Clinging to the bird-cage in which her cat Satan crouched3, she further remarked, as the taxi snaked its sinuous4 way toward the quarters which a friendly waiter on the steamship5 had warmly recommended to her:
"All I scared ob is, dat dis unforchunit cat 's gwine to lose 'is min'. Seein' places like dis is 'nough to make any natchel cat run crazy."
Whereupon Emma relapsed into a colossal6 silence. She was fed up on surprises and they were palling7 upon her palate, which fortunately wasn't down. Things had been happening so fast that she couldn't keep step with them. To begin with, Peter had preferred to come north by sea, and although Emma had been raised on the coast, although she was used to the capricious tide-water rivers which this morning may be lamb-like and to-night raging lions, although she had crossed Caliboga Sound in rough weather and been rolled about like a ninepin, that had been, so to speak, near the shore-line. This was different: here was more water than Emma had thought was in the entire world; and she had been assured that this wasn't a bucketful to what she was yet to see! Emma fell back upon silent prayer.
Then had come this astounding9 city jutting10 jaggedly into the clouds, and through whose streets poured in a never-ceasing, turgid flow all the peoples of the earth. And, more astounding than waterful sea and peopleful city, was the last, crowning bit of news: Peter was going to be married! And he didn't know the young lady he was to marry, except that she was a Miss Anne Simms. He knew no more about his bride than she, Emma, knew.
That was all Emma needed to reduce her to absolute befuddlement11. When food and drink were placed before her, she partook of both, mechanically. If one spoke12 to her, she stared like a large black owl13. And when Peter had driven away in the taxi, leaving her for the time being in the care of a highly respectable colored family, whose children, born and raised in New York, looked upon the old South Carolina woman as they might have looked upon a visitor from Mars, Emma shut and locked her door, took the cat out of his cage, cuddled him in her arms, tried to projeck,—and couldn't. The feel of Satan's soft, warm body comforted her inexpressibly. He, at least, was real in a shifting universe. She began to rock herself, slowly, rhythmically14, back and forth15. Then the New York negroes heard a shrill16, sweet, wailing17 voice upraised in one of those speretuals in which Africa concentrates her ages of anguish18 into a half-articulate cry. In it were the voices of their fathers long gone, come back from the rice-fields and the cane-brakes and the cotton-rows, voices so sweet and plaintive19 that they were haunted.
"I we-ent out een de wilderness20,
En I fell upon—mah—knees,
En I called upon—mah—Savior,
Whut sh-all I do—for—save?
He replied:
Halleluian!
Sinnuh, sing!
Halleluian!
Ma-ry, Mar-tha, halle—
Hallelu—
Halleluian!"
"Good Lord!" breathed the oldest boy, who was a high-school scholar.
"How weird21 and primitive22!" said the daughter, who was to be a teacher.
But the father's eyes narrowed, and the hair of his scalp prickled. 'Way back yonder his mother had sung like that, and his heart leaped to it. If he hadn't been afraid of his educated and modern children, he would have wept. Emma didn't know that, of course. She kissed the big cat, placed him carefully on the bed, and lay down beside him in the attitude of a corpse24. She was resigning herself to whatever should happen.
Peter, upon telephoning his uncle, had been advised to prowl about until noon, when they were to lunch together. Wherefore he found himself upon the top of a bus, rolling about New York, seeing that of which he had read. He didn't see it as Nancy saw it; the city appeared to him as might some subtle, hard, and fascinatingly plain woman whose face had flashes of piercing and unforgetable beauty, beauty unexpected and unlike any other. Unlike the beauty of the Carolina coast, say, which was a part of his consciousness, there was here something sinister26 and splendid.
He got off at the Metropolitan27 Museum. He wished to see with his own eyes some of those pictures Claribel Spring had described to him, among them Fortuny's "Spanish Lady." He stood for a dazzled interval28 before her, so disdainful, passionate29, provocative30, and so profoundly human. When he moved away, he sighed. He wasn't wondering if he himself should ever meet and love such a lady; but rather when he should be able so to portray31 in a human face all the secrets of the body and of the soul.
At lunch his uncle, remarking his earnest face, said regretfully:
"Oh, Peter, why couldn't you be content to be a rich man and play the game according to Hoyle? Art? Of course! You could afford to buy the best any of 'em could do, instead of trying to sell something you do yourself. Art is a rich man's recreation. Artists exist in order that rich men may buy their wares34."
