marm lisa-第16部分

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Lisa　was　now　developing　a　curious　and　unexpected　facility　and　talent　in　the　musical　games。　　She　played　the　tambourine；　the　triangle；　the　drum；　as　nobody　else　could；　and　in　accompanying　the　marches　she　invented　all　sorts　of　unusual　beats　and　accents。　　It　grew　to　be　the　natural　thing　to　give　her　difficult　parts　in　the　little　dramas　of　child　life：　　the　cock　that　crowed　in　the　morn　to　wake　the　sleeping　birds　and　babies；　the　mother…bird　in　the　nest；　the　spreading　willow…　tree　in　the　pond　where　the　frogs　congregated；these　roles　she　delighted　in　and　played　with　all　her　soul。

It　would　have　been　laughable；　had　it　not　been　pathetic；　to　watch　her　drag　Mr。　Man　into　the　games；　and　to　see　him　succumb　to　her　persuasions　with　his　face　hanging　out　flaming　signals　of　embarrassment。　　In　the　'Carrier　Doves'　the　little　pigeons　flew　with　an　imaginary　letter　to　him；　and　this　meant　that　he　was　to　stand　and　read　it　aloud；　as　Mary　and　Edith　had　done　before　him。

'It　seems　to　be　a　letter　from　a　child；'　he　faltered；　and　then　began　stammeringly；　'〃My　dear　Mr。　Man〃'there　was　a　sudden　stop。　　That　there　was　a　letter　in　his　mind　nobody　could　doubt；　but　he　was　too　greatly　moved　to　read　it。　　Rhoda　quickly　reached　out　her　hand　for　the　paper；　covering　his　discomfiture　by　exclaiming；　'The　pigeons　have　brought　Mr。　Man　a　letter　from　some　children　in　his　fatherland！　　Yes'　（reading）；　'they　hope　that　we　will　be　good　to　him；　because　he　is　far　away　from　home；　and　they　send　their　love　to　all　Mistress　Mary's　children。　　Wasn't　it　pretty　of　the　doves　to　remember　that　Mr。　Man　is　a　stranger　here？'

The　Solitary　appeared　for　the　last　time　a　week　before　Thanksgiving　Day；　and　he　opened　the　door　on　a　scene　of　jollity　that　warmed　him　to　the　heart。

In　the　middle　of　the　floor　was　a　mimic　boat；　crowded　from　stem　to　stern　with　little　Pilgrim　fathers　and　mothers　trying　to　land　on　Plymouth　Rock；　in　a　high　state　of　excitement　and　an　equally　high　sea。　Pat　Higgins　was　a　chieftain　commanding　a　large　force　of　tolerably　peaceful　Indians　on　the　shore；　and　Massasoit　himself　never　exhibited　more　dignity；　while　Marm　Lisa　was　the　proud　mother　of　the　baby　Oceanus　born　on　the　eventful　voyage　of　the　Mayflower。

Then　Mistress　Mary　told　the　story　of　the　festival　very　simply　and　sweetly；　and　all　the　tiny　Pilgrims　sang　a　hymn　of　thanksgiving。　　The　Solitary　listened；　with　his　heart　in　his　eyes　and　a　sob　in　his　throat；　then；　Heaven　knows　under　the　inspiration　of　what　memory；　he　brushed　Edith　from　the　piano…stool；　and；　seating　himself　in　her　place；　played　as　if　he　were　impelled　by　some　irresistible　force。　　The　hand　of　a　master　had　never　swept　those　keys　before；　and　he　held　his　hearers　spellbound。

There　was　a　silence　that　could　be　felt。　　The　major　part　of　the　audience　were　not　of　an　age　to　appreciate　high　art；　but　the　youngsters　were　awed　by　the　strange　spectacle　of　Mr。　Man　at　the　piano；　and　with　gaping　mouth　and　strained　ear　listened　to　the　divine　harmonies　he　evoked。　　On　and　on　he　played；　weaving　the　story　of　his　past　into　the　music；　so　it　seemed　to　Mistress　Mary。　　The　theme　came　brokenly　and　uncertainly　at　first；　as　his　thoughts　strove　for　expression。　　Then　out　of　the　bitterness　and　gall；　the　suffering　and　the　struggleand　was　it　remorse？was　born　a　sweet；　resolute；　triumphant　strain　that　carried　the　listeners　from　height　to　height　of　sympathy　and　emotion。　　It　had　not　a　hint　of　serenity；　it　was　new…born　courage；　aspiration；　and　self…mastery　the　song　of　'him　that　overcometh。'

