His belief in Kismet had been enormously strengthened since his return. It was "arranged" that Lady Mitford should be present on the occasion in question; that he should be presented to her after trying to avoid her and her party; that Lord Dollamore should be at the Club, and should give utterance11 to those sentiments which had aroused so deep a disgust in Laurence's breast. As to the events of the next day,--the visit to Saunderson's, the drive to Acton, the trial of Sir Launcelot and its consequences,--therein was the most marvellous illustration of the doctrine of Kismet that ever he had yet seen.
He thought of all this as he woke the next morning; and clearly saw in an instant that it would be running directly contrary to his fate to go down to see his father just then. He felt impelled13 to remain in London, and in London he should stay. He felt--Ah, how beautiful she looked as he dragged her out from amidst the débris of the carriage and the plunging14 hoofs15 of the ponies16, though her face was as pale as marble, and the light of her eyes was quenched17 beneath the drooping18 lids! It was Kismet that had kept that handsome oaf, her husband, at home, and prevented his interfering19 with the little romance. Not that Sir Charles Mitford was by any means an oaf; he was a man of less worldly experience, of less polish, of social standing20, higher in rank, but decidedly lower in reputation, than Laurence; and so Laurence regarded him as an oaf, and, since the pony-carriage adventure, began to find a little hatred21 mingling22 with the contempt with which he had previously23 regarded the latest addition to the baronetage.
This last feeling may have been in accordance with the rules of Kismet, but it certainly was not in accordance with the practice of the world. There were many men in his old regiment24, and generally throughout the brigade of Guards,--men who, as professedly coureurs des dames25, held that, for the correct carrying out of a flirtation26 with a married woman, an intimacy27 of a certain kind with the lady's husband was almost indispensable. And, though not good at argument, had they been put to it, they could have indorsed their dicta with plenty of examples. They could have told of picnics improvised29 solely30 for the pleasure of madame's society, when monsieur was of the greatest assistance, the life and soul of the party, opening champagne31, finding salt, cracking jokes; the only man who could induce the gathered leaves to burst into a fire for kettle-boiling purposes; the first to volunteer to sit in the rumble32 with the captain's valet on the journey homewards. They could have told of visits paid in opera-boxes at a time when it was certain that monsieur was just smacking33 his lips over something peculiar34 in claret at a dinner at the Junior, specially35 given by the captain's brother-officer, the major. They could have told of capital fishing and excellent shooting obtained by them for monsieur with a tendency in that direction; stream or lake, moor36 or stubble, always happening to be at a very remote distance from monsieur's family abode37. There were even some of them who for the time being would thoroughly38 interest themselves in monsieur and his affairs, would bear with his children, would listen to his stories, would, on rare occasions, be seen about with him, and would, when very hard hit, invite him to the Windsor mess, or give him a seat in the Derby drag.
But that sort of thing did not do for Laurence Alsager. Such a line of conduct might have suited him once; but it would have been years ago, and with a very different style of wife and husband from Lady Mitford and Sir Charles. He could not think of her with any feeling that was not deeply tinged39 with respect, and that in itself was sufficient to remove this new passion from the category of his past loves. His new passion? Yes; he could not deny it to himself; he felt a singular interest in this woman; there was an attraction in her such as he had never experienced in any one else. He smiled as he recollected41 how in the bygone times he would have called her "cold" and "statuesque;" how he would have despised her slight figure, and thought her manners rustic42, if not gauche43. How he had sneered44 at love, as distinguished45 from intrigue46, when he was a mere47 boy; and now, at thirty, after thirteen years of hard life of all kinds--traces of which might be seen in a few lines round the eyes and on the forehead--he was lapsing48 into the calf-love which boys at school feel for the master's daughter. He laughed; but he knew it was all true, nevertheless.
He must see her that day, of course; at least, he must call--mere politeness required so much after the events of the previous day. Meanwhile he would go down to the club, to read the papers and get some luncheon49, and kill time.
There were several men in the morning-room at the club, some of whom he had seen on the first night of his arrival, others whom he met now for the first time since his return.
Lord Dollamore was there, his legs up on a sofa, reading a newspaper, with a very peculiar grin upon his face.
"Here he is!" he said, looking towards the door as Laurence entered the room; "here's the man himself! Why don't we have a band to play 'See the conquering'?"
"Looks well after it, don't he?" said another; while several old gentlemen looked up from their newspapers, partly in admiration51, partly in awe52.
