Those long-connected scenes when first they moved
The attention————.”—Akenside.
The dejection of Amanda gradually declined, as the idea of seeing Lord Mortimer again revived. It revived not, however, without hopes, fears, and agitations1. Sometimes she imagined she should find him devoted2 to Lady Euphrasia; then again believed his honor and sincerity3 would not allow him to give her up so suddenly, and that this apparent indifference4 proceeded from resentment5, which would vanish if an opportunity once offered (and she trusted there would) for explaining her conduct. She endeavored to calm the emotions these ideas gave rise to, by reflecting that a short time now would most probably terminate her suspense6.
They stopped for the night, about five o’clock, at an inn about a mile from Tudor Hall. After dinner, Amanda informed Lady Greystock she wished to accompany Ellen to her parents. To this her ladyship made no objection, on finding she did not want the carriage. She charged her, however, not to forget the hour of tea, by which time she would be refreshed by a nap, and ready to engage her at a game of picquet.
They set out unattended, as Ellen refused the ostler’s offer of carrying her portmanteau, saying she would send for it the next day. This she did by Amanda’s desire, who wished, unobserved, to pursue a walk, in which she promised herself a melancholy7 indulgence, from reviewing the well-known scenes endeared by tender recollections.
A mournful, yet not undelightful, sensation attends the contemplation of scenes where we once enjoyed felicity—departed joys are ever remembered with an enthusiasm of tenderness which soothes9 the sorrow we experience for their loss.
Such were the present feelings of Amanda; while Ellen, undisturbed by regrets for the past, pointed10 out, with pleasure, the dwellings11 of her intimates and friends. Yet when she came to Chip’s deserted12 cottage, she stopped, and a tear stole from her eye, accompanied at the same time by a smile, which seemed to say, “though thou art now lonely and cheerless, the period is approaching when comfort and gayety shall resume their sta[Pg 201]tions within thee; when the blaze of thy fire and thy taper13 shall not only diffuse14 cheerfulness within, but without, and give a ray to the desolate15 or benighted16 traveller, to guide him to thy hospitable17 shelter!”
Amanda, leaning on Ellen’s arm, proceeded slowly in her walk. The evening was delightful8. The blue vault18 of heaven was spangled with stars, and the air, without being severely20 cold, was clear and refreshing21. Their road, on one side, was skirted with the high woods of Tudor Hall. Amanda gazed on them with emotion; but when she came to the gate which Lord Mortimer had opened for her departure at their first interview, the softness of her heart, could no longer be resisted: she stopped, leaned pensively23 upon it, and wept. The evergreens24, with which the woods abounded25, prevented their wearing a desolate appearance. She wished to have pierced into their most sequestered26 gloom, but she had no time to indulge this wish; nor did she, indeed believe her companion, who was tinctured with superstitious27 fears, would have accompanied her. “When the glow of vegetation again revives,” said she to herself; “when the blossoms and the flowers again spread their spangled foliage28 to the sun, and every shade resounds29 with harmony, where, alas30! will Amanda be?—far distant, in all probability, from these delightful scenes, perhaps neglected and forgotten by their master!”
The awful murmurs31 of the wind rustling32 through the trees, joined to the solemn sound of a neighboring waterfall, began to excite fears in Ellen’s breast. She laid her trembling hand on Amanda, and besought33 her, for the love of Cot, to hasten to the cottage. The road still wound round the wood; and lights from a small village, which lay on its borders, cast various shadows upon the trees; whilst the hum of distant voices floated upon the gale34, and fancy pictured joyous35 groups of rustics36 assembling round their fires, to enjoy refreshment37 after the labors38 of the day.
“Peaceful people,” said Amanda, “when the wants of nature are satisfied, no care or trouble obtrudes39 upon your minds. Tired, but not exhausted40 with the toils41 of the day, with preparing the bosom42 of the earth for the ethereal mildness of the spring, you seek and enjoy a calm repose43.”
In the lane which led to her nurse’s cottage, Amanda paused for a moment. Down this lane Lord Mortimer had once pursued her. She looked towards the mansion45 of Tudor Hall. She endeavored to discern the library, but all was dark and dismal46, except the wing, which Ellen informed her was[Pg 202] occupied by the domestics. Through the window of Edwin’s cottage, they saw all the family seated round a blazing fire, chatting and laughing. The transport of Ellen’s heart overcame every idea of caution. She hastily unlatched the door, and flung herself into her parents’ arms. Their surprise and joy was unbounded, and Amanda was received and welcomed with as much tenderness as their child, without ever asking the reason of her sudden appearance. The first question was, “Would she not stay with them?” and her answer filled them with regret and disappointment. Perceiving them about procuring47 her refreshments48, “she declared she had not a minute to stay. The time allotted49 for her walk was already exceeded, and she feared Lady Greystock would be offended at being left so long at an inn by herself.” She therefore hastily presented some little presents she had brought for the family, and was bidding them farewell, when poor Ellen, who, from so long residing with her young lady, almost adored her, suddenly flung herself into her arms, and clinging round her neck, as if to prevent a separation, which, till the moment of its arrival, she thought she could have supported, exclaimed:—
“Oh, my tear young laty, we are going to part, and my heart sinks within me at the idea. Even Chip himself, if he was here, could not console me. I know you are not happy, and that increases my sorrow. Your sweet cheek is pale, and I have often seen you cry when you thought no poty was minding you. If you who are so goot are not happy, how can a peing like me hope to be so? Oh, may I soon pe plest with seeing you return the mistress of Tudor Hall, married to the sweetest, handsomest of noblemen, who, I know, in my soul, loves you, as well inteed he may, for where would he see the fellow of my young laty? Then Chip and I will be so happy, for I am sure you and my lort will shelter our humble50 cottage.”
