他，也没有晚饭。”“好吧，我喜欢这样！我送回来的牛肉和蔬菜在哪？你答应做的布丁又在哪？”约翰叫着，冲向食品柜。
“我什么也没时间做，我打算上妈那儿去吃的，对不起，可是我太忙了。”梅格的眼泪又来了。
约斡脾气温和，但毕竟是个人。工作了长长的一天回到家，又累又饿，充满希望，可看到的却是乱七八糟的屋子，空荡荡的桌子，加上个焦躁的妻子，这可不利于身心的休息。然而，他还是控制了情绪，要不是又触及那倒运的字眼，这场风景就会平息了。
“我承认，是有点麻烦，可是，如果你愿意助一臂之力，我们会克服困难招待好客人，还会很开心的。别哭了，亲爱的，加点儿劲，为我们做些吃的。给我们吃冷肉、面包、奶酪，我们不会要果冻的。”他是想开个善意的玩笑，可那个字眼决定了他的命运。梅格认为，暗示她悲惨的失败太残酷了。他这样一说，梅格忍无可忍了。
“你自己想办法解决麻烦吧，我一点儿力气都没有，不能为任何人'加劲'了，这就等于用骨头、粗制面包和奶酪招待客人，我们家不能有这种事情，把那个斯科特带到妈那儿去，和他说我不在家，病了，死了--随你怎么说。我不要见他，你们俩尽可以笑话我，笑话我的果冻，想怎么笑就怎么笑。在这里你们什么也别想吃到。”梅格一口气说完这些具有挑衅味儿的话，扔掉围裙，匆匆撤离阵地，回到卧室独自伤心去了。
她不在期间那两个做了些什么，她无从知晓，只是斯科特先生并未给"带到妈那儿去"。他们走后，梅格从楼上下来，发现杯盘狼藉，使她不寒而栗。洛蒂报告他们吃了"很多东西，大笑着，主人让她扔掉所有的甜玩意儿，把坛子收起来。”梅格真想去告诉妈妈，可是，对自己错误的羞耻感，以及对约翰的忠心阻止她这么做。”约翰是有些残酷，可不能让别人知道。”她简单地收拾了一下屋子，打扮得漂漂亮亮，坐下来等待约翰来求她原谅。
不幸的是，约翰没来，他没这样看待这件事，和斯科特在一起时他将之视为玩笑，尽可能原谅他的小妻子。他这个主人当得热情周到，结果，他的朋友很欣赏这个即席晚餐，答应以后再来。约翰其实很生气，虽然没有表现出来。他认为是梅格使他陷入了麻烦，然后在他需要帮助时丢弃了他。”让人家随时随地带人回家，相信她的话这样做吧，又发起怒来，责怪人，将人家丢于危难中不顾，让别人嘲笑、可怜。这样不公平，不！确实不公平！梅格得明白这一点。”吃饭时，他怒火中烧。可是送走斯科特，踱步回家时，内心风暴已经平息，一阵温情袭上心头。”可怜的小东西！她尽心尽意想让我高兴，那样做让她难堪。当然，是她错了，可是她太年轻，我得耐心些，教教她。”他希望她没有回娘家--他讨厌闲话和别人的干涉。有那么一会儿，一想到这些他又来了气，接着，又担心梅格会哭坏身子，心就软了下来。他加快了步子，决心平静地、友好地、坚定地、相当坚定地向她指出，她身为妻子错在哪里。
梅格同样决心"平静地、友好地、但是坚定地"向他指出做丈夫的职责。她很想跑过来迎接他，请求原谅，让丈夫亲她，安慰她，她肯定他会这么做的。可是，她当然没有这么做。她坐在摇椅里看到约翰过来，便一边摇着，一边做针线，嘴里自然地哼着小调。好像一个坐在华丽客厅里的阔太太。
约翰没看到一个温柔、悲伤的尼俄伯，有点失望。但是，自尊心要求对方先致歉，他便没有表态，而是悠闲地迈步进屋，坐进沙发，说了句最贴切不过的话：“我们要重新开始，亲爱的。”“不反对。”梅格的答话同样镇定。
布鲁克先生又提了些大家感兴趣的话头，都让布鲁克太太一泼冷水浇灭了。谈话兴趣减弱了。约翰走到一扇窗户前，头，变形成石后继续流泪。
打开报纸，仿佛把自己包了进去。梅格走到另一扇窗前，做起针线，仿佛她拖鞋上的新玫瑰花结在生活必需品之列。谁也不说话，两个人看上去却"平静而坚定"，但却感到非常不舒服。
“天哪！”梅格想着，”真像妈妈说的，结了婚的日子真难过，真的既需要爱情，又需要巨大的耐心。”“妈妈"一词又让她联想起很早以前母亲给她的其他建议，当时接受时又是怀疑又是抗议。
“约翰是个好人，可也有他的缺点。你得学会发现它们，容忍它们，记住你自己也有缺点。他个性很强，但绝不会固执己见，只需你友善地和他讲道理，不要急躁地反对他。他处事顶真，尤其讲求事实，这种性格不坏，尽管你说他'爱小题大作'。梅格，千万别在言语行动上冲撞他，他会给你应有的信任和你所需要的支持。他有脾气，但不像我们那样--一阵火发完，然后烟消云散 -他那种沉寂的怒火极少发作，可是势头凶猛，一旦点燃，很难扑灭。小心点，要非常小心，不要引火烧身。太平幸福的生活取决于你对他的尊重、注意，假如你俩都犯了错，你要首先请求原谅，提防不要误解，这些往往导致更大的痛苦与悔恨。”梅格坐在夕阳下做着针线，回想着妈妈的这些话，尤起是后面的话。这是他们的第一次严重分岐。她回忆起自己脱口而出的话，现在听起来又愚蠢，又不友好，她的怒气也是那样孩子气。想到可怜的约翰回家后碰上这么个场面，她心软了。她含着眼泪瞥了他一眼，可是他没有感觉。她放下针线活站起身来，想着：“我来第一个说'原谅我'。”可是他似乎没听见。她慢慢地穿过屋子，自尊心难咽这口气呀。她站到他身旁，可是他头也不转。有一刻她感到她好像真没法这样做，随后又想：“这是开始，我尽我的责任，这样就没有什么可怪自己的了。”于是，她俯下身，轻轻地在丈夫额上吻了吻。当然，一切都解决了，这悔悟的吻胜过千言万语，约翰马上将她搂在膝上，温柔地说：“笑话那些可怜的果冻小坛子太不好了，原谅我，亲爱的，我再也不了。”然而，他还是笑话了，啧啧，是的，笑了上百回。梅格也笑了，两个人却笑说那是他们做的最甜的果冻。因为，那个小小的家用腌坛保住了家庭的和气。
这件事过后，梅格特意邀请斯科特先生吃饭，为他端上一道道美味佳肴，不让他感觉女主妇忙得疲惫不堪。在这种时候，她表现得欢乐、优雅，一切进行得顺利、称心。斯科特先生说约翰这家伙真幸福，回家时一路上摇着头感叹单身汉的日子太苦。
到了秋天，梅格又有了新的考验的经历。萨莉•莫法特和她恢复了友谊，常跑到小屋来闲谈，或者，邀请"那可怜的人儿"去大房子玩。这使人愉快，因为在天气阴暗的日子，梅格常感到孤独。家人都很忙，约翰到夜里才回来，她自己除了做针线，读书，或者出去逛逛，没多少事可做。结果梅格自然而然地养成了和她的朋友闲谈、闲逛的习惯。她看到萨莉的一些好东西，渴望也能拥有它们，并为自己得不到而感到可怜。萨莉很友好，常提出送给她一些她想要的小玩意儿，可是梅格谢绝了，她知道这样约翰会不高兴。后来，这个傻乎乎的小妇人做了件让约翰更不高兴的事。
她知道丈夫的收入，她喜欢这种感觉，丈夫不仅将自己的幸福交付于她，而且将一些男人更看重的东西 -钱，也交给了她。她知道钱放在哪儿，可以随意去拿。他只要求她将花出去的每一分钱都记个帐，每月交一次帐单，记住她是个穷人的妻子。到目前为止，她干得不错，精打细算，小帐本记得清清楚楚，每月都毫不担心地拿给他看。然而，那一个秋天，蟒蛇溜进了梅格的伊甸园，像诱惑许多现代夏娃一样诱惑了她，不是用苹果，而是用衣服。梅格不愿被人可怜，也不愿因之顾影自怜。这使她恼火，但又羞于承认这一点，所以她时不时买些可爱的玩意儿，这样萨莉就不会认为她得节约，她以此自慰。买过这些东西后她总是感到不道德，因为这些可爱的玩意儿极少是必需品。可是它们花的钱很少，不值得担心。就这样，不知不觉这些小玩意儿增多了。游览商店时，她也不再是被动的旁观者了。
然而，小玩意花费的钱超过了人们的想象。月底结帐时支出总数使她吓坏了。那个月约翰事忙，将帐单丢给了她。第二个月约翰不在家。第三个月约翰做了次季度大结算，那一次梅格永远都忘不了。就在这次结算前几天，梅格做了件可怕的事，这件事重重压在心头，让她良心不安。萨莉一直在买绸衣，梅格渴望有一件新的-- 只要件淡色的、端庄的、舞会时穿的。她的黑绸衣太普通了，晚上穿的薄绸只适合女孩子穿，每逢过新年，马奇婶婶总是给组妹们每人二十五美元作为礼物。这只要等一个月，而这里有一段可爱的紫罗兰色丝绸线卖，她有买它的钱，只要她敢拿。约翰总是说他的钱也就是她的。可是，不光花掉还未到手的二十五美元，还要从家庭资金里再抽出二十五美元来，约翰会认为对吗？这是个问题。萨莉怂恿她买，提出借给她钱。她的好意诱惑了梅格，使她失去了自制力。在那受诱的关头，那商贩举起了可爱的，熠熠生辉的绸布卷，说道：“卖得便宜，我保证，夫人。”她答道：“我买。”这样，料子扯了，钱付了，萨莉欢跃起来，梅格也笑着，好像这没有什么了不起，然后坐车离开，心里感到像偷了什么东西，警察在后面追着她。
她回到家中，将那可爱的丝绸展开，想以此减轻那一阵阵悔恨的痛苦。可是，这段料子看上去不如先前光鲜了，而且也不适合她了。毕竟，”五十美元"这几个字像一个图案刻在布料的每一道条纹上。她收起布料，脑中却挥之不去，不像一件新衣服那样想起来使她愉快，却像个摆脱不了的蠢头蠢脑的幽灵，令人恐怖。那天晚上，当约翰拿出帐本时，梅格的心往下一沉，结婚以来第一次害怕起丈夫来。那双和善的棕色眼睛看上去似乎会变严厉的，尽管他情绪非常好。她想象他已经发觉她干的事，只是不打算让她知道。家庭开支帐单都付清了，帐本理齐了。约翰称赞了她，又准备打开他们称之为"银行"的旧笔记本，梅格知道那里已没有多少钱了，便按住他的手，紧张地说 “你还没看过我自己的开销帐单呢。”约翰从来就没要看过，但她总是坚持让他看。他看到女人们要的古怪东西时，惊诧不已，她欣赏这种神情。她让她猜"滚边" 是什么东西，逼问他"抱紧我"是干什么用的，或者引他惊叹，三个玫瑰花蕾、一块丝绒，再加两条细绳组成的东西竟能成为一顶帽子，而且值五六美元。那天晚上，他一如往常，瞧起来很乐于检查她的开销数字，假装被她的挥霍所吓倒，因为他为他节俭的妻子感到特别的自豪。
小帐本慢慢地拿出来，放在他面前。梅格借口为他抚平额头上疲倦的皱纹站到了他椅子的后面。她站在那里说起来，越说越发慌- “约翰，亲爱的，我不好意思让你看帐本，因为我最近挥霍过度，你知道，我常出门，我得有些东西，萨莉建议我买，我就买了。我新年得到的钱将补上一半的开销。我买过便后悔了，我知道你会觉得我做错事了。”约翰笑了起来，他将她搂过身边，温和地说：“别走开去躲着我，你要是买了双挤脚的靴子我也不会揍你的。我为我妻子的脚相当自豪，要是靴子不错，就是花了八九美元也别在乎。”那是她最近花钱买的一件”玩意儿"，约翰一边说着，眼睛落在它上面。”哦，他看到那该死的五十美元会怎么说呢？”梅格思忖着，有些胆战。
“那比靴子还糟，是绸衣，”她带着绝望后的镇定说着，她想结束最坏的事情。
“唔，亲爱的，像曼塔里尼先生说的，'该死的总数'是多少？”这可不像约翰说的话，梅格心中明白。他抬头直视着她，在这之前，她总能随时坦率地正视他的目光。她翻开帐本，同时转过头来，指着那一笔数字，不算那五十美元，数字已经够大的了，加上它，更十分触目惊心。好一阵子，屋里寂静无声，然后约翰慢慢说道 --梅格能感到约翰在努力控制着自己，不显出不快来 “哦，我搞不清五十美元买件衣服是不是贵了，而且还要花钱买现时流行的裙饰、小玩意儿才能做成成衣。”“还没有做，没装饰呢，”梅格嗫嚅着说。她突然想起料子做成衣服还得花钱，有些不知所措了。
“二十五码丝绸包装一个小妇人似乎太多了，但是我毫不怀疑我妻子穿上它会和内德•莫法特的妻子一样漂亮，”约翰冷冰冰地说。
“我知道你生气了，约翰，可是我忍不祝我不是有意浪费你的钱，我看萨莉想买什么就买什么，我不能买她便可怜我，我受不了。我试图知足，可是太难了。我厌倦了贫困。”她最后一句话说得很轻，她以为他没听见，可是他听见了，并被深深地刺痛了。为了梅格的缘故，他放弃了许多享乐。她话一出口，恨不能咬掉舌头。约翰推开帐本站起来，声音微微发颤地说道：“我就担心这个。我尽力吧，梅格。”即便他责骂她，甚至揍她，也不会像这几句话那样使她这样伤心。她跑过来紧紧抱住他，带着悔恨的泪水哭叫着：“哦，约翰，我亲爱的人儿，你那么宽厚、勤勉。我不是那个意思。我太邪恶、太虚伪、太忘恩负义了。我怎么说出那样的话，哦，我怎能那样说！”约翰非常宽厚，当即原谅了她，没说一句责备的话。可是，梅格知道她的所作所为不会很快被忘记的，尽管他再也没提起过。她曾经保证无论如何都会爱他，可是，她作为他的妻子，不在乎地花了他的钱后，却指责他贫穷，太可怕了！
最糟糕的是打那以后约翰变得沉默起来，好像什么也没发生，只是在镇上呆的时间更长了，晚上也出去工作，留下梅格一个人哭着入眠。一个星期的悔恨几乎把梅格弄病了。她又发现约翰取消了他新大衣的定货，这使她陷于绝望，那种景象让人看着心酸。她吃惊地问起约翰为什么改变主意，约翰仅仅说了句：“我买不起，亲爱的。”梅格没再说什么。几分钟后，约翰发现她在大厅里将脸埋在那件旧大衣里，哭得心都要碎了。
那天夜里，他们作了次长谈。梅格懂得了丈夫虽穷却更值得爱。因为，似乎是贫穷将他造就成一个真正的男子汉，贫穷给了他奋斗的力量与勇气，教会他带着温柔的耐心，去容忍他热爱的人们所犯的过失，抚慰他们自然的渴求。
第二天，梅格收起自尊心，来到萨莉家，告诉了她实情，请她帮个忙买下那段丝绸。脾气好的莫法特太太欣然应允，并考虑周到地答应不马上就将料子当礼物送回她。然后，梅格买回了大衣。约翰回来时，她穿上大衣，询问约翰可喜欢她的新丝袍。可以想象，约翰是怎样回答的，怎样接受这个礼物的，随后又发生了些什么美妙的事情。约翰回家早了，梅格不再闲逛了。早上，大衣被幸福之至的丈夫穿上，晚上，被忠心耿耿的小妇人脱下。就这样，日子一天天过去了。到了仲夏，梅格有了新的经历--女人一生中印象最深、最充满柔情的经历。
一个星期六，劳里满脸激动地溜进鸽屋的厨房，受到了一阵铙钹的欢迎。因为，罕娜一手拿着平底锅，一手拿着锅盖，双手一拍，发出了响声。
“小妈妈怎么样？人都在哪？我回家前你为什么不告诉我？”劳里低声问。
“那宝贝幸福得像女王，她们都在楼上瞧着呢。我们这里不想刮哝（龙）卷风，你去客厅吧，我去叫她们下来见你，”罕娜含混不清地回答，兴奋地咯咯笑着走开了。
不一会，乔出现了，自豪地捧着一个放在大枕头上的法兰绒包裹。她表情严肃，眼睛闪着亮光，语调里夹着克制某种感情的奇怪成份。
“闭上眼睛，伸开胳膊，”她诱他说。
劳里慌张地退到屋角，将手背到身后恳求：“不，谢谢，我宁愿不抱，我会抱掉下来，或者弄碎的，肯定会的。”“那你就见不到你的小侄儿，”乔坚决地说，转过身像是要走开。
“我抱，我抱，弄坏了你得负责。”于是，劳里服从乔的命令，英勇地闭上了双眼，同时，一样东西放进了他的臂弯。
紧接着，乔、艾美、马奇太太、罕娜爆发出一阵大笑，笑声使他睁开了眼睛，发现手里捧的不是一个，而是两个婴孩。
难怪她们笑。他脸上的表情滑稽，贵格教徒也会给逗笑的。他满脸惊愕地站在那儿，盯着那两个尚无意识的小东西，又转过来盯着欢闹的观众，就这么看来看去，乔坐到地上，尖声大笑起来。
“双胞胎，天哪！”过了一会儿他才说出这么一句。然后他转向妇人们，带着令人发笑的虔诚请求道：“快把他们抱走，随便谁，我要笑了，我会把它们笑掉下来的。”约翰救了他的宝宝们。他一手抱着一个，走来走去，好像已经入了门，掌握了照料婴孩的诀窍。而劳里笑得眼泪都流出来了。
“这是本季最有趣的笑话，是不是？我不让她们告诉你，一心想让你大吃一惊。我想我已经做到了，”乔喘过起来说道。
“我一辈子也没这么吃惊过，太好玩了。都是男孩吗？给他们取什么名字？我再看一眼。乔，扶着我。这确实让我吃惊，受不了，”劳里回答道。他看着两个宝宝，那神情就像一只纽芬兰大狗仁慈地看着一对小猫咪。
“一男一女，瞧他们多漂亮！”自豪的爸爸说。他对两个蠕动的红色小东西微笑着，仿佛他们是未长羽毛的天使。
“这是我见过的孩子中最出众的。哪个是男孩？哪个是女孩？”劳里弯下腰细看着神童们。
“艾美给男孩系了条蓝丝带，女孩系了条红丝带，法国的方式。这样你就能分清了。除此之外，一个有双蓝眼睛，另一个有双棕色眼睛，亲亲他们，特迪叔叔，“乔调皮地说。
“恐怕他们不喜欢亲，”劳里开口说，在这种事上，他总是非常腼腆。
“他们肯定喜欢。现在他们已经习惯让人亲了。现在就亲吧，先生！”乔命令道，她担心他让别人代劳。
劳里苦笑着脸依命行事，他小心翼翼地在每个小脸蛋上啄了一口，又引起一阵笑声，孩子们也给吓哭了。
“瞧，我知道他们不喜欢亲！这是个男孩，看他在乱踢，小拳头打出去蛮像回事。好吧，小布鲁克，去攻击和你一般大的人，好吗？”小家伙的小拳头乱挥，戳到劳里的脸上，劳里高兴地叫起来。
“给他起名叫约翰•劳伦斯，女孩随她的妈妈和奶奶，叫玛格丽特。我们叫她黛西，这样就不会有两个梅格了。我想，除非能找到一个更好的名字，我们就叫这个男子汉杰克吧，”艾美带着姨娘的那种兴致说道。
“叫他德米约翰，简称德米，”劳里说。
“黛西和德米 -正适合！我就知道劳里能起好名字。”乔拍起手来。
特迪那次起的名字当然好。因为，直到本书的最后一章　，两个婴孩都一直叫“黛西"、"德米"。
Chapter 29 Calls
"Come, Jo, it's time."
"For what?"
"You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls with me today?"
"I've done a good many rash and foolish things in my life, but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six calls in one day, when a single one upsets me for a week."
"Yes, you did, it was a bargain between us. I was to finish the crayon of Beth for you, and you were to go properly with me, and return our neighbors' visits."
"If it was fair, that was in the bond, and I stand to the letter of my bond, Shylock. There is a pile of clouds in the east, it's not fair, and I don't go."
"Now, that's shirking. It's a lovely day, no prospect of rain, and you pride yourself on keeping promises, so be honorable, come and do your duty, and then be at peace for another six months."
At that minute Jo was particularly absorbed in dressmaking, for she was mantua-maker general to the family, and took especial credit to herself because she could use a needle as well as a pen. It was very provoking to be arrested in the act of a first trying-on, and ordered out to make calls in her best array on a warm July day. She hated calls of the formal sort, and never made any till Amy compelled her with a bargain, bribe, or promise. In the present instance there was no escape, and having clashed her scissors rebelliously, while protesting that she smelled thunder, she gave in, put away her work, and taking up her hat and gloves with an air of resignation, told Amy the victim was ready.
"Jo March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint! You don't intend to make calls in that state, I hope," cried Amy, surveying her with amazement.
"Why not? I'm neat and cool and comfortable, quite proper for a dusty walk on a warm day. If people care more for my clothes than they do for me, I don't wish to see them. You can dress for both, and be as elegant as you please. It pays for you to be fine. It doesn't for me, and furbelows only worry me."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Amy, "now she's in a contrary fit, and will drive me distracted before I can get her properly ready. I'm sure it's no pleasure to me to go today, but it's a debt we owe society, and there's no one to pay it but you and me. I'll do anything for you, Jo, if you'll only dress yourself nicely, and come and help me do the civil. You can talk so well, look so aristocratic in your best things, and behave so beautifully, if you try, that I'm proud of you. I'm afraid to go alone, do come and take care of me."
"You're an artful little puss to flatter and wheedle your cross old sister in that way. The idea of my being aristocratic and well-bred, and your being afraid to go anywhere alone! I don't know which is the most absurd. Well, I'll go if I must, and do my best. You shall be commander of the expedition, and I'll obey blindly, will that satisfy you?" said Jo, with a sudden change from perversity to lamblike submission.
"You're a perfect cherub! Now put on all your best things, and I'll tell you how to behave at each place, so that you will make a good impression. I want people to like you, and they would if you'd only try to be a little more agreeable. Do your hair the pretty way, and put the pink rose in your bonnet. It's becoming, and you look too sober in your plain suit. Take your light gloves and the embroidered handkerchief. We'll stop at Meg's, and borrow her white sunshade, and then you can have my dove-colored one."
While Amy dressed, she issued her orders, and Jo obeyed them, not without entering her protest, however, for she sighed as she rustled into her new organdie, frowned darkly at herself as she tied her bonnet strings in an irreproachable bow, wrestled viciously with pins as she put on her collar, wrinkled up her features generally as she shook out the handkerchief, whose embroidery was as irritating to her nose as the present mission was to her feelings, and when she had squeezed her hands into tight gloves with three buttons and a tassel, as the last touch of elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbecile expression of countenance, saying meekly . . .
"I'm perfectly miserable, but if you consider me presentable, I die happy."
"You're highly satisfactory. Turn slowly round, and let me get a careful view." Jo revolved, and Amy gave a touch here and there, then fell back, with her head on one side, observing graciously, "Yes, you'll do. Your head is all I could ask, for that white bonnet with the rose is quite ravishing. Hold back your shoulders, and carry your hands easily, no matter if your gloves do pinch. There's one thing you can do well, Jo, that is, wear a shawl. I can't, but it's very nice to see you, and I'm so glad Aunt March gave you that lovely one. It's simple, but handsome, and those folds over the arm are really artistic. Is the point of my mantle in the middle, and have I looped my dress evenly? I like to show my boots, for my feet are pretty, though my nose isn't."
"You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever," said Jo, looking through her hand with the air of a connoisseur at the blue feather against the golden hair. "Am I to drag my best dress through the dust, or loop it up, please, ma'am?"
"Hold it up when you walk, but drop it in the house. The sweeping style suits you best, and you must learn to trail your skirts gracefully. You haven't half buttoned one cuff, do it at once. You'll never look finished if you are not careful about the little details, for they make up the pleasing whole."
Jo sighed, and proceeded to burst the buttons off her glove, in doing up her cuff, but at last both were ready, and sailed away, looking as 'pretty as picters', Hannah said, as she hung out of the upper window to watch them.
"Now, Jo dear, the Chesters consider themselves very elegant people, so I want you to put on your best deportment. Don't make any of your abrupt remarks, or do anything odd, will you? Just be calm, cool, and quiet, that's safe and ladylike, and you can easily do it for fifteen minutes," said Amy, as they approached the first place, having borrowed the white parasol and been inspected by Meg, with a baby on each arm.
"Let me see. 'Calm, cool, and quiet', yes, I think I can promise that. I've played the part of a prim young lady on the stage, and I'll try it off. My powers are great, as you shall see, so be easy in your mind, my child."
Amy looked relieved, but naughty Jo took her at her word, for during the first call she sat with every limb gracefully composed, every fold correctly draped, calm as a summer sea, cool as a snowbank, and as silent as the sphinx. In vain Mrs. Chester alluded to her 'charming novel', and the Misses Chester introduced parties, picnics, the opera, and the fashions. Each and all were answered by a smile, a bow, and a demure "Yes" or "No" with the chill on. In vain Amy telegraphed the word 'talk', tried to draw her out, and administered covert pokes with her foot. Jo sat as if blandly unconscious of it all, with deportment like Maud's face, 'icily regular, splendidly null'.
"What a haughty, uninteresting creature that oldest Miss March is!" was the unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies, as the door closed upon their guests. Jo laughed noiselessly all through the hall, but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of her instructions, and very naturally laid the blame upon Jo.
"How could you mistake me so? I merely meant you to be properly dignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect stock and stone. Try to be sociable at the Lambs'. Gossip as other girls do, and be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsense comes up. They move in the best society, are valuable persons for us to know, and I wouldn't fail to make a good impression there for anything."
"I'll be agreeable. I'll gossip and giggle, and have horrors and raptures over any trifle you like. I rather enjoy this, and now I'll imitate what is called 'a charming girl'. I can do it, for I have May Chester as a model, and I'll improve upon her. See if the Lambs don't say, 'What a lively, nice creature that Jo March is!"
Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Jo turned freakish there was no knowing where she would stop. Amy's face was a study when she saw her sister skim into the next drawing room, kiss all the young ladies with effusion, beam graciously upon the young gentlemen, and join in the chat with a spirit which amazed the beholder. Amy was taken possession of by Mrs. Lamb, with whom she was a favorite, and forced to hear a long account of Lucretia's last attack, while three delightful young gentlemen hovered near, waiting for a pause when they might rush in and rescue her. So situated, she was powerless to check Jo, who seemed possessed by a spirit of mischief, and talked away as volubly as the lady. A knot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears to hear what was going on, for broken sentences filled her with curiosity, and frequent peals of laughter made her wild to share the fun. One may imagine her suffering on overhearing fragments of this sort of conversation.
"She rides splendidly. Who taught her?"
"No one. She used to practice mounting, holding the reins, and sitting straight on an old saddle in a tree. Now she rides anything, for she doesn't know what fear is, and the stableman lets her have horses cheap because she trains them to carry ladies so well. She has such a passion for it, I often tell her if everything else fails, she can be a horsebreaker, and get her living so."
At this awful speech Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which was her especial aversion. But what could she do? For the old lady was in the middle of her story, and long before it was done, Jo was off again, making more droll revelations and committing still more fearful blunders.
"Yes, Amy was in despair that day, for all the good beasts were gone, and of three left, one was lame, one blind, and the other so balky that you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start. Nice animal for a pleasure party, wasn't it?"
"Which did she choose?" asked one of the laughing gentlemen, who enjoyed the subject.
"None of them. She heard of a young horse at the farm house over the river, and though a lady had never ridden him, she resolved to try, because he was handsome and spirited. Her struggles were really pathetic. There was no one to bring the horse to the saddle, so she took the saddle to the horse. My dear creature, she actually rowed it over the river, put it on her head, and marched up to the barn to the utter amazement of the old man!"
"Did she ride the horse?"
"Of course she did, and had a capital time. I expected to see her brought home in fragments, but she managed him perfectly, and was the life of the party."
"Well, I call that plucky!" and young Mr. Lamb turned an approving glance upon Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to make the girl look so red and uncomfortable.
She was still redder and more uncomfortable a moment after, when a sudden turn in the conversation introduced the subject of dress. One of the young ladies asked Jo where she got the pretty drab hat she wore to the picnic and stupid Jo, instead of mentioning the place where it was bought two years ago, must needs answer with unnecessary frankness, "Oh, Amy painted it. You can't buy those soft shades, so we paint ours any color we like. It's a great comfort to have an artistic sister."
"Isn't that an original idea?" cried Miss Lamb, who found Jo great fun.
"That's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances. There's nothing the child can't do. Why, she wanted a pair of blue boots for Sallie's party, so she just painted her soiled white ones the loveliest shade of sky blue you ever saw, and they looked exactly like satin," added Jo, with an air of pride in her sister's accomplishments that exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her cardcase at her.
"We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed it very much," observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literary lady, who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed.
Any mention of her 'works' always had a bad effect upon Jo, who either grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subject with a brusque remark, as now. "Sorry you could find nothing better to read. I write that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary people like it. Are you going to New York this winter?"
As Miss Lamb had 'enjoyed' the story, this speech was not exactly grateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Jo saw her mistake, but fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered that it was for her to make the first move toward departure, and did so with an abruptness that left three people with half-finished sentences in their mouths.
"Amy, we must go. Good-by, dear, do come and see us. We are pining for a visit. I don't dare to ask you, Mr. Lamb, but if you should come, I don't think I shall have the heart to send you away."
Jo said this with such a droll imitation of May Chester's gushing style that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible, feeling a strong desire to laugh and cry at the same time.
"Didn't I do well?" asked Jo, with a satisfied air as they walked away.
"Nothing could have been worse," was Amy's crushing reply. "What possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle, and the hats and boots, and all the rest of it?"
"Why, it's funny, and amuses people. They know we are poor, so it's no use pretending that we have grooms, buy three or four hats a season, and have things as easy and fine as they do."
"You needn't go and tell them all our little shifts, and expose our poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way. You haven't a bit of proper pride, and never will learn when to hold your tongue and when to speak," said Amy despairingly.
Poor Jo looked abashed, and silently chafed the end of her nose with the stiff handkerchief, as if performing a penance for her misdemeanors.
"How shall I behave here?" she asked, as they approached the third mansion.
"Just as you please. I wash my hands of you," was Amy's short answer.
"Then I'll enjoy myself. The boys are at home, and we'll have a comfortable time. Goodness knows I need a little change, for elegance has a bad effect upon my constitution," returned Jo gruffly, being disturbed by her failure to suit.
An enthusiastic welcome from three big boys and several pretty children speedily soothed her ruffled feelings, and leaving Amy to entertain the hostess and Mr. Tudor, who happened to be calling likewise, Jo devoted herself to the young folks and found the change refreshing. She listened to college stories with deep interest, caressed pointers and poodles without a murmur, agreed heartily that "Tom Brown was a brick," regardless of the improper form of praise, and when one lad proposed a visit to his turtle tank, she went with an alacrity which caused Mamma to smile upon her, as that motherly lady settled the cap which was left in a ruinous condition by filial hugs, bearlike but affectionate, and dearer to her than the most faultless coiffure from the hands of an inspired Frenchwoman.
Leaving her sister to her own devices, Amy proceeded to enjoy herself to her heart's content. Mr. Tudor's uncle had married an English lady who was third cousin to a living lord, and Amy regarded the whole family with great respect, for in spite of her American birth and breeding, she possessed that reverence for titles which haunts the best of us--that unacknowledged loyalty to the early faith in kings which set the most democratic nation under the sun in ferment at the coming of a royal yellow-haired laddie, some years ago, and which still has something to do with the love the young country bears the old, like that of a big son for an imperious little mother, who held him while she could, and let him go with a farewell scolding when he rebelled. But even the satisfaction of talking with a distant connection of the British nobility did not render Amy forgetful of time, and when the proper number of minutes had passed, she reluctantly tore herself from this aristocratic society, and looked about for Jo, fervently hoping that her incorrigible sister would not be found in any position which should bring disgrace upon the name of March.
It might have been worse, but Amy considered it bad. For Jo sat on the grass, with an encampment of boys about her, and a dirty-footed dog reposing on the skirt of her state and festival dress, as she related one of Laurie's pranks to her admiring audience. One small child was poking turtles with Amy's cherished parasol, a second was eating gingerbread over Jo's best bonnet, and a third playing ball with her gloves, but all were enjoying themselves, and when Jo collected her damaged property to go, her escort accompanied her, begging her to come again, "It was such fun to hear about Laurie's larks."
"Capital boys, aren't they? I feel quite young and brisk again after that." said Jo, strolling along with her hands behind her, partly from habit, partly to conceal the bespattered parasol.
"Why do you always avoid Mr. Tudor?" asked Amy, wisely refraining from any comment upon Jo's dilapidated appearance.
"Don't like him, he puts on airs, snubs his sisters, worries his father, and doesn't speak respectfully of his mother. Laurie says he is fast, and I don't consider him a desirable acquaintance, so I let him alone."
"You might treat him civilly, at least. You gave him a cool nod, and just now you bowed and smiled in the politest way to Tommy Chamberlain, whose father keeps a grocery store. If you had just reversed the nod and the bow, it would have been right," said Amy reprovingly.
"No, it wouldn't," returned Jo, "I neither like, respect, nor admire Tudor, though his grandfather's uncle's nephew's niece was a third cousin to a lord. Tommy is poor and bashful and good and very clever. I think well of him, and like to show that I do, for he is a gentleman in spite of the brown paper parcels."
"It's no use trying to argue with you," began Amy.
"Not the least, my dear," interrupted Jo, "so let us look amiable, and drop a card here, as the Kings are evidently out, for which I'm deeply grateful."
The family cardcase having done its duty the girls walked on, and Jo uttered another thanksgiving on reaching the fifth house, and being told that the young ladies were engaged.
"Now let us go home, and never mind Aunt March today. We can run down there any time, and it's really a pity to trail through the dust in our best bibs and tuckers, when we are tired and cross."
"Speak for yourself, if you please. Aunt March likes to have us pay her the compliment of coming in style, and making a formal call. It's a little thing to do, but it gives her pleasure, and I don't believe it will hurt your things half so much as letting dirty dogs and clumping boys spoil them. Stoop down, and let me take the crumbs off of your bonnet."
"What a good girl you are, Amy!" said Jo, with a repentant glance from her own damaged costume to that of her sister, which was fresh and spotless still. "I wish it was as easy for me to do little things to please people as it is for you. I think of them, but it takes too much time to do them, so I wait for a chance to confer a great favor, and let the small ones slip, but they tell best in the end, I fancy."
Amy smiled and was mollified at once, saying with a maternal air, "Women should learn to be agreeable, particularly poor ones, for they have no other way of repaying the kindnesses they receive. If you'd remember that, and practice it, you'd be better liked than I am, because there is more of you."

"I'm a crotchety old thing, and always shall be, but I'm willing to own that you are right, only it's easier for me to risk my life for a person than to be pleasant to him when I don't feel like it. It's a great misfortune to have such strong likes and dislikes, isn't it?"
"It's a greater not to be able to hide them. I don't mind saying that I don't approve of Tudor any more than you do, but I'm not called upon to tell him so. Neither are you, and there is no use in making yourself disagreeable because he is."
"But I think girls ought to show when they disapprove of young men, and how can they do it except by their manners? Preaching does not do any good, as I know to my sorrow, since I've had Teddie to manage. But there are many little ways in which I can influence him without a word, and I say we ought to do it to others if we can."
"Teddy is a remarkable boy, and can't be taken as a sample of other boys," said Amy, in a tone of solemn conviction, which would have convulsed the 'remarkable boy' if he had heard it. "If we were belles, or women of wealth and position, we might do something, perhaps, but for us to frown at one set of young gentlemen because we don't approve of them, and smile upon another set because we do, wouldn't have a particle of effect, and we should only be considered odd and puritanical."
"So we are to countenance things and people which we detest, merely because we are not belles and millionaires, are we? That's a nice sort of morality."
"I can't argue about it, I only know that it's the way of the world, and people who set themselves against it only get laughed at for their pains. I don't like reformers, and I hope you never try to be one."
"I do like them, and I shall be one if I can, for in spite of the laughing the world would never get on without them. We can't agree about that, for you belong to the old set, and I to the new. You will get on the best, but I shall have the liveliest time of it. I should rather enjoy the brickbats and hooting, I think."
"Well, compose yourself now, and don't worry Aunt with your new ideas."
"I'll try not to, but I'm always possessed to burst out with some particularly blunt speech or revolutionary sentiment before her. It's my doom, and I can't help it."
They found Aunt Carrol with the old lady, both absorbed in some very interesting subject, but they dropped it as the girls came in, with a conscious look which betrayed that they had been talking about their nieces. Jo was not in a good humor, and the perverse fit returned, but Amy, who had virtuously done her duty, kept her temper and pleased everybody, was in a most angelic frame of mind. This amiable spirit was felt at once, and both aunts 'my deared' her affectionately, looking what they afterward said emphatically, "That child improves every day."
"Are you going to help about the fair, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, as Amy sat down beside her with the confiding air elderly people like so well in the young.
"Yes, Aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me if I would, and I offered to tend a table, as I have nothing but my time to give."
"I'm not," put in Jo decidedly. "I hate to be patronized, and the Chesters think it's a great favor to allow us to help with their highly connected fair. I wonder you consented, Amy, they only want you to work."
"I am willing to work. It's for the freedmen as well as the Chesters, and I think it very kind of them to let me share the labor and the fun. Patronage does not trouble me when it is well meant."
"Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear. It's a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts. Some do not, and that is trying," observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Jo, who sat apart, rocking herself, with a somewhat morose expression.
If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the balance for one of them, she would have turned dove-like in a minute, but unfortunately, we don't have windows in our breasts, and cannot see what goes on in the minds of our friends. Better for us that we cannot as a general thing, but now and then it would be such a comfort, such a saving of time and temper. By her next speech, Jo deprived herself of several years of pleasure, and received a timely lesson in the art of holding her tongue.
"I don't like favors, they oppress and make me feel like a slave. I'd rather do everything for myself, and be perfectly independent."
"Ahem!" coughed Aunt Carrol softly, with a look at Aunt March.
"I told you so," said Aunt March, with a decided nod to Aunt Carrol.
Mercifully unconscious of what she had done, Jo sat with her nose in the air, and a revolutionary aspect which was anything but inviting.
"Do you speak French, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, laying a hand on Amy's.
"Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March, who lets Esther talk to me as often as I like," replied Amy, with a grateful look, which caused the old lady to smile affably.
"How are you about languages?" asked Mrs. Carrol of Jo.
"Don't know a word. I'm very stupid about studying anything, can't bear French, it's such a slippery, silly sort of language," was the brusque reply.
Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March said to Amy, "You are quite strong and well now, dear, I believe? Eyes don't trouble you any more, do they?"
"Not at all, thank you, ma'am. I'm very well, and mean to do great things next winter, so that I may be ready for Rome, whenever that joyful time arrives."
"Good girl! You deserve to go, and I'm sure you will some day," said Aunt March, with an approving pat on the head, as Amy picked up her ball for her.
Crosspatch, draw the latch, Sit by the fire and spin,
squalled Polly, bending down from his perch on the back of her chair to peep into Jo's face, with such a comical air of impertinent inquiry that it was impossible to help laughing.
"Most observing bird," said the old lady.
"Come and take a walk, my dear?" cried Polly, hopping toward the china closet, with a look suggestive of a lump of sugar.
"Thank you, I will. Come Amy." and Jo brought the visit to an end, feeling more strongly than ever that calls did have a bad effect upon her constitution. She shook hands in a gentlemanly manner, but Amy kissed both the aunts, and the girls departed, leaving behind them the impression of shadow and sunshine, which impression caused Aunt March to say, as they vanished . . .
"You'd better do it, Mary. I'll supply the money." and Aunt Carrol to reply decidedly, "I certainly will, if her father and mother consent."
 
“走呀，乔，到时间了。”
“做什么？”
“你答应今天和我一起走访六家人的，你不会忘了吧？”“我这一生是做过许多鲁莽的傻事，可我不会发神经，说我要一天拜访六户人家吧。访一家都让我烦一个星期。”“是的，你是说过。那是我俩的协议。我替你完成贝思的铅笔画像，你好好地和我一起去邻居家回访。”“假如天气好--协议中有这一条，我严格遵守协议，夏洛克。东边有一大块乌云，天气不好，所以我不去。”“你这是偷懒。天气不错，不会下雨的，你不是以守约自豪吗？讲点信用吧，去尽你的义务，然后你又可以安心过六个月。”那一时刻，乔正特别沉迷于缝制衣服。她为全家人做大衣并居功自傲，因为她的针使得和笔一样好。可她正在首次试穿她缝的新衣就给抓差，受命在七月的热天里盛装出访，真叫人光火。她讨厌任何正式的出访，除非艾美和她订协议，贿赂她，或者许愿，如此这般胁她，否则她决不会干的。眼下这种情形是逃脱不掉的了。她恨恨地将剪刀弄出响声，声辩她觉察到了雷雨的迹象，可还是投降了。她收起针线，拿起帽子、手套，告诉艾美她这个遭难者已做好准备。
“乔•马奇，你真够倔的，圣人也要被你激怒。我希望你不是打算就这样出访吧？”艾美打量着她，惊叫起来。
“怎么不行？我觉得齐整、凉爽、舒适。热天里尘土飞扬的，这样穿戴很合适。要是人们更在乎我的衣服而不是我这个人，我就不愿见他们。你可以尽心尽意打扮得优雅，让人们喜欢你，喜欢你的衣服。你觉得这样挺值，我却不然，裙饰只能让我烦。”“哦，天哪！”艾美叹了口气。”她现在处于逆反情绪中，不等我把她弄妥贴，她会让我发狂的。今天出门肯定不会是件好差事。可是，我们欠了社交债呀。除了你我，家里没人去还这笔债。乔，你只需好好打扮一下，帮我回礼，我会为你做任何事的。你很会说话，打扮起来很有贵族气质，举止也很潇洒，只要你乐意。我会为你骄傲的。我害怕一个人去，你一定要和我一起去，照顾我。“你这个小姑娘真有手腕。那样子甜言蜜语哄骗你脾气坏的姐姐。真想得出来，我有贵族气，有教养，你一个人哪也不敢去！真不知哪一个更荒唐。好啦，既然我非得去就去吧，我尽力而为。你来当这次远征的统帅吧，我绝对服从，满意了吗？”乔说，她的态度由倔强突然转变为绵羊似的顺从。
“你真是个天使！现在，去穿上你最好的衣服，我会教你做到举止得体的，这样你就会给人留下好印象。我希望别人喜欢你，而你只要试着随和一点，就能让人喜欢，头发弄漂亮点，帽子上放一朵粉红色玫瑰。你穿着素净衣服看上去太严肃了，这样相称些。带上你的淡黄手套和绣花手绢。我们在梅格家停一下，把她的白阳伞借来，这样，你就可以用我那把鸽灰色阳伞了。”艾美一边打扮，一边发着命令，乔不无抗议地服从着。她叹着气，窸窸窣窣地穿上她的新玻璃纱衣，皱着眉，将帽带系成个无可挑剔的结。她手忙脚乱地弄着别针，戴上领结，扯出手绢时，全身衣服都给扯皱了。手绢上的刺绣让她鼻子很不舒服，就像眼前的出访使命让她一样难受。作为优雅打扮的最后装饰，她将手挤进了那双有三个钮扣和流苏的手套。她转向艾美，脸上带着憨憨的表情，谦恭地说 “我太痛苦了，可你要是觉得我这样能拿得出去，我死而无憾。”“你太让人满意了。慢慢转过来，让我仔细瞧瞧。”乔转了个身，艾美这里修一下，那里补一下，然后后退一步，歪着头宽厚地打量着她。”行，能行。你的头打扮得最合我意。
红玫瑰点缀着白帽子真是迷人。挺起肩来，别管手套是不是挤手，手放自如些。你再加件东西会更好，乔。也就是，围条披肩--我围着不好，你围合适。真高兴，马奇婶婶把那条可爱的披肩给你了。它虽然朴素，可是很好看，落在胳膊上的褶子真是风雅。你看我斗篷上的针绣花边在不在中间？我衣服可扣整齐了？我想让人看看我的靴子，因为，我的脚确实很美，尽管我的鼻子不理想。”“你是个美丽的小东西，永远快乐，”乔说。她带着权威的神气透过手看着艾美插在金发上的蓝色羽饰。”请问夫人，我是把好衣服放下来扫着尘地，还是卷起来？”“走路的时候就卷起来，进了屋子就放下来。裙褶拖曳的风格最适合你，你得学着优雅地拖着裙裾。你一只袖口没全扣上，赶快扣上。要是不注意这些细节，你根本不会完美的，悦人的整体形象就是由细节组成的。”乔叹了口气，开始扣袖子，手套上的扣子差点给绷掉。两个人终于打扮完毕上路了。罕娜从楼上窗户探出身子看着她们，说她俩"漂亮得像图中人"。
“哎，乔，亲爱的，切斯特一家以为她们非常优雅，所以，我想让你拿出最好的风度来。别说你那些粗暴的话，别做怪事，好不好？只要沉着、冷静、镇定 -那样保险，又有女士风度，你很容易在十五分钟内做到这些的，”艾美说。她们已去过梅格家，借了白阳桑梅格一手抱一个孩子检查了她们的装扮。现在她们已到了要访问的第一家。
“我想想。'沉着、冷静、镇定' 好的，我想可以答应你。我在舞台上扮演过一个古板的年轻女士，我来试试。你会看到，我很有能耐的。脑子放松一些，我的孩子。”艾美松了口气。调皮的乔奉行了她的话。在第一家，她坐在那儿，四肢放得优雅舒适，裙褶垂到恰到好处。她平静得像夏天的海，冷得像大雪堆，沉默得像狮身人面像。切斯特夫人提到她的"动人的小说"，切斯特小姐们挑起话头，谈舞会、野餐、歌剧以及服装款式，均告无效。乔要么笑笑，要么点点头，再不就严肃地说声"是"、"不"，以此回答所有的问题，让人扫兴。艾美向她传去"说话“的指令，试图把她从这种状态中拖出来，还用脚偷偷踹她，还是不起作用。乔无动于衷地坐在那里好像什么也不知道，举止如同莫德的脸：“匀称却冷冰冰，没有表情却光彩照人。”“马奇家大小姐多么高傲又令人乏味啊！”送走客人关上门，一个小姐评论道，不幸给客人听见了。乔无声地笑着穿过大厅，可是艾美为她的指挥失误怄着气，自然怪罪起来乔来。
“你怎么能这样误解我的意思？我只是要你表现得端庄、稳重，可你整个儿一个木头疙瘩。到兰姆家可要随和些了。你要像别的女孩们那样闲聊，对服装、调笑、管它什么废话都要表现出兴趣。她们出入于上流社会，认识她们对我们很有用。我无论如何都要给她们留下好印象。”“我会放随和些的，我会闲聊，傻笑，听到你喜欢的任何琐事都惊叹狂呼。我很喜欢那样。现在，我得模仿所谓的'迷人的女孩'，有梅•切斯特做样板，我再改进些，是能做好的。等着瞧，兰姆一家会说：' 乔•马奇多么可爱、迷人呀！'"艾美完全有理由着急，因为一旦乔异想天开起来，不知道她什么时候才能收得祝艾美看着她姐姐轻快地走进下一个客厅，热情奔放地亲吻了所有的年轻女士，优雅地朝年轻先生们微笑，兴致勃勃地加入了闲聊，这种情绪使艾美这个旁观者大为惊讶，她一脸困惑。兰姆太太占住了艾美。她很喜欢艾美，迫使艾美听她长篇大论地讲述卢克丽霞的最后反抗，同时，三个愉快的年轻先生守候在近处，等着兰姆太太一住口，就冲上去救艾美出来。在这种情形下，艾美无力制止乔。乔似乎被淘气的精灵缠住了，她像兰姆老太一样滔滔不绝，说个不停。好几个脑袋围着她，艾美竖起耳朵想听听她在说什么，因为断断续续的话语使她充满疑惧，圆睁的眼睛和上举的手折磨着她的好奇心，不断的笑声使她极想分享乐趣。听听这种谈话的评断，我们可以想像出艾美的痛苦。
“她马骑得特棒--谁教她的？”
“没人教。她过去常在安在一棵树上的旧马鞍上练习上马、握缰、骑马。现在，她什么都敢骑，她不知道什么叫害怕。马夫给她马骑，要价便宜，因为她把马驯得服服贴贴，让女士骑没问题。她骑马的热情太大，我常对她说，假如她做别的事不成，可以当个驯马师来谋生。”听到这种糟糕的话，艾美很难克制住自己了，因为，这种话给人留下她是荡妇的印象，而这又是她特别讨厌的。可是，她能怎么办呢？老太太故事刚说了一半。就在故事还远远没结束的时候，乔又开始了，讲出更可笑的秘密，出现了更可怕的错。
“是的，艾美那天真是倒霉，所有的好马都不在，留下来三匹，一匹跛，一匹瞎，还有一匹太顽劣，往它嘴里塞泥它才走。游园会用这种马不错，是不是？”“她选了哪一匹呢？”一个先生笑着问，他喜欢这个话题。
“一匹也没眩她听说河对面农家有一匹好马，又精神又漂亮，虽然还没有女士骑过它，艾美决定一试。那场斗争真是悲壮，没人给马上鞍，她自己上。我的天哪！她竟然带着马划过了河，给马上鞍，来到谷仓，使老头大大吃了一惊。”“她骑那马了吗？”“当然。她玩得非常开心。我还以为她会给弄得残缺不全地送回来呢。可是她完全制服了那马，成了游园会的中心人物。”“嗯，那真叫有胆量！”小兰姆先生赞许地瞥了一眼艾美，奇怪她妈妈说些什么，把那女孩羞得满脸通红，浑身不自在。
过了一会儿，谈话突然转了向，谈到衣服问题，艾美的脸更红了，也更不自在了。一个年轻女士询问乔，她去野餐时戴的那顶淡褐色帽子是在哪里买的。傻乎乎的乔不提两年前买帽子的地方，而是毫无必要地坦诚相告：“噢，是艾美涂上去的。买不到那些柔和颜色的，所以我们想要什么颜色就涂什么颜色。有一个懂艺术的妹妹是个很大的安慰。”“这主意真是新奇！”兰姆小姐叫起来，她发现乔很有趣。
“和她做的别的伟绩相比，这算不了什么。没有这孩子干不了的事。瞧，她想要双蓝靴子参加萨莉的舞会，她就把她那双泥乎乎的白靴子涂成最可爱的天蓝色，看上去真像缎子做的，”乔带着对妹妹成就的自豪感补充道，这激怒了艾美，她恨不能用名片盒砸她才解气。
“前些日子，我们读了你写的一个故事，非常喜欢，”兰姆大小姐说道，她想恭维文学女士。必须承认，当时这位文学女士看上去一点也没那气质。
一提及她的"作品"，总会对乔产生不好的影响，她要么严肃起来，像是谁冒犯了她，要么唐突地转变话题，现在就是这样。”真遗憾你们找不到更好的东西来读，我写那废话是因为它有销路。普通老百姓才喜欢它。今年冬天你去纽约吗？“因为兰姆小姐"喜欢"这故事，所以乔的话显得不太文雅，也不客气。话一出口，乔便意识到了自己的错误。可是，由于担心把事情弄得更糟，她突然记起该先提出告辞，于是贸然提出要走，使得其他三个人话没说完，噎在了喉咙。
“艾美，我们得走了。再见，亲爱的，一定上我们家来玩，盼着你们来访。我不敢请您，兰姆先生。但要是您真的来了，我想我没有胆量打发您走的。”乔滑稽地模仿着梅•切斯特的风格，极动感情地说完那些话。艾美尽快出了屋，搞得哭笑不得。
“我干得不错吧？”她们离开时，乔满意地问道。
“没有比这更糟的人，”艾美的回答斩钉截铁，”你让什么迷住了，竟说起那些故事来？什么马鞍、帽子、靴子的，还有其他那些？”“哎呀，那些好玩，逗人笑。他们知道我们穷，没有必要假装我们有马夫，一季买三四顶帽子，还能像他们那样轻而易举地得到好东西。”“你也不必把我们的小计谋告诉他们呀，也没必要那样暴露我们的贫穷。你一点儿正当的自尊都没有，从来不知道什么时候该闭口，什么时候该出言，”艾美绝望地说。
可怜的乔感到羞愧了。她默默地用干硬的手绢擦着鼻尖，仿佛在为她干的坏事忏悔。
“在这里我该怎么做？”当她们走近第三家时，乔问。
“想怎么做就怎么做，我可不管你了，”艾美简短地答道。
“那我就会玩得快活罗。那些男孩们在家，我们会很开心的。天知道，我需要点变化了。优雅不适合我的性格，”乔态度生硬地回敬。她老是不能让艾美满意，心中恼火。
三个大男孩和几个可爱的小孩子热情地欢迎她，这迅速扫除了她的不快。她由着艾美去和女主人及碰巧同样来访的图德先生应酬，自己则和年轻人们打成了一片。她发现这样的变化使人精神振奋。她怀着极大的兴趣倾听着大学生的故事，一声不吭地抚摸着猎狗和长卷毛狗，完全赞同"汤姆•布朗是条好汉"，也不管这种赞许的不恰当。当一个小伙子提议去看看他的鱼池时，乔欣然从命。她笨拙却充满柔情地拥抱了一下慈爱的夫人，把帽子弄毁了。这顶帽子对她来说非常亲切，有灵感的法国女人做出的头饰也不及它。夫人一边为她整理着帽子，一边不由笑起她来。
艾美让乔自行其事，开始自己尽情寻欢了。图德先生的叔叔娶了个英国女士，这位女士是一个还在世的勋爵相隔三代的表妹。艾美非常尊敬这一家人，因为，尽管她生于美国，有着美国的教养，她对爵位还是怀着崇敬之心，这种崇敬萦绕着我们中间优秀分子的脑际--那是一种未被认可的、早先信仰国王的忠诚。几年前，一位皇室的金发女士一踏上这太阳底下最民主的国度，这种忠诚便使得这个国家骚动起来。
这个年轻的国家对那些古老的国家所怀有的热爱仍然与这种忠诚相关，如同一个大儿子对一个专横的小妈妈的爱，小妈妈有能力时，拢着儿子，儿子反抗了便责骂着放行。然而，即使心满意足地和英国贵族的远亲攀谈也没能使艾美忘掉时间。她极不情愿地抽身离开这贵族社会，到处寻找乔。她热切希望不会发现她那不可救药的姐姐又处于使马奇姓氏蒙羞的局面。
情况本可以说更糟，不过艾美觉得还能接受。乔坐在草地上，身边围了一群男孩，一只爪子脏兮兮的狗横卧在她那条华丽的、节日才穿的裙子上。她正对那群面带羡慕之情的听众叙述劳里的一个恶作剧。一个小孩子用艾美珍爱的阳伞捣弄着乌龟们，另一个把姜饼放在乔最好的帽子上大嚼，还有一个戴着她的手套在玩球。所有的人都很开心。乔收拾起她那些弄毁的财产准备走时，她的护卫送着她，恳求她再来做客：“听劳里的玩笑太有趣了。”“这些男孩子太棒了，是不是？和他们待过后，我又觉得相当年轻、活泼了，”乔说。她将手放在背后信步走着，一半是习惯使然，另一半是想藏起被溅污的阳桑"你为什么老躲着图德先生？”艾美问。她明智地克制着不评论乔损毁了的形象。
“我不喜欢他。他摆架子，斥责他的妹妹们，烦他爸爸，说话不尊重他妈妈。劳里说他放荡。我看他不是个理想的熟人，所以不睬他。”“至少，你该待他礼貌些吧。你只对他冷冷地点点头，而刚才你那样彬彬有礼地向汤米•张伯伦弯腰微笑，他爸只是个开杂货店的。你只要把这点头和弯腰掉个个儿，就对了，”艾美责怪道。
“不，不对，”倔强的乔回答，”即使图德爷爷的叔叔的侄儿的侄女是一个勋爵的第三代表妹，我也不会喜欢他，更不羡慕他。汤米穷，害羞，可是他善良，非常聪明。我看重地，我愿意表现出来。尽管他和那些牛纸包裹打交道，他还是一个绅士。”“和你争辩没用，”艾美说。
“是一点没用，亲爱的，”乔打断了她，”所以，我们放温和些，在这里丢下一张名片，因为很明显金家人不在家，我为此深表谢意。”马奇家名片盒完成使命，两个姑娘继续前进。到达第五家时，她们被告知年轻女士们有约会，乔又谢起恩来。
“现在让我们回家吧，今天别去管马奇婶婶了。我们什么时候都能跑到她家去。现在又累又躁，还要拖着最好的一套衣服在泥地里走，真是太遗憾了。”“你愿意的话就这样想吧。婶婶喜欢我们打扮入时地正式拜访她，向她表示敬意。这是小事一桩，但却让她快乐。我相信，这不会像那些脏狗和那群男孩子那样弄脏你的衣服，一点也不会。弯下腰来，我替你拿掉帽子上的碎屑。”“艾美，你真是个好姑娘！”乔说。她懊恼地瞥了一眼自己弄糟了的衣服，又瞥了一下妹妹的，那衣服依旧干干净净、一尘不染。”我希望我能像你一样轻而易举地做些小事让人喜欢。我想过，但做那些太费时间，所以，我等待机会施舍大恩惠，小事就由它过去了。不过我想，最终还是小事最有效果。”艾美笑了，即刻软了下来，带着母亲般的神情说道：“妇女应该学会与人相处，特别是穷妇人，因为没有别的办法来回报别人给你的好处。如果你愿意记住这一点，练习练习，你会比我更惹人喜爱，因为你的好气质更多。”“我是个有怪癖的老东西，将来还会是这样，但是我愿意承认你是对的，只是我可以为一个人冒生命危险，但要我违心地讨好一个人我却办不到。我这样强烈地爱憎分明，真是不幸，是不是？”“要是不能隐瞒这种感情就更不幸了。我不在乎说出来，和你一样我也不赞成图德，但是，没人请我把这告诉图德，也没人请你。没有必要因为他讨人厌便把自己弄得不受欢迎。”“可是我认为，姑娘们在不喜欢某个年轻人的时候应该表露出来。除了用态度还能用什么表露呢？很遗憾，如我所知，说教是无益的，就像我对待特迪那样。但是我有许多小办法，可以用来不加言语地影响他。我说，如果可以的话，我们对其他人也应该这样。“特迪是个出众的男孩，不能用作其他男孩的榜样。”艾美的语调严肃认真、深信不疑。如果那" 出众的男孩"听见这句话，一定会大笑不止。”假如我们是美女，或者是有钱有势的女人，也许能做些什么。可是对我们来说，因为不赞成那一帮年轻先生就对他们皱着眉，一点效果也没有。我们只能被人家看作古怪、拘谨。“所以我们就鼓励那些我们讨厌的东西和人，仅仅因为我们不是美女，不是百万富翁，是吗？这种说教真不错。”“我辩不了，我只知道这是处世方式。违背它的人反而白白让人嘲笑。我不喜欢改革家，希望你也不要去当改革家。”“我就是喜欢改革家，要是能够，我愿当一个改革家。因为尽管受人嘲笑，这世界没有改革家就不能运转。我们俩观点达不成一致。你属于旧派，我属于新派。你按你的方式会过得很好，但我也能过得非常愉快。我想，我倒是欣赏那些指责与呵斥。”“好了，安静下来吧。别用你那些新念头去烦婶婶。”“我尽量不烦她。可是，在她面前，我总是鬼迷心窍地说出一些特别直率的话，或者生出标新立异的念头。这是我的命，我逃不了。”她们发现卡罗尔婶婶和老太太在一起，两个人正一门心思地谈论着什么非常有趣的事。姑娘们一进门，她们便停下话头，脸上的表情明显表明她们一直在谈论着她们的侄女们。
乔心情不好，犟劲又上来了，而艾美善良地尽了自己的责任，忍着气讨大家的欢心。她完全处于一种天使般的心境中，而这种温和可爱的性情马上感染了大家。两个婶婶慈爱地唤她"我亲爱的"，一边用眼色表示她们后来强调的：“那孩子每天都有长进。”“你要去为交易会帮忙吗，亲爱的？”卡罗尔太太回。艾美带着信任的神情在她身旁坐下，老年人非常喜欢年轻人的这种神情。
“是的，婶婶，切斯特夫人问我可愿帮忙。我提出照看一张桌子，因为除了时间，我没什么东西可以给人了。”“我可不去，”乔断然插了嘴，”我讨厌受人恩惠。切斯特家人以为，让我们为他们那与上流社会有联系的交易会帮忙是个了不起的恩惠。我不知道你答应了，艾美，他们只想要你干活。”“我愿意干活。交易会是为切斯特家办的，也是为自由民的。我觉得他们太客气了，让我也分担工作，分享乐趣。恩惠只要是善意的，就不会烦扰我。”“相当正确、恰当。亲爱的，我喜欢你感恩的精神。帮助那些欣赏我们努力的人是件愉快的事，而有些人不欣赏，令人气愤，”马奇婶婶从眼镜上看着乔，评论道。乔皱着眉头坐在摇椅里摇着。
要是乔知道巨大的幸福在她和艾美之间晃来晃去难以平衡，而只能降在一个人头上的话，她会迅即变得鸽子般温顺。
然而，不幸的是，我们的心灵没有窗户，看不见我们朋友脑中有些什么。在一般的事情上，看不见还好些。可是，看见了时常是莫大的安慰，能节约时间，也能抑制脾气。乔的下一句话剥夺了她几年的快乐，使她及时地领教到了闭嘴的艺术。
“我不喜欢恩惠。它们压制我，让我感到像个奴隶。我宁愿一切自己干，完完全全自立。”“嗯！”卡罗尔婶婶轻轻咳了咳，看了看马奇婶婶。
“我和你这么说过，”马奇婶婶说，她坚定地朝卡罗尔婶婶点了点头。
乔神气活现地坐在那里摇着，那态度决非是想引人注目，只是她意识不到她做了些什么，对她倒算是仁慈。
“你会说法语吗，亲爱的？”卡罗尔婶婶将手放在艾美身上，问道。
“说得不错，多亏马奇婶婶。她让埃丝特尽着我意经常和我说，”艾美带着感激的神色回答，换来了老太太可掬的笑容。
“你法语怎么样？”卡罗尔太太问乔。
“一个字也不会。我学什么都太笨。我受不了法语，那是种滑溜溜、傻乎乎的语言，”她无礼地答道。
两个老太太又交换了一个眼色。马奇婶婶对艾美说：“你现在身体相当不错，是吗？眼睛不再难受了，对不对？”“一点也不难受了。谢谢您，夫人。我很好。我打算明年冬天干些大事。这样，什么时候那令人高兴的时刻来临，我就可以做好去罗马的准备。”“好姑娘！你配去那里，我肯定有一天你能去成的，”马奇婶婶赞许地拍着她的头说，艾美为她拾起了线团。
淘气的孩子，插上窗闩，
坐在火边，纺着棉纱。
鹦哥怪叫起来，它栖息在乔坐的椅子背上，弯着头窥视着乔的脸，无礼的质询神情十分滑稽，让人忍俊不禁。
“这鸟观察力真强，”老太太说。
“一起去散散步，亲爱的？”鹦哥叫道，它朝瓷器橱跳去，神情暗示着要糖块。
“谢谢，我就去。来吧，艾美。”乔结束了拜访，她更强烈地感到出访确实对她的性格不适合。她以绅士般的风度和婶婶们握手道别，而艾美却吻别她们。两个姑娘离开了，身后留下阴影与阳光，这印象使得马奇婶婶在她们背影消失后作出了决定 “你最好干吧，玛丽，我会提供钱的。”接着卡罗尔婶婶坚定地回答：“我当然会干，如果她爸爸妈妈同意。”
Chapter 30 Consequences
Mrs. Chester's fair was so very elegant and select that it was considered a great honor by the young ladies of the neighborhood to be invited to take a table, and everyone was much interested in the matter. Amy was asked, but Jo was not, which was fortunate for all parties, as her elbows were decidedly akimbo at this period of her life, and it took a good many hard knocks to teach her how to get on easily. The 'haughty, uninteresting creature' was let severely alone, but Amy's talent and taste were duly complimented by the offer of the art table, and she exerted herself to prepare and secure appropriate and valuable contributions to it.
Everything went on smoothly till the day before the fair opened, then there occurred one of the little skirmishes which it is almost impossible to avoid, when some five-and-twenty women, old and young, with all their private piques and prejudices, try to work together.
May Chester was rather jealous of Amy because the latter was a greater favorite than herself, and just at this time several trifling circumstances occurred to increase the feeling. Amy's dainty pen-and-ink work entirely eclipsed May's painted vases--that was one thorn. Then the all conquering Tudor had danced four times with Amy at a late party and only once with May--that was thorn number two. But the chief grievance that rankled in her soul, and gave an excuse for her unfriendly conduct, was a rumor which some obliging gossip had whispered to her, that the March girls had made fun of her at the Lambs'. All the blame of this should have fallen upon Jo, for her naughty imitation had been too lifelike to escape detection, and the frolicsome Lambs had permitted the joke to escape. No hint of this had reached the culprits, however, and Amy's dismay can be imagined, when, the very evening before the fair, as she was putting the last touches to her pretty table, Mrs. Chester, who, of course, resented the supposed ridicule of her daughter, said, in a bland tone, but with a cold look . . .
"I find, dear, that there is some feeling among the young ladies about my giving this table to anyone but my girls. As this is the most prominent, and some say the most attractive table of all, and they are the chief getters-up of the fair, it is thought best for them to take this place. I'm sorry, but I know you are too sincerely interested in the cause to mind a little personal disappointment, and you shall have another table if you like."
Mrs. Chester fancied beforehand that it would be easy to deliver this little speech, but when the time came, she found it rather difficult to utter it naturally, with Amy's unsuspicious eyes looking straight at her full of surprise and trouble.
Amy felt that there was something behind this, but could not guess what, and said quietly, feeling hurt, and showing that she did, "Perhaps you had rather I took no table at all?"
"Now, my dear, don't have any ill feeling, I beg. It's merely a matter of expediency, you see, my girls will naturally take the lead, and this table is considered their proper place. I think it very appropriate to you, and feel very grateful for your efforts to make it so pretty, but we must give up our private wishes, of course, and I will see that you have a good place elsewhere. Wouldn't you like the flower table? The little girls undertook it, but they are discouraged. You could make a charming thing of it, and the flower table is always attractive you know."
"Especially to gentlemen," added May, with a look which enlightened Amy as to one cause of her sudden fall from favor. She colored angrily, but took no other notice of that girlish sarcasm, and answered with unexpected amiability . . .
"It shall be as you please, Mrs. Chester. I'll give up my place here at once, and attend to the flowers, if you like."
"You can put your own things on your own table, if you prefer," began May, feeling a little conscience-stricken, as she looked at the pretty racks, the painted shells, and quaint illuminations Amy had so carefully made and so gracefully arranged. She meant it kindly, but Amy mistook her meaning, and said quickly . . .
"Oh, certainly, if they are in your way," and sweeping her contributions into her apron, pell-mell, she walked off, feeling that herself and her works of art had been insulted past forgiveness.
"Now she's mad. Oh, dear, I wish I hadn't asked you to speak, Mama," said May, looking disconsolately at the empty spaces on her table.
"Girls' quarrels are soon over," returned her mother, feeling a trifle ashamed of her own part in this one, as well she might.
The little girls hailed Amy and her treasures with delight, which cordial reception somewhat soothed her perturbed spirit, and she fell to work, determined to succeed florally, if she could not artistically. But everything seemed against her. It was late, and she was tired. Everyone was too busy with their own affairs to help her, and the little girls were only hindrances, for the dears fussed and chattered like so many magpies, making a great deal of confusion in their artless efforts to preserve the most perfect order. The evergreen arch wouldn't stay firm after she got it up, but wiggled and threatened to tumble down on her head when the hanging baskets were filled. Her best tile got a splash of water, which left a sepia tear on the Cupid's cheek. She bruised her hands with hammering, and got cold working in a draft, which last affliction filled her with apprehensions for the morrow. Any girl reader who has suffered like afflictions will sympathize with poor Amy and wish her well through her task.
There was great indignation at home when she told her story that evening. Her mother said it was a shame, but told her she had done right. Beth declared she wouldn't go to the fair at all, and Jo demanded why she didn't take all her pretty things and leave those mean people to get on without her.
"Because they are mean is no reason why I should be. I hate such things, and though I think I've a right to be hurt, I don't intend to show it. They will feel that more than angry speeches or huffy actions, won't they, Marmee?"
"That's the right spirit, my dear. A kiss for a blow is always best, though it's not very easy to give it sometimes," said her mother, with the air of one who had learned the difference between preaching and practicing.
In spite of various very natural temptations to resent and retaliate, Amy adhered to her resolution all the next day, bent on conquering her enemy by kindness. She began well, thanks to a silent reminder that came to her unexpectedly, but most opportunely. As she arranged her table that morning, while the little girls were in the anteroom filling the baskets, she took up her pet production, a little book, the antique cover of which her father had found among his treasures, and in which on leaves of vellum she had beautifully illuminated different texts. As she turned the pages rich in dainty devices with very pardonable pride, her eye fell upon one verse that made her stop and think. Framed in a brilliant scrollwork of scarlet, blue and gold, with little spirits of good will helping one another up and down among the thorns and flowers, were the words, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."
"I ought, but I don't," thought Amy, as her eye went from the bright page to May's discontented face behind the big vases, that could not hide the vacancies her pretty work had once filled. Amy stood a minute, turning the leaves in her hand, reading on each some sweet rebuke for all heartburnings and uncharitableness of spirit. Many wise and true sermons are preached us every day by unconscious ministers in street, school, office, or home. Even a fair table may become a pulpit, if it can offer the good and helpful words which are never out of season. Amy's conscience preached her a little sermon from that text, then and there, and she did what many of us do not always do, took the sermon to heart, and straightway put it in practice.
A group of girls were standing about May's table, admiring the pretty things, and talking over the change of saleswomen. They dropped their voices, but Amy knew they were speaking of her, hearing one side of the story and judging accordingly. It was not pleasant, but a better spirit had come over her, and presently a chance offered for proving it. She heard May say sorrowfully . . .
"It's too bad, for there is no time to make other things, and I don't want to fill up with odds and ends. The table was just complete then. Now it's spoiled."
"I dare say she'd put them back if you asked her," suggested someone.
"How could I after all the fuss?" began May, but she did not finish, for Amy's voice came across the hall, saying pleasantly . . .
"You may have them, and welcome, without asking, if you want them. I was just thinking I'd offer to put them back, for they belong to your table rather than mine. Here they are, please take them, and forgive me if I was hasty in carrying them away last night."
As she spoke, Amy returned her contribution, with a nod and a smile, and hurried away again, feeling that it was easier to do a friendly thing than it was to stay and be thanked for it.
"Now, I call that lovely of her, don't you?" cried one girl.
May's answer was inaudible, but another young lady, whose temper was evidently a little soured by making lemonade, added, with a disagreeable laugh, "Very lovely, for she knew she wouldn't sell them at her own table."
Now, that was hard. When we make little sacrifices we like to have them appreciated, at least, and for a minute Amy was sorry she had done it, feeling that virtue was not always its own reward. But it is, as she presently discovered, for her spirits began to rise, and her table to blossom under her skillful hands, the girls were very kind, and that one little act seemed to have cleared the atmosphere amazingly.
It was a very long day and a hard one for Amy, as she sat behind her table, often quite alone, for the little girls deserted very soon. Few cared to buy flowers in summer, and her bouquets began to droop long before night.
The art table was the most attractive in the room. There was a crowd about it all day long, and the tenders were constantly flying to and fro with important faces and rattling money boxes. Amy often looked wistfully across, longing to be there, where she felt at home and happy, instead of in a corner with nothing to do. It might seem no hardship to some of us, but to a pretty, blithe young girl, it was not only tedious, but very trying, and the thought of Laurie and his friends made it a real martyrdom.
She did not go home till night, and then she looked so pale and quiet that they knew the day had been a hard one, though she made no complaint, and did not even tell what she had done. Her mother gave her an extra cordial cup of tea. Beth helped her dress, and made a charming little wreath for her hair, while Jo astonished her family by getting herself up with unusual care, and hinting darkly that the tables were about to be turned.
"Don't do anything rude, pray Jo; I won't have any fuss made, so let it all pass and behave yourself," begged Amy, as she departed early, hoping to find a reinforcement of flowers to refresh her poor little table.
"I merely intend to make myself entrancingly agreeable to every one I know, and to keep them in your corner as long as possible. Teddy and his boys will lend a hand, and we'll have a good time yet." returned Jo, leaning over the gate to watch for Laurie. Presently the familiar tramp was heard in the dusk, and she ran out to meet him.
"Is that my boy?"
"As sure as this is my girl!" and Laurie tucked her hand under his arm with the air of a man whose every wish was gratified.
"Oh, Teddy, such doings!" and Jo told Amy's wrongs with sisterly zeal.
"A flock of our fellows are going to drive over by-and-by, and I'll be hanged if I don't make them buy every flower she's got, and camp down before her table afterward," said Laurie, espousing her cause with warmth.
"The flowers are not at all nice, Amy says, and the fresh ones may not arrive in time. I don't wish to be unjust or suspicious, but I shouldn't wonder if they never came at all. When people do one mean thing they are very likely to do another," observed Jo in a disgusted tone.
"Didn't Hayes give you the best out of our gardens? I told him to."
"I didn't know that, he forgot, I suppose, and, as your grandpa was poorly, I didn't like to worry him by asking, though I did want some."
"Now, Jo, how could you think there was any need of asking? They are just as much yours as mine. Don't we always go halves in everything?" began Laurie, in the tone that always made Jo turn thorny.
"Gracious, I hope not! Half of some of your things wouldn't suit me at all. But we mustn't stand philandering here. I've got to help Amy, so you go and make yourself splendid, and if you'll be so very kind as to let Hayes take a few nice flowers up to the Hall, I'll bless you forever."
"Couldn't you do it now?" asked Laurie, so suggestively that Jo shut the gate in his face with inhospitable haste, and called through the bars, "Go away, Teddy, I'm busy."
Thanks to the conspirators, the tables were turned that night, for Hayes sent up a wilderness of flowers, with a loverly basket arranged in his best manner for a centerpiece. Then the March family turned out en masse, and Jo exerted herself to some purpose, for people not only came, but stayed, laughing at her nonsense, admiring Amy's taste, and apparently enjoying themselves very much. Laurie and his friends gallantly threw themselves into the breach, bought up the bouquets, encamped before the table, and made that corner the liveliest spot in the room. Amy was in her element now, and out of gratitude, if nothing more, was as spritely and gracious as possible, coming to the conclusion, about that time, that virtue was it's own reward, after all.
Jo behaved herself with exemplary propriety, and when Amy was happily surrounded by her guard of honor, Jo circulated about the Hall, picking up various bits of gossip, which enlightened her upon the subject of the Chester change of base. She reproached herself for her share of the ill feeling and resolved to exonerate Amy as soon as possible. She also discovered what Amy had done about the things in the morning, and considered her a model of magnanimity. As she passed the art table, she glanced over it for her sister's things, but saw no sign of them. "Tucked away out of sight, I dare say," thought Jo, who could forgive her own wrongs, but hotly resented any insult offered her family.
"Good evening, Miss Jo. How does Amy get on?" asked May with a conciliatory air, for she wanted to show that she also could be generous.
"She has sold everything she had that was worth selling, and now she is enjoying herself. The flower table is always attractive, you know, 'especially to gentlemen'." Jo couldn't resist giving that little slap, but May took it so meekly she regretted it a minute after, and fell to praising the great vases, which still remained unsold.
"Is Amy's illumination anywhere about? I took a fancy to buy that for Father," said Jo, very anxious to learn the fate of her sister's work.
"Everything of Amy's sold long ago. I took care that the right people saw them, and they made a nice little sum of money for us," returned May, who had overcome sundry small temptations, as well as Amy had, that day.
Much gratified, Jo rushed back to tell the good news, and Amy looked both touched and surprised by the report of May's word and manner.
"Now, gentlemen, I want you to go and do your duty by the other tables as generously as you have by mine, especially the art table," she said, ordering out 'Teddy's own', as the girls called the college friends.
"'Charge, Chester, charge!' is the motto for that table, but do your duty like men, and you'll get your money's worth of art in every sense of the word," said the irrepressible Jo, as the devoted phalanx prepared to take the field.
"To hear is to obey, but March is fairer far than May," said little Parker, making a frantic effort to be both witty and tender, and getting promptly quenched by Laurie, who said . . .
"Very well, my son, for a small boy!" and walked him off, with a paternal pat on the head.
"Buy the vases," whispered Amy to Laurie, as a final heaping of coals of fire on her enemy's head.
To May's great delight, Mr. Laurence not only bought the vases, but pervaded the hall with one under each arm. The other gentlemen speculated with equal rashness in all sorts of frail trifles, and wandered helplessly about afterward, burdened with wax flowers, painted fans, filigree portfolios, and other useful and appropriate purchases.
Aunt Carrol was there, heard the story, looked pleased, and said something to Mrs. March in a corner, which made the latter lady beam with satisfaction, and watch Amy with a face full of mingled pride and anxiety, though she did not betray the cause of her pleasure till several days later.
The fair was pronounced a success, and when May bade Amy goodnight, she did not gush as usual, but gave her an affectionate kiss, and a look which said 'forgive and forget'. That satisfied Amy, and when she got home she found the vases paraded on the parlor chimney piece with a great bouquet in each. "The reward of merit for a magnanimous March," as Laurie announced with a flourish.
"You've a deal more principle and generosity and nobleness of character than I ever gave you credit for, Amy. You've behaved sweetly, and I respect you with all my heart," said Jo warmly, as they brushed their hair together late that night.
"Yes, we all do, and love her for being so ready to forgive. It must have been dreadfully hard, after working so long and setting your heart on selling your own pretty things. I don't believe I could have done it as kindly as you did," added Beth from her pillow.
"Why, girls, you needn't praise me so. I only did as I'd be done by. You laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true gentlewoman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know how. I can't explain exactly, but I want to be above the little meannesses and follies and faults that spoil so many women. I'm far from it now, but I do my best, and hope in time to be what Mother is."
Amy spoke earnestly, and Jo said, with a cordial hug, "I understand now what you mean, and I'll never laugh at you again. You are getting on faster than you think, and I'll take lessons of you in true politeness, for you've learned the secret, I believe. Try away, deary, you'll get your reward some day, and no one will be more delighted than I shall."
A week later Amy did get her reward, and poor Jo found it hard to be delighted. A letter came from Aunt Carrol, and Mrs. March's face was illuminated to such a degree when she read it that Jo and Beth, who were with her, demanded what the glad tidings were.
"Aunt Carrol is going abroad next month, and wants . . ."
"Me to go with her!" burst in Jo, flying out of her chair in an uncontrollable rapture.
"No, dear, not you. It's Amy."
"Oh, Mother! She's too young, it's my turn first. I've wanted it so long. It would do me so much good, and be so altogether splendid. I must go!"
"I'm afraid it's impossible, Jo. Aunt says Amy, decidedly, and it is not for us to dictate when she offers such a favor."
"It's always so. Amy has all the fun and I have all the work. It isn't fair, oh, it isn't fair!" cried Jo passionately.
"I'm afraid it's partly your own fault, dear. When Aunt spoke to me the other day, she regretted your blunt manners and too independent spirit, and here she writes, as if quoting something you had said--'I planned at first to ask Jo, but as 'favors burden her', and she 'hates French', I think I won't venture to invite her. Amy is more docile, will make a good companion for Flo, and receive gratefully any help the trip may give her."
"Oh, my tongue, my abominable tongue! Why can't I learn to keep it quiet?" groaned Jo, remembering words which had been her undoing. When she had heard the explanation of the quoted phrases, Mrs. March said sorrowfully . . .
"I wish you could have gone, but there is no hope of it this time, so try to bear it cheerfully, and don't sadden Amy's pleasure by reproaches or regrets."
"I'll try," said Jo, winking hard as she knelt down to pick up the basket she had joyfully upset. "I'll take a leaf out of her book, and try not only to seem glad, but to be so, and not grudge her one minute of happiness. But it won't be easy, for it is a dreadful disappointment," and poor Jo bedewed the little fat pincushion she held with several very bitter tears.
"Jo, dear, I'm very selfish, but I couldn't spare you, and I'm glad you are not going quite yet," whispered Beth, embracing her, basket and all, with such a clinging touch and loving face that Jo felt comforted in spite of the sharp regret that made her want to box her own ears, and humbly beg Aunt Carrol to burden her with this favor, and see how gratefully she would bear it.
By the time Amy came in, Jo was able to take her part in the family jubilation, not quite as heartily as usual, perhaps, but without repinings at Amy's good fortune. The young lady herself received the news as tidings of great joy, went about in a solemn sort of rapture, and began to sort her colors and pack her pencils that evening, leaving such trifles as clothes, money, and passports to those less absorbed in visions of art than herself.
"It isn't a mere pleasure trip to me, girls," she said impressively, as she scraped her best palette. "It will decide my career, for if I have any genius, I shall find it out in Rome, and will do something to prove it."
"Suppose you haven't?" said Jo, sewing away, with red eyes, at the new collars which were to be handed over to Amy.
"Then I shall come home and teach drawing for my living," replied the aspirant for fame, with philosophic composure. But she made a wry face at the prospect, and scratched away at her palette as if bent on vigorous measures before she gave up her hopes.
"No, you won't. You hate hard work, and you'll marry some rich man, and come home to sit in the lap of luxury all your days," said Jo.
"Your predictions sometimes come to pass, but I don't believe that one will. I'm sure I wish it would, for if I can't be an artist myself, I should like to be able to help those who are," said Amy, smiling, as if the part of Lady Bountiful would suit her better than that of a poor drawing teacher.
"Hum!" said Jo, with a sigh. "If you wish it you'll have it, for your wishes are always granted--mine never."
"Would you like to go?" asked Amy, thoughtfully patting her nose with her knife.
"Rather!"
"Well, in a year or two I'll send for you, and we'll dig in the Forum for relics, and carry out all the plans we've made so many times."
"Thank you. I'll remind you of your promise when that joyful day comes, if it ever does," returned Jo, accepting the vague but magnificent offer as gratefully as she could.
There was not much time for preparation, and the house was in a ferment till Amy was off. Jo bore up very well till the last flutter of blue ribbon vanished, when she retired to her refuge, the garret, and cried till she couldn't cry any more. Amy likewise bore up stoutly till the steamer sailed. Then just as the gangway was about to be withdrawn, it suddenly came over her that a whole ocean was soon to roll between her and those who loved her best, and she clung to Laurie, the last lingerer, saying with a sob . . .
"Oh, take care of them for me, and if anything should happen . . ."
"I will, dear, I will, and if anything happens, I'll come and comfort you," whispered Laurie, little dreaming that he would be called upon to keep his word.
So Amy sailed away to find the Old World, which is always new and beautiful to young eyes, while her father and friend watched her from the shore, fervently hoping that none but gentle fortunes would befall the happy-hearted girl, who waved her hand to them till they could see nothing but the summer sunshine dazzling on the sea.
 