"Fire away, gentlemen!" said Laurence. "Be as funny as you please; it's all lost upon me. What the deuce do you mean by 'sling,' Cis?"
"He's been so long away, that he's forgotten the English language," sneered Dollamore.
"O no, he hasn't, Lord Dollamore, as he'd quickly show you, were there the least occasion," said Laurence. "But," added he more quietly, "what is the joke? I give you my honour I don't know what you're talking about."
"A lovely lady and a gallant53 knight54! Bring forth9 the steed! The accident; the leap; the rescue! Ha, ha! she's saved! Slow music and curtain! Stunnin' draymer it would make. I can introduce you to several enterprising managers if you'd like to tour in the provinces," said jolly Mr. Wisconsin, who spent nearly all his time and two-third's of his income amongst theatrical55 people.
"Why, how on earth did that story get here?" asked Laurence, on whom the truth was beginning slowly to dawn.
"Here! why, it's all over town--all over England by this time. It's in the papers."
"In the papers! Ah, you're selling me."
"Take it, and read for yourself," said Wisconsin. "Open the paper, and knock it back with your hand--that's the legitimate56 business."
"Doosid well Alsager pretends to be astonished, don't he, considering he put that in the paper himself?"
"No, he didn't do it himself; he got Cis Hetherington to do it."
"Cis couldn't have spelt it," said Lord Dollamore. "There are some devilish long words, over which Cis would have come a cropper."
While his friends were thus pleasantly discussing him, Laurence was reading a remarkably57 full-flavoured and eloquent58 description of a "Serious Accident and Gallant Conduct," as the paragraph was headed, in which Lady Mitford's name and his own figured amongst the longest adjectives and most difficult adverbs. How the wildly excited steeds dashed away at a terrific pace; how the grasp of the lovely charioteer gradually relaxed, and how her control over the fiery59 animals was finally lost; how the attendant groom60 did everything that strength and science in equine matters could suggest, until he was flung, stunned61 and breathless, into the mire62; and how finally, the gallant son of Mars, mounted on a matchless barb63, came bounding over the hedge, and extricated64 the prostrate65 and palpitating form of the lovely member of the aristocracy from utter demolition66 at the hoofs of the infuriated animals. All this was to be found in the newspaper paragraph which Laurence was reading. This paragraph originated in a short story told by the groom in the bar of a public-house close to the mews, whither he had gone to solace67 himself with beer after the indignities68 he had suffered at Mr. Spurrier's hands, and where he had the satisfaction of repeating it to a broken-down seedy man, who "stood" a pint69, and who took short notes of the groom's conversation in a very greasy70 pocketbook.
Laurence was horribly disgusted, as could be seen by the expression of his face, and the nervous manner in which he kept twisting the ends of his moustache. The amusement of the other men was rather increased than diminished at his annoyance71, and was at its height when Cis Hetherington asked:
"What the doose is a 'matchless barb,' Alsager? I've seen all sorts of hacks72 in my time, but never met with one of that kind."
"What do you mean by hacks?" said another. "A barb is a fellow that writes plays, ain't it? They call Shakespeare the immortal73 barb."
"Ah, but they call him a Swan, and all kinds of things. There's no making out what a thing is by what they call him."
Meanwhile Lord Dollamore had risen from the couch, and strolled over to the rug in front of the fire, where Laurence was standing.
"You've begun your duties quickly, my dear Alsager. There are few fellows who get the chance of falling into their position so rapidly."
"What position?"
"Position! I declare I don't follow you, my lord."
"My dear Alsager, surely the East has not had the effect of rendering75 obtuse76 one of the keenest of men. Don't you recollect40 our talk the other night?"
"When I then expressed my opinion that Lady Mitford would have to go through the usual amount of danger, of course I meant moral, not actual, peril78. However, the actual seems to have come first."
"Ye-es. A smashed carriage and plunging horses may, I suppose, be looked upon as actual danger."
"Ah, she'll have worse things than those to contend against and encounter. You were lucky enough to save her from a fractured skull79; I suppose we shall see you doing the 'sweet-little-cherub' business, and watching over her generally, henceforth."
"You seem to forget that Lady Mitford has a husband, Lord Dollamore."
"Not for an instant, my good fellow. But so has--well, Mrs. Hammond--and so have lots of women; but then the husbands are generally engaged in taking care of somebody else. Well, well, to think that you should become a sheep-dog,--you whose whole early life was spent in worrying the lambs!"
