On a bright morning in the autumn of the year 1893 a number of influential1 persons wended their way to Aaron Cohen's house to take part in a function of a peculiarly interesting nature. They comprised representatives of literature and the arts, of politics, science, and commerce, and among them were delegates of the press, who were deputed to report the proceedings2 for their respective journals. That the pen is mightier3 than the sword was open to dispute at an earlier period of the world's history, but the contention4 exists no longer, and though the day is far distant when the lion shall lie down with the lamb, the press is now a powerful factor in peace and war, and can effectually hasten or retard5 the conflict of nations. It is an open question whether its invasion of the arena6 of private life is a desirable feature in the power it wields7; but it is useless to resist its march in this direction, and earnest as may be a man's desire to hide his light (or the reverse) under a bushel, he does not live to see it gratified. The up-to-date journalist, argus-eyed, overruns the earth; it is to be deplored9 that his quill10 is sometimes poison-tipped, but as a rule he sets about his work with good-humoured zest11, and it is not to be denied that he prepares many a piquant12 dish for his omnivorous13 public.
When a movement was set afoot to make some sort of semi-private, semi-public recognition of the remarkable14 position attained15 by the hero of this story, he made an effort to discourage it. The idea of any kind of publicity16 was distasteful to him, and he expressed an opinion to this effect. It was not heeded17 by the organisers of the testimonial, and he was thinking of remonstrating18 in stronger terms, when the matter was settled for him by a few simple words spoken by Rachel.
"Why do you object?" she asked. "You did not seek the honour, and it will reflect honour upon us."
"Do you wish it, Rachel?"
"It will give me pleasure, dear," she replied.
He did not argue with her, but yielded immediately, and allowed himself to be carried with the stream. Never in the course of their happy married life had he failed to comply with her lightest wish; never had there been the least conflict between them; to each of them the word of the other was law, and it was love's cheerful duty to obey.
The esteem20 in which he was held was to be demonstrated by two presentations, one a portrait of himself by a famous English artist, the other a picture also, the subject being withheld21 from his knowledge. This second painting was no other than the picture of Rachel sitting beneath the cherry tree, which had created so much interest in the Paris salon22 more than a dozen years ago. It had originally been purchased by a collector, who had lately died. After his death his collection had been brought to the hammer, and this particular picture was purchased by a London dealer23, who exhibited it in his shop. The first intention was to present a silver memorial with Aaron's portrait, but a friend of his happened to see the French picture in London, and was struck by the wonderful resemblance of the principal figure to Rachel. He made inquiries24 privately25 of Aaron respecting his sojourn26 in the south of France, and learned that there was a picturesque27 cherry tree in the grounds at the back of the house, in the shadow of which Rachel was in the habit of sitting in sunny weather, that he had a friend, the curé of the village, and that one summer a French painter had visited the village and had made a number of sketches28 of Rachel and the garden. Following up his inquiries, Aaron's friend obtained from the London dealer some information of the history of the picture and of the year in which it was exhibited, and, putting this and that together, he came to the conclusion that Rachel had unconsciously sat for the picture. It was an interesting discovery, and the first idea of a silver presentation was put aside, and the picture substituted in its place.
Mr. Moss29, of course, came from Portsmouth to attend the function. Our old friend was frequently in London now, to attend to certain complicated business matters. Sad to say, of late years fortune had not smiled upon him; he had met with losses, but that did not prevent him from humming his operatic airs at every possible opportunity. He had himself to blame for this reverse of fortune; certainly he had a tremendously large family, sixteen children to rear and provide for, and eight of them girls--he used to say jocularly that it was difficult to find names for them; but he had a comfortable business, and should have been content. Unhappily, one day he had a bright idea; he made a plunge30 in stocks, with disastrous31 results. Had he consulted Aaron Cohen, as he afterwards confessed, it would never have happened; Aaron would have shown him the folly32 of expecting to grow rich in a week. The consequence was that he found himself involved, and his frequent visits to London were necessitated33 by his personal endeavours to reduce his losses. It made no difference in Aaron's friendship for him; it may be said, indeed, to have strengthened it. In a time of more than ordinary difficulty Aaron came forward voluntarily, and afforded practical assistance to his old friend. "If you want to know the kind of metal Aaron Cohen is made of," he said to his wife, "go to him when you are in misfortune. That is the time to prove a man." Another strengthening tie was to be forged in the firm friendship of these men. One at least of Mr. Moss's numerous daughters was always in London on a visit to Rachel, and it was quite in the natural order of things that Joseph Cohen should fall in love with Esther Moss, the prettiest and sweetest of all the girls. Rachel and her husband were very fond of Esther, and regarded the attachment34 with favour. Joseph was too young yet to marry, but with the consent of his parents an engagement was entered into between the young people, and there was joy in Mr. Moss's estimable family.