"Rich men were invented for the use of poor artists: it's the only excuse they have for existing at all, that I can see," said Peter, composedly.
"But you'd have a so much better time buying, than selling—or rather, trying to sell," said one of the rich men, smiling good-humoredly.
"I'll have a better time working, than in either buying or selling," said Peter, and looked at his uncle with uncompromising eyes.
Mr. Chadwick Champneys sighed, face to face with Champneys obstinacy35. Peter would keep his promise to the letter, but aside from that he would live his own life in his own way.
He had stared, and his jaw36 dropped, when he was calmly informed that Peter intended to take old Emma Campbell and a black cat along with him. Then he had laughed, almost hysterically37, and incidentally discovered that being laughed at didn't move Peter in the least; he was too used to it. He allowed you to laugh at him, smiled a bit wryly38 himself, and went right ahead doing exactly what he had set out to do. This sobered Mr. Champneys.
"Peter," said he, after a pause, "allow me to ask you a single question: do you propose to go through life toting old niggers and black cats?"
"Uncle Chad," replied Peter, "do you remember how sweet potatoes roasted in the ashes of a colored person's fire used to taste, when you were a little boy?"
A reminiscent glow spread over Uncle Chad's face. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and stared under it at Peter. Something quizzical and tender was in that look.
"I see you do," said Peter, with the same look. "Well, Uncle Chad, Emma used to roast those potatoes—and provide them too. Sometimes they were all the dinner I had. Besides," mused39 Peter, "when all's said and done, nobody has more than a few friends from his cradle to his grave. If I've got two, and they don't want to part with me, why should they have to?"
Mr. Chadwick Champneys spread out his hands. "Put like that," he admitted, "why should they, indeed! Take 'em along if you like, Nephew." And of a sudden he laughed again. "Oh, Peter!" he gasped41, "you dear dam-fool!"
Peter had a strenuous42 afternoon. Reservations had to be secured for Emma, for whom he also purchased a long coat and a steamer rug. He himself had to have another suit: his uncle protested vehemently43 against the nice new one he had bought in Charleston.
At dusk he watched New York's lights come out as suddenly and as goldenly as evening primroses44. Riverton drowsing among its immemorial oaks beside the salty tide-water, the stars reflected in its many coves45, the breath of the pines mingling46 with the wild breath of the sea sweeping47 through it, the little, deserted48 brown house left like a last year's nest close to the water—how far removed they were from this glittering giantess and her pulsating49 power! The electric lights winked50 and blinked, the roar of traffic arose in a multitudinous hum; and all this light and noise, the restless stir of an immense life, went to the head like wine.
The streets were fiercely alive. Among the throngs51 of well-dressed people one caught swift glimpses of furtive52, hurrying figures, and faces that were danger signals. More than once a few words hissed53 into Peter's ears made him turn pale.
It was nearing midnight, and the street was virtually empty, when a girl who had looked at him sharply in passing turned and followed him, and after a glance about to see that no policeman was in sight, stepped to his side and touched him on the elbow. Peter paused, and his heart contracted. He had seen among the negroes the careless unmorality as of animals. There was nothing of the prude in him, but, perhaps because all his life there had been a Vision before his eyes, he had retained a singularly untroubled mental chastity. His mind was clean with the cleanliness of knowledge. He could not pretend to misunderstand the girl. She was nothing but a child in years. The immaturity54 of her body showed through her extreme clothes, and even her sharp, painted little face was immature55, for all its bold nonchalance56. She was smiling; but one sensed behind her deliberate smile a wolfish anxiety.
"Ain't you lonesome?" she asked, fluttering her eyelids57, and giving the young man a sly, upward glance.
"No," said Peter, very gently.
"Aw, have a heart! Can't you stand a lady somethin' to eat an' maybe somethin' to drink?"
The boy looked at her gravely and compassionately58. Although her particular type was quite new to him, he recognized her for what she was, a member of the oldest profession, the strange woman "whose mouth is smoother than oil, but whose feet go down to death. Her steps take hold on hell." Somehow he could not connect those terrible words with this sharp-featured, painted child. There was nothing really evil about her except the brutal59 waste of her.
"Will ten dollars be enough for you?" asked Peter. The wolfish look in her eyes hurt him. He felt ashamed and sad.
"Sure! Come on!" said she, and her face lighted.
