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Get down to business. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info

George knew that Ms. Peabody had a tight schedule in Washington, D.C., and had time to come this afternoon, so he prepared the set early, including a comfortable chair. Once she was seated, I brought her a hot cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Clover!" she said, taking the cup and covering her hands, "To be honest, taking pictures makes me nervous!"

I smiled slightly and said, "Actually, I'm also afraid that others will shoot me." That way, if there's something that relaxes you, such as talking, or music. We can try ......"

She interrupted me and said, "Only work can relax the old woman." If you don't mind, I just have a letter to read, and you can try to take a picture of me when I read it!"

I nodded in agreement.

After her coffee, she pulled out a letter from her pocket, which contained several pages of stationery and a thick, brown paper. She began to read them.

Ms. Peabody wears a navy blue skirt with a small white openwork collar, a cross on her chest, and a plush shawl. She lowered her eyes and looked attentive. I was surprised that she didn't need reading glasses at all, and she didn't look like an old woman in her seventies at all. For a moment I was captivated by her serene expression, and I quickly took the first photo.

After reading the letter, she sighed and said, "These damn congressmen signed that damn decree early, and they have to torture me, an old woman, and let me run to Washington!"

George seemed to know what was going on and started talking to her.

She shares the same name as Liz and is a pioneer in Boston's women's teaching community. I just knew that she opened the first kindergarten in the United States in 1860, but I didn't know that she had been trying to get Congress to pass the case for a public free kindergarten all these years.

They talked for a while, and George made an excuse to go to the front. It was just me and Ms. Peabody, but I didn't know how to ask her about my mother.

The room was extremely quiet, and I watched her through the camera.

She casually slung the letters on her lap and stared at the camera, no, she was staring at me.

My hand pressed the shutter almost uncontrollably.

Images flashed before my eyes, quickly and suddenly, and in the blink of an eye, the images flashed into a continuous picture, as if real events were happening before my eyes. I saw the stethoscope, I saw the whip, I vaguely heard the cry of a girl, and I saw a quill pen dipped in ink and wrote on the paper, "The whole theory of education is fundamentally wrong, because the soul is neglected." The glittering scenes lingered for a moment, then vanished as the flashing lights flickered.

I was in a trance, put down my camera and stared at her.

Ms. Peabody just smiled and said softly, "That one should be a good picture." ”

Before I could ask, she said, "You know? We all have a father who is a doctor." ”

Her sudden question made my heart skip a beat, and I thought she knew I had seen those fleeting visions.

"My father's education to me since I was a child was to reprimand and stick with a stick. I hated him for his brutality and coercion, but I also want to thank him, and perhaps because of that, I was able to establish a strong belief that I wanted a professional, formal education for children in this country. Because not every father is absolutely right. ”

What an extraordinary lady she did, and what she did made me admire.

Ms. Peabody looked at me, paused, and asked softly, "Do you know why everyone calls Alan an angel?"

I shook my head, and the image flashed back to my mind, and when I came back to my senses, an irresistible force forced me to look directly at her: "Can you tell me about my mother?"

She sighed and said, "Many people think that this title was given to the members of Transcendentalism in honor of your mother after her death. The truth is, that's what everyone called her back in the beginning. As for why, as long as everyone who has come into contact with her understands that she is the embodiment of beauty, kindness, and wisdom, and talking to her will make you feel angelic healing. ”

"So, Mrs. Fowler says my father is not worthy of my mother......"

"Margaret has no ill intentions," a hearty laugh erupted, and Madame Peabody pointed to her head and whispered, "She just thinks your father is not as good as Allen here." If you can't compare, then your grandfather is even less worthy of your grandmother!"

The light-hearted tone seemed to remove the uneasiness, but the teasing words did not soothe the throbbing inside me. Although it was a little difficult to speak, I asked firmly: "I have heard that several of you female members corresponded with each other, did you receive any letters from my mother before she died, or did you feel that something was not quite right, did she have any enemies or anything like that?"

There was silence in the studio again, and it was clear that Ms. Peabody was in no hurry to answer.

She seemed to be reminiscing, and when she shook her head, she took a long deep breath and said, "I can probably guess why you asked that." It's Louis Agassius, right?"

I don't know whether to nod or deny.

"He doesn't know anything, Louis is indeed the leader of the Saturday Club, but he is not a member of our Transcendentals, and there are many things he doesn't understand......" Ms. Peabody looked at me, and after a long time of thinking about how to phrase it, she continued: "Two years after your mother's death, Margaret's family of three were shipwrecked, and Louis became suspicious from that time, and always felt that someone had murdered them, including your mother. Margaret was very close to your mother, and her death was hard for Margaret to accept. She even wrote a letter to a friend before the shipwreck, 'a poem that predicted her own death'!"

"Prophecy of death?"

"As I said, 'For there are countless evil signs that are constantly being revealed, and I am shrouded in darkness and terrified, and it seems that my days on earth are coming to an end, and I am waiting for calamity to strike. A few days after writing this paragraph, she, her husband, and children boarded the Elizabeth and returned to the United States on a five-week voyage as planned. Unfortunately, the captain died of smallpox halfway through, and an inexperienced first mate at the helm encountered a strong wind and waves offshore, and their ship hit a sandbar, and soon the ship capsized. However, the sandbar was so close to Fall Island in New York that many people jumped into the sea to escape, leaving only their family of three and the first mate on board, and finally disappeared. After the shipwreck, Thoreau personally rushed to New York, and Mr. Emerson organized men to help search for the body, but found nothing. It seems to me that this is nothing more than a shipwreck, another tragedy. The same goes for your mother's death. She sighed and said, "If you think about it, it's really embarrassing that the four great poetesses of the Transcendentals, Sophia, Margaret, and your mother all went very early...... I'm the only one left, an old woman, and I'm still busy with life. Anyway, my dear, please believe that no one will harm them, at least I think so. ”

"But Mr. Agassi, he doesn't say such things for no reason, and he ...... He also said that it was related to my father...... "The more I talked about it, the more sad I became, and the quieter and quieter my voice became.

