Day after day, with only short intervals1 of rest, Janet kept her place in that sad chamber2. No wonder the sick-room and the lazaretto have so often been a refuge from the tossings of intellectual doubt—a place of repose3 for the worn and wounded spirit. Here is a duty about which all creeds4 and all philosophies are at one: here, at least, the conscience will not be dogged by doubt, the benign5 impulse will not be checked by adverse6 theory: here you may begin to act without settling one preliminary question. To moisten the sufferer’s parched7 lips through the long night-watches, to bear up the drooping8 head, to lift the helpless limbs, to divine the want that can find no utterance9 beyond the feeble motion of the hand or beseeching10 glance of the eye—these are offices that demand no self-questionings, no casuistry, no assent11 to propositions, no weighing of consequences. Within the four walls where the stir and glare of the world are shut out, and every voice is subdued—where a human being lies prostrate12, thrown on the tender mercies of his fellow, the moral relation of man to man is reduced to its utmost clearness and simplicity13: bigotry14 cannot confuse it, theory cannot pervert15 it, passion, awed16 into quiescence17, can neither pollute nor perturb18 it. As we bend over the sick-bed, all the forces of our nature rush towards the channels of pity, of patience, and of love, and sweep down the miserable19 choking drift of our quarrels, our debates, our would-be wisdom, and our clamorous20 selfish desires. This blessing21 of serene22 freedom from the importunities of opinion lies in all simple direct acts of mercy, and is one source of that sweet calm which is often felt by the watcher in the sick-room, even when the duties there are of a hard and terrible kind.
Something of that benign result was felt by Janet during her tendance in her husband’s chamber. When the first heart-piercing hours were over—when her horror at his delirium23 was no longer fresh, she began to be conscious of her relief from the burden of decision as to her future course. The question that agitated24 her, about returning to her husband, had been solved in a moment; and this illness, after all, might be the herald25 of another blessing, just as that dreadful midnight when she stood an outcast in cold and darkness had been followed by the dawn of a new hope. Robert would get better; this illness might alter him; he would be a long time feeble, needing help, walking with a crutch26, perhaps. She would wait on him with such tenderness, such all-forgiving love, that the old harshness and cruelty must melt away for ever under the heart-sunshine she would pour around him. Her bosom27 heaved at the thought, and delicious tears fell. Janet’s was a nature in which hatred28 and revenge could find no place; the long bitter years drew half their bitterness from her ever-living remembrance of the too short years of love that went before; and the thought that her husband would ever put her hand to his lips again, and recall the days when they sat on the grass together, and he laid scarlet29 poppies on her black hair, and called her his gypsy queen, seemed to send a tide of loving oblivion over all the harsh and stony30 space they had traversed since. The Divine Love that had already shone upon her would be with her; she would lift up her soul continually for help; Mr. Tryan, she knew, would pray for her. If she felt herself failing, she would confess it to him at once; if her feet began to slip, there was that stay for her to cling to. O she could never be drawn31 back into that cold damp vault32 of sin and despair again; she had felt the morning sun, she had tasted the sweet pure air of trust and penitence33 and submission34.
These were the thoughts passing through Janet’s mind as she hovered35 about her husband’s bed, and these were the hopes she poured out to Mr. Tryan when he called to see her. It was so evident that they were strengthening her in her new struggle—they shed such a glow of calm enthusiasm over her face as she spoke36 of them, that Mr. Tryan could not bear to throw on them the chill of premonitory doubts, though a previous conversation he had had with Mr. Pilgrim had convinced him that there was not the faintest probability of Dempster’s recovery. Poor Janet did not know the significance of the changing symptoms, and when, after the lapse37 of a week, the delirium began to lose some of its violence, and to be interrupted by longer and longer intervals of stupor38, she tried to think that these might be steps on the way to recovery, and she shrank from questioning Mr. Pilgrim lest he should confirm the fears that began to get predominance in her mind. But before many days were past, he thought it right not to allow her to blind herself any longer. One day—it was just about noon, when bad news always seems most sickening—he led her from her husband’s chamber into the opposite drawing-room, where Mrs. Raynor was sitting, and said to her, in that low tone of sympathetic feeling which sometimes gave a sudden air of gentleness to this rough man—‘My dear Mrs. Dempster, it is right in these cases, you know, to be prepared for the worst. I think I shall be saving you pain by preventing you from entertaining any false hopes, and Mr. Dempster’s state is now such that I fear we must consider recovery impossible. The affection of the brain might not have been hopeless, but, you see, there is a terrible complication; and, I am grieved to say, the broken limb is mortifying39.’
Janet listened with a sinking heart. That future of love and forgiveness would never come then: he was going out of her sight for ever, where her pity could never reach him. She turned cold, and trembled.
‘But do you think he will die,’ she said, ‘without ever coming to himself? without ever knowing me?’
‘One cannot say that with certainty. It is not impossible that the cerebral40 oppression may subside41, and that he may become conscious. If there is anything you would wish to be said or done in that case, it would be well to be prepared. I should think,’ Mr. Pilgrim continued, turning to Mrs. Raynor, ‘Mr. Dempster’s affairs are likely to be in order—his will is ...’