Amanda pressed the affectionate girl to her breast, and mingled51 tears with hers, while she softly whispered to her not to hint at such an event; “but be assured, my dearest Ellen,” continued she, “that I shall ever rejoice at your felicity, which, to the utmost of my power, I would promote, and hope soon to hear of your union with Chip.”
“Alack-a-tay!” said her nurse; “are you going away, when I thought you come to stay among us? and then, perhaps, my lort would have come, and then there would have peen such a happy meeting. Why, I verily thought he would have gone distracted when he found you, as one may say, run away; and to pe sure I did pity him, and should have made no[Pg 203] scruple52 to tell him where you were, had I known it myself, which he suspected, for he offered me a sight of money if I would discover. Then there is Parson Howel; why he has peen like unto nothing put a ghost since you went away; and he does so sigh, and he comes almost every tay to ask me apout you, and whether I think or know Lord Mortimer is with you. He will pe in such grief to think you were here without his seeing you.”
“Well,” said Amanda, endeavoring to appear cheerful, “we may all yet have a happy meeting.”
She then repeated her farewell, and, leaning on the arm of old Edwin, returned to the inn, where she again bid him adieu; and hastening to her ladyship, found her just awaking from a comfortable slumber53. They drank tea, and, after playing for about an hour at picquet, retired54 to rest. Amanda, who enjoyed but little repose, rose early in the morning, and, finding her ladyship not quite ready, went down to the court to walk about till she was; where, to her great surprise, the first object she perceived was Howel, leaning pensively against a gate opposite the house. He flew over, and, catching55 her hand, exclaimed, “You are surprised, but, I trust, not displeased56. I could not resist such an opportunity of seeing you once more, after all I have suffered from your precipitate57 journey, and the probability of never more beholding58 you. I have been watching here, in expectation of this happiness, since the first dawn of day.”
“I am sorry,” said Amanda, gravely, “your time was so ill employed.”
“How coldly you speak,” cried he. “Ah! could you read my heart, you would see so little presumption59 in it, that you would, I am confident, pity, though you could not relieve, its feelings. Every spot you loved to frequent, I have haunted since your departure. Your mother’s grave has often been the scene of pensive22 meditation60. Nor has it wanted its vernal offering; the loveliest flowers of my garden I have wove into wreaths, and hung them over it, in fond remembrance of her angel daughter.”
The plaintive61 sound of Howel’s voice, the dejection of his countenance62, excited the softest feelings of sensibility in Amanda’s bosom. But she grew confused by the tenderness of his expression, and, saying she was happy to see him, tried to disengage her hand, that she might retire.
“Surely,” exclaimed he, still detaining it a few moments, “you might grant me without reluctance—you, who are going[Pg 204] to enjoy every happiness and pleasure, going to meet the favored——"
Amanda anticipated the name he was about uttering, and her confusion redoubled. She attempted again, yet in vain, to withdraw her hand, and turned to see whether any one was observing them. How great was her mortification64, on perceiving Lady Greystock leaning from a window, exactly over their heads! She smiled significantly at Amanda, on being seen; and, the carriage being ready, said, “She would attend her below stairs.” Howel now relinquished65 Amanda’s hand. He saw she looked displeased; and expressed such sorrow, accompanied with such submissive apologies for offending her, that she could not avoid according him her pardon. He handed both her and Lady Greystock into the carriage, and looked a melancholy adieu as it drove off.
“Upon my word, a pretty smart young fellow!” said Lady Greystock. “Though impatient this long time to set out, I could not think of interrupting the interesting tete-??-tete I saw between you and him. I suppose you have been a resident in this part of the country before, from your seeming to know this tender swain so well.”
Amanda wished to avoid acknowledging this. If known, she feared it would lead to a discovery, or at least excite a suspicion of her intimacy66 with Lord Mortimer, which she was desirous of concealing67, while in this uncertainty68 concerning him.
“Your ladyship has heard, I believe,” replied she, “that Ellen’s mother nursed me?” “Yes, my dear,” answered her ladyship, with some smartness; “but if your acquaintance even commenced with this youth in infancy69, I fancy it has been renewed since that period.”
Amanda blushed deeply, and, to hide her confusion, pretended to be looking at the prospect70 from the window. Lady Greystock’s eyes pursued hers. Tudor Hall was conspicuous71 from the road, and Amanda involuntarily sighed as she viewed it.
“That is a fine domain,” said Lady Greystock; “I presume you have visited it, and know its owner?”
Amanda could not assert a falsehood, neither could she evade72 the inquiries73 of Lady Greystock; and therefore not only confessed its being the estate of Lord Mortimer, but her own residence near it the preceding summer. Her ladyship immediately conjectured75 it was then the attachment76 between her and Lord Mortimer had commenced; and the blushes, the hesitation77, and the unwillingness78 of Amanda, in owning her[Pg 205] visit to Wales, all confirmed this conjecture74. She tried, however, to insinuate79 herself into her full confidence, by warm expressions of esteem80, and by hinting, that from the disposition81 of Lord Mortimer, she could not believe he ever did, or ever would, think seriously of Lady Euphrasia; this, she hoped, would either induce or betray Amanda to open her whole heart; but she was disappointed. She flattered herself, however, with thinking she had discovered enough to satisfy the marchioness, if she, as Lady Greystock feared she would, expressed any disapprobation at seeing Amanda her companion. She intended saying, that Fitzalan had absolutely forced her under her protection.