切斯特夫人的交易会非常优雅，用人非常挑剔，邻里的年轻女士们都把能被请去占一张桌子当作荣耀。每个人都对这件事产生了极大的兴趣。艾美被请了去，乔却没有。这对所有参加者来说是个幸事，因为，她此时正当胳膊叉腰自命不凡的年龄，要吃不少苦头才能学会如何和人融洽相处。于是这位"高傲又令人乏味的家伙"被冷冷撇在一边，而艾美则凭一张艺术桌子把她的天赋与情趣充分展示出来。艾美尽最大努力张罗着适宜的、有价值的东西装备那张桌子。
一切都进行得顺利，可是，交易会开幕的前一天发生了一件小冲突。当二十五六个老少妇人在一起做事时，每个人都有自己的愠怒与偏见，这种冲突便是不可避免的。
梅•切斯特相当妒忌艾美，因为艾美比她更招人喜爱。就在那时，发生了一些琐碎小事增加了她的妒忌感。艾美那雅致的钢笔画作品使梅的着色花瓶黯然失色 -这是第一个苦恼；最近一次舞会上，迷倒所有姑娘的图德和艾美跳了四次舞，只和梅跳了一次--这是第二个苦恼；压在她心头最大的不是传到她耳中的闲言碎语，说马奇家的女孩们在兰姆家笑话了她，这给了她采取不友好行动的藉口。本来这一切该怪罪乔的，是她活灵活现地模仿梅，谁都能看出来，而那爱闹的兰姆们又让笑话传了出来。两个罪犯对后来的事一无所知，所以可以想象出艾美听了切斯特夫人一番话的沮丧。切斯特夫人听说女儿被人笑话，当然恼火。交易会的前一天晚上，艾美正在为她漂亮的桌子做最后的装饰，切斯特夫人不动声色、冷冷地对她说道- “亲爱的，我把这张桌子给了别人而没给我女儿们，我发现年轻女士们有些看法。这张桌子最显眼，有人说所有桌子中这一张最吸引人。我女儿们是这个会的主要筹备人，所以最好让她们占这张桌子。很抱歉，可是我知道你真心实意热衷这个会，你不会介意个人的失望。你要是愿意可以占另外一个桌子。“切斯特夫人事先想象这一番话容易说出口，可是，真到要说的时候，却发现很难自自然然地说出来。艾美不加怀疑地直盯着她，一脸惊奇与困惑。
艾美觉得这件事背后有些蹊跷，可是猜不出原因。她感到受到了伤害，也表示出这一点。她轻轻地说： “也许你一张桌子也不想给我？”“不，亲爱的，请你不要生气。你要知道，这只不过是个权宜之计。我女儿们要领个头。这张桌子自然是她们恰当的位置。我是觉得它对你非常适合，很感激你费了劲把它装饰得这么漂亮，可是，我们还是得放弃自己的愿望。我负责让你在别的地方占一个好位置。你可喜欢花卉桌？小姑娘们在管着，可是她们弄不好，在那儿灰心丧气呢。你能把它变得迷人。要知道，花卉桌总是很吸引人的。”“对先生们尤其是这样，“梅补充道。她的神情使艾美明白了使她突然失宠的原因。她脸红了，但是她没去理睬那女孩气的嘲讽，却温和得出人意料地答道- “切斯特夫人，依你的意思做吧。你要是乐意，我马上放弃这个地方，去照管花卉。”“你愿意的话，可以把你的东西放到你自己的桌上去，”梅开了口。她看着艾美如此精心制作、又雅致地摆设着的东西 -漂亮的笔架，鲜艳的贝壳，奇妙的灯饰--有点感到良心不安了。她是出于善意的，可是艾美误解了她的意思，迅即说道— “噢，当然，如果它们碍事的话。”她匆促地将她的东西扫进围裙，走开了。她觉得她自己连同她的艺术品都受到了不可原谅的羞辱。
“嗳呀，她生气了。哦，天哪！要是我没求你说就好了，妈妈，”梅说。她愁闷地看着她桌子上空出来的地方。
“女孩子吵嘴不长久，”她妈妈答言，她倒为自己掺和进去有点不好意思了。
小姑娘们高兴地为艾美和她的宝贝东西欢呼起来。这种热情的接待稍稍抚平了她不安的情绪，她立即着手工作，打定主意，即使不能施展艺术抱负，也一定要在花卉方面做出成就。可是，似乎一切都和她对着干：开始得太晚了，她也累了，大家都忙着自己的事无法帮她，而小姑娘们碍手碍脚只能帮倒忙。这些可爱的小东西们，像一群麻雀。叽叽喳喳，忙忙碌碌，毫无技巧地努力想维持桌子最完美的状态，结果造成一片混乱。艾美竖平常春藤拱架，可是拱架立不稳，当上面的吊篮装进东西时，架子摇摇摆摆，像是要倒下来砸在她头上；她最好的瓷砖画给溅上了水，结果丘比特的脸上留下了一滴黑色泪珠；她用锤子干活却伤了手；在穿堂风中做事感了冒，这使她为次日忧心忡忡。任何一个有过同样痛苦的女读者都会同情可怜的艾美，祝愿她圆满顺利地完成工作。
那天晚上回到家，她把事情说了出来，大家都很气愤。妈妈说那是个耻辱，夸艾美做得对。贝思宣布她坚决不去交易会了。乔质问艾美为什么不拿走她所有的漂亮东西，离开那帮卑鄙小人，让她们自己去开交易会。
“没有理由因为她们是小人我也当小人，我讨厌这么做。
虽然我受到了伤害，有权作出反应，可我不想表示出来。她们会觉得这比怒气冲冲的言语和行为更厉害。是不是这样，妈咪？”“这种精神对，亲爱的。用吻回报殴打总是上策，虽然有时不容易做到，”妈妈说。她知道说与做的不同。
尽管有各种自然的诱惑去反抗、报复，艾美第二天整整一天都坚持了自己的决定，一心想用好心征服她的敌人。她的开端良好，这得归功于一个无声之物的提示，这个东西来得出人意料，但是非常及时。那天早晨，她在布置桌子，小姑娘们在休息室装花篮，她拿起她心爱的摆设品 -一本小书。书的封面古色古香，爸爸把它当作宝贝。上等纸的书页里的文章还绘有美丽的彩饰图案，每一页都有。艾美带着可以原谅的骄傲神情翻着书面。她目光落在一行诗上，这使她不得不停下来思索。那一行字用鲜艳的红、蓝、黄三色云状花纹勾了边，表达了世人应在荆棘与玫瑰花丛中互相帮助的良好愿望：“汝爱邻人，应如爱己。”“我应该这样做，可是我没做到，”艾美想。她的目光从鲜艳的书页转向大花瓶后面梅不满意的脸上，那些大花瓶填不了她的那些漂亮作品曾经占据的空间。艾美站了一会儿，翻着手中的书页，每一页都读到一些对记仇、妒忌之心的轻柔指责。每天，我们从街道、学校、办公室以及家庭听到许多明智的、真正的布道，只是没有在意。假如这张交易会桌子能提出富有教益、决不过时的人生哲理，它也能成为布道讲坛。此时此地，艾美的良知向她宣讲了小书上的道理。她做了我们许多人不大做得到的事- 从善如流，并立即付诸实施。
一群女孩子围站在梅的桌旁，欣赏着漂亮的物品，议论着女售货员的变换。她们压低了声音，可是艾美知道她们在谈论她，她们听了一面之辞并且据之作出判断。这不太令人愉快，但是她的态度已经有了很大的转变。不一会儿，就来了个机会让她证明这一点。她听到梅难过地说 “太糟了，没有时间做别的东西了。我不想用乱七八糟的东西填补空缺。刚才这张桌子已布置好了，现在给毁了。”“我敢说，要是你求她，她会把东西放回来的，”有人提议。
“这一番过后，我怎么能做到呢？”梅说。然而，她话音未落，艾美动人的声音便从大厅那边传了过来 “你不用求，需要的话，尽管用好啦。我正想着提议把它们放回去呢。因为，它们属于你那张桌子，而不是这张桌子，给你吧，请收下吧。原谅我昨晚性急地把它们拿走了。”她一边说着，一边点头笑着将她的东西放了回去。然后她又匆忙走开了，她觉得做一件友好的事要比做完后留下来让人感谢容易些。
“哎呀，她这么做太可爱了，是不是？”一个女孩叫道。
梅的答语没人听见。然而，另一个显然被制作柠檬汽车弄得有点发躁的年轻女士令人不愉快地笑了笑，补充道：“非常可爱。因为她知道这些东西在她自己的桌上卖不出去。”嗳哟，这太过分了。当我们做出些不大的牺牲时，至少希望别人能欣赏。有一会儿，艾美后悔那样做了，她感到美德并不总是有回报的。但还是有的-- 正像她很快发觉的--因为，她的情绪开始高涨，她的桌子在她灵巧的双手下开花了，姑娘们非常友好。那个小小的举动似乎令人惊讶地消除了误会。
对艾美来说，那一天很长，也很难熬。她坐在桌子后面，经常是独自一人。因为小姑娘们不久都跑开了，极少有人愿意在夏天买花。还没到夜间，她的花束已开始枯萎了。
屋子里，艺术桌是最吸引人的，那儿整天围着一群人，看管人脸上带着自得的表情，手里捧着咔哒着响的钱箱，不断地跑来跑去。艾美常常渴望地看着那边，极想在那边干，在那边她感到自如、满足。可是她却身处这个角落无事可做。对我们一些人来说，这似乎不是什么难事。但是，对这样一个漂亮、活泼的年轻女孩来说，却不仅乏味，而且非常难以忍受。一想到她的家人、劳里以及劳里的朋友们晚上会在那里看到她，实在让她感到痛苦。
她到夜里才回家。虽然她没有抱怨，甚至没告诉家人她做了些什么，可是家人从她苍白的脸色、安静的态度看出这一天日子过得很艰难。妈妈亲切地多给了她一杯茶。贝思帮着她穿衣，还做了个迷人的花环让她戴在头上。而乔非同寻常地仔细梳妆打扮，隐隐约约地暗示要去掀翻那些桌子，使家人吃了一惊。
“别去做无礼的事，乔，求你了。我不想把事情搞糟，就让它过去吧，你安分点吧，”艾美央求着。她走得早，希望能再搞到一些鲜花使她那可怜的小桌子焕然一新。
“我只想尽量迎合我所认识的每一个人，让他们在你那一角尽可能多待些时间。特迪和他那帮小伙子会帮忙的，我们还是会过得愉快的，”乔回答。她靠在门边守候着劳里。不一会儿，暮色里传来了熟悉的脚步声，她跑出去迎接他。
“那是我的男孩吗？”
“的确是的，就像这是我的女孩！”劳里带着志满意得的男子度让她挽起了他的胳膊。
“哦，特迪，竟有这种事！”乔怀着姐姐的不平之情告诉他艾美受到的委屈。
“不一会儿，我那一帮朋友就要坐车过来。我一定要他们买走艾美所有的花，然后就待在她的桌前。”劳里热情地支持她的事业。
“艾美说，花一点儿也不艳了，新鲜的也许又不能及时送到。我不想让人感到不公平，让人猜疑。可要是鲜花根本送不来的话，我也不会惊奇的。人们做了一件卑鄙的事，就很可能做第二件，”乔恨恨地说。
“难道海斯没把我们花园里最好的花给你？我叫他送的。”“我不知道，我估摸他忘了。你爷爷不舒服，我不想去向他要花来烦他，虽然我确实想要些。”“哎呀，乔，你怎么能想到该去要！那些花是我的也是你的。我们不是什么东西都一分为二的吧？”劳里开口说，他那种语调总是让乔变得刺人。
“天哟，希望不至如此！你一半的东西一点儿也不合我的意。只是我们不能站在这里调笑。我得去帮帮艾美，你去出你的风头吧，要是你能仁慈地让海斯送一些漂亮鲜花到交易会大厅，我会永远为你祈福的。”“你难道不能现在就为我祈福吗？”劳里挑逗地问道，吓得乔很不友好地匆匆关上门，隔着栅栏叫道：“走开，特迪，我忙着呢！”多亏了这两个共谋者，那天晚上桌子真的翻过来了。因为海斯送过去许多鲜花，花以最佳的方式装饰在一只可爱的篮子里，作为摆在桌子中央的饰品。马奇一家全体出动。乔相当成功地尽了力。人们不仅过来了，而且停留了下来，笑着听她的废话，赞赏艾美的情趣。他们显然非常开心。劳里和他的朋友们全都仗义地挺身担当重任。他们买完了花束，逗留在桌前，把那个角落变成了屋子里最热闹的地方。现在艾美如鱼得水，不为别的，只出于感激。她尽可能地做到行动活泼、举止优雅，大概在那个时刻，她得出结论：美德毕竟还是有回报的。
乔的举止得体，堪为楷模。当艾美幸福地被她的仪仗队包围着的时候，乔在大厅绕着圈听着各种闲话，这些闲话使她明白了切斯特夫人为什么作那样的变化，她为她引起的那一份敌意自责，决心尽快为艾美开释。她还了解到艾美早上是怎样处理事情的，认为艾美是宽宏大量的典范。她经过艺术桌时，扫了一眼，想找到她妹妹的东西，但是东西没有踪影。”收起来了不让人看见，我敢说，”乔想。她自己受了委屈可以原谅他人，不去计较，然而对她家人受到的侮辱，她却强烈地感到愤愤不平。
“晚上好，乔。艾美情况怎么样？”梅带着和解的口气问。
她想表明她也能做到大度的。
“她已经卖完了她所有值得卖的东西，现在她在玩呢。花卉桌总是吸引人的，你知道，'对先生们尤其是这样'。”乔忍不住那样轻轻地攻击了一下梅，但是梅温顺地接受了。这让她很快便后悔了，开始夸赞起那些大花瓶来，花瓶还没卖掉。
“艾美的灯饰放在哪里？我想为爸爸买，”乔说。她很想知道她妹妹作品的命运。
“艾美的所有东西早就卖完了。我设法让想买的人看见它们。那些东西为我们挣来一笔数目不小的钱，”梅回答。和艾美一样，她那天也击退了各种小诱惑。
心满意足的乔冲回去报告这个好消息。听说了梅的话语和态度，艾美又是感动，又是惊奇。
“现在，先生们，我要你们到别的桌子前尽义务，就像你们对我的桌子那样慷慨大方特别是艺术桌，”她吩咐着"特迪的自己人"，女孩子们对大学朋友都这么称呼。
“'收钱，切斯特，收钱！'这是那张桌子的口号，但是你们要像男子汉那样尽义务。你们花钱买的艺术品会完全划得来，”当这队人马准备占领阵地时，乔忍不住说。
“听令就是服从。但马奇比梅可要漂亮得多，”小帕克说道，他尽最大努力想说点既俏皮又温柔的话，但是立即被劳里制止了。
劳里说：“很好，小家伙，一个小男孩应该这样！”然后父亲似地拍了一下他的头，让他走开了。
“买那些花瓶，”艾美对劳里耳语道。她想最后一次使她的敌人惭愧难当。
使梅大为高兴的是，劳里不仅买了花瓶，而且一边夹一个，在大厅里招摇过市。其他先生同样出手大方，买起了各种各样易损的琐碎物品，然后，提溜着沉沉的蜡花、画扇、金银细丝绣饰的公文包以及其他玲珑又实用的玩意儿，在大厅时无助地闲逛。
卡罗尔婶婶也在那里，听说了这件事，很高兴，在一旁对马奇太太说着些什么。马奇太太满意地微笑着，凝望着艾美，脸上的表情混杂着自豪与焦虑。即便如此，几天以后她才说出她高兴的原因。
大家公认交易会是成功的。当梅向艾美道晚安时，她没有像往常那样过分表露感情，而是亲切地吻了她一下，脸上表情似乎在说：“原谅我，忘了它。”这使艾美感到很受用。她回到家，发现那两只花瓶各插着一大束花被陈列在客厅的壁炉架上。”奖给懿行美德的马奇，”劳里手舞足蹈地宣布。
“艾美，你的优点比我知道的更为突出。你讲道义，慷慨大方，气质高尚。你表现得很不错。我真心实意地钦佩你，”那天晚上，她们一起梳着头，乔这样热情地说。
“是的，我们都尊重你，你那样乐意宽恕别人。忙了那么长时间，一心想卖掉自己的漂亮东西，却差点白费劲，肯定非常难做。我想我做不到像你那样友好地原谅别人，”贝思从枕头上抬起头来补充道。
“哎呀，姑娘们，你们不要这样表扬我。我只是愿意别人怎样待我，我就怎么待人。我说想当个女士，你们笑话我，可我的意思是做一个思想和风度上真正的女士。我以我所知道的方式试着去做。我做不了确切的解释。我是想避开那些毁了许多妇女的小毛病，如小气、愚笨、挑剔。我做得远远不够。但是我尽力而为，希望有一天能成为妈妈那样的人。”艾美说得热切认真。乔亲切地拥抱了她一下，说：“现在我懂得你的意思了。我再也不笑话你了。你的进步比你想象的快。我会真心老老实实地向你学习，我相信，你已经入道了。亲爱的，接着试吧。总有一天你会得到回报的。到那时没有人会比我更高兴。”一个星期后，艾美真的得到了回报。乔却感到很难高兴起来。她们收到了一封卡罗尔婶婶的信。马奇太太读着信，脸上大放光彩，弄得和她在一起的乔和贝思忙问是什么喜讯。
“下个月卡罗尔婶婶要出国，她想要 ”
“我和她一起去！”乔突然插嘴。她狂喜得控制不住，从椅子里蹦起来。
“不，亲爱的，不是你，是艾美。”
“哦，妈妈！她太年轻了。先轮到我。我已经想了那么长时间--那样对我太有好处了，太妙了--我非要去。”“恐怕不可能，乔。婶婶决定的是艾美。她给我们这样一个恩惠，我们不好提要求的。”“总是这样。乐趣都是艾美的，活儿都是我来干。这不公平。哦，这不公平！”乔情绪激动地哭了。
“我恐怕这件事有一半是你自己的错，亲爱的，前些日子婶婶和我谈话时说到，她为你直率的态度、独立的个性感到遗憾。信上她这么写着，好像是引用了你的话 开始我打算请乔，可是，由于'恩惠给她负担'，她'讨厌法语'，我想，我不会冒昧地邀请她。艾美要温顺些，她会成为弗洛的好旅伴，她有一颗慧心领受旅行带给她的每一点馈赠。”“哦！我的舌头，我那可恶的舌头！我怎么不能学着保持沉默呢？”乔痛苦地抱怨道。她记起了让她倒霉的那些话。马奇太太听了她对信中引用的话的解释，难过地说 “我真希望你能去，可是这次没有指望了。还是安然接受现实吧，别让责备、后悔扫了艾美的兴。”“我试着做吧，”乔说。她使劲眨着眼，俯身捡起刚才兴奋时打翻的篮子。”我要模仿她，不仅看上去高兴，而且真的高兴。一分钟也不忌妒她的幸福。但是这不大容易做。我的失望太大了。“可怜的乔伤心地哭了，眼泪打湿了手中插满针的小针插。
“乔，亲爱的。我很自私。可是我不能放开你。我很高兴你暂时还不走，”贝思低声说道。她连篮子带人抱住了乔。那种依恋的拥抱、充满爱意的神情使乔感到宽慰，尽管强烈的后悔使她想打自己的耳光，然后谦卑地去求卡罗尔婶婶给她这个恩惠，看着她如何优雅地接受它。
到艾美进门时，乔已经能加入全家的欢乐中去了。也许不完全是发自内心的，但是她没有对艾美的好运启发牢骚。那位年轻女士自己把这消息当作天大的喜讯。她欢天喜地又不乏稳重地着手准备，当晚便开始整理她的水彩颜料，收拾铅笔，把衣服、钱、护照之类的琐碎东西留给那些不像她那样热衷于艺术珍品的人们。
“这对我不光是旅游，姑娘们，”她忘情地说，一边收拢起她最好的调色板，“它将决定我的职业，因为如果我有才气的话，我会在罗马发现它的，并会以行动来证明。”“假如没有呢？”乔问。她眼睛红红地缝制着新领结，这个领结是给艾美的。
“那我就回家，教人画画谋生，”向往成名者沉着镇定地回答。但是想到这种远景，她做了个苦脸，然后不停地刮擦着她的调色板，好像在放弃希望前全副身心地采取着有力的措施。
“不，你不会的。你讨厌干重活。你会和某个富人结婚，然后回到家来整天尽享荣华富贵。”“你的预言有时会实现的。但是我不相信这个会实现。我肯定是希望它会实现的。因为，假如我自己当不了艺术家，我希望有能力帮助那些可以成为艺术家的人，”艾美笑着说，仿佛扮演乐善好施的女士比穷绘画教师的角色更适合她。
“哼！”乔叹道，”你希望这样，就会这样的。你的愿望总是能得到满足- 而我，从来得不到。”“你想去吗？”艾美问，她若有所思地用刀轻轻拍着鼻子。
“很想。”
“那么，一两年左右，我会来请你的。我们一起到古罗马广场去看遗迹，实现我们定了那么多次的计划。”“谢谢！当那个快乐的日子到来时，我会让你想起你的许诺的，假如有那么一天的话，”乔回答。她尽可能愉快地接受了这个不确定的但却十分动人的提议。
没有多少时间作准备。屋子里一片混乱，直到艾美离开。
乔咬紧牙关坚持得很好，待到那飘动的蓝丝带消失，她退进自己的避难所- 阁楼，哭得不能自持。艾美同样勇敢地咬紧牙关坚持着，直到轮船起航。可是就在要撤舷梯的时候，她突然醒悟到，不多久她和那些深爱她的人将会被这个波涛翻滚的大海隔开。于是，她抱住最后一个送客劳里，抽泣着说 "哦，为我照顾她们，万一发生了什么事- ”“我会的，亲爱的，万一有什么，我会来安慰你的，”劳里低声说，他做梦也没想到他后来会被请去履行他的诺言。
就这样，艾美乘船去探寻东半球。在年轻人眼里，那里是多么神奇、美丽呀！她的父亲和她的朋友站在岸边注视着她，热切地希望好运轻轻地降临在这个快乐的女孩身上。她向他们挥着手，他们目送着她，直到什么都看不见了，只有海面上耀眼的夏日阳光。
Chapter 31 Our Foreign Correspondent
London
Dearest People, Here I really sit at a front window of the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly. It's not a fashionable place, but Uncle stopped here years ago, and won't go anywhere else. However, we don't mean to stay long, so it's no great matter. Oh, I can't begin to tell you how I enjoy it all! I never can, so I'll only give you bits out of my notebook, for I've done nothing but sketch and scribble since I started.
I sent a line from Halifax, when I felt pretty miserable, but after that I got on delightfully, seldom ill, on deck all day, with plenty of pleasant people to amuse me. Everyone was very kind to me, especially the officers. Don't laugh, Jo, gentlemen really are very necessary aboard ship, to hold on to, or to wait upon one, and as they have nothing to do, it's a mercy to make them useful, otherwise they would smoke themselves to death, I'm afraid.
Aunt and Flo were poorly all the way, and liked to be let alone, so when I had done what I could for them, I went and enjoyed myself. Such walks on deck, such sunsets, such splendid air and waves! It was almost as exciting as riding a fast horse, when we went rushing on so grandly. I wish Beth could have come, it would have done her so much good. As for Jo, she would have gone up and sat on the maintop jib, or whatever the high thing is called, made friends with the engineers, and tooted on the captain's speaking trumpet, she'd have been in such a state of rapture.
It was all heavenly, but I was glad to see the Irish coast, and found it very lovely, so green and sunny, with brown cabins here and there, ruins on some of the hills, and gentlemen's countryseats in the valleys, with deer feeding in the parks. It was early in the morning, but I didn't regret getting up to see it, for the bay was full of little boats, the shore so picturesque, and a rosy sky overhead. I never shall forget it.
At Queenstown one of my new acquaintances left us, Mr. Lennox, and when I said something about the Lakes of Killarney, he sighed, and sung, with a look at me . . .
"Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney? She lives on the banks of Killarney; From the glance of her eye, Shun danger and fly, For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney."
Wasn't that nonsensical?
We only stopped at Liverpool a few hours. It's a dirty, noisy place, and I was glad to leave it. Uncle rushed out and bought a pair of dogskin gloves, some ugly, thick shoes, and an umbrella, and got shaved _'a la_ mutton chop, the first thing. Then he flattered himself that he looked like a true Briton, but the first time he had the mud cleaned off his shoes, the little bootblack knew that an American stood in them, and said, with a grin, "There yer har, sir. I've given 'em the latest Yankee shine." It amused Uncle immensely. Oh, I must tell you what that absurd Lennox did! He got his friend Ward, who came on with us, to order a bouquet for me, and the first thing I saw in my room was a lovely one, with "Robert Lennox's compliments," on the card. Wasn't that fun, girls? I like traveling.
I never shall get to London if I don't hurry. The trip was like riding through a long picture gallery, full of lovely landscapes. The farmhouses were my delight, with thatched roofs, ivy up to the eaves, latticed windows, and stout women with rosy children at the doors. The very cattle looked more tranquil than ours, as they stood knee-deep in clover, and the hens had a contented cluck, as if they never got nervous like Yankee biddies. Such perfect color I never saw, the grass so green, sky so blue, grain so yellow, woods so dark, I was in a rapture all the way. So was Flo, and we kept bouncing from one side to the other, trying to see everything while we were whisking along at the rate of sixty miles an hour. Aunt was tired and went to sleep, but Uncle read his guidebook, and wouldn't be astonished at anything. This is the way we went on. Amy, flying up--"Oh, that must be Kenilworth, that gray place among the trees!" Flo, darting to my window--"How sweet! We must go there sometime, won't we Papa?" Uncle, calmly admiring his boots--"No, my dear, not unless you want beer, that's a brewery."
A pause--then Flo cried out, "Bless me, there's a gallows and a man going up." "Where, where?" shrieks Amy, staring out at two tall posts with a crossbeam and some dangling chains. "A colliery," remarks Uncle, with a twinkle of the eye. "Here's a lovely flock of lambs all lying down," says Amy. "See, Papa, aren't they pretty?" added Flo sentimentally. "Geese, young ladies," returns Uncle, in a tone that keeps us quiet till Flo settles down to enjoy the _Flirtations of Captain Cavendish_, and I have the scenery all to myself.
Of course it rained when we got to London, and there was nothing to be seen but fog and umbrellas. We rested, unpacked, and shopped a little between the showers. Aunt Mary got me some new things, for I came off in such a hurry I wasn't half ready. A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress to match, and the loveliest mantle you ever saw. Shopping in Regent Street is perfectly splendid. Things seem so cheap, nice ribbons only sixpence a yard. I laid in a stock, but shall get my gloves in Paris. Doesn't that sound sort of elegant and rich?
Flo and I, for the fun of it, ordered a hansom cab, while Aunt and Uncle were out, and went for a drive, though we learned afterward that it wasn't the thing for young ladies to ride in them alone. It was so droll! For when we were shut in by the wooden apron, the man drove so fast that Flo was frightened, and told me to stop him, but he was up outside behind somewhere, and I couldn't get at him. He didn't hear me call, nor see me flap my parasol in front, and there we were, quite helpless, rattling away, and whirling around corners at a breakneck pace. At last, in my despair, I saw a little door in the roof, and on poking it open, a red eye appeared, and a beery voice said . . .
"Now, then, mum?"
I gave my order as soberly as I could, and slamming down the door, with an "Aye, aye, mum," the man made his horse walk, as if going to a funeral. I poked again and said, "A little faster," then off he went, helter-skelter as before, and we resigned ourselves to our fate.
Today was fair, and we went to Hyde Park, close by, for we are more aristocratic than we look. The Duke of Devonshire lives near. I often see his footmen lounging at the back gate, and the Duke of Wellington's house is not far off. Such sights as I saw, my dear! It was as good as Punch, for there were fat dowagers rolling about in their red and yellow coaches, with gorgeous Jeameses in silk stockings and velvet coats, up behind, and powdered coachmen in front. Smart maids, with the rosiest children I ever saw, handsome girls, looking half asleep, dandies in queer English hats and lavender kids lounging about, and tall soldiers, in short red jackets and muffin caps stuck on one side, looking so funny I longed to sketch them.
Rotten Row means 'Route de Roi', or the king's way, but now it's more like a riding school than anything else. The horses are splendid, and the men, especially the grooms, ride well, but the women are stiff, and bounce, which isn't according to our rules. I longed to show them a tearing American gallop, for they trotted solemnly up and down, in their scant habits and high hats, looking like the women in a toy Noah's Ark. Everyone rides--old men, stout ladies, little children-- and the young folks do a deal of flirting here, I saw a pair exchange rose buds, for it's the thing to wear one in the button-hole, and I thought it rather a nice little idea.
In the P.M. to Westminster Abbey, but don't expect me to describe it, that's impossible, so I'll only say it was sublime! This evening we are going to see Fechter, which will be an appropriate end to the happiest day of my life.
It's very late, but I can't let my letter go in the morning without telling you what happened last evening. Who do you think came in, as we were at tea? Laurie's English friends, Fred and Frank Vaughn! I was so surprised, for I shouldn't have known them but for the cards. Both are tall fellows with whiskers, Fred handsome in the English style, and Frank much better, for he only limps slightly, and uses no crutches. They had heard from Laurie where we were to be, and came to ask us to their house, but Uncle won't go, so we shall return the call, and see them as we can. They went to the theater with us, and we did have such a good time, for Frank devoted himself to Flo, and Fred and I talked over past, present, and future fun as if we had known each other all our days. Tell Beth Frank asked for her, and was sorry to hear of her ill health. Fred laughed when I spoke of Jo, and sent his 'respectful compliments to the big hat'. Neither of them had forgotten Camp Laurence, or the fun we had there. What ages ago it seems, doesn't it?
Aunt is tapping on the wall for the third time, so I must stop. I really feel like a dissipated London fine lady, writing here so late, with my room full of pretty things, and my head a jumble of parks, theaters, new gowns, and gallant creatures who say "Ah!" and twirl their blond mustaches with the true English lordliness. I long to see you all, and in spite of my nonsense am, as ever, your loving . . .
AMY
PARIS
Dear girls,
In my last I told you about our London visit, how kind the Vaughns were, and what pleasant parties they made for us. I enjoyed the trips to Hampton Court and the Kensington Museum more than anything else, for at Hampton I saw Raphael's cartoons, and at the Museum, rooms full of pictures by Turner, Lawrence, Reynolds, Hogarth, and the other great creatures. The day in Richmond Park was charming, for we had a regular English picnic, and I had more splendid oaks and groups of deer than I could copy, also heard a nightingale, and saw larks go up. We 'did' London to our heart's content, thanks to Fred and Frank, and were sorry to go away, for though English people are slow to take you in, when they once make up their minds to do it they cannot be outdone in hospitality, I think. The Vaughns hope to meet us in Rome next winter, and I shall be dreadfully disappointed if they don't, for Grace and I are great friends, and the boys very nice fellows, especially Fred.
Well, we were hardly settled here, when he turned up again, saying he had come for a holiday, and was going to Switzerland. Aunt looked sober at first, but he was so cool about it she couldn't say a word. And now we get on nicely, and are very glad he came, for he speaks French like a native, and I don't know what we should do without him. Uncle doesn't know ten words, and insists on talking English very loud, as if it would make people understand him. Aunt's pronunciation is old-fashioned, and Flo and I, though we flattered ourselves that we knew a good deal, find we don't, and are very grateful to have Fred do the '_parley vooing_', as Uncle calls it.
Such delightful times as we are having! Sight-seeing from morning till night, stopping for nice lunches in the gay _cafes_, and meeting with all sorts of droll adventures. Rainy days I spend in the Louvre, revelling in pictures. Jo would turn up her naughty nose at some of the finest, because she has no soul for art, but I have, and I'm cultivating eye and taste as fast as I can. She would like the relics of great people better, for I've seen her Napoleon's cocked hat and gray coat, his baby's cradle and his old toothbrush, also Marie Antoinette's little shoe, the ring of Saint Denis, Charlemagne's sword, and many other interesting things. I'll talk for hours about them when I come, but haven't time to write.
The Palais Royale is a heavenly place, so full of _bijouterie_ and lovely things that I'm nearly distracted because I can't buy them. Fred wanted to get me some, but of course I didn't allow it. Then the Bois and Champs Elysees are _tres magnifique_. I've seen the imperial family several times, the emperor an ugly, hard-looking man, the empress pale and pretty, but dressed in bad taste, I thought--purple dress, green hat, and yellow gloves. Little Nap is a handsome boy, who sits chatting to his tutor, and kisses his hand to the people as he passes in his four-horse barouche, with postilions in red satin jackets and a mounted guard before and behind.
We often walk in the Tuileries Gardens, for they are lovely, though the antique Luxembourg Gardens suit me better. Pere la Chaise is very curious, for many of the tombs are like small rooms, and looking in, one sees a table, with images or pictures of the dead, and chairs for the mourners to sit in when they come to lament. That is so Frenchy.
Our rooms are on the Rue de Rivoli, and sitting on the balcony, we look up and down the long, brilliant street. It is so pleasant that we spend our evenings talking there when too tired with our day's work to go out. Fred is very entertaining, and is altogether the most agreeable young man I ever knew-- except Laurie, whose manners are more charming. I wish Fred was dark, for I don't fancy light men, however, the Vaughns are very rich and come of an excellent family, so I won't find fault with their yellow hair, as my own is yellower.
Next week we are off to Germany and Switzerland, and as we shall travel fast, I shall only be able to give you hasty letters. I keep my diary, and try to 'remember correctly and describe clearly all that I see and admire', as Father advised. It is good practice for me, and with my sketchbook will give you a better idea of my tour than these scribbles.
Adieu, I embrace you tenderly. _"Votre Amie.""_
HEIDELBERG
My dear Mamma,
Having a quiet hour before we leave for Berne, I'll try to tell you what has happened, for some of it is very important, as you will see.
The sail up the Rhine was perfect, and I just sat and enjoyed it with all my might. Get Father's old guidebooks and read about it. I haven't words beautiful enough to describe it. At Coblentz we had a lovely time, for some students from Bonn, with whom Fred got acquainted on the boat, gave us a serenade. It was a moonlight night, and about one o'clock Flo and I were waked by the most delicious music under our windows. We flew up, and hid behind the curtains, but sly peeps showed us Fred and the students singing away down below. It was the most romantic thing I ever saw--the river, the bridge of boats, the great fortress opposite, moonlight everywhere, and music fit to melt a heart of stone.
When they were done we threw down some flowers, and saw them scramble for them, kiss their hands to the invisible ladies, and go laughing away, to smoke and drink beer, I suppose. Next morning Fred showed me one of the crumpled flowers in his vest pocket, and looked very sentimental. I laughed at him, and said I didn't throw it, but Flo, which seemed to disgust him, for he tossed it out of the window, and turned sensible again. I'm afraid I'm going to have trouble with that boy, it begins to look like it.
The baths at Nassau were very gay, so was Baden-Baden, where Fred lost some money, and I scolded him. He needs someone to look after him when Frank is not with him. Kate said once she hoped he'd marry soon, and I quite agree with her that it would be well for him. Frankfurt was delightful. I saw Goethe's house, Schiller's statue, and Dannecker's famous 'Ariadne.' It was very lovely, but I should have enjoyed it more if I had known the story better. I didn't like to ask, as everyone knew it or pretended they did. I wish Jo would tell me all about it. I ought to have read more, for I find I don't know anything, and it mortifies me.
Now comes the serious part, for it happened here, and Fred has just gone. He has been so kind and jolly that we all got quite fond of him. I never thought of anything but a traveling friendship till the serenade night. Since then I've begun to feel that the moonlight walks, balcony talks, and daily adventures were something more to him than fun. I haven't flirted, Mother, truly, but remembered what you said to me, and have done my very best. I can't help it if people like me. I don't try to make them, and it worries me if I don't care for them, though Jo says I haven't got any heart. Now I know Mother will shake her head, and the girls say, "Oh, the mercenary little wretch!", but I've made up my mind, and if Fred asks me, I shall accept him, though I'm not madly in love. I like him, and we get on comfortably together. He is handsome, young, clever enough, and very rich--ever so much richer than the Laurences. I don't think his family would object, and I should be very happy, for they are all kind, well-bred, generous people, and they like me. Fred, as the eldest twin, will have the estate, I suppose, and such a splendid one it is! A city house in a fashionable street, not so showy as our big houses, but twice as comfortable and full of solid luxury, such as English people believe in. I like it, for it's genuine. I've seen the plate, the family jewels, the old servants, and pictures of the country place, with its park, great house, lovely grounds, and fine horses. Oh, it would be all I should ask! And I'd rather have it than any title such as girls snap up so readily, and find nothing behind. I may be mercenary, but I hate poverty, and don't mean to bear it a minute longer than I can help. One of us _must_ marry well. Meg didn't, Jo won't, Beth can't yet, so I shall, and make everything okay all round. I wouldn't marry a man I hated or despised. You may be sure of that, and though Fred is not my model hero, he does very well, and in time I should get fond enough of him if he was very fond of me, and let me do just as I liked. So I've been turning the matter over in my mind the last week, for it was impossible to help seeing that Fred liked me. He said nothing, but little things showed it. He never goes with Flo, always gets on my side of the carriage, table, or promenade, looks sentimental when we are alone, and frowns at anyone else who ventures to speak to me. Yesterday at dinner, when an Austrian officer stared at us and then said something to his friend, a rakish-looking baron, about '_ein wonderschones Blondchen'_, Fred looked as fierce as a lion, and cut his meat so savagely it nearly flew off his plate. He isn't one of the cool, stiff Englishmen, but is rather peppery, for he has Scotch blood in him, as one might guess from his bonnie blue eyes.
Well, last evening we went up to the castle about sunset, at least all of us but Fred, who was to meet us there after going to the Post Restante for letters. We had a charming time poking about the ruins, the vaults where the monster tun is, and the beautiful gardens made by the elector long ago for his English wife. I liked the great terrace best, for the view was divine, so while the rest went to see the rooms inside, I sat there trying to sketch the gray stone lion's head on the wall, with scarlet woodbine sprays hanging round it. I felt as if I'd got into a romance, sitting there, watching the Neckar rolling through the valley, listening to the music of the Austrian band below, and waiting for my lover, like a real storybook girl. I had a feeling that something was going to happen and I was ready for it. I didn't feel blushy or quakey, but quite cool and only a little excited.
By-and-by I heard Fred's voice, and then he came hurrying through the great arch to find me. He looked so troubled that I forgot all about myself, and asked what the matter was. He said he'd just got a letter begging him to come home, for Frank was very ill. So he was going at once on the night train and only had time to say good-by. I was very sorry for him, and disappointed for myself, but only for a minute because he said, as he shook hands, and said it in a way that I could not mistake, "I shall soon come back, you won't forget me, Amy?"
I didn't promise, but I looked at him, and he seemed satisfied, and there was no time for anything but messages and good-byes, for he was off in an hour, and we all miss him very much. I know he wanted to speak, but I think, from something he once hinted, that he had promised his father not to do anything of the sort yet a while, for he is a rash boy, and the old gentleman dreads a foreign daughter-in-law. We shall soon meet in Rome, and then, if I don't change my mind, I'll say "Yes, thank you," when he says "Will you, please?"
Of course this is all _very private_, but I wished you to know what was going on. Don't be anxious about me, remember I am your 'prudent Amy', and be sure I will do nothing rashly. Send me as much advice as you like. I'll use it if I can. I wish I could see you for a good talk, Marmee. Love and trust me.
Ever your AMY
 
伦敦
最亲爱的家人们：
我现在真的坐在皮卡迪利大街巴思旅馆一个临街的窗前。这不是个时髦地方，可是几年前，叔叔在这儿停下来，再也不想去别的地方了。而我们也不打算在这儿呆长，这也就不是什么大事了。哦，我无法从头至尾告诉你们我是多么地欣赏这一切！毫无办法。因此，我只能告诉你们一些我笔记本上记的事。从出发以来我除了画些素描，胡乱写些东西之外什么都没干。
到达哈利法克斯时，我寄了封短信。那时我感到很难受。从那以后，我过得很愉快，几乎没有生病，整天在甲板上，有许多有趣的人逗我。每个人对我都很客气，特别是那些官员们。别笑，乔。在船上真是非常需要先生们，需要依赖他们，需要他们的侍候。他们无事可做，使他们成为有用的人倒是对他们施惠。不然的话，我担心他们非抽烟抽死不可。
婶婶和弗洛一路上身体都不舒服，想清静些，所以我做完能为她们做的事，便自己去玩。那种在甲板上散步的滋味，那样的落日，那样好的空气与波浪！那种感受几乎和我们骑着快马飞奔一样激动人心。我真希望贝思也能来这儿，这将对她大有好处。至于乔嘛，她会爬上去坐在大桅楼的三角帆上，或者管它叫什么来着的那个高高的东西上。她会和轮船水手们交朋友，对着船长的传声筒嘟嘟乱吵，她会欣喜若狂的。
一切都其妙无比。并且，我高兴地看到了爱尔兰的海岸，发现它非常可爱。远远望去，那么绿，海岸洒满阳光，四处点缀着棕色的小木屋。山上的一些古迹隐约可见，山谷里有着绅士们的别墅，小鹿们在花园里吃着草。当时是清晨，可是，我并不后悔起早观景。海湾里布满了小船，海岸上风景如画，头顶上天色泛红。我永远也忘不了这个景致。
在昆士镇，伦诺克斯先生--我新结识的一个朋友--下船离开了我们，在船上我谈起基拉尼湖时，伦诺克斯先生曾叹了口气，看着我唱起来 “哦，你可曾听说凯特•卡尼？
基拉尼湖畔是她的生长之地；
她的两眼一瞥，
有陷进之险而飞快逃离，
凯特•卡尼的眼神，逃不脱的宿命。”
那是不是毫无意义？
我们在利物品只停留了几小时。这个地方又脏又吵。我倒乐意早些离开。叔叔做的第一件事便是赶快去买了副狗皮手套和一双又丑又笨的鞋子，还有一把雨桑然后，他刮掉了络腮胡子，自以为看上去像个真正的英国人，可是，他第一次让人擦鞋子，那擦皮鞋的小家伙便知道穿鞋人是个美国人，笑嘻嘻地说：“擦好啦，先生，我用的是最新式的美国擦法。”逗得叔叔大笑。噢，我得告诉你们那个荒唐的伦诺克斯干了什么！他让他的朋友沃德为我预定了一束花，沃德和我们一起继续旅行。我进屋第一眼便看到了一束可爱的花，附着一张卡片“罗伯特•伦诺克斯敬赠"。姑娘们，可有意思？
我喜欢旅行。
我要是不抓紧，恐怕根本写不到伦敦的事儿了。旅途就像是乘车在一个长长的充满迷人景象的画廓中穿行。我喜欢看那些农舍。茅草盖的屋顶，常春藤一直缠绕到屋檐，格子状的窗户，门前有健壮的妇女和面色红润的孩子们。这里的牲口站在齐膝深的三叶草中，看上去比我们那里的牲口要平静些。母鸡知足地咯咯叫着，好像从来不像美国鸡们那样神经紧张。我从未见过这种完美的色彩- 草是那么绿，天是那么蓝，谷物金黄，树木葱郁。一路上我欢天喜地。弗洛也是这样。我们以每小时六十英里的速度急速前行，我们不停地从一边蹦到另一边，想把美景尽收眼中。婶婶倦了去睡觉了，叔叔读着旅行指南，他对一切无动于衷。当时情况是这样的：艾美，跳了起来 "噢，树丛中的那片灰色肯定是凯尼尔沃思城！“弗洛，冲到我的窗前 "多美呀！我们什么时候一定去那，是不是，爸爸？”叔叔，不动声色地欣赏着自己的靴子- "不，亲爱的，除非你要喝啤酒，那是个啤酒厂。“安静了一阵- 后来弗洛叫了起来：“天哪，那儿有个绞刑架，有个人往那去。””哪儿，哪儿？”艾美尖叫着向外望去，看见两根高柱子，上面有横梁，还有一些摇晃着的链条。”是个煤矿，”叔叔眨着眼说道。”这里有群可爱的羊，它们都躺下了，“艾美说。”瞧！爸爸，它们多漂亮！”弗洛动情地说。
“那是群鹅，小姑娘们，”叔叔回答。他的语调使我们安静下来。后来弗洛坐下来读《卡文迪什船长的调情》，我独自欣赏景致。
我们到达伦敦时不用说又在下雨。除了雾和雨伞没什么可看的。我们休息，打开包裹，阵雨之间去了商店。玛丽婶婶给我买了些新东西，因为我出门太匆促，准备得不充分。买了顶饰有蓝羽的白帽子，一件和它相配的棉布衣，还有个你所见过的最漂亮的斗篷。在摄政街购物感觉棒极了，东西似乎很便宜--漂亮的丝带才六便士一码。我购备了一些。但我的手套要到巴黎去买。这听起来是不是有点像讲究的有钱人？
叔叔和婶婶出去了，我和弗洛要了部漂亮的出租马车，出去兜风玩儿。后来我们才知道年轻女士单独坐马车不合适。那太有意思了！当时我们给木头挡板关进了车厢，马夫车驾得那么快，弗洛吓坏了，叫我止住他。可是，他坐在车厢外面后部的什么地方，我没法接近他。他既听不见我的叫声，也看不见我在用阳伞拍打着车厢前部。就这样，我们无可奈何地哒哒哒地行驶着，以极其危险的速度旋转过一个个拐角。最后，无计可施之际我看见车厢顶上有个小门。我刚把它捣开，一只红眼睛便出现了，一个微醉的声音说 “喂喂，小姐？”我尽量严肃地下了指令，马夫应着"是，是，小姐"，砰地关上门，骑着马走起来，仿佛是去参加葬礼。我又伸出头说：“稍快一点。”于是，又像刚才那样策马飞奔。我们只好束手听命。
今天天气好，我们去了附近的海德公园，因为，我们比外表看上去更贵族气一些。德文郡的公爵就住在附近。我常看到他的男仆在后门闲逛。威灵顿公爵的宅第离这里也不远。我的天哪！我看到的是什么样的景象啊！和木偶剧的角儿一样好看。胖胖的老年贵妇们乘坐的红色、黄色马车到处滚动，漂亮的仆从脚着长统丝袜，身穿天鹅绒外衣坐在车后，搽了粉的赶马人坐在车前。伶俐的女仆带着面色非常红润的孩子。端庄秀丽的姑娘们看上去似睡非睡。戴着古怪的英国帽和淡紫色小山羊皮手套的美少年们漫步悠游。高个儿士兵们穿着红色的短夹克，歪戴着粉饼样的呢帽。这一切看上去那么滑稽，我真想为他们作幅速写。
练马林荫路是指"ＲｏｕｔｅｄｅＲｏｉ"，也就是国王路。但是现在它更像个马术学校。那些马都很棒。那些人，尤其是马夫们，骑术很好。然而，妇人们绷直着腿，在马上乱蹦。那可不是我们的规则。我真想让她们看看美国式的骑马飞奔。她们穿着单薄的骑装，戴着高帽子，表情严肃，一颠一颠地打马小跑着。看着就像玩具诺亚方舟里的女人。这儿每个人都会骑马--老人、健壮的妇人、小孩子们--这里的年轻人就爱谈情说爱。我看到过一对年轻人交换玫瑰花蕾，钮扣眼里插一朵花蕾很别致。我想，这个主意很不错。
下午去了威斯敏斯特教堂。可是别指望我给你们描述它，那不可能--我只能告诉你们它非常雄伟。今晚我们打算去看戏"费切特"。那将恰到好处地结束我一生中最幸福的这一天。
午夜
已经很晚了，可是，不把昨晚发生的事告诉你们，我早上就不能发掉这封信。昨天我们吃茶时，你们猜谁来了？劳里的英国朋友，弗雷德•沃恩和弗兰克•沃恩！我太吃惊了！
要不是看了名片我都认不出他们了。两个人都长成大高个了，都长着络腮胡子。弗雷德英俊潇洒，美国味十足。弗兰克情况好多了，他只有些微跛，不用拐杖了。他们收到劳里的信，得知我们在哪，过来邀请我们去他们家；可是叔叔不肯去，所以我们打算回访。他们和我们一起去看了戏。我们玩得真是惬意非常。弗兰克一味和弗洛交谈，而弗雷德和我讲着过去的、现在的、将来的趣事，好像我们一直都彼此了解。告诉贝思，弗兰克问起了她，听说她身体不好很难过。我谈到乔时弗雷德笑了，他向"那个大帽子致敬"。他们两人都没有忘记劳伦斯营地，也没有忘记我们在那里有过的欢乐。似乎那是很长时间以前的事了，是不是？
婶婶已经是第三次敲墙壁了，所以我必须停笔了。我真的像一个放荡的伦敦上流妇女，坐在这里写信写得这么晚，屋子里满是漂亮的东西，脑子里乱七八糟地装着公园、剧院、新衣裙以及那些会献殷勤的男士们。他们说着"啊"，带着道地的英国贵族气派用手缠绕着金黄色小胡子。我非常想见到你们大家。虽然我说了这许多废话，我永远是你们忠实的艾美巴黎亲爱的姐姐们：上封信我和你们谈到了伦敦回访一事--沃恩一家太客气了，他们为我们举行了令人难忘的社交聚会。所有的事情当中，我最欣赏的是去汉普顿展览馆和肯辛顿博物馆-因为，在汉普顿我看到了拉斐尔的草图，在博物馆，我参观了一个个放满着画的陈列室。这些画出自诱纳、劳伦斯、雷诺兹、贺加斯以及其他一些伟大画家之手。在里士满公园度过的那天很有趣，我们搞了个正规的英国式野餐，公园里有许多极好的橡树，有一群群小鹿，太多了我都临摹不完。我还听到了夜莺的啼鸣，看到云雀直冲云霄。多亏了弗雷德和弗兰克，我们尽情"享受"了伦敦，离开它感到难过。我想，虽然伦敦人要很长时间才能接纳你，可一旦他们决定接纳，谁也别想超过他们待客的热情。沃恩一家希望明年冬天在罗马见到我们。如果见不到他们，我会非常失望的。因为格雷斯是我的好朋友，两个男孩也很不错--特别是弗雷德。
且说，我们在这里还没有安顿下来，弗雷德又出现了，说是来度假的，打算去瑞士。婶婶开始严肃起来，但是他处事很慎重，婶婶也就无话可说了。现在我们相处得很不错。很高兴他来了，因为他的法语说得像当地人。要是没有他真不知道我们该怎么办。叔叔懂的法语还不到十个字，他一贯用英语高门大嗓说话，好像那样就能让别人听懂他的话。婶婶的发音是老式的。虽然我和弗洛自以为懂不少法语，结果发现情况并非如此。非常高兴能有弗雷德“讲话”，叔叔就是这么说他的。
我们过得多么惬意啊！从早到晚观光，在装饰华丽的餐馆停下来吃丰盛的午餐，经历各种各样令人解颐的奇遇。下雨天我就待在罗浮宫，沉迷于画中。对那些艺术精疲乔会翘起她淘气的鼻子，因为她对艺术没有热情，可是我有。我尽快地培养艺术眼光与趣味。她会更喜欢伟人的纪念物。在这里我看到了拿破仑的三角帽和灰大衣，他小孩的摇篮以及他的旧牙刷；还有玛丽•安托瓦内特王后的小鞋子，圣丹尼斯主教的戒指，查理曼大帝的剑等其他许多有趣的东西。我回家后会和你们谈上几小时的，可是现在没时间写了。
皇宫非常漂亮--里面有那么多珠宝，那么多美丽的东西，我都快要发狂了，因为我买不起它们。弗雷德要为我买一些，可我当然不能让他这么做。还有那林园和香榭丽舍大街，ｔｒèｓｍａｇｎｉeｉｑｕｅ。我见过几次皇室成员 皇帝很丑，看上去很冷酷，皇后面色苍白，很美，可是打扮得不雅致，我想- 紫裙子、绿帽子、黄手套。小拿卜是个漂亮的男孩，他坐在四轮大马车里和他的导师闲谈着，向他们经过的人群飞着吻，车上左马骑手们穿着红缎子夹克，车前车后各有一个骑马卫兵。
我们常去杜伊勒利花园散步，那里非常漂亮，尽管那古色古香的卢森堡公园更合我意。ＰèｒｅｌａＣｈａｉｓｅ非常令人好奇，因为许多墓穴像小屋子，往里看，可以看见一张桌子，上面有死者的画像，还有为前来吊唁的人们设的坐椅。那真太有法国味了。
我们的屋子位于里佛利街，坐在阳台上，我们眺望着长街的迷人景色。白天玩累了，晚上不想出去时在阳台上闲聊真是令人惬意。弗雷德非常有趣，他是我所遇见的最令人愉快的小伙子- 除了劳里，劳里的风度更迷人。但愿弗雷德是黑皮肤，因为我不喜欢皮肤白的男人。可是沃恩家富有，门第高贵，我也就不挑剔他们的黄头发了，再说，我的头发比他们的还要黄。
下星期我们要出发去德国和瑞士。我们行程匆匆，所以我只能仓促地给你们写信了。我将记日记，尽量"正确地记注清楚地描绘我们见到的和欣赏的一切"，像爸爸建议的那样。那对我是个很好的锻炼，我的日记和速写本会比这些胡言乱语让你们更好地了解我的旅行。
Ａｄｉｅｕ，亲切地拥抱你们。
你们的艾美
海德堡
亲爱的妈妈：
动身去伯尔尼前还有一小时的清静，我来告诉你发生了些什么，你会看到，其中一些事非常重要。
沿着莱茵河航行非常美妙，我只是坐在船上全身心地享受着。找来爸爸那些旧旅行指南读一读吧，我的语言不够美，描绘不出那种景致。在科布伦次，我们过得很快活。弗雷德在船上结识的几个波恩学生为我们演奏了小夜曲。那是个月光皎洁的夜晚，大约一点钟左右，我和弗洛被窗下传来的一阵妙曼的歌声弄醒了。我们一跃而起，躲到窗帘后，偷偷往外看，原来是弗雷德和那些学生在窗下不停地唱歌。这可是我见过的最浪漫的情景 -那河、那船桥、对岸的城堡、如洗的月光，还有那动人心弦的音乐。
等他们唱完，我们便朝下扔花束，看到他们争抢着，对着看不见的女士们飞吻，然后笑着走开了--我猜是去抽烟、喝啤酒。第二天早上，弗雷德给我看插在他背心口袋里的一朵弄皱了的花，他看上去充满柔情。我笑话他，说那不是我扔的，是弗洛扔的，这迫使他失意。他把花扔出窗外，头脑又冷静下来。我担心会和这个男孩发生麻烦事，已经开始有点苗头了。
拿骚的温泉浴场令人快乐，巴当 巴当市的也是这样。弗雷德在那里丢了些钱，我责备了他。弗兰克不和他在一起时弗雷德需要人照顾。凯特曾经说她希望他赶快结婚。我有同感，他需要结婚。法兰克福令人愉快，在那里我看到了歌德的故居，席勒的雕像，丹内苛尔著名的《阿里阿德涅》，故事非常好，可要是我对这故事知道得多一些我会更欣赏的。我不愿问别人，每个人都知道这故事，或者假装知道。希望乔能把故事全讲给我听。我本来应该多读些书的，因为我现在发现我什么都不知道，真后悔。
现在说说正经事吧—-它发生在这里，弗雷德刚走。他一直彬彬有礼，有趣味，我们都喜欢他。在唱小夜曲的夜晚之前，我一直只把他看作一起旅游的朋友，从未想过别的。打那以后，我开始感觉到，那月光下的散步、阳台上的闲聊、每日的奇遇，对他来说，意义超出娱乐之外。我没有调情，妈妈，真的。我记住了你对我说的话，尽了最大的努力。我没法阻止别人喜欢我。我没有讨好他们，要是我不喜欢他们，我还会着急的，尽管乔会说我没有感情。我知道妈妈会摇头，姐姐们会说： “哦，这个唯利是图的小坏蛋！”可是，我已经打定主意，如果弗雷德向我求婚，我就接受，虽然我没有狂热地爱上他。我喜欢他，我们在一起相处很愉快。他英竣年轻、十分聪明、非常富有- 比劳伦斯家富得多。我想他家人不会反对的。我将非常幸福，因为他们全家人都很友善、有教养、慷慨大方，他们喜欢我。弗雷德作为双胞胎中的老大，我想，将会得到房产。那是一座多么令人满意的住宅啊！房子位于市区上流社会的街区，不像我们家的大房子那样显眼，但是住在里面的舒适程度远远超过我们。房子里满是英国人推崇的纯粹的奢侈品。我喜欢这样，那些可都是地地道道的。
我见过那刻有姓氏的金属牌、家传珍宝、老仆人，以及乡下别墅的照片，上面有花园、大房子、可爱的庭院，还有骏马，哦，我还能求什么呢？我宁愿拥有这些，可不要女孩们乐意抢夺的什么爵位了，我觉得这样也没拉下什么。我可能是唯利是图，但是，我讨厌贫穷。只要有可能我一分钟也不能忍受贫穷。我们中必须有一个人嫁给富人；梅格没有，乔不会这么做，贝思还不能够，所以我将这么做，把我们身边的一切都变得舒适。我不会去嫁给一个我讨厌或者看不起的人，你们可以确信。虽然弗雷德不是我理想的英雄，但他做得不错，如果他非常喜欢我，让我随心所欲，总有一天我会十分喜欢他的。所以，上个星期，我一直在脑中考虑这件事。显而易见弗雷德喜欢我。他什么也没说，但是一些小事情表明了一切。他从不和弗洛一起走，坐车、吃饭、散步时，他总是在我这一边，当我们单独在一起时，他看上去总是柔情万端。谁要是和我说话，他就对谁皱眉头。昨天晚宴时，一个奥地利官员目不转睛地看着我们，然后和他的朋友--一个时髦的男爵--说了些什么"ｅｉｎｗｏｎｄｅｒｓｃｈｏAｎｅｓＢｌｏAｎｄｃｈｅｎ”，弗雷德愤怒得像头狮子，他狠命地切着肉，差点把肉弄出盘子外。他不是那种冷静傲慢的英国人，但是脾气相当暴躁，因为他身上有着苏格兰的血统，这一点我们从他美丽的蓝眼睛就可以猜出。
嗯，昨天日落时分我们去了城堡 除了弗雷德，所有人都去了，他先去待领邮局取信，然后来会我们。我们信步漫游，看看废墟，看看存放大酒桶的地窖，看看早年选帝侯为他的英国妻子建造的美丽花园。我们玩得很开心。我最喜欢那大平台，在那儿可以看到绝妙的景色。因此，当其他人进屋子里去观察时，我坐在平台上，试着画下墙上的灰色石狮子，狮头周围悬挂着红色忍冬。我感到像是身处一种罗曼蒂克的氛围。坐在那里，看着内卡河在山谷中奔腾穿行，听着奥地利乐队在城堡下演奏的乐曲，等着我的情人。我真的像故事书中的女孩。我感觉要发生什么事，我已做好准备。我不脸红，不战栗。我相当冷静，只稍稍有点激动。
不一会儿，我听见了弗雷德的声音。他匆匆穿过大拱门找我。他看上去那样不安，我忘掉了自己，问他怎么回事，他说他刚收到一封信，要他回家，因为弗兰克病得很厉害；他马上就坐夜车走，时间只够道个别。我为他非常难过，也为我自己感到失望。可是难过、失望只有一会儿，因为他握着我的手说 -说话的口气我不会误解的- "我不久就会回来的。你不会忘了我吧，艾美？”我没有许诺，只是看着他，他似乎满意了。没有时间做别的事了，只能互相祝愿，道别。一小时后他便走了。我们大家都非常想念他。我知道他想说出来，但是从他曾经作出的暗示，我想他答应过他爸爸暂时不提这事，因为他是个还未成熟的男孩，而且老先生害怕要一个外国媳妇。不久我们将在罗马相遇。到那时，如果我没改变主意，他问我"愿意吗？”我就说"愿意，谢谢"。
当然，这件事是个大秘密。不过我希望您知道事情的进展。别为我担心。记住我是您"精明的艾美"。确信我不会做出鲁莽的事情来的。期待母亲示教，女儿将慎思采纳。望能见到您一畅己怀，妈咪。爱我吧，相信我。
永远属于您的
艾美
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。”
Chapter 33 Jo's Journal
New York, November
Dear Marmee and Beth,
I'm going to write you a regular volume, for I've got heaps to tell, though I'm not a fine young lady traveling on the continent. When I lost sight of Father's dear old face, I felt a trifle blue, and might have shed a briny drop or two, if an Irish lady with four small children, all crying more or less, hadn't diverted my mind, for I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the seat every time they opened their mouths to roar.
Soon the sun came out, and taking it as a good omen, I cleared up likewise and enjoyed my journey with all my heart.
Mrs. Kirke welcomed me so kindly I felt at home at once, even in that big house full of strangers. She gave me a funny little sky parlor--all she had, but there is a stove in it, and a nice table in a sunny window, so I can sit here and write whenever I like. A fine view and a church tower opposite atone for the many stairs, and I took a fancy to my den on the spot. The nursery, where I am to teach and sew, is a pleasant room next Mrs. Kirke's private parlor, and the two little girls are pretty children, rather spoiled, I fancy, but they took to me after telling them The Seven Bad Pigs, and I've no doubt I shall make a model governess.
I am to have my meals with the children, if I prefer it to the great table, and for the present I do, for I am bashful, though no one will believe it.
"Now, my dear, make yourself at home," said Mrs. K. in her motherly way, "I'm on the drive from morning to night, as you may suppose with such a family, but a great anxiety will be off my mind if I know the children are safe with you. My rooms are always open to you, and your own shall be as comfortable as I can make it. There are some pleasant people in the house if you feel sociable, and your evenings are always free. Come to me if anything goes wrong, and be as happy as you can. There's the tea bell, I must run and change my cap." And off she bustled, leaving me to settle myself in my new nest.
As I went downstairs soon after, I saw something I liked. The flights are very long in this tall house, and as I stood waiting at the head of the third one for a little servant girl to lumber up, I saw a gentleman come along behind her, take the heavy hod of coal out of her hand, carry it all the way up, put it down at a door near by, and walk away, saying, with a kind nod and a foreign accent, "It goes better so. The little back is too young to haf such heaviness."
Wasn't it good of him? I like such things, for as Father says, trifles show character. When I mentioned it to Mrs. K., that evening, she laughed, and said, "That must have been Professor Bhaer, he's always doing things of that sort."
Mrs. K. told me he was from Berlin, very learned and good, but poor as a church mouse, and gives lessons to support himself and two little orphan nephews whom he is educating here, according to the wishes of his sister, who married an American. Not a very romantic story, but it interested me, and I was glad to hear that Mrs. K. lends him her parlor for some of his scholars. There is a glass door between it and the nursery, and I mean to peep at him, and then I'll tell you how he looks. He's almost forty, so it's no harm, Marmee.
After tea and a go-to-bed romp with the little girls, I attacked the big workbasket, and had a quiet evening chatting with my new friend. I shall keep a journal-letter, and send it once a week, so goodnight, and more tomorrow.
Tuesday Eve
Had a lively time in my seminary this morning, for the children acted like Sancho, and at one time I really thought I should shake them all round. Some good angel inspired me to try gymnastics, and I kept it up till they were glad to sit down and keep still. After luncheon, the girl took them out for a walk, and I went to my needlework like little Mabel 'with a willing mind'. I was thanking my stars that I'd learned to make nice buttonholes, when the parlor door opened and shut, and someone began to hum, Kennst Du Das Land, like a big bumblebee. It was dreadfully improper, I know, but I couldn't resist the temptation, and lifting one end of the curtain before the glass door, I peeped in. Professor Bhaer was there, and while he arranged his books, I took a good look at him. A regular German--rather stout, with brown hair tumbled all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice that does one's ears good, after our sharp or slipshod American gabble. His clothes were rusty, his hands were large, and he hadn't a really handsome feature in his face, except his beautiful teeth, yet I liked him, for he had a fine head, his linen was very nice, and he looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat and there was a patch on one shoe. He looked sober in spite of his humming, till he went to the window to turn the hyacinth bulbs toward the sun, and stroke the cat, who received him like an old friend. Then he smiled, and when a tap came at the door, called out in a loud, brisk tone, "Herein!"
I was just going to run, when I caught sight of a morsel of a child carrying a big book, and stopped, to see what was going on.
"Me wants me Bhaer," said the mite, slamming down her book and running to meet him.
"Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer. Come, then, and take a goot hug from him, my Tina," said the Professor, catching her up with a laugh, and holding her so high over his head that she had to stoop her little face to kiss him.
"Now me mus tuddy my lessin," went on the funny little thing. So he put her up at the table, opened the great dictionary she had brought, and gave her a paper and pencil, and she scribbled away, turning a leaf now and then, and passing her little fat finger down the page, as if finding a word, so soberly that I nearly betrayed myself by a laugh, while Mr. Bhaer stood stroking her pretty hair with a fatherly look that made me think she must be his own, though she looked more French than German.
Another knock and the appearance of two young ladies sent me back to my work, and there I virtuously remained through all the noise and gabbling that went on next door. One of the girls kept laughing affectedly, and saying, "Now Professor," in a coquettish tone, and the other pronounced her German with an accent that must have made it hard for him to keep sober.
Both seemed to try his patience sorely, for more than once I heard him say emphatically, "No, no, it is not so, you haf not attend to what I say," and once there was a loud rap, as if he struck the table with his book, followed by the despairing exclamation, "Prut! It all goes bad this day."
Poor man, I pitied him, and when the girls were gone, took just one more peep to see if he survived it. He seemed to have thrown himself back in his chair, tired out, and sat there with his eyes shut till the clock struck two, when he jumped up, put his books in his pocket, as if ready for another lesson, and taking little Tina who had fallen asleep on the sofa in his arms, he carried her quietly away. I fancy he has a hard life of it. Mrs. Kirke asked me if I wouldn't go down to the five o'clock dinner, and feeling a little bit homesick, I thought I would, just to see what sort of people are under the same roof with me. So I made myself respectable and tried to slip in behind Mrs. Kirke, but as she is short and I'm tall, my efforts at concealment were rather a failure. She gave me a seat by her, and after my face cooled off, I plucked up courage and looked about me. The long table was full, and every one intent on getting their dinner, the gentlemen especially, who seemed to be eating on time, for they bolted in every sense of the word, vanishing as soon as they were done. There was the usual assortment of young men absorbed in themselves, young couples absorbed in each other, married ladies in their babies, and old gentlemen in politics. I don't think I shall care to have much to do with any of them, except one sweetfaced maiden lady, who looks as if she had something in her.
Cast away at the very bottom of the table was the Professor, shouting answers to the questions of a very inquisitive, deaf old gentleman on one side, and talking philosophy with a Frenchman on the other. If Amy had been here, she'd have turned her back on him forever because, sad to relate, he had a great appetite, and shoveled in his dinner in a manner which would have horrified 'her ladyship'. I didn't mind, for I like 'to see folks eat with a relish', as Hannah says, and the poor man must have needed a deal of food after teaching idiots all day.
As I went upstairs after dinner, two of the young men were settling their hats before the hall mirror, and I heard one say low to the other, "Who's the new party?"
"Governess, or something of that sort."
"What the deuce is she at our table for?"
"Friend of the old lady's."
"Handsome head, but no style."
"Not a bit of it. Give us a light and come on."
I felt angry at first, and then I didn't care, for a governess is as good as a clerk, and I've got sense, if I haven't style, which is more than some people have, judging from the remarks of the elegant beings who clattered away, smoking like bad chimneys. I hate ordinary people!
Thursday
Yesterday was a quiet day spent in teaching, sewing, and writing in my little room, which is very cozy, with a light and fire. I picked up a few bits of news and was introduced to the Professor. It seems that Tina is the child of the Frenchwoman who does the fine ironing in the laundry here. The little thing has lost her heart to Mr. Bhaer, and follows him about the house like a dog whenever he is at home, which delights him, as he is very fond of children, though a 'bacheldore'. Kitty and Minnie Kirke likewise regard him with affection, and tell all sorts of stories about the plays he invents, the presents he brings, and the splendid tales he tells. The younger men quiz him, it seems, call him Old Fritz, Lager Beer, Ursa Major, and make all manner of jokes on his name. But he enjoys it like a boy, Mrs. Kirke says, and takes it so good-naturedly that they all like him in spite of his foreign ways.
The maiden lady is a Miss Norton, rich, cultivated, and kind. She spoke to me at dinner today (for I went to table again, it's such fun to watch people), and asked me to come and see her at her room. She has fine books and pictures, knows interesting persons, and seems friendly, so I shall make myself agreeable, for I do want to get into good society, only it isn't the same sort that Amy likes.
I was in our parlor last evening when Mr. Bhaer came in with some newspapers for Mrs. Kirke. She wasn't there, but Minnie, who is a little old woman, introduced me very prettily. "This is Mamma's friend, Miss March."
"Yes, and she's jolly and we like her lots," added Kitty, who is an 'enfant terrible'.
We both bowed, and then we laughed, for the prim introduction and the blunt addition were rather a comical contrast.
"Ah, yes, I hear these naughty ones go to vex you, Mees Marsch. If so again, call at me and I come," he said, with a threatening frown that delighted the little wretches.
I promised I would, and he departed, but it seems as if I was doomed to see a good deal of him, for today as I passed his door on my way out, by accident I knocked against it with my umbrella. It flew open, and there he stood in his dressing gown, with a big blue sock on one hand and a darning needle in the other. He didn't seem at all ashamed of it, for when I explained and hurried on, he waved his hand, sock and all, saying in his loud, cheerful way . . .
"You haf a fine day to make your walk. Bon voyage, Mademoiselle."
I laughed all the way downstairs, but it was a little pathetic, also to think of the poor man having to mend his own clothes. The German gentlemen embroider, I know, but darning hose is another thing and not so pretty.
Saturday
Nothing has happened to write about, except a call on Miss Norton, who has a room full of pretty things, and who was very charming, for she showed me all her treasures, and asked me if I would sometimes go with her to lectures and concerts, as her escort, if I enjoyed them. She put it as a favor, but I'm sure Mrs. Kirke has told her about us, and she does it out of kindness to me. I'm as proud as Lucifer, but such favors from such people don't burden me, and I accepted gratefully.
When I got back to the nursery there was such an uproar in the parlor that I looked in, and there was Mr. Bhaer down on his hands and knees, with Tina on his back, Kitty leading him with a jump rope, and Minnie feeding two small boys with seedcakes, as they roared and ramped in cages built of chairs.
"We are playing nargerie," explained Kitty.
"Dis is mine effalunt!" added Tina, holding on by the Professor's hair.
"Mamma always allows us to do what we like Saturday afternoon, when Franz and Emil come, doesn't she, Mr. Bhaer?" said Minnie.
The 'effalunt' sat up, looking as much in earnest as any of them, and said soberly to me, "I gif you my wort it is so, if we make too large a noise you shall say Hush! to us, and we go more softly."
I promised to do so, but left the door open and enjoyed the fun as much as they did, for a more glorious frolic I never witnessed. They played tag and soldiers, danced and sang, and when it began to grow dark they all piled onto the sofa about the Professor, while he told charming fairy stories of the storks on the chimney tops, and the little 'koblods', who ride the snowflakes as they fall. I wish Americans were as simple and natural as Germans, don't you?
I'm so fond of writing, I should go spinning on forever if motives of economy didn't stop me, for though I've used thin paper and written fine, I tremble to think of the stamps this long letter will need. Pray forward Amy's as soon as you can spare them. My small news will sound very flat after her splendors, but you will like them, I know. Is Teddy studying so hard that he can't find time to write to his friends? Take good care of him for me, Beth, and tell me all about the babies, and give heaps of love to everyone. From your faithful Jo.
P.S. On reading over my letter, it strikes me as rather Bhaery, but I am always interested in odd people, and I really had nothing else to write about. Bless you!
DECEMBER
My Precious Betsey,
As this is to be a scribble-scrabble letter, I direct it to you, for it may amuse you, and give you some idea of my goings on, for though quiet, they are rather amusing, for which, oh, be joyful! After what Amy would call Herculaneum efforts, in the way of mental and moral agriculture, my young ideas begin to shoot and my little twigs to bend as I could wish. They are not so interesting to me as Tina and the boys, but I do my duty by them, and they are fond of me. Franz and Emil are jolly little lads, quite after my own heart, for the mixture of German and American spirit in them produces a constant state of effervescence. Saturday afternoons are riotous times, whether spent in the house or out, for on pleasant days they all go to walk, like a seminary, with the Professor and myself to keep order, and then such fun!
We are very good friends now, and I've begun to take lessons. I really couldn't help it, and it all came about in such a droll way that I must tell you. To begin at the beginning, Mrs. Kirke called to me one day as I passed Mr. Bhaer's room where she was rummaging.
"Did you ever see such a den, my dear? Just come and help me put these books to rights, for I've turned everything upside down, trying to discover what he has done with the six new handkerchiefs I gave him not long ago."
I went in, and while we worked I looked about me, for it was 'a den' to be sure. Books and papers everywhere, a broken meerschaum, and an old flute over the mantlepiece as if done with, a ragged bird without any tail chirped on one window seat, and a box of white mice adorned the other. Half-finished boats and bits of string lay among the manuscripts. Dirty little boots stood drying before the fire, and traces of the dearly beloved boys, for whom he makes a slave of himself, were to be seen all over the room. After a grand rummage three of the missing articles were found, one over the bird cage, one covered with ink, and a third burned brown, having been used as a holder.
"Such a man!" laughed good-natured Mrs. K., as she put the relics in the rag bay. "I suppose the others are torn up to rig ships, bandage cut fingers, or make kite tails. It's dreadful, but I can't scold him. He's so absent-minded and goodnatured, he lets those boys ride over him roughshod. I agreed to do his washing and mending, but he forgets to give out his things and I forget to look them over, so he comes to a sad pass sometimes."
"Let me mend them," said I. "I don't mind it, and he needn't know. I'd like to, he's so kind to me about bringing my letters and lending books."
So I have got his things in order, and knit heels into two pairs of the socks, for they were boggled out of shape with his queer darns. Nothing was said, and I hoped he wouldn't find it out, but one day last week he caught me at it. Hearing the lessons he gives to others has interested and amused me so much that I took a fancy to learn, for Tina runs in and out, leaving the door open, and I can hear. I had been sitting near this door, finishing off the last sock, and trying to understand what he said to a new scholar, who is as stupid as I am. The girl had gone, and I thought he had also, it was so still, and I was busily gabbling over a verb, and rocking to and fro in a most absurd way, when a little crow made me look up, and there was Mr. Bhaer looking and laughing quietly, while he made signs to Tina not to betray him.
"So!" he said, as I stopped and stared like a goose, "you peep at me, I peep at you, and this is not bad, but see, I am not pleasanting when I say, haf you a wish for German?"
"Yes, but you are too busy. I am too stupid to learn," I blundered out, as red as a peony.
"Prut! We will make the time, and we fail not to find the sense. At efening I shall gif a little lesson with much gladness, for look you, Mees Marsch, I haf this debt to pay." And he pointed to my work 'Yes,' they say to one another, these so kind ladies, 'he is a stupid old fellow, he will see not what we do, he will never observe that his sock heels go not in holes any more, he will think his buttons grow out new when they fall, and believe that strings make theirselves.' "Ah! But I haf an eye, and I see much. I haf a heart, and I feel thanks for this. Come, a little lesson then and now, or--no more good fairy works for me and mine."
Of course I couldn't say anything after that, and as it really is a splendid opportunity, I made the bargain, and we began. I took four lessons, and then I stuck fast in a grammatical bog. The Professor was very patient with me, but it must have been torment to him, and now and then he'd look at me with such an expression of mild despair that it was a toss-up with me whether to laugh or cry. I tried both ways, and when it came to a sniff or utter mortification and woe, he just threw the grammar on to the floor and marched out of the room. I felt myself disgraced and deserted forever, but didn't blame him a particle, and was scrambling my papers together, meaning to rush upstairs and shake myself hard, when in he came, as brisk and beaming as if I'd covered myself in glory.
"Now we shall try a new way. You and I will read these pleasant little _marchen_ together, and dig no more in that dry book, that goes in the corner for making us trouble."
He spoke so kindly, and opened Hans Andersons's fairy tales so invitingly before me, that I was more ashamed than ever, and went at my lesson in a neck-or-nothing style that seemed to amuse him immensely. I forgot my bashfulness, and pegged away (no other word will express it) with all my might, tumbling over long words, pronouncing according to inspiration of the minute, and doing my very best. When I finished reading my first page, and stopped for breath, he clapped his hands and cried out in his hearty way, "Das ist gut! Now we go well! My turn. I do him in German, gif me your ear." And away he went, rumbling out the words with his strong voice and a relish which was good to see as well as hear. Fortunately the story was _The Constant Tin Soldier_, which is droll, you know, so I could laugh, and I did, though I didn't understand half he read, for I couldn't help it, he was so earnest, I so excited, and the whole thing so comical.
After that we got on better, and now I read my lessons pretty well, for this way of studying suits me, and I can see that the grammar gets tucked into the tales and poetry as one gives pills in jelly. I like it very much, and he doesn't seem tired of it yet, which is very good of him, isn't it? I mean to give him something on Christmas, for I dare not offer money. Tell me something nice, Marmee.
I'm glad Laurie seems so happy and busy, that he has given up smoking and lets his hair grow. You see Beth manages him better than I did. I'm not jealous, dear, do your best, only don't make a saint of him. I'm afraid I couldn't like him without a spice of human naughtiness. Read him bits of my letters. I haven't time to write much, and that will do just as well. Thank Heaven Beth continues so comfortable.
JANUARY
A Happy New Year to you all, my dearest family, which of course includes Mr. L. and a young man by the name of Teddy. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed your Christmas bundle, for I didn't get it till night and had given up hoping. Your letter came in the morning, but you said nothing about a parcel, meaning it for a surprise, so I was disappointed, for I'd had a 'kind of feeling' that you wouldn't forget me. I felt a little low in my mind as I sat up in my room after tea, and when the big, muddy, battered-looking bundle was brought to me, I just hugged it and pranced. It was so homey and refreshing that I sat down on the floor and read and looked and ate and laughed and cried, in my usual absurd way. The things were just what I wanted, and all the better for being made instead of bought. Beth's new 'ink bib' was capital, and Hannah's box of hard gingerbread will be a treasure. I'll be sure and wear the nice flannels you sent, Marmee, and read carefully the books Father has marked. Thank you all, heaps and heaps!
Speaking of books reminds me that I'm getting rich in that line, for on New Year's Day Mr. Bhaer gave me a fine Shakespeare. It is one he values much, and I've often admired it, set up in the place of honor with his German Bible, Plato, Homer, and Milton, so you may imagine how I felt when he brought it down, without its cover, and showed me my own name in it, "from my friend Friedrich Bhaer".
"You say often you wish a library. Here I gif you one, for between these lids (he meant covers) is many books in one. Read him well, and he will help you much, for the study of character in this book will help you to read it in the world and paint it with your pen."
I thanked him as well as I could, and talk now about 'my library', as if I had a hundred books. I never knew how much there was in Shakespeare before, but then I never had a Bhaer to explain it to me. Now don't laugh at his horrid name. It isn't pronounced either Bear or Beer, as people will say it, but something between the two, as only Germans can give it. I'm glad you both like what I tell you about him, and hope you will know him some day. Mother would admire his warm heart, Father his wise head. I admire both, and feel rich in my new 'friend Friedrich Bhaer'.
Not having much money, or knowing what he'd like, I got several little things, and put them about the room, where he would find them unexpectedly. They were useful, pretty, or funny, a new standish on his table, a little vase for his flower, he always has one, or a bit of green in a glass, to keep him fresh, he says, and a holder for his blower, so that he needn't burn up what Amy calls 'mouchoirs'. I made it like those Beth invented, a big butterfly with a fat body, and black and yellow wings, worsted feelers, and bead eyes. It took his fancy immensely, and he put it on his mantlepiece as an article of virtue, so it was rather a failure after all. Poor as he is, he didn't forget a servant or a child in the house, and not a soul here, from the French laundrywoman to Miss Norton forgot him. I was so glad of that.
They got up a masquerade, and had a gay time New Year's Eve. I didn't mean to go down, having no dress. But at the last minute, Mrs. Kirke remembered some old brocades, and Miss Norton lent me lace and feathers. So I dressed up as Mrs. Malaprop, and sailed in with a mask on. No one knew me, for I disguised my voice, and no one dreamed of the silent, haughty Miss March (for they think I am very stiff and cool, most of them, and so I am to whippersnappers) could dance and dress, and burst out into a 'nice derangement of epitaphs, like an allegory on the banks of the Nile'. I enjoyed it very much, and when we unmasked it was fun to see them stare at me. I heard one of the young men tell another that he knew I'd been an actress, in fact, he thought he remembered seeing me at one of the minor theaters. Meg will relish that joke. Mr. Bhaer was Nick Bottom, and Tina was Titania, a perfect little fairy in his arms. To see them dance was 'quite a landscape', to use a Teddyism.
I had a very happy New Year, after all, and when I thought it over in my room, I felt as if I was getting on a little in spite of my many failures, for I'm cheerful all the time now, work with a will, and take more interest in other people than I used to, which is satisfactory. Bless you all! Ever your loving . . . Jo
 
