Murchison rose, kissed his wife, and dressed to the sound of his children laughing and romping12 in the nursery. There was something invigorating to him in their noisy prattle13, a breath of the east wind, a glimpse of the sea. On the landing he met Miss Gwen running to him with open arms. Murchison seized on the child, and kissed her, as though God had given him a pledge of honor. The clean home-life seemed very sweet to him that morning. He felt strong and sure again, ready to retrieve14 the unhappiness of yesterday.
The day’s first rebuff met him at the breakfast-table when a rough cart stopped outside the house, and the maid brought him a dirty note from Boland’s Farm, with “Immediate” scrawled15 across the corner of the envelope. Instinct warned Murchison that it contained bad news, and Catherine saw the clouding of her husband’s face as he read the letter.
“Mr. Baxter is worse, dear?”
“Yes,” and he passed her the note; “it is the species of case that breeds bad feeling.”
Catherine flushed angrily as she read the letter. It came from Mrs. Baxter, and was the impertinent production of a vulgar and half-educated mind.
“What an insufferable person. And this is gratitude16! Shall you go, dear?”
“I must. They refuse to see Inglis.”
Catherine’s eyes glistened17 as she returned the letter.
“Professional men have much to bear,” she said.
“Chiefly the criticism of ignorant people.”
“And the ingratitude18!”
Murchison smiled.
“I have found the good to outweigh19 the bad,” he said; “but these cases sadden one.”
The hours had passed stormily at Boland’s Farm. There had been a brisk battle between Mrs. Baxter and the nurse, before the latter lady had spent sixty minutes under the farm-house roof, a battle that had originated in the simple brewing20 of a basin of beef-tea. The nurse and the housewife advocated different methods, and the trivial variation had been sufficient to set the women quarrelling. Dr. Inglis had intervened in the middle of the discussion, only to divert Mrs. Baxter’s anger to himself. She had assured the theorist bluntly that they needed him no further, and had requested him to inform Dr. Murchison that the Baxters, of Boland’s Farm, were not to be insulted by being served by an assistant. Despite the energy of his wife’s tongue, Thomas Baxter’s condition had grown markedly worse. The nurse and the two shrews had watched by him through the night, their pitiable peevishness21 unmoved by the sick man’s peril22.
At seven o’clock Nurse Sprange had favored Mrs. Baxter with her opinion.
“Worse, of course!” the housewife had exclaimed; “what can any Christian23 creature expect after the way they hacked24 the poor soul about?”
The nurse had ruffled25 up in defence of the profession.
“You had better send at once for Dr. Murchison.”
“I should think we had. The lad can drive over in the milk-cart. Murchison did the thing; he’d better mend it, if he can.”
Murchison drove through the July fields where the corn was rustling26 for the harvest. The cottage gardens were full of flowers, sweet-pease a-flutter in the sun, the borders packed with scent27 and color. On the river’s bank the willows28 drooped29 lazily, and the meadows had been shorn of their fragrant30 hay. To the south the pine woods of Marley Down touched the azure31 of the sky.
His welcome at Boland’s Farm was neither cordial nor inspiring. Murchison had expected sour faces, and sour and sinister32 they were. Mrs. Baxter was a cynic by choice, one of those women who count their change carefully to the last farthing as though forever expecting to be cheated. Her manner towards Murchison was abrupt33 and aggressive. She bore herself towards him with a threatening dourness34, as though she held him responsible for her husband’s critical condition.
“I am sorry to hear Mr. Baxter is no better.”
The lady looked supremely35 sapient36, as though the brilliance37 of her genius had foreshadowed the event.
“I think I told you, doctor, that I don’t hold with all this operating.”
“I am sorry that we disagree.”
“Perhaps you will step up-stairs, doctor, and just see Mr. Baxter for yourself.”
Madam’s presence was not enthralling38, and Murchison escaped from her with relief. The ugly parlor39, with its texts and its piety40, seemed part and parcel of the world to which farmer Baxter’s wife belonged. But sick men cannot be responsible for their wives, and Murchison knew that Tom Baxter was more sinned against than sinning.
Nurse Sprange was sitting by the patient’s bed, looking limp and tired, as though her patience had been torn to tatters by Mrs. Baxter’s restless temper. She rose as Murchison entered, and drew back the curtains to let more light into the room. Murchison nodded to her, and took the chair that she had left. The farmer was lying very still and straight, his eyes half closed, his breathing shallow, as though any expansion of the chest gave him acute pain.
