"Keep on a bearin' to the right, sir, 'cross Watch Common, and down One Ash Hill, and that'll bring you straight on to Poynings, sir! No luggage, sir?"
"None, thank you!"
"Luggage! no! I should think not! party's without a overcoat, don't you see, Thomas?--without a overcoat, and it freezin' like mad! Poynings, indeed! What's he doin' there? He don't look much like one of the company! More like after the spoons, I should say!"
The polite porter who had made the inquiry1, and the satirical station-master who had commented on the reply, remained gazing for a minute or two at the stranger who had just arrived at the Amherst station of the South-Eastern Railway, and then went back to the occupations from which the premonitory whistle had called them; which, in the porter's case, consisted of a retirement2 to a little wooden watch-box where, surrounded by oil-cans, grease-boxes, dirty swabs of cloth, and luggage-barrows reared on end and threatening with their fore-feet, he proceeded to the mending of his shoes with a bit of tin and a few tacks3, while the stationmaster turned to the accounts which extracted the marrow4 from his very soul, and carried on what he called the "tottle" of a drove of two hundred and sixty oxen, conveyed at per head.
"Freezing like mad." The station-master was right. The frost, which of late years holds aloof5, utterly6 destroying the pictorial7 prophecies of the artists of the illustrated8 periodicals regarding Christmas Day, and which, with the exception of a two days' light rime10, had left January a moist and muggy11 month, had set in with the commencement of February, hard, black, and evidently lasting12. The iron-bound roads rang again, even under the thin boots of the stranger, who hurried over them with a light and fleeting13 step. The sharp keen air whirling over bleak14 Watch Common so penetrated15 his light, Londonish clothing, that he shivered horribly, and, stopping for an instant, beat his sides with his hands in an awkward manner, as one to whom the process was new, and who was vainly endeavouring to imitate some action he had seen. Then he hurried on with a short rapid jerking step, essentially16 different from the league-swallowing swinging pace of the regular pedestrian accustomed to exercise; stumbling over the frozen solid ruts made by the heavy cart-wheels, slipping on the icy puddles17, and ever and anon pausing to take fresh breath, or to place his hand against his loudly-beating heart. As he skirted the further edge of the common, and arrived at the brow of the hill which the porter had mentioned to him, and which he recognized by the solitary18 tree whose branches rustled19 above him in the night wind, he heard, by the chimes of a distant church, ten o'clock rung out sharp and clear through the frosty air. He stopped, counted each chime, and then set off again at a quickened pace, his progress down the descent being easier now, muttering to himself as he went:
"Ten o'clock! I must press on, or they'll all be in bed, I suppose. Beastly respectable, old Carruthers, from what I can make out from my mother, and what little I saw of him! Servants up to prayers and all that kind of thing. No chance of getting hold of her, if I can't make her know I am there, before those prayers come off. Glass of cold water and flat candlestick directly they're over, I suppose, and a kiss to Missy and God bless you all round, and off to bed! By George, what a life! What an infernal, moping, ghostly, dreary21 existence! And yet they've got money, these scoundrels, and old Carruthers could give you a cheque that would make you wink22. Could! Yes, but wouldn't, especially to me! Ba, ba, black sheep, and all the rest of it! Here's a poor tainted23 mutton for you, without the wind being in the least tempered to him! Jove, it goes through me like a knife! There'll be a public somewhere near, I suppose, and when I have seen my mother, I'll step off there and have some hot rum-and-water before turning in. Hold up, there, you hawbuck brute24, pull your other rein25! What's the use of your lamps, if they don't show you people in the road?"