"Thank you, I have had my dinner," said Peter. But she seized his arm and hurried him down a side street, willy-nilly. "Seen a cop out of the tail of my eye," she explained, hurriedly. "They're fierce, some of them cops. I can't afford to be took up."
When they had turned the corner, Peter stopped, and took out his pocket-book. With another searching glance at her, he handed her one five, and two ten-dollar bills. Perhaps that might save her—for a while at least. He lifted his hat, bowed, and had started to walk away, when she ran after him and clutched him by the arm.
"Take back that fiver," said she, "an' come and eat with me. If you got a heart, come an' eat with me. I know a little place we can get somethin' decent: it's a dago caffay, but it's clean an' decent enough. Will you come?" Her voice was shaking; he could see her little body trembling.
"But why?" he asked, hesitatingly.
"Not for no reason, except I—I got to make myself believe you're real!" She said it with a gasp40.
Peter fell in beside her and she led the way. The small restaurant to which she piloted him wasn't pretentious60, but it was, as she had said, clean, and the food was excellent.
She said her name was Gracie Cantrell, and Peter took her word for it. While she was eating she discoursed61 about herself, pleased at the interest this odd, dark-faced young fellow with the soft, drawling voice seemed to take in her. She had begun in a box factory, she told him. And then she'd been a candy-dipper. Now, you work in a lowered atmosphere in order not to spoil your chocolate. For which reason candy-dippers, like all the good, are likely to die young. Seven of the girls in Gracie's department "got the T.B." That made Gracie pause to think, and the more she thought about it, the clearer it seemed to her that if one has to have a short life, one might at least make a bid for a merrier one than candy-dipping. So she made her choice. The short life and merry, rather than the T.B. and charity.
"And has it been so merry, Gracie?" asked Peter, looking at the hard young face wonderingly.
"Well, it's been heaps better than choc'late-dippin'," said Gracie, promptly62. "I don't get no worse treated, when all's said an' done. I've got better clothes an' more time an' I don't work nothin' like so hard. An' I got chanst to see things. You don't see nothin' in the fact'ry. Say I feel like goin' to the movies, or treatin' myself to a ice-cream soda63 or a choc'late a-clair, why, I can do it without nobody's leave—when I'm lucky. You ain't ever lucky in the fact'ry: you never have nothin', see? So I'd rather be me like I am than be me back in the fact'ry."
"And do you always expect to be—lucky?" Peter winced64 at the word.
"I can't afford to think about that," she replied, squinting65 at the red ink in her glass. "You got to run your risks an' take your chances. All I know is, I'll have more and see more before I die. An' I won't die no sooner nor no painfuller than if I'd stayed on in the fact'ry."
Peter admitted to himself that she probably wouldn't. Also, that he had nothing to say, where Gracie was concerned. He felt helpless in the face of it—as helpless as he had felt one June morning long ago when he had seen old Daddy Neptune66 praying, after a night of horror, to a Something or a Somebody blind and indifferent. And it seemed to him that life pressed upon him menacingly, as if he and Neptune and this lost child of the New York streets had been caught like rats in a trap.
The girl, on her part, had been watching him with painful intensity67.
"You're a new one on me," she told him frankly68. "I feel like pinchin' you to see if you're real. Say, tell me: if you're real, are you the sort of guy that'd give twenty-five dollars, for nothin', to a girl he picked up in the street? Or, are you just a softy fool that a girl that picks him up in the streets can trim? There's more of him than the first sort," she finished.
"You must judge that for yourself," said Peter. "I may tell you, though, that I am quite used to being called a fool," he finished, tranquilly69.
"So?" said she, after another long look. "Well, I—what I mean to say is, I wish to God there was more fools like you. If there was, there'd be less fools like me." After a pause she asked, in a subdued70 voice:
"You expect to stay in this town long?"
"I leave in the morning."
"I'm sorry," said she. "Not," she added hastily, "that I want to touch you for more money or anything like that, I don't. But I—well, I'd like to know you was livin' in the same town, see?"
Peter saw. But again he had nothing to say. Young as he was, he knew the absurdity71 of all talk of reform to such as Gracie. As things are they can't reform, they can't even be prevented. He looked at her, thoughtfully.
"I'm not only leaving New York, I'm leaving America to-morrow," he said at last. "I wish there was something I could do for you."
She shook her head. Her little painted face looked pinched. There were shadows under the eyes that should have been soft and dewy. "You can't do nothin'. I'll tell you why. Somehow—I—I'd like you to know."
And she sat there and told him.