Ms. Peabody folded the letter in her hand and put it back in her pocket. She tugged at the armrest of her chair, struggled to her feet, and then walked to the side and took out a small notebook from the bag she had brought.

She came up to me with the notebook in her hand and said to me, "I have heard Joe say that you know very little about your mother, for your father rarely talks about her. I think it's probably because he loves her so much, and I can testify to that, your father will always ...... Never hurt your mother. ”

Her tone was very firm, and when I listened, tears flowed uncontrollably from my eyes.

Ms. Peabody raised the little notebook in her hand and said, "My dear, all I can do is to come to see you today, and I have brought you this ...... These are poems that your mother published in Corona, and I have collected them and made them into a scrapbook, and I hope you will read them well. ”

I took the notebook, put my hand on my chest, and promised I would.

After a long silence, she said, "Actually, you are very similar to your mother. I think that instead of listening to Agassi, you should first study what 'transcendentalism' is, and maybe then you will know your mother better." ”

After saying that, she patted the back of my hand gently, then cleaned it up, and said, "I'm looking forward to seeing the pictures you took for me......!" Your discovery!"

As she walked to the door, she bumped into George. He hurriedly said, "Leaving so soon?"

Madame Peabody smiled and replied, "The old woman is a busy man, and she is on her way." You know my address, and you have to send me the photos as soon as possible!"

"Okay, I'll send you!"

I was standing there with a little notebook in my hand, and this was my mother's work.

I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket to wipe away my tears, but when I looked down and suddenly found blood soaked in the handkerchief, and in the blink of an eye, my vision turned red. Blood dripped into my mouth, I tasted the metallic taste of blood, and the salty taste made me sick.

All around me was wet, and I was about to be drowned in blood, when I saw my father kneeling on the ground in front of me, and in the bright white light, lay my mother, her skin was so translucent that it almost made her whole body look shiny, but her body was covered with blood, and it was flowing more and more until it reached my feet.

My father turned around, saw me, and shouted to me, "Honey, get out!

"Mommy, Mommy. ”

George walked up to me, "What's wrong with you, Shamrock!" he said and crouched down.

"Blood...... Blood ......," I said tremblingly.

"Shamrock, don't scare me. He shouted again.

I came to my senses and found myself on the ground, and I started crying, and he hugged me tightly, and I cried even more hysterically.

Then, as I was in a daze, George settled me in a comfortable sofa with a high back, wrapped me in a blanket, and then he brought me a cup of hot milk and coaxed me to drink it. He kept wiping away my tears, and it took a long time for my emotions to calm down.

He began to ask slowly, "Shamrock, tell me, what the hell just happened?"

I shook my head desperately.

He looked at me and said with concern, "I won't force you anymore." ”

After a while, I said softly, "If you don't say it, maybe it's worse." ”

His hand was on my back, and through the blanket, I felt it moving, at first only gently, but then becoming more and more firm. "It's going to be fine. He whispered.

I closed my eyes and said, "I saw a vision, just now." ”

I could feel his hand pause visibly.

Surprised, he asked, "Vision?"

"About my mother...... Maybe it's not an illusion......" I thought for a long time, and then said, "Maybe it's a memory I once lost, a ...... when I was a kid Just like last ......."

"Wait......" he asked, "last time?" when did you start seeing these 'visions'?"

I paused for a few minutes before I slowly said, "On the Saturday I met you, at Parker's Cabin." ”

So, I told me about what I saw in the hall and how she might have taken me as a child to the Saturday Club a long time ago.

In the process, he didn't say a word. The room became very quiet.

"Have you ever lost your memory? Maybe you've seen something that scared you so much, and you were so frightened that you forgot about it?" he said, "I can't tell, do you want to find William, he's an expert in psychology, maybe he can help you!"

Psychiatrists, psychologists, doctors...... I don't want to meet these so-called professionals. When I think about all that psychoanalysis and treatment, I feel even more uncomfortable. A wave of panic swept over me, and what were the flashes of what I had seen from William and Ms. Peabody?

George seemed to see my distress and said, "If you don't want to see him, you won't see him." I won't let you do anything against your will. ”

I nodded, and there was silence again. I took a sip of the milk that had become warmer.

He sighed, "But," he said, holding his hands and leaning forward to me, "you don't want to go to William for my understanding, but I suggest you write down everything that happened to you that day, any details, all the details!"

"You mean the Fourth of November, what happened on that day?"

"Yes. Write whatever you like. But in doing so, it may awaken your memory and make you remember your mother. He paused for a moment and looked away, "I won't use it tomorrow, you can rest for a day, and then try to write." I want you to know that I didn't force you to do this......"

I didn't know how I spent the whole evening when I got home. Henry came home early, and I had to go downstairs to be with him, but the diary called me in my heart.

It was already past 11 o'clock after writing this paragraph, and I was a little tired. I'm going to stop writing here, hide my diary, turn off the lights, and go to bed. Tomorrow, I might be able to make a note of what happened that Saturday, as Joe said. (To be continued.) )