I can see it without, and I can feel it within. We also have our spring when the little arterioles dilate7, the lymph flows in a brisker stream, the glands8 work harder, winnowing9 and straining. Every year nature readjusts the whole machine. I can feel the ferment10 in my blood at this very moment, and as the cool sunshine pours through my window I could dance about in it like a gnat11. So I should, only that Charles Sadler would rush upstairs to know what was the matter. Besides, I must remember that I am Professor Gilroy. An old professor may afford to be natural, but when fortune has given one of the first chairs in the university to a man of four-and-thirty he must try and act the part consistently.
What a fellow Wilson is! If I could only throw the same enthusiasm into physiology12 that he does into psychology13, I should become a Claude Bernard at the least. His whole life and soul and energy work to one end. He drops to sleep collating14 his results of the past day, and he wakes to plan his researches for the coming one. And yet, outside the narrow circle who follow his proceedings15, he gets so little credit for it. Physiology is a recognized science. If I add even a brick to the edifice16, every one sees and applauds it. But Wilson is trying to dig the foundations for a science of the future. His work is underground and does not show. Yet he goes on uncomplainingly, corresponding with a hundred semi-maniacs in the hope of finding one reliable witness, sifting17 a hundred lies on the chance of gaining one little speck18 of truth, collating old books, devouring19 new ones, experimenting, lecturing, trying to light up in others the fiery20 interest which is consuming him. I am filled with wonder and admiration21 when I think of him, and yet, when he asks me to associate myself with his researches, I am compelled to tell him that, in their present state, they offer little attraction to a man who is devoted22 to exact science. If he could show me something positive and objective, I might then be tempted23 to approach the question from its physiological24 side. So long as half his subjects are tainted25 with charlatanerie and the other half with hysteria we physiologists26 must content ourselves with the body and leave the mind to our descendants.
No doubt I am a materialist27. Agatha says that I am a rank one. I tell her that is an excellent reason for shortening our engagement, since I am in such urgent need of her spirituality. And yet I may claim to be a curious example of the effect of education upon temperament28, for by nature I am, unless I deceive myself, a highly psychic29 man. I was a nervous, sensitive boy, a dreamer, a somnambulist, full of impressions and intuitions. My black hair, my dark eyes, my thin, olive face, my tapering30 fingers, are all characteristic of my real temperament, and cause experts like Wilson to claim me as their own. But my brain is soaked with exact knowledge. I have trained myself to deal only with fact and with proof. Surmise31 and fancy have no place in my scheme of thought. Show me what I can see with my microscope, cut with my scalpel, weigh in my balance, and I will devote a lifetime to its investigation32. But when you ask me to study feelings, impressions, suggestions, you ask me to do what is distasteful and even demoralizing. A departure from pure reason affects me like an evil smell or a musical discord33.
Which is a very sufficient reason why I am a little loath34 to go to Professor Wilson’s tonight. Still I feel that I could hardly get out of the invitation without positive rudeness; and, now that Mrs. Marden and Agatha are going, of course I would not if I could. But I had rather meet them anywhere else. I know that Wilson would draw me into this nebulous semi-science of his if he could. In his enthusiasm he is perfectly35 impervious36 to hints or remonstrances37. Nothing short of a positive quarrel will make him realize my aversion to the whole business. I have no doubt that he has some new mesmerist or clairvoyant38 or medium or trickster of some sort whom he is going to exhibit to us, for even his entertainments bear upon his hobby. Well, it will be a treat for Agatha, at any rate. She is interested in it, as woman usually is in whatever is vague and mystical and indefinite.
10.50 P. M. This diary-keeping of mine is, I fancy, the outcome of that scientific habit of mind about which I wrote this morning. I like to register impressions while they are fresh. Once a day at least I endeavor to define my own mental position. It is a useful piece of self-analysis, and has, I fancy, a steadying effect upon the character. Frankly39, I must confess that my own needs what stiffening40 I can give it. I fear that, after all, much of my neurotic41 temperament survives, and that I am far from that cool, calm precision which characterizes Murdoch or Pratt-Haldane. Otherwise, why should the tomfoolery which I have witnessed this evening have set my nerves thrilling so that even now I am all unstrung? My only comfort is that neither Wilson nor Miss Penclosa nor even Agatha could have possibly known my weakness.
And what in the world was there to excite me? Nothing, or so little that it will seem ludicrous when I set it down.
