But gradually his mind cleared and he was able to think more calmly. He loved. For the second time in his life he loved. And yet it seemed to him that only now did he know the depths of his own heart, only now did he comprehend what true devotion could really mean. The love of his early manhood, the love he had given the woman who had been his wife, was not comparable with this overmastering passion that had come to him in his maturity9. If he had loved then as he loved now not even the tragedy of twelve years ago could kill that love. And the greater, deeper, more wonderful emotion he had only just realised was as the dust of ashes in his mouth. There was no joy, no hope in this new love. There was only the pain of renunciation and the bitter knowledge that he had brought sorrow to her for whose sake he would gladly die rather than even a shadow should cross her path. For that she also loved him he knew beyond all doubt. He had read it in her eyes, he had heard it in the anguished10 tones of her voice when the thought of his peril12 had driven her to self betrayal as she listened to his story of the finish of Abdul el Dhib. The pain that was his was hers also. The thought was torment13. Had she not already enough to bear without this additional burden of a love that could never be satisfied, that would bring her only grief and the torturing remembrance of what might have been? What did his own suffering matter compared with the fact that because of him she too must suffer? It would have been better, a thousand times better, if he had never returned from that last hazardous14 expedition that had ended in the meeting in the deserted15 village by Blidah. And yet, to his fatalistic reasoning, that same meeting had seemed a thing ordained16; but for his coming she must have experienced a fate too horrible even to contemplate17. It was almost as if he had been deliberately18 guided in the choice of road he had taken, as if he had been led to her by some inscrutable ruling of providence19. And though at the time he had raged at the necessity that had forced him to help her, though his whole soul had revolted from his self-imposed task, he knew now that love had leaped into being when he had carried her to his camp, and that it was love struggling for recognition that had caused the misery20 and mental upheaval21 of the succeeding weeks. But only tonight had he realised it, only tonight had he awakened22 to a full understanding of the almost unbelievable thing that had happened to him. And how or when during their brief meetings she had come to care for him he did not know, nor would he ever know. He only knew that for some strange inexplicable23 reason she had given him her love, that though she would never be his he would carry through life the knowledge that her heart was in his keeping. And the knowledge humbled24 him. How could she care! What could she see in him, a man nearly twice her age who, until tonight, had treated her with scant25 civility, that she should stoop to bestow26 on him the priceless treasure of her love. But what did it matter—enough that she did care and that he would have to be content with just the fact of her caring. Content! Good God, was the intolerable ache that filled him, the mad longing27 that possessed28 him, contentment! He would never be content. The mere29 knowledge of their love was not enough. He wanted her, above his very hope of heaven he wanted her. The barriers of defense30 he had raised about himself were torn away at last. The dead heart that had lain cold and lifeless within him was alive once more. Passion swept, and seething31 with jealousy32 he made no effort to stem the elemental impulses that seemed suddenly let loose and for a time only the primitive33 man in him existed urging his desperate need until even murder seemed justifiable34 to obtain her—the murder of the one who stood between him and what he wanted. Geradine! His fingers curled and tightened35 as though they were about the throat of the man he hated with all the force of his being. That strange hatred36 was no longer incomprehensible, and the thought that had so appalled37 him the night at the opera he viewed now with cold dispassion. What was the life of such a brute38 compared with her happiness and well-being39! Was it murder to rid the earth of such scum, to free her from the tyranny that was killing40 her, body and soul? Murder! A terrible smile flitted across his face. For her sake he could do even that. Nothing mattered but her necessity. Beside that justice, honour, the man-made laws of society seemed to fade into utter insignificance41. And the laws of God—was he to trample42 them under foot as well? If it must be. He was willing to risk even his soul to save her from further suffering. But was there need for such a drastic measure—was there no easier way to follow? Was there not the way that others had taken—the way that would free her from a life of bondage43, that would give him his heart’s desire? What was scruple44 to stand between them? They had only one life to live—and she loved him. She would come to him—if he made her. And for her own sake he would make her—for her sake, or for the sake of his own lust45?
“But I say unto you that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart!”
He started to his feet with a smothered46 groan47. It was as if he saw the words in letters of fire, blazing accusingly before his tired eyes. A shudder48 passed over him and something seemed to snap suddenly in his brain dispelling49 the madness of the last few moments and leaving him aghast at the horror of his own thoughts. She was not for him to covet50. He had no right to love her, no right to think of her as he was thinking now—yearning for her, desiring her with all the strength of his manhood. Strength! What strength was left to him who had foresworn himself, who had turned from his lofty ideals and yielded to a passion that was ignoble51! Conscience-smitten he saw himself as he was, fallen from his high estate, crashed from his pinnacle52 of self-righteous exaltation. It was repetition of history wherein his r?le was horribly reversed. He was no better in intention than the man he had reviled53 twelve years ago. The sin he had condemned55 was now his sin. He craved56 another man’s wife, craved her with an intensity57 that had almost swamped his sense of right and wrong. And she? A dull flush crept over his tanned face. In his mind he had degraded and abased58 her, had dragged her down to the sordid59 level of his own carnal desires. Was his love so vile54 that he must think only of his bodily need? Was physical possession merely the dominating factor of that love? Had the years spent in the desert, the years of self-imposed abstinence, brutalised him so completely that he was incapable61 of higher, purer sentiment? Did she mean so little to him? Deep down in his heart he knew that she did not, knew that his love was a greater, finer thing than that. It was only the passionate62 impulse of the moment, the crushing sense of abnegation that made him weak, that made him want her as he was wanting her now—for his own, for that wonderful mating of soul and body that might have been theirs. To take her from the life she loathed63 to the freer, wilder life he had made his own; to know her safe and happy in his love; to watch the awakening64 of new hope and peace that would chase the sorrow from her tragic65 eyes; to be to her what she would be to him—comrade and helper, lover and friend, a partnership66 made perfect by their mutual67 love. It was what might have been. But now only a dream of joy that was unattainable, a vision of heaven that made the bitter certainty of its unfulfilment a foretaste of hell. God, how he longed for her! Marny, Marny! With a strangled sob68 he buried his face in his hands. . . .
