“I suppose you’re the husband?” he said, as they clattered3 down the street. “Would you like me to drive? I dare say you’re rather upset.”
“No—and don’t want to be,” answered Edward, with a laugh. He looked down a little upon people who lived in towns, and never trusted a man who was less than six feet high and burly in proportion!
“I’m rather nervous of anxious husbands who drive me at a breakneck pace in the middle of the night,” said the doctor. “The ditches have an almost irresistible4 attraction for them.”
“Well, I’m not nervous, doctor, so it doesn’t matter twopence if you are.”
When they reached the open country, Edward set the horse going at its fastest; he was somewhat amused at the doctor’s desire to drive—absurd little man!
“Are you holding on tight?” he asked, with good-natured scorn.
“I see you can drive,” said the doctor.
He showed the specialist to the bedroom, and asked whether Dr. Ramsay required him further.
“No, I don’t want you just now; but you’d better stay up to be ready, if anything happens.... I’m afraid Bertha is very bad indeed—you must be prepared for everything.”
Edward retired6 to the next room and sat down. He was genuinely disturbed, but even now could not realise that Bertha was dying—his mind was sluggish7, and he was unable to imagine the future. A more emotional man would have been white with fear, his heart beating painfully and his nerves quivering with a hundred anticipated terrors. He would have been quite useless; while Edward was fit for any emergency—he could have been trusted to drive another ten miles in search of some appliance, and, with perfect steadiness, to help in any necessary operation.
“You know,” he said to Dr. Ramsay, “I don’t want to get in your way; but if I should be any use in the room, you can trust me not to get flurried.”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do; the nurse is very trustworthy and capable.”
“Women,” said Edward, “get so excited; they always make fools of themselves if they possibly can.”
But the night air had made Craddock sleepy, and after half-an-hour in the chair, trying to read a book, he dozed8 off. Presently, however, he awoke, and the first light of day filled the room with a gray coldness. He looked at his watch.
“By Jove, it’s a long job,” he said.
There was a knock at the door, and the nurse came in.
“Will you please come.”
Dr. Ramsay met him in the passage. “Thank God, it’s over. She’s had a terrible time.”
“Is she all right?”
“I think she’s in no danger now—but I’m sorry to say we couldn’t save the child.”
“It was still-born. I was afraid it was hopeless. You’d better go to Bertha now—she wants you. She doesn’t know about the child.”
Bertha was lying in an attitude of complete exhaustion10: she lay on her back, with arms stretched in utter weakness by her sides. Her face was gray with past anguish11, her eyes dull and lifeless, half closed; and her jaw12 hung almost as hangs the jaw of a corpse13. She tried to form a smile as she saw Edward, but in her feebleness the lips scarcely moved.
“Don’t try to speak, dear,” said the nurse, seeing that Bertha was attempting words.
Edward bent14 down and kissed her, the faintest blush coloured her cheeks, and she began to cry; the tears stealthily glided15 down her cheeks.
“Come nearer to me, Eddie,” she whispered.
He knelt beside her, suddenly touched. He took her hand, and the contact had a vivifying effect; she drew a long breath, and her lips formed a weary, weary smile.
“Thank God, it’s over,” she groaned16, half whispering. “Oh, Eddie, darling, you can’t think what I’ve gone through.”
“Well, it’s all over now.”
“And you’ve been worrying too, Eddie. It encouraged me to think that you shared my trouble. You must go to sleep now. It was good of you to drive to Tercanbury for me.”
“You mustn’t talk,” said Dr. Ramsay, coming back into the room, after seeing the specialist sent off.
“I’m better now,” said Bertha, “since I’ve seen Eddie.”
“Well, you must go to sleep.”
“You’ve not told me yet if it’s a boy or a girl; tell me, Eddie, you know.”
Edward looked uneasily at the doctor.
“It’s a boy,” said Dr. Ramsay.
“I knew it would be,” she murmured. An expression of ecstatic pleasure came into her face, chasing away the grayness of death. “I’m so glad. Have you seen it, Eddie?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s our child, isn’t it? It’s worth going through the pain to have a baby. I’m so happy.”
“You must go to sleep now.”
“I’m not a bit sleepy—and I want to see my boy.”
“No, you can’t see him now,” said Dr. Ramsay, “he’s asleep, and you mustn’t disturb him.”
“Oh, I should like to see him, just for one minute. You needn’t wake him.”
“You shall see him after you’ve been asleep,” said the doctor, soothingly17. “It’ll excite you too much.”
“Well, you go in and see him, Eddie, and kiss him, and then I’ll go to sleep.”
She seemed so anxious that at least its father should see his child, that the nurse led Edward into the next room. On a chest of drawers was lying something covered with a towel. This the nurse lifted, and Edward saw his child; it was naked and very small, hardly human, repulsive18, yet very pitiful. The eyes were closed, the eyes that had never been opened. Edward looked at it for a minute.
“I promised I’d kiss it,” he whispered.
He bent down and touched with his lips the white forehead; the nurse drew the towel over the body, and they went back to Bertha.
“Is he sleeping?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Yes.”
Bertha smiled. “Fancy your kissing baby before me.”
But Dr. Ramsay’s draught19 was taking its effect, and almost immediately Bertha fell into a pleasant sleep.
“Let’s take a turn in the garden,” said Dr. Ramsay. “I think I ought to be here when she wakes.”
The air was fresh, scented20 with the spring flowers and the odour of the earth. Both men inspired it with relief after the close atmosphere of the sick-room. Dr. Ramsay put his arm in Edward’s.
“Cheer up, my boy,” he said. “You’ve borne it all magnificently. I’ve never seen a man go through a night like this better than you; and upon my word, you’re as fresh as paint this morning.”
“Oh, I’m all right,” said Edward. “What’s to be done about—about the baby?”
“I think she’ll be able to bear it better after she’s had a sleep. I really didn’t dare say it was still-born. The shock would have been too much for her.”
They went in and washed and ate, then waited for Bertha to wake. At last the nurse called them.
“You poor things,” cried Bertha, as they entered the room. “Have you had no sleep at all?... I feel quite well now, and I want my baby. Nurse says it’s sleeping and I can’t have it—but I will. I want it to sleep with me, I want to look at my son.”
Edward and the nurse looked at Dr. Ramsay, who for once was disconcerted.
“I don’t think you’d better have him to-day, Bertha,” he said. “It would upset you.”
“Oh, but I must have my baby. Nurse, bring him to me at once.”
Edward knelt down again by the bedside and took her hands. “Now, Bertha, you musn’t be alarmed, but the baby’s not well, and——“
“What d’you mean?” Bertha suddenly sprang up in the bed.
“Lie down. Lie down,” cried Dr. Ramsay and the nurse, forcing her back on the pillow.
“What’s the matter with him, doctor,” she cried, in sudden terror.
“It’s as Edward says, he’s not well.”
“Oh, he isn’t going to die—after all I’ve gone through.”
She looked from one to the other. “Oh, tell me; don’t keep me in suspense21. I can bear it, whatever it is.”
Dr. Ramsay touched Edward, encouraging him.
“You must prepare yourself for bad news, darling. You know—--“
“Oh, God!” groaned Bertha, it was a cry of despair. And then she burst into passionate24 weeping.
Her sobs25 were terrible, uncontrollable; it was her life that she was weeping away, her hope of happiness, all her desires and dreams. Her heart seemed breaking. She put her hands to her eyes, with a gesture of utter agony.
“Then I went through it all for nothing.... Oh, Eddie, you don’t know the frightful26 pain of it—all night I thought I should die.... I would have given anything to be put out of my suffering. And it was all useless.”
She sobbed27 still more irresistibly28, quite crushed by the recollection of what she had gone through, and its futility29.
“Oh, I wish I could die.”
The tears were in Edward’s eyes, and he kissed her hands.
“Don’t give way, darling,” he said, searching in vain for words to console her. His voice faltered30 and broke.
“Oh, Eddie,” she said, “you’re suffering just as much as I am. I forgot.... Let me see him now.”
Dr. Ramsay made a sign to the nurse, and she fetched the dead child. She carried it to the bedside and showed it to Bertha.
Bertha said nothing, and at last turned away; the nurse withdrew. Bertha’s tears now had ceased, but her mouth was set into a hopeless woe31.
“Oh, I loved him already so much.”
Edward bent over. “Don’t grieve, darling.”
She put her arms round his neck as she had delighted to do. “Oh, Eddie, love me with all your heart. I want your love so badly.”
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1
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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2
milestones
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| n.重要事件( milestone的名词复数 )；重要阶段；转折点；里程碑 | |
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3
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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4
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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5
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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6
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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7
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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8
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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10
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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11
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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12
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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13
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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14
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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15
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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16
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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17
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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18
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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19
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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20
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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21
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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22
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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24
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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25
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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26
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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27
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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28
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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29
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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30
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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31
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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