The Mardens got to Wilson’s before me. In fact, I was one of the last to arrive and found the room crowded. I had hardly time to say a word to Mrs. Marden and to Agatha, who was looking charming in white and pink, with glittering wheat-ears in her hair, when Wilson came twitching42 at my sleeve.
“You want something positive, Gilroy,” said he, drawing me apart into a corner. “My dear fellow, I have a phenomenon—a phenomenon!”
I should have been more impressed had I not heard the same before. His sanguine43 spirit turns every fire-fly into a star.
“No possible question about the bona fides this time,” said he, in answer, perhaps, to some little gleam of amusement in my eyes. “My wife has known her for many years. They both come from Trinidad, you know. Miss Penclosa has only been in England a month or two, and knows no one outside the university circle, but I assure you that the things she has told us suffice in themselves to establish clairvoyance44 upon an absolutely scientific basis. There is nothing like her, amateur or professional. Come and be introduced!”
I like none of these mystery-mongers, but the amateur least of all. With the paid performer you may pounce45 upon him and expose him the instant that you have seen through his trick. He is there to deceive you, and you are there to find him out. But what are you to do with the friend of your host’s wife? Are you to turn on a light suddenly and expose her slapping a surreptitious banjo? Or are you to hurl46 cochineal over her evening frock when she steals round with her phosphorus bottle and her supernatural platitude47? There would be a scene, and you would be looked upon as a brute48. So you have your choice of being that or a dupe. I was in no very good humor as I followed Wilson to the lady.
Any one less like my idea of a West Indian could not be imagined. She was a small, frail49 creature, well over forty, I should say, with a pale, peaky face, and hair of a very light shade of chestnut. Her presence was insignificant50 and her manner retiring. In any group of ten women she would have been the last whom one would have picked out. Her eyes were perhaps her most remarkable51, and also, I am compelled to say, her least pleasant, feature. They were gray in color,—gray with a shade of green,—and their expression struck me as being decidedly furtive52. I wonder if furtive is the word, or should I have said fierce? On second thoughts, feline53 would have expressed it better. A crutch54 leaning against the wall told me what was painfully evident when she rose: that one of her legs was crippled.
So I was introduced to Miss Penclosa, and it did not escape me that as my name was mentioned she glanced across at Agatha. Wilson had evidently been talking. And presently, no doubt, thought I, she will inform me by occult means that I am engaged to a young lady with wheat-ears in her hair. I wondered how much more Wilson had been telling her about me.
“Professor Gilroy is a terrible sceptic,” said he; “I hope, Miss Penclosa, that you will be able to convert him.”
She looked keenly up at me.
“Professor Gilroy is quite right to be sceptical if he has not seen any thing convincing,” said she. “I should have thought,” she added, “that you would yourself have been an excellent subject.”
“For what, may I ask?” said I.
“Well, for mesmerism, for example.”
“My experience has been that mesmerists go for their subjects to those who are mentally unsound. All their results are vitiated, as it seems to me, by the fact that they are dealing55 with abnormal organisms.”
“Which of these ladies would you say possessed56 a normal organism?” she asked. “I should like you to select the one who seems to you to have the best balanced mind. Should we say the girl in pink and white?—Miss Agatha Marden, I think the name is.”
“Yes, I should attach weight to any results from her.”
“I have never tried how far she is impressionable. Of course some people respond much more rapidly than others. May I ask how far your scepticism extends? I suppose that you admit the mesmeric sleep and the power of suggestion.”
“I admit nothing, Miss Penclosa.”
“Dear me, I thought science had got further than that. Of course I know nothing about the scientific side of it. I only know what I can do. You see the girl in red, for example, over near the Japanese jar. I shall will that she come across to us.”
She bent57 forward as she spoke58 and dropped her fan upon the floor. The girl whisked round and came straight toward us, with an enquiring59 look upon her face, as if some one had called her.
“What do you think of that, Gilroy?” cried Wilson, in a kind of ecstasy60.
I did not dare to tell him what I thought of it. To me it was the most barefaced61, shameless piece of imposture62 that I had ever witnessed. The collusion and the signal had really been too obvious.
“Professor Gilroy is not satisfied,” said she, glancing up at me with her strange little eyes. “My poor fan is to get the credit of that experiment. Well, we must try something else. Miss Marden, would you have any objection to my putting you off?”
“Oh, I should love it!” cried Agatha.
