英语天堂-第65部分

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s　busily；　and　strove　to　fill　up　the　chasm　in　his　heart　with　hurry　and　bustle；　and　change　of　place；　and　people　who　saw　him　in　the　street；　or　met　him　at　the　cafe；　knew　of　his　loss　only　by　the　weed　on　his　hat；　for　there　he　was；　smiling　and　talking；　and　reading　the　newspaper；　and　speculating　on　politics；　and　attending　to　business　matters；　and　who　could　see　that　all　this　smiling　outside　was　but　a　hollowed　shell　over　a　heart　that　was　a　dark　and　silent　sepulchre？
“Mr。　St。　Clare　is　a　singular　man；”　said　Marie　to　Miss　Ophelia；　in　a　complaining　tone。　“I　used　to　think；　if　there　was　anything　in　the　world　he　did　love；　it　was　our　dear　little　Eva；　but　he　seems　to　be　forgetting　her　very　easily。　I　cannot　ever　get　him　to　talk　about　her。　I　really　did　think　he　would　show　more　feeling！”
“Still　waters　run　deepest；　they　used　to　tell　me；”　said　Miss　Ophelia；　oracularly。
“O；　I　don’t　believe　in　such　things；　it’s　all　talk。　If　people　have　feeling；　they　will　show　it；—they　can’t　help　it；　but；　then；　it’s　a　great　misfortune　to　have　feeling。　I’d　rather　have　been　made　like　St。　Clare。　My　feelings　prey　upon　me　so！”
“Sure；　Missis；　Mas’r　St。　Clare　is　gettin’　thin　as　a　shader。　They　say；　he　don’t　never　eat　nothin’；”　said　Mammy。　“I　know　he　don’t　forget　Miss　Eva；　I　know　there　couldn’t　nobody；—dear；　little；　blessed　cretur！”　she　added；　wiping　her　eyes。
“Well；　at　all　events；　he　has　no　consideration　for　me；”　said　Marie；　“he　hasn’t　spoken　one　word　of　sympathy；　and　he　must　know　how　much　more　a　mother　feels　than　any　man　can。”
“The　heart　knoweth　its　own　bitterness；”　said　Miss　Ophelia；　gravely。
“That’s　just　what　I　think。　I　know　just　what　I　feel；—nobody　else　seems　to。　Eva　used　to；　but　she　is　gone！”　and　Marie　lay　back　on　her　lounge；　and　began　to　sob　disconsolately。
Marie　was　one　of　those　unfortunately　constituted　mortals；　in　whose　eyes　whatever　is　lost　and　gone　assumes　a　value　which　it　never　had　in　possession。　Whatever　she　had；　she　seemed　to　survey　only　to　pick　flaws　in　it；　but；　once　fairly　away；　there　was　no　end　to　her　valuation　of　it。
While　this　conversation　was　taking　place　in　the　parlor　another　was　going　on　in　St。　Clare’s　library。
Tom；　who　was　always　uneasily　following　his　master　about；　had　seen　him　go　to　his　library；　some　hours　before；　and；　after　vainly　waiting　for　him　to　come　out；　determined；　at　last；　to　make　an　errand　in。　He　entered　softly。　St。　Clare　lay　on　his　lounge；　at　the　further　end　of　the　room。　He　was　lying　on　his　face；　with　Eva’s　Bible　open　before　him；　at　a　little　distance。　Tom　walked　up；　and　stood　by　the　sofa。　He　hesitated；　and；　while　he　was　hesitating；　St。　Clare　suddenly　raised　himself　up。　The　honest　face；　so　full　of　grief；　and　with　such　an　imploring　expression　of　affection　and　sympathy；　struck　his　master。　He　laid　his　hand　on　Tom’s；　and　bowed　down　his　forehead　on　it。
“O；　Tom；　my　boy；　the　whole　world　is　as　empty　as　an　egg…shell。”
“I　know　it；　Mas’r；—I　know　it；”　said　Tom；　“but；　oh；　if　Mas’r　could　only　look　up；—up　where　our　dear　Miss　Eva　is；—up　to　the　dear　Lord　Jesus！”
