第15部分(第2/7 页)

ular　than　that　of　Miss　Temple’s—a　beauty　neither　of　fine　colour　nor　long　eyelash；　nor　pencilled　brow；　but　of　meaning；　of　movement；　of　radiance。　Then　her　soul　sat　on　her　lips；　and　language　flowed；　from　what　source　I　cannot　tell。　Has　a　girl　of　fourteen　a　heart　large　enough；　vigorous　enough；　to　hold　the　swelling　spring　of　pure；　full；　fervid　eloquence？　Such　was　the　characteristic　of　Helen’s　discourse　on　that；　to　me；　memorable　evening；　her　spirit　seemed　hastening　to　live　within　a　very　brief　span　as　much　as　many　live　during　a　protracted　existence。

They　conversed　of　things　I　had　never　heard　of；　of　nations　and　times　past；　of　countries　far　away；　of　secrets　of　nature　discovered　or　guessed　at：　they　spoke　of　books：　how　many　they　had　read！　What　stores　of　knowledge　they　possessed！　Then　they　seemed　so　familiar　with　French　names　and　French　authors：　but　my　amazement　reached　its　climax　when　Miss　Temple　asked　Helen　if　she　sometimes　snatched　a　moment　to　recall　the　Latin　her　father　had　taught　her；　and　taking　a　book　from　a　shelf；　bade　her　read　and　construe　a　page　of　Virgil；　and　Helen　obeyed；　my　organ　of　veneration　expanding　at　every　sounding　line。　She　had　scarcely　finished　ere　the　bell　announced　bedtime！　no　delay　could　be　admitted；　Miss　Temple　embraced　us　both；　saying；　as　she　drew　us　to　her　heart—

“God　bless　you；　my　children！”

Helen　she　held　a　little　longer　than　me：　she　let　her　go　more　reluctantly；　it　was　Helen　her　eye　followed　to　the　door；　it　was　for　her　she　a　second　time　breathed　a　sad　sigh；　for　her　she　wiped　a　tear　from　her　cheek。

On　reaching　the　bedroom；　we　heard　the　voice　of　Miss　Scatcherd：　she　was　examining　drawers；　she　had　just　pulled　out　Helen　Burns’s；　and　when　we　entered　Helen　was　greeted　with　a　sharp　reprimand；　and　told　that　to…morrow　she　should　have　hal