He had sprung aside as he spoke26, and now stood flat against and pushing into the leafless hedge as a carriage with flashing lamps and steaming horses whirled so closely by him as almost to brush his arm. The coachman paid no attention to his outcry, nor did the footman, who, almost hidden in overcoats, was fast asleep in the rumble27 behind. The next instant the carriage was whirling away; but the pedestrian, seeing the condition of the footman, had swung himself on to the hind28 step, and, crouching29 down behind the rumble and its unconscious occupant, obtained a shelter from the bitter wind, and simultaneously30 a lift on his road. There he crouched31, clinging firmly with both hands in close proximity32 to the enshrouded knees of the unconscious footman--knees which, during their owner's sleep, were very helpless and rather comic, which smote34 each other in the passage of every rut, and occasionally parted and displayed a dreary gulf35 of horsecloth between them, to be brought together at the next jolt36 with a very smart concussion--and there he remained until the stopping of the carriage, and a sharp cry of "Gate" from the coachman, induced him to descend37 from his perch38, and to survey the state of affairs from that side of the carriage most removed from a certain light and bustle39 into which they had entered. For, on the other side of the carriage to that on which the stranger stood, was an old-fashioned stone lodge40 with twinkling lights in its little mullioned windows, and all its thousand ivy-leaves gleaming in the carriage-lamps, and happy faces grouped around its door. There was the buxom41 lodge-keeper the centre of the group, with her comely42 red face all aglow43 with smiles; and there was her light-haired, sheep-faced husband standing44 by the swinging iron gates; and there were the sturdy children, indulged with the unwonted dissipation of "sitting up;" and there was the gardener's wife awaiting to see company come in, while her master had gone up to look at fires in hothouses; and there were Kidd, the head keeper, and little Tom, his poor idiot boy, who clapped his hands at the whirling lights of the carriages, and kept up an incessant46 boom of imbecile happiness. Sheep-faced male lodge-keeper bobbing so furiously as to insist on recognition, down goes window of carriage furthest from the stranger, and crisp on the night air cries a sharp curt47 voice,
"How do, Bulger? Not late, eh? hum--ah! not late?"
To which Bulger, pulling at invisible lock of hair on forehead:
"No, Sir Thomas! Lots company, Sir Thomas! Seasonable weather, Sir--"
But the carriage was whirled away before Bulger could conclude, and before the stranger could resume his place under the sheltering lee of the now conscious footman. He shrank back into the darkness--darkness deeper and thicker than ever under the shadow of the tall elms forming the avenue leading to the house, and remained for a minute buried in thought.
The night was clear, and even light, with the hard chilly48 light of stars, and the air was full of cold--sharp, pitiless, and piercing. The wind made itself heard but rarely, but spared the wayfarer49 not one pang50 of its presence. He shrank and shivered, as he peered from under the gaunt branches of the trees after the carriage with its glittering lights.
"Just like my luck!" he thought bitterly. "Nothing is to be wanting to make me feel myself the outcast that I am. A stranger in my mother's house, disowned und proscribed51 by my mother's husband, slinking like a thief behind the carriages of my mother's fine friends. I will see my mother, I must see her; it is a desperate chance, but surely it must succeed. I have no doubt of her, God bless her! but I have my doubts of her power to do what I want."
He emerged from the shadow of the trees again, and struck into the avenue. He quickened his pace, shivering, and seeing the long line of way lying level before him in the sombre glimmer52 of the night, he went on with a more assured step. Angry and bitter thoughts were keeping the young man company, a gloomy wrath53 was in his dark, deep-set eyes, and the hands which he thrust into his coat-pockets clenched54 themselves with an almost fierce impatience55. He strode on, muttering, and trying to keep up an air of hardihood (though there was no one to be deceived but himself), which was belied56 by the misgivings57 and remorse58 at his heart.
"A fine place and a grand house, plenty of money, and all that money gives, and no place for her only son! I wonder how she likes it all! No, no, I don't; I know she is not happy, and it's my fault, and HIS." His face grew darker and more angry, and he shook his clenched hand towards a stately house, whose long lighted fa?ade now became visible.
"And his--his who married my mother and deceived her, who gave her hopes he never intended to fulfil--my ill conduct the cause of his forbidding her to bring me here!--he always hated me; he hated me before he saw me, before he ever knew that I was not a sucking dove for gentleness and a pattern of filial obedience59 and propriety60; he hated me because I existed--because I was my mother's son; and if I had been the most amenable61 of stepsons, he would have hated me all the same, only he would have shown his hatred62 differently, that's all. I should have been brought here, and made to feel insignificance63, instead of being left to beg or starve, for all he cares. I am better off as it is."