When　he　paused；　there　was　a　deep…drawn　breath；　a　sigh　from　hearts　surcharged　with　feeling；　and　Lisa；　who　had　drawn　closer　and　closer　to　the　piano；　stood　there　now；　one　hand　leaning　on　Mr。　Man's　shoulder　and　the　tears　chasing　one　another　down　her　cheeks。

'It　hurts　me　here；'　she　sighed；　pressing　her　hand　to　her　heart。

He　rose　presently　and　left　the　room　without　a　word；　while　the　children　prepared　for　home…going　with　a　subdued　air　of　having　assisted　at　some　solemn　rite。

When　Mistress　Mary　went　out　on　the　steps；　a　little　later；　he　was　still　there。

'It　is　the　last　time！　　Auf　wiedersehen！'　he　said。

'Auf　wiedersehen；'　she　answered　gently；　giving　him　her　hand。

'Have　you　no　Thanksgiving　sermon　for　me？'　he　asked；　holding　her　fingers　lingeringly。　　'No　child　in　all　your　flock　needs　it　so　much。'

'Yes；'　said　Mary；　her　eyes　falling；　for　a　moment；　beneath　his　earnest　gaze；　but　suddenly　she　lifted　them　again　as　she　said　bravely；　'I　have　a　sermon；　but　it　is　one　with　a　trumpet…call；　and　little　balm　in　it。　〃Unto　whomsoever　anything　is　given；　of　him　something　shall　be　required。〃'

When　he　reached　the　corner　of　the　street　he　stopped；　but　instead　of　glancing　four　ways；　as　usual；　he　looked　back　at　the　porch　where　Mistress　Mary　stood。　　She　carried　Jenny　Baker；　a　rosy　sprig　of　babyhood；　in　the　lovely　curve　of　her　arm；　Bobby　Baxter　clasped　her　neck　from　behind　in　a　strangling　embrace；　Johnny；　and　Meg；　and　Billy　were　tugging　at　her　apron；　and　Marm　Lisa　was　standing　on　tiptoe　trying　to　put　a　rose　in　her　hair。　　Then　the　Solitary　passed　into　the　crowd；　and　they　saw　him　in　the　old　places　no　more。



CHAPTER　XIIILEAVES　FROM　MISTRESS　MARY'S　GARDEN



'We　have　an　unknown　benefactor。　　A　fortnight　ago　came　three　bushels　of　flowers：　　two　hundred　tiny　nosegays　marked　〃For　the　children；〃　half　a　dozen　knots　of　pink　roses　for　the　〃little　mothers；〃　a　dozen　scarlet　carnations　for　Lisa；　while　one　great　bunch　of　white　lilies　bore　the　inscription；　〃For　the　Mother　Superior。〃　　Last　week　a　barrel　of　apples　and　another　of　oranges　appeared　mysteriously；　and　to…day　comes　a　note；　written　in　a　hand　we　do　not　recognise；　saying　we　are　not　to　buy　holly；　mistletoe；　evergreens；　Christmas　tree；　or　baubles　of　any　kind；　as　they　will　be　sent　to　us　on　December　22。　　We　have　inquired　of　our　friends；　but　have　no　clue　as　yet；　further　than　it　must　be　somebody　who　knows　our　needs　and　desires　very　thoroughly。　　We　have　certainly　entertained　an　angel　unawares；　but　which　among　the　crowd　of　visitors　is　it　most　likely　to　be？　　The　Solitary；　I　wonder？　I　should　never　have　thought　it；　were　it　not　for　the　memory　of　that　last　day；　the　scene　at　the　piano；　the　〃song　of　him　that　overcometh；〃　and　the　backward　glance　from　the　corner　as　he　sprang；　absolutely　sprang；　on　the　car。　　There　was　purpose　in　it；　or　I　am　greatly　mistaken。　　Mr。　Man's　eyes　would　be　worth　looking　into；　if　one　could　find　purpose　in　their　brown　depths！　　Moreover；　though　I　am　too　notorious　a　dreamer　of　dreams　to　be　trusted；　I　cannot　help　fancying　he　went　BACK　to　something；　it　was　not　a　mere　forward　move；　not　a　sudden　determination　to　find　some　new　duty　to　do　that　life　might　grow　nobler　and　sweeter；　but　a　return　to　an　old　duty　grown　hateful。　　That　was　what　I　saw　in　his　face　as　he　stood　on　the　crossing；　with　the　noon　sunshine　caught　in　his　tawny　hair　and　beard。　　Rhoda；　Edith；　and　I　have　each　made　a　story　about　him；　and　each　of　us　would　vouch　for　the　truth　of　her　particular　version。　　I　will　not　tell　mine；　but　this　is　Rhoda's；　and　while　it　differs　from　my　own　in　several　important　particulars；　it　yet　bears　an　astonishing　resemblance　to　it。　　It　is　rather　romantic；　but　if　one　is　to　make　any　sort　of　story　out　of　the　Solitary　it　must　be　a　romantic　one；　for　he　suggests　no　other。

