It was scarcely breakfast-time yet, for Mrs. Crisparkle — mother, not wife of the Reverend Septimus — was only just down, and waiting for the urn8. Indeed, the Reverend Septimus left off at this very moment to take the pretty old lady’s entering face between his boxing-gloves and kiss it. Having done so with tenderness, the Reverend Septimus turned to again, countering with his left, and putting in his right, in a tremendous manner.
‘I say, every morning of my life, that you’ll do it at last, Sept,’ remarked the old lady, looking on; ‘and so you will.’
‘Do what, Ma dear?’
‘Break the pier-glass, or burst a blood-vessel.’
‘Neither, please God, Ma dear. Here’s wind, Ma. Look at this!’ In a concluding round of great severity, the Reverend Septimus administered and escaped all sorts of punishment, and wound up by getting the old lady’s cap into Chancery — such is the technical term used in scientific circles by the learned in the Noble Art — with a lightness of touch that hardly stirred the lightest lavender or cherry riband on it. Magnanimously releasing the defeated, just in time to get his gloves into a drawer and feign9 to be looking out of window in a contemplative state of mind when a servant entered, the Reverend Septimus then gave place to the urn and other preparations for breakfast. These completed, and the two alone again, it was pleasant to see (or would have been, if there had been any one to see it, which there never was), the old lady standing10 to say the Lord’s Prayer aloud, and her son, Minor11 Canon nevertheless, standing with bent12 head to hear it, he being within five years of forty: much as he had stood to hear the same words from the same lips when he was within five months of four.
What is prettier than an old lady — except a young lady — when her eyes are bright, when her figure is trim and compact, when her face is cheerful and calm, when her dress is as the dress of a china shepherdess: so dainty in its colours, so individually assorted13 to herself, so neatly14 moulded on her? Nothing is prettier, thought the good Minor Canon frequently, when taking his seat at table opposite his long-widowed mother. Her thought at such times may be condensed into the two words that oftenest did duty together in all her conversations: ‘My Sept!’
They were a good pair to sit breakfasting together in Minor Canon Corner, Cloisterham. For Minor Canon Corner was a quiet place in the shadow of the Cathedral, which the cawing of the rooks, the echoing footsteps of rare passers, the sound of the Cathedral bell, or the roll of the Cathedral organ, seemed to render more quiet than absolute silence. Swaggering fighting men had had their centuries of ramping15 and raving16 about Minor Canon Corner, and beaten serfs had had their centuries of drudging and dying there, and powerful monks17 had had their centuries of being sometimes useful and sometimes harmful there, and behold18 they were all gone out of Minor Canon Corner, and so much the better. Perhaps one of the highest uses of their ever having been there, was, that there might be left behind, that blessed air of tranquillity19 which pervaded20 Minor Canon Corner, and that serenely21 romantic state of the mind — productive for the most part of pity and forbearance — which is engendered22 by a sorrowful story that is all told, or a pathetic play that is played out.
Red-brick walls harmoniously23 toned down in colour by time, strong-rooted ivy24, latticed windows, panelled rooms, big oaken beams in little places, and stone-walled gardens where annual fruit yet ripened25 upon monkish26 trees, were the principal surroundings of pretty old Mrs. Crisparkle and the Reverend Septimus as they sat at breakfast.
‘And what, Ma dear,’ inquired the Minor Canon, giving proof of a wholesome27 and vigorous appetite, ‘does the letter say?’
The pretty old lady, after reading it, had just laid it down upon the breakfast-cloth. She handed it over to her son.
Now, the old lady was exceedingly proud of her bright eyes being so clear that she could read writing without spectacles. Her son was also so proud of the circumstance, and so dutifully bent on her deriving28 the utmost possible gratification from it, that he had invented the pretence29 that he himself could not read writing without spectacles. Therefore he now assumed a pair, of grave and prodigious30 proportions, which not only seriously inconvenienced his nose and his breakfast, but seriously impeded31 his perusal32 of the letter. For, he had the eyes of a microscope and a telescope combined, when they were unassisted.
‘It’s from Mr. Honeythunder, of course,’ said the old lady, folding her arms.
‘Of course,’ assented33 her son. He then lamely34 read on:
‘“Haven35 of Philanthropy, Chief Offices, London, Wednesday.
‘“Dear Madam,
‘“I write in the —;” In the what’s this? What does he write in?’