It was long before he stirred to move slowly with cramped69 limbs and aching head to the edge of the verandah where he leant wearily against the pillar that supported the green tiled roof, staring with haggard eyes across the garden at the brightening dawn—a dawn that for once gave him no pleasure.
It was over and done with—the wonderful glimpse of happiness that could never be. There was only one road to follow, the lonely road that had been his for so many years, but lonelier, more desolate70 now than it ever had been. For her sake and for the sake of what honour was left to him he must go, and go at once. Back to the desert, back to the work he had chosen. Alone—and he must go without seeing her again. He dared not see her. His confidence in himself was gone. And yet how could he go, how could he leave her knowing what her life would be, knowing what she must still endure and suffer at the hands of the drunken bully71 who possessed her. Geradine, whose name was a by-word, whose brutality72 and viciousness was discussed by all Algiers, whose behaviour to his girl wife was openly hinted at! Was he to leave her at the mercy of such a man? Even that he must do. She was not his—she was Geradine’s wife. Geradine’s wife—God help her. And his daily, hourly torment would be to know her so. Far from her, powerless to help her, he would have to live with the thought of her continual agony and sorrow. Merciful God, would he be able to bear it!
Made almost tangible73 by his longing she seemed to come to him where he stood, as once before he had seemed to see her in a strip of brilliant moonlight, and he stretched out his arms hungrily, whispering her name with shaking lips till the mental picture faded and, muffling74 his face in this thick burnous, he yielded to an agony that was greater than he had ever known. The sky was aflame, the garden resounding75 with the early songs of birds when he at last regained76 self-control. But he was blind and deaf to the beauty and harmony about him as he lingered for a few moments striving to bring something like order into the chaos78 of his thoughts. He was going back to the camp near Blidah, a camp that would be poignantly79 painful to him with the recollections it would induce. He would see her at every turn, the big tent that had sheltered her would be a perpetual reminder80, dominated by the memory of her presence. Even the locality would be hateful to him, but to go further was impossible while Sanois’ arrangements were still incomplete. There was no other course for him to take, no other way by which he could effectually prevent any further meeting between them. With a little shiver he turned and went heavily into the house. The study was rank with the fumes81 of the lamps that had burnt out during the night, and he passed quickly through to his bedroom beyond.
As he entered it the door on the further side of the room opened and Hosein came in with his usual noiseless tread. He offered no explanation for his appearance at an unusual hour and Carew asked for none, but knowing the man he was positive that the big Arab, on his return to the villa, had spent the remainder of the night in the adjoining dressing82 room watching and waiting for his master’s coming. Though his gloomy face was, if possible, more gloomy than usual, his mere presence was a relief, and the customary stolidity83 with which he received his unexpected orders made the giving of them easier. Only a quicker service, a gentler handling of the garments tossed to him denoted an understanding that was more profound than Carew even guessed at. He was packing suit cases and holdalls with methodical deftness84 when Carew came back from his bath. Taught by years of experience, he knew even better than his master what was required for the protracted85 journeys in the desert which were to him infinitely86 preferable to the life in Algiers, and he took a certain pride in his work which was this morning especially noticeable. His face had lightened somewhat and he was patently pleased to be preparing for the road again. Of necessity Hosein was fully87 aware of the political significance of the forthcoming expedition, he knew also that it was the General Sanois who was responsible for the delay that had kept them so long in Algiers, and watching him as he moved swiftly and silently about the room Carew wondered in what degree his servant connected his hasty departure with the episode of last night. Distasteful as was the thought it was better so than that even Hosein should have an inkling of the real truth.
The valet had already acquainted the household with the altered arrangements and in the study, besides the coffee and rolls that were waiting for him, Carew found Derar full of importance and weighed down with account books and the necessary business devolving on himself that his master’s absence would entail88. And while he ate, Carew wrestled89 with his elderly servitor’s endless questions and reiterated90 demands for instructions with the patience he had learned in dealing91 with the native mind. It was useless to remind Derar that the orders he gave were in every particular similar to those given many times before, that there was to be no departure from established precedent92 but that the villa was to be run on the same lines that always prevailed while he was away.
Pessimistically inclined, Derar, as always, prepared for the worst. And Carew, by this time writing cheques and orders at his desk, found himself constrained94 to smile more than once at the gloomy anticipations95 that were pronounced with melancholy96 fervour and interlarded with lengthy97 passages from the Koran. He listened quietly to the old man’s garrulous98 outpourings in which lamentations on his departure and pious99 invocations for his welfare were inextricably jumbled100 with household needs and requirements.
But the strain on his already overstrained nerves was greater than he expected and when at last Derar, still somewhat tearful but armed with plenary powers that made him swell101 with pride, finally salaamed102 himself out of the room, Carew scribbled103 a few lines to General Sanois and then leant back in his chair with a feeling of mental exhaustion104. His mind made up to leave Algiers the time that must elapse before his actual departure hung heavily upon him. He glanced at the clock on his desk. It would be half-an-hour or more before his men would be ready and, depressed105 and restless as he was, the minutes seemed to drag with maddening slowness.
