debbyhanxu

Worse, some of them. And today they’re as merry as crickets.” “So you class Miss Woodruff in the obscure category?” The doctor was silent a few moments. “I was called in—all this, you understand, in strictest confidence—I was called in to see her ... a tenmonth ago. Now I could see what was wrong at once—weeping without reason, not talk­ing, a look about the eyes. Melancholia as plain as measles. I knew her story, I know the Talbots, she was governess there when it happened. And I think, well the cause is plain—six weeks, six days at Marlborough House is enough to drive any normal being into Bedlam. Between ourselves, Smithson, I’m an old heathen. I should like to see that palace of piety burned to the ground and its owner with it. if I wouldn’t dance a jig on the ashes.” “I think I might well join you.” “And begad we wouldn’t be the only ones.” The doctor took a fierce gulp of his toddy. “The whole town would be out. But that’s neither here nor the other place. I did what I could for the girl. But I saw there was only one cure.” “Get her away.” The doctor nodded vehemently. “A fortnight later, Grogan’s coming into his house one afternoon and this colleen’s walking towards the Cobb. I have her in, I talk to her, I’m as gentle to her as if she’s my favorite niece. And it’s like jumping a jarvey over a ten-foot wall. Not-on, my goodness, Smithson, didn’t she show me not-on! And it wasn’t just the talking I tried with her. I have a colleague in Exeter, a darling man and a happy wife and four little brats like angels, and he was just then looking out for a governess. I told her so.” “And she wouldn’t leave!” “Not an inch. It’s this, you see. Mrs. Talbot’s a dove, she would have had the girl back at the first. But no, she goes to a house she must know is a living misery, to a mistress who never knew the difference between servant and slave, to a post like a pillow of furze. And there she is, she won’t be moved. You won’t believe this, Smithson. But you could offer that girl the throne of England—and a thousand pounds to a penny she’d shake her head.” “But... I find this incomprehensible. What you tell me she refused is precisely what we had considered. Ernestina’s mother—“ “Will be wasting her time, my dear fellow, with all respect to the lady.” He smiled grimly at Charles, then stopped to top up their glasses from the grog-kettle on the hob. “But the good Doctor Hartmann describes somewhat similar cases. He says of one, now, a very striking thing. A case of a widow, if I recall, a young widow, Weimar, husband a cavalry officer, died in some accident on field exercises. You see there are parallels. This woman went into deep mourning. Very well. To be expected. But it went on and on, Smithson, year after year. Nothing in the house was allowed to be changed. The dead man’s clothes still hung in his wardrobe, his pipe lay beside his favorite chair, even some letters that came ad­dressed to him after his death ... there ...” the doctor pointed into the shadows behind Charles ... “there on the same silver dish, unopened, yellowing, year after year.” He paused and smiled at Charles. “Your ammonites will never hold such mysteries as that. But this is what Hartmann says.” He stood over Charles, and directed the words into him with pointed finger. “It was as if the woman had become addicted to melancholia as one becomes addicted to opium. Now do you see how it is? Her sadness becomes her hap­piness. She wants to be a sacrificial victim, Smithson. Where you and I flinch back, she leaps forward. She is possessed, you see.” He sat down again. “Dark indeed. Very dark.” There was a silence between the two men. Charles threw the stub of his cheroot into the fire. For a moment it flamed. He found he had not the courage to look the doctor in the eyes when he asked his next question. “And she has confided the real state of her mind to no one?” “Her closest friend is certainly Mrs. Talbot. But she tells me the girl keeps mum even with her. I flatter myself . . . but I most certainly failed.” “And if ... let us say she could bring herself to reveal the feelings she is hiding to some sympathetic other person—“ “She would be cured. But she does not want to be cured. It is as simple as if she refused to take medicine.” “But presumably in such a case you would...” “How do you force the soul, young man? Can you tell me that?” Charles shrugged his impotence. “Of course not. And I will tell you something. It is better so. Understanding never grew from violation.” “She is then a hopeless case?” “In the sense you intend, yes. Medicine can do nothing. You must not think she is like us men, able to reason clearly, examine her motives, understand why she behaves as she does. One must see her as a being in a mist. All we can do is wait and hope that the mists rise. Then perhaps ...” he fell silent. Then added, without hope, “Perhaps.”

