2It was perhaps the hope of some such happy discovery that made Winter-Wedderburn such a frequent attendant at these sales—that hope, and also, maybe, the fact that he had nothing else of the slightest interest to do in the world. He was a shy, lonely, rather ineffectual man, provided with just enough income to keep off the spur of necessity, and not enough nervous energy to make him seek any exacting9 employments. He might have collected stamps or coins, or translated Horace, or bound books, or invented new species of diatoms. But, as it happened, he grew orchids, and had one ambitious little hothouse.
“I have a fancy,” he said over his coffee, “that something is going to happen to me to-day.” He spoke—as he moved and thought—slowly.
“Oh, don’t say that!” said his housekeeper10—who was also his remote cousin. For “something happening” was a euphemism11 that meant only one thing to her.
“You misunderstand me. I mean nothing unpleasant—though what I do mean I scarcely know.
“To-day,” he continued after a pause, “Peters are going to sell a batch12 of plants from the Andamans and the Indies. I shall go up and see what they have. It may be I shall buy something good, unawares. That may be it.”
He passed his cup for his second cupful of coffee.
3“Are these the things collected by that poor young fellow you told me of the other day?” asked his cousin as she filled his cup.
“Yes,” he said, and became meditative13 over a piece of toast.
“Nothing ever does happen to me,” he remarked presently, beginning to think aloud. “I wonder why? Things enough happen to other people. There is Harvey. Only the other week, on Monday he picked up sixpence, on Wednesday his chicks all had the staggers, on Friday his cousin came home from Australia, and on Saturday he broke his ankle. What a whirl of excitement!—compared to me.”
“I think I would rather be without so much excitement,” said his housekeeper. “It can’t be good for you.”
“I suppose it’s troublesome. Still—you see, nothing ever happens to me. When I was a little boy I never had accidents. I never fell in love as I grew up. Never married—I wonder how it feels to have something happen to you, something really remarkable14.
“That orchid1-collector was only thirty-six—twenty years younger than myself—when he died. And he had been married twice and divorced once; he had had malarial16 fever four times, and once he broke his thigh17. He killed a Malay once, and once he was wounded by a poisoned dart18. And in the end he was killed by 4jungle-leeches19. It must have all been very troublesome, but then it must have been very interesting, you know—except, perhaps, the leeches.”
“I am sure it was not good for him,” said the lady, with conviction.
“Perhaps not.” And then Wedderburn looked at his watch. “Twenty-three minutes past eight. I am going up by the quarter to twelve train, so that there is plenty of time. I think I shall wear my alpaca jacket—it is quite warm enough—and my grey felt hat and brown shoes. I suppose—”
He glanced out of the window at the serene20 sky and sunlit garden, and then nervously21 at his cousin’s face.
“I think you had better take an umbrella if you are going to London,” she said in a voice that admitted of no denial. “There’s all between here and the station coming back.”
When he returned he was in a state of mild excitement. He had made a purchase. It was rare that he could make up his mind quickly enough to buy, but this time he had done so.
“There are Vandas,” he said, “and a Dendrobe and some Pal22?onophis.” He surveyed his purchases lovingly as he consumed his soup. They were laid out on the spotless table-cloth before him, and he was telling his cousin all about them as he slowly meandered23 through his dinner. It was his custom to live all his visits to London over 5again in the evening for her and his own entertainment.
“I knew something would happen to-day. And I have bought all these. Some of them—some of them—I feel sure, do you know, that some of them will be remarkable. I don’t know how it is, but I feel just as sure as if some one had told me that some of these will turn out remarkable.
“That one”—he pointed24 to a shrivelled rhizome—“was not identified. It may be a Pal?onophis—or it may not. It may be a new species, or even a new genus. And it was the last that poor Batten ever collected.”
“I don’t like the look of it,” said his housekeeper. “It’s such an ugly shape.”
“To me it scarcely seems to have a shape.”
“I don’t like those things that stick out,” said his housekeeper.
“It shall be put away in a pot to-morrow.”
Wedderburn smiled and surveyed the root with his head on one side. “It is certainly not a pretty lump of stuff. But you can never judge of these things from their dry appearance. It may turn out to be a very beautiful orchid indeed. How busy I shall be to-morrow! I must see to-night just exactly what to do with these things, and to-morrow I shall set to work.
“They found poor Batten lying dead, or dying, 6in a mangrove26 swamp—I forget which,” he began again presently, “with one of these very orchids crushed up under his body. He had been unwell for some days with some kind of native fever, and I suppose he fainted. These mangrove swamps are very unwholesome. Every drop of blood, they say, was taken out of him by the jungle-leeches. It may be that very plant that cost him his life to obtain.”
“I think none the better of it for that.”
“Men must work though women may weep,” said Wedderburn, with profound gravity.
