湯姆歷險記Chapter 19 湯姆花言巧語，姨媽慈悲心腸

Chapter 19
      
      
        
            
      
   
    TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him
    showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market:

    "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!"

    "Auntie, what have I done?"

    "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy,
    expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and
    behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had
    that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes
    me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of
    myself and never say a word."

    This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a
    good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his
    head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said:

    "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it -- but I didn't think."

    "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness.
    You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh
    at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't
    ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow."

    "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest.
    And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night."

    "What did you come for, then?"

    "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got
    drownded."

    "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you
    ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did -- and I know it,
    Tom."

    "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie -- I wish I may never stir if I didn't."

    "Oh, Tom, don't lie -- don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times
    worse."

    "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving --
    that was all that made me come."

    "I'd give the whole world to believe that -- it would cover up a power of sins,
    Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because,
    why didn't you tell me, child?"

    "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of
    the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it.
    So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum."

    "What bark?"

    "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked
    up when I kissed you -- I do, honest."

    The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes.

    "Did you kiss me, Tom?"

    "Why, yes, I did."

    "Are you sure you did, Tom?"

    "Why, yes, I did, auntie -- certain sure."

    "What did you kiss me for, Tom?"

    "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry."

    The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when
    she said:

    "Kiss me again, Tom! -- and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me
    any more."

    The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom
    had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself:

    "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it -- but it's a blessed,
    blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord -- I know the Lord will
    forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to
    find out it's a lie. I won't look."

    She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to
    take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she
    fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie -- it's a good lie -- I won't
    let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading
    Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now,
    if he'd committed a million sins!"