Such profit might be derived15 by a skilful16 observer from my much-respected friend the Widow Toothaker, a nurse of great repute who has breathed the atmosphere of sick-chambers and dying-breaths these forty years. See! she sits cowering18 over her lonesome hearth19 with her gown and upper petticoat drawn20 upward, gathering21 thriftily22 into her person the whole warmth of the fire which now at nightfall begins to dissipate the autumnal chill of her chamber17. The blaze quivers capriciously in front, alternately glimmering24 into the deepest chasms25 of her wrinkled visage, and then permitting a ghostly dimness to mar26 the outlines of her venerable figure. And Nurse Toothaker holds a teaspoon27 in her right hand with which to stir up the contents of a tumbler in her left, whence steams a vapory fragrance28 abhorred29 of temperance societies. Now she sips30, now stirs, now sips again. Her sad old heart has need to be revived by the rich infusion31 of Geneva which is mixed half and half with hot water in the tumbler. All day long she has been sitting by a death-pillow, and quitted it for her home only when the spirit of her patient left the clay and went homeward too. But now are her melancholy meditations32 cheered and her torpid33 blood warmed and her shoulders lightened of at least twenty ponderous34 years by a draught35 from the true fountain of youth in a case-bottle. It is strange that men should deem that fount a fable36, when its liquor fills more bottles than the Congress-water. — Sip23 it again, good nurse, and see whether a second draught will not take off another score of years, and perhaps ten more, and show us in your high-backed chair the blooming damsel who plighted37 troths with Edward Fane. — Get you gone, Age and Widowhood! — Come back, unwedded Youth! — But, alas38! the charm will not work. In spite of Fancy’s most potent39 spell, I can see only an old dame40 cowering over the fire, a picture of decay and desolation, while the November blast roars at her in the chimney and fitful showers rush suddenly against the window.
Yet there was a time when Rose Grafton — such was the pretty maiden-name of Nurse Toothaker — possessed41 beauty that would have gladdened this dim and dismal42 chamber as with sunshine. It won for her the heart of Edward Fane, who has since made so great a figure in the world and is now a grand old gentleman with powdered hair and as gouty as a lord. These early lovers thought to have walked hand in hand through life. They had wept together for Edward’s little sister Mary, whom Rose tended in her sickness — partly because she was the sweetest child that ever lived or died, but more for love of him. She was but three years old. Being such an infant, Death could not embody43 his terrors in her little corpse44; nor did Rose fear to touch the dead child’s brow, though chill, as she curled the silken hair around it, nor to take her tiny hand and clasp a flower within its fingers. Afterward45, when she looked through the pane46 of glass in the coffin47-lid and beheld48 Mary’s face, it seemed not so much like death or life as like a wax-work wrought into the perfect image of a child asleep and dreaming of its mother’s smile. Rose thought her too fair a thing to be hidden in the grave, and wondered that an angel did not snatch up little Mary’s coffin and bear the slumbering49 babe to heaven and bid her wake immortal50. But when the sods were laid on little Mary, the heart of Rose was troubled. She shuddered51 at the fantasy that in grasping the child’s cold fingers her virgin52 hand had exchanged a first greeting with mortality and could never lose the earthy taint53. How many a greeting since! But as yet she was a fair young girl with the dewdrops of fresh feeling in her bosom54, and, instead of “Rose” — which seemed too mature a name for her half-opened beauty — her lover called her “Rosebud55.”
The rosebud was destined56 never to bloom for Edward Fane. His mother was a rich and haughty57 dame with all the aristocratic prejudices of colonial times. She scorned Rose Grafton’s humble58 parentage and caused her son to break his faith, though, had she let him choose, he would have prized his Rosebud above the richest diamond. The lovers parted, and have seldom met again. Both may have visited the same mansions59, but not at the same time, for one was bidden to the festal hall and the other to the sick-chamber; he was the guest of Pleasure and Prosperity, and she of Anguish60. Rose, after their separation, was long secluded61 within the dwelling62 of Mr. Toothaker, whom she married with the revengeful hope of breaking her false lover’s heart. She went to her bridegroom’s arms with bitterer tears, they say, than young girls ought to shed at the threshold of the bridal-chamber. Yet, though her husband’s head was getting gray and his heart had been chilled with an autumnal frost, Rose soon began to love him, and wondered at her own conjugal63 affection. He was all she had to love; there were no children.