It was a natural consequence of this family arrangement that Esther was frequently invited to make her home for a time with the Cohens in London, and she was in their house on the day of the presentations. Her lover was absent, and had been out of England for some months past. Young as he was, he already held a position of responsibility in an extensive firm, and had been sent to Australia to attend to business of an important nature. He was expected home at the end of the week, but was then to remain in England only a few days, his passage to India being taken, his mission being to establish agencies in that land for the gentleman by whom he was employed. Years ago the choice of a classical education had been offered him by his father; but his inclination35 was for commerce, and Aaron Cohen did not believe in forcing a lad into a career which was distasteful to him. Upon his return from India eight or nine months hence the marriage between him and Esther was to take place. Needless to say how proud and happy the young maid was in the contemplation of the approaching union.
Neither was Ruth Cohen a witness of the honour which was paid to the man she believed to be her father. She had invited herself to Portsmouth, to spend a week or two with Mrs. Moss. When she expressed the wish to go Rachel Cohen had remonstrated36 with her, and hinted that she should remain in London to attend the presentations; but Ruth was restless and rebellious37, and said she did not care to be present. Rachel, inwardly grieved, did not press it upon her.
"Are you not happy at home?" she asked gently. Ruth did not speak, and Rachel continued, "You do not take pleasure in the society of our friends?"
"I am not very fond of them," Ruth replied.
Rachel said no more. Ruth's dislike of Jewish society was not new to her; it had caused her great pain, and she had striven in vain to combat it. The strength of Rachel's character lay in her moral and sympathetic affections: with those who recognised the sweetness and unselfishness of these attributes her power was great; with those who failed to appreciate them she was powerless. This was the case with Ruth, in whom, as she grew to womanhood, was gradually developed a stubbornness which boded38 ill for peace. Frequently and anxiously did Rachel ask herself, From whom could a daughter of her blood have inherited views and ideas so antagonistic39 and rebellious?
Aaron could have answered this question, had it been put to him, and had he dared to answer. Ruth's instincts were in her blood, transmitted by parents whom he had never known, and of whose characters he was ignorant. Heredity lay at the root of this domestic misery40. As a rule, vices41, virtues42, and all classes of the affections are hereditary43, and the religious sentiments are not an exception. Aaron had studied the subject, and was conscious of the solemn issues dependent upon it.
He had obtained possession of Ruth's body, but not of her mind, and even of the former his guardianship44 would soon be at an end. Although he could not fix the exact day of her birth, she would soon be twenty-one years of age, when the duty would devolve upon him of delivering to her the iron casket of which he had been made the custodian45, and he was in an agony how he should act. Every day that passed deepened his agony; he saw shadows gathering46 over his house which might wreck47 the happiness of his beloved wife. Again and again had he debated the matter without being able to arrive at any comforting conclusion. Undoubtedly48 the casket contained the secret of Ruth's parentage; when that was revealed the sword would fall.
However, he could not on this day give himself up to these disturbing reflections; he had consented to accept an honour of which he deemed himself unworthy, and it was incumbent50 upon him that he should not betray himself. There was still a little time left to him to decide upon his course of action. The man of upright mind was at this period laying himself open to dangerous casuistical temptations. Even from such unselfish love as he entertained for the wife who was deserving of love in its sweetest and purest aspects may spring an upas tree to poison the air we breathe.
Among the company was an old friend of ours--Dr. Spenlove, who had attained an eminent51 position in London. His career from the time he left Portsmouth had been a remarkable one. In the larger field of labour to which he had migrated his talents were soon recognised, and he began almost at once to mount the ladder of renown52. Success in the medical profession is seldom gained upon an insecure foundation; there must be some solid justification53 for it, and once secured it lasts a lifetime. Dr. Spenlove was no exception to the rule, and was not spoilt by prosperity. He was still distinguished54 by that kindliness55 of nature which had made his name a household word in the humble56 neighbourhood in Portsmouth in which he had struggled and suffered. The poor never appealed to him in vain, and he was as attentive57 to those who could not afford to pay him as to those from whom he drew heavy fees. Many a time did he step from his carriage to a garret in which lay a poor sufferer whose fortunes were at the lowest ebb58, and many a trembling hand which held a few poor coins was gently put aside with tender and cheerful words which were never forgotten by those to whom they were spoken.
