The Hun was ever a Hun, though he stormed through the Vale of Tempe or gazed upon Lombardic lakes, splendid under a cloudless sky. Worthy2 follower3 of some commercial Attila was Zeus Gildersedge, a being granite4 to all nobler truths, impervious5, irresponsive, unimpressionable, mute. Orpheus would have abandoned him in despair. A fabulist might have classed him with Lot’s wife petrified6 in the plain beyond Sodom.
Zeus Gildersedge, misanthrope7 and consumer of opium8, maintained a monasticism in his vices9 and kept the world at bay behind the red-brick wall that bounded his patrimony10. Imagine an antique, gabled house perched on a hill overlooking the sea, a house of quaint11 archaicness, warm of bosom12, opulent in roof and the glittering lozenges of its casements13, girdled with a belt of cypresses15 and yews16. The place had derived17 a profuse18 and negligent19 picturesqueness20 from its master’s avarice21. Roses bloom even for a miser22, and Zeus Gildersedge was content to suffer the magnanimity of nature. Ivy23 festooned the casements; wistaria panoplied24 the porch; roses, red and white, reared the banners of Junetide on the walls. The garden was a delectable26 wilderness27, a dusky pleasaunce smothered28 with flowering shrubs29 that claimed a lusty and superabundant liberty. From the garden green downs dipped southward to black cliffs and an opalescent31 sea. North, east, and west upland and wooded valley stretched dim and variable as a region of romance.
Gold, opium, tobacco, and claret—these were the genii who watched over Zeus Gildersedge’s autumn years. He was mean in a cosmopolitan33 sense, save in the satisfying of his especial sins. In his youth and prime he had been a brisk swashbuckler in the mercenary wars of commerce. He had lived between the boards of his ledger34, had married a wife, and begotten35 one child. He had buried the one and stood half in awe36 of the other. Now, at sixty, he lurked37 like a decapod in his solitary38 den25, and stretched out his lean, hungry tentacles39 to grip rentals40, dividends41, and the like into his mercenary maw. A hard, flint-eyed old ragamuffin, tough for all his wine-bibbing, with a soul of leather and a heart of clay, he was never seen abroad save when he trudged42 five miles down-hill in his green coat and greasy43 hat to deposit pelf44 in the bank at Rilchester or to collect the rentals of sundry45 squalid cottages he owned in that town. You might see him on a Monday morning standing46 at cottage doors and ciphering solemnly in a dirty, little, blue-leaved ledger. He never gave away a halfpenny. If he favored any one with a letter, he never stamped the envelope. As for charities, he looked on them as the sentimental47 hobbies of a fond and spendthrift public. There was no parson in Christendom who could have wheedled48 a donation out of him, pleaded he ever so plausibly49.
It would be but a reasonable inference that such a father should possess something peculiar50 in the way of a child, and Joan Gildersedge might have been apostrophized as the supremest possible contrast to her sire. Under the gray thatch51 of the one lurked much that was ignoble52 in the mind—avarice, an ignorant insolence53, a coarse and blasphemous54 infidelity. Zeus Gildersedge personified much that was brutally55 typical of a British Midas. His daughter, with a strong and innocent perversity56 of soul, might have given Shakespeare a Virgilia and to civilization a star that could have regenerated57 a decaying chivalry58.
The girl had received no education in the scholastic59 sense. She had escaped certain of the tawdry and superficial embellishments of civilization. From her meagre mine of literature—meagre numerically, but boasting intrinsic opulence—the girl had culled60 a strange medley61 of facts and sentiments. Shakespeare had unbosomed to her a god-man speaking to a precocious62 child. She had dreamed through The Faerie Queene and Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered. History had bulked largely in her calendar. She could have described to you the campaigns of Julian the Apostate63, the Pandects of Justinian, the life of Savonarola, done to death in Medicean Florence. She was innocently wise, yet supremely65 ignorant, nor had she ever entered a church. A pure pagan, religion had never created in her a false and penitential humility66, an erotic brooding upon the supposed shortcomings of her own nature. She was cheerfully positive, not a mawkish67 and emotional negation68 of sense. With the ingenious idealism of a child she estimated the world generously and boasted of no instinctive69 cynicism. Evil was a quality to be studied vaguely70 and dispassionately in books. No harm had touched her heart, nor had she learned to mistrust others. She had read of murder, adultery, theft, and the like. She supposed these things to exist, yet even intuition had not prompted her to project sin into the narrow and visible world that girded her youth.
