第2章 The Gentle Hand 温柔之手

Timothy S. Arthur ( b. 1809, d. 1885 ) was born near Newburgh, N.Y., but passed most of his life at Baltimore and Philadelphia. His opportunities for good schooling were quite limited, and he may be considered a self-educated man. He was the author of more than a hundred volumes, principally novels of a domestic and moral tone, and of many shorter tales—magazine articles, etc. "Ten Nights in a Barroom," and "Three Years in a Mantrap," are among his best known works.

When and where it matters not now to relate—but once upon a time, as I was passing through a thinly peopled district of country, night came down upon me almost unawares. Being on foot, I could not hope to gain the village toward which my steps were directed, until a late hour; and I therefore preferred seeking shelter and a night's lodging at the first humble dwelling that presented itself.

Dusky twilight was giving place to deeper shadows, when I found myself in the vicinity of a dwelling, from the small uncurtained windows of which the light shone with a pleasant promise of good cheer and comfort. The house stood within an inclosure, and a short distance from the road along which I was moving with wearied feet.

Turning aside, and passing through the ill-hung gate, I approached the dwelling. Slowly the gate swung on its wooden hinges, and the rattle of its latch, in closing, did not disturb the air until I had nearly reached the porch in front of the house, in which a slender girl, who had noticed my entrance, stood awaiting my arrival.

A deep, quick bark answered, almost like an echo, the sound of the shutting gate, and, sudden as an apparition, the form of an immense dog loomed in the doorway. At the instant when he was about to spring, a light hand was laid upon his shaggy neck, and a low word spoken.

"Go in, Tiger," said the girl, not in a voice of authority, yet in her gentle tones was the consciousness that she would be obeyed; and, as she spoke, she lightly bore upon the animal with her hand, and he turned away and disappeared within the dwelling.

"Who's that?" A rough voice asked the question; and now a heavy-looking man took the dog's place in the door.

"How far is it to G—?" I asked, not deeming it best to say, in the beginning, that I sought a resting place for the night.

"To G—!" growled the man, but not so harshly as at first. "It's good six miles from here."

"A long distance; and I'm a stranger and on foot," said I. "If you can make room for me until morning, I will be very thankful."

I saw the girl's hand move quickly up his arm, until it rested on his shoulder, and now she leaned to him still closer.

"Come in. We'll try what can be done for you." There was a change in the man's voice that made me wonder. I entered a large room, in which blazed a brisk fire. Before the fire sat two stout lads, who turned upon me their heavy eyes, with no very welcome greeting. A middle-aged woman was standing at a table, and two children were amusing themselves with a kitten on the floor.

"A stranger, mother," said the man who had given me so rude a greeting at the door; "and he wants us to let him stay all night."

The woman looked at me doubtingly for a few moments, and then replied coldly, "We don't keep a public house."

"I'm aware of that, ma'am," said I; "but night has overtaken me, and it's a long way yet to G—."

"Too far for a tired man to go on foot," said the master of the house, kindly, "so it's no use talking about it, mother; we must give him a bed."

So unobtrusively that I scarce noticed the movement, the girl had drawn to her mother's side. What she said to her I did not hear, for the brief words were uttered in a low voice; but I noticed, as she spoke, one small, fair hand rested on the woman's hand.

Was there magic in that touch? The woman's repulsive aspect changed into one of kindly welcome, and she said, "Yes, it's a long way to G—. I guess we can find a place for him."

Many times more during that evening, did I observe the magic power of that hand and voice—the one gentle yet potent as the other. On the next morning, breakfast being over, I was preparing to take my departure when my host informed me that if I would wait for half an hour he would give me a ride in his wagon to G—, as business required him to go there. I was very well pleased to accept of the invitation.

In due time, the farmer's wagon was driven into the road before the house, and I was invited to get in. I noticed the horse as a rough-looking Canadian pony, with a certain air of stubborn endurance. As the farmer took his seat by my side, the family came to the door to see us off.

"Dick!" said the farmer in a peremptory voice, giving the rein a quick jerk as he spoke. But Dick moved not a step. "Dick! you vagabond! get up." And the farmer's whip cracked sharply by the pony's ear.