"Whose whole early life--that's it! Quand le diable est vieux il se fait ermite!"
"Ye-es; but if I were the husband of a very pretty young wife, I doubt whether I should particularly like you being her father confessor."
"You need not alarm yourself, my lord; I'm not going in for the position."
"Qui a bu, boira, my dear Alsager. I distrust sudden conversions80, and have no great reliance on sheep-dogs whose fangs81 are scarcely cleared of wool."
Laurence might have replied somewhat sharply to this, had he heard it; but he was off on his way to the coffee-room to his luncheon, which had been announced by the waiter; that finished, he started off for Eaton Place.
He had sufficient matter for reflection on his walk. This preposterous82 story which had crept into the papers would of course form a splendid subject of gossip for all those who had nothing better to do than to talk about such things. There was already a certain amount of interest attaching to the Mitfords from the fact of Sir Charles having inherited the baronetcy in a singular and unlooked-for manner, and from his wife's having had the audacity--although sprung from an unknown family--to have a beautiful face and agreeable manners. For this presumption83 Alsager felt that a terrible retribution was in store for her, poor child, when the regular season came on, and the dowagers brought up their saleable daughters to the market. Then the notion that a common country parson's daughter had been beforehand with them, and had carried off an unexceptionable parti before he had been regularly advertised as ready for stalking, would drive these old ladies to a pitch of rankling84 and venomous despair which would find vent12 in such taunts85, hints, insinuations, and open lies as are only learnt in the great finishing-school of London society. Lady Mitford's beauty, style, and position were in themselves quite sufficient to render her an object of dislike to nine-tenths of the other women in society, who would eagerly search for something against her, however slight it might be. Had not that unfortunate accident and its result given them this "something"? Laurence had been too long amongst the ranks of nous autres not to recognize the meaning of the grins and winks86 which went round the assembled circle of club-men when the newspaper paragraph was read, not fully87 to understand every sneering88 inflexion of Lord Dollamore's voice. Thus was the sin of his youth visited on him in later life, with a vengeance89. Hundreds of other men might have done exactly as he had--an act simply of manly90 impulse--without anything having been said about it save praise; but with him, that infernal reputation for gallantry, of which he was once so proud, and which he now so intensely loathed91, would set shoulders shrugging and eyebrows92 lifting at once. The old story! Laurence Alsager again! What else could be expected? For an instant, as all these thoughts came rushing through his mind, he stopped short, wondering whether it would not be better to retrace93 his steps to the hotel, and to fulfil his first-formed resolution of paying a hurried visit to his father, and then quitting England at once. Yes; it would be much better; it would save any chance of scandal or talk, and--And yet he did not like to miss the chance of being thanked by those sweet eyes and that soft voice. He had thought so much of how she would look, not as he had hitherto seen her in full evening-dress or in her bonnet94, but in that simple morning-costume in which all charming women look most charming. Besides, it was his duty as a gentleman to call, after the events of the previous day, and see whether she was suffering from any result of her accident, or from any fright which might have arisen from it. Yes; he would first call and see her, and then go away;--at least, he was not quite certain whether he would go away or not. He was not sure that it would not be far more advisable that he should stay in England, and be on the spot to put a stop at once to any preposterous talk that might arise; and especially to watch over her in case of any attempts which might be made by men of the Dollamore class. Lord Dollamore was a most dangerous fellow, a man who would stick at nothing to gain his ends; and what those ends were, it was, to a man of Alsager's experience, by no means difficult to imagine. Besides, he was merely the type of a class; and if all he had stated about Sir Charles Mitford were really true, if the baronet were a man of dissolute tastes and habits, and utterly95 unable to withstand the temptation which his wealth and position would at once open up to him, it was absolutely necessary that some one should be there to prevent his wife's falling a prey96 to the numerous libertines97 who would immediately attempt to take advantage of her husband's escapades, and ingratiate themselves into her favour.
When the wish is father not merely to the thought, but to the subsequent argument, it is by no means difficult to beat down and utterly vanquish98 the subtlest and most logical self-reasoning. Three minutes' reflection and balancing served to show Laurence how wrong he had been in thinking of absenting himself at such a critical time; and though for a moment the "still small voice" ventured to insinuate99 a doubt of the soundness of his argument, yet he felt that leaving future events to take such course as they might ultimately fall into--it was at least his bounden duty to go then and inquire after Lady Mitford; and onwards he proceeded.
