As he entered the house there came to his venerable ears the sounds of singing and the twanging of strings4.
“Dear me, what is that?” he asked the maid, pausing in the hall.
“Oh, it’s only the master a-playing of ’is banjo,” the girl explained, smiling at the vicar, who had been her friend since her earliest childhood. “’E often gets took like that, sir. Cook says it’s ’is furrin blood.”
“But he has no foreign blood,” Mr. Glenning told her.
“’E looks a furrin gentleman,” she replied, “and ’is ways....” She paused, remembering her manners.
The vicar was shown into the drawing-room, and here he found the Squire seated upon the arm of the sofa, his guitar across his knees.
“Hullo, padre!” said Jim. “Excuse the music.” He was somewhat abashed5 at thus being taken unawares,[88] for he had little idea that his singing was anything but an infernal noise, intended by Nature to be a vent6 to the feelings. And these feelings, just now, were of a somewhat violent character, for, though he was not yet aware of his plight7, he was in love.
In the early part of the afternoon he had gone for a wandering walk in the woods adjoining the manor, in order to escape a sense of depression which had descended8 upon him. “It must be this old house,” he had said to himself, “with its weight of years. It feels like a trap in which I’ve been caught, a trap laid by the forefathers9 to catch the children and teach them their manners.” And therewith he had rushed out into the sunshine.
Mr. Glenning smiled indulgently. “I shall have to make use of your voice in church,” he said.
The vicar was hurt, and Jim hastened to obliterate11 his thoughtless words by remarking that he had, not long since, come in from a tour of exploration in the woods, and had found them very pleasant.
“Yes,” his visitor replied, “they have grown up nicely. In the Civil War all the trees were felled by Cromwell’s men during the siege of Oxford12; but one of your ancestors replanted the devastated13 area after the Restoration, and the place now looks, I dare say, just as it did before that unfortunate quarrel.”
The thought did not please Jim. Even the woods, then, which that afternoon seemed to him to be a place of escape from the pall14 of history, were but[89] a part of the chain of ancient circumstances which bound the whole estate. Even in their depths he would not be out of hearing of the voice of his forefathers, which told him that they had sowed for posterity15 and that he must do likewise.
He dismissed the irksome reflection by asking the vicar the nature of the parcel which he had deposited on the table.
Mr. Glenning explained that it contained his uncle’s letters, and therewith he unfastened the string, ceremoniously, and revealed a bundle of small packets. “I have been through all these, except this one package,” he said, holding up a small parcel, “and I certainly think they are worth keeping, for they display your uncle’s noble character in a variety of ways.”
“He seems to have been a fine old fellow,” Jim remarked.
“He was, indeed,” replied the vicar. “He represented all the best in our English life.” And therewith he enlarged upon the dead man’s virtues16, while Jim listened attentively17, feeling that the words were intended as an admonition to himself.
At length Mr. Glenning turned to the unopened package. “I have been much exercised in my mind,” he said, “as to what to do in regard to this one packet. It is marked, as you see, ‘To be destroyed at my death.’ Of course, the words do not actually state that the contents are not to be read; but I thought it would be best to consult you first.”
“Thanks,” replied Jim. “I’ll have a look at it some time.”
He opened the drawer in the bureau, and bundled[90] the letters into it, while the vicar watched him, feeling that he was sadly lacking in reverence18, and not a little disappointed, perhaps, that the young man had not invited him to deal with the unopened packet.
Later, when Jim was alone once more, he took this mysterious packet from the drawer, and, seating himself upon the sofa beside the fire, cut the string.
The nature of the contents was at once apparent: they were the relics19 of an affair of the heart, and a glance at the signature of two or three of the letters revealed the fact that the writer was not Jim’s aunt. “Ah,” said he, with satisfaction, “then the old paragon20 was human, like all the rest of us.”
