“Who the deuce can that be?” he mused3 aloud, in querulous resentment4 at the interruption.
“Put your head out of the window, and ask,” suggested his wife, drowsily5.
The bell-pull scraped violently in its socket6, and a third outburst of shrill7 reverberations clamored through the silent house.
“Whatever you do, I'd do it before he yanked the whole thing to pieces,” added the wife, with more decision.
Brother Soulsby was wide awake now. He sprang to the floor, and, groping about in the obscurity, began drawing on some of his clothes. He rapped on the window during the process, to show that the house was astir, and a minute afterward8 made his way out of the room and down the stairs, the boards creaking under his stockinged feet as he went.
Nearly a quarter of an hour passed before he returned. Sister Soulsby, lying in sleepy quiescence9, heard vague sounds of voices at the front door, and did not feel interested enough to lift her head and listen. A noise of footsteps on the sidewalk followed, first receding10 from the door, then turning toward it, this second time marking the presence of more than one person. There seemed in this the implication of a guest, and she shook off the dozing11 impulses which enveloped12 her faculties13, and waited to hear more. There came up, after further muttering of male voices, the undeniable chink of coins striking against one another. Then more footsteps, the resonant14 slam of a carriage door out in the street, the grinding of wheels turning on the frosty road, and the racket of a vehicle and horses going off at a smart pace into the night. Somebody had come, then. She yawned at the thought, but remained well awake, tracing idly in her mind, as various slight sounds rose from the lower floor, the different things Soulsby was probably doing. Their spare room was down there, directly underneath15, but curiously16 enough no one seemed to enter it. The faint murmur17 of conversation which from time to time reached her came from the parlor18 instead. At last she heard her husband's soft tread coming up the staircase, and still there had been no hint of employing the guest-chamber. What could he be about? she wondered.
Brother Soulsby came in, bearing a small lamp in his hand, the reddish light of which, flaring19 upward, revealed an unlooked-for display of amusement on his thin, beardless face. He advanced to the bedside, shading the glare from her blinking eyes with his palm, and grinned.
“A thousand guesses, old lady,” he said, with a dry chuckle21, “and you wouldn't have a ghost of a chance. You might guess till Hades froze over seven feet thick, and still you wouldn't hit it.”
She sat up in turn. “Good gracious, man,” she began, “you don't mean—” Here the cheerful gleam in his small eyes reassured22 her, and she sighed relief, then smiled confusedly. “I half thought, just for the minute,” she explained, “it might be some bounder who'd come East to try and blackmail23 me. But no, who is it—and what on earth have you done with him?”
Brother Soulsby cackled in merriment. “It's Brother Ware24 of Octavius, out on a little bat, all by himself. He says he's been on the loose only two days; but it looks more like a fortnight.”
“OUR Brother Ware?” she regarded him with open-eyed surprise.
“Well, yes, I suppose he's OUR Brother Ware—some,” returned Soulsby, genially25. “He seems to think so, anyway.”
“But tell me about it!” she urged eagerly. “What's the matter with him? How does he explain it?”
“Well, he explains it pretty badly, if you ask me,” said Soulsby, with a droll26, joking eye and a mock-serious voice. He seated himself on the side of the bed, facing her, and still considerately shielding her from the light of the lamp he held. “But don't think I suggested any explanations. I've been a mother myself. He's merely filled himself up to the neck with rum, in the simple, ordinary, good old-fashioned way. That's all. What is there to explain about that?”
She looked meditatively27 at him for a time, shaking her head. “No, Soulsby,” she said gravely, at last. “This isn't any laughing matter. You may be sure something bad has happened, to set him off like that. I'm going to get up and dress right now. What time is it?”
“Now don't you do anything of the sort,” he urged persuasively28. “It isn't five o'clock; it'll be dark for nearly an hour yet. Just you turn over, and have another nap. He's all right. I put him on the sofa, with the buffalo29 robe round him. You'll find him there, safe and sound, when it's time for white folks to get up. You know how it breaks you up all day, not to get your full sleep.”
“I don't care if it makes me look as old as the everlasting30 hills,” she said. “Can't you understand, Soulsby? The thing worries me—gets on my nerves. I couldn't close an eye, if I tried. I took a great fancy to that young man. I told you so at the time.”