In a year or two poor Mr. Toothaker was visited with a wearisome infirmity which settled in his joints64 and made him weaker than a child. He crept forth65 about his business, and came home at dinner-time and eventide, not with the manly66 tread that gladdens a wife’s heart, but slowly, feebly, jotting67 down each dull footstep with a melancholy dub68 of his staff. We must pardon his pretty wife if she sometimes blushed to own him. Her visitors, when they heard him coming, looked for the appearance of some old, old man, but he dragged his nerveless limbs into the parlor69 — and there was Mr. Toothaker! The disease increasing, he never went into the sunshine save with a staff in his right hand and his left on his wife’s shoulder, bearing heavily downward like a dead man’s hand. Thus, a slender woman still looking maiden-like, she supported his tall, broad-chested frame along the pathway of their little garden, and plucked the roses for her gray-haired husband, and spoke70 soothingly72 as to an infant. His mind was palsied with his body; its utmost energy was peevishness73. In a few months more she helped him up the staircase with a pause at every step, and a longer one upon the landing-place, and a heavy glance behind as he crossed the threshold of his chamber. He knew, poor man! that the precincts of those four walls would thenceforth be his world — his world, his home, his tomb, at once a dwelling-and a burial-place — till he were borne to a darker and a narrower one. But Rose was with him in the tomb. He leaned upon her in his daily passage from the bed to the chair by the fireside, and back again from the weary chair to the joyless bed — his bed and hers, their marriage-bed — till even this short journey ceased and his head lay all day upon the pillow and hers all night beside it. How long poor Mr. Toothaker was kept in misery74! Death seemed to draw near the door, and often to lift the latch75, and sometimes to thrust his ugly skull76 into the chamber, nodding to Rose and pointing at her husband, but still delayed to enter. “This bedridden wretch77 cannot escape me,” quoth Death. “I will go forth and run a race with the swift and fight a battle with the strong, and come back for Toothaker at my leisure.” Oh, when the deliverer came so near, in the dull anguish of her worn-out sympathies did she never long to cry, “Death, come in”?
But no; we have no right to ascribe such a wish to our friend Rose. She never failed in a wife’s duty to her poor sick husband. She murmured not though a glimpse of the sunny sky was as strange to her as him, nor answered peevishly79 though his complaining accents roused her from sweetest dream only to share his wretchedness. He knew her faith, yet nourished a cankered jealousy80; and when the slow disease had chilled all his heart save one lukewarm spot which Death’s frozen fingers were searching for, his last words were, “What would my Rose have done for her first love, if she has been so true and kind to a sick old man like me?” And then his poor soul crept away and left the body lifeless, though hardly more so than for years before, and Rose a widow, though in truth it was the wedding-night that widowed her. She felt glad, it must be owned, when Mr. Toothaker was buried, because his corpse had retained such a likeness81 to the man half alive that she hearkened for the sad murmur78 of his voice bidding her shift his pillow. But all through the next winter, though the grave had held him many a month, she fancied him calling from that cold bed, “Rose, Rose! Come put a blanket on my feet!”
So now the Rosebud was the widow Toothaker. Her troubles had come early, and, tedious as they seemed, had passed before all her bloom was fled. She was still fair enough to captivate a bachelor, or with a widow’s cheerful gravity she might have won a widower82, stealing into his heart in the very guise83 of his dead wife. But the widow Toothaker had no such projects. By her watchings and continual cares her heart had become knit to her first husband with a constancy which changed its very nature and made her love him for his infirmities, and infirmity for his sake. When the palsied old man was gone, even her early lover could not have supplied his place. She had dwelt in a sick-chamber and been the companion of a half-dead wretch till she could scarcely breathe in a free air and felt ill at ease with the healthy and the happy. She missed the fragrance of the doctor’s stuff. She walked the chamber with a noiseless footfall. If visitors came in, she spoke in soft and soothing71 accents, and was startled and shocked by their loud voices. Often in the lonesome evening she looked timorously84 from the fireside to the bed, with almost a hope of recognizing a ghastly face upon the pillow. Then went her thoughts sadly to her husband’s grave. If one impatient throb85 had wronged him in his lifetime, if she had secretly repined because her buoyant youth was imprisoned86 with his torpid age, if ever while slumbering beside him a treacherous87 dream had admitted another into her heart, — yet the sick man had been preparing a revenge which the dead now claimed. On his painful pillow he had cast a spell around her; his groans88 and misery had proved more captivating charms than gayety and youthful grace; in his semblance89 Disease itself had won the Rosebud for a bride, nor could his death dissolve the nuptials90. By that indissoluble bond she had gained a home in every sick-chamber, and nowhere else; there were her brethren and sisters; thither91 her husband summoned her with that voice which had seemed to issue from the grave of Toothaker. At length she recognized her destiny.
