A Chinaman. What was a Chinaman doing in those parts? Men speculated in the bar parlour of “The Three Feathers.” Gossips of the more timorous13 sex discussed the possibility of a yellow peril—children kidnapped, throats cut, horrors perpetrated in lonely places. Mrs. Trevenna had seen murder in his eye; and Mrs. Trevenna, who had buried three husbands, was a woman whose opinion was respected. Mrs. Bates said his yellow hands were like the claws of a turkey-cock. Her daughter, Gwinnie, giggling14, remarked that she wouldn’t like to have them round her neck.
“That’s what I’ve heard they do,” said old Mrs. Sopwith. “I remember my grandfather, him that was in the Indian Mutiny, telling me, when I was a little girl, that they thought nothing of strangling you. It was their religion.”
Thus the amiable15 Quong Ho leapt at once into a pretty repute—of which an addiction16 to Thuggee was a venial17 aspect.
But when, a few days afterwards, Quong Ho drove into Water-End on a shopping expedition, and in the presence of palpitating Water-Enders carried on his business and passed remarks on the weather, polite and smiling, in the easy English of the vicar and the motoring gentlefolk, with no perceptible trace of a foreign accent, they gaped18 once more in amazement19. Language is a marvellous solvent20 of prejudice. No one who talked English like the Vicar could strangle English necks. But Quong Ho, unfortunately, complicated this favourable21 impression by overdoing22 the perfect Briton.
At the butcher’s door, freshly coloured as the carcasses hanging at each side, stood Gwinnie Bates, the leader of the staring crowd, blocking the way. Quong Ho, trained theoretically by Baltazar in European ceremonial, swept her a bow with his billycock hat—a bow composite of the court of Charles the Second and Ratcliffe Highway, and addressed her:
She melted hysterically24 from the doorway25. Her friends, like a grinning Red Sea, divided into an avenue through which passed Quong Ho, with gestures courteously27 expressive28 of thanks, followed by the butcher’s assistant carrying to the cart the leg of mutton and the joint29 of beef which Quong Ho had purchased. Quong Ho drove off amid unceremonial guffaws30 and gigglings.
“Beauteous Madam! Oh, Hell!” roared the butcher’s assistant.
“What’s wrong about it, Johnnie Evans? If you want to insult me, say it out. If you can’t be a gentleman, at least be a man.”
“He can teach manners to the likes of you, at any rate,” cried Gwinnie Bates, and went off triumphant34 with her head in the air.
Thus, through the courteous26 demeanour of Quong Ho on this and subsequent occasions, Water-End became divided into two camps—Sinophile and Sinophobe. The latter party asserted that such heathen smiled most when their designs were most criminal, and carried out their activities to the accompaniment of unholy mirth. Was he ever seen at church or chapel35? His admirers confessed this abstention from the means of grace. Did he ever speak of the doings of his master with the outlandish name, and himself, in the middle of the moor1? Quong Ho was admitted to be a museum-piece of discretion36. And as time went on, although his ways were marked by the same perfect courtesy, he lost favour amongst his party, through a bland37 taciturnity and a polite rejection38 of conversational39 advantage.
Now for this taciturnity there were excellent reasons: none other than the commands of John Baltazar. When Quong Ho returned the first time to the farm with the jeering40 laughter ringing in his ears, he bewailed the impoliteness of the inhabitants of Water-End. Said Baltazar in Chinese:
“Dost thou not know the proverb, Quong Ho, ‘A man must insult himself before others will?’ And again, what saith the Master? ‘Rotten wood cannot be carved, and walls made of dirt and mud cannot be plastered.’ By acting41 against my orders and striving to plaster the muddy walls of these rustics42 with ceremonial politeness, you have insulted yourself and therefore exposed yourself to rudeness.”
“Listen again,” said Baltazar, with a twinkle in his eyes unperceived by the downcast Quong Ho, “to what the Master saith: ‘The failure to cultivate virtue44, the failure to examine and analyse what I have learnt, the inability to move towards righteousness after being shown the way, the inability to correct my faults—these are the causes of my grief.’?”
Quong Ho replied that although his deviation45 from the path of virtue was glaring to the most myopic46 vision, he nevertheless was in a dilemma47, inasmuch as he had followed the precepts48 of Western courteous observance, the ceremonial, for instance, of the hat-salutation, laid down for him by his illustrious teacher.