“Ah；　Tom！　I　do　look　up；　but　the　trouble　is；　I　don’t　see　anything；　when　I　do；　I　wish　I　could。”
Tom　sighed　heavily。
“It　seems　to　be　given　to　children；　and　poor；　honest　fellows；　like　you；　to　see　what　we　can’t；”　said　St。　Clare。　“How　comes　it？”
“Thou　has　‘hid　from　the　wise　and　prudent；　and　revealed　unto　babes；’”　murmured　Tom；　“‘even　so；　Father；　for　so　it　seemed　good　in　thy　sight。’”
“Tom；　I　don’t　believe；—I　can’t　believe；—I’ve　got　the　habit　of　doubting；”　said　St。　Clare。　“I　want　to　believe　this　Bible；—and　I　can’t。”
“Dear　Mas’r；　pray　to　the　good　Lord；—‘Lord；　I　believe；　help　thou　my　unbelief。’”
“Who　knows　anything　about　anything？”　said　St。　Clare；　his　eyes　wandering　dreamily；　and　speaking　to　himself。　“Was　all　that　beautiful　love　and　faith　only　one　of　the　ever…shifting　phases　of　human　feeling；　having　nothing　real　to　rest　on；　passing　away　with　the　little　breath？　And　is　there　no　more　Eva；—no　heaven；—no　Christ；—nothing？”
“O；　dear　Mas’r；　there　is！　I　know　it；　I’m　sure　of　it；”　said　Tom；　falling　on　his　knees。　“Do；　do；　dear　Mas’r；　believe　it！”
“How　do　you　know　there’s　any　Christ；　Tom！　You　never　saw　the　Lord。”
“Felt　Him　in　my　soul；　Mas’r；—feel　Him　now！　O；　Mas’r；　when　I　was　sold　away　from　my　old　woman　and　the　children；　I　was　jest　a’most　broke　up。　I　felt　as　if　there　warn’t　nothin’　left；　and　then　the　good　Lord；　he　stood　by　me；　and　he　says；　‘Fear　not；　Tom；’　and　he　brings　light　and　joy　in　a　poor　feller’s　soul；—makes　all　peace；　and　I　’s　so　happy；　and　loves　everybody；　and　feels　willin’　jest　to　be　the　Lord’s；　and　have　the　Lord’s　will　done；　and　be　put　jest　where　the　Lord　wants　to　put　me。　I　know　it　couldn’t　come　from　me；　cause　I　’s　a　poor；　complainin’cretur；　it　comes　from　the　Lord；　and　I　know　He’s　willin’　to　do　for　Mas’r。”
Tom　spoke　with　fast…running　tears　and　choking　voice。　St。　Clare　leaned　his　head　on　his　shoulder；　and　wrung　the　hard；　faithful；　black　hand。
“Tom；　you　love　me；”　he　said。
“I　’s　willin’　to　lay　down　my　life；　this　blessed　day；　to　see　Mas’r　a　Christian。”
“Poor；　foolish　boy！”　said　St。　Clare；　half…raising　himself。　“I’m　not　worth　the　love　of　one　good；　honest　heart；　like　yours。”
“O；　Mas’r；　dere’s　more　than　me　loves　you；—the　blessed　Lord　Jesus　loves　you。”
“How　do　you　know　that　Tom？”　said　St。　Clare。
“Feels　it　in　my　soul。　O；　Mas’r！　‘the　love　of　Christ；　that　passeth　knowledge。’”
“Singular！”　said　St。　Clare；　turning　away；　“that　the　story　of　a　man　that　lived　and　died　eighteen　hundred　years　ago　can　affect　people　so　yet。　But　he　was　no　man；”　he　added；　suddenly。　“No　man　ever　had　such　long　and　living　power！　O；　that　I　could　believe　what　my　mother　taught　me；　and　pray　as　I　did　when　I　was　a　boy！”
“If　Mas’r　pleases；”　said　Tom；　“Miss　Eva　used　to　read　this　so　beautifully。　I　wish　Mas’r’d　be　so　good　as　read　it。　Don’t　get　no　readin’；　hardly；　now　Miss　Eva’s　gone。”
The　chapter　was　the　eleventh　of　John；—the　touching　acomount　of　the　raising　of　Lazarus；　St。　Clare　read　it　aloud；　often　pausing　to　wrestle　down　feelings　which　were　roused　by　the　pathos　of　the　story。　Tom　knelt　before　him；　with　clasped　hands；　and　with　an　absorbed　expression　of　love；　trust；　adoration；　on　his　quiet　face。
