“No, man, it can’t,” cried the old gentleman with a perplexed1 expression, “because the dirty things are already sold and the money is invested in Botallack shares, to sell which and pay back the cash in the present depressed2 state of things would be utter madness. But hush3! here comes my better half, and although she is a dear good soul, with an unusual amount of wisdom for her size, it would be injudicious to prolong the lectures of the night into the early hours of morning.”
As he spoke4 little Mrs Donnithorne’s round good-looking face appeared like the rising sun in the doorway5, and her cheery voice welcomed Oliver to breakfast.
“Thank you, aunt,” said Oliver, “but I have already breakfasted more than an hour ago, and am on my way to visit my patients. Indeed, I have to blame myself for calling at so early an hour, and would not have done so but for the irresistible6 attraction of a newly discovered voice, which—”
“Come, come, youngster,” interrupted Mr Donnithorne, “be pleased to bear in remembrance that the voice is connected with a pair of capital ears, remarkable7 for their sharpness, if not their length, and at no great distance off, I warrant.”
“You do Rose injustice,” observed Mrs Donnithorne, as the voice at that moment broke out into a lively carol in the region of the kitchen, whither its owner had gone to superintend culinary matters. “But tell me, Oliver, have you heard of the accident to poor Batten?”
“Yes, I saw him yesterday,” replied the doctor, “just after the accident happened, and I am anxious about him. I fear, though I am not quite certain, that his eyesight is destroyed.”
“Dear! dear!—oh, poor man,” said Mrs Donnithorne, whose sympathetic heart swelled8, while her blue eyes instantly filled with tears. “It is so very sad, Oliver, for his delicate wife and four young children are entirely9 dependent upon him and his two sons—and they found it difficult enough to make the two ends meet, even when they were all in health; for it is hard times among the miners at present, as you know, Oliver; and now—dear, dear, it is very, very sad.”
Little Mrs Donnithorne said nothing more at that time, but her mind instantly reverted10 to a portly basket which she was much in the habit of carrying with her on her frequent visits to the poor and the sick—for the good lady was one of those whose inclinations11 as well as principles lead them to “consider the poor.”
It must not be imagined, however, that the poor formed a large class of the community in St. Just. The miners of that district, and indeed all over Cornwall, were, and still are, a self-reliant, independent, hard-working race, and as long as tough thews and sinews, and stout12 and willing hearts, could accomplish anything, they never failed to wrench13 a subsistence out of the stubborn rocks which contain the wealth of the land. Begging goes very much against the grain of a Cornishman, and the lowest depth to which he can sink socially, in his own esteem14, is that of being dependent on charity.
In some cases this sentiment is carried too far, and has degenerated15 into pride; for, when God in His wisdom sees fit, by means of disabling accident or declining health, to incapacitate a man from labour, it is as honourable16 in him to receive charity as it is (although not always sufficiently17 esteemed18 so) a high privilege and luxury of the more fortunate to give.
Worthy19 Mrs Donnithorne’s charities were always bestowed20 with such delicacy21 that she managed, in some mysterious way, to make the recipients22 feel as though they had done her a favour in accepting them. And yet she was not a soft piece of indiscriminating amiability23, whose chief delight in giving lay in the sensations which the act created within her own breast. By no means. None knew better than she when and where to give money, and when to give blankets, bread, or tea. She was equally sharp to perceive the spirit that rendered it advisable for her to say, “I want you to do me a favour—there’s a good woman now, you won’t refuse me, etcetera,” and to detect the spirit that called forth24 the sharp remark, accompanied with a dubious25 smile and a shake of her fat forefinger26, “There now, see that you make better use of it this time, else I shall have to scold you.”
Having received a message for poor Mrs Batten, the miner’s wife, the doctor left the cottage, and proceeded to pay his visits. Let us accompany him.
点击收听单词发音
1 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
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2 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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3 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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4 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 | |
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5 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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6 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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7 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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8 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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9 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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10 reverted | |
恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 ); 重提; 回到…上; 归还 | |
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11 inclinations | |
倾向( inclination的名词复数 ); 倾斜; 爱好; 斜坡 | |
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13 wrench | |
v.猛拧;挣脱;使扭伤;n.扳手;痛苦,难受 | |
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14 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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15 degenerated | |
衰退,堕落,退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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17 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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18 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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19 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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20 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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22 recipients | |
adj.接受的;受领的;容纳的;愿意接受的n.收件人;接受者;受领者;接受器 | |
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23 amiability | |
n.和蔼可亲的,亲切的,友善的 | |
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24 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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25 dubious | |
adj.怀疑的,无把握的;有问题的,靠不住的 | |
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26 forefinger | |
n.食指 | |
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