A man so kindly59-hearted was of necessity associated with the benevolent60 and public movements of the passing hour. Aaron Cohen, whom till this day he had not met, had subscribed61 to some of the charities in which he was interested, and he gladly availed himself of the opportunity of becoming acquainted with him. When the company were assembled in the reception room in Aaron's house, Dr. Spenlove happened to be standing62 next to Mr. Moss, whom he had not seen since he left Portsmouth. Except for the wear and tear of time, which, however, did not sit heavily upon him, there was little alteration63 in Mr. Moss; his worldly anxieties had not dimmed the brightness of his eyes, nor robbed his countenance64 of its natural cheerful aspect. There was a greater alteration in Dr. Spenlove; the thoughtful lines in his face had deepened, there was an introspection in his eyes. Mr. Moss seemed to be for ever looking upon the outer world, Dr. Spenlove for ever looking upon his inner self. As an observer of character Mr. Moss was Dr. Spenlove's superior; as a student and searcher after truth Dr. Spenlove towered above Mr. Moss. The man of business never forgot a face; the man of science often did. The first sign of recognition, therefore, came from Mr. Moss.
"Good day, Dr. Spenlove."
The physician looked up, and said, abstractedly, "Good day." He frequently acknowledged a salute65 from persons whose names he could not at the moment recall.
"You do not remember me," said Mr. Moss, with a smile.
"You will pardon me," said Dr. Spenlove, searching his memory; "I have an unfortunate failing----"
"Of forgetting faces," said Mr. Moss, with a smile. "It is very stupid of me."
"Not at all; one can't help it. Besides, it is so long since we met--over twenty years."
"In London?"
"No; in Portsmouth, the night before you left. We had an adventure together----"
"You quicken my memory. How do you do, Mr. Moss?"
They shook hands.
"Very well, thank you, and happy to see you again. I have heard a great deal of you, doctor; you are at the top of the ladder now. It is strange, after the lapse66 of years, that we should meet in this house."
"Why is our meeting in this house strange?" inquired Dr. Spenlove.
The question recalled Mr. Moss to himself. The one incident which formed a link between them was that connected with a wretched woman and her babe whom they had rescued from impending67 death on a snowy night long ago in the past. But he had not made Dr. Spenlove acquainted with the name of the man to whom he had entrusted68 the child, and upon this point his lips were sealed.
"I mean," he said, "that the circumstances of our meeting here and in Portsmouth are so different."
"Widely different. Varied69 as have been my experiences, I have met with none more thrilling than that in which we were both engaged on that eventful night. I have not forgotten your kindness, Mr. Moss. I trust the world has prospered70 with you."
"So-so. We all have our ups and downs. Health is the main thing, and that we enjoy. Doctors have a bad time with us."
"I am glad to hear it. By the way, Mr. Moss, my part of the adventure came to an end on the day I left Portsmouth; you had still something to do. Did you succeed in finding a comfortable home for the child?"
"Yes."
"Did you lose sight of her after that?"
"Very soon. Before she had been in her new home twenty-four hours the poor thing died."
"Dear, dear! But I am not surprised. It was hardly to be expected that the child would live long after the exposure on such a bitter night. She was almost buried in the snow. It was, most likely, a happy release. And the mother, Mr. Moss?"
"I have heard nothing of her whatever."