“Tom；”　said　his　Master；　“this　is　all　real　to　you！”
“I　can　jest　fairly　see　it　Mas’r；”　said　Tom。
“I　wish　I　had　your　eyes；　Tom。”
“I　wish；　to　the　dear　Lord；　Mas’r　had！”
“But；　Tom；　you　know　that　I　have　a　great　deal　more　knowledge　than　you；　what　if　I　should　tell　you　that　I　don’t　believe　this　Bible？”
“O；　Mas’r！”　said　Tom；　holding　up　his　hands；　with　a　deprecating　gesture。
“Wouldn’t　it　shake　your　faith　some；　Tom？”
“Not　a　grain；”　said　Tom。
“Why；　Tom；　you　must　know　I　know　the　most。”
“O；　Mas’r；　haven’t　you　jest　read　how　he　hides　from　the　wise　and　prudent；　and　reveals　unto　babes？　But　Mas’r　wasn’t　in　earnest；　for　sartin；　now？”　said　Tom；　anxiously。
“No；　Tom；　I　was　not。　I　don’t　disbelieve；　and　I　think　there　is　reason　to　believe；　and　still　I　don’t。　It’s　a　troublesome　bad　habit　I’ve　got；　Tom。”
“If　Mas’r　would　only　pray！”
“How　do　you　know　I　don’t；　Tom？”
“Does　Mas’r？”
“I　would；　Tom；　if　there　was　anybody　there　when　I　pray；　but　it’s　all　speaking　unto　nothing；　when　I　do。　But　come；　Tom；　you　pray　now；　and　show　me　how。”
Tom’s　heart　was　full；　he　poured　it　out　In　prayer；　like　waters　that　have　been　long　suppressed。　One　thing　was　plain　enough；　Tom　thought　there　was　somebody　to　hear；　whether　there　were　or　not。　In　fact；　St。　Clare　felt　himself　borne；　on　the　tide　of　his　faith　and　feeling；　almost　to　the　gates　of　that　heaven　he　seemed　so　vividly　to　conceive。　It　seemed　to　bring　him　nearer　to　Eva。
“Thank　you；　my　boy；”　said　St。　Clare；　when　Tom　rose。　“I　like　to　hear　you；　Tom；　but　go；　now；　and　leave　me　alone；　some　other　time；　I’ll　talk　more。”
Tom　silently　left　the　room。
1　“This　is　the　last　of　Earth！　I　am　content；”　last　words　of　John　Quincy　Adams；　uttered　February　21；　1848。
Chapter　28
Reunion
Week　after　week　glided　away　in　the　St。　Clare　mansion；　and　the　waves　of　life　settled　back　to　their　usual　flow；　where　that　little　bark　had　gone　down。　For　how　imperiously；　how　coolly；　in　disregard　of　all　one’s　feeling；　does　the　hard；　cold；　uninteresting　course　of　daily　realities　move　on！　Still　must　we　eat；　and　drink；　and　sleep；　and　wake　again；—still　bargain；　buy；　sell；　ask　and　answer　questions；—pursue；　in　short；　a　thousand　shadows；　though　all　interest　in　them　be　over；　the　cold　mechanical　habit　of　living　remaining；　after　all　vital　interest　in　it　has　fled。
All　the　interests　and　hopes　of　St。　Clare’s　life　had　unconsciously　wound　themselves　around　this　child。　It　was　for　Eva　that　he　had　managed　his　property；　it　was　for　Eva　that　he　had　planned　the　disposal　of　his　time；　and；　to　do　this　and　that　for　Eva；—to　buy；　improve；　alter；　and　arrange；　or　dispose　something　for　her；—had　been　so　long　his　habit；　that　now　she　was　gone；　there　seemed　nothing　to　be　thought　of；　and　nothing　to　be　done。