'Rhoda　began　her　tale　with　a　thrilling　introduction　that　set　us　all　laughing　（we　smile　here　when　still　the　tears　are　close　at　hand；　indeed；　we　must　smile；　or　we　could　not　live）：　　the　prelude　being　something　about　a　lonely　castle　in　the　heart　of　the　Hartz　Mountains；　and　a　prattling　golden…haired　babe　stretching　its　arms　across　a　ruined　moat　in　the　direction　of　its　absent　father。　　This　was　in　the　nature　of　an　absurd　prologue；　but　when　she　finally　came　to　the　Solitary　she　grew　serious；　for　she　made　him　in　the　bygone　days　a　sensitive　child　and　a　dreamy；　impetuous　youth；　with　a　domineering；　ill…tempered　father　who　was　utterly　unable　and　unwilling　to　understand　or　to　sympathise　with　him。　　His　younger　brother　（for　Rhoda　insists　on　a　younger　brother）　lived　at　home；　while　he；　the　elder；　spent；　or　misspent；　his　youth　and　early　manhood　in　a　German　university。　　As　the　years　went　on；　the　relations　between　himself　and　his　father　grew　more　and　more　strained。　　Do　as　the　son　might；　he　could　never　please；　either　in　his　line　of　thought　and　study　or　in　his　practical　pursuits。　　The　father　hated　his　books；　his　music；　his　poetry；　and　his　artist　friends；　while　he　on　his　part　found　nothing　to　stimulate　or　content　him　in　his　father's　tasks　and　manner　of　life。　His　mother　pined　and　died　in　the　effort　to　keep　peace　between　them；　but　the　younger　brother's　schemes　were　quite　in　an　opposite　direction。　　At　this　time；　Mr。　Man　flung　himself　into　a　foolish　marriage；　one　that　promised　little　in　the　shape　of　the　happiness　he　craved　so　eagerly。　　（Rhoda　insists　on　this　unhappy　marriage；　I　am　in　doubt　about　it。）　　Finally　his　father　died；　and　on　being　summoned　home；　as　he　supposed；　to　take　his　rightful　place　and　assume　the　management　of　the　estate；　he　found　himself　disinherited。　　He　could　have　borne　the　loss　of　fortune　and　broad　acres　better　than　this　convincing　proof　of　his　father's　dislike　and　distrust；　and　he　could　have　endured　even　that；　had　it　not　befallen　him　through　the　perfidy　of　his　brother。　　When；　therefore；　he　was　met　by　his　wife's　bitter　reproaches　and　persistent　coldness　he　closed　his　heart　against　all　the　world；　shook　the　dust　of　home　from　off　his　feet；　left　his　own　small　fortune　behind　him；　kissed　his　little　son；　and　became　a　wanderer　on　the　face　of　the　earth。

'This　is　substantially　Rhoda's　story；　but　it　does　not　satisfy　her　completely。　　She　says；　in　her　whimsical　way；　that　it　needs　another　villain　to　account　properly　for　Mr。　Man's　expression。

'Would　it　not　be　strange　if　by　any　chance　we　have　brought　him　to　a　happier　frame　of　mind？　　Would　it　not　be　a　lovely　tribute　to　the　secret　power　of　this　place；　to　the　healing　atmosphere　of　love　that　we　try　to　createthat　atmosphere　in　which　we　bathe　our　own　tired　spirits　day　by　day；　recreating　ourselves　with　every　new　dawn？　　But　whether　our　benefactor　be　the　Solitary　or　not；　some　heart　has　been　brought　into　new　relation　with　us　and　with　the　world。　　It　only　confirms　my　opinion　that　everybody　is　at　his　or　her　best　in　the　presence　of　children。　　In　what　does　the　magic　of　their　influence　consist？　　This　morning　I　was　riding　down　in　the　horse…ca