the village watch-tower- 第21部分

to　drop　a　plummet　into　the　crystal　springs　of　her　consciousness。

When　the　violin　was　laid　away；　she　would　sit　in　the　twilight；　by　Davy's　sofa；

his　thin　hand　in　hers；　and　talk　with　Anthony　about　books　and　flowers

and　music；　and　about　the　meaning　of　life；　too；its　burdens　and　mistakes；

and　joys　and　sorrows；　groping　with　him　in　the　darkness　to　find

a　clue　to　God's　purposes。



Davy　had　long　afternoons　at　Lyddy's　house　as　the　autumn

grew　into　winter。　　He　read　to　her　while　she　sewed　rags

for　a　new　sitting…room　carpet；　and　they　played　dominoes

and　checkers　together　in　the　twilight　before　supper　time；

suppers　that　were　a　feast　to　the　boy；　after　Mrs。　Buck's　cookery。

Anthony　brought　his　violin　sometimes　of　an　evening；

and　Almira　Berry；　the　next　neighbor　on　the　road　to　the　Mills；

would　drop　in　and　join　the　little　party。　　Almira　used　to　sing

Auld　Robin　Gray；　What　Will　You　Do；　Love；　and　Robin　Adair；

to　the　great　enjoyment　of　everybody；　and　she　persuaded　Lyddy

to　buy　the　old　church　melodeon；　and　learn　to　sing　alto　in　Oh；

Wert　Thou　in　the　Cauld　Blast；　Gently；　Gently　Sighs　the　Breeze；

and　I　know　a　Bank。　　Nobody　sighed　for　the　gayeties　and　advantages

of　a　great　city　when；　these　concerts　being　over；　Lyddy　would

pass　crisp　seedcakes　and　raspberry　shrub；　doughnuts　and　cider；

or　hot　popped　corn　and　molasses　candy。



〃But　there；　she　can　afford　to；〃　said　aunt　Hitty　Tarbox；

〃she's　pretty　middlin'　wealthy　for　Edgewood。　　And　it's　lucky　she

is；　for　she　'bout　feeds　that　boy　o'　Croft's。　No　wonder

he　wants　her　to　fill　him　up；　after　six　years　of　the　Widder

Buck's　victuals。　　Aurelia　Buck　can　take　good　flour　and　sugar；

sweet　butter　and　fresh　eggs；　and　in　ten　strokes　of　her　hand　she

can　make　'em　into　something　the　very　hogs　'll　turn　away　from。

I　declare；　it　brings　the　tears　to　my　eyes　sometimes

when　I　see　her　coming　out　of　Croft's　Saturday　afternoons；

and　think　of　the　stone　crocks　full　of　nasty　messes　she's

left　behind　her　for　that　innocent　man　and　boy　to　eat　up。。。。

Anthony　goes　to　see　Miss　Butterfield　consid'able　often。

Of　course　it's　awstensibly　to　walk　home　with　Davy；

or　do　an　errand　or　something；　but　everybody　knows　better。

She　went　down　to　Croft's　pretty　nearly　every　day　when　his　cousin

from　Bridgton　come　to　house…clean。　She　suspicioned　something；

I　guess。　　Anyhow；　she　asked　me　if　Miss　Butterfield's　two　hundred

a　year　was　in　gov'ment　bonds。　　Anthony's　eyesight　ain't　good；

but　I　guess　he　could　make　out　to　cut　cowpons　off。。。。　It

would　be　strange　if　them　two　left…overs　should　take　an'

marry　each　other；　though；　come　to　think　of　it；　I　don't

know's　't　would　neither。　　He's　blind；　to　be　sure；　and　can't

see　her　scarred　face。　　It's　a　pity　she　ain't　deef；

so't　she　can't　hear　his　everlastin'　fiddle。　　She's　lucky

to　get　any　kind　of　a　husband；　she's　too　humbly　to　choose。

I　declare；　she　reminds　me　of　a　Jack…o'…lantern；　though

if　you　look　at　the　back　of　her；　or　see　her　in　meetin'