‘In the chair,’ said the old lady.
The Reverend Septimus took off his spectacles, that he might see her face, as he exclaimed:
‘Why, what should he write in?’
‘Bless me, bless me, Sept,’ returned the old lady, ‘you don’t see the context! Give it back to me, my dear.’
Glad to get his spectacles off (for they always made his eyes water), her son obeyed: murmuring that his sight for reading manuscript got worse and worse daily.
‘“I write,”’ his mother went on, reading very perspicuously and precisely36, ‘“from the chair, to which I shall probably be confined for some hours.”’
Septimus looked at the row of chairs against the wall, with a half-protesting and half-appealing countenance37.
‘“We have,”’ the old lady read on with a little extra emphasis, ‘“a meeting of our Convened38 Chief Composite Committee of Central and District Philanthropists, at our Head Haven as above; and it is their unanimous pleasure that I take the chair.”’
Septimus breathed more freely, and muttered: ‘O! if he comes to that, let him,’
‘“Not to lose a day’s post, I take the opportunity of a long report being read, denouncing a public miscreant39 —”’
‘It is a most extraordinary thing,’ interposed the gentle Minor Canon, laying down his knife and fork to rub his ear in a vexed40 manner, ‘that these Philanthropists are always denouncing somebody. And it is another most extraordinary thing that they are always so violently flush of miscreants41!’
‘“Denouncing a public miscreant —”’— the old lady resumed, ‘“to get our little affair of business off my mind. I have spoken with my two wards42, Neville and Helena Landless, on the subject of their defective43 education, and they give in to the plan proposed; as I should have taken good care they did, whether they liked it or not.”’
‘And it is another most extraordinary thing,’ remarked the Minor Canon in the same tone as before, ‘that these philanthropists are so given to seizing their fellow-creatures by the scruff of the neck, and (as one may say) bumping them into the paths of peace. — I beg your pardon, Ma dear, for interrupting.’
‘“Therefore, dear Madam, you will please prepare your son, the Rev1. Mr. Septimus, to expect Neville as an inmate44 to be read with, on Monday next. On the same day Helena will accompany him to Cloisterham, to take up her quarters at the Nuns’ House, the establishment recommended by yourself and son jointly45. Please likewise to prepare for her reception and tuition there. The terms in both cases are understood to be exactly as stated to me in writing by yourself, when I opened a correspondence with you on this subject, after the honour of being introduced to you at your sister’s house in town here. With compliments to the Rev. Mr. Septimus, I am, Dear Madam, Your affectionate brother (In Philanthropy), Luke Honeythunder.”’
‘Well, Ma,’ said Septimus, after a little more rubbing of his ear, ‘we must try it. There can be no doubt that we have room for an inmate, and that I have time to bestow46 upon him, and inclination47 too. I must confess to feeling rather glad that he is not Mr. Honeythunder himself. Though that seems wretchedly prejudiced — does it not? — for I never saw him. Is he a large man, Ma?’
‘I should call him a large man, my dear,’ the old lady replied after some hesitation48, ‘but that his voice is so much larger.’
‘Than himself?’
‘Than anybody.’
‘Hah!’ said Septimus. And finished his breakfast as if the flavour of the Superior Family Souchong, and also of the ham and toast and eggs, were a little on the wane49.
Mrs. Crisparkle’s sister, another piece of Dresden china, and matching her so neatly that they would have made a delightful50 pair of ornaments51 for the two ends of any capacious old-fashioned chimneypiece, and by right should never have been seen apart, was the childless wife of a clergyman holding Corporation preferment in London City. Mr. Honeythunder in his public character of Professor of Philanthropy had come to know Mrs. Crisparkle during the last re-matching of the china ornaments (in other words during her last annual visit to her sister), after a public occasion of a philanthropic nature, when certain devoted52 orphans53 of tender years had been glutted54 with plum buns, and plump bumptiousness55. These were all the antecedents known in Minor Canon Corner of the coming pupils.
‘I am sure you will agree with me, Ma,’ said Mr. Crisparkle, after thinking the matter over, ‘that the first thing to be done, is, to put these young people as much at their ease as possible. There is nothing disinterested56 in the notion, because we cannot be at our ease with them unless they are at their ease with us. Now, Jasper’s nephew is down here at present; and like takes to like, and youth takes to youth. He is a cordial young fellow, and we will have him to meet the brother and sister at dinner. That’s three. We can’t think of asking him, without asking Jasper. That’s four. Add Miss Twinkleton and the fairy bride that is to be, and that’s six. Add our two selves, and that’s eight. Would eight at a friendly dinner at all put you out, Ma?’