Fortunately for Joan Gildersedge, she had arrived at no candid71 comprehension of her father’s character. He was the only old man experience had as yet apportioned72 to her, and she could claim no examples to contradict the habitual73 surliness of age. Zeus Gildersedge’s perpetual plaint was that of dire74 poverty, a protestation that his daughter had come to consider as inevitable75 as sunrise. True, he was morose76, shabby, hard, reticent77, and unlovely. Yet these very shortcomings had no air of strangeness for the girl. She had grown up under the shadow of avarice and ethical78 annihilation, and had come to consider such things among the natural phenomena79 of nature. She was neither particularly happy nor particularly miserable80. None of the common experiences of girlhood had been hers. She had known neither love nor sympathy, friendship nor pleasure, brimming life nor the lack of it. And yet in the May of her girlhood she evidenced the example of a soul evolving within itself, of an individuality bourgeoning spontaneously under the sun, a stately plant starting into purple and red amid ruins and solitude81. Unconscious of the inevitable law working in her own being, she followed her fashionless instincts, unknown of others, unknown even of herself.
Picture a low-ceilinged, mullion-windowed room, hung with faded red curtains, carpeted with gray drugget, embellished82 with sundry oil-paintings of dingy83 landscapes and impossible rusticities. Four high-backed oak chairs stood stiffly round the heavy mahogany table. A tattered84 rug thresholded the fireless grate. An escritoire stood against one wall, a melancholy85 bookcase against another. A cheap French clock on the mantel-piece chided the prodigal86 hours. On either side Romanesque warriors87 in bronze straddled impetuous chargers.
By a window, whose lozenged panes88 were swept by festoons of ivy, Zeus Gildersedge sat in a cane-backed arm-chair. An antique round table stood beside him, bearing a decanter of claret, a small phial of laudanum, a couple of glasses, a tobacco-jar, ink-pot, and quill89 pen. He was a short, spare man, clad in rusty90 gray, collarless, dishevelled, unkempt as to beard and poll. The slant91 light of the western sun seemed to impress a peculiar pallor upon his waxen face. There were numberless wrinkles about his gray eyes, with their minutely contracted pupils. His mouth ran a hard, tense, an?mic line under his large nose. Eyebrows92 and beard were bushy, leonine, barbaric. A lethargic93 arrogance94 appeared to possess the man, a mean, self-centred torpor95 that seemed in actual harmony with the atmosphere of the room.
Zeus Gildersedge was figuring lazily on the back of a dirty envelope, the cuffs96 of his gray shirt hanging unbuttoned over his bony wrists. A financial journal lay open on his knees. Now and again he would yawn soundlessly, and sip97 the glass that held the brown-red Lethe that he loved. As he scribbled98, his hands quivered slightly. Hunched99 in his chair he looked like some sinister100 troll concocting101 mischief102 over his cups.
On a sudden some subtle savor103 assailed104 his nostrils105, a steaming scent32 of sacrifice that caused Zeus Gildersedge to straighten alertly in his chair. He sniffed106 the air with his big, carnivorous nose. The paper, with an expostulatory murmur107, slipped from his knees to the floor.
“Onions, is it!”
A more vigorous investigation108 approved the villany.
“Damn that woman! She’s always cooking two vegetables, the glutton109!”
He rose and rang the bell, and stood listening to the solitary clangor that came echoing through the silent house. The sordid110 minuti? of his avaricious111 household were ever weighing on the man’s mind. Zeus Gildersedge could break his heart, or his apology for that organ, over the untimely disappearance112 of a pound of butter.
A stout113 wench answered the bell, a loosely ample person, with red cheeks, glossy114 jet hair, and scintillant115 brown eyes. Her hair was fringed about a sensual face; she wore a red-flannel blouse, a black skirt, and certain tawdry fripperies that denounced the donor116. She was Zeus Gildersedge’s only servant, and might indeed have been included with his opium and his claret as an especial luxury selfishly cherished for the sake of avarice.
“What d’yer want?”
There was a familiar and insolent117 frankness in the voice that seemed to imply that no very abundant respect was wasted between master and servant.
“What are you cooking onions for?”
“To eat, of course.”
“Pah! you cook enough for a tavern118. What’s the use of talking to you of economy. I’ll take it out of your wages.”
“No, you won’t,” said the woman by the doorway119, pouting120 out her lips. “I’m not here to starve.”
Zeus Gildersedge turned his back on her.
“Bring in supper,” he snarled121.
“You’re crusty to-night, master.”
“Don’t answer me, woman. Bring in supper.”
“Miss Joan ain’t in.”
“Bring in supper.”
“Taters and sheeps’ ribs122. I hope that’ll suit. Wouldn’t ruin a pauper123. Have any cheese?”
“Bread’s enough for a Christian124.”
“It’s stale; but you’ll eat less. Ain’t we economic!”