Lady Mitford was at home. In a charming drawing-room--everything in it bearing evidence of exquisite100 womanly taste,--he found her, dressed, as he expected, in the most lovely of morning-costumes--a high violet-silk dress with a simple linen101 collar and cuffs102; her hair perfectly plain, showing the small classic head in all its beauty: she looked to him the loveliest creature he had ever seen. She rose at the announcement of his name, and came forward with a pleasant smile on her face and with outstretched hand Laurence noticed--not, perhaps, without a little disappointment--that there was not the smallest sign of a blush on her cheek, nor the slightest tremor103 in her voice.
"I'm so glad to see you, Colonel Alsager," she said frankly104; "I'm sure I've thought a hundred times since we parted of my gaucherie in not thanking you sufficiently105 for the real service you did me yesterday."
"Pray don't say another word about it, Lady Mitford; it was a simple duty which merits no further mention."
"Indeed, I don't think so. It was a very gallant act in itself, and one which, so far as I'm concerned, renders me your debtor106 for life."
"Thank you, not in the least.. I was a little shaken and unstrung by the fall, and rather stupid yesterday evening, I'm inclined to think; but the night's rest has set me perfectly right. You know I'm country-bred, and therefore what my husband would call in good condition; and I've had so many tumbles off ponies, and been upset so many times in our Devonshire lanes by papa,--who, I'm afraid, is not a very good whip, bless him!--that I'm not entirely unused to such accidents."
"That accounts for your pluck, then. I never saw any one go through what--now it's over--I may say was a very ugly runaway108, with more perfect calmness."
"Ah, that's what I wanted to ask you. I lost my head just as we started down that descent, and knew nothing afterwards. I do so hope I didn't scream."
"You may make yourself thoroughly easy on that score. You were perfectly mute."
"I am delighted at that!" she laughed out with childish glee. "Charley asked me the very first thing whether I hadn't 'yelled out,' as he called it; and I told him I thought not. It was very weak of me to faint, and I fought against it as long as I could; but I felt it must come, and it did."
"You would have been more than woman if you could have deprived yourself of that treat," said Laurence "How is Sir Charles?"
"Well, not very well. I fancy that this accident has upset him very much, poor fellow. I think he blames himself for having allowed me to go without him; and yet he couldn't come, as he had some horrid109 man here on business. But he's been very dull and preoccupied110 ever since. He'll be annoyed at having missed you, as he went out specially to call and thank you for your great kindness. We did not know your address, and he went down to Mr. Bertram's office to get it from him."
"Oh, Bertram is a very old friend of mine. It was from him I first heard of you."
"Yes, he knew Charley at Oxford111. He is a kind gentle creature, I should think; a man that it must be impossible for any one to dislike. And really his silence is sometimes anything but disagreeable--at a theatre, you know, and that sort of thing."
"Silence! I can assure you, Lady Mitford, that when you are the theme of his discourse112, he is a perfect Demosthenes. 'The common mouth, so gross to express delight, in praise of her grew oratory,' as Tennyson says.. He is one of your stanchest admirers."
Lady Mitford looked uncomfortable and a little vexed113, as she said, "Indeed!" then smiled again as she added, "You also have the effect of loosening the dumb man's tongue. In Mr. Bertram you have the loudest of trumpeters. In fact, ever since he heard from you of your intended return, we have grown almost tired of hearing of your good qualities."
"I hope you won't banish114 me, as the Athenians did Aristides for the same reason. Old George is one of the best fellows living. Do you know many people now in town, Lady Mitford?"
"No, indeed. Our Devonshire neighbours have not come up yet, and will not, I suppose, until Parliament meets. And then Sir Charles having been--been away for some time, and I not having lived in society, we scarcely know anybody yet; at least, I mean--I--some of Charley's old. friends have found us out. Mr. Bertram, Captain Bligh and Major Winton, and Lord Dollamore."
"Ah, Lord Dollamore! yes, to be sure. And what, if it's a fair question, do you think of Lord Dollamore?"
Georgie laughed. "It certainly is not a fair question, and if Charley were here, I should not be allowed to answer it; but I don't mind telling you, Colonel Alsager, that I have a great horror of Lord Dollamore."
Laurence smiled grimly, but with the greatest inward satisfaction, as he said, "Poor Dollamore! And will you tell me why you have a horror of him, Lady Mitford?"