To relieve the tedium106 of waiting he went out into the garden. Some little distance from the house, amongst a grove107 of orange trees, he found Saba. Squatting108 on the ground, his nervous little body clad only in a gay striped gandhera, a fez perched rakishly on his small sleek109 head, the boy was chattering110 eagerly to a tiny monkey that was clinging to his shoulder. He was too absorbed in his newly acquired pet to notice Carew’s almost noiseless approach and it was the monkey that twittering shrilly111 with alarm made him realise he was no longer alone. He scrambled112 to his feet, his blind eyes turning uncertainly from side to side until Carew called to him when he darted113 forward, loosening his hold on the monkey which fled dismayed up into the branches of the nearest tree.
The confidant of all the servants, Saba was already in full possession of the new orders given to the household, and before Carew could speak he was assailed114 with a torrent115 of excited questions that were hurled116 at him to an accompaniment of joyous117 squeaks118 and prancings. The child’s pleasure was so obvious that Carew almost wavered in his decision to leave him at the villa with Hosein who was remaining a few days longer in Algiers to finish the preparations for the journey into the desert. But his crying need for solitude119 made the thought of even Saba’s companionship unendurable, and very gently he explained his wishes. The boy’s radiant little face clouded as he listened, but trained to obedience120 he did not voice his disappointment and very soon he was laughing again, childishly eager at the prospect121 of the journey and speculating on the probable number of days Hosein would require to complete his arrangements. And at the end of half-an-hour Carew left him playing contentedly122 with his recovered monkey and happy in the assurance that the separation should be a brief one.
The score of men who had come into Algiers from the camp were already collected when Carew returned to the house, and the narrow road that ran past the villa was blocked with horses whose riders, still dismounted, were exchanging raucous123 and voluble badinage124 with the small army of household servants assembled to watch the departure. Standing2 a little apart from the noisy throng125, reserved and taciturn as was his wont126, Hosein was holding Suliman, restraining with difficulty the spirited animal’s manifest impatience127.
Carew’s appearance occasioned a sudden silence among his followers128 and the escort leapt to their horses while he himself mounted with less haste and lingered for a few moments to give Hosein some final directions. The actual moment come he would have given all he possessed to be able to remain in the town he had been longing weeks to leave. It took all his resolution to persevere129 in the course he had determined130 and give the men the signal for which they were waiting. At the head of his little troop he rode away with unaccustomed slowness and with a feeling of reluctance131 that grew momentarily greater as each stride of the big bay carried him further from the villa. He knew now what the house wanted, why it had seemed so empty and desolate, and the knowledge was an added pang132 to the bitterness that filled him. If his dream had been possible; if he could have seen her in reality, as he visualised her in his mind, the mistress of his home bringing life and happiness to the chill and formal rooms her presence would enrich and beautify; if the end of the journey he contemplated133 could have meant a return to her—Was it strength or weakness that was driving him from her now? Again he wrestled with the temptation of a few hours ago, a temptation that was fiercer, more gripping even that it had been before. Her pitiful helplessness seemed to make his flight the act of a craven. Of what use were the physical powers with which he was endowed if his strength could not save her from the life of misery to which she was condemned. Geradine’s lack of control, the almost demoniacal rages that resulted from his intemperance134, was common talk. Thick drops of moisture gathered on his face as he remembered the man’s huge bulk and pictured her in the grip of those coarse, ape-like hands. To what lengths had he gone in the past—what devilish torture would he yet inflict135 on the tender little body Carew yearned136 to hold in his arms. His face was drawn137 with agony as he swept the cold sweat from his forehead.
The road he was following led past de Granier’s villa and ran parallel with the densely138 wooded hillside that shadowed its grounds. A sudden impulse came to him to look on the house that held the woman he loved—an impulse that was a species of subtle self-torture which even to himself seemed incomprehensible and to which tie yielded with a feeling of contempt. Pulling Suliman up sharply he swung to the ground and flinging the reins139 to the Arab he beckoned140 forward bade his escort ride on and wait for him beyond the villa. Standing where he had dismounted he watched them pass, and the last couple were some distance from him before he turned to the hillside where a tiny path wound upward between the close growing trees. A few minutes’ stiff climb and then the path curved abruptly141 to the left from whence it extended more or less levelly in the same direction as the road that lay some fifty or sixty feet below. His pace slackened as he neared the crossway track that led down to the garden entrance of the Villa des Ombres, and in a revulsion of feeling he cursed the weakness that had brought him there. But having come thus far he was unwilling142 to retrace143 his steps and, jerking his shoulders back with a characteristic gesture of impatience, he moved slowly forward with noiseless tread along the winding144 path that curved and twisted round the boles of the big trees. Their great girth obstructed145 anything but a limited view beyond them and made only a few yards of the way visible at a time.
It was still very early. Save for the birds twittering amongst the trees and the long strings146 of woolly caterpillars147 joined one behind the other pursuing their patient and meandering148 course over the rough ground, the hillside appeared to be deserted. But as Carew rounded the trunk of an exceptionally large tree, the jutting149 roots of which made necessary a more than usually wide detour150, he came to a sudden halt with a quick intake151 of the breath that was almost a groan. With clenching152 hands and madly racing153 heart he stared at the girlish figure lying huddled154 amongst the undergrowth almost at his feet. Her face was hidden and she lay very still, so still that a terrible thought came to him parching155 his mouth and blanching156 his face under the deep tan. He tried to whisper her name but no sound issued from his stiff lips and unable to speak, unable to move, time was a thing forgotten while he struggled with the paralysing fear that held him motionless.