纽约，１１月
亲爱的妈咪和贝思：
我打算定期给你们写些长信，我有许多事要告诉你们，尽管我不是在欧洲旅行的年轻漂亮的小姐。那天当我看不见爸爸那张熟悉可爱的面孔时，我感到有点儿难过。要不是一位带着四个孩子的爱尔兰女士转移了我的注意力，我也可能会滴几滴泪的。那几个孩子大哭小叫，每当他们张嘴嚎哭，我便把姜饼隔座位丢给他们，以此自娱。
不一会儿，太阳出来了。我把这作为一个吉兆，心情同样变好了。我全身心地享受着旅途的乐趣。
柯克太太那么亲切地迎接我，我立刻便感到像在家里一样，虽说那个大房子里住的尽是陌生人。她让我住在一间有趣的小阁楼上--她只有这么一间了，不过里面有一个炉子，明亮的窗户边摆着一张很好的桌子，我高兴时可以坐在那里写作。在这里能看见美丽的景色和对面的教堂塔楼，弥补了要爬许多层楼梯的不足。我当时就喜欢上了我的卧室。我将在育儿室教书，做针线活，那是间令人愉快的屋子，就在柯克太太的起居室隔壁。两个小女孩很漂亮-我想，有点娇生惯养。但是，我给她们讲了"七头坏猪"的故事后，她们便喜欢上我了。我敢肯定我会成为一个模范的家庭女教师。
我和孩子们在一起吃饭，也就是说要是我宁愿这样而不喜欢坐在大桌旁吃饭的话。目前是这样的，因为，我确实不好意思，尽管没人相信。
“嗨，亲爱的，随便一点，别客气，”柯克太太慈爱地说，”你可以想象，这样一个大家要照管，我从早到晚忙个没完。
要是我知道孩子们安全地和你在一起，我心中的一个大包袱就卸掉了。我所有的屋子都对你敞开着，我会尽力把你的屋子弄得舒适。你要是想交朋友，这里住着些有意思的人。晚上，没有你的事。如果有什么问题就来找我。尽可能快快活活的。吃茶点的铃响了，我得去换帽子。”她匆匆地跑开了，丢下我在新屋里安顿。
过了一会儿我下楼时，看到了一件我喜欢的事。这座房子很高，楼梯很长，我站在第三个台阶口等候一个小女仆过去，她扛着重重的一筐煤艰难地往上爬，我看见她后面一位先生也往上走，他从她手中接过煤，一直扛到顶层，把煤放在近旁的一个小屋门口，然后和气地对小女仆点点头，带着外国腔说：“这样才比较合适，小小的背经不起这样的重量。”他那样做，不错吧？我喜欢这种行为。就像爸爸说的那样，小事见气质。我向柯克太太提起了这件事，她笑着说：“那肯定是巴尔教授，他总是干那种事。”柯克太太告诉我，他从柏林来，很有学问，为人很好，可是一贫如洗。他授课养活自己和他的两个孤儿侄子。他的姐姐嫁了个美国人，遵照姐姐的遗愿，他在这里教他的侄儿们。
这故事不太浪漫，但是我感兴趣。我听说柯克太太把她的起居室借给他用来上课我很高兴。起居室和我的育儿室中间隔着道玻璃门。我是说，可以偷看他，然后我告诉你们他的模样。妈咪，他快四十岁了，所以不会出问题的。
吃完茶点，和小姑娘们做了一会睡前游戏，我就拿起那个大缝纫工具筐，开始干活，一边和我的新朋友闲聊，过了个安静的夜晚。我将继续写书信体日记，一周给你们寄一次。
晚安，明天再谈。
星期二晚
今天早上的课上得很愉快。孩子们表现得像塞万提斯笔下的桑丘。有一会儿，我真以为我把她们吓得浑身发抖。神使鬼差地，我突然来了灵感，要教她们体育，我一直教到她们乐意坐下来并保持安静。午饭后，女仆带她们出去散步，我去做针线活，像小梅布尔那样"心甘情愿地"。我觉得很幸运，学会了锁漂亮的扣眼。正在这时，起居室的门开了，随后又关上了，有人开始哼着歌：“ＫｅｎｎｓｔｄｕｄａｓＬａｎｄ，”声音像大黄蜂，我知道偷看不合适，可又抵抗不了诱惑。
于是我撩起对着玻璃门的窗帘，往里看去。巴尔教授在里面。
他在整理书本。我趁机仔细观察了他，他是一个地道的德国人--相当健壮，有着一头乱蓬蓬的棕色头发，胡须浓密，鼻子端正，目光很亲切。听惯了美国人说话时要么刺耳、要么含混的腔调，巴尔教授的声音听起来洪亮悦耳。他衣着破旧，手很大，除了漂亮的牙齿，脸上的五官真没有好看的。可是，我还是喜欢他。他头脑聪明，亚麻布衬衫很挺括。虽然他的外套掉了两个钮扣，一只鞋上有块补钉，但他看上去仍有绅士风度。他嘴里哼着调，神情却很严肃。他走向窗子，把风信子球移到向阳处，然后抚弄着小猫，小猫像对待老朋友一样任他抚摸。他笑了。他听到敲门声，迅即高声叫道：“Ｈｅｒｅｉｎ！”我正要跑开，突然瞥见一个拿着一本大书的可爱的小不点，便停步看看是怎么回事。
“我要我的巴尔。”小东西砰地放下书，跑向他。
“你会得到巴尔的。来吧，让他好好抱抱你，我的蒂娜，”教授说。他笑着捉住她，将她举过头顶，不过举得太高了，她只好将小脸蛋往下伸去亲他。
“我现在学课课了，”那有趣的小东西接着说。于是巴尔将她放在桌边，打开了她带来的大字典，又给她一张纸和一支铅笔。小东西便乱画起来，不时翻过去一页，胖胖的小手指顺着书页往下指着，好像在找一个字。她神态那么严肃，我不由笑了起来，差点儿被发觉了。巴尔站在她身边，带着父亲般的神情抚弄着她美丽的头发。我想她肯定是他的女儿，尽管她看上去更像法国人而不像德国人。
又有人敲门，进来两个年轻的小姐，我便回去干我的事了。这次我很有德行地一直工作没再偷看。但隔壁的吵闹声、说话声我却能听见。其中一个女孩一直做作地笑着，还声音轻佻地说"喂，教授"。另一个的德语发音肯定使教授难以保持严肃。
两位小姐似乎都在严厉地考验着教授的忍耐力，因为，不止一次我听见他强调说：“不，不，不是这样的，你没有听我说。”一次，又听见很响的敲击声，好像是他用书敲桌子，然后沮丧地感叹：“唉！今天一切都乱了套。”可怜的人，我同情他。小姐们走后，我又偷看了一下，看他可经受得住这些。他似乎精疲力尽，靠在椅子里，闭着眼睛，直到钟敲两点，他才一跃而起，将书本放进口袋，仿佛准备再去上课。他抱起在沙发上睡着了的蒂娜，轻轻地离开了。我想他的日子过得不轻松。柯克太太问我五点钟开晚饭时愿不愿意下楼去吃。我有点儿想家，也就愿意下去吃了，我只是想看看和我住在同一屋顶下的是些什么人。于是，我故作大方，想跟在柯克太太身后溜进去。可是她个子矮，我个子高，想让她遮住我的企图失败了。她让我坐在她身旁。待到我发烧的脸冷却下来，我鼓起勇气朝四下打量，长桌子边坐满了人，每个人都在专心致志地吃饭 -尤其是先生们，他们吃饭似乎是指定时间的。因为从任何一种意义上说，他们都是在狼吞虎咽，而且饭一吃完人便无影无踪了。这里有通常那种高谈阔论的年轻人，有情意绵绵的年轻夫妇，也有满脑子想着自己孩子的已婚女士，以及热衷政治的老先生们。我想，我不喜欢和他们中任何人打交道，除了那个面容姣好的未婚女士，她看上去有点头脑。
教授给扔在了桌子的末端，他大声回答着身边一个老先生的问题。这老先生耳朵聋，好奇心倒很强。同时，他又和另一边的一个法国人谈论着哲学。假如艾美在这里，她会永远不再理睬他了，因为，很遗憾，他的胃口板大，那风卷残云般的吃相会吓坏了"小姐"。可我不在乎，我喜欢"看人们吃得有滋有味"，像罕娜说的那样。那可怜的人一整天都教那帮傻瓜们，肯定需要吃很多食物。
吃完饭我上楼时，两上年轻人在大厅镜子前整理帽子。我听见一个对另一个低语：“新来的那人是谁？”“家庭教师，或者那一类的什么人吧。”“她到底为什么和我们同桌吃饭？”“她是老太太的朋友。”“头脑机敏，但是没有风度。”“一点也没有。借个火，我们走吧。”开始我感到气愤。后来我不在乎了。因为家庭教师事实上等于职员。根据这两个优雅人士的判断，即便是我没有风度，可我有理智，这就比一些人要强。那两个人叽叽喳喳说笑着走了，他们抽着烟像两座讨人厌的烟囱。我恨那些缺乏教养的人。
星期四
昨天过得很安静。我教书，缝纫，然后在我的小屋里写作。屋里有灯，有火，非常舒服。我听说了一些事，还被引见了教授。蒂娜好像是这里洗衣房熨衣服的法国女人的孩子。
小东西喜欢上了巴尔教授，只要他在家，她就像只小狗似地屋前屋后跟着他转，使巴尔很高兴。尽管他是个“单身男"，却非常喜欢孩子。基蒂和明妮同样喜欢他。她们讲述他的各种事情，他发明的游戏，他带来的礼物，他讲的美妙的故事。
似乎年轻人都嘲笑他，叫他老德国人、大熊座，用他的名字开各种各样的玩笑。然而，柯克太太说，他像个孩子似地欣赏这一切，从不生气。所以虽然他有外国味，大家都喜欢他。
那个未婚女士是一个叫诺顿的小姐- 富有，有教养，和善。今天吃饭时她和我说话了（我又去大桌子吃饭了，观察人是多么有趣）。她要我到她屋子里去看她。她有很多好书、画片，她懂得哪些人是属于有趣味的，她似乎很友好。所以，我也将表现得令人满意。因为，我真的想进入上流社会，只是和艾美喜欢的那种社会不同。
昨天晚上，我在起居室，突然巴尔先生进来给柯克太太送报纸。她不在那里，但是，可爱的小妇人明妮得体地介绍道：“这是妈妈的朋友，马奇小姐。”“是的，她很有趣，我们喜欢她这样的人，”基蒂补充道。
她是个ｅｎeａｎｔｔｅｒｒｉｂｌｅ。
我们相互鞠躬，然后都笑了。那一本正经的介绍和直率的补充形成了滑稽的反差。
“啊，是的，我听说这些小淘气们在烦你，马奇小姐。要是她们再这样，叫我一声，我就会来了，”他说。他威胁地皱着眉，把小家伙们逗乐了。
我答应有事会叫他的。他离开了，但是看起来好像我注定老要见到他。今天，我出门时经过他门口，不小心雨伞碰到了他的房门，门给碰开了。他穿着晨衣，站在那里，一只手拿着一只蓝色短袜，另一只手拿着根缝衣针。他似乎一点儿也不感到难为情，因为当我向他解释后，匆匆走开时，他手持短袜与针，向我挥动着，还愉快地大声说道- “今天出门天气不错。Ｂｏｎｖｏｙａｇｅ，ｍａｄｅｍｏｉｓｅｌｌｅ。”我一路笑着下了楼，同时想到那可怜的人得自己补衣服，有点感伤。德国先生的刺绣我知道，可是缝补短袜却是另一回事了，不那么潇洒。
星期日
没什么事可写了，只是我去拜访了诺顿小姐。她的屋子里满是漂亮的东西，诺顿小姐非常可爱，她给我看了她所有的宝贝，还问我愿不愿陪伴她去听讲座，听音乐会- 假如我喜欢的话。她是以一种好意提出来的，但是我确信柯克太太把我们的情况告诉了她。她出于好心才这么做的。我非常高傲，但是受这样的人提供这样的恩惠，我不感到负担，所以我感激地接受了。
回到有儿室，里面喧闹异常。我朝里看去，只见巴尔先生四肢着地，蒂娜骑在他背上，基蒂用一根跳绳牵着他，明妮在喂两个小男孩吃芝麻饼，他们在用椅子搭的笼子里笑着叫着，蹦着跳着。
“我们在扮兽兽玩，”基蒂解释道。
“这是我的大象，”蒂娜接口，她正拽着教授的头发。
“星期六下午弗朗兹和埃米尔来了，妈妈总是随我们怎么玩，是不是这样，巴尔先生？”“大象"直起身来，神情和其他人一样认真，他一本正经地对我说：“我向你保证是这样的。要是我们弄出的声音太大了，你就嘘一声，我们就会把声音放低点的。”我答应这样做，但是我让门开着，和他们一样享受着乐趣 -因为我从来没见过比这更好玩的嬉戏了。他们捉迷藏，扮演士兵，唱歌，跳舞。天黑下来时，他们便挤到沙发上围在教授身边听他讲动人的童话故事，什么烟囱顶上的白鹤啦，什么帮做家务的小"精灵们"踏着雪降临啦，等等。我希望美国人像德国人那样纯洁自然，你们说呢？
我太喜欢写作了。假如不是经济的原因，我会一直这么写下去的，因为尽管我用的是薄纸，字也写得小，可一想到这封长信需要的邮票我就发抖。艾美的信你们看完后请转给我。读过艾美描述豪华生活的信，我的小小新闻很令人乏味。
但是，我知道，你们还是会喜欢读我的信。特迪是不是太用功了，连给他的朋友们写信的时间都没有？贝思，为我好好照顾他。把两个孩子的一切都告诉我。向大家亲切地致意。
你们忠实的乔
又及：重读一遍我的信，发现写巴尔的事太多了。可我总是对古怪的人产生兴趣，而且我真的没什么别的事好写。上帝保佑你们！
十二月
我的宝贝贝思：
这封信写得乱七八糟，潦潦草草，我是写给你的，它会让你高兴，让你了解一些我在这里的情况。这里的日子虽然安静，可是很有趣，因为，哦，令人开心！经过那种艾美会叫做大力神般的巨大努力，在思想与道德的耕耘上，我的新思想在学生们身上开始发芽，我的小树枝们可以任意弯曲了。
我的学生们不像蒂娜和男孩子们那样有趣。可是我对他们尽了责任，他们喜欢我。弗朗兹和埃米尔是两个活泼的小伙子，相当合我意。他们身上混和着德国人和美国人的性情，所以总是处于兴奋状态。不管是在屋里还是在窗外，星期六下午总是闹嚷嚷的。天气好，他们都去散步，好像这是一个固定课程。我和教授维持秩序，多好玩！
现在我们是好朋友了，我开始听他的课，我真的没办法。
这事情来得太滑稽，我得告诉你。从头开始吧。一天，我经过巴尔先生的屋子，柯克太太叫住了我，她在里面翻找东西。
“亲爱的，你可见过这样的一个窝？过来帮我把这些书放放好，我把东西翻得乱七八糟了，我想看看他把我前不久给他的六条新手帕用来做什么了。”我进了屋，一边忙着一边四下打量。没错，这真是"一个窝"。到处是书籍纸张；壁炉架上放着一个坏了的海泡石烟斗和一支旧笛子，好像已经不能用了；一只没有尾巴的羽毛蓬乱的鸟在窗台上啁啾着，另一个窗口上放着一盒子白鼠；做了一半的小船、一段段绳头和手稿混放在一边；肮脏的小靴子放在火前烤着；屋子里到处可见那些可爱的男孩们的痕迹，教授为他们忙忙碌碌。一阵大搜寻，找出了失踪的三条手帕--一条在鸟笼上，一条上面全是墨水迹，一条被用作风箱的夹具给烧焦了。
“竟有这种人！”脾气好的柯克太太笑着把这些脏兮兮的手帕放进垃圾袋。”我猜其他几条手帕被撕开用作了船索，包扎受伤的指头，或者做风筝尾巴了。真是可怕，可我不能责骂他。他那么心不在焉，脾气温和，由着那些男孩们对他恣意妄为。我答应为他缝补浆洗，可是他记不得把东西拿出来，我又忘了查看，所以他有时弄得很狼狈。”“我来为他缝补衣服，”我说，”我不在乎，他也不需要知道。我愿意--他待我这么客气，为我取信，借书给我。”于是，我把他的东西收拾整齐，为他的两双短袜织了后跟--因为他那古怪的缝法把袜子弄得不成形了。什么也没说，我希望他不会发觉这些。可是上星期的一天，我正干着给他当场捉住了。听他给别人上课，我感到非常有趣、好玩，我也想跟着学。上课时，蒂娜跑进跑出，把门开着，所以我能听见。我一直坐在靠近那扇门的地方。最后一只短袜就快完工了。我努力想听懂他为一个新生讲的课，这个学生和我一样笨。后来女学生走了，我想他也走了，屋子里那么安静。
我的嘴忙个不停，唠叨着一个动词，坐在椅子里极其可笑地摇来摇去。突然，一声欢叫使我抬起头来，巴尔先生正看着我，静静地笑着，一边给蒂娜打手势不要出卖他。
“行了！”他说。我住了嘴，像只呆鹅似地盯着他。”你偷看了我，我也偷看了你。这倒不错，你瞧，我这么说让你不愉快，你想学德语？”“是的，可是你太忙了。而我太笨学不了，”我笨嘴拙舌地说，脸红得像朵玫瑰。
“嗯，让我们来安排时间。我们能安排妥当的。晚上我会很乐意给你上点课，因为，你瞧，马奇小姐，我得还你的债。”他指着我手里的活计。“'是的'，那些模样和善的女士们议论着，'他是个老笨蛋，我们做什么他都看不见，他根本注意不到他的袜跟不再有洞了，他以为他的纽扣掉了会重新长出来，针线自己会缝。'噢！可是，我长着眼睛，我看到了许多。
我长着心，对这一切我存有感激之情。好了，我会不时给你上点课，要不，就别再给我干这些童话般的事了。”当然，这一来我便无话可说了。这也确实是个非常好的机会，我和他就这样订了约，开始实行。我听了四堂课，然后就陷进了语法沼泽。教授对我非常耐心，不过，那对他肯定是一种折磨。他不时地带着一种颇为失望的表情看着我，弄得我不知该哭还是该笑。我哭过，也笑过。当情况变得糟糕透顶、令人窘迫不堪时，他就把语法书往地上一扔，脚步沉重地走出屋子。我感到耻辱，感到被永远地遗弃了。我匆匆收拾起我的纸，打算冲到楼上大哭一场，就在这时，他又进来了，欢快地微笑着，好像我的学业取得了辉煌的胜利。
“现在，我们来试一种新方法，我和你一起读这些有趣的小ＭｏAｒｃｈｅｎ，不再去钻那本枯燥无味的书了。那本书给我们添了麻烦，让它去角落里呆着吧。“他那样亲切地说着，在我面前打开了汉斯•安徒生引人入胜的童话，我感到更惭愧了。我拼命地学功课，这似乎使他非常高兴。我忘掉了害羞，尽全力努力（没别的字可以描述它）学着。长单词绊住了我，我凭当时的灵感发音，我尽了最大的努力。读完第一页，我停下来喘气，他拍着手，热诚地叫道：“Ｄａｓｉｓｔｇｕｔ！我们学得不错。轮到我了。我用德语读，听我读。”他读开了，那大嗓门咕噜噜读出一个个单词，津津有味的神情十分滑稽，和他的声音听起来一样可笑。幸运的是，这个故事是《坚定的锡兵》，很好笑，你知道的，所以我尽可以笑我确实笑了--虽然他读的我一半都不懂。我忍不住笑，他那样认真，我那样激动。整个事情那样可笑。
打那以后，我们相处得更好了。现在我的课文能读得相当不错了，因为这种学习方式适合于我。我看出语法夹进故事和诗歌里，就像把药夹进酱里一样。我非常喜欢这种学法。
他似乎还没有厌倦--他这样做非常好，是不是？我打算圣诞节送他点什么，因为我不敢给他钱。妈咪，告诉我，送些什么好呢？
很高兴劳里似乎那么幸福，那么忙碌。很高兴他戒了烟，开始蓄发。你看，贝思，你比我更能调教好他。亲爱的，我不忌妒。尽你的力吧，只是别把他变成一个圣人。若是他没有一点儿人类的顽皮淘气劲，恐怕我就不能喜欢他了。给他读一些我的信。我没有时间多写，那样也就可以了。感谢上帝，贝思能一直保持身心愉快。
一月
祝大家新年快乐，我最亲爱的家人，当然包括劳伦斯先生和那个叫特迪的年轻人。我描述不出我多么喜欢你们寄给我的圣诞包裹。那天到了晚上我已放弃希望时，才收到包裹。
你们的信是早上到的，可是你们没提及包裹，是打算给我一个惊喜。所以开始时我失望了。我有"一种感觉"，你们不会忘记我的，吃完下午茶后，我坐在屋里，情绪有点低落。正在这时，那个磨损了的泥色大包裹给送来了。我抱着它欢跳起来。它那么亲切，那么与众不同，我坐在地板上以我那种可笑的方式读着、看着、吃着、笑着、哭着。东西正是我想要的，是你们做的而不是买来的更好。贝思做的新"擦墨水围裙"好极了，罕娜嬷嬷做的那盒硬姜饼我会当做宝贝。妈咪，我一定会穿上你寄来的法兰绒衣服。我会仔细阅读爸爸做了记号的书。感谢大家，非常、非常感谢！
说到书提醒了我，告诉你们，在这方面我富起来了，因为元旦那天，巴尔先生送给我一本精致的莎士比亚。那是他非常心爱的书，和他的德语圣经、柏拉图、荷马、弥尔顿放在一起。我常为它赞叹。所以你们可以想象得出他把书拿给我时我的心情。书没有封皮，他指给我看书上写着的我的名字：“我的朋友弗里德里克•巴尔赠。”“你常说你想拥有藏书，我送你一本。这些盖子（他是指封皮）之间有许多本，这是其中一本。好好读书，它会给你很大的帮助。研究这书中的人物将会帮助你读懂现实生活中的人们，用你的笔描绘他们。”我万般地感谢他。现在谈起"我的藏书"，好像我已经拥有一百本书了。以前，我根本不知道莎士比亚作品里有多少内涵，那时也根本没有一个巴尔为我解释。别笑话他那可怕的名字，发音既不是贝尔（熊），也不是比尔（啤酒），人们常常那样发音。介乎两者之间，只有德国人才能发准。很高兴你们俩都喜欢听我谈论他的事。希望有一天你们能认识他。
妈妈会欣赏他的热心肠，爸爸会欣赏他聪明的头脑。两样我都欣赏，拥有新“朋友弗里德里克•巴尔"感到充实富有。
我没有多少钱，也不知道他喜欢什么。我便准备了一些小东西，放在他屋子里的四处，他会出乎意料地在那里发现它的。这些东西有用处，可爱，或者引人发笑 桌子上的新笔座，插花用的小花瓶 -他总用玻璃杯插一支鲜花，要么插点绿草，他说那样使他充满活力还有一个风箱的夹具，这样他就不必烧掉艾美称作的"ｍｏｕｃｈｏｉｒｓ"了。我把它做得像贝思创造的那些东西 -一个身体肥胖的大蝴蝶，黑黄相间的翅膀，绒线的触须，玻璃球的眼睛。这非常合他的意，他把它作为一件艺术品放在壁炉架上，尽管我做得不太理想。他虽然穷，但他忘不了公寓里的每一个仆人，每一个孩子。这里所有的人，从法国洗衣妇到诺顿小姐，也都忘不了他。我对此非常高兴。
元旦前夕，他们举行了假面舞会，玩得很快乐。我原本不打算去的，因为我没有服装。但是在最后一刻，柯克太太记起有件旧花缎裙，诺顿小姐借给我丝带和饰羽。于是我装扮成马勒齐罗普太太，带着面具步态优美地走进舞常没有人认出我，因为我改变了说话腔调。大家做梦也没想到沉默、高傲的马奇小姐会跳舞，会打扮，会突然出现加入这个"可爱的纪念死者狂欢会，就像是尼罗河岸的一幅讽喻画"（他们中的大多数人都认为我很呆板、沉静，所以我无足轻重）。我玩得非常开心。当我们卸下面具时，看到他们盯着我看真好笑。我听见一个年轻人对另一个说，他知道我曾经当过演员，事实上，他想他记得在一个小剧院看见过我。梅格会对这个玩笑感兴趣的。巴尔先生装成尼克•包特姆，蒂娜是仙后泰坦尼娅 -拥在他臂弯里的一个完美的小仙女。看他们这一对跳舞真是"权当一道风景"，用特迪的话说。
毕竟，我的新年过得非常愉快，回到屋里想想，我感到尽管我有过一些失败，还是有些进步的。现在我始终很快乐，工作热心，对别人比以前更关切，这一切都令人满意。上帝保佑你们大家！永远爱你们的乔
Chapter 34 Friend
Though very happy in the social atmosphere about her, and very busy with the daily work that earned her bread and made it sweeter for the effort, Jo still found time for literary labors. The purpose which now took possession of her was a natural one to a poor and ambitious girl, but the means she took to gain her end were not the best. She saw that money conferred power, money and power, therefore, she resolved to have, not to be used for herself alone, but for those whom she loved more than life. The dream of filling home with comforts, giving Beth everything she wanted, from strawberries in winter to an organ in her bedroom, going abroad herself, and always having more than enough, so that she might indulge in the luxury of charity, had been for years Jo's most cherished castle in the air.
The prize-story experience had seemed to open a way which might, after long traveling and much uphill work, lead to this delightful chateau en Espagne. But the novel disaster quenched her courage for a time, for public opinion is a giant which has frightened stouter-hearted Jacks on bigger beanstalks than hers. Like that immortal hero, she reposed awhile after the first attempt, which resulted in a tumble and the least lovely of the giant's treasures, if I remember rightly. But the 'up again and take another' spirit was as strong in Jo as in Jack, so she scrambled up on the shady side this time and got more booty, but nearly left behind her what was far more precious than the moneybags.
She took to writing sensation stories, for in those dark ages, even all-perfect America read rubbish. She told no one, but concocted a 'thrilling tale', and boldly carried it herself to Mr. Dashwood, editor of the Weekly Volcano. She had never read Sartor Resartus, but she had a womanly instinct that clothes possess an influence more powerful over many than the worth of character or the magic of manners. So she dressed herself in her best, and trying to persuade herself that she was neither excited nor nervous, bravely climbed two pairs of dark and dirty stairs to find herself in a disorderly room, a cloud of cigar smoke, and the presence of three gentlemen, sitting with their heels rather higher than their hats, which articles of dress none of them took the trouble to remove on her appearance. Somewhat daunted by this reception, Jo hesitated on the threshold, murmuring in much embarrassment . . .
"Excuse me, I was looking for the Weekly Volcano office. I wished to see Mr. Dashwood."
Down went the highest pair of heels, up rose the smokiest gentleman, and carefully cherishing his cigar between his fingers, he advanced with a nod and a countenance expressive of nothing but sleep. Feeling that she must get through the matter somehow, Jo produced her manuscript and, blushing redder and redder with each sentence, blundered out fragments of the little speech carefully prepared for the occasion.
"A friend of mine desired me to offer--a story--just as an experiment--would like your opinion--be glad to write more if this suits."
While she blushed and blundered, Mr. Dashwood had taken the manuscript, and was turning over the leaves with a pair of rather dirty fingers, and casting critical glances up and down the neat pages.
"Not a first attempt, I take it?" observing that the pages were numbered, covered only on one side, and not tied up with a ribbon--sure sign of a novice.
"No, sir. She has had some experience, and got a prize for a tale in the _Blarneystone Banner_."
"Oh, did she?" and Mr. Dashwood gave Jo a quick look, which seemed to take note of everything she had on, from the bow in her bonnet to the buttons on her boots. "Well, you can leave it, if you like. We've more of this sort of thing on hand than we know what to do with at present, but I'll run my eye over it, and give you an answer next week."
Now, Jo did _not_ like to leave it, for Mr. Dashwood didn't suit her at all, but, under the circumstances, there was nothing for her to do but bow and walk away, looking particularly tall and dignified, as she was apt to do when nettled or abashed. Just then she was both, for it was perfectly evident from the knowing glances exchanged among the gentlemen that her little fiction of 'my friend' was considered a good joke, and a laugh, produced by some inaudible remark of the editor, as he closed the door, completed her discomfiture. Half resolving never to return, she went home, and worked off her irritation by stitching pinafores vigorously, and in an hour or two was cool enough to laugh over the scene and long for next week.
When she went again, Mr. Dashwood was alone, whereat she rejoiced. Mr. Dashwood was much wider awake than before, which was agreeable, and Mr. Dashwood was not too deeply absorbed in a cigar to remember his manners, so the second interview was much more comfortable than the first.
"We'll take this (editors never say I), if you don't object to a few alterations. It's too long, but omitting the passages I've marked will make it just the right length," he said, in a businesslike tone.
Jo hardly knew her own MS. again, so crumpled and underscored were its pages and paragraphs, but feeling as a tender parent might on being asked to cut off her baby's legs in order that it might fit into a new cradle, she looked at the marked passages and was surprised to find that all the moral reflections--which she had carefully put in as ballast for much romance--had been stricken out.
"But, Sir, I thought every story should have some sort of a moral, so I took care to have a few of my sinners repent."
Mr. Dashwoods's editorial gravity relaxed into a smile, for Jo had forgotten her 'friend', and spoken as only an author could.
"People want to be amused, not preached at, you know. Morals don't sell nowadays." Which was not quite a correct statement, by the way.
"You think it would do with these alterations, then?"
"Yes, it's a new plot, and pretty well worked up--language good, and so on," was Mr. Dashwood's affable reply.
"What do you--that is, what compensation--" began Jo, not exactly knowing how to express herself.
"Oh, yes, well, we give from twenty-five to thirty for things of this sort. Pay when it comes out," returned Mr. Dashwood, as if that point had escaped him. Such trifles do escape the editorial mind, it is said.
"Very well, you can have it," said Jo, handing back the story with a satisfied air, for after the dollar-a-column work, even twenty-five seemed good pay.
"Shall I tell my friend you will take another if she has one better than this?" asked Jo, unconscious of her little slip of the tongue, and emboldened by her success.
"Well, we'll look at it. Can't promise to take it. Tell her to make it short and spicy, and never mind the moral. What name would your friend like to put on it?" in a careless tone.
"None at all, if you please, she doesn't wish her name to appear and has no nom de plume," said Jo, blushing in spite of herself.
"Just as she likes, of course. The tale will be out next week. Will you call for the money, or shall I send it?" asked Mr. Dashwood, who felt a natural desire to know who his new contributor might be.
"I'll call. Good morning, Sir."
As she departed, Mr. Dashwood put up his feet, with the graceful remark, "Poor and proud, as usual, but she'll do."
Following Mr. Dashwood's directions, and making Mrs. Northbury her model, Jo rashly took a plunge into the frothy sea of sensational literature, but thanks to the life preserver thrown her by a friend, she came up again not much the worse for her ducking.
Like most young scribblers, she went abroad for her characters and scenery, and banditti, counts, gypsies, nuns, and duchesses appeared upon her stage, and played their parts with as much accuracy and spirit as could be expected. Her readers were not particular about such trifles as grammar, punctuation, and probability, and Mr. Dashwood graciously permitted her to fill his columns at the lowest prices, not thinking it necessary to tell her that the real cause of his hospitality was the fact that one of his hacks, on being offered higher wages, had basely left him in the lurch.
She soon became interested in her work, for her emaciated purse grew stout, and the little hoard she was making to take Beth to the mountains next summer grew slowly but surely as the weeks passed. One thing disturbed her satisfaction, and that was that she did not tell them at home. She had a feeling that Father and Mother would not approve, and preferred to have her own way first, and beg pardon afterward. It was easy to keep her secret, for no name appeared with her stories. Mr. Dashwood had of course found it out very soon, but promised to be dumb, and for a wonder kept his word.
She thought it would do her no harm, for she sincerely meant to write nothing of which she would be ashamed, and quieted all pricks of conscience by anticipations of the happy minute when she should show her earnings and laugh over her well-kept secret.
But Mr. Dashwood rejected any but thrilling tales, and as thrills could not be produced except by harrowing up the souls of the readers, history and romance, land and sea, science and art, police records and lunatic asylums, had to be ransacked for the purpose. Jo soon found that her innocent experience had given her but few glimpses of the tragic world which underlies society, so regarding it in a business light, she set about supplying her deficiencies with characteristic energy. Eager to find material for stories, and bent on making them original in plot, if not masterly in execution, she searched newspapers for accidents, incidents, and crimes. She excited the suspicions of public librarians by asking for works on poisons. She studied faces in the street, and characters, good, bad, and indifferent, all about her. She delved in the dust of ancient times for facts or fictions so old that they were as good as new, and introduced herself to folly, sin, and misery, as well as her limited opportunities allowed. She thought she was prospering finely, but unconsciously she was beginning to desecrate some of the womanliest attributes of a woman's character. She was living in bad society, and imaginary though it was, its influence affected her, for she was feeding heart and fancy on dangerous and unsubstantial food, and was fast brushing the innocent bloom from her nature by a premature acquaintance with the darker side of life, which comes soon enough to all of us.
She was beginning to feel rather than see this, for much describing of other people's passions and feelings set her to studying and speculating about her own, a morbid amusement in which healthy young minds do not voluntarily indulge. Wrongdoing always brings its own punishment, and when Jo most needed hers, she got it.
I don't know whether the study of Shakespeare helped her to read character, or the natural instinct of a woman for what was honest, brave, and strong, but while endowing her imaginary heroes with every perfection under the sun, Jo was discovering a live hero, who interested her in spite of many human imperfections. Mr. Bhaer, in one of their conversations, had advised her to study simple, true, and lovely characters, wherever she found them, as good training for a writer. Jo took him at his word, for she coolly turned round and studied him--a proceeding which would have much surprised him, had he known it, for the worthy Professor was very humble in his own conceit.
Why everybody liked him was what puzzled Jo, at first. He was neither rich nor great, young nor handsome, in no respect what is called fascinating, imposing, or brilliant, and yet he was as attractive as a genial fire, and people seemed to gather about him as naturally as about a warm hearth. He was poor, yet always appeared to be giving something away; a stranger, yet everyone was his friend; no longer young, but as happy-hearted as a boy; plain and peculiar, yet his face looked beautiful to many, and his oddities were freely forgiven for his sake. Jo often watched him, trying to discover the charm, and at last decided that it was benevolence which worked the miracle. If he had any sorrow, 'it sat with its head under its wing', and he turned only his sunny side to the world. There were lines upon his forehead, but Time seemed to have touched him gently, remembering how kind he was to others. The pleasant curves about his mouth were the memorials of many friendly words and cheery laughs, his eyes were never cold or hard, and his big hand had a warm, strong grasp that was more expressive than words.
His very clothes seemed to partake of the hospitable nature of the wearer. They looked as if they were at ease, and liked to make him comfortable. His capacious waistcoat was suggestive of a large heart underneath. His rusty coat had a social air, and the baggy pockets plainly proved that little hands often went in empty and came out full. His very boots were benevolent, and his collars never stiff and raspy like other people's.
"That's it!" said Jo to herself, when she at length discovered that genuine good will toward one's fellow men could beautify and dignify even a stout German teacher, who shoveled in his dinner, darned his own socks, and was burdened with the name of Bhaer.
Jo valued goodness highly, but she also possessed a most feminine respect for intellect, and a little discovery which she made about the Professor added much to her regard for him. He never spoke of himself, and no one ever knew that in his native city he had been a man much honored and esteemed for learning and integrity, till a countryman came to see him. He never spoke of himself, and in a conversation with Miss Norton divulged the pleasing fact. From her Jo learned it, and liked it all the better because Mr. Bhaer had never told it. She felt proud to know that he was an honored Professor in Berlin, though only a poor language-master in America, and his homely, hard-working life was much beautified by the spice of romance which this discovery gave it. Another and a better gift than intellect was shown her in a most unexpected manner. Miss Norton had the entree into most society, which Jo would have had no chance of seeing but for her. The solitary woman felt an interest in the ambitious girl, and kindly conferred many favors of this sort both on Jo and the Professor. She took them with her one night to a select symposium, held in honor of several celebrities.
Jo went prepared to bow down and adore the mighty ones whom she had worshiped with youthful enthusiasm afar off. But her reverence for genius received a severe shock that night, and it took her some time to recover from the discovery that the great creatures were only men and women after all. Imagine her dismay, on stealing a glance of timid admiration at the poet whose lines suggested an ethereal being fed on 'spirit, fire, and dew', to behold him devouring his supper with an ardor which flushed his intellectual countenance. Turning as from a fallen idol, she made other discoveries which rapidly dispelled her romantic illusions. The great novelist vibrated between two decanters with the regularity of a pendulum; the famous divine flirted openly with one of the Madame de Staels of the age, who looked daggers at another Corinne, who was amiably satirizing her, after outmaneuvering her in efforts to absorb the profound philosopher, who imbibed tea Johnsonianly and appeared to slumber, the loquacity of the lady rendering speech impossible. The scientific celebrities, forgetting their mollusks and glacial periods, gossiped about art, while devoting themselves to oysters and ices with characteristic energy; the young musician, who was charming the city like a second Orpheus, talked horses; and the specimen of the British nobility present happened to be the most ordinary man of the party.
Before the evening was half over, Jo felt so completely disillusioned, that she sat down in a corner to recover herself. Mr. Bhaer soon joined her, looking rather out of his element, and presently several of the philosophers, each mounted on his hobby, came ambling up to hold an intellectual tournament in the recess. The conversations were miles beyond Jo's comprehension, but she enjoyed it, though Kant and Hegel were unknown gods, the Subjective and Objective unintelligible terms, and the only thing 'evolved from her inner consciousness' was a bad headache after it was all over. It dawned upon her gradually that the world was being picked to pieces, and put together on new and, according to the talkers, on infinitely better principles than before, that religion was in a fair way to be reasoned into nothingness, and intellect was to be the only God. Jo knew nothing about philosophy or metaphysics of any sort, but a curious excitement, half pleasurable, half painful, came over her as she listened with a sense of being turned adrift into time and space, like a young balloon out on a holiday.
She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and found him looking at her with the grimmest expression she had ever seen him wear. He shook his head and beckoned her to come away, but she was fascinated just then by the freedom of Speculative Philosophy, and kept her seat, trying to find out what the wise gentlemen intended to rely upon after they had annihilated all the old beliefs.
Now, Mr. Bhaer was a diffident man and slow to offer his own opinions, not because they were unsettled, but too sincere and earnest to be lightly spoken. As he glanced from Jo to several other young people, attracted by the brilliancy of the philosophic pyrotechnics, he knit his brows and longed to speak, fearing that some inflammable young soul would be led astray by the rockets, to find when the display was over that they had only an empty stick or a scorched hand.
He bore it as long as he could, but when he was appealed to for an opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation and defended religion with all the eloquence of truth--an eloquence which made his broken English musical and his plain face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for the wise men argued well, but he didn't know when he was beaten and stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got right again to Jo. The old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed better than the new. God was not a blind force, and immortality was not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid ground under her feet again, and when Mr. Bhaer paused, outtalked but not one whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him.
She did neither, but she remembered the scene, and gave the Professor her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him an effort to speak out then and there, because his conscience would not let him be silent. She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty, and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man has defined it to be, 'truth, reverence, and good will', then her friend Friedrich Bhaer was not only good, but great.
This belief strengthened daily. She valued his esteem, she coveted his respect, she wanted to be worthy of his friendship, and just when the wish was sincerest, she came near to losing everything. It all grew out of a cocked hat, for one evening the Professor came in to give Jo her lesson with a paper soldier cap on his head, which Tina had put there and he had forgotten to take off.
"It's evident he doesn't look in his glass before coming down," thought Jo, with a smile, as he said "Goot efening," and sat soberly down, quite unconscious of the ludicrous contrast between his subject and his headgear, for he was going to read her the Death of Wallenstein.
She said nothing at first, for she liked to hear him laugh out his big, hearty laugh when anything funny happened, so she left him to discover it for himself, and presently forgot all about it, for to hear a German read Schiller is rather an absorbing occupation. After the reading came the lesson, which was a lively one, for Jo was in a gay mood that night, and the cocked hat kept her eyes dancing with merriment. The Professor didn't know what to make of her, and stopped at last to ask with an air of mild surprise that was irresistible. . .
"Mees Marsch, for what do you laugh in your master's face? Haf you no respect for me, that you go on so bad?"
"How can I be respectful, Sir, when you forget to take your hat off?" said Jo.
Lifting his hand to his head, the absent-minded Professor gravely felt and removed the little cocked hat, looked at it a minute, and then threw back his head and laughed like a merry bass viol.
"Ah! I see him now, it is that imp Tina who makes me a fool with my cap. Well, it is nothing, but see you, if this lesson goes not well, you too shall wear him."
But the lesson did not go at all for a few minutes because Mr. Bhaer caught sight of a picture on the hat, and unfolding it, said with great disgust, "I wish these papers did not come in the house. They are not for children to see, nor young people to read. It is not well, and I haf no patience with those who make this harm."
Jo glanced at the sheet and saw a pleasing illustration composed of a lunatic, a corpse, a villain, and a viper. She did not like it, but the impulse that made her turn it over was not one of displeasure but fear, because for a minute she fancied the paper was the Volcano. It was not, however, and her panic subsided as she remembered that even if it had been and one of her own tales in it, there would have been no name to betray her. She had betrayed herself, however, by a look and a blush, for though an absent man, the Professor saw a good deal more than people fancied. He knew that Jo wrote, and had met her down among the newspaper offices more than once, but as she never spoke of it, he asked no questions in spite of a strong desire to see her work. Now it occurred to him that she was doing what she was ashamed to own, and it troubled him. He did not say to himself, "It is none of my business. I've no right to say anything," as many people would have done. He only remembered that she was young and poor, a girl far away from mother's love and father's care, and he was moved to help her with an impulse as quick and natural as that which would prompt him to put out his hand to save a baby from a puddle. All this flashed through his mind in a minute, but not a trace of it appeared in his face, and by the time the paper was turned, and Jo's needle threaded, he was ready to say quite naturally, but very gravely . . .
"Yes, you are right to put it from you. I do not think that good young girls should see such things. They are made pleasant to some, but I would more rather give my boys gunpowder to play with than this bad trash."
"All may not be bad, only silly, you know, and if there is a demand for it, I don't see any harm in supplying it. Many very respectable people make an honest living out of what are called sensation stories," said Jo, scratching gathers so energetically that a row of little slits followed her pin.
"There is a demand for whisky, but I think you and I do not care to sell it. If the respectable people knew what harm they did, they would not feel that the living was honest. They haf no right to put poison in the sugarplum, and let the small ones eat it. No, they should think a little, and sweep mud in the street before they do this thing."
Mr. Bhaer spoke warmly, and walked to the fire, crumpling the paper in his hands. Jo sat still, looking as if the fire had come to her, for her cheeks burned long after the cocked hat had turned to smoke and gone harmlessly up the chimney.
"I should like much to send all the rest after him," muttered the Professor, coming back with a relieved air.
Jo thought what a blaze her pile of papers upstairs would make, and her hard-earned money lay rather heavily on her conscience at that minute. Then she thought consolingly to herself, "Mine are not like that, they are only silly, never bad, so I won't be worried," and taking up her book, she said, with a studious face, "Shall we go on, Sir? I'll be very good and proper now."
"I shall hope so," was all he said, but he meant more than she imagined, and the grave, kind look he gave her made her feel as if the words Weekly Volcano were printed in large type on her forehead.
As soon as she went to her room, she got out her papers, and carefully reread every one of her stories. Being a little shortsighted, Mr. Bhaer sometimes used eye glasses, and Jo had tried them once, smiling to see how they magnified the fine print of her book. Now she seemed to have on the Professor's mental or moral spectacles also, for the faults of these poor stories glared at her dreadfully and filled her with dismay.
"They are trash, and will soon be worse trash if I go on, for each is more sensational than the last. I've gone blindly on, hurting myself and other people, for the sake of money. I know it's so, for I can't read this stuff in sober earnest without being horribly ashamed of it, and what should I do if they were seen at home or Mr. Bhaer got hold of them?"
Jo turned hot at the bare idea, and stuffed the whole bundle into her stove, nearly setting the chimney afire with the blaze.
"Yes, that's the best place for such inflammable nonsense. I'd better burn the house down, I suppose, than let other people blow themselves up with my gunpowder," she thought as she watched the Demon of the Jura whisk away, a little black cinder with fiery eyes.
But when nothing remained of all her three month's work except a heap of ashes and the money in her lap, Jo looked sober, as she sat on the floor, wondering what she ought to do about her wages.
"I think I haven't done much harm yet, and may keep this to pay for my time," she said, after a long meditation, adding impatiently, "I almost wish I hadn't any conscience, it's so inconvenient. If I didn't care about doing right, and didn't feel uncomfortable when doing wrong, I should get on capitally. I can't help wishing sometimes, that Mother and Father hadn't been so particular about such things."
Ah, Jo, instead of wishing that, thank God that 'Father and Mother were particular', and pity from your heart those who have no such guardians to hedge them round with principles which may seem like prison walls to impatient youth, but which will prove sure foundations to build character upon in womanhood.
Jo wrote no more sensational stories, deciding that the money did not pay for her share of the sensation, but going to the other extreme, as is the way with people of her stamp, she took a course of Mrs. Sherwood, Miss Edgeworth, and Hannah More, and then produced a tale which might have been more properly called an essay or a sermon, so intensely moral was it. She had her doubts about it from the beginning, for her lively fancy and girlish romance felt as ill at ease in the new style as she would have done masquerading in the stiff and cumbrous costume of the last century. She sent this didactic gem to several markets, but it found no purchaser, and she was inclined to agree with Mr. Dashwood that morals didn't sell.
Then she tried a child's story, which she could easily have disposed of if she had not been mercenary enough to demand filthy lucre for it. The only person who offered enough to make it worth her while to try juvenile literature was a worthy gentleman who felt it his mission to convert all the world to his particular belief. But much as she liked to write for children, Jo could not consent to depict all her naughty boys as being eaten by bears or tossed by mad bulls because they did not go to a particular Sabbath school, nor all the good infants who did go as rewarded by every kind of bliss, from gilded gingerbread to escorts of angels when they departed this life with psalms or sermons on their lisping tongues. So nothing came of these trials, and Jo corked up her inkstand, and said in a fit of very wholesome humility . . .
"I don't know anything. I'll wait until I do before I try again, and meantime, 'sweep mud in the street' if I can't do better, that's honest, at least." Which decision proved that her second tumble down the beanstalk had done her some good.
While these internal revolutions were going on, her external life had been as busy and uneventful as usual, and if she sometimes looked serious or a little sad no one observed it but Professor Bhaer. He did it so quietly that Jo never knew he was watching to see if she would accept and profit by his reproof, but she stood the test, and he was satisfied, for though no words passed between them, he knew that she had given up writing. Not only did he guess it by the fact that the second finger of her right hand was no longer inky, but she spent her evenings downstairs now, was met no more among newspaper offices, and studied with a dogged patience, which assured him that she was bent on occupying her mind with something useful, if not pleasant.
He helped her in many ways, proving himself a true friend, and Jo was happy, for while her pen lay idle, she was learning other lessons besides German, and laying a foundation for the sensation story of her own life.
It was a pleasant winter and a long one, for she did not leave Mrs. Kirke till June. Everyone seemed sorry when the time came. The children were inconsolable, and Mr. Bhaer's hair stuck straight up all over his head, for he always rumpled it wildly when disturbed in mind.
"Going home? Ah, you are happy that you haf a home to go in," he said, when she told him, and sat silently pulling his beard in the corner, while she held a little levee on that last evening.
She was going early, so she bade them all goodbye overnight, and when his turn came, she said warmly, "Now, Sir, you won't forget to come and see us, if you ever travel our way, will you? I'll never forgive you if you do, for I want them all to know my friend."
"Do you? Shall I come?" he asked, looking down at her with an eager expression which she did not see.
"Yes, come next month. Laurie graduates then, and you'd enjoy commencement as something new."
"That is your best friend, of whom you speak?" he said in an altered tone.
"Yes, my boy Teddy. I'm very proud of him and should like you to see him."
Jo looked up then, quite unconscious of anything but her own pleasure in the prospect of showing them to one another. Something in Mr. Bhaer's face suddenly recalled the fact that she might find Laurie more than a 'best friend', and simply because she particularly wished not to look as if anything was the matter, she involuntarily began to blush, and the more she tried not to, the redder she grew. If it had not been for Tina on her knee. She didn't know what would have become of her. Fortunately the child was moved to hug her, so she managed to hide her face an instant, hoping the Professor did not see it. But he did, and his own changed again from that momentary anxiety to its usual expression, as he said cordially . . .
"I fear I shall not make the time for that, but I wish the friend much success, and you all happiness. Gott bless you!" And with that, he shook hands warmly, shouldered Tina, and went away.
But after the boys were abed, he sat long before his fire with the tired look on his face and the 'heimweh', or homesickness, lying heavy at his heart. Once, when he remembered Jo as she sat with the little child in her lap and that new softness in her face, he leaned his head on his hands a minute, and then roamed about the room, as if in search of something that he could not find.
"It is not for me, I must not hope it now," he said to himself, with a sigh that was almost a groan. Then, as if reproaching himself for the longing that he could not repress, he went and kissed the two tousled heads upon the pillow, took down his seldom-used meerschaum, and opened his Plato.
He did his best and did it manfully, but I don't think he found that a pair of rampant boys, a pipe, or even the divine Plato, were very satisfactory substitutes for wife and child at home.
Early as it was, he was at the station next morning to see Jo off, and thanks to him, she began her solitary journey with the pleasant memory of a familiar face smiling its farewell, a bunch of violets to keep her company, and best of all, the happy thought, "Well, the winter's gone, and I've written no books, earned no fortune, but I've made a friend worth having and I'll try to keep him all my life."
 
乔的社交圈令她十分快乐，每日忙于工作为她挣得了面包，使她的努力成果更显甜美。虽然如此，她还是找时间从事文学创作。对一个有抱负的穷姑娘来说，现在支配她写作的目的是自然的，可是她实现目的的方法不是最好的。她明白金钱能带来权力，因此，她决心拥有金钱和权力这两种东西。不只是用于她自己，而是用于她爱的人们，她爱他们胜于爱自己。
乔梦想为家里添置许多使生活舒适的用品。贝思想要什么就给她什么，从冬天吃的草莓到卧室里的风琴。自己出国，钱总是绰绰有余，便能够享受大做善事的乐趣。这些是乔多年来最珍视的空中楼阁。
经过长期游历和努力的工作以后，乔的那篇得奖小说似乎为她开辟了道路，她又写出了让人开怀的《空中楼阁》。然而，这场小说灾难使她一度丧失了勇气，因为公共舆论是一个巨人，比她更勇敢的杰克们也被吓倒了，而杰克们向上爬的豆茎比她的更大。她像那个不朽的英雄一样，第一次尝试后休息了一会儿。假如我记得不错的话，第一次尝试她跌了下来，一点没得到巨人可爱的财宝。但是乔身上"爬起来再试"的精神和杰克一样强，所以，这一次她从背阴的一面爬了上去，得到了更多的战利品。但是丢掉的东西比钱袋要宝贵得多。
乔开始写轰动小说，在那些黑暗的日子里，既使是十全十美的美国人也读庸俗作品。她虚构了一个"动人的故事"，大胆地亲自将它送给了《火山周报》的编辑达什伍德先生，这件事她谁也没告诉。她从未读过《瑞沙托斯裁缝》，但是，女人的直觉告诉她，对许多人来说，较之个性的价值或风度的魔力，服装的影响力更加强大。所以，她穿上了她最好的衣服，说服自己既不激动也不紧张，勇敢地爬上了两段又暗又脏的楼梯，走进一间乱七八糟的屋子。屋子里烟雾缭绕，三个先生坐在那里脚跷得比帽子还高。乔的出现并没有让他们劳神脱一下帽子。这种接待有点吓住了乔。她在门口犹豫了，非常尴尬地咕哝着— “对不起，我在找《火山周报》的办公室，我想见达什伍德先生。”跷得最高的一双脚落了下来，站起一位烟冒得最凶的先生。他仔细地用手指夹住香烟，往前跨了一步，点了点头。他脸上除了困意没别的表情。乔感到不管怎样得结束这件事，于是她拿出手稿，笨口拙舌、断断续续地说出了为这个场合仔细准备的话，越说脸越红。
“我的一个朋友要我来交—-一个故事--只是作为一个试验--希望听听您的意见--如果这个合适，乐意多写一些。”乔红着脸笨拙地说着，达什伍德先生接过手稿，用两个相当脏的手指翻着纸页，目光挑剔地上下扫视着干净的手稿。
“我看，是第一次？”他注意到页数用号码标了，只写了一面，没有丝带扎起来 -确实是新手的迹象。
“不，先生，她有些经验。她的一个故事登在《巧言石旗帜报》上，还得了奖。“哦，是吗？”达什伍德先生迅速看了她一眼。这一眼似乎注意到了她所有的穿着打扮，从帽子上的蝴蝶结到靴子上的钮扣。”好吧，你愿意就把手稿丢下来吧。眼下，我们手边这种东西多得不知道该怎么处理，不过，我会看它一眼的，下星期给你答复。”现在，乔倒不愿意丢下手稿了，因为达什伍德先生一点也不适合她，可是，在那种情况下，她没有别的办法，只能鞠躬，然后走开。此时她显得格外孤傲，每当她被惹恼了或感到窘迫时，总会这样。当时她又恼又窘，因为从先生们交换的会意的眼神看，十分明显她的小小虚构"我的朋友"被当成了个好笑话。编辑关门时说了什么她没听清，但是引起一阵笑声，这些使她十分狼狈。她回了家，几乎决定不再去那儿了。她使劲地缝着围裙发泄着怨气。一两个小时以后便平静下来能够笑对那个场面了。她盼望着下星期。
她再一次去那里的时候，只有达什伍德先生一人在，这使她高兴。达什伍德先生比上一次清醒多了，也给人愉悦之感。回忆其他上次的行为举止，这次他不再没命地抽烟了。所以第二次会见要比第一次让人舒服得多。
“要是你不反对把你的手稿作些改动，我们就采用了（编辑们从来不说我字）。这个太长了，去掉我做了记号的那些段落，长度就正合适，”他以事务性的语调说。
乔几乎认不出她的手稿了，稿纸被揉得皱巴巴，许多段落都给划上了线。她感觉如同一个慈善的母亲被人要求砍断她孩子的双脚以便能放进新摇篮。她看着做了记号的段落，吃惊地发现所有反映道德的部分--她挖空心思加进这些让它们在许多浪漫事件中起支撑作用- 都被划掉了。
“可是，先生，我认为每一个故事里都应该有某种道德成份，所以我设法让我故事里一些有罪的人悔过。”达什伍德先生编辑式的严肃神情放松了，他笑了起来，因为乔忘记了她的"朋友"，俨然以作者的口气在说话。
“人们想得到乐趣，不想听说教，你知道，现在道德没销路。”顺便说一句，这话不太正确。
“那你认为这样变动后就能用了？”
“是的，情节有新意，故事展开得也很好--语言不错，还有其他的，”达什伍德先生和蔼地回答。
“你们怎样--我是说，怎样的报酬- "乔开口说，她不知道怎样准确表达自己的意思。”噢，是的，这样，这种东西我们付二十五至三十美元，一经刊登，即付稿酬，”达什伍德先生回答，仿佛他已忘记了这一点。据说这类小事编辑们常常会忘记的。
“很好，就给你们用。”乔神情满意地把故事交还给了他。
以前登一栏故事才一美元，这二十五美元的报酬似乎不错。
“我能不能告诉我的朋友，假如她有更好的故事，你们愿意接受？”她问道。成功使乔的胆子大了起来，她没有意识到前面她说漏了嘴。
“唔，我们会考虑的，但是不能保证接受。告诉你的朋友，故事要写得有趣味，别去管那道德。你的朋友想在这一起署什么名字？”他的语调漫不经心。
“请你什么名字也不署，她不愿她的名字出现，她也没有笔名，”乔说，她情不自禁地脸红了。
“当然随她的便。故事下个星期就登出来。你是自己来拿钱，还是我来寄给你？“达什伍德先生问，他自然想知道他的新供稿人是谁。
“我来拿，再见，先生。”
乔离开了，达什伍德先生跷起了脚，得体地评论道：“老一套，又穷又傲。不过她能行。”乔按照达什伍德先生的指示，以诺思布里太太作原型，一头扎进了浅薄的通俗文学之海。然而，多亏一个朋友扔给了她救生衣，她才能重新冒出头来，没为这次落水所窒息。
像大多数年轻的蹩脚作家一样，乔到国外去寻找人物和景致。她的舞台上出现了恶棍、伯爵、吉普赛人、尼姑、公爵夫人。这些人物如预期的那样，行为、精神都贴近生活。读者们对语法、标点符号、可能性之类的琐碎小事并不挑剔，因而达什伍德先生貌似好心地以最低的稿酬允请她做他的专栏作家。他认为没有必要将接受她的真正原因告诉她。事实上他雇用的一个作家因为别人开了更高的价而撒手不干了，卑鄙地让他陷入了困境。
她很快便对她的工作产生了兴趣，因为她瘪下去的钱包鼓了起来。一个个的星期过去了，她为明年夏天带贝思去山里准备的小积蓄开始增加了，虽然速度很慢，但是确实在增加。满足中有件事使她不安，那就是她没有将这件事告诉家人。她有种感觉，爸爸妈妈不会赞许她的，可是她还是宁肯先随心干着，然后再请求原谅。保守这个秘密很容易，因为故事没署她的名字。达什伍德先生当然不久就发现了真相，可是答应保持沉默。说也奇怪，他竟遵守了诺言。
她想这样做对她没有什么害处，她真诚地打算，绝不去写那些使她感到羞耻的东西。她期待着那幸福的时刻，到那时她拿给家人看她的钱，拿这个守得很严的秘密换取家人的快乐，这样，她也就抵销了良心的责备。
但是，除了惊心动魄的故事，别的东西达什伍德先生一概拒绝，而这种小说一定要折磨读者的感情，不然就称不上惊险小说。要写惊险小说还得遍搜历史和传奇，陆地和海洋，科学和艺术，政治卷宗和疯人院。乔不久就发现，她天真无邪的经历使她不大能看到构成社会基础的悲剧世界。因此从事务的角度出发，她开始用独特的能源弥补她的不足。她急切想找到故事的素材，一心想着即便不能把故事策划得很熟练，也要使情节新颖。她到报纸里去搜寻事故、事件以及犯罪活动。她去借阅有关毒药的书，使公共图书馆管理员起了疑心。她研究着大街上行人的脸，研究身边所有的人，不管是好人、坏人还是冷漠的人。她在古代的废墟中寻找事实或虚构。它们太古老了，倒和新的一样新奇。她尽量利用有限的机会接触那些愚行、罪恶与苦难。她以为她干得相当成功，但是不知不觉地，她开始亵渎了妇女身上的一些温柔的气质。
她身处不良社会，虽然那是想象中的，但对她产生了影响，因为她的心灵和想象都在汲取着危险的、不正常的养分。她过早地熟悉了生活的阴暗面，很快将她性情中天真无邪的青春光彩一扫而光。当然，我们每个人不久都会面对生活阴暗面的。
她开始感觉到了这一切，这不是看出来的，因为，过多地描述别人的激情与感情，使她研究、思索起自己的感情来 -一种病态的乐趣，心理健康的年轻人是不会沉缅于这种乐趣中的。做错事总会带来惩罚，而当乔最需要这种惩罚时，她得到了。
我不知道是什么帮助她了解人物，是莎士比亚的研究呢，还是女人向往诚实、勇敢、强壮这些气质的自然本能？乔一边将太阳底下最完美的气质赋予她想象中的英雄，一边也发现了一个活生生的英雄。这个英雄虽然有许多人类的不完美之处，但是仍使她产生了兴趣。巴尔先生在一次谈话中建议她研究纯洁、真实、可爱的人物，不管她是在哪儿发现这些人物的，并将这作为一种良好的写作训练，乔相信了她的话，冷静地转过身开始研究他--要是他知道她这样做的话，定会大吃一惊的，因为令人尊敬的教授自认为自己是个小人物。
首先，为什么每个人都喜欢教授，这令乔迷惑不解。他既不富有也不伟大，既不年轻也不漂亮，无论在哪方面都不能算迷人、气派或者漂亮。然而，他像给人温暖的火那样吸引人。人们自然地围绕在他身边，好像围在暖和的壁炉前。他贫穷，但似乎总是在给人东西；他是外国人，可每个人都是他的朋友；他已不年轻了，可孩子般幸福快乐；他长相平平，还有点古怪，然而在许多人看来他是漂亮的，只为了他的缘故，大家痛快地原谅他的怪癖。乔常常观察他，想发现他的魅力所在。最后她认定是仁爱之心产生的奇迹。他若是有些悲哀，便"头插在翅膀下伏着"，他只将光明的一面展示于世人。他的额头上有皱纹，但是时间老人似乎记得他对别人非常和善，也就轻轻地触摸他。他嘴角的曲线令人愉快，那是对他的友好的话语、欢欣的笑容的一种纪念。他的眼睛既不冷漠，也不严厉。他的大手有一种温暖的强大的控制力，这种控制力比语言表达得更充分。
他穿的衣服似乎也带有穿衣者好客的特性。衣服看上去宽宽松松，好像想使他舒适。宽大的背心暗示着里面有一颗硕大的心脏。褪了色的外套带着爱交际的神气。松驰下垂的口袋显然证明了有些小手空着插进去，满着拿出来。他的靴子使人感到亲切，他的领子不像其他人的那样坚硬、挺括。
“就是这样！”乔自言自语。她终于发现，真心地对同胞抱有善良的愿望能使人变美，给人尊严。这个强壮的德国教师就是如此。他大口吃饭，自己缝补短袜，还承受着巴尔这么个名字。
乔很看重美德，也尊重才智，这是非常女性化的。有关教授的一个小发现更增加了她对他的敬重。没有人知道，在他出生的城市，他因他的学识和正直的人品享有盛誉，受人尊敬。他自己从未说过。后来，一个同乡来看他，在和诺顿小姐谈话时说出了这个令人高兴的事实，乔是从诺顿小姐处得知的，因为巴尔先生从来没说过，乔更喜欢了。尽管巴尔先生在美国是个可怜的语言教师，他在柏林却是个体面的教授，乔为此感到自豪。那个发现给他的生活添加了浪漫的佐料，大大诗化了他其实、勤勉的生活。
巴尔身上还有一种比智力更优秀的才能，这种才能以一种最出人意料的方式展示给了乔。诺顿小姐能够随意出入文学圈，要不是她，乔不可能有机会见识的。这个寂寞的女人对心怀抱负的女孩产生了兴趣，她将许多这样的恩惠赐予乔，同时也赐予了教授。一天晚上，她带他们去参加一个为一些著名人士举办的特别酒会。
乔去了酒会，她准备向那些伟大的人物鞠躬致敬。身处遥远的地方时，她就带着年轻人特有的热情崇拜这些人。然而，那天晚上，她对天才们的景仰之情受到了严重的冲击。她发现伟大的人物毕竟也不过是男人和女人。过了一些时候，她才从这种发现中恢复过来。她带着崇敬之心，害羞地偷偷片了一眼一个诗人，他的诗句使人联想到一个以"精神、火、露水"为生的太空人，可乔却看到他在满腔热情地大口吞吃着晚饭，那种热情烧红了他那智慧的脸庞，可以想象乔此时的沮丧。从这个倒塌的偶像转过去，又发现了别的东西，这迅即排除了她浪漫的幻想。那个伟大的小说家像钟摆一样有规律地在两个圆酒瓶之间摆动着，那著名的天才竟然向一个当代的斯塔尔夫人调着情，而她却怒视着另一个科琳，科琳在温和地挖苦她，她为了专心听那思想深邃的哲学家讲话，用计智胜了她。哲学家故作姿态地啜着茶，好像要睡着了；那女子喋喋不休，使谈话无法进行。而那些科学名士们此刻忘掉了软体动物和冰川时期，聊起了艺术，一边专心致志地大口猛吃牡蛎和冰淇淋。那个年轻的音乐家就像第二个奥菲士一样曾使整个城市着魔，现在他谈起了赛马。在场的英国名流们的代表碰巧是酒会中最普通的人。
酒会还未开到一半，乔的幻想完全破灭了。她在一个角落里坐下来清醒清醒。很快，巴尔先生也坐过来了，他看上去与这里的气氛格格不久。不久，几个哲学家走上酒会讲坛轻松地谈起了各自喜爱的话题，举行了一场智力锦标赛。乔压根儿不懂这种谈话，但她还是欣赏这场谈话，尽管康德和黑格尔是她不知道的神，主场与客场是莫名其妙的术语。谈话结束了，她头疼得厉害，这就是"出自她内心意识"的唯一产物。她渐渐明白过来，根据这些谈话者的观点，世界正被砸得粉碎，在用新的、比以前好得多的原则重新组合，而宗教很少能被推论成无价值的东西，智力将是唯一的上帝。乔对哲学或任何一种玄学都一无所知，但是她听着谈话，产生了一种莫名的激动，半是快乐，半是痛苦。她感到自己就像节日里放飞的小气球，被送进时间与空间里飘浮着。
她转过头来看看教授是否欣赏，发现他正表情异常严肃地看着她。她从未见过他的这种表情。他招手要她离开，可是就在那时，她被思辩哲学的自由性吸引了，就坐着没动。她想知道那些聪明的先生们消灭了所有的老信仰之后，打算依赖什么。
现在，巴尔先生又变得缺乏自信起来，他不急着发表他的意见了，并不是他的意见动摇不定，而是他太诚挚、太认真了，不能轻易表达。他的目光扫过乔和其他几个年轻人，他们都被耀眼的哲学火花吸引住了。教授拧起了眉，他极想说话。他担心某些易激动的年轻人会被这烟火引入岐途，结果发现展示会结束，只剩下燃尽的爆竹棒，或者被灼伤的手。
他尽量忍着，但是，当有人请他发表意见时，他便诚实地表达了他的愤怒。他用雄辩的事实捍卫着宗教--雄辩使他蹩脚的英语变得动听起来，他那平常的脸也变得漂亮了。他的仗打得艰难，因为那些聪明人很会辩论。他不知道什么时候给击败了，但是他以男子汉的气派坚持自己的观点。不知怎么回事，他谈着谈着，乔感到世界又恢复了正常，持续这么长时间的古老信仰似乎比新的信仰要好，上帝并不是一种看不见的力量，永生也不是美丽的童话，而是幸运的事实。她感到自己又稳稳地站在了地上，当巴尔先生住了口，乔想拍手感谢他。巴尔说得比那些人好，可是一点也没有说服那些人。
她既没拍手，也没感谢，可是她记住了那个场面，打心眼里尊敬他。她知道他在当时当地表达看法是费了一番劲的，他的良心不允许他保持沉默，她开始明白气质是比金钱、地位、智力，或者美貌更好的财产。她感到，如同一个智者下的定义，要是高尚便是"真实、威望和善良的愿望"，那么，她的朋友弗里德里克•巴尔不仅善良，而且高尚。
这种信念日渐坚定。她看重他的评价。她妄想得到他的尊重。她希望自己能配得上做他的朋友。她的愿望非常真挚，可就在这时，她几乎失去了一切。这事起因于一顶三角帽。一个晚上，教授进屋来给乔上课，头上戴着顶纸做的士兵帽，是蒂娜放上去的，他忘了拿下来。
“显然，他下楼前没照镜子，”在她说"晚上好"时，乔笑着想道。他严肃地坐下来，压根儿没注意到他的主题和头饰之间让人发笑的对照。他打算给她读《华伦斯坦之死》。
开始她什么也没说，因为发生了好笑的事，她喜欢听他开怀大笑，所以她留待他自己发现，一会儿就把这事给忘了。
听一个德国人朗读席勒的作品是件相当吸引人的事情。朗读完毕做功课，这也是件高兴事，因为那天晚上乔心情快乐，那顶三角帽使她的眼睛欢乐地闪着光。教授不知道她怎么回事，最后忍不住了，他略带惊奇地问- “马奇小姐，你当着老师的面笑什么？你不尊重我了，这样顽皮？”“先生，你忘了把帽子拿下来，我怎么尊重你？”乔说。
心不在焉的教授严肃地抬起手在头上摸着，取下了那个小三角帽，看了它一分钟，然后快活地仰头大笑，笑声像是大提琴发出的声音。
“噢，我看到帽子了，是那个小淘气蒂娜干的，让我成了个傻瓜。好吧，没关系，你瞧，要是你今天功课学得不好，你也要戴这帽子。”可是功课停了一会儿，因为教授一眼看到帽子上有幅画。
他拆开帽子，非常厌恶地说：“我希望这种报纸别进入这座房子。它们既不适合孩子们，也不适合年轻人。报纸办得不好，我忍受不了那些干这种缺德事的人。“乔瞥了一眼报纸，看到一幅可爱的画，画上有一个疯子，一具尸体，一个恶棍和一条毒蛇，她不喜欢这个。但并非由于不喜欢，而是一种担心的冲动使她打开了报纸，因为有那么一瞬间她想象那是《火山周报》。然而那不是的。她又想到即便是《火山周报》，即便上面有她的故事，没有她的署名，也就不会出卖她。她的恐慌平息了，然而她的神情，她羞红了的脸还是出卖了她。教授虽然心不在焉，但觉察到的事情比别人想象的多得多。他知道乔在写作，不止一次在报社遇到过她，可由于乔从来不说起此事，他虽然极想读她的作品，还是从不问及。现在他突然想到，她在做一件自己不好意思承认的事，这使他担忧。他不像许多别的人那样对自己说：“这不关我的事，我无权过问。”他只记得她是个贫穷的年轻姑娘，远离父母无法得到妈妈的爱、爸爸的关怀。他受一种冲动的驱使要帮助她。这种冲动来得迅速、自然，就像伸手去救助一个掉进水坑的婴儿那样。这些念头在他脑中一闪而过，他脸上没露一丝痕迹。报纸翻过去了，乔的针穿上了线。
到了这时，他已准备好说话了。他相当自然但是非常严肃地说 “对，你把报纸拿开是对的，依我看，好的年轻姑娘不应该看这种东西。这些东西使一些人愉快，但是我宁愿给我的孩子们玩火药，也不给他们读这种破烂东西。” “并不是所有的都坏，只是愚蠢，你知道，假如有人需要它，我看提供它就没什么伤害。许多体面人就用这种叫做轰动小说的东西正当地谋生，”乔说。她用力刮着衣裙，针过处留下一条小细线。
“有人需要威士忌，但我想你我都不会去卖它。假如那些体面人知道他们造成了什么样的伤害，他们就不会认为他们的谋生方式是正当的了。他们没有权利在小糖果里放毒药，再让小孩子们吃。不，他们应该想一想，做这种事之前先得扫除掉肮脏的东西。”巴尔先生激烈地说着，揉皱了报纸走到火边。三角帽变成了烟，从烟囱里散发出去，不再为害人间了。乔一动不动地坐在那里，好像那火烧到了她，因为烧过帽子后很长时间，乔的面孔还在发烧。
“我倒想把所有的报纸都这样烧掉，”教授咕哝着，带着宽慰的神情从火边走了回来。
乔想象着楼上她那一堆报纸会成为怎样的一团火。此刻，那好不容易挣来的钱沉重地压着她的良心。接着她又宽慰自己：“我的故事不像那些，只是愚蠢，根本不坏，所以我不用担心。”她拿起书本，带着好学的表情问：“我们接着学，先生？现在我会非常用心，非常认真。”“我倒希望这样。”他只说了这一句，但是言外之意比她想象的要多。他严肃而又和善地看着她，使她感到《火山周报》几个字仿佛以粗体字印在她的额头。
她一回到自己屋子，便拿出了报纸，仔细地重新阅读了她写的每一篇故事。巴尔先生有点近视，有时戴眼镜。乔曾经试着戴过它，笑着看到它能把书中的小字放大。现在，她仿佛也戴上了教授的眼镜，不过这眼镜是精神上的或道德上的，因为那些粗劣的故事中的瑕疵令人可怕地怒视着她，使她充满沮丧。
“它们是破烂货，要是我继续写下去，会变得比破烂货还要糟糕，因为我每写一个故事，都比前一个更耸人听闻。我盲目地为钱写下去，伤害了自己，也伤害了别人。我知道就是这样的，因为我没法严肃认真地读这些而不感到羞愧难当。
要是家人读到了这些，要是巴尔先生得到了这些，我该怎么呢？”仅仅想到这一点，乔的脸又发烫了。她把整整一捆报纸投进了火炉，火光熊熊差点把烟囱燃着了。
“是的，这是那种易燃的废品的最好去处。我想，我宁愿把房子烧了，也不愿别人用我的火药炸毁自己。”她一边想着一边注视着《法律之魔》突然消失，它已变成眼睛闪闪发光的一堆黑色灰烬。
三个月的工作化成了一堆灰烬和放在膝盖上的钱。这时，乔严肃起来。她坐在地上，考虑着该用这钱做些什么。
“我想，我还没有造成太大伤害，可以保留这些钱作为我花掉时间的报酬，”她说。考虑良久，她又急躁地接着说：“我真希望我没有良心，这太麻烦了。要是我做不好事时不在乎，不感到不安，那我就会过得极好。有时我不由希望爸爸妈妈对这件事不那样苛求。”哦，乔，别那样希望了，应该感谢上帝，爸爸妈妈确是那样苛求，打心眼里可怜那些没有这样的保护者的人们吧。保护者用原则将他们围住，这些原则在急躁的年轻人看来可能就像监狱的围墙，但它们被证明确实是妇人们培养良好气质的基矗乔没有再写追求轰动效应的故事，她认为钱偿付不了她所受到的那份轰动。像她那一类人常做的那样，她走了另一个极端。她学了一系列课程，研究了舍伍德夫人、埃奇沃思小姐和汉娜•摩尔，然后写出了一个故事，故事里的道德说教那样强烈，以致于把它叫做小品文或说教文更为恰当。她从一开始就心存疑虑，因为她活跃的想像力和女孩家的浪漫心理使她对这种新的写作风格感到不安，就像化装舞会时穿上个世纪的僵硬的累赘服装一样。她把这个说教式的佳作送往几个市场，结果没找到买主。她不得不同意达什伍德先生的说法，道德没有销路。
后来，她又试着写了个儿童故事。要不是她图利想多要几个臭钱，这个故事她能轻易出手的。唯一向她提供足够的钱，使她值得一试儿童文学的人是一位令人尊敬的先生。这位先生觉得他的使命就是让世人都转而信奉他的教义。但是，虽然乔喜欢为孩子们写作，她还是不能同意把所有不去特定主日学校上学的顽皮孩子都写成被熊吃了，或者被疯牛挑了，而去上学的好孩子则得到各种各样的天赐之福，从金色的姜饼，到他们离开尘世时护送的天使，天使们还口齿不清地唱着赞美诗或者布着道。因此，在这样的考验下，乔没有写出任何作品。她盖上了墨水台，一时谦恭起来，这种谦恭非常有益。她说 “我什么也不懂了，我要等懂了以后再试。同时，如果我不能写出更好的东西。我就'扫除掉肮脏的东西'，这样至少是诚实的。”这个决定证明，她从豆茎上的第二次摔落对她有些好处。
当她进行这种内心革命时，她的外在生活和平常一样忙碌，没有风波。假使她有时看着严肃或者有点悲哀，除了巴尔教授，没人觉察得到。他静静地观察她，乔根本不知道他在观察她是否接受了并获益于他的责备，然而乔经受住了考验，他满意了。虽然他们之间没有言语交流，他知道她已经停止写作了。这不光光是从她右手的食指猜测出来的，现在她的食指不再沾有墨迹了。她的晚上在楼下度过了，在报社也不再能遇上她了。她以顽强的耐力学习着。这一切使他确信，她决心全神贯注于一些有用的事，即便这些事并不都是她想做的。
他在许多方面帮助她，不愧为真正的朋友。乔感到幸福，因为她不再写那些小说了。除了德语，她还学习其他的课程，为她自己生活中的轰动故事打着基矗在这个漫长的冬天，她的心中为愉悦之情所充满。六月，她离开了柯克太太。告别之时，每个人都显得很难过，孩子们尤其没法安慰。巴尔先生的满头头发直竖着，因为当他心烦意乱时，总是把头发揉得乱七八糟。
“要回家了？噢，你很幸福，有家可回，”行前的最后一个晚上她见到他把回家这件事告诉他的时候，他这样说。他坐在屋子角落里抚弄着胡子。
她很早就得动身，所以头天晚上就和所有的人道别。轮到他时，她热情地说：“嗯，先生，别忘了，要是路过我那里，希望你来看我们，好吗？你来，我肯定不会忘记你的，我想让全家人都认识我的朋友。”“真的，你要我去吗？”他问。他带着乔从未看过的急切神情看着她。
“是的，下个月来吧，劳里那时毕业，你会把毕业典礼当作趣事来欣赏的。”“你说的那个人是你最要好的朋友？”他的语气变了。
“是的，我的男孩特迪。我为他非常自豪，也希望你见见他。”然后乔抬起头来，根本没意识到什么，只想着介绍他们两个见面时的快乐。巴尔先生脸上的某种神色使她突然想起，也许劳里不仅仅是她"最要好的朋友"。正是因为她特别希望显出没事儿的神情，她开始不自觉地脸红了。她越不想这样，脸就越红。要不是坐在她膝上的蒂娜，她真不知道事情会怎样收常幸好，那孩子动情地要拥抱她，于是她顺势将脸转过去了一会儿。她希望教授没觉察，但是他觉察了，也从瞬间的焦虑转为平常的神情。他诚挚地说 “我可能抽不出时间去参加毕业典礼，但是我祝愿那位朋友大获成功。祝你们大家幸福。上帝保佑你！”说完，他热情地和乔握了手，然后用肩膀驮起蒂娜离开了。
然而，孩子们上床后，巴尔在火炉边坐了很长时间。他面带倦容。”ｈｅｉｍｗｅｈ"，也就是思乡之情，重重地压在他的心头。他回忆起乔坐在那里，小孩子抱在膝盖上，脸上带着柔和的表情，不由双手托起了头。过了一会儿，他在屋子里踱起步来，仿佛在寻找一些他无法找到的东西。
“那不是我的，我现在不应该心存希望了。”他自言自语地叹着，那叹息几乎是呻吟。然后，像是责备自己无法遏制的渴求，他走过去亲了亲枕头上两个头发散乱的小脑袋，拿下他那很少使用的海泡石烟斗，打开了他的柏拉图。
他尽了自己的最大努力，事情处理得很有
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。
Chapter 36 Beth's Secret
When Jo came home that spring, she had been struck with the change in Beth. No one spoke of it or seemed aware of it, for it had come too gradually to startle those who saw her daily, but to eyes sharpened by absence, it was very plain and a heavy weight fell on Jo's heart as she saw her sister's face. It was no paler and but littler thinner than in the autumn, yet there was a strange, transparent look about it, as if the mortal was being slowly refined away, and the immortal shining through the frail flesh with an indescribably pathetic beauty. Jo saw and felt it, but said nothing at the time, and soon the first impression lost much of its power, for Beth seemed happy, no one appeared to doubt that she was better, and presently in other cares Jo for a time forgot her fear.
But when Laurie was gone, and peace prevailed again, the vague anxiety returned and haunted her. She had confessed her sins and been forgiven, but when she showed her savings and proposed a mountain trip, Beth had thanked her heartily, but begged not to go so far away from home. Another little visit to the seashore would suit her better, and as Grandma could not be prevailed upon to leave the babies, Jo took Beth down to the quiet place, where she could live much in the open air, and let the fresh sea breezes blow a little color into her pale cheeks.
It was not a fashionable place, but even among the pleasant people there, the girls made few friends, preferring to live for one another. Beth was too shy to enjoy society, and Jo too wrapped up in her to care for anyone else. So they were all in all to each other, and came and went, quite unconscious of the interest they exited in those about them, who watched with sympathetic eyes the strong sister and the feeble one, always together, as if they felt instinctively that a long separation was not far away.
They did feel it, yet neither spoke of it, for often between ourselves and those nearest and dearest to us there exists a reserve which it is very hard to overcome. Jo felt as if a veil had fallen between her heart and Beth's, but when she put out her hand to lift it up, there seemed something sacred in the silence, and she waited for Beth to speak. She wondered, and was thankful also, that her parents did not seem to see what she saw, and during the quiet weeks when the shadows grew so plain to her, she said nothing of it to those at home, believing that it would tell itself when Beth came back no better. She wondered still more if her sister really guessed the hard truth, and what thoughts were passing through her mind during the long hours when she lay on the warm rocks with her head in Jo's lap, while the winds blew healthfully over her and the sea made music at her feet.
One day Beth told her. Jo thought she was asleep, she lay so still, and putting down her book, sat looking at her with wistful eyes, trying to see signs of hope in the faint color on Beth's cheeks. But she could not find enough to satisfy her, for the cheeks were very thin, and the hands seemed too feeble to hold even the rosy little shells they had been collecting. It came to her then more bitterly than ever that Beth was slowly drifting away from her, and her arms instinctively tightened their hold upon the dearest treasure she possessed. For a minute her eyes were too dim for seeing, and when they cleared, Beth was looking up at her so tenderly that there was hardly any need for her to say, "Jo, dear, I'm glad you know it. I've tried to tell you, but I couldn't."
There was no answer except her sister's cheek against her own, not even tears, for when most deeply moved, Jo did not cry. She was the weaker then, and Beth tried to comfort and sustain her, with her arms about her and the soothing words she whispered in her ear.
"I've known it for a good while, dear, and now I'm used to it, it isn't hard to think of or to bear. Try to see it so and don't be troubled about me, because it's best, indeed it is."
"Is this what made you so unhappy in the autumn, Beth? You did not feel it then, and keep it to yourself so long, did you?" asked Jo, refusing to see or say that it was best, but glad to know that Laurie had no part in Beth's trouble.
"Yes, I gave up hoping then, but I didn't like to own it. I tried to think it was a sick fancy, and would not let it trouble anyone. But when I saw you all so well and strong and full of happy plans, it was hard to feel that I could never be like you, and then I was miserable, Jo."
"Oh, Beth, and you didn't tell me, didn't let me comfort and help you? How could you shut me out, bear it all alone?"
Jo's voice was full of tender reproach, and her heart ached to think of the solitary struggle that must have gone on while Beth learned to say goodbye to health, love, and life, and take up her cross so cheerfully.
"Perhaps it was wrong, but I tried to do right. I wasn't sure, no one said anything, and I hoped I was mistaken. It would have been selfish to frighten you all when Marmee was so anxious about Meg, and Amy away, and you so happy with Laurie--at least I thought so then."
"And I thought you loved him, Beth, and I went away because I couldn't," cried Jo, glad to say all the truth.
Beth looked so amazed at the idea that Jo smiled in spite of her pain, and added softly, "Then you didn't, dearie? I was afraid it was so, and imagined your poor little heart full of lovelornity all that while."
"Why, Jo, how could I, when he was so fond of you?" asked Beth, as innocently as a child. "I do love him dearly. He is so good to me, how can I help It? But he could never be anything to me but my brother. I hope he truly will be, sometime."
"Not through me," said Jo decidedly. "Amy is left for him, and they would suit excellently, but I have no heart for such things, now. I don't care what becomes of anybody but you, Beth. You must get well."
"I want to, oh, so much! I try, but every day I lose a little, and feel more sure that I shall never gain it back. It's like the tide, Jo, when it turns, it goes slowly, but it can't be stopped."
"It shall be stopped, your tide must not turn so soon, nineteen is too young, Beth. I can't let you go. I'll work and pray and fight against it. I'll keep you in spite of everything. There must be ways, it can't be too late. God won't be so cruel as to take you from me," cried poor Jo rebelliously, for her spirit was far less piously submissive than Beth's.
Simple, sincere people seldom speak much of their piety. It shows itself in acts rather than in words, and has more influence than homilies or protestations. Beth could not reason upon or explain the faith that gave her courage and patience to give up life, and cheerfully wait for death. Like a confiding child, she asked no questions, but left everything to God and nature, Father and Mother of us all, feeling sure that they, and they only, could teach and strengthen heart and spirit for this life and the life to come. She did not rebuke Jo with saintly speeches, only loved her better for her passionate affection, and clung more closely to the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned, but through which He draws us closer to Himself. She could not say, "I'm glad to go," for life was very sweet for her. She could only sob out, "I try to be willing," while she held fast to Jo, as the first bitter wave of this great sorrow broke over them together.
By and by Beth said, with recovered serenity, "You'll tell them this when we go home?"
"I think they will see it without words," sighed Jo, for now it seemed to her that Beth changed every day.
"Perhaps not. I've heard that the people who love best are often blindest to such things. If they don't see it, you will tell them for me. I don't want any secrets, and it's kinder to prepare them. Meg has John and the babies to comfort her, but you must stand by Father and Mother, won't you Jo?"
"If I can. But, Beth, I don't give up yet. I'm going to believe that it is a sick fancy, and not let you think it's true." said Jo, trying to speak cheerfully.
Beth lay a minute thinking, and then said in her quiet way, "I don't know how to express myself, and shouldn't try to anyone but you, because I can't speak out except to my Jo. I only mean to say that I have a feeling that it never was intended I should live long. I'm not like the rest of you. I never made any plans about what I'd do when I grew up. I never thought of being married, as you all did. I couldn't seem to imagine myself anything but stupid little Beth, trotting about at home, of no use anywhere but there. I never wanted to go away, and the hard part now is the leaving you all. I'm not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven."
Jo could not speak, and for several minutes there was no sound but the sigh of the wind and the lapping of the tide. A white-winged gull flew by, with the flash of sunshine on its silvery breast. Beth watched it till it vanished, and her eyes were full of sadness. A little gray-coated sand bird came tripping over the beach 'peeping' softly to itself, as if enjoying the sun and sea. It came quite close to Beth, and looked at her with a friendly eye and sat upon a warm stone, dressing its wet feathers, quite at home. Beth smiled and felt comforted, for the tiny thing seemed to offer its small friendship and remind her that a pleasant world was still to be enjoyed.
"Dear little bird! See, Jo, how tame it is. I like peeps better than the gulls. They are not so wild and handsome, but they seem happy, confiding little things. I used to call them my birds last summer, and Mother said they reminded her of me --busy, quaker-colored creatures, always near the shore, and always chirping that contented little song of theirs. You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone. Meg is the turtledove, and Amy is like the lark she writes about, trying to get up among the clouds, but always dropping down into its nest again. Dear little girl! She's so ambitious, but her heart is good and tender, and no matter how high she flies, she never will forget home. I hope I shall see her again, but she seems so far away."
"She is coming in the spring, and I mean that you shall be all ready to see and enjoy her. I'm going to have you well and rosy by that time," began Jo, feeling that of all the changes in Beth, the talking change was the greatest, for it seemed to cost no effort now, and she thought aloud in a way quite unlike bashful Beth.
"Jo, dear, don't hope any more. It won't do any good. I'm sure of that. We won't be miserable, but enjoy being together while we wait. We'll have happy times, for I don't suffer much, and I think the tide will go out easily, if you help me."
Jo leaned down to kiss the tranquil face, and with that silent kiss, she dedicated herself soul and body to Beth.
She was right. There was no need of any words when they got home, for Father and Mother saw plainly now what they had prayed to be saved from seeing. Tired with her short journey, Beth went at once to bed, saying how glad she was to be home, and when Jo went down, she found that she would be spared the hard task of telling Beth's secret. Her father stood leaning his head on the mantelpiece and did not turn as she came in, but her mother stretched out her arms as if for help, and Jo went to comfort her without a word.
 
