Пітер Пен і Венді
Wendy’s Story
’
’Didtheyevergoback?’
’Letusnow,’saidWendy,bracingherselfforherfinesteffort,’takeapeepintothefuture’;andtheyallgavethemselvesthetwistthatmakespeepsintothefutureeasier.’Yearshaverolledby;andwhoisthiselegantladyofuncertainagealightingatLondonStation?’
’OWendy,whoisshe?’criedNibs,everybitasexcitedasifhedidn’tknow.
’Canitbe—yes—no—itis—thefairWendy!’
’Oh!’
’Andwhoarethetwonobleportlyfiguresaccompanyingher,nowgrowntoman’sestate?CantheybeJohnandMichael?Theyare!’
’Oh!’
’"See,dearbrothers,"saysWendy,pointingupwards,’"thereisthewindowstillstandingopen.Ah,nowwearerewardedforoursublimefaithinamother’slove."Souptheyflewtotheirmummyanddaddy;andpencannotdescribethehappyscene,overwhichwedrawaveil.’
Thatwasthestory,andtheywereaspleasedwithitasthefairnarratorherself.Everythingjustasitshouldbe,yousee.Offweskiplikethemostheartlessthingsintheworld,whichiswhatchildrenare,butsoattractive;andwehaveanentirelyselfishtime;andthenwhenwehaveneedofspecialattentionwenoblyreturnforit,confidentthatweshallbeembracedinsteadofsmacked.
Sogreatindeedwastheirfaithinamother’slovethattheyfelttheycouldaffordtobecallousforabitlonger.
Buttherewasonetherewhoknewbetter;andwhenWendyfinishedheutteredahollowgroan.
’Whatisit,Peter?’shecried,runningtohim,thinkinghewasill.Shefelthimsolicitously,lowerdownthanhischest.
