The austere4 figure of her sister joined itself to Mrs. Baxter’s under the cypresses5. They talked together in undertones as they watched the road, their voices harsh and unmusical even in an attempted whisper. Mrs. Baxter and Miss Harriet Season were tall and sinewy6 women, narrow of face and mind, hard in eye and body, their sense of sex reduced to insignificance7. The unfortunate Inglis, who sat pulling at his watch-chain beside Mr. Thomas Baxter’s bed, had found their hawk8 faces too keen and uncompromising for his self-esteem. They had scented9 out his incompetence11 as two old crows will scent10 out carrion12.
“Drat the man, is he never coming!”
Mrs. Baxter smoothed her dress, and stood listening irritably13, an angular and inelegant silhouette14 against the lamp-light.
“Just hear Tom groaning16.”
“And that poor ninny sitting by the bed and trying to look wise. Ain’t that a light over the willows17? I shall lose my temper if it ain’t Murchison.”
Miss Harriet tilted18 her head like an attentive19 parrot.
“I can hear the thing puffing20.”
“Just keep quiet—can’t you?”
“Lor, Mary, you are peevish21!”
“How can I listen with all your chattering22?”
Murchison, depressed23 and out of heart, met these two ladies at the farm-house door. They greeted him with no relieved and hysterical24 profuseness25. Mrs. Baxter extended a red-knuckled hand, looking like a woman ready to express a grievance26.
“Glad you’ve come at last, doctor; we’ve been waiting long enough.”
They ushered27 Murchison into the parlor28, a room that cultivated ugliness from the wool-work mantel-cover to the red and yellow rug before the door. Murchison, like most professional men, had become accustomed to the impertinent petulance29 of sundry30 middle-class patients. Unstrung and inwardly humiliated31 as he was that night, the austere woman’s tartness32 roused his impatience33.
“My car broke down on the way. How is Mr. Baxter?” and he pulled off his gloves.
“Bad, sir, sorry to say. I can’t think, doctor, how you could send that young chap over here.”
“Dr. Inglis?”
“He don’t know his business; we hadn’t any faith in him from the minute he entered the door.”
“Dr. Inglis is perfectly34 competent to represent me when I am away from Roxton.”
“Indeed, doctor, I beg to differ.”
Mrs. Baxter’s grieved contempt suggested that Murchison had no Christian35 right to rest or eat when duty called him. Had the lady been less selfish and aggressive she might have been struck by the man’s tired eyes and nervous, irritable36 manner. But Mrs. Baxter was one of those crude and complacent37 people who never consider the sensitive complexities38 of others.
“I will see your husband at once.”
“I hope you’re not going to operate, doctor.”
Murchison’s face betrayed his irritation39 as he moved towards the door.
“My dear madam, do you wish me to attend your husband, or do you not?”
The bony woman tilted her chin.
“I don’t hold with people being cut about with knives.”
Ignorance when insolent40 is doubly exasperating41, and Murchison was in no mood for an argument.
“Mrs. Baxter, from what Dr. Hicks has said, your husband will die unless operated on immediately.”
The farmer’s wife shrugged42, and pressed her lips together.
“Very well, doctor, have your own way.”
“If I am to attend your husband you must trust in my opinion.”
“Oh—of course. Do what you think proper, sir. I know we don’t signify.”
Murchison abandoned Mrs. Baxter to her prejudices, and climbed the stairs to the bedroom, where Dr. Inglis dabbled43 scalpels and artery44 forceps in surgical45 trays. The assistant’s thin face welcomed his superior with a worried yet grateful smile. No heroine of romance had listened more eagerly for the sound of her lover’s gallop46 than had Dr. Inglis for the panting of Murchison’s car.
On the bed with its white chintz valance and side curtains lay the farmer, skin ashy, eyes sunken, the typical facies of acute abdominal47 obstruction48. A sickly stench rose from a basin full of brown vomit49 beside the bed. The man hiccoughed and groaned50 as he breathed, each spasm51 of the diaphragm drawing a quivering gulp52 of pain.
Murchison, his eyes noting each significant detail, seated himself on the edge of the bed. He had hoped that Inglis might have been mistaken, and that he should find the case less grave than Dr. Hicks had suggested. Murchison dreaded53 the thought of an operation, even as a tired man dreads54 the duty he cannot justify55. He felt unequal to the nerve strain that the ordeal56 demanded, for his hand was not the steady hand of the master for the night. Slowly and with the uttermost care he examined the man, realizing with each sign and symptom that Hicks’s diagnosis57 appeared too true. There was no escaping from the gravity of the crisis. Unless relieved, Thomas Baxter would surely die.
Murchison rose with a tired sigh, and pressing his eyes for a moment with the fingers of his right hand, went to the table where Inglis had been arranging the instruments and dressings58.