“Well, Baxter, how do you feel?”
The man turned his head feebly.
“Ay, doctor, not mighty41 grand.”
“Any pain now?”
“Pain, sir, plenty; not like the gripe, but just as if I had a lot of weed-killer sluicing42 about inside of me.”
“Ah! Any tenderness?”
The farmer winced43 under Murchison’s hand.
“Bless you, doctor, it be damned sore!”
“Where?”
“All over. What d’you think of me, sir? I guess I’m pretty bad.”
The man’s eyes were searching Murchison’s face. He had been a fat and hearty44 liver, a full-blooded man who had loved life, where his wife was not, and was loath45 to leave it. There was something pathetic in his almost bovine46 dread47, as though like one of his own oxen he had an instinct of the end. Murchison pitied him. He had seen many such men die, some like frightened animals, others sullen48 and sturdy against their doom49.
“You must keep up your pluck, Baxter,” he said.
“I know, sir, but—”
“My dear fellow, you are very bad, it is no use shirking it. I hope yet to see you recover.”
“All right, doctor, you’ve done your best,” and he turned his face away with a groan50 of despair.
Murchison took the nurse out with him to the head of the stairs, and questioned her as to any symptoms she had observed during the night. Her evidence only tended to strengthen the gloomy prognosis he had already made. Nothing remained for him but to consider Mrs. Baxter’s unsensitive soul.
The lady did not weep. On the contrary, she displayed gathering51 resentment52, the prejudice of an inferior nature, and gave Murchison the benefit of her free opinion.
“I may as well tell you, doctor, that I’m not satisfied. If my Tom had had proper attention from the first—”
“Well?”
“You wouldn’t have had to use that there knife. And it’s my opinion, sir, that you’ve done more harm than good.”
Murchison’s patience was being severely53 tested.
“I don’t think you are quite yourself, Mrs. Baxter,” he remarked.
“Not myself, indeed!”
“I cannot hold you responsible for what you are saying.”
The suggestion of any hysterical54 weakness on her part offended the lady more than her husband’s probable decease.
“Look here, doctor, I’m no fool, and I tell you you’ve done your business badly.”
“My dear woman, this is absolutely unwarranted.”
“I beg to differ, sir, and—”
Murchison prevented the imminent55 insult.
“If you care to place the case in other hands, by all means do so.”
“I shall send for Dr. Steel.”
“As you please.”
“And don’t you be afraid of getting your money.”
“That is a secondary consideration.”
“Oh, I guess not, operations don’t cost twopence-halfpenny. I’ll send for Steel at once.”
Murchison took his hat and gloves.
“Then, Mrs. Baxter, I had better wish you good-morning?”
And being too much of a philosopher to accuse the lady of ingratitude, he left her in possession of her prejudices.
It had been the season of garden-fêtes at Roxton, when the gracious gowns of the mesdames and demoiselles glorified56 the sleek57 lawns and herb-scented gardens of the old town. Gay colors and piquant58 hats were in July flower, save for the few sober weeds who put forth59 no gaudy60 corolla to attract the winged messengers of love. Mrs. Betty had paraded the terraces and yew61 walks in dove-colored silk, in crimson62, and in lilac. Her successive sunshades were as so many royal flowers that came as by magic from the house of glass. She was an ?sthetic spirit, and loved beauty, particularly when the picture was painted upon the surface of her own pier-glass.
Yet, delectable63 as she was with her pale and sinuous64 glamour65, Mrs. Betty had many rebuffs to remember within the sound of St. Antonia’s bells. Dull, domesticated66 ladies in a country town do not embrace with enthusiasm a young and fascinating woman who has a habit of drawing the men about her. Mrs. Betty was regarded as a dangerous person, a species of Circe who looked sidelong into the faces of respectable married men, and possessed67 a mother-wit and a vivacity68 that made her seem like sparkling wine beside the “domestic ditch-water” she abhorred69.