By this time all the company had gathered round us in a circle, the shirt-fronted men, and the white-throated women, some awed63, some critical, as though it were something between a religious ceremony and a conjurer’s entertainment. A red velvet64 arm-chair had been pushed into the centre, and Agatha lay back in it, a little flushed and trembling slightly from excitement. I could see it from the vibration65 of the wheat-ears. Miss Penclosa rose from her seat and stood over her, leaning upon her crutch.
And there was a change in the woman. She no longer seemed small or insignificant. Twenty years were gone from her age. Her eyes were shining, a tinge66 of color had come into her sallow cheeks, her whole figure had expanded. So I have seen a dull-eyed, listless lad change in an instant into briskness67 and life when given a task of which he felt himself master. She looked down at Agatha with an expression which I resented from the bottom of my soul—the expression with which a Roman empress might have looked at her kneeling slave. Then with a quick, commanding gesture she tossed up her arms and swept them slowly down in front of her.
I was watching Agatha narrowly. During three passes she seemed to be simply amused. At the fourth I observed a slight glazing68 of her eyes, accompanied by some dilation69 of her pupils. At the sixth there was a momentary70 rigor71. At the seventh her lids began to droop72. At the tenth her eyes were closed, and her breathing was slower and fuller than usual. I tried as I watched to preserve my scientific calm, but a foolish, causeless agitation73 convulsed me. I trust that I hid it, but I felt as a child feels in the dark. I could not have believed that I was still open to such weakness.
“She is in the trance,” said Miss Penclosa.
“She is sleeping!” I cried.
“Wake her, then!”
I pulled her by the arm and shouted in her ear. She might have been dead for all the impression that I could make. Her body was there on the velvet chair. Her organs were acting—her heart, her lungs. But her soul! It had slipped from beyond our ken74. Whither had it gone? What power had dispossessed it? I was puzzled and disconcerted.
“So much for the mesmeric sleep,” said Miss Penclosa. “As regards suggestion, whatever I may suggest Miss Marden will infallibly do, whether it be now or after she has awakened75 from her trance. Do you demand proof of it?”
“Certainly,” said I.
“You shall have it.” I saw a smile pass over her face, as though an amusing thought had struck her. She stooped and whispered earnestly into her subject’s ear. Agatha, who had been so deaf to me, nodded her head as she listened.
“Awake!” cried Miss Penclosa, with a sharp tap of her crutch upon the floor. The eyes opened, the glazing cleared slowly away, and the soul looked out once more after its strange eclipse.
We went away early. Agatha was none the worse for her strange excursion, but I was nervous and unstrung, unable to listen to or answer the stream of comments which Wilson was pouring out for my benefit. As I bade her good-night Miss Penclosa slipped a piece of paper into my hand.
“Pray forgive me,” said she, “if I take means to overcome your scepticism. Open this note at ten o’clock to-morrow morning. It is a little private test.”
I can’t imagine what she means, but there is the note, and it shall be opened as she directs. My head is aching, and I have written enough for to-night. To-morrow I dare say that what seems so inexplicable76 will take quite another complexion77. I shall not surrender my convictions without a struggle.
March 25. I am amazed, confounded. It is clear that I must reconsider my opinion upon this matter. But first let me place on record what has occurred.
I had finished breakfast, and was looking over some diagrams with which my lecture is to be illustrated78, when my housekeeper79 entered to tell me that Agatha was in my study and wished to see me immediately. I glanced at the clock and saw with sun rise that it was only half-past nine.
When I entered the room, she was standing80 on the hearth-rug facing me. Something in her pose chilled me and checked the words which were rising to my lips. Her veil was half down, but I could see that she was pale and that her expression was constrained81.
“Austin,” she said, “I have come to tell you that our engagement is at an end.”
I staggered. I believe that I literally82 did stagger. I know that I found myself leaning against the bookcase for support.
“But—but——” I stammered83. “This is very sudden, Agatha.”
“Yes, Austin, I have come here to tell you that our engagement is at an end.”
“But surely,” I cried, “you will give me some reason! This is unlike you, Agatha. Tell me how I have been unfortunate enough to offend you.”
“It is all over, Austin.”
“But why? You must be under some delusion85, Agatha. Perhaps you have been told some falsehood about me. Or you may have misunderstood something that I have said to you. Only let me know what it is, and a word may set it all right.”