"You see?" said she, when she had finished.
"I see," said Peter; and the hand that held his cigarette trembled. The thing that struck him most forcibly was the stupid waste of it all.
"Look here, Gracie," he said at last, "if you ever get—very unlucky—and things are too hard for you—sort of last ditch, you know,—I want you to go to a certain address. It's to my uncle," he explained, seeing her look blank. "You'll send in the card I'm going to give you, and you will say I sent you. He'll probably investigate you, you know. But you just tell him the truth, and say I told you he'd help. Will you do that!"
She in her turn reflected, watching Peter curiously72. Then she fell to tracing patterns on the table-cloth with the point of her knife.
"All right," she said. "If ever I have to, an' I can find him, I will—an' say you sent me."
Peter took out his pocket memorandum73, wrote his uncle's name and the address of the house in the Seventies which he was presently to occupy, added, "I wish you'd do what you can, for my sake," and signed it. He handed the girl the slip of paper, and she thrust it into her low-necked blouse.
"And now," he finished kindly74, "you'd better go home, Gracie, go to bed, and sleep." He held out his brown hand, and she, rising from her chair, gripped his fingers as a child might have done, and looked at him with dog's eyes.
"Good-by!" said she, huskily. "You are real, ain't you?"
"Damnably so," admitted Peter. "Good-by, then, Gracie." And he left her standing75 by the table, the empty wine-glass before her. The streets stretched before him emptily.—That poor, done-for kid! What is one to do for these Gracies?
"Mister! For God's sake! I'm hungry!" a hoarse76 voice accosted77 him. A dirty hand was held out.
Mechanically Peter's hand went to his pocket, found a silver dollar, and held it out. The dirty hand snatched it, and without so much as a thank you the man rushed into a near-by bakery. Peter shuddered78.
When he reached his room, he sat for a long time before his open window, and stared at the myriads79 and myriads of lights. From the streets far below came a subdued, ceaseless drone, as if the huge city stirred uneasily in her sleep—perhaps because she dreamed of the girls she prostituted and the men she starved. And it was like that everywhere. If the great cities gave, they also took, wastefully80. Peter was tormented81, confronted by the inexorable question:
"What am I going to do about it?"
He couldn't answer, any more than any other earnest and decent boy could answer, whose whole and sole weapon happened to be a paint-brush. One thing he resolved: he wouldn't add to the sum total; nobody should be the worse off because he had lived. So thinking, the bridegroom fell asleep.
When he awoke in the morning, he lay for a moment staring at the strange ceiling overhead; his mind had an uneasy consciousness that something impended82. Then he sat up suddenly in his bed, and clutched his head in his hands.
"Lord have mercy on me!" cried Peter. "I've got to get up and get married!"
By ten o'clock his luggage was on its way to the steamer. Dressed in his new clothes, ring and license83 carefully tucked away in his pocket, Peter took an hour off and jumped on a bus. It delighted him to roll around the streets on top of a bus. He felt that he could never see enough of this wonderful, terrible, beautiful, ugly, cruel, and kind city. Everywhere he turned, something was being torn down or up, something was being demolished84 or replaced. New York was like an inefficient85 and yet hard-working housekeeper86, forever house-cleaning; her house was never in order, and probably never would be, hence this endless turmoil87. Yet, somehow, Peter liked it. She wasn't satisfied with things as they were.
He stopped at Grant's Tomb, looked at the bronze tablet commemorating88 the visit of Li Hung Chang, then went inside and stared reflectively at the torn and dusty flags.
"It was worth the price," he decided89. "But," he added, with a certain deep satisfaction, "I'm glad we gave them a run for their money while we were at it!" The Champneyses, one remembers, were on the other side.
When he got back to his hotel the car that his uncle had sent for him had just arrived. Deferential90 help brought out his remaining belongings91, were tipped, and stood back while the door was slammed upon the departing one. The car was held up for seven minutes on Forty-second Street, while Peter leaned forward to get his first view of congested traffic. He had once seen two Ford33 cars and an ox-cart tie up the Riverton Road.
Arrived at Emma Campbell's quarters, he found her sitting stiffly erect92, her foot upon her new suit-case, her new cloak over her arm, and the bird-cage under her hand. The expressman who had called for her trunk early that morning had good-naturedly offered to carry the bird-cage along with it, but Emma had flatly refused to let the cat get out of her sight. Even when she climbed into the car she held fast to the cage.