The conversation ceased here. The proceedings had commenced, and a gentleman was speaking. He was a man of discretion71, which all orators72 are not. He touched lightly and pertinently73 upon the reputation which Mr. Aaron Cohen had earned by his unremitting acts of benevolence74 and by the worthiness75 of his career. Such a man deserved the good fortune which had attended him, and such a man's career could not fail to be an incentive76 to worthy49 endeavour. Rachel, seated by her husband, turned her sightless eyes upon the audience and listened to the speaker with gratitude77 and delight. It was not that she had waited for this moment to learn that she was wedded78 to an upright and noble man, but it was an unspeakable happiness to her to hear from the lips of others that he was appreciated as he deserved, that he was understood as she understood him. It was natural, said the speaker, that the gentleman in whose honour they had that day assembled should be held in the highest esteem by his co-religionists, but it was a glory that in a Christian79 country a Jew should have won from all classes of a mixed community a name which would be enrolled80 upon those pages of our social history which most fitly represent the march of true civilisation81 and humanity. They were not there to glorify82 Money; they were not there to glorify worldly prosperity; they were there to pay tribute to one whose example Christians83 well might follow, to a man without stain, without reproach. The influence of such a man in removing--no, not in removing, but obliterating--the prejudices of caste was lasting84 and all-powerful. He regarded it as a privilege that he had been deputed to express the general sentiment with respect to Mr. Aaron Cohen. This sentiment, he begged to add, was not confined to Mr. Cohen, but included his wife, whose charities and benevolence were perhaps even more widely known and recognised than those of the partner of her joys and sorrows. In the presence of this estimable couple it was difficult to speak as freely as he would wish, but he was sure they would understand that in wishing them long life and happiness he was wishing them much more than he dared to express in their hearing, and that there was but one feeling entertained towards them, a feeling not of mere85 respect and esteem, but of affection and love. In the name of the subscribers he offered for their acceptance two paintings, one a portrait of Mr. Cohen by an artist of renown, for which he had been good enough to sit, the other a painting which probably they would look upon now for the first time. The latter picture was an accidental discovery, but Mr. Cohen would tell them whether they were right in seizing the opportunity to obtain it, and whether they were right in their belief that his esteemed86 wife had unconsciously inspired the artist who had availed himself of a happy chance to immortalise himself.
The pictures were then unveiled amid general acclamation, and if ever Rachel wished for the blessing87 of sight to be restored to her it was at that moment; but it was only for a moment. The dependence88 she placed upon her husband, the trust she had in him, the pleasure she derived89 from his eloquent90 and sympathetic descriptions of what was hidden from her, were of such a nature that she sometimes said inly, "I am thankful I can see only through the eyes of my dear husband."
The portrait of himself, from his frequent sittings, was familiar to Aaron Cohen, but the picture of his beloved sitting beneath the cherry tree was a delightful91 surprise to him. It was an exquisitely92 painted scene, and Rachel's portrait was as faithful as if she had given months of her time towards its successful accomplishment93.
Aaron's response was happy up to a certain point. Except to pay a deserved compliment to the artist and to express his gratitude to the subscribers, he said little about the portrait of himself. The presentation of the second picture supplied the theme for the principal part of his speech. He said there was no doubt that it was a portrait of his dear wife, and he recalled the time they had passed in the south of France, and described all the circumstances of the intimacy94 with the artist which had led to the painting of the picture. He was grateful for that intimacy because of its result, which he saw before him, and because of the pleasure it would afford his beloved wife, who, until to-day, had been as ignorant as himself that such a painting was in existence. "I went to the south of France," he said, "in the hope that my wife, who was in a delicate state of health, would be benefited by a short stay there. My hope was more than realised; she grew strong there; my son, whose absence from England deprives him of the pleasure of being present on this interesting occasion, was born there, and there the foundation of my prosperity was laid. It might be inferred from this that I believe all the events of a man's life are ruled by chance, but such is not my belief. There is an all-seeing Providence96 who shows us the right path; He speaks through our reason and our consciences, and except for the accident of birth, which lays a heavy burden upon many unfortunate beings, and which should render them not fully97 responsible for the evil they do, we ourselves are responsible for the consequences of our actions. We must accept the responsibility and the consequences." He paused a few moments before he continued. "When men of fair intelligence err8 they err consciously; it is idle for them to say that they erred95 in ignorance of the consequences. They must know, if they write with black ink, that their writing must be black." He paused again. "But it may be that a man commits a conscious error through his affections, and if that error inflicts98 injury upon no living being--if it even confer a benefit upon one or more--there may be some palliation of his error. In stating that you set for me a standard too high I am stating my firm belief. No man is stainless99, no man is without reproach; the doctrine100 of infallibility applied101 to human affairs is monstrous102 and wicked; it is an arrogation103 of Divine power. I am, as all men are, open to error; in my life, as in the lives of all men, there have been mistakes; but I may still take the credit to myself that if I have committed a conscious error it has harmed no living soul, and that it has sprung from those affections which sweeten and bless our lives. A reference has been made to my being a Jew. I glory that I am one. The traditions and history of the race to which I am proud to belong have been of invaluable104 service to me, and to the circumstance of my being a Jew I owe the incidents of this day, which will be ever a proud memory to me and to my family. In the name of my dear wife and my own I thank you cordially, sincerely and gratefully for the honour you have paid to us--an honour not beyond my wife's merits, but far beyond my own."