He never knew how long it was before she stirred, before the faint echo of a smothered sob allayed157 the dread158 that had taken hold of him and lessened159 the strangling grip that seemed clutching at his throat. But still he did not move. He would not go. He had tried to play the game—and the game had turned against him. He had wrestled with himself to no purpose. Fate had played into his hand and the meeting he had sought to escape was now unavoidable. The sight of her prostrate160 in an abandonment of grief had shattered all his strength—he could not leave her like this. Not trusting himself to touch her he waited with an almost bursting heart for her to realise his presence—and as once before in the opera house, so now did she seem gradually to become aware of the steady stare fixed161 on her. With a shuddering162 sigh she sat up slowly, turning her head towards him. And the deathly pallor of her face, the look of frozen misery in her tragic black-rimmed eyes sent a rush of savage163 rage through him that almost choked him. God, what must she have suffered to look like that! He sought for words but his own suffering held him speechless.
It was she who spoke164 first. She had looked at him almost unknowingly, then a wave of colour rushed into her pale cheeks to recede93 as quickly leaving them whiter than before. Stumbling to her feet she stood before him, swaying like a reed, struggling to regain77 her composure, striving to formulate165 the conventional greeting her trembling lips could scarcely utter. “Sir Gervas—” He guessed rather than heard the fluttering whisper. But before he could answer, before he could wrench166 his gaze from the pain-filled eyes that were wavering under his, he saw her stiffen167 suddenly and shrink from him with a backward glance of fearful apprehension168. “What—who—” she muttered hoarsely169. And, listening, he too heard the sound that had startled her—the deep murmur170 of men’s voices raised in heated altercation171 that came echoing up the hillside from the roadway beneath them. The voices of his own men, as he knew. But what did she think? And the anger and hatred that was seething within him flamed anew into all but uncontrollable fury as he watched her leaning white-lipped and shivering against the trunk of the giant cork172 tree and wondered how long it would be before that delicate organism and highly strung nervous system finally succumbed173 to the brutal60 treatment that was slowly but steadily174 reducing her to a physical and mental wreck175. His hands clenched176 with the horrible pain of his own helplessness. But with a supreme177 effort he mastered himself, stifling178 the words that sprang to his lips and forcing his voice to naturalness as he answered her reassuringly179. “It’s only my men—arguing as usual, the noisy devils.”
She looked at him strangely.
“Your men—” she repeated dully. And pulling herself erect180 she turned abruptly and walked unsteadily to the edge of the steep descent. Through the intervening trees she could see them clustered at the foot of the hill. His men—the lucky ones who were fortunate enough to share his life! A feeling of bitter envy came to her and she watched them through a mist of tears. Picked men, men chosen for their loyalty181 and endurance. Fierce sons of the desert these—differing altogether, even to her unpractised eyes, from the Arabs she had seen lounging about Algiers—and mounted on magnificent horses which they sat superbly. A fit escort for the man who would lead them. What did this unusual following portend182? In Algiers, for she had seen him many more times than he knew, he always rode alone. Was this the end at last, the time she had looked forward to with dread—the time when he would ride out of her life forever? Her lips quivered. Never to see him again, never to hear the beloved voice whose low, soft intonations183 would ring in her ears while life lasted, never to know again the restfulness and strength his presence brought her! How could she bear it, oh, dear God, how could she bear the desolation and misery that would be hers! Her trembling hands crept upward to her breast, clenching convulsively over the heart that was aching and throbbing184 with a pain that was intolerable. She must know, though knowledge meant the agony of death.
Shuddering she turned and went slowly back to him. A cigarette between his lips, he was leaning against the tree where she had leant, his face an impassive mask that baffled her. Was the fleeting185 glimpse of a totally different expression she had seemed to see in his eyes a few minutes ago only the effect of her own overstrained imagination? Was she such a fool that she could have thought for one moment of wild sweet happiness, that her love and longing could have begotten186 his love? His indifference187 seemed complete—the parting was nothing to him. How could it be otherwise—it was only she who cared, only she whose heart was breaking, only she who would be left comfortless and alone.
The restraint she imposed on herself made her voice cold and hard as she uttered the question she nerved herself to ask.
“You are going away?”
“Yes.”
Despite herself she winced188 at the brief syllable189 of assent190 that was voiced in a tone as cold and as hard as her own.
“Back to the desert?”
“Yes.”
“For good?”
“For good,” he answered firmly. She turned from him quickly to hide the tears that blinded her. But a strangled sob she had not the strength to restrain betrayed her. Almost inaudible it was but he heard it.
“Marny!” The cry was wrung191 from him. And the next moment she was in his arms, clinging to him despairingly, weeping as he had not believed it possible for a woman to weep. Unmanned by her sudden breakdown192, aghast at the terrible sobs193 that seemed to be tearing the slender little body to pieces, he strained her to him with passionate strength. “Marny, Marny, for God’s sake—don’t cry like that. Your tears are torturing me.” But conscious only of the shelter of his arms, too weak to struggle against the feelings she had so long suppressed, she was powerless to check the storm of emotion that overwhelmed her. Lying inert against him, her face hidden in his robes, she sobbed194 her heart out on his till the violence of her grief terrified him and he caught her closer, bending his tall head till his cheek was resting on her tumbled hair, whispering words of love and entreaty195.
“Have pity on me, child, you are breaking my heart. Do you think I can bear to see you weep—Marny, my love, my love.”
Her arm slid up and round his neck. “Oh, let me cry,” she moaned, “for five years I’ve had to be a thing of stone. If I don’t cry now I shall go mad.” A spasm196 swept across his face and his own eyes were dim as he ceased to urge her, waiting patiently till the tempest of her tears should pass. And gradually the tearing sobs ceased and she regained control of herself. Exhausted197 and ashamed, not daring to meet his eyes, almost dreading198 the sound of his voice, she clung to him in silence, wishing passionately199 that her life could end, thus, in his arms.
And to Carew the close contact of her trembling limbs was a mingled200 rapture201 and pain that was agony. His face buried in her fragrant202 hair, he prayed desperately203 for strength to leave her, for strength to meet the parting that must come.