‘Nine would, Sept,’ returned the old lady, visibly nervous.
‘My dear Ma, I particularise eight.’
‘The exact size of the table and the room, my dear.’
So it was settled that way: and when Mr. Crisparkle called with his mother upon Miss Twinkleton, to arrange for the reception of Miss Helena Landless at the Nuns’ House, the two other invitations having reference to that establishment were proffered57 and accepted. Miss Twinkleton did, indeed, glance at the globes, as regretting that they were not formed to be taken out into society; but became reconciled to leaving them behind. Instructions were then despatched to the Philanthropist for the departure and arrival, in good time for dinner, of Mr. Neville and Miss Helena; and stock for soup became fragrant58 in the air of Minor Canon Corner.
In those days there was no railway to Cloisterham, and Mr. Sapsea said there never would be. Mr. Sapsea said more; he said there never should be. And yet, marvellous to consider, it has come to pass, in these days, that Express Trains don’t think Cloisterham worth stopping at, but yell and whirl through it on their larger errands, casting the dust off their wheels as a testimony59 against its insignificance60. Some remote fragment of Main Line to somewhere else, there was, which was going to ruin the Money Market if it failed, and Church and State if it succeeded, and (of course), the Constitution, whether or no; but even that had already so unsettled Cloisterham traffic, that the traffic, deserting the high road, came sneaking61 in from an unprecedented62 part of the country by a back stable-way, for many years labelled at the corner: ‘Beware of the Dog.’
To this ignominious63 avenue of approach, Mr. Crisparkle repaired, awaiting the arrival of a short, squat64 omnibus, with a disproportionate heap of luggage on the roof — like a little Elephant with infinitely65 too much Castle — which was then the daily service between Cloisterham and external mankind. As this vehicle lumbered66 up, Mr. Crisparkle could hardly see anything else of it for a large outside passenger seated on the box, with his elbows squared, and his hands on his knees, compressing the driver into a most uncomfortably small compass, and glowering67 about him with a strongly-marked face.
‘Is this Cloisterham?’ demanded the passenger, in a tremendous voice.
‘It is,’ replied the driver, rubbing himself as if he ached, after throwing the reins68 to the ostler. ‘And I never was so glad to see it.’
‘Tell your master to make his box-seat wider, then,’ returned the passenger. ‘Your master is morally bound — and ought to be legally, under ruinous penalties — to provide for the comfort of his fellow– man.’
The driver instituted, with the palms of his hands, a superficial perquisition into the state of his skeleton; which seemed to make him anxious.
‘Have I sat upon you?’ asked the passenger.
‘You have,’ said the driver, as if he didn’t like it at all.
‘Take that card, my friend.’
‘I think I won’t deprive you on it,’ returned the driver, casting his eyes over it with no great favour, without taking it. ‘What’s the good of it to me?’
‘Be a Member of that Society,’ said the passenger.
‘What shall I get by it?’ asked the driver.
‘Brotherhood,’ returned the passenger, in a ferocious69 voice.
‘Thankee,’ said the driver, very deliberately70, as he got down; ‘my mother was contented71 with myself, and so am I. I don’t want no brothers.’
‘But you must have them,’ replied the passenger, also descending72, ‘whether you like it or not. I am your brother.’
‘ I say!’ expostulated the driver, becoming more chafed73 in temper, ‘not too fur! The worm will, when —’
But here, Mr. Crisparkle interposed, remonstrating74 aside, in a friendly voice: ‘Joe, Joe, Joe! don’t forget yourself, Joe, my good fellow!’ and then, when Joe peaceably touched his hat, accosting75 the passenger with: ‘Mr. Honeythunder?’
‘That is my name, sir.’
‘My name is Crisparkle.’
‘Reverend Mr. Septimus? Glad to see you, sir. Neville and Helena are inside. Having a little succumbed76 of late, under the pressure of my public labours, I thought I would take a mouthful of fresh air, and come down with them, and return at night. So you are the Reverend Mr. Septimus, are you?’ surveying him on the whole with disappointment, and twisting a double eyeglass by its ribbon, as if he were roasting it, but not otherwise using it. ‘Hah! I expected to see you older, sir.’