Catherine Murchison succeeded with her sister-women where Betty Steel failed utterly70. There was a frankness, an absolute lack of the guile71 of the Cleopatra, about her that set jealous matrons at their ease. She was so notoriously devoted72 to her own husband and her home that the respectable flock welcomed her with pleasant bleatings. It was this very popularity of hers that impressed itself on the social pageantries of Roxton. The quick-eyed Betty saw her rival receive the smiles of the feminine community, while she herself was favored with polite distrust. Catherine Murchison was considered orthodox, and to be orthodox is the first proof of gentility among genteel people. Mrs. Steel might be stigmatized73 as something of a social heretic. And women, being the most outrageous74 Tories in their heart of hearts, dreaded75 the fascinating and glib-tongued Socialist76 who would perhaps reform the marriage laws into free love.
Hence, through all the galaxy77 of the Roxton garden-parties, Parker Steel’s wife had accumulated many incidental grievances78 against her rival. Women are sensitive beings, so sensitive that their feelings may be diffused79 into a smart gown or a Paris hat. The old battle-fire burned in Mrs. Betty’s Circassian eyes. She was amassing80 her grievances, slowly, surely, and with that curious secretiveness that has often characterized the feminine heart.
“Thomas Baxter, of Boland’s Farm, is dead.”
Parker Steel whisked his serviette over his knees, and looked with a peculiar81 glint of the eye at his wife in her orange-silk tea-gown.
“Dead, no!”
“Dead as Marley.”
“But they only turned Murchison out yesterday.”
“Exactly. And the dear wife is in the most militant82 of tempers, the Puritanical83 old fraud.”
Betty Steel’s olive skin had flushed. She was breathing deeply, and her glance had a significant and inspired glitter.
“Parker.”
“Well?”
“What else?”
The spruce physician showed his teeth.
“You expect more?”
“Yes, you are teasing me, keeping back some delicate morsel84. Has Murchison blundered?”
“The wish seems mother to the thought.”
“Perhaps.”
“Mrs. Baxter has demanded a post-mortem examination. I am to perform it.”
His wife’s lips parted, and closed again into a hard line. She looked wickedly handsome in her yellow gown.
“I shall take Brimley, of Cossington, with me.”
“Good. You must have a second opinion, and Brimley does not love the six-footer. What do you think, Parker?—tell me frankly85.”
The doctor wiped his mustache, took up his sherry glass and sipped86 the wine.
“Can’t say—yet,” he answered.
“But supposing—”
“Well, what am I to suppose?”
“That Murchison blundered badly.”
Dr. Steel meditated87 an instant.
“Professional etiquette”—he began.
Mrs. Betty’s eyes flashed.
“Professional nonsense! If—Parker, you must not lose a possible chance.”
Her husband regarded her with amused interest.
“You would strike your little Italian stiletto into Murchison’s reputation,” he said.
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1
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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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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3
stencilling
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| v.用模板印（文字或图案）( stencil的现在分词 )；型版 | |
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4
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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5
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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6
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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7
smothers
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的第三人称单数 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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8
gleaning
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| n.拾落穗，拾遗，落穗v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的现在分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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10
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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romping
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| adj.嬉戏喧闹的，乱蹦乱闹的v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的现在分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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13
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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14
retrieve
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| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
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15
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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17
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
ingratitude
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| n.忘恩负义 | |
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19
outweigh
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| vt.比...更重，...更重要 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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21
peevishness
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| 脾气不好；爱发牢骚 | |
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22
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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hacked
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| 生气 | |
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25
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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26
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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27
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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28
willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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29
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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31
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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32
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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33
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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34
dourness
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| n.性情乖僻，酸味，坏心眼 | |
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35
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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36
sapient
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| adj.有见识的，有智慧的 | |
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37
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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38
enthralling
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| 迷人的 | |
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39
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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40
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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41
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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42
sluicing
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| v.冲洗( sluice的现在分词 )；（指水）喷涌而出；漂净；给…安装水闸 | |
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43
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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45
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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46
bovine
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| adj.牛的；n.牛 | |
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47
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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48
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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49
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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50
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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51
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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52
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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53
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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54
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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55
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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56
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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57
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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58
piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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59
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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60
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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61
yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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62
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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63
delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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64
sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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65
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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66
domesticated
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| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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68
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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69
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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70
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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71
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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72
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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73
stigmatized
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| v.使受耻辱，指责，污辱( stigmatize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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75
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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76
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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77
galaxy
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| n.星系；银河系；一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
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78
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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79
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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80
amassing
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| v.积累，积聚( amass的现在分词 ) | |
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81
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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82
militant
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| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
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83
puritanical
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| adj.极端拘谨的；道德严格的 | |
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84
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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85
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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86
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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