那个春天乔回到家时，贝思身上的变化使她大吃一惊。没有人说起，似乎也没有人意识到，因为变化是渐渐的，每天看到她的人不会吃惊。而出门在外能使人眼睛锐利起来。乔看着妹妹的脸，心头沉甸甸的，妹妹的变化显而易见，她的脸和秋天时一样苍白，而又瘦削了些。然而她脸上有一种奇怪而透彻的神色，好像凡人的东西给慢慢地提炼完了，而神的东西照耀着那脆弱的肉体，赋予它一种无法描述的悲壮之美。乔看着这张脸感到了这一点，但是当时她没说什么。很快地，第一眼印象失去了效力，因为贝思似乎很快乐，没有人表示对她身体好转有怀疑。不久，乔陷于别的烦心事里，暂时忘记了她的忧虑。
然而劳里走后，家里又安宁下来。那种模模糊糊的忧虑又袭上她的心头，挥之不去。她向家里人认了罪，也得到了宽耍但是，当她拿出存款提出去山间旅行时，贝思衷心地感激她，却请求不要到离家那么远的地方去，再去海边小住会更适合她。正如奶奶无论如何丢不下孩子，乔带着贝思去了那个安静的地方。在那里贝思可以在户外呆很长时间，让鲜艳的海风往她苍白的面颊抹上一点颜色。
那不是个时髦去处，可是即便在那里身处令人愉快的人群之中，姐妹俩也几乎没有与谁交朋友，她们宁愿两人独处。
贝思太腼腆，不爱社交，乔太专注于她，也就不在乎任何别的人。因此，她们俩独来独往，形影不离，根本没意识到她俩激起了身边人们的兴趣。他们以同情的目光注视着强健的姐姐和虚弱的妹妹，她们总是在一起，仿佛本能地感觉到她们永久的分离为期不远了。
她们确实感觉到了这一点，但是谁也不提起，因为在我们与最亲近的人们之间，经常存在着难以打破的隔阂。乔感到她和贝思之间落下了一道帷幕，可是，在她伸手去揭开帷幕时，似乎在静默中又有某种神圣的东西。于是，她等待贝思先说出来。她看出来的事情她的父母似乎毫无觉察，她感到奇怪，同时也感到欣慰。在那安静的几个星期里，阴影越来越明显了，她对留在家里的人只字未提。她相信贝思回家时情况不会好转，那本身就能说明问题。她更想知道妹妹是否猜到了这个严酷的真相。贝思躺在温暖的岩石上，头枕着乔的膝，有益健康的海风吹拂着她，脚下大海弹着奏鸣曲。在每天这长长的几个小时里，贝思脑子里在想着什么呢？
一天贝思告诉了她。她那样静静地躺着，乔以为她睡着了。她放下书，忧郁地看着贝思，想从那脸颊的淡晕中找到希望的迹象。可是她找不到足以令她满意的东西：脸颊非常瘦削，双手似乎太虚弱了，甚至拿不住她们搜来的粉红色小贝壳。当时，她异常痛苦地想到，贝思正慢慢地离她而去。她的手臂不由自主地抱紧了她所拥有的最亲爱的宝贝。有一会儿，她的眼睛潮湿了，看不见东西了。待眼睛再能看清楚时，贝思正抬头看着她。贝思的目光那样温柔，没有必要再说什么了。”乔，亲爱的，很高兴你知道了，我试图告诉你，可是我不能。”没有回答。姐妹俩只是脸贴着脸，甚至没有眼泪，因为，受到最深的感动时，乔是不会哭的。当时，乔成了弱者，贝思试着安慰她，支撑她。贝思双手搂着她，在她耳边低声说着安慰的话。
“我已经知道很长时间了，亲爱的。现在我已习惯，想起这件事，或者忍受它已不是难做的事了。你也试着这样，别为我烦恼了。这样最好，真的最好。”“秋天里是这件事让你那样不开心吗，贝思？你不会是那时就有感觉，并且独自承受了这么长时间吧，对吗？”乔问，她不愿看到也不愿说那样最好，但知道了贝思的烦恼没有劳里的份，她心里感到高兴。
“是的，那时我放弃了希望，但却不愿承认。我试想那是一种病态的想象，不愿用它去烦扰任何人。当我看到你们都那么健康、强壮，充满了幸福的向往时，我感到我根本不可能像你们那样，真是难过。当时，我很悲哀，乔。”“哦，贝思，你那时没告诉我，没让我安慰你、帮助你！
你怎么能把我排除在外，独自承受这一切呢？”乔的声音里充满了温柔的责备。贝思试着向健康、爱情、生命道别时，试着那样愉快地接受她的不幸时，内心肯定经过一番斗争。而这种斗争是独个儿进行的，想到这里，乔的心都痛了。
“也许我那样做不对，可是，我是想做对的。我不能确定，对谁也没说什么，我希望我想错了。可那时我要是吓坏你们大家，我就太自私了。妈妈那样牵挂着梅格，艾美出门在外，你和劳里那么幸福 -至少，我那时是这样认为的。”“可我还以为你在爱着劳里呢，贝思。我离开了是因为我不能爱他，”乔叫着，高兴地说出了事情的全部真相。
贝思听了这话大为惊奇，乔尽管痛苦还是不由地笑了起来，她轻轻地接着说：“那么你不爱他，宝贝？我担心你爱他，想象着你那可怜的小小心灵那段时间里承受着失恋的痛苦。”“哎唷，乔，他那么喜欢你，我怎么能那样？”贝思像孩子般地天真。”我的确深爱着他，他对我那么好，我怎能不爱他呢？但是，他除了做我的哥哥，根本不可能做别的。我希望有一天他真的成为我的哥哥。”“不是通过我，“乔决然说道，”艾美留给他了，他们俩会非常般配。可是我现在没心思谈这种事情。别人发生什么事我不管，我只在乎你，贝思，你必须好起来。”“我想好起来，哦，真想！我努力着，可是每天我都在衰弱，我越来越确信我的健康再也恢复不了了。就像潮汐，乔，当它转向退潮时，尽管是渐渐减退，却不可阻挡。”“它将被阻挡住，你的潮汐不能这么快就退。贝思，十九岁太年轻了，我不能放走你。我要工作、祈祷，和它作斗争。
无论如何我要保住你。肯定有办法，不会太迟的。上帝不会这么残酷，把你从我身边夺走，”可怜的乔反抗地叫着，她的精神远远不及贝思那样虔诚顺从。
纯洁诚挚的人们极少奢谈虔诚，行动能说明一切而不是言语，而且行动比说教或声明更具影响力。贝思无法论证或解释她的信念，这个信念给了她放弃生命的勇气与耐心，使她能快乐地等待死亡。她像一个轻信的孩子，不提问题，而是将一切交付上帝与大自然 -我们大家的父亲和母亲。她确信只有他们才能开导人，使人精神振作地面对今生和来世。
她没有用圣人般的话语责备乔，而是为她炽热的情感更加爱她了，她更加紧紧地拥抱这种可贵的人类之爱。上帝从不打算让我们断绝这种爱。通过它我们被吸引得离他更近了。她不能说：“我乐意离开这个世界。”因为生命对她来说是非常甜美的；她只能抽泣着说：“我努力做到愿意离开。”她紧紧地抱着乔，第一次，这种巨大痛苦的浪头吞没了姐妹俩。
过了一会儿，贝思恢复了平静，她说：“我们回家时，你来告诉他们这件事？“我想，不用说他们就能看出来了，”乔叹道。现在她似乎看到贝思每天都在变。
“也许看不出。我听说深爱着的人们对这种事最盲目。要是他们没看出，你就替我告诉他们。我不想有秘密，让他们作好准备更仁慈些。梅格有约翰和两个孩子安慰她，而你必须帮助爸爸妈妈，好不好，乔？”“如果我行的话。但是，贝思，我还没有放弃希望。我要相信这确实是一种病态的想象，我不要你认为那是真的。“乔试图用一种轻松的语调说出这些。
贝思躺着想了一会儿，然后像往常一样安静地说：“我不知道该怎样表达我的意思。除了你，我也不会再向别人说什么。因为，除了对我的乔，我不能说出心里话。我只是想说，我有种感觉，上帝从来就没有打算让我活长。我不像你们起余的人，我从来不做长大了干什么的计划，我也从没像你们大家那样想过结婚。我似乎想象不出我能做什么，我只是愚笨的小贝思，在家里跑跑跳跳，除了在家，在哪里都没用。我从来不想离家，现在离开你们大家心中分外难受。我不害怕，但是好像即使人在天堂，我也会想家想你们的。”乔说不出话来了。好几分钟的沉默，只听见风的叹息和海浪的拍击声。一只白翼海鸥飞过去了，它的银色胸脯涂着一抹阳光。贝思注视着直到它消失，她的眼睛里充满了悲哀。
一只羽毛灰黄色的小鸟飞过来在海滩上轻轻跳跃着，它啾啾地叫着，好像在欣赏太阳与大海。它飞到贝思近旁，友好地看着她，然后停在一块暖和的石头上，神态自如地梳理着潮湿的羽毛。贝思笑了，她感到了安慰。因为这小东西似乎在向她表示友好，使她想起她仍然能够享受愉快的人生。
“可爱的小鸟！看，乔，它多么温顺。比起海鸥，我更喜欢小鸟。它们不那么野性，也不那么漂亮，但是它们似乎是快乐天真的小东西。去年夏天我总是称它们我的鸟儿们。妈妈说它们让她想起了我--那些棕色的小鸟，总是贴近海岸，总是唧唧啾啾唱着心满意足的小调。乔，你像是海鸥：强舰难以约束、喜欢狂风暴雨，远远飞向大海，自得其乐。梅格像是斑鸠。而艾美就像她描述的云雀，想在云雾中飞行，又总是飞落回小巢。可爱的小姑娘！她抱负那么大，心眼却善良温柔。不管她飞得多么高，她决不会忘记家的。我希望能再见到她，她似乎离我们那么远。”“她春天回来。我是说你要准备好见她，享受会面时的快乐。到那时我要让你身体健康，面色红润，”乔说。她感到贝思所有的变化中，言谈的变化最大。她现在说话好像不怎么费劲了，自言自语，全然不像以前那样害羞了。
“乔，亲爱的，别再那么希望了，没有用处，我肯定。我们不要痛苦，而要在等待中享受在一起的快乐。我们会过得快乐的，我不太难受。我想你要是帮助我，我的浪潮会容易地退走的。”乔弯下头来亲吻那张平静的脸，用那默默的一吻，乔将自己整个身心都交付给了贝思。
她是对的：她们回到家时没必要说什么，因为爸爸妈妈现在清楚地看到了他们一直祈祷着不要见到的东西。短暂的旅途使贝思感到了疲倦，她立刻上了床，说她回到家那么高兴。乔下楼来时，发现她已不用做那件艰难的工作了，也就是不用讲述贝思的秘密。爸爸站在那，头靠在壁炉架上，乔进去他也没回头；可是妈妈向她伸出了胳膊像是恳求帮助。乔走过来，默默无声地安慰着她。
Chapter 37 New Impressions
At three o'clock in the afternoon, all the fashionable world at Nice may be seen on the Promenade des Anglais--a charming place, for the wide walk, bordered with palms, flowers, and tropical shrubs, is bounded on one side by the sea, on the other by the grand drive, lined with hotels and villas, while beyond lie orange orchards and the hills. Many nations are represented, many languages spoken, many costumes worn, and on a sunny day the spectacle is as gay and brilliant as a carnival. Haughty English, lively French, sober Germans, handsome Spaniards, ugly Russians, meek Jews, free-and-easy Americans, all drive, sit, or saunter here, chatting over the news, and criticizing the latest celebrity who has arrived--Ristori or Dickens, Victor Emmanuel or the Queen of the Sandwich Islands. The equipages are as varied as the company and attract as much attention, especially the low basket barouches in which ladies drive themselves, with a pair of dashing ponies, gay nets to keep their voluminous flounces from overflowing the diminutive vehicles, and little grooms on the perch behind.
Along this walk, on Christmas Day, a tall young man walked slowly, with his hands behind him, and a somewhat absent expression of countenance. He looked like an Italian, was dressed like an Englishman, and had the independent air of an American--a combination which caused sundry pairs of feminine eyes to look approvingly after him, and sundry dandies in black velvet suits, with rose-colored neckties, buff gloves, and orange flowers in their buttonholes, to shrug their shoulders, and then envy him his inches. There were plenty of pretty faces to admire, but the young man took little notice of them, except to glance now and then at some blonde girl in blue. Presently he strolled out of the promenade and stood a moment at the crossing, as if undecided whether to go and listen to the band in the Jardin Publique, or to wander along the beach toward Castle Hill. The quick trot of ponies' feet made him look up, as one of the little carriages, containing a single young lady, came rapidly down the street. The lady was young, blonde, and dressed in blue. He stared a minute, then his whole face woke up, and, waving his hat like a boy, he hurried forward to meet her.
"Oh, Laurie, is it really you? I thought you'd never come!" cried Amy, dropping the reins and holding out both hands, to the great scandalization of a French mamma, who hastened her daughter's steps, lest she should be demoralized by beholding the free manners of these 'mad English'.
"I was detained by the way, but I promised to spend Christmas with you, and here I am."
"How is your grandfather? When did you come? Where are you staying?"
"Very well--last night--at the Chauvain. I called at your hotel, but you were out."
"I have so much to say, I don't know where to begin! Get in and we can talk at our ease. I was going for a drive and longing for company. Flo's saving up for tonight."
"What happens then, a ball?"
"A Christmas party at our hotel. There are many Americans there, and they give it in honor of the day. You'll go with us, of course? Aunt will be charmed."
"Thank you. Where now?" asked Laurie, leaning back and folding his arms, a proceeding which suited Amy, who preferred to drive, for her parasol whip and blue reins over the white ponies backs afforded her infinite satisfaction.
"I'm going to the bankers first for letters, and then to Castle Hill. The view is so lovely, and I like to feed the peacocks. Have you ever been there?"
"Often, years ago, but I don't mind having a look at it."
"Now tell me all about yourself. The last I heard of you, your grandfather wrote that he expected you from Berlin."
"Yes, I spent a month there and then joined him in Paris, where he has settled for the winter. He has friends there and finds plenty to amuse him, so I go and come, and we get on capitally."
"That's a sociable arrangement," said Amy, missing something in Laurie's manner, though she couldn't tell what.
"Why, you see, he hates to travel, and I hate to keep still, so we each suit ourselves, and there is no trouble. I am often with him, and he enjoys my adventures, while I like to feel that someone is glad to see me when I get back from my wanderings. Dirty old hole, isn't it?" he added, with a look of disgust as they drove along the boulevard to the Place Napoleon in the old city.
"The dirt is picturesque, so I don't mind. The river and the hills are delicious, and these glimpses of the narrow cross streets are my delight. Now we shall have to wait for that procession to pass. It's going to the Church of St. John."
While Laurie listlessly watched the procession of priests under their canopies, white-veiled nuns bearing lighted tapers, and some brotherhood in blue chanting as they walked, Amy watched him, and felt a new sort of shyness steal over her, for he was changed, and she could not find the merry-faced boy she left in the moody-looking man beside her. He was handsomer than ever and greatly improved, she thought, but now that the flush of pleasure at meeting her was over, he looked tired and spiritless--not sick, nor exactly unhappy, but older and graver than a year or two of prosperous life should have made him. She couldn't understand it and did not venture to ask questions, so she shook her head and touched up her ponies, as the procession wound away across the arches of the Paglioni bridge and vanished in the church.
"Que pensez-vous?" she said, airing her French, which had improved in quantity, if not in quality, since she came abroad.
"That mademoiselle has made good use of her time, and the result is charming," replied Laurie, bowing with his hand on his heart and an admiring look.
She blushed with pleasure, but somehow the compliment did not satisfy her like the blunt praises he used to give her at home, when he promenaded round her on festival occasions, and told her she was 'altogether jolly', with a hearty smile and an approving pat on the head. She didn't like the new tone, for though not blase, it sounded indifferent in spite of the look.
"If that's the way he's going to grow up, I wish he'd stay a boy," she thought, with a curious sense of disappointment and discomfort, trying meantime to seem quite easy and gay.
At Avigdor's she found the precious home letters and, giving the reins to Laurie, read them luxuriously as they wound up the shady road between green hedges, where tea roses bloomed as freshly as in June.
"Beth is very poorly, Mother says. I often think I ought to go home, but they all say 'stay'. So I do, for I shall never have another chance like this," said Amy, looking sober over one page.
"I think you are right, there. You could do nothing at home, and it is a great comfort to them to know that you are well and happy, and enjoying so much, my dear."
He drew a little nearer, and looked more like his old self as he said that, and the fear that sometimes weighed on Amy's heart was lightened, for the look, the act, the brotherly 'my dear', seemed to assure her that if any trouble did come, she would not be alone in a strange land. Presently she laughed and showed him a small sketch of Jo in her scribbling suit, with the bow rampantly erect upon her cap, and issuing from her mouth the words, 'Genius burns!'.
Laurie smiled, took it, put it in his vest pocket 'to keep it from blowing away', and listened with interest to the lively letter Amy read him.
"This will be a regularly merry Christmas to me, with presents in the morning, you and letters in the afternoon, and a party at night," said Amy, as they alighted among the ruins of the old fort, and a flock of splendid peacocks came trooping about them, tamely waiting to be fed. While Amy stood laughing on the bank above him as she scattered crumbs to the brilliant birds, Laurie looked at her as she had looked at him, with a natural curiosity to see what changes time and absence had wrought. He found nothing to perplex or disappoint, much to admire and approve, for overlooking a few little affectations of speech and manner, she was as sprightly and graceful as ever, with the addition of that indescribable something in dress and bearing which we call elegance. Always mature for her age, she had gained a certain aplomb in both carriage and conversation, which made her seem more of a woman of the world than she was, but her old petulance now and then showed itself, her strong will still held its own, and her native frankness was unspoiled by foreign polish.
Laurie did not read all this while he watched her feed the peacocks, but he saw enough to satisfy and interest him, and carried away a pretty little picture of a bright-faced girl standing in the sunshine, which brought out the soft hue of her dress, the fresh color of her cheeks, the golden gloss of her hair, and made her a prominent figure in the pleasant scene.
As they came up onto the stone plateau that crowns the hill, Amy waved her hand as if welcoming him to her favorite haunt, and said, pointing here and there, "Do you remember the Cathedral and the Corso, the fishermen dragging their nets in the bay, and the lovely road to Villa Franca, Schubert's Tower, just below, and best of all, that speck far out to sea which they say is Corsica?"
"I remember. It's not much changed," he answered without enthusiasm.
"What Jo would give for a sight of that famous speck!" said Amy, feeling in good spirits and anxious to see him so also.
"Yes," was all he said, but he turned and strained his eyes to see the island which a greater usurper than even Napoleon now made interesting in his sight.
"Take a good look at it for her sake, and then come and tell me what you have been doing with yourself all this while," said Amy, seating herself, ready for a good talk.
But she did not get it, for though he joined her and answered all her questions freely, she could only learn that he had roved about the Continent and been to Greece. So after idling away an hour, they drove home again, and having paid his respects to Mrs. Carrol, Laurie left them, promising to return in the evening.
It must be recorded of Amy that she deliberately prinked that night. Time and absence had done its work on both the young people. She had seen her old friend in a new light, not as 'our boy', but as a handsome and agreeable man, and she was conscious of a very natural desire to find favor in his sight. Amy knew her good points, and made the most of them with the taste and skill which is a fortune to a poor and pretty woman.
Tarlatan and tulle were cheap at Nice, so she enveloped herself in them on such occasions, and following the sensible English fashion of simple dress for young girls, got up charming little toilettes with fresh flowers, a few trinkets, and all manner of dainty devices, which were both inexpensive and effective. It must be confessed that the artist sometimes got possession of the woman, and indulged in antique coiffures, statuesque attitudes, and classic draperies. But, dear heart, we all have our little weaknesses, and find it easy to pardon such in the young, who satisfy our eyes with their comeliness, and keep our hearts merry with their artless vanities.
"I do want him to think I look well, and tell them so at home," said Amy to herself, as she put on Flo's old white silk ball dress, and covered it with a cloud of fresh illusion, out of which her white shoulders and golden head emerged with a most artistic effect. Her hair she had the sense to let alone, after gathering up the thick waves and curls into a Hebe-like knot at the back of her head.
"It's not the fashion, but it's becoming, and I can't afford to make a fright of myself," she used to say, when advised to frizzle, puff, or braid, as the latest style commanded.
Having no ornaments fine enough for this important occasion, Amy looped her fleecy skirts with rosy clusters of azalea, and framed the white shoulders in delicate green vines. Remembering the painted boots, she surveyed her white satin slippers with girlish satisfaction, and chassed down the room, admiring her aristocratic feet all by herself.
"My new fan just matches my flowers, my gloves fit to a charm, and the real lace on Aunt's mouchoir gives an air to my whole dress. If I only had a classical nose and mouth I should be perfectly happy," she said, surveying herself with a critical eye and a candle in each hand.
In spite of this affliction, she looked unusually gay and graceful as she glided away. She seldom ran--it did not suit her style, she thought, for being tall, the stately and Junoesque was more appropriate than the sportive or piquante. She walked up and down the long saloon while waiting for Laurie, and once arranged herself under the chandelier, which had a good effect upon her hair, then she thought better of it, and went away to the other end of the room, as if ashamed of the girlish desire to have the first view a propitious one. It so happened that she could not have done a better thing, for Laurie came in so quietly she did not hear him, and as she stood at the distant window, with her head half turned and one hand gathering up her dress, the slender, white figure against the red curtains was as effective as a well-placed statue.
"Good evening, Diana!" said Laurie, with the look of satisfaction she liked to see in his eyes when they rested on her.
"Good evening, Apollo!" she answered, smiling back at him, for he too looked unusually debonair, and the thought of entering the ballroom on the arm of such a personable man caused Amy to pity the four plain Misses Davis from the bottom of her heart.
"Here are your flowers. I arranged them myself, remembering that you didn't like what Hannah calls a 'sot-bookay'," said Laurie, handing her a delicate nosegay, in a holder that she had long coveted as she daily passed it in Cardiglia's window.
"How kind you are!" she exclaimed gratefully. "If I'd known you were coming I'd have had something ready for you today, though not as pretty as this, I'm afraid."
"Thank you. It isn't what it should be, but you have improved it," he added, as she snapped the silver bracelet on her wrist.
"Please don't."
"I thought you liked that sort of thing."
"Not from you, it doesn't sound natural, and I like your old bluntness better."
"I'm glad of it," he answered, with a look of relief, then buttoned her gloves for her, and asked if his tie was straight, just as he used to do when they went to parties together at home.
The company assembled in the long salle a manger, that evening, was such as one sees nowhere but on the Continent. The hospitable Americans had invited every acquaintance they had in Nice, and having no prejudice against titles, secured a few to add luster to their Christmas ball.
A Russian prince condescended to sit in a corner for an hour and talk with a massive lady, dressed like Hamlet's mother in black velvet with a pearl bridle under her chin. A Polish count, aged eighteen, devoted himself to the ladies, who pronounced him, 'a fascinating dear', and a German Serene Something, having come to supper alone, roamed vaguely about, seeking what he might devour. Baron Rothschild's private secretary, a large-nosed Jew in tight boots, affably beamed upon the world, as if his master's name crowned him with a golden halo. A stout Frenchman, who knew the Emperor, came to indulge his mania for dancing, and Lady de Jones, a British matron, adorned the scene with her little family of eight. Of course, there were many light-footed, shrill-voiced American girls, handsome, lifeless-looking English ditto, and a few plain but piquante French demoiselles, likewise the usual set of traveling young gentlemen who disported themselves gaily, while mammas of all nations lined the walls and smiled upon them benignly when they danced with their daughters.
Any young girl can imagine Amy's state of mind when she 'took the stage' that night, leaning on Laurie's arm. She knew she looked well, she loved to dance, she felt that her foot was on her native heath in a ballroom, and enjoyed the delightful sense of power which comes when young girls first discover the new and lovely kingdom they are born to rule by virtue of beauty, youth, and womanhood. She did pity the Davis girls, who were awkward, plain, and destitute of escort, except a grim papa and three grimmer maiden aunts, and she bowed to them in her friendliest manner as she passed, which was good of her, as it permitted them to see her dress, and burn with curiosity to know who her distinguished-looking friend might be. With the first burst of the band, Amy's color rose, her eyes began to sparkle, and her feet to tap the floor impatiently, for she danced well and wanted Laurie to know it. Therefore the shock she received can better be imagined than described, when he said in a perfectly tranquil tone, "Do you care to dance?"
"One usually does at a ball."
Her amazed look and quick answer caused Laurie to repair his error as fast as possible.
"I meant the first dance. May I have the honor?"
"I can give you one if I put off the Count. He dances devinely, but he will excuse me, as you are an old friend," said Amy, hoping that the name would have a good effect, and show Laurie that she was not to be trifled with.
"Nice little boy, but rather a short Pole to support . . .
A daughter of the gods, Devinely tall, and most devinely fair,"
was all the satisfaction she got, however.
The set in which they found themselves was composed of English, and Amy was compelled to walk decorously through a cotillion, feeling all the while as if she could dance the tarantella with relish. Laurie resigned her to the 'nice little boy', and went to do his duty to Flo, without securing Amy for the joys to come, which reprehensible want of forethought was properly punished, for she immediately engaged herself till supper, meaning to relent if he then gave any signs penitence. She showed him her ball book with demure satisfaction when he strolled instead of rushed up to claim her for the next, a glorious polka redowa. But his polite regrets didn't impose upon her, and when she galloped away with the Count, she saw Laurie sit down by her aunt with an actual expression of relief.
That was unpardonable, and Amy took no more notice of him for a long while, except a word now and then when she came to her chaperon between the dances for a necessary pin or a moment's rest. Her anger had a good effect, however, for she hid it under a smiling face, and seemed unusually blithe and brilliant. Laurie's eyes followed her with pleasure, for she neither romped nor sauntered, but danced with spirit and grace, making the delightsome pastime what it should be. He very naturally fell to studying her from this new point of view, and before the evening was half over, had decided that 'little Amy was going to make a very charming woman'.
It was a lively scene, for soon the spirit of the social season took possession of everyone, and Christmas merriment made all faces shine, hearts happy, and heels light. The musicians fiddled, tooted, and banged as if they enjoyed it, everybody danced who could, and those who couldn't admired their neighbors with uncommon warmth. The air was dark with Davises, and many Joneses gamboled like a flock of young giraffes. The golden secretary darted through the room like a meteor with a dashing frenchwoman who carpeted the floor with her pink satin train. The serene Teuton found the supper-table and was happy, eating steadily through the bill of fare, and dismayed the garcons by the ravages he committed. But the Emperor's friend covered himself with glory, for he danced everything, whether he knew it or not, and introduced impromptu pirouettes when the figures bewildered him. The boyish abandon of that stout man was charming to behold, for though he 'carried weight', he danced like an India-rubber ball. He ran, he flew, he pranced, his face glowed, his bald head shown, his coattails waved wildly, his pumps actually twinkled in the air, and when the music stopped, he wiped the drops from his brow, and beamed upon his fellow men like a French Pickwick without glasses.
Amy and her Pole distinguished themselves by equal enthusiasm but more graceful agility, and Laurie found himself involuntarily keeping time to the rhythmic rise and fall of the white slippers as they flew by as indefatigably as if winged. When little Vladimir finally relinquished her, with assurances that he was 'desolated to leave so early', she was ready to rest, and see how her recreant knight had borne his punishment.
It had been successful, for at three-and-twenty, blighted affections find a balm in friendly society, and young nerves will thrill, young blood dance, and healthy young spirits rise, when subjected to the enchantment of beauty, light, music, and motion. Laurie had a waked-up look as he rose to give her his seat, and when he hurried away to bring her some supper, she said to herself, with a satisfied smile, "Ah, I thought that would do him good!"
"You look like Balzac's '_Femme Peinte Par Elle-Meme_'," he said, as he fanned her with one hand and held her coffee cup in the other.
"My rouge won't come off." and Amy rubbed her brilliant cheek, and showed him her white glove with a sober simplicity that made him laugh outright.
"What do you call this stuff?" he asked, touching a fold of her dress that had blown over his knee.
"Illusion."
"Good name for it. It's very pretty--new thing, isn't it?"
"It's as old as the hills. You have seen it on dozens of girls, and you never found out that it was pretty till now-- stupide!"
"I never saw it on you before, which accounts for the mistake, you see."
"None of that, it is forbidden. I'd rather take coffee than compliments just now. No, don't lounge, it makes me nervous."
Laurie sat bold upright, and meekly took her empty plate feeling an odd sort of pleasure in having 'little Amy' order him about, for she had lost her shyness now, and felt an irrestible desire to trample on him, as girls have a delightful way of doing when lords of creation show any signs of subjection.
"Where did you learn all this sort of thing?" he asked with a quizzical look.
"As 'this sort of thing' is rather a vague expression, would you kindly explain?" returned Amy, knowing perfectly well what he meant, but wickedly leaving him to describe what is indescribable.
"Well--the general air, the style, the self-possession, the-- the--illusion--you know", laughed Laurie, breaking down and helping himself out of his quandary with the new word.
Amy was gratified, but of course didn't show it, and demurely answered, "Foreign life polishes one in spite of one's self. I study as well as play, and as for this"--with a little gesture toward her dress--"why, tulle is cheap, posies to be had for nothing, and I am used to making the most of my poor little things."
Amy rather regretted that last sentence, fearing it wasn't in good taste, but Laurie liked her better for it, and found himself both admiring and respecting the brave patience that made the most of opportunity, and the cheerful spirit that covered poverty with flowers. Amy did not know why he looked at her so kindly, nor why he filled up her book with his own name, and devoted himself to her for the rest of the evening in the most delightful manner; but the impulse that wrought this agreeable change was the result of one of the new impressions which both of them were unconsciously giving and receiving.
 
下午三点，在英国散步场能看到尼斯市所有的时髦人物--那是个迷人的地方。散步场四周用棕榈、鲜花和热带作物围住，一面临海，另一面连接一条很宽的车道，车道两边林立着旅馆和别墅。远处是柑橘果园和群山。这里代表着许多国家，人们说着许多不同的语言，穿着各式服装。天气晴朗时，这里的欢快情景就像狂欢节一样惹人注意。傲慢的英国人，活泼的法国人，严肃的德国人，英俊的西班牙人，丑陋的俄国人，谦卑的犹太人，无拘无束的美国人，他们在这里或驾车，或闲坐，或漫游。他们闲聊着新闻，评论着来到这里的时新的知名人物--里斯托里或狄更斯，维克托•伊曼纽尔或桑威奇群岛的女王。来这里的马车及其装备和人群一样五花八门，非常引人注目。特别是女士们自己驾驶的低档双马四轮车。两匹劲头十足的小种马拉着车，车上安装着色彩鲜艳的网子，防止女士们宽大的裙边漫过小小的车子，车后架站着小马车夫。
圣诞节这一天，一个高个子年轻人手背在身后，慢慢在散步场走着，神情有些心不在焉。他看上去像是意大利人，打扮又像英国人，却带着美国人独立的神气--这种混合使得各种各样的女士用赞许的目光追随着他。花花公子们身着黑天鹅绒西服，打着玫瑰色的领带，戴着软皮手套，钮扣眼里插着山梅花。他们对那年轻人耸耸肩、继而又嫉妒其他的身材来。周围有许多娱目的倩女，可这年轻人几乎不屑一顾，只是不时打量一下某位身穿蓝衣的金发姑娘。不一会儿，他踱出散步场，在十字路口上站了一会，好像拿不定主意是到公园去听乐队演奏，还是沿着海滩漫步走向山上的城堡。一阵急促的马蹄得得，使他抬头观望。只见一辆小车载着一位女士，很快地顺着街道驶过来。那女士豆蔻年华，金发垂肩，蓝装飘逸。他凝视片刻，脸上的神情为之一振，像一个小男孩似地挥舞着帽子，赶忙跑过去迎接她。
“噢，劳里，这真的是你吗？我还以为你根本不会来呢！”艾美叫着放下缰绳，伸出双手。这使一个法国母亲大为反感，她让女儿加快步子，生怕女儿看到这些“疯狂的英国人"的开放风度会伤风败俗。
“我路上耽搁了，但是我答应过和你一起过圣诞节。我这就来了。”“你爷爷好吗？你们什么时候到的？你们呆在哪里？”“很好- 昨天夜里- 呆在沙万旅馆。我去了你住的旅馆，可是你们都出去了。”“我有那么多话要说，都不知道从哪说起了！坐进来，我们可以安安心心地谈话。我打算驾车兜兜风，很想有个伴儿。
弗洛为今晚的活动留着劲呢。”
“那么有什么活动？舞会？”
“在我们旅馆有一场圣诞晚会。那里有许多美国人，他们举行晚会庆祝节日。你肯定和我们一起去？婶婶会高兴的。”“谢谢，现在去哪儿？”劳里问。他抱住双臂，身子往后一靠。这个动作很适合艾美，因为她宁愿驾车。阳散马鞭和白马背上的蓝色缰绳让她心满意足。
“我先要去取信，然后去拜访城堡之山；那里的风景非常可爱，我喜欢喂孔雀。你去过那里吗？”“前几年常去，可是我现在连一眼也不想看它。”“现在把你的事告诉我吧。最后一次听到你的消息，是你爷爷写信说，他等着你从柏林来。”“是的，我在那儿过了一个月，然后去巴黎和他会合，他在那里安定下来度过冬天。他那儿有朋友，有许多使他开心的事。所以我就离开他来这里了，我们过得非常好。”“这样的安排真是妙极，”艾美说。她发现劳里的态度少了些什么，可是又说不上那是什么。
“是的，你看，他讨厌旅行，而我不喜欢保持安静。因此，我们各取所需，这样也就没有麻烦。我和他总在一起。他喜欢听我的冒险活动，而我从漫游中回来，有人会很高兴见到我，我喜欢这种感觉。那是个肮脏的破坑，是不是？”他带着厌恶的神情补充道。他们正沿着大道驶向这个古老城市的拿破仑广常"但它富于画趣，所以我不在乎。这河流、群山非常美妙。
这若隐若现的狭窄小街纵横交错，让我高兴。现在，我们得等候游行队伍通过，队伍要去圣约翰教堂。”队伍走过来了，牧师们走在华盖下，披着白面纱的修女们手持燃着的小蜡烛，一些身着蓝衣的教徒一边走一边唱着。
劳里无精打采地看着队伍，艾美观察着他，感到一种新的羞涩袭上心头。他有了变化，艾美从身旁这个郁闷的人身上找不到她离开时那个满脸欢乐的男孩的影子。她想，他比以前更英俊了，有了很大长进。可是，见到她时的兴奋劲一过去，他重又疲倦、垂头丧气起来不是病态，确切地说也不是不快，而是显得有些老成、严肃，可一两年幸福的生活是不会把他变成这样的。艾美并不懂，也不好冒昧询问，所以她摇了摇头，用鞭轻轻打了下小马们。这时行进队伍蜿蜒着穿过帕格里奥尼桥的拱门，进入教堂，从视野中消失了。
“Ｑｕｅｐｅｎｓｅｚ－ｖｏｕｓ？”艾美炫耀着她的法语，出国以来，她懂的法语大大增加，虽说质量并未提高。
“小姐珍惜光阴，故有所获，令人感佩，”劳里带着赞赏的神色，手按着心鞠躬作答。
艾美快活得脸腾地红了。但是，不知怎么回事，这种赞扬不像过去在家里时他给她们那种直率的表扬让她满意。那时在节日期间，他在身边转悠着，带着发自内心的笑容，说她"非常有趣"，并且赞许地拍着她的头。她不喜欢这种新的语调，因为尽管不是无动于衷，尽管有着赞赏的神情，这语调听起来却是冷淡的。
“要是这就是他成长的方式，我倒希望他一直是个男孩，”她想。她有了奇怪的失望和不适感，但又力图做出轻松愉快的样子。
在阿维格德，她收到了宝贵的家信。于是，她将缰绳交给劳里，非常开心地读了起来。这时他们正沿着林荫路蜿蜒前行，马路两旁是绿色的篱笆，上面的香水月季盛开着，就像是在六月里，开得那样清新。
“妈妈说，贝思的情况很不好。我常想着我该回家了，可是她们都说'呆下去'，我就留下来了，因为我不会再有这样的机会了，”艾美严肃地看着这一页信说。
“我看你这样做是对的。在家里你什么也不能做，而他们知道你在这儿健康、幸福、非常快乐，这对他们是一个很大的安慰，亲爱的。”他靠近了些，说这些话时他又像从前的老样子。那种时而压在艾美心头的忧虑减轻了，因为，劳里的神情、行为以及兄长般的称呼"亲爱的"似乎使她确信，假如真的发生了什么麻烦事，在异乡的她也不会孤独的。过了一会儿，她笑着给他看一幅乔的速写，乔身穿涂抹工作服，那蝴蝶结昂然直立在帽子上，她的嘴巴吐出这样的字眼：“天才冒火花了。” 劳里笑着接过来，放进背心口袋，”免得被风吹跑了"。他津津有味地听艾美愉快地读着来信。
“这对我将是个非常快乐的圣诞节。上午收到礼物，下午接到家信，又有你相伴，晚上还有舞会，”艾美说。他们在老城堡的废墟中下了车，一群漂亮的孔雀聚拢到他的身边，驯顺地等着他们喂食。艾美站在他上面的山坡上，笑着将面包屑洒向这些漂亮鸟儿们。这时，劳里带着自然的好奇看着她，就像刚才她看他那样。他看到时间和分离在她身上产生了多么大的变化。他没发现使他困惑或者失望的东西，却发现了许多值得欣赏和赞许的东西。忽略她言谈举止中一点小小的矫揉造作成份，她还像从前那样活泼得体，而且她的服装与仪态中又增添了一种描述不出的东西，我们将那称作优雅。艾美看上去总是比她的实际年龄更成熟些，在驾车和谈话方面她都有了某种自信，这使她看上去更像一个精通世故的妇人，虽然实际并非如此。不过，有时她的坏脾气还是有所表现，她仍然保有坚强的意志，她在国外得到的修养也无损于她的天真与直率。
劳里看着她喂孔雀时并没有读懂这一切，但是他看到的足以使他满意，并使他产生兴趣。他获得了一幅小小的美丽画面：一个满脸快乐的女孩子站在阳光里，阳光衬托出她衣服的柔和色彩、脸庞的清新气息、头发的金色光泽，使她在令人愉悦的画面中尤为突出。
他们登上了山顶上的高地，艾美挥着手，像是欢迎他来这个她喜爱的常来之地。她指指点点，问他：“还记得那教堂吗？还有科尔索，在海湾拖着网的渔夫？喏，就在下面。那条可爱的道路通向弗朗加别墅和舒伯特塔楼。不过，最美的还是那远处海面上的小点，他们说那是科西嘉岛。记得吗？”“记得。变化不大，”他没有热情地回答。
“要是能看一眼那著名的小点乔会放弃一切的！”艾美兴高彩烈地说，她很想看到他也一样高兴。
“是的。”他只说了这两个字，然后他转过身来，极目远眺。现在在他的眼里，一个甚至比拿破仑还要伟大的侵占者使这个岛屿变得生动起来。
“为了她，好好地看看这个岛屿吧。然后过来告诉我，这一段时间你都干了些什么。”艾美坐下来，准备听他的长谈。
可是她没听到，因为尽管他过来爽快地回答了她的所有问题，她只获悉他在欧洲大陆漫游，并去过希腊。就这样，他们闲逛了一小时后，便驾车回家了。劳里向卡罗尔太太道过安后就离开了她们，他答应晚上过来。
艾美的表现得记录下来。那天晚上，她故意打扮得非常漂亮。时间与分离在两个年轻人身上都发生了变化。艾美以一种新的眼光看她的老朋友，不是作为"我们的男孩"，而是作为一个英俊悦人的男人。她意识到自己有一种非常自然的愿望，想在他眼里得宠。艾美知道自己的长处，她用风情与技巧充分显示了她的长处。对一个贫穷但美丽的女人来说，风情与技巧便是一种财富。
在尼斯市，薄纱和绢网很便宜，因此，在这样的场合里，艾美便用它们包装自己。她的装扮采用明智的英国式样：年轻姑娘们穿戴朴素。她用鲜花、一些廉价首饰，以及各种玲珑的饰物打扮自己，这些小小的装饰品令人着迷，花钱不多，效果却不错。必须承认，有时候艺术家的品味支配了妇人，她沉迷于梳古代发式，做雕像般的姿势，穿古典式的服装。可是，哎呀，我们大家都有小小的弱点，很容易原谅年轻人身上的这种小毛玻他们的美丽愉悦了我们的双眼，他们天真的虚荣心使我们保持心情怡悦。
“我真想让他认为我看上去漂亮，然后回家对家里人这么说，”艾美自言自语。她穿上弗洛那件旧的白色丝质舞裙，披上一袭新的透明薄纱，露出她那白皙的肩膀和金黄色的脑袋，这样品具艺术韵味。她有眼光地将头发上的厚波浪与卷曲部分在脑后挽起一个青春女神似的结，让其余部分自然垂下。
“这不是流行式样，但是适合我。我不能把自己弄得怪模怪样，”当别人建议他像最新时尚需要的那样去卷发、吹风或者辫辫子时，她总这么说。
在这种重要的场合，艾美没有上好的首饰，因此，她用一束束粉红的杜鹃花为她的羊毛裙饰了一道花边，又用清雅的绿色蔓草装点她乳白的双肩。她记起了以前涂色的靴子，便带着女孩子的满足，打量着她的白色缎面拖鞋，在屋里跳起滑步舞来。她独自欣赏着自己带有贵族气的小脚。
“我的新扇子和我的花束正好相配，我的手套十二万分地适宜，婶婶ｍｏｕｃｈｏｉｒ上的真丝花边提高我全身衣服的档次。
要是再有一个古典的鼻子和嘴巴，我就是最幸福的人，”她一手拿一支蜡烛，带着挑剔的眼光打量着自己说。
虽然这让她有点苦恼，但她碎步走动时看上去还是异常活泼优雅。她很少跑步 -那样不适合她的风格，她想，因为她个子高，比起嬉戏或顽皮的小跑来，那种稳重的、像天后朱诺般雍容华贵的步子更适宜她。她在长长的大厅里来回走着，一边等着劳里。有一次她站到枝形吊灯下，因为灯光映照着她的头发，产生了很好的效果。后来她改变了主意，走到了屋子的另一头，好像为她女孩家的愿望--想给人第一眼留下美好印象- 感到不好意思。碰巧，她这样做恰到好处，因为，劳里悄没声地走了进来。她没听到他的声音。她站在远处的窗边，半偏着头，一手提着裙边，红色的窗帘映衬着她那白色的苗条身段，产生的效果如同一座巧妙安置的雕像。
“晚上好，黛安娜！”劳里说。他的目光落在她身上，露出了满意的神色。艾美喜欢他这种神色。
“晚上好，阿波罗！”她笑着向他回答。他看上去是那么宽厚。一想到挽着这样一位有风度的男子走进舞厅，艾美不由得打心底里可怜起那四位难看的戴维斯小姐来。
“给你花儿，我自己插的。我记得你不喜欢罕娜说的那种'乱插花'，”劳里说着递给她一束漂亮的、香味扑鼻的花儿。
那个花夹她早就想要了。以前每天经过长迪格尼娅花店橱窗时她都盼望有这样一个花夹。
“你太客气了！”她低声惊叹，不失风度。”要是我知道你来，我就会准备些东西给你了，虽然恐怕不及这个漂亮，”“谢谢。这花不像你说的那样好，但是配上你才漂亮。”他补充道。艾美手腕上的银手镯叮呤作响。
“请别这样说。”
“我以为你喜欢这样呢。”
“不是，从你嘴里说出来，听起来不自然。我更喜欢你以前的直率。”“我很高兴你这么说，”他带着宽慰的神情回答，然后他为她扣上了手套上的纽扣，问她他的领带打直了没有，就像以前在家时他们一道去参加舞会时做的那样。
那天晚上，聚集在长长的ｓａｌｌｅｍａｎｇｅｒ里的人群五花八门，除了在欧洲大陆，任何别的地方都见不到这样的景象。好客的美国人邀请了他们在尼斯市的每一个熟人。他们对爵位不抱偏见，也就获得了几位爵爷的驾临，为圣诞舞会增色。
一个俄国王子屈尊坐着和一位魁伟的女士谈了一个小时。那位女士打扮得像哈姆雷特的母亲，她身穿黑天鹅绒礼服，下巴底下缀着珍珠。一个十八岁的波兰伯爵，很投入地和女士们周旋着，女士们称他为"一个迷人的宝贝"。一个德国殿下之类的人，来这专为吃饭，他漫无目的地在大厅里漫游着，寻找他可以吞咽的食物。男爵罗思柴尔德的私人秘书，一个穿着结实的靴子、有着一个大鼻子的犹大人，对众人和蔼地微笑着，好像他主人的名字使他罩上了一层金色的光环。
一个认识国王的矮胖法国人来这里为了过把舞瘾。琼斯女士，一个英国妇女，用她那小小的八口之家点缀了舞会。当然，还有许多步伐轻快、嗓音尖锐的美国姑娘，端庄、呆板的英国女孩，和一些不好看、但是淘气的法国小姐，同时还有常见的那一类爱旅行的年轻绅士们。他们愉快地玩着，而来自各个国家的母亲们沿着墙壁坐着，当先生们和她们的女儿们共舞时，母亲们宽厚地朝他们笑着。
那天晚上，当艾美靠着劳里的胳膊"出场"时，任何年轻姑娘都能想象出她的心境。她知道她看上去漂亮，她喜欢跳舞，她感到她的脚像是踏在家乡的舞池里，她欣赏那种令人陶醉的力量感。当年轻姑娘们首次发现她们生来就可以用美貌、青春以及女性气质这些美德来统治一个可爱的新王国时，她们就会产生这种感觉。她真的同情戴维斯家的姑娘们，她们笨拙而又长相平平，除了一个严厉的爸爸和三个更严厉的独身姑姑，她们没有护卫者。艾美经过她们时，以最友好的态度向她们鞠躬。她做得对，因为这使她们看到了她的衣服。她们好奇心如焚，想知道她那高雅的朋友是何许人。乐队奏起了第一首曲子，艾美的脸红了，眼睛发亮，她的脚焦躁地踏着地。她舞跳得不错，她想让劳里知道这一点。所以，当他以十分平静的语调问道：“你想跳舞吗？”她受到的震动不用描述就可以想象出来。
“在舞会上人们通常是想跳的。”
她迅速回答，惊诧的神情让劳里想尽快弥补自己的过失。
“我是指第一个舞，能赏光吗？”
“如果我把伯爵的邀请往后推，就能和你跳。他跳得非常好，不过你是个老朋友，伯爵会原谅我的，”艾美说。她希望那个名字能起到好作用，她想让劳里知道不可小看她。
“可爱的小男孩，但那个波兰人个子太矮不能支撑神仙的女儿，她个头很高，有着超凡脱俗般的美貌。”这便是她得到的所有满足。
他们发现身处一帮英国人之中，在这种不断变换舞伴的舞会中，艾美不得礼节性地穿行期间，她始终感觉到似乎后面可以尽兴地跳塔兰台拉舞。劳里把她交给了"可爱的小男孩"，去向弗洛尽义务，没有再找艾美享受后面舞曲的乐趣，这种缺乏远见的行为应该受到指责，也得到了恰如其分的惩罚。因为，艾美立刻就舞了起来，直到晚饭时分。她打算只要劳里显出后悔的样子，就宽容他。当他踱过来，而不是跑过来，请她跳下一个美妙的波尔卡雷多瓦舞时，她带着满意的神态，假装正经地给他看她的舞会曲目册。但是他那彬彬有礼的悔过并没有对她产生影响，她和伯爵急速舞着离开了他。这时艾美看到他和她婶婶坐在一起，脸上带着十分宽容的神情。
真是不可饶耍好长时间，艾美不再去注意他，只是偶尔在舞曲的间隙里，到她的陪伴人那里，把衣服上的别针弄一弄，休息一会儿，这都是必需的。她用笑脸遮盖住怒气，看上去格外赏心悦目，这产生了很好的效果。劳里高兴地用目光追随着她，她既不嬉闹，也不闲逛，只是兴高彩烈、优雅地舞着，充分表现了这种娱乐应有的欢乐。很自然，他开始以这种新的观点研究起她来。舞会进行还不到一半时间，他就认定"小艾美就要成为一个非常迷人的妇人了"。
这是一个欢乐的场面。不久，社交的情绪感染了每一个人，圣诞节的欢乐气氛使所有的人都脸上放光，心头喜悦，脚步轻快。乐师们拉着提琴，吹着喇叭，敲着鼓，好像他们也陶醉于其中。能跳的都在跳，不能跳的便带着非同寻常的热情赞赏着邻近的人们。戴维斯家的姑娘们脸上却愁云密布。琼斯家的许多孩子像一群小长颈鹿似地嬉闹着。那个有名声的秘书带着一个打扮漂亮的法国女人舞着，像流星一般划过舞厅，女人的粉红色缎裙在地下扫着。那个日耳曼殿下高兴地发现了晚餐桌子，不停地吃着，吃遍了菜单上所有的美味，他的扫荡使ｇａｒｃｏｎｓ惊愕不已。而国王的朋友出尽风头，他跳了所有的舞，也不管他会不会。有的舞步他搞不清，便即席来个竖趾旋转。看着那矮胖的人像孩子般地放纵真是解颐，因为，尽管他"有影响"，跳舞却像一个橡皮球似地滚动。他奔跑着，飞舞着，欢跃着，脸红脖子粗，秃脑袋闪闪发光，燕尾服尾巴狂乱地摆动，舞鞋真的在空中轻快而有节奏地一闪一闪。音乐停止了，他擦去额上的大滴汗珠，对他的同伴们笑着，像是一个法国的匹克威克，只是手中没有端酒杯。
艾美和那个波兰人舞伴以同样的热情表现出色，只是他们跳得要轻快优雅些。劳里发现自己不自觉地合上了那双白拖鞋上下起伏的节拍，那双拖鞋就像安上了翅膀似地不知疲倦地飞来飞去。那个小弗拉基米尔最后放开了她，宣称"这么早就离开很难过"。这时，艾美准备休息了，她要看看她那怯懦的骑士是怎样接受惩罚的。
事情进行得不错，因为，在二十三岁这个年龄，受挫的心情能在友好的社交圈里得到安慰。置身于美、光和音乐的迷人氛围，年轻人会神经绷紧，血液沸腾，情绪高涨。劳里起身给艾美让座时，脸上露出了振奋的神情。当他匆匆走开去给她拿晚饭时，她自言自语地说：“噢，我想那样对他有好处的！”“你看上去就像巴尔扎克笔下的'Eｅｍｍｅｐｅｉｎｔｅｐａｒｅｌｌｅ－ｍêｍｅ，”他说，一只手为她扇风，另一只手为她端着咖啡杯。
“我的胭脂不会掉的。”艾美擦着她那容光焕发的脸，既严肃又天真地给他看她的白手套。劳里不由放声大笑起来。
“这个玩意儿叫什么？”他碰了碰飘拂在膝上的一团织物，问道。
“透明面纱。”
“名字不错。它非常漂亮--新东西，是不是？”“它和群山一样老，在许多女孩身上你都见过，可是你到现在才发现它漂亮- ｓｔｕｐｉｄｅ！”“我以前从来没看你披过，你看，这就是错误所在。”“别那样说话，打住！现在我宁愿喝咖啡，也不要听恭维话。别，别晃来晃去的，那让我心烦。”劳里坐得笔直，他温顺地接过艾美吃光了的空盘子。让"小艾美"东派西使，他感到一种奇异的快乐。现在，艾美已经没有了羞涩感，她有一种抵挡不住的欲望，想凌驾于他之上。当男人们表示臣服时，姑娘们都有一种让人乐意领受的方法治他们。
“你在哪里学到这种东西的？”他带着迷惑的神情问她。
“'这种东西'表达太含糊，你能否解释一下？”艾美回答。她很清楚他的意思，但是却淘气地让他描述无法描述的东西。
“嗯--整个风度、气质，那种沉着，那--那--那个透明面纱 -你知道的。”劳里笑了起来，他住了口，那个新词弄得他张口结舌，他好不容易从窘境中挣脱出来。
艾美心满意足了，但是她不露声色，假装正经地回答：“旅外生活不知不觉地使人变得优雅起来。除了游玩，我还学习。至于这个- "她朝衣服做了个小手势- "哎呀，薄纱便宜，花束不用花钱。我习惯于充分利用那些可怜的小东西。”最后一句话让艾美很是后悔，她担心那样说趣味不好。可是劳里更喜欢她了。他感到自己既赞赏又尊重那种充分利用机会的无畏的坚忍，以及那种以鲜花遮盖贫困的乐观精神。艾美不知道劳里为什么那样亲切地看着她，也不知道他为什么在她的舞会曲目册上填满他自己的名字，而且在晚会剩下的时间里，他以最愉快的态度全副身心倾注于她。然而，产生这种悦人变化的冲动便是一种新的印象，他们俩都不知不觉地给予并接受对方这种新印象。
Chapter 38 On The Shelf
In France the young girls have a dull time of it till they are married, when 'Vive la liberte!' becomes their motto. In America, as everyone knows, girls early sign the declaration of independence, and enjoy their freedom with republican zest, but the young matrons usually abdicate with the first heir to the throne and go into a seclusion almost as close as a French nunnery, though by no means as quiet. Whether they like it or not, they are virtually put upon the shelf as soon as the wedding excitement is over, and most of them might exclaim, as did a very pretty woman the other day, "I'm as handsome as ever, but no one takes any notice of me because I'm married."
Not being a belle or even a fashionable lady, Meg did not experience this affliction till her babies were a year old, for in her little world primitive customs prevailed, and she found herself more admired and beloved than ever.
As she was a womanly little woman, the maternal instinct was very strong, and she was entirely absorbed in her children, to the utter exclusion of everything and everybody else. Day and night she brooded over them with tireless devotion and anxiety, leaving John to the tender mercies of the help, for an Irish lady now presided over the kitchen department. Being a domestic man, John decidedly missed the wifely attentions he had been accustomed to receive, but as he adored his babies, he cheerfully relinquished his comfort for a time, supposing with masculine ignorance that peace would soon be restored. But three months passed, and there was no return of repose. Meg looked worn and nervous, the babies absorbed every minute of her time, the house was neglected, and Kitty, the cook, who took life 'aisy', kept him on short commons. When he went out in the morning he was bewildered by small commissions for the captive mamma, if he came gaily in at night, eager to embrace his family, he was quenched by a "Hush! They are just asleep after worrying all day." If he proposed a little amusement at home, "No, it would disturb the babies." If he hinted at a lecture or a concert, he was answered with a reproachful look, and a decided - "Leave my children for pleasure, never!" His sleep was broken by infant wails and visions of a phantom figure pacing noiselessly to and fro in the watches of the night. His meals were interrupted by the frequent flight of the presiding genius, who deserted him, half-helped, if a muffled chirp sounded from the nest above. And when he read his paper of an evening, Demi's colic got into the shipping list and Daisy's fall affected the price of stocks, for Mrs. Brooke was only interested in domestic news.
The poor man was very uncomfortable, for the children had bereft him of his wife, home was merely a nursery and the perpetual 'hushing' made him feel like a brutal intruder whenever he entered the sacred precincts of Babyland. He bore it very patiently for six months, and when no signs of amendment appeared, he did what other paternal exiles do--tried to get a little comfort elsewhere. Scott had married and gone to housekeeping not far off, and John fell into the way of running over for an hour or two of an evening, when his own parlor was empty, and his own wife singing lullabies that seemed to have no end. Mrs. Scott was a lively, pretty girl, with nothing to do but be agreeable, and she performed her mission most successfully. The parlor was always bright and attractive, the chessboard ready, the piano in tune, plenty of gay gossip, and a nice little supper set forth in tempting style.
John would have preferred his own fireside if it had not been so lonely, but as it was he gratefully took the next best thing and enjoyed his neighbor's society.
Meg rather approved of the new arrangement at first, and found it a relief to know that John was having a good time instead of dozing in the parlor, or tramping about the house and waking the children. But by-and-by, when the teething worry was over and the idols went to sleep at proper hours, leaving Mamma time to rest, she began to miss John, and find her workbasket dull company, when he was not sitting opposite in his old dressing gown, comfortably scorching his slippers on the fender. She would not ask him to stay at home, but felt injured because he did not know that she wanted him without being told, entirely forgetting the many evenings he had waited for her in vain. She was nervous and worn out with watching and worry, and in that unreasonable frame of mind which the best of mothers occasionally experience when domestic cares oppress them. Want of exercise robs them of cheerfulness, and too much devotion to that idol of American women, the teapot, makes them feel as if they were all nerve and no muscle.
"Yes," she would say, looking in the glass, "I'm getting old and ugly. John doesn't find me interesting any longer, so he leaves his faded wife and goes to see his pretty neighbor, who has no incumbrances. Well, the babies love me, they don't care if I am thin and pale and haven't time to crimp my hair, they are my comfort, and some day John will see what I've gladly sacrificed for them, won't he, my precious?"
To which pathetic appeal Daisy would answer with a coo, or Demi with a crow, and Meg would put by her lamentations for a maternal revel, which soothed her solitude for the time being. But the pain increased as politics absorbed John, who was always running over to discuss interesting points with Scott, quite unconscious that Meg missed him. Not a word did she say, however, till her mother found her in tears one day, and insisted on knowing what the matter was, for Meg's drooping spirits had not escaped her observation.
"I wouldn't tell anyone except you, Mother, but I really do need advice, for if John goes on much longer I might as well be widowed," replied Mrs. Brooke, drying her tears on Daisy's bib with an injured air.
"Goes on how, my dear?" asked her mother anxiously.
"He's away all day, and at night when I want to see him, he is continually going over to the Scotts'. It isn't fair that I should have the hardest work, and never any amusement. Men are very selfish, even the best of them."
"So are women. Don't blame John till you see where you are wrong yourself."
"But it can't be right for him to neglect me."
"Don't you neglect him?"
"Why, Mother, I thought you'd take my part!"
"So I do, as far as sympathizing goes, but I think the fault is yours, Meg."
"I don't see how."
"Let me show you. Did John ever neglect you, as you call it, while you made it a point to give him your society of an evening, his only leisure time?"
"No, but I can't do it now, with two babies to tend."
"I think you could, dear, and I think you ought. May I speak quite freely, and will you remember that it's Mother who blames as well as Mother who sympathizes?"
"Indeed I will! Speak to me as if I were little Meg again. I often feel as if I needed teaching more than ever since these babies look to me for everything."
Meg drew her low chair beside her mother's, and with a little interruption in either lap, the two women rocked and talked lovingly together, feeling that the tie of motherhood made them more one than ever.
"You have only made the mistake that most young wives make--forgotten your duty to your husband in your love for your children. A very natural and forgivable mistake, Meg, but one that had better be remedied before you take to different ways, for children should draw you nearer than ever, not separate you, as if they were all yours, and John had nothing to do but support them. I've seen it for some weeks, but have not spoken, feeling sure it would come right in time."
"I'm afraid it won't. If I ask him to stay, he'll think I'm jealous, and I wouldn't insult him by such an idea. He doesn't see that I want him, and I don't know how to tell him without words."
"Make it so pleasant he won't want to go away. My dear, he's longing for his little home, but it isn't home without you, and you are always in the nursery."
"Oughtn't I to be there?"
"Not all the time, too much confinement makes you nervous, and then you are unfitted for everything. Besides, you owe something to John as well as to the babies. Don't neglect husband for children, don't shut him out of the nursery, but teach him how to help in it. His place is there as well as yours, and the children need him. Let him feel that he has a part to do, and he will do it gladly and faithfully, and it will be better for you all."
"You really think so, Mother?"
"I know it, Meg, for I've tried it, and I seldom give advice unless I've proved its practicability. When you and Jo were little, I went on just as you are, feeling as if I didn't do my duty unless I devoted myself wholly to you. Poor Father took to his books, after I had refused all offers of help, and left me to try my experiment alone. I struggled along as well as I could, but Jo was too much for me. I nearly spoiled her by indulgence. You were poorly, and I worried about you till I fell sick myself. Then Father came to the rescue, quietly managed everything, and made himself so helpful that I saw my mistake, and never have been able to got on without him since. That is the secret of our home happiness. He does not let business wean him from the little cares and duties that affect us all, and I try not to let domestic worries destroy my interest in his pursuits. Each do our part alone in many things, but at home we work together, always."
"It is so, Mother, and my great wish is to be to my husband and children what you have been to yours. Show me how, I'll do anything you say."
"You always were my docile daughter. Well, dear, if I were you, I'd let John have more to do with the management of Demi, for the boy needs training, and it's none too soon to begin. Then I'd do what I have often proposed, let Hannah come and help you. She is a capital nurse, and you may trust the precious babies to her while you do more housework. You need the exercise, Hannah would enjoy the rest, and John would find his wife again. Go out more, keep cheerful as well as busy, for you are the sunshine-maker of the family, and if you get dismal there is no fair weather. Then I'd try to take an interest in whatever John likes--talk with him, let him read to you, exchange ideas, and help each other in that way. Don't shut yourself up in a bandbox because you are a woman, but understand what is going on, and educate yourself to take your part in the world's work, for it all affects you and yours."
"John is so sensible, I'm afraid he will think I'm stupid if I ask questions about politics and things."
"I don't believe he would. Love covers a multitude of sins, and of whom could you ask more freely than of him? Try it, and see if he doesn't find your society far more agreeable than Mrs. Scott's suppers."
"I will. Poor John! I'm afraid I have neglected him sadly, but I thought I was right, and he never said anything."
"He tried not to be selfish, but he has felt rather forlorn, I fancy. This is just the time, Meg, when young married people are apt to grow apart, and the very time when they ought to be most together, for the first tenderness soon wears off, unless care is taken to preserve it. And no time is so beautiful and precious to parents as the first years of the little lives given to them to train. Don't let John be a stranger to the babies, for they will do more to keep him safe and happy in this world of trial and temptation than anything else, and through them you will learn to know and love one another as you should. Now, dear, good-by. Think over Mother's preachment, act upon it if it seems good, and God bless you all."
Meg did think it over, found it good, and acted upon it, though the first attempt was not made exactly as she planned to have it. Of course the children tyrannized over her, and ruled the house as soon as they found out that kicking and squalling brought them whatever they wanted. Mamma was an abject slave to their caprices, but Papa was not so easily subjugated, and occasionally afflicted his tender spouse by an attempt at paternal discipline with his obstreperous son. For Demi inherited a trifle of his sire's firmness of character, we won't call it obstinacy, and when he made up his little mind to have or to do anything, all the king's horses and all the king's men could not change that pertinacious little mind. Mamma thought the dear too young to be taught to conquer his prejudices, but Papa believed that it never was too soon to learn obedience. So Master Demi early discovered that when he undertook to 'wrastle' with 'Parpar', he always got the worst of it, yet like the Englishman, baby respected the man who conquered him, and loved the father whose grave "No, no," was more impressive than all Mamma's love pats.
A few days after the talk with her mother, Meg resolved to try a social evening with John, so she ordered a nice supper, set the parlor in order, dressed herself prettily, and put the children to bed early, that nothing should interfere with her experiment. But unfortunately Demi's most unconquerable prejudice was against going to bed, and that night he decided to go on a rampage. So poor Meg sang and rocked, told stories and tried every sleep-prevoking wile she could devise, but all in vain, the big eyes wouldn't shut, and long after Daisy had gone to byelow, like the chubby little bunch of good nature she was, naughty Demi lay staring at the light, with the most discouragingly wide-awake expression of countenance.
"Will Demi lie still like a good boy, while Mamma runs down and gives poor Papa his tea?" asked Meg, as the hall door softly closed, and the well-known step went tip-toeing into the dining room.
"Me has tea!" said Demi, preparing to join in the revel.
"No, but I'll save you some little cakies for breakfast, if you'll go bye-bye like Daisy. Will you, lovey?"
"Iss!" and Demi shut his eyes tight, as if to catch sleep and hurry the desired day.
Taking advantage of the propitious moment, Meg slipped away and ran down to greet her husband with a smiling face and the little blue bow in her hair which was his especial admiration. He saw it at once and said with pleased surprise, "Why, little mother, how gay we are tonight. Do you expect company?"
"Only you, dear."
"Is it a birthday, anniversary, or anything?"
"No, I'm tired of being dowdy, so I dressed up as a change. You always make yourself nice for table, no matter how tired you are, so why shouldn't I when I have the time?"
"I do it out of respect for you, my dear," said old-fashioned John.
"Ditto, ditto, Mr. Brooke," laughed Meg, looking young and pretty again, as she nodded to him over the teapot.
"Well, it's altogether delightful, and like old times. This tastes right. I drink your health, dear." and John sipped his tea with an air of reposeful rapture, which was of very short duration however, for as he put down his cup, the door handle rattled mysteriously, and a little voice was heard, saying impatiently . . .
"Opy doy. Me's tummin!"
"It's that naughty boy. I told him to go to sleep alone, and here he is, downstairs, getting his death a-cold pattering over that canvas," said Meg, answering the call.
"Mornin' now," announced Demi in joyful tone as he entered, with his long nightgown gracefully festooned over his arm and every curl bobbing gayly as he pranced about the table, eyeing the 'cakies' with loving glances.
"No, it isn't morning yet. You must go to bed, and not trouble poor Mamma. Then you can have the little cake with sugar on it."
"Me loves Parpar," said the artful one, preparing to climb the paternal knee and revel in forbidden joys. But John shook his head, and said to Meg . . .
"If you told him to stay up there, and go to sleep alone, make him do it, or he will never learn to mind you."
"Yes, of course. Come, Demi," and Meg led her son away, feeling a strong desire to spank the little marplot who hopped beside her, laboring under the delusion that the bribe was to be administered as soon as they reached the nursery.
Nor was he disappointed, for that shortsighted woman actually gave him a lump of sugar, tucked him into his bed, and forbade any more promenades till morning.
"Iss!" said Demi the perjured, blissfully sucking his sugar, and regarding his first attempt as eminently successful.
Meg returned to her place, and supper was progressing pleasantly, when the little ghost walked again, and exposed the maternal delinquencies by boldly demanding, "More sudar, Marmar."
"Now this won't do," said John, hardening his heart against the engaging little sinner. "We shall never know any peace till that child learns to go to bed properly. You have made a slave of yourself long enough. Give him one lesson, and then there will be an end of it. Put him in his bed and leave him, Meg."
"He won't stay there, he never does unless I sit by him."
"I'll manage him. Demi, go upstairs, and get into your bed, as Mamma bids you."
"S'ant!" replied the young rebel, helping himself to the coveted 'cakie', and beginning to eat the same with calm audacity.
"You must never say that to Papa. I shall carry you if you don't go yourself."
"Go 'way, me don't love Parpar." and Demi retired to his mother's skirts for protection.
But even that refuge proved unavailing, for he was delivered over to the enemy, with a "Be gentle with him, John," which struck the culprit with dismay, for when Mamma deserted him, then the judgment day was at hand. Bereft of his cake, defrauded of his frolic, and borne away by a strong hand to that detested bed, poor Demi could not restrain his wrath, but openly defied Papa, and kicked and screamed lustily all the way upstairs. The minute he was put into bed on one side, he rolled out on the other, and made for the door, only to be ignominiously caught up by the tail of his little toga and put back again, which lively performance was kept up till the young man's strength gave out, when he devoted himself to roaring at the top of his voice. This vocal exercise usually conquered Meg, but John sat as unmoved as the post which is popularly believed to be deaf. No coaxing, no sugar, no lullaby, no story, even the light was put out and only the red glow of the fire enlivened the 'big dark' which Demi regarded with curiosity rather than fear. This new order of things disgusted him, and he howled dismally for 'Marmar', as his angry passions subsided, and recollections of his tender bondwoman returned to the captive autocrat. The plaintive wail which succeeded the passionate roar went to Meg's heart, and she ran up to say beseechingly . . .
"Let me stay with him, he'll be good now, John."
"No, my dear. I've told him he must go to sleep, as you bid him, and he must, if I stay here all night."
"But he'll cry himself sick," pleaded Meg, reproaching herself for deserting her boy.
"No, he won't, he's so tired he will soon drop off and then the matter is settled, for he will understand that he has got to mind. Don't interfere, I'll manage him."
"He's my child, and I can't have his spirit broken by harshness."
"He's my child, and I won't have his temper spoiled by indulgence. Go down, my dear, and leave the boy to me."
When John spoke in that masterful tone, Meg always obeyed, and never regretted her docility.
"Please let me kiss him once, John?"
"Certainly. Demi, say good night to Mamma, and let her go and rest, for she is very tired with taking care of you all day."
Meg always insisted upon it that the kiss won the victory, for after it was given, Demi sobbed more quietly, and lay quite still at the bottom of the bed, whither he had wriggled in his anguish of mind.
"Poor little man, he's worn out with sleep and crying. I'll cover him up, and then go and set Meg's heart at rest," thought John, creeping to the bedside, hoping to find his rebellious heir asleep.
But he wasn't, for the moment his father peeped at him, Demi's eyes opened, his little chin began to quiver, and he put up his arms, saying with a penitent hiccough, "Me's dood, now."
Sitting on the stairs outside Meg wondered at the long silence which followed the uproar, and after imagining all sorts of impossible accidents, she slipped into the room to set her fears at rest. Demi lay fast asleep, not in his usual spreadeagle attitude, but in a subdued bunch, cuddled close in the circle of his father's arm and holding his father's finger, as if he felt that justice was tempered with mercy, and had gone to sleep a sadder and wiser baby. So held, John had waited with a womanly patience till the little hand relaxed its hold, and while waiting had fallen asleep, more tired by that tussle with his son than with his whole day's work.
As Meg stood watching the two faces on the pillow, she smiled to herself, and then slipped away again, saying in a satisfied tone, "I never need fear that John will be too harsh with my babies. He does know how to manage them, and will be a great help, for Demi is getting too much for me."
When John came down at last, expecting to find a pensive or reproachful wife, he was agreeably surprised to find Meg placidly trimming a bonnet, and to be greeted with the request to read something about the election, if he was not too tired. John saw in a minute that a revolution of some kind was going on, but wisely asked no questions, knowing that Meg was such a transparent little person, she couldn't keep a secret to save her life, and therefore the clue would soon appear. He read a long debate with the most amiable readiness and then explained it in his most lucid manner, while Meg tried to look deeply interested, to ask intelligent questions, and keep her thoughts from wandering from the state of the nation to the state of her bonnet. In her secret soul, however, she decided that politics were as bad as mathematics, and that the mission of politicians seemed to be calling each other names, but she kept these feminine ideas to herself, and when John paused, shook her head and said with what she thought diplomatic ambiguity, "Well, I really don't see what we are coming to."
John laughed, and watched her for a minute, as she poised a pretty little preparation of lace and flowers on her hand, and regarded it with the genuine interest which his harangue had failed to waken.
"She is trying to like politics for my sake, so I'll try and like millinery for hers, that's only fair," thought John the Just, adding aloud, "That's very pretty. Is it what you call a breakfast cap?"
"My dear man, it's a bonnet! My very best go-to-concert-and-theater bonnet."
"I beg your pardon, it was so small, I naturally mistook it for one of the flyaway things you sometimes wear. How do you keep it on?"
"These bits of lace are fastened under the chin with a rosebud, so," and Meg illustrated by putting on the bonnet and regarding him with an air of calm satisfaction that was irresistible.
"It's a love of a bonnet, but I prefer the face inside, for it looks young and happy again," and John kissed the smiling face, to the great detriment of the rosebud under the chin.
"I'm glad you like it, for I want you to take me to one of the new concerts some night. I really need some music to put me in tune. Will you, please?"
"Of course I will, with all my heart, or anywhere else you like. You have been shut up so long, it will do you no end of good, and I shall enjoy it, of all things. What put it into your head, little mother?"
"Well, I had a talk with Marmee the other day, and told her how nervous and cross and out of sorts I felt, and she said I needed change and less care, so Hannah is to help me with the children, and I'm to see to things about the house more, and now and then have a little fun, just to keep me from getting to be a fidgety, broken-down old woman before my time. It's only an experiment, John, and I want to try it for your sake as much as for mine, because I've neglected you shamefully lately, and I'm going to make home what it used to be, if I can. You don't object, I hope?"
Never mind what John said, or what a very narrow escape the little bonnet had from utter ruin. All that we have any business to know is that John did not appear to object, judging from the changes which gradually took place in the house and its inmates. It was not all Paradise by any means, but everyone was better for the division of labor system. The children throve under the paternal rule, for accurate, stedfast John brought order and obedience into Babydom, while Meg recovered her spirits and composed her nerves by plenty of wholesome exercise, a little pleasure, and much confidential conversation with her sensible husband. Home grew homelike again, and John had no wish to leave it, unless he took Meg with him. The Scotts came to the Brookes' now, and everyone found the little house a cheerful place, full of happiness, content, and family love. Even Sallie Moffatt liked to go there. "It is always so quiet and pleasant here, it does me good, Meg," she used to say, looking about her with wistful eyes, as if trying to discover the charm, that she might use it in her great house, full of splendid loneliness, for there were no riotous, sunny-faced babies there, and Ned lived in a world of his own, where there was no place for her.
This household happiness did not come all at once, but John and Meg had found the key to it, and each year of married life taught them how to use it, unlocking the treasuries of real home love and mutual helpfulness, which the poorest may possess, and the richest cannot buy. This is the sort of shelf on which young wives and mothers may consent to be laid, safe from the restless fret and fever of the world, finding loyal lovers in the little sons and daughters who cling to them, undaunted by sorrow, poverty, or age, walking side by side, through fair and stormy weather, with a faithful friend, who is, in the true sense of the good old Saxon word, the 'house-band', and learning, as Meg learned, that a woman's happiest kingdom is home, her highest honor the art of ruling it not as a queen, but as a wise wife and mother.
 
