She had come by one conviction through her visit, the conviction that those two intellectualists hungered to humiliate7 her and her husband. Mrs. Betty’s eyes had betrayed too much. She would be content with nothing but sensational8 head-lines, and the discussion of “the scandal” in every Roxton home. The brain behind that ethereal yet supercilious9 face knew no flush of feeling for a rival in distress10. The pair were exulting11 over the chance James Murchison had given them, and the wife had realized it with a bitter flooding up of loyalty12 and love.
Catherine had made her plans before she reached the glare of Lombard Street. She had left her husband sitting in the darkened room, the blinds drawn13 down over his humiliation14 and self-shame. Her heart grieved in her for the strong man whose sensitive consciousness had been paralyzed by the realization15 of his own irrevocable blunder. Her pity left him undisturbed, like a sick man needing rest. Inglis had taken the work for the whole day, for Catherine had interviewed him in the surgery, and shocked the theorist by imparting a portion of the truth to him.
“Incredible!” had been Mr. Inglis’s solitary16 remark, and Catherine’s heart had blessed him for that single adjective.
As she passed the house in Lombard Street, her face seemed overshadowed for the moment by the unpropitious heaviness of her thoughts. The vision of her husband’s pale and troubled face saddened her more utterly19 than any regretfulness her pride might feel. Nor did she pass her home unchallenged, for at the barred but open window of the nursery, a ripple20 of gold in the sunlight bathed her daughter Gwen’s round face,
“Muvver, muvver!” and a doll’s red pelisse was waved over the window-sill. Catherine felt all her womanhood yearn21 longingly22 towards the child.
“Muvver. I’ve spelled a whole page. Daddy’s gone out. May I come wid you?”
Catherine shook her head, her eyes very bright with tenderness under her blue sunshade. How little the child realized the grim beneathness of life!
“No, dear, no. I shall be back soon. Ask Mary to take you for a walk in the meadows,” and she passed on with a lingering look at the red pelisse and the golden curls.
Porteus Carmagee, white as to waistcoat, brown as to face, jumped up briskly from his well-worn leather chair when his head clerk announced Mrs. Catherine Murchison. The lawyer, despite his eccentricities23, was a keen and tenacious24 man of business, the emphasis of whose advice might have impressed an audience more cynical25 than the English House of Commons. He had a habit of snapping at his syllables26 with a vindictive27 sincerity28 that stimulated29 nervous clients suffering from the neurasthenia of indecision.
“What!—a professional visit? My dear Kate, this is a most portentous30 event; all my musty deeds must blush into new pink tape. Sit down. Do you want damages against your washerwoman for spoiling the underlinen? Believe me—I have been asked to advise on such questions. Ah, and how did your husband like my port?”
An inward shudder31 swept through Catherine. The memories of that night at Marley Down were brutally33 vivid to her, like the bizarre dreams of a feverish34 sleep remembered in the morning. Porteus had been the innocent cause of all this misery35. Tell him she could not, that his very kindness had brought her husband to the brink36 of ruin.
“We ought to have thanked you”—and the words clung to her throat. “James has had one of his attacks of nervous depression and an endless amount of worry.”
Porteus Carmagee’s keen brown eyes sparkled with intentness as he watched her face. She looked white, uneasy, haggard about the mouth, like one who has suffered from the strain of perpetual self-repression. Catherine had always moved before him as a serene37 being, a woman whose face had symbolized38 the quiet splendor39 of an evening sky. He had often quoted her as one of the few people in the world whose happiness displayed itself in the beauty of radiant repose40. The stain of suffering on her face was new to him, and the more remarkable41 for that same reason.
“You speak of worries, Kate. Am I to be concerned in them as a fatherly friend?”
She tried to give him one of her happy smiles.
“You see—I have to run to you—because I am in trouble.”
The pathetic simplicity42 of her manner touched him.
“My dear Kate,” and his voice lost its usual snappishness, “how can I serve you—as a friend? It is not usual to see you worried.”
“You know James has been overworked.”
“Have I not lectured the rogue43 on a dozen different occasions?”
“Yes, yes, I know; and he was ill at Marley Down on Sunday, in the little place where I had hoped to give him rest. Oh, Porteus, how brutal32 the responsibilities of life can be at times! Inglis, our assistant, sent for him to attend a serious case. James’s sense of duty dragged him away from Marley. He went, braved a critical operation, and—”
She faltered44, her face aglow45, as though the very loyalty of her love made the confession46 partake of treachery. The wrinkles about Porteus Carmagee’s eyes seemed to grow more marked.
“And made a mess of it, Kate, eh?”
His brusquerie passed with her as a characteristic method of concealing47 emotion.
“Yes.”
“Ugh!” and he jerked one leg over the chair; “confound his sense of duty, risking his reputation to ease some old woman’s temper.”
Catherine looked at him with a quivering of the lips.
“Porteus, you can’t blame him. It seems hard that one slip may undermine so much.”
“Why ‘undermine’?—why ‘undermine’? The law does not expect infallibility.”
“I know—but then—the man died.”
“Who? What man?”
“Farmer Baxter, of Boland’s Farm.”