Still holding her he raised her head with gentle force. Her eyes were closed, the thick, dark lashes204 lying wet on her tear-stained cheek, and the hungry longing to touch them with his lips was almost more than he could withstand.
“Won’t you look at me, Marny? Am I never to see your dear eyes again?” he murmured huskily.
A tremor205 passed through her and for a moment she did not respond. Then the dusky lashes fluttered faintly and slowly the heavy lids unclosed. For long they looked, staring as though into each other’s souls, and against her tender breasts she felt the violent beating of his heart.
A quivering sigh escaped her. “Gervas—oh, Gervas, Gervas,” she whispered, and lifted her face to his. The sadness in his eyes deepened into anguish11 and his firm mouth trembled as he shook his head.
“I mustn’t kiss you, dear. Your lips are his—not mine, God help me. I haven’t even the right to touch you. I’m a cur to hold you in my arms like this, but I can’t let you go—not yet, not yet, my darling.” His voice broke, and insensibly his arm tightened round her, crushing her to him with a force of which he was unaware206. She turned her head with a little sob. “How could we know that this would come to us—how could we know that we would care,” she cried. “I never thought you loved me. I thought it was only I who—who—” She clenched her teeth on her lip, fighting the sobs that were rising in her throat. “Oh, why was it you that came that night near Blidah!” she burst out passionately. “What did my life matter? And I—I who would die for you, I’ve brought you unhappiness. Gervas, why don’t you hate me!”
“I thought I did—once,” he answered with a twisted smile, and brushed the shining hair tenderly from off her forehead.
Physical pain had been forgotten in the mental agony that swamped her but now, remembering, too late she tried to stop him and he had seen the ugly wound on her white brow before her flying hand reached his. A sharp exclamation207 broke from him. “What have you done to yourself? My God, has he dared—” His face was ghastly and the look in his blazing eyes terrified her. Fearful of the consequences of his anger, fearful of she knew not what, she lied to shield the husband who had struck her.
“No—no—” she panted. “I slipped—I slipped in my room last night.”
Love and intuition told him that she was lying and he put her from him with a groan of helpless misery. And free of his supporting arm she slid to the ground for her limbs were trembling under her. He sat down near her, staring gloomily before him, wondering how he could bring himself to leave her, tortured with what he had seen and cursing the man whom, more than ever, he longed to kill.
Her sorrowful eyes never left his stern, set face and at last she could bear the silence no longer. Her hand stole out timidly and touched his. “What are we going to do?” She waited long for his answer, so long that she wondered if he had heard the faint whisper, and her trembling fingers tightened on his arm. “Gervas, speak to me,” she entreated208.
“What is there for me to say,” he answered, and his voice was harsh with the effort speech cost him. “There is nothing to do but the one hard thing that is left to us. We have got to forget that this morning has ever been. We have got to forget everything but the fact that you are bound, that you are not free to come to me. If there was some other way, if I could have taken you—” He tore his eyes from her face and leaped to his feet. “But there is no other way,” he cried with sudden violence. “I can’t take you. You’ve got to forget, and forgive me—if you can.”
She buried her face in her hands.
“Not in this life nor in the life to come,” he whispered swiftly.
With a sob that wrung his heart she flung out her arms appealing. “I can’t bear it, Gervas, I can’t live without you.”
He caught the outstretched hands in his and drew her to her feet.
“Don’t make it harder for me, dear. God knows it’s hard enough,” he said unsteadily. “I love you. I want you—more than anything in heaven and earth I want you—but I’ve got to leave you. Help me to do the right thing, Marny. Help me to go, now, while I have the strength.” But with a broken little cry she clung to him, her eyes beseeching210.
“I can’t, I can’t! I’m not strong like you. I can’t let you go yet—not altogether—not back to the desert. Stay—only stay till we leave,” she pleaded, “it won’t be long, only a few weeks—”
“My dear, what help will it be if I do stay?” he said wearily. “It will only make it harder for both of us.” But frantically211 she urged him. “Please, please,” she entreated. “Oh, I can’t explain—I don’t know what I feel myself—but there seems to be something awful coming nearer and nearer to me and I’m frightened—I’m frightened. If I could know you were in Algiers it would make it easier—I shouldn’t feel so—alone. Gervas, if you love me stay till we go.”
If he loved her! He clenched his hands to keep them from her and turned away with a heavy sigh. “Must I prove my love?” he said sadly. A sob broke from her. Did he think she doubted? Why was she such a coward as to ask this thing of him! Humbly212 she went to him begging his forgiveness but with a quick gesture of distress213 he stopped her.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he said gently, “there can be no misunderstanding possible between us, dear. If it will help you, if my being in Algiers will make it easier for you, I will stay until you go. But more I cannot do. This has got to be the end, Marny. We’ve got to say goodbye to each other. I mustn’t see you again—I daren’t see you again.”
A deadly faintness came over her. Numbly214 she felt him take her hands and hold them crushed against his face. And through the surging in her ears she heard his voice, far off and muffled215 as though coming from some great distance.
“My dear, my dear—God keep you, now and always.”
And then she knew that he was gone. She struggled to move, to conquer the inertia216 that seemed rooting her to the ground. Only to see him again—to catch one last glimpse—
Tears were raining down her face as she stumbled to the edge of the little path and, screened by the trees, looked down on the roadway beneath. With her hands pressed over her lips to stifle217 the sobs that were choking her she watched him standing beside his men till the little troop vanished in a cloud of dust along the Blidah road and, left alone, he leaped on to his own horse and sent him at a reckless gallop218 in the opposite direction. Then a merciful blackness came over her and she fell senseless amongst the tangled219 ferns.