A harsh smile came over his face for a moment. "Quite a blackguard, and all but a beggar. All but? No, quite a beggar, for I am coming to beg of my mother--coming to your fine house, Capel Carruthers, like a thief or a spy; slinking in at your gates, under cover of your fine friends' fine carriages; a prodigal64 stepson, by Jove, without the faintest chance of a welcome, and every probability of being turned out, if discovered. Company here, too, of all nights in the year, to make it more difficult to get hold of old Brookes unsuspected, but not so unfortunate either, if I'm seen. Hangers65 about are to be found even in the country, I suppose, on festive66 occasions. There's the house at last! A grand place, grim as it is under the stars, with a twinkling firmament67 of its own on the ground floor. The lights look warm. Good God, how cold it is out here!" Again he drew back close to the tall dark stems of the trees, to let a carriage pass; when it had discharged its load under the portico68, he emerged cautiously upon the broad carriage sweep by which the company were arriving.
The house was an old one, and was surrounded by a narrow fosse or ditch, which in former days might have been full of water, and used for defensive69 purposes, but which was now drained and dry, and served as a kind of area, looked into by the windows in the basement. Above this fosse, and stretching away on either side of the heavy portico, was a broad and handsome stone terrace, the left hand portion of which lay in deep shadow, while the right hand portion was chequered with occasional light, which made its way through the partially70 closed shutters71 of the ball-room. Cautiously crossing the broad drive, and slipping behind a carriage which was just discharging its load at the hall door, George Dallas, the stranger whose fortunes we have so far followed, crept into a dark angle of the porch until the crunching72 of the gravel73 and the clanging of the door announced the departure of the carriage, and then, climbing the balustrade of the terrace, and carefully avoiding the lines of light, made his way to the window of the room, and peered in. At first, he shook so with the cold, that he could not concentrate his attention on what was passing before his eyes; but having groped about and found a small tree which was carefully protected with a large piece of matting, and which flanked one end of the balustrade, he quietly removed the matting, and, wrapping it round him, returned to his position, watching and commenting on the scene of which he was a spectator.
It was an old room on which George Dallas looked--an old room with panelled walls, surmounted75 by a curious carved frieze76 and stuccoed roof, and hung round with family portraits, which gave it a certain grim and stern air, and made the gay hothouse flowers, with which it was lavishly77 decorated, seem out of keeping. Immediately opposite the window stood the entrance door, wide open, and flanked by the usual bevy78 of young men, who, from laziness or bashfulness, take some time to screw their courage up to dancing-point. Close in front of them was a group which at once arrested George Dallas's attention.
It consisted of three persons, of whom two were gentlemen; the third was a young girl, whose small white-gloved hand rested on the arm of the older of her companions, who, as George Dallas caught sight of them, was in the act of presenting the younger to her. The girl was tall, slight, very graceful79 and elegant, and extremely fair. Her features were not clearly discernible, as she stood sideways towards the window; but the pose of the head, the bend of the neck, the braids of fair hair closely wound round the well-shaped head, and worn without any ornament80 but its own golden gloss81, the sweeping82 folds of her soft white dress--all bore a promise of beauty, which indeed her face, had he seen it, would have fully74 realized. He saw her bow, in graceful acknowledgment of the introduction, and then linger for a few minutes talking with the two gentlemen--to the younger of whom George Dallas paid no attention whatever; after which she moved away with him to join the dancers. The older man stood where she had left him, and at him. George Dallas looked with the fixed83 intensity84 of anger and hatred.