Soulsby nodded, and turned down the wick of his lamp a trifle. “Yes, I know you did,” he remarked in placidly31 non-contentious tones. “I can't say I saw much in him myself, but I daresay you're right.” There followed a moment's silence, during which he experimented in turning the wick up again. “But, anyway,” he went on, “there isn't anything you can do. He'll sleep it off, and the longer he's left alone the better. It isn't as if we had a hired girl, who'd come down and find him there, and give the whole thing away. He's fixed32 up there perfectly33 comfortable; and when he's had his sleep out, and wakes up on his own account, he'll be feeling a heap better.”
The argument might have carried conviction, but on the instant the sound of footsteps came to them from the room below. The subdued34 noise rose regularly, as of one pacing to and fro.
“No, Soulsby, YOU come back to bed, and get YOUR sleep out. I'm going downstairs. It's no good talking; I'm going.”
Brother Soulsby offered no further opposition35, either by talk or demeanor36, but returned contentedly37 to bed, pulling the comforter over his ears, and falling into the slow, measured respiration38 of tranquil39 slumber40 before his wife was ready to leave the room.
The dim, cold gray of twilight41 was sifting42 furtively43 through the lace curtains of the front windows when Mrs. Soulsby, lamp in hand, entered the parlor. She confronted a figure she would have hardly recognized. The man seemed to have been submerged in a bath of disgrace. From the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, everything about him was altered, distorted, smeared44 with an intangible effect of shame. In the vague gloom of the middle distance, between lamp and window, she noticed that his shoulders were crouched46, like those of some shambling tramp. The frowsy shadows of a stubble beard lay on his jaw47 and throat. His clothes were crumpled48 and hung awry49; his boots were stained with mud. The silk hat on the piano told its battered50 story with dumb eloquence51.
Lifting the lamp, she moved forward a step, and threw its light upon his face. A little groan52 sounded involuntarily upon her lips. Out of a mask of unpleasant features, swollen53 with drink and weighted by the physical craving54 for rest and sleep, there stared at her two bloodshot eyes, shining with the wild light of hysteria. The effect of dishevelled hair, relaxed muscles, and rough, half-bearded lower face lent to these eyes, as she caught their first glance, an unnatural55 glare. The lamp shook in her hand for an instant. Then, ashamed of herself, she held out her other hand fearlessly to him.
“Tell me all about it, Theron,” she said calmly, and with a soothing56, motherly intonation57 in her voice.
He did not take the hand she offered, but suddenly, with a wailing58 moan, cast himself on his knees at her feet. He was so tall a man that the movement could have no grace. He abased59 his head awkwardly, to bury it among the folds of the skirts at her ankles. She stood still for a moment, looking down upon him. Then, blowing out the light, she reached over and set the smoking lamp on the piano near by. The daylight made things distinguishable in a wan60, uncertain way, throughout the room.
“I have come out of hell, for the sake of hearing some human being speak to me like that!”
The thick utterance61 proceeded in a muffled62 fashion from where his face grovelled63 against her dress. Its despairing accents appealed to her, but even more was she touched by the ungainly figure he made, sprawling64 on the carpet.
“Well, since you are out, stay out,” she answered, as reassuringly65 as she could. “But get up and take a seat here beside me, like a sensible man, and tell me all about it. Come! I insist!”
In obedience66 to her tone, and the sharp tug67 at his shoulder with which she emphasized it, he got slowly to his feet, and listlessly seated himself on the sofa to which she pointed68. He hung his head, and began catching69 his breath with a periodical gasp70, half hiccough, half sob71.
“First of all,” she said, in her brisk, matter-of-fact manner, “don't you want to lie down there again, and have me tuck you up snug72 with the buffalo robe, and go to sleep? That would be the best thing you could do.”
He shook his head disconsolately73, from side to side. “I can't!” he groaned74, with a swifter recurrence75 of the sob-like convulsions. “I'm dying for sleep, but I'm too—too frightened!”
“Come, I'll sit beside you till you drop off,” she said, with masterful decision. He suffered himself to be pushed into recumbency on the couch, and put his head with docility76 on the pillow she brought from the spare room. When she had spread the fur over him, and pushed her chair close to the sofa, she stood by it for a little, looking down in meditation77 at his demoralized face. Under the painful surface-blur of wretchedness and fatigued78 debauchery, she traced reflectively the lineaments of the younger and cleanlier countenance79 she had seen a few months before. Nothing essential had been taken away. There was only this pestiferous overlaying of shame and cowardice80 to be removed. The face underneath was still all right.