“A fool who has been eating himself to death for years.”
Catherine spread her open hands with the look of a pathetic partisan48.
“James was not in a fit state to meet the strain. The wife quarrelled with him after the operation, and refused to let him continue the case.”
“My dear, inferior females always quarrel!”
“And we have enemies.”
“So had the saints, and plenty.”
“It was Parker Steel—”
Porteus Carmagee sat up briskly in his chair, his wrinkled face twitching49 with intelligence.
“Now we are growing vital. Well, I can forecast that gentleman’s procedure.”
“Steel was called in, and the man died.”
“Most natural of mortals!”
“He performed a post-mortem with Dr. Brimley, of Cossington, at the widow’s request. As a result he has refused to give a death certificate and has written to the coroner. And Mrs. Baxter has instructed Cranston to institute an action against us for malpraxis and incompetence50.”
Porteus Carmagee sat motionless for a moment, his legs tucked under his chair, his brown face suggestive of the ugliness of some carved medi?val corbel.
“I flatter myself that I recognize the inspiring spirit, Kate,” he said, at last.
“Betty Steel.”
“That’s the lady; we have learned to respect our capabilities51, Mrs. Betty—and I.”
He pushed his chair back, established himself on the hearth-rug, and began the habitual52 rattling53 of his bunch of keys.
“Well, Kate, you want me to act for you.”
“If you will.”
“If I will? My dear girl, don’t insult my affection for you all. I must confess that I like to feel vindictive when I undertake a case. No city dinner could have made me more irritable54, vulpine, and liverish in your service.”
Catherine’s eyes thanked him sufficiently55, but they were still brimming with questioning unrest.
“Porteus, tell me what you think.”
“My dear Kate, don’t worry.”
“How can I help worrying?”
The brown and intelligent face, like the face of a sharp and keen-eyed dog, lit up with a peculiar56 flash of tenderness for her.
“Come, Kate, I am not a full-blooded optimist57, as you know, but your woman’s nature makes the affair seem more serious than it is. Your husband was overworked, and ill at the time, yet these people insisted—I take it—on his assuming the full responsibility of the case. Steel is notoriously an unprincipled rival; as for Brimley, of Cossington, the fellow is known as the most saintly humbug58 as ever made ginger59 and water appear as potent60 as the elixir61 vit?. My dear Kate, I know more of the secret squabbles of this town than you do. People have threatened to sue Parker Steel before now—yes, in this very room. If spite and spleen are dragged into the case, I think I can promise our opponents a somewhat stormy season.”
A look of relief melted into Catherine’s eyes. Porteus Carmagee was emphatic62, and women look for emphasis in the advice of a man.
“You are doing me good, Porteus.”
“That’s right. The law is a crabbed63 old spinster, but she can be exhilarating on occasions. Tell me, when did you receive the challenge?”
“This morning, by letter.”
“From whom?”
“Parker Steel and Mr. Cranston.”
“Exactly. And your husband?”
She faltered, and looked aside.
“James was deeply shocked by the thought.”
“Of course—of course. He is a man with a conscience. What is he doing?”
“I left him at home—to rest. I ought to tell you, Porteus, that I have seen Parker Steel.”
The lawyer frowned.
“Unwise, Kate, unwise. I hope—”
“No,” and she flushed, hotly; “I made no pretence64 of weakness. They had defiance65 from me.”
“Good girl—good girl.”
“They are bitter against us. It was easy to discover that.”
Porteus Carmagee drew out his watch.
“In an hour, Kate, I will run over and see your husband. Oblige me by telling him not to look worried. Now, my dear girl, nonsense, you needn’t.”
Catherine had risen, and had put her hands upon his shoulders. And on that single and momentous66 occasion, Porteus Carmagee blushed as his bachelor face was touched by the lips of June.
The words of a friend in the dry season of trouble are like dew to the parched67 grass. Catherine left Porteus Carmagee’s office with a feeling of gratitude68 and relief, as though the sharing of her burden with him had eased her heart. From a feeling of forlorn impatience69 she sprang to a more sanguine70 and happy temper, with her gloomier forebodings left among the deeds and documents of the dusty office. She thought of her husband and her children without that wistful stirring of regret, that fear lest some store of evil were being laid up for them in the home she loved. Her reprieve71 was but momentary72, had she but known it, for the cup of her humiliation was not full to the brim.
As she turned into Lombard Street, she came upon her two children returning with Mary from a ramble73 in the meadows. The youngsters raced for her, eyes aglow, health and the beauty thereof in every limb. The omen17 seemed propitious18, the incident as sacred as Catherine could have wished. Perhaps to the two children her kisses seemed no less warm and heart-given than of yore, but to the mother the moment had a meaning that no earthly poetry could portray74.
“Ah—my darlings—”
“Where have you been, muvver—where?”
“At Uncle Porteus’s. Mary, run around to Arnsbury’s and ask him to send me in some fruit. I will take the children home.”
Mary departed, leaving youth clinging to the maternal75 hands. Master Jack76 Murchison pranced77 like a war-horse, his curiosity still cantering towards Marley Down.