"There you are," he muttered, "you worthy85, respectable, hard-hearted, unblemished gentleman! There you are, with your clear complexion86 and your iron-grey whiskers, with your cold blue eyes and your white teeth, with your thin lips and your long chin, with your head just a little bald, and your ears just a little shrivelled, but not much; with your upright figure, and your nice cool hands, and your nice cool heart, too, that never knew an ungratified lust9, or a passion which wasn't purely87 selfish. There you are, the model of respectability and wealth, and the essence of tyranny and pride! There you are--and you married my beautiful mother when she was poor, and when her son needed all that she could give him, and more; and you gave her wealth, and a fine house, and fine friends, and your not remarkably88 illustrious name, and everything she could possibly desire, except the only thing she wanted, and the only thing, as I believe, for which she married you. That's your niece, of course, the precious heiress, the rich and rare young lady who has a place in your house, though the son of its mistress is banished89 from it. That's the heiress, who probably does not know that I exist. I should not be surprised if he had ordered my mother to conceal90 the disgraceful fact. Well, the girl is a nice creature, I dare say; she looks like it. But where can my mother be?"
He approached the window still more closely; he ventured to place his face close to the panes91 for a moment, as he peered anxiously into the room. "Where is my mother?" he thought. "Good Heaven! if she did but know that I am shivering here."
The strains of sweet clear music reached his ears, floods of light streamed out from the ball-room, a throng92 of dancers whirled past the window, he saw the soft fluttering dresses, he heard the rustle20 of the robes, the sounds of the gay voices, and the ring of laughter, and ever and anon, as a stray couple fell away from the dance, and lingered near the window, a fair young face would meet his gaze, and the happy light of its youth and pleasure would shine upon him. He lingered, fascinated, in spite of the cold, the misery93 of his situation, and the imminent94 risk of detection to which he was exposed. He lingered, and looked, with the longing95 of youth for gaiety and pleasure; in his case for a simple gaiety, a more sinless pleasure, than any he was wont45 to know. Suddenly he shrank quickly back and clutched hard at the covering of matting in which he had shrouded33 himself. A figure had crossed the window, between him and the light--a figure he knew well, and recognized with a beating heart--a figure clad in purple velvet96 and decked with gleaming jewels; it was his mother. She passed hastily, and went up to Mr. Carruthers, then talking with another gentleman. She stretched out one jewelled arm, and touched him on the shoulder with her fan. Mr. Carruthers turned, and directly faced the window. Then George Dallas flung the matting which had covered him away, and left his hiding-place with a curse in his heart and on his lips.
"Yes, curse you," he said, "you dress her in velvet and diamonds, and make her splendid to entertain your company and flatter your pride, and you condemn97 her to such misery as only soft-hearted, strong-natured women such as she is can feel, all the time. But it won't do, Carruthers; she's my mother, though she's your wife, and you can't change her. I'll have some of your money, tyrant98 as you are, and slave as she is, before this night is over. I'm a desperate man; you can't make me more miserable99 than I am, and I can bring you to shame, and I will, too."
He stepped softly to the edge of the terrace, climbed the balustrade, and sat down cautiously on the narrow strip of grass beyond; then felt with his hands along the rough face of the wall which formed the front of the area. He looked down between his feet, the depth was about ten feet. He thought he might venture to let himself drop. He did so, and came safely on his feet, on the smooth sanded ground. An angle of the house was close to him; he turned it, and came upon a window whose shutters, like those of the upper range, were unclosed, and through which he could see into the comfortable room beyond. The room was low but large, and the heavy carved presses, the table with green baize cover, the arm-chairs, one at each side of the fire, the serviceable, comfortable, and responsible appearance of the apartment, at once indicated its true character. It could be nothing but the housekeeper100's room.
In the centre of the table stood an old-fashioned oil-lamp, no doubt banished from the upper regions when the moderator made its appearance in society; close to the stand was a large Bible open, a pair of spectacles lying upon the page. A brass-bound desk, a file of receipts, a Tunbridge-ware work-box, and a venerable inkstand, were also symmetrically arranged upon the table. The room was empty, and the observer at the window had ample leisure and opportunity to scrutinize101 it.
"I am in luck," he said. "This is Nurse Ellen's room. There are the dreadful old portraits which she always insisted on keeping over the chimney-piece, and venerated102, quite as much because she thought them objects of art, as because she fancied them really like my father and mother. There's her Bible, with the date of my birth and christening in it. I dare say those are the identical spectacles which I broke, playing Red Riding Hood's grandmother. I wish she would come in, and come alone. What shall I do if she brings any one with her, and they close the shutters? How delightful103 the fire looks! I have a great mind to smash the window and get in. No one would hear the noise with all that crashing music overhead, and there does not seem to be a soul on this side of the house."