With a soft, maternal81 touch, she smoothed the hair from his forehead into order. Then she seated herself, and, when he got his hand out from under the robe and thrust it forth82 timidly, she took it in hers and held it in a warm, sympathetic grasp. He closed his eyes at this, and gradually the paroxysmal catch in his breathing lapsed83. The daylight strengthened, until at last tiny flecks84 of sunshine twinkled in the meshes85 of the further curtains at the window. She fancied him asleep, and gently sought to disengage her hand, but his fingers clutched at it with vehemence86, and his eyes were wide open.
“I can't sleep at all,” he murmured. “I want to talk.”
“There 's nothing in the world to hinder you,” she commented smilingly.
“I tell you the solemn truth,” he said, lifting his voice in dogged assertion: “the best sermon I ever preached in my life, I preached only three weeks ago, at the camp-meeting. It was admitted by everybody to be far and away my finest effort! They will tell you the same!”
“It's quite likely,” assented87 Sister Soulsby. “I quite believe it.”
“Then how can anybody say that I've degenerated88, that I've become a fool?” he demanded.
“I haven't heard anybody hint at such a thing,” she answered quietly.
“No, of course, YOU haven't heard them!” he cried. “I heard them, though!” Then, forcing himself to a sitting posture89, against the restraint of her hand, he flung back the covering. “I'm burning hot already! Yes, those were the identical words: I haven't improved; I've degenerated. People hate me; they won't have me in their houses. They say I'm a nuisance and a bore. I'm like a little nasty boy. That's what they say. Even a young man who was dying—lying right on the edge of his open grave—told me solemnly that I reminded him of a saint once, but I was only fit for a barkeeper now. They say I really don't know anything at all. And I'm not only a fool, they say, I'm a dishonest fool into the bargain!”
“But who says such twaddle as that?” she returned consolingly. The violence of his emotion disturbed her. “You mustn't imagine such things. You are among friends here. Other people are your friends, too. They have the very highest opinion of you.”
“I haven't a friend on earth but you!” he declared solemnly. His eyes glowed fiercely, and his voice sank into a grave intensity90 of tone. “I was going to kill myself. I went on to the big bridge to throw myself off, and a policeman saw me trying to climb over the railing, and he grabbed me and marched me away. Then he threw me out at the entrance, and said he would club my head off if I came there again. And then I went and stood and let the cable-cars pass close by me, and twenty times I thought I had the nerve to throw myself under the next one, and then I waited for the next—and I was afraid! And then I was in a crowd somewhere, and the warning came to me that I was going to die. The fool needn't go kill himself: God would take care of that. It was my heart, you know. I've had that terrible fluttering once before. It seized me this time, and I fell down in the crowd, and some people walked over me, but some one else helped me up, and let me sit down in a big lighted hallway, the entrance to some theatre, and some one brought me some brandy, but somebody else said I was drunk, and they took it away again, and put me out. They could see I was a fool, that I hadn't a friend on earth. And when I went out, there was a big picture of a woman in tights, and the word 'Amazons' overhead—and then I remembered you. I knew you were my friend—the only one I have on earth.”
“It is very flattering—to be remembered like that,” said Sister Soulsby, gently. The disposition91 to laugh was smothered92 by a pained perception of the suffering he was undergoing. His face had grown drawn93 and haggard under the burden of his memories as he rambled94 on.
“So I came straight to you,” he began again. “I had just money enough left to pay my fare. The rest is in my valise at the hotel—the Murray Hill Hotel. It belongs to the church. I stole it from the church. When I am dead they can get it back again!”
Sister Soulsby forced a smile to her lips. “What nonsense you talk—about dying!” she exclaimed. “Why, man alive, you'll sleep this all off like a top, if you'll only lie down and give yourself a chance. Come, now, you must do as you're told.”
With a resolute95 hand, she made him lie down again, and once more covered him with the fur. He submitted, and did not even offer to put out his arm this time, but looked in piteous dumbness at her for a long time. While she sat thus in silence, the sound of Brother Soulsby moving about upstairs became audible.