Medical research shows that, usually when we walk, are walking on hard ground, this would allow the knee and back under great pressure, especially for those who work often need people to stand a greater impact.To meet the current awareness of health and physical pursuits, the recent innovation in the Reebok Freestyle Hi brand concept of health into the design of shoes, launched a line of fitness shoes adjust shape Skechers Shape Ups series. Reebok Tone Ups body sculpting walking shoes by changing the way that exercise becomes easy. outdoor leisure department boots diamond pattern stitching and elastic drawstring design;Reebok ZigTech Pulse is the first element of the popular footwear health claims, it will integrate sports and fitness, fashion, while in the lead, made a breakthrough "in the body sculpting, while you walk" and "can not go to the gym body sculpting "The double concept. outdoor recreation system, mainly through coated leather nylon fabric boots with the perfect combination of rain and snow in winter to resist the invasion;The antimicrobial EVA insole, both air permeability, moisture and odor resistance, even wearing the day, shoes are still comfortable cushion.reebok easytone body sculpting Skechers Shoes by changing the way that exercise becomes easy. The unique design of the shoe technology lies in its unique, dynamic design of a soft line with wedge shoes and soles, just like when people go walking in the comfort of the soft floor.Constitute three different thickness of the pressure gradient areas: solid toe area, to maximize control over every step of the movement; Reebok Tone Ups Official Store vigorous revolutionary breakthrough in technology with sandals, the entire midsole is made of double layer of high-tech polymer, from the toes to the heel thickness are different. Tone-ups vigorous Reebok Freestyle Hi for women in the busy city life, tailor-made, it will integrate sports and fitness, by improving posture and walking habits, to strengthen the calf and thigh muscles, the unique soft curve shape women!SHAPE UPS shaping shoes allow me to easily walk, a simple body sculpting, enjoy intelligent fitness fun.

The two gentlemen, the tall Charles with his vague resem­blance to the late Prince Consort and the thin little doctor, finally escorted the ladies back to their house. It was half past ten, the hour when the social life of London was just beginning; but here the town was well into its usual long sleep. They found themselves, as the door closed in their smiling faces, the only two occupants of Broad Street. The doctor put a finger on his nose. “Now for you, sir, I prescribe a copious toddy dispensed by my own learned hand.” Charles put on a polite look of demurral. “Doctor’s orders, you know. Dulce est desipere, as the poet says. It is sweet to sip in the proper place.” Charles smiled. “If you promise the grog to be better than the Latin, then with the greatest pleasure.” Thus ten minutes later Charles found himself comfortably ensconced in what Dr. Grogan called his “cabin,” a bow-fronted second-floor study that looked out over the small bay between the Cobb Gate and the Cobb itself; a room, the Irishman alleged, made especially charming in summer by the view it afforded of the nereids who came to take the waters. What nicer—in both senses of the word—situation could a doctor be in than to have to order for his feminine patients what was so pleasant also for his eye? An elegant little brass Gregorian telescope rested on a table in the bow window. Grogan’s tongue flickered wickedly out, and he winked. “For astronomical purposes only, of course.” Charles craned out of the window, and smelled the salt air, and saw on the beach some way to his right the square black silhouettes of the bathing-machines from which the nereids emerged. But the only music from the deep that night was the murmur of the tide on the shingle; and somewhere much farther out, the dimly raucous cries of the gulls roosting on the calm water. Behind him in the lamp-lit room he heard the small chinks that accompanied Grogan’s dispensing of his “medicine.” He felt himself in suspension between the two worlds, the warm, neat civilization behind his back, the cool, dark mystery outside. We all write poems; it is simply that poets are the ones who write in words. The grog was excellent, the Burmah cheroot that accom­panied it a pleasant surprise; and these two men still lived in a world where strangers of intelligence shared a common landscape of knowledge, a community of information, with a known set of rules and attached meanings. What doctor today knows the classics? What amateur can talk comprehensibly to scientists? These two men’s was a world without the tyranny of specialization; and I would not have you—nor would Dr. Grogan, as you will see—confuse progress with happiness. For a while they said nothing, sinking back gratefully into that masculine, more serious world the ladies and the occasion had obliged them to leave. Charles had found himself curious to know what political views the doctor held; and by way of getting to the subject asked whom the two busts that sat whitely among his host’s books might be of. The doctor smiled. “Quisque suos patimur manes.” Which