Baltazar, always in Chinese, replied kindly49: “O youth of indifferent understanding, is it not written in the Sh? King in the Charge to Yüeh: ‘In learning there should be a humble51 mind and the maintenance of a constant earnestness: in such a case improvement will surely come. When a man’s thoughts from first to last are constantly fixed52 on learning, his virtuous53 cultivation54 comes unperceived’?”
“With those truths am I acquainted,” replied Quong Ho.
“Then, my good fellow,” retorted Baltazar in English, “why the devil don’t you apply them? I’ve absolutely forbidden you to have any intercourse55 whatever with the people round about. You’re not to talk to them about my concerns or your concerns. You’re not to listen to any of their talk or to bring back to me scraps56 of their rotten gossip. You’re to go to Water-End on necessary business—unfortunately we can’t live on air or warm ourselves in the winter with bottled sunbeams—but that’s the limit. Outside of that you’re a man deaf and dumb. You’re to go one better than the three Sacred Apes of Japan, who, holding hands respectively before eyes, ears and mouth, signify ‘I see no evil; I hear no evil; and I speak no evil.’ In your case, it’s to be: ‘I see nothing; I hear nothing; I speak nothing.’?”
“In future,” said Quong Ho, “my eyes shall be blinded, my ears sealed and my mouth locked.”
“If there are any more animated57 discussions of last week’s thunderstorms, or further Beauteous-Madamizing of young females, I’ll regretfully have to send you straight back to China.”
The unblinking stare in Baltazar’s great grey eyes and the obstinate58 set of his lips—signs of purpose which Quong Ho for eight years had learned to gauge59 with infallible precision—caused him to quake excessively. Not only was his servitude to Baltazar a matter of oath, but a return before the completion of the special education which would enable him to take immediate60 rank in New China, would be the death-blow to his ambitions. So Quong Ho took to heart the precepts of the Humble Mind and swore to outdo the Sacred Apes of Japan, even as his master had ordained61.
After this, in the first days of their Theba?d, master and man held frequent conversations on the relations with the outside world which the former had prescribed. The three years, said Baltazar, which lay before them in the solitude62 of the wilderness63, were for the maceration64 of the flesh, the pursuit of virtue and the cultivation of the intellect. He illustrated65 his argument with countless66 quotations67 from the Chinese classics.
“In this fashion, Quong Ho,” said he, “you are drinking of the Five Sources of Happiness. To wit: Long Life: for here, in this unpolluted atmosphere, you are acquiring physical health. Riches: they will be yours in no matter what University of Modern China you go as Professor of Mathematics. Soundness of Body and Serenity68 of Mind: the Latins put the idea into epigrammatic form—Mens sano in corpore sano; what can be more conducive69 to serenity of mind than this studious solitude, undisturbed by material cares? The Love of Virtue: we have every hour of all our days to acquire it. Fulfilling to the end the WILL; is it not the WILL that has set us here?”
“Indubitably,” said Quong Ho.
“Hearken again,” said Baltazar, “to the Six Extreme Evils. Misfortune shortening the Life: from that no man is exempt—but from it no men are more than we protected. Sickness: likewise—but I have a box of simple remedies, and if the worst comes, there is a man learned in physic at Water-End. Distress70 of Mind: if our minds in these ideal surroundings are so unstable71 as to be distressed72, we are unworthy of the name of philosophers. Poverty: I have an ample fortune. Wickedness: we, who are Seekers after Truth, have deliberately73 set ourselves beyond the reach of Temptation. Weakness: that, O Quong Ho, is the only danger. You must be on your guard against it night and day, especially on the days when necessity exposes you to the manifold temptations of that microcosm of Babylon, Pekin and San Francisco which goes by the name of Water-End.”
So it came to pass that when astounding74 tidings, the most pregnant in the world’s history, came to Water-End and the little townlet blazed with the wildfire of gossip, Quong Ho, scrupulous75 obeyer of Law, heard without listening and, forbearing to question, always returned to Spendale Farm with a mind rendered, with Oriental deliberation, so profoundly blank as to preclude76 the possibility of retailing77 to his master the idle news of the outer world. And gradually, such is the contempt bred by familiarity, Quong Ho lost prestige in Water-End. His weekly appearance in the town, with old grey mare and cart, grew to be one of the commonplace recurrent phenomena78 such as the Vicar’s Sunday sermon and the Saturday evening orgy and home-convoying of old Jack79 Bonnithorne, the champion alcoholist of the moorland.