"I can scarcely say. I'm sure I ought not to bare it, as he is always studiously polite to me; but there is something strange to me in his manner and in his conversation, something such as I have never met with before, and which, though I don't comprehend it, rouses my antipathy115 and makes me shudder116. I never know what to say to him either, and he always seems to be watching every word that you speak. Now you're laughing at me, Colonel Alsager; and I can't explain what I mean."
Her cheeks flushed as she said this, and the heightened colour added to her beauty. Laurence found himself staring mutely at her, in sheer wonderment at her loveliness; then roused himself and said, "Indeed, I was not laughing, and I can fully comprehend you. Now tell me; the ponies are none the worse for their race?"
"Not much. One has a cut fetlock, and both have had a good deal of air rubbed off; but nothing to signify. I was round in the stables the first thing this morning, and came in great glee to tell Charley how little harm had been done to them. But he's dreadfully angry about it, and declares they shall both be sent away. And all because I was too weak to hold them."
"Well, I should like to be on your side; but I don't think your husband is very far wrong in the present instance. They are plainly unfit for any lady's driving, unless she is what no lady would like to be,--undeniably horsey, and masculine, so far at least as her wrists are concerned."
"Ah, and your horse; that splendid fellow that took the tremendous leap,--Mr. Saunderson told me this; I knew nothing of it at the time,--what of him?"
"Oh, he's wonderfully well. He landed splendidly; but just heeled over for a second and touched his knees,--the merest graze, and that all through my clumsiness; but I was too much excited at the time to attend to him. But it's a mere hair-scratch, and he'll be as right as ever in a week or two."
"Well, the whole thing seems to me like a dream; but a dream from which I should never have woke, had it not been for your promptitude and presence of mind. Those I have said I shall never forget; and--Now here comes Charley to indorse my gratitude117."
As she spoke118, a heavy tread was heard on the staircase; the door opened, and Sir Charles Mitford entered, full of life and radiant with happiness. Any preoccupation or anxiety, for which his wife had prepared her visitor, seemed entirely to have disappeared. He advanced with open hand, and in his cheeriest manner said, "My dear Alsager, delighted to see you! A thousand thanks, my dear fellow,--much more than I can express,--for your conduct yesterday! I've heard all about it, and know how much I owe to you. Tremendous pluck! O yes, I know; you needn't pretend to be modest about it. I've been round to Saunderson's, and seen Spurrier; and he tells me that it was just one of the pluckiest things ever done. You staked the horse, or did something damaging to him, didn't you? so of course I told Spurrier to enter him in my account."
"You're very good; but you're a little late, Sir Charles. I bought him on the spot, and would not part with him for treble his price."
Laurence could not resist stealing a glance at Lady Mitford as he said this. Her eyes were downcast; but a bright red spot burned on her cheeks, and her brows were contracted.
"Well, you've the right of refusal, and you know a good fencer when you see one, Alsager, I know. I only wished to have the horse as a memento119 of the day."
Laurence muttered something inaudible.
"I went down to call upon you, to thank you for all your kindness to my wife," continued Sir Charles; "and then finding I didn't know your address, I looked up Bertram at the Foreign Office; and after being handed about from one room to another, I found him, and he took me to your hotel. Don't seem to have much to do, those fellows at the Foreign Office. Bertram had only just arrived; but he left immediately when I told him I wanted him to come with me."
"I'm very sorry I was not at home."
"Well, so was I partly, and partly not. Of course I should have wished to have given you my thanks for your kindness the very first thing; but then of course you understand that I meant all that. When a man rescues another man's wife from tremendous danger, of course he understands that her husband is tremendously thankful to him, unless it's in a book or play, or that kind of thing, where husbands wish their wives were dead. And then again, if you had been in, I should have missed being introduced to such a charming woman."
"To such a what, Charley?" asked Lady Mitford.
"Oh, don't you be frightened, dear; it's all square and above-board. She asked me if she might call upon you; and she'll be here to-morrow or the next day; so mind you're at home to receive her."
"Her? who?"
"O yes, I forgot. I'll tell you all about it. When we found Alsager was not at his hotel, Bertram evidently didn't want to go back to his office, so he proposed a stretch round the Park. I said I was quite agreeable, and off we started; right round the Oxford Street side, back by the powder-magazine, and so into the Drive. When we got there, there was not a single trap to be seen--not one, I give you my honour; but as we stumped120 along, and Bertram--most delightful121 companion!--never opened his mouth, I saw a pair of bright chesnuts in black harness come whirling a low pony-phaeton along; and as it passed, Bertram took off his hat to the lady driving. She pulled up, and we went to the trap, and Bertram introduced me. She was a very pretty little woman, and had a sable28 cloak;--you must have a sable cloak, Georgie; I'll find out where she got hers;--and there was another woman whom I could not see--kept her veil down, and looked like companion or something of that sort-sitting by her. She certainly drove splendidly. I couldn't help thinking if she'd had those grays of yours yesterday, Georgie, she'd have mastered them."