"I don't say nothin' 'bout8 me. All I scared ob is, dat dis unforchnate cat's gwine to lose 'is min' before we-all finishes up."
It was with difficulty that Peter persuaded her to leave the cage in the car when they reached his uncle's hotel.
"Mistuh," said Emma to the chauffeur93, "is you-all got any fambly dependin' on you?"
"One wife. Three kids," said the chauffeur, briefly94.
"I ain't de kin32' ob lady whut makes threats agin' a gent'man," said Emma, looking him unblinklngly in the eye. "All I says is, dat I started whah I come fum wid dat cat an' I 'specks95 to lan' up whah I 's gwine to wid dat same cat in dat same cage. Bein' as you 's got dem chillun en dat wife, I calls yo' 'tenshun to dat fac', suh."
The chauffeur, a case-hardened pirate, laughed. "All right, lady," said he, genially96. "It ain't in my line to granny cats, but that one will be the apple of me good eye until you git back. I wouldn't like the missus to be a widder: she's too darn good-lookin'."
With her mind at ease on this point, Emma consented to leave Satan in the car and follow Peter. Emma looked resplendently respectable, and she knew it. She was dressed as well as if she had expected to be buried. By innate97 wisdom she had retained the snowy head-handkerchief under her sailor hat, and she wore her big gold hoop-earrings. Smart colored servants were common enough at that hotel, but one did not often see such as this tall and erect old woman in her severe black-and-white. Emma belonged almost to another day and generation, although her face, like the faces of many old colored women, was unwrinkled. She had a dignity that the newer generation lacks, and a pride unknown to them.
Peter and Emma went up in an elevator and were ushered98 into a private sitting-room99, where were awaiting them Mr. Chadwick Champneys, a gentleman who was obviously a clergyman, another who was as obviously a member of the Bar, and the latter's wife, a very handsome lady handsomely and expensively panoplied100. There was the usual hand-shaking, as Peter was introduced, and the handsome lady stared openly at Emma; one doesn't often see a bridegroom come in accompanied by an old colored woman. Emma courtesied, with the inimitable South Carolina bending of the knees, and then took a modest seat in the background and faded into it. She had good manners, had Emma.
Mr. Champneys glanced at his watch, and presently left the room. The clergyman, book in hand, stepped into the middle of the floor, and looked importantly religious. The lawyer smilingly invited Peter to take his place beside him. Everybody assumed a solemn look.
And then the door opened and the bride appeared, leaning on her uncle's arm. Emma Campbell, leaning forward, got one glimpse of the face but slightly concealed101 by the thin, floating tulle veil pinned on with a wreath of orange-blossoms, caught one gleam from the narrowed eyes; and her own eyes bulged102 in her head, her mouth fell open. Emma wished to protest, to cry, to pray aloud.
The bride was magnificently dressed, in a gown that was much too elaborate for her angular and undeveloped young figure. It made her look over-dressed and absurd to a pitiful degree, as if she were masquerading. The hair-dresser whom she had called to her aid had done her worst. Nancy had an unusual quantity of hair, and it had been curled and frizzed, and puffed103 and pulled, until the girl's head appeared twice its natural size. Through the fine lace of her sleeves were visible her thin, sunburned arms. Her naturally dark eyebrows104 had been accentuated105, and there was a bright red patch on each cheek, her lips being equally crimson106. Out of the rouged107 and powdered face crowned by towering red hair, the multitude of freckles109 showed defiantly110, two fierce eyes lowered.
As Peter met the stare of those narrowed eyes, to save his life he couldn't keep from showing his downright consternation112. His aversion and distaste were so manifest, that a deeper red than rouge108 stained the girl's cheek and mottled her countenance113. Her impulse was to raise her hand and strike him across his wincing114 mouth.
What Nancy saw was a tall, thin, shambling young fellow whose face was pale with an emotion not at all complimentary115 to herself. He didn't like her! He thought her hideous116! He despised her! So she read Peter's expressive117 eyes. She thought him a fool, to stand there staring at her like that, and she hated him. She detested118 him. Puppy!
She saw his glance of piteous entreaty119, and Mr. Chadwick Champneys's bland120, blind ignoring of its silent reproach and appeal. And then the long-legged young fellow pulled himself together. His head went up, his mouth hardened, and his voice didn't shake when he promised to cherish and protect her, until death did them part.