A perusal21 of the badly-written pages, however, dispelled22 the atmosphere of romance which the first short messages of twenty years ago had promised. The story began well enough, so far as he could gather. The lady, whose name was Emily, had evidently lost her heart to her middle-aged23 lover, and was delighted with the little house he had provided for her in a London suburb. Two or three years later she became a mother, but the child had died, and there was a pathetic document recording24 her grief. In more recent years the intrigue25 had developed into an established union; and Emily, now grown complacent26, and probably fat, became a secondary spouse27 and mistress of the old gentleman’s alternative home. The tale ended, however, with Emily’s marriage, two years ago, at the age of forty, to a young city clerk; and the only romantic features of the close of his uncle’s double life was the fact that[91] he had preserved a little handkerchief of hers and a dead rose.
“Well, Emily,” said Jim, aloud, “I wish you luck, wherever you are”; and with that he gently thrust the relics into the flames.
For some time he lay back upon the sofa in the firelight, his arms behind his head, and thought over the story which had been revealed. It seemed, then, that the Eleventh Commandment, “Thou shalt not be found out,” was the essential of respectable life. A man could do what he liked, provided that his delinquencies were hidden from his neighbours. Was this sheer hypocrisy29?—or was there some principle behind the code? Did not Plato once say: “Every man should exert himself never to appear to any one to be of base metal?” He had read the quotation30 somewhere. Ought a man’s epitaph, then, to be: “He lived nobly, in that he kept up appearances”?—or would it be better frankly31 to write: “He tried to walk delicately, but the old Adam tripped him up?”
What would the vicar, what would Miss Proudfoote, have said had either of them known of this double life? Where would then have been the beautiful example of a goodly life which his uncle had left behind him as an inspiration to the whole neighbourhood? Was it not better that the secret was kept?
He found no answer to the questions which he thus put to himself; and all that was apparent to him was that decent society was based not upon the truth, but upon the hiding of the truth, and that the more lofty the pretence32 the more high-principled would be the community. “Truly,” he muttered,[92] “we Anglo-Saxons are called hypocrites; but it is our hypocrisy that keeps us clean!” And with that he returned to his guitar.
A few days later he took Dolly for a walk across the fields. It was an autumnal afternoon, and although the sun shone down from a cloudless sky, there was a chilly33 haze34 over the land, which presaged35 the coming of the first frosts.
“I don’t know how I’m going to stand an English winter,” he said to her, as they sat to rest upon a stile, under an oak from which the leaves were falling. “Just look at the branches up there. They are nearly bare already.” He shuddered36.
She looked at him almost reproachfully. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear you say that,” she replied. “I love the winter. I am a child of the North, you know. To me the grey skies and the bare trees have a sort of meaning I can’t quite explain. They are so ... so English. Think of the long, dark evenings, when you sit over the hearth37, and the firelight jumps and dances about the walls. Think how cosy38 one feels when one is tucked up in bed.”
He glanced down at her, and she smiled up at him with innocent eyes.
“Think of the snow on the ground,” she went on, “and the robins39 hopping40 about. You should just see me scampering41 over the snow in my big country boots, and sliding down the lane. Oh, it’s lovely!”
“It could be made awfully43 cosy, I’m sure,” she said. “You must have big log fires; and if I were[93] you I’d buy some screens to put behind the sofas and armchairs around the fire, so that you can have little lamp-lit corners where you can sit as warm as a toast.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” he answered.
“Have you got a woolly waistcoat?” she asked, and when he replied in the negative she told him that she would knit one for him at once. “I love knitting,” she said; and at the moment she believed that she did.
As they walked on she enlarged upon the delights of winter; and such pleasant pictures did she draw that Jim began to think the coming experience might hold unexpected happiness for him. She managed, somehow, to introduce herself into all the scenes which she sketched44, now as a smiling little figure, vibrating with healthy life in the open air, now purring like a warm, sleepy kitten before the fire indoors.
“From what I saw the other night,” she told him, “you seem to have an excellent hot-water supply. You’ll be able to have beautiful hot baths.... I simply love lying in a boiling bath before I go to bed, don’t you?”
“I can’t say I do,” he laughed. “It makes the sheets feel so cold.”
“Oh, but you must have them warmed, with a hot-bottle or something,” she explained. “When it’s very, very cold I sometimes creep into bed with mother, and we cuddle up and warm each other.”
Again he glanced down at her quickly, wondering.... But her eyes were those of a child.
Presently their path led them through a gate[94] into a field in which a few cows were grazing; and on seeing them Dolly hesitated.
“You’ll think me awfully silly,” she faltered45, swallowing nervously46, “but I’m rather frightened of cows.”
He smiled down at her. “Take my arm,” he said; and without waiting for her to do so, he linked his own arm in hers and laid his hand over her fingers.
She looked anxiously at a mild-eyed, motherly cow which, weighed down by her full udder, moved towards them slowly. “Oh dear,” she whispered, “d’you think that cow is a bull?”
She tugged47 at his arm, hurrying him forward; and thereat he closed his hand more tightly over hers and drew her close to him. He had always regarded himself as a man of the world, and his intellect had ever poked48 fun at his sentiments. Yet now, in a situation so blatantly49 commonplace that he might have been expected to be totally unmoved by it, he was intrigued50 like a novice51. Protecting a maiden52 from the cows!—it was the A.B.C. of the bumpkin’s lovelore; and yet that vulgar old lady, Nature, had once more effectually employed her hackneyed device to his undoing53, and here was he rejoicing in his protective strength, thrilled by the beating heart of a frightened girl, as all his ancestors for hundreds of thousands of years had been thrilled before him in the heydays54 of their adolescence55 and in the morning of life.
The amiable56 cow breathed heavily at them from a discreet57 distance, and then, suddenly hilarious,[95] lowered her head, kicked out her hind28 legs, and gambolled58 beside them for a few yards.
“Oh, oh!” cried Dolly, grabbing at Jim’s coat with her disengaged hand. “I’m sure he’s going to toss us! Oh, do let’s run!”
Jim halted, and held out his hand to the matronly beast. At that moment the jeering59 sprite which sits in the brain of every Anglo-Saxon, pointing with the finger of mockery at his heroics, was pushed from its throne; and for a brief spell the bravado60 of primitive61, gasconading man—the young Adam cock-a-hoop—was dominant62. Jim stepped forward, dragging Dolly with him, and hit the astonished cow sharply across her flank with his hand, whereat she went off at her best speed across the turf.
“Oh, how brave you are!” whispered Dolly; and with that the jesting sprite climbed back upon its throne, and Jim was covered with shame.
“Nonsense!” he said. “You don’t suppose cows are put into a field through which there’s a right of way unless they are perfectly63 harmless, do you?”
But pass it off as he might, Nature had played her old, old trick upon him, and in some subtle manner his relationship to Dolly had become more intimate, more alluring64; so much so, indeed, that when he said “good-bye” to her he asked to be allowed soon to see her again.
“I want to go in to a lecture in Oxford to-morrow evening,” she replied; “but mother has to go to London, and won’t be back in time to take me. Would you like to come?”
“What’s the lecture about?” he asked.
“‘The Emotional Development of the Child,’”[96] she replied. “I love anything to do with children, and everybody says Professor Robarts is wonderful. He believes that a child’s character is formed in the first three or four years of its life, and he thinks all girls should learn just what to do, so that when they have babies of their own....” She paused, and a dreamy look came into her eyes: a speaking look which told of what the psycho-analysts call “the mother-urge”; and it made precisely65 that impression upon Jim’s excited senses which it was intended to make.
Wise was the Buddha66 when, in answer to Ananda’s question as to how he should behave in the presence of women, he made the laconic67 reply: “Keep wide awake.”
“Right!” said Jim. “I’ll order old Hook’s barouche, and drive you in.”
She told him that the lecture was to begin at nine, and he left her with the promise that he would call for her in good time.
Alone once more in his house, he could not put the thought of her from his mind. This, perhaps, is not to be wondered at, for he was a hot-blooded gipsy in more than appearance, and she was as pretty and soft a little picture of feminine charm as ever graced an English village. He failed, at any rate, to follow her strategy, and permitted himself to be flustered68 by it, although there was no deliberate method in her movements, nor did she employ any but those wiles69 which came almost instinctively70 to her. Jim, with his experience, ought to have realized that a woman who talks to a man innocently on intimate matters, such as those which had cropped[97] up without apparent intent in their recent conversation, is, either consciously or unconsciously, Nature’s agent-provocateur. She is leading his thoughts in that direction which is the goal of her life, according to the ruthless whisperings of Nature, who does not care one snap of the fingers for any but the first member of that blessed trinity, Body, Soul and Spirit. The deft71 art of suggestion, in the hands of an unscrupulous woman, is dangerous; but in those of a feather-brained little conglomerate72 of feminine charms and instincts, it is deadly.