with　a　thick　veil　on；　she's　about　the　best　appearin'　woman　in

Edgewood。。。。　I　never　see　anybody　stiffen　up　as　Anthony　has。

He　had　me　make　him　three　white　shirts　and　three　gingham　ones；

with　collars　and　cuffs　on　all　of　'em。　　It　seems　as　if　six

shirts　at　one　time　must　mean　something　out　o'　the　common！〃



Aunt　Hitty　was　right；　it　did　mean　something　out　of　the　common。

It　meant　the　growth　of　an　all…engrossing；　grateful；

divinely　tender　passion　between　two　love…starved　souls。

On　the　one　hand；　Lyddy；　who　though　she　had　scarcely　known

the　meaning　of　love　in　all　her　dreary　life；　yet　was　as　full

to　the　brim　of　all　sweet；　womanly　possibilities　of　loving

and　giving　as　any　pretty　woman；　on　the　other；　the　blind

violin…maker；　who　had　never　loved　any　woman　but　his　mother；

and　who　was　in　the　direst　need　of　womanly　sympathy　and　affection。



Anthony　Croft；　being　ministered　unto　by　Lyddy's　kind　hands；

hearing　her　sweet　voice　and　her　soft　footstep；　saw　her　as　God　sees；

knowing　the　best；　forgiving　the　worst；　like　God；　and　forgetting　it；

still　more　like　God；　I　think。



And　Lyddy？　　There　is　no　pen　worthy　to　write　of　Lyddy。

Her　joy　lay　deep　in　her　heart　like　a　jewel　at　the　bottom　of　a　clear　pool；

so　deep　that　no　ripple　or　ruffle　on　the　surface　could　disturb

the　hidden　treasure。　　If　God　had　smitten　these　two　with　one　hand；

he　had　held　out　the　other　in　tender　benediction。



There　had　been　a　pitiful　scene　of　unspeakable　solemnity

when　Anthony　first　told　Lyddy　that　he　loved　her；　and　asked　her

to　be　his　wife。　　He　had　heard　all　her　sad　history　by　this　time；

though　not　from　her　own　lips；　and　his　heart　went　out　to　her

all　the　more　for　the　heavy　cross　that　had　been　laid　upon　her。

He　had　the　wit　and　wisdom　to　put　her　affliction　quite　out

of　the　question；　and　allude　only　to　her　sacrifice　in　marrying

a　blind　man；　hopelessly　and　helplessly　dependent　on　her　sweet

offices　for　the　rest　of　his　life；　if　she；　in　her　womanly　mercy；

would　love　him　and　help　him　bear　his　burdens。



When　his　tender　words　fell　upon　Lyddy's　dazed　brain

she　sank　beside　his　chair；　and；　clasping　his　knees；　sobbed：

〃I　love　you；　I　cannot　help　loving　you；　I　cannot　help

telling　you　I　love　you！　　But　you　must　hear　the　truth；

you　have　heard　it　from　others；　but　perhaps　they　softened　it。

If　I　marry　you；　people　will　always　blame　me　and　pity　you。

You　would　never　ask　me　to　be　your　wife　if　you　could　see　my　face；

you　could　not　love　me　an　instant　if　you　were　not　blind。〃



〃Then　I　thank　God　unceasingly　for　my　infirmity；〃　said　Anthony　Croft；

as　he　raised　her　to　her　feet。





　　　　　。　　。　　。　　。　　。　　。





Anthony　and　Lyddy　Croft　sat　in　the　apple　orchard；

one　warm　day　in　late　spring。



Anthony's　work　would　have　puzzled　a　casual　on…looker。　Ten　stout

wires　were　stretched　between　two　trees；　fifteen　or　twenty　feet　apart；

and　each　group　of　five　represented　the　lines　of　the　musical　staff。

Wooden　bars　crossed　the　wires　at　regular　intervals；　dividing　the　staff

into　measures。　　A　box　with　many　compartments　sat　on　a　stool　beside　him；

and　this　held　bits　of　wood　that　looked　like　pegs；　but　were　in　reality　whole；

half；　quarter；　and　eighth　notes；　rests；　flats；　sharps；　and　the　like。

These　were　cleft　in　such　a　way　that　he　could　fit　them　on　the　wires

almost　as　rapidly　as　his　musical　theme　came　to　him；　and　Lyddy　had　learned

to　transcribe　with　pen　and　ink　the　music　she　found　in　wood　and　wire；

He　could　write　only　simple　airs　in　this　way；　but　when　he　played

them　on　the　violin　they　were　transported　into　a　loftier　region；

