We lodged14 one summer at an old house in that odd suburb of Oldport called "The Point." It is a sort of Artists' Quarter of the town, frequented by a class of summer visitors more addicted15 to sailing and sketching17 than to driving and bowing,—persons who do not object to simple fare, and can live, as one of them said, on potatoes and Point. Here Severance and I made our summer home, basking18 in the delicious sunshine of the lovely bay. The bare outlines around Oldport sometimes dismay the stranger, but soon fascinate. Nowhere does one feel bareness so little, because there is no sharpness of perspective; everything shimmers19 in the moist atmosphere; the islands are all glamour20 and mirage21; and the undulating hills of the horizon seem each like the soft, arched back of some pet animal, and you long to caress22 them with your hand. At last your thoughts begin to swim also, and pass into vague fancies, which you also love to caress. Severance and I were constantly afloat, body and mind. He was a perfect sailor, and had that dreaminess in his nature which matches with nothing but the ripple of the waves. Still, I could not hide from myself that he was a changed man since that voyage in search of health from which he had just returned. His mother talked in her humdrum23 way about heart disease; and his father, taking up the strain, bored us about organic lesions, till we almost wished he had a lesion himself. Severance ridiculed25 all this; but he grew more and more moody26, and his eyes seemed to be laying more submarine cables than ever.
When we were not on the water, we both liked to mouse about the queer streets and quaint27 old houses of that region, and to chat with the fishermen and their grandmothers. There was one house, however, which was very attractive to me,—perhaps because nobody lived in it, and which, for that or some other reason, he never would approach. It was a great square building of rough gray stone, looking like those sombre houses which everyone remembers in Montreal, but which are rare in "the States." It had been built many years before by some millionnaire from New Orleans, and was left unfinished, nobody knew why, till the garden was a wilderness28 of bloom, and the windows of ivy29. Oldport is the only place in New England where either ivy or traditions will grow; there were, to be sure, no legends about this house that I could hear of, for the ghosts in those parts were feeble-minded and retrospective by reason of age, and perhaps scorned a mansion30 where nobody had ever lived; but the ivy clustered round the projecting windows as densely31 as if it had the sins of a dozen generations to hide.
The house stood just above what were commonly called (from their slaty32 color) the Blue Rocks; it seemed the topmost pebble33 left by some tide that had receded,—which perhaps it was. Nurses and children thronged34 daily to these rocks, during the visitors' season, and the fishermen found there a favorite lounging-place; but nobody scaled the wall of the house save myself, and I went there very often. The gate was sometimes opened by Paul, the silent Bavarian gardener, who was master of the keys; and there were also certain great cats that were always sunning themselves on the steps, and seemed to have grown old and gray in waiting for mice that had never come. They looked as if they knew the past and the future. If the owl35 is the bird of Minerva, the cat should be her beast; they have the same sleepy air of unfathomable wisdom. There was such a quiet and potent36 spell about the place that one could almost fancy these constant animals to be the transformed bodies of human visitors who had stayed too long. Who knew what tales might be told by these tall, slender birches, clustering so closely by the sombre walls?—birches which were but whispering shrubs37 when the first gray stones were laid, and which now reared above the eaves their white stems and dark boughs38, still whispering and waiting till a few more years should show them, across the roof, the topmost blossoms of other birches on the other side.
Before the great western doorway39 spread the outer harbor, whither the coasting vessels40 came to drop anchor at any approach of storm. These silent visitors, which arrived at dusk and went at dawn, and from which no boat landed, seemed fitting guests before the portals of the silent house. I was never tired of watching them from the piazza42; but Severance always stayed outside the wall. It was a whim43 of his, he said; and once only I got out of him something about the resemblance of the house to some Portuguese44 mansion,—at Madeira, perhaps, or at Rio Janeiro, but he did not say,—with which he had no pleasant associations. Yet he afterwards seemed to wish to deny this remark, or to confuse my impressions of it, which naturally fixed45 it the better in my mind.
I remember well the morning when he was at last coaxed46 into approaching the house. It was late in September, and a day of perfect calm. As we looked from the broad piazza, there was a glassy smoothness over all the bay, and the hills were coated with a film, or rather a mere47 varnish48, inconceivably thin, of haze49 more delicate than any other climate in America can show. Over the water there were white gulls50 flying, lazy and low; schools of young mackerel displayed their white sides above the surface; and it seemed as if even a butterfly might be seen for miles over that calm expanse. The bay was covered with mackerel-boats, and one man sculled indolently across the foreground a scarlet51 skiff. It was so still that every white sail-boat rested where its sail was first spread; and though the tide was at half-ebb, the anchored boats swung idly different ways from their moorings. Yet there was a continuous ripple in the broad sail of some almost motionless schooner52, and there was a constant melodious53 plash along the shore. From the mouth of the bay came up slowly the premonitory line of bluer water, and we knew that a breeze was near.
