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round the red lamp(红灯四周)-第25章

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I thought my old life was dead。           But it has come back again; with all its 

hopes and its desires。        What can I say to you; Ainslie?            I have brought 

shame and disgrace upon a worthy man。                I have blasted your life。        How 

you must hate and loathe me!           I wish to God that I had never been born!〃 

     〃I neither hate nor loathe you; Jeannette;〃 said the Professor; quietly。 

〃You   are   wrong in   regretting   your   birth;   for   you   have   a   worthy   mission 

before   you   in   aiding   the   life…work    of   a   man  who   has   shown    himself 

capable of the highest order of scientific research。              I cannot with justice 

blame   you   personally   for   what   has   occurred。      How   far   the   individual 

monad is to be held responsible for hereditary and engrained tendencies; is 

a question upon which science has not yet said her last word。〃 

     He   stood   with his   finger…tips touching;  and   his   body  inclined   as   one 

who   is   gravely  expounding   a   difficult   and   impersonal   subject。      O'Brien 

had stepped forward to say something; but the other's attitude and manner 



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froze   the   words   upon   his   lips。  Condolence   or   sympathy   would   be   an 

impertinence to one who could so easily merge his private griefs in broad 

questions of abstract philosophy。 

     〃It is needless to prolong the situation;〃 the Professor continued; in the 

same measured tones。         〃My brougham stands at the door。            I beg that you 

will   use   it   as   your   own。 Perhaps   it   would   be   as   well   that   you   should 

leave the town without unnecessary delay。              Your things; Jeannette; shall 

be forwarded。〃 

     O'Brien hesitated with a hanging head。 

     〃I hardly dare offer you my hand;〃 he said。 

     〃On the contrary。       I think that of the three of us you come best out of 

the affair。   You have nothing to be ashamed of。〃 

     〃Your sister〃 

     〃I shall see that the matter is put to her in its true light。           Good…bye! 

Let me have a copy of your recent research。            Good…bye; Jeannette!〃 

     〃Good…bye!〃 

     Their   hands   met;   and   for   one   short   moment   their   eyes   also。 It   was 

only a glance; but for the first and last time the woman's intuition cast a 

light   for   itself   into   the  dark   places   of   a   strong   man's   soul。 She   gave   a 

little gasp; and her other hand rested for an instant; as white and as light as 

thistle…down; upon his shoulder。 

     〃James; James!〃 she cried。          〃Don't you see that he is stricken to the 

heart?〃 

     He turned her quietly away from him。 

     〃I am not an emotional man;〃 he said。 〃I have my dutiesmy research 

on Vallisneria。      The brougham is there。         Your cloak is in the hall。       Tell 

John where you wish to be driven。            He will bring you anything you need。 

Now go。〃 

     His last two words were so sudden; so volcanic; in such contrast to his 

measured voice and mask… like face; that they swept the two away from 

him。    He closed the door behind them and paced slowly up and down the 

room。     Then he passed into the library and looked out over the wire blind。 

The carriage was rolling away。           He caught a last glimpse of the woman 

who had been his wife。         He saw the feminine droop of her head; and the 



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curve of her beautiful throat。 

     Under     some    foolish;  aimless    impulse;    he  took   a  few    quick   steps 

towards the door。        Then he turned; and throwing himself into his study… 

chair he plunged back into his work。 

       There was little scandal about this singular domestic incident。               The 

Professor   had   few   personal   friends;   and   seldom   went   into   society。   His 

marriage had been so quiet that most of his colleagues had never ceased to 

regard him as a bachelor。         Mrs。 Esdaile and a few others might talk; but 

their field for gossip was limited; for they could only guess vaguely at the 

cause of this sudden separation。 

     The Professor was as punctual as ever at his classes; and as zealous in 

directing the laboratory work of those who studied under him。                   His own 

private    researches    were    pushed    on   with   feverish   energy。    It  was    no 

uncommon thing for his servants; when they came down of a morning; to 

hear    the  shrill  scratchings    of  his  tireless  pen;  or  to  meet    him   on  the 

staircase as he ascended; grey and silent; to his room。             In vain his friends 

assured him that such a life must undermine his health。                 He lengthened 

his hours until day and night were one long; ceaseless task。 

     Gradually   under   this   discipline   a   change   came   over   his   appearance。 

His features; always inclined to gauntness; became even sharper and more 

pronounced。        There   were   deep   lines   about   his   temples   and   across   his 

brow。     His cheek was sunken and his complexion bloodless。                  His knees 

gave    under    him   when    he  walked;    and   once   when    passing    out  of  his 

lecture… room he fell and had to be assisted to his carriage。 

     This was just before the end of the session and soon after the holidays 

commenced         the  professors     who    still  remained    in   Birchespool     were 

shocked to hear that their brother of the chair of physiology had sunk so 

low   that   no   hopes   could   be   entertained   of   his   recovery。 Two   eminent 

physicians had consulted over his case without being able to give a name 

to   the   affection   from   which   he   suffered。  A  steadily   decreasing   vitality 

appeared to be the only symptom a bodily weakness which left the mind 

unclouded。      He was much interested himself in his own case; and made 

notes    of   his  subjective    sensations    as   an   aid  to  diagnosis。     Of    his 

approaching       end   he   spoke    in  his  usual    unemotional      and   somewhat 



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pedantic   fashion。      〃It   is   the   assertion;〃   he   said;   〃of   the   liberty   of   the 

individual cell as opposed to the cell…commune。               It is the dissolution of a 

co…operative society。       The process is one of great interest。〃 

     And   so   one   grey   morning   his   co…operative   society   dissolved。      Very 

quietly and softly he sank into his eternal sleep。             His two physicians felt 

some slight embarrassment when called upon to fill in his certificate。 

     〃It is difficult to give it a name;〃 said one。 

     〃Very;〃 said the other。 

     〃If he were not such an unemotional man; I should have said that he 

had died from some sudden nervous shockfrom; in fact; what the vulgar 

would call a broken heart。〃 

     〃I don't think poor Grey was that sort of a man at all。〃 

     〃Let us call it cardiac; anyhow;〃 said the older physician。 

     So they did so。 



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        THE CASE OF LADY SANNOX。 



       The relations between Douglas Stone and the notorious Lady Sannox 

were   very  well   known   both   among   the   fashionable   circles   of   which   she 

was   a   brilliant   member;   and   the   scientific   bodies   which   numbered   him 

among their most illustrious confreres。            There was naturally; therefore; a 

very widespread interest when it was announced one morning that the lady 

had absolutely and for ever taken the veil; and that the world would see 

her   no   more。    When;   at   the    very   tail   of   this   rumour;   there   came  the 

assurance that the celebrated operating surgeon; the man of steel nerves; 

had been found in the morning by his valet; seated on one side of his bed; 

smiling pleasantly upon the universe; with both legs jammed into one side 

of   his   breeches   and   his   great   brain   about   as   valuable   as   a   cap   full   of 

porridge;   the   matter   was     strong   enough    to  give   quite   a   little   thrill  of 

interest to folk who had never hoped that their jaded nerves were capable 

of such a sensation。 

     Douglas   Stone   in his   prime   was   one   of the   most   remarkable   men   in 

England。      Indeed; he could hardly be said to have ever reached his prime; 

for  he  was but   nine…and…thirty  at   the  time   of   this   little  incident。  Those 

who knew hi
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