Other speeches followed, and when the proceedings were at an end Dr. Spenlove asked Mr. Moss to introduce him to Mr. Cohen.
"Cohen," said Mr. Moss, "Dr. Spenlove wishes to be introduced to you. He practised in Portsmouth twenty years ago."
Aaron started. He never forgot a name or a face, and he recollected106 the mention of Dr. Spenlove's name when Mr. Moss came to him in Gosport with the child.
"Without exactly knowing it, perhaps," said Dr. Spenlove, "you have been most kind in movements in which I have taken an interest. I am glad of the opportunity of making your acquaintance."
Nothing more; no reference to the private matter. Aaron breathed more freely. He responded to Dr. Spenlove's advances, and the gentlemen parted friends.
Mr. Moss had been somewhat puzzled by Aaron's speech. It seemed to him that his friend did not place sufficient value on himself. "People are always ready to take you at your own price, so don't be too modest," was a favourite saying of his. Then what did Aaron mean by letting people suppose that he had done something wrong in his life? He spoke19 about it to Aaron.
"Look back," said Aaron, laying his hand kindly on Mr. Moss's shoulder, "and tell me if you do not recollect105 some action which you would gladly recall."
"I daresay, I daresay," said Mr. Moss, restlessly, "but what's the use of confessing it when there's no occasion? It's letting yourself down."
Aaron turned to greet another friend, and the subject was dropped; but it remained, nevertheless, in Mr. Moss's mind.
His daughter Esther was in the room during the proceedings, and her fair young face beamed with pride; it was her lover's father who was thus honoured, and she felt that she had, through Aaron Cohen's son, a share in that honour. When the gratifying but fatiguing107 labours of the day were at an end, and Aaron, Rachel, and Esther were alone, Rachel said,--
"I am sorry, dear Esther, that Joseph was not here to hear what was said about his father."
"It would not have made him love and honour him more," said Esther.
Rachel pressed her hand and kissed her; she had grown to love this sweet and simple girl, who seemed to have but one thought in life--her lover. Then the sightless woman asked them to describe the pictures to her, and she listened in an ecstasy108 of happiness to their words.
"Is it not wonderful?" she said to Aaron. "A famous picture, they said, and I the principal figure. What can the painter have seen in me?"
"What all men see, my life," replied Aaron; "but what no one knows as I know."
"It has been a happy day," sighed Rachel; she sat between them, each holding a hand. "You did not hear from our dear Ruth this morning?"
"No, dear mother." For thus was Esther already permitted to address Rachel.
"She will be home in two days, and our dear lad as well. I wish he were back from India, even before he has started, and so do you, my dear. But time soon passes. Just now it seems but yesterday that we were in France."
The day waned109. Rachel and Esther were together; Aaron was in his study writing, and preparing for an important meeting he had to attend that night. A servant entered.
"A gentleman to see you, sir."
Aaron looked at the card, which bore the name of Mr. Richard Dillworthy.
"I am busy," said Aaron. "Does he wish to see me particularly? Ask him if he can call again."
"He said his business was pressing, sir."
"Show him in."
The servant ushered110 the visitor into the room, a slightly-built, middle-aged111 man, with iron-grey hair and whiskers. Aaron motioned him to a chair, and he placed a card on the table, bearing the name and address of a firm of lawyers.
"I am Mr. Dillworthy, of Dillworthy, Maryx, and Co.," he said.
"Yes?"
"I have come to speak to you upon a family matter----"
"A family matter!" exclaimed Aaron, interrupting him. "Does it concern me?"
"It concerns you closely, and the client on whose behalf I am here."
"What is its nature?"
"Allow me to disclose it in my own way. I shall take it as a favour if you will regard this interview as private."
"Certainly."
"Briefly112, I may say, as an introduction, that it refers to your daughter, Miss Ruth Cohen."