Zeus Gildersedge returned to his chair and his paper, muttering under his breath. He had not been seated five minutes when a young girl entered the room, an old sun-hat trimmed with red roses in one hand, a basket of primroses125 in the other. She set the basket on the table and seated herself down in a window-seat with the air of one who has learned the wisdom of self-repression in her intercourse126 with her father. Joan Gildersedge could read the man’s humor as fairly as she could decipher the face of the sky. His prevailing127 mood in her presence was gray, northerly, and cheerless. She knew that it was useless to approach him when the cloud of avaricious calculation hung low over his brain.
Considered feature by feature, Joan Gildersedge escaped the vulgar charge of being declared pretty. Considered as an individual creation, as a woman, she possessed128 a charm that was inevitable and unique. She had great, gray eyes, a large chin, a clear, satiny complexion129, and delicate coloring. Her hair was abundant, glossed130 with a golden tinge131, drawn132 back loosely and knotted low upon her neck. Her neck, indeed, was the most lovely portion of her figure—long, graceful133, with a perfect sweep from her shoulders, smooth, stately as a gracious tower. She had long limbs, a big yet somewhat bony frame, a bosom girlish and hollowed under the shoulders. There was a rich and generous amplitude134 about her face and figure that made her appear womanly beyond her years.
Zeus Gildersedge thrust the envelope on which he had been scribbling135 into his breast coat-pocket. He turned and looked at the girl over his shoulder with a blank apathy136 that was scarcely parental137. Joan Gildersedge had always been an inexplicable138 phenomenon to her father. Strangely enough, he stood in certain awe of her, having conceived against his will a species of wintry respect for the strong and mysterious magic of her youth. Her simple serenity139 baffled his Philistian prejudices. Her very obedience140 seemed the calm wisdom of one who humors the moods of a comrade deserving more of pity than contempt. Probably Zeus Gildersedge guessed shrewdly in his heart that he had begotten a being whose star dwarfed141 his petty, trafficking, miserable world. The girl’s soulful superiority often angered Zeus Gildersedge, exaggerating his rough and rugged142 mannerisms towards his child.
“You’re late,” was his salutation.
For answer she lifted her basket of golden blooms, like a child who offers an oblation143 to some god.
“But I have gathered all these flowers.”
Zeus Gildersedge sniffed and rustled144 the pages of his paper. Nothing was beautiful to him that did not proffer145 profitable barter146.
“Can’t feed on primroses. You’ve got a new dress on—eh?”
“Not very new, father.”
“The more reason you should be careful. My bills for finery are big enough in the year. I can do with a suit of clothes for three years; a woman grumbles147 if she has only three dresses in twelve months. Superlative vanity. Pity we are not born with fur.”
The girl laughed, a laugh devoid148 of malice149 or of self-justification. She took the flowers from her basket and began to bind150 them into posies, her large hands looking very white in the light of the sun. She was unvexed by such economical tirades151, having grown as accustomed to her father’s grumblings as to the growling152 of the sea.
“You ought to be grateful for having only one daughter,” she said, “since I am such a burden.”
“I am,” retorted the man, surlily, burying his face behind the pages of finance.
Supper was laid on the heavy mahogany table by the woman Rebecca. Zeus Gildersedge drew his cane-backed chair before the steaming dish of stew153. He ate meagrely himself, but watched his daughter’s plate with a species of perpetual dissatisfaction. Her healthy appetite irritated his more ascetic154 instincts. It even grieved him to see the last crust filched155 from the trencher.
It had grown dusk by the time the table had been cleared, and Rebecca, lighting156 a single candle, set it on Zeus Gildersedge’s table by the window. She was bidden to close the casement14 lest the draught157 should waste the wax. The girl Joan was hovering158 between the bookcase and the door. Her restless vacillation159 brought a characteristic rebuke160 from the man by the table.
“Sit down, sit down.”
The girl caught up her hat.
“I’m for the garden.”
“Get out, then, and don’t fuss. What the devil are you going to do out there in the dark?”
Joan Gildersedge was kneeling on the window-seat, peering up through the casement, the candle-light glimmering161 on the gold in her hair.
“The sky streams stars,” she said.
“Damn the stars!”
“They are splendid.”
“The sun’s a useful fellow; the stars, idle devils, a pack of loafers debauching round the moon. They don’t ripen162 the crops or fruit. Talk common-sense.”
“The moon’s better than candle-light, father.”
“Rot! you can’t tote up figures by moonlight.”
Joan Gildersedge abandoned the philosopher to his ledger and took refuge amid the yew-trees, sombre under the stars. The trees seemed to whisper to her cheering natural lore64, a calm optimism that baffled care. Before her stretched an unkempt, dusky lawn, rank grass running riot to the very curb163 of a low, red-brick wall. Beyond, the dark swell164 of a hill leaped southward to the cliffs, and below shone the subastral silver of the sea.