But around Baltazar of the one brief glimpse arose many a legend. He was mad. He was a magician. He was an unspeakable voluptuary; though whence and how arrived the houris who ministered to his voluptuousness80, was an insoluble problem. He was a missionary81 with one convert. The theory, put forward by the farmers, that he was the champion fool on the Moor, gained the most general acceptance. Then someone whispered that he was a German spy. The valiant82 of the town planned an expedition at dead of night to surprise him at his nefarious83 practices; but the sarcasms84 of Police-Sergeant85 Doubleday, who asked what information useful to the enemy, save the crop of heather per square acre, could be given by a man inhabiting the most desolate86 spot in the United Kingdom, checked their enterprise. Their ardour, too, was damped by a spell of torrential rain, which robbed of its pleasantness the prospect87 of a sixteen-mile walk. When the sun came out, the suspicion had faded from their minds, and shortly afterwards most of them found themselves in the King’s uniform in regions far distant from Water-End.
One morning Police-Sergeant Doubleday lay in wait for Quong Ho outside the Bank, and informed him that he must register himself as an alien, under the Defence of the Realm Act. Quong Ho blandly88 accompanied the Sergeant to the Police Station and complied with the formalities. Full name: Li Quong Ho. Nationality: Chinese. Occupation: Student.
“Eh?” cried Sergeant Doubleday, a vast, red-faced man with a scrubby black moustache. “That won’t do. Aren’t you Mr. Whats-his-name’s man-servant?”
“What do you study?”
“Specialized branches of Western Philosophy,” replied Quong Ho.
“Well, I’m damned!” said the mystified Doubleday. “Anyhow, it’s none of my business.”
So down went Quong Ho as “student”—the only alien on the register.
“That’s very interesting,” said the Vicar, during his next chat with Doubleday. “The Chinese are a remarkable90 race. Their progress should be watched.”
“I’m afraid it can’t be done, sir. What with being short-handed and overworked as it is——”
At the Vicar’s explanation the Sergeant mopped his forehead in relief.
“I’ve a man’s job to keep Christians91 in order, without shadowing the heathen,” said he.
“I’m convinced that his master and himself are a pair of harmless eccentrics,” said the Vicar.
And the Vicar’s word went the round of the district, and eccentrics, or the nearest approach to it that local tongues could manage, the inhabitants of Spendale Farm were finally designated—though what were “eccentrics” remained a matter of pleasant and fruitful conjecture92.
When Quong Ho returned to the farmhouse93 after his encounter with Sergeant Doubleday, he said nothing about his registration94 as an alien. Nor did it occur to him to show the paper money which he had received in lieu of the usual gold in exchange for the cheque which he had cashed at the bank; for the disposal of petty cash did not concern John Baltazar, who rightly trusted in the Chinaman’s scrupulous honesty. That, in spite of the most definite orders, he should leave Baltazar uninformed of the various signs and tokens of national unrest which he had observed at Water-End, caused Quong Ho occasional twinges of conscience. He remembered the saying: “To shirk your duty when you see it before you, shows want of moral courage.” But what was his duty? On the other hand, there was the dictum: “To sacrifice to a spirit with which you have nothing to do is mere95 servility.” What had he to do with this purely English war-spirit that he should servilely sacrifice to it his almost filial obligations? Obviously nothing. Quong Ho therefore continued to purvey96 no idle gossip, and went about his varied97 avocations98 with a serene99 mind.
Now, as John Baltazar, who had been dead to the English-speaking world for nearly twenty years, held correspondence with no one save a few necessary tradesmen, mostly booksellers, as he took in no periodical, daily, weekly, monthly or annual of any kind whatever, and as he conversed100 with no human being except Quong Ho, whose lips he had sealed, he had created for himself an almost perfect barrage101 through which the news of contemporary happenings could not penetrate102.