点击收听单词发音
1 influential | |
adj.有影响的,有权势的 | |
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2 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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3 mightier | |
adj. 强有力的,强大的,巨大的 adv. 很,极其 | |
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4 contention | |
n.争论,争辩,论战;论点,主张 | |
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5 retard | |
n.阻止,延迟;vt.妨碍,延迟,使减速 | |
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6 arena | |
n.竞技场,运动场所;竞争场所,舞台 | |
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7 wields | |
手持着使用(武器、工具等)( wield的第三人称单数 ); 具有; 运用(权力); 施加(影响) | |
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8 err | |
vi.犯错误,出差错 | |
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9 deplored | |
v.悲叹,痛惜,强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 quill | |
n.羽毛管;v.给(织物或衣服)作皱褶 | |
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11 zest | |
n.乐趣;滋味,风味;兴趣 | |
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12 piquant | |
adj.辛辣的,开胃的,令人兴奋的 | |
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13 omnivorous | |
adj.杂食的 | |
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14 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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15 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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16 publicity | |
n.众所周知,闻名;宣传,广告 | |
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17 heeded | |
v.听某人的劝告,听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 );变平,使(某物)变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 remonstrating | |
v.抗议( remonstrate的现在分词 );告诫 | |
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19 spoke | |
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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20 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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21 withheld | |
withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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22 salon | |
n.[法]沙龙;客厅;营业性的高级服务室 | |
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23 dealer | |
n.商人,贩子 | |
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24 inquiries | |
n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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25 privately | |
adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
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26 sojourn | |
v./n.旅居,寄居;逗留 | |
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27 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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28 sketches | |
n.草图( sketch的名词复数 );素描;速写;梗概 | |
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29 moss | |
n.苔,藓,地衣 | |
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30 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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31 disastrous | |
adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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32 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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33 necessitated | |
使…成为必要,需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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35 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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36 remonstrated | |
v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 );告诫 | |
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37 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
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38 boded | |
v.预示,预告,预言( bode的过去式和过去分词 );等待,停留( bide的过去分词 );居住;(过去式用bided)等待 | |
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39 antagonistic | |
adj.敌对的 | |
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40 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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41 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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42 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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43 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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44 guardianship | |
n. 监护, 保护, 守护 | |
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45 custodian | |
n.保管人,监护人;公共建筑看守 | |
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46 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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47 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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48 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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49 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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50 incumbent | |
adj.成为责任的,有义务的;现任的,在职的 | |
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51 eminent | |
adj.显赫的,杰出的,有名的,优良的 | |
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52 renown | |
n.声誉,名望 | |
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53 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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54 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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55 kindliness | |
n.厚道,亲切,友好的行为 | |
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56 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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57 attentive | |
adj.注意的,专心的;关心(别人)的,殷勤的 | |
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58 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
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59 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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60 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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61 subscribed | |
v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 );签署,题词;订阅;同意 | |
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62 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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63 alteration | |
n.变更,改变;蚀变 | |
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64 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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65 salute | |
vi.行礼,致意,问候,放礼炮;vt.向…致意,迎接,赞扬;n.招呼,敬礼,礼炮 | |
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66 lapse | |
n.过失,流逝,失效,抛弃信仰,间隔;vi.堕落,停止,失效,流逝;vt.使失效 | |
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67 impending | |
a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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68 entrusted | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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70 prospered | |
成功,兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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72 orators | |
n.演说者,演讲家( orator的名词复数 ) | |
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73 pertinently | |
适切地 | |
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74 benevolence | |
n.慈悲,捐助 | |
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75 worthiness | |
价值,值得 | |
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76 incentive | |
n.刺激;动力;鼓励;诱因;动机 | |
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77 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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78 wedded | |
adj.正式结婚的;渴望…的,执著于…的v.嫁,娶,(与…)结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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80 enrolled | |
adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 );登记,招收,使入伍(或入会、入学等),参加,成为成员;记入名册;卷起,包起 | |
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81 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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82 glorify | |
vt.颂扬,赞美,使增光,美化 | |
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83 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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84 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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85 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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86 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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87 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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88 dependence | |
n.依靠,依赖;信任,信赖;隶属 | |
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89 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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90 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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91 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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92 exquisitely | |
adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
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93 accomplishment | |
n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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94 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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95 erred | |
犯错误,做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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97 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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98 inflicts | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的第三人称单数 ) | |
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99 stainless | |
adj.无瑕疵的,不锈的 | |
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100 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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101 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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102 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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103 arrogation | |
n.诈称,霸占,篡夺 | |
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104 invaluable | |
adj.无价的,非常宝贵的,极为贵重的 | |
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105 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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106 recollected | |
adj.冷静的;镇定的;被回忆起的;沉思默想的v.记起,想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107 fatiguing | |
a.使人劳累的 | |
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108 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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109 waned | |
v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 );(月)亏;变小;变暗淡 | |
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110 ushered | |
v.引,领,陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111 middle-aged | |
adj.中年的 | |
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112 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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