Theron heard it, and the importance of hurrying on some further disclosure seemed to suggest itself. “I can see you think I'm just drunk,” he said, in low, sombre tones. “Of course that's what HE thought. The hackman thought so, and so did the conductor, and everybody. But I hoped you would know better. I was sure you would see that it was something worse than that. See here, I'll tell you. Then you'll understand. I've been drinking for two days and one whole night, on my feet all the while, wandering alone in that big strange New York, going through places where they murdered men for ten cents, mixing myself up with the worst people in low bar-rooms and dance-houses, and they saw I had money in my pocket, too, and yet nobody touched me, or offered to lay a finger on me. Do you know why? They understood that I wanted to get drunk, and couldn't. The Indians won't harm an idiot, or lunatic, you know. Well, it was the same with these vilest97 of the vile96. They saw that I was a fool whom God had taken hold of, to break his heart first, and then to craze his brain, and then to fling him on a dunghill to die like a dog. They believe in God, those people. They're the only ones who do, it seems to me. And they wouldn't interfere98 when they saw what He was doing to me. But I tell you I wasn't drunk. I haven't been drunk. I'm only heart-broken, and crushed out of shape and life—that's all. And I've crawled here just to have a friend by me when—when I come to the end.”
“You're not talking very sensibly, or very bravely either, Theron Ware,” remarked his companion. “It's cowardly to give way to notions like that.”
“Oh, I 'm not afraid to die; don't think that,” he remonstrated99 wearily. “If there is a Judgment100, it has hit me as hard as it can already. There can't be any hell worse than that I've gone through. Here I am talking about hell,” he continued, with a pained contraction101 of the muscles about his mouth—a stillborn, malformed smile—“as if I believed in one! I've got way through all my beliefs, you know. I tell you that frankly102.”
“It's none of my business,” she reassured him. “I'm not your Bishop103, or your confessor. I'm just your friend, your pal20, that's all.”
“Look here!” he broke in, with some animation104 and a new intensity of glance and voice. “If I was going to live, I'd have some funny things to tell. Six months ago I was a good man. I not only seemed to be good, to others and to myself, but I was good. I had a soul; I had a conscience. I was going along doing my duty, and I was happy in it. We were poor, Alice and I, and people behaved rather hard toward us, and sometimes we were a little down in the mouth about it; but that was all. We really were happy; and I—I really was a good man. Here's the kind of joke God plays! You see me here six months after. Look at me! I haven't got an honest hair in my head. I'm a bad man through and through, that's what I am. I look all around at myself, and there isn't an atom left anywhere of the good man I used to be. And, mind you, I never lifted a finger to prevent the change. I didn't resist once; I didn't make any fight. I just walked deliberately105 down-hill, with my eyes wide open. I told myself all the while that I was climbing uphill instead, but I knew in my heart that it was a lie. Everything about me was a lie. I wouldn't be telling the truth, even now, if—if I hadn't come to the end of my rope. Now, how do you explain that? How can it be explained? Was I really rotten to the core all the time, years ago, when I seemed to everybody, myself and the rest, to be good and straight and sincere? Was it all a sham45, or does God take a good man and turn him into an out-and-out bad one, in just a few months—in the time that it takes an ear of corn to form and ripen106 and go off with the mildew107? Or isn't there any God at all—but only men who live and die like animals? And that would explain my case, wouldn't it? I got bitten and went vicious and crazy, and they've had to chase me out and hunt me to my death like a mad dog! Yes, that makes it all very simple. It isn't worth while to discuss me at all as if I had a soul, is it? I'm just one more mongrel cur that's gone mad, and must be put out of the way. That's all.”
“See here,” said Sister Soulsby, alertly, “I half believe that a good cuffing108 is what you really stand in need of. Now you stop all this nonsense, and lie quiet and keep still! Do you hear me?”
The jocose109 sternness which she assumed, in words and manner, seemed to soothe110 him. He almost smiled up at her in a melancholy111 way, and sighed profoundly.
“I've told you MY religion before,” she went on with gentleness. “The sheep and the goats are to be separated on Judgment Day, but not a minute sooner. In other words, as long as human life lasts, good, bad, and indifferent are all braided up together in every man's nature, and every woman's too. You weren't altogether good a year ago, any more than you're altogether bad now. You were some of both then; you're some of both now. If you've been making an extra sort of fool of yourself lately, why, now that you recognize it, the only thing to do is to slow steam, pull up, and back engine in the other direction. In that way you'll find things will even themselves up. It's a see-saw with all of us, Theron Ware—sometimes up; sometimes down. But nobody is rotten clear to the core.”
He closed his eyes, and lay in silence for a time.
“This is what day of the week?” he asked, at last.
“Friday, the nineteenth.”
“Wednesday—that would be the seventeenth. That was the day ordained112 for my slaughter113. On that morning, I was the happiest man in the world. No king could have been so proud and confident as I was. A wonderful romance had come to me. The most beautiful young woman in the world, the most talented too, was waiting for me. An express train was carrying me to her, and it couldn't go fast enough to keep up with my eagerness. She was very rich, and she loved me, and we were to live in eternal summer, wherever we liked, on a big, beautiful yacht. No one else had such a life before him as that. It seemed almost too good for me, but I thought I had grown and developed so much that perhaps I would be worthy114 of it. Oh, how happy I was! I tell you this because—because YOU are not like the others. You will understand.”