Xo sound of footsteps made itself audible on the terrace above his head. He was sheltered a little more in his present position, but still the cold was bitter, and he was shivering. The impulse to break the window grew stronger. He thought how he should avoid cutting his hand; his shabby gloves could not protect him, suppose he were to take off his waistcoat, and twist it around his hand and arm. He had unfastened one button of his coat, as the idea occurred to him, when a sound overhead, on the house side, caught his ear. It was the click produced by opening the fastening of a French window. Then came steps upon the light balcony, which was one of the modern decorations of the old building, and voices which reached him distinctly.
"Any influenza104 you may catch, or anything of that kind, you must ascribe to yourself, Miss Carruthers. You would come out this--hum--by Jove--awful night!"
"Oh, don't fear for me, Captain Marsh105," said a light girlish voice, laughingly, "I'm country bred, you know, and accustomed to be out in all weathers, so that I run no risk; and though it is wintry enough outside, the temperature of that room was becoming unbearable106!"
"Think it must be caused by that old woman's red face that we noticed, or the thingummy--paradise feather in her cap. She with the very thin daughter. Don't you know?"
"Of course I know. The old lady is my aunt, Lady Boldero; the young one is my cousin Blanche!"
"Haw, by Jove, sorry I spoke, haw! By-the-by, that was Sir Thomas Boldero's park, where I met you riding on Friday, wasn't it, Miss Carruthers?"
"Yes. I was taking a short cut home, as I thought I should be late for dinner."
"My groom! That's a luxury I very seldom indulge in--never, when I think I can dispense109 with it without my uncle's knowledge. It is disagreeable to me to have a man perpetually at my heels!"
"You shouldn't say that, Miss Carruthers--shouldn't, indeed. You don't know how pleasant it is--for the man."
"Very pretty indeed, Captain Marsh! And now that you've had the chance of paying a compliment, and have done it so neatly110, we will go back, please. I begin to feel a little chilly."
As the speakers moved, something fell at George Dallas's feet. It was so dark in the corner where he stood, that he could not distinguish what it was, until the closing of the window above gave him assurance that he might move in safety. Then he bent111 forward, and found it was a sprig of myrtle. He picked it up, looked at it idly, and put it into the breast-pocket of his coat.
"What a sweet voice she has!" he thought. "A sweet face too, I am sure; it must be so, to match the voice and the hair. Well, she has given me something, though she didn't intend it, and will probably never know it. A spirited, plucky112 girl, I am sure, for all her grace and her blonde style. Carries too many guns for the captain, that's clear!"
He dived down in the midst of his thoughts, for the door of the room into which he had been looking, opened quietly, and an elderly woman in a black silk dress entered. After casting a glance round her, she was about to seat herself at the table, when Dallas gave two low taps in quick succession at the window. The woman started and looked towards the spot whence the sound came with a half-keen, half-frightened glance, which melted into unmixed astonishment113 when Dallas placed his face close to the glass and beckoned114 to her with his hand. Then she approached the window, shading her eyes from the candlelight and peering straight before her. When she was close to the window, she said, in a low firm voice:
"Who are you? Speak at once, or I'll call for help!"
"It's I, Nurse Ellen. I--"
"Good Heavens, Master George!"
"Yes, yes; open the window and let me in. I want to talk to you, and I'm half dead with cold. Let me in. So. That's it."
The woman gently raised the sash, and so soon as the aperture115 admitted of the passage of his body, he slipped through and entered the room, taking no notice of his old nurse, but making straight for the fire, before which he knelt, gazing hungrily at the flumes, and spreading both his hands in eager welcome of the blaze. The old woman closed the window and then came softly behind him, placed her hand on his head, and, leaning over his shoulder and looking into his face, muttered: "Good Lord, how changed you are, my boy! I should scarcely have known you, except for your eyes, and they're just the same; but in everything else, how changed!"