They arrived late in the evening of the third day at Pall82 Mall, where her ladyship’s agent had previously83 taken lodgings84 for them.
Lady Greystock, though immersed in business against the approaching trial, neglected no means of amusement; and, the day after her arrival, sent a card of inquiry85 to the Roslin family, as the most eligible86 mode of informing them of it. The next morning, as she expected, she received a visit from them. Amanda was sitting in the window when the carriage drove up to the door. She instantly arose, and left the room, determined87 neither to expose herself to their impertinence, or appear solicitous88 for their notice, by staying in their company uninvited. Lady Greystock soon informed them of Amanda’s having accompanied her to London; and they, as she expected, expressed both surprise and displeasure at it. As she had settled in her own mind, she, therefore, told them, “that Fitzalan had urged her to take his daughter under her care, with entreaties90 she could not resist. Entreaties,” she added, with a significant look, “she believed he had good reason for making.” She then related all she suspected, or rather had discovered, relative to the attachment between Lord Mortimer and Amanda having commenced the preceding summer in Wales.
The marchioness and Lady Euphrasia instantly concluded she was sent to London for the purpose of having it completed by a marriage. This, however, they determined to prevent. The marchioness felt the most inveterate91 hatred92 against her; and also, that, to prevent her being advantageously settled, even if that settlement threatened not to interfere93 with the one she had projected for her daughter, she could undertake almost any project. Though she abhorred94 the idea of noticing her, yet she was tempted63 now to do so, from the idea that it would[Pg 206] better enable her to watch her actions. This idea she communicated in a hasty whisper to Lady Euphrasia, who, approving it, she told Lady Greystock, “as Miss Fitzalan was her guest, she would, on that account, permit her to be introduced to them.” Amanda was accordingly sent for. On entering the room, Lady Greystock took her hand, and presented her to the marchioness and Lady Euphrasia. The former, half rising, with a coldness she could not conquer, said, “Whenever Lady Greystock honored her with a visit, she should be happy to see Miss Fitzalan along with her.” The latter only noticed her by a slight bow; and when Amanda drew a chair near the sofa on which she sat, or rather reclined, she continued staring in her face, and alternately humming an Italian air, and caressing95 a little dog she had brought with her. The unembarrassed elegance96 of Amanda’s air and manner surprised and mortified97 them, as they expected to have seen her covered with confusion, at an introduction so unexpected. To their haughty98 souls, nothing was more delightful than the awe99 and deference100 which vulgar and illiberal101 minds are so apt to pay to rank and fortune. They were provoked to see, in Amanda, conscious dignity, instead of trembling diffidence. As she sat by Lady Euphrasia, the marchioness could not help secretly confessing she was a dangerous rival to her daughter; for never did her lovely features and ingenuous102 countenance appear to such advantage, as when contrasted to Lady Euphrasia’s. The Marchioness withdrew soon after her entrance, unable longer to restrain the malignant103 passions which envy had excited.
Both she and Lady Euphrasia were convinced that to communicate their suspicions at present to Lord Cherbury about her and his son, would not answer the end proposed, for it could be of little consequence, they reflected, to withdraw the esteem of the father, if that of the son continued, who, independent in his notions, and certain of the fortunes of his ancestors, might not hesitate to gratify himself. The point, therefore, was, by some deep-laid scheme, to ruin Amanda in the estimation of Lord Mortimer; and if in the power of mortals to contrive104 and execute such a scheme, they gave themselves credit for being able to effect it.
The blow at her fond hopes, they resolved, should be followed by one against the peace of Fitzalan, on whom they knew, whenever they pleased, they could draw the resentment of Lord Cherbury. Thus should they completely triumph over the lovely Amanda—plunge two beings they detested105 into poverty and wretchedness—destroy expectations which inter[Pg 207]fered with their own, and secure an alliance with a man they had long wished united to their family.
From the unaltered indifference of Lord Mortimer to Lady Euphrasia, they were convinced of his predilection106 for another, flattering themselves that nothing but a prior attachment could have rendered him insensible to the attractions of her ladyship. To render the object of this attachment contemptible107 in his sight, they believed would produce the transfer of affections they so long desired. The haughty soul of Lady Euphrasia would never have permitted her to think of accepting Lord Mortimer after his neglect of her, but by the opportunity she should have by such an acceptance of triumphing over Amanda. From this idea, she entered warmly into all her mother’s plans.
Lord Cherbury had never yet spoken explicitly108 to his son concerning the union he had projected for him. He often, indeed, dropped hints about it, which he always found either neglected, or purposely misunderstood; and from these circumstances was pretty sensible of the disinclination Lord Mortimer felt to his wishes. He knew he entertained high notions of the independence which a rational mind has a right to maintain, and that in an affair of such consequence, as Mortimer frequently said he considered a matrimonial connection to be, he would neither be controlled by the opinion of others or merely allured109 by the advantages of fortune.