Severance seemed to rise in spirits as we approached the house, and I noticed no sign of shrinking, except an occasional lowering of the voice. Seeing this, I ventured to joke him a little on his previous reluctance54, and he replied in the same strain. I seated myself at the corner, and began sketching old Fort Louis, while he strolled along the piazza, looking in at the large, vacant windows. As he approached the farther end, I suddenly heard him give a little cry of amazement55 or dismay, and, looking up, saw him leaning against the wall, with pale face and hands clenched56.
A minute sometimes appears a long while; and though I sprang to him instantly, yet I remember that it seemed as if, during that instant, the whole face of things had changed. The breeze had come, the bay was rippled57, the sail-boats careened to the wind, fishes and birds were gone, and a dark gray cloud had come between us and the sun. Such sudden changes are not, however, uncommon58 after an interval59 of calm; and my only conscious thought at the time was of wonder at the strange aspect of my companion.
"What was that?" asked Severance in a bewildered tone. I looked about me, equally puzzled. "Not there," he said. "In the window."
I looked in at the window, saw nothing, and said so. There was the great empty drawing-room, across which one could see the opposite window, and through this the eastern piazza and the garden beyond. Nothing more was there. With some persuasion60, Severance was induced to look in. He admitted that he saw nothing peculiar61; but he refused all explanation, and we went home.
I pointed63 out to him the absurdity64 of thus yielding to a nervous delusion65, which was already in part conquered, and he finally promised to revisit the scene with me the next day. To clear all possible misgivings66 from my own mind, I got the key of the house from Paul, explored it thoroughly67, and was satisfied that no improper68 visitor had recently entered the drawing-room at least, as the windows were strongly bolted on the inside, and a large cobweb, heavy with dust, hung across the doorway. This did no great credit to Paul's stewardship69, but was, perhaps, a slight relief to me. Nor could I see a trace of anything uncanny outside the house. When Severance went with me, next day, the coast was equally clear, and I was glad to have cured him so easily.
Unfortunately, it did not last. A few days after, there was a brilliant sunset, after a storm, with gorgeous yellow light slanting70 everywhere, and the sun looking at us between bars of dark purple cloud, edged with gold where they touched the pale blue sky; all this fading at last into a great whirl of gray to the northward71, with a cold purple ground. At the height of the show, I climbed the wall to my favorite piazza, and was surprised to find Severance already there.
He sat facing the sunset, but with his head sunk between his hands. At my approach, he looked up, and rose to his feet. "Do not deceive me any more," he said, almost savagely72, and pointed to the window.
I looked in, and must confess that, for a moment, I too was startled. There was a perceptible moment of time during which it seemed as if no possible philosophy could explain what appeared in sight. Not that any object showed itself within the great drawing-room, but I distinctly saw—across the apartment, and through the opposite window—the dark figure of a man about my own size, who leaned against the long window, and gazed intently on me. Above him spread the yellow sunset light, around him the birch-boughs hung and the ivy-tendrils swayed, while behind him there appeared a glimmering73 water-surface, across which slowly drifted the tall masts of a schooner. It looked strangely like a view I had seen of some foreign harbor,—Amalfi, perhaps,—with a vine-clad balcony and a single human figure in the foreground. So real and startling was the sight that at first it was not easy to resolve the whole scene into its component74 parts. Yet it was simply such a confused mixture of real and reflected images as one often sees from the window of a railway carriage, where the mirrored interior seems to glide75 beside the train, with the natural landscape for a background. In this case, also, the frame and foliage76 of the picture were real, and all else was reflected; the sunlit bay behind us was reproduced as in a camera, and the dark figure was but the full-length image of myself.
It was easy to explain all this to Severance, but he shook his head. "So cool a philosopher as yourself," he said, "should remember that this image is not always visible. At our last visit, we looked for it in vain. When we first saw it, it appeared and disappeared within ten minutes. On your mechanical theory it should be other-wise."
This staggered me for a moment. Then the ready solution occurred, that the reflection depended on the strength and direction of the light; and I proved to him that, in our case, it had appeared and disappeared with the sunshine. He was silenced, but evidently not convinced; yet time and common-sense, it seemed, would take care of that.