“Oh, I say, mother, when are we going to the cottage?”
“Saturday, dear, perhaps.”
“Daddy said we might have tea in the woods.”
“Boys who put pepper on the cat’s nose don’t deserve picnics.”
Master Jack giggled78 over the originality79 of the crime. “Old Tom did sneeze!”
“You was velly cruel, Jack,” and Gwen’s face reproved him round her mother’s skirts.
“Little girls don’t know nuffin.”
“I can spell ‘fuchsia,’ I can.”
“What’s the use of spelling! Any one can spell—can’t they, mother?”
“No, dear,” and the mother laughed; “many people are not as far advanced as Gwen.”
They were within twenty yards of the great house in Lombard Street, with its warm red walls and its white window frames, when a crowd of small boys came scattering80 round the northeast corner of St. Antonia’s Square. In the middle of the road a butcher had stopped his cart, and several people were loitering by the railings under the elms, watching something that was as yet invisible to Catherine and the children.
“I specs it’s Punch and Judy,” and Master Jack tugged81 at his mother’s hand.
“Wait, dear, wait.”
“Muvver, may I give the Toby dog a biscuit?”
“Two, Gwen, if you like.”
“I just love to see old Punch smack82 silly old Judy with a stick!”
“Jack, you are velly cruel,” and the little lady disassociated herself once more from all sympathy with her brother’s barbaric inclinations83.
A man turned the corner of the street suddenly, cannoned84 two small boys aside, and hurried on with the half-scared look of one who has seen a child crushed to death under a cart. He stopped abruptly85 when he saw Catherine and the children, his white and resolute86 face glistening87 with sweat.
“Mrs. Murchison, take the children in—”
Catherine stared at him; it was John Reynolds, her husband’s dispenser.
“What is it—what has happened?”
The man glanced backward over his right shoulder as though he had been followed by a ghost.
“Dr. Murchison was taken ill at the County Club. They sent round for me. Good God, ma’am, get the children out of the way!”
For a moment Catherine stood motionless with the sun blazing upon her face, her eyes fixed88 upon a knot of figures dimly seen under the shadows of the mighty89 elms. A great shudder passed through her body. She stooped, caught up Gwen, and carried the wondering child into the house. Reynolds, the dispenser, followed with the boy, who rebelled strenuously90, his querulous innocence91 making the tragedy more poignant92 and pathetic.
“Shut up, silly old Reynolds—”
“There, there, Master Jack,” and the man panted; “be quiet, sir. Mrs. Murchison, I must—you understand.”
Catherine, her face wonderful in its white restraint, her eyes full of the horror of keen consciousness, hurried the two children up the stairs. Outside in the sunlit street the club porter and a laboring93 man were swaying along with an unsteady figure grappled by either arm. The troop of small boys sneaked94 along the sidewalk, and on the opposite pavement some dozen spectators watched the affair incredulously across the road.
“Dang me if it ain’t the doctor.”
“What, Jim Murchison?”
“Drunk as blazes.”
A little widow woman in black slipped away with a shudder from the coarse voices of the men. “How horrible!” And she looked ready to weep, for she was one of Murchison’s patients and had known much kindness at his hands.
John Reynolds had gone to help the two men get Murchison up the steps into the house.
“Good God, sir,” he said, “pull yourself together!”
“Lemme go, R’nolds, I can walk.”
“Steady, sir, steady! For the love of your good lady, get inside.”
And between them they half carried him into the house, three men awed95 by a strong man’s shame.
Catherine had locked the two children into the nursery. She stood on the stairs, and saw the limp figure of her husband lifted across the hall into his consulting-room. It was as though fate had given her the last most bitter draught96 to drink. Their cause was lost. She felt it to be the end.
Reynolds, the dispenser, came to her across the hall. The man was almost weeping, so bitterly did he feel the misery of it all.
“I—I have sent for Dr. Inglis.”
“Thank you, Reynolds.”
“Shall I stay?”
“Yes, for God’s sake, do!”
The other two men came out from the consulting-room, and crossed the hall sheepishly, without looking at Catherine. She turned, and reascended the stairs, leaving to Reynolds the task of watching by her husband. The sound of a small fist beating on the nursery door seemed to echo the loud throbbing97 of her heart. She steadied herself, choked back her anguish98, unlocked the door, and went in to her children.
“Muvver, muvver!” Gwen’s eyes were full of tears.
“Yes, darling, yes.”
“Is daddy ill?”
“Daddy—daddy is ill,” and she took the two frightened children in her arms, and wept.
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收听单词发音
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1
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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blazoned
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| v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布；夸示；装饰 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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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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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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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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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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symbolized
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| v.象征，作为…的象征( symbolize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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45
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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incompetence
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| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
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capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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53
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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optimist
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| n.乐观的人，乐观主义者 | |
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58
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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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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elixir
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| n.长生不老药，万能药 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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crabbed
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| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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reprieve
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| n.暂缓执行（死刑）；v.缓期执行；给…带来缓解 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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portray
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| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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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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pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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inclinations
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| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
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cannoned
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| vi.与…猛撞（cannon的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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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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