To avoid a disagreeable argument with a son he not only loved, but respected, he sought rather, by indirect means, to involve him in an entanglement110 with the Roslin family, than come to an open explanation with him. For this purpose he contrived111 parties as often as possible with them in public; where, by Lord Mortimer’s being seen with Lady Euphrasia, reports might be raised of an intended alliance between them—reports which he himself propagated among some particular friends, with a desire of having them circulated, but an injunction of secrecy112 as to their author. These reports would, he trusted, on reaching Lord Mortimer, lead to a discussion of the affair; and then, he meant to say, as Lord Mortimer had partly contributed to raise them himself by his attendance on Lady Euphrasia, he could not possibly, with honor, recede113 from realizing them; yet often did his lordship fear his scheme would prove abortive—for he well knew the cool judgment114 and keen penetration115 of his son. This fear always inspired him with horror, for he had a motive116 for desiring the union which he durst not avow117.
Lord Mortimer quickly indeed discerned what his father’s [Pg 208] views were in promoting his attendance on Lady Euphrasia. He therefore avoided her society whenever it was possible to do so without absolute rudeness, and contradicted the reports he almost continually heard of an intended alliance between them in the most solemn manner. He had always disliked her, but latterly that dislike was converted into hatred, from the malevolence118 of her conduct towards Amanda; and he felt that, even were his heart free, he never could devote it to her—or give his hand where it must be unaccompanied with esteem. He wished to avoid a disagreeable conversation with Lord Cherbury, and flattered himself his unaltered indifference to her ladyship would at length convince his lordship of the impossibility of accomplishing his projected scheme; and that consequently it would be dropped ere openly avowed119, and he saved the painful necessity of absolutely rejecting a proposal of his father’s.
In the evening Lady Greystock and Amanda received cards for dinner the next day at the Marquis of Roslin’s. Amanda made no objection to this invitation. Her father had often declared, if the marchioness made an overture120 for an intimacy with his children, he would not reject it, as he always deemed family quarrels highly prejudicial to both parties, with regard to the opinion of the world. Besides, had she objected to it, she should either have been a restraint on Lady Greystock, or left to total solitude121; and the idea also stole upon her mind that she should lose a chance of seeing Lord Mortimer, whom she supposed a frequent guest of the marquis’s. Her heart fluttered at the idea of soon beholding him, and the bright glow of animation122 which overspread her countenance in consequence of this idea attracted the observation of Lady Greystock, who congratulated her on the alteration123 that was already visible in her looks; and inferred from thence that she was so well recovered of her fatigue124 as to be able to contrive a little trimming for her against the next day. This Amanda cheerfully undertook, and having a quick execution as well as an elegant taste, soon made progress in it which delighted her ladyship, who, to divert her while she worked, related some of the many entertaining anecdotes125 with which her memory was stored.
Though Amanda submitted her beautiful hair to the hands of a friseur, she departed not from the elegant simplicity126 always conspicuous in her dress. Her little ornaments127 were all arranged with taste, and an anxious wish of appearing to advantage. So lovely, indeed, did she appear to Lady Greystock, that her ladyship began seriously to fear she should not[Pg 209] be forgiven by the marchioness or Lady Euphrasia, for having introduced such an object to their parties.
About six they reached Portman Square, and found a large party assembled in the drawing-room. After the first compliments were over and Amanda introduced to the marquis—not, indeed, as a near relation, but an utter stranger—a gentleman stepped up to the marchioness, and addressing her in a low voice, was immediately presented by her to Amanda, as the Earl of Cherbury.
“My dear young lady,” said he, “allow me to express the pleasure I feel at seeing the daughter of my worthy128 friend, Mr. Fitzalan. Allow me also to increase that pleasure,” continued he, taking her hand, and leading her to a very lovely girl who sat at some distance, “by presenting Miss Fitzalan to Lady Araminta Dormer, and desiring their friendship for each other.”
Surprised, confused, yet delighted by notice so little expected, the heart of Amanda heaved with emotion; her cheeks mantled129 with blushes, and the tear of sensibility trembled in her eye. She was not, however, so embarrassed as to be incapable130 of expressing her acknowledgments to his lordship for his attention, and also to assure him she had early been taught, and sensibly felt, the claims he had upon her gratitude131 and respect. He bowed, as if to prevent a further mention of obligations, and left her seated by his daughter, who had expressed her pleasure at being introduced to her, not in the supercilious132 style of Lady Euphrasia, but in the sweet accents of affability and tenderness.
The conduct of Lord Cherbury had drawn133 all eyes upon Amanda; and the marchioness and Lady Euphrasia regarded her with peculiar134 malignancy. The idea, however, that they could, whenever they pleased, deprive her of his notice, a little lessened136 the jealousy137 and mortification it had excited.
“Pray, who is this little creature,” exclaimed Miss Malcolm (who was a relation of the Marquis’s, and, from being extremely ugly, extremely rich, and extremely ill-natured, was an immense favorite of Lady Euphrasia’s ), “that puts one in mind of a country miss, on her first appearance at a country assembly, blushing and trembling at every eye she meets?”
“Some kind of a far-off relation of my mother’s,” replied Lady Euphrasia, “whom that old dowager, Lady Greystock, picked up in the wilds of Ireland, and has absolutely forced upon our notice; though I assure you, from compassion138, we should have taken the poor creature long ago under our protection, but for the shocking conduct of her family to the mar[Pg 210]chioness, and the symptoms she has already betrayed of following their example. It is really ridiculous sending her to London. I dare say her silly old father has exhausted all his ways and means in trying to render her decent, comforting himself, no doubt, with the hope of her entrapping139 some young fool of quality, who may supply his wants as well as hers.”
