“How long does the doctor mean to keep me here?” he asked his father one day.
“I can’t say, but I understand that you can’t be moved just yet,” Clay answered. “Aren’t you comfortable?”
“Can you expect me to be, with the whole place jingling4 and shaking? If I’m to get better it must be away from the mill.”
“I’ll see what the doctor thinks; but there’s the difficulty that I don’t know where to take you. You wouldn’t be much quieter in Seattle. It’s curious, now I think of it, that I haven5’t had a home for a good many years, though I didn’t seem to miss it until this thing happened.”
Aynsley made a sign of languid agreement. He could not remember his mother, and his father had not kept house within his recollection. For the last few years he had rented luxurious6 rooms in a big hotel which Aynsley shared with him when not away visiting or on some sporting trip; but Aynsley now shrank from the lack of privacy and the bustle7 that went on all day and most of the night. There was not a restful nook in the huge, ornate building, which echoed with footsteps and voices, the clang of the street-cars, and the harsh grinding of electric elevators.
“I want to go somewhere where it’s quiet,” he said.
“Then I guess I’ll have to hire a bushman’s shack8 or take you to sea in the yacht. It never struck me before, but quietness is mighty9 hard to find in this country. We’re not a tranquil10 people.”
“I couldn’t stand for a voyage,” Aynsley grumbled. “She’s a wet boat under sail if there’s any breeze, and I don’t want to crawl about dodging11 the water. Then the fool man who designed her put the only comfortable rooms where the propeller12 shakes you to pieces when the engines are going.”
On the whole, Clay felt relieved, particularly as Aynsley’s hardness to please implied that he was getting better. He had spent some time at the mill and had a number of irons in the fire. It would damage his business if they got overheated or perhaps cooled down before they could be used.
“Well,” he suggested, “perhaps Osborne would take us in.”
Aynsley’s eyes brightened. Osborne’s house was the nearest approach to a home he had ever known. It was seldom packed with noisy guests like other houses he visited, and one was not always expected to take part in some strenuous13 amusement. The place was quiet and beautiful and all its appointments were in artistic14 taste. He thought of it with longing15 as a haven of rest where he could gather strength from the pine-scented breezes and bask17 in Ruth’s kindly18 sympathy.
“That would be just the thing! I feel that I could get better there. Will you write to him?”
“First mail,” Clay promised with a twinkle; “but I’m not sure that Ruth’s at home. Anyway, I’ve a number of letters to write now.”
“I expect I’ve been pretty selfish in claiming all your time; but, if Osborne will have me, it will give you a chance of going up to town and looking after things.”
“That’s so,” Clay replied. “As a matter of fact, some of them need it.”
The doctor rather dubiously19 consented to his patient’s being moved, and Clay neglected no precaution that might soften20 the journey. As he feared that the jolting21 of the railroad cars might prove injurious, a special room was booked on a big Sound steamer, and it was only Aynsley’s uncompromising refusal to enter it that prevented his bringing out an ambulance-van to convey him to the wharf22. He reached the vessel23 safely in an automobile24, and as she steamed up the Sound he insisted on throwing off his wraps and trying to walk about. The attempt fatigued25 him, and he leaned on the rail at the top of a stairway from a lower deck when the steamer approached a pine-shrouded island.
A tide-race swirled27 past the point, flashing in the sunshine a luminous28 white and green, and Aynsley took his hand from the rail and stood unsupported watching the shore glide29 by. As he was facing, he could not see an ugly half-tide rock that rose out of the surging flood not far ahead, and he was taken off his guard when the helm was pulled hard over. The fast vessel listed with a sudden slant30 as she swung across the stream, and Aynsley, losing his balance, fell down a few stairs and struck a stanchion with his side. He clung to it, gasping31 and white in face, and when Clay ran down to him there was blood on his lips.
“I’m afraid the confounded thing has broken out again,” he said.