“Quong Ho,” he had said, one Spring day, soon after his return from China, when he had come to one of those revolutionary decisions that marked the crises of his life, “I have sworn by the spirits of my ancestors to live the life of a recluse103 for the space of three years, holding communication with no man or woman and cutting myself off like one that is dead from the interests of the contemporaneous world. My reasons for this determination I will eventually unfold to you, provided you carry out faithfully the contract I am about to propose. If you decline to bind104 yourself, which as a free man you are at liberty to do, I will pay your passage back to China and give you a sum of money adequate to start you on an honest career. If you accept it, I will honourably105 perform my part. You have been my servant and my pupil for the last eight years——”
“You saved this miserable106 orphan107 from death at the hands of a tyrannic governor,” interposed Quong Ho—they were speaking his native tongue,—“you have taught him the language of England and the philosophies both of East and West, and you are to me as a father to whom I owe filial fidelity108 and devotion.”
“That is well said, Quong Ho,” replied Baltazar. “This person appreciates your professions of loyalty109.” The scene of this memorable110 conversation, by the way, was a small bedroom at the top of the Savoy Hotel; Baltazar, with bloodshot eyes, a splitting headache and tousled raiment, sitting on the bed, and Quong Ho, impeccably vested in Chinese attire111, standing50 before him. “He has not been honourably blessed with sons, and therefore will receive from you the devotedness112 that is due to a parent. But for the space of three years only. There may come a time when exaggerated filial zeal113 may become embarrassing.”
And he set forth114 the contract. In return for the absolute obedience115 of Quong Ho and his acceptance of the life of a recluse for three years, he undertook to send him back to China as the most accomplished116 native mathematician117 in existence—for he had already gauged118 the young man’s peculiar119 genius—with a Master of Arts degree, if possible, from some British University, and thus assure him a distinguished120 position in that New China whose marvellous future had been the subject of so many of their dreams and discussions. And Quong Ho had taken solemn oaths of fealty121 and with the Chinaman’s singleness of purpose, accepted, a few weeks later, the deadly and enduring solitude of the moorland as an unquestionable condition of existence.
Secure in the unswerving fidelity of Quong Ho, and in the impregnable seclusion122 of this God-disclosed hermitage, John Baltazar lived a life according to his ideals. No outer ripple123 of the ma?lstrom in which the world was engulfed124 lapped, however faintly, against the low granite125 wall encircling the low-built granite farmhouse. His retirement126 was absolute, his retreat off the track of the most casual wanderer.
Six months passed before his eyes rested on a human being other than Quong Ho. It is true that the rate-collector, savagely127 cursing his luck and the bicycle-destroying track that led from the road to the farmhouse, had appeared one day with a paper showing certain indebtedness; but Quong Ho had received it and, gravely promising128 a cheque in payment, had dismissed the intruder. No other official came near the place. Quong Ho called weekly at the Post office and railway station, to the great relief of postman and van-driver.
“Thought and money acutely applied,” remarked Baltazar, “together with freedom from the entanglement129 of family relationships, are the determining factors of human happiness. A man with these factors at his disposal is a fool if he cannot, fashion for himself whatever kind of existence he pleases.”
But one day, a cloudless winter morning, when the sunshine kissing the frost-bound earth transmuted130 the myriad131 frondage132 of the heather into a valley of diamonds, Baltazar, on his way from the stable to the front door, came across a stranger leaning over the gate. He was a heavy man with a fat, clean-shaven face, loose lips and little furtive133 eyes. He wore a new golfing suit exaggerated in cut and aggressive in colour.
He said with easy familiarity: “Good morning, Mr. Baltazar.”
“Since you know my name,” replied Baltazar, with an air of courtesy, “it has doubtless struck you that this is my gate.”
“Of course——”
“You are leaning on it,” said Baltazar.
“I’m a sort of neighbour of yours, you know. I live about seven miles off—the big property this side of Water-End: Cedar135 Chase—and I’ve often thought I’d run over in the Rolls-Royce as far as I could, and walk the rest, and see how you were getting along.”
“That is most amiable of you,” said Baltazar, advancing to the gate and resting his arm on it with an easy suggestion of proprietorship136. “You have run over, you have walked—and now you see.”
“I fancied you might be lonely and might like to look in and have a game of bridge one of these days. My name’s Pillivant.”
“Pillivant,” said Baltazar. “I don’t much like it, but there are doubtless worse.”
“You may have heard it. Pillivant and Co., Timber Merchants. We’ve rather come to the front lately.”
“Your personal initiative, I should imagine,” said Baltazar.
“I don’t say as it isn’t,” replied Mr. Pillivant. “When whacking139 Government contracts are going, why not get ’em?”
“Why not? Why waste time in doing anything else, all day long, but getting ’em?”
