第 50 节
作者:
左思右想 更新:2021-02-20 04:45 字数:9322
while the pump freezes every day; and there is no
earthly amusement; and no society! Poor things!
Can't you influence him to move? No wonder she gads when
she has a chance! I should die。 If you are thinking
of settling in the country; think also of a woman who
is satisfied with white and brown to accompany you!
Brown! Of all deadly colours! I should go mad in brown。〃
Elnora laughed while she read。 Her face was dimpling;
as she returned the sheet。 〃Who's ahead?〃 she asked。
〃Who do you think?〃 he parried。
〃She is;〃 said Elnora。 〃Are you going to tell her
in your next that R。 B。 Grosbeak is a bird; and that he
probably will spend the winter in a wild plum thicket
in Tennessee?〃
〃No;〃 said Philip。 〃I shall tell her that I understand her
ideas of life perfectly; and; of course; I never
shall ask her to deal with oily butter and frozen pumps〃
〃and measley babies;〃 interpolated Elnora。
〃Exactly!〃 said Philip。 〃At the same time I find so
much to counterbalance those things; that I should not
object to bearing them myself; in view of the recompense。
Where do we go and what do we do to…day?〃
〃We will have to hunt beside the roads and around the
edge of the Limberlost to…day;〃 said Elnora。 〃Mother is
making strawberry preserves; and she can't come until
she finishes。 Suppose we go down to the swamp and
I'll show you what is left of the flower…room that
Terence O'More; the big lumber man of Great Rapids;
made when he was a homeless boy here。 Of course;
you have heard the story?〃
〃Yes; and I've met the O'Mores who are frequently
in Chicago society。 They have friends there。 I think
them one ideal couple。〃
〃That sounds as if they might be the only one;〃 said
Elnora; 〃and; indeed; they are not。 I know dozens。
Aunt Margaret and Uncle Wesley are another; the Brownlees
another; and my mathematics professor and his wife。
The world is full of happy people; but no one ever hears
of them。 You must fight and make a scandal to get into
the papers。 No one knows about all the happy people。
I am happy myself; and look how perfectly inconspicuous
I am。〃
〃You only need go where you will be seen;〃 began
Philip; when he remembered and finished。 〃What do
we take to…day?〃
〃Ourselves;〃 said Elnora。 〃I have a vagabond streak in
my blood and it's in evidence。 I am going to show you
where real flowers grow; real birds sing; and if I feel quite
right about it; perhaps I shall raise a note or two myself。〃
〃Oh; do you sing?〃 asked Philip politely。
〃At times;〃 answered Elnora。 〃‘As do the birds;
because I must;' but don't be scared。 The mood does
not possess me often。 Perhaps I shan't raise a note。〃
They went down the road to the swamp; climbed the
snake fence; followed the path to the old trail and then
turned south upon it。 Elnora indicated to Philip the
trail with remnants of sagging barbed wire。
〃It was ten years ago;〃 she said。 〃I was a little school
girl; but I wandered widely even then; and no one cared。
I saw him often。 He had been in a city institution all his
life; when he took the job of keeping timber thieves out of
this swamp; before many trees had been cut。 It was a
strong man's work; and he was a frail boy; but he grew
hardier as he lived out of doors。 This trail we are on is
the path his feet first wore; in those days when he was
insane with fear and eaten up with loneliness; but he stuck
to his work and won out。 I used to come down to the road
and creep among the bushes as far as I dared; to watch
him pass。 He walked mostly; at times he rode a wheel。
〃Some days his face was dreadfully sad; others it was
so determined a little child could see the force in it; and
once he was radiant。 That day the Swamp Angel was
with him。 I can't tell you what she was like。 I never
saw any one who resembled her。 He stopped close here
to show her a bird's nest。 Then they went on to a sort of
flower…room he had made; and he sang for her。 By the
time he left; I had gotten bold enough to come out on
the trail; and I met the big Scotchman Freckles lived with。
He saw me catching moths and butterflies; so he took me
to the flower…room and gave me everything there。
I don't dare come alone often; so I can't keep it up as
he did; but you can see something of how it was。〃
Elnora led the way and Philip followed。 The outlines