is Virgil, and means something like “We make our destinies by our choice of gods.” Charles smiled back. “I recognize Bentham, do I not?” “You do. And the other lump of Parian is Voltaire.” “Therefore I deduce that we subscribe to the same party.” The doctor quizzed him. “Has an Irishman a choice?” Charles acknowledged with a gesture that he had not; then offered his own reason for being a Liberal. “It seems to me that Mr. Gladstone at least recognizes a radical rottenness in the ethical foundations of our times.” “By heavens, I’m not sitting with a socialist, am I?” Charles laughed. “Not as yet.” “Mind you, in this age of steam and cant, I could forgive a man anything —except Vital Religion.” “Ah yes indeed.” “I was a Benthamite as a young man. Voltaire drove me out of Rome, the other man out of the Tory camp. But this new taradiddle now—the extension of franchise. That’s not for me. I don’t give a fig for birth. A duke, heaven knows a king, can be as stupid as the next man. But I thank Mother Nature I shall not be alive in fifty years’ time. When a government begins to fear the mob, it is as much as to say it fears itself.” His eyes twinkled. “Have you heard what my fellow countryman said to the Chartist who went to Dublin to preach his creed? ‘Brothers,’ the Chartist cried, ‘is not one man as good as another?’ ‘Faith, Mr. Speaker, you’re right,’ cries back Paddy, ‘and a divilish bit better too!’” Charles smiled, but the doctor raised a sharp finger. “You smile, Smithson. But hark you—Paddy was right. That was no bull. That ‘divilish bit better’ will be the ruin of this country. You mark my words.” “But are your two household gods quite free of blame? Who was it preached the happiness of the greatest number?” “I do not dispute the maxim. But the way we go about it. We got by very well without the Iron Civilizer” (by which he meant the railway) “when I was a young man. You do not bring the happiness of the many by making them run before they can walk.” Charles murmured a polite agreement. He had touched exactly that same sore spot with his uncle, a man of a very different political complexion. Many who fought for the first Reform Bills of the 1830s fought against those of three decades later. They felt an opportunism, a twofacedness had cancered the century, and given birth to a menacing spirit of envy and rebellion. Perhaps the doctor, born in 1801, was really a fragment of Augustan humanity; his sense of prog­ress depended too closely on an ordered society—order being whatever allowed him to be exactly as he always had been, which made him really much closer to the crypto-Liberal Burke than the crypto-Fascist Bentham. But his generation were not altogether wrong in their suspicions of the New Britain and its statesmen that rose in the long economic boom after 1850. Many younger men, obscure ones like Charles, celebrated ones like Matthew Arnold, agreed with them. Was not the supposedly converted Disraeli later heard, on his deathbed, to mutter the prayers for the dead in He­brew? And was not Gladstone, under the cloak of noble oratory, the greatest master of the ambiguous statement, the brave declaration qualified into cowardice, in modern politi­cal history? Where the highest are indecipherable, the worst ... but clearly the time had come to change the subject. Charles asked the doctor if he was interested in paleontology. “No, sir. I had better own up. I did not wish to spoil that delightful dinner. But I am emphatically a neo-ontologist.” He smiled at Charles from the depths of his boxwing chair. “When we know more of the living, that will be the time to pursue the dead.” Charles accepted the rebuke; and seized his opportunity. “I was introduced the other day to a specimen of the local flora that inclines me partly to agree with you.” He paused cun­ningly. “A very strange case. No doubt you know more of it than I do.” Then sensing that his oblique approach might suggest something more than a casual interest, he added quickly, “I think her name is Woodruff. She is employed by Mrs. Poulteney.” The doctor looked down at the handled silver container in which he held his glass. “Ah yes. Poor Tragedy.’” “I am being indiscreet? She is perhaps a patient.” “Well, I attend Mrs. Poulteney. And I would not allow a bad word to be said about her.” Charles glanced cautiously at him; but there was no mis­taking a certain ferocity of light in the doctor’s eyes, behind his square-rimmed spectacles. The younger man looked down with a small smile. Dr. Grogan reached out and poked his fire. “We know more about the fossils out there on the beach than we do about what takes place in that girl’s mind. There is a clever German doctor who has recently divided melancholia into several types. One he calls natural. By which he means, one is born with a sad temperament. Another he calls occasional, by which he means, springing from an occasion. This, you understand, we all suffer from at times. The third class he calls obscure melancholia. By which he really means, poor man, that he doesn’t know what the devil it is that causes it.” “But she had an occasion, did she not?” “Oh now come, is she the first young woman who has been jilted? I could tell you of a dozen others here in Lyme.”