“The epidemic is of a very serious nature. The Chief Sanitary5 Inspector6 of Donisbro’ visited the affected villages upon the outbreak of the illness, and declares the cottages to be in a greatly neglected condition.
“The local physician has applied7 for help to the staff of the London Hospitals.”
Hugh Chichester read these words in the hall of the Blue-friars Hospital, as he and another young doctor waited for a “case,” which was being brought in from the street.
“Estate of the Marquess of St. Quentin,”
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his companion commented. “Isn’t that the chap who had that frightful8 motor-smash three months ago? Why, hullo! Chichester, old man! Are you off your head?”
For Hugh had flung himself into the lift without a word, and was swooping9 upward to the first floor, where he knew that he would find his father.
The doctor was free for the moment, but Hugh knew that he himself was not. He only paused to thrust the paper in his father’s hand, with a hoarse10 “Read that,” and was down the staircase and in the hall again, before the “case,” upon its stretcher, had crossed the wide open paved courtyard of the Blue-friars Hospital.
Dr. Chichester was quick of understanding, as doctors generally are.
“You want to go to Blankshire, my boy?” he said, when he and his son met for their hastily-snatched luncheon11.
“Yes, father.”
“I think it may be possible,” the doctor said. “Help is certainly needed, to judge from the papers, and I would not hold you back. But, my boy, you must remember it may mean the loss of your post here, unless the Hospital elects to send you to Blankshire.”
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Hugh nodded.
“And, Hugh,” his father went on, “you must give me your word that you keep away from Sydney. It won’t be easy, but I know that I can trust you to think of her and not yourself. You want to spare her from suffering what you suffer. You will prove yourself her true ‘servant’ in this, as ‘Dorothy Osborne’ would say to us. If you can trust yourself to keep clear of intercourse12 with her, I think that you are right to volunteer your services. I should have done so myself years ago.”
“Yes, I’ll keep away from her,” Hugh muttered, and the doctor said, “All right, my boy, I trust you. We will see what your mother says to sending you to Blankshire.”
And Mrs. Chichester said “Yes.” Perhaps those little snatches of fireside talk, for which big bearded sons on the other side of the world grow homesick, had made her understand her boy with that absolute understanding sympathy which only mothers have the power to give.
“Yes, you must go, my Hugh,” she said, “for you will be able to help those poor people, and I know that you will be my unselfish son, as you have always been, and make it easy for Sydney.”
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“I will, mother,” Hugh said, and so packed his things and offered his services to Dr. Lorry.
The old doctor met him at Dacreshaw Station; he was looking older and his cheery utterances13 came out with an effort.
“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Chichester, extremely glad; for I can’t deny that this fever is a very serious one, and the condition of the cottages is so much against the poor people’s chances of recovery. Still, I have no doubt, no, none at all, that, with your able assistance, we shall soon see a marked improvement.”
“They haven’t got it at the Castle, have they?” Hugh asked anxiously as he climbed up into the high dog-cart by the old doctor’s side, and was driven rapidly along the muddy country roads towards Lislehurst.
“No! no!” Dr. Lorry said, “and I see no real reason why they should. Lady Frederica is extremely anxious to carry off Miss Lisle to town, but I have endeavoured to dissuade14 her. Miss Lisle has been so much about among the cottages of late, that I am anxious—not about her, oh dear no! but anxious, I repeat, to have her under my own eye for a day or two longer. And it is not as though she ran any risk in remaining,
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as I have assured Lord St. Quentin. These low fevers cannot well be called infectious.” He relapsed into silence,—an unusual state with him—which lasted till they reached Lislehurst, and his own gate. They got down and a man took the cob’s head. “Now we are at my house, my dear—er, Chichester,” he said, rousing himself, “and perhaps, when you have lunched, you would not mind coming round with me to see the little boy at the Vicarage, who is, I fear, in a rather critical condition.” Hugh started. “Little Paul ill! I will come at once, if you don’t mind, sir.”
“You will come at once? Well, if you are not fatigued15, I own it would be a relief. His condition is decidedly critical, and your science is a good deal fresher than mine. Not that I take at all a hopeless view of his case, far from it!” the old doctor said, blowing his nose rather fiercely; “but he’s his father’s only child, sir, and—motherless.”
Hugh was already hurrying out into the village by the old doctor’s side. “Little Pauly ill!—that jolly little chap!” he kept on saying, and he walked so fast that the old man could hardly keep pace with him.
There was a strange silence in the village. Hardly any children were playing in the
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road. “We had to shut the schools,” said Dr. Lorry.
The village seemed almost as though it held its breath and waited for some stroke to fall.
Hugh looked up at the tall, grey tower of Lislehurst Church as they passed beneath it, and thought of little Pauly as he had been on that bright December morning, full of life and mischief16. It seemed incredible to imagine illness or death coming near him.
Dr. Lorry followed the direction of his eyes.
“The Vicar told me of that morning on the tower,” he said. “You saved the boy once, Chichester; please God, you’ll save him again.”
