（外文电子版资料）Richard Wilson - Mother to the World.pdf

MOTHER TO THE WORLD Richard Wilson His name was Martin Rolfe. She called him Mr. Ralph. She was Cecelia Beamer, called Siss. He was a vigorous, intelligent, lean and wiry forty-two, a shade under six feet tall. His hair, black, was thinning but still covered all of his head; and all his teeth were his own. His health was excellent. Hed never had a cavity Or an opera- tion and he fervently hoped he never would. She was a slender, strong young woman of twenty-eight, five feet four. Her eyes, nose and mouth were regular and well-spaced but the combination fell short of beauty. She wore her hair, which was dark blonde, not quite brown, straight back and long in two pigtails which she braided daily, after a ritualistic hundred brushings. Her figure was better than average for her age and therefore good, but she did nothing to emphasize it. Her disposition was cheerful when she was with someone; when alone her tendency was to work hard at the job at hand, giving it her serious atten- tion. Whatever she was doing was the most important thing in the world to her just then and she had a compulsion to do it absolutely right. She was indefatigable but she liked, almost demanded, to be praised for what she did well. Her amusements were simple ones. She liked to talk to people but most people quickly became bored with what she had to say she was inclined to be repetitive. Fortunately for her, she also liked to talk to animals, birds included. She was a retarded person with the mentality of an eight- year-old. Eight can be a delightful age. Rolfe remembered his son at eight bright, inquiring, beginning to emerge from childhood but not so fast as to lose any of his innocent charm; a refresh- ing, uninhibited conversationalist with an original viewpoint on life. The boy had been a challenge to him and a constant delight. He held on to that memory, drawing sustenance from it, for her. Young Rolfe was dead now, al