These quiet summer and autumn months in the heart of the English countryside had sobered Jim’s mind, and his exalted73 fancy, which had led him at times as it were to hurl74 himself at the gates of heaven, was gone from him. He told himself that, having inherited this ancient house, it was his business to take to his bosom75 a wife and helpmate. His primitive manhood had been stirred by her, and his civilized76 reason justified77 the riot of his mere78 senses by the plea of practical advantage and domestic necessity. She was a splendid little housewife, he mused, a quiet little country girl who had learnt her lesson in the school of privation. She was so dainty, so soft, so pretty; she would always be singing and smiling about the house, arranging the flowers, drawing back the chintz curtains to let the sunlight in, dusting and polishing things, and, in the evenings, sitting curled up in an armchair knitting him waistcoats. It would be a pleasure to adorn79 her in pretty dresses and jewels, to take her up to London and show her the world, and to give her the keys of the domestic store-cupboards. So often in[98] his life he had been afflicted80 by the sense of his loneliness; but with her at his side that mental malady81 would be exorcized like a dreary82 ghost.
With such trivialities, when there is no real love, Nature the Unscrupulous disguises her crude designs, and hides the one thing that interests her in a shower of rice. All men and maidens83 are pawns84 in the murderous game of Survival; and whether they go to happiness or to their doom85 is a matter of utter indifference86 to the Player. Fortunately, there are souls as well as bodies, and of souls a greater than Nature is Master.
The remarkable87 fact was that Jim, whose mind was now so full of the conjugal88 idea, was in no way suited to a domestic life. He was a rover, a self-constituted alien from society; but the original line of his thoughts had been warped89 by his inheritance of the family property, following as it did so closely upon his experience in the rest-house at K?m-es-Sultan and his consequent distaste for isolation90. He was, as it were, a wild Bedouin tribesman from the desert, sojourning in a village caravanserai; and this little maiden who had sidled up to him had so taken his fancy that the habitation of man had come to seem an agreeable home, and the distant uplands were forgotten.
The grey and dreamy spires91 of Oxford themselves had wrought92 a change in him. No man can come under their influence and maintain his mental liberty: they are like a drug, soothing93 him into quiescence94; they are like a poem that drones into the brain the vanity of vigorous action. From the windows of the manor they could be seen rising out of[99] an almost perpetual haze, and sometimes the breeze carried to this ancient house the ancient sound of their chimes and their tolling95. They seemed to preach the blessedness of a quiet, peaceful life—home, marriage, children; the continuous reproduction of unchanging types and the mild obedience96 to the law of nature.
On the following evening Mr. Hook drove them into Oxford in the old barouche. It was a chilly night, and as the carriage rumbled97 along the dark lanes Jim and Dolly sat close to one another, with a fur rug spread across their knees.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a lecture before in my life,” said he, when their destination was reached.
“Nor had I,” she replied, “until we came to live at Eversfield. But it seems to be the correct thing to do in Oxford.” She amended98 her words: “I mean, the most interesting thing to do.”
The lecture was delivered in the hall of one of the colleges, and the Professor proved to be a dull, reasonable man of the family doctor type, who nevertheless aroused his audience, mostly female, to stern expressions of approval by his declaration that the hand that spanks99 the baby rules the world, and that Waterloo was won across the British mother’s lap.
It was after ten o’clock when they entered the carriage for the return journey; and before they had passed the outskirts100 of Oxford Dolly began to yawn.
“I went for a tremendous long ramble101 in the woods to-day,” she explained, “and now I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
[100]
He arranged the rug around her, and made her put her feet up on the opposite seat; then, extending his arm so that it rested behind her back, he told her to take off her hat, lean her head against him, and go to sleep. She settled herself down in this manner, naturally and without any hesitation102: she was like a tired child.