They carried him into the saloon, and Clay summoned the captain, who came docilely32 at his bidding. It appeared that there was no doctor among the passengers, and the boat was billed to call at several places before she reached Seattle. None of these stops could be cut out, and the captain suggested that it would be better to land the injured man as intended, and send for assistance by fast automobile. Aynsley nodded feebly when he heard this.
“Put me ashore,” he murmured. “I’ll be all right there.”
An hour later the call of the whistle rang among the pines that rolled down to the beach, and as the side-wheels beat more slowly a launch came off across the clear, green water. Aynsley, choking back a cough, feebly raised himself.
“If Ruth’s on board that boat, she mustn’t be scared,” he said. “I’m going down as if there was nothing wrong.”
“You’re going down in the arms of the two biggest seamen33 I can get,” Clay replied. “If that doesn’t please you, we’ll lower you in a slung34 chair.”
Aynsley submitted when he found that he could not get up; and Ruth, sitting with her father in the stern of the launch, started as she saw him carried down the gangway. His face was gray and haggard when they laid him on a cushioned locker35, and the girl was moved to pity. But the shock resolved some doubts that had long troubled her. She was startled and sorry for Aynsley, but that was all; she did not feel the fear and the suspense36 which she thought might have been expected.
Ansley saw her grave face, and looked up with a faint smile.
“I feel horribly ashamed,” he said. “If I’d known I’d make a fool of myself—”
“Hush!” Ruth laid her hand on him with a gentle, restraining touch as she saw the effort it cost him to speak. “You must be quiet. We are going to make you better.”
“Yes,” he said disjointedly. “I’ve been longing—knew I’d get all right here—but I didn’t expect—to turn up like this—”
A choking cough kept him still, and he hurriedly wiped his lips with a reddened handkerchief.
“I am afraid it may be very bad,” Clay whispered to Osborne. “Some miles to the nearest ‘phone call, isn’t it?”
Osborne nodded affirmatively, and as they neared the beach he waved his hand to a man on the lawn.
“Car!” he shouted. “Get her out! I’ll tie up the boat.”
With some trouble Aynsley was carried into the house, and the doctor who arrived some hours later looked grave when he saw him. The next morning he brought two nurses, and for several days his patient hovered37 between life and death. He was delirious38 most of the time, but there were intervals39 when his fevered brain partly recovered its balance and he asked for Ruth. It was seldom that he spoke40 to her sensibly when she came, but it was obvious that her presence had a soothing41 effect, for his eyes followed her with dull satisfaction, and a few quiet words from her would sometimes lull42 him to the sleep he needed.
Ruth felt her power, and used it for his benefit without hesitation43 and without much thought about its cause. She was filled with pity and with a curious, protective tenderness for the man, and there was satisfaction in feeling that he needed her. It was her duty and pleasure to assist as far as possible in his recovery. Clay watched her with growing admiration44, and sometimes she became disturbed under his searching glance. She felt that he was curious about the motive45 which sustained her in her task, and this caused her some uneasiness, for she suspected that she might presently have to make it clear to herself and to others. But the time for this had not come. Aynsley was still in danger, and all concerned must concentrate their attention on the fight for his life.
Once when she left his room with an aching head and heavy eyes after a long watch with the nurse, who could not control her fevered patient without the girl’s assistance, Clay met her on the stairs, and as he gave her a swift, inquiring glance, she saw that his face was worn.
“Asleep at last,” she said. “I think he’ll rest for a few hours.”
He looked at her with gratitude46 and some embarrassment47, which was something she had never seen him show.
“And you?” he asked. “How much of this can you stand for?”
Ruth did not think the question was prompted by consideration for her. He would be merciless in his exactions, but she could forgive him this because it was for his son’s sake. Besides, there was subtle flattery in his recognition of her influence.
“I dare say I can hold out as long as I am needed,” she answered with a smile. “After all, the nurses and the doctor are the people on whom the worst strain falls.”
“Bosh!” he exclaimed with rough impatience48. “I guess you know you’re more use than all three together. Why that’s so doesn’t matter at present; there the thing is.”