of the room were not distinct; because many of the
trees were gone; but Elnora showed how it had been as
nearly as she could。
〃The swamp is almost ruined now;〃 she said。 〃The maples;
walnuts; and cherries are all gone。 The talking trees
are the only things left worth while。〃
〃The ‘talking trees!' I don't understand;〃 commented Philip。
〃No wonder!〃 laughed Elnora。 〃They are my discovery。
You know all trees whisper and talk during the summer;
but there are two that have so much to say they keep on
the whole winter; when the others are silent。 The beeches
and oaks so love to talk; they cling to their dead;
dry leaves。 In the winter the winds are stiffest
and blow most; so these trees whisper; chatter; sob;
laugh; and at times roar until the sound is deafening。
They never cease until new leaves come out in the spring
to push off the old ones。 I love to stand beneath them
with my ear to the trunks; interpreting what they say
to fit my moods。 The beeches branch low; and their
leaves are small so they only know common earthly things;
but the oaks run straight above almost all other trees
before they branch; their arms are mighty; their leaves large。
They meet the winds that travel around the globe; and from
them learn the big things。〃
Philip studied the girls face。 〃What do the beeches
tell you; Elnora?〃 he asked gently。
〃To be patient; to be unselfish; to do unto others as
I would have them do to me。〃
〃And the oaks?〃
〃They say ‘be true;' ‘live a clean life;' ‘send your soul
up here and the winds of the world will teach it what
honour achieves。'〃
〃Wonderful secrets; those!〃 marvelled Philip。 〃Are they
telling them now? Could I hear?〃
〃No。 They are only gossiping now。 This is play…time。
They tell the big secrets to a white world; when the
music inspires them。〃
〃The music?〃
〃All other trees are harps in the winter。 Their trunks are
the frames; their branches the strings; the winds the musicians。
When the air is cold and clear; the world very white; and
the harp music swelling; then the talking trees tell the
strengthening; uplifting things。〃
〃You wonderful girl!〃 cried Philip。 〃What a woman
you will be!〃
〃If I am a woman at all worth while; it will be because
I have had such wonderful opportunities;〃 said Elnora。
〃Not every girl is driven to the forest to learn what God
has to say there。 Here are the remains of Freckles's room。
The time the Angel came here he sang to her; and I listened。
I never heard music like that。 No wonder she loved him。
Every one who knew him did; and they do yet。 Try that
log; it makes a fairly good seat。 This old store box
was his treasure house; just as it's now mine。 I will
show you my dearest possession。 I do not dare take
it home because mother can't overcome her dislike for it。
It was my father's; and in some ways I am like him。
This is the strongest。〃
Elnora lifted the violin and began to play。 She wore
a school dress of green gingham; with the sleeves rolled to
the elbows。 She seemed a part of the setting all around her。
Her head shone like a small dark sun; and her face never
had seemed so rose…flushed and fair。 From the instant
she drew the bow; her lips parted and her eyes turned
toward something far away in the swamp; and never did
she give more of that impression of feeling for her notes
and repeating something audible only to her。 Philip was
too close to get the best effect。 He arose and stepped back
several yards; leaning against a large tree; looking and
listening intently。
As he changed positions he saw that Mrs。 Comstock had
followed them; and was standing on the trail; where she
could not have helped hearing everything Elnora had said。
So to Philip before her and the mother watching on the
trail; Elnora played the Song of the Limberlost。 It seemed
as if the swamp hushed all its other voices and spoke
only through her dancing bow。 The mother out on the
trail had heard it all; once before from the girl; many
times from her father。 To the man it was a revelation。
He stood so stunned he forgot Mrs。 Comstock。 He tried
to realize what a city audience would say to that music;
from such a player; with a similar background; and he
could not imagine。
He was wondering what he dared say; how much he might
express; when the last note fell and the girl laid the
violin in the case; closed the door; locked it and hid the
key in th