“You have an?sthetics?”
“Yes. Are you going to operate?”
“Yes, I must. It is our only chance.”
“And the bed, it is a regular feather pit.”
“We have to put up with these things in the country. I have performed tracheotomy with a pair of scissors and a hair-pin.”
Inglis had faith enough in his chief’s resources. True, Murchison looked fagged and out of fettle, yet the theorist little suspected how greatly the elder man dreaded what was before him. Poor Porteus Carmagee’s port had worked havoc59 with that delicate marvel60, the brain of the scientific age. Murchison had sustained a moral shock, and he was still tremulous with humiliation61 and remorse62. One of the most trying ordeals63 of surgery lay before him, with every disadvantage to test his skill. A weaker man might have temporized64, or played the traitor65 by surrendering to nature. Murchison’s conscience was too strong to suffer him to shirk his duty.
He crossed the room to the bed, and bent66 over the farmer.
“Mr. Baxter, you are very ill; we must give you chloroform.”
The man’s sunken eyes looked up pathetically into Murchison’s face.
“Oh, dear Lord, doctor, anything; I can’t stand the gripe of it much longer.”
“You understand that I am going to operate on you?”
“All right, sir, do just what you think proper.”
In a few minutes the instrument table, with a powerful electric surgical-lamp, had been brought near the bed. Murchison had taken off his coat, tied on an apron67, and was soaking his hands in perchloride of mercury. Inglis had the chloroform mask over the farmer’s face. The man was weak with the anguish68 he had suffered, and took the an?sthetic without a struggle. Soon came the twitching69 of the limbs and the incoherent babbling70 as the vapor71 took effect. Murchison gave a rapid glance at the instrument table to see that everything he needed was to hand. Then he bared the farmer’s body, packed it round with towels, and began to scrub and cleanse72 the skin.
“He’s nearly under, sir.”
“Good.”
Murchison felt Baxter’s pulse, and frowned.
“We must waste no time,” he remarked, setting back his shoulders.
“The pupil reflex has gone.”
“Keep him as lightly under as you can.”
There was the glimmer73 of a knife, and a long streaking74 of the skin with red. Murchison worked rapidly, spreading the lips of the wound with the fingers of his left hand while he plied76 the knife. The patient’s stertorous77 breathing seemed to fill the room. Murchison swabbed the wound briskly, and worked on with grim and quiet patience.
Soon half a dozen artery forceps were dangling78 about the wound. Murchison was bending over the farmer, insinuating79 his hand into the abdominal cavity. Inglis glanced at him with a worried air.
“Can you feel anything, sir?”
“Not yet.”
“I don’t like the pulse.”
“We must risk it; watch the breathing.”
Murchison’s forehead had become full of lines. His face was the face of a man whose intelligence is strained to the utmost pitch of sensitiveness. The ordeal of touch, the education of four finger-tips, stood between failure and success.
Inglis shot a questioning glance at his chief’s face.
“Found anything?”
“No. I must enlarge the wound.”
The knife went to work again, with swabs and artery forceps to choke the blood flow. Murchison was sweating as though he had run half a mile under a July sun. There was an impatient twitching of the muscles of his face. He breathed fast and deeply, like a man whose staying power is being taxed.
“Confound the man’s fat!”
Inglis smiled feebly but sympathetically.
“Not an easy case.”
“Wait. No, I thought I had something. Look after the pulse.”
The strain was beginning to tell on Murchison after the overthrow80 of the previous night. He looked jaded81, pale, and impatient. The reek82 of the an?sthetic made the blood buzz in his temples. At such a time a surgeon needs superhuman nerve, that iron patience that is never flustered83.
Minutes passed, and the skilled fingers were still baffled. Murchison straightened his back with a kind of groan15.
“Wipe my forehead,” he said, curtly84.
Inglis leaned forward, and wiped the sweat away with a napkin.
“Thanks,” and he went to work again, yet with a hand that trembled. That supreme85 self-control had deserted86 him for the moment. He seemed feverish87 and spasmodic, out of temper with the difficulties of the case.
“The devil take it! Ah—at last.”
He drew a relieved breath, his eyes brightening, his face clearing a little. The deft88 fingers had succeeded, and swabs and sponges were soon at work. Sweat dropped from his forehead into the wound, but Murchison did not heed89 it in his strained intentness.
“Pass me some sponges. Thanks. Count for me.”
More minutes passed before Murchison lifted his head with a great sigh of relief.
“Thank God, that’s over.”
“Shall I stop the chloroform?”
“No, keep it on a little longer. How many sponges were there? Six? One, two, three, four, five, and the last. Now for the ligatures,” and he handled the threads with quivering fingers.
Inglis was feeling the man’s pulse.
“He won’t stand much more, Murchison.”
“All right, you can stop.”