In the carriage there was only a glimmer103 of light from the two lamps outside; and as he sat back somewhat stiffly upon the jolting104 seat he could but dimly see the mop of her fair hair against his shoulder and the tip of her nose. He felt extraordinarily105 happy, and there was a tenderness in his attitude towards her which was overwhelming. She seemed so innocent and so trustful; and when for a moment the thought entered his head that there was perhaps some half-conscious artifice106 in her behaviour, he dismissed the suggestion with resentment107.
The carriage rolled on, and in the darkness he dreamt his dream just as all young men have dreamt it since the world began. It seemed clear to him, now, that he had missed the best of life, because he had seldom had an intimate comrade with whom to share his experiences; for, as Seneca said, “the possession of no good thing is pleasant without a companion.” In the days of his wanderings, of course, a companion had been out of the question; but now his travels were done, and there were no hardships to deter108 him from marriage. He recalled the words of the Caliph Omar which an Egyptian had once quoted to him: “After the Faith, no blessing109 is equal to a good wife”; and he remembered[101] something in the Bible about her price being far above rubies110.
Yet such thoughts as these were but the feeble efforts of the mind to keep pace with the senses. He was like a drunken man who speaks slowly and distinctly to prove that he is not drunk. Had his senses permitted him to be honest with himself he would have admitted that consideration of the advantages of marriage had little influence upon him just now: he wanted Dolly for his own; he wanted to put his arms about her and to kiss her here and now while she slept; he wanted to pull her hair down so that it should tumble about his fingers; he wanted to feel her heart beating under his hand, to hear the sigh of her breath close to his ear....
He bent111 his head down so that his lips came close to her forehead, and as he did so she raised her face. He was too deeply bewitched to realize that, far from being tired, she was at that moment a conquering woman, working at high pressure, acutely aware of his every movement, her nerves and senses strained to win that which she so greatly desired.
For some minutes he remained abnormally still, a little shy perhaps, perhaps desiring to linger upon the wonderful moment like a child agape at the threshold of a circus. Presently she sat up.
“Why, I’ve been asleep!” she exclaimed. “Are we nearly home?”
“Yes,” he answered, without rousing himself from his dream.
She raised her hands to her head; she did something with her fingers which, in the dim light, he[102] could not see; and a moment later he felt her hair tumbling about his hand.
“Oh dear, my hair’s fallen down,” she said.
He drew in his breath sharply. “Don’t wake up!” he gasped112. “Put your head down again where it was.”
With a sigh of contentment she did as she was told; but now his arms were around her, and all his ten fingers were buried in her hair. He could just discern her eyes looking up at him with a sort of dismay in them; he could see her mouth a little open. He bent down and kissed her lips.
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1
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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forefathers
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| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
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10
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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11
obliterate
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| v.擦去，涂抹，去掉...痕迹，消失，除去 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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13
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
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perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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middle-aged
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recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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hind
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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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presaged
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| v.预示，预兆( presage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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robins
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| n.知更鸟，鸫( robin的名词复数 )；（签名者不分先后，以避免受责的）圆形签名抗议书（或请愿书） | |
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hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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41
scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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42
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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43
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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44
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
faltered
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| （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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46
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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47
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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49
blatantly
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| ad.公开地 | |
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50
intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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51
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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52
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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53
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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54
heydays
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| n.盛世，全盛期（heyday的复数形式） | |
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55
adolescence
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| n.青春期，青少年 | |
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56
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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57
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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58
gambolled
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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60
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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61
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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62
dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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66
Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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laconic
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| adj.简洁的；精练的 | |
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68
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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69
wiles
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| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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70
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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71
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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72
conglomerate
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| n.综合商社，多元化集团公司 | |
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73
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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74
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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75
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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78
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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82
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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84
pawns
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| n.（国际象棋中的）兵( pawn的名词复数 )；卒；被人利用的人；小卒v.典当，抵押( pawn的第三人称单数 )；以（某事物）担保 | |
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85
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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86
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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87
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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88
conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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89
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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90
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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91
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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92
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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93
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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94
quiescence
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| n.静止 | |
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95
tolling
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| [财]来料加工 | |
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96
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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97
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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98
Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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99
spanks
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| v.用手掌打( spank的第三人称单数 ) | |
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100
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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101
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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102
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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103
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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104
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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105
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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106
artifice
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| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
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107
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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108
deter
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| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
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109
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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110
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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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
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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