‘I hope you will,’ was the good-humoured reply.
‘Eh?’ demanded Mr. Honeythunder.
‘Only a poor little joke. Not worth repeating.’
‘Joke? Ay; I never see a joke,’ Mr. Honeythunder frowningly retorted. ‘A joke is wasted upon me, sir. Where are they? Helena and Neville, come here! Mr. Crisparkle has come down to meet you.’
An unusually handsome lithe77 young fellow, and an unusually handsome lithe girl; much alike; both very dark, and very rich in colour; she of almost the gipsy type; something untamed about them both; a certain air upon them of hunter and huntress; yet withal a certain air of being the objects of the chase, rather than the followers78. Slender, supple79, quick of eye and limb; half shy, half defiant80; fierce of look; an indefinable kind of pause coming and going on their whole expression, both of face and form, which might be equally likened to the pause before a crouch81 or a bound. The rough mental notes made in the first five minutes by Mr. Crisparkle would have read thus, verbatim.
He invited Mr. Honeythunder to dinner, with a troubled mind (for the discomfiture82 of the dear old china shepherdess lay heavy on it), and gave his arm to Helena Landless. Both she and her brother, as they walked all together through the ancient streets, took great delight in what he pointed83 out of the Cathedral and the Monastery84 ruin, and wondered — so his notes ran on — much as if they were beautiful barbaric captives brought from some wild tropical dominion85. Mr. Honeythunder walked in the middle of the road, shouldering the natives out of his way, and loudly developing a scheme he had, for making a raid on all the unemployed86 persons in the United Kingdom, laying them every one by the heels in jail, and forcing them, on pain of prompt extermination87, to become philanthropists.
Mrs. Crisparkle had need of her own share of philanthropy when she beheld88 this very large and very loud excrescence on the little party. Always something in the nature of a Boil upon the face of society, Mr. Honeythunder expanded into an inflammatory Wen in Minor Canon Corner. Though it was not literally89 true, as was facetiously90 charged against him by public unbelievers, that he called aloud to his fellow-creatures: ‘Curse your souls and bodies, come here and be blessed!’ still his philanthropy was of that gunpowderous sort that the difference between it and animosity was hard to determine. You were to abolish military force, but you were first to bring all commanding officers who had done their duty, to trial by court-martial for that offence, and shoot them. You were to abolish war, but were to make converts by making war upon them, and charging them with loving war as the apple of their eye. You were to have no capital punishment, but were first to sweep off the face of the earth all legislators, jurists, and judges, who were of the contrary opinion. You were to have universal concord91, and were to get it by eliminating all the people who wouldn’t, or conscientiously92 couldn’t, be concordant. You were to love your brother as yourself, but after an indefinite interval93 of maligning94 him (very much as if you hated him), and calling him all manner of names. Above all things, you were to do nothing in private, or on your own account. You were to go to the offices of the Haven of Philanthropy, and put your name down as a Member and a Professing95 Philanthropist. Then, you were to pay up your subscription96, get your card of membership and your riband and medal, and were evermore to live upon a platform, and evermore to say what Mr. Honeythunder said, and what the Treasurer97 said, and what the sub–Treasurer said, and what the Committee said, and what the sub–Committee said, and what the Secretary said, and what the Vice–Secretary said. And this was usually said in the unanimously-carried resolution under hand and seal, to the effect: ‘That this assembled Body of Professing Philanthropists views, with indignant scorn and contempt, not unmixed with utter detestation and loathing98 abhorrence’— in short, the baseness of all those who do not belong to it, and pledges itself to make as many obnoxious99 statements as possible about them, without being at all particular as to facts.