The Vicarage nursery was a good deal changed from the cheerful room where Sydney had sat on her first morning in Blankshire. The toys, no longer wanted, were pushed aside and put away in cupboards; their absence giving a curiously17 forlorn appearance to the room.
Sickroom appliances had taken their place, and the little iron cot, from which Pauly’s restless fingers used to scrape the paint on summer mornings when getting-up time
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seemed long in coming, was pulled into the centre of the room.
Pauly’s thick red curls had been cropped close to his head for coolness, and the sturdy, roundabout figure was shrunk to a mere18 shadow of its former self. It was hard to believe him the same child who had displayed the glory of his first knickerbockers with such pride at the Castle only a short week ago!
Beside the little cot the Vicar stood, very quiet, as he had been all through the illness, but with eyes that asked more questions than his lips.
But he held out his hand to Hugh with a look which showed that he had not forgotten that morning on the church tower in the midst of all this trouble.
“Mr. Chichester indeed! I could hardly believe Dr. Lorry’s new colleague to be you. This is luck. I am very glad.”
His eyes were searching Hugh’s face as he spoke19, as if to read there what he thought of little Pauly.
“These young men have all the science nowadays,” old Dr. Lorry said, in a very audible aside. “We’ll see him work wonders with the boy, please God!”
Pauly was lying in a sort of restless doze20,
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and they would not wake him. One arm clasped Carlo’s black form to his heart.
“He wakes and cries for that beast if he finds it gone,” the Vicar whispered, with a sad little smile. “Tell Miss Lisle when you see her, Lorry.”
The eyes of the elder men watched Hugh with a pathetic eagerness as he bent21 above the little cot, feeling the wasted wrist, and listening to the uncertain breathing.
“These young men ... more scientific treatment,” the old doctor said again and again, in a husky whisper. But all Hugh said was, “I should like to consult with Dr. Lorry over a new treatment.”
Further directions having been given to the nurse, who seemed a capable kind of person, the doctors took their departure, and Mr. Seaton accompanied them out.
“You coming, Vicar?” Dr. Lorry questioned with surprise in his tone.
“Yes,” Mr. Seaton said. “I must do some visiting. Mine is not the only house in trouble to-day.”
And with a last look at Pauly, lying in his cot, he passed out with the doctors from the shadowed Vicarage.
Where the road to the village skirted the
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Park they met Sydney, alone. She was walking fast, and with her head bent down: she did not see them till they were quite close to her. Then she looked up suddenly, and a quick flush overspread her pale face. She hesitated for a moment: then went forward with outstretched hand.
Hugh found himself taking it and speaking to her as a mere acquaintance.
He had seen the account of the epidemic in the papers, and the Blue-friars had given him permission to volunteer his services. He was glad to have met Sydney to-day, as he should be—very busy—he expected, and there would be no seeing anybody, he believed.
And there he broke off, stammering22, as the clear eyes seemed to ask the meaning of this strange manner from her brother Hugh, who had said at their last parting that “he understood.”
There was an awkward silence of full a minute before Sydney recollected24 herself and asked after Pauly. “Thank you, he is very ill,” said Pauly’s father.
And then Dr. Lorry, whose kind eyes had seen a good deal during Hugh’s rather halting explanation, interposed with professional authority.
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“Miss Lisle, my dear young lady, you really must not stand about in the cold; you are looking quite chilled. Take an old man’s advice, walk home as fast as you can, and have a good cup of chocolate or cocoa as soon as you get to the Castle.”
“Thank you,” said Sydney, and the three men took the small tan-gloved hand again, and passed on to their work.
And Sydney passed on also, thinking with a strange, sore feeling in her heart, that Hugh had changed a good deal. He had not even seemed pleased to see her: Hugh—who had been her special friend from babyhood!
Had there ever been a time when Hugh had not wanted her before? She could not recollect23 it, if there were. How many times had she not sat beside a big, long-limbed school-boy, doing his preparation at the school-room table, with its much-kicked legs and much-inked table cover, and been proud to think she was “helping Hugh” when she blotted25 his exercises, or held the book, while he reeled off pages in some tongue unknown to her!
Had he ever failed to seem pleased when she offered her assistance, even when he was working with a pucker26 on his forehead, and
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ten fingers running through his hair? He had always seemed to want the little Sydney in an inky pinafore, however busy he might be; but now he had changed.
“He did not think he should see her again—he would be very busy.” Could the Hugh of old days have spoken to her in that cool, indifferent tone? Sydney felt sure that he could not. For the first time the girl found the homeward walk too far for her active feet. The distance seemed unending through the Park.
Pauly was very ill, very likely going to die, and Hugh—Hugh did not care to see her any more.
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收听单词发音
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1
epidemic
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| n.流行病；盛行；adj.流行性的，流传极广的 | |
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2
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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loam
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| n.沃土 | |
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sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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7
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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8
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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11
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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12
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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14
dissuade
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| v.劝阻，阻止 | |
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15
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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16
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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17
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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18
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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19
spoke
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| 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 | |
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20
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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21
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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22
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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23
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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24
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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26
pucker
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| v.撅起，使起皱；n.（衣服上的）皱纹，褶子 | |
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