“We must consider it all at an end.”
“But you left me last night without a hint at any disagreement. What could have occurred in the interval86 to change you so? It must have been something that happened last night. You have been thinking it over and you have disapproved87 of my conduct. Was it the mesmerism? Did you blame me for letting that woman exercise her power over you? You know that at the least sign I should have interfered88.”
“It is useless, Austin. All is over:”
Her voice was cold and measured; her manner strangely formal and hard. It seemed to me that she was absolutely resolved not to be drawn89 into any argument or explanation. As for me, I was shaking with agitation, and I turned my face aside, so ashamed was I that she should see my want of control.
“You must know what this means to me!” I cried. “It is the blasting of all my hopes and the ruin of my life! You surely will not inflict90 such a punishment upon me unheard. You will let me know what is the matter. Consider how impossible it would be for me, under any circumstances, to treat you so. For God’s sake, Agatha, let me know what I have done!”
She walked past me without a word and opened the door.
“It is quite useless, Austin,” said she. “You must consider our engagement at an end.” An instant later she was gone, and, before I could recover myself sufficiently91 to follow her, I heard the hall-door close behind her.
I rushed into my room to change my coat, with the idea of hurrying round to Mrs. Marden’s to learn from her what the cause of my misfortune might be. So shaken was I that I could hardly lace my boots. Never shall I forget those horrible ten minutes. I had just pulled on my overcoat when the clock upon the mantel-piece struck ten.
Ten! I associated the idea with Miss Penclosa’s note. It was lying before me on the table, and I tore it open. It was scribbled92 in pencil in a peculiarly angular handwriting.
“MY DEAR PROFESSOR GILROY [it said]: Pray excuse the personal nature of the test which I am giving you. Professor Wilson happened to mention the relations between you and my subject of this evening, and it struck me that nothing could be more convincing to you than if I were to suggest to Miss Marden that she should call upon you at half-past nine to-morrow morning and suspend your engagement for half an hour or so. Science is so exacting93 that it is difficult to give a satisfying test, but I am convinced that this at least will be an action which she would be most unlikely to do of her own free will. Forget any thing that she may have said, as she has really nothing whatever to do with it, and will certainly not recollect94 any thing about it. I write this note to shorten your anxiety, and to beg you to forgive me for the momentary unhappiness which my suggestion must have caused you.
“Yours faithfully;
“HELEN PENCLOSA.
Really, when I had read the note, I was too relieved to be angry. It was a liberty. Certainly it was a very great liberty indeed on the part of a lady whom I had only met once. But, after all, I had challenged her by my scepticism. It may have been, as she said, a little difficult to devise a test which would satisfy me.
And she had done that. There could be no question at all upon the point. For me hypnotic suggestion was finally established. It took its place from now onward95 as one of the facts of life. That Agatha, who of all women of my acquaintance has the best balanced mind, had been reduced to a condition of automatism appeared to be certain. A person at a distance had worked her as an engineer on the shore might guide a Brennan torpedo96. A second soul had stepped in, as it were, had pushed her own aside, and had seized her nervous mechanism97, saying: “I will work this for half an hour.” And Agatha must have been unconscious as she came and as she returned. Could she make her way in safety through the streets in such a state? I put on my hat and hurried round to see if all was well with her.
Yes. She was at home. I was shown into the drawing-room and found her sitting with a book upon her lap.
“You are an early visitor, Austin,” said she, smiling.
“And you have been an even earlier one,” I answered.
She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“You have not been out to-day?”
“No, certainly not.”
“Agatha,” said I seriously, “would you mind telling me exactly what you have done this morning?”
She laughed at my earnestness.
“You’ve got on your professional look, Austin. See what comes of being engaged to a man of science. However, I will tell you, though I can’t imagine what you want to know for. I got up at eight. I breakfasted at half-past. I came into this room at ten minutes past nine and began to read the ‘Memoirs of Mme. de Remusat.’ In a few minutes I did the French lady the bad compliment of dropping to sleep over her pages, and I did you, sir, the very flattering one of dreaming about you. It is only a few minutes since I woke up.”
“And found yourself where you had been before?”
“Why, where else should I find myself?”
“Would you mind telling me, Agatha, what it was that you dreamed about me? It really is not mere84 curiosity on my part.”
“I merely had a vague impression that you came into it. I cannot recall any thing definite.”
“If you have not been out to-day, Agatha, how is it that your shoes are dusty?”