We have beheld her as the maid, the wife, the widow; now we see her in a separate and insulated character: she was in all her attributes Nurse Toothaker. And Nurse Toothaker alone, with her own shrivelled lips, could make known her experience in that capacity. What a history might she record of the great sicknesses in which she has gone hand in hand with the exterminating92 angel! She remembers when the small-pox hoisted93 a red banner on almost every house along the street. She has witnessed when the typhus fever swept off a whole household, young and old, all but a lonely mother, who vainly shrieked94 to follow her last loved one. Where would be Death’s triumph if none lived to weep? She can speak of strange maladies that have broken out as if spontaneously, but were found to have been imported from foreign lands with rich silks and other merchandise, the costliest95 portion of the cargo96. And once, she recollects97, the people died of what was considered a new pestilence98, till the doctors traced it to the ancient grave of a young girl who thus caused many deaths a hundred years after her own burial. Strange that such black mischief99 should lurk100 in a maiden’s grave! She loves to tell how strong men fight with fiery101 fevers, utterly102 refusing to give up their breath, and how consumptive virgins103 fade out of the world, scarcely reluctant, as if their lovers were wooing them to a far country. — Tell us, thou fearful woman; tell us the death-secrets. Fain would I search out the meaning of words faintly gasped104 with intermingled sobs105 and broken sentences half-audibly spoken between earth and the judgment-seat.
An awful woman! She is the patron-saint of young physicians and the bosom-friend of old ones. In the mansions where she enters the inmates106 provide themselves black garments; the coffin-maker follows her, and the bell tolls107 as she comes away from the threshold. Death himself has met her at so many a bedside that he puts forth his bony hand to greet Nurse Toothaker. She is an awful woman. And oh, is it conceivable that this handmaid of human infirmity and affliction — so darkly stained, so thoroughly108 imbued109 with all that is saddest in the doom110 of mortals — can ever again be bright and gladsome even though bathed in the sunshine of eternity111? By her long communion with woe4 has she not forfeited112 her inheritance of immortal joy? Does any germ of bliss113 survive within her?
Hark! an eager knocking st Nurse Toothaker’s door. She starts from her drowsy114 reverie, sets aside the empty tumbler and teaspoon, and lights a lamp at the dim embers of the fire. “Rap, rap, rap!” again, and she hurries adown the staircase, wondering which of her friends can be at death’s door now, since there is such an earnest messenger at Nurse Toothaker’s. Again the peal115 resounds116 just as her hand is on the lock. “Be quick, Nurse Toothaker!” cries a man on the doorstep. “Old General Fane is taken with the gout in his stomach and has sent for you to watch by his death-bed. Make haste, for there is no time to lose.” — “Fane! Edward Fane! And has he sent for me at last? I am ready. I will get on my cloak and begone. So,” adds the sable-gowned, ashen-visaged, funereal117 old figure, “Edward Fane remembers his Rosebud.”
Our question is answered. There is a germ of bliss within her. Her long-hoarded constancy, her memory of the bliss that was remaining amid the gloom of her after-life like a sweet-smelling flower in a coffin, is a symbol that all may be renewed. In some happier clime the Rosebud may revive again with all the dewdrops in its bosom.
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1
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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obliterating
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| v.除去( obliterate的现在分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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4
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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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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7
decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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15
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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thriftily
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| 节俭地； 繁茂地； 繁荣的 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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teaspoon
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| n.茶匙 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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30
sips
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| n.小口喝，一小口的量( sip的名词复数 )v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的第三人称单数 ) | |
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infusion
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| n.灌输 | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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plighted
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| vt.保证，约定（plight的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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42
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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43
embody
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| vt.具体表达，使具体化；包含，收录 | |
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44
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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48
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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49
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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51
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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52
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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rosebud
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| n.蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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64
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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jotting
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| n.简短的笔记，略记v.匆忙记下( jot的现在分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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68
dub
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| vt.（以某种称号）授予，给...起绰号，复制 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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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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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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72
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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73
peevishness
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| 脾气不好；爱发牢骚 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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75
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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76
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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77
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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78
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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79
peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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80
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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81
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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82
widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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83
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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84
timorously
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| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
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85
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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86
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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88
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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89
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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90
nuptials
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| n.婚礼；婚礼( nuptial的名词复数 ) | |
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91
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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92
exterminating
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| v.消灭，根绝( exterminate的现在分词 ) | |
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93
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
costliest
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| adj.昂贵的( costly的最高级 )；代价高的；引起困难的；造成损失的 | |
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96
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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97
recollects
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| v.记起，想起( recollect的第三人称单数 ) | |
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98
pestilence
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| n.瘟疫 | |
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99
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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100
lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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101
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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102
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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103
virgins
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| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
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104
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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105
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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106
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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107
tolls
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| （缓慢而有规律的）钟声( toll的名词复数 )； 通行费； 损耗； （战争、灾难等造成的）毁坏 | |
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108
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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109
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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110
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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111
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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112
forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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114
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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115
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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116
resounds
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的第三人称单数 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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117
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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