“Fancy dying away from every comfort in a nasty swamp! Fancy being ill of fever with nothing to take but chlorodyne and quinine—if men were left to themselves they would live on chlorodyne and quinine—and no one round you but horrible natives! They say the Andaman islanders are most disgusting wretches—and, anyhow, they can scarcely make good nurses, not having the necessary training. And just for people in England to have orchids!”
“I don’t suppose it was comfortable, but some men seem to enjoy that kind of thing,” said Wedderburn. “Anyhow, the natives of his party were sufficiently27 civilised to take care of all his collection until his colleague, who was an ornithologist28, came back again from the interior; though they could not tell the species of the orchid, and had let it wither29. And it makes these things more interesting.”
7“It makes them disgusting. I should be afraid of some of the malaria15 clinging to them. And just think, there has been a dead body lying across that ugly thing! I never thought of that before. There! I declare I cannot eat another mouthful of dinner.”
“I will take them off the table if you like, and put them in the window-seat. I can see them just as well there.”
The next few days he was indeed singularly busy in his steamy little hothouse, fussing about with charcoal30, lumps of teak, moss31, and all the other mysteries of the orchid cultivator. He considered he was having a wonderfully eventful time. In the evening he would talk about these new orchids to his friends, and over and over again he reverted32 to his expectation of something strange.
Several of the Vandas and the Dendrobium died under his care, but presently the strange orchid began to show signs of life. He was delighted, and took his housekeeper right away from jam-making to see it at once, directly he made the discovery.
“That is a bud,” he said, “and presently there will be a lot of leaves there, and those little things coming out here are a?rial rootlets.”
“They look to me like little white fingers poking33 out of the brown. I don’t like them,” said his housekeeper.
“Why not?”
8“I don’t know. They look like fingers trying to get at you. I can’t help my likes and dislikes.”
“I don’t know for certain, but I don’t think there are any orchids I know that have a?rial rootlets quite like that. It may be my fancy, of course. You see they are a little flattened34 at the ends.”
“I don’t like ’em,” said his housekeeper, suddenly shivering and turning away. “I know it’s very silly of me—and I’m very sorry, particularly as you like the thing so much. But I can’t help thinking of that corpse35.”
“But it may not be that particular plant. That was merely a guess of mine.”
“Anyhow I don’t like it,” she said.
Wedderburn felt a little hurt at her dislike to the plant. But that did not prevent his talking to her about orchids generally, and this orchid in particular, whenever he felt inclined.
“There are such queer things about orchids,” he said one day; “such possibilities of surprises. You know, Darwin studied their fertilisation, and showed that the whole structure of an ordinary orchid-flower was contrived37 in order that moths38 might carry the pollen39 from plant to plant. Well, it seems that there are lots of orchids known the flower of which cannot possibly be used for fertilisation in that way. Some of the Cypripediums, for instance; there are no insects known that can 9possibly fertilise them, and some of them have never been found with seed.”
“But how do they form new plants?”
“By runners and tubers, and that kind of outgrowth. That is easily explained. The puzzle is, what are the flowers for?
“Very likely,” he added, “my orchid may be something extraordinary in that way. If so, I shall study it. I have often thought of making researches as Darwin did. But hitherto I have not found the time, or something else has happened to prevent it. The leaves are beginning to unfold now. I do wish you would come and see them!”
But she said that the orchid-house was so hot it gave her the headache. She had seen the plant once again, and the a?rial rootlets, which were now some of them more than a foot long, had unfortunately reminded her of tentacles40 reaching out after something; and they got into her dreams, growing after her with incredible rapidity. So that she had settled to her entire satisfaction that she would not see that plant again, and Wedderburn had to admire its leaves alone. They were of the ordinary broad form, and a deep glossy41 green, with splashes and dots of deep red towards the base. He knew of no other leaves quite like them. The plant was placed on a low bench near the thermometer, and close by was a simple arrangement by which a tap dripped 10on the hot-water pipes and kept the air steamy. And he spent his afternoons now with some regularity42 meditating43 on the approaching flowering of this strange plant.
And at last the great thing happened. Directly he entered the little glass house he knew that the spike had burst out, although his great Pal?onophis Lowii hid the corner where his new darling stood. There was a new odour in the air, a rich, intensely sweet scent44, that overpowered every other in that crowded, steaming little greenhouse.
Directly he noticed this he hurried down to the strange orchid. And, behold45! the trailing green spikes46 bore now three great splashes of blossom, from which this overpowering sweetness proceeded. He stopped before them in an ecstasy47 of admiration48.
The flowers were white, with streaks49 of golden orange upon the petals50; the heavy labellum was coiled into an intricate projection51, and a wonderful bluish purple mingled52 there with the gold. He could see at once that the genus was altogether a new one. And the insufferable scent! How hot the place was! The blossoms swam before his eyes.