Soon after all this, I was called out of town for a week or two. If Severance would go with me, it would doubtless complete the cure, I thought; but this he obstinately77 declined. After my departure, my sister wrote, he seemed absolutely to haunt the empty house by the Blue Rocks. He undoubtedly78 went here to sketch16, she thought. The house was in charge of a real-estate agent,—a retired79 landscape-painter, whose pictures did not sell so profitably as their originals; and her theory was, that this agent hoped to make our friend buy the place, and so allured80 him there under pretence81 of sketching. Moreover, she surmised82, he was studying some effect of shadow, because, unlike most men, he appeared in decent spirits only on cloudy days. It is always so easy to fit a man out with a set of ready-made motives83! But I drew my own conclusions, and was not surprised to hear, soon after, that Severance was seriously ill.
This brought me back at once,—sailing down from Providence84 in an open boat, I remember, one lovely moonlight night. Next day I saw Severance, who declared that he had suffered from nothing worse than a prolonged sick-headache. I soon got out of him all that had happened. He had seen the figure in the window every sunny day, he said. Of course he had, if he chose to look for it, and I could only smile, though it perhaps seemed unkind. But I stopped smiling when he went on to tell that, not satisfied with these observations, he had visited the house by moonlight also, and had then seen, as he averred85, a second figure standing86 beside the first.
Of course, there was no defence against such a theory as this, except simply to laugh it down; but it made me very anxious, for it showed that he was growing thoroughly morbid87. "Either it was pure fancy," I said, "or it was Paul the gardener."
But here he was prepared for me. It seemed that, on seeing the two figures, Severance had at once left the piazza, and, with an instinct of common-sense that was surprising, had crossed the garden, scaled the wall, and looked in at the window of Paul's little cottage, where the man and his wife were quietly seated at supper, probably after a late fishing-trip. "There was another reason," he said; but here he stopped, and would give no description of the second figure, which he had, however, seen twice again, always by moon-light. He consented to let me accompany him the following night.
We accordingly went. It was a calm, clear night, and the moon lay brightly on the bay. The distant shores looked low and filmy; a naval88 vessel41 was in the harbor, and there was a ball on board, with music and fire-works; some fishermen were singing in their boats, late as was the hour. Severance was absorbed in his own gloomy reveries; and when we had crossed the wall, the world seemed left outside, and the glamour of the place began to creep over me also. I seemed to see my companion relapsing into some phantom89 realm, beyond power of withdrawal90. I talked, sang, whistled; but it was all a rather hollow effort, and soon ceased. The great house looked gloomy and impenetrable, the moonlight appeared sick and sad, the birch-boughs rustled91 in a dreary92 way. We went up the steps in no jubilant mood.
I crossed the piazza at once, looked in at the farthest window, and saw there my own image, though far more faintly than in the sunlight. Severance then joined me, and his reflected shape stood by mine. Something of the first ghostly impression was renewed, I must confess, by this meeting of the two shadows; there was something rather awful in the way the bodiless things nodded and gesticulated at each other in silence. Still, there was nothing more than this, as Severance was compelled to own; and I was trying to turn the whole affair into ridicule24, when suddenly, without sound or warning, I saw—as distinctly as I perceive the words I now write—yet another figure stand at the window, gaze steadfastly93 at us for a moment, and then disappear. It was, as I fancied, that of a woman, but was totally enveloped94 in a very full cloak, reaching to the ground, with a peculiarly cut hood95, that stood erect96 and seemed half as long as the body of the garment. I had a vague recollection of having seen some such costume in a picture.
Of course, I dashed round the corner of the house, threaded the birch-trees, and stood on the eastern piazza. No one was there. Without losing an instant, I ran to the garden wall and climbed it, as Severance had done, to look into Paul's cottage. That worthy97 was just getting into bed, in a state of complicated deshabille, his blackbearded head wrapped in an old scarlet handkerchief that made him look like a retired pirate in reduced circumstances. He being accounted for, I vainly traversed the shrubberies, returned to the western piazza, watched awhile uselessly, and went home with Severance, a good deal puzzled.
By daylight the whole thing seemed different. That I had seen the figure there was no doubt. It was not a reflected image, for we had no companion. It was, then, human. After all, thought I, it is a commonplace thing enough, this masquerading in a cloak and hood. Someone has observed Severance's nocturnal visits, and is amusing himself at his expense. The peculiarity98 was, that the thing was so well done, and the figure had such an air of dignity, that somehow it was not so easy to make light of it in talking with him.