‘O, I wouldn’t have him troubled about those things,’ interrupted Janet, ‘he has no relations but quite distant ones—no one but me. I wouldn’t take up the time with that. I only want to ...’
She was unable to finish; she felt her sobs42 rising, and left the room. ‘O God!’ she said, inwardly, ‘is not Thy love greater than mine? Have mercy on him! have mercy on him!’
This happened on Wednesday, ten days after the fatal accident. By the following Sunday, Dempster was in a state of rapidly increasing prostration43; and when Mr. Pilgrim, who, in turn with his assistant, had slept in the house from the beginning, came in, about half-past ten, as usual, he scarcely believed that the feebly struggling life would last out till morning. For the last few days he had been administering stimulants44 to relieve the exhaustion45 which had succeeded the alternations of delirium and stupor. This slight office was all that now remained to be done for the patient; so at eleven o’clock Mr. Pilgrim went to bed, having given directions to the nurse, and desired her to call him if any change took place, or if Mrs. Dempster desired his presence.
Janet could not be persuaded to leave the room. She was yearning46 and watching for a moment in which her husband’s eyes would rest consciously upon her, and he would know that she had forgiven him.
How changed he was since that terrible Monday, nearly a fortnight ago! He lay motionless, but for the irregular breathing that stirred his broad chest and thick muscular neck. His features were no longer purple and swollen47; they were pale, sunken, and haggard. A cold perspiration48 stood in beads49 on the protuberant50 forehead, and on the wasted hands stretched motionless on the bed-clothes. It was better to see the hands so, than convulsively picking the air, as they had been a week ago.
Janet sat on the edge of the bed through the long hours of candle-light, watching the unconscious half-closed eyes, wiping the perspiration from the brow and cheeks, and keeping her left hand on the cold unanswering right hand that lay beside her on the bed-clothes. She was almost as pale as her dying husband, and there were dark lines under her eyes, for this was the third night since she had taken off her clothes; but the eager straining gaze of her dark eyes, and the acute sensibility that lay in every line about her mouth, made a strange contrast with the blank unconsciousness and emaciated51 animalism of the face she was watching.
There was profound stillness in the house. She heard no sound but her husband’s breathing and the ticking of the watch on the mantelpiece. The candle, placed high up, shed a soft light down on the one object she cared to see. There was a smell of brandy in the room; it was given to her husband from time to time; but this smell, which at first had produced in her a faint shuddering52 sensation, was now becoming indifferent to her: she did not even perceive it; she was too unconscious of herself to feel either temptations or accusations53. She only felt that the husband of her youth was dying; far, far out of her reach, as if she were standing54 helpless on the shore, while he was sinking in the black storm-waves; she only yearned55 for one moment in which she might satisfy the deep forgiving pity of her soul by one look of love, one word of tenderness.
Her sensations and thoughts were so persistent56 that she could not measure the hours, and it was a surprise to her when the nurse put out the candle, and let in the faint morning light. Mrs. Raynor, anxious about Janet, was already up, and now brought in some fresh coffee for her; and Mr. Pilgrim having awaked, had hurried on his clothes, and was coming in to see how Dempster was.
This change from candle-light to morning, this recommencement of the same round of things that had happened yesterday, was a discouragement rather than a relief to Janet. She was more conscious of her chill weariness: the new light thrown on her husband’s face seemed to reveal the still work that death had been doing through the night; she felt her last lingering hope that he would ever know her again forsake57 her.
But now, Mr. Pilgrim, having felt the pulse, was putting some brandy in a tea-spoon between Dempster’s lips; the brandy went down, and his breathing became freer. Janet noticed the change, and her heart beat faster as she leaned forward to watch him. Suddenly a slight movement, like the passing away of a shadow, was visible in his face, and he opened his eyes full on Janet. It was almost like meeting him again on the resurrection morning, after the night of the grave.
‘Robert, do you know me?’
He kept his eyes fixed58 on her, and there was a faintly perceptible motion of the lips, as if he wanted to speak.
But the moment of speech was for ever gone—the moment for asking pardon of her, if he wanted to ask it. Could he read the full forgiveness that was written in her eyes? She never knew; for, as she was bending to kiss him, the thick veil of death fell between them, and her lips touched a corpse59.
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1
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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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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11
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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13
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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bigotry
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| n.偏见，偏执，持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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15
pervert
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| n.堕落者，反常者；vt.误用，滥用；使人堕落，使入邪路 | |
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16
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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17
quiescence
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| n.静止 | |
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18
perturb
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| v.使不安，烦扰，扰乱，使紊乱 | |
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19
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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20
clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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21
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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22
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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23
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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24
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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crutch
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| n.T字形拐杖；支持，依靠，精神支柱 | |
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27
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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28
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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29
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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30
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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31
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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32
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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33
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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34
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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35
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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36
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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37
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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38
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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39
mortifying
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| adj.抑制的，苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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40
cerebral
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| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
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41
subside
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| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
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42
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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43
prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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44
stimulants
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| n.兴奋剂( stimulant的名词复数 )；含兴奋剂的饮料；刺激物；激励物 | |
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45
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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46
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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47
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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48
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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49
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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50
protuberant
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| adj.突出的，隆起的 | |
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51
emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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52
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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53
accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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54
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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55
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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57
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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58
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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59
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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