There followed a week that for Carew was a period of uninterrupted suffering, suffering that seemed to grow more acute, more unbearable220 with each succeeding day. With nothing to look forward to, with no hope to ease the burden of his loneliness and longing, with the bitter knowledge burning into him that barely half-a-mile away in her prison house of misery she too was suffering, he struggled through days that seemed endless and nights that were torment.
Seeking for distraction221, for anything that would occupy his enforced leisure and turn the trend of his thoughts, he offered his services to Morel and toiled222 in the scientist’s laboratory from early morning till late in the evening, endeavouring by hard work to deaden the pain that never left him. During the long hours of self-imposed labour he strove to banish223 her from his mind, to concentrate solely224 on the experiments that at any other time would have claimed his whole attention. But the remembrance of her was with him continually. While he carried out Morel’s instructions with mechanical precision he seemed to feel her presence close beside him, to see clearly before his eyes the piteous tear-stained face that would always haunt him, and through the stillness of the silent workroom he could almost hear the sobbing225 tones of her anguished voice. “Gervas, I can’t live without you!” And he had left her, left her to Geradine’s mercy. If, in the grip of this tremendous passion that had come to him so strangely, he had sought to entice226 her from a husband who cared, or from one who—though indifferent—still treated her with ordinary decency227 and respect, he would have known his offence to be unforgivable. But chained as she was to a beast like Geradine, the marks of whose brutality he had himself seen on her delicate face, was there not excuse for his love, for the raging temptation that still assailed him to take her from a life of martyrdom and give her the happiness that was her youth’s prerogative228? How had she come to be the wife of that drunken, hectoring bully—what unthinkable ordering could have linked her life with his? Impossible that she could ever have loved him. Surely the mere brute strength of the man could not have attracted her, inducing her to a step she had lived to rue8. Five years, she had said. Five years ago she must have been only a child—she was little more now. What circumstances or what tragedy had thrust an immature229 girl into the keeping of such a profligate230! And what had those five years meant to her! As the days dragged slowly by and he applied231 himself to the work to which he forced his wandering attention he wrestled with a problem he could not hope to solve, racking himself with the thought of what she must have endured and would still have to endure.
But it was the nights he dreaded232 most. The nights when, waking from fitful sleep that, dream-haunted, gave him no rest, he stared wide-eyed into the darkness murmuring her name, aching for her, till the pain of it drove him out into the garden there to tramp the dark tree-bordered alleys233 and star-lit stretches of grass until bodily fatigue234 brought him back to the house to toss wakefully and watch for the dawn when he could start for the early morning rides that were his only alleviation235. It was in the lonely hours of the night that the thought of her suffering was strongest with him. It was then that his fevered mind, unchecked in his solitude, became the prey236 of ghastly imaginings until, half mad with his own thoughts, he almost yielded to the temptings of the insidious237 inward voice that bade him forego honor and take the happiness he had sacrificed. Was he to stand aside while her youth and health were wrecked238? Was she to be offered up on the altar of his conscience? Must she be the victim of his scruple? “She would have gone with you—she would have gone with you that morning—” Night after night the mocking voice rang in his ears, and night after night he fought the same fight in anguish of soul, battling with the promptings of his heart.
Then came a day when a telephone message from Morel, who had received an urgent summons to Paris, put a stop to the work at the laboratory and left him to face inactivity he viewed with dismay. In no mood for the society of either General Sanois or the officers at the barracks, resolved to run no chance of a further meeting with the woman he had determined never to see again, he passed the long hours of the morning, sitting on the verandah with a medical book in his hand which he did not read, and in restless wandering about the lovely garden whose loveliness was lost on him.
Utterly239 weary of himself, for the first time in days, he would have welcomed the companionship of Saba. But the blind boy was at the camp near Blidah whither he had been despatched when Carew had decided240 to remain on in Algiers. The day seemed interminable.
Worn out with sleepless241 nights he slept heavily for the greater part of the afternoon and was awakened with difficulty by Hosein in time for the solitary242 dinner he thought would never end. Afterwards, ordering coffee to be brought to him, he strolled through the silent halls and empty rooms back to the verandah where he had spent most of the day.
The night was singularly dark but the darkness agreed with his own gloomy thoughts and after he had finished his coffee he extinguished the reading lamp on the table near him and sat for a long time staring fixedly243 into blackness.
Inaction became at last impossible. He had sat for two hours and his limbs were cramped and his head throbbing for need of physical exercise. Two more hours and he would be ready to blow his brains out, he reflected with a dreary244 laugh. Going to his bedroom he changed quickly into Arab dress and left the house unseen.
Beyond the door in the wall he hesitated frowning. Then with a shrug245 and a muttered oath he turned in the direction of de Granier’s villa. To torture himself by gazing on the house was not to see her, he argued. By no reasoning could he be said to be breaking the resolution he had made. The road was free to him as to any other. And what chance was there of seeing her at this time of night! Jerking his heavy cloak back he stopped to light a cigarette and then strode on with the slow step to which flowing robes had accustomed him.
For a time it appeared as if no other midnight wanderers were abroad, but as he neared the high enclosing wall of the Villa des Ombres his quick ears caught the sound of hurrying, stumbling feet and the raucous intonations of a voice he recognised. Instinctively246 he shrank into the deeper shadow of the wall as Tanner, the English groom247, reeled past him with words that seemed to turn the blood in his veins248 to ice. “The swine, the swine—the blasted swine! ’E’ll do ’er in, by Gawd, ’e will! Christ, ’ow she screamed—and the damned door locked so as I couldn’t get in! And ’im mad drunk—the beast! My Gawd, my Gawd, what’ll I do? I’ll ’ear them screams till I die!” And sobbing and blaspheming in impotent rage the little man tore on and vanished into the night.