He would see if the temperature was right. He made a step towards the thermometer. Suddenly everything appeared unsteady. The bricks on the floor were dancing up and down. Then the white blossoms, the green leaves behind them, 11the whole greenhouse, seemed to sweep sideways, and then in a curve upward.
At half-past four his cousin made the tea, according to their invariable custom. But Wedderburn did not come in for his tea.
“He is worshipping that horrid53 orchid,” she told herself, and waited ten minutes. “His watch must have stopped. I will go and call him.”
She went straight to the hothouse, and, opening the door, called his name. There was no reply. She noticed that the air was very close, and loaded with an intense perfume. Then she saw something lying on the bricks between the hot-water pipes.
For a minute, perhaps, she stood motionless.
He was lying, face upward, at the foot of the strange orchid. The tentacle-like a?rial rootlets no longer swayed freely in the air, but were crowded together, a tangle54 of grey ropes, and stretched tight with their ends closely applied55 to his chin and neck and hands.
She did not understand. Then she saw from under one of the exultant56 tentacles upon his cheek there trickled57 a little thread of blood.
With an inarticulate cry she ran towards him, and tried to pull him away from the leech-like suckers. She snapped two of these tentacles, and their sap dripped red.
Then the overpowering scent of the blossom 12began to make her head reel. How they clung to him! She tore at the tough ropes, and he and the white inflorescence swam about her. She felt she was fainting, knew she must not. She left him and hastily opened the nearest door, and, after she had panted for a moment in the fresh air, she had a brilliant inspiration. She caught up a flower-pot and smashed in the windows at the end of the greenhouse. Then she re-entered. She tugged58 now with renewed strength at Wedderburn’s motionless body, and brought the strange orchid crashing to the floor. It still clung with the grimmest tenacity59 to its victim. In a frenzy60, she lugged61 it and him into the open air.
Then she thought of tearing through the sucker rootlets one by one, and in another minute she had released him and was dragging him away from the horror.
He was white and bleeding from a dozen circular patches.
The odd-job man was coming up the garden, amazed at the smashing of glass, and saw her emerge, hauling the inanimate body with red-stained hands. For a moment he thought impossible things.
“Bring some water!” she cried, and her voice dispelled62 his fancies. When, with unnatural63 alacrity64, he returned with the water, he found her weeping with excitement, and with Wedderburn’s 13head upon her knee, wiping the blood from his face.
“What’s the matter?” said Wedderburn, opening his eyes feebly, and closing them again at once.
“Go and tell Annie to come out here to me, and then go for Dr. Haddon at once,” she said to the odd-job man so soon as he brought the water; and added, seeing he hesitated, “I will tell you all about it when you come back.”
Presently Wedderburn opened his eyes again, and, seeing that he was troubled by the puzzle of his position, she explained to him, “You fainted in the hothouse.”
“And the orchid?”
“I will see to that,” she said.
Wedderburn had lost a good deal of blood, but beyond that he had suffered no very great injury. They gave him brandy mixed with some pink extract of meat, and carried him upstairs to bed. His housekeeper told her incredible story in fragments to Dr. Haddon. “Come to the orchid-house and see,” she said.
The cold outer air was blowing in through the open door, and the sickly perfume was almost dispelled. Most of the torn a?rial rootlets lay already withered65 amidst a number of dark stains upon the bricks. The stem of the inflorescence was broken by the fall of the plant, and the flowers were growing limp and brown at the 14edges of the petals. The doctor stooped towards it, then saw that one of the a?rial rootlets still stirred feebly, and hesitated.
The next morning the strange orchid still lay there, black now and putrescent. The door banged intermittingly in the morning breeze, and all the array of Wedderburn’s orchids was shrivelled and prostrate66. But Wedderburn himself was bright and garrulous67 upstairs in the story of his strange adventure.
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1
orchid
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| n.兰花，淡紫色 | |
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orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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moribund
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| adj.即将结束的，垂死的 | |
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mimicry
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| n.（生物）拟态，模仿 | |
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spike
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| n.长钉，钉鞋；v.以大钉钉牢，使...失效 | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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euphemism
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| n.婉言，委婉的说法 | |
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batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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malaria
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| n.疟疾 | |
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malarial
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| 患疟疾的，毒气的 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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leeches
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| n.水蛭( leech的名词复数 )；蚂蟥；榨取他人脂膏者；医生 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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meandered
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| （指溪流、河流等）蜿蜒而流( meander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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shamming
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| 假装，冒充( sham的现在分词 ) | |
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mangrove
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| n.(植物)红树，红树林 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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ornithologist
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| n.鸟类学家 | |
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wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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pollen
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| n.[植]花粉 | |
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tentacles
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| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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49
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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52
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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lugged
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| vt.用力拖拉（lug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
参考例句： |
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