在法国，年轻姑娘们婚前生活很乏味；结了婚，”Ｖｉｖｅｌａｌｉｂｅｒｔé便成了她们的座右铭。而在美国，众所周知，姑娘们早就签署了独立宣言，她们带着共和党人的热情享受着自由。
然而，通常在家庭的第一个继承人登上宝座之时，年轻的主妇们便逊位了。她们过着归隐的生活，几乎像是在法国的女修道院，却没有那里安静。不管她们是否愿意，一旦婚姻激动人心的时期过去，事实上她们便被束之高阁。大多数妇女会惊叹，就像前些日子一个非常漂亮的女人所说的：“我和以前一样漂亮，可是仅仅因为我结了婚，就不再有人注意我了！”梅格不是美女，甚至也不是个时髦女士，所以在她的孩子们长到一岁之前，她都没经受这种痛苦。在她的小世界里，古风习俗盛行，她感到自己得到的赞赏与爱心比前更多。
她是个温柔的小妇人，母性的本能非常强烈，所以她把全副精力用于孩子们，排斥任何别的东西，别的人。她带着不知疲倦的献身精神与焦虑心情，日日夜夜想孩子们之所想。
现在厨房诸事一应交给一个爱尔兰太太主管，梅格将约翰丢给她，任由她摆布。约翰是个热爱家庭生活的男人，肯定怀念他惯常受到的妻子的照顾。但是他喜爱他的孩子们，也就愉快地暂时放弃了他的舒适，带着男子的懵然无知推测不久就会恢复安宁。然而，三个月时间过去了，平静没有重返。梅格看上去疲倦紧张，而那个厨子过日子很有"节制"，总不让他吃饱。早上出门时，他看到家务缠身的妈妈忙着桩桩琐碎小事，感到迷惑不解。晚上兴冲冲地回到家里，急切地想拥抱妻子，却被妻子止住了：“嘘，他们吵了一天，刚刚睡着。”假如他提议在家里来点娱乐，”不！那样会打扰孩子们。”要是他暗示去听讲座或音乐会，梅格会责备地看着他，然后断然回答：“丢下孩子们去享乐？决不！”在难以成眠的夜里，他听到孩子们的哭叫声，看到一个幽灵般的身影无声无息地来回走动。吃饭时，只要楼上小窝里传来轻微响动，主管一切的天才便会奔离餐桌，其他于不顾，这频繁的上上下下打搅了他的进餐。晚上他读报时，德米的疝痛混进了航运表，黛西的跌跤则影响了股评价格，而布鲁克太太只对家庭的新闻感兴趣。
那可怜的人感到非常不舒服，因为孩子们使他失去了妻子。家只不过是一个托儿所，每当他进入神圣的孩子领地，那不断的"嘘"声使他感到自己像是一个野蛮的入侵者。他非常耐心地忍受了六个月，情况仍然没有改善的迹象。这时，他像其他被放逐的父亲们一样--试图从别的地方找些小慰藉。斯科特已经结了婚，在离他们不远的地方居家过日子。约翰便成了习惯，晚上过去玩一两小时，而他自家的客厅空荡荡的，妻子哼着似乎永无终了的催眠曲。斯科特夫人活泼、美丽，她无事可做，却能让人愉快。她非常成功地完成她的使命。她家的客厅总是明亮、吸引人。棋盘摆好了，钢琴调准了。在这里可以闲聊许多令人开心的事，还有一顿诱人的小晚餐等着他。
要不是自家的炉边那么寂寞，约翰会宁愿呆在自己家的。
但他还是心怀感激地退而求其次，享受着与邻居为伴的乐趣。
开始时，梅格十分赞同他这种新的安排。约翰玩得很尽兴，他不再在自家的客厅打盹儿，或者在房子里到处乱走，让沉重的脚步声惊醒孩子们。她因此而感到欣慰。然而不久以后，孩子们出牙期的焦躁结束。宠儿们睡觉守时，妈妈便有了休息的时间。这时她开始想念约翰。约翰没有像过去那样，穿着旧睡衣坐在她的对面，舒坦地在火炉围栏上烤他的拖鞋，于是她发现针线篮是个乏味的伴儿。她不愿求他呆在家里，但她感到受了伤害，因为她不告诉他，他也就不知道她需要他。
梅格完全记不得那许多夜晚，约翰徒劳地等着她。她照看孩子，为孩子操心，又紧张又疲倦。她那种无奈的心绪大多数母亲在家事拖累下都时而有过。缺乏锻炼使她们不再快乐，美国妇女们过分专注于她们的宠物- 茶壶，这使她们感到好像她们太神经质，精力不济。
“是的，”梅格朝镜子里看着，总会这么说，”我越来越老了，丑了。约翰不再认为我有趣了，所以他丢下他憔悴的妻子，去见那没有儿女拖累的漂亮邻居了。好吧，孩子们爱我，即便我消瘦，面色苍白，没时间卷头发，他们也不在乎。他们是我的安慰。总有一天约翰会看到我心甘情愿为他们作出的牺牲，是不是，我的宝贝们？”听着这种哀切的倾诉，黛西会发出"呀呀"的声音作反应，德米却欢叫着来回答她。这时，梅格便会带着母亲的得意丢开她的悲哀，这暂时抚慰了她的孤寂。然而，约翰迷上了政治，这一来加深了梅格的痛苦。约翰总是跑过去和斯科特讨论他感兴趣的观点，他根本没意识到梅格想他。可是她一个字也没说，直到有一天母亲发现梅格在哭。妈妈坚持要她说出是怎么回事，梅格低落的情绪没有逃过妈妈的目光。
“妈妈，除了你我不会告诉任何人的。可是我真的需要忠告，因为，约翰要是再这样下去，我最好是去当寡妇。”布鲁克太太带着受伤的神情用黛西的围嘴擦着眼泪。
“怎样下去，亲爱的？”妈妈焦急地问。
“他白天整天在外面，到了晚上我想见他时，他却总是去斯科特家。这样不公平，我就该干最重的活，从来没有乐趣？
男人太自私了，他们中最好的也不例外。”“女人们也是这样。看看你自己哪儿错了，再责备约翰。”“可是他忽视我，这不可能是对的！”“你可忽视了他？“哎呀，妈妈，我以为你会站在我这一边呢！”“就同情而言，是这样的。可是梅格，我认为责任在你！”“我看不出怎么在我。”“我来告诉你。当你在晚上他仅有的空余时间里总是陪伴他时，约翰可像你说的那样忽视你？”“没有。可是我现在做不到，我有两个孩子要照管。”“我想你能够做到的，亲爱的。我想你也应该这么做。我可以很不客气地说话吗？你愿意记住妈妈是既责备你又同情你的人？“我真的愿意。就像我又成了小梅格那样对我说吧。自从这两个孩子一切都仰仗我，我常感到好像比以前更需要教导了。”梅格将她的矮椅拖到妈妈的椅子旁边，一边膝上放一个小捣蛋。两个妇人摇着椅子，亲切地谈着话，她们感到母性的纽带将她们联得越发紧密了。
“你只是犯了大多数年轻妻子们所犯的那种错--因为爱孩子而忘记了对丈夫应尽的责任。这种错非常自然，也是可以原谅的。梅格，你最好是加以补救，而不要采取别的方式，因为孩子们越来越依恋你，不想和你分开，好像他们都是你的，约翰没份，只能抚养他们。我已经看出来几个星期了，只是没说出来。我想事情最终会摆正的。”“恐怕不会的。要是我求他呆在家里，他会以为我忌妒了。
我不想让他产生这种念头。他看不出我需要他，我不知道怎样不用言语让他明白我的心。”“把家里弄得赏心悦目，他就不想出去了，亲爱的。他渴慕自己的小家，但不是没有你的家。可你总是在育儿室。”“我不应该在那里？”“不应所有的时间都在那儿，过多的封闭会使你神经紧张，结果干什么都不合适了。而且，和对孩子们一样，你也欠了约翰的。别为了孩子忽视了丈夫，别把他关在育儿室外面，而要教他怎样帮忙。和你一样，那里也有他的位置，孩子们需要他。让他感到也有他的一份事儿，他会高兴地克尽职守，这样对你们大家都会更好。”“你真的这么认为，妈妈？”“梅格，我知道的，我试过。我证实过这个建议的可行性，不然，我不会给别人建议的。当你和乔还小的时候，我的情况就像你这样，感到要不是整个人交给你们，就没尽到责任。
你可怜的爸爸提出帮助，我一概拒绝，他便沉醉到书本里去，让我独自去做我的试验。我尽力地挣扎着，但是乔太难对付了，我差点宠坏了她。你身体不好，我为你操心，后来自己也病了。这时，你爸爸过来救援了。他默默地处理着每一件事，他的帮助太大了。我看到了自己的过错，从那以后，没有他我根本不能过活。这就是我们家庭幸福的秘密所在。他不允许工作将他从影响我们大家的家务小事和责任中脱离开来，我也努力不让家务烦恼破坏我对他工作的兴趣。有许多事情，我们独自各干各的，可是在家里我们总是一起干活。”“是这样的，妈妈。我最大的愿望就是在丈夫和孩子的眼里成为你那样的妻子和母亲。告诉我怎么做，你怎么说我就怎么做。” “你总是我听话的孩子。好吧，亲爱的。我要是你的活，就让约翰多管管德米，因为男孩子需要训练，训练开始得越早越好。你还要做我常向你提议的事，让罕娜嬷嬷过来帮忙；她是个绝好的保姆，你可以把宝贝孩子托给她照料，自己多做些家务。你需要这份煅炼，罕娜会高高兴兴地干其余的活，而约翰又会找回他的妻子。多出去些，既要忙碌着，也要保持畅快，因为你是家庭中制造欢乐的人。要是你情绪忧郁，家庭生活也就没有了好天气。你还要试着做到：约翰喜欢什么，我就对什么感兴趣 -去和他谈谈，让他为你读读书，交流思想，以那种方式互相帮助。别因为你是个妇人，就把自己装在纸板盒里，要了解时事，要训练自己参与世事，因为这些都和你的工作有联系。”“约翰那么聪明。我担心要是我问他政治和其他问题，他会认为我笨的。”“我想他不会的，爱情能宽容许多过失。除了他，你还能更直率地问谁呢？试试吧，看他可会发现你的相伴和斯科特的晚餐哪个更好。”“我会这么做的。可怜的约翰！我恐怕我已经不幸地忽视了他。我还以为我是对的呢，他从来不说什么。”“他试图不表现出自私，但是我想他已经感到了相当的凄凉。梅格，现在恰是时候。这个时候年轻的夫妻们易于疏远，也最应贴近，因为结婚最初的柔情蜜意，如不用心维持，很快就会消逝。在小生命们交给他们培育的最初几年里，对父母来说，没有比这更美好、更宝贵的日子了。别让约翰成为孩子们的陌生人。在这个具有考验与诱惑的世界，孩子们比任何别的东西都更能使他安全、幸福。通过孩子们，你们能够，也应该学着相知相爱。好了，亲爱的，再见。想想妈妈的训导，要是觉得好就这么做。上帝保佑你们全家。”梅格确实仔细想了一回，觉得妈妈说得不错，也这么做了，虽然第一次尝试并不完全像她筹划的那样。孩子们当然对她横行霸道。一旦发现蹬腿嚎哭能带来他们所要的东西，他们便统治了屋子。在他们的任性驱驶下，妈妈是个卑贱的奴隶，可是爸爸却不那么容易征服。有时，爸爸想用父亲的纪律管制任性的儿子时，却使他那软心肠的妻子痛苦。德米继承了他父亲一些坚强的个性--我们不把它叫顽固- 当他的小脑袋打定主意要什么或做什么时，国王的所有人马都改变不了那个不屈不挠的小脑袋产生的念头。妈妈认为小宝贝太小了，还不能叫他克服偏见。可是爸爸相信，学习服从怎么也不会为时过早。因此德米少爷很早就发现，只要他和"爸贝（爸）”“叫（较）量"，他总是大败。然而像美国人那样，孩子尊敬征服了他的人。他爱爸爸。爸爸严肃的"不、不"比妈妈所有慈爱的鼓励都更使他牢记在心。
和妈妈谈话后又过了几天，梅格决心陪伴约翰一晚上。因此，她准备了一桌像样的晚餐，客厅收拾得井井有条，自己打扮得漂漂亮亮，而且很早就让孩子们上床睡觉。没什么能够打扰她进行试验了。可不幸的是，德米难以克服的恶习便是反对上床睡觉。那天晚上，他决定要胡搅蛮缠。所以梅格唱啊，摇啊，讲故事，想尽了哄他入睡的点子，可是一切均告无效。黛西已经睡着很长时间了，他那双大眼睛还是不合上。黛西长得胖胖嘟嘟的，脾气也好。可淘气的德米躺在那里盯着灯看，脸上的表情十分清醒。令人泄气！
“德米，乖孩子，静静躺着好不好？妈妈下楼去给你可怜的爸爸倒杯茶，”梅格问。她听到过道里的门轻轻关上了，熟悉的踮着脚走路的声音进入了饭厅。
“德米要喝茶！”德米说。他准备参加宴会。
“不，要是你像黛西那样静静地去睡，我就给你留些小饼饼明天当早饭。好不好，宝贝？”“考（好）！”德米紧紧闭上了眼睛，好像要追上睡眠，赶快到盼望的明天。
梅格利用这有利的时机溜出门，跑下楼笑着迎接丈夫。她头上戴着那个他特别欣赏的蓝色蝴蝶结。他立即就瞧见了，惊喜地问：“哎呀，小母亲，今晚我们多么高兴。有客人？”“只有你，亲爱的！”“那是生日、周年纪念日，还是别的什么？”“都不是！我厌倦了当邋遢女人，所以我打扮起来换个样。
你不管有多累，坐在餐桌前时总是穿戴整齐。我有时间，为什么不能也这样呢？”“我那样是出于对你的尊重，亲爱的！”老式的约翰说。
“我也一样，我也一样，布鲁克先生。”梅格笑了。她又是那么年轻漂亮了。她隔着茶壶向他点着头。
“嗯，真是非常好，又像以前那样了。这个味道不错。亲爱的，为你的健康干杯！”约翰一阵狂喜。他恬然地啜着茶，然而这种情形非常短暂，因为，当他放下杯子时，门把手神秘地嗒嗒响了起来，只听见一个小小的声音焦躁地说着- “太（开）门，我要见（进）来！”“是那个淘气包！我叫他自己去睡，他倒跑到楼下来了。
穿着那帆布鞋嗒嗒跑着，冻死他去，”梅格说着去开门。
“已经到早上了，”德米进门开心地宣告，长睡衣优雅地垂落在胳膊下。他在桌子旁乱蹦乱跳，头上每一络小鬈发都随之一上一下地欢跳。他钟情地打量着"小饼饼"。
“不，还没到早上。你得去睡觉，别烦你可怜的妈妈。这样你就能吃到带糖的小饼饼。”“德米爱爸贝。”机灵的小家伙打算爬到爸爸的膝上，参加欢宴，享受被禁止的乐趣。可是约翰摇着头，对梅格说 “要是你叫他呆在楼上，自己睡觉，那就让他这么做，否则他就再不会在乎你的话了。”“当然是这样。过来，德米。“梅格领走了儿子，她真想揍这小捣蛋的屁股。他在她身旁蹦着，幻想着一进到育儿室就会得到贿赂。
他并没有失望。缺乏远见的妇人真的给了他一块糖。她把他塞进被子里，不到早晨，不许他再溜下来。
“考（好）！”德米发了假誓，他极快乐地吮着糖块，为他又一次得手而自鸣得意。
梅格回到位子上，晚餐进行得十分惬意。忽然，那小鬼又走进屋来，他揭发了妈妈的失职，大胆地要求"还要吃糖糖，姆妈"。
“哎哟，这可不行。”约翰硬起心肠回绝那可爱的小罪犯。
“那孩子不去安稳地睡觉，我们就不得安宁。你做奴隶的时间已经够长了。教训他一下，一切都会结束。把他放到床上，丢开他，梅格。”“他不会呆在那儿的，除非我坐在他身边。”“我来对付他。德米，上楼去，像妈妈说的那样上你的床去。“我不！”小叛逆回答。他伸手去拿他垂涎的"饼饼"，然后沉着大胆地吃了起来。
“不可对爸爸这样说话。你要是不自己走，我就把你带走。”“走开，德米不爱爸贝了。”德米退到妈妈的裙子边寻求保护。
可是那个避难所没用，因为妈妈说着"对他温和些，约翰"，就把他交给了敌人，令小罪犯沮丧。一旦妈妈不管他，审判日就要到了。他被夺去了饼子，失掉了欢乐，又被一只顽强的手带到了那张讨厌的床上。可怜的德米控制不住愤怒。
他公然反抗爸爸，拼命地一路踢着腿，尖叫着上了楼。刚把他放到床上，他就尖叫着滚到另一边，然后朝门口冲去。结果又很失面子地让爸爸抓住小睡袍下襟提回了床上。这种热闹的场面一直进行着，直到小家伙的力气耗完了。这时他放声大嚎起来。这种发声练习通常总征服了梅格，可是约翰却一动不动地坐在那里，像个柱子。柱子是公认的聋子，什么也听不见的。没有哄劝，没有糖块，没有催眠曲，也没有故事，甚至灯也给灭了，只有炉火发出的红光为"大大的黑暗”添了点生气。德米好奇地看着黑暗，反倒不怕了。这种新局面使他憎恶。当愤怒的狂暴平息下去时，被监禁的小霸主想起了他温柔的女奴，便绝望地吼着要起姆妈来。这随着怒嚎之后发出的痛哭声直扎梅格的心窝，她跑上楼去恳求- "让我和他呆在一起吧。他现在会乖的了，约翰！”“不，亲爱的。我已经跟他说过，他必须像你说的那样去睡觉。只要我晚上在这儿，他非睡不可！”“可是，他会哭出病来的，”梅格求道，她责怪自己不该丢弃她的孩子。
“不，他不会的。他很累了，很快就会睡着。事情就完了。
他要懂得应该听话。别插手，我来对付他。”“他是我的孩子，我不能让生硬的态度摧毁他的精神。”“他是我的孩子，我不许用溺爱宠坏他的脾气。下楼去，亲爱的，把孩子丢给我吧。”当约翰以那种主人的腔调说话时，梅格总是服从着，她也从不为她的温顺后悔。
“约翰，请让我亲他一下，可以吗？”
“当然可以。德米，对妈妈说晚安，让她去休息。她整天照顾你们很累了。“梅格总是坚持说亲吻能起作用。亲过以后，德米的呜咽声小下去了。他静静地躺在床里边，先前他曾在那里痛苦地扭动过。
“可怜的小人，他那样哭着，又想睡觉，已经累坏了。我来给他盖上被，然后下楼让梅格放心，”约翰想道。他蹑手蹑脚来到床边，以为他那叛逆的继承人已经睡着。
可是他并没有睡着。爸爸一过来窥探，德米的眼睛便睁开了，小下巴也开始颤抖。他伸出胳膊，后悔地抽着气说：“现在德米听发（话）了。”梅格坐在门外的台阶上，弄不清大嚎以后长时间的寂静是怎么回事。她想象着各种各样不可能发生的事故，最后溜进了屋，她要消除疑窦。德米已经睡熟，不是通常那种仰八叉，而是乖顺地蜷曲着，睡在爸爸的胳膊弯里，紧紧地搂着爸爸，握着爸爸的手指，好像体味到了爸爸的恩威兼施，睡着了看上去像是更悲伤也更懂事了。约翰就这样搂着他，带着女人般的耐心等那小手松开。可是等待中自己也睡着了，与其说他是和儿子扭打累了，还不如说是一天工作劳累所致。
梅格站在那里，注视着枕头上的两张脸，暗自笑了起来。
然后，她又溜了出去，满意地说：“我根本不需要担心约翰会对我的孩子们过分粗暴，他真的知道怎样对付他们。他会是个好帮手，德米太伤我的神了。”约翰终于下楼来了，他本料想会看到一个郁郁不乐或者要责备他的妻子，结果却又惊又喜地看到梅格心平气和地在修饰一顶帽子，还请求他如果要是不太累的话，就为她读点有关选举的东西。约翰很快便看出，正在进行某种革命。但是他明智地不加提问，因为他知道，梅格是个非常直率的小妇人，守不住任何秘密，所以不久事情就会露出端倪。他欣然应允，非常温和地读了一个冗长的辩论，然后十分清楚地解释给她听。梅格装出深感兴趣的样子，想找些聪明的问题来问，尽力阻止脑子从国家状况漫游到她帽子的状况上。然而，她暗自思忖，认定政治和数学一样让人头疼。政治家们的使命似乎就是互相咒骂。她把这些妇人之见留在心底，当约翰停下来时，她便摇着头，说出她认为具有外交含糊性的话：“嗯，我真看不出我们解决了什么问题。”约翰笑了起来。他看了她一分钟，她在手里抚弄着一个用丝带和花儿装饰的小帽儿，兴趣十足地瞅着。他的高谈阔论却没有激起这种兴趣。
“她竟想着好我所好，所以我也要爱她所爱，这才公平！”公道的约翰想着，然后大声补充道：“非常漂亮，这就是你说的那种早餐帽？”“我亲爱的丈夫，这是户外软帽，也是我去音乐会和戏院戴的最好的帽子。”“请原谅，它这么小，我自然把它错当成你有时随意穿戴的那种。你怎样让它保持不掉呢？”“用这几条丝带系在下巴下，配上玫瑰花蕾，这样。”梅格戴上帽子，系给他看。她带着一种抵挡不住的、宁静而又满足的神态看着他。
“这顶帽子多可爱！可是我更喜欢它下面的那张脸，因为它看上去年轻快乐了！“约翰亲了亲那张笑脸。这大大有损于下巴下的那朵玫瑰花蕾。
“很高兴你喜欢它，因为我想让你哪天晚上带我去听场新的音乐会。我真的需要音乐使我保持正常状态。好不好？求你了！”“当然可以，你已经被困了这么长时间了。我真想带你出去，去你想去的任何地方。那样会给你带来无穷乐趣。所有的事中，我也最喜欢这件。什么让你想到这点的，小妈妈？”“嗯。前些天我和妈咪谈过。我告诉她，我感到多么紧张、焦躁、情绪不好。她说我需要些变化，少操些心，所以打算让罕娜嬷嬷过来帮忙照看孩子，我就多照管些家务，适时出去调节一下，免得变成一个性情烦躁、未老先衰的老妇女。约翰，这只不过是个试验，为了你，也为了我自己。我想做这个实验，因为最近我令人羞愧地忽视了你。假如我能够，我要把家恢复到以前的样子。你不反对，是吧？”别去管约翰说了什么，也别管那顶小帽子是怎样十分侥幸地免于彻底损坏，我们有权利知道的事情便是下面这些。从这座屋子及起居民们逐渐发生的变化判断，约翰好像并未反对什么。房子当然没有成为伊甸园，然而劳动系统的分工使每个人感到情况更好了。在父亲的管束下，孩子们茁装成长。
约翰处事精细，意志坚定，他将秩序和服从带进了孩子王国。
同时，梅格通过大量有益健康的锻炼、一些小小的生活乐趣，以及和聪明的丈夫许多次推心置腹的谈话，恢复了精神，稳定了情绪。家又变得像家了。如果不带上梅格，约翰也不愿意离开家了。现在斯科特夫妇来布鲁克家作客了。每个人都感到小屋子是个生活胜地，充满欢声笑语、天伦之乐。甚至快活的莎莉•莫法特也喜欢来这儿了。”你这里总是那么安静，令人愉悦。我老想来，梅格！”她总是这么说，渴慕地四下打量着屋子，仿佛要发现魅力之所在，好在她的大院里也如法炮制。那所华宅金玉满堂，但却孤寂冷静，因为那里没有吵吵闹闹、活泼快乐的孩子们，内德生活的世界里没有她的容身之地。
这种家庭的幸福不是突然降临的，但是，约翰和梅格找到了开启它的钥匙。婚后的岁月教会他们如何使用这把钥匙，打开真正的家庭之爱与互相帮助的宝库之门，这些财富最贫穷的人们可以拥有，最富有的人们却买不到。这就是年轻的妻子们和母亲们同意被束在那种高阁的原因。在那上面，她们于世间的不安与焦虑中安然无恙，在那些依恋她们的幼儿稚女身上找到了忠诚的爱；她们无畏痛苦、贫穷与年岁的增长；她们和一个忠实的朋友携手并进，同甘共苦。这个朋友，那古老优秀的萨克逊语言的真正意思就是"家庭的保证"。
她们就像梅格那样，认识到妇人最幸福的王国是家庭，而作为她们统治艺术最高荣耀的不是做一个女王，而是做一个聪明的妻子和母亲。
Chapter 39 Lazy Laurence
Laurie went to Nice intending to stay a week, and remained a month. He was tired of wandering about alone, and Amy's familiar presence seemed to give a homelike charm to the foreign scenes in which she bore a part. He rather missed the 'petting' he used to receive, and enjoyed a taste of it again, for no attentions, however flattering, from strangers, were half so pleasant as the sisterly adoration of the girls at home. Amy never would pet him like the others, but she was very glad to see him now, and quite clung to him, feeling that he was the representative of the dear family for whom she longed more than she would confess. They naturally took comfort in each other's society and were much together, riding, walking, dancing, or dawdling, for at Nice no one can be very industrious during the gay season. But, while apparently amusing themselves in the most careless fashion, they were half-consciously making discoveries and forming opinions about each other. Amy rose daily in the estimation of her friend, but he sank in hers, and each felt the truth before a word was spoken. Amy tried to please, and succeeded, for she was grateful for the many pleasures he gave her, and repaid him with the little services to which womanly women know how to lend an indescribable charm. Laurie made no effort of any kind, but just let himself drift along as comfortably as possible, trying to forget, and feeling that all women owed him a kind word because one had been cold to him. It cost him no effort to be generous, and he would have given Amy all the trinkets in Nice if she would have taken them, but at the same time he felt that he could not change the opinion she was forming of him, and he rather dreaded the keen blue eyes that seemed to watch him with such half-sorrowful, half-scornful surprise.
"All the rest have gone to Monaco for the day. I preferred to stay at home and write letters. They are done now, and I am going to Valrosa to sketch, will you come?" said Amy, as she joined Laurie one lovely day when he lounged in as usual, about noon.
"Well, yes, but isn't it rather warm for such a long walk?" he answered slowly, for the shaded salon looked inviting after the glare without.
"I'm going to have the little carriage, and Baptiste can drive, so you'll have nothing to do but hold your umbrella, and keep your gloves nice," returned Amy, with a sarcastic glance at the immaculate kids, which were a weak point with Laurie.
"Then I'll go with pleasure." and he put out his hand for her sketchbook. But she tucked it under her arm with a sharp . . .
"Don't trouble yourself. It's no exertion to me, but you don't look equal to it."
Laurie lifted his eyebrows and followed at a leisurely pace as she ran downstairs, but when they got into the carriage he took the reins himself, and left little Baptiste nothing to do but fold his arms and fall asleep on his perch.
The two never quarreled. Amy was too well-bred, and just now Laurie was too lazy, so in a minute he peeped under her hatbrim with an inquiring air. She answered him with a smile, and they went on together in the most amicable manner.
It was a lovely drive, along winding roads rich in the picturesque scenes that delight beauty-loving eyes. Here an ancient monastery, whence the solemn chanting of the monks came down to them. There a bare-legged shepherd, in wooden shoes, pointed hat, and rough jacket over one shoulder, sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped among the rocks or lay at his feet. Meek, mouse-colored donkeys, laden with panniers of freshly cut grass passed by, with a pretty girl in a capaline sitting between the green piles, or an old woman spinning with a distaff as she went. Brown, soft-eyed children ran out from the quaint stone hovels to offer nosegays, or bunches of oranges still on the bough. Gnarled olive trees covered the hills with their dusky foliage, fruit hung golden in the orchard, and great scarlet anemones fringed the roadside, while beyond green slopes and craggy heights, the Maritime Alps rose sharp and white against the blue Italian sky.
Valrosa well deserved its name, for in that climate of perpetual summer roses blossomed everywhere. They overhung the archway, thrust themselves between the bars of the great gate with a sweet welcome to passers-by, and lined the avenue, winding through lemon trees and feathery palms up to the villa on the hill. Every shadowy nook, where seats invited one to stop and rest, was a mass of bloom, every cool grotto had its marble nymph smiling from a veil of flowers and every fountain reflected crimson, white, or pale pink roses, leaning down to smile at their own beauty. Roses covered the walls of the house, draped the cornices, climbed the pillars, and ran riot over the balustrade of the wide terrace, whence one looked down on the sunny Mediterranean, and the white-walled city on its shore.
"This is a regular honeymoon paradise, isn't it? Did you ever see such roses?" asked Amy, pausing on the terrace to enjoy the view, and a luxurious whiff of perfume that came wandering by.
"No, nor felt such thorns," returned Laurie, with his thumb in his mouth, after a vain attempt to capture a solitary scarlet flower that grew just beyond his reach.
"Try lower down, and pick those that have no thorns," said Amy, gathering three of the tiny cream-colored ones that starred the wall behind her. She put them in his buttonhole as a peace offering, and he stood a minute looking down at them with a curious expression, for in the Italian part of his nature there was a touch of superstition, and he was just then in that state of half-sweet, half-bitter melancholy, when imaginative young men find significance in trifles and food for romance everywhere. He had thought of Jo in reaching after the thorny red rose, for vivid flowers became her, and she had often worn ones like that from the greenhouse at home. The pale roses Amy gave him were the sort that the Italians lay in dead hands, never in bridal wreaths, and for a moment he wondered if the omen was for Jo or for himself, but the next instant his American common sense got the better of sentimentality, and he laughed a heartier laugh than Amy had heard since he came.
"It's good advice, you'd better take it and save your fingers," she said, thinking her speech amused him.
"Thank you, I will," he answered in jest, and a few months later he did it in earnest.
"Laurie, when are you going to your grandfather?" she asked presently, as she settled herself on a rustic seat.
"Very soon."
"You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks."
"I dare say, short answers save trouble."
"He expects you, and you really ought to go."
"Hospitable creature! I know it."
"Then why don't you do it?"
"Natural depravity, I suppose."
"Natural indolence, you mean. It's really dreadful!" and Amy looked severe.
"Not so bad as it seems, for I should only plague him if I went, so I might as well stay and plague you a little longer, you can bear it better, in fact I think it agrees with you excellently," and Laurie composed himself for a lounge on the broad ledge of the balustrade.
Amy shook her head and opened her sketchbook with an air of resignation, but she had made up her mind to lecture 'that boy' and in a minute she began again.
"What are you doing just now?"
"Watching lizards."
"No, no. I mean what do you intend and wish to do?"
"Smoke a cigarette, if you'll allow me."
"How provoking you are! I don't approve of cigars and I will only allow it on condition that you let me put you into my sketch. I need a figure."
"With all the pleasure in life. How will you have me, full length or three-quarters, on my head or my heels? I should respectfully suggest a recumbent posture, then put yourself in also and call it 'Dolce far niente'."
"Stay as you are, and go to sleep if you like. I intend to work hard," said Amy in her most energetic tone.
"What delightful enthusiasm!" and he leaned against a tall urn with an air of entire satisfaction.
"What would Jo say if she saw you now?" asked Amy impatiently, hoping to stir him up by the mention of her still more energetic sister's name.
"As usual, 'Go away, Teddy. I'm busy!'" He laughed as he spoke, but the laugh was not natural, and a shade passed over his face, for the utterance of the familiar name touched the wound that was not healed yet. Both tone and shadow struck Amy, for she had seen and heard them before, and now she looked up in time to catch a new expression on Laurie's face--a hard bitter look, full of pain, dissatisfaction, and regret. It was gone before she could study it and the listless expression back again. She watched him for a moment with artistic pleasure, thinking how like an Italian he looked, as he lay basking in the sun with uncovered head and eyes full of southern dreaminess, for he seemed to have forgotten her and fallen into a reverie.
"You look like the effigy of a young knight asleep on his tomb," she said, carefully tracing the well-cut profile defined against the dark stone.
"Wish I was!"
"That's a foolish wish, unless you have spoiled your life. You are so changed, I sometimes think--" there Amy stopped, with a half-timid, half-wistful look, more significant than her unfinished speech.
Laurie saw and understood the affectionate anxiety which she hesitated to express, and looking straight into her eyes, said, just as he used to say it to her mother, "It's all right, ma'am."
That satisfied her and set at rest the doubts that had begun to worry her lately. It also touched her, and she showed that it did, by the cordial tone in which she said . . .
"I'm glad of that! I didn't think you'd been a very bad boy, but I fancied you might have wasted money at that wicked Baden-Baden, lost your heart to some charming Frenchwoman with a husband, or got into some of the scrapes that young men seem to consider a necessary part of a foreign tour. Don't stay out there in the sun, come and lie on the grass here and 'let us be friendly', as Jo used to say when we got in the sofa corner and told secrets."
Laurie obediently threw himself down on the turf, and began to amuse himself by sticking daisies into the ribbons of Amy's hat, that lay there.
"I'm all ready for the secrets." and he glanced up with a decided expression of interest in his eyes.
"I've none to tell. You may begin."
"Haven't one to bless myself with. I thought perhaps you'd had some news from home.."
"You have heard all that has come lately. Don't you hear often? I fancied Jo would send you volumes."
"She's very busy. I'm roving about so, it's impossible to be regular, you know. When do you begin your great work of art, Raphaella?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly after another pause, in which he had been wondering if Amy knew his secret and wanted to talk about it.
"Never," she answered, with a despondent but decided air. "Rome took all the vanity out of me, for after seeing the wonders there, I felt too insignificant to live and gave up all my foolish hopes in despair."
"Why should you, with so much energy and talent?"
"That's just why, because talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing. I won't be a common-place dauber, so I don't intend to try any more."
"And what are you going to do with yourself now, if I may ask?"
"Polish up my other talents, and be an ornament to society, if I get the chance."
It was a characteristic speech, and sounded daring, but audacity becomes young people, and Amy's ambition had a good foundation. Laurie smiled, but he liked the spirit with which she took up a new purpose when a long-cherished one died, and spent no time lamenting.
"Good! And here is where Fred Vaughn comes in, I fancy."
Amy preserved a discreet silence, but there was a conscious look in her downcast face that made Laurie sit up and say gravely, "Now I'm going to play brother, and ask questions. May I?"
"I don't promise to answer."
"Your face will, if your tongue won't. You aren't woman of the world enough yet to hide your feelings, my dear. I heard rumors about Fred and you last year, and it's my private opinion that if he had not been called home so suddenly and detained so long, something would have come of it, hey?"
"That's not for me to say," was Amy's grim reply, but her lips would smile, and there was a traitorous sparkle of the eye which betrayed that she knew her power and enjoyed the knowledge.
"You are not engaged, I hope?" and Laurie looked very elder-brotherly and grave all of a sudden.
"No."
"But you will be, if he comes back and goes properly down on his knees, won't you?"
"Very likely."
"Then you are fond of old Fred?"
"I could be, if I tried."
"But you don't intend to try till the proper moment? Bless my soul, what unearthly prudence! He's a good fellow, Amy, but not the man I fancied you'd like."
"He is rich, a gentleman, and has delightful manners," began Amy, trying to be quite cool and dignified, but feeling a little ashamed of herself, in spite of the sincerity of her intentions.
"I understand. Queens of society can't get on without money, so you mean to make a good match, and start in that way? Quite right and proper, as the world goes, but it sounds odd from the lips of one of your mother's girls."
"True, nevertheless."
A short speech, but the quiet decision with which it was uttered contrasted curiously with the young speaker. Laurie felt this instinctively and laid himself down again, with a sense of disappointment which he could not explain. His look and silence, as well as a certain inward self-disapproval, ruffled Amy, and made her resolve to deliver her lecture without delay.
"I wish you'd do me the favor to rouse yourself a little," she said sharply.
"Do it for me, there's a dear girl."
"I could, if I tried." and she looked as if she would like doing it in the most summary style.
"Try, then. I give you leave," returned Laurie, who enjoyed having someone to tease, after his long abstinence from his favorite pastime.
"You'd be angry in five minutes."
"I'm never angry with you. It takes two flints to make a fire. You are as cool and soft as snow."
"You don't know what I can do. Snow produces a glow and a tingle, if applied rightly. Your indifference is half affectation, and a good stirring up would prove it."
"Stir away, it won't hurt me and it may amuse you, as the big man said when his little wife beat him. Regard me in the light of a husband or a carpet, and beat till you are tired, if that sort of exercise agrees with you."
Being decidedly nettled herself, and longing to see him shake off the apathy that so altered him, Amy sharpened both tongue and pencil, and began.
"Flo and I have got a new name for you. It's Lazy Laurence. How do you like it?"
She thought it would annoy him, but he only folded his arms under his head, with an imperturbable, "That's not bad. Thank you, ladies."
"Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?"
"Pining to be told."
"Well, I despise you."
If she had even said 'I hate you' in a petulant or coquettish tone, he would have laughed and rather liked it, but the grave, almost sad, accent in her voice made him open his eyes, and ask quickly . . .
"Why, if you please?"
"Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are faulty, lazy, and miserable."
"Strong language, mademoiselle."
"If you like it, I'll go on."
"Pray do, it's quite interesting."
"I thought you'd find it so. Selfish people always like to talk about themselves."
"Am I selfish?" the question slipped out involuntarily and in a tone of surprise, for the one virtue on which he prided himself was generosity.
"Yes, very selfish," continued Amy, in a calm, cool voice, twice as effective just then as an angry one. "I'll show you how, for I've studied you while we were frolicking, and I'm not at all satisfied with you. Here you have been abroad nearly six months, and done nothing but waste time and money and disappoint your friends."
"Isn't a fellow to have any pleasure after a four-year grind?"
"You don't look as if you'd had much. At any rate, you are none the better for it, as far as I can see. I said when we first met that you had improved. Now I take it all back, for I don't think you half so nice as when I left you at home. You have grown abominably lazy, you like gossip, and waste time on frivolous things, you are contented to be petted and admired by silly people, instead of being loved and respected by wise ones. With money, talent, position, health, and beauty, ah you like that old Vanity! But it's the truth, so I can't help saying it, with all these splendid things to use and enjoy, you can find nothing to do but dawdle, and instead of being the man you ought to be, you are only . . ." there she stopped, with a look that had both pain and pity in it.
"Saint Laurence on a gridiron," added Laurie, blandly finishing the sentence. But the lecture began to take effect, for there was a wide-awake sparkle in his eyes now and a half-angry, half-injured expression replaced the former indifference.
"I supposed you'd take it so. You men tell us we are angels, and say we can make you what we will, but the instant we honestly try to do you good, you laugh at us and won't listen, which proves how much your flattery is worth." Amy spoke bitterly, and turned her back on the exasperating martyr at her feet.
In a minute a hand came down over the page, so that she could not draw, and Laurie's voice said, with a droll imitation of a penitent child, "I will be good, oh, I will be good!"
But Amy did not laugh, for she was in earnest, and tapping on the outspread hand with her pencil, said soberly, "Aren't you ashamed of a hand like that? It's as soft and white as a woman's, and looks as if it never did anything but wear Jouvin's best gloves and pick flowers for ladies. You are not a dandy, thank Heaven, so I'm glad to see there are no diamonds or big seal rings on it, only the little old one Jo gave you so long ago. Dear soul, I wish she was here to help me!"
"So do I!"
The hand vanished as suddenly as it came, and there was energy enough in the echo of her wish to suit even Amy. She glanced down at him with a new thought in her mind, but he was lying with his hat half over his face, as if for shade, and his mustache hid his mouth. She only saw his chest rise and fall, with a long breath that might have been a sigh, and the hand that wore the ring nestled down into the grass, as if to hide something too precious or too tender to be spoken of. All in a minute various hints and trifles assumed shape and significance in Amy's mind, and told her what her sister never had confided to her. She remembered that Laurie never spoke voluntarily of Jo, she recalled the shadow on his face just now, the change in his character, and the wearing of the little old ring which was no ornament to a handsome hand. Girls are quick to read such signs and feel their eloquence. Amy had fancied that perhaps a love trouble was at the bottom of the alteration, and now she was sure of it. Her keen eyes filled, and when she spoke again, it was in a voice that could be beautifully soft and kind when she chose to make it so.
"I know I have no right to talk so to you, Laurie, and if you weren't the sweetest-tempered fellow in the world, you'd be very angry with me. But we are all so fond and proud of you, I couldn't bear to think they should be disappointed in you at home as I have been, though, perhaps they would understand the change better than I do."
"I think they would," came from under the hat, in a grim tone, quite as touching as a broken one.
"They ought to have told me, and not let me go blundering and scolding, when I should have been more kind and patient than ever. I never did like that Miss Randal and now I hate her!" said artful Amy, wishing to be sure of her facts this time.
"Hang Miss Randal!" and Laurie knocked the hat off his face with a look that left no doubt of his sentiments toward that young lady.
"I beg pardon, I thought . . ." and there she paused diplomatically.
"No, you didn't, you knew perfectly well I never cared for anyone but Jo," Laurie said that in his old, impetuous tone, and turned his face away as he spoke.
"I did think so, but as they never said anything about it, and you came away, I supposed I was mistaken. And Jo wouldn't be kind to you? Why, I was sure she loved you dearly."
"She was kind, but not in the right way, and it's lucky for her she didn't love me, if I'm the good-for-nothing fellow you think me. It's her fault though, and you may tell her so."
The hard, bitter look came back again as he said that, and it troubled Amy, for she did not know what balm to apply.
"I was wrong, I didn't know. I'm very sorry I was so cross, but I can't help wishing you'd bear it better, Teddy, dear."
"Don't, that's her name for me!" and Laurie put up his hand with a quick gesture to stop the words spoken in Jo's half-kind, half-reproachful tone. "Wait till you've tried it yourself," he added in a low voice, as he pulled up the grass by the handful.
"I'd take it manfully, and be respected if I couldn't be loved," said Amy, with the decision of one who knew nothing about it.
Now, Laurie flattered himself that he had borne it remarkably well, making no moan, asking no sympathy, and taking his trouble away to live it down alone. Amy's lecture put the matter in a new light, and for the first time it did look weak and selfish to lose heart at the first failure, and shut himself up in moody indifference. He felt as if suddenly shaken out of a pensive dream and found it impossible to go to sleep again. Presently he sat up and asked slowly, "Do you think Jo would despise me as you do?"
"Yes, if she saw you now. She hates lazy people. Why don't you do something splendid, and make her love you?"
"I did my best, but it was no use."
"Graduating well, you mean? That was no more than you ought to have done, for your grandfather's sake. It would have been shameful to fail after spending so much time and money, when everyone knew that you could do well."
"I did fail, say what you will, for Jo wouldn't love me," began Laurie, leaning his head on his hand in a despondent attitude.
"No, you didn't, and you'll say so in the end, for it did you good, and proved that you could do something if you tried. If you'd only set about another task of some sort, you'd soon be your hearty, happy self again, and forget your trouble."
"That's impossible."
"Try it and see. You needn't shrug your shoulders, and think, 'Much she knows about such things'. I don't pretend to be wise, but I am observing, and I see a great deal more than you'd imagine. I'm interested in other people's experiences and inconsistencies, and though I can't explain, I remember and use them for my own benefit. Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want. There, I won't lecture any more, for I know you'll wake up and be a man in spite of that hardhearted girl."
Neither spoke for several minutes. Laurie sat turning the little ring on his finger, and Amy put the last touches to the hasty sketch she had been working at while she talked. Presently she put it on his knee, merely saying, "How do you like that?"
He looked and then he smiled, as he could not well help doing, for it was capitally done, the long, lazy figure on the grass, with listless face, half-shut eyes, and one hand holding a cigar, from which came the little wreath of smoke that encircled the dreamer's head.
"How well you draw!" he said, with a genuine surprise and pleasure at her skill, adding, with a half-laugh, "Yes, that's me."
"As you are. This is as you were." and Amy laid another sketch beside the one he held.
It was not nearly so well done, but there was a life and spirit in it which atoned for many faults, and it recalled the past so vividly that a sudden change swept over the young man's face as he looked. Only a rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse. Hat and coat were off, and every line of the active figure, resolute face, and commanding attitude was full of energy and meaning. The handsome brute, just subdued, stood arching his neck under the tightly drawn rein, with one foot impatiently pawing the ground, and ears pricked up as if listening for the voice that had mastered him. In the ruffled mane, the rider's breezy hair and erect attitude, there was a suggestion of suddenly arrested motion, of strength, courage, and youthful buoyancy that contrasted sharply with the supine grace of the '_Dolce far Niente_' sketch. Laurie said nothing but as his eye went from one to the other, Amy saw him flush up and fold his lips together as if he read and accepted the little lesson she had given him. That satisfied her, and without waiting for him to speak, she said, in her sprightly way . . .
"Don't you remember the day you played Rarey with Puck, and we all looked on? Meg and Beth were frightened, but Jo clapped and pranced, and I sat on the fence and drew you. I found that sketch in my portfolio the other day, touched it up, and kept it to show you."
"Much obliged. You've improved immensely since then, and I congratulate you. May I venture to suggest in 'a honeymoon paradise' that five o'clock is the dinner hour at your hotel?"
Laurie rose as he spoke, returned the pictures with a smile and a bow and looked at his watch, as if to remind her that even moral lectures should have an end. He tried to resume his former easy, indifferent air, but it was an affectation now, for the rousing had been more effacious than he would confess. Amy felt the shade of coldness in his manner, and said to herself . . .
"Now, I've offended him. Well, if it does him good, I'm glad, if it makes him hate me, I'm sorry, but it's true, and I can't take back a word of it."
They laughed and chatted all the way home, and little Baptiste, up behind, thought that monsieur and madamoiselle were in charming spirits. But both felt ill at ease. The friendly frankness was disturbed, the sunshine had a shadow over it, and despite their apparent gaiety, there was a secret discontent in the heart of each.
"Shall we see you this evening, mon frere?" asked Amy, as they parted at her aunt's door.
"Unfortunately I have an engagement. Au revoir, madamoiselle," and Laurie bent as if to kiss her hand, in the foreign fashion, which became him better than many men. Something in his face made Amy say quickly and warmly . . .
"No, be yourself with me, Laurie, and part in the good old way. I'd rather have a hearty English handshake than all the sentimental salutations in France."
"Goodbye, dear," and with these words, uttered in the tone she liked, Laurie left her, after a handshake almost painful in its heartiness.
Next morning, instead of the usual call, Amy received a note which made her smile at the beginning and sigh at the end.
My Dear Mentor, Please make my adieux to your aunt, and exult within yourself, for 'Lazy Laurence' has gone to his grandpa, like the best of boys. A pleasant winter to you, and may the gods grant you a blissful honeymoon at Valrosa! I think Fred would be benefited by a rouser. Tell him so, with my congratulations.
Yours gratefully, Telemachus
"Good boy! I'm glad he's gone," said Amy, with an approving smile. The next minute her face fell as she glanced about the empty room, adding, with an involuntary sigh, "Yes, I am glad, but how I shall miss him."
 
劳里到尼斯市来时，原打算呆一个星期的，结果逗留了一个月。他厌倦了独自游荡、艾美熟悉的身影似乎为异国风景增添了令人感到亲切的魅力。他十分怀念以前常受到的"宠爱"，并很高兴能再次品味到它。因为，陌生人给予的关注，无论怎样讨人欢喜，一半都赶不上家里那几个姑娘给予的姐妹般的赞赏。艾美从不像几个姐姐那样宠爱他，但是她现在见到他很高兴，而且相当依恋他，她感到他代表着亲爱的家人，她嘴上不说，心里却渴盼见到他们。他们两人自然地相互为伴，寻求安慰。他们很多时候在一起，骑马，散步，跳舞或者打发时光。在尼斯市欢乐的季节，没有谁能非常勤恳地工作。然而，他们明显地是在无忧无虑地消遣着，他们隐隐约约地对对方作出了发现，得出了看法。在她朋友的估量下，艾美的形象日渐高大，而他却低矮下去。没用只言片语，两人都悟到了那个事实。艾美试图取悦于他，她也成功了。她感激他给予了她许多快乐，她以小小的照顾报答他，温柔的妇人们懂得如何给那种照顾加上描述不出的迷人成份。
劳里没做任何努力，只是尽可能舒服地随心而为。他试图忘却，他感到所有的女人都欠着他一个亲切的字眼，因为一个女人曾经对他冷淡过。慷慨在他来说并不费力，要是艾美愿意接受，他会送给艾美尼斯市所有的小饰物。可是，他同时又感到改变不了艾美对他产生的看法，他十分害怕那双敏锐的蓝眼睛，它们注视着他，流露出那种半是痛苦、半是轻蔑的惊奇神色。
“别的人都去摩纳哥消闲了，我宁愿呆在家里写信。现在信已写好了。我打算去玫瑰谷作画，你愿意去吗？”这一天天气不错，中午时分劳里像往常一样闲逛进来，艾美迎上去这样问道。
“唔，好的。可是走这么长路是不是太热了？”他慢慢地回答道。外面的骄阳使有树荫遮蔽的客厅显得诱人。
“我打算坐那小车去。巴普蒂斯特能驾车，所以没你干的事，你只要打着你的阳伞，让你的手套一尘不染，”艾美讥讽地答道。她扫视了一眼那干干净净的小伙子，这可是劳里的一个弱点。
“那么，我很乐意去。”他伸出手替她拿速写簿，可是她却把它夹到了胳膊下，尖刻地说 “别自找麻烦了，我不费力，可你不一定拿得了。”艾美跑下楼去，劳里皱起了眉头，他从容不迫地跟了下去。然而进了车厢，他便接过缰绳，小巴普蒂斯特反倒无事可做，只好在车架上袖起双手睡觉。
他们两个人从来不争吵 艾美十分有教养，而此刻劳里也太懒散，因此，一会儿后，他带着探究的神情从她的帽边下看她，她便报以微笑。两人又非常和睦地相处了。
驾车沿着蜿蜒的马路行驶使人赏心悦目，马路两旁如画的风景愉悦着艾美的眼睛。这里经过的是一座古寺，寺里传来僧侣们肃穆的颂经声。那里有个光腿穿木鞋的牧羊人，他头戴尖角帽，肩搭着粗布夹克衫，坐在石头上吹着笛子。他的羊儿们有的在石头间蹦跳，有的躺在他的脚下，逆来顺受的鼠灰色毛驴们驮着刚刚割下来的青草走过来了，青草堆中间要么坐着一个漂亮的戴着遮阳阔边软帽的女孩子，要么便坐着一位织着针线活的老妇人。目光柔和、皮肤棕色的孩子们从那古雅的石头小屋里跑出来，为路人提供花束，或者是还连在枝上的一串串柑橘。疙疙瘩瘩的橄榄树带着浓荫覆盖群山，果园里金黄的水果挂在枝头，大片红色的银莲花缀满路边。而绿色山坡和多石的山丘那边，近海的阿尔卑斯山映衬着意大利的蓝色晴空，银装素裹，直插云霄。
玫瑰谷名符其实。在那永恒的夏日气候里，到处盛开着玫瑰。它们悬垂在拱道上，从大门栅栏中伸出头来快乐地欢迎着路人。它们布满道旁，蜿蜒着穿过柠檬树和轻软的棕榈树直达山上的别墅。在每一处有荫凉的角落，座位吸引着路人驻足歇息，这里也有着满捧的玫瑰。在每一个凉爽的洞穴里，都有大理石的美女像，隔着玫瑰面纱展露笑容。每一眼泉都映出红色、白色、粉色的玫瑰花，它们俯身笑看自己美丽的身影。玫瑰花布满了房屋四壁，装饰着飞檐，攀上了柱子，蔓延到那宽阔气台的扶栏上。在那平台上，人们可以俯视阳光下的地中海，以及海岸边那座白墙环绕的城市。
“这真是个度蜜月的天堂，是不是？你可见到过这样的玫瑰？”艾美问。她在平台上驻足欣赏景致，惬意地吸着随风飘来的沁人花香。
“没见过，也没给这样的刺扎过，”劳里回答。他的大拇指放在嘴里，刚才他徒劳地去摘他够不着的那朵孤零零的红玫瑰。
“把枝子弯下来，摘那些不带刺的，”艾美说着，从她身后点缀在墙上的那些花儿中采下三朵乳白色的小玫瑰，然后插进劳里的钮扣眼，作为和平的礼物。劳里站了一会儿，带着古怪的神情看着小白花，因为，在他性格里的意大利部分有点迷信色彩。此刻他正处于一种半是甜蜜半是痛苦的忧郁心境中。想像力丰富的年轻人能从琐碎小事发现意义，无论从哪儿都能找到浪漫题材。当他伸手去摘那朵带刺的红玫瑰时，心里想到了乔，因为颜色鲜艳的花适合她，在家里她常佩戴从温室采来的那种红玫瑰，而意大利人放置死者手中的正是艾美给他的那种白玫瑰，这种白玫瑰从不见于新娘的花环上。有好一会儿，他想着这个预兆是乔的还是他自己的。可是转瞬间，他的美国人常识占了多愁善感心绪的上风。他开怀大笑，这种笑声从他来后艾美就没有听到过。
“这是个好建议，你最好接受以保全你的手指，”艾美说。
她以为是她的话逗乐了他。
“谢谢，我会接受的，”他开玩笑地回答。几个月后，他果然认真地接受了她的建议。
“劳里，你什么时候到你爷爷那儿去？”过了一会儿，她坐到一张粗木椅上问道。
“很快就去。”
“前三个星期里，你这样说了十几遍了。”“我敢说，简短的回答省掉麻烦。““他盼着你，你真的该去了。”“好一个好客的人儿！我知道。”“那你为什么不去呢？”“出乎本性的堕落，我想。”“你是说出乎本性的懒惰。这真可怕！”艾美看上去严厉了。
“并不像看上去那么糟糕。我要是去了只会烦他的，所以，我不妨呆下来再烦你一些时候，你能更好地忍受，我想这样也非常合你的胃口。”劳里准备靠在扶栏宽大的壁架上。
艾美摇摇头，带着听任他的神气打开了速写簿，但是，她打定了主意，要训导"那个男孩"。一会儿她又开了口。
“你在干什么？”
“看蜥蜴。”
“不，不，我是问你打算或者希望做什么。”“抽支烟，要是你允许的话。”“你真气人！我反对抽烟，只有在你让我画下你的情况下，才能允许你抽。我需要一个人体模型。”“万分乐意。你要画我什么 -全身还是四分之三？头还是脚？我倒想敬提建议，采用横卧姿势，然后画上你，把它叫做'Ｄｏｌｃｅeａｒｎｉｅｎｔｅ'。”“就这样呆着，想睡就睡罢。我可要努力工作了，”艾美精力充沛地说。
“正中下怀！”劳里带着心满意足的神态靠在一个高坛子上。
“要是乔现在看到你，她会怎么说？”艾美不耐烦地说。她想通过提及她精力更加旺盛的姐姐的大名，使他振作起来。
“老调子：'走开，特迪，我忙着呢！'"他边说边笑着，但是笑声不自然，一道阴影掠过他的脸庞，因为说出的那个名字触及了他那还未愈合的伤口。那语调和阴影都打动了艾美，她以前听过也见过。现在她抬头看着他，及时捕捉到了劳里脸上一种新的表情--一种不容置疑的酸楚表情，充满痛苦、不满与悔恨。她还没来得及研究，它便消失了，那种无精打采的表情重又恢复。她带着艺术的情趣注视了他一会儿，觉得他看上去多像一个意大利人。他光着头躺在那里，沐浴在阳光中，眼里充满了南国的梦幻神色。此刻他似乎已经忘记了艾美，正在想得出神。
“你看上去就像一个年轻骑士的雕像，睡在自己的坟墓上，”艾美一边说，一边仔细地描着衬在黑色石头上轮廓分明的侧面像。
“但愿我真的是！”
“那可是个愚蠢的愿望，除非你毁了你的生命。你变了这么多，有时我想- “艾美说到这儿打住了，她的神情半是羞怯，半是愁闷，这比她没说完的话更有意味。
她犹豫着表达出的充满爱意的焦虑，劳里既看出来了，也懂得了。他直盯着她的眼睛，像过去常对她母亲说的那样说道：“没事的，夫人。”这使她满意，并打消了最近开始使她担心的疑虑。这也使她感动。她表露出这些，用热诚的语调说 “那样我很高兴。我想你不会是一个非常坏的男孩。不过，我想象你在那邪恶的巴当 巴当丢了钱，爱上了某个有丈夫的法国女人，或者陷入了某种困境，那种困境年轻人似乎都认为是旅外生活的一个必要部分。别呆在太阳底下，过来躺到草地上，就像我们以前坐在沙发的角落里倾诉秘密时乔常说的那样：'让我们友好相处吧。'"劳里顺从地躺到了草地上，开始往近旁艾美帽子的丝带上贴雏菊，以此消遣。
“我准备好听秘密了。”他向上瞥了一眼艾美，眼神里流露出明显的兴趣。
“我没有秘密可说，你可以开始说了。”
“幸而我一个也没有。我以为你也许有一些家里的消息呢。”“最近发生的事你都听说了。你不也常收到信？乔会给你寄来很多信的。”“她很忙。而我这样到处游荡，你知道，不可能有规律。
你什么时候开始你那伟大的艺术工作，拉斐尔娜？”又停了一会他突然转变了话题。停顿时，他猜度着艾美是否已经知道了他的秘密，并且想和他谈这个问题。
“根本不会了，”她带着心灰意懒但是决然的神情回答，”罗马去掉了我所有的虚荣心，因为看过了那里的奇迹，我感到自己太微不足道了，也就绝望地放弃了所有愚蠢的愿望。”“你为什么放弃呢？你有那么富有的精力和天赋。”“那正是原因--天赋不是天才。再多的精力也不能使天赋产生天才。我要么当伟人，要么什么也不当。我不要做那种平庸的拙劣画家。因此，我不打算再试了。”“我可以问一下，你现在打算怎么办吗？”“如果有机会的话，完善我其他的天赋，为社会增添光彩。”这话很有个性，听起来不乏进取心。勇敢属于青年人，艾美的抱负有着良好的基矗劳里笑了。艾美很早就怀有的希望消亡了，她不花时间悲叹，马上又确立新的目标，劳里喜欢这种精神。
“好！我猜想这里有弗雷德•沃恩插进来了。”艾美用心深远地保持了沉默，但是阴郁的脸上有一种感觉得到的神色，使劳里坐了起来，严肃地说：“现在我来扮哥哥，向你提问，可以吗？”“我不保证回答。”“你舌头不回答，脸会回答的。你不是那种精通世故的女人，不能隐瞒感情，亲爱的。我听到过去年有关你和弗雷德的传闻，我私下认为，要不是他那样突然被召回家，又耽搁这么长时间，可能会发生什么事的- 嘿！”“那可不好，”艾美一本正经地回答，可是她的嘴唇绽出笑意，眼睛里放射出亮光。这泄露了她内心的秘密：她知道自己有魅力，并且对此感觉很不错。
“你还没有订婚吧，我想？”劳里突然严肃起来，看上去很像个兄长。
“还没有。”
“可是你会订婚的，要是他回来了，得体地下跪向你求婚，你会答应的，是不是？”“极有可能。”“那么你喜欢弗雷德？”“要是我那样做，我就是喜欢他了。”“但是，不到恰当的时候你是不会那么做的，是吧？天呀！
多么谨小慎微！艾美，他是个好小伙子，但是我想他不是你会喜欢的那种。“他有钱，有教养，风度悦人，”艾美开口说道。她试图保持冷静与尊严，虽然这出自诚意，但还是为自己感到有点不好意思。
“我懂。社交王后没钱不能过活。所以你打算嫁个好人家。
那样开始，就世事而言，相当正确，也很妥当。但这话听起来奇怪，不像出自你妈妈的几个女儿们口中。”“不过，也的确如此。”回答简短，但是说出这话时的平静与断然神态和年轻的说话者形成了奇妙的反差。劳里本能地感到了这一点，他带着一种他自己无法解释的失望感又躺了下去。他的神态、沉默以及某种内心的自我否定使艾美着急，也促使她决心赶快进行她的讲座。
“我希望你能让我刺激刺激你，”她尖刻地说。
“那么来吧，乖女孩。”
“真的吗，我可说到做到。”她看上去像是想即刻就这么做。
“那就试试吧，我答应你了，”劳里回答。他喜欢有人和他逗乐，那么长时间他都没有过这种他最喜欢的娱乐了。
“五分钟内你就会生气了。”
“我从来不和你生气。一个巴掌拍不响，你像白雪一样又冷又软。”“你不知道我能做什么。如果使用得当，白雪能发光，也能刺痛人。你的不在乎神情一半是装出来的，好好激一激就可以证明出来。”“来吧，那伤不了我，也许能逗乐你，就像那个大个子男人在他的小女人打他时说的那样。你把我看成一个丈夫或一块地毯吧，假如那种运动适合你，你就打到累了为止。”艾美十分恼火，她也渴盼他能摆脱那种使他产生这种变化的冷淡。她磨快了舌锋，也削尖了铅笔。她开了口：“我和弗洛给你取了个新名字，叫'懒劳伦斯'，喜欢吗？”她以为这会惹恼他，可他只是支票手枕到头下，冷静地说：“这不坏。谢谢，女士们。”“你想知道我对你的坦率看法吗？”“非常想知道。”“好吧，我看不起你。”要是她带着闹气或者是调情的语调说"我恨你"，他可能会笑起来，并十分欣赏。可是，她那严肃、几近悲哀的语气使他睁开了眼，赶忙问道- “为什么，请问？”“因为，你有各种机会成为善良、有用、幸福的人，却在这样犯错误、懒散、痛苦着。”“言辞激烈，小姐。”“你要是喜欢，我就继续说。” “请吧，相当有趣。”“我就知道你会这样认为的，自私的人总喜欢谈论自己。”“我自私了？”问题脱口而出，语调充满惊奇，因为劳里引以为豪的一大美德便是慷慨。
“是的，非常自私，”艾美以沉着冷静的语调接着说，这比愤怒的语调效果强似两倍，”我指给你看，我们一起嬉戏时我研究过你，我对你一点儿都不满意。你已经到国外来了近六个月了，啥事不干，只是浪费时间和金钱，使你的朋友们失望。”“人家苦学了四年后，就不能稍稍放纵一下？”“看上去你不像是享受了许多乐趣。依我看，无论如何，你的感觉一点也不好。我们初次见面时，我说你有了长进，现在我收回原话，我认为你不如我离开家前的一半好。你变得令人可恶地懒散起来，你喜欢闲聊，在毫无意义的事情上浪费光阴。你满足于让一些愚蠢的人宠爱你，赞赏你，而不要聪明人爱你，尊重你。你有金钱、天赋、地位、健康，还有相貌 -噢，你就像那个老虚荣鬼！这是真话，我忍不住要说出来 -你有那么多美好的东西享用，却游手好闲。你不去做一个你可能做也应该做的人，你只是- "说到这儿，她住了口，表情里既有痛苦，也有同情。
“烤肉架上的圣徒劳伦斯，”劳里接过话头，无动于衷地结束了这句话。但是，演讲开始生效了。现在劳里的眼睛里发出了十分清醒的光亮。那半是愤怒、半是受伤的表情代替了以前的冷淡神情。
“我就猜到你会这样说的。你们男人说我们是天使，还说我们想把你们变成什么样都行，可是我们一旦诚挚地为你们着想，你们便嘲笑我们、不愿听我们的，这就是你们奉承的价值，”艾美尖刻地说，然后她转过身背对脚下那个使人恼怒的受难者。
过了一会儿，一只手放到她的画页上，她没法画了，只听见劳里的声音滑稽地模仿着一个悔过的孩子：“我会听话的，哦，我会听话的。”可是艾美没笑，她是认真的。她用铅笔敲着那只伸开的手，严肃地说：“你不为这样的手感到羞愧吗？它就像妇人的手一样柔软白皙，看着就像从不干事，只是戴着最好的手套，为女人们采花。谢天谢地，你还不是个花花公子，我很高兴，这手上没有钻戒或大图章戒指，只有乔很早以前给你的那又小又旧的指环。天哪！真希望她在这帮帮我！“我也希望！”那只手消失了，像伸过来时同样突然。在对她愿望的附和声里，那种生气是一种共鸣。她怀着新的想法低头注视着他。他躺在那，帽子半遮着脸，像是用来遮阳。他的小胡子盖住了嘴。只见他的胸膛起伏着，长长地喘着气，像是叹息。
戴着指环的手贴在草地里，像是要藏起什么太宝贵、太温柔、连提都不能提的东西。顷刻间，各种各样的线索与琐事都在艾美的脑中成了型，有了意义，并且告诉了她姐姐从未向她吐露的心事。她回想起来，劳里从来没有主动提起过乔。她记起了刚才劳里脸上的阴影、他性情的变化，以及他手上戴着的那又小又旧的指环。那个指环并不配装饰那只漂亮的手。
女孩子们能很快察觉到这种迹象，并感到它们能说明问题。艾美曾推想，在劳里变化的背后，也许有着爱情方面的麻烦。现在她确信了。泪水充盈了她敏锐的双眼。她再开口时，声音温柔动听、亲切悦人，就像她以前有意为之的那样。
“我知道我没有权利对你那样说话，劳里。要不是你是世上脾气最好的人，你就会非常生我的气了。可是，我们都那么喜欢你，为你骄傲，想到家里的人会对你失望我便受不了，虽然也许他们比我更理解你的变化。”“我想他们会理解的，“帽子下传来了回答，声音冷冷的，但和唉声叹气同样打动人。
“他们本来应该告诉我的，以免我乱说话责备你。这时候我本应对你更亲切、更耐心的。我从来就不喜欢那个兰德尔小姐，现在我恨她了！”机灵的艾美说，这次她希望把事情弄确实。
“去他的兰德尔小姐！”劳里打掉了脸上的帽子，他的神情明白无疑地表露出他对那位年轻女士的看法。
“对不起，我还以为 "艾美很有外交手段地打住了话。
“不，别以为了。你十分清楚，除了乔我谁也不在乎，”劳里用他以前那种激动的语气说，一边将脸转了过去。
“我真的这样以为。可是他们从来没说起过这事，你又离开了。我猜想我弄错了。乔不愿对你表示亲切？怎么回事？我肯定她深爱着你。”“她确实亲切，可是方式不对头。要是我像你认为的那样一无是处，她不爱我是她的运气。可我现在这样是她的过错，你可以这么告诉她。”说着他脸上又恢复了那种不容置疑的酸楚表情。艾美急了，她不知道用什么来安慰他。
“我错了。我不知道，非常抱歉我那样焦躁，可是，我希望你能承受得起，特迪，亲爱的。”“别这样叫我，那是她对我的称呼！”他急速做了个手势，阻止她用乔那种半是亲切半是责备的语调说话。”等到你自己尝试过这滋味再说吧，”他低声补充道，一边成把地拔着青草。
“我会像男子汉似地接受它，要是不能被人爱，也要被人尊重，”艾美决然说道，对这种事一无所知的人们常有她这种决心。
劳里本来自以为十分出色地接受了他的失恋。他没有悲叹，没有要求同情，他将烦恼带走了，独自化解。可艾美的讲座使他对这件事有了新的认识。他第一次看清楚了，首次失败便灰心丧气，将自己封闭在郁闷、冷漠的心境中，真的是意志薄弱，而且自私。他感到仿佛突然从忧愁的梦境中挣脱出来，不可能再睡了。他很快坐了起来，慢慢地问道：“你认为乔会像你那样看不起我吗？”“要是她看到你这个样子，会的。她讨厌懒散的人。你为什么不去做些出色的事，使她爱上你呢？”“我尽力了，可是没用。”“你是指以优异的成绩毕业？这没什么了不起。为了你爷爷，你本来就应该这样做。花了那么多时间、金钱，每个人都认为你能学好，要是失败那真是耻辱了。”“你爱怎么说就怎么说，我真的失败了，因为乔不肯爱我，”劳里说。他手托着头摆出一副心灰意懒的样子。
“不，你还没有，到最后你才能这么说。学业这件事对你有好处，它证明只要你去做，就能做出成绩。只要你着手去干一件事，不久你就又会回归到以前那个幸福愉快的自我。你会忘掉烦恼的。”“那不可能。”“试试看吧。你不必耸肩，想着：‘她对这种事知道得还不少。'我不是自作聪明，但是我在观察着，我看到的要比你想象的多得多。尽管我无法解释原因，我对别人的经历以及自相矛盾的言行感兴趣，我记住这些，作为自己的借鉴。你愿意的话，始终爱着乔吧，但别让它毁了你。因为得不到你所要的便仍掉那么多优良天赋，这样做不道德。好了，我不再教训你了，我知道，尽管那女孩无情，但你会清醒过来，做个男子汉的。“有几分钟时间两人都没说话。劳里坐在那儿，转动着手指上的那个小指环，艾美为刚才一边说一边匆匆勾勒的草图做最后的润色。过了一会儿，她把画放在他膝上，问道：“你觉得怎么样？”他看着便笑了起来，也由不得他不笑。画画得极好- 草地上躺着个长长的、懒洋洋的身影，无精打采的面孔，半闭的双眼，一只手捏着支香烟，发出的小小烟圈在做梦者的头顶上缭绕着。
“你画得多好啊！”他说，对她的技艺由衷地感到惊奇和高兴。然后他又似笑非笑地补充道：“对，那就是我。”“是你现在的样子。这是以前的你。”艾美把另一张画放到了他手中这一张的旁边。
这一张没有刚才那一张画得那么好，但是画面有活力，有生气，弥补了许多不足。它那样生动，使人回忆起过去。年轻人看看画，脸上突然掠过一丝变化。这只是一张劳里驯马的草图：他的帽子和外衣都脱下了，活跃的身段，坚定的脸孔，威风凛凛的姿势，每一根线条都充满精力与意义。那匹漂亮的马儿刚被驯服，它立在那儿，在拽得很紧的缰绳下弓着脖颈，一只蹄子不耐烦地在地上刨着，竖着的耳朵仿佛在倾听它的征服者的声音。马被弄乱了的鬃毛，骑士飘拂的头发以及直立的姿势，这些都暗示着引人注目的突然运动，那种运动具有力量、勇气与青春的活力。这和那张"无所事事乐悠悠"画像中懒洋洋的优雅姿态形成了鲜明的对照。劳里什么也没说，但是他的目光从一张画扫到另一张。艾美看到他脸红了，他抿住嘴唇，好像在读着艾美给他的小小功课，并加以接受了。这使艾美满意。她不等他开口，便轻快地说 “你可记得那天你装扮成带顽皮小妖的牧马人，我们都在旁观看？梅格和贝恩吓坏了，乔却拍着手欢跳。我坐在篱笆上画下了你。前些天我在画夹里发现了那张草图，润了色，留着给你看呢。”“非常感谢。从那时起你的画技有了很大的长进，恭贺你。
在这'蜜月天堂'，我得冒昧提醒你，你们旅馆晚饭时间是五点？”劳里说着站了起来，他笑着鞠了个躬，归还了画像。他看着表，仿佛在提醒她，即使是道德教育也应有结束的时候。
他试图恢复他先前那种懒散、冷淡的神气，但现在却是做作出来的了，因为那个刺激比他愿意承认的还要有效。艾美感觉到了他态度里的一丝冷淡。她自言自语道- “我冒犯了他。好吧，要是对他有好处，我感到高兴。要是使他恨我，我感到遗憾。但是，我说的是实情，我一个字也不能收回。”回家的一路上，他们谈笑风生，令站在车后的小巴普蒂斯特以为先生和小姐处于愉快的情绪中。但是两个人都感到不安：友好的坦率被搅和了，阳光中有了一道阴影，而且，尽管表面上十分欢快，两个人内心都暗自不满。
“今天晚上我们能见到你吗，ｍｏｎeｒèｒｅ？”他们在艾美婶娘屋门边分手时，艾美问。
“不巧我有个约会。Ａｕｒｅｖｏｉｒ，ｍａｄｅｍｏｉｓｅｌｌｅ。”劳里弯下腰，像是要去吻她的手，这种异国的道别方式对他比对许多人更适合。他脸上的某种神情使艾美赶忙热情地说 “不，劳里，对我和平常一样吧。用那以前的好方式道别。
我宁愿要英国式热诚的握手，也不要法国式感情用事的问候道别。”“再见，亲爱的，”劳里用艾美喜欢的语调说出这几个字，热烈地握了握她的手，几乎弄疼了她，然后离开了。
第二天早晨，他没有像往常那样来访，艾美接到一张便条，开始读时笑了，看完却叹了口气。
我亲爱的良师门将：
请代我向婶婶道别。你自己也不妨得意，因为，“懒劳伦斯"像个最好的男孩，到他爷爷那儿去了。
祝你冬日愉快！愿上帝赐给你幸福的玫瑰谷蜜月！我想弗雷德会从一个唤醒者那里得到好处的。告诉他这点。恭喜恭喜！
感谢你的，忒勒马科斯
“好小伙子！他走了我感到高兴，”艾美赞许地笑着说。可是转眼间，她环顾空空的屋子，脸拉了下来，不由叹道：“是的，我是高兴，可是我会想念他的！”
Chapter 40 The Valley Of The Shadow
When the first bitterness was over, the family accepted the inevitable, and tried to bear it cheerfully, helping one another by the increased affection which comes to bind households tenderly together in times of trouble. They put away their grief, and each did his or her part toward making that last year a happy one.
The pleasantest room in the house was set apart for Beth, and in it was gathered everything that she most loved, flowers, pictures, her piano, the little worktable, and the beloved pussies. Father's best books found their way there, Mother's easy chair, Jo's desk, Amy's finest sketches, and every day Meg brought her babies on a loving pilgrimage, to make sunshine for Aunty Beth. John quietly set apart a little sum, that he might enjoy the pleasure of keeping the invalid supplied with the fruit she loved and longed for. Old Hannah never wearied of concocting dainty dishes to tempt a capricious appetite, dropping tears as she worked, and from across the sea came little gifts and cheerful letters, seeming to bring breaths of warmth and fragrance from lands that know no winter.
Here, cherished like a household saint in its shrine, sat Beth, tranquil and busy as ever, for nothing could change the sweet, unselfish nature, and even while preparing to leave life, she tried to make it happier for those who should remain behind. The feeble fingers were never idle, and one of her pleasures was to make little things for the school children daily passing to and fro, to drop a pair of mittens from her window for a pair of purple hands, a needlebook for some small mother of many dolls, penwipers for young penmen toiling through forests of pothooks, scrapbooks for picture-loving eyes, and all manner of pleasant devices, till the reluctant climbers of the ladder of learning found their way strewn with flowers, as it were, and came to regard the gentle giver as a sort of fairy godmother, who sat above there, and showered down gifts miraculously suited to their tastes and needs. If Beth had wanted any reward, she found it in the bright little faces always turned up to her window, with nods and smiles, and the droll little letters which came to her, full of blots and gratitude.
The first few months were very happy ones, and Beth often used to look round, and say "How beautiful this is!" as they all sat together in her sunny room, the babies kicking and crowing on the floor, mother and sisters working near, and father reading, in his pleasant voice, from the wise old books which seemed rich in good and comfortable words, as applicable now as when written centuries ago, a little chapel, where a paternal priest taught his flock the hard lessons all must learn, trying to show them that hope can comfort love, and faith make resignation possible. Simple sermons, that went straight to the souls of those who listened, for the father's heart was in the minister's religion, and the frequent falter in the voice gave a double eloquence to the words he spoke or read.
It was well for all that this peaceful time was given them as preparation for the sad hours to come, for by-and-by, Beth said the needle was 'so heavy', and put it down forever. Talking wearied her, faces troubled her, pain claimed her for its own, and her tranquil spirit was sorrowfully perturbed by the ills that vexed her feeble flesh. Ah me! Such heavy days, such long, long nights, such aching hearts and imploring prayers, when those who loved her best were forced to see the thin hands stretched out to them beseechingly, to hear the bitter cry, "Help me, help me!" and to feel that there was no help. A sad eclipse of the serene soul, a sharp struggle of the young life with death, but both were mercifully brief, and then the natural rebellion over, the old peace returned more beautiful than ever. With the wreck of her frail body, Beth's soul grew strong, and though she said little, those about her felt that she was ready, saw that the first pilgrim called was likewise the fittest, and waited with her on the shore, trying to see the Shining Ones coming to receive her when she crossed the river.
Jo never left her for an hour since Beth had said "I feel stronger when you are here." She slept on a couch in the room, waking often to renew the fire, to feed, lift, or wait upon the patient creature who seldom asked for anything, and 'tried not to be a trouble'. All day she haunted the room, jealous of any other nurse, and prouder of being chosen then than of any honor her life ever brought her. Precious and helpful hours to Jo, for now her heart received the teaching that it needed. Lessons in patience were so sweetly taught her that she could not fail to learn them, charity for all, the lovely spirit that can forgive and truly forget unkindness, the loyalty to duty that makes the hardest easy, and the sincere faith that fears nothing, but trusts undoubtingly.
Often when she woke Jo found Beth reading in her well-worn little book, heard her singing softly, to beguile the sleepless night, or saw her lean her face upon her hands, while slow tears dropped through the transparent fingers, and Jo would lie watching her with thoughts too deep for tears, feeling that Beth, in her simple, unselfish way, was trying to wean herself from the dear old life, and fit herself for the life to come, by sacred words of comfort, quiet prayers, and the music she loved so well.
Seeing this did more for Jo than the wisest sermons, the saintliest hymns, the most fervent prayers that any voice could utter. For with eyes made clear by many tears, and a heart softened by the tenderest sorrow, she recognized the beauty of her sister's life--uneventful, unambitious, yet full of the genuine virtues which 'smell sweet, and blossom in the dust', the self-forgetfulness that makes the humblest on earth remembered soonest in heaven, the true success which is possible to all.
One night when Beth looked among the books upon her table, to find something to make her forget the mortal weariness that was almost as hard to bear as pain, as she turned the leaves of her old favorite, Pilgrims's Progress, she found a little paper, scribbled over in Jo's hand. The name caught her eye and the blurred look of the lines made her sure that tears had fallen on it.
"Poor Jo! She's fast asleep, so I won't wake her to ask leave. She shows me all her things, and I don't think she'll mind if I look at this", thought Beth, with a glance at her sister, who lay on the rug, with the tongs beside her, ready to wake up the minute the log fell apart.
MY BETH
Sitting patient in the shadow Till the blessed light shall come, A serene and saintly presence Sanctifies our troubled home. Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows Break like ripples on the strand Of the deep and solemn river Where her willing feet now stand.
O my sister, passing from me, Out of human care and strife, Leave me, as a gift, those virtues Which have beautified your life. Dear, bequeath me that great patience Which has power to sustain A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit In its prison-house of pain.
Give me, for I need it sorely, Of that courage, wise and sweet, Which has made the path of duty Green beneath your willing feet. Give me that unselfish nature, That with charity devine Can pardon wrong for love's dear sake-- Meek heart, forgive me mine!
Thus our parting daily loseth Something of its bitter pain, And while learning this hard lesson, My great loss becomes my gain. For the touch of grief will render My wild nature more serene, Give to life new aspirations, A new trust in the unseen.
Henceforth, safe across the river, I shall see forever more A beloved, household spirit Waiting for me on the shore. Hope and faith, born of my sorrow, Guardian angels shall become, And the sister gone before me By their hands shall lead me home.
Blurred and blotted, faulty and feeble as the lines were, they brought a look of inexpressible comfort to Beth's face, for her one regret had been that she had done so little, and this seemed to assure her that her life had not been useless, that her death would not bring the despair she feared. As she sat with the paper folded between her hands, the charred log fell asunder. Jo started up, revived the blaze, and crept to the bedside, hoping Beth slept.
"Not asleep, but so happy, dear. See, I found this and read it. I knew you wouldn't care. Have I been all that to you, Jo?" she asked, with wistful, humble earnestness.
"_Oh_, Beth, so much, so much!" and Jo's head went down upon the pillow beside her sister's.
"Then I don't feel as if I'd wasted my life. I'm not so good as you make me, but I have tried to do right. And now, when it's too late to begin even to do better, it's such a comfort to know that someone loves me so much, and feels as if I'd helped them."
"More than any one in the world, Beth. I used to think I couldn't let you go, but I'm learning to feel that I don't lose you, that you'll be more to me than ever, and death can't part us, though it seems to."
"I know it cannot, and I don't fear it any longer, for I'm sure I shall be your Beth still, to love and help you more than ever. You must take my place, Jo, and be everything to Father and Mother when I'm gone. They will turn to you, don't fail them, and if it's hard to work alone, remember that I don't forget you, and that you'll be happier in doing that than writing splendid books or seeing all the world, for love is the only thing that we can carry with us when we go, and it makes the end so easy."
"I'll try, Beth." and then and there Jo renounced her old ambition, pledged herself to a new and better one, acknowledging the poverty of other desires, and feeling the blessed solace of a belief in the immortality of love.
So the spring days came and went, the sky grew clearer, the earth greener, the flowers were up fairly early, and the birds came back in time to say goodbye to Beth, who, like a tired but trustful child, clung to the hands that had led her all her life, as Father and Mother guided her tenderly through the Valley of the Shadow, and gave her up to God.
Seldom except in books do the dying utter memorable words, see visions, or depart with beatified countenances, and those who have sped many parting souls know that to most the end comes as naturally and simply as sleep. As Beth had hoped, the 'tide went out easily', and in the dark hour before dawn, on the bosom where she had drawn her first breath, she quietly drew her last, with no farewell but one loving look, one little sigh.
With tears and prayers and tender hands, Mother and sisters made her ready for the long sleep that pain would never mar again, seeing with grateful eyes the beautiful serenity that soon replaced the pathetic patience that had wrung their hearts so long, and feeling with reverent joy that to their darling death was a benignant angel, not a phantom full of dread.
When morning came, for the first time in many months the fire was out, Jo's place was empty, and the room was very still. But a bird sang blithely on a budding bough, close by, the snowdrops blossomed freshly at the window, and the spring sunshine streamed in like a benediction over the placid face upon the pillow, a face so full of painless peace that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and thanked God that Beth was well at last.
 
最初的痛苦过去了，全家人接受了那不可避免的事实。他们试图达观地直面它，用更多的爱相互帮助。在困境中，这种温馨之爱将全家人连结到一处。他们抛开悲伤，每个人都尽自己的力量，让贝思最后一年过得快乐。
家里最舒适的屋子腾出来给了贝思，她最喜欢的东西都集中到屋里来了- 花朵、像片、她的钢琴、小工作桌，以及得宠的猫咪们。爸爸最好的书本也进了屋，还有妈妈的安乐椅，乔的写作桌，艾美最好的素描草图。梅格每天带两个孩子过来，虔诚地拜望贝思阿姨，为她制造快乐。约翰默默地留出一小笔钱，以保证病人能有她喜欢吃的和想吃的水果，这样他也能心有所安。老罕娜嬷嬷不厌其烦地烹制爽口的菜肴，来提高她那时好时坏的食欲；她一边做菜一边流泪。从大洋那边没有冬日的国度邮递过来的一些小礼品和信函送给她温温爱意、馥馥香馨。
贝思坐在这里，像是供奉在壁龛里的家庭圣贤。她像往常一样宁静、忙碌，什么也改变不了她那甜美、无私的品性，即便准备告别人世，她也试图使留下来继续活下去的人们快乐一些。她那虚弱的手指从未闲过，她的乐事之一便是为每天从旁经过的学童们制作小东西在窗口放一两双手套，这是为冻紫了的手准备的；放个书形针盒，给某位拥有许多玩具娃娃的小母亲；放一些擦笔尖布，给那些在歪七竖八的笔划丛林里辛勤劳作的小书法家们；再放一些剪贴簿，给那些爱画画的孩子们；还有各种各样令人愉快的小玩意，直到那些极不情愿地攀登着学问阶梯的孩子们发现，他们的前进道路上鲜花灿烂。这时他们把那亲切的馈赠者看作是童话中的仙女。她坐在那上边，神秘地为他们抛投各种各样的心想之物。那些明亮的小脸蛋常出现在她的窗口，朝她点头笑着。
她也收到了些引人发笑的小小信件，里面满是感激，也满是墨渍。倘使贝思想得到什么回报的话，她已从中得到了回报。
开始的几个月非常幸福。贝思常常环视屋内，说：“这多美妙啊！”大家都在她洒满阳光的屋子里坐在一起。两个孩子在地上踢着、欢闹着；妈妈和姐姐们在近旁做着活儿；爸爸用悦耳的声音读着那些古老而又充满智慧的书。书本里似乎有大量劝慰人的善言，如同几个世纪前写出时一样，一点也没有过时。这屋子成了一个小教堂，充当牧师的父亲在给他的羔羊们讲解那所有人必须学会的艰难课程，他试图向她们指出，希望能抚慰爱心，信仰能使人听从命运安排。简单的说教直入听者的心灵，爸爸沉浸在牧师的教义中，他那时而发颤的声音使他宣讲或朗读的语句愈加具有穿透力。
大家都很满意，因为他们享有了这段宁静的时光，为迎接那些悲哀时刻的到来做好了准备。不久，贝思便说针"太重了"，她永远地放下了针；说话使她疲倦，看到人们的脸孔使她心烦；疼痛攫住了她，病痛搅乱了她那平静的心灵，侵扰着她那虚弱的肉体。哦，天哪！多么沉重的白天！多么漫长的夜晚！多么痛苦的心灵！多么虔诚的祈祷！那些深爱她的人们被迫看着她哀求地向她们伸出瘦弱的双手，听着她痛苦地叫着：“救救我！救救我！”同时也懂得了绝望的滋味。一个安祥的灵魂惨然销蚀，一个年轻的生命与死神展开激烈的搏斗。仁慈的是，灵与肉的搏斗为时不长。后来，那种本能的反抗便结束了，她又恢复了以前的那种宁静状态而且更加动人。带着虚弱的病体，贝思的精神愈发坚强了。尽管她不说什么，但她身边的人们感觉到了她已做好远行的准备。他们晓得，被召唤的第一个朝圣者是品行最合格的人眩他们和她一起在岸边等候，希望在她驶向彼岸之时能看见前来迎接她的光彩夺目的天使们。
贝思对乔说：“你在这里我感到有力些。”她这样说过后，乔离开她的时间再也没超过一小时。她睡在屋里的长沙发上，夜里常醒来添点火，喂她食物，搀扶她坐起或服侍汤药，而这个病人极少使唤她，”尽量不成为麻烦"。乔整天留在屋里，不满意那些护士，她为能陪伴贝思感到自豪，这种自豪超过了生活带给她的任何荣耀。这些时光对乔来说既宝贵又有益。
现在她真诚地接受了她所需要的教导：忍耐这一人生课程以这样美好的方式教给了她，她不能不学会。还有博爱，这种可贵的精神能宽恕别人并真正地忘却不和善的行为。还有恪尽职守，能化难难为坦途；以及那无所畏惧、毫不怀疑的信任中包含的真诚信念。
乔夜里醒来时，常发现贝思在读着她那本翻得很旧了的小书，听到她低低地唱着，以打发不眠之夜，有时贝思手捧着脸，眼泪慢慢地从那透明的指缝里滴下来。这时，乔总是躺着注视着她。乔想得很深，顾不得流泪了。她觉着，贝思用她那种简单、无私的方式，通过神圣的安慰话语、静静的祈祷以及她深爱的音乐，在试图使自己脱离这宝贵的人生，适应来世的生活。
最有智慧的说教、最圣洁的赞美诗，以及任何声音能说出的最炽烈的祷告，都不及看到的这些对乔的影响深巨。流了许多泪，眼睛反倒看清楚了。经受了最震撼人心的痛苦，心也变软了。她看到了妹妹的生命之美――平平淡淡、朴朴实实，可是都充满了真正的美德，”散发着芬芳，在尘埃中怒放"。那种忘我的品德使世间最谦卑的人在天堂被人间永久铭记。这种真正的成功每个人都可能得到。
一天夜里，贝思在桌上的书中找着，想找些什么读读，忘掉临终的厌倦，这种厌倦几乎和疼痛一样难以忍受。她翻着以前最喜爱的《天路历程》，发现了一张小纸片，上面涂满了乔的笔迹。一个名字吸引了她的目光，模糊的字行使她确信曾有眼泪掉落在上面。
“可怜的乔！她睡熟了，所以我不弄醒她请求允许了。她给我看她所有的东西，我想，要是我看了这个她不会介意的，”贝思想。她瞥了一眼姐姐，乔躺在地毯上，身边放着火钳，准备一当木柴烧散架，便醒来添火。
我的贝思
耐心地坐在阴影里，
直至那福光来临，
祥和圣洁的姿容，
使不安的家庭变得神圣。
人间的欢乐、希望与痛苦，
像阵阵涟漪，在河滩飞迸。
在那神圣的深深河流中，
她甘心情愿地将双脚蹚进。
哦，妹妹，你就要离我远去。
不再有人类的忧虑与竞争，
作为礼物，你留给我这些美德，
它们曾美化你的生命。
亲爱的，你遗赠我伟大的耐心，
它有力量支撑，
一个愉快、无怨的灵魂，
忍受监狱生活般的苦痛。
给我吧，我迫切地需要它，
那智慧与温情，
它曾使人生使命之路，
在你脚下如愿常青。
给我那无私的品性吧，
带着圣洁的博爱之心，
为爱之故，它能宽恕罪行-
宽恕我吧，仁惠之心！
时光消隐，我们如此分别，
至创深深。
艰难的人生课程，
我以至大牺牲换取收成。
抚摸不幸，
我之野性趋于和宁。
赐与我新生的渴望，
灵魂世界之信心。
未来人生，平安伫立对岸，
我将永远看见，
一个可爱的家庭之神，
在岸边候我殷殷。
希望与信念，由痛苦而生，
便是那守护天神，
还有妹妹，走在我前，
拉着我手，引领我回家之程。
虽然诗行字迹模糊，墨渍点点，诗句有些毛病，也不太有力，可是贝思读了，脸上露出无法表述的欣慰神色。她的遗憾之一便是她做的事太少，这首诗似乎使她确信，她的生命并非无益，而她的死亡不会带给人们她所担心的那种绝望。
她坐在那儿，手里拿着这张折叠起来的纸片，烧焦了的木头倒了下来，乔一惊而起，她拨亮了火，爬到床边，她料想贝思睡着了。
“没有睡着，但是非常幸福，亲爱的。瞧，我发现了这个，读过了，我知道你不会介意的。乔，我对你是那样的吗？”她带着既渴望又恭顺的认真神情问道。
“哦，贝思，你给我的太多，太多了！”乔的头落到了妹妹旁边的枕头上。
“那么我就感到似乎没有浪费生命。我并不像你写的那样好，但是我只想去做正确的事情。现在，想开始做更好的事也已经晚了。可是知道了有人这么爱我，感到我似乎帮助过她们，真的是令人无上安慰。”“我爱你胜过世上任何人，贝思。我过去认为我不能放你走，可是我学着体会到我并没有失去你，你比以前对我的意义更大，死亡隔不开我们，尽管看上去是这样。”“我知道隔不开的，我不再害怕了。我确信我仍然是你的贝思，我会比以前更爱你，更好地帮助你。乔，我走后你得代替我，做爸爸妈妈的贴心人。他们会依赖你的，别让他们失望。要是孤独很难忍受，记住我没有忘记你。记住做那些事，你会感到比写那些伟大的书，或者周游整个世界更加快乐。因为，我们离开人世时爱是唯一能带走的东西，它使生命的结束变得轻松。”“我会做到的，贝思。”乔当时当地放弃了她以前的抱负，发誓实现这一新的、更好的抱负。她承认了其他愿望的空泛。
对不朽之爱的信念使她感受到了神圣的安慰。
就这样，春季一天天过去了，天空变得更加净朗，地上草儿愈发绿了，花儿们早早地便盛开了，鸟儿们及时飞回来向贝思道别。贝思像个疲倦却满怀信任的孩子，她紧握着领着她走过一生的父母的手，他们亲切地引着她穿过死荫的幽谷，然后将她交付给上帝。
除了书中描写的，垂死之人极少说出令人难忘的话语，或是看到显圣，带着极乐的神态辞世。那些多次送终的人知道，对大多数人来说，生命的结束如同睡眠一般自然、简单。正如贝思希望的那样，”潮流轻易地消退了"。
黎明前的黑暗时刻，偎在她来到人世第一次呼吸时所依的那个胸膛上，她静静地咽了气。她没有道别，只有那一片深情，一声小小的叹息。
妈妈和姐姐们哭着，祈祷着，她们轻手轻脚地为她的长眠做着准备。现在疼痛再也不能破坏她的睡眠了。她们心存感激地看到，美丽的宁静气氛很快便代替了悲哀的忍耐，这种心情已折磨她们这么长时间了。她们带着虔诚的喜悦之情感到，对她们的宝贝来说，死亡是一个仁慈的天使，而不是一个充满恐惧的鬼怪。
早晨来临时，这许多月中的第一次，炉火熄灭了，乔的位置空了，屋子里寂静无声。然而，附近一只鸟栖息在正发芽的树枝上欢快地唱着，窗边的雪花莲刚刚绽开。春日的阳光泻进屋里，照在枕头上那宁静的脸庞上，像是为她祝福 -那张脸充满了没有疼痛的宁静。于是深爱她的人们透过泪眼笑了，她们感谢上帝，贝思终于得救了。
Chapter 41 Learning To Forget
Amy's lecture did Laurie good, though, of course, he did not own it till long afterward. Men seldom do, for when women are the advisers, the lords of creation don't take the advice till they have persuaded themselves that it is just what they intended to do. Then they act upon it, and, if it succeeds, they give the weaker vessel half the credit of it. If it fails, they generously give her the whole. Laurie went back to his grandfather, and was so dutifully devoted for several weeks that the old gentleman declared the climate of Nice had improved him wonderfully, and he had better try it again. There was nothing the young gentleman would have liked better, but elephants could not have dragged him back after the scolding he had received. Pride forbid, and whenever the longing grew very strong, he fortified his resolution by repeating the words that had made the deepest impression--"I despise you." "Go and do something splendid that will make her love you."
Laurie turned the matter over in his mind so often that he soon brought himself to confess that he had been selfish and lazy, but then when a man has a great sorrow, he should be indulged in all sorts of vagaries till he has lived it down. He felt that his blighted affections were quite dead now, and though he should never cease to be a faithful mourner, there was no occasion to wear his weeds ostentatiously. Jo wouldn't love him, but he might make her respect and admire him by doing something which should prove that a girl's 'No' had not spoiled his life. He had always meant to do something, and Amy's advice was quite unnecessary. He had only been waiting till the aforesaid blighted affections were decently interred. That being done, he felt that he was ready to 'hide his stricken heart, and still toil on'.
As Goethe, when he had a joy or a grief, put it into a song, so Laurie resolved to embalm his love sorrow in music, and to compose a Requiem which should harrow up Jo's soul and melt the heart of every hearer. Therefore the next time the old gentleman found him getting restless and moody and ordered him off, he went to Vienna, where he had musical friends, and fell to work with the firm determination to distinguish himself. But whether the sorrow was too vast to be embodied in music, or music too ethereal to uplift a mortal woe, he soon discovered that the Requiem was beyond him just at present. It was evident that his mind was not in working order yet, and his ideas needed clarifying, for often in the middle of a plaintive strain, he would find himself humming a dancing tune that vividly recalled the Christmas ball at Nice, especially the stout Frenchman, and put an effectual stop to tragic composition for the time being.
Then he tried an opera, for nothing seemed impossible in the beginning, but here again unforeseen difficulties beset him. He wanted Jo for his heroine, and called upon his memory to supply him with tender recollections and romantic visions of his love. But memory turned traitor, and as if possessed by the perverse spirit of the girl, would only recall Jo's oddities, faults, and freaks, would only show her in the most unsentimental aspects--beating mats with her head tied up in a bandanna, barricading herself with the sofa pillow, or throwing cold water over his passion a la Gummidge--and an irresistable laugh spoiled the pensive picture he was endeavoring to paint. Jo wouldn't be put into the opera at any price, and he had to give her up with a "Bless that girl, what a torment she is!" and a clutch at his hair, as became a distracted composer.
When he looked about him for another and a less intractable damsel to immortalize in melody, memory produced one with the most obliging readiness. This phantom wore many faces, but it always had golden hair, was enveloped in a diaphanous cloud, and floated airily before his mind's eye in a pleasing chaos of roses, peacocks, white ponies, and blue ribbons. He did not give the complacent wraith any name, but he took her for his heroine and grew quite fond of her, as well he might, for he gifted her with every gift and grace under the sun, and escorted her, unscathed, through trials which would have annihilated any mortal woman.
Thanks to this inspiration, he got on swimmingly for a time, but gradually the work lost its charm, and he forgot to compose, while he sat musing, pen in hand, or roamed about the gay city to get some new ideas and refresh his mind, which seemed to be in a somewhat unsettled state that winter. He did not do much, but he thought a great deal and was conscious of a change of some sort going on in spite of himself. "It's genius simmering, perhaps. I'll let it simmer, and see what comes of it," he said, with a secret suspicion all the while that it wasn't genius, but something far more common. Whatever it was, it simmered to some purpose, for he grew more and more discontented with his desultory life, began to long for some real and earnest work to go at, soul and body, and finally came to the wise conclusion that everyone who loved music was not a composer. Returning from one of Mozart's grand operas, splendidly performed at the Royal Theatre, he looked over his own, played a few of the best parts, sat staring at the busts of Mendelssohn, Beethoven, and Bach, who stared benignly back again. Then suddenly he tore up his music sheets, one by one, and as the last fluttered out of his hand, he said soberly to himself . . .
"She is right! Talent isn't genius, and you can't make it so. That music has taken the vanity out of me as Rome took it out of her, and I won't be a humbug any longer. Now what shall I do?"
That seemed a hard question to answer, and Laurie began to wish he had to work for his daily bread. Now if ever, occurred an eligible opportunity for 'going to the devil', as he once forcibly expressed it, for he had plenty of money and nothing to do, and Satan is proverbially fond of providing employment for full and idle hands. The poor fellow had temptations enough from without and from within, but he withstood them pretty well, for much as he valued liberty, he valued good faith and confidence more, so his promise to his grandfather, and his desire to be able to look honestly into the eyes of the women who loved him, and say "All's well," kept him safe and steady.
Very likely some Mrs. Grundy will observe, "I don't believe it, boys will be boys, young men must sow their wild oats, and women must not expect miracles." I dare say you don't, Mrs. Grundy, but it's true nevertheless. Women work a good many miracles, and I have a persuasion that they may perform even that of raising the standard of manhood by refusing to echo such sayings. Let the boys be boys, the longer the better, and let the young men sow their wild oats if they must. But mothers, sisters, and friends may help to make the crop a small one, and keep many tares from spoiling the harvest, by believing, and showing that they believe, in the possibility of loyalty to the virtues which make men manliest in good women's eyes. If it is a feminine delusion, leave us to enjoy it while we may, for without it half the beauty and the romance of life is lost, and sorrowful forebodings would embitter all our hopes of the brave, tenderhearted little lads, who still love their mothers better than themselves and are not ashamed to own it.
Laurie thought that the task of forgetting his love for Jo would absorb all his powers for years, but to his great surprise he discovered it grew easier every day. He refused to believe it at first, got angry with himself, and couldn't understand it, but these hearts of ours are curious and contrary things, and time and nature work their will in spite of us. Laurie's heart wouldn't ache. The wound persisted in healing with a rapidity that astonished him, and instead of trying to forget, he found himself trying to remember. He had not foreseen this turn of affairs, and was not prepared for it. He was disgusted with himself, surprised at his own fickleness, and full of a queer mixture of disappointment and relief that he could recover from such a tremendous blow so soon. He carefully stirred up the embers of his lost love, but they refused to burst into a blaze. There was only a comfortable glow that warmed and did him good without putting him into a fever, and he was reluctantly obliged to confess that the boyish passion was slowly subsiding into a more tranquil sentiment, very tender, a little sad and resentful still, but that was sure to pass away in time, leaving a brotherly affection which would last unbroken to the end.
As the word 'brotherly' passed through his mind in one of his reveries, he smiled, and glanced up at the picture of Mozart that was before him . . .
"Well, he was a great man, and when he couldn't have one sister he took the other, and was happy."
Laurie did not utter the words, but he thought them, and the next instant kissed the little old ring, saying to himself, "No, I won't! I haven't forgotten, I never can. I'll try again, and if that fails, why then . . ."
Leaving his sentence unfinished, he seized pen and paper and wrote to Jo, telling her that he could not settle to anything while there was the least hope of her changing her mind. Couldn't she, wouldn't she--and let him come home and be happy? While waiting for an answer he did nothing, but he did it energetically, for he was in a fever of impatience. It came at last, and settled his mind effectually on one point, for Jo decidedly couldn't and wouldn't. She was wrapped up in Beth, and never wished to hear the word love again. Then she begged him to be happy with somebody else, but always keep a little corner of his heart for his loving sister Jo. In a postscript she desired him not to tell Amy that Beth was worse, she was coming home in the spring and there was no need of saddening the remainder of her stay. That would be time enough, please God, but Laurie must write to her often, and not let her feel lonely, homesick or anxious.
"So I will, at once. Poor little girl, it will be a sad going home for her, I'm afraid," and Laurie opened his desk, as if writing to Amy had been the proper conclusion of the sentence left unfinished some weeks before.
But he did not write the letter that day, for as he rummaged out his best paper, he came across something which changed his purpose. Tumbling about in one part of the desk among bills, passports, and business documents of various kinds were several of Jo's letters, and in another compartment were three notes from Amy, carefully tied up with one of her blue ribbons and sweetly suggestive of the little dead roses put away inside. With a half-repentant, half-amused expression, Laurie gathered up all Jo's letters, smoothed, folded, and put them neatly into a small drawer of the desk, stood a minute turning the ring thoughtfully on his finger, then slowly drew it off, laid it with the letters, locked the drawer, and went out to hear High Mass at Saint Stefan's, feeling as if there had been a funeral, and though not overwhelmed with affliction, this seemed a more proper way to spend the rest of the day than in writing letters to charming young ladies.
The letter went very soon, however, and was promptly answered, for Amy was homesick, and confessed it in the most delightfully confiding manner. The correspondence flourished famously, and letters flew to and fro with unfailing regularity all through the early spring. Laurie sold his busts, made allumettes of his opera, and went back to Paris, hoping somebody would arrive before long. He wanted desperately to go to Nice, but would not till he was asked, and Amy would not ask him, for just then she was having little experiences of her own, which made her rather wish to avoid the quizzical eyes of 'our boy'.
Fred Vaughn had returned, and put the question to which she had once decided to answer, "Yes, thank you," but now she said, "No, thank you," kindly but steadily, for when the time came, her courage failed her, and she found that something more than money and position was needed to satisfy the new longing that filled her heart so full of tender hopes and fears. The words, "Fred is a good fellow, but not at all the man I fancied you would ever like," and Laurie's face when he uttered them, kept returning to her as pertinaciously as her own did when she said in look, if not in words, "I shall marry for money." It troubled her to remember that now, she wished she could take it back, it sounded so unwomanly. She didn't want Laurie to think her a heartless, worldly creature. She didn't care to be a queen of society now half so much as she did to be a lovable woman. She was so glad he didn't hate her for the dreadful things she said, but took them so beautifully and was kinder than ever. His letters were such a comfort, for the home letters were very irregular and not half so satisfactory as his when they did come. It was not only a pleasure, but a duty to answer them, for the poor fellow was forlorn, and needed petting, since Jo persisted in being stonyhearted. She ought to have made an effort and tried to love him. It couldn't be very hard, many people would be proud and glad to have such a dear boy care for them. But Jo never would act like other girls, so there was nothing to do but be very kind and treat him like a brother.
If all brothers were treated as well as Laurie was at this period, they would be a much happier race of beings than they are. Amy never lectured now. She asked his opinion on all subjects, she was interested in everything he did, made charming little presents for him, and sent him two letters a week, full of lively gossip, sisterly confidences, and captivating sketches of the lovely scenes about her. As few brothers are complimented by having their letters carried about in their sister's pockets, read and reread diligently, cried over when short, kissed when long, and treasured carefully, we will not hint that Amy did any of these fond and foolish things. But she certainly did grow a little pale and pensive that spring, lost much of her relish for society, and went out sketching alone a good deal. She never had much to show when she came home, but was studying nature, I dare say, while she sat for hours, with her hands folded, on the terrace at Valrosa, or absently sketched any fancy that occurred to her, a stalwart knight carved on a tomb, a young man asleep in the grass, with his hat over his eyes, or a curly haired girl in gorgeous array, promenading down a ballroom on the arm of a tall gentleman, both faces being left a blur according to the last fashion in art, which was safe but not altogether satisfactory.
Her aunt thought that she regretted her answer to Fred, and finding denials useless and explanations impossible, Amy left her to think what she liked, taking care that Laurie should know that Fred had gone to Egypt. That was all, but he understood it, and looked relieved, as he said to himself, with a venerable air . . .
"I was sure she would think better of it. Poor old fellow! I've been through it all, and I can sympathize."
With that he heaved a great sigh, and then, as if he had discharged his duty to the past, put his feet up on the sofa and enjoyed Amy's letter luxuriously.
While these changes were going on abroad, trouble had come at home. But the letter telling that Beth was failing never reached Amy, and when the next found her at Vevay, for the heat had driven them from Nice in May, and they had travelled slowly to Switzerland, by way of Genoa and the Italian lakes. She bore it very well, and quietly submitted to the family decree that she should not shorten her visit, for since it was too late to say goodbye to Beth, she had better stay, and let absence soften her sorrow. But her heart was very heavy, she longed to be at home, and every day looked wistfully across the lake, waiting for Laurie to come and comfort her.
He did come very soon, for the same mail brought letters to them both, but he was in Germany, and it took some days to reach him. The moment he read it, he packed his knapsack, bade adieu to his fellow pedestrians, and was off to keep his promise, with a heart full of joy and sorrow, hope and suspense.
He knew Vevay well, and as soon as the boat touched the little quay, he hurried along the shore to La Tour, where the Carrols were living en pension. The garcon was in despair that the whole family had gone to take a promenade on the lake, but no, the blonde mademoiselle might be in the chateau garden. If monsieur would give himself the pain of sitting down, a flash of time should present her. But monsieur could not wait even a 'flash of time', and in the middle of the speech departed to find mademoiselle himself.
A pleasant old garden on the borders of the lovely lake, with chestnuts rustling overhead, ivy climbing everywhere, and the black shadow of the tower falling far across the sunny water. At one corner of the wide, low wall was a seat, and here Amy often came to read or work, or console herself with the beauty all about her. She was sitting here that day, leaning her head on her hand, with a homesick heart and heavy eyes, thinking of Beth and wondering why Laurie did not come. She did not hear him cross the courtyard beyond, nor see him pause in the archway that led from the subterranean path into the garden. He stood a minute looking at her with new eyes, seeing what no one had ever seen before, the tender side of Amy's character. Everything about her mutely suggested love and sorrow, the blotted letters in her lap, the black ribbon that tied up her hair, the womanly pain and patience in her face, even the little ebony cross at her throat seemed pathetic to Laurie, for he had given it to her, and she wore it as her only ornament. If he had any doubts about the reception she would give him, they were set at rest the minute she looked up and saw him, for dropping everything, she ran to him, exclaiming in a tone of unmistakable love and longing . . .
"Oh, Laurie, Laurie, I knew you'd come to me!"
I think everything was said and settled then, for as they stood together quite silent for a moment, with the dark head bent down protectingly over the light one, Amy felt that no one could comfort and sustain her so well as Laurie, and Laurie decided that Amy was the only woman in the world who could fill Jo's place and make him happy. He did not tell her so, but she was not disappointed, for both felt the truth, were satisfied, and gladly left the rest to silence.
In a minute Amy went back to her place, and while she dried her tears, Laurie gathered up the scattered papers, finding in the sight of sundry well-worn letters and suggestive sketches good omens for the future. As he sat down beside her, Amy felt shy again, and turned rosy red at the recollection of her impulsive greeting.
"I couldn't help it, I felt so lonely and sad, and was so very glad to see you. It was such a surprise to look up and find you, just as I was beginning to fear you wouldn't come," she said, trying in vain to speak quite naturally.
"I came the minute I heard. I wish I could say something to comfort you for the loss of dear little Beth, but I can only feel, and . . ." He could not get any further, for he too turned bashful all of a sudden, and did not quite know what to say. He longed to lay Amy's head down on his shoulder, and tell her to have a good cry, but he did not dare, so took her hand instead, and gave it a sympathetic squeeze that was better than words.
"You needn't say anything, this comforts me," she said softly. "Beth is well and happy, and I mustn't wish her back, but I dread the going home, much as I long to see them all. We won't talk about it now, for it makes me cry, and I want to enjoy you while you stay. You needn't go right back, need you?"
"Not if you want me, dear."
"I do, so much. Aunt and Flo are very kind, but you seem like one of the family, and it would be so comfortable to have you for a little while."
Amy spoke and looked so like a homesick child whose heart was full that Laurie forgot his bashfulness all at once, and gave her just what she wanted--the petting she was used to and the cheerful conversation she needed.
"Poor little soul, you look as if you'd grieved yourself half sick! I'm going to take care of you, so don't cry any more, but come and walk about with me, the wind is too chilly for you to sit still," he said, in the half-caressing, half-commanding way that Amy liked, as he tied on her hat, drew her arm through his, and began to pace up and down the sunny walk under the new-leaved chestnuts. He felt more at ease upon his legs, and Amy found it pleasant to have a strong arm to lean upon, a familiar face to smile at her, and a kind voice to talk delightfully for her alone.
The quaint old garden had sheltered many pairs of lovers, and seemed expressly made for them, so sunny and secluded was it, with nothing but the tower to overlook them, and the wide lake to carry away the echo of their words, as it rippled by below. For an hour this new pair walked and talked, or rested on the wall, enjoying the sweet influences which gave such a charm to time and place, and when an unromantic dinner bell warned them away, Amy felt as if she left her burden of loneliness and sorrow behind her in the chateau garden.
The moment Mrs. Carrol saw the girl's altered face, she was illuminated with a new idea, and exclaimed to herself, "Now I understand it all--the child has been pining for young Laurence. Bless my heart, I never thought of such a thing!"
With praiseworthy discretion, the good lady said nothing, and betrayed no sign of enlightenment, but cordially urged Laurie to stay and begged Amy to enjoy his society, for it would do her more good than so much solitude. Amy was a model of docility, and as her aunt was a good deal occupied with Flo, she was left to entertain her friend, and did it with more than her usual success.
At Nice, Laurie had lounged and Amy had scolded. At Vevay, Laurie was never idle, but always walking, riding, boating, or studying in the most energetic manner, while Amy admired everything he did and followed his example as far and as fast as she could. He said the change was owing to the climate, and she did not contradict him, being glad of a like excuse for her own recovered health and spirits.
The invigorating air did them both good, and much exercise worked wholesome changes in minds as well as bodies. They seemed to get clearer views of life and duty up there among the everlasting hills. The fresh winds blew away desponding doubts, delusive fancies, and moody mists. The warm spring sunshine brought out all sorts of aspiring ideas, tender hopes, and happy thoughts. The lake seemed to wash away the troubles of the past, and the grand old mountains to look benignly down upon them saying, "Little children, love one another."
In spite of the new sorrow, it was a very happy time, so happy that Laurie could not bear to disturb it by a word. It took him a little while to recover from his surprise at the cure of his first, and as he had firmly believed, his last and only love. He consoled himself for the seeming disloyalty by the thought that Jo's sister was almost the same as Jo's self, and the conviction that it would have been impossible to love any other woman but Amy so soon and so well. His first wooing had been of the tempestuous order, and he looked back upon it as if through a long vista of years with a feeling of compassion blended with regret. He was not ashamed of it, but put it away as one of the bitter-sweet experiences of his life, for which he could be grateful when the pain was over. His second wooing, he resolved, should be as calm and simple as possible. There was no need of having a scene, hardly any need of telling Amy that he loved her, she knew it without words and had given him his answer long ago. It all came about so naturally that no one could complain, and he knew that everybody would be pleased, even Jo. But when our first little passion has been crushed, we are apt to be wary and slow in making a second trial, so Laurie let the days pass, enjoying every hour, and leaving to chance the utterance of the word that would put an end to the first and sweetest part of his new romance.
He had rather imagined that the denoument would take place in the chateau garden by moonlight, and in the most graceful and decorous manner, but it turned out exactly the reverse, for the matter was settled on the lake at noonday in a few blunt words. They had been floating about all the morning, from gloomy St. Gingolf to sunny Montreux, with the Alps of Savoy on one side, Mont St. Bernard and the Dent du Midi on the other, pretty Vevay in the valley, and Lausanne upon the hill beyond, a cloudless blue sky overhead, and the bluer lake below, dotted with the picturesque boats that look like white-winged gulls.
They had been talking of Bonnivard, as they glided past Chillon, and of Rousseau, as they looked up at Clarens, where he wrote his Heloise. Neither had read it, but they knew it was a love story, and each privately wondered if it was half as interesting as their own. Amy had been dabbling her hand in the water during the little pause that fell between them, and when she looked up, Laurie was leaning on his oars with an expression in his eyes that made her say hastily, merely for the sake of saying something . . .
"You must be tired. Rest a little, and let me row. It will do me good, for since you came I have been altogether lazy and luxurious."
"I'm not tired, but you may take an oar, if you like. There's room enough, though I have to sit nearly in the middle, else the boat won't trim," returned Laurie, as if he rather liked the arrangement.
Feeling that she had not mended matters much, Amy took the offered third of a seat, shook her hair over her face, and accepted an oar. She rowed as well as she did many other things, and though she used both hands, and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the boat went smoothly through the water.
"How well we pull together, don't we?" said Amy, who objected to silence just then.
"So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you, Amy?" very tenderly.
"Yes, Laurie," very low.
Then they both stopped rowing, and unconsciously added a pretty little tableau of human love and happiness to the dissolving views reflected in the lake.
 
艾美的训言对劳里产生了作用，当然，他到很久以后才肯承认这一点。男人们很少这么承认，因为当女人们提出劝告时，男人们要说服自己那正是他们打算做的事，然后才会接受建议，并依此行事。如果成功了，功劳归于女性一半；如果失败了，他们便慷慨地全部归罪于她们。劳里回到了爷爷身边，好几个星期那样尽职地不离左右，以致老先生宣称尼斯的气候奇妙地使他变好了，最好他再去试试。没有什么事更使那年轻人喜欢的了。可是，接受了那场训话后，大象也拖不回去他了，自尊心也不容许。每当想去那儿的渴望变得十分强烈时，他便重复那些给他留下深刻印象的话语，来坚定不去的决心。”我看不起你。”“去干些出色的事情使她爱你。”劳里常在脑子里考虑这件事，不久便迫使自己承认，他确实是自私、懒散的。可是，当一个人有很大的痛苦时，难道不应该宽容他各种狂妄古怪的行为，直到他的痛苦消歇？他感到他那遭受挫折的爱情现在已经消亡，虽然他不会停止哀悼它，也没必要夸示地戴着那个丧章。乔不肯爱他，但他可以做些什么，来证明姑娘的拒绝不会毁了他的生活，并能使她尊重他，赞赏他。他以前一直打算做些什么的，艾美的建议完全不必要。他只是一直等着体面地埋葬掉前面所说的受挫的爱情，既然这件事已经完成了，他觉得已准备好"掩藏起受创的心灵，继续苦干"。
就像歌德那样，有了欢乐或者悲伤，就将它放进歌中。所以劳里决心用音乐来抚慰失恋的痛苦，他要谱一首安魂曲，那曲子将折磨乔的心灵，打动每一位听曲者。因此，当老先生再次发现他烦躁不安、心情忧郁，命他离开时，他便去了维也纳。那里他有一些音乐界的朋友，他开始着手工作，下定决心要出人头地。但是，也不知是他的痛苦太大，音乐体现不了，还是音乐太微妙不能解救人类之苦，他不久就发现目前他还谱不了安魂曲。显而易见，他的脑子还未处于正常的工作状态，他的思想需要净化。因为，常常在他写出的一段悲哀的曲子中间，他会发觉自己哼着舞曲的调子，让他生动地忆起尼斯的圣诞舞会，特别是那个矮胖子的法国人。这就很有效地使他暂时停止了他那悲哀的谱曲工作。
然后他又试着写歌剧，因为万事开头时，似乎总是有可能的。可是，在这方面，没有预料到的困难又袭击了他。他想用乔作女主人公。他借助记忆，为他提供爱情温柔的回忆及浪漫的想象。然而记忆背叛了他，好像被那姑娘乖张的性格缠住了，他只忆起乔的古怪、过失以及任性。记忆里只显现她最没有柔情的方面--头上扎着扎染印花大头巾，拍打着垫子，用沙发枕把自己堵住，或者对他的热情泼冷水 -一阵抑制不住的笑毁了他费力勾画出的忧愁形象。无论如何，乔放不进那歌剧。他只好放弃她，说道：“上帝保佑那姑娘，她真折磨人！”他扯着自己的头发，这个动作很像一个心烦意乱的谱曲家。
他四下搜寻，要另找一个不这么难对付的姑娘，使之在歌曲中不朽。记忆欣然地为他产生了一个幻像。这个幻像具有许多脸孔，但总是有着金发。她裹在漂渺的云雾中，在他脑海里轻盈地飘浮着。那玫瑰、孔雀、白马以及蓝丝带，图像混乱但却令人愉快。他没给这颇为自得的幻像命名，但却将她当成了女主人公，越来越喜欢她起来。他完全可以这样，因为他赋予她世间所有的天赋及优雅，护卫着她不受损伤地通过各种考验，这些考验会消灭任何一个凡胎女子的。
多亏了这个鼓舞，他顺畅地过了一段时间。可是渐渐地这件工作失去了魅力，他忘掉了谱曲。他坐在那里，手握钢笔沉思着，或者在欢快的市区到处漫游，以得到新的思想清醒头脑。那个冬天，他的脑子似乎一直处于某种不安定状态，他做得不多，想得却不少。他意识到他身不由己地产生了某种变化。”也许，是在酝酿天才，我让它去酝酿，看看会有什么结果，”他说，同时始终暗自怀疑那不是什么天才，也许只是非常普通的东西。不管是什么，它酝酿得相当成功，因为，他越来越不满足他散漫的生活，他开始渴望认真地、全身心地从事某件真正的工作。最后他选择了明智的结论：并不是所有喜爱音乐的人都是作曲家。皇家剧院上演着莫扎特的气势恢宏的歌剧，听完歌剧回来，他看了看自己谱的曲，演奏了其中最好的一部分，他坐在那儿盯着门德尔松、贝多芬、巴赫的塑像看着，而塑像也宽厚地回看着他。突然他一张接一张地扯碎了他所有的乐谱。当最后一张从他手里飘落时，他清醒地自言自语道- “她是对的！天赋不是天才，你不能使天赋产生天才。音乐去掉了我的虚荣心，就像罗马去掉了她的虚荣心一样。我不会再当冒牌艺术家了。现在我该做些什么呢？”这个问题似乎难以回答，劳里开始希望，要是他必须为每日的面包工作就好了。现在几乎出现了一个适当的机会"去见鬼"，就像他曾经用力说出的那样，因为他有许多钱，却无事可干，而撒旦如谚语所说喜欢为手中有钱的闲散人提供工作。这个可怜的家伙从里到外都受着足够多的诱惑，但是他很好地经受住了。因为，尽管他喜欢自由，但他更看重好的信念与信心。他向爷爷做过保证，他自己也希望能够诚实地看着那些爱他的妇人们的眼睛，说：“一切都好。”这些保持了他的平安与稳定。
很可能某个好挑剔的太太会评论：“我不相信。男孩就是男孩。年轻人肯定会干荒唐事。女人们别指望出现奇迹。”挑剔的太太，我敢说你是不相信，然而那是真的。女人们创造出许多奇迹，我确信她们通过拒绝附和这种说法，甚至能提高男人们的素质。就让男孩为男孩吧，时间越长越好。让年轻人干荒唐事吧，假如他们非干不可的话。但是，母亲们、姐妹们、朋友们可以帮他们，使荒唐事少一点，防止莠草破坏收成。她们相信，也这样表示，他们有可能忠实于美德，这些美德使他们在良家妇女的眼里更具男子气。如果这些是妇人的幻想，就让我们尽情沉湎于其中吧。因为，没有它，生活便失去了一半的美和浪漫。可悲的预示给我们对那些勇敢、心地温和的小伙子们的所有希望增添了苦味。小伙子们仍然爱母亲胜过爱自己，并且承认这一点不觉羞耻。
劳里以为忘掉他对乔的爱要占去他几年的精力，可是使他大为惊奇的是，他发现自己一天天轻松起来。开始他不愿相信，他生自己的气，他理解不了。可是，我们的心奇妙而又矛盾，时间和自然的意志由不得我们。劳里的心不肯伤疼了，伤口坚决地愈合，其速度令他吃惊，他发觉自己不是在试图忘却，而是在试图记起。他没有预料到事情会这样转变，也没有做好准备应付。他讨厌自己，对自己的轻浮感到惊奇。
他的心情充满了古怪的混合成份，又是失望，又是宽慰。他竟能从这样巨大的打击中恢复过来。他小心翼翼地拨弄着他失去的爱火的余烬，可是它们燃不成烈焰，只有令人舒服的灼热，这温暖了他，给他好处，却不使他进入狂热状态。他不情愿地被迫承认，他那孩子气的热情已慢慢降低为较为平和的感情，非常柔弱，还有点悲哀与不满，但最终肯定会消失，留下兄长般的感情，这种感情不会破损，会一直持续到底。
有这样的沉思中，当脑中闪过"兄长般的"字眼时，他笑了，他向对面墙上的莫扎特像平扫了一眼。
“嗯，他是个伟人。他得不到一个妹妹，便找了另一个，他感到了幸福。”劳里没说出这些话，但是他想到了这些。转眼他亲了亲那小旧指环，自言自语道：“不，我不会的。我还没忘记，我决不会。我要再试试。假如那样失败了，哎呀，那么 "他这句话没说完，便抓起纸笔写信给乔，告诉她只要她还有改变主意的一线可能，他就无法安心做任何事。她能不能爱他？肯不肯爱他？能让他回家做一个幸福的人吗？他在等候答复的期间什么也没做。但是信却写得充满活力，因为他处于一种燥热中。答复终于来了，在那一点上有效地使他安了心。乔决然不能也不肯爱他。她埋头于贝思的事情，决不愿再听到"爱情"一词。然后她求他去找别人共享幸福，为他亲爱的乔妹在心里永远留个小角落。在附言中，她希望他不要告诉艾美，贝思的情况恶化了。艾美春天就要回家，没有必要使她在国外剩下的日子里感到悲哀。请求上帝，但愿有足够的时间，但劳里必须常给艾美写信，不要让她感到孤单、想家或是焦急。
“我会这么做的，马上就做。可怜的小姑娘，恐怕她要悲哀地回家了。”劳里打开了他的书桌，仿佛给艾美写信就是前几个星期没说完的那句话的恰当收尾。
但是他那天并没有写信，因为当他翻找着最好的纸张时，看到了一些东西，使他改变了意图。桌子的一个抽屉里乱放着帐单、护照以及各种各样的商业文件。乔的一些来信也在期间。另一个抽屉里放着艾美的三封来信，仔细地用她的蓝丝带束着，还有那已枯萎的小玫瑰，它们带着甜蜜的暗示，放在抽屉的深处。劳里的表情半是后悔，半是开心，他收起乔所有的信件，把它们抚平、折叠起来，整整齐齐地放进桌子的一个小抽屉里。他站了一会儿，若有所思地转着手上的指环，然后慢慢地将它卸了下来，和信放在一起，锁上了抽屉。
他出去到圣•斯蒂芬教堂听大弥撒，仿佛觉得那儿进行着葬礼。虽然他没有被痛苦压倒，可是较之给迷人的年轻女士写信，这样度过这一天剩下的时间似乎为更得体。
然而他不久便去发了信，也迅即得到了回复，因为艾美确实想家了，她以非常坦诚的信任态度承认了这一点。他们的信件来往频繁，内容丰富。整个早春季节，定期飞鸿从未间断。劳里卖掉了塑像，烧掉了他的歌剧，回到了巴黎。他希望不久某个人便会到达。他极想去尼斯，但是得有人请他，他才会去。而艾美是不会请他的，因为当时她自己正有些小小的经历，使她宁愿避开"我们的男孩"的好奇目光。
弗雷德•沃恩回来了，向她提出了那个问题。她曾经决定回答：“愿意，谢谢。“现在她却说：“不，谢谢。”说得客气，但是坚定。因为，那一时刻来临时，她没了勇气，她发现了除了金钱和地位，还需要某种东西来满足一种新的渴求，这种渴求使她内心充满了温柔的希望与惶恐。”弗雷德是个好小伙子，但我想不是你会喜欢的那种。”这句话以及劳里说这句话时的表情，执拗地不断出现在她的脑海；还有她自己不是用言语，而是用神色表达的意思：“我要为钱而结婚。”现在回忆起这些使她烦心。她但愿能收回那句话，那听起来那么没有女人气。她不想让劳里把她看成个无情的世俗女人。现在她不在乎当社交皇后了，她更想做一个可爱的妇人。尽管她对劳里说了那些可怕的话，他不记恨她，反而那么宽厚地接受了，并且比以前更亲切，她感到异常高兴。他的来信让她感到十分熨贴，因为家信很不定期了，即使家信来了，也没有他的信一半令人满意。回复这些信件不仅是件乐事，也是个责任，因为乔坚持做铁石心肠的人，这可怜的人儿绝望了，需要抚慰。乔本来应该作出努力，试着爱他的。那并不难做到，因为，有这样一个可爱的男孩喜欢自己，很多人都会感到自豪喜悦的。然而，乔办事从来不像别的女孩，因此，没别的法子，只有对他非常客气，待他如兄长。
在这种时期，要是所有的兄长们都能受到劳里这样的对待，他们会比现在更幸福。艾美现在从不教训他了。所有的问题她都征求他的意见，他做的每一件事她都感到趣味盎然。
她为他制作迷人的小礼物，每星期给他寄两封信，信里满是愉快的闲谈、妹妹般的信任，以及她画的那些很优美的风景画习作。几乎没有哪个兄长得到过这样的礼遇：妹妹们将他们的来信放在口袋里，反复阅读品味。信短了便哭，信长了便吻着它，将它仔细珍藏。这不是要暗示艾美做了些可爱的傻事，可是，那个春天她的脸色肯定变得有点苍白了，也爱沉思了。她大大丧失了社交的兴趣。她常常独自出门作画，回来时却从来拿不出多少幅画给人看。我敢说，她是在研究大自然。她在玫瑰谷的平台上一坐便是几小时。她袖着手坐在那儿，要不便心不在焉地画着脑中出现的任何图像- 雕刻在坟墓上的一个健壮的骑士，睡在草地上的一个年轻人，帽子盖着眼睛；或者一个穿着华丽的鬈发姑娘，偎依在一个高个子先生的臂弯里，在舞厅绕场行进。按照最新的艺术时尚，两个人的脸画得模糊不清，这样安全，但一点也不令人感到满足。
婶婶以为艾美后悔她对弗雷德作出的回答，并且她没法否认，又解释不清。艾美任由婶婶想去。她谨慎地让劳里知道弗雷德去了埃及。就这么多，但是劳里懂了。他好像是放心了，他带着庄严的神气自言自语- "我确信她会改变主意的。可怜的家伙！这一切我都经历过了。我同情他。”说完这些，他长吁一口气，然后，仿佛对过去的事已尽到了义务，他把脚跷到了沙发上，非常舒适地欣赏起艾美的来信。
在国外的人发生这些变化的同时，家里已经发生了变故。
但是谈到贝思的健康衰退的信从来到不了艾美手中，她得到下一封信时，姐姐坟头上的草已经绿了。她是在沃韦市得到这个悲哀的消息的，因为，五月的高温迫使她们离开了尼斯。
她们经过日内瓦和意大利的湖泊，慢慢旅行到了瑞士。她坚强地接受了这件事。她默默地依从了家里人的意思，没有缩短她的旅程。既然已经太晚了，无法和贝思道别，她最好还是呆下去，让死别软化她的痛苦。但是，她的心非常沉重，她渴望能呆在家里，每天她都渴盼地望着湖对面，等待劳里来安慰她。
很快，劳里真的来了。同一批邮件带来了他们两个的信件，但是他在德国，他过了几天才收到信。他一读完信，便打起背包，告别了他的游伴，出发去履行诺言。他心中充满了喜悦与痛苦，希望与悬虑。
他非常熟悉沃韦市。小船一靠上那小码头，他便沿着湖岸向城楼匆匆走去。卡罗尔一家寄宿在那里。小伙子感到失望，因为全家人到湖边散步去了。可是，不，那金发小姐也许在城堡花园里。要是先生愿意费心坐下，一瞬间她便会出现。然而，先生甚至"一瞬间"也等不了，说着话便出发亲自去找小姐。
这是个令人心旷神怡的古老花园。它坐落在美丽的湖畔，高高的栗子树发着沙沙声，到处爬满了常春藤，塔楼的黑影投射在洒满阳光的湖面上。在那宽大低矮的城墙一角有个座位，艾美常来这里读书，做活，或者看着身边的美景安慰自己。那天她就坐在那里。她手抚着头，心中弥满乡思，眼里尽是哀愁。她想着贝思，奇怪劳里为什么不来。她没有听见他穿过那边庭院时发出的声音，也没有看到他在拱道里驻步。
拱道穿过地下小路通往花园。他站了一会儿，以新的眼光看着她，看到了以前无法看到的东西 艾美性格里温柔的一面。她身上的一切都无声地暗示出爱与痛苦--膝盖上字迹弄污了的信件，束着头发的黑色丝带，脸上妇人般的痛苦与坚忍的表情；在劳里看来，甚至她脖子上的那个乌木制的小小十字架也十分使人感伤。那个十字架是他给她的，她作为唯一的装饰佩戴在身上。假如他对她会怎样接待他心存疑虑的话，她一抬头看到他，他便放心了。因为，她丢下所有的东西，跑到他面前，用一种不容置疑的爱与渴盼的语调惊叫道- “哦，劳里，劳里，我就知道你会到我这儿来的！”我想，当时一切都说出来了，一切都安定了。他们一块儿站在那里，有一会儿不说话了。那个深色脑袋护卫似地弯向那浅色脑袋。艾美感到没有谁能像劳里那样好地安慰她，支撑她。劳里认定艾美是世上唯一能代替乔使他幸福的女人。他没有这样告诉她，她并不失望，因为，两个人都感觉到了这个事实。他们满意了，乐于将其他的事交于沉默。
一会儿后，艾美回到了她的位置，她擦着眼泪，劳里收拢起刚才散开的纸张。他看到了各种各样弄得破旧不堪的信件，还有一些含有暗示的绘画习作。他从中发现了将来的吉兆。他在她身旁坐下时，艾美又感到羞涩了，想到刚才那样冲动地迎接他，她脸红得像朵玫瑰。
“我忍不住，我感到那么孤独，那么悲伤，看到你那么高兴。就在我开始担心你不会来了时，抬起头就发现了你，让人多么惊喜，”她说，她徒劳地试图神态自然地与他说话。
“我一收到信就来了。失去了亲爱的小贝思，我真希望能说些什么话安慰你。可是我只能感受到，嗯- "他说不下去了，因为他突然也变得羞怯起来，完全不知道该说什么了。
他很想让艾美将头靠在他的肩膀上，让她痛快地哭一场，可是他不敢。因此他只是握住她的手，充满同情地捏了一下，这样的效果胜于言语。
“你不必说什么，这样就让我感到了安慰，”她轻轻地说，”贝思好了，她幸福了。我不应该希望她回来。可是，虽然我盼望见到家人，却害怕回家。现在我们不谈这件事吧，那会使我哭泣，我想在你逗留期间享受和你在一起的乐趣。你不需要马上回去，是吗？”“你要我的话我就不走，亲爱的。”“我要，非常需要。婶婶和弗洛非常亲切，而你就像我们的家庭成员，和你在一起共度时光我就不再寂寞。”艾美发自内心的话和神情都全然像一个想家的孩子，劳里马上忘掉了羞怯，给了她正想要的东西 -她习惯受到的爱抚以及她需要的那种亲近的谈话。
“可怜的小人儿，看上去你好像悲伤得快要生病了！我来照顾你，所以别再哭了。来，和我一起走走，坐在这里不动，风太凉了，”他用艾美喜欢的那种半是哄劝半是命令的语调说。他为她系上帽带，让她挽其他的胳膊，他们开始在长满新叶的栗树下沿着阳光灿烂的小路散起步来。他感到脚步更加轻松，艾美则感到满心欢喜。她有个强健的肩膀，给她依靠，有个亲切的面孔向她微笑，有个友好的声音只和她愉快地谈话。
这个古雅的花园曾经荫护过许多恋人。它似乎是特意为恋人们建造的。花园里阳光和煦，十分幽静，只有塔楼俯视着他们，宽阔的湖面带走了他们绵绵情话的回声，湖水在花园下面潺潺流过。有那么一个小时的阳光，这对新的情侣漫步交谈，有时靠在城墙上歇息。他们在心灵感应中陶醉，这种感应弥漫于时间与空间。就在这时，毫无浪漫情调的晚餐铃声响了，告诫他们离开。艾美感到仿佛将孤独与痛苦的重负留在了城堡的花园里。
卡罗尔太太一看到姑娘变化了的神情，便受到了一个新的念头的启发。她内心惊叹道：“现在我明白了一切--这孩子一直盼望着小劳伦斯。我的天哪，我怎么就没想到！”这个好太太考虑事情周到，值得赞扬。她什么也没说，也没露出明白此事的迹象，只是热诚地敦促劳里留下来，请求艾美乐意与他为伴，这样比太多的孤独对她更有好处。艾美是温顺的典范。婶婶专注于照顾弗洛，于是，便由她招待她的朋友，她做得比往日更为体贴入微。
在尼斯时，劳里无所事事，艾美指责他。在沃韦，劳里从不闲混，却总是散步、骑马、划船，或者精力非常充沛地学习。而艾美赞赏着他做的一切，并尽可能地向他学习。他说变化得归于气候，艾美并不反驳他。她自己的健康和情绪都恢复了，乐意有这相同的借口。
这令人心旷神怡的空气对他们两个都大为有益。大运动量使他们的身心都起了明显的变化。身处绵延不断的群山中的城堡之上，他们似乎有了更清晰的人生观与责任感。清新的风儿吹走了心灰意懒的疑虑、虚妄的幻想和忧郁的迷惑；温暖的春日阳光带来了各种抱负、温柔的希望、幸福的思想；湖水似乎冲走了往日的烦恼，亘古的大山似乎仁慈地俯视着他们，对他们说：“小孩们，互爱吧！”尽管有贝思离世这一新的痛苦，他们过得还是十分快乐。
太快乐了，劳里竟不忍用一个字眼打搅它。他惊奇自己这么快就治愈了第一次的爱情创伤，他曾经坚定地相信：那会是他最后一次也是他唯一的爱情。不久，他便从那惊奇中恢复过来。虽然表面上对乔不忠，可他想，乔的妹妹几乎就是乔自己。他确信，除了艾美，他不可能这么快、这么深地爱上任何别的女人。他以此安慰自己。他的第一次求爱是暴风雨式的，他带着交织着怜悯与遗憾的复杂感情回顾它，仿佛是在追溯久远的往事。他不为它感到羞愧，而是把它作为人生中一次又苦又甜的经历珍藏起来。痛苦结束了，他为之心存感激，他决心要让他的第二次求爱尽可能平静、简单：没必要设置场景，更没必要告诉艾美他爱她。不用言语，她已知道，而且很早以前已给了他答复。一切发生得那么自然，没有人能抱怨。他知道每个人都会喜欢，甚至乔也会的。然而，我们第一次的小小热情被压制了，我们便倾向于谨慎行事，慢慢作出第二次尝试。所以劳里任由日子流逝，享受着每一个小时的快乐时光。他静候命运安排他说出那一字眼，那个字将会结束他新的恋爱开初最甜蜜的部分。
他原意想象着结局发生在月光下的城堡花园，以最优雅庄重的形式进行。可是结果正好相反。中午在湖上几句直率的谈话，事情便定了下来。整个早上他们都在湖面泛舟，从背阳的圣然戈尔夫城划到向阳的蒙特勒城，湖的一边是萨瓦山，另一边是伯纳德山峰和南峭峰，美丽的沃韦市掩映在深谷中。山那边是洛桑市，头顶是无云的蓝天，下面流着湛蓝的湖水，富有画趣的小舟点缀湖中，像是一只只白翼海鸥。
小船划过希永时，他们一直谈论着玻尼瓦尔德。后来他们抬头看到了克拉朗，他们又谈起了卢梭，在这里他写下了《埃洛伊兹》。他们两人都没读过那本书，但是知道那是个爱情故事。两个人暗自怀疑那个故事有没有他们自己的一半有趣。在他俩谈话的小小间隙里，艾美用手轻抚着湖水。当她抬起头时，看到劳里靠在桨上，眼神使她赶忙说话，她只是觉得要说点什么 “你一定累了，歇会儿吧。我来划，这对我有好处。你来后我一直懒散，享乐。”“我不累，要是你愿意，你可以划一支桨。这里地方够大的，不过我得几乎坐在中间，不然船就不能平衡，“劳里答道。
他似乎很喜欢这样的安排。
处境没得到改善，艾美感到尴尬，她在劳里让出的三分之一的位子上坐下，甩开脸上的头发，接过了一支桨。艾美划船和干许多别的事情一样好。尽管她用两只手划，劳里只用了一只手划，船还是平稳地在水面上滑行。
“我们划得多好啊！是不是？”艾美说，那时她不愿意有沉默。
“非常好，但愿我们能永远地在一条船上划桨，愿意吗，艾美？”问话非常温柔。
“愿意，劳里，”回答声音很低。
于是两个人都停桨不划了。他们无意识地为映在湖水中隐隐约约的画面重构了一幅优美动人的图景，那便是人类的爱情与幸福之图。
Chapter 42 All Alone
It was easy to promise self-abnegation when self was wrapped up in another, and heart and soul were purified by a sweet example. But when the helpful voice was silent, the daily lesson over, the beloved presence gone, and nothing remained but loneliness and grief, then Jo found her promise very hard to keep. How could she 'comfort Father and Mother' when her own heart ached with a ceaseless longing for her sister, how could she 'make the house cheerful' when all its light and warmth and beauty seemed to have deserted it when Beth left the old home for the new, and where in all the world could she 'find some useful, happy work to do', that would take the place of the loving service which had been its own reward? She tried in a blind, hopeless way to do her duty, secretly rebelling against it all the while, for it seemed unjust that her few joys should be lessened, her burdens made heavier, and life get harder and harder as she toiled along. Some people seemed to get all sunshine, and some all shadow. It was not fair, for she tried more than Amy to be good, but never got any reward, only disappointment, trouble and hard work.
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, devoted to humdrum 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 doesn't come and help me," she said to herself, when her first efforts failed and she fell into the moody, miserable state of mind which often comes when strong wills have to yield to the inevitable.
But someone 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 unsubmissive sorrow, "Oh, Beth, come back! Come back!" she did not stretch out her yearning arms in vain. For, as quick to hear her sobbing 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 soothes by a touch, tears that were mute reminders of a greater grief than Jo's, and broken whispers, more eloquent 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 blessing, which chastened grief and strengthned 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 tranquil 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 falter in his voice, and both arms round her, as if he too, needed help, and did not fear to ask for it.
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 consolation 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 mutual 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, 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 gratitude and power.
Other helps had Jo--humble, wholesome 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 around the little mop and the old brush, 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 cozy, 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 creeter, you're determined we shan'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."
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?, always _'perwisin'_ I could," 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 kernal, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart one 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 glimmer 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 of some hearts, and Jo's was nearly ready for the bag. A little more sunshine to ripen 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 kernal sound and sweet. If she 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 storybook, she ought at this period of her life to have become quite saintly, renounced the world, and gone about doing good in a mortified bonnet, with tracts 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 virtuous 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 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 splendor 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?
Providence 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 decided 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 Christian took the refreshment afforded by the little arbor 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 over-shadowed 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 overhaul her half-finished manuscripts.
An hour afterward 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, and Jo was more astonished than when her novel was commended and condemned 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 pathos make it alive, and you have found your style at last. You wrote with no thoughts of fame and 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 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 kindly 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 glorified the other in loverlike 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 discreet 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."
"I'm not the scatterbrain I was. You may trust me. I'm sober and sensible enough for anyone's confidante now."
"So you are, my dear, and I should have made you mine, only I fancied it might pain you to learn that your Teddy loved someone 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 elastic, it never seems full now, and I used to be quite contented 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 sentimental, 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 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 gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him, while God lets us be together. Oh, 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 rustling 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 workaday world again.
By-and-by Jo roamed away upstairs, for it was rainy, and she could not walk. A restless spirit possessed 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 craving for affection was strong, and Amy's happiness woke the hungry longing for someone 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 owners name, and each filled with relics 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 chaotic collection, till a bundle of old exercise books caught her eye. She drew them out, turned them over, and relived 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 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 him, but now how I should love to see him, for everyone 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 opposition to the rain pattering on the roof.
Was it all self-pity, loneliness, or low spirits? Or was it the waking up of a sentiment which had bided its time as patiently as its inspirer? Who shall say?
 
当自己的注意力全部倾注于另一个人身上，身心受到一个美好榜样的净化时，答应克己是件容易事。可是当那诚诫之声静默了，每天的课程结束了，亲爱的人儿逝去了，留下的只有孤独与悲伤时，乔发现很难遵守她的诺言。她自己心痛欲裂，无尽地思念妹妹，怎么转去“安慰爸爸妈妈”呢？贝思离开老家去了新家，一切光明、温暖、美好的东西似乎都随她而去，她又怎能"使家庭愉快"呢？她到底在哪里能"找到些有益、快乐的事情去做"，来代替那满怀爱心照顾妹妹的工作呢？照顾妹妹这件事本身就是一种报偿。她盲目、无助地试图履行职责，内心始终暗暗反抗着，因为她辛勤劳作着，不多的欢乐被减少了，精神负荷更重了，生活越来越难以忍受。这似乎让人心理难以平衡。有的人似乎总是得到阳光，而另一些人却总是处在阴影中。这不公平。她比艾美作出的努力更大，想做个好姑娘，可是从来得不到奖赏，只得到失望、烦恼与沉重的工作。
可怜的乔，对她来说这是些黑暗的日子。她想到自己将在那安静的房子里度过一生，投身于单调无聊的家务事、一些小小的快乐，以及似乎根本不会变得轻松的责任中。想到这些，一种类似绝望的情绪攫住了她。”我干不了，我生来不是过这种生活的。我知道，要是没人来帮我，我会挣脱开做出不顾一切的事情的，“她自言自语。她最初的努力失败了，便陷入一种忧郁痛苦的心情中。坚强的意志不得不屈服于无可奈何。企图逃避命运时往往会产生这样的心境。
然而真的有人来帮她了，虽然乔没有立即认出那些善良的天使们。因为他们以熟悉的形象出现，用简单的符咒解救可怜的人类。夜里她常惊跳起来，以为是贝思叫她。可是看到那张空荡荡的小床，她便带着遏制不住的痛苦伤心地哭起来：“哦，贝思，回来吧！回来吧！”她渴望地伸出胳膊，这并非徒劳，因为，就像妹妹发出最微弱的低语她马上就能听见一样，一听到她的呜咽，妈妈就过来安慰她。不光光用言语，还用带有耐心的温柔、触摸与眼泪来抚慰她。这些都无声地提醒她，妈妈的悲哀更大。还有那断断续续的低语，这比祈祷更有说服力，那是带着希望的顺从和挥之不去的痛苦浑然毕至。夜深人静时，心贴心的交流使痛苦转化为幸福，它驱逐了悲伤，增强了爱的力量。这是些神圣的时刻，乔感受到了它。安全地偎在妈妈的臂弯，她看到她的负担似乎比较容易忍受了，责任变得甜蜜些了，生活也似乎较能容忍了。
当发疼的心得到些许安慰时，苦恼的精神同样找到了帮助。一天，乔来到了书房。爸爸抬起头，平静地笑迎着她。她靠在那个善良的灰色脑袋上，非常谦恭地说：“爸爸，就像你对贝思那样和我谈谈吧。我比她更需要，我感到一切都不对劲了。”“亲爱的，没什么比这更让我感到安慰了，”他颤声回答，伸出双臂抱住了她，好像他也需要帮助，并敢于要求帮助。
于是，靠近爸爸坐在贝思的小椅子上，乔倾诉了她的烦恼--失去贝思令人悲愤的痛苦，无效果的种种努力令她泄气，缺乏信仰使生活暗淡无光，还有所有那些我们称为绝望的悲哀的困惑。她完全信任爸爸，而爸爸也给了她所需要的帮助。父女俩都从对方找到了安慰。这时，他们能在一起谈着话，不仅以父亲和女儿的身份，而且也作为男人和女人。他们能够也乐于以互爱互怜之心为对方尽力。在那老书房度过的时刻使人感到幸福、亲切。乔把书房叫做"一人教堂"，从那里出来时，她便有了新的勇气，她情绪有所好转，态度更加柔顺。她的父母曾经教过一个孩子无畏地面对死亡，现在他们试图教另一个孩子不消沉、不带疑惑地接受生命，并且心存感激地尽力利用生命提供的美好机会。
乔还得到了其他的帮助- 卑微却有价值的责任以及起他有意义的事情。这些肯定对她不无裨益。她慢慢学会发现并珍视它们。扫帚和洗碗布不再像以前那样令人生厌了，因为贝思曾掌管过这两件东西她的家庭主妇精神中有某种东西，还保留在这块小抹布和旧扫把上，所以乔决不扔掉这两样东西。乔用着它们时，发现自己哼着贝思常哼的小调，模仿着贝思干活井井有条的方式，这里擦一下，那里扫一把，使一切保持干净、舒适。这是使家庭幸福的第一步。她没有意识到这些，直到罕娜嬷嬷赞许地捏着她的手说 “你这个姑娘想得真周到。要是你能干，就打定主意不让我们想念那可爱的宝贝。我们没说出来，可是看到了。上帝会保佑你的，肯定会的。”
乔和梅格坐在一起做针线时，发现姐姐有了很大的进步。
她能得体地谈话，知道许多有关良家妇女的冲动、想法以及感情。她从丈夫和孩子们身上得到了很大的幸福，他们都为对方尽着力。
“婚姻毕竟是一件极好的事情。要是我试试，不知结局会不会有你一半好？”乔说。她在弄得乱七八糟的育儿室里为德米制作一个风筝。
“你所需要的正是露出你性格中女子温柔的那一半，乔。
你就像一个带壳的栗子，外面多刺，内里却光滑柔软。要是有人能接近，还有个甜果仁。将来有一天，爱情会使你表露心迹的，那时你的壳便脱落了。”“夫人，严霜会冻开栗壳，使劲摇会摇下栗子。男孩子们好采栗子。可是，我不喜欢让他们用口袋装着，”乔答道。她在继续粘着风筝。这个风筝无论刮什么风都上不了天，因为黛西把自己当作风筝尾巴系在了上面。
梅格笑了。她高兴地看到了一点乔的老脾气。但是她觉得，用她所能想到的全部论据来坚持她的观点，这是她的责任。姐妹俩的谈话没有白费，特别是因为梅格两个最有说服力的论据是孩子们，乔温柔地爱着他们。乔几乎做好准备被装进口袋了：还需要照些阳光，使栗子成熟。然后，不是被男孩焦躁地摇落，而是一个男人的手伸上去，轻轻地剥开壳，就会发现果仁成熟甜美。假使她曾怀疑到这一点，她会紧紧封闭起来的，会比以前更刺人，所幸的是她没有想到自己。所以时间一到，她这个栗子便掉落下来了。
要说乔是道德故事书中的女主人公的话，那么，在她生活的这一时起，她应该变得十分圣洁，应该退隐，应该口袋里装着宗教传单，戴着清心寡欲的帽子，四处去做善事。可是，要知道，乔不是一个女主人公。像成百上千的其他姑娘一样她只是个挣扎着的凡人。所以，她依着性子行事。她悲哀、焦躁、不安，或者精神饱满，随心境而定。我们要做好人，这样说非常有道德，可是我们不可能立马就做得到。需要有人长期的引导、有力的引导，还要大家同心协力去帮助，我们中有些人甚至才能正确起步。到目前为止，乔起步不错。
她学着尽自己的责任，尽不到责便会感到不快乐。可是心甘情愿地去做--哦，这是另一码事了！她常说要做些出色的事，不管那有多难。现在她实现了愿望。因为，一生奉献给爸爸妈妈，努力使他们感到家庭幸福，就像他们让她感到的那样，有什么比这件事更美好的呢？这样一个焦躁不安、雄心勃勃的姑娘，放弃了自己的希望、计划和意愿，无怨无悔地为别人活着。假如需要用困难来增加努力的美妙之处的话，还有什么比这更难做到的呢？
上帝相信了她的话；使命就在这里，并不是她所期待的，但是更好，因为她自己和它没有关系。那么，她能完成任务吗？她决定一试。在最初的尝试中，她找到了我提出的那些帮助。还有别的帮助给她，她也接受了，不是作为奖赏，而是作为安慰，就像基督徒跋涉困难之山，在小树下歇息时，小树使他提神一样。
“你为什么不写点东西呢？以前那总会使你快乐的，”一次，妈妈见乔又来了阵消沉情绪，脸色阴沉，便这样说道。
“我没有心思写。即使写了，也没人喜欢读。”“我们喜欢。为我们写点东西吧。千万别在乎别的人。亲爱的，试试吧。我肯定那会对你有好处，而且使我们非常高兴。”
“我不相信我能写了。”然而，乔搬出了她的桌子，开始翻查她写了一半的一些手稿。
一小时以后，妈妈朝屋里瞥了一眼，乔就坐在那里。她围着黑围裙，全神贯注，不停地涂写着。马奇太太为她的建议奏效感到高兴，她笑着悄悄走开了。乔一点也不知道这是怎么发生的。某种东西夹进了故事，打动了读者。当她的家人读着故事又哭又笑时，爸爸将它寄给了一家通俗杂志，这是完全违反她的意愿的。使她大吃一惊的是，杂志社不仅付了她稿酬，而且还要求她再写些故事。这个小故事登出来后，她收到了一些人的来信，这些人的赞扬是种荣誉。报纸也转载了这个故事。朋友们及陌生的人们都赞赏它。对这样的一个小东西来说，这是巨大的成功。以前乔的小说同时遭人褒贬，现在她比那时更为感到惊讶。
“我不懂，像那么一个小姑娘，能有什么让人们这样夸赞的？”她十分困惑地说。
“故事里有真实的东西，乔，这就是秘密。幽默与悲哀使故事生动。你终于找到了自己的风格。你没有想着名誉和金钱，而是在用心写作，我的女儿。你尝过了痛苦，现在有了甜蜜。你要尽力去做，像我们一样，为你的成功快乐起来吧。“假如我写的东西里当真有什么好的、真实的东西，那不是我的功劳。这一切都得归于您和妈妈，还有贝思，”乔说。
爸爸的话比外界的任何赞扬都更使她感动。
乔就这样受到了爱与痛苦的教育。她写着小故事，把它们寄出去，让它们为自己、也为她去结识朋友。她发现对那些卑微的漫游者来说，这是个仁爱的世界。那些故事受到了亲切的欢迎，它们就像突然交了好运的孝顺孩子，为它们的母亲带回家一些愉快的纪念物。
艾美和劳里写来信，告知他们已订婚。马奇太太担心乔会难以为此高兴，可是不久她便放了心。虽然乔一开始神色严肃，她还是默默地接受了这件事。她为“两个孩子"心中充满了希望与计划，然后把信又读了一遍。这是一种书信二重奏，信中两个人都以情人的语调赞美着对方。读着让人感动，想起来令人欣慰，因为家里面谁也没有反对意见。
“你喜欢吗，妈？”乔问。她们放下写得密密麻麻的信，相互望着。
“喜欢，自打艾美写信来说她拒绝了弗雷德，我就期望事情会是这样的。那时我确信，她产生了某种念头，这种念头与你所讲的'唯利是图'不是一回事。她的来信字里行间的暗示使我猜测，她的爱情将使她和劳里连结在一起。”“妈咪，你多么敏锐，又多么保守！你从来没和我们说起一个字。”“当母亲们有女儿要照管时，她们需要敏锐的眼睛和谨慎的舌头。我不太敢让你知道这个想法，生怕你会在事情定下来之前就写信祝贺他们。”“我不像以前那样轻率浮躁了。你可以相信我。现在我比较清醒、明智，足以当任何人的知心朋友。”“是这样的，亲爱的。我本来应该让你当我的知心朋友。
只是我想，要是知道你的特迪爱上了别人，你会痛苦的。”“哎呀，妈，你真的以为我会这么愚蠢，这么自私？他的爱即使不适合我，我仍以为那是纯洁的。我自己拒绝了他的爱，会在乎他娶艾美吗？”“我知道你那时是真心拒绝他的，乔。可是近来我想到，假如他回来再向你求爱，也许你会做出不同的回答。原谅我，亲爱的，我不由自主地发现你很孤独，有时你的眼里露出一种渴望的神色，直钻进我的心里。所以我想，假如你那男孩再试试，他会填补你内心的空缺。”“不，妈妈，现在这样更好。我很高兴艾美学会了爱他。
有一件事你说对了：我是感到了孤独。假如特迪再求婚的话，也许我会回答愿意，不是因为我比以前更爱他，而是因为我比他离开时更在乎被人爱。”“那样我很高兴，乔。它证明你在进步。有许多人爱着你。
你会从和爸爸、妈妈、姐妹兄弟、朋友们和孩子们在一起中获得亲情的满足，直到最合适的爱人来给你补偿。”“妈妈是世界上最好的爱人。可是我不在乎对妈咪轻轻说我想起味各种爱。很奇怪，我越是想满足于各种自然的感情，就越有缺失感。我不知道内心能容纳那么多东西。我的心总那么翕张着，感到从未装满过，而我过去非常满足于家庭的。
我真不懂。”
“我懂。”马奇太太露出了洞察理解的微笑。乔翻过信纸读着艾美谈及劳里的内容。
“像劳里爱我那样被人爱着是多么美妙。他不是感情用事，没说很多话，但是从他的一言一行我看出来了，也感受到了。他使我感到这么幸福，这么卑微，我似乎不再是以前那同一个女孩了。现在我才知道，他是多么善良、慷慨、温柔。他让我看他的内心世界，我发现那里充满了高尚的冲力、希望和目标。我知道那颗心属于我，我多么自豪。他说他感到好像'现在有我在船上当大副，有许多爱当压舱物，他便能驾船顺利航行了’。我祈愿他能这样。我要让自己趋于完善，一如他所期待、信赖于我的那样，因为，我以整个生命爱着我勇敢的船长。只要上帝让我们在一起，我决不会丢其他。哦，妈妈，我以前真不知道，当两个人互相爱着，只为对方活着时，这个世界多么像天堂！”“那是我们冷静、保守、世俗的艾美？真的，爱情产生了奇迹。他们肯定非常、非常地幸福！”乔小心翼翼地把沙沙作响的信纸放到了一起，就像合上了本可爱的浪漫故事，这个故事紧紧地抓住了读者，直到结局。这时，读者发现自己孤零零地又回到了尘世。
过了一会儿，乔漫步回到了楼上房间，因为在下雨，无法散步。一种不安的心绪攫住了她。那种老感受又回来了，不是像以前那样的抱怨，而是无怨的感叹和纳闷。为什么妹妹能得到她要的一切，而她什么也得不到？这并不真实，她知道并试图丢开不去想它，可是对爱的自然渴求又是那么强烈，艾美的幸福使她的渴望之情觉醒了，她渴望有个人让她"全心全意去爱，去依恋，只要上帝让他们在一起"。
乔烦躁不安，又漫无目的地上了阁楼。这里，四个小木箱列成一排。每个箱子上都标有主人的名字，箱子里装满了她们孩提时代和少女时代的纪念物。现在那一切都已成过去。
乔朝一个个箱子里看着，她来到自己的箱子前，将下巴搁在箱子的边缘，心不在焉地凝视着里面零乱的收集起。猛地，一捆旧练习本吸引了她的目光。她把它们掏出来翻看着，在和善的柯克太太家度过的那个愉快的冬天又再现在眼前。她先是笑着，继而若有所思，接着又悲哀起来。当她看到一张小纸条上教授的笔迹时，嘴唇开始颤抖，膝上的书本都滑落下去了。她坐在那看着这友好的语句，好像它们产生了新的意义，触及了她心中较为敏感的部位。
“等着我，朋友，我可能来得晚一点，可是我肯定会来的。”“哦，但愿他会来！我亲爱的弗里茨，他对我总是那么客气、友好、那么有耐心。和他在一起时，我对他不够尊重，现在我多么想见到他啊！似乎所有的人都要离开我了，我感到多么孤独。”乔紧紧握着这张小纸头，好像这是个还未履行的诺言。她将头舒适地放在一个装着破布的袋子上，哭了起来，仿佛对抗着拍打屋顶的雨点。
这一切是顾影自怜、孤独感伤，还是一时的情绪低落？或者这是感情的觉醒？这种感情和它的激发者一样耐心地等待着时机。谁知道呢？
Chapter 43 Surprises
Jo was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the fire, and thinking. It was her favorite way of spending the hour of dusk. No one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on Beth's little red pillow, planning stories, dreaming dreams, or thinking tender thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away. Her face looked tired, grave, and rather sad, for tomorrow was her birthday, and she was thinking how fast the years went by, how old she was getting, and how little she seemed to have accomplished. Almost twenty-five, and nothing to show for it. Jo was mistaken in that. There was a good deal to show, and by-and-by she saw, and was grateful for it.
"An old maid, that's what I'm to be. A literary spinster, with a pen for a spouse, a family of stories for children, and twenty years hence a morsel of fame, perhaps, when, like poor Johnson, I'm old and can't enjoy it, solitary, and can't share it, independent, and don't need it. Well, I needn't be a sour saint nor a selfish sinner, and, I dare say, old maids are very comfortable when they get used to it, but . . ." and there Jo sighed, as if the prospect was not inviting.
It seldom is, at first, and thirty seems the end of all things to five-and-twenty. But it's not as bad as it looks, and one can get on quite happily if one has something in one's self to fall back upon. At twenty-five, girls begin to talk about being old maids, but secretly resolve that they never will be. At thirty they say nothing about it, but quietly accept the fact, and if sensible, console themselves by remembering that they have twenty more useful, happy years, in which they may be learning to grow old gracefully. Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacrifices of youth, health, ambition, love itself, make the faded faces beautiful in God's sight. Even the sad, sour sisters should be kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetest part of life, if for no other reason. And looking at them with compassion, not contempt, girls in their bloom should remember that they too may miss the blossom time. That rosy cheeks don't last forever, that silver threads will come in the bonnie brown hair, and that, by-and-by, kindness and respect will be as sweet as love and admiration now.
Gentlemen, which means boys, be courteous to the old maids, no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiest to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless of rank, age, or color. Just recollect the good aunts who have not only lectured and fussed, but nursed and petted, too often without thanks, the scrapes they have helped you out of, the tips they have given you from their small store, the stitches the patient old fingers have set for you, the steps the willing old feet have taken, and gratefully pay the dear old ladies the little attentions that women love to receive as long as they live. The bright-eyed girls are quick to see such traits, and will like you all the better for them, and if death, almost the only power that can part mother and son, should rob you of yours, you will be sure to find a tender welcome and maternal cherishing from some Aunt Priscilla, who has kept the warmest corner of her lonely old heart for 'the best nevvy in the world'.
Jo must have fallen asleep (as I dare say my reader has during this little homily), for suddenly Laurie's ghost seemed to stand before her, a substantial, lifelike ghost, leaning over her with the very look he used to wear when he felt a good deal and didn't like to show it. But, like Jenny in the ballad . . .
She could not think it he
and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped and kissed her. Then she knew him, and flew up, crying joyfully . . .
"Oh my Teddy! Oh my Teddy!"
"Dear Jo, you are glad to see me, then?"
"Glad! My blessed boy, words can't express my gladness. Where's Amy?"
"Your mother has got her down at Meg's. We stopped there by the way, and there was no getting my wife out of their clutches."
"Your what?" cried Jo, for Laurie uttered those two words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him.
"Oh, the dickens! Now I've done it," and he looked so guilty that Jo was down on him like a flash.
"You've gone and got married!"
"Yes, please, but I never will again," and he went down upon his knees, with a penitent clasping of hands, and a face full of mischief, mirth, and triumph.
"Actually married?"
"Very much so, thank you."
"Mercy on us. What dreadful thing will you do next?" and Jo fell into her seat with a gasp.
"A characteristic, but not exactly complimentary, congratulation," returned Laurie, still in an abject attitude, but beaming with satisfaction.
"What can you expect, when you take one's breath away, creeping in like a burglar, and letting cats out of bags like that? Get up, you ridiculous boy, and tell me all about it."
"Not a word, unless you let me come in my old place, and promise not to barricade."
Jo laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day, and patted the sofa invitingly, as she said in a cordial tone, "The old pillow is up garret, and we don't need it now. So, come and 'fess, Teddy."
"How good it sounds to hear you say 'Teddy'! No one ever calls me that but you," and Laurie sat down with an air of great content.
"What does Amy call you?"
"My lord."
"That's like her. Well, you look it," and Jo's eye plainly betrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever.
The pillow was gone, but there was a barricade, nevertheless, a natural one, raised by time, absence, and change of heart. Both felt it, and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directly however, for Laurie said, with a vain attempt at dignity . . .
"Don't I look like a married man and the head of a family?"
"Not a bit, and you never will. You've grown bigger and bonnier, but you are the same scapegrace as ever."
"Now really, Jo, you ought to treat me with more respect," began Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely.
"How can I, when the mere idea of you, married and settled, is so irresistibly funny that I can't keep sober!" answered Jo, smiling all over her face, so infectiously that they had another laugh, and then settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasant old fashion.
"It's no use your going out in the cold to get Amy, for they are all coming up presently. I couldn't wait. I wanted to be the one to tell you the grand surprise, and have 'first skim' as we used to say when we squabbled about the cream."
"Of course you did, and spoiled your story by beginning at the wrong end. Now, start right, and tell me how it all happened. I'm pining to know."
"Well, I did it to please Amy," began Laurie, with a twinkle that made Jo exclaim . . .
"Fib number one. Amy did it to please you. Go on, and tell the truth, if you can, sir."
"Now she's beginning to marm it. Isn't it jolly to hear her?" said Laurie to the fire, and the fire glowed and sparkled as if it quite agreed. "It's all the same, you know, she and I being one. We planned to come home with the Carrols, a month or more ago, but they suddenly changed their minds, and decided to pass another winter in Paris. But Grandpa wanted to come home. He went to please me, and I couldn't let him go alone, neither could I leave Amy, and Mrs. Carrol had got English notions about chaperons and such nonsense, and wouldn't let Amy come with us. So I just settled the difficulty by saying, 'Let's be married, and then we can do as we like'."
"Of course you did. You always have things to suit you."
"Not always," and something in Laurie's voice made Jo say hastily . . .
"How did you ever get Aunt to agree?"
"It was hard work, but between us, we talked her over, for we had heaps of good reasons on our side. There wasn't time to write and ask leave, but you all liked it, had consented to it by-and-by, and it was only 'taking time by the fetlock', as my wife says."
"Aren't we proud of those two words, and don't we like to say them?" interrupted Jo, addressing the fire in her turn, and watching with delight the happy light it seemed to kindle in the eyes that had been so tragically gloomy when she saw them last.
"A trifle, perhaps, she's such a captivating little woman I can't help being proud of her. Well, then Uncle and Aunt were there to play propriety. We were so absorbed in one another we were of no mortal use apart, and that charming arrangement would make everything easy all round, so we did it."
"When, where, how?" asked Jo, in a fever of feminine interest and curiosity, for she could not realize it a particle.
"Six weeks ago, at the American consul's, in Paris, a very quiet wedding of course, for even in our happiness we didn't forget dear little Beth."
Jo put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gently smoothed the little red pillow, which he remembered well.
"Why didn't you let us know afterward?" asked Jo, in a quieter tone, when they had sat quite still a minute.
"We wanted to surprise you. We thought we were coming directly home, at first, but the dear old gentleman, as soon as we were married, found he couldn't be ready under a month, at least, and sent us off to spend our honeymoon wherever we liked. Amy had once called Valrosa a regular honeymoon home, so we went there, and were as happy as people are but once in their lives. My faith! Wasn't it love among the roses!"
Laurie seemed to forget Jo for a minute, and Jo was glad of it, for the fact that he told her these things so freely and so naturally assured her that he had quite forgiven and forgotten. She tried to draw away her hand, but as if he guessed the thought that prompted the half-involuntary impulse, Laurie held it fast, and said, with a manly gravity she had never seen in him before . . .
"Jo, dear, I want to say one thing, and then we'll put it by forever. As I told you in my letter when I wrote that Amy had been so kind to me, I never shall stop loving you, but the love is altered, and I have learned to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you changed places in my heart, that's all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come about naturally, if I had waited, as you tried to make me, but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent, and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one, Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of myself. Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind, at one time, that I didn't know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love you both alike. But I couldn't, and when I saw her in Switzerland, everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places, and I felt sure that it was well off with the old love before it was on with the new, that I could honestly share my heart between sister Jo and wife Amy, and love them dearly. Will you believe it, and go back to the happy old times when we first knew one another?"
"I'll believe it, with all my heart, but, Teddy, we never can be boy and girl again. The happy old times can't come back, and we mustn't expect it. We are man and woman now, with sober work to do, for playtime is over, and we must give up frolicking. I'm sure you feel this. I see the change in you, and you'll find it in me. I shall miss my boy, but I shall love the man as much, and admire him more, because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can't be little playmates any longer, but we will be brother and sister, to love and help one another all our lives, won't we, Laurie?"
He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered him, and laid his face down on it for a minute, feeling that out of the grave of a boyish passion, there had risen a beautiful, strong friendship to bless them both. Presently Jo said cheerfully, for she didn't want the coming home to be a sad one, "I can't make it true that you children are really married and going to set up housekeeping. Why, it seems only yesterday that I was buttoning Amy's pinafore, and pulling your hair when you teased. Mercy me, how time does fly!"
"As one of the children is older than yourself, you needn't talk so like a grandma. I flatter myself I'm a 'gentleman growed' as Peggotty said of David, and when you see Amy, you'll find her rather a precocious infant," said Laurie, looking amused at her maternal air.
"You may be a little older in years, but I'm ever so much older in feeling, Teddy. Women always are, and this last year has been such a hard one that I feel forty."
"Poor Jo! We left you to bear it alone, while we went pleasuring. You are older. Here's a line, and there's another. Unless you smile, your eyes look sad, and when I touched the cushion, just now, I found a tear on it. You've had a great deal to bear, and had to bear it all alone. What a selfish beast I've been!" and Laurie pulled his own hair, with a remorseful look.
But Jo only turned over the traitorous pillow, and answered, in a tone which she tried to make more cheerful, "No, I had Father and Mother to help me, and the dear babies to comfort me, and the thought that you and Amy were safe and happy, to make the troubles here easier to bear. I am lonely, sometimes, but I dare say it's good for me, and . . ."
"You never shall be again," broke in Laurie, putting his arm about her, as if to fence out every human ill. "Amy and I can't get on without you, so you must come and teach 'the children' to keep house, and go halves in everything, just as we used to do, and let us pet you, and all be blissfully happy and friendly together."
"If I shouldn't be in the way, it would be very pleasant. I begin to feel quite young already, for somehow all my troubles seemed to fly away when you came. You always were a comfort, Teddy," and Jo leaned her head on his shoulder, just as she did years ago, when Beth lay ill and Laurie told her to hold on to him.
He looked down at her, wondering if she remembered the time, but Jo was smiling to herself, as if in truth her troubles had all vanished at his coming.
"You are the same Jo still, dropping tears about one minute, and laughing the next. You look a little wicked now. What is it, Grandma?"
"I was wondering how you and Amy get on together."
"Like angels!"
"Yes, of course, but which rules?"
"I don't mind telling you that she does now, at least I let her think so, it pleases her, you know. By-and-by we shall take turns, for marriage, they say, halves one's rights and doubles one's duties."
"You'll go on as you begin, and Amy will rule you all the days of your life."
"Well, she does it so imperceptibly that I don't think I shall mind much. She is the sort of woman who knows how to rule well. In fact, I rather like it, for she winds one round her finger as softly and prettily as a skein of silk, and makes you feel as if she was doing you a favor all the while."
"That ever I should live to see you a henpecked husband and enjoying it!" cried Jo, with uplifted hands.
It was good to see Laurie square his shoulders, and smile with masculine scorn at that insinuation, as he replied, with his "high and mighty" air, "Amy is too well-bred for that, and I am not the sort of man to submit to it. My wife and I respect ourselves and one another too much ever to tyrannize or quarrel."
Jo liked that, and thought the new dignity very becoming, but the boy seemed changing very fast into the man, and regret mingled with her pleasure.
"I am sure of that. Amy and you never did quarrel as we used to. She is the sun and I the wind, in the fable, and the sun managed the man best, you remember."
"She can blow him up as well as shine on him," laughed Laurie. "such a lecture as I got at Nice! I give you my word it was a deal worse than any of your scoldings, a regular rouser. I'll tell you all about it sometime, she never will, because after telling me that she despised and was ashamed of me, she lost her heart to the despicable party and married the good-for-nothing."
"What baseness! Well, if she abuses you, come to me, and I'll defend you."
"I look as if I needed it, don't I?" said Laurie, getting up and striking an attitude which suddenly changed from the imposing to the rapturous, as Amy's voice was heard calling, "Where is she? Where's my dear old Jo?"
In trooped the whole family, and everyone was hugged and kissed all over again, and after several vain attempts, the three wanderers were set down to be looked at and exulted over. Mr. Laurence, hale and hearty as ever, was quite as much improved as the others by his foreign tour, for the crustiness seemed to be nearly gone, and the old-fashioned courtliness had received a polish which made it kindlier than ever. It was good to see him beam at 'my children', as he called the young pair. It was better still to see Amy pay him the daughterly duty and affection which completely won his old heart, and best of all, to watch Laurie revolve about the two, as if never tired of enjoying the pretty picture they made.
The minute she put her eyes upon Amy, Meg became conscious that her own dress hadn't a Parisian air, that young Mrs. Mofffat would be entirely eclipsed by young Mrs. Laurence, and that 'her ladyship' was altogether a most elegant and graceful woman. Jo thought, as she watched the pair, "How well they look together! I was right, and Laurie has found the beautiful, accomplished girl who will become his home better than clumsy old Jo, and be a pride, not a torment to him." Mrs. March and her husband smiled and nodded at each other with happy faces, for they saw that their youngest had done well, not only in worldly things, but the better wealth of love, confidence, and happiness.
For Amy's face was full of the soft brightness which betokens a peaceful heart, her voice had a new tenderness in it, and the cool, prim carriage was changed to a gentle dignity, both womanly and winning. No little affectations marred it, and the cordial sweetness of her manner was more charming than the new beauty or the old grace, for it stamped her at once with the unmistakable sign of the true gentlewoman she had hoped to become.
"Love has done much for our little girl," said her mother softly.
"She has had a good example before her all her life, my dear," Mr. March whispered back, with a loving look at the worn face and gray head beside him.
Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her 'pitty aunty', but attached herself like a lap dog to the wonderful chatelaine full of delightful charms. Demi paused to consider the new relationship before he compromised himself by the rash acceptance of a bribe, which took the tempting form of a family of wooden bears from Berne. A flank movement produced an unconditional surrender, however, for Laurie knew where to have him.
"Young man, when I first had the honor of making your acquaintance you hit me in the face. Now I demand the satisfaction of a gentleman," and with that the tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small nephew in a way that damaged his philosophical dignity as much as it delighted his boyish soul.
"Blest if she ain't in silk from head to foot; ain't it a relishin' sight to see her settin' there as fine as a fiddle, and hear folks calling little Amy 'Mis. Laurence!'" muttered old Hannah, who could not resist frequent "peeks" through the slide as she set the table in a most decidedly promiscuous manner.
Mercy on us, how they did talk! first one, then the other, then all burst out together--trying to tell the history of three years in half an hour. It was fortunate that tea was at hand, to produce a lull and provide refreshment--for they would have been hoarse and faint if they had gone on much longer. Such a happy procession as filed away into the little dining room! Mr. March proudly escorted Mrs. Laurence. Mrs. March as proudly leaned on the arm of 'my son'. The old gentleman took Jo, with a whispered, "You must be my girl now," and a glance at the empty corner by the fire, that made Jo whisper back, "I'll try to fill her place, sir."
The twins pranced behind, feeling that the millennium was at hand, for everyone was so busy with the newcomers that they were left to revel at their own sweet will, and you may be sure they made the most of the opportunity. Didn't they steal sips of tea, stuff gingerbread ad libitum, get a hot biscuit apiece, and as a crowning trespass, didn't they each whisk a captivating little tart into their tiny pockets, there to stick and crumble treacherously, teaching them that both human nature and a pastry are frail? Burdened with the guilty consciousness of the sequestered tarts, and fearing that Dodo's sharp eyes would pierce the thin disguise of cambric and merino which hid their booty, the little sinners attached themselves to 'Dranpa', who hadn't his spectacles on. Amy, who was handed about like refreshments, returned to the parlor on Father Laurence's arm. The others paired off as before, and this arrangement left Jo companionless. She did not mind it at the minute, for she lingered to answer Hannah's eager inquiry.
"Will Miss Amy ride in her coop (coupe), and use all them lovely silver dishes that's stored away over yander?"
"Shouldn't wonder if she drove six white horses, ate off gold plate, and wore diamonds and point lace every day. Teddy thinks nothing too good for her," returned Jo with infinite satisfaction.
"No more there is! Will you have hash or fishballs for breakfast?" asked Hannah, who wisely mingled poetry and prose.
"I don't care," and Jo shut the door, feeling that food was an uncongenial topic just then. She stood a minute looking at the party vanishing above, and as Demi's short plaid legs toiled up the last stair, a sudden sense of loneliness came over her so strongly that she looked about her with dim eyes, as if to find something to lean upon, for even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known what birthday gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to herself, "I'll weep a little weep when I go to bed. It won't do to be dismal now." Then she drew her hand over her eyes, for one of her boyish habits was never to know where her handkerchief was, and had just managed to call up a smile when there came a knock at the porch door.
She opened with hospitable haste, and started as if another ghost had come to surprise her, for there stood a tall bearded gentleman, beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.
"Oh, Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you!" cried Jo, with a clutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in.
"And I to see Miss Marsch, but no, you haf a party," and the Professor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them.
"No, we haven't, only the family. My sister and friends have just come home, and we are all very happy. Come in, and make one of us."
Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gone decorously away, and come again another day, but how could he, when Jo shut the door behind him, and bereft him of his hat? Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him, and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes.
"If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly see them all. You haf been ill, my friend?"
He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat, the light fell on her face, and he saw a change in it.
"Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you last."
"Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that," and he shook hands again, with such a sympathetic face that Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand.
"Father, Mother, this is my friend, Professor Bhaer," she said, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a flourish.
If the stranger had any doubts about his reception, they were set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received. Everyone greeted him kindly, for Jo's sake at first, but very soon they liked him for his own. They could not help it, for he carried the talisman that opens all hearts, and these simple people warmed to him at once, feeling even the more friendly because he was poor. For poverty enriches those who live above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr. Bhaer sat looking about him with the air of a traveler who knocks at a strange door, and when it opens, finds himself at home. The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, and establishing themselves on each knee, proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating his watch, with juvenile audacity. The women telegraphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his guest's benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go to sleep.
If Jo had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie's behavior would have amused her, for a faint twinge, not of jealousy, but something like suspicion, caused that gentleman to stand aloof at first, and observe the newcomer with brotherly circumspection. But it did not last long. He got interested in spite of himself, and before he knew it, was drawn into the circle. For Mr. Bhaer talked well in this genial atmosphere, and did himself justice. He seldom spoke to Laurie, but he looked at him often, and a shadow would pass across his face, as if regretting his own lost youth, as he watched the young man in his prime. Then his eyes would turn to Jo so wistfully that she would have surely answered the mute inquiry if she had seen it. But Jo had her own eyes to take care of, and feeling that they could not be trusted, she prudently kept them on the little sock she was knitting, like a model maiden aunt.
A stealthy glance now and then refreshed her like sips of fresh water after a dusty walk, for the sidelong peeps showed her several propitious omens. Mr. Bhaer's face had lost the absent-minded expression, and looked all alive with interest in the present moment, actually young and handsome, she thought, forgetting to compare him with Laurie, as she usually did strange men, to their great detriment. Then he seemed quite inspired, though the burial customs of the ancients, to which the conversation had strayed, might not be considered an exhilarating topic. Jo quite glowed with triumph when Teddy got quenched in an argument, and thought to herself, as she watched her father's absorbed face, "How he would enjoy having such a man as my Professor to talk with every day!" Lastly, Mr. Bhaer was dressed in a new suit of black, which made him look more like a gentleman than ever. His bushy hair had been cut and smoothly brushed, but didn't stay in order long, for in exciting moments, he rumpled it up in the droll way he used to do, and Jo liked it rampantly erect better than flat, because she thought it gave his fine forehead a Jove-like aspect. Poor Jo, how she did glorify that plain man, as she sat knitting away so quietly, yet letting nothing escape her, not even the fact that Mr. Bhaer actually had gold sleeve-buttons in his immaculate wristbands.
"Dear old fellow! He couldn't have got himself up with more care if he'd been going a-wooing," said Jo to herself, and then a sudden thought born of the words made her blush so dreadfully that she had to drop her ball, and go down after it to hide her face.
The maneuver did not succeed as well as she expected, however, for though just in the act of setting fire to a funeral pyre, the Professor dropped his torch, metaphorically speaking, and made a dive after the little blue ball. Of course they bumped their heads smartly together, saw stars, and both came up flushed and laughing, without the ball, to resume their seats, wishing they had not left them.
Nobody knew where the evening went to, for Hannah skillfully abstracted the babies at an early hour, nodding like two rosy poppies, and Mr. Laurence went home to rest. The others sat round the fire, talking away, utterly regardless of the lapse of time, till Meg, whose maternal mind was impressed with a firm conviction that Daisy had tumbled out of bed, and Demi set his nightgown afire studying the structure of matches, made a move to go.
"We must have our sing, in the good old way, for we are all together again once more," said Jo, feeling that a good shout would be a safe and pleasant vent for the jubilant emotions of her soul.
They were not all there. But no one found the words thougtless or untrue, for Beth still seemed among them, a peaceful presence, invisible, but dearer than ever, since death could not break the household league that love made disoluble. The little chair stood in its old place. The tidy basket, with the bit of work she left unfinished when the needle grew 'so heavy', was still on its accustomed shelf. The beloved instrument, seldom touched now had not been moved, and above it Beth's face, serene and smiling, as in the early days, looked down upon them, seeming to say, "Be happy. I am here."
"Play something, Amy. Let them hear how much you have improved," said Laurie, with pardonable pride in his promising pupil.
But Amy whispered, with full eyes, as she twirled the faded stool, "Not tonight, dear. I can't show off tonight."
But she did show something better than brilliancy or skill, for she sang Beth's songs with a tender music in her voice which the best master could not have taught, and touched the listener's hearts with a sweeter power than any other inspiration could have given her. The room was very still, when the clear voice failed suddenly at the last line of Beth's favorite hymn. It was hard to say . . .
Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal;
and Amy leaned against her husband, who stood behind her, feeling that her welcome home was not quite perfect without Beth's kiss.
"Now, we must finish with Mignon's song, for Mr. Bhaer sings that," said Jo, before the pause grew painful. And Mr. Bhaer cleared his throat with a gratified "Hem!" as he stepped into the corner where Jo stood, saying . . .
"You will sing with me? We go excellently well together."
A pleasing fiction, by the way, for Jo had no more idea of music than a grasshopper. But she would have consented if he had proposed to sing a whole opera, and warbled away, blissfully regardless of time and tune. It didn't much matter, for Mr. Bhaer sang like a true German, heartily and well, and Jo soon subsided into a subdued hum, that she might listen to the mellow voice that seemed to sing for her alone.
Know'st thou the land where the citron blooms,
used to be the Professor's favorite line, for 'das land' meant Germany to him, but now he seemed to dwell, with peculiar warmth and melody, upon the words . . .
There, oh there, might I with thee, O, my beloved, go
and one listener was so thrilled by the tender invitation that she longed to say she did know the land, and would joyfully depart thither whenever he liked.
The song was considered a great success, and the singer retired covered with laurels. But a few minutes afterward, he forgot his manners entirely, and stared at Amy putting on her bonnet, for she had been introduced simply as 'my sister', and no one had called her by her new name since he came. He forgot himself still further when Laurie said, in his most gracious manner, at parting . . .
"My wife and I are very glad to meet you, sir. Please remember that there is always a welcome waiting for you over the way."
Then the Professor thanked him so heartily, and looked so suddenly illuminated with satisfaction, that Laurie thought him the most delightfully demonstrative old fellow he ever met.
"I too shall go, but I shall gladly come again, if you will gif me leave, dear madame, for a little business in the city will keep me here some days."
He spoke to Mrs. March, but he looked at Jo, and the mother's voice gave as cordial an assent as did the daughter's eyes, for Mrs. March was not so blind to her children's interest as Mrs. Moffat supposed.
"I suspect that is a wise man," remarked Mr. March, with placid satisfaction, from the hearthrug, after the last guest had gone.
"I know he is a good one," added Mrs. March, with decided approval, as she wound up the clock.
"I thought you'd like him," was all Jo said, as she slipped away to her bed.
She wondered what the business was that brought Mr. Bhaer to the city, and finally decided that he had been appointed to some great honor, somewhere, but had been too modest to mention the fact. If she had seen his face when, safe in his own room, he looked at the picture of a severe and rigid young lady, with a good deal of hair, who appeared to be gazing darkly into futurity, it might have thrown some light upon the subject, especially when he turned off the gas, and kissed the picture in the dark.
 