“Ay, I suppose all the stock in the farm was sold to dress her out,” cried young Freelove, a little, trifling140 fop, who leaned on the back of her ladyship’s chair. He was a ward44 of Lord Cherbury, and his fortune considerable; but nature had not been quite as bounteous141 to him as the blind goddess. Both his mind and person were effeminate to a degree of insignificance142. All he aimed at was—being a man of fashion. His manners, like his dress, were therefore regulated by it, and he never attempted to approve of anything, or any creature, till assured they were quite the ton. He had danced attendance for some time on Lady Euphrasia, and she encouraged his assiduities in hopes of effecting a change in Lord Mortimer’s manner. But had his lordship even been a passionate143 lover, poor Freelove was not calculated to inspire him with jealousy. “I declare,” continued he, surveying Amanda through an opera-glass which dangled144 from his button-hole, “if her father has nothing to support him but the hope of her making a conquest of importance, he will be in a sad way, for, ’pon my soul, I can see nothing the girl has to recommend her, except novelty; and that, you know, is a charm which will lessen135 every day. All she can possibly expect, is an establishment for a few months with some tasteless being who may like the simplicity of her country look.”
“And more than she merits,” exclaimed Miss Malcolm; “I have no patience with such creatures forcing themselves into society quite above them.”
“I assure you,” said Lady Euphrasia, “you would be astonished at her vanity and conceit145, if you knew her. She considers herself a first-rate beauty, though positively146 any one may see she is quite the reverse, and pretends to the greatest gentleness and simplicity. Then she has made some strange kind of people (to be sure they must be) believe she is accomplished147; though, I dare say, if she can read tolerably, and scrawl148 out a decent letter, ’tis the utmost she can do.”
“We will quiz her after dinner about her accomplishments149,” said Freelove, “and have a little fun with her.”
“Ay, do,” cried Miss Malcolm. “We will ask her to play and sing,” said her ladyship; “for I assure you she pretends[Pg 211] to excel in both; though, from her father’s poverty, I am certain she can know little of either. I shall enjoy her confusion of all things, when her ignorance is detected.”
Whilst this conversation was passing, Amanda, in conversing150 with Lady Araminta, experienced the purest pleasure. Her ladyship was the “softened151 image" of Lord Mortimer. Her voice was modulated152 to the same harmony as his, and Amanda gazed and listened with rapture153. On her confusion abating154, her eye had wandered round the room in quest of his lordship, but he was not in it. At every stir, near the door, her heart fluttered at the idea of seeing him; nor was this idea relinquished till summoned to dinner. She fortunately procured155 a seat next Lady Araminta, which prevented her thinking the time spent at dinner tedious. In the evening the rooms were crowded with company, but Lord Mortimer appeared not among the brilliant assembly. Yet the pang19 of disappointment was softened to Amanda by his absence, intimating that he was not anxious for the society of Lady Euphrasia. True, business, or a prior engagement, might have prevented his coming; but she, as is natural, fixed156 on the idea most flattering to herself.
Lady Euphrasia, in pursuance of the plan laid against Amanda, led the way to the music-room, attended by a large party; as Freelove had intimated to some of the beaux and belles157, her ladyship and he were going to quiz an ignorant Irish country girl. Lady Euphrasia sat down to the harpsichord158, that she might have a better pretext159 for asking Amanda to play. Freelove seated himself by the latter, and began a conversation which, he thought, would effectually embarrass her; but it had quite a contrary effect, rendering160 him so extremely ridiculous as to excite a universal laugh at his expense.
Amanda soon perceived his intention in addressing her; and, also, that Lady Euphrasia and Miss Malcolm were privy161 to it, having caught the significant looks which passed among them. Though tremblingly alive to every feeling of modesty162, she had too much sense, and real nobleness of soul, to allow the illiberal sallies of impertinence to divest163 her of composure.
“Have you seen any of the curiosities of London, my dear?” exclaimed Freelove, lolling back in his chair, and contemplating164 the lustre165 of his buckles166, unconscious of the ridicule167 he excited.
“I think I have,” said Amanda, somewhat archly, and glancing at him, “quite an original in its kind.” Her look, as well as the emphasis on her words, excited another laugh at his expense, which threw him into a momentary168 confusion.
“I think,” said he, as he recovered from it, “the Monu[Pg 212]ment and the Tower would be prodigious169 fine sights to you, and I make it a particular request that I may be included in your party whenever you visit them, particularly the last place.”
“And why,” replied Amanda, “should I take the trouble of visiting wild beasts, when every day I may see animals equally strange, and not half so mischievous170?”
Freelove, insensible as he was, could not mistake the meaning of Amanda’s words, and he left her with a mortified air, being, to use his own phrase, “completely done up.”
Lady Euphrasia, now rising from the harpsichord, requested Amanda to take her place at it, saying, with an ironical171 air, "her performance (which indeed was shocking) would make hers appear to amazing advantage.”
Diffident of her own abilities, Amanda begged to be excused. But when Miss Malcolm, with an earnestness even oppressive, joined her entreaties to Lady Euphrasia’s she could no longer refuse.
“I suppose,” said her ladyship, following her to the instrument, "these songs,” presenting her some trifling ones, “will answer you better than the Italian music before you?”