I went into his room, next day. His sick-headache, or whatever it was, had come on again, and he was lying on his bed. Rutherford's strange old book on the Second Sight lay open before him. "Look there," he said; and I read the motto of a chapter:—
"In sunlight one,
In shadow none,
In moonlight two,
In thunder two,
Then comes Death."
I threw the book indignantly from me, and began to invent doggerel99, parodying100 this precious incantation. But Severance did not seem to enjoy the joke, and it grows tiresome101 to enact102 one's own farce103 and do one's own applauding.
For several days after he was laid up in earnest; but instead of getting any mental rest from this, he lay poring over that preposterous104 book, and it really seemed as if his brain were a little disturbed. Meanwhile I watched the great house, day and night, sought for footsteps, and, by some odd fancy, took frequent observations on the gardener and his wife. Failing to get any clew, I waited one day for Paul's absence, and made a call upon the wife, under pretence of hunting up a missing handkerchief,—for she had been my laundress. I found the handsome, swarthy creature, with her six bronzed children around her, training up the Madeira vine that made a bower105 of the whole side of her little, black, gambrel-roofed cottage. On learning my errand, she became full of sympathy, and was soon emptying her bureau-drawers in pursuit of the lost handkerchief. As she opened the lowest drawer, I saw within it something which sent all the blood to my face for a moment. It was a black cloth cloak, with a stiff hood two feet long, of precisely the pattern worn by the unaccountable visitant at the window. I turned almost fiercely upon her; but she looked so innocent as she stood there, caressing106 and dusting with her fingers what was evidently a pet garment, that it was really impossible to denounce her.
Here broke in the eldest108 boy, named John, aged109 ten, a native American, and a sailor already, whom I had twice fished up from a capsized punt. "Mother ain't a Bavarian," quoth the young salt. "Father's a Bavarian; mother's a Portegee. Portegees wear them hoods110."
"I am a Portuguese, sir, from Fayal," said the woman, prolonging with sweet intonation111 the soft name of her birthplace. "This is my capote, she added, taking up with pride the uncouth112 costume, while the children gathered round, as if its vast folds came rarely into sight.
"It has not been unfolded for a year," she said. As she spoke, she dropped it with a cry, and a little mouse sprang from the skirts, and whisked away into some corner. We found that the little animal had made its abode113 in the heavy woollen, of which three or four thicknesses had been eaten through, and then matted together into the softest of nests. This contained, moreover, a small family of mouselets, who certainly had not taken part in any midnight masquerade. The secret seemed more remote than ever, for I knew that there was no other Portuguese family in the town, and there was no confounding this peculiar local costume with any other.
Returning to Severance's chamber114, I said nothing of all this. He was, by an odd coincidence, looking over a portfolio115 of Fayal sketches116 made by himself during his late voyage. Among them were a dozen studies of just such capotes as I had seen,—some in profile, completely screening the wearer, others disclosing women's faces, old or young. He seemed to wish to put them away, however, when I came in. Really, the plot seemed to thicken; and it was a little provoking to understand it no better, when all the materials seemed close to one's hands.
A day or two later, I was summoned to Boston. Returning thence by the stage-coach, we drove from Tiverton, the whole length of the island, under one of those wild and wonderful skies which give, better than anything in nature, the effect of a field of battle. The heavens were filled with ten thousand separate masses of cloud, varying in shade from palest gray to iron-black, borne rapidly to and fro by upper and lower currents of opposing wind. They seemed to be charging, retreating, breaking, recombining, with puffs117 of what seemed smoke, and a few wan9 sunbeams sometimes striking through for fire. Wherever the eye turned, there appeared some flying fragment not seen before; and yet in an hour this noiseless Antietam grew still, and a settled leaden film overspread the sky, yielding only to some level lines of light where the sun went down. Perhaps our driver was looking toward the sky more than to his own affairs, for, just as all this ended a wheel gave out, and we had to stop in Portsmouth for repairs. By the time we were again in motion, the changing wind had brought up a final thunder-storm, which broke upon us ere we reached our homes. It was rather an uncommon thing, so late in the season; for the lightning, like other brilliant visitors, usually appears in Oldport during only a month or two of every year.
The coach set me down at my own door, so soaked that I might have floated in. I peeped into Severance's room, however, on the way to my own. Strange to say, no one was there; yet some one had evidently been lying on the bed, and on the pillow lay the old book on the Second Sight, open at the very page which had so bewitched him and vexed118 me. I glanced at it mechanically, and when I came to the meaningless jumble119, "In thunder two," a flash flooded the chamber, and a sudden fear struck into my mind. Who knew what insane experiment might have come into that boy's head?