All the while Peter felt that he was struggling in a hideous dream. That bride in white satin wasn't real; his uncle wouldn't play him such a trick! Peter cringed when the defiant111 voice of the girl snapped her "I do" and "I will."
The clergyman's voice had trailed off. He was calling her "Mrs. Champneys." And Mr. Vandervelde and his handsome wife were shaking hands with her and Peter, and saying pleasant, polite, conventional things to them both. She signed a paper. And that old nigger-woman kept staring at her; but Peter avoided meeting her eyes. And her uncle was saying that she must change her frock now, my dear: Peter's boat sailed within the hour, remember. And then she was back in her room, tearing off the dress that only last night she had so fondly fingered.
It lay on the floor in a shimmering121 heap, and she trampled122 on it. She had torn the tulle veil and orange-blossoms from her hair, and she stamped on those, too. The maid who had been engaged to help her stood aghast when the bride kicked her wedding-gown across the room. She folded it with shaking hands and smoothed the torn veil as best she could. The beautiful lace-and-ivory fan was snapped and torn beyond hope of salvage123. Nancy tossed it from her. With round eyes the maid watched her tear hair-pins out of her hair, rush into the bath-room, and with furious haste belabor124 her head with a wet brush to remove the fatal frizzings; but the work had been too thoroughly125 done to hope to remove all traces of it so easily. Nancy brushed it as best she could, and then rolled it into a stout126 coil on the top of her head. Her satin slippers127 came hurtling across the room as she kicked them off, and the maid caught them on the fly.
Back into the bath-room again, and the maid could hear her splashing around, as she scrubbed her face. When she came out, it was brick-red, but powderless and paintless. She got into her blue tailored suit without assistance, and, sitting on the floor, buttoned her shoes with her own fingers, to the maid's disgust. Then she jerked on her hat, stuck a hat-pin through it carelessly, snatched up gloves and hand-bag, and was ready for departure. The expression of her face at that moment sent the maid cowering128 against the wall, and tied her tongue; the bride looked as if she were quite capable of pitching an officious helper out of a ten-story window.
"My God!" said the girl to herself, as Nancy, without so much as a word or a look in her direction, slammed the door behind her. "My God, if that poor fellow that's just been married to her was any kin to me, I'd have a High Mass said for his soul!"
The brick-red apparition129 that swept into the room put the final touch upon Peter's dismay. He thought her the most unpleasant human being he had ever encountered, and almost the ugliest. The Vanderveldes had taken the clergyman off in their car, and only Peter, his uncle, and Emma remained.
"I'm ready!" snapped the bride. She didn't glance at the bridegroom, but the look she bestowed130 upon Emma made that doughty131 warrior132 quail133. Emma conceived a mortal terror of Peter's wife. She took the place of the Boogerman and of ha'nts.
Chadwick Champneys had his hand on his nephew's shoulder, and was talking to him in a low and very earnest voice—rather like a clergyman consoling a condemned134 man with promises of heaven after hanging. Peter received his uncle's assurances in resigned silence.
Two cars were waiting outside the hotel for the wedding-party. As Emma Campbell stepped into the one that was to convey her and Peter to the boat, Nancy saw her stoop and lift a large bird-cage containing, of all things, an immense black cat, which mewed plaintively135 at sight of her. It was the final touch of grotesqueness136 upon her impossible wedding. The two Champneyses wrung137 hands silently. The older man said a few words to the colored woman, and shook hands with her, too.
Then the two cars were rolling away, Nancy sitting silent beside her uncle. At the corner Peter's vanished. The bride hoped from the bottom of her heart that she would never lay eyes upon her bridegroom again. She didn't exactly wish him any harm, greatly as she disliked him, but she felt that if he would go away and die he would be doing her a personal favor.
Peter and Emma made their boat ten minutes before the gang-plank was pulled in. A steward138 took Emma in charge, and carried off the bird-cage containing Satan. Emma, who had been silent during the drive to the pier25, opened her mouth now:
"Mist' Peter," said she, "ef yo' uncle 's wuth a million dollars, he ought to tun it over to you dis mawnin'. 'T ain't for me," said Emma, beginning to tremble, "to talk 'bout Mis' Champneys whut you done got married to. But I used to know Miss Maria. And dat 's how-come," finished Emma, irrelevantly139, "dat 's how-come I mighty140 glad we 's gwine to furrin folkses' countries, whichin I hopes to Gawd dey 's a mighty long way off fum dat gal141." And Peter's heart echoed Emma's sentiments so fully23 that he couldn't find it in him to reprove her for giving utterance142 to them.