It availed not, however, this second appeal. Dick stood firmly disobedient. Next the whip was brought down upon him with an impatient hand; but the pony only reared up a little. Fast and sharp the strokes were next dealt to the number of half a dozen. The man might as well have beaten the wagon, for all his end was gained.

A stout lad now came out into the road, and, catching Dick by the bridle, jerked him forward, using, at the same time, the customary language on such occasions, but Dick met this new ally with increased stubbornness, planting his fore feet more firmly and at a sharper angle with the ground.

The impatient boy now struck the pony on the side of the head with his clinched hand, and jerked cruelly at his bridle. It availed nothing, however; Dick was not to be wrought upon by any such arguments.

"Don't do so, John!" I turned my head as the maiden's sweet voice reached my ear. She was passing through the gate into the road, and in the next moment had taken hold of the lad and drawn him away from the animal. No strength was exerted in this; she took hold of his arm, and he obeyed her wish as readily as if he had no thought beyond her gratification.

And now that soft hand was laid gently on the pony's neck, and a single low word spoken. How instantly were the tense muscles relaxed—how quickly the stubborn air vanished!

"Poor Dick!" said the maiden, as she stroked his neck lightly, or softly patted it with a childlike hand. "Now, go along, you provoking fellow!" she added, in a half-chiding, yet affectionate voice, as she drew up the bridle.

The pony turned toward her, and rubbed his head against her arm for an instant or two; then, pricking up his ears, he started off at a light, cheerful trot, and went on his way as freely as if no silly crotchet had ever entered his stubborn brain.

"What a wonderful power that hand possesses!" said I, speaking to my companion, as we rode away.

He looked at me for a moment, as if my remark had occasioned surprise. Then a light came into his countenance, and he said briefly, "She's good! Everybody and everything loves her."

Was that, indeed, the secret of her power? Was the quality of her soul perceived in the impression of her hand, even by brute beasts! The father's explanation was doubtless the true one. Yet have I ever since wondered, and still do wonder, at the potency which lay in that maiden's magic touch. I have seen something of the same power, showing itself in the loving and the good, but never to the extent as instanced in her, whom, for want of a better name, I must still call "Gentle Hand."

提莫迪.S.亚瑟（1809～1885年）出生于纽约的纽堡附近，但是他一生中的大部分时间是在巴尔蒂摩和费城度过的。他虽没有接受过什么良好的教育，但却是一个自学成才的人。他创作了100多部作品，其中大部分是描写家庭和道德的小说，也有很多是发表在杂志上的短篇寓言故事。《酒吧里的十个夜晚》和《陷阱中的三年》是他最出名的作品。

这件事是在什么地方、什么时间发生的也许并不重要了。曾经有一天，当我走过一个人烟稀少的村子时，不知不觉天快黑了。由于是步行，我估计还需至少一个小时才能到达要去的村子，所以我决定在第一个出现的房子里歇脚。

暮色使地上的影子越来越深，这时我发现自己走到了一所房子附近，房子的窗户上没有窗帘，灯光从窗户中照了出来，让人感到愉快而舒适。那所房子坐落在一个院子里，离我站的道路不远。

我拐到一边，穿过歪斜的大门，向小屋走去。大门晃来晃去，我进去之后，门栓锁上了，不过我没注意这些。直直地走到房前的走廊，我看见那儿站着一个瘦弱的女孩儿，她听到门口的响动，就站在那儿等我。

关门声刚落，一串低沉、急促的狗叫声就像大门关上时的回声一样响起了。一只大狗像幽灵一样突然出现在门口。就在它要跳起的时候，一只手轻轻抚在它蓬松的脖颈上，同时，一个声音轻声响起。

“进去，老虎。”女孩说道，不是用命令的口气，但是她温柔的音调却非常坚定，似乎知道它一定会服从命令。她一边说一边用手轻轻压了压这只狗。它转过头，从房间里消失了。

“你是谁？”一个沙哑的声音问道，这时一个看起来很结实的男子出现在门口。

“这里离G城有多远？”我问道，我想找个地方过夜，所以开始时还是不要说太多。

“去G城！”男子低哼一声，但是语气不像开始那么严厉，“离这儿还有整整6英里。”

“还有那么远！我以前没来过这儿，而且我是步行来的，”我说道，“您看我能不能在这儿住一夜，如果可以的话，我会不胜感激的。”

我看到那个女孩的手很快移向他的手臂，伏在他的肩膀上。女孩紧紧地靠在他的身边。

“进来吧，我们会尽力帮你的。”男子的声音变了，这让我感到很奇怪。

我走进一间大房子，房间里燃着一团火。火堆前坐着两个粗壮的小伙子，他们睡眼朦胧地看着我，并没表示欢迎。一位中年妇女站在桌子旁，两个孩子在和地板上的小猫玩。

“妈妈，是一个陌生人。”在门口很粗鲁地跟我说话的男子说道，“他希望今晚可以在这儿过夜。”

那位妇女用怀疑的目光看了我一会儿，然后冷冷地回答：“我们这里又不是旅店。”

“我知道，夫人，”我说道，“今天天太黑了，而且这里离G城还很远。”

“他很疲惫，而且步行，这儿离G城又太远，”主人温和地说道，“所以，妈妈，我们别再犹豫了，就留他住一晚吧！”

我都没注意到，那个女孩已经悄悄地走到她母亲的身边。她低声向母亲说了些什么，我没有听到，只是注意到，她在说话时把小小的、白皙的手放在母亲的手上。这一触摸是不是有什么魔法？妇女的态度瞬间从排斥转向欢迎，她说：“是的，离那儿太远了，我想我们可以留他住一宿。”

那天晚上，我几次都注意到这只手和这个有的魔力声音——虽然轻微但对对方却强有力。第二天早上，吃过早饭后，我正准备离开，这时主人告诉我，如果我再等半个小时，就可以搭他的马车去G城，因为他也正好有事要去那儿。我非常高兴地接受了他的邀请。

半个小时后，农夫驾着马车来到屋前的路上，并请我上去。我注意到拉车的马是一匹暴烈的加拿大矮种马，它看上去非常耐用。农夫坐到我身边，家里人都出来跟我们告别。

“迪克！”主人专横地吼了一声，同时迅速将缰绳拉了一下。但是迪克站着没动。“迪克，你这个无赖，走啊！”主人的鞭子抽在小马的耳朵上，发出响亮的声音。

尽管又喊了一声，迪克还是不动，它站在那儿，毫不驯服。农夫又不耐烦地抽了它一鞭子，可迪克只是跳了跳。主人气急败坏地连着抽打了六七下，他的力气几乎用完了，可迪克仍站着不动。

这时，一个粗壮的小伙站在路上，他抓住迪克的笼头，将它往前拉，还对着迪克粗鲁地嚷着，可这会儿迪克更加倔强，它的前蹄贴着地面，站得更稳了。

失去耐心的小伙子攥起拳头敲打着小马的头部，然而这也无济于事，看样子迪克是不会被这些方法屈服的。

“不要这样，约翰！”当女孩甜美的声音传到我的耳朵时，我情不自禁地扭过头看她。她穿过大门，走到马路上，拉住小伙子，把他拖到一边，但她并没用力，只是握着小伙子的胳膊，小伙子非常顺从，他似乎只想满足她的愿望而不再多想什么。

这会儿，那双柔软的手正抚摸着小马的脖子，并对它低声说着什么，马儿紧绷的肌肉似乎突然放松了，它那顽固的脾气也立刻消失得无影无踪。“可怜的迪克！”她说，一会儿抚摸着马儿的脖子，一会儿又像孩子一样轻拍着迪克。“现在，出发吧，你这个惹人恼的家伙。”她抓起缰绳，半责备半怜爱地说。

小马转头看着女孩儿，它一遍又一遍地用头蹭着她的胳膊。然后，它竖起耳朵，轻快地小跑起来，就像从来没有过叛逆的情绪。

“那双手拥有的力量真神奇！”路上我对同伴说。

他看着我，似乎我的话让他感到很惊讶。他的眼睛一亮，然后简单地说了句：“她是个好孩子，我们都喜欢她。”

这就是她那神奇力量的秘密吗？她那双纤弱的小手所表现出来的精神力量，甚至可以感化粗野的牲畜。主人的解释毫无疑问是正确的，然而自始至终，我都被少女的魔力深深地感动着。我曾经见过同样的，充满爱意的东西，但它们都不如女孩的手那么神奇，我想不到更好的名字，就只能叫它“温柔之手”。