With sudden impulse, I went downstairs, and found the whole house empty, until a stupid old woman, coming in from the wood-house with her apron120 full of turnips121, told me that Severance had been missing since nightfall, after being for a week in bed, dangerously ill, and sometimes slightly delirious122. The family had become alarmed, and were out with lanterns, in search of him.
It was safe to say that none of them had more reason to be alarmed than I. It was something, however, to know where to seek him. Meeting two neighboring fishermen, I took them with me. As we approached the well-known wall, the blast blew out our lights, and we could scarcely speak. The lightning had grown less frequent, yet sheets of flame seemed occasionally to break over the dark, square sides of the house, and to send a flickering123 flame along the ridge-pole and eaves, like a surf of light. A surf of water broke also behind us on the Blue Rocks, sounding as if it pursued our very footsteps; and one of the men whispered hoarsely124 to me, that a Nantucket brig had parted her cable, and was drifting in shore.
As we entered the garden, lights gleamed in the shrubbery. To my surprise, it was Paul and his wife, with their two oldest children,—these last being quite delighted with the stir, and showing so much illumination, in the lee of the house, that it was quite a Feast of Lanterns. They seemed a little surprised at meeting us, too; but we might as well have talked from Point Judith to Beaver125 Tail as to have attempted conversation there. I walked round the building; but a flash of lightning showed nothing on the western piazza save a birch-tree, which lay across, blown down by the storm. I therefore went inside, with Paul's household, leaving the fishermen without.
Never shall I forget that search. As we went from empty room to room, the thunder seemed rolling on the very roof, and the sharp flashes of lightning appeared to put out our lamps and then kindle126 them again. We traversed the upper regions, mounting by a ladder to the attic127; then descended128 into the cellar and the wine-vault. The thorough bareness of the house, the fact that no bright-eyed mice peeped at us from their holes, no uncouth insects glided129 on the walls, no flies buzzed in the unwonted lamplight, scarcely a spider slid down his damp and trailing web,—all this seemed to enhance the mystery. The vacancy130 was more dreary than desertion: it was something old which had never been young. We found ourselves speaking in whispers; the children kept close to their parents; we seemed to be chasing some awful Silence from room to room; and the last apartment, the great drawing-room, we really seemed loath131 to enter. The less the rest of the house had to show, the more, it seemed, must be concentrated there. Even as we entered, a blast of air from a broken pane132 extinguished our last light, and it seemed to take many minutes to rekindle133 it.
As it shone once more, a brilliant lightning-flash also swept through the window, and flickered134 and flickered, as if it would never have done. The eldest child suddenly screamed, and pointed with her finger, first to one great window and then to its opposite. My eyes instinctively135 followed the successive directions; and the double glance gave me all I came to seek, and more than all. Outside the western window lay Severance, his white face against the pane, his eyes gazing across and past us,—struck down doubtless by the fallen tree, which lay across the piazza, and hid him from external view. Opposite him, and seen through the eastern window, stood, statue-like, the hooded136 figure, but with the great capote thrown back, showing a sad, eager, girlish face, with dark eyes, and a good deal of black hair,—one of those faces of peasant beauty such as America never shows,—faces where ignorance is almost raised into refinement137 by its childlike look. Contrasted with Severance's wild gaze, the countenance138 wore an expression of pitying forgiveness, almost of calm; yet it told of wasting sorrow and the wreck139 of a life. Gleaming lustrous140 beneath the lightning, it had a more mystic look when the long flash had ceased, and the single lantern burned beneath it, like an altar-lamp before a shrine141.
"It is Aunt Emilia," exclaimed the little girl; and as she spoke, the father, turning angrily upon her, dashed the light to the ground, and groped his way out without a word of answer. I was too much alarmed about Severance to care for aught else, and quickly made my way to the western piazza, where I found him stunned142 by the fallen tree,—injured, I feared, internally,—still conscious, but unable to speak.