Scarcely had the concentration of his mind force relaxed for him than Murchison felt dizzy in the head, and saw a luminous90 fog before his eyes. Sweat ran from him; the room seemed saturated91 with the reek of chloroform. The reaction rushed on him with a feeling of nausea92 and a great sense of faintness at the heart. Bandage in hand, he swayed back, collapsed93 into a chair, and bent his head down between his knees.
A decanter of brandy stood on the dressing-table. Inglis, not a little scared, darted94 for it, and poured out a heavy dose into a tumbler.
“What’s up, Murchison? Here, drink this down. Baxter’s all right for the moment.”
Murchison lifted a gray face from between his hands to the light.
“Thanks, Inglis, I feel done up. Don’t bother about me. I shall be right again in a moment.”
He put the brandy aside, and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. Inglis was completing the bandaging of the wound that Murchison had left unfinished. The farmer was breathing heavily, a streak75 of foam95 blubbering at his blue and swollen96 lips.
“You had better turn home, sir, I can manage now.”
Murchison rose wearily and went to wash his hands.
“You must be fagged, Inglis,” he retorted.
“Not a bit of it,” and the theorist displayed more courage now that the responsibility was on other shoulders.
“You might stay for an hour or two. I left word in Roxton for Nurse Sprange to come out. You must put up with the old ladies’ tongues.”
The assistant frowned slightly as he recollected97 Mrs. Baxter and her sister.
“You will see them, Murchison, before you go?”
“Yes, of course.”
The two shallow-chested women were waiting for news in the hideous98 parlor. Even Mrs. Baxter’s stupidity could not ignore the look of distress99 on Murchison’s face. By the time the doctors had taken, she guessed that an operation had been performed, and by Murchison’s manner that it had not proved successful.
“Well, doctor, bad news, I suppose?”
Mrs. Baxter was more ready to quarrel than to weep.
“The operation has been perfectly satisfactory.”
“Indeed!”
“Your husband is still in very grave danger, but I see no reason why he should not recover.”
Murchison picked his gloves out of his hat. An expressive100 glance passed between Mrs. Baxter and her sister.
“You’re not going, doctor?”
“Yes, Dr. Inglis remains101 in charge. One of the Roxton nurses will be here any moment.”
The farmer’s wife betrayed her indignation.
“What, that ninny! He ain’t fit to doctor a cat. I tell you, Dr. Murchison, I don’t want him in my house.” The man’s eyes flashed in his tired face. The woman’s impertinence was insufferable.
“Really, madam, Dr. Inglis is perfectly competent to be left in charge. I shall see your husband early to-morrow.”
Mrs. Baxter sniffed102.
“Well, I call it an insult!”
“Call it what you will, my dear woman, but I need rest—like other people, and I must go.”
And go he did, leaving two sour and quarrelsome faces at the farm-house door.
At Lombard Street, Catherine was waiting for her husband after putting Gwen and Jack103 to bed. She rose anxiously at the sound of the car, and met Murchison in the hall. His face shocked her even in the shaded lamplight. He looked like a man who had come through some great travail104.
“James, dear—how—”
“I’m through with it, thank God!”
“Safely?”
“Yes.”
“Well done—well done. I know how you have suffered.”
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收听单词发音
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1
testy
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| adj.易怒的；暴躁的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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3
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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4
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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7
insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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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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incompetence
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| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
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carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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14
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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15
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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17
willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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18
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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22
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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profuseness
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| n.挥霍 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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tartness
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| n.酸，锋利 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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complexities
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| 复杂性(complexity的名词复数)； 复杂的事物 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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42
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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artery
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| n.干线，要道；动脉 | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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46
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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abdominal
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| adj.腹（部）的，下腹的；n.腹肌 | |
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obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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vomit
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| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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53
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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dreads
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| n.恐惧，畏惧( dread的名词复数 )；令人恐惧的事物v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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55
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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58
dressings
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| n.敷料剂；穿衣( dressing的名词复数 )；穿戴；（拌制色拉的）调料；（保护伤口的）敷料 | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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61
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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63
ordeals
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| n.严峻的考验，苦难的经历( ordeal的名词复数 ) | |
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64
temporized
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| v.敷衍( temporize的过去式和过去分词 )；拖延；顺应时势；暂时同意 | |
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65
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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66
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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67
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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68
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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69
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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70
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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cleanse
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| vt.使清洁，使纯洁，清洗 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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streaking
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| n.裸奔（指在公共场所裸体飞跑）v.快速移动( streak的现在分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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75
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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stertorous
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| adj.打鼾的 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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79
insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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80
overthrow
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| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
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81
jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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82
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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83
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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84
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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85
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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86
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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87
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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88
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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90
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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92
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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96
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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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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98
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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99
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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100
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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101
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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102
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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103
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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104
travail
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| n.阵痛；努力 | |
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