A pained look came over her face.
“Really, Austin, I do not know what is the matter with you this morning. One would almost think that you doubted my word. If my boots are dusty, it must be, of course, that I have put on a pair which the maid had not cleaned.”
It was perfectly evident that she knew nothing whatever about the matter, and I reflected that, after all, perhaps it was better that I should not enlighten her. It might frighten her, and could serve no good purpose that I could see. I said no more about it, therefore, and left shortly afterward98 to give my lecture.
But I am immensely impressed. My horizon of scientific possibilities has suddenly been enormously extended. I no longer wonder at Wilson’s demonic energy and enthusiasm. Who would not work hard who had a vast virgin99 field ready to his hand? Why, I have known the novel shape of a nucleolus, or a trifling100 peculiarity101 of striped muscular fibre seen under a 300-diameter lens, fill me with exultation102. How petty do such researches seem when compared with this one which strikes at the very roots of life and the nature of the soul! I had always looked upon spirit as a product of matter. The brain, I thought, secreted103 the mind, as the liver does the bile. But how can this be when I see mind working from a distance and playing upon matter as a musician might upon a violin? The body does not give rise to the soul, then, but is rather the rough instrument by which the spirit manifests itself. The windmill does not give rise to the wind, but only indicates it. It was opposed to my whole habit of thought, and yet it was undeniably possible and worthy104 of investigation.
And why should I not investigate it? I see that under yesterday’s date I said: “If I could see something positive and objective, I might be tempted to approach it from the physiological aspect.” Well, I have got my test. I shall be as good as my word. The investigation would, I am sure, be of immense interest. Some of my colleagues might look askance at it, for science is full of unreasoning prejudices, but if Wilson has the courage of his convictions, I can afford to have it also. I shall go to him to-morrow morning—to him and to Miss Penclosa. If she can show us so much, it is probable that she can show us more.
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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glutinous
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| adj.粘的，胶状的 | |
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luscious
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| adj.美味的；芬芳的；肉感的，引与性欲的 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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resinous
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| adj.树脂的，树脂质的，树脂制的 | |
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dilate
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| vt.使膨胀，使扩大 | |
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glands
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| n.腺( gland的名词复数 ) | |
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winnowing
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| v.扬( winnow的现在分词 )；辨别；选择；除去 | |
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ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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gnat
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| v.对小事斤斤计较，琐事 | |
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physiology
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| n.生理学，生理机能 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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collating
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| v.校对( collate的现在分词 )；整理；核对；整理（文件或书等） | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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sifting
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speck
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devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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fiery
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admiration
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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tempted
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physiological
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| adj.生理学的，生理学上的 | |
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tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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physiologists
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| n.生理学者( physiologist的名词复数 )；生理学( physiology的名词复数 )；生理机能 | |
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materialist
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| n. 唯物主义者 | |
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temperament
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psychic
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tapering
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surmise
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investigation
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discord
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loath
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perfectly
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impervious
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remonstrances
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clairvoyant
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| adj.有预见的；n.有预见的人 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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neurotic
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| adj.神经病的，神经过敏的；n.神经过敏者，神经病患者 | |
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42
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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43
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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44
clairvoyance
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| n.超人的洞察力 | |
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45
pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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46
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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47
platitude
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| n.老生常谈，陈词滥调 | |
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48
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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49
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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51
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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52
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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53
feline
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| adj.猫科的 | |
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54
crutch
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| n.T字形拐杖；支持，依靠，精神支柱 | |
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55
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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56
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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57
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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58
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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59
enquiring
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| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
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60
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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61
barefaced
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| adj.厚颜无耻的，公然的 | |
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62
imposture
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| n.冒名顶替，欺骗 | |
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63
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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67
briskness
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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68
glazing
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| n.玻璃装配业；玻璃窗；上釉；上光v.装玻璃( glaze的现在分词 )；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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69
dilation
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| n.膨胀，扩张，扩大 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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rigor
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| n.严酷，严格，严厉 | |
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72
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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73
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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74
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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76
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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77
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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78
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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80
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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82
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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83
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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85
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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86
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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87
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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89
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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90
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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91
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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92
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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93
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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94
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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95
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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96
torpedo
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| n.水雷，地雷；v.用鱼雷破坏 | |
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97
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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98
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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99
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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100
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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101
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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102
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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103
secreted
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| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
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104
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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