But towards the house from which the groom had fled, Carew was racing with a deadly fear knocking at his heart. The gates were open and, panic-driven, he dashed along the carriage drive and up the steps of the villa hurling249 himself against the door which, unbarred, gave way before him. In the dimly-lit entrance hall he stumbled and almost fell headlong over the prostrate figure of an Arab who moaned and writhed250 on the marble floor. Callous251 to everything but the one ghastly fear that gripped him, Carew kicked his feet clear of the man’s robes and shook him roughly. But the fiercely uttered question died on his lips as a piercing shriek252 rang through the silent house. A shriek that was followed by others so terrible, so frenzied253, that for a moment he reeled under the horror of them. And with the agonizing254 screams was mingled the sound of a man’s raving255 and other more pregnant sounds that drove Carew to the verge256 of madness. With a groan he leaped to the door of the room where was the woman he loved, but, locked from within, it resisted his furious onslaught and, as well acquainted with the villa as he was with his own, he knew that to force in was impossible. Desperately he wrenched257 at the handle, then a sudden thought came that sent him flying down the corridor. There was another door leading into the drawing room, a secret door that, flush with the wall and hidden by curtains, was possibly unknown to the tenants258 who had rented the house. Reaching the ante-room with which it communicated and tearing aside the embroidered259 hangings he flung his whole weight against the fragile panels, crashing through into the room beyond. One sweeping260 glance sufficed him. Dragging his eyes from the battered261 little body stretched almost at his feet he crouched262 for an instant, stiffening263 like a wild beast preparing to spring, his face the face of a madman.
And startled by his sudden appearance, too blind with passion to recognise the man who had gone through the sandstorm with him, Geradine saw in the tall, robed figure facing him only an unknown Arab who had dared to force a violent entrance into his house and he flung forward with a savage snarl264, brandishing265 the heavy hunting crop with which he had flogged his wife into insensibility.
But with the sound of his voice Carew sprang, his clenched fist driving straight at the other’s mouth. For a second Geradine staggered, then with a roar of mingled pain and fury he slashed267 with the crop at Carew’s face. But the blow fell short and the next moment two powerful arms closed round him. Though strong above the average, his life of intemperance had unfitted him for any protracted struggle and tonight, wearied already by his outburst of savagery268 and not sober enough to use with advantage what strength he had, he was helpless in the grip of the muscular hands that seemed to be crushing the life out of him. Choked with the strangling hold on his throat he was almost unconscious when the clutching fingers slid suddenly to his arm and he was forced to his knees.
And with the whip that was still wet with her blood Carew avenged269 the woman who lay so deathly still beside him. Maddened with the thought of her suffering, he wielded270 the heavy weapon till Geradine’s coat and shirt were torn to ribbons, crimson271 stained and sticky, till his moans became fainter and finally died away, till his own arm grew tired with the punishment he inflicted272. Only then did he fling the whip from him. Scarcely glancing at the inert figure sprawled273 face downwards274 on the floor, indifferent whether he had killed him or not, he turned slowly to that other pitiful little figure and, hardly conscious of what he did, tore the burnous from his shoulders, and wrapping it round her lifted her into his arms and carried her away.
The hall was empty as he passed through it. But he was oblivious275 of the apparently276 deserted house, oblivious of everything but the slight burden he held. As if in a dream, his mind almost a blank, he followed mechanically the road by which he had come half an hour before. And not until he had reached his own villa, until, led by instinct rather than definite reasoning, he found himself in his own bedroom, did the dream-like feelings pass and he awoke to realize what he had done. But that could wait. At the moment only she mattered.
Laying her on the bed he stripped the blood-wet silken rags from her lacerated shoulders, wincing277 in agony as they clung to the delicate broken flesh his trembling lips covered with passionate kisses. But he was doctor as well as lover and, forcing his shaking fingers to steadiness, he bathed the cruel wounds with tender skill, doing all that was possible for her comfort before he dropped to his knees to wait till she should regain consciousness. And when at last she stirred it was some time before recognition dawned in the dazed eyes that were gazing blankly into his. But the sudden joy that filled them faded swiftly into a look of terrible fear.
With a cry that greyed his face she flung herself into his arms.
“Don’t let him get me! Don’t—let—him—get me,” she shrieked278, again and again, till the horror of it was more than he could bear and he crushed her face against him to stifle the sounds he knew would ring in his ears while life lasted.
“Hush, hush,” he whispered, almost fiercely. “It’s done—it’s finished. He will never touch you again. You need never see him again. Lie still and rest. There’s not a soul who knows where you are but me.” And even in the extremity279 of her terror his voice had power to soothe280 her and she relaxed in his arms with a shuddering sob. For a long time he held her silently, fighting the biggest battle of his life, striving to subdue281 self, to think only for her. But her nearness made thought impossible and at last, in despair, he sought to rise. She clung to him with a murmur of entreaty.
“Let me go, dear,” he muttered. “I’ve got to think—I’ve got to think what is best to do.” And tenderly he put aside her trembling hands.
Fear fled back into her eyes as she watched him cross the room to the open window, and slipping from the bed she waited for what seemed an eternity282, shaking with weakness, afraid to question him, afraid for the moment of the man himself.
And when at length he spoke, in a voice that was almost unrecognisable, he did not look at her. “I can get you out of Algiers—that is easy. But to whom shall I take you? Where are your people?”
For a moment she stared in dazed unbelief, then with a pitiful sob, she staggered nearer to him. “Gervas, don’t you love me—don’t you want me?”