such　genius　lay　in　the　harmony；　the　arabesque；　the　delicate　lacework

of　embroidery　with　which　the　tune　was　inwrought；　now　high；　now　low；

now　major；　now　minor；　now　sad；　now　gay；　with　the　one　thrilling；

haunting　cadence　recurring　again　and　again；　to　be　watched　for；　longed　for；

and　greeted　with　a　throb　of　delight。



Davy　was　reading　at　the　window；　his　curly　head　buried

in　a　well…worn　Shakespeare　opened　at　Midsummer　Night's　Dream。

Lyddy　was　sitting　under　her　favorite　pink　apple…tree；　a　mass

of　fragrant　bloom；　more　beautiful　than　Aurora's　morning　gown。

She　was　sewing；　lining　with　snowy　lawn　innumerable　pockets　in　a

square　basket　that　she　held　in　her　lap。　　The　pockets　were　small；

the　needles　were　fine；　the　thread　was　a　length　of　cobweb。

Everything　about　the　basket　was　small　except　the　hopes　that　she

was　stitching　into　it；　they　were　so　great　that　her　heart

could　scarcely　hold　them。　　Nature　was　stirring　everywhere。

The　seeds　were　springing　in　the　warm　earth。　　The　hens

were　clucking　to　their　downy　chicks　just　out　of　the　egg。

The　birds　were　flying　hither　and　thither　in　the　apple　boughs；

and　there　was　one　little　home　of　straw　so　hung　that　Lyddy　could

look　into　it　and　see　the　patient　mother　brooding　her　nestlings。

The　sight　of　her　bright　eyes；　alert　for　every　sign　of　danger；

sent　a　rush　of　feeling　through　Lyddy's　veins　that　made　her　long

to　clasp　the　little　feathered　mother　to　her　own　breast。



A　sweet　gravity　and　consecration　of　thought　possessed　her；

and　the　pink　blossoms　falling　into　her　basket　were　not　more　delicate

than　the　rose…colored　dreams　that　flushed　her　soul。



Anthony　put　in　the　last　wooden　peg；　and　taking　up　his　violin　called；

〃Davy；　lad；　come　out　and　tell　me　what　this　means！〃



Davy　was　used　to　this；　from　a　wee　boy　he　had　been　asked

to　paint　the　changing　landscape　of　each　day；　and　to　put　into

words　his　uncle's　music。



Lyddy　dropped　her　needle；　the　birds　stopped　to　listen；

and　Anthony　played。



〃It　is　this　apple　orchard　in　May　time；〃　said　Davy；

〃it　is　the　song　of　the　green　things　growing；　isn't　it？〃



〃What　do　you　say；　dear？〃　asked　Anthony；　turning　to　his　wife。



Love　and　hope　had　made　a　poet　of　Lyddy。　　〃I　think　Davy　is　right；〃

she　said。　　〃It　is　a　dream　of　the　future；　the　story　of　all　new　and

beautiful　things　growing　out　of　the　old。　　It　is　full　of　the　sweetness

of　present　joy；　but　there　is　promise　and　hope　in　it　besides。

It　is　like　the　Spring　sitting　in　the　lap　of　Winter；　and　holding

a　baby　Summer　in　her　bosom。〃



Davy　did　not　quite　understand　this；　though　he　thought　it　pretty；

but　Lyddy's　husband　did；　and　when　the　boy　went　back　to　his　books；

he　took　his　wife　in　his　arms　and　kissed　her　twice；once　for　herself；

and　then　once　again。





…





THE　EVENTFUL　TRIP　OF　THE　MIDNIGHT　CRY。





In　the　little　villages　along　the　Saco　River；

in　the　year　1850　or　thereabouts；　the　arrival　and　departure

of　the　stage…coach　was　the　one　exciting　incident　of　the　day。

It　did　not　run　on　schedule　time　in　those　days；　but　started

from　Limington　or　Saco；　as　the　case　might　be；　at　about　or

somewhere　near　a　certain　hour；　and　arrived　at　the　other　end

of　the　route　whenever　it　got　there。　　There　were　no　trains　to　meet

（the　railway　popularly　known　as　the　〃York　and　Yank'em〃　was　not　built

till　1862）；　the　roads　were　occasionally　good　and　generally　bad；

and　thus　it　was　often　dusk；　and　sometimes　late　in　the　evening；

when　the　lumbering　vehicle　neared　its　final　destination

and　drew　up　to　the　little　post…offi