He was changed indeed. The last time George Dallas had taken farewell of his old nurse, he had parted from her, a big strong healthy youth of eighteen, with short curly brown hair, clear skin, bright complexion, the incarnation of youth and strength and health. He knelt before her now, a gaunt grisly man, with high cheek-bones and hollow rings round his great brown eyes, with that dead sodden116 pallor which a life of London dissipation always produces, and with long thin bony hands with which he clutched hold of the old woman, who put her arms round him and seemed about to burst into a fit of sobbing117.
"Don't do that, nurse! don't do that! I'm weak myself, and seedy, and couldn't stand it. Get me something to drink, will you? And, look here! I must see my mother to-night, at once. I've come from town on purpose, and I must see her."
"She does not know you are here!" asked Mrs. Brookes, while she gazed mournfully at the young man, still kneeling before the fire. "But of course she does not, or she would have told me."
"Of course, of course, Nurse Ellen," said George Dallas; "she knows nothing about it. If I had asked her leave, she would not have dared to give it. How is she, nurse? How does she like her life? She tells me very little of herself when she writes to me, and that's not often." He rose from his knees now, and pulled a ponderous118 black horsehair chair close to the fire, seated himself in it, and sat huddled119 together, as though cold even yet, with his feet on the broad old-fashioned fender. "I had to come at any risk. You shall know all about it, nurse; but now you must contrive120 to tell my mother I am here."
"How can I do that, Master George?" asked the old woman, in a tone of distress121 and perplexity. "She is in the ball-room, and all the grand folk are looking at her and talking to her. I can't go in among them, and if I could, she would be so frightened and put about, that master would see in a moment that something had happened. He is never far off were she is."
"Ha!" said George gloomily; "watches her, does he, and that kind of thing?"
"Well, not exactly," said Mrs. Brookes; "not in a nasty sort of way. I must say, to do him justice, though I don't much like him, that Mr. Carruthers is a good husband; he's fond of her, and proud of her, and he likes to see her admired."
The young man interrupted her with selfish heedlessness.
"Well, it's a pity he has the chance to-night; but, however it's managed, I must see her. I have to go back to town to-morrow, and of course I can't come about here safely in the daytime. Think of some plan, nurse, and look sharp about it."
"I might go upstairs and join the servants--they are all about the ball-room door--and watch for an opportunity as she passes."
"That will take time," said George, "but it's the best chance. Then do it, nurse, and give me something to eat while you are away. Will any of the servants come in here? They had better not see me, you know."
"No, you are quite safe; they are looking at the dancing," she answered, absently, and closing as she spoke the shutters of the window by which he had entered. She then left the room, but quickly returned, bringing in a tray with cold meat, bread, and wine. He still sat by the tire, now with his head thrown back against the high straight back of his chair, and his hands thrust into his pockets.
"Very plain fare, Master George," said the housekeeper, "but I can't find anything better without wasting time."
"Never mind, nurse. I'm not hungry, and I'm not above eating cold meat if I were. Beggars must not be choosers, you know; and I'm little better than a beggar, as you also know. Give me some wine. It isn't felony, is it, though I have got into my stepfather's house through the window, and am drinking his wine without his knowledge or consent?"