Amanda made no reply, but turned over the leaves of the book to a lesson much more difficult than that Lady Euphrasia had played. Her touch at first was tremulous and weak, but she was too susceptible172 of the powers of harmony not soon to be inspired by it; and gradually her style became so masterly and elegant, as to excite universal admiration173, except in the bosoms174 of those who had hoped to place her in a ludicrous situation. Their invidious scheme, instead of depressing, had only served to render excellence175 conspicuous; and that mortification they destined176 for another, fell upon themselves. When the lesson was concluded, some gentlemen who either were, or pretended to be, musical connoisseurs177, entreated178 her to sing. She chose a plaintive Italian air, and the exquisite179 taste and sweetness with which she sung, equally astonished and delighted. Nor was admiration confined to the accomplishments she displayed. The soft expression of her countenance, which seemed accordant to the harmonious180 sounds that issued from her lips, was viewed with pleasure, and praised with energy; and she rose from the harpsichord covered with blushes from the applause which stole around her. The gentlemen gathered around Lady Euphrasia, to inquire who the beautiful stranger was, and she gave them pretty much the same account she had already done to Miss Malcolm.
The rage and disappointment of that young lady, and her[Pg 213] ladyship, could scarcely be concealed181. “I declare, I never knew anything so monstrously182 absurd,” exclaimed Lady Euphrasia, “as to let a girl in her situation learn such things, except, indeed, it was to qualify her for a governess, or an opera singer.”
“Ay, I suppose,” said Miss Malcolm, “we shall soon hear her quavering away at one of the theatres; for no person of fashion would really intrust her children to so confident a creature.”
The fair object of their disquietude gladly accompanied Lady Araminta into another room. Several gentlemen followed, and crowded about her chair, offering that adulation which they were accustomed to find acceptable at the shrine183 of beauty. To Amanda, however, it was irksome, not only from its absurd extravagance, but as it interrupted her conversation with Lady Araminta. The marchioness, however, who critically watched her motions, soon relieved her from the troublesome assiduities of the beaux, by placing them at card-tables. Not, indeed, from any good-natured motive, but she could not bear that Amanda should have so much attention paid her, and flattered herself she would be vexed184 by losing it.
In the course of conversation, Lady Araminta mentioned Ireland. She had a faint remembrance of Castle Carberry, she said, and had been half tempted to accompany the marquis and his family in their late excursion. Her brother, she added, had almost made her promise to visit the castle with him the ensuing summer. “You have seen Lord Mortimer, to be sure?” continued her ladyship.
“Yes, madam,” faltered185 Amanda, while her face was overspread with a crimson186 hue187. Her ladyship was too penetrating188 not to perceive her confusion, and it gave rise to a conjecture of something more than a slight acquaintance being between his lordship and Amanda. The melancholy he had betrayed on his return from Ireland had excited the raillery of her ladyship, till convinced, by the discomposure he showed whenever she attempted to inquire into the occasion of it, that it proceeded from a source truly interesting to his feelings. She knew of the alliance her father had projected for him with the Roslin family—a project she never approved of, for Lady Euphrasia was truly disagreeable to her; and a soul like Mortimer’s, tender, liberal, and sincere, she knew could never experience the smallest degree of happiness with a being so uncongenial in every respect as was Lady Euphrasia to him. She loved her brother with the truest tenderness, and secretly believed he was attached in Ireland. She wished to gain his confidence, yet would not solicit89 it, because she knew she had it not in her[Pg 214] power essentially189 to serve him. Her arguments, she was convinced, would have little weight with Lord Cherbury, who had often expressed to her his anxiety for a connection with the Roslin family. With the loveliness of Amanda’s person, with the elegance of her manner, she was immediately charmed. As she conversed190 with her, esteem was added to admiration, and she believed that Mortimer would not have omitted mentioning to her the beautiful daughter of his father’s agent, had he not feared betraying too much emotion at her name. She appeared to Lady Araminta just the kind of woman he would adore; just the being that would answer all the ideas of perfection (romantic ideas she had called them) which he had declared necessary to captivate his heart. Lady Araminta already felt for her unspeakable tenderness. In the softness of her looks, in the sweetness of her voice, there were resistless charms; and she felt, that if oppressed by sorrow, Amanda Fitzalan, above all other beings, was the one she would select to give her consolation191. The confusion she betrayed at the mention of Mortimer, made her ladyship suspect she was the cause of his dejection. She involuntarily fastened her eyes upon her face, as if to penetrate192 the recesses193 of her heart, yet with a tenderness which seemed to say she would pity the secret she might then discover.
Lord Cherbury, at this moment of embarrassment194 to Amanda, approached. He said, “He had just been making a request, and an apology to Lady Greystock, and was now come to repeat them to her. The former was, to meet the marquis’s family at his house the next day at dinner; and the latter was, to excuse so unceremonious an invitation, which he had been induced to make on Lady Araminta’s account, who was obliged to leave town the day after the next, and had, therefore, no time for the usual etiquette195 of visiting.”
Amanda bowed. This invitation was more pleasing than one of more form would have been. It seemed to indicate friendship, and a desire to have the intimacy between her and his daughter cultivated. It gave her also a hope of seeing Lord Mortimer. All these suggestions inspired her with uncommon196 animation, and she entered into a lively conversation with Lord Cherbury, who had infinite vivacity197 in his look and manner. Lady Araminta observed the attention he paid her with pleasure. A prepossession in her favor, she trusted, might produce pleasing consequences.