"I sincerely wish she had," said Lady Mitford with a little petulance122; "I can't say I entirely relish123 the adventure, even though it called forth Colonel Alsager's assistance." ["That's a thorough woman's blow," thought Laurence, listening.] "But you haven't told us the name of this charming Amazon."
"I don't know anything about Amazon or not," said Sir Charles, who began to be a little bit nettled124; "the lady's name is Hammond--Mrs. Hammond, wife of a man who was something in the government service. Ah, you know her, Alsager. Yes, by the way, I recollect her asking Bertram whether you had come back."
The mention of Mrs. Hammond's name seemed to throw rather a damp upon the conversation. Lady Mitford did not appear in the least to share her husband's rhapsodies,--as how should she, being ignorant of their object?--and Colonel Alsager's expression was moody125, and his voice silent. But when he rose to take his leave the expressions of gratitude were renewed both by husband and wife, each in their peculiar manner--Sir Charles was boisterously126 hearty127; Lady Mitford quietly impressive.
"We shall see a good deal of you now, I hope, Alsager; you won't stand on any ridiculous ceremony, or anything of that sort, but come in and out just as you like. There's no one who will be more welcome here, and no one who's earned the right so much, for the matter of that. It rests with you now entirely how far you pursue the acquaintance."
"Goodbye, Colonel Alsager," said Lady Mitford with a sweet smile; "and I'll promise, when you do come to see us, not to give you so much trouble as I did yesterday."
Laurence was equally averse128 to commonplaces and to committing himself, so he bowed and smiled, and went away.
"Kismet," he muttered to himself as he strode down the street,--"Kismet in full force. Laura Hammond back in England, and an acquaintance formed between her and Mitford already. Taken with her, he seemed too. She's just the woman that would fetch such a man as he. Well, let Kismet do its worst; I shall stand by and see the play."
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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equanimity
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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dallied
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| v.随随便便地对待( dally的过去式和过去分词 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
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obedience
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forth
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haphazard
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utterance
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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impelled
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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18
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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19
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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20
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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21
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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22
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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23
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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24
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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25
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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26
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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27
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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28
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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29
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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30
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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31
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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32
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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33
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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34
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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35
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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36
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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37
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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38
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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39
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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41
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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43
gauche
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| adj.笨拙的，粗鲁的 | |
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44
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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46
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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47
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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48
lapsing
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| v.退步( lapse的现在分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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49
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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50
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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51
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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52
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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53
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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54
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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55
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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56
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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57
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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58
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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59
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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60
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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61
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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62
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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63
barb
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| n.（鱼钩等的）倒钩，倒刺 | |
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64
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
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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66
demolition
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| n.破坏,毁坏,毁坏之遗迹 | |
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67
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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68
indignities
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| n.侮辱，轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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69
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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70
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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71
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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72
hacks
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| 黑客 | |
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73
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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74
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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75
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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76
obtuse
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| adj.钝的；愚钝的 | |
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77
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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78
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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79
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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80
conversions
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| 变换( conversion的名词复数 )； （宗教、信仰等）彻底改变； （尤指为居住而）改建的房屋； 橄榄球（触地得分后再把球射中球门的）附加得分 | |
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81
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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82
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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83
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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84
rankling
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的现在分词 ) | |
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85
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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86
winks
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| v.使眼色( wink的第三人称单数 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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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
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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89
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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90
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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91
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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92
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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93
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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94
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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95
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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96
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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97
libertines
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| n.放荡不羁的人，淫荡的人( libertine的名词复数 ) | |
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98
vanquish
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| v.征服，战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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99
insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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100
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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101
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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102
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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103
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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104
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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105
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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106
debtor
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| n.借方，债务人 | |
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107
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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108
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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109
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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110
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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111
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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112
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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113
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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114
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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115
antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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116
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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117
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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118
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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119
memento
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| n.纪念品，令人回忆的东西 | |
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120
stumped
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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121
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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122
petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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123
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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124
nettled
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| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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125
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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126
boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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127
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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128
averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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