大学英语二医用教材赵贵旺Unit13Word格式.docx

大学英语二医用教材赵贵旺Unit13Word格式.docx

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vacationers, 

there'

s 

another 

rich 

possibility:

a 

chance 

trace 

family 

roots 

by 

visiting 

– 

or 

revisiting 

ancestral 

homes. 

Wandering 

through 

rooms 

that 

sheltered 

earlier 

generations 

of 

relatives, 

descendants 

can 

feel 

new 

connections 

heightened 

sense 

appreciation 

those 

who 

have 

gone 

before

In 

our 

family, 

this 

kind 

sentimental 

journey 

involves 

heading 

Pine 

River, 

Wis., 

tiny 

dot 

on 

the 

map 

45 

minutes 

northwest 

Oshkosh. 

There, 

hill 

overlooking 

main 

street, 

stands 

an 

imposing 

white 

Colonial 

where 

my 

maternal 

great-grandparents, 

early 

settlers 

here, 

raised 

four 

children 

carved 

out 

fulfilling 

lives.

On 

brilliant 

summer 

Saturday, 

as 

current 

owners 

graciously 

lead 

us 

seven-bedroom 

house, 

we 

try 

hard 

memorize 

details. 

This 

is 

dining 

room 

extended 

gathered 

Thanksgiving 

Christmas. 

library 

great-grandfather, 

enthusiastic 

reader, 

kept 

his 

books. 

back 

hired 

men 

slept 

after 

long 

days 

planting 

threshing 

farm. 

And 

area 

off 

kitchen 

great-grandfather 

wrote 

in 

diary 

issued 

stern 

reminders 

grandchildren 

"

Don'

t 

slam 

door!

they 

ran 

out.

The 

dé

cor 

has 

changed, 

course, 

but 

the

nently. 

But 

you 

go 

hour, 

even 

15 

minutes. 

chances 

are 

good 

you'

ll 

richer 

it.Unit2

Ithadbeenalonglongyear--thelastyearofmysonAdrian’sbrieflife.ThejourneyupbytraintoLondon’sWaterlooStationhadbecomealmostroutine.Thenthe25-minutewalkacrossWaterlooBridgeandontoTheHospitalforSickChildren,GreatOrmondStreet.Thewalktothehospitalwasnotwithoutenjoyment,foriwaseagertoseemysonagainandbuoyedupbythesomehowindestructiblehopethattoday,bysomemiracle,hewouldberecovering.

Butthereturntotherailwaystationintheeveningwasdevastating.Onceagain,nomiracle.Someeveningsitbecame,astheFrenchsay,insupportable.

Afterputtingmylittlesontobedintheward,hearinghisprayersandholdinghiminmyarmswhilehefellasleep,iusuallyhadplentyoftimetomakemywaytothestation.IfrequentlypausedonthebridgespanningtheRiverThamestowatchthebroadriverflowingalongonitsnever-endingjourneytothesea.

Oneeveningigazed,hypnotizedalmost,intotheblack,oilywaterandwasnotimmediatelyawarethatawomanhadjoinedme.Ilookedupandsawher;

shewasstandingquiteclose.Ihadseenherbeforeintheshadowsontheoppositesideofthestreetandhadrecognized,withoutgivingthemattermuchthought,thatshewas,almostcertainly,ofthesisterhoodeuphemisticallyreferredtoas“ladiesoftheevening.”

“Evenin’,Guv’or,”shesaid.

“Goodevening,”ireplied,alittlediscomfitedbyherpresenceandunsureforherintentions.

ShelookedawayfrommeandgazedintotheThames.“YoubeentotheChildren’s,”shesaid.Itwasastatementratherthanaquestion.

“Yes,ihave,”itoldher,abitbewilderedbyherinterest.“Mylittlesonisapatienthere.”

“Bad,ain’the?

”shesaid.

“Yes,i’mafraidheis,”ireplied.Andagain,asmuchtomyselfastoher,”i‘mverymuchafraidheis.”

Shereachedoutandtouchedmyarm.Icouldseetearsinhereyes.“I‘msorry,Guv,”shesaidsoftly.Thenshewithdrewherhandquickly,turnedandwalkedaway.Ithoughtabouttheencounterallthewayhomeandfeltstrangelyheartenedbyit.

Foethenextfewmonths,iregularlymademywaytoandfromthehospital,myemotionsalternatingwildlybetweenunreasoninghopeandcompletedespair.Oftenshewouldjoinmeonthebridge.

“’Owis’e,then?

”shewouldenquire.“Anythingdifferent?

’E’sinMr.Punchward,ain’t‘e?

”

“Heis,”iagreed,wonderinghowsheknew.“There’snochange.”

SheneveraskedmynamebutinvitedmetocallherRosie.“That’swhatmyfriendscallme.”

“Myson’snameisAdrian,Rosie,”itoldher.“He’squiteblondwithgreyeyes,andhe’salmostfouryearsold.”

Shenoddedandsaidnothing.

IcametorelyontheseencounterstoaremarkabledegreeandoneeveninggaveherasmallpictureofAdrian,aduplicateofoneicarriedinmywallet.Iwroteonthebackofit:

“Thankyou,Rosie.”Shelookedatitforalongmomentbeforewrappingitinherhandkerchiefandputtingitcarefullyinherhandbag.

Then,finally,thetelephonecallcamefromthehospital:

“Ithinkyouhadbettercomeatonce.”

Helookedsosmalllyingthere,hiegreyeyesfixedearnestlyonmine.Ileanedoverandwipedtheperspirationfromhisforehead.

“Daddy,whyareyoucrying?

Daddy,i’mfrightened.Oh,Daddy,isitgoingtobeallright?

“Yes,darling,Daddy’shere.It’sgoingtobeallright.”

Thetinyhandclaspedinminerelaxeditsgrip.