His tone was very painful to the faithful old woman's ear. She looked at him wistfully, but made no reply. He rose from the chair by the fire, sullenly122 drew another chair to the table, and sat down by the tray. Mrs. Brookes left the room, and took her way along the white stone passage which led to the entrance hall of the mansion123. Passing through a swinging door covered with crimson124 cloth, she entered a spacious125 square hall, decorated, after the fashion of country houses, with stags' heads and antlers. The floor was of polished oak, and uncarpeted, but at each of the six doors which opened into it lay a soft white rug. A bright fire blazed in the ample grate; and through the open door of the ballroom126, light and the sound of music poured into the hall. A number of servants were standing about, some lingering by the fire, a few ranged close to the door of the dancing-room, exchanging comments upon the performances with perfect impunity127. Under cover of the music Mrs. Brookes joined the group, which respectfully gave way at her approach, and ceded128 to her the front place. She looked anxiously, and for some time vainly, for her mistress. At length she perceived her, but she was seated at the further end of the room, in conversation with an elderly lady of extraordinary magnificence in point of apparel, and who required to be spoken to through an ear-trumpet. Mrs. Carruthers was not a skilful129 performer upon that instrument, and was obliged to give her whole mind to it, so that there was little chance of her looking in any other direction than the uninviting one of Mrs. Chittenden's ear for the present. Mrs. Brookes looked on impatiently, and longed for a break in the dancing, and a consequent movement among the company. At length the music ceased, the panting waltzers subsided130 into promenade131, and Mrs. Carruthers rose to place her chair at the disposal of a young lady whose exertions132 had told upon her, and who breathlessly accepted the boon133. As she stood for a moment turned towards the door, she caught sight of the housekeeper's face, and saw she looked pale and agitated134. Catching135 her mistress's eye, the housekeeper made a slight stealthy sign. Very gracefully136, and with perfect calm, the tall figure, in its sweeping velvet dress, made its way through the dispersed137 groups between it and the door, from which all the servants had precipitately138 retreated at the cessation of the music. What was wrong? Mrs. Carruthers thought. Something, she knew, must be wrong, or Ellen would not be there beckoning139 to her. A second gesture, still more stealthy and warning, caused her to pause when within reach of the housekeeper's whisper, without turning her head towards her.
"What is it, Ellen?"
"Yes, he is just beyond the screen. What is the matter?"
"Turn round, and stoop; let me tie your shoe--there!"
Mrs. Carruthers stood in the doorway141, and bent her head, holding her foot out, and lifting her dress. Mrs. Brookes fumbled142 with the shoe, as she whispered rapidly:
"Come as soon as you can to my room. Be careful that you are not missed. Some one is there who wants to see you."
"To see me, Ellen? On such a night, and at such an hour! What is wrong? Who is there?"
The old woman looked earnestly into the frightened face, bending over her, and said rather with her lips than with her voice: "Master George!"
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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tacks
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| 大头钉( tack的名词复数 )； 平头钉； 航向； 方法 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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pictorial
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| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
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illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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10
rime
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| n.白霜；v.使蒙霜 | |
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11
muggy
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| adj.闷热的；adv.（天气）闷热而潮湿地；n.（天气）闷热而潮湿 | |
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12
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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13
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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14
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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15
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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16
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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17
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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18
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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19
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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20
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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21
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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22
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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23
tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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24
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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25
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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26
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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27
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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28
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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29
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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30
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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31
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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33
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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34
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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35
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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36
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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37
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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38
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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39
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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40
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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41
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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42
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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43
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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44
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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45
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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46
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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47
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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48
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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49
wayfarer
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| n.旅人 | |
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50
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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51
proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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53
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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54
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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55
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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56
belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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57
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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58
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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59
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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60
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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61
amenable
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| adj.经得起检验的；顺从的；对负有义务的 | |
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62
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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63
insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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64
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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65
hangers
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| n.衣架( hanger的名词复数 )；挂耳 | |
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66
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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67
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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68
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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69
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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70
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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71
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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72
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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73
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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74
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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75
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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76
frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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77
lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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78
bevy
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| n.一群 | |
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79
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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80
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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81
gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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82
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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83
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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84
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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85
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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86
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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87
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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88
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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89
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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91
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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92
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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93
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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94
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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95
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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96
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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97
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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98
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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99
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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100
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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101
scrutinize
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| n.详细检查，细读 | |
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102
venerated
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| 敬重（某人或某事物），崇敬( venerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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104
influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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105
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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106
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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107
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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108
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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109
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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110
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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111
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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112
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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113
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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114
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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116
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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117
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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118
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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119
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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120
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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121
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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122
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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123
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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124
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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125
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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126
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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127
impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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128
ceded
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| v.让给，割让，放弃( cede的过去式 ) | |
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129
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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130
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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131
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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132
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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133
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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134
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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135
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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136
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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137
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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138
precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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139
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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140
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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141
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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142
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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