His face was anguished as he flung towards her. “Want you? My God!” he groaned283, “but it’s not what I want that matters. It is you I am thinking of. You are Geradine’s wife—I can’t take you. I can’t dishonour284 you. I can’t drag you through the mud—”
“Mud!” she echoed, with a terrible laugh, “what mud could you drag me through that would be worse than the mud that has choked me for five ghastly years? Gervas, Gervas, I’ve come to the end. I can’t fight any more. I can’t bear any more. I’ve no one to turn to—no people—no friends. There’s nobody in all the world who can help me—but you. If you won’t save me I will kill myself. I swear it. Oh, Gervas, have pity! Take me away. I’m safe only with you. I’ll be your servant—your slave—anything you will—only save me, save me! If I see him again I shall go mad—mad—” She was at his feet, clasping his knees, her upturned face wild and distorted with terror. And as he swept her up into his arms with a gasp285 of horrified286 protest and looked into her frenzied eyes, he knew that she was very near to madness now. But still he hesitated.
“You know what it will mean if I take you with me into the desert?”
“I know, I know,” she sobbed, “it will mean heaven and rest and joy unspeakable. And I—who have lived in hell! Oh, Gervas, give me the chance of happiness!”
It was not what he meant, but he saw that she was past understanding. Only by keeping her could he avert287 the mental breakdown which was imminent288. To save her reason he must do that for which his heart was clamouring, that which he had determined never to do.
And in the light that leaped involuntarily to his eyes she read his answer even before he stooped his lips to her trembling mouth.
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1
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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2
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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3
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clogging
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| 堵塞，闭合 | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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13
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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14
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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16
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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17
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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20
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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21
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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22
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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23
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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25
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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37
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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38
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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40
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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41
insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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42
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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43
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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44
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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45
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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46
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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47
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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48
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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49
dispelling
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的现在分词 ) | |
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50
covet
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| vt.垂涎；贪图(尤指属于他人的东西) | |
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51
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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52
pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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53
reviled
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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55
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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56
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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57
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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58
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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59
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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60
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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61
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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62
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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63
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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64
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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65
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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66
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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67
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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68
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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69
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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70
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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71
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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72
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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73
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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74
muffling
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| v.压抑，捂住( muffle的现在分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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75
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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76
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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77
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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78
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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79
poignantly
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80
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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81
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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82
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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83
stolidity
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| n.迟钝，感觉麻木 | |
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84
deftness
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85
protracted
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|
| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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86
infinitely
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|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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87
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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88
entail
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| vt.使承担，使成为必要，需要 | |
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89
wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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90
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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92
precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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93
recede
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| vi.退(去)，渐渐远去；向后倾斜，缩进 | |
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94
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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95
anticipations
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|
| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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96
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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97
lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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98
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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99
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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100
jumbled
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| adj.混乱的；杂乱的 | |
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101
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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102
salaamed
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| 行额手礼( salaam的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
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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104
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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105
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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106
tedium
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| n.单调；烦闷 | |
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107
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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108
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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109
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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110
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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111
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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112
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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113
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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114
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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115
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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116
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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117
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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118
squeaks
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| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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119
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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120
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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121
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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122
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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123
raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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124
badinage
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| n.开玩笑，打趣 | |
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125
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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126
wont
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|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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127
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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128
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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129
persevere
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| v.坚持，坚忍，不屈不挠 | |
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130
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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131
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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132
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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133
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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134
intemperance
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| n.放纵 | |
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135
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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136
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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138
densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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139
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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140
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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141
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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142
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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143
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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144
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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145
obstructed
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| 阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
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146
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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147
caterpillars
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| n.毛虫( caterpillar的名词复数 )；履带 | |
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148
meandering
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| 蜿蜒的河流，漫步，聊天 | |
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149
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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150
detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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151
intake
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| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
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152
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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153
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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154
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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155
parching
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| adj.烘烤似的，焦干似的v.（使）焦干， （使）干透( parch的现在分词 )；使（某人）极口渴 | |
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156
blanching
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| adj.漂白的n.热烫v.使变白( blanch的现在分词 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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157
allayed
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| v.减轻，缓和( allay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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158
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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159
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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160
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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161
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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162
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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163
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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164
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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165
formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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166
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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167
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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168
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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169
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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170
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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171
altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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172
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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173
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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174
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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175
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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176
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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177
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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178
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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179
reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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180
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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181
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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182
portend
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| v.预兆，预示；给…以警告 | |
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183
intonations
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| n.语调，说话的抑扬顿挫( intonation的名词复数 )；（演奏或唱歌中的）音准 | |
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184
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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185
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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186
begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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187
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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188
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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189
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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190
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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191
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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192
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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193
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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194
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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195
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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196
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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197
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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198
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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199
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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200
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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201
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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202
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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203
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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204
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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205
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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206
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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207
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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208
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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209
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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210
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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211
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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212
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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213
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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214
numbly
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| adv.失去知觉，麻木 | |
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215
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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216
inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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217
stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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218
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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219
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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220
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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221
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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222
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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223
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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224
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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225
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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226
entice
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| v.诱骗，引诱，怂恿 | |
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227
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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228
prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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229
immature
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| adj.未成熟的，发育未全的，未充分发展的 | |
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230
profligate
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| adj.行为不检的；n.放荡的人，浪子，肆意挥霍者 | |
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231
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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232
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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233
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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234
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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235
alleviation
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| n. 减轻，缓和，解痛物 | |
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236
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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237
insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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238
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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239
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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240
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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241
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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242
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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243
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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244
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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245
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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246
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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247
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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248
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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249
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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250
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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251
callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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252
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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253
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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254
agonizing
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| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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255
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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256
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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257
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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258
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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259
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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260
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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261
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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262
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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263
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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264
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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265
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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266
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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267
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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268
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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269
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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270
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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271
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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272
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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273
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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274
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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275
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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276
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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277
wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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278
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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279
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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280
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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281
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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282
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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283
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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284
dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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285
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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286
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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287
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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288
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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