True；　there　was　another　life；—a　life　which；　once　believed　in；　stands　as　a　solemn；　significant　figure　before　the　otherwise　unmeaning　ciphers　of　time；　changing　them　to　orders　of　mysterious；　untold　value。　St。　Clare　knew　this　well；　and　often；　in　many　a　weary　hour；　he　heard　that　slender；　childish　voice　calling　him　to　the　skies；　and　saw　that　little　hand　pointing　to　him　the　way　of　life；　but　a　heavy　lethargy　of　sorrow　lay　on　him；—he　could　not　arise。　He　had　one　of　those　natures　which　could　better　and　more　clearly　conceive　of　religious　things　from　its　own　perceptions　and　instincts；　than　many　a　matter…of…fact　and　practical　Christian。　The　gift　to　appreciate　and　the　sense　to　feel　the　finer　shades　and　relations　of　moral　things；　often　seems　an　attribute　of　those　whose　whole　life　shows　a　careless　disregard　of　them。　Hence　Moore；　Byron；　Goethe；　often　speak　words　more　wisely　descriptive　of　the　true　religious　sentiment；　than　another　man；　whose　whole　life　is　governed　by　it。　In　such　minds；　disregard　of　religion　is　a　more　fearful　treason；—a　more　deadly　sin。
St。　Clare　had　never　pretended　to　govern　himself　by　any　religious　obligation；　and　a　certain　fineness　of　nature　gave　him　such　an　instinctive　view　of　the　extent　of　the　requirements　of　Christianity；　that　he　shrank；　by　anticipation；　from　what　he　felt　would　be　the　exactions　of　his　own　conscience；　if　he　once　did　resolve　to　assume　them。　For；　so　inconsistent　is　human　nature；　especially　in　the　ideal；　that　not　to　undertake　a　thing　at　all　seems　better　than　to　undertake　and　come　short。
Still　St。　Clare　was；　in　many　respects；　another　man。　He　read　his　little　Eva’s　Bible　seriously　and　honestly；　he　thought　more　soberly　and　practically　of　his　relations　to　his　servants；—enough　to　make　him　extremely　dissatisfied　with　both　his　past　and　present　course；　and　one　thing　he　did；　soon　after　his　return　to　New　Orleans；　and　that　was　to　commence　the　legal　steps　necessary　to　Tom’s　emancipation；　which　was　to　be　perfected　as　soon　as　he　could　get　through　the　necessary　formalities。　Meantime；　he　attached　himself　to　Tom　more　and　more；　every　day。　In　all　the　wide　world；　there　was　nothing　that　seemed　to　remind　him　so　much　of　Eva；　and　he　would　insist　on　keeping　him　constantly　about　him；　and；　fastidious　and　unapproachable　as　he　was　with　regard　to　his　deeper　feelings；　he　almost　thought　aloud　to　Tom。　Nor　would　any　one　have　wondered　at　it；　who　had　seen　the　expression　of　affection　and　devotion　with　which　Tom　continually　followed　his　young　master。
“Well；　Tom；”　said　St。　Clare；　the　day　after　he　had　commenced　the　legal　formalities　for　his　enfranchisement；　“I’m　going　to　make　a　free　man　of　you；—so　have　your　trunk　packed；　and　get　ready　to　set　out　for　Kentuck。”
The　sudden　light　of　joy　that　shone　in　Tom’s　face　as　he　raised　his　hands　to　heaven；　his　emphatic　“Bless　the　Lord！”　rather　discomposed　St。　Clare；　he　did　not　like　it　that　Tom　should　be　so　ready　to　leave　him。
“You　haven’t　had　such　very　bad　times　here；　that　you　need　be　in　such　a　rapture；　Tom；”　he　said　drily。
“No；　no；　Mas’r！　’tan’t　that；—it’s　bein’　a　freeman！　that’s　what　I’m　joyin’　for。”
“Why；　Tom；　don’t　you　think；　for　your　own　part；　you’ve　been　better　off　than　to　be　free？”
“No；　indeed；　Mas’r　St。　Clare；”　said　Tom；　with　a　flash　of　energy。　“No；　indeed！”
