The shepherd seems to have gone to Allermuir and by the help of the letter convinced the inhabitants. A body of men was collected under the landlord, and during the afternoon set out for the hills. But unfortunately the great midsummer storm — the most terrible of recent climatic disturbances5 — had filled the mosses6 and streams, and they found themselves unable to proceed by any direct road. Ultimately late in the evening they arrived at the cottage of Farawa, only to find there a raving7 woman, the shepherd’s sister, who seemed crazy with brain-fever. She told some rambling8 story about her escape, but her narrative said nothing of Mr. Graves. So they treated her with what skill they possessed9, and sheltered for the night in and around the cottage. Next morning the storm had abated10 a little, and the woman had recovered something of her wits. From her they learned that Mr. Graves was lying in a ravine on the side of the Muneraw in imminent11 danger of his life. A body set out to find him; but so immense was the landslip, and so dangerous the whole mountain, that it was nearly evening when they recovered him from the ledge4 of rock. He was alive, but unconscious, and on bringing him back to the cottage it was clear that he was, indeed, very ill. There he lay for three months, while the best skill that could be got was procured12 for him. By dint13 of an uncommon14 toughness of constitution he survived; but it was an old and feeble man who returned to Oxford15 in the early winter.
The shepherd and his sister immediately left the countryside, and were never more heard of, unless they are the pair of unfortunates who are at present in a Scottish pauper16 asylum17, incapable18 of remembering even their names. The people who last spoke19 with them declared that their minds seemed weakened by a great shock, and that it was hopeless to try to get any connected or rational statement.
The career of my poor friend from that hour was little short of a tragedy. He awoke from his illness to find the world incredulous; even the countryfolk of Allermuir set down the story to the shepherd’s craziness and my friend’s credulity. In Oxford his argument was received with polite scorn. An account of his experiences which he drew up for the ‘Times’ was refused by the editor; and an article on ‘Primitive20 Peoples of the North,’ embodying21 what he believed to be the result of his discoveries, was unanimously rejected by every responsible journal in Europe. Whether he was soured by such treatment, or whether his brain had already been weakened, he became a morose22 silent man, and for the two years before his death had few friends and no society. From the obituary23 notice in the ‘Times’ I take the following paragraph, which shows in what light the world had come to look upon him:
‘At the, outset of his career he was regarded as a rising scholar in one department of archaeology24, and his Taffert lectures were a real contribution to an obscure subject. But in after-life he was led into fantastic speculations25; and when he found himself unable to convince his colleagues, he gradually retired26 into himself, and lived practically a hermit’s life till his death. His career, thus broken short, is a sad instance of the fascination27 which the recondite28 and the quack29 can exercise even on men of approved ability.’
And now his own narrative is published, and the world can judge as it pleases about the amazing romance. The view which will doubtless find general acceptance is that the whole is a figment of the brain, begotten30 of some harmless moorland adventure and the company of such religious maniacs31 as the shepherd and his sister. But some who knew the former sobriety and calmness of my friend’s mind may be disposed timorously32 and with deep hesitation to another verdict. They may accept the narrative, and believe that somewhere in those moorlands he met with a horrible primitive survival, passed through the strangest adventure, and had his finger on an epoch-making discovery. In this case they will be inclined to sympathise with the loneliness and misunderstanding of his latter days. It is not for me to decide the question. That which alone could bring proof is buried beneath a thousand tons of rock in the midst of an untrodden desert.
The End
点击收听单词发音
1 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 ledge | |
n.壁架,架状突出物;岩架,岩礁 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 disturbances | |
n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 );打扰;困扰;障碍 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 mosses | |
n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 raving | |
adj.说胡话的;疯狂的,怒吼的;非常漂亮的;令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话;疯话adv.胡言乱语地;疯狂地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 abated | |
减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 ); 减去; 降价; 撤消(诉讼) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 imminent | |
adj.即将发生的,临近的,逼近的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 dint | |
n.由于,靠;凹坑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 pauper | |
n.贫民,被救济者,穷人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 asylum | |
n.避难所,庇护所,避难 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 embodying | |
v.表现( embody的现在分词 );象征;包括;包含 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 morose | |
adj.脾气坏的,不高兴的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 obituary | |
n.讣告,死亡公告;adj.死亡的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 archaeology | |
n.考古学 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 fascination | |
n.令人着迷的事物,魅力,迷恋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 recondite | |
adj.深奥的,难解的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 quack | |
n.庸医;江湖医生;冒充内行的人;骗子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 begotten | |
v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 );产生,引起 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 maniacs | |
n.疯子(maniac的复数形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 timorously | |
adv.胆怯地,羞怯地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |