Chapter V. Tom Comes Home

whileago.Nooneknewhowdeepitwasanditwasmysterious,too,thatitshouldbealmostaperfectround,framedinwithwillowsandtallreeds,sothatthewaterwasonlytobeseenwhenyougotclosetothebrink.ThesightoftheoldfavouritespotalwaysheightenedTom’sgoodhumour,andhespoketoMaggieinthemostamicablewhispers,asheopenedthepreciousbasketandpreparedtheirtackle.Hethrewherlineforher,andputtherodintoherhand.Maggiethoughtitprobablethatthesmallfishwouldcometoherhook,andthelargeonestoTom’s.Butshehadforgottenallaboutthefish,andwaslookingdreamilyattheglassywater,whenTomsaid,inaloudwhisper,“Look,look,Maggie!”andcamerunningtopreventherfromsnatchingherlineaway. Maggiewasfrightenedlestshehadbeendoingsomethingwrong,asusual,butpresentlyTomdrewoutherlineandbroughtalargetenchbouncingonthegrass. Tomwasexcited. “OMagsie,youlittleduck!Emptythebasket.” Maggiewasnotconsciousofunusualmerit,butitwasenoughthatTomcalledherMagsie,andwaspleasedwithher.Therewasnothingtomarherdelightinthewhispersandthedreamysilences,whenshelistenedtothelightdrippingsoundsoftherisingfish,andthegentlerustling,asifthewillowsandthereedsandthewaterhadtheirhappywhisperingsalso.Maggiethoughtitwouldmakeaveryniceheaventositbythepoolinthatway,andneverbescolded.SheneverknewshehadabitetillTomtoldherbutshelikedfishingverymuch. Itwasoneoftheirhappymornings.Theytrottedalongandsatdowntogether,withnothoughtthatlifewouldeverchangemuchforthemtheywouldonlygetbiggerandnotgotoschool,anditwouldalwaysbeliketheholidaystheywouldalwayslivetogetherandbefondofeachother.Andthemillwithitsboomingthegreatchestnut-treeunderwhichtheyplayedathousestheirownlittleriver,theRipple,wherethebanksseemedlikehome,andTomwasalwaysseeingthewater-rats,whileMaggiegatheredthepurpleplumytopsofthereeds,whichsheforgotanddroppedafterwardaboveall,thegreatFloss,alongwhichtheywanderedwithasenseoftravel,toseetherushingspring-tide,theawfulEagre,comeuplikeahungrymonster,ortoseetheGreatAshwhichhadoncewailedandgroanedlikeaman,thesethingswouldalwaysbejustthesametothem.TomthoughtpeoplewereatadisadvantagewholivedonanyotherspotoftheglobeandMaggie,whenshereadaboutChristianapassing“theriveroverwhichthereisnobridge,”alwayssawtheFlossbetweenthegreenpasturesbytheGreatAsh. LifedidchangeforTomandMaggieandyettheywerenotwronginbelievingthatthethoughtsandlovesofthesefirstyearswouldalwaysmakepartoftheirlives.Wecouldneverhavelovedtheearthsowellifwehadhadnochildhoodinit,—ifitwerenottheearthwherethesameflowerscomeupagaineveryspringthatweusedtogatherwithourtinyfingersaswesatlispingtoourselvesonthegrassthesamehipsandhawsontheautumn’shedgerowsthesameredbreaststhatweusedtocall“God’sbirds,”becausetheydidnoharmtothepreciouscrops.Whatnoveltyisworththatsweetmonotonywhereeverythingisknown,andlovedbecauseitisknown? ThewoodIwalkinonthismildMayday,withtheyoungyellow-brownfoliageoftheoaksbetweenmeandthebluesky,thewhitestar-flowersandtheblue-eyedspeedwellandthegroundivyatmyfeet,whatgroveoftropicpalms,whatstrangefernsorsplendidbroad-petalledblossoms,couldeverthrillsuchdeepanddelicatefibreswithinmeasthishomescene?Thesefamiliarflowers,thesewell-rememberedbird-notes,thissky,withitsfitfulbrightness,thesefurrowedandgrassyfields,eachwithasortofpersonalitygiventoitbythecapricioushedgerows,—suchthingsasthesearethemother-tongueofourimagination,thelanguagethatisladenwithallthesubtle,inextricableassociationsthefleetinghoursofourchildhoodleftbehindthem.Ourdelightinthesunshineonthedeep-bladedgrassto-daymightbenomorethanthefaintperceptionofweariedsouls,ifitwerenotforthesunshineandthegrassinthefar-offyearswhichstillliveinus,andtransformourperceptionintolove.