“Yes, I understand,” she said patiently. “Well—you were being so happy.”
“That was in the morning—Wednesday the seventeenth—early in the morning. There was a little girl in the car, playing with some buttons, and when I tried to make friends with her, she looked at me, and she saw, right at a glance, that I was a fool. 'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings,' you know. She was the first to find it out. It began like that, early in the morning. But then after that everybody knew it. They had only to look at me and they said: 'Why, this is a fool—like a little nasty boy; we won't let him into our houses; we find him a bore.' That is what they said.”
“Did SHE say it?” Sister Soulsby permitted herself to ask.
For answer Theron bit his lips, and drew his chin under the fur, and pushed his scowling115 face into the pillow. The spasmodic, sob-like gasps116 began to shake him again. She laid a compassionate117 hand upon his hot brow.
“That is why I made my way here to you,” he groaned piteously. “I knew you would sympathize; I could tell it all to you. And it was so awful, to die there alone in the strange city—I couldn't do it—with nobody near me who liked me, or thought well of me. Alice would hate me. There was no one but you. I wanted to be with you—at the last.”
His quavering voice broke off in a gust118 of weeping, and his face frankly surrendered itself to the distortions of a crying child's countenance, wide-mouthed and tragically119 grotesque120 in its abandonment of control.
Sister Soulsby, as her husband's boots were heard descending121 the stairs, rose, and drew the robe up to half cover his agonized122 visage. She patted the sufferer softly on the head, and then went to the stair-door.
“I think he'll go to sleep now,” she said, lifting her voice to the new-comer, and with a backward nod toward the couch. “Come out into the kitchen while I get breakfast, or into the sitting-room123, or somewhere, so as not to disturb him. He's promised me to lie perfectly quiet, and try to sleep.”
When they had passed together out of the room, she turned. “Soulsby,” she said with half-playful asperity124, “I'm disappointed in you. For a man who's knocked about as much as you have, I must say you've picked up an astonishingly small outfit125 of gumption126. That poor creature in there is no more drunk than I am. He's been drinking—yes, drinking like a fish; but it wasn't able to make him drunk. He's past being drunk; he's grief-crazy. It's a case of 'woman.' Some girl has made a fool of him, and decoyed him up in a balloon, and let him drop. He's been hurt bad, too.”
“We have all been hurt in our day and generation,” responded Brother Soulsby, genially. “Don't you worry; he'll sleep that off too. It takes longer than drink, and it doesn't begin to be so pleasant, but it can be slept off. Take my word for it, he'll be a different man by noon.”
When noon came, however, Brother Soulsby was on his way to summon one of the village doctors. Toward nightfall, he went out again to telegraph for Alice.
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1
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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quiescence
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receding
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| 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 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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resonant
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| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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reassured
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blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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meditatively
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persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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placidly
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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35
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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36
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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37
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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38
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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41
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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42
sifting
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| n.筛，过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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43
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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44
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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45
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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46
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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48
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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49
awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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50
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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51
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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52
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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53
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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54
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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55
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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56
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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57
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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58
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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59
abased
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| 使谦卑( abase的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到羞耻； 使降低（地位、身份等）； 降下 | |
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60
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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61
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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62
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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63
grovelled
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| v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的过去式和过去分词 )；趴 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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65
reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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66
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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67
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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69
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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70
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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71
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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72
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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74
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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75
recurrence
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| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
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76
docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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78
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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79
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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80
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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81
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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82
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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83
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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84
flecks
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| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
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85
meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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86
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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87
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
degenerated
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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91
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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92
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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93
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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94
rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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95
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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96
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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97
vilest
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| adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
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98
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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99
remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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100
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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101
contraction
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| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
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102
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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103
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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104
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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105
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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106
ripen
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| vt.使成熟；vi.成熟 | |
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107
mildew
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| n.发霉；v.（使）发霉 | |
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108
cuffing
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的现在分词 )；袖口状白血球聚集 | |
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109
jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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110
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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111
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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112
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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113
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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114
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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115
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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116
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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117
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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118
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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119
tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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120
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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121
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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122
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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123
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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124
asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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125
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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126
gumption
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| n.才干 | |
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