The girl leaned against a great pine whose boughs165 arabesqued the sky. A quiet breeze came, sighed, and played about her face. She stood there motionless in the half-gloom, her hands hanging listless, her eyes glimmering under the dusky coronal that swept her forehead. The solitude seemed to symbolize166 the solemn calm of the Universal Spirit, a soundless sympathy that enveloped167 the world.
The stars, the sea, the night breeze, and a woman’s soul! Eternal tones evolving harmony from chaotic168 discords169! Avarice, brutality170, unlovely ignorance, and lust30! Joan Gildersedge was Joan Gildersedge despite these excrescences of a debased progenitor171. They touched her no more than clay can scratch a diamond. Though they enveloped her external being, they could not transform her soul. She lived within herself, conscious, spontaneous, inevitable. Her desires were spreading in prophetic dreams over a more magnanimous horizon. She was a gem172 hid in a casket, waiting for the lifting of the lid that she might shine.
Behind the casement the candle had completed its limitation of liberty. A hand rattled173 on the window-frame. Zeus Gildersedge’s nightly luxury had flickered174 to its socket175, measured by two inches of wax nicked off neatly176 with an avaricious thumb-nail. His daughter, obeying the tyranny of greed, went slowly from under the starlight to bed.
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1
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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3
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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6
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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7
misanthrope
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| n.恨人类的人；厌世者 | |
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8
opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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9
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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patrimony
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| n.世袭财产，继承物 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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12
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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13
casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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14
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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15
cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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16
yews
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| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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17
derived
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| 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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18
profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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19
negligent
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| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
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picturesqueness
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avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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22
miser
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| n.守财奴，吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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panoplied
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| adj.全套披甲的，装饰漂亮的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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28
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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29
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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opalescent
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| adj.乳色的，乳白的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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33
cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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38
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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39
tentacles
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| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
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40
rentals
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| n.租费，租金额( rental的名词复数 ) | |
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41
dividends
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| 红利( dividend的名词复数 )； 股息； 被除数； （足球彩票的）彩金 | |
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42
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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43
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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pelf
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| n.金钱；财物（轻蔑语） | |
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45
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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46
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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47
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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48
wheedled
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
plausibly
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| 似真地 | |
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50
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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51
thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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52
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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53
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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54
blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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55
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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56
perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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57
regenerated
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| v.新生，再生( regenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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59
scholastic
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| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
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60
culled
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| v.挑选，剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
medley
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| n.混合 | |
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62
precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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63
apostate
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| n.背叛者，变节者 | |
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64
lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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65
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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66
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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67
mawkish
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| adj.多愁善感的的；无味的 | |
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68
negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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69
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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70
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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71
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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72
apportioned
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| vt.分摊，分配（apportion的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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73
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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74
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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75
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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76
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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77
reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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78
ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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79
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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80
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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81
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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82
embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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83
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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84
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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85
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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86
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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87
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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88
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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89
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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90
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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91
slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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92
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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93
lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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94
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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95
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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96
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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97
sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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98
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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99
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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100
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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101
concocting
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的现在分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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102
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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103
savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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104
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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105
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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106
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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107
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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108
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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109
glutton
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| n.贪食者，好食者 | |
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110
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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111
avaricious
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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112
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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114
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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115
scintillant
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| adj.产生火花的，闪烁（耀）的 | |
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116
donor
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| n.捐献者；赠送人；(组织、器官等的)供体 | |
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117
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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118
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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119
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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120
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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121
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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122
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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123
pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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124
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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125
primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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126
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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127
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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128
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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129
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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130
glossed
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| v.注解( gloss的过去式和过去分词 )；掩饰（错误）；粉饰；把…搪塞过去 | |
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131
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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132
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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133
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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134
amplitude
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| n.广大；充足；振幅 | |
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135
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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136
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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137
parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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138
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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139
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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140
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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141
dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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142
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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143
oblation
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| n.圣餐式；祭品 | |
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144
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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145
proffer
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| v.献出，赠送；n.提议，建议 | |
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146
barter
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| n.物物交换，以货易货，实物交易 | |
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147
grumbles
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| 抱怨( grumble的第三人称单数 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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148
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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149
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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150
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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151
tirades
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| 激烈的长篇指责或演说( tirade的名词复数 ) | |
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152
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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153
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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154
ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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155
filched
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| v.偷（尤指小的或不贵重的物品）( filch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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156
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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157
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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158
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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159
vacillation
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| n.动摇；忧柔寡断 | |
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160
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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161
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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162
ripen
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| vt.使成熟；vi.成熟 | |
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163
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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164
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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165
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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166
symbolize
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| vt.作为...的象征，用符号代表 | |
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167
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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168
chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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169
discords
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| 不和（discord的复数形式） | |
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170
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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171
progenitor
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| n.祖先，先驱 | |
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172
gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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173
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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174
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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175
socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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176
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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