Mr. Pillivant drew from his inner breast pocket a vast gold casket of a cigar-case, opened it and held it out towards his inhospitable host.
“Have a cigar? You needn’t be afraid. They stand me in two hundred and fifty shillings a hundred and I get ’em wholesale140. No?” Baltazar declined politely. “You’re missing a good thing.” He bit off the end of the one he had chosen, lit it with a fat wax vesta extracted from a minor141 gold casket and drew a few puffs142. “Funny sort of life you seem to be leading here, Mr. Baltazar. Dam’ funny!”
“I perceive you have a keen sense of humour,” said Baltazar.
Again the mocking stare of his cold, grey eyes abashed143 the unwelcome visitor, who filled in the ensuing silence by re-biting and re-lighting his half-crown cigar. The operation over:
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” said he.
“So lovely, Mr. Pillivant,” replied Baltazar, “that it would be selfish of me to do otherwise than leave you to the undisturbed enjoyment144 of it.”
And, with a polite bow, he left Mr. Pillivant and walked, in a dignified145 way, into the house. Mr. Pillivant, conscious at last of the rejection of his friendly overtures146, stared for a while, and then, sticking his cigar at a truculent147 angle in his mouth, swaggered away across the moor.
“Quong Ho,” said Baltazar, “when next you go to Water-End, it will be your duty to find a powerful and exceedingly nasty-tempered dog.”
A fortnight afterwards Brutus was added to the establishment.
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1
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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granitic
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| 花岗石的，由花岗岩形成的 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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bleakness
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| adj. 萧瑟的, 严寒的, 阴郁的 | |
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inaccessibility
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| n. 难接近, 难达到, 难达成 | |
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bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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timorous
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| adj.胆怯的，胆小的 | |
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giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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addiction
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| n.上瘾入迷，嗜好 | |
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venial
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| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
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gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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solvent
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| n.溶剂；adj.有偿付能力的 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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overdoing
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| v.做得过分( overdo的现在分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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guffaws
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| n.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的名词复数 )v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的第三人称单数 ) | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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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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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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rustics
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| 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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43
erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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45
deviation
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| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
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myopic
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| adj.目光短浅的，缺乏远见的 | |
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47
dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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48
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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49
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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50
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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51
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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52
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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53
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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54
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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55
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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56
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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57
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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58
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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59
gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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60
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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61
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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62
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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63
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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64
maceration
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| n.泡软，因绝食而衰弱 | |
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65
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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66
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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67
quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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68
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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69
conducive
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| adj.有益的，有助的 | |
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70
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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71
unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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72
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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73
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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74
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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76
preclude
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| vt.阻止，排除，防止；妨碍 | |
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77
retailing
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| n.零售业v.零售(retail的现在分词) | |
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78
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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79
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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80
voluptuousness
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| n.风骚，体态丰满 | |
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81
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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82
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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83
nefarious
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| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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84
sarcasms
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，挖苦( sarcasm的名词复数 ) | |
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85
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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86
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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87
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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88
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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89
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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90
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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91
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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92
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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93
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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94
registration
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| n.登记，注册，挂号 | |
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95
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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96
purvey
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| v.（大量）供给，供应 | |
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97
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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98
avocations
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| n.业余爱好，嗜好( avocation的名词复数 )；职业 | |
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99
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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100
conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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101
barrage
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| n.火力网，弹幕 | |
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102
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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103
recluse
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| n.隐居者 | |
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104
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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105
honourably
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| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
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106
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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107
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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108
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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109
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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110
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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111
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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112
devotedness
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113
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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114
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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115
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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116
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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117
mathematician
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| n.数学家 | |
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118
gauged
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| adj.校准的；标准的；量规的；量计的v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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119
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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120
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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121
fealty
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| n.忠贞，忠节 | |
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122
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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123
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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124
engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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126
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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127
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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128
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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129
entanglement
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| n.纠缠，牵累 | |
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130
transmuted
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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131
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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132
frondage
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| n.叶，茂盛的叶；叶丛；叶簇 | |
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133
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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134
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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135
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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136
proprietorship
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| n.所有（权）；所有权 | |
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137
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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138
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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139
whacking
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| adj.（用于强调）巨大的v.重击，使劲打( whack的现在分词 ) | |
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140
wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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141
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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142
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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143
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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144
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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145
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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146
overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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147
truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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