The dinner was a most doleful breakdown100. The philanthropist deranged101 the symmetry of the table, sat himself in the way of the waiting, blocked up the thoroughfare, and drove Mr. Tope (who assisted the parlour-maid) to the verge102 of distraction103 by passing plates and dishes on, over his own head. Nobody could talk to anybody, because he held forth104 to everybody at once, as if the company had no individual existence, but were a Meeting. He impounded the Reverend Mr. Septimus, as an official personage to be addressed, or kind of human peg105 to hang his oratorical106 hat on, and fell into the exasperating107 habit, common among such orators108, of impersonating him as a wicked and weak opponent. Thus, he would ask: ‘And will you, sir, now stultify109 yourself by telling me’— and so forth, when the innocent man had not opened his lips, nor meant to open them. Or he would say: ‘Now see, sir, to what a position you are reduced. I will leave you no escape. After exhausting all the resources of fraud and falsehood, during years upon years; after exhibiting a combination of dastardly meanness with ensanguined daring, such as the world has not often witnessed; you have now the hypocrisy110 to bend the knee before the most degraded of mankind, and to sue and whine111 and howl for mercy!’ Whereat the unfortunate Minor Canon would look, in part indignant and in part perplexed112; while his worthy113 mother sat bridling114, with tears in her eyes, and the remainder of the party lapsed115 into a sort of gelatinous state, in which there was no flavour or solidity, and very little resistance.
But the gush116 of philanthropy that burst forth when the departure of Mr. Honeythunder began to impend117, must have been highly gratifying to the feelings of that distinguished118 man. His coffee was produced, by the special activity of Mr. Tope, a full hour before he wanted it. Mr. Crisparkle sat with his watch in his hand for about the same period, lest he should overstay his time. The four young people were unanimous in believing that the Cathedral clock struck three-quarters, when it actually struck but one. Miss Twinkleton estimated the distance to the omnibus at five-and-twenty minutes’ walk, when it was really five. The affectionate kindness of the whole circle hustled119 him into his greatcoat, and shoved him out into the moonlight, as if he were a fugitive120 traitor121 with whom they sympathised, and a troop of horse were at the back door. Mr. Crisparkle and his new charge, who took him to the omnibus, were so fervent122 in their apprehensions123 of his catching124 cold, that they shut him up in it instantly and left him, with still half-an-hour to spare.
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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weir
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| n.堰堤，拦河坝 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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teemed
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| v.充满( teem的过去式和过去分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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innocence
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benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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urn
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feign
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standing
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minor
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bent
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assorted
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neatly
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ramping
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raving
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monks
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behold
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tranquillity
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pervaded
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serenely
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engendered
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harmoniously
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ivy
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ripened
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monkish
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wholesome
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deriving
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pretence
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prodigious
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impeded
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perusal
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assented
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lamely
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haven
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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countenance
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convened
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miscreant
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| n.恶棍 | |
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vexed
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miscreants
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| n.恶棍，歹徒( miscreant的名词复数 ) | |
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wards
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| 区( ward的名词复数 )； 病房； 受监护的未成年者； 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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inmate
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45
jointly
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| ad.联合地，共同地 | |
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46
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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47
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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48
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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49
wane
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| n.衰微，亏缺，变弱；v.变小，亏缺，呈下弦 | |
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50
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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51
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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53
orphans
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| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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54
glutted
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| v.吃得过多( glut的过去式和过去分词 )；（对胃口、欲望等）纵情满足；使厌腻；塞满 | |
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55
bumptiousness
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56
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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57
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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59
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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60
insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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61
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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62
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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63
ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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64
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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65
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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66
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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67
glowering
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| v.怒视( glower的现在分词 ) | |
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68
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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69
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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71
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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72
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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73
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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74
remonstrating
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的现在分词 )；告诫 | |
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75
accosting
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的现在分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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76
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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77
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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79
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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80
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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81
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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82
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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83
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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84
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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85
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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86
unemployed
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| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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87
extermination
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| n.消灭，根绝 | |
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88
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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facetiously
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| adv.爱开玩笑地；滑稽地，爱开玩笑地 | |
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concord
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| n.和谐；协调 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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93
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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94
maligning
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| vt.污蔑，诽谤（malign的现在分词形式） | |
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professing
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| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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96
subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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97
treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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98
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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99
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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100
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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101
deranged
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| adj.疯狂的 | |
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102
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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103
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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104
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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105
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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106
oratorical
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| adj.演说的，雄辩的 | |
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107
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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108
orators
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| n.演说者，演讲家( orator的名词复数 ) | |
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109
stultify
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| v.愚弄；使呆滞 | |
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110
hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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111
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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112
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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113
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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114
bridling
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的现在分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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115
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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116
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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117
impend
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| v.迫近，逼近，即将发生 | |
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118
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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119
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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120
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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121
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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122
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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123
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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124
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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