Ruth blushed, though she was angry with herself as she felt her face grow hot, because she had no wish that he should startle her into any display of feeling; but, to her relief, he no longer fixed49 his eyes on her.
“My dear,” he said, “I want your promise that you’ll pull him through. You can, if you are determined50 enough; and he’s all I have. Hold him back—he’s been slipping downhill the last few days—and there’s nothing you need hesitate about asking from me.”
“Though it may not be much, I’ll do what I can.” Ruth’s tone was slightly colder. “But one does not expect—”
“Payment for a kindness?” Clay suggested. “Well, I suppose the best things are given for nothing and can’t be bought, but that has not been my luck. What I couldn’t take by force I’ve had to pay for at full market price. The love of a bargain is in my blood. Pull my son through, and whatever I can do for you won’t make me less your debtor51.”
Ruth was silent a moment. She had of late been troubled by a vague uneasiness on her father’s account, and with a sudden flash of insight she realized that it might be well to have the man’s gratitude.
“After all, I may ask you for a favor some day,” she answered, smiling.
“You won’t find me go back on my word,” he promised.
Strolling to a seat by the waterside, he lighted a cigar and tried to analyze52 his feelings, which were somewhat puzzling. Aynsley longed for the girl, and Clay approved his choice; he had hitherto given the boy all that he desired, but there was now a difference. While he had a freebooter’s conscience, and would willingly have seized by force what would please his son, he felt that Ruth Osborne was safe from his generally unsparing grasp. It was true that Aynsley had demanded a pledge of inaction, but Clay was not sure that this alone would have deterred53 him. He felt that his hands were tied, and he could not understand the reason. However, Aynsley was young and rich and handsome; he would be a fool if he could not win the girl on his own merits. Then the crushing anxiety Clay had thrown off for a few minutes returned. After all, the boy might not live to prosper54 in his suit.
It was two or three days later when Clay met the doctor coming downstairs late one evening, and led him into the hall.
“The boy’s not coming round,” he said shortly. “What do you think? Give it to me straight; I’ve no use for professional talk.”
“I’m frankly55 puzzled. He’s certainly no better, though I’ve seen some hopeful symptoms. It’s no longer what I’ll call the mechanical injury that’s making the trouble; we have patched that up. His feverish56 restlessness is burning up his strength; and Miss Osborne is the only person who can calm him. In fact, the way he responds to her is rather remarkable57.”
“Never mind that!” Clay interrupted. “It isn’t what I asked.”
“Well, I’m inclined to look for a crisis to-night. If he gets through the early morning, things may take a turn; but a good deal depends on his sleeping, and I’ve given him all the sedatives58 I dare. Miss Osborne has promised to keep watch with the nurse, though she looks badly tired.”
Clay turned away, and the anxious hours that followed left their mark on him. Men called him hard and callous59, but he loved his son, and Aynsley was moreover the object of all his ambitions. Social popularity and political influence had no charms for Clay; commercial control and riches were his aim. He knew his ability as a gatherer, but he did not know how to spend, and, when the boy had made good in the business world, he should have the best that society and culture could give. Now, however, a few hours would determine whether all Clay’s hopes must crumble60 into dust. He trusted the doctor; but, having a strong man’s suspicion of medicine, he trusted Ruth Osborne more.
As a matter of fact he was justified61, for Ruth did her part that night. It was hot and still, and the door and the window of the sick room were opened. A small, carefully shaded lamp diffused62 a dim light, and now and then a passing draught63 stirred the curtains and brought in a faint coolness and the scent16 of the pines. The tired girl found it wonderfully refreshing64 as she sat near the bed in a straight-backed chair: she dare not choose one more comfortable lest drowsiness65 overpower her.
Aynsley was restless, but she thought rather less so than usual, and now and then he spoke feebly but sensibly.
“You won’t go away,” he begged once in a weak voice, and she smiled reassuringly66 as she laid a cool hand on his hot, thin arm.