With a sense of relief, he watched New York receding143 from his sight. Hadn't he paid too high a price, after all? Remembering his bride's eyes, pure terror assailed144 him. No woman had ever looked at Peter like that before. He tried to keep from feeling bitter toward his uncle. Well! He was in for it! He would make his work his bride, by way of compensation. For all that he was a bridegroom of an hour or so, and a seeker bound upon the quest of his heart's desire, Peter turned away from the steamer's railing with a very heavy heart.
A tall, fair-faced woman turned away from the railing at the same instant, and their eyes met. Hers were brightly, bravely blue, and they widened with astonishment145 at sight of Peter Champneys. She stared, and gasped. Peter stared, and gasped, too.
"Miss Claribel!" cried Peter.
"Mrs. Hemingway," she corrected, smiling. "It isn't—Yes, it is, too! Peter! Oh, that Red Admiral is a fairy!"
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
busted
|
|
| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
uneven
|
|
| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
crouched
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
sinuous
|
|
| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
steamship
|
|
| n.汽船，轮船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
colossal
|
|
| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
palling
|
|
| v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
bout
|
|
| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
astounding
|
|
| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
jutting
|
|
| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
befuddlement
|
|
| 迷惘，昏迷，失常 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
owl
|
|
| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
rhythmically
|
|
| adv.有节奏地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
wailing
|
|
| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
plaintive
|
|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
pier
|
|
| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
metropolitan
|
|
| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
provocative
|
|
| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
portray
|
|
| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
Ford
|
|
| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
wares
|
|
| n. 货物, 商品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
obstinacy
|
|
| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
hysterically
|
|
| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
wryly
|
|
| adv. 挖苦地，嘲弄地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
mused
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
strenuous
|
|
| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
vehemently
|
|
| adv. 热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
primroses
|
|
| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
coves
|
|
| n.小海湾( cove的名词复数 )；家伙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
mingling
|
|
| adj.混合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
pulsating
|
|
| adj.搏动的，脉冲的v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的现在分词 )；跳动；脉动；受（激情）震动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
winked
|
|
| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
throngs
|
|
| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
furtive
|
|
| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
hissed
|
|
| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
immaturity
|
|
| n.不成熟；未充分成长；未成熟；粗糙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
immature
|
|
| adj.未成熟的，发育未全的，未充分发展的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
nonchalance
|
|
| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
compassionately
|
|
| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
pretentious
|
|
| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
discoursed
|
|
| 演说（discourse的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
soda
|
|
| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
winced
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
squinting
|
|
| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
Neptune
|
|
| n.海王星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
tranquilly
|
|
| adv. 宁静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
memorandum
|
|
| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
accosted
|
|
| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
shuddered
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
myriads
|
|
| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
wastefully
|
|
| 浪费地，挥霍地，耗费地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
tormented
|
|
| 饱受折磨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
impended
|
|
| v.进行威胁，即将发生( impend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
demolished
|
|
| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
inefficient
|
|
| adj.效率低的，无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
turmoil
|
|
| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
commemorating
|
|
| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
deferential
|
|
| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
belongings
|
|
| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
chauffeur
|
|
| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
specks
|
|
| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
genially
|
|
| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
innate
|
|
| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
ushered
|
|
| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
panoplied
|
|
| adj.全套披甲的，装饰漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
101
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
bulged
|
|
| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
puffed
|
|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
accentuated
|
|
| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
rouged
|
|
| 胭脂，口红( rouge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
rouge
|
|
| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
freckles
|
|
| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
defiantly
|
|
| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
defiant
|
|
| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
wincing
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
complimentary
|
|
| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
detested
|
|
| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
entreaty
|
|
| n.恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
bland
|
|
| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
shimmering
|
|
| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
trampled
|
|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
salvage
|
|
| v.救助，营救，援救；n.救助，营救 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
belabor
|
|
| vt.痛斥；作过长说明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
cowering
|
|
| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
apparition
|
|
| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
doughty
|
|
| adj.勇猛的，坚强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
warrior
|
|
| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
quail
|
|
| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
plaintively
|
|
| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
grotesqueness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
137
wrung
|
|
| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
steward
|
|
| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
irrelevantly
|
|
| adv.不恰当地，不合适地；不相关地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
gal
|
|
| n.姑娘，少女 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
receding
|
|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
assailed
|
|
| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |