‘By the bye,’ said Buckhurst, when the hubbub8 had a little subsided9, ‘I am afraid you will not half like it, Coningsby; but, old fellow, I had no idea you would be back this morning; I have asked Millbank to breakfast here.’
A cloud stole over the clear brow of Coningsby.
‘It was my fault,’ said the amiable10 Henry Sydney; ‘but I really wanted to be civil to Millbank, and as you were not here, I put Buckhurst up to ask him.’
‘Well,’ said Coningsby, as if sullenly11 resigned, ‘never mind; but why should you ask an infernal manufacturer?’
‘Why, the Duke always wished me to pay him some attention,’ said Lord Henry, mildly. ‘His family were so civil to us when we were at Manchester.’
‘Manchester, indeed!’ said Coningsby; ‘if you knew what I do about Manchester! A pretty state we have been in in London this week past with your Manchesters and Birminghams!’
‘Come, come, Coningsby,’ said Lord Vere, the son of a Whig minister; ‘I am all for Manchester and Birmingham.’
‘It is all up with the country, I can tell you,’ said Coningsby, with the air of one who was in the secret.
‘My father says it will all go right now,’ rejoined Lord Vere. ‘I had a letter from my sister yesterday.’
‘They say we shall all lose our estates, though,’ said Buckhurst; ‘I know I shall not give up mine without a fight. Shirley was besieged12, you know, in the civil wars; and the rebels got infernally licked.’
‘I think that all the people about Beaumanoir would stand by the Duke,’ said Lord Henry, pensively13.
‘Well, you may depend upon it you will have it very soon,’ said Coningsby. ‘I know it from the best authority.’
‘It depends on whether my father remains14 in,’ said Lord Vere. ‘He is the only man who can govern the country now. All say that.’
At this moment Millbank entered. He was a good looking boy, somewhat shy, and yet with a sincere expression in his countenance15. He was evidently not extremely intimate with those who were now his companions. Buckhurst, and Henry Sydney, and Vere, welcomed him cordially. He looked at Coningsby with some constraint16, and then said:
‘You have been in London, Coningsby?’
‘Yes, I have been there during all the row.’
‘Yes, if having your windows broken by a mob be a rare lark. They could not break my grandfather’s, though. Monmouth House is in a court-yard. All noblemen’s houses should be in court-yards.’
‘I was glad to see it all ended very well,’ said Millbank.
‘It has not begun yet,’ said Coningsby.
‘What?’ said Millbank.
‘Why, the revolution.’
‘The Reform Bill will prevent a revolution, my father says,’ said Millbank.
‘By Jove! here’s the goose,’ said Buckhurst.
At this moment there entered the room a little boy, the scion18 of a noble house, bearing a roasted goose, which he had carried from the kitchen of the opposite inn, the Christopher. The lower boy or fag, depositing his burthen, asked his master whether he had further need of him; and Buckhurst, after looking round the table, and ascertaining19 that he had not, gave him permission to retire; but he had scarcely disappeared, when his master singing out, ‘Lower boy, St. John!’ he immediately re-entered, and demanded his master’s pleasure, which was, that he should pour some water in the teapot. This being accomplished20, St. John really made his escape, and retired21 to a pupil-room, where the bullying22 of a tutor, because he had no derivations, exceeded in all probability the bullying of his master, had he contrived23 in his passage from the Christopher to have upset the goose or dropped the sausages.
In their merry meal, the Reform Bill was forgotten. Their thoughts were soon concentrated in their little world, though it must be owned that visions of palaces and beautiful ladies did occasionally flit over the brain of one of the company. But for him especially there was much of interest and novelty. So much had happened in his absence! There was a week’s arrears24 for him of Eton annals. They were recounted in so fresh a spirit, and in such vivid colours, that Coningsby lost nothing by his London visit. All the bold feats25 that had been done, and all the bright things that had been said; all the triumphs, and all the failures, and all the scrapes; how popular one master had made himself, and how ridiculous another; all was detailed26 with a liveliness, a candour, and a picturesque27 ingenuousness28, which would have made the fortune of a Herodotus or a Froissart.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Buckhurst, ‘I move that after twelve we five go up to Maidenhead.’
‘Agreed; agreed!’
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1 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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2 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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3 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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4 outweighed | |
v.在重量上超过( outweigh的过去式和过去分词 );在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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5 sketched | |
v.草拟(sketch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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6 pouched | |
adj.袋形的,有袋的 | |
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7 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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8 hubbub | |
n.嘈杂;骚乱 | |
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9 subsided | |
v.(土地)下陷(因在地下采矿)( subside的过去式和过去分词 );减弱;下降至较低或正常水平;一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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10 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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11 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
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12 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13 pensively | |
adv.沉思地,焦虑地 | |
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14 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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15 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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16 constraint | |
n.(on)约束,限制;限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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17 lark | |
n.云雀,百灵鸟;n.嬉戏,玩笑;vi.嬉戏 | |
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18 scion | |
n.嫩芽,子孙 | |
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19 ascertaining | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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20 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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21 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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22 bullying | |
v.恐吓,威逼( bully的现在分词 );豪;跋扈 | |
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23 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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24 arrears | |
n.到期未付之债,拖欠的款项;待做的工作 | |
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25 feats | |
功绩,伟业,技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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26 detailed | |
adj.详细的,详尽的,极注意细节的,完全的 | |
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27 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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28 ingenuousness | |
n.率直;正直;老实 | |
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