For a while he lay with closed eyes, though he did not seem to sleep, and then, opening them suddenly, he looked round with eagerness as if in search of her.
“That fellow means to get me; he won’t miss next time!” he murmured later, and she supposed his wandering mind was occupied with memories of the affray at the mill. Then he added with difficulty: “You’ll stand him off, won’t you? You can, if you want.”
“Of course,” Ruth said with compassion67 and half admiring sympathy, for she was young enough to set a high value on physical courage and manly68 strength, and her patient, though so pitifully helpless now, had bravely held his post. It was daunting69 to see this fine specimen70 of virile71 manhood brought so low.
When the doctor came in some time later he looked down at Aynsley before he turned to Ruth.
“No sleep yet?” he asked softly.
Aynsley heard him and looked up.
“No,” he murmured. “I’m very tired, but I can’t rest. How can I when those brutes72 are burning the gang-saw shed?”
The doctor gave Ruth a warning glance, whispered to the nurse, and went out, passing Clay, who had crept upstairs without his shoes and stood lurking73 in the shadow on the landing.
“No change,” he said, and drew the anxious man away.
It was after midnight now and getting colder. There was no sound in the house, and none from outside, except when now and then a faint elfin sighing came from the tops of the pines. A breeze was waking, and Ruth, oppressed by the heat and fatigue26, was thankful for it. She looked at her watch, and then wrapped it in a handkerchief because its monotonous74 ticking had grown loud in the deep silence. She knew that the dreaded75 time when human strength sinks lowest was near, and she felt with a curious awe76 that death was hovering77 over her patient’s bed.
“I can’t see,” he said very faintly, and stretching out a thin hand searched for touch of her.
She took it in a protecting grasp, and Aynsley sighed and lay quiet. After a while the doctor came in again, noiselessly, and, looking down at the motionless figure, nodded as if satisfied, while Ruth sank into the most comfortable pose she could adopt. It was borne in upon her as she felt his fingers burn upon her hand that she was holding Aynsley’s life; and whatever the effort cost her she must not let go. Soon she grew cramped78 and longed to move, but that was impossible: Aynsley was asleep at last, and it might be fatal to disturb him. Then, though she tried to relax her muscles, the strain of the fixed pose became intolerable; but she called up all her resolution and bore it. After all, the pain was welcome, because it kept her awake, and she was getting very drowsy79.
Clay, creeping up again, stopped outside the door. He could not see his son, but he watched the girl with a curious stirring of his heart. The dim light fell on her face, showing the weariness and pity in it, and the man, though neither a sentimentalist nor imaginative, was filled with a deep respect. He could not think it was a woman’s tenderness for her lover he saw. There was no hint of passion in her fixed and gentle eyes; hers was a deep and, in a sense, an impersonal80 pity, protective and altogether unselfish; and he wondered, half abashed81, how she would have looked had she loved his son. Then, encouraged by her attitude and the quietness of the nurse, he softly moved away.
Day was breaking when the doctor came down into the hall, followed by Ruth, and stopped when Clay beckoned82 him.
“My news is good,” he said. “He’s sound asleep, and I think the worst is past.”
He moved on, and Clay turned to Ruth, feeling strangely limp with the reaction. The girl’s face was white and worn, but it was quiet, and Clay noticed with a pang83 the absence of exultant84 excitement.
“It’s you I have to thank,” he said hoarsely85. “I want you to remember that my promise holds good.”
“Yes,” Ruth answered with a languid smile. “Still, that doesn’t seem to matter and I’m very tired.”
He moved aside to let her pass, and watched her with a heartfelt gratitude as she went slowly down a corridor.
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收听单词发音
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1
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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propeller
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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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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bask
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| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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docilely
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| adv.容易教地，易驾驶地，驯服地 | |
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seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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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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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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51
debtor
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| n.借方，债务人 | |
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52
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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53
deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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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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58
sedatives
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| n.镇静药，镇静剂( sedative的名词复数 ) | |
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59
callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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daunting
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| adj.使人畏缩的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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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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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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