In giving the details of her history, I do not know that I need go back beyond her grandfather and grandmother, who were thoroughly4 respectable people in the hardware line; I speak of those relatives by the father's side. Her own parents had risen in the world,—had risen from retail5 to wholesale6, and considered themselves for a long period of years to be good representatives of the commercial energy and prosperity of Great Britain. But a fall had come upon them,—as a fall does come very often to our excellent commercial representatives—and Mr. Johnson was in the "Gazette." It would be long to tell how old Sir Joseph Mason was concerned in these affairs, how he acted as the principal assignee, and how ultimately he took to his bosom8 as his portion of the assets of the estate, young Mary Johnson, and made her his wife and mistress of Orley Farm. Of the family of the Johnsons there were but three others, the father, the mother, and a brother. The father did not survive the disgrace of his bankruptcy9, and the mother in process of time settled herself with her son in one of the Lancashire manufacturing towns, where John Johnson raised his head in business to some moderate altitude, Sir Joseph having afforded much valuable assistance. There for the present we will leave them.
I do not think that Sir Joseph ever repented10 of the perilous11 deed he did in marrying that young wife. His home for many years had been desolate12 and solitary13; his children had gone from him, and did not come to visit him very frequently in his poor home at the farm. They had become grander people than him, had been gifted with aspiring14 minds, and in every turn and twist which they took, looked to do something towards washing themselves clean from the dirt of the counting-house. This was specially15 the case with Sir Joseph's son, to whom the father had made over lands and money sufficient to enable him to come before the world as a country gentleman with a coat of arms on his coach-panel. It would be inconvenient16 for us to run off to Groby Park at the present moment, and I will therefore say no more just now as to Joseph junior, but will explain that Joseph senior was not made angry by this neglect. He was a grave, quiet, rational man, not however devoid17 of some folly18; as indeed what rational man is so devoid? He was burdened with an ambition to establish a family as the result of his success in life; and having put forth3 his son into the world with these views, was content that that son should act upon them persistently19. Joseph Mason, Esq., of Groby Park, in Yorkshire, was now a county magistrate20, and had made some way towards a footing in the county society around him. With these hopes, and ambition such as this, it was probably not expedient21 that he should spend much of his time at Orley Farm. The three daughters were circumstanced much in the same way: they had all married gentlemen, and were bent22 on rising in the world; moreover, the steadfast23 resolution of purpose which characterised their father was known by them all,—and by their husbands: they had received their fortunes, with some settled contingencies24 to be forthcoming on their father's demise25; why, then, trouble the old gentleman at Orley Farm?
Under such circumstances the old gentleman married his young wife,—to the great disgust of his four children. They of course declared to each other, corresponding among themselves by letter, that the old gentleman had positively26 disgraced himself. It was impossible that they should make any visits whatever to Orley Farm while such a mistress of the house was there;—and the daughters did make no such visits. Joseph, the son, whose monetary27 connection with his father was as yet by no means fixed and settled in its nature, did make one such visit, and then received his father's assurance—so at least he afterwards said and swore—that this marriage should by no means interfere28 with the expected inheritance of the Orley Farm acres. But at that time no young son had been born,—nor, probably, was any such young son expected.
The farm-house became a much brighter abode29 for the old man, for the few years which were left to him, after he had brought his young wife home. She was quiet, sensible, clever, and unremitting in her attention. She burthened him with no requests for gay society, and took his home as she found it, making the best of it for herself, and making it for him much better than he had ever hitherto known it. His own children had always looked down upon him, regarding him merely as a coffer from whence money might be had; and he, though he had never resented this contempt, had in a certain measure been aware of it. But there was no such feeling shown by his wife. She took the benefits which he gave her graciously and thankfully, and gave back to him in return, certainly her care and time, and apparently30 her love. For herself, in the way of wealth and money, she never asked for anything.
And then the baby had come, young Lucius Mason, and there was of course great joy at Orley Farm. The old father felt that the world had begun again for him, very delightfully31, and was more than ever satisfied with his wisdom in regard to that marriage. But the very genteel progeny32 of his early youth were more than ever dissatisfied, and in their letters among themselves dealt forth harder and still harder words upon poor Sir Joseph. What terrible things might he not be expected to do now that his dotage33 was coming on? Those three married ladies had no selfish fears—so at least they declared, but they united in imploring34 their brother to look after his interests at Orley Farm. How dreadfully would the young heir of Groby be curtailed35 in his dignities and seignories if it should be found at the last day that Orley Farm was not to be written in his rent-roll!
And then, while they were yet bethinking themselves how they might best bestir themselves, news arrived that Sir Joseph had suddenly died. Sir Joseph was dead, and the will when read contained a codicil36 by which that young brat37 was made the heir to the Orley Farm estate. I have said that Lady Mason during her married life had never asked of her husband anything for herself; but in the law proceedings38 which were consequent upon Sir Joseph's death, it became abundantly evident that she had asked him for much for her son,—and that she had been specific in her requests, urging him to make a second heir, and to settle Orley Farm upon her own boy, Lucius. She herself stated that she had never done this except in the presence of a third person. She had often done so in the presence of Mr. Usbech the attorney,—as to which Mr. Usbech was not alive to testify; and she had also done so more than once in the presence of Mr. Furnival, a barrister,—as to which Mr. Furnival, being alive, did testify—very strongly.
As to that contest nothing further need now be said. It resulted in the favour of young Lucius Mason, and therefore, also, in the favour of the widow;—in the favour moreover of Miriam Usbech, and thus ultimately in the favour of Mr. Samuel Dockwrath, who is now showing himself to be so signally ungrateful. Joseph Mason, however, retired39 from the battle nothing convinced. His father, he said, had been an old fool, an ass7, an idiot, a vulgar, ignorant fool; but he was not a man to break his word. That signature to the codicil might be his or might not. If his, it had been obtained by fraud. What could be easier than to cheat an old doting40 fool? Many men agreed with Joseph Mason, thinking that Usbech the attorney had perpetrated this villainy on behalf of his daughter; but Joseph Mason would believe, or say that he believed—a belief in which none but his sisters joined him,—that Lady Mason herself had been the villain42. He was minded to press the case on to a Court of Appeal, up even to the House of Lords; but he was advised that in doing so he would spend more money than Orley Farm was worth, and that he would, almost to a certainty, spend it in vain. Under this advice he cursed the laws of his country, and withdrew to Groby Park.
Lady Mason had earned the respect of all those around her by the way in which she bore herself in the painful days of the trial, and also in those of her success,—especially also by the manner in which she gave her evidence. And thus, though she had not been much noticed by her neighbours during the short period of her married life, she was visited as a widow by many of the more respectable people round Hamworth. In all this she showed no feeling of triumph; she never abused her husband's relatives, or spoke43 much of the harsh manner in which she had been used. Indeed, she was not given to talk about her own personal affairs; and although, as I have said, many of her neighbours visited her, she did not lay herself out for society. She accepted and returned their attention, but for the most part seemed to be willing that the matter should so rest. The people around by degrees came to know her ways, they spoke to her when they met her, and occasionally went through the ceremony of a morning call; but did not ask her to their tea-parties, and did not expect to see her at picnic and archery meetings.
Among those who took her by the hand in the time of her great trouble was Sir Peregrine Orme of The Cleeve,—for such was the name which had belonged time out of mind to his old mansion44 and park. Sir Peregrine was a gentleman now over seventy years of age, whose family consisted of the widow of his only son, and the only son of that widow, who was of course the heir to his estate and title. Sir Peregrine was an excellent old man, as I trust may hereafter be acknowledged; but his regard for Lady Mason was perhaps in the first instance fostered by his extreme dislike to her stepson, Joseph Mason of Groby. Mr. Joseph Mason of Groby was quite as rich a man as Sir Peregrine, and owned an estate which was nearly as large as The Cleeve property; but Sir Peregrine would not allow that he was a gentleman, or that he could by any possible transformation45 become one. He had not probably ever said so in direct words to any of the Mason family, but his opinion on the matter had in some way worked its way down to Yorkshire, and therefore there was no love to spare between these two county magistrates46. There had been a slight acquaintance between Sir Peregrine and Sir Joseph; but the ladies of the two families had never met till after the death of the latter. Then, while that trial was still pending47, Mrs. Orme had come forward at the instigation of her father-in-law, and by degrees there had grown up an intimacy48 between the two widows. When the first offers of assistance were made and accepted, Sir Peregrine no doubt did not at all dream of any such result as this. His family pride, and especially the pride which he took in his widowed daughter-in-law, would probably have been shocked by such a surmise49; but, nevertheless, he had seen the friendship grow and increase without alarm. He himself had become attached to Lady Mason, and had gradually learned to excuse in her that want of gentle blood and early breeding which as a rule he regarded as necessary to a gentleman, and from which alone, as he thought, could spring many of those excellences50 which go to form the character of a lady.
It may therefore be asserted that Lady Mason's widowed life was successful. That it was prudent51 and well conducted no one could doubt. Her neighbours of course did say of her that she would not drink tea with Mrs. Arkwright of Mount Pleasant villa41 because she was allowed the privilege of entering Sir Peregrine's drawing-room; but such little scandal as this was a matter of course. Let one live according to any possible or impossible rule, yet some offence will be given in some quarter. Those who knew anything of Lady Mason's private life were aware that she did not encroach on Sir Peregrine's hospitality. She was not at The Cleeve as much as circumstances would have justified52, and at one time by no means so much as Mrs. Orme would have desired.
In person she was tall and comely53. When Sir Joseph had brought her to his house she had been very fair,—tall, slight, fair, and very quiet,—not possessing that loveliness which is generally most attractive to men, because the beauty of which she might boast depended on form rather than on the brightness of her eye, or the softness of her cheek and lips. Her face too, even at that age, seldom betrayed emotion, and never showed signs either of anger or of joy. Her forehead was high, and though somewhat narrow, nevertheless gave evidence of considerable mental faculties54; nor was the evidence false, for those who came to know Lady Mason well, were always ready to acknowledge that she was a woman of no ordinary power. Her eyes were large and well formed, but somewhat cold. Her nose was long and regular. Her mouth also was very regular, and her teeth perfectly55 beautiful; but her lips were straight and thin. It would sometimes seem that she was all teeth, and yet it is certain that she never made an effort to show them. The great fault of her face was in her chin, which was too small and sharp, thus giving on occasions something of meanness to her countenance56. She was now forty-seven years of age, and had a son who had reached man's estate; and yet perhaps she had more of woman's beauty at this present time than when she stood at the altar with Sir Joseph Mason. The quietness and repose57 of her manner suited her years and her position; age had given fulness to her tall form; and the habitual58 sadness of her countenance was in fair accordance with her condition and character. And yet she was not really sad,—at least so said those who knew her. The melancholy59 was in her face rather than in her character, which was full of energy,—if energy may be quiet as well as assured and constant.
Of course she had been accused a dozen times of matrimonial prospects60. What handsome widow is not so accused? The world of Hamworth had been very certain at one time that she was intent on marrying Sir Peregrine Orme. But she had not married, and I think I may say on her behalf that she had never thought of marrying. Indeed, one cannot see how such a woman could make any effort in that line. It was impossible to conceive that a lady so staid in her manner should be guilty of flirting61; nor was there any man within ten miles of Hamworth who would have dared to make the attempt. Women for the most part are prone62 to love-making—as nature has intended that they should be; but there are women from whom all such follies63 seem to be as distant as skittles and beer are distant from the dignity of the Lord Chancellor64. Such a woman was Lady Mason.
At this time—the time which is about to exist for us as the period at which our narrative65 will begin—Lucius Mason was over twenty-two years old, and was living at the farm. He had spent the last three or four years of his life in Germany, where his mother had visited him every year, and had now come home intending to be the master of his own destiny. His mother's care for him during his boyhood, and up to the time at which he became of age, had been almost elaborate in its thoughtfulness. She had consulted Sir Peregrine as to his school, and Sir Peregrine, looking to the fact of the lad's own property, and also to the fact, known by him, of Lady Mason's means for such a purpose, had recommended Harrow. But the mother had hesitated, had gently discussed the matter, and had at last persuaded the baronet that such a step would be injudicious. The boy was sent to a private school of a high character, and Sir Peregrine was sure that he had been so sent at his own advice. "Looking at the peculiar66 position of his mother," said Sir Peregrine to his young daughter-in-law, "at her very peculiar position, and that of his relatives, I think it will be better that he should not appear to assume anything early in life; nothing can be better conducted than Mr. Crabfield's establishment, and after much consideration I have had no hesitation67 in recommending her to send her son to him." And thus Lucius Mason had been sent to Mr. Crabfield, but I do not think that the idea originated with Sir Peregrine.
"And perhaps it will be as well," added the baronet, "that he and Perry should not be together at school, though I have no objection to their meeting in the holidays. Mr. Crabfield's vacations are always timed to suit the Harrow holidays." The Perry here mentioned was the grandson of Sir Peregrine—the young Peregrine who in coming days was to be the future lord of The Cleeve. When Lucius Mason was modestly sent to Mr. Crabfield's establishment at Great Marlow, young Peregrine Orme, with his prouder hopes, commenced his career at the public school.
Mr. Crabfield did his duty by Lucius Mason, and sent him home at seventeen a handsome, well-mannered lad, tall and comely to the eye, with soft brown whiskers sprouting68 on his cheek, well grounded in Greek, Latin, and Euclid, grounded also in French and Italian, and possessing many more acquirements than he would have learned at Harrow. But added to these, or rather consequent on them, was a conceit69 which public-school education would not have created. When their mothers compared them in the holidays, not openly with outspoken70 words, but silently in their hearts, Lucius Mason was found by each to be the superior both in manners and knowledge; but each acknowledged also that there was more of ingenuous71 boyhood about Peregrine Orme.
Peregrine Orme was a year the younger, and therefore his comparative deficiencies were not the cause of any intense sorrow at The Cleeve; but his grandfather would probably have been better satisfied—and perhaps also so would his mother—had he been less addicted72 to the catching73 of rats, and better inclined towards Miss Edgeworth's novels and Shakespeare's plays, which were earnestly recommended to him by the lady and the gentleman. But boys generally are fond of rats, and very frequently are not fond of reading; and therefore, all this having been duly considered, there was not much deep sorrow in those days at The Cleeve as to the boyhood of the heir.
But there was great pride at Orley Farm, although that pride was shown openly to no one. Lady Mason in her visits at The Cleeve said but little as to her son's present excellences. As to his future career in life she did say much both to Sir Peregrine and to Mrs. Orme, asking the council of the one and expressing her fears to the other; and then, Sir Peregrine having given his consent, she sent the lad to Germany.
He was allowed to come of age without any special signs of manhood, or aught of the glory of property; although, in his case, that coming of age did put him into absolute possession of his inheritance. On that day, had he been so minded, he could have turned his mother out of the farm-house, and taken exclusive possession of the estate; but he did in fact remain in Germany for a year beyond this period, and returned to Orley Farm only in time to be present at the celebration of the twenty-first birthday of his friend Peregrine Orme. This ceremony, as may be surmised74, was by no means slurred75 over without due rejoicing. The heir at the time was at Christchurch; but at such a period a slight interruption to his studies was not to be lamented76. There had been Sir Peregrine Ormes in those parts ever since the days of James I; and indeed in days long antecedent to those there had been knights77 bearing that name, some of whom had been honourably78 beheaded for treason, others imprisoned79 for heresy80; and one made away with on account of a supposed royal amour,—to the great glorification81 of all his descendants. Looking to the antecedents of the family, it was only proper that the coming of age of the heir should be duly celebrated82; but Lucius Mason had had no antecedents; no great-great-grandfather of his had knelt at the feet of an improper83 princess; and therefore Lady Mason, though she had been at The Cleeve, had not mentioned the fact that on that very day her son had become a man. But when Peregrine Orme became a man—though still in his manhood too much devoted84 to rats—she gloried greatly in her quiet way, and whispered a hope into the baronet's ear that the young heir would not imitate the ambition of his ancestor. "No, by Jove! it would not do now at all," said Sir Peregrine, by no means displeased85 at the allusion86.
And then that question as to the future life of Lucius Mason became one of great importance, and it was necessary to consult, not only Sir Peregrine Orme, but the young man himself. His mother had suggested to him first the law: the great Mr. Furnival, formerly87 of the home circuit, but now practising only in London, was her very special friend, and would give her and her son all possible aid in this direction. And what living man could give better aid than the great Mr. Furnival? But Lucius Mason would have none of the law. This resolve he pronounced very clearly while yet in Germany, whither his mother visited him, bearing with her a long letter written by the great Mr. Furnival himself. But nevertheless young Mason would have none of the law. "I have an idea," he said, "that lawyers are all liars88." Whereupon his mother rebuked89 him for his conceited90 ignorance and want of charity; but she did not gain her point.
She had, however, another string to her bow. As he objected to be a lawyer, he might become a civil engineer. Circumstances had made Sir Peregrine Orme very intimate with the great Mr. Brown. Indeed, Mr. Brown was under great obligations to Sir Peregrine, and Sir Peregrine had promised to use his influence. But Lucius Mason said that civil engineers were only tradesmen of an upper class, tradesmen with intellects; and he, he said, wished to use his intellect, but he did not choose to be a tradesman. His mother rebuked him again, as well he deserved that she should,—and then asked him of what profession he himself had thought. "Philology91," said he; "or as a profession, perhaps literature. I shall devote myself to philology and the races of man. Nothing considerable has been done with them as a combined pursuit." And with these views he returned home—while Peregrine Orme at Oxford92 was still addicted to the hunting of rats.
But with philology and the races of man he consented to combine the pursuit of agriculture. When his mother found that he wished to take up his abode in his own house, she by no means opposed him, and suggested that, as such was his intention, he himself should farm his own land. He was very ready to do this, and had she not represented that such a step was in every way impolitic, he would willingly have requested Mr. Greenwood of the Old Farm to look elsewhere, and have spread himself and his energies over the whole domain93. As it was he contented94 himself with desiring that Mr. Dockwrath would vacate his small holding, and as he was imperative95 as to that his mother gave way without making it the cause of a battle. She would willingly have left Mr. Dockwrath in possession, and did say a word or two as to the milk necessary for those sixteen children. But Lucius Mason was ducal in his ideas, and intimated an opinion that he had a right to do what he liked with his own. Had not Mr. Dockwrath been told, when the fields were surrendered to him as a favour, that he would only have them in possession till the heir should come of age? Mr. Dockwrath had been so told; but tellings such as these are easily forgotten by men with sixteen children. And thus Mr. Mason became an agriculturist with special scientific views as to chemistry, and a philologist96 with the object of making that pursuit bear upon his studies with reference to the races of man. He was convinced that by certain admixtures of ammonia and earths he could produce cereal results hitherto unknown to the farming world, and that by tracing out the roots of words he could trace also the wanderings of man since the expulsion of Adam from the garden. As to the latter question his mother was not inclined to contradict him. Seeing that he would sit at the feet neither of Mr. Furnival nor of Mr. Brown, she had no objection to the races of man. She could endure to be talked to about the Oceanic Mongolidae and the Iapetidae of the Indo-Germanic class, and had perhaps her own ideas that such matters, though somewhat foggy, were better than rats. But when he came to the other subject, and informed her that the properly plentiful97 feeding of the world was only kept waiting for the chemists, she certainly did have her fears. Chemical agriculture is expensive; and though the results may possibly be remunerative98, still, while we are thus kept waiting by the backwardness of the chemists, there must be much risk in making any serious expenditure99 with such views.
"Mother," he said, when he had now been at home about three months, and when the fiat100 for the expulsion of Samuel Dockwrath had already gone forth, "I shall go to Liverpool to-morrow."
"To Liverpool, Lucius?"
"Yes. That guano which I got from Walker is adulterated. I have analyzed101 it, and find that it does not contain above thirty-two and a half hundredths of—of that which it ought to hold in a proportion of seventy-five per cent. of the whole."
"Does it not?"
"No; and it is impossible to obtain results while one is working with such fictitious102 materials. Look at that bit of grass at the bottom of Greenwood's Hill."
"The fifteen-acre field? Why, Lucius, we always had the heaviest crops of hay in the parish off that meadow."
"That's all very well, mother; but you have never tried,—nobody about here ever has tried, what the land can really produce. I will throw that and the three fields beyond it into one; I will get Greenwood to let me have that bit of the hill-side, giving him compensation of course—"
"And then Dockwrath would want compensation."
"Dockwrath is an impertinent rascal103, and I shall take an opportunity of telling him so. But as I was saying, I will throw those seventy acres together, and then I will try what will be the relative effects of guano and the patent blood, But I must have real guano, and so I shall go to Liverpool."
"I think I would wait a little, Lucius. It is almost too late for any change of that kind this year."
"Wait! Yes, and what has come of waiting? We don't wait at all in doubling our population every thirty-three years; but when we come to the feeding of them we are always for waiting. It is that waiting which has reduced the intellectual development of one half of the human race to its present terribly low state—or rather prevented its rising in a degree proportionate to the increase of the population. No more waiting for me, mother, if I can help it."
"But, Lucius, should not such new attempts as that be made by men with large capital?" said the mother.
"Capital is a bugbear," said the son, speaking on this matter quite ex cathedra, as no doubt he was entitled to do by his extensive reading at a German university—"capital is a bugbear. The capital that is really wanting is thought, mind, combination, knowledge."
"But, Lucius—"
"Yes, I know what you are going to say, mother. I don't boast that I possess all these things; but I do say that I will endeavour to obtain them."
"I have no doubt you will; but should not that come first?"
"That is waiting again. We all know as much as this, that good manure104 will give good crops if the sun be allowed full play upon the land, and nothing but the crop be allowed to grow. That is what I shall attempt at first, and there can be no great danger in that." And so he went to Liverpool.
Lady Mason during his absence began to regret that she had not left him in the undisturbed and inexpensive possession of the Mongolidae and the Iapetidae. His rent from the estate, including that which she would have paid him as tenant105 of the smaller farm, would have enabled him to live with all comfort; and, if such had been his taste, he might have become a philosophical106 student, and lived respectably without adding anything to his income by the sweat of his brow. But now the matter was likely to become serious enough. For a gentleman farmer determined107 to wait no longer for the chemists, whatever might be the results, an immediate108 profitable return per acre could not be expected as one of them. Any rent from that smaller farm would now be out of the question, and it would be well if the payments made so punctually by old Mr. Greenwood were not also swallowed up in the search after unadulterated guano. Who could tell whether in the pursuit of science he might not insist on chartering a vessel109, himself, for the Peruvian coast?
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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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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forth
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thoroughly
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retail
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| v./n.零售；adv.以零售价格 | |
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wholesale
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ass
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bosom
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bankruptcy
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repented
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perilous
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desolate
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solitary
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aspiring
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specially
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inconvenient
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devoid
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folly
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persistently
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magistrate
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expedient
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bent
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steadfast
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contingencies
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demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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29
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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30
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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32
progeny
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| n.后代，子孙；结果 | |
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dotage
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| n.年老体衰；年老昏聩 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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35
curtailed
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| v.截断，缩短( curtail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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codicil
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| n.遗嘱的附录 | |
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37
brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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doting
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| adj.溺爱的，宠爱的 | |
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41
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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44
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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46
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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50
excellences
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| n.卓越( excellence的名词复数 )；（只用于所修饰的名词后）杰出的；卓越的；出类拔萃的 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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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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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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sprouting
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| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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slurred
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| 含糊地说出( slur的过去式和过去分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
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lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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honourably
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| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
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imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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81
glorification
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| n.赞颂 | |
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82
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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83
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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85
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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86
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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87
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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88
liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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89
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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91
philology
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| n.语言学；语文学 | |
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92
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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93
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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94
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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95
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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96
philologist
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| n.语言学者，文献学者 | |
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97
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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98
remunerative
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| adj.有报酬的 | |
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99
expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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100
fiat
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| n.命令，法令，批准；vt.批准，颁布 | |
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101
analyzed
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| v.分析( analyze的过去式和过去分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析 | |
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102
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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103
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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104
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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105
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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106
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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107
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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108
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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109
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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