“Why；　Tom；　you　couldn’t　possibly　have　earned；　by　your　work；　such　clothes　and　such　living　as　I　have　given　you。”
“Knows　all　that；　Mas’r　St。　Clare；　Mas’r’s　been　too　good；　but；　Mas’r；　I’d　rather　have　poor　clothes；　poor　house；　poor　everything；　and　have　’em　mine；　than　have　the　best；　and　have　’em　any　man’s　else；—I　had　so；　Mas’r；　I　think　it’s　natur；　Mas’r。”
“I　suppose　so；　Tom；　and　you’ll　be　going　off　and　leaving　me；　in　a　month　or　so；”　he　added；　rather　discontentedly。　“Though　why　you　shouldn’t；　no　mortal　knows；”　he　said；　in　a　gayer　tone；　and；　getting　up；　he　began　to　walk　the　floor。
“Not　while　Mas’r　is　in　trouble；”　said　Tom。　“I’ll　stay　with　Mas’r　as　long　as　he　wants　me；—so　as　I　can　be　any　use。”
“Not　while　I’m　in　trouble；　Tom？”　said　St。　Clare；　looking　sadly　out　of　the　window。　。　。　。　“And　when　will　my　trouble　be　over？”
“When　Mas’r　St。　Clare’s　a　Christian；”　said　Tom。
“And　you　really　mean　to　stay　by　till　that　day　comes？”　said　St。　Clare；　half　smiling；　as　he　turned　from　the　window；　and　laid　his　hand　on　Tom’s　shoulder。　“Ah；　Tom；　you　soft；　silly　boy！　I　won’t　keep　you　till　that　day。　Go　home　to　your　wife　and　children；　and　give　my　love　to　all。”
“I　’s　faith　to　believe　that　day　will　come；”　said　Tom；　earnestly；　and　with　tears　in　his　eyes；　“the　Lord　has　a　work　for　Mas’r。”
“A　work；　hey？”　said　St。　Clare；　“well；　now；　Tom；　give　me　your　views　on　what　sort　of　a　work　it　is；—let’s　hear。”
“Why；　even　a　poor　fellow　like　me　has　a　work　from　the　Lord；　and　Mas’r　St。　Clare；　that　has　larnin；　and　riches；　and　friends；—how　much　he　might　do　for　the　Lord！”
“Tom；　you　seem　to　think　the　Lord　needs　a　great　deal　done　for　him；”　said　St。　Clare；　smiling。
“We　does　for　the　Lord　when　we　does　for　his　critturs；”　said　Tom。
“Good　theology；　Tom；　better　than　Dr。　B。　preaches；　I　dare　swear；”　said　St。　Clare。
The　conversation　was　here　interrupted　by　the　announcement　of　some　visitors。
Marie　St。　Clare　felt　the　loss　of　Eva　as　deeply　as　she　could　feel　anything；　and；　as　she　was　a　woman　that　had　a　great　faculty　of　making　everybody　unhappy　when　she　was；　her　immediate　attendants　had　still　stronger　reason　to　regret　the　loss　of　their　young　mistress；　whose　winning　ways　and　gentle　intercessions　had　so　often　been　a　shield　to　them　from　the　tyrannical　and　selfish　exactions　of　her　mother。　Poor　old　Mammy；　in　particular；　whose　heart；　severed　from　all　natural　domestic　ties；　had　consoled　itself　with　this　one　beautiful　being；　was　almost　heart…broken。　She　cried　day　and　night；　and　was；　from　excess　of　sorrow；　less　skilful　and　alert　in　her　ministrations　of　her　mistress　than　usual；　which　drew　down　a　constant　storm　of　invectives　on　her　defenceless　head。
Miss　Ophelia　felt　the　loss；　but；　in　her　good　and　honest　heart；　it　bore　fruit　unto　everlasting　life。　She　was　more　softened；　more　gentle；　and；　though　equally　assiduous　in　every　duty；　it　was　with　a　chastened　and　quiet　air；　as　one　who　communed　with　her　own　heart　not　in　vain。　She　was　more　diligent　in　teaching　Topsy；—taught　her　mainly　from　the　Bible；—did　not　any　longer　shrink　from　her　touch；　or　manifest　an　ill…repressed　disgust；　because　she　felt　none。　She　viewed　her　now　th