薄暮时分，乔独自躺在那张旧沙发上。她看着炉火，脑中思索着。她最喜欢这样打发黄昏时光。没有人打扰她。她总是躺在那儿，枕着贝思的小红枕头，策划着故事，做着梦，充满柔情地想着妹妹，妹妹似乎根本没有远离她。乔的神情疲惫、严肃、有点悲哀。明天是她的生日。她在想，时光过得多快啊，她就要一天天老起来了，她的成就似乎太少。马上就二十五岁，却没什么可以炫耀的。乔想错了，她有许多可以炫耀的东西，不久以后，他便发现了它们，并为之感到快意。
“我就要成为老姑娘了，一个喜欢文学的老处女、以笔为配偶，一组故事当孩子，也许二十年之后会有点儿名气。像可怜的约翰逊那样，我老了时，不能享受名气之乐了，便会感到孤独。没人与我分享快乐，我自食其力，也不需要名气了。哎呀，我不必去做一个愁眉不展的圣徒，或者一个只顾自己的罪人。我敢说，老姑娘们只要习惯了独身生活，会过得很舒服的。可是- "想到这，乔叹了口气，仿佛这种前景并不诱人。
首先，这前景是难以诱人。对二十五岁的人来说，到了三十岁便万事休矣。然而，事情并不像看上去那样糟。如果一个女人有了归依，她便能过得相当幸福。到了二十五岁，姑娘们便开始谈起要成为老姑娘了，但却暗下决心，决不这样。
上了三十岁，她们不再提及此事，而是默默地接受事实。聪明的姑娘们会想到，她们还有二十多年有益的幸福时光，可以学着优雅地打发人生，聊以自慰。亲爱的姑娘们，别笑话那些老处女们。因为，在那素净的长袍下静静跳动着的心窝里，往往隐藏着非常温柔的爱情悲剧。为青春、健康、抱负以及爱情本身默默作出的牺牲，使褪色的容颜在上帝的面前变得美丽了。即便是悲哀、阴郁的老姑娘们，也应亲切地对待她们。因为，她们就是为了这才错过了人生最甜美的部分。
妙龄姑娘们应该怀着同情看待她们，不应看不起她们。应该记住，她们也可能会辜负大好时光，红润的面颊不会永远保持，银丝会掺进漂亮的棕发，不久以后，善良与尊敬会和现在的爱情与赞美同样甜蜜。
先生们，也就是男孩子们，对老姑娘们表示殷勤吧，别管她们多穷、多普通、多古板。因为，唯一值得拥有的骑士精神便是乐意向老人表示敬意，保护弱者，为妇女们服务。别考虑她们的身份、年龄及肤色，回想一下那些善良的婶子们吧，她们不仅教训过你们，数落过你们，而且也照顾、宠爱过你们，但并不常常得到你们的感谢。她们帮你们摆脱困境，从她们不多的储蓄中给你们零用钱，她们用衰老的手指耐心地为你们缝制衣服。想想她们心甘情愿为你们做的事吧。你们应该满怀感激地给那些可亲的老太太们小小的关注，妇女们只要一息尚存，就会乐于接受它们的。眼睛明亮的姑娘很快就会看出你们的这种品格，并会因之更喜欢你们。唯一能分开母与子的力量便是死亡，假如死亡夺去了你们的母亲，你们肯定会在某个普丽西拉婶子那里得到亲切的欢迎和母亲般的爱抚。在她孤寂的衰老心坎里，为她"世上最好的侄子"保留着最温暖的一角。
乔肯定睡着了（我敢说，在这小小的布道期间，我的读者们也睡着了），因为劳里的幻影仿佛突然站在她面前 -一个实在逼真的幻影 俯身看着她，带着以前他感触良多而又不想显露出来时常有的表情。可是，就像歌谣里的珍妮--她想不到竟会是他。
乔躺在那儿，惊讶地默默盯着他看，直到劳里俯身吻她，这才认出他。她一跃而起，高兴地叫着- “哦，特迪！哦，我的特迪！”“亲爱的乔，你见到我高兴了，对吗？”“高兴！我幸运的男孩，言语表达不了我的欢喜，艾美呢？”“你妈妈把她留在了梅格家。我们顺道在那儿停留了一下，我没法子将我的妻子从她们手中救出来。”“你的什么？”乔叫了起来，劳里不知不觉带着洋洋自得的口气说出了这两个字，泄露了秘密。
“哎呀，糟了！我已经这样做了。”他看上去那样内疚，乔即刻和他过不去了。
“你走了，然后结了婚！”
“是的，请原谅。可是我决不会再结了。”他跪了下来，悔过似地握着手，脸上的表情充满淘气、欢乐与胜利。
“真的结了婚？”
“千真万确，谢谢。”
“我的天哪！接下来你要做什么可怕的事呢？”乔喘着气跌坐回她的位子。
“你的祝贺不一般，就是不大客气，”劳里回答。他一副可怜兮兮的样子，但却又满足地满脸堆笑。
“你像个盗贼似地溜进来，又这样子泄露出秘密，让人大吃一惊。你能期待什么呢？起来，你这傻孩子，把事情都告诉我。”“一个字也不告诉你，除非你让我坐到老地方，并且保证不再跟我过不去，用枕头设障碍。”
听到这话乔笑了起来，她已很长时间没笑了。她逗弄地拍着沙发，友好地说：“那旧枕头放到阁楼上去了，现在我们不需要它了，过来坦白交待吧，特迪。”“听你叫'特迪'多么悦耳！除了你还没有谁那样叫我呢。”劳里带着非常满足的神气坐了下来。
“艾美叫你什么？”
“夫君。”
“这像她说的话，嗯，你看着也像。”乔的眼神分明表示：她发现她的男孩比以前更清秀了。
枕头没了，然而还是有着障碍 -一个自然的障碍，是由时间、分离、变化了的心所造成的。两个都感到了这一点，有一会儿他们对望着，仿佛这个无形的障碍在他们身上投下了一道小小的阴影。然而，阴影很快便消失了，因为劳里徒劳地试图端着架子说话 “我看着像不像个结了婚的人和一家之主？”“一点也不像，你也决不会像的。你长大些了，也更漂亮了，可是你还是以前的那个淘气鬼。”“哎唷，真的，乔，你应该对我尊重些了，”劳里开口说，他对这一切很欣赏。
“我一想到你结了婚，安定了，就忍不住觉得那么好笑。
我无法保持严肃。这样我怎能尊重你？”乔回答。她满面笑容，极具感染力，结果两人又笑了起来。然后他们坐好，完全以从前那种愉快的方式细细谈了起来。
“你没有必要冒着严寒去接艾美。一会儿他们都会过来的。我等不及了，我想第一个告诉你这个令人惊喜的大事。我想得到那'第一瓶奶油'，就像我们从前争要奶油时说的那样。”“你当然得到了，可是故事开错了头，给弄毁了。好了，开始说吧，全都告诉我，我太想知道了。”“嗯，我那样做是想讨艾美的欢心，”劳里眨着眼开了口，这使乔叫了起来“一号小谎言。是艾美想讨你的欢心。接着说，可以的话，讲实话，先生。”“哎唷，她开始用太太的口气问话了。听她说话是不是令人开心？”劳里对着炉火自问道。炉火发着光，闪着亮，似乎十分赞同他。“这是一回事，要知道，她和我已结成了一体。
一个多月以前，我们打算和卡罗尔一家一道回来，可是他们突然改变了主意，决定在巴黎再过一个冬天。爷爷想回家了，他到那儿去是为了让我高兴，我不能让他独自走，又丢不下艾美。卡罗尔太太脑子里有些英国人的观点，什么女监护人之类的荒唐念头，她不放艾美和我们同行。于是，我便说：'我们结婚吧，这样就能随心所欲了。'就这样解决了那个难题。”“你当然会那么做的，你总是事事如意。”“并不总是那样。”劳里声音里有种东西，使乔赶快接话 "你们怎么得到婶婶同意的？”“那可不容易。不过，别讲出去，我们说服了她。我们这一边有许许多多的理由。没有时间写信回家请求允许了，可是你们大家都高兴这样，很快都会同意的，像我妻子说的那样，这只是'抓住时间马儿的腿'。”“我们真为那两个字骄傲，难道我们不喜欢说那两个字吗？”乔打断了她。这次是她对着炉火说话了。她高兴地注视着炉火，仿佛它在那双眼里燃起了幸福的火花，而她上一次看着它们却那么悲哀忧郁。
“也许那是桩小事。艾美是那样一个迷人的小妇人，我无法不为她骄傲。嗯，当时叔叔和婶婶在那儿当监护人，我们俩相互那么依恋着对方，分开了便什么也干不了。那个不坏的主意使一切问题迎刃而解，所以我们便结了婚。”“什么时候？在哪里？怎样结的？”乔问道，她的问话充满了女人的强烈兴趣与好奇心，自己却一点儿也没意识到。
“六个星期前，在巴黎的美国领事馆，当然，婚礼非常安静，即便在我们的幸福时刻，我们也没忘记亲爱的小贝思。”他说到这里，乔把手伸给地握祝劳里轻轻地抚摸着那个他记得很清楚的小红枕头。
“我们本来想让你们大吃一惊的，开始，我们以为会直接回家的，可是我们一结完婚，我那可亲的老先生发现至少在一个月之内不能做好动身准备，所以打发我们随意去哪儿度蜜月。艾美曾把玫瑰谷叫做公认的蜜月之家，于是，我们便去了那儿，我们过得非常幸福，这种幸福人生只有这一次，千真万确，那真是玫瑰花下的爱情啊！”劳里有一会儿似乎忘掉了乔，乔感到高兴，因为他这样无拘无束，自然而然地对她讲述这些，使她确信他已完全原谅了她，忘却了以前的爱。她试图抽出手来，但是他好像猜到了，促使他作出几乎没意识到的冲动念头，紧紧地握住了她的手，他带着她不曾见过的男子汉的严肃神情说道- “乔，亲爱的，我想说件事，然后我们就把它永远丢开吧，当我写信说艾美一直对我很好时，我在那封信中说，我决不会停止对你的爱，这话是真的，但是那种爱已变了，我明白了这样更好。艾美和你在我心中变换了位置，就这么回事。我想，事情本来就是这样安排的。假如我按照你的意图去等待，这件事会自然地发生。可是我根本耐不下性子，所以弄得头疼。那时我是个孩子，任性狂暴，好不容易才认识到错误。乔，正如你说的，那确是个错误。我当了回傻瓜，才明白这一点。
我发誓，有一段时间我脑子里混乱不堪，搞不清楚我更爱谁，你还是艾美，我试图两人都爱，但做不到。当我在瑞士见到艾美时，一切似乎立刻明朗了。你们俩都站到了适当的位置上。我确信旧的爱完全消失了，才开始了新的爱，因此我能够坦率地与作为妹妹的乔及作为妻子的艾美交心，深深地爱着两人。你愿意相信吗？愿意回到我们初识时那段幸福的时光吗？”“我愿意相信，全心全意相信。但是，特迪，我们再也不是男孩女孩了。愉快的老时光不可能回来了，我们不能这样企盼。现在我们是男人和女人，有正经的事情要做。游戏时期已经结束，我们必须停止嬉闹了，我相信你也感到了这一点。我在你身上看到了变化，你也会在我身上看到变化。我会怀念我的男孩，但是我会同样爱那个男人，更加赞赏他，因为他打算做我希望他做的事。我们不可能再当小玩伴了，但是我们会成为兄弟姐妹，我们一生都会互爱互助，是不是这样，劳里？”他什么也没说，却握住了她递过来的手，将他的脸贴在上面放了一会儿。他感到，从他那男孩气热情的坟墓中，升腾起一种美丽的牢不可破的友情，使两人都感到幸福。乔不愿使他们的归来蒙上哀愁，所以过了一会，她便愉快地说：“我还是不能确信，你们两个孩子真的结了婚，要开始持家过日子了。哎呀，好像还是昨天的事，我替艾美扣围裙扣子，你开玩笑时我拽你的头发。天哪，时间过得真快！”“两个孩子中有一个比你大，所以你不必像奶奶那样说话，我自以为我已经是个'长成了的先生'，像佩格蒂说戴维那样。你看到艾美时，你会发现她是个相当早熟的孩子，”劳里说，他看着她母性的神气感到好笑。
“你可能岁数比我大一点，可是我的心情比你老得多，特迪，女人们总是这样。而且这一年过得那样艰难，我感到我有四十岁了。”“可怜的乔！我们丢下你让你独自承受了这一切，而我们却在享乐。你是老了些。这里有条皱纹，那里还有一条。除了笑时，你的眼神透着悲哀。刚才我摸过枕头时，发现上面有滴泪珠。你承受了许多痛苦，而且不得不独自忍受。我是个多么自私的家伙啊！”劳里带着自责的神色拽着自己的头发。
然而，乔把那出卖秘密的枕头转了过去，尽力以一种十分轻松愉快的语调回答道：“不，我有爸爸妈妈帮我，有可爱的孩子安慰我，我还想到你和艾美安全、幸福，这些都使我这里的烦恼容易忍受些了。有的时候我是感到孤独，可是，我敢说那对我有好处，而且-”“你再也不会孤独了，”劳里插了嘴。他用胳膊围住她，仿佛要为她挡住人生所有的艰难困苦。“我和艾美不能没有你。
所以你必须来教'孩子们'管家，就像我们以前那样，凡事均对半分。让我们爱抚你，让我们大家在一起快快乐乐，友好相处。”“假如我不碍事的话，我当然十分乐意。我又开始感到变年轻了，你一来我所有的烦恼似乎都飞走了，你总是让人感到安慰，特迪。”乔将头靠到了劳里的肩上，就像几年前贝思生病躺在那里，劳里让她靠着那样。
他向下看着她，想知道她是否还记得那个时候。但是乔在暗笑着，仿佛他的到来真的使她的所有烦恼都消失了。
“你还是那个乔，一分钟以前掉泪，转眼又笑了。现在你看着有点淘气，想什么呢，奶奶？”“我在想你和艾美在一起怎样过。”“过得像天使！”“那当然。开始是这样，可是谁统治呢？”“我不在乎告诉你现在是她统治，至少我让她这么认为 -这使她高兴，你知道。将来我们会轮流的。因为人们说，婚姻中均分权力会使责任加倍。”“你会像开始那样继续下去，艾美会统治你一生。”“嗯，她做得那样让人毫无察觉，我想我不会太在乎的。
她是那种知道如何统治好男人的妇人。事实上，我倒挺喜欢那样。她就像绕一卷丝绸一般，轻柔潇洒地将你绕在手指上，却使你感到好像她始终在为你效劳。“那我将会活着看到你成为怕老婆的丈夫，并为此高兴！”乔举起双手叫道。
劳里表现得不错，他挺起肩膀，带着男子汉的蔑视神情对那攻击一笑置之。他神气活现地回答：“艾美有教养，不会那样做的，我也不是那种屈从的人，我妻子和我互相非常尊重，不会横强霸道，也不会争吵的。”“那我相信。我和艾美从来不像我们俩那样争吵。她是那寓言故事里的太阳，我是风。记得吗？太阳对付男人最灵。”“她既能对他刮风，也能照耀他。”劳里笑了。”我在尼斯受她那样的训话！我得保证那比你任何一次责骂都厉害得多--一个真正的刺激，等什么时候我来告诉你--她决不会告诉你的，因为她告诉我，说她看不起我，为我感到羞愧，而刚说完，她便爱上了那可鄙的一方，嫁给了那个一无是处的家伙。”“那么恶劣！好吧，假如她再欺负你，到我这儿，我来卫护你。”“看上去我需要卫护，是不是？“劳里站起来摆出架子，可这时突然听到了艾美的声音，他的威严神态马上转为狂喜。艾美叫着：“她在哪？我亲爱的乔呢？”全家人成群结队进屋来了，每个人又重被拥抱亲吻。几次无效的努力后，三个旅游者不得不安坐下来，让大家看着，为他们高兴。劳伦斯先生还像以前一样老当益壮，和其他人一样，国外旅游使他变得更精神了，因为他的执拗劲好像几乎没了。他那老式的殷勤得到了改善，他比以前更慈祥了。他称一对新人为"我的孩子们"。看到他对他们微笑真是让人怡悦。更令人怡悦的是艾美对他尽着女儿般的责任与孝道，这完全赢得了他的心。最好的是看着劳里围着他们两个转，仿佛欣赏不够他俩组成的美景。
梅格的眼光一落到艾美身上，便意识到她自己的服装没有巴黎人的风味。小劳伦斯太太会使小莫法特太太黯然失色。
那位"女士"是个地地道道、非常优雅有风度的妇人。乔观察着这一对人想着：“他们俩在一起看着多么般配啊！我是对的，劳里找到了美丽、出色的女孩，她比笨拙苍老的乔更适合他的家庭，她会成为他的骄傲，而不会折磨他。”马奇太太和她丈夫面露喜色，他们点头微笑着。他们看到最小的孩子不仅做事干练，待人处世知情达理，而且也得到了爱情、自信、幸福这些更好的财富。
艾美的表情柔和清亮，显示出内心的宁静。她的声音里具有一种新的柔情，沉着冷静的处事之风一变而为文雅端庄、亲切动人。小小的矫饰无损于她的风度，她热诚美好的举止比她以前的优雅与新婚所焕出的魅力更为迷人，因为它明白无误地立刻使她带上了一个真正的女士标记，以前她曾希望成为这样的女士。
“爱情使我们的小姑娘变了许多，”妈妈和蔼地说。
“她一生都有个好榜样，亲爱的，”马奇先生低声回答，他深情地看了一眼身旁那张憔悴的脸和灰白的头。
黛西的眼睛离不开她的"漂良"（漂亮）阿姨，于是就像叭儿狗似地把自己系在了女主人的腰带上，那里充满了难以抗拒的诱惑。德米先是无动于衷，怔怔地考虑这新出现的关系，后来便性急地接受了贿赂，妥协了。诱人的贿赂是从伯恩带来的一组木熊玩具。然而，一阵侧面攻击迫使他无条件地就范了，因为劳里知道怎样对付他。
“小伙子，我第一次有幸认识你时，你就打我的脸。现在我要求绅士般的决斗。“说着，这个高个子叔叔便开始将小侄子往上抛着，揉着，那动作既破坏了他镇定自若的尊严，也使男孩子内心喜悦。
“哎呀，她从头到脚穿着丝绸，你看她坐在那儿神采洋洋（飞扬），听大家叫小艾美劳伦斯夫人，这真叫人心里喜欢，”老罕娜嬷嬷咕哝着。她一边明显地在胡乱摆着桌子，一边不由地频频透过拉门朝里张望。
天哪，那是怎样的谈话啊！先是一人说，再换另一人说，然后大家一起说起来，都想在半小时内把三年的事讲完。幸好茶点准备好了，为大家提供了暂歇机会，也提供了吃的东西。他们再像那样谈下去，会嗓子沙哑，头昏眼花的。非常幸福的一队人马鱼贯进入了小餐厅。马奇先生自豪地护送着"劳伦斯太太"，马奇太太则骄傲地依在"我儿子"的臂上，老先生拉着乔的手，瞥了一眼炉火边那个空角落，对她耳语道：“现在你得当我的女孩了。”乔双唇颤抖着低声回答：“我会试着填补她的位置，先生。”那双胞胎在后面欢跃着，他们感到太平盛世就在眼前，因为大家都为新人忙着，丢下他俩任意胡作非为。可以确信他们充分利用了这个机会。他们偷偷呷了几口茶，随意吃着姜饼，每人拿了一个热松饼，他们最妄为的违禁事便是每人往小口袋里装了一个诱人的果酱馅饼，结果馅饼给弄得粘乎乎的，成了碎屑，这教育了他们，馅饼和人性一样脆弱。他们兜里藏着馅饼，心中惴惴不安，担心乔乔阿姨锐利的眼睛会穿透那薄薄的麻纱布衣和美丽奴绒线衣，那下面隐藏着他们的赃物。所以，小罪犯们紧贴着没戴眼镜的"爷衣"（爷爷）。
艾美刚才像茶点似地被大伙传来传去，这时靠着劳伦斯爷爷的肩臂，回到客厅，其余的人像方才进去一样两两出来了。这样一来只剩下乔没了伴儿。当时她没在意，因为她滞留在餐厅，回答着罕娜急切的询问。
“艾美小姐坐那四轱轳马车（双座四轮马车）吗？她用储藏的银盘子吃饭吗？“要是她驾着六匹白马，每天用金盘子吃饭，戴钻石戒指，穿针绣花边衣，我也不奇怪。特迪认为怎样待她都不过分，”乔心满意足地回答。
“没问题了！你早饭要什么？杂烩还是鱼丸子？”罕娜问。
她聪明地将无味的话题混进了带有诗意的事里。
“我随便。”乔关上了门，她感到此时食物不是个合适的话题。她站了一会儿，看着在楼上消失的那一帮人，当德米穿着格子呢裤的短腿艰难地爬上最后一个楼梯时，一阵突如起来的孤独感袭上了她的心头。感觉那样强烈，她眼睛模糊了。她环顾四周，仿佛想找到什么可以依靠的，因为，即便是特迪也丢弃了她。她自言自语：“我等到上床时再哭，现在不能让人看出情绪消沉。”要是她知道什么样的生日礼物正分分秒秒向她逼近，她就不会这么说了。接着她的手伸向眼睛 -因为她的男孩式习惯之一便是从来不知她的手绢在哪--她刚勉强挤出笑容，就听到门廊有人敲门。
她好客地匆匆打开门，盯住了来人，仿佛又来了个幻影使她吃惊。那里站着个留着小胡子的高个子先生，像是午夜的阳光，在黑暗中朝她微笑着。
“噢，巴尔先生，看到你我是多么高兴！”乔一把抓住他叫了起来，仿佛生怕还没将他弄进来，黑暗就把他吞没。
“见到马奇小姐我也高兴— 可是，不，你们有客人- "听到楼上传来的说话声以及咚咚的脚步声，教授停住了。
“不，没有，只是家里人。我妹妹和朋友刚刚回家，我们都非常快乐，进来吧，加入到我们中来吧。”虽然巴尔先生善于交际，我认为他还是想有礼貌地走开，改天再来。可是，乔在他身后关上了门，拿下了他的帽子，他怎好走呢？也许她的表情起了作用，见到他，乔忘了隐瞒高兴的心情，她坦率地表露了出来，这对那孤寂的人具有异乎寻常的魅力。乔的欢迎大大超出了他最大胆的希求。
“要是我不成为多余的先生，我将非常高兴见到他们大家。你生病了，我的朋友？”他突然问道，因为乔在挂他的大衣时，脸色暗了下来，他注意到了这个变化。
“不是病了，而是疲倦、痛苦。离开你后我们有了灾难。”“哦，是的，我知道。我听说了，我为你感到心疼。”他又握了握她的手。他的表情那样充满同情，乔感到好像任何安慰都比不了这种仁爱的眼神和温暖大手的紧握。
“爸，妈，这是我的朋友，巴尔教授。”她的表情与语调带有不可遏止的自豪与快乐，仿佛她方才是吹着喇叭、手舞足蹈地开了门。
倘使那陌生人对将受到怎样的接待心存疑虑的话，一会儿他受到的热诚欢迎使他放了心。每个人都客气地和他招呼，开始是为乔的缘故，很快他们就为他自己的缘故喜欢其他来。
他们情不自禁，因为他带着法宝，能打开所有的心。这些纯洁的人们立刻同情其他来，因为他穷，感到更加亲密。贫穷使生活稍好些的人们变得富有起来，贫穷也是真正热情好客精神的担保。巴尔先生坐在那里环顾四周，他的神情像是旅行者敲开了陌生人的屋门发现自己回到了家。孩子们围着他，像是蜜蜂围着蜜糖罐。两个孩子一边一个坐在他的腿上，他们以孩子的大胆搜他的口袋，拔他的胡子，检查他的表，想引其他的注意。妇女们相互传递着赞许的信息。马奇先生感到与他心性相投，便为客人打开了他的话题精疲宝库。寡言的约翰在旁听着，欣赏着，却不发一言。劳伦斯先生发现不可能去睡觉了。
要不是乔在忙着别的事，她会被劳里的表现逗乐的。一阵轻微的刺痛，不是出于忌妒，而是出于类似怀疑的东西，使得这位先生开始时带着兄长般的慎重超然地观察着新来者，但是持续不长时间，他还没反应过来，便不由自主地产生了兴趣，被吸引进那一圈人中。因为，在这样愉快的氛围里，巴尔先生充分发挥了他的口才。他侃侃而谈，妙语连珠。他极少对劳里说话，却常看他。他看着这个风华正茂的年轻人，脸上便会掠过一丝阴影，仿佛为自己失去的青春遗憾，然后他的眼睛便会渴望地转向乔。假如乔看到了他的眼神，她肯定会回答那无声的询问。可是乔得管住自己的双眼，因为不能放任它们。她小心地让眼睛盯着正在织的小短袜上，像是个模范的独身姨母。
乔不时地偷看一眼教授，这使她神清气爽，就像在尘土飞扬的路上散步后饮过清泉一样，因为在这悄然平视中，她看到了某种她渴望的东西。此刻，巴尔先生的脸上丝毫没有心不在焉的表情，他精神抖擞，兴致勃勃。她想，实际上是年轻漂亮。她忘了将他和劳里比较，对陌生人她通常这样做。
这对他们大为不利。此刻，巴尔似乎很有灵感，虽然转到了古人葬礼习俗的谈话，不能被看作是令人兴奋的话题。当特迪在一场争论中被驳得哑口无言时，乔得意得脸上放着光彩。
她看着爸爸神情专注的脸，心里想到：“要是他每天都有我的教授这样的谈友，该会多快乐啊！”最后一点，巴尔先生穿着一件新的黑色西服，这使他看上去比以前更像个绅士。他浓密的头发剪了，梳理得很整齐，可是保持不了太久，因为他一激动起来，便像往常一样，把它们弄得蓬乱不堪。比起平整的头发，乔更喜欢他的头发乱竖着，因为她认为那样使他漂亮的额头带上了朱庇特似的风味。可怜的乔，她是怎样赞美着那个其貌不扬的人啊！她坐在那儿，那样默默地织着袜子，同时什么也没逃脱她的眼睛，她甚至注意到巴尔先生洁净的袖口上有着金光闪闪的扣子。
“亲爱的老兄！他即便是去求婚，也不可能比这更仔细地装扮自己了，”乔心里想着。这句话突然使她心中一动，她的脸陡然红了起来，只好将线团丢下，弯腰去拣，借机遮蔽一下红红的脸。
然而，这个动作并没有像她预期的那样成功，因为，用比喻的说法，教授正在为葬礼火堆添火，这时他放下了火把，躬身去捡那小蓝线团。当然，他们两人的头猛地撞到了一起，撞得眼冒金星，两个人红着脸直起身来，都没有拾到线团。他们回到了各自的坐位，心里后悔不该离座。
没有谁意识到夜已深了，罕娜早就高明地转移了孩子，他们打着盹，就像两朵粉红的罂栗花，劳伦斯先生回家休息了。
剩下的人围炉而坐，不停地谈着，完全不顾时间的流逝。后来，梅格母性的头里产生了坚定的信念：黛西肯定摔到床下去了，德米想必在研究着火柴的结构，睡衣定是被燃着了。于是她动身回家了。
“让我们来唱歌吧，就像以前那样，因为我们又聚到一起，”乔说。她觉得只有引吭高歌才能尽情而又稳妥地宣泄心中的激情。
并不是所有的人都到了，可是没有谁感到乔的话缺少考虑、不真实，因为贝思似乎还在他们中间，无形而又无时不在。她比以前更可爱。爱使家庭坚不可摧，死亡也不能将起拆散。那张小椅子放在老地方，小篮子还放在惯常的架子上，篮子里装着她没完成的针线活，那张心爱的钢琴没有移动地方，现在很少有人去碰它。贝思安详的笑脸就在钢琴上方，像以前那样，俯视着他们，仿
Chapter 44 My Lord And Lady
"Please, Madam Mother, could you lend me my wife for half an hour? The luggage has come, and I've been making hay of Amy's Paris finery, trying to find some things I want," said Laurie, coming in the next day to find Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother's lap, as if being made 'the baby' again.
"Certainly. Go, dear, I forgot that you have any home but this," and Mrs. March pressed the white hand that wore the wedding ring, as if asking pardon for her maternal covetousness.
"I shouldn't have come over if I could have helped it, but I can't get on without my little woman any more than a . . ."
"Weathercock can without the wind," suggested Jo, as he paused for a simile. Jo had grown quite her own saucy self again since Teddy came home.
"Exactly, for Amy keeps me pointing due west most of the time, with only an occasional whiffle round to the south, and I haven't had an easterly spell since I was married. Don't know anything about the north, but am altogether salubrious and balmy, hey, my lady?"
"Lovely weather so far. I don't know how long it will last, but I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship. Come home, dear, and I'll find your bootjack. I suppose that's what you are rummaging after among my things. Men are so helpless, Mother," said Amy, with a matronly air, which delighted her husband.
"What are you going to do with yourselves after you get settled?" asked Jo, buttoning Amy's cloak as she used to button her pinafores.
"We have our plans. We don't mean to say much about them yet, because we are such very new brooms, but we don't intend to be idle. I'm going into business with a devotion that shall delight Grandfather, and prove to him that I'm not spoiled. I need something of the sort to keep me steady. I'm tired of dawdling, and mean to work like a man."
"And Amy, what is she going to do?" asked Mrs. March, well pleased at Laurie's decision and the energy with which he spoke.
"After doing the civil all round, and airing our best bonnet, we shall astonish you by the elegant hospitalities of our mansion, the brilliant society we shall draw about us, and the beneficial influence we shall exert over the world at large. That's about it, isn't it, Madame Recamier?" asked Laurie with a quizzical look at Amy.
"Time will show. Come away, Impertinence, and don't shock my family by calling me names before their faces," answered Amy, resolving that there should be a home with a good wife in it before she set up a salon as a queen of society.
"How happy those children seem together!" observed Mr. March, finding it difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle after the young couple had gone.
"Yes, and I think it will last," added Mrs. March, with the restful expression of a pilot who has brought a ship safely into port.
"I know it will. Happy Amy!" and Jo sighed, then smiled brightly as Professor Bhaer opened the gate with an impatient push.
Later in the evening, when his mind had been set at rest about the bootjack, Laurie said suddenly to his wife, "Mrs. Laurence."
"My Lord!"
"That man intends to marry our Jo!"
"I hope so, don't you, dear?"
"Well, my love, I consider him a trump, in the fullest sense of that expressive word, but I do wish he was a little younger and a good deal richer."
"Now, Laurie, don't be too fastidious and worldly-minded. If they love one another it doesn't matter a particle how old they are nor how poor. Women never should marry for money . . ." Amy caught herself up short as the words escaped her, and looked at her husband, who replied, with malicious gravity . . .
"Certainly not, though you do hear charming girls say that they intend to do it sometimes. If my memory serves me, you once thought it your duty to make a rich match. That accounts, perhaps, for your marrying a good-for-nothing like me."
"Oh, my dearest boy, don't, don't say that! I forgot you were rich when I said 'Yes'. I'd have married you if you hadn't a penny, and I sometimes wish you were poor that I might show how much I love you." And Amy, who was very dignified in public and very fond in private, gave convincing proofs of the truth of her words.
"You don't really think I am such a mercenary creature as I tried to be once, do you? It would break my heart if you didn't believe that I'd gladly pull in the same boat with you, even if you had to get your living by rowing on the lake."
"Am I an idiot and a brute? How could I think so, when you refused a richer man for me, and won't let me give you half I want to now, when I have the right? Girls do it every day, poor things, and are taught to think it is their only salvation, but you had better lessons, and though I trembled for you at one time, I was not disappointed, for the daughter was true to the mother's teaching. I told Mamma so yesterday, and she looked as glad and grateful as if I'd given her a check for a million, to be spent in charity. You are not listening to my moral remarks, Mrs. Laurence," and Laurie paused, for Amy's eyes had an absent look, though fixed upon his face.
"Yes, I am, and admiring the mole in your chin at the same time. I don't wish to make you vain, but I must confess that I'm prouder of my handsome husband than of all his money. Don't laugh, but your nose is such a comfort to me," and Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction.
Laurie had received many compliments in his life, but never one that suited him better, as he plainly showed though he did laugh at his wife's peculiar taste, while she said slowly, "May I ask you a question, dear?"
"Of course, you may."
"Shall you care if Jo does marry Mr. Bhaer?"
"Oh, that's the trouble is it? I thought there was something in the dimple that didn't quite suit you. Not being a dog in the manger, but the happiest fellow alive, I assure you I can dance at Jo's wedding with a heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my darling?"
Amy looked up at him, and was satisfied. Her little jealous fear vanished forever, and she thanked him, with a face full of love and confidence.
"I wish we could do something for that capital old Professor. Couldn't we invent a rich relation, who shall obligingly die out there in Germany, and leave him a tidy little fortune?" said Laurie, when they began to pace up and down the long drawing room, arm in arm, as they were fond of doing, in memory of the chateau garden.
"Jo would find us out, and spoil it all. She is very proud of him, just as he is, and said yesterday that she thought poverty was a beautiful thing."
"Bless her dear heart! She won't think so when she has a literary husband, and a dozen little professors and professorins to support. We won't interfere now, but watch our chance, and do them a good turn in spite of themselves. I owe Jo for a part of my education, and she believes in people's paying their honest debts, so I'll get round her in that way."
"How delightful it is to be able to help others, isn't it? That was always one of my dreams, to have the power of giving freely, and thanks to you, the dream has come true."
"Ah, we'll do quantities of good, won't we? There's one sort of poverty that I particularly like to help. Out-and-out beggars get taken care of, but poor gentle folks fare badly, because they won't ask, and people don't dare to offer charity. Yet there are a thousand ways of helping them, if one only knows how to do it so delicately that it does not offend. I must say, I like to serve a decayed gentleman better than a blarnerying beggar. I suppose it's wrong, but I do, though it is harder."
"Because it takes a gentleman to do it," added the other member of the domestic admiration society.
"Thank you, I'm afraid I don't deserve that pretty compliment. But I was going to say that while I was dawdling about abroad, I saw a good many talented young fellows making all sorts of sacrifices, and enduring real hardships, that they might realize their dreams. Splendid fellows, some of them, working like heros, poor and friendless, but so full of courage, patience, and ambition that I was ashamed of myself, and longed to give them a right good lift. Those are people whom it's a satisfaction to help, for if they've got genius, it's an honor to be allowed to serve them, and not let it be lost or delayed for want of fuel to keep the pot boiling. If they haven't, it's a pleasure to comfort the poor souls, and keep them from despair when they find it out."
"Yes, indeed, and there's another class who can't ask, and who suffer in silence. I know something of it, for I belonged to it before you made a princess of me, as the king does the beggarmaid in the old story. Ambitious girls have a hard time, Laurie, and often have to see youth, health, and precious opportunities go by, just for want of a little help at the right minute. People have been very kind to me, and whenever I see girls struggling along, as we used to do, I want to put out my hand and help them, as I was helped."
"And so you shall, like an angel as you are!" cried Laurie, resolving, with a glow of philanthropic zeal, to found and endow an institution for the express benefit of young women with artistic tendencies. "Rich people have no right to sit down and enjoy themselves, or let their money accumulate for others to waste. It's not half so sensible to leave legacies when one dies as it is to use the money wisely while alive, and enjoy making one's fellow creatures happy with it. We'll have a good time ourselves, and add an extra relish to our own pleasure by giving other people a generous taste. Will you be a little Dorcas, going about emptying a big basket of comforts, and filling it up with good deeds?"
"With all my heart, if you will be a brave St. Martin, stopping as you ride gallantly through the world to share your cloak with the beggar."
"It's a bargain, and we shall get the best of it!"
So the young pair shook hands upon it, and then paced happily on again, feeling that their pleasant home was more homelike because they hoped to brighten other homes, believing that their own feet would walk more uprightly along the flowery path before them, if they smoothed rough ways for other feet, and feeling that their hearts were more closely knit together by a love which could tenderly remember those less blest than they.
 
“母亲大人，请将我妻子借给我半小时行吗？行李到了，我在找一些我要的东西，把艾美的漂亮衣服全翻乱了，”第二天，劳里进来说。他发现劳伦斯太太坐在妈妈的膝上，好像又成了"宝宝"。
“当然行，去吧，亲爱的。我忘了你除了这个家还有个家。”马奇太太按了按那白皙的戴着结婚戒指的手，仿佛为她母性的贪爱请求原谅。
“我要是能应付，就不会过来了。可是，没有我的小女人，我就没法生活，就像一个-”“没有风的风向标，”劳里停住找比喻的时候，乔提示道。
自打特迪回来，乔恢复了活泼的老样子。
“没错。大部分时候艾美让我向西，只是偶尔朝南，结婚以来我还没有朝向过东，北面我是一无所知。但是我觉得那完全有益健康，适得其所。嘿，夫人！”“至今为止天气不错。我不知道这能持续多久。可是我不怕风暴，因为我在学着怎样驾驶我的船。回家吧，亲爱的，我给你找脱靴器，我猜你在我的东西里翻找的就是它。妈妈，真是拿男人们没办法，”艾美带着主妇似的神气说，这使她丈夫欢喜。
“你们安定下来后，打算做些什么呢？”乔问，她在给艾美扣着斗篷扣，就像以前为她扣围裙那样。
“我们有计划。我们还不打算大事张扬，因为我们刚刚成家。但我们不打算虚掷时光。我将专心致志地去经商，这样会让爷爷高兴。我要向他证明我没给宠坏。我需要这样使自己稳定下来。我厌倦了无所事事，得像个真正的男人那样地工作。“艾美呢？她打算做什么？”马奇太太问。劳里说话时的决然神情与活力使她非常高兴。
“我们向四邻尽过礼仪，展示过我们最好的帽子后，将在家里广延宾客，让上流的社交界为之注目，给我们带来良好的社会声望，到时让你们大吃一惊。就这样，是不是，雷卡米耶夫人？”劳里神情滑稽地看着艾美问道。
“时间会证明的。走吧，你这莽汉。别当我家人的面骂我，让他们吃惊，”艾美回答。她打定主意，家里先得有个好妻子，然后她才能作为社交王后建立一个沙龙。
“这两个孩子在一起似乎多幸福啊！”马奇先生说。小俩口走后，他发现很难再专心于地的亚里斯多德了。
“是的，我看这幸福能持久，”马奇太太补充道。她神色平静，就像领航员将船安全地引入了港口。
“我知道会持久的，幸福的艾美！”乔叹了口气。然后，随着巴尔教授急躁地推门进屋，她欢快地笑了。
晚上迟些时候，劳里脑子里放下了脱靴器之事。艾美转来转去，摆放着她的新艺术珍品。突然劳里对妻子说：“劳伦斯太太。”“夫君！”“那个人打算娶我们的乔！”“我希望这样，你呢，亲爱的？”“嗯，宝贝，我看他是个好人，按照那个富有表现力的词语的绝对意义，是这样。但是我真的希望他稍稍年轻些，大大富有些。”“哎唷，劳里，别太挑剔，别太世俗。只要他们相爱，不管多老多穷，都没一点儿关系。女人们决不能为钱嫁人”话一出口，艾美突然噎住了，她看着丈夫，而他故作严肃地答腔了。
“当然不能，尽管有时确实能听到迷人的姑娘说她们打算这样做。要是我记得不错的话，你曾经认为嫁个富人就是你的责任。也许这能说明你为什么嫁给我这样一无是处的家伙。”“哦，我最亲爱的男孩。别，别那样说！当我说'愿意'时，忘了你是有钱人。即使你一文不名，我也会嫁给你的。我有时希望你是穷人，我好表示出我多么爱你，”艾美说。在公众场合她很庄重，私下却充满柔情。她令人信服地证实了她话语的真实性。
“你没有当真以为我唯利是图，像我曾试着做的那样，是不是？要是你不相信我乐意与你同舟，哪怕你得靠在湖上划舟谋生，那我会伤心的。”“我是个傻瓜，没感觉吗？你拒绝了一个更有钱的人而嫁给我，现在我有权给你东西，可我想给你的东西你一半都不要，我怎么能那么想呢？姑娘们每天都那样想，可怜的人们，她们受到告诫，认为那是她们的唯一出路。你受到的教育较好，尽管我一度曾为你担心。我没有失望，因为女儿信守了妈妈的教诲。昨天我跟妈妈这样说了，她看上去又高兴又感激，好像我给了她一张百万元支票，让她用来行善。劳伦斯太太，你没有在听我的道德评论？”劳里住了口，因为艾美眼睛虽然盯着他的脸，表情却心不在焉。
“不，我听着呢，同时我在欣赏着你下巴上的笑靥。我不想使你虚有其表，可是我得承认，较之丈夫所有的钱，我更为他的英俊自豪。别笑，你的鼻子对我是那么大的安慰。”艾美带着艺术的满足感轻柔地抚摸着那个轮廓优美的鼻子。
劳里一生受到过许多赞美，但没有比这更合他心意的。虽然他笑话着妻子这种特别的趣味，但他还是明白地表示出他的高兴。艾美慢慢说道：“我可以问你个问题吗，亲爱的？”“当然可以。”“假如乔真的嫁给了巴尔先生，你会在乎吗？“噢，那是烦恼所在，是不？我就知道那笑靥里有什么东西不合你的意。我不是个占着马槽的狗，我是世界上最幸福的人。我向你保证，在乔的婚礼上，我会带着和脚跟一样轻快的心情跳舞。你怀疑这点，宝贝？”
艾美抬头看着他，满意了。她最后的一点忌妒与担心永远消失了。她感谢了他，神情充满爱与自信。
“但愿我们能为那个好人老教授做点什么。我们能不能编造出个富亲戚，他乐于助人，死在了德国，留给他一大笔遗产？”劳里说。这时他们手挽手，开始顺着长客厅来回踱步。
他们喜欢这样，来纪念城堡花园。
“乔会查明真相，毁了一切的，就像教授现在这样，乔为他非常自豪。昨天她还说，她认为贫穷是件美好的事。”“上帝保佑她！要是她有个学者丈夫，还有五六个小男女教授要养活，她就不会这样想了。现在我们别去干涉，等待机会吧。到时我们为她们做点好事，那由不得他们了。我受到的教育一部分得归功于乔。她相信人们应该诚实地偿还债务，所以我将用那种方法说服她。”“能够帮助别人多么令人愉快，是不是？有力量慷慨施舍那一直是我的一个梦想。感谢你，我的梦想实现了。”“哦，我们尽可能地多做善事，好不好？有一种穷人我特别愿意帮助。十足的乞丐得到了照顾，可是，有身份的穷人日子过得很差，因为他们不求人，人们也不敢贸然提供捐助。
然而还是有上千种办法帮助他们，只要人们知道怎样巧妙地去做，而不致冒犯他们。我得说，我宁愿为一个破落的绅士效劳，也不愿去帮一个巧言哄骗的叫花子。我想这样不对。但我就是这样做，虽然它更难做。”“因为只有一个绅士才能做到这一点，”爱家协会的另一名成员补充道。
“谢谢，恐怕我不配受到那么好的赞美。但是，我正打算说，我在国外闲荡时，看到许多有天赋的年轻人为了实现他们的梦想做着各种牺牲，忍受着真正的艰难困苦。他们中的一些人非常杰出。他们像勇士般地工作，他们贫穷，无朋无友，却充满勇气、耐心、意志。我为自己惭愧，很想给予他们适当的救助。我乐于帮助这些人。因为，假如他们有天才，则得以为他们效劳，不让天才由于缺乏足够的燃料而埋没或者耽搁，这是个能获得美誉的善举。假如他们没有天才，也能够安慰这些可怜的人，在他们发现自己并非天才时而免于绝望，总归是件好事。”“的确是这样。还有一种人不愿求助，甘心默默受苦。我知道点情况，因为是你把我变成了公主，就像古老故事里国王对婢女所做的那样。在这之前，我也属于那一种人。劳里，有抱负的姑娘们生活得不易。她们常常看着青春、健康以及宝贵的机会过去，只是因为缺少适时的小小帮助。人们一直对我非常好。只要我看到姑娘们像我以前那样奋力挣扎前进，我就想伸手帮助他们，就像我得到帮助一样。”“你就这样做吧，你这样像个天使！”劳里叫道。他脸上洋溢着干慈善事业的热情，决心专门为有艺术倾向的女人们设立一个机构，并捐赠基金。”富人们无权坐在那里独自享乐，或者积累钱财让别人浪费。死后留下遗产，不如活着时明智地花钱，享受使同胞幸福的乐趣，这样更为聪明。我们将过得非常幸福。而且，慷慨地施舍于人，会额外增加我们的快乐。你愿意做一个小多加，四外走动，倒空大篮子里的安慰，再装满善行吗？”“要是你愿做勇敢的圣马丁，英勇地穿行于人世间，驻步让乞丐们合穿你的外套的话，我真心地愿意。”“就这么决定了，我们将尽量做好。”于是一对新人为着心灵的交合紧紧握手，然后又幸福地继续踱起步来。他们感到他们温馨的小家更加亲切，因为，他们希望能使别的家庭快乐。他们相信，要是他们为别人踏平了岐岖之路，他们自己走在繁花似锦的小路上，双脚会走得更直；他们感到，爱心能使他们温柔地记起不如他们幸运的人们，这种爱心使他俩的心贴得更紧了。
Chapter 45 Daisy And Demi
I cannot feel that I have done my duty as humble historian of the March family, without devoting at least one chapter to the two most precious and important members of it. Daisy and Demi had now arrived at years of discretion, for in this fast age babies of three or four assert their rights, and get them, too, which is more than many of their elders do. If there ever were a pair of twins in danger of being utterly spoiled by adoration, it was these prattling Brookes. Of course they were the most remarkable children ever born, as will be shown when I mention that they walked at eight months, talked fluently at twelve months, and at two years they took their places at table, and behaved with a propriety which charmed all beholders. At three, Daisy demanded a 'needler', and actually made a bag with four stitches in it. She likewise set up housekeeping in the sideboard, and managed a microscopic cooking stove with a skill that brought tears of pride to Hannah's eyes, while Demi learned his letters with his grandfather, who invented a new mode of teaching the alphabet by forming letters with his arms and legs, thus uniting gymnastics for head and heels. The boy early developed a mechanical genius which delighted his father and distracted his mother, for he tried to imitate every machine he saw, and kept the nursery in a chaotic condition, with his 'sewinsheen', a mysterious structure of string, chairs, clothespins, and spools, for wheels to go 'wound and wound'. Also a basket hung over the back of a chair, in which he vainly tried to hoist his too confiding sister, who, with feminine devotion, allowed her little head to be bumped till rescued, when the young inventor indignantly remarked, "Why, Marmar, dat's my lellywaiter, and me's trying to pull her up."
Though utterly unlike in character, the twins got on remarkably well together, and seldom quarreled more than thrice a day. Of course, Demi tyrannized over Daisy, and gallantly defended her from every other aggressor, while Daisy made a galley slave of herself, and adored her brother as the one perfect being in the world. A rosy, chubby, sunshiny little soul was Daisy, who found her way to everybody's heart, and nestled there. One of the captivating children, who seem made to be kissed and cuddled, adorned and adored like little goddesses, and produced for general approval on all festive occasions. Her small virtues were so sweet that she would have been quite angelic if a few small naughtinesses had not kept her delightfully human. It was all fair weather in her world, and every morning she scrambled up to the window in her little nightgown to look out, and say, no matter whether it rained or shone, "Oh, pitty day, oh, pitty day!" Everyone was a friend, and she offered kisses to a stranger so confidingly that the most inveterate bachelor relented, and baby-lovers became faithful worshipers.
"Me loves evvybody," she once said, opening her arms, with her spoon in one hand, and her mug in the other, as if eager to embrace and nourish the whole world.
As she grew, her mother began to feel that the Dovecote would be blessed by the presence of an inmate as serene and loving as that which had helped to make the old house home, and to pray that she might be spared a loss like that which had lately taught them how long they had entertained an angel unawares. Her grandfather often called her 'Beth', and her grandmother watched over her with untiring devotion, as if trying to atone for some past mistake, which no eye but her own could see.
Demi, like a true Yankee, was of an inquiring turn, wanting to know everything, and often getting much disturbed because he could not get satisfactory answers to his perpetual "What for?"
He also possessed a philosophic bent, to the great delight of his grandfather, who used to hold Socratic conversations with him, in which the precocious pupil occasionally posed his teacher, to the undisguised satisfaction of the womenfolk.
"What makes my legs go, Dranpa?" asked the young philosopher, surveying those active portions of his frame with a meditative air, while resting after a go-to-bed frolic one night.
"It's your little mind, Demi," replied the sage, stroking the yellow head respectfully.
"What is a little mine?"
"It is something which makes your body move, as the spring made the wheels go in my watch when I showed it to you."
"Open me. I want to see it go wound."
"I can't do that any more than you could open the watch. God winds you up, and you go till He stops you."
"Does I?" and Demi's brown eyes grew big and bright as he took in the new thought. "Is I wounded up like the watch?"
"Yes, but I can't show you how, for it is done when we don't see."
Demi felt his back, as if expecting to find it like that of the watch, and then gravely remarked, "I dess Dod does it when I's asleep."
A careful explanation followed, to which he listened so attentively that his anxious grandmother said, "My dear, do you think it wise to talk about such things to that baby? He's getting great bumps over his eyes, and learning to ask the most unanswerable questions."
"If he is old enough to ask the question he is old enough to receive true answers. I am not putting the thoughts into his head, but helping him unfold those already there. These children are wiser than we are, and I have no doubt the boy understands every word I have said to him. Now, Demi, tell me where you keep your mind."
If the boy had replied like Alcibiades, "By the gods, Socrates, I cannot tell," his grandfather would not have been surprised, but when, after standing a moment on one leg, like a meditative young stork, he answered, in a tone of calm conviction, "In my little belly," the old gentleman could only join in Grandma's laugh, and dismiss the class in metaphysics.
There might have been cause for maternal anxiety, if Demi had not given convincing proofs that he was a true boy, as well as a budding philosopher, for often, after a discussion which caused Hannah to prophesy, with ominous nods, "That child ain't long for this world," he would turn about and set her fears at rest by some of the pranks with which dear, dirty, naughty little rascals distract and delight their parent's souls.
Meg made many moral rules, and tried to keep them, but what mother was ever proof against the winning wiles, the ingenious evasions, or the tranquil audacity of the miniature men and women who so early show themselves accomplished Artful Dodgers?
"No more raisins, Demi. They'll make you sick," says Mamma to the young person who offers his services in the kitchen with unfailing regularity on plum-pudding day.
"Me likes to be sick."
"I don't want to have you, so run away and help Daisy make patty cakes."
He reluctantly departs, but his wrongs weigh upon his spirit, and by-and-by when an opportunity comes to redress them, he outwits Mamma by a shrewd bargain.
"Now you have been good children, and I'll play anything you like," says Meg, as she leads her assistant cooks upstairs, when the pudding is safely bouncing in the pot.
"Truly, Marmar?" asks Demi, with a brilliant idea in his well-powdered head.
"Yes, truly. Anything you say," replies the shortsighted parent, preparing herself to sing, "The Three Little Kittens" half a dozen times over, or to take her family to "Buy a penny bun," regardless of wind or limb. But Demi corners her by the cool reply . . .
"Then we'll go and eat up all the raisins."
Aunt Dodo was chief playmate and confidante of both children, and the trio turned the little house topsy-turvy. Aunt Amy was as yet only a name to them, Aunt Beth soon faded into a pleasantly vague memory, but Aunt Dodo was a living reality, and they made the most of her, for which compliment she was deeply grateful. But when Mr. Bhaer came, Jo neglected her playfellows, and dismay and desolation fell upon their little souls. Daisy, who was fond of going about peddling kisses, lost her best customer and became bankrupt. Demi, with infantile penetration, soon discovered that Dodo like to play with 'the bear-man' better than she did him, but though hurt, he concealed his anguish, for he hadn't the heart to insult a rival who kept a mine of chocolate drops in his waistcoat pocket, and a watch that could be taken out of its case and freely shaken by ardent admirers.
Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes, but Demi didn't see it in that light, and continued to patronize the 'the bear-man' with pensive affability, while Daisy bestowed her small affections upon him at the third call, and considered his shoulder her throne, his arm her refuge, his gifts treasures surpassing worth.
Gentlemen are sometimes seized with sudden fits of admiration for the young relatives of ladies whom they honor with their regard, but this counterfeit philoprogenitiveness sits uneasily upon them, and does not deceive anybody a particle. Mr. Bhaer's devotion was sincere, however likewise effective--for honesty is the best policy in love as in law. He was one of the men who are at home with children, and looked particularly well when little faces made a pleasant contrast with his manly one. His business, whatever it was, detained him from day to day, but evening seldom failed to bring him out to see--well, he always asked for Mr. March, so I suppose he was the attraction. The excellent papa labored under the delusion that he was, and reveled in long discussions with the kindred spirit, till a chance remark of his more observing grandson suddenly enlightened him.
Mr. Bhaer came in one evening to pause on the threshold of the study, astonished by the spectacle that met his eye. Prone upon the floor lay Mr. March, with his respectable legs in the air, and beside him, likewise prone, was Demi, trying to imitate the attitude with his own short, scarlet-stockinged legs, both grovelers so seriously absorbed that they were unconscious of spectators, till Mr. Bhaer laughed his sonorous laugh, and Jo cried out, with a scandalized face . . .
"Father, Father, here's the Professor!"
Down went the black legs and up came the gray head, as the preceptor said, with undisturbed dignity, "Good evening, Mr. Bhaer. Excuse me for a moment. We are just finishing our lesson. Now, Demi, make the letter and tell its name."
"I knows him!" and, after a few convulsive efforts, the red legs took the shape of a pair of compasses, and the intelligent pupil triumphantly shouted, "It's a We, Dranpa, it's a We!"
"He's a born Weller," laughed Jo, as her parent gathered himself up, and her nephew tried to stand on his head, as the only mode of expressing his satisfaction that school was over.
"What have you been at today, bubchen?" asked Mr. Bhaer, picking up the gymnast.
"Me went to see little Mary."
"And what did you there?"
"I kissed her," began Demi, with artless frankness.
"Prut! Thou beginnest early. What did the little Mary say to that?" asked Mr. Bhaer, continuing to confess the young sinner, who stood upon the knee, exploring the waistcoat pocket.
"Oh, she liked it, and she kissed me, and I liked it. Don't little boys like little girls?" asked Demi, with his mouth full, and an air of bland satisfaction.
"You precocious chick! Who put that into your head?" said Jo, enjoying the innocent revelation as much as the Professor.
"'Tisn't in mine head, it's in mine mouf," answered literal Demi, putting out his tongue, with a chocolate drop on it, thinking she alluded to confectionery, not ideas.
"Thou shouldst save some for the little friend. Sweets to the sweet, mannling," and Mr. Bhaer offered Jo some, with a look that made her wonder if chocolate was not the nectar drunk by the gods. Demi also saw the smile, was impressed by it, and artlessy inquired. ..
"Do great boys like great girls, to, 'Fessor?"
Like young Washington, Mr. Bhaer 'couldn't tell a lie', so he gave the somewhat vague reply that he believed they did sometimes, in a tone that made Mr. March put down his clothesbrush, glance at Jo's retiring face, and then sink into his chair, looking as if the 'precocious chick' had put an idea into his head that was both sweet and sour.
Why Dodo, when she caught him in the china closet half an hour afterward, nearly squeezed the breath out of his little body with a tender embrace, instead of shaking him for being there, and why she followed up this novel performance by the unexpected gift of a big slice of bread and jelly, remained one of the problems over which Demi puzzled his small wits, and was forced to leave unsolved forever.
 