Lady Greystock at length rose to depart. Amanda received an affectionate adieu from Lady Araminta; and Lord Cherbury attended the ladies to their carriage. On driving off, Lady Greystock observed, what a charming polite man his lordship[Pg 215] was; and, in short, threw out such hints, and entered into such a warm eulogium on his merits, that Amanda began to think he would not find it very difficult to prevail on her ladyship to enter once more the temple of Hymen.
Amanda retired to her chamber198 in a state of greater happiness than for a long period before she had experienced; but it was a happiness which rather agitated199 than soothed200 the feelings, particularly hers, which were so susceptible of every impression, that
And turning trembled too.”
Her present happiness was the offspring of hope, and therefore peculiarly liable to disappointment; a hope derived202 from the attention of Lord Cherbury, and the tenderness of Lady Araminta, that the fond wishes of her heart might yet be realized; wishes, again believed from hearing of Lord Mortimer’s dejection, which his sister had touched upon, and from his absenting himself from the marquis’s, which were not uncongenial to those he himself entertained. She sat down to acquaint her father with the particulars of the day she had passed: for her chief consolation in her absence from him, was, in the idea of writing and hearing constantly. Her writing finished, she sat by the fire, meditating203 on the interview she expected would take place on the ensuing day, till the hoarse204 voice of the watchmen, proclaiming past three o’clock, roused her from her reverie. She smiled at the abstraction of her thoughts, and retired to bed to dream of felicity.
So calm were her slumbers—so delightful her dreams—that Sol had long shot his timorous205 ray into her chamber ere she awoke. Her spirits still continued serene206 and animated207. On descending208 to the drawing-room, she found Lady Greystock just entering it. After breakfast, they went out in her ladyship’s carriage to different parts of the town. All was new to Amanda, who, during her former residence in it, had been entirely209 confined to lodgings in a retired street. She wondered at, and was amused by, the crowds continually passing and repassing. About four they returned to dress. Amanda began the labors of the toilet with a beating heart; nor were its quick pulsations decreased on entering Lady Greystock’s carriage, which in a few minutes conveyed her to Lord Cherbury’s house in St. James’s Square. She followed her ladyship with tottering210 steps; and the first object she saw on entering the drawing-room was Mortimer standing211 near the door.
点击收听单词发音
1 agitations | |
(液体等的)摇动( agitation的名词复数 ); 鼓动; 激烈争论; (情绪等的)纷乱 | |
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2 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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3 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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4 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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5 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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6 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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7 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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8 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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9 soothes | |
v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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10 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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11 dwellings | |
n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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12 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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13 taper | |
n.小蜡烛,尖细,渐弱;adj.尖细的;v.逐渐变小 | |
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14 diffuse | |
v.扩散;传播;adj.冗长的;四散的,弥漫的 | |
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15 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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16 benighted | |
adj.蒙昧的 | |
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17 hospitable | |
adj.好客的;宽容的;有利的,适宜的 | |
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18 vault | |
n.拱形圆顶,地窖,地下室 | |
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19 pang | |
n.剧痛,悲痛,苦闷 | |
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20 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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21 refreshing | |
adj.使精神振作的,使人清爽的,使人喜欢的 | |
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22 pensive | |
a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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23 pensively | |
adv.沉思地,焦虑地 | |
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24 evergreens | |
n.常青树,常绿植物,万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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25 abounded | |
v.大量存在,充满,富于( abound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 sequestered | |
adj.扣押的;隐退的;幽静的;偏僻的v.使隔绝,使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 );扣押 | |
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27 superstitious | |
adj.迷信的 | |
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28 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
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29 resounds | |
v.(指声音等)回荡于某处( resound的第三人称单数 );产生回响;(指某处)回荡着声音 | |
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30 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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31 murmurs | |
n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 );低语声;怨言;嘀咕 | |
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32 rustling | |
n. 瑟瑟声,沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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33 besought | |
v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的过去式和过去分词 );(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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34 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
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35 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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36 rustics | |
n.有农村或村民特色的( rustic的名词复数 );粗野的;不雅的;用粗糙的木材或树枝制作的 | |
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37 refreshment | |
n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
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38 labors | |
v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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39 obtrudes | |
v.强行向前,强行,强迫( obtrude的第三人称单数 ) | |
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40 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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41 toils | |
网 | |
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42 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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43 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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44 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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45 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
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46 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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47 procuring | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的现在分词 );拉皮条 | |
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48 refreshments | |
n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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49 allotted | |
分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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51 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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52 scruple | |
n./v.顾忌,迟疑 | |
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53 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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54 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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55 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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56 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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57 precipitate | |
adj.突如其来的;vt.使突然发生;n.沉淀物 | |
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58 beholding | |
v.看,注视( behold的现在分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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59 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
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60 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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61 plaintive | |
adj.可怜的,伤心的 | |
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62 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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63 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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64 mortification | |
n.耻辱,屈辱 | |
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65 relinquished | |
交出,让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 ); 放弃 | |
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66 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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67 concealing | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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68 uncertainty | |
n.易变,靠不住,不确知,不确定的事物 | |
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69 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
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70 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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71 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
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72 evade | |
vt.逃避,回避;避开,躲避 | |
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73 inquiries | |
n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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74 conjecture | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
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75 conjectured | |
推测,猜测,猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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77 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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78 unwillingness | |
n. 不愿意,不情愿 | |
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79 insinuate | |
vt.含沙射影地说,暗示 | |
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80 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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81 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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82 pall | |
v.覆盖,使平淡无味;n.柩衣,棺罩;棺材;帷幕 | |
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83 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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84 lodgings | |
n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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85 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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86 eligible | |
adj.有条件被选中的;(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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87 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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88 solicitous | |
adj.热切的,挂念的 | |
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89 solicit | |
vi.勾引;乞求;vt.请求,乞求;招揽(生意) | |
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90 entreaties | |
n.恳求,乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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91 inveterate | |
adj.积习已深的,根深蒂固的 | |
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92 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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93 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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94 abhorred | |
v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 );(厌恶地)回避;拒绝;淘汰 | |
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95 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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96 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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97 mortified | |
v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 );伤害(人的感情);克制;抑制(肉体、情感等) | |
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98 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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99 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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100 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
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101 illiberal | |
adj.气量狭小的,吝啬的 | |
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102 ingenuous | |
adj.纯朴的,单纯的;天真的;坦率的 | |
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103 malignant | |
adj.恶性的,致命的;恶意的,恶毒的 | |
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104 contrive | |
vt.谋划,策划;设法做到;设计,想出 | |
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105 detested | |
v.憎恶,嫌恶,痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106 predilection | |
n.偏好 | |
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107 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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108 explicitly | |
ad.明确地,显然地 | |
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109 allured | |
诱引,吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110 entanglement | |
n.纠缠,牵累 | |
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111 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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112 secrecy | |
n.秘密,保密,隐蔽 | |
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113 recede | |
vi.退(去),渐渐远去;向后倾斜,缩进 | |
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114 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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115 penetration | |
n.穿透,穿人,渗透 | |
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116 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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117 avow | |
v.承认,公开宣称 | |
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118 malevolence | |
n.恶意,狠毒 | |
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119 avowed | |
adj.公开声明的,承认的v.公开声明,承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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120 overture | |
n.前奏曲、序曲,提议,提案,初步交涉 | |
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121 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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122 animation | |
n.活泼,兴奋,卡通片/动画片的制作 | |
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123 alteration | |
n.变更,改变;蚀变 | |
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124 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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125 anecdotes | |
n.掌故,趣闻,轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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126 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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127 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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128 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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129 mantled | |
披着斗篷的,覆盖着的 | |
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130 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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131 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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132 supercilious | |
adj.目中无人的,高傲的;adv.高傲地;n.高傲 | |
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133 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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134 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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135 lessen | |
vt.减少,减轻;缩小 | |
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136 lessened | |
减少的,减弱的 | |
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137 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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138 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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139 entrapping | |
v.使陷入圈套,使入陷阱( entrap的现在分词 ) | |
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140 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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141 bounteous | |
adj.丰富的 | |
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142 insignificance | |
n.不重要;无价值;无意义 | |
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143 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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144 dangled | |
悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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145 conceit | |
n.自负,自高自大 | |
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146 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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147 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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148 scrawl | |
vt.潦草地书写;n.潦草的笔记,涂写 | |
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149 accomplishments | |
n.造诣;完成( accomplishment的名词复数 );技能;成绩;成就 | |
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150 conversing | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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151 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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152 modulated | |
已调整[制]的,被调的 | |
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153 rapture | |
n.狂喜;全神贯注;着迷;v.使狂喜 | |
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154 abating | |
减少( abate的现在分词 ); 减去; 降价; 撤消(诉讼) | |
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155 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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156 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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157 belles | |
n.美女( belle的名词复数 );最美的美女 | |
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158 harpsichord | |
n.键琴(钢琴前身) | |
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159 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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160 rendering | |
n.表现,描写 | |
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161 privy | |
adj.私用的;隐密的 | |
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162 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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163 divest | |
v.脱去,剥除 | |
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164 contemplating | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
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165 lustre | |
n.光亮,光泽;荣誉 | |
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166 buckles | |
搭扣,扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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167 ridicule | |
v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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168 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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169 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
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170 mischievous | |
adj.调皮的,恶作剧的,有害的,伤人的 | |
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171 ironical | |
adj.讽刺的,冷嘲的 | |
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172 susceptible | |
adj.过敏的,敏感的;易动感情的,易受感动的 | |
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173 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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174 bosoms | |
胸部( bosom的名词复数 ); 胸怀; 女衣胸部(或胸襟); 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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175 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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176 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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177 connoisseurs | |
n.鉴赏家,鉴定家,行家( connoisseur的名词复数 ) | |
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178 entreated | |
恳求,乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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179 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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180 harmonious | |
adj.和睦的,调和的,和谐的,协调的 | |
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181 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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182 monstrously | |
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183 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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184 vexed | |
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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185 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
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186 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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187 hue | |
n.色度;色调;样子 | |
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188 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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189 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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190 conversed | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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191 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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192 penetrate | |
v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
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193 recesses | |
n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 );(工作或业务活动的)中止或暂停期间;学校的课间休息;某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 );将(墙)做成凹形,在(墙)上做壁龛;休息,休会,休庭 | |
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194 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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195 etiquette | |
n.礼仪,礼节;规矩 | |
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196 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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197 vivacity | |
n.快活,活泼,精神充沛 | |
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198 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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199 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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200 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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201 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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202 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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203 meditating | |
a.沉思的,冥想的 | |
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204 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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205 timorous | |
adj.胆怯的,胆小的 | |
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206 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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207 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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208 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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209 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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210 tottering | |
adj.蹒跚的,动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
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211 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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