With the aid of my two companions I got him home, and he was ill for several weeks before he died. During his illness he told me all he had to tell; and though Paul and his family disappeared next day,—perhaps going on board the Nantucket brig, which had narrowly escaped shipwreck,—I afterwards learned all the remaining facts from the only neighbor in whom they had placed confidence. Severance, while convalescing143 at a country-house in Fayal, had fallen passionately144 in love with a young peasant-girl, who had broken off her intended marriage for love of him, and had sunk into a half-imbecile melancholy145 when deserted146. She had afterwards come to this country, and joined her sister, Paul's wife. Paul had received her reluctantly, and only on condition that her existence should be concealed147. This was the easier, as it was one of her whims148 to go out only by night, when she had haunted the great house, which, she said, reminded her of her own island, so that she liked to wear thither149 the capote which had been the pride of her heart at home. On the few occasions when she had caught a glimpse of Severance, he had seemed to her, no doubt, as much a phantom as she seemed to him. On the night of the storm, they had both sought their favorite haunt, unconscious of each other, and the friends of each had followed in alarm.
I got traces of the family afterwards at Nantucket and later at Narragansett, and had reason to think that Paul was employed, one summer, by a farmer on Conanicut; but I was always just too late for them; and the money which Severance left, as his only reparation for poor Emilia, never was paid. The affair was hushed up, and very few, even among the neighbors, knew the tragedy that had passed by them with the storm.
After Severance died, I had that temporary feeling of weakened life which remains150 after the first friend or the first love passes, and the heart seems to lose its sense of infinity151. His father came, and prosed, and measured the windows of the empty house, and calculated angles of reflection, and poured even death and despair into his crucible152 of commonplace; the mother whined153 in her feebler way at home; while the only brother, a talkative medical student, tried to pooh-pooh it all, and sent me a letter demonstrating that Emilia was never in America, and that the whole was an hallucination. I cared nothing for his theory; it all seemed like a dream to me, and, as all the actors but myself are gone, it seems so still. The great house is yet unoccupied, and likely to remain so; and he who looks through its western window may still be startled by the weird154 image of himself. As I lingered round it, to-day, beneath the winter sunlight, the snow drifted pitilessly past its ivied windows, and so hushed my footsteps that I scarce knew which was the phantom, myself or my reflection, and wondered if the medical student would not argue me out of existence next.
This is the end of my story. If I sought for a moral, it would be hard to attach one to a thing so slight. It could only be this, that shadow and substance are always ready to link themselves, in unexpected ways, against the diseased imagination; and that remorse155 can make the most transparent156 crystal into a mirror for its sin.
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1
severance
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| n.离职金；切断 | |
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2
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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4
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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5
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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6
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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7
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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8
fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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9
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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10
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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12
nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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14
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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15
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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16
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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17
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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18
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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19
shimmers
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| n.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的名词复数 )v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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20
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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21
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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22
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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23
humdrum
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| adj.单调的，乏味的 | |
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24
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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25
ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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27
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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28
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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29
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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30
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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31
densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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32
slaty
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| 石板一样的，石板色的 | |
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33
pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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34
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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36
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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37
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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38
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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39
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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40
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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41
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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42
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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43
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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44
Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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45
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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46
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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47
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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48
varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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49
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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50
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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52
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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53
melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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54
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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55
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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56
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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57
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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58
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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59
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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60
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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61
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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62
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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63
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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64
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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65
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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66
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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67
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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68
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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69
stewardship
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| n. n. 管理工作；管事人的职位及职责 | |
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70
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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71
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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72
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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73
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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74
component
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| n.组成部分，成分，元件；adj.组成的，合成的 | |
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75
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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76
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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77
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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78
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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79
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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80
allured
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| 诱引，吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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82
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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83
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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84
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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85
averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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86
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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87
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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88
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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89
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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90
withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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91
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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93
steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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94
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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96
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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97
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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98
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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99
doggerel
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| n.拙劣的诗，打油诗 | |
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100
parodying
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| v.滑稽地模仿，拙劣地模仿( parody的现在分词 ) | |
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101
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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102
enact
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| vt.制定(法律)；上演，扮演 | |
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103
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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104
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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105
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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106
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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107
judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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108
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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109
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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110
hoods
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| n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
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111
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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112
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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113
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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114
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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115
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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116
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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117
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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118
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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119
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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120
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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121
turnips
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| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
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122
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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123
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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124
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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125
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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126
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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127
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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128
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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129
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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130
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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131
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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132
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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133
rekindle
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| v.使再振作；再点火 | |
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134
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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136
hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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137
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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138
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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139
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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140
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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141
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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142
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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143
convalescing
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| v.康复( convalesce的现在分词 ) | |
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144
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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145
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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146
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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147
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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148
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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149
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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150
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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151
infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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152
crucible
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| n.坩锅，严酷的考验 | |
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153
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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154
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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155
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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156
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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