我感到，作为一个恭顺的马奇家族编史家，如不至少用一个章节的篇幅讲述两个最宝贝、最重要的家庭成员，我便没有尽到责任。现在黛西和德米已到了解事年龄。在这个高速发展的时代，三四岁的孩子便维护起自己的权利来，他们也能得到权利，在这方面他们比许多长辈优越。假如说有这么一对双胞胎面临着完全被宠坏的危险，那便是这两个喁喁学语的小布鲁克。当然，他们是所有孩子中最出色的，我提及下面的事实便可说明。他们八个月会走路，十二个月能流利地说话，两岁时便能上桌子吃饭了，而且行为得体，惹人喜爱不已。三岁时，黛西便要"针活儿"，还真的做了一个缝了四条线的袋子。她还在餐具柜上从事家政，技术熟练地操作着一个极小的烹调炉，使罕娜流出了骄傲的眼泪。而德米在跟爷爷学着字母。爷爷发明了一种新的教字母方式，用他的胳膊和腿组成字母，这样把头和脚的锻炼并为一体。这男孩很早就显露出机械方面的天才，使爸爸高兴，妈妈惊喜。因为，他试图仿制所有他见过的机器，使育儿室总是凌乱不堪。
他的"缝纫器" -一个古怪的构件，用线头、椅子、晒衣夹组成，还有线轴，那是"圈啊圈（转啊转）"的轮子。另一把椅子背上还挂着个篮子，轻信的妹妹坐在篮子里。他徒劳地想把她扯上来。妹妹带着女性的献身精神，听凭她的小脑袋撞来撞去，直到妈妈前来搭救。而小发明家愤怒地说道：“干嘛？妈妈，那是我的升降机，我正在吊她上来呢。”虽然双胞胎性格完全不同，他们相处得还是非常好，一天中极少有争吵三次以上的。当然，德米对黛西横行霸道，却英勇地护卫着她不受任何别的侵略者的侵犯；而黛西把自己当成划船的奴隶，她崇拜哥哥，认为他是世上完美无缺的人。
黛西是个面色红润、身体圆胖、快快活活的小东西，她讨每个人的欢心，并舒舒服服地在大家心中安顿下来。这个有魅力的小家伙似乎生来就是让人亲吻、拥抱、打扮，喜爱的，像个小女神。去所有喜庆场合，有了她是让大家赞许的，她的小小德行那样美好。要不是一些小淘气行为使她带着不安分的天性，她就是个十足的天使了。她的世界，总是阳光灿烂。
每天早晨，她身穿小睡袍，爬到窗口向外看，不管下雨还是天晴，她总说：“噢，考（好）天！”“噢，考天！”她那样信任地让陌生人亲吻，使得最顽固的独身者也动了怜爱之心，爱孩子的人们更是深情切切。
“西西爱每一个人，”有一次她这么说。她一手拿着汤匙，另一只手拿着杯子，伸开双臂，仿佛渴望拥抱、滋养整个世界。
随着她的成长，妈妈开始感到，像那曾使老屋舒适的人一样，鸽屋存在着这样一个安静可爱的人儿，是上帝的赐福。
她祈祷免受那样的损失。那种损失近来使他们懂得他们曾那么长时间无意识地拥有了一个天使。她的爷爷常叫她"贝思"，奶奶带着不知疲倦的专注神情注视着她，仿佛试图补偿过去的某种过失。这种过失只有她才能看见。
德米像个真正的美国人，他生性好奇，所有的事都想知道。他常常把自己弄得非常不安，因为他无穷的问题"做什么用的？”得不到满意的回答。
他还有着哲学家的倾向，使爷爷非常高兴。爷爷常和他进行苏格拉底式的谈话，谈话中那早慧的学生有时向老师提出问题，使妇人们露出掩饰不住的赞赏之情。
“爷爷，是什么使我的腿走路？”一天晚上，上床嬉闹后歇息时，年轻的哲学家带着沉思的表情打量着他身体的活跃部分问道。
“是你的小脑袋，德米，”哲人抚摸着他那金黄色的脑袋恭敬地回答。
“小脑太（袋）是什么呢？”
“是使你身体活动的东西，就像我手表里的发条使齿轮转动那样。我给你看过的。”“把我打开吧，我想看着它卷（转）动。”“那我可做不到，就像你不能打开手表一样。上帝给你上了发条，你就走着，直到他止住你。”“是这样吗？”德米接受了这个新的思想，棕色眼睛变得又大又亮。”我就像个手表给上了发条？“是的，可是我不能告诉你是怎样上的，因为上的时候我们没看到。”德米摸着自己的后背，好像期待发现那里就和手表背面一样，然后他严肃地说道：“我猜抢（想），上帝在我睡着了的时候上的发条。”接着爷爷仔细解释，他那样人神地听着，使得奶奶焦急地说：“亲爱的，你以为对孩子说这种事明智吗？他眼睛上方的头骨隆得好高，越来越聪明，已会问回答不了的问题了。” “要是他长大了，能问问题了，也就能得到真实的回答。
我不是往他脑袋里灌输思想，而是帮他解决已经存在的问题。
这些孩子比我们聪明。我不怀疑那孩子能听懂我说的每一个字。好了，德米，告诉我，你的思想放在那里？”假如男孩子像亚西比德那样回答，“的的确确，苏格拉底，我说不上”，他的爷爷不会吃惊的。可是，他单脚独立了一会儿，像一只沉思着的小鹳鸟，然后以一种深信不疑的平静语调回答：“在我的小肚子里。”老先生只好加入奶奶的笑声中，结束他的玄学课。
要不是德米拿出了令人信服的证据，说明他既是一个初露头角的哲学家，也是个道地的男孩子，他也许会引起母亲的焦虑。那些讨论常常会引得罕娜点着头预言： “那孩子呆在这世上不会久。”可是他转眼就来了些恶作剧，使她消除了担心。那些可爱、肮脏、淘气的小坏蛋们就用这些恶作剧使他们的父母又是烦躁又是欢喜。
梅格制定了许多道德准则，并试图执行。但是，什么样的母亲经得住他们迷人的诡计、巧妙的遁辞或者镇定的放肆呢？而这些微型的男人、女人们那么早就显示出他们耍手腕蒙骗的才能了。
“不许再吃葡萄干了，德米，你会生病的，”妈妈对小伙子说。这一天在做葡萄干布叮他在厨房要求帮忙，无止境地定时来要。
“德米喜欢生玻”
“我这里不需要你，你走开去帮黛西做小馅饼吧。”他不情愿地离开了。但是受到的委屈压在心头，不一会儿，弥补的机会来临，他用精明的交易智胜了妈妈。
“好了，你们都是乖孩子。现在你们喜欢什么，我就做什么，”这时，布丁已安全地放在罐子里发着了，梅格领着她的助手厨师们上楼时这么说。
“当真，妈妈？”德米问，他那搽了许多粉的脑袋冒出了个绝妙的主意。
“是的，当真。你说的任何事，”缺乏远见的妈妈回答。她自己准备着把"三只小猫"唱上五六遍，或者豁出去带她的一家去"买一便士小面包"，可是德米把她逼入绝境，他冷静地回答- “那么，我们去吃光所有的葡萄干。”乔乔姨是两个孩子的主要玩伴和知心人。这三人把小房子弄得乱七八糟。艾美姨对他们来说还只不过是个名字。贝思姨很快便淡化为令人愉快的模糊记忆。然而，乔乔姨是个活生生的实体，他们充分地利用她，而乔也深深感激他们表示的敬意。可是，巴尔先生来了，乔便忽视了她的玩伴们。两个小家伙感到不悦、委屈。黛西喜欢到处兜售亲吻，现在失去了她最好的顾客，破了产。德米以那幼儿的观察力很快就发现，与他相比，乔乔姨更喜欢和"大胡子"在一起玩。虽然受了伤害，但是他隐藏其他的痛苦，因为他不想侮辱对手。
这个对手的背心口袋里总是巧克力糖块的宝库，还有块手表，可以拿出盒子，任由热情的欣赏者摇动。
有的人可能会把这些放纵看作贿赂，可是德米不这么看。
他继续带着沉着的殷勤惠顾"大胡子"。而黛西在他第三次来访时便赐予他小小的爱慕之情，把他的肩当作她的宝座，他的胳膊当作藏身处，他的礼物当作无价之宝。
先生们有时会突然一阵兴起，赞美起女士们的小亲戚们来，这是为了女士们的缘故。但是这种假装的爱子女心不自然地附加于他们身上，一点儿也骗不了人。巴尔先生的爱心却是真诚的，同样也是有效的--因为，在爱情方面和在法律上一样，诚实为上策。他是那种和孩子在一起无拘束的人，当小脸蛋和他的男子汉脸膛成为有趣的对照时，他看上去特别开心。他的事务，不管那是什么，一天天地留住了他。晚上他很少不来看 -嗯，他总是说来看马奇先生，所以，我推测是他有吸引力。优秀的爸爸误解了，认定他的确有吸引力。带着类似的情绪，他沉迷于长时间的讨论中，直到他那更具观察力的孙子偶然说出一句话，使他突然明白过来。
一天晚上，巴尔先生来访，他停在书房门口，眼前的景象使他大为惊讶。马奇先生躺在地板上，令人尊敬的双腿跷在空中。德米在他身边同样躺着，试着用他那穿着红色长统袜的短腿模仿爷爷的姿势。两个躺着的人神情那样严肃专注，竟意识不到有旁观者，直到巴尔先生发出洪亮的笑声，乔带着震惊的神色叫道- “爸爸，爸爸，教授来了！”一双黑腿落了下去了，一颗灰脑袋抬了起来。导师带着泰然自若的庄重神情说：“晚上好，巴尔先生。请稍等片刻，我们就要结束课程了。好了，德米，摆出这个字母，说出它的名字。”“我认识它！”拼命努力了一番，那双红腿摆出了一副圆规的样子，然后聪明的学生得意洋洋地叫道：“这是个Ｗｅ，爷爷，这是个'Ｗｅ'！”“他是个天生的韦勒，”乔笑道。她爸爸收回了双腿。她侄子试图倒立，那是他对下课了感到满意的唯一表达方式。
“你今天做什么了，ｂüｂｃｈｅｎ？”巴尔先生拉起了体操运动员，问他。
“德米去看小玛丽了。”
“在那干什么了？”
“我亲了她，”德米天真率直地开口说。
“噗！你开始得太早了。小玛丽怎么说的？”巴尔先生问道。他继续听取着小罪犯的忏悔。小罪犯站在他的膝上，探索着他的背心口袋。
“噢，她喜欢那样，她也亲了我。我也喜欢。难道小男孩不喜欢小女孩吗？”德米补充道。他嘴巴塞满了，美滋滋地嚼着。
“你这个小宝贝，是谁把那放到你脑子里的？”乔问。她和教授一样欣赏这个天真的揭秘。
“不是放在我脑子里，而是放在我嘴趴（巴）里，”抠字眼的德米回答。他伸出舌头，上面有一颗巧克力糖块，他以为乔指的是糖果，不是指思想。
“你该给小朋友留一些。糖果给亲爱的嘛，小大人。”巴尔先生给了乔一些。他的表情使乔奇怪巧克力是不是众神饮用之酒。德米也看到了他的笑容，他为之感动，率直地询问道“大男孩也喜欢大女孩吧，教授？”就像小华盛顿那样，巴尔先生"不能说谎"。于是，他含含糊糊地回答他相信有时是这样的。他的语调使得马奇先生放下了衣刷，瞥了瞥乔羞怯的面容，然后沉进椅子里，他看上去好像那"早熟的孩子"把一个又甜又酸的念头放入了他的脑子。
半小时后，乔乔姨在瓷器橱里捉住了德米，她没有因为他跑进那里而揍他，而是亲切地搂抱着他的小身体，差点让他透不过起来。作出这种新举动之后，又给了他一个意外的礼物，一大块涂了果酱的面包。乔乔姨为什么这样做呢？德米的小脑袋百思不得其解，被迫永远放弃这个问题不去解决它了。
Chapter 46 Under The Unbrella
While Laurie and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets, as they set their house in order, and planned a blissful future, Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades of a different sort, along muddy roads and sodden fields.
"I always do take a walk toward evening, and I don't know why I should give it up, just because I happen to meet the Professor on his way out," said Jo to herself, after two or three encounters, for though there were two paths to Meg's whichever one she took she was sure to meet him, either going or returning. He was always walking rapidly, and never seemed to see her until quite close, when he would look as if his short-sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till that moment. Then, if she was going to Meg's he always had something for the babies. If her face was turned homeward, he had merely strolled down to see the river, and was just returning, unless they were tired of his frequent calls.
Under the circumstances, what could Jo do but greet him civilly, and invite him in? If she was tired of his visits, she concealed her weariness with perfect skill, and took care that there should be coffee for supper, "as Friedrich--I mean Mr. Bhaer--doesn't like tea."
By the second week, everyone knew perfectly well what was going on, yet everyone tried to look as if they were stone-blind to the changes in Jo's face. They never asked why she sang about her work, did up her hair three times a day, and got so blooming with her evening exercise. And no one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bhaer, while talking philosophy with the father, was giving the daughter lessons in love.
Jo couldn't even lose her heart in a decorous manner, but sternly tried to quench her feelings, and failing to do so, led a somewhat agitated life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering, after her many and vehement declarations of independence. Laurie was her especial dread, but thanks to the new manager, he behaved with praiseworthy propriety, never called Mr. Bhaer 'a capital old fellow' in public, never alluded, in the remotest manner, to Jo's improved appearance, or expressed the least surprise at seeing the Professor's hat on the Marches' table nearly every evening. But he exulted in private and longed for the time to come when he could give Jo a piece of plate, with a bear and a ragged staff on it as an appropriate coat of arms.
For a fortnight, the Professor came and went with lover-like regularity. Then he stayed away for three whole days, and made no sign, a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober, and Jo to become pensive, at first, and then--alas for romance--very cross.
"Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came. It's nothing to me, of course, but I should think he would have come and bid us goodbye like a gentleman," she said to herself, with a despairing look at the gate, as she put on her things for the customary walk one dull afternoon.
"You'd better take the little umbrella, dear. It looks like rain," said her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding to the fact.
"Yes, Marmee, do you want anything in town? I've got to run in and get some paper," returned Jo, pulling out the bow under her chin before the glass as an excuse for not looking at her mother.
"Yes, I want some twilled silesia, a paper of number nine needles, and two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got your thick boots on, and something warm under your cloak?"
"I believe so," answered Jo absently.
"If you happen to meet Mr. Bhaer, bring him home to tea. I quite long to see the dear man," added Mrs. March.
Jo heard that, but made no answer, except to kiss her mother, and walk rapidly away, thinking with a glow of gratitude, in spite of her heartache, "How good she is to me! What do girls do who haven't any mothers to help them through their troubles?"
The dry-goods stores were not down among the counting-houses, banks, and wholesale warerooms, where gentlemen most do congregate, but Jo found herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand, loitering along as if waiting for someone, examining engineering instruments in one window and samples of wool in another, with most unfeminine interest, tumbling over barrels, being half-smothered by descending bales, and hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as if they wondered 'how the deuce she got there'. A drop of rain on her cheek recalled her thoughts from baffled hopes to ruined ribbons. For the drops continued to fall, and being a woman as well as a lover, she felt that, though it was too late to save her heart, she might her bonnet. Now she remembered the little umbrella, which she had forgotten to take in her hurry to be off, but regret was unavailing, and nothing could be done but borrow one or submit to a drenching. She looked up at the lowering sky, down at the crimson bow already flecked with black, forward along the muddy street, then one long, lingering look behind, at a certain grimy warehouse, with 'Hoffmann, Swartz, & Co.' over the door, and said to herself, with a sternly reproachful air . . .
"It serves me right! what business had I to put on all my best things and come philandering down here, hoping to see the Professor? Jo, I'm ashamed of you! No, you shall not go there to borrow an umbrella, or find out where he is, from his friends. You shall trudge away, and do your errands in the rain, and if you catch your death and ruin your bonnet, it's no more than you deserve. Now then!"
With that she rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly escaped annihilation from a passing truck, and precipitated herself into the arms of a stately old gentleman, who said, "I beg pardon, ma'am," and looked mortally offended. Somewhat daunted, Jo righted herself, spread her handkerchief over the devoted ribbons, and putting temptation behind her, hurried on, with increasing dampness about the ankles, and much clashing of umbrellas overhead. The fact that a somewhat dilapidated blue one remained stationary above the unprotected bonnet attracted her attention, and looking up, she saw Mr. Bhaer looking down.
"I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many horse noses, and so fast through much mud. What do you down here, my friend?"
"I'm shopping."
Mr. Bhaer smiled, as he glanced from the pickle factory on one side to the wholesale hide and leather concern on the other, but he only said politely, "You haf no umbrella. May I go also, and take for you the bundles?"
"Yes, thank you."
Jo's cheeks were as red as her ribbon, and she wondered what he thought of her, but she didn't care, for in a minute she found herself walking away arm in arm with her Professor, feeling as if the sun had suddenly burst out with uncommon brilliancy, that the world was all right again, and that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that day.
"We thought you had gone," said Jo hastily, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidenly.
"Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who haf been so heavenly kind to me?" he asked so reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion, and answered heartily . . .
"No, I didn't. I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we rather missed you, Father and Mother especially."
"And you?"
"I'm always glad to see you, sir."
In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Jo made it rather cool, and the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the Professor, for his smile vanished, as he said gravely . . .
"I thank you, and come one more time before I go."
"You are going, then?"
"I haf no longer any business here, it is done."
"Successfully, I hope?" said Jo, for the bitterness of disappointment was in that short reply of his.
"I ought to think so, for I haf a way opened to me by which I can make my bread and gif my Junglings much help."
"Tell me, please! I like to know all about the--the boys," said Jo eagerly.
"That is so kind, I gladly tell you. My friends find for me a place in a college, where I teach as at home, and earn enough to make the way smooth for Franz and Emil. For this I should be grateful, should I not?"
"Indeed you should. How splendid it will be to have you doing what you like, and be able to see you often, and the boys!" cried Jo, clinging to the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help betraying.
"Ah! But we shall not meet often, I fear, this place is at the West."
"So far away!" and Jo left her skirts to their fate, as if it didn't matter now what became of her clothes or herself.
Mr. Bhaer could read several languages, but he had not learned to read women yet. He flattered himself that he knew Jo pretty well, and was, therefore, much amazed by the contradictions of voice, face, and manner, which she showed him in rapid succession that day, for she was in half a dozen different moods in the course of half an hour. When she met him she looked surprised, though it was impossible to help suspecting that she had come for that express purpose. When he offered her his arm, she took it with a look that filled him with delight, but when he asked if she missed him, she gave such a chilly, formal reply that despair fell upon him. On learning his good fortune she almost clapped her hands. Was the joy all for the boys? Then on hearing his destination, she said, "So far away!" in a tone of despair that lifted him on to a pinnacle of hope, but the next minute she tumbled him down again by observing, like one entirely absorbed in the matter . . .
"Here's the place for my errands. Will you come in? It won't take long."
Jo rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities, and particularly wished to impress her escort with the neatness and dispatch with which she would accomplish the business. But owing to the flutter she was in, everything went amiss. She upset the tray of needles, forgot the silesia was to be 'twilled' till it was cut off, gave the wrong change, and covered herself with confusion by asking for lavender ribbon at the calico counter. Mr. Bhaer stood by, watching her blush and blunder, and as he watched, his own bewilderment seemed to subside, for he was beginning to see that on some occasions, women, like dreams, go by contraries.
When they came out, he put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect, and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it on the whole.
"Should we no do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and haf a farewell feast tonight if I go for my last call at your so pleasant home?" he asked, stopping before a window full of fruit and flowers.
"What will we buy?" asked Jo, ignoring the latter part of his speech, and sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delight as they went in.
"May they haf oranges and figs?" asked Mr. Bhaer, with a paternal air.
"They eat them when they can get them."
"Do you care for nuts?"
"Like a squirrel."
"Hamburg grapes. Yes, we shall drink to the Fatherland in those?"
Jo frowned upon that piece of extravagance, and asked why he didn't buy a frail of dates, a cask of raisins, and a bag of almonds, and be done with it? Whereat Mr. Bhaer confiscated her purse, produced his own, and finished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes, a pot of rosy daisies, and a pretty jar of honey, to be regarded in the light of a demijohn. Then distorting his pockets with knobby bundles, and giving her the flowers to hold, he put up the old umbrella, and they traveled on again.
"Miss Marsch, I haf a great favor to ask of you," began the Professor, after a moist promenade of half a block.
"Yes, sir?" and Jo's heart began to beat so hard she was afraid he would hear it.
"I am bold to say it in spite of the rain, because so short a time remains to me."
"Yes, sir," and Jo nearly crushed the small flowerpot with the sudden squeeze she gave it.
"I wish to get a little dress for my Tina, and I am too stupid to go alone. Will you kindly gif me a word of taste and help?"
"Yes, sir," and Jo felt as calm and cool all of a sudden as if she had stepped into a refrigerator.
"Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother, she is so poor and sick, and the husband is such a care. Yes, yes, a thick, warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take the little mother."
"I'll do it with pleasure, Mr. Bhaer." "I'm going very fast, and he's getting dearer every minute," added Jo to herself, then with a mental shake she entered into the business with an energy that was pleasant to behold.
Mr. Bhaer left it all to her, so she chose a pretty gown for Tina, and then ordered out the shawls. The clerk, being a married man, condescended to take an interest in the couple, who appeared to be shopping for their family.
"Your lady may prefer this. It's a superior article, a most desirable color, quite chaste and genteel," he said, shaking out a comfortable gray shawl, and throwing it over Jo's shoulders.
"Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?" she asked, turning her back to him, and feeling deeply grateful for the chance of hiding her face.
"Excellently well, we will haf it," answered the Professor, smiling to himself as he paid for it, while Jo continued to rummage the counters like a confirmed bargain-hunter.
"Now shall we go home?" he asked, as if the words were very pleasant to him.
"Yes, it's late, and I'm so tired." Jo's voice was more pathetic than she knew. For now the sun seemed to have gone in as suddenly as it came out, and the world grew muddy and miserable again, and for the first time she discovered that her feet were cold, her head ached, and that her heart was colder than the former, fuller of pain than the latter. Mr. Bhaer was going away, he only cared for her as a friend, it was all a mistake, and the sooner it was over the better. With this idea in her head, she hailed an approaching omnibus with such a hasty gesture that the daisies flew out of the pot and were badly damaged.
"This is not our omniboos," said the Professor, waving the loaded vehicle away, and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers.
"I beg your pardon. I didn't see the name distinctly. Never mind, I can walk. I'm used to plodding in the mud," returned Jo, winking hard, because she would have died rather than openly wipe her eyes.
Mr. Bhaer saw the drops on her cheeks, though she turned her head away. The sight seemed to touch him very much, for suddenly stooping down, he asked in a tone that meant a great deal, "Heart's dearest, why do you cry?"
Now, if Jo had not been new to this sort of thing she would have said she wasn't crying, had a cold in her head, or told any other feminine fib proper to the occasion. Instead of which, that undignified creature answered, with an irrepressible sob, "Because you are going away."
"Ach, mein Gott, that is so good!" cried Mr. Bhaer, managing to clasp his hands in spite of the umbrella and the bundles, "Jo, I haf nothing but much love to gif you. I came to see if you could care for it, and I waited to be sure that I was something more than a friend. Am I? Can you make a little place in your heart for old Fritz?" he added, all in one breath.
"Oh, yes!" said Jo, and he was quite satisfied, for she folded both hands over his arm, and looked up at him with an expression that plainly showed how happy she would be to walk through life beside him, even though she had no better shelter than the old umbrella, if he carried it.
It was certainly proposing under difficulties, for even if he had desired to do so, Mr. Bhaer could not go down upon his knees, on account of the mud. Neither could he offer Jo his hand, except figuratively, for both were full. Much less could he indulge in tender remonstrations in the open street, though he was near it. So the only way in which he could express his rapture was to look at her, with an expression which glorified his face to such a degree that there actually seemed to be little rainbows in the drops that sparkled on his beard. If he had not loved Jo very much, I don't think he could have done it then, for she looked far from lovely, with her skirts in a deplorable state, her rubber boots splashed to the ankle, and her bonnet a ruin. Fortunately, Mr. Bhaer considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found him more "Jove-like" than ever, though his hatbrim was quite limp with the little rills trickling thence upon his shoulders (for he held the umbrella all over Jo), and every finger of his gloves needed mending.
Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics, for they entirely forgot to hail a bus, and strolled leisurely along, oblivious of deepening dusk and fog. Little they cared what anybody thought, for they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in any life, the magical moment which bestows youth on the old, beauty on the plain, wealth on the poor, and gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven. The Professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom, and the world had nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss. While Jo trudged beside him, feeling as if her place had always been there, and wondering how she ever could have chosen any other lot. Of course, she was the first to speak--intelligibly, I mean, for the emotional remarks which followed her impetuous "Oh, yes!" were not of a coherent or reportable character.
"Friedrich, why didn't you . . ."
"Ah, heaven, she gifs me the name that no one speaks since Minna died!" cried the Professor, pausing in a puddle to regard her with grateful delight.
"I always call you so to myself--I forgot, but I won't unless you like it."
"Like it? It is more sweet to me than I can tell. Say 'thou', also, and I shall say your language is almost as beautiful as mine."
"Isn't 'thou' a little sentimental?" asked Jo, privately thinking it a lovely monosyllable.
"Sentimental? Yes. Thank Gott, we Germans believe in sentiment, and keep ourselves young mit it. Your English 'you' is so cold, say 'thou', heart's dearest, it means so much to me," pleaded Mr. Bhaer, more like a romantic student than a grave professor.
"Well, then, why didn't thou tell me all this sooner?" asked Jo bashfully.
"Now I shall haf to show thee all my heart, and I so gladly will, because thou must take care of it hereafter. See, then, my Jo--ah, the dear, funny little name--I had a wish to tell something the day I said goodbye in New York, but I thought the handsome friend was betrothed to thee, and so I spoke not. Wouldst thou have said 'Yes', then, if I had spoken?"
"I don't know. I'm afraid not, for I didn't have any heart just then."
"Prut! That I do not believe. It was asleep till the fairy prince came through the wood, and waked it up. Ah, well, 'Die erste Liebe ist die beste', but that I should not expect."
"Yes, the first love is the best, but be so contented, for I never had another. Teddy was only a boy, and soon got over his little fancy," said Jo, anxious to correct the Professor's mistake.
"Good! Then I shall rest happy, and be sure that thou givest me all. I haf waited so long, I am grown selfish, as thou wilt find, Professorin."
"I like that," cried Jo, delighted with her new name. "Now tell me what brought you, at last, just when I wanted you?"
"This," and Mr. Bhaer took a little worn paper out of his waistcoat pocket.
Jo unfolded it, and looked much abashed, for it was one of her own contributions to a paper that paid for poetry, which accounted for her sending it an occasional attempt.
"How could that bring you?" she asked, wondering what he meant.
"I found it by chance. I knew it by the names and the initials, and in it there was one little verse that seemed to call me. Read and find him. I will see that you go not in the wet."
IN THE GARRET
Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, All fashioned and filled, long ago, By children now in their prime. Four little keys hung side by side, With faded ribbons, brave and gay When fastened there, with childish pride, Long ago, on a rainy day. Four little names, one on each lid, Carved out by a boyish hand, And underneath there lieth hid Histories of the happpy band Once playing here, and pausing oft To hear the sweet refrain, That came and went on the roof aloft, In the falling summer rain.
"Meg" on the first lid, smooth and fair. I look in with loving eyes, For folded here, with well-known care, A goodly gathering lies, The record of a peaceful life-- Gifts to gentle child and girl, A bridal gown, lines to a wife, A tiny shoe, a baby curl. No toys in this first chest remain, For all are carried away, In their old age, to join again In another small Meg's play. Ah, happy mother! Well I know You hear, like a sweet refrain, Lullabies ever soft and low In the falling summer rain.
"Jo" on the next lid, scratched and worn, And within a motley store Of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn, Birds and beasts that speak no more, Spoils brought home from the fairy ground Only trod by youthful feet, Dreams of a future never found, Memories of a past still sweet, Half-writ poems, stories wild, April letters, warm and cold, Diaries of a wilful child, Hints of a woman early old, A woman in a lonely home, Hearing, like a sad refrain-- "Be worthy, love, and love will come," In the falling summer rain.
My Beth! the dust is always swept From the lid that bears your name, As if by loving eyes that wept, By careful hands that often came. Death cannonized for us one saint, Ever less human than divine, And still we lay, with tender plaint, Relics in this household shrine-- The silver bell, so seldom rung, The little cap which last she wore, The fair, dead Catherine that hung By angels borne above her door. The songs she sang, without lament, In her prison-house of pain, Forever are they sweetly blent With the falling summer rain.
Upon the last lid's polished field-- Legend now both fair and true A gallant knight bears on his shield, "Amy" in letters gold and blue. Within lie snoods that bound her hair, Slippers that have danced their last, Faded flowers laid by with care, Fans whose airy toils are past, Gay valentines, all ardent flames, Trifles that have borne their part In girlish hopes and fears and shames, The record of a maiden heart Now learning fairer, truer spells, Hearing, like a blithe refrain, The silver sound of bridal bells In the falling summer rain.
Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, Four women, taught by weal and woe To love and labor in their prime. Four sisters, parted for an hour, None lost, one only gone before, Made by love's immortal power, Nearest and dearest evermore. Oh, when these hidden stores of ours Lie open to the Father's sight, May they be rich in golden hours, Deeds that show fairer for the light, Lives whose brave music long shall ring, Like a spirit-stirring strain, Souls that shall gladly soar and sing In the long sunshine after rain.
"It's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it, one day when I was very lonely, and had a good cry on a rag bag. I never thought it would go where it could tell tales," said Jo, tearing up the verses the Professor had treasured so long.
"Let it go, it has done it's duty, and I will haf a fresh one when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets," said Mr. Bhaer with a smile as he watched the fragments fly away on the wind. "Yes," he added earnestly, "I read that, and I think to myself, She has a sorrow, she is lonely, she would find comfort in true love. I haf a heart full, full for her. Shall I not go and say, 'If this is not too poor a thing to gif for what I shall hope to receive, take it in Gott's name?'"
"And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious thing I needed," whispered Jo.
"I had no courage to think that at first, heavenly kind as was your welcome to me. But soon I began to hope, and then I said, 'I will haf her if I die for it,' and so I will!" cried Mr. Bhaer, with a defiant nod, as if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he was to surmount or valiantly knock down.
Jo thought that was splendid, and resolved to be worthy of her knight, though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array.
"What made you stay away so long?" she asked presently, finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful answers that she could not keep silent.
"It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you from that so happy home until I could haf a prospect of one to gif you, after much time, perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to gif up so much for a poor old fellow, who has no fortune but a little learning?"
"I'm glad you are poor. I couldn't bear a rich husband," said Jo decidedly, adding in a softer tone, "Don't fear poverty. I've known it long enough to lose my dread and be happy working for those I love, and don't call yourself old--forty is the prime of life. I couldn't help loving you if you were seventy!"
The Professor found that so touching that he would have been glad of his handkerchief, if he could have got at it. As he couldn't, Jo wiped his eyes for him, and said, laughing, as she took away a bundle or two . . .
"I may be strong-minded, but no one can say I'm out of my sphere now, for woman's special mission is supposed to be drying tears and bearing burdens. I'm to carry my share, Friedrich, and help to earn the home. Make up your mind to that, or I'll never go," she added resolutely, as he tried to reclaim his load.
"We shall see. Haf you patience to wait a long time, Jo? I must go away and do my work alone. I must help my boys first, because, even for you, I may not break my word to Minna. Can you forgif that, and be happy while we hope and wait?"
"Yes, I know I can, for we love one another, and that makes all the rest easy to bear. I have my duty, also, and my work. I couldn't enjoy myself if I neglected them even for you, so there's no need of hurry or impatience. You can do your part out West, I can do mine here, and both be happy hoping for the best, and leaving the future to be as God wills."
"Ah! Thou gifest me such hope and courage, and I haf nothing to gif back but a full heart and these empty hands," cried the Professor, quite overcome.
Jo never, never would learn to be proper, for when he said that as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, "Not empty now," and stooping down, kissed her Friedrich under the umbrella. It was dreadful, but she would have done it if the flock of draggle-tailed sparrows on the hedge had been human beings, for she was very far gone indeed, and quite regardless of everything but her own happiness. Though it came in such a very simple guise, that was the crowning moment of both their lives, when, turning from the night and storm and loneliness to the household light and warmth and peace waiting to receive them, with a glad "Welcome home!" Jo led her lover in, and shut the door.
 
劳里和艾美夫妻俩在天鹅绒地毯上安然踱步，为幸福的未来筹划，把个家料理得井然有序。与此同时，巴尔先生和乔走在泥泞的路上，潮湿的田野中，享受着一种不同的散步的情趣。
“傍晚时，我总是要散步的。我不知道为什么只是因为常碰巧遇到教授出门我就得放弃，”两三次路遇教授后，乔自言自语道。尽管梅格家有两条道可走，可是不管她走哪条，肯定会遇上他，无论来去都是这样。他总是走得很快，而且似乎不到走到相当近，就看不见她，仿佛他的近视眼使他到那一刻才认出走近的女士。然后，要是乔去梅格家，他总有些东西给两个孩子，要是她面朝家的方向，他便只是散步过来看看小河的，正打算回去呢，他担心他的频繁来访会使他们厌烦。
在这种情况下，除了有礼貌地和他打招呼，邀请他进家，乔还能做什么呢？若是她真的厌烦他的来访，她也会掩饰得天衣无缝。她留意晚餐应该有咖啡喝，“因为弗里德里克--我是指巴尔先生- 不喜欢喝茶"。
到了第二个星期，每个人都完全知道了正在发生什么事情。可是，大家都试图做出对乔脸色的变化全然不察的样子。
他们从不问她为什么一边做活一边唱歌，一天要梳三遍头，为什么傍晚散步脸红起来。巴尔教授一边和爸爸谈哲学，一边给女儿上爱情课。似乎没有谁对此有丝毫的怀疑。
乔现在已是六神无主，不能保持昔日庄重的常态了。她试图对自己的感情采取断然措施，可她做不到，而愈加心浮气躁。过去她多次强烈宣布要独立，而现在，她非常害怕因为自食其言而让人笑话。她特别怕劳里会笑话她，幸好有人管着他，他的言行举止倒没有什么出格、值得非议之处。公开场合他从不称巴尔先生为"极好的老头儿"，也不以任何方式暗示乔大有变化。看到教授的帽子几乎是每天晚上都出现在马奇家客厅的桌子上，他也没有一点儿大惊小怪的表示。他心中欣喜不已，企盼那个时候来临，他好送给乔一只馈赠盘，上面画有一个莽汉和一根破权杖，就像是枚盾形纹章，再合适不过了。
两个星起来，教授真像情人那样很有规律地来往不停。后来又整整三天没有露面，音信杳然。这使得大家心情一下子紧张起来。乔开始有些忧心忡忡，然后- 唉呀，爱情！ -窝火透了。
“我敢说，他反感我了。和来时一样突然回家去了。当然，也没什么。可是我倒是认为，他本应该像个绅士那样来向我们道别的，”一个阴天的下午，她失望地看着大门，自言自语道，一边穿戴着准备像往常那样出去散步。
“你最好带上那把小雨伞，亲爱的。看来要下雨，”妈妈说。她注意到乔戴上了新帽子，但是没提帽子的事。
“是的，妈咪。你要买什么吗？我要进城买些稿纸，”乔回答。她在镜子前拉开下巴上的帽结，不让妈妈正看自己的脸。
“要的，我要买些斜纹亚麻布，一盒九号针，还要两码淡紫色丝带。你穿上厚靴子了吗？外套里面可穿了些暖和的衣服？”“我想，穿了，”乔心不在焉地回答。
“要是你碰巧遇上巴尔先生，就带他回家来喝茶。我还真想见到那亲切可爱的人呢。”这句话乔听见了，但却没作回答。她只是亲了妈妈一下，便迅速走开了。她尽管伤心，还是带着感激的喜悦想道：“她对我多好啊！那些没有妈妈帮助度过难关的姑娘们可怎么办啊？”先生们往往聚集在事务室、银行和批发商品贮藏室。卖绸缎呢绒的商店不和上述地方位于一处，乔却发现自己不觉走到了那些地方。她一件差事没干，沿路闲逛，好像在等着什么人。她带着非常不适合女性的兴趣浏览着这个橱窗里的机器仪表，那个橱窗里的羊毛样品。她打翻了货桶，几乎被下卸的货包压倒，忙碌着的男人们没礼貌地乱推着她，他们的神情好像奇怪"她究竟怎么到了这里？”她脸上感到了一滴雨点，这把她的思绪从受挫的希望拉回到毁了的丝带。雨点继续在落，她作为女人又作为情人的细心柔肠让她感觉到了雨点。虽然挽救破碎的心为时已晚，但也许还能挽救她的帽子。现在她记起了那把小雨桑仓促上路时她忘了带上它。可是后悔无益。没什么好做的，要么去借一把伞，要么任由雨淋。她抬头看了看阴霾的天气，低头看看已经弄上点点黑斑的的红色帽结，又朝前看看泥泞的街道，然后踌躇地回头久久看着一家肮脏的货栈，货栈门上写着"霍夫曼斯瓦兹联营公司"。乔带着苛刻的自责神情自言自语道- “我活该如此！我有什么理由要穿戴上我最好的衣帽，跑到这里来卖俏，希望见到教授？乔，我为你感到羞耻！不，不能去那里借伞，也不能向他的朋友打听他在哪里。就在雨中跋涉，办你的事吧。假如你因淋雨患重伤风而死，并且淋毁了帽子，也一点儿不冤枉。就这么办吧！”这样想着，她猛地冲往街对面，差一点被一辆开过来的卡车轧死。她一下撞进一个威严的老先生怀里，老先生有些生气，他说道：“对不起，小姐。”乔有点胆怯了，她站直身，将手帕盖住那注定要遭殃的丝带，把诱惑置于脑后，慌不择路地走着。她脚踝越来越湿，头顶上行人的雨伞撞来撞去。一把有些旧的蓝伞在她没有保护的帽子上定住不动了，一下子吸引了她的注意力。她抬起头来，看到巴尔先生正朝下看着她。
“我想知道那个意志坚强的女士是谁，她那么勇敢地在这许多马车前奔走，这么快地在烂泥路上穿行。你到这里来做什么，我的朋友？”“我在买东西。”巴尔先生笑了。他的眼光从街道一边的泡菜坊扫到另一边的皮革批发商行。但是他只礼貌地说道：“你没有伞，我可以和你一起去，帮你拿东西吗？”“可以，谢谢。“乔的面颊像她的丝带一般红了，她不知道他怎么想她的，可是她不在乎。一会儿她便发现自己和她的教授在手挽手走。
她感到太阳似乎破云而出，光芒耀眼，世界又恢复了正常。这个正在涉水走着的妇人幸福透顶。
“我们还以为你已经走了呢，”乔急急地说道，她知道他在看着她。她的帽子够大，能藏得住她的脸，她担心她的脸泄露出高兴的神情，使他认为缺乏少女气。
“你们对我那么好，你相信我竟会不辞而别？”他带着那种责备语气问。她感到好像那个暗示侮辱了他。她由衷地答道-—“不，我不相信。我知道你忙着自己的事。可是我们非常想见你--特别是爸爸、妈妈。”“那你呢？”“见到你我总是高兴的，先生。”乔急切地想保持声音平稳，结果话说得非常冷静，句末那个无情的小单音节似乎使教授扫兴，他的笑容消失了，他严肃地说道- “谢谢你。我走前会再去一次。”“那么，你要走？”“我这里没事了，已经完了。”
“我希望你成功了？”乔说。教授的简短回答里有着失望的痛楚。
“我可以这样想，因为我找到了一条路，可以挣得面包，大大帮助我的Ｊüｎｇｌｉｎｇｓ。”“请告诉我！我想知道一切- 孩子们的事，”乔急切地说。
“你太客气了，我乐意告诉你。朋友们为我在大学谋到个职位，我将在那里和在家那样教书，挣得足够的钱为弗朗兹和埃米尔铺平道路。我为这事感到高兴，该不该这样？”“你真的该高兴。你能做你喜欢的事，我们又能常见到你，还有孩子们，这太妙了！”乔叫着，她情不自禁地露出了满意的神色，却拉着孩子们作幌子。
“噢！可是，我担心我们不会常见的，大学在西部。”“那么远啊！”乔放下裙裾，任其听命了，好像她不在乎她的衣服和她自己有什么遭遇。
巴尔先生能读几种语言，可是还不曾学过读懂妇女。他自以为相当了解乔。所以，那天乔的声音、脸色、态度相互矛盾，使他大为惊讶，她接二连三地露出矛盾，半个小时内心境变换了五六次。遇到他时她看上去惊喜，虽然不由得让人怀疑她是为那个采买的目的而来的。当他把胳膊伸给她时，她挽上胳膊的表情使她充满喜悦。可是当他问及她是否想他时，她的回答那样正式，让人扫兴，以致绝望笼罩了他。获悉他的好运，她几乎拍起手来，那完全是为孩子们高兴吗？然后，听说了他的目的地，她又说：“那么远啊！”她绝望的语调将他举到了希望的顶峰。可是，转眼间她又使他掉落下来。她像完全沉浸在差事中那样说“我采买东西的地方到了。你进来吗？要不了多长时间。”乔很为她的采买能力自豪。她特别想麻利、敏捷地完成差事，给她的陪伴留下深刻印象。可是，由于她心绪不宁，结果事事别扭。她打翻了针盒，忘了要买的亚麻布是"斜纹的"，还找错了零钱。她在印花布柜台要买淡紫色丝带，自己弄得糊里糊涂。巴尔先生站在一旁，看着她红着脸，犯着错。
看着看着，他自己的困惑似乎减轻了，因为他开始看出，在有的场合，女人们像梦一样，正好相反。
他们出来时，他将包裹夹在胳膊下，脸色开朗起来。他踩着水坑走着，好像这一切总的说来他很欣赏。
“我们要不要为两个孩子'采买'点什么？要是我今晚去你们那个快乐之家，做最后一次拜访，来一个告别宴会，你说好吗？”他停在一个摆满水果和鲜花的橱窗前问道。
“我们买什么呢？”乔问。她忽视了她问话的后一部分，走进店里装作愉快的样子闻着水果和鲜花的混合香味。
“他们吃不吃桔子和无花果？”巴尔先生带着父亲般的神气问。
“有多少吃多少。”
“你喜吃坚果吗？”
“像松鼠一样喜欢。”
“葡萄汉堡包，是的，我们将用这些东西为祖国干杯，好吗？”乔觉得这有些奢侈而皱起了眉头。她问他为什么不买一草篓枣子、一罐葡萄干、一袋扁桃，然后就此打祝于是，巴尔先生没收了她的钱包，拿出了他自己的。他买子几磅葡萄、一盆粉红色雏菊，还有漂亮的一瓶蜂蜜，说它漂亮是从盛它的小颈大起来看的。就这样购买完毕。他的口袋被些小球形物品撑得变了形。他把花交给乔拿着，自己撑开那把阳伞，两个人继续行路。
“马奇小姐，我有件大事要求你，”他们在湿地里走了半个街区后，教授开了口。
“说吧，先生。”乔的心跳得那么响，她担心他会听见。
“虽然在下雨，我还是得斗胆相求，因为我只剩下这么短时间了。”“是的，先生。”乔突然捏了下花盆，差点将花盆弄碎。
“我想为我的蒂娜买件小衣服，可是我太笨，自己去买不好。能请你帮忙参谋一下吗？”“好的，先生。”乔突然感到镇定冷静下来，仿佛跨进了冰箱。
“也可能还为蒂娜的母亲买条披肩。她那么穷，丈夫又是那样的一个拖累。对了，对了，带给那小母亲一条暖和的披肩将会有帮助的。”“我会乐意效劳的，巴尔先生。我很快就要在他心中消失了，而他却每分钟越来越可爱了，”乔接着对自己说。然后，她带着思想上受到的打击，十足热心地为他参谋起来，好像什么也没发生。
巴尔先生一切都交给她办了。于是，她为蒂娜选了一件漂亮的长外衣，然后要店员拿出披肩来看。店员是个结过婚的人，他放下架子，对这一对人产生了兴趣，他们似乎是在为他们的家庭采购。
“你夫人也许更喜欢这一条，这披肩质量上乘，颜色也很好，非常高雅、时髦，”他说着将一条柔软的灰色披肩抖开，披在了乔的肩上。
“这条合你意吗，巴尔先生？”她将背转向他问道，她深深感激这个使她藏起脸的机会。
“非常合意，我们就买这一条，”教授回答。他一边付钱一边暗笑着。而乔继续搜查着一个个柜台，像是个改不了的到处找便宜货的人。
“现在我们该回家了吧？”他问，好像这话在他听来非常悦耳。
“是的，不早了，而且我这么累。”乔的声音不知不觉感伤起来，因为，现在太阳就像刚才出来那样，突然钻进去了，她第一次发现，她的双脚冰冷，头也作痛，她的心比脚更冷，心中的疼痛比头疼更甚。巴尔先生就要离开她了。他喜欢她，只是作为朋友，这一切都是个错误。结束得越早越好。她脑中这样想着，便叫住了一辆开近的公共马车。她叫车的手势那样仓促，使得雏菊飞出了花盆，糟糕地毁坏了。
“这不是我们要乘的马车，”教授说，他挥手让满载乘客的马车开走，俯身去拾那些可怜的小花们。
“请原谅。我没看清车牌。没关系，我能走，我习惯在泥地里跋涉，”乔回答说。她使劲眨着眼，因为她宁肯去死也不愿公开地擦眼睛。
虽然她扭转了头，巴尔先生还是看到了她面颊上的泪滴。
这情景显然大大感动了他。他突然俯下身来，意味深长地问道：“我最亲爱的，你为什么哭了？”
乔若不是因为初涉爱河，她会说她不是在哭，而是鼻子有点不适，淌清鼻涕，或者扯个别的适时的女人家小谎。可是她没那样说，却遏制不住地抽泣着，有损尊严地回答：“因为你要走了。”“Ａｃｈ，ｍｅｉｎＧｏｔｔ，那太好了，”巴尔先生叫了起来。他顾不上雨伞和物品，费劲地拍起手来。”乔，除了许多的爱，我没什么给你的了。我来是看看你可在乎我的爱的。我等待着能确信这一点，我和你的关系超出朋友，是不是这样？你能为老弗里茨在心中留个小位置吗？”他一口气说完这些话。
“哦，好的！”乔说。他非常满足了。她双手抱住了他的胳膊，脸上的表情清楚地显示出，即使没有了那把旧伞的遮蔽，能和他并肩穿越人生，也是她无上的幸福。
这种求婚方式当然困难，因为，即便巴尔先生愿意下跪，地上的烂泥也使他不能这么做。用比喻的说法，他也不能伸手给乔向她求婚，因为他双手都拿着东西。更不用说在光天化日之下忘情地表达爱慕之心，尽管他差一点就这样做了。所以，唯一能表达他狂喜心情的方式便是看着她，那是种容光焕发的表情。实际上，他胡子上闪着的亮晶晶的泪光里似乎有着小彩虹。假若他不是那样深爱着乔，我想，当时他不可能那样的。她看着决非翩翩淑女，她的裙子处于悲惨的境地，胶靴上泥巴一直溅到脚脖子，帽子也一塌糊涂。幸好，在巴尔先生眼中，她是世上活着的女人中最美丽的。而她也发现他比以前更"像朱庇特"了，虽然他的帽边差不多卷曲了，小溪从那上面流向他的双肩（因为他把伞全给乔遮雨了），而且他手套的每一个指头都需要缝补。
路人也许会以为他们俩是一对没有恶意的神经病，因为，他们完全忘了叫车，忘了渐浓的暮色与雾，从容不迫地信步走着。他们根本不在乎别人怎样看他们，他们沉浸在幸福的时光里，这种时光极少来临，一生只有这一次。这个神奇的时刻给老人青春，给丑人美貌，给穷人财富，让人类预先尝到天堂的滋味。教授看上去像是征服了一个王国。他幸福之至，尘世赐予他的没有比这更多的了。乔在他身边沉重地跋涉着，她感到好像她的位置一直就该在这里，纳闷她以前怎么会选择别的命运。当然，是她先开口说话 -我是说，这可以理解，因为，她先激动地说：“哦，好的！”随后又动情地说话，这不太一致，也不值得报道。
“弗里德里克，你为什么不 ”
“哦，天哪，她叫我那个名字，明娜死后还没有谁那样叫过我！”教授叫着。他在一个水坑停下，怀着满心欢喜与感激看着她。
“我总是在心里这样叫你--我忘了，但是，除非你喜欢，我不会这样叫了。”“喜欢？我说不上那有多么甜蜜。你也说'卿'，我得说，你们的语言几乎和我的一样美丽。”“'卿'是不是有点感情用事？”乔问，她暗自认为那是个可爱的单音节。
“感情用事？是的，感谢上帝，我们德国人信奉感情用事，用它使我们保持年轻。你们英语中的'你'那么冷淡，说'卿'，最亲爱的，它对我意味深长，”巴尔先生恳求道，他更像个谈情说爱的学生，而不像个严肃的教授。
“那么，好吧。卿为什么不早点告诉我这些？”乔羞怯地问道。
“现在我让你洞悉了我所有的心思，我也非常高兴这么做，因为从此以后卿得照拂它。明白了吗？我的乔- 啊，那可爱、有趣的小名字--那天在纽约和你道别时，我就想对你说些什么。可是，我以为那漂亮的朋友和你订了婚，所以我没说什么。假如我那时说了，卿会回答'好的'吗？”“我不知道。恐怕我不会说的。那时我一点心思也没有。”“哦！我不相信。它睡着了，直到那可爱的王子穿过树林，将它弄醒。啊，是的。 'ＤｉｅｅｒｓｔｅＬｉｅｂｅｉｓｔｄｉｅｂｅｓｔｅ，，可是我不应那样企盼。”“是的，初恋确实最珍贵，所以你就知足吧，因为我从来没有另外的恋爱。特迪只是个男孩，我很快就打消掉了他的幻想，”乔说。她急于纠正教授的错误。
“好！那我就满足了。我确信你给了我全部的爱。我等待了那么长时间，卿会发现，我变得自私了，教授夫人。”“我喜欢那个称呼，”乔叫着，为她的新名字高兴，”现在告诉你，正在我最需要你的时候，是什么使你终于来到这里的？”“是这个。”巴尔先生从背心口袋里掏出一张揉皱了的小纸片。
乔打开了纸片，神情非常羞怯，因为那是她自己向一家诗歌报投的稿件之一，说明她偶尔尝试投稿。
“那怎么使你来的呢？”她问。她不明白他的意思。
“我偶然发现的。我从那些名字和缩写的署名知道了它。
诗中有一小节似乎在召唤我。读一读找到它吧。我看着你别踩到水里。”乔服从了。她匆匆浏览着诗行。她的诗命名为 -在阁楼上四只小箱排成排，尘土使之褪色，岁月使之损坏，很久以前把它们做成又填塞，昔日小主人而今都向青春迈。
四把小钥匙并排挂，
褪色丝带曾经漂亮又鲜艳，
满心欢喜系上绸丝带，
那是好久好久以前的一个下雨天。
四个小名字分刻在箱盖，
由幼稚的手儿刻出来，
箱子底下存放着
快乐的往事
嬉戏于斯，童稚相无猜，
倾听悦耳之节拍，
击打在屋顶上，
那是夏雨嗒嗒地落下来。
“梅格"刻在第一只箱，光滑又明白。
我深情往里看，
细心叠放，巧手如裁，
收藏丰赡，
把和平的生活记载-—
馈赠与听话的男孩与女孩。
一件婚礼服，一纸婚姻书。
一只袖珍鞋，一绺婴儿发。
第一只箱子里没有玩具足可夸，
它们被取走，
虽旧复可嘉，
另有小梅格玩着它。
我心知，哦，快乐的小妈妈！
你当听见，妙曼摇篮曲，
节拍轻柔如夏雨。
“乔"的名字刻在下一只，漫漶又潦草，
箱内乱糟糟，
破损的教科书，无头的玩偶，
不再说话的飞鸟与走兽；
还有来自童话世界的泥土，
曾有年轻的脚丫上面走。
未来梦已远，
往事尚依稀；
诗稿仅存半，故事没边际，
冷冷热热，信件也少正经意，
任性的孩子写日记，
而今斑驳青春期；
此身孤寂，
仔细听，如泣如诉悲凉意-
“我当被爱，爱情宁有期？”
声声滴落夏雨季。
我的贝思！这只箱差刻有你的名，
洁净无纤尘，
热泪常涤洗，
纤手爱抚勤。
死神认你作圣徒，
神性超然绝凡尘。
无边哀情中我们默然拾掇，
神龛中你遗物如圣
银玲不再摇响，
你的小帽，临终犹戴头顶，
还有永寂的凯瑟琳，依然美丽，
与门上的天使为邻；
监狱般的痛苦，
囚不住你无悲的歌声，
永远地温柔轻盈，
与夏雨相和相应。
最后一只箱盖熠熠闪光-
传说成真不再是梦想，
那是一个勇敢骑士的盾牌，
“艾美"，字迹瓦蓝、金黄。
箱中放着她的束发带，
还有舞会之后的舞鞋，
小心放置的花儿已经枯萎，
扇子曾为之效力；
情人节花哨卡片，余炽犹燃，
林林总总，每一件都曾分享，
一个女孩的担心、娇羞与希望，
记录下少女的心路辉煌。
如今出水芙蓉娇美万状，
听！婚礼钟声银铃般回响荡漾，
欢乐的节拍，
如夏雨清澈滴响。
四只小箱排成排，
尘土使之褪色，岁月使之损坏，
祸福使得她们明白，
去爱，去劳作，在她们风华年代。
姐妹四人，暂有离分，
未曾相失，只有一个先行。
不朽的爱之神力，
使他与姐妹更亲更近。
哦，箱中的物品，
请求上帝赐与灵光，
赐与她们幸福安康，
更美更善更久长，
生命的华章经久奏响，
如旋律令心潮激荡，
心灵在飞翔欢唱，
永久沐浴着雨后艳阳。
Ｊ．Ｍ。
“那是首很蹩脚的诗，但我是有感而作的。那一天，我感到非常孤独，靠在装破布的袋子上大哭了一常我绝没有想到它能讲述故事，”乔说着，把教授珍藏这许久的诗撕碎了。
“让它去吧，它已完成了使命。等我读完她记录小秘密的褐皮书，我会读到她的新作的，”教授笑着说。他注视着纸片在风中飞散。”是的，”他诚挚地补充道， “我读了那首诗，心里想，她有痛苦，她感到孤独，她将在真正的爱情中找到安慰。我心中充满了爱，充满了对她的爱，难道我不应该去对她说：'假如这爱不是太微不足道，以上帝的名义，接受它吧，我也希望能接受到爱。'”“所以你就来查明它是不是微不足道，结果发现那是我需要的宝贵东西，”乔低声地说。
“虽然你那样客气地欢迎我，开始我没有勇气那样想。可是不久我就开始希望。然后我就对自己说：'即便为爱而死我也要得到！'我会那么做的！”巴尔先生叫道。他挑战似地点着头，仿佛笼罩他们的薄雾便是障碍，要他去克服或者勇敢地将之摧毁。
乔想，那太美妙了。她决心无愧于她的骑士，虽然他并没有衣着华丽，骑着战马昂然前行。
“什么事让你离开这么久？”过了一会儿，她问道。她发现，问一些机密问题，得到愉快的回答，这多么悦人，所以她保持不了安静。
“让我离开实属不易。但是，我没有勇气将你从那么幸福的家里带走，直到我能有希望为你提供一个幸福之家。那要经过很长时间，也许还得努力工作。我除了一点点学问，没有财产。我怎能要求你为我这么个又穷又老的人放弃那么多东西呢？”“你穷我乐意。我忍受不了一个有钱的丈夫，”乔决然说道。然后她用更柔和的声调补充道：“别害怕贫穷，我早就尝尽了贫穷的滋味，贫穷不再能使我恐惧。为我所爱的人们工作我感到幸福。别说你自己老了--四十正当年。即便你七十岁，我也不由地爱你！”教授被深深打动了，要是他能拿出他的手帕，他早就拿出来了。可是他双手抓着东西没法拿，于是乔为他擦去了眼泪。她接过去一两件东西，一边笑着说 “我也许是好胜，可是现在谁也不能说我越出本分了，因为女人的特殊使命便是为人擦眼泪，忍辱负重。我要承受我那一份，弗里德里克，我要帮着挣钱养家。这一点你得拿定主意，否则我决不去那儿，”她坚定地补充道。同时，他试图拿回物品。
“我们会看到我们的未来的。乔，耐心等待一段长时间，好吗？我得离开去独自工作。我必须先帮助我的孩子们，因为，即便是为了你，我也不能对明娜失信。你能原谅我吗？能幸福地希望、等待着吗？”“是的，我知道我能，因为我们相互爱着，那其他的一切便都无足轻重了。我也有我的责任和工作。即使是为了你而忽视了它们，我也不会快活。所以没必要慌忙或焦躁。你可以在西部尽你的责任，我在这里干我的。我们俩都幸福地做着最好的打算，把将来交由上帝安排。”“哦，卿予我这么大的希望与勇气。我除了一颗盛满爱的心和一双空手，没有别的可以给你了，”教授叫道，他完全不能自持了。
乔从来、从来就学不会规矩。他们站在台阶上，他说出那些话，乔只是将双手放进他的手里，温柔地低语道：“现在不空了。”然后，她俯身在雨伞下亲吻了她的弗里德里克。这真算是出格了。可是，即使那一群栖息在树篱上的拖尾巴麻雀是人类，她也会那样做，因为她真的忘乎所以了。除了她自己的幸福，她完全顾不了其他的事了。这是他们俩一生中最幸福的时刻，尽管这一刻是以非常简单的形式出现的。暗夜、风暴、孤独已经过去，迎候他们的是家庭的光明、温暖与宁静。乔高兴地说着"欢迎你回家！”将她的心上人领进屋，关上了门。
Chapter 47 Harvest Time
For a year Jo and her Professor worked and waited, hoped and loved, met occasionally, and wrote such voluminous letters that the rise in the price of paper was accounted for, Laurie said. The second year began rather soberly, for their prospects did not brighten, and Aunt March died suddenly. But when their first sorrow was over--for they loved the old lady in spite of her sharp tongue--they found they had cause for rejoicing, for she had left Plumfield to Jo, which made all sorts of joyful things possible.
"It's a fine old place, and will bring a handsome sum, for of course you intend to sell it," said Laurie, as they were all talking the matter over some weeks later.
"No, I don't," was Jo's decided answer, as she petted the fat poodle, whom she had adopted, out of respect to his former mistress.
"You don't mean to live there?"
"Yes, I do."
"But, my dear girl, it's an immense house, and will take a power of money to keep it in order. The garden and orchard alone need two or three men, and farming isn't in Bhaer's line, I take it."
"He'll try his hand at it there, if I propose it."
"And you expect to live on the produce of the place? Well, that sounds paradisiacal, but you'll find it desperate hard work."
"The crop we are going to raise is a profitable one," and Jo laughed.
"Of what is this fine crop to consist, ma'am?"
"Boys. I want to open a school for little lads--a good, happy, homelike school, with me to take care of them and Fritz to teach them."
"That's a truly Joian plan for you! Isn't that just like her?" cried Laurie, appealing to the family, who looked as much surprised as he.
"I like it," said Mrs. March decidedly.
"So do I," added her husband, who welcomed the thought of a chance for trying the Socratic method of education on modern youth.
"It will be an immense care for Jo," said Meg, stroking the head of her one all-absorbing son.
"Jo can do it, and be happy in it. It's a splendid idea. Tell us all about it," cried Mr. Laurence, who had been longing to lend the lovers a hand, but knew that they would refuse his help.
"I knew you'd stand by me, sir. Amy does too--I see it in her eyes, though she prudently waits to turn it over in her mind before she speaks. Now, my dear people," continued Jo earnestly, "just understand that this isn't a new idea of mine, but a long cherished plan. Before my Fritz came, I used to think how, when I'd made my fortune, and no one needed me at home, I'd hire a big house, and pick up some poor, forlorn little lads who hadn't any mothers, and take care of them, and make life jolly for them before it was too late. I see so many going to ruin for want of help at the right minute, I love so to do anything for them, I seem to feel their wants, and sympathize with their troubles, and oh, I should so like to be a mother to them!"
Mrs. March held out her hand to Jo, who took it, smiling, with tears in her eyes, and went on in the old enthusiastic way, which they had not seen for a long while.
"I told my plan to Fritz once, and he said it was just what he would like, and agreed to try it when we got rich. Bless his dear heart, he's been doing it all his life--helping poor boys, I mean, not getting rich, that he'll never be. Money doesn't stay in his pocket long enough to lay up any. But now, thanks to my good old aunt, who loved me better than I ever deserved, I'm rich, at least I feel so, and we can live at Plumfield perfectly well, if we have a flourishing school. It's just the place for boys, the house is big, and the furniture strong and plain. There's plenty of room for dozens inside, and splendid grounds outside. They could help in the garden and orchard. Such work is healthy, isn't it, sir? Then Fritz could train and teach in his own way, and Father will help him. I can feed and nurse and pet and scold them, and Mother will be my stand-by. I've always longed for lots of boys, and never had enough, now I can fill the house full and revel in the little dears to my heart's content. Think what luxury-- Plumfield my own, and a wilderness of boys to enjoy it with me."
As Jo waved her hands and gave a sigh of rapture, the family went off into a gale of merriment, and Mr. Laurence laughed till they thought he'd have an apoplectic fit.
"I don't see anything funny," she said gravely, when she could be heard. "Nothing could be more natural and proper than for my Professor to open a school, and for me to prefer to reside in my own estate."
"She is putting on airs already," said Laurie, who regarded the idea in the light of a capital joke. "But may I inquire how you intend to support the establishment? If all the pupils are little ragamuffins, I'm afraid your crop won't be profitable in a worldly sense, Mrs. Bhaer."
"Now don't be a wet-blanket, Teddy. Of course I shall have rich pupils, also--perhaps begin with such altogether. Then, when I've got a start, I can take in a ragamuffin or two, just for a relish. Rich people's children often need care and comfort, as well as poor. I've seen unfortunate little creatures left to servants, or backward ones pushed forward, when it's real cruelty. Some are naughty through mismanagment or neglect, and some lose their mothers. Besides, the best have to get through the hobbledehoy age, and that's the very time they need most patience and kindness. People laugh at them, and hustle them about, try to keep them out of sight, and expect them to turn all at once from pretty children into fine young men. They don't complain much--plucky little souls--but they feel it. I've been through something of it, and I know all about it. I've a special interest in such young bears, and like to show them that I see the warm, honest, well-meaning boys' hearts, in spite of the clumsy arms and legs and the topsy-turvy heads. I've had experience, too, for haven't I brought up one boy to be a pride and honor to his family?"
"I'll testify that you tried to do it," said Laurie with a grateful look.
"And I've succeeded beyond my hopes, for here you are, a steady, sensible businessman, doing heaps of good with your money, and laying up the blessings of the poor, instead of dollars. But you are not merely a businessman, you love good and beautiful things, enjoy them yourself, and let others go halves, as you always did in the old times. I am proud of you, Teddy, for you get better every year, and everyone feels it, though you won't let them say so. Yes, and when I have my flock, I'll just point to you, and say 'There's your model, my lads'."
Poor Laurie didn't know where to look, for, man though he was, something of the old bashfulness came over him as this burst of praise made all faces turn approvingly upon him.
"I say, Jo, that's rather too much," he began, just in his old boyish way. "You have all done more for me than I can ever thank you for, except by doing my best not to disappoint you. You have rather cast me off lately, Jo, but I've had the best of help, nevertheless. So, if I've got on at all, you may thank these two for it," and he laid one hand gently on his grandfather's head, and the other on Amy's golden one, for the three were never far apart.
"I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world!" burst out Jo, who was in an unusually up-lifted frame of mind just then. "When I have one of my own, I hope it will be as happy as the three I know and love the best. If John and my Fritz were only here, it would be quite a little heaven on earth," she added more quietly. And that night when she went to her room after a blissful evening of family counsels, hopes, and plans, her heart was so full of happiness that she could only calm it by kneeling beside the empty bed always near her own, and thinking tender thoughts of Beth.
It was a very astonishing year altogether, for things seemed to happen in an unusually rapid and delightful manner. Almost before she knew where she was, Jo found herself married and settled at Plumfield. Then a family of six or seven boys sprung up like mushrooms, and flourished surprisingly, poor boys as well as rich, for Mr. Laurence was continually finding some touching case of destitution, and begging the Bhaers to take pity on the child, and he would gladly pay a trifle for its support. In this way, the sly old gentleman got round proud Jo, and furnished her with the style of boy in which she most delighted.
Of course it was uphill work at first, and Jo made queer mistakes, but the wise Professor steered her safely into calmer waters, and the most rampant ragamuffin was conquered in the end. How Jo did enjoy her 'wilderness of boys', and how poor, dear Aunt March would have lamented had she been there to see the sacred precincts of prim, well-ordered Plumfield overrun with Toms, Dicks, and Harrys! There was a sort of poetic justice about it, after all, for the old lady had been the terror of the boys for miles around, and now the exiles feasted freely on forbidden plums, kicked up the gravel with profane boots unreproved, and played cricket in the big field where the irritable 'cow with a crumpled horn' used to invite rash youths to come and be tossed. It became a sort of boys' paradise, and Laurie suggested that it should be called the 'Bhaer-garten', as a compliment to its master and appropriate to its inhabitants.
It never was a fashionable school, and the Professor did not lay up a fortune, but it was just what Jo intended it to be-- 'a happy, homelike place for boys, who needed teaching, care, and kindness'. Every room in the big house was soon full. Every little plot in the garden soon had its owner. A regular menagerie appeared in barn and shed, for pet animals were allowed. And three times a day, Jo smiled at her Fritz from the head of a long table lined on either side with rows of happy young faces, which all turned to her with affectionate eyes, confiding words, and grateful hearts, full of love for 'Mother Bhaer'. She had boys enough now, and did not tire of them, though they were not angels, by any means, and some of them caused both Professor and Professorin much trouble and anxiety. But her faith in the good spot which exists in the heart of the naughtiest, sauciest, most tantalizing little ragamuffin gave her patience, skill, and in time success, for no mortal boy could hold out long with Father Bhaer shining on him as benevolently as the sun, and Mother Bhaer forgiving him seventy times seven. Very precious to Jo was the friendship of the lads, their penitent sniffs and whispers after wrongdoing, their droll or touching little confidences, their pleasant enthusiasms, hopes, and plans, even their misfortunes, for they only endeared them to her all the more. There were slow boys and bashful boys, feeble boys and riotous boys, boys that lisped and boys that stuttered, one or two lame ones, and a merry little quadroon, who could not be taken in elsewhere, but who was welcome to the 'Bhaer-garten', though some people predicted that his admission would ruin the school.
Yes, Jo was a very happy woman there, in spite of hard work, much anxiety, and a perpetual racket. She enjoyed it heartily and found the applause of her boys more satisfying than any praise of the world, for now she told no stories except to her flock of enthusiastic believers and admirers. As the years went on, two little lads of her own came to increase her happiness--Rob, named for Grandpa, and Teddy, a happy-go-lucky baby, who seemed to have inherited his papa's sunshiny temper as well as his mother's lively spirit. How they ever grew up alive in that whirlpool of boys was a mystery to their grandma and aunts, but they flourished like dandelions in spring, and their rough nurses loved and served them well.
There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking. For then the Marches, Laurences, Brookes and Bhaers turned out in full force and made a day of it. Five years after Jo's wedding, one of these fruitful festivals occurred, a mellow October day, when the air was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise and the blood dance healthily in the veins. The old orchard wore its holiday attire. Goldenrod and asters fringed the mossy walls. Grasshoppers skipped briskly in the sere grass, and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a feast. Squirrels were busy with their small harvesting. Birds twittered their adieux from the alders in the lane, and every tree stood ready to send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake. Everybody was there. Everybody laughed and sang, climbed up and tumbled down. Everybody declared that there never had been such a perfect day or such a jolly set to enjoy it, and everyone gave themselves up to the simple pleasures of the hour as freely as if there were no such things as care or sorrow in the world.
Mr. March strolled placidly about, quoting Tusser, Cowley, and Columella to Mr. Laurence, while enjoying . . .
The gentle apple's winey juice.
The Professor charged up and down the green aisles like a stout Teutonic knight, with a pole for a lance, leading on the boys, who made a hook and ladder company of themselves, and performed wonders in the way of ground and lofty tumbling. Laurie devoted himself to the little ones, rode his small daughter in a bushel-basket, took Daisy up among the bird's nests, and kept adventurous Rob from breaking his neck. Mrs. March and Meg sat among the apple piles like a pair of Pomonas, sorting the contributions that kept pouring in, while Amy with a beautiful motherly expression in her face sketched the various groups, and watched over one pale lad, who sat adoring her with his little crutch beside him.
Jo was in her element that day, and rushed about, with her gown pinned up, and her hat anywhere but on her head, and her baby tucked under her arm, ready for any lively adventure which might turn up. Little Teddy bore a charmed life, for nothing ever happened to him, and Jo never felt any anxiety when he was whisked up into a tree by one lad, galloped off on the back of another, or supplied with sour russets by his indulgent papa, who labored under the Germanic delusion that babies could digest anything, from pickled cabbage to buttons, nails, and their own small shoes. She knew that little Ted would turn up again in time, safe and rosy, dirty and serene, and she always received him back with a hearty welcome, for Jo loved her babies tenderly.
At four o'clock a lull took place, and baskets remained empty, while the apple pickers rested and compared rents and bruises. Then Jo and Meg, with a detachment of the bigger boys, set forth the supper on the grass, for an out-of-door tea was always the crowning joy of the day. The land literally flowed with milk and honey on such occasions, for the lads were not required to sit at table, but allowed to partake of refreshment as they liked--freedom being the sauce best beloved by the boyish soul. They availed themselves of the rare privilege to the fullest extent, for some tried the pleasing experiment of drinking milk while standing on their heads, others lent a charm to leapfrog by eating pie in the pauses of the game, cookies were sown broadcast over the field, and apple turnovers roosted in the trees like a new style of bird. The little girls had a private tea party, and Ted roved among the edibles at his own sweet will.
When no one could eat any more, the Professor proposed the first regular toast, which was always drunk at such times--"Aunt March, God bless her!" A toast heartily given by the good man, who never forgot how much he owed her, and quietly drunk by the boys, who had been taught to keep her memory green.
"Now, Grandma's sixtieth birthday! Long life to her, with three times three!"
That was given with a will, as you may well believe, and the cheering once begun, it was hard to stop it. Everybody's health was proposed, from Mr. Laurence, who was considered their special patron, to the astonished guinea pig, who had strayed from its proper sphere in search of its young master. Demi, as the oldest grandchild, then presented the queen of the day with various gifts, so numerous that they were transported to the festive scene in a wheelbarrow. Funny presents, some of them, but what would have been defects to other eyes were ornaments to Grandma's--for the children's gifts were all their own. Every stitch Daisy's patient little fingers had put into the handkerchiefs she hemmed was better than embroidery to Mrs. March. Demi's miracle of mechanical skill, though the cover wouldn't shut, Rob's footstool had a wiggle in its uneven legs that she declared was soothing, and no page of the costly book Amy's child gave her was so fair as that on which appeared in tipsy capitals, the words-- "To dear Grandma, from her little Beth."
During the ceremony the boys had mysteriously disappeared, and when Mrs. March had tried to thank her children, and broken down, while Teddy wiped her eyes on his pinafore, the Professor suddenly began to sing. Then, from above him, voice after voice took up the words, and from tree to tree echoed the music of the unseen choir, as the boys sang with all their hearts the little song that Jo had written, Laurie set to music, and the Professor trained his lads to give with the best effect. This was something altogether new, and it proved a grand success, for Mrs. March couldn't get over her surprise, and insisted on shaking hands with every one of the featherless birds, from tall Franz and Emil to the little quadroon, who had the sweetest voice of all.
After this, the boys dispersed for a final lark, leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival tree.
"I don't think I ever ought to call myself 'unlucky Jo' again, when my greatest wish has been so beautifully gratified," said Mrs. Bhaer, taking Teddy's little fist out of the milk pitcher, in which he was rapturously churning.
"And yet your life is very different from the one you pictured so long ago. Do you remember our castles in the air?" asked Amy, smiling as she watched Laurie and John playing cricket with the boys.
"Dear fellows! It does my heart good to see them forget business and frolic for a day," answered Jo, who now spoke in a maternal way of all mankind. "Yes, I remember, but the life I wanted then seems selfish, lonely, and cold to me now. I haven't given up the hope that I may write a good book yet, but I can wait, and I'm sure it will be all the better for such experiences and illustrations as these," and Jo pointed from the lively lads in the distance to her father, leaning on the Professor's arm, as they walked to and fro in the sunshine, deep in one of the conversations which both enjoyed so much, and then to her mother, sitting enthroned among her daughters, with their children in her lap and at her feet, as if all found help and happiness in the face which never could grow old to them.
"My castle was the most nearly realized of all. I asked for splendid things, to be sure, but in my heart I knew I should be satisfied, if I had a little home, and John, and some dear children like these. I've got them all, thank God, and am the happiest woman in the world," and Meg laid her hand on her tall boy's head, with a face full of tender and devout content.
"My castle is very different from what I planned, but I would not alter it, though, like Jo, I don't relinquish all my artistic hopes, or confine myself to helping others fulfill their dreams of beauty. I've begun to model a figure of baby, and Laurie says it is the best thing I've ever done. I think so, myself, and mean to do it in marble, so that, whatever happens, I may at least keep the image of my little angel."
As Amy spoke, a great tear dropped on the golden hair of the sleeping child in her arms, for her one well-beloved daughter was a frail little creature and the dread of losing her was the shadow over Amy's sunshine. This cross was doing much for both father and mother, for one love and sorrow bound them closely together. Amy's nature was growing sweeter, deeper, and more tender. Laurie was growing more serious, strong, and firm, and both were learning that beauty, youth, good fortune, even love itself, cannot keep care and pain, loss and sorrow, from the most blessed for . . .
Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and sad and dreary.
"She is growing better, I am sure of it, my dear. Don't despond, but hope and keep happy," said Mrs. March, as tenderhearted Daisy stooped from her knee to lay her rosy cheek against her little cousin's pale one.
"I never ought to, while I have you to cheer me up, Marmee, and Laurie to take more than half of every burden," replied Amy warmly. "He never lets me see his anxiety, but is so sweet and patient with me, so devoted to Beth, and such a stay and comfort to me always that I can't love him enough. So, in spite of my one cross, I can say with Meg, 'Thank God, I'm a happy woman.'"
"There's no need for me to say it, for everyone can see that I'm far happier than I deserve," added Jo, glancing from her good husband to her chubby children, tumbling on the grass beside her. "Fritz is getting gray and stout. I'm growing as thin as a shadow, and am thirty. We never shall be rich, and Plumfield may burn up any night, for that incorrigible Tommy Bangs will smoke sweet-fern cigars under the bed-clothes, though he's set himself afire three times already. But in spite of these unromantic facts, I have nothing to complain of, and never was so jolly in my life. Excuse the remark, but living among boys, I can't help using their expressions now and then."
"Yes, Jo, I think your harvest will be a good one," began Mrs. March, frightening away a big black cricket that was staring Teddy out of countenance.
"Not half so good as yours, Mother. Here it is, and we never can thank you enough for the patient sowing and reaping you have done," cried Jo, with the loving impetuosity which she never would outgrow.
"I hope there will be more wheat and fewer tares every year," said Amy softly.
"A large sheaf, but I know there's room in your heart for it, Marmee dear," added Meg's tender voice.
Touched to the heart, Mrs. March could only stretch out her arms, as if to gather children and grandchildren to herself, and say, with face and voice full of motherly love, gratitude, and humility . . .
"Oh, my girls, however long you may live, I never can wish you a greater happiness than this!"
 
有一年光景，乔和教授工作着，等待着，希望着。他们谈情说爱，偶尔相会。他们写了那么多的情书，以致一时洛阳纸贵，劳里如是说。第二年开始冷静些了，因为他们还未见到光明的前景，马奇婶婶也突然过世了。他们最初的悲痛过去后--虽然老太太尖酸刻薄，他们还是爱她的--他们有理由高兴起来，因为她将梅园遗留给了乔，这使得种种欢乐之事成为可能。
“那是个很不错的老庄园，会带来大笔进项的，你肯定会打算卖掉它，”劳里这么说。
“不，我不卖，”乔决然回答。她抚弄着那只肥壮的长卷毛狗。出于对它原先的女主人的尊重，乔领养了它。
“你不是说要住在那儿吧？”
“是的，我要住那儿去。”
“可是，我亲爱的姑娘，那是间非常大的宅子，管理它要很多很多的钱。光是花园和果园就得两三个人照看。我想巴尔对农活也不在行。”“要是我这么提议，他会在那方面努力的。”“你期待靠那里的农产品过活？嗯，听起来其乐无穷，可你会发现农活非常艰苦。”“我们打算种的庄稼是有利可图的。”乔笑了起来。
“什么样的庄稼这么让你心驰神往，夫人？”“男孩子，我想为小孩子们办一个学校一个愉快的、家庭般的好学校。我来照顾他们，弗里茨教他们。”“那可真是乔式计划！这不正是她的风格吗？”劳里听着，向其他家庭成员吁求赞同。他们和他一样吃惊不已。
“我喜欢那个计划，”马奇太太决然说道。
“我也喜欢，”她丈夫补充道。想到有机会对现代青年试行苏格拉底的教育法，他便十分赞同了。
“这对乔是个很大的牵累，”梅格说，一边抚摸儿子的头，儿子正全神贯注地听着。
“乔能这么做的，她会为之幸福，这是个绝妙的主意。把一切都告诉我们吧，“劳伦斯叫道。他一直渴望帮这对情侣的忙，可是他知道他们会拒绝他的帮助。
“我知道你会支持我的，先生。艾美也会的--我从她的眼神看出来了，虽然她小心谨慎，三思而后行。好啦，我亲爱的人们，”乔认真地说道，”你们得理解这不是我一时心血来潮，而是酝酿已久的计划。在弗里茨来之前，我常想着，等我发了财，家里又没人需要我时，我就去租间大房子，收养那些没有母亲照顾的、可怜的小弃儿，让他们的生活及时得到改善。我看到许多弃儿因为得不到适时的帮助而走向堕落。
我非常乐意为他们做些事情。我似乎能感觉到他们的需要，我同情他们的烦恼。哦，我是多么地希望做他们的母亲啊！”马奇太太向乔伸出了手，乔也握住妈妈的手。她热泪盈眶了，脸上却挂着笑。她像以前那样热情洋溢地说起话来。她们已很长时间没有看到她这样热烈的情绪了。
“我曾经将我的计划告诉过弗里茨，他说那正是他想做的，他同意等我富裕了就着手去做。上帝保佑那好心人！他一生都在这么做--我是说，他帮助穷孩子们，自己富不起来，将来也决富不了。钱在他的袋子里搁不长，积蓄不起来，而现在多亏了我那善良的老婶子，我不配得到她这样的爱。我富有了，至少我这样认为。要是我们成功地开办一个学校，我们能在梅园生活得相当不错。那地方正适合男孩子们，宅子很大，家具既结实又简单。有许多屋子可容下十几个孩子，屋外有非常好的场地。孩子们能在花园和果园帮忙：这样的工作有益健康，是不是，先生？而且弗里茨可以用他的方式训练、教育孩子们。爸爸会帮弗里茨的。我可以照顾他们的饮食起居，爱抚他们，管教他们，妈妈会支持我的。我一直盼望能有许多孩子，尽情和这些可爱的小东西们狂欢作乐。想想那是什么样的享受！ -我拥有了梅园，还有一大群孩子和我一起共享田庄！”乔兴奋地手舞足蹈，全家人爆发了一阵欢笑。劳伦斯先生大笑着，使得他们担心他会笑出中风来。
“我看不出有什么好笑的，”笑声停止时，乔神情严肃地说，”我的教授开办学校，而我宁愿住在我自己的田庄，没有什么比这更自然、更适当的了。”“她已经摆出架子了，”劳里说。他把这个想法当成了一个天大的笑话。”我可以请教你打算用什么来维持学校呢？要是所有的学生都是流浪儿，用世俗的观点来看，我恐怕你的庄稼不会有利可图的，巴尔夫人。”“哎呀，特迪，别扫兴，我当然也会收些有钱的学生--也许就像那样开始，然后等到学校开起来了，我就能收下一两个流浪儿，只为增添兴趣。富人的孩子和穷人的孩子一样，也需要照顾和安慰。我见过一些不幸的小东西们，他们被丢给仆人管。还有些迟钝的孩子被逼着上进。这真是残忍。一些孩子因为调教不当或被忽视而变得不规矩，还有些孩子失去了母亲。而且，即使是最好的孩子也要经过少年时期，那一时期最需要人们耐心友善地对待他们。可是，人们嘲笑他们，粗暴地对待他们，尽量地让他们处于视线之外，人们期望着他们突然从小孩子一变而成气质优良的大小伙子。他们极少抱怨 -这些胆大的小东西们- 但是他们有感觉的。
我见识过，完全了解。对这些小莽汉们我特别有兴趣，我想让他们知道，尽管他们笨手笨脚，头脑不清，我看出这些男孩子们心地善良、热情、诚实。我也有过经验，难道我不是教育了一个男孩，使他的家人为之感到自豪、光荣吗？”“我作证你作出过那样的努力，”劳里带着感激的神情说。
“而且，我的成功超出我所预料的，因为，瞧你，一个稳重、精明的商人，用你的钱财做了大量的好事。你不是在积蓄美元，而是在积蓄穷人的祝福。你不仅仅是个商人，你崇尚善美之事，并享有其中的乐趣，你让别人分享你一半的财富，就像过去常做的那样。特迪，我真为你骄傲，你日见长进，虽然你不让大家说，但大家都感到了这一点。是的，等我有了一群孩子，我就会指着你对他们说：'孩子们，那就是你们的榜样。'”可怜的劳里眼睛不知往哪儿看了，因为这一阵赞扬使得所有的脸都转向他，大家赞许地看着他，他又产生了以前那种羞怯。
“我说，乔，那太过分了，”他又以从前那种男孩气语调开了腔，”你是为我做了许多，我无法感激你，只能尽力不让你失望。最近你完全抛弃我了，乔，可我还是得到了最好的帮助，所以，要说我有什么长进，你得感谢这两位。”他一只手轻轻地放在爷爷花白的头上，另一只手放在艾美的金发上，这三个人从来离不开多远。
“我真的认为世界上最美好的事就是家庭！”乔脱口而出。
此时她的精神异常高涨。”我自己成了家后，希望和另外三个家庭一样幸福。我了解也非常喜欢那三个家庭，要是约翰和弗里茨也在这里，那真是地球上的一个小天堂，”她接着说道，声音放低了些。那天晚上，一家人快活地谈论着家庭计划、希望、打算，乔回到自己的房间时，心中溢满了幸福。她跪在一直靠近自己的那张空床边，柔情万端地想着贝思，以此平静自己的心情。
那一年过得令人非常吃惊，事情似乎发生得非同寻常地迅速顺利。乔几乎还没有反应过来是怎么回事，就已经结了婚，在梅园安顿了下来，接着，六七个小男孩如雨后春笋般地冒出来，学校办得火红，令人惊奇。学生们有穷孩子，也有富孩子，因为，劳伦斯先生不断地发现引人怜悯的贫穷人家，恳求巴尔夫妇可怜孩子，而他会高兴地付些钱加以资助。
有心的老先生用这种方式智胜了高傲的乔，为她带来了她心愿所系的那些孩子。
这工作开始时自然费力，乔犯着莫名其妙的错误，然而，教授安全地将她引进平静的水面，最不受管束的流浪儿，最终也被征服了。乔是多么地欣赏她的"男孩荒野"啊！梅园以前干干净净，井然有序，如今，大批的汤姆们、迪克们、哈里们出没于这片神圣的领地。要是那可敬可怜的马奇婶婶看到这一切，她老人家会怎样地悲叹啊！然而，毕竟这事情中还有某种劝善惩恶的成份，因为方园几里路之内的男孩子们都非常害怕老太太，现在小亡命者们无拘无束地大吃着禁果李子，不受责骂地用肮脏的靴子踢着砾石，在大空场地上玩着板球，而以前那儿有着易怒的"有着弯角的牛"，吸引着鲁莽的小家伙们过去，被牛角挑起。如今这里成了这种男孩子的天堂。劳里建议它应叫作"巴尔花院"，这对主人是种赞扬，对居住在这里的人们来说比喻贴切。
学校决不赶时尚，教授也没积蓄其钱财，但是正像乔计划的那样- "对那些需要教导、照料、爱抚的男孩子们，这个地方幸福，像家一样。”很快，大宅子里每间屋子都满了，花园里每一小块地都有了主人，仓库与棚屋里出现了定期的动物展览，因为允许他们养宠物。一天三次，乔坐在长餐桌的一端向她的弗里茨笑着，桌子两边各坐着一排幸福的孩子，他们都很有感情地看着她，他们对"巴尔妈妈”吐露知心话，对她心存感激，充满爱恋。现在，她有足够的男孩子了，她从不厌烦他们，虽然他们决不是天使，有些孩子使教授及夫人大伤脑筋。但是，她相信，即使在最淘气、最莽撞、最让应为花园：巴尔英语发音不标准，劳里是在模仿他的发音。
人烦心的小流浪儿们身上也有优点，这给了她耐心、技巧，最终使她成功。巴尔爸爸像太阳一样亲切地照耀着他们，巴尔妈妈一天要宽恕他们七七四十九次，在这种情况下，只要那男孩是凡人，就不可能顽抗到底。这些孩子们对她的友谊，他们干了坏事后悔罪时鼻子的抽齐声和低声说话声，他们有趣又感人的小秘密话，他们可爱的热情、希望和计划，甚至他们的不幸，这些对乔来说都是非常珍贵的，因为那使她更加喜爱他们。这些男孩子们有的迟钝，有的腼腆；有的虚弱，有的闹人；有的孩子说话口齿不清，有的说话结结巴巴；有一两个孩子跛腿；还有一个快乐的小混血儿，别的地方都不接受他，而"巴尔花院"却欢迎他，尽管有些人预料接受他会毁了这学校。
的确，尽管工作繁忙，焦虑重重，还有永无止境的忙乱，乔在那里是个幸福的妇人。她由衷地欣赏这一切，她感到男孩们对她的称颂要比世间任何赞扬都更令人满意。现在，她只对她一群热情的信徒及敬慕者讲故事。随着岁月的流逝，她自己的两个孩子出世了，为她增添了幸福 -罗布，以爷爷的名字命名；特迪，一个无忧无虑的小家伙，他似乎继承了爸爸快活的脾气、妈妈旺盛的精神。在那一群混乱的男孩堆里，他们怎样能活泼地成长，这始终是奶奶和几个姨的一个谜。然而，他们如同春天的蒲公英茁壮成长。那些粗鲁的保姆们很爱他们，对他们照顾得也很好。
梅园有许许多多节假日，最愉快的节日便是每年一度摘苹果的时候。那时，马奇夫妇、劳伦斯夫妇、布鲁克夫妇，还有巴尔夫妇全体出动，干上一整天。乔结婚五年后，又到了那天，乔如鱼得水。她用针别起了身上的长袍，帽子压根儿没戴在头上。她胳膊下夹着儿子，四处奔着，随时准备应付可能出现的惊险事件。小特迪有刀枪不入的能耐，他没发生过任何事情。乔从来没担心过他，无论是他被一个男孩一下弄上树去，还是另一个男孩驮着他飞跑开去，还是当他那溺爱的爸爸给他吃酸味的冬季粗苹果时，她都不担心。他爸爸带有日耳曼人的幻想，认为孩子们能消化任何东西，从腌菜到钮扣、钉子，还有他们的小鞋。他知道她的小特迪最后总会安然无恙，面色红润，脏兮兮却静悄悄地出现的，她总是热情欢迎他回来，乔百般柔情地爱她的孩子们。
四点时，劳动暂停。篮子空了，摘苹果的人休息了，他们互相比着衣服的撕裂处和身上的擦伤。乔，梅格，还有一支大男孩组成的小分队，在草地上摆着晚餐。这顿户外茶点总是这一天最快乐的时分。在这种场合，不夸张地说，地上流淌着牛奶与蜂蜜，因为，他们不要孩子们坐在桌边吃，而是允许他们随意吃茶点--这种自由是个刺激，男孩子们心中热爱它。他们最大限度地充分利用了这个难得的特权。一些孩子做着有趣的实验，倒立着喝牛奶，另一些孩子做着蛙跳游戏，中间停顿时便吃着馅饼，使游戏更有诱惑力。饼干撒遍了田野，吃了一半的苹果栖息在树上，像是一种新的鸟类。小女孩们私下开着茶会，小特迪在能吃的东西之间随心所欲地徘徊着。
大家都再也吃不下东西了，这时，教授第一次正式提议干杯，在这种时候总是要干杯的"马奇婶婶，上帝保佑她！”那好人由衷地敬酒。他决忘不了他欠老太太太多。男孩子们静静地喝干酒。他们一直受着教诲：脑中常记老太太。
“现在，为奶奶六十岁生日干杯！祝她长寿，三呼万岁！”这是由衷的提议，读者完全可以相信。他们又一次开始欢呼起来，很难止祝他们为每个人的健康都干了杯，从劳伦斯先生到那只吃惊的豚鼠--劳伦斯先生被视为他们特别的恩主，而那只豚鼠离开它适当的属地来寻找它的小主人。然后，德米作为长孙，向当天的女人赠送各种礼品。礼品太多了，只好用独轮手推车运到喜庆场地。一些礼品很好笑，然而，在别人眼里看来有瑕疵的东西，奶奶看着都能用作装饰品 孩子们的礼品都是他们自己制作的。黛西的小手指耐心地为手帕镶了边，那一针一线在马奇太太看来都比刺绣的要好；德米的鞋盒子是机械技艺的奇迹，虽然那盒子盖不上；罗布的脚凳腿扭动着立不稳定，她却说令人舒服；艾美的孩子送给她的书上用大写字母东倒西歪地写着- "赠亲爱的奶奶，她的小贝思。”任何贵重的书都不及这本书好。
在赠礼仪式进行中间，那帮男孩子神秘地消失不见了。马奇太太想感谢她的孙儿孙女们，却感动得不能自持，小特迪用他的围裙为奶奶擦去泪水。教授突然开始唱了起来。于是，从他们头上方，不同的声音接上了歌词，一颗颗树间回荡着看不见的合唱队的歌声。男孩子们诚心诚意地唱着。这支小歌是乔写的词，劳里谱的曲，教授训练孩子们唱的。在这个场合演唱效果极佳。这真是一件新鲜事，结果大获成功，马奇太太遏制不住惊喜，她坚持要和每一只没有父亲的鸟儿握手，从高个儿的弗朗兹和埃米尔到那小混血儿，这些孩子们声音非常甜美动听。
这一切结束后，孩子们四下散开去做最后的嬉戏，马奇太太和女儿们留在节日的树下。
“我想，我不应该再把自己叫做'不幸的乔’了，我最大的愿望已经这样美妙地得到了满足，”巴尔太太说着，一边将小特迪的小拳头拽出了牛奶罐，她正兴高采烈地用手在罐里搅和着呢。”可是，你的生活和你很久以前想象的大不相同，你可记得我们的空中楼阁？”艾美问道。她看着劳里和约翰在和孩子们玩着板球。
“亲爱的人们！看到他们忘掉事务嬉耍一天，真让我高兴，”乔回答。她现在说话带上了人类母亲式的慈爱口气。
“是的，我记得。可是我那时向往的生活现在看来似乎自私、孤寂、清冷。然而，我并没有放弃写本好书的希望，我可以等待，我确信我生活里有了这样的经验和例证，书会写得更好。”乔指着远处蹦蹦跳跳的孩子们，又指指爸爸。爸爸倚着教授的胳膊，两人在阳光里正走来走去，热烈地谈着什么两人都非常感兴趣的话题。乔接着指了指坐在那里的妈妈。女儿们崇敬地围绕着她。她膝上、脚边坐着她的孙儿孙女，好像大家都从她那儿得到了帮助和幸福，她那张脸在他们看来永远不会衰老。
“我的空想几乎都实现了，的确，我那时希求美好的事物，但是，我心中知道，假如我有一个小家，有约翰和一些这样可爱的孩子，我就应该满足了。我得到了这一切，感谢上帝。
我是世上最幸福的女人。”梅格将手放在她的高个子儿子的头上，脸上的表情充满温柔与虔诚的满足。
“我的楼阁和我的计划完全两样。但是，我不会像乔那样更改的。我没放弃我所有的艺术希望，也没把自己局限于帮助别人实现美梦。我已经开始制作一个孩子塑像。劳里说那是我做的最好的一件。我自己也这么认为。我打算用大理石制作。这样不管发生什么事，至少我可以保留我的小天使的形象。”艾美说着，一大滴泪珠落在了睡在她臂弯里的孩子的金发上，她深深爱着的这个女儿，弱不经风，失去她的担心是艾美幸福生活中的阴影，这个不幸对父亲母亲都有很大影响，因为爱情与痛苦把两个人紧密地联结在一起。艾美的性情变得更加甜美、深沉、温柔，劳里变得更加严肃、强舰坚强。
两个人都懂得了，美貌、青春、好运，甚至爱情自身都不能使幸运的人免于焦虑、疼痛、损失与痛苦，因为 -每个人生活中都会有不幸的雨点落下，一些日子会变得黑暗、哀伤、凄凉。
“她身体有起色了呢，我确信这一点，亲爱的，别灰心，要有希望，要保持快乐，”马奇太太说道。心地温和的黛西从奶奶膝上俯过身去，将她红润的脸颊贴在了小表妹苍白的脸颊上。
“我根本就不应灰心，我有你鼓励，妈咪，有劳里承担一大半负担，”艾美热情地说，”他从不让我看出他的焦虑。他对我那么温柔、耐心，对小贝思又是那么尽心。这对我来说总是很大的支持与安慰，我怎么爱他都不过分。所以，尽管我有这个不幸，我还是能像梅格那样说：'感谢上帝，我是个幸福的女人。'”“我没有必要再说了。大家都看得出来，我得到的幸福远远超过了我应享有的，”乔接着说。她扫视她的好丈夫和在她身边草地上翻滚着的胖孩子们。”弗里茨越来越老，越来越胖了，而我像个影子日渐消瘦了。我已经三十岁了，我们根本富不起来！梅园说不上哪天夜里会给烧掉，因为那个不肯改悔的汤米•邦斯非要在被褥下抽香蕨木烟。他已经三次烧着了自己。可是尽管有这些不太浪漫的事情，我也没什么可抱怨的了，我一生中从来没有像这样快活过。请原谅我的措辞。
和那些男孩们生活在一起，我时不时禁不住用他们的表述法。”“是的，乔，我想，你将会有个好收成的，”马奇太太开口说，她吓走了一只大黑蟋蟀。它盯着小特迪看，吓得他脸上变了色。
“收获没你的一半好，妈妈。你看，你耐心地播下种子，然后收获，为此我们怎么也谢不够你，”乔带着她那可爱的急躁叫道。她的急躁年龄再大也改不了。
“我希望，每年多一些麦子，少一些稗子，”艾美轻轻地说。
“一大捆麦子，但是我知道，你心里有地方装下它的，亲爱的妈咪，”梅格语调温柔地补充道。
马奇太太深深地感动了。她只能伸开双臂，仿佛要把她的儿孙们搂抱过来。她的表情和声音里都充满了母亲的慈爱、感谢与谦让- “哦，我的姑娘们，不管你们今后怎样，我想，没有什么比这更能给你们巨大的幸福了！”