“My poor darling!” the Marchioness of Glanmire sighed one day, more in sorrow than in anger, when the Honorable Freddy brought his charming smile and his graceful3 but unemployed4 person into her morning-room. “If you could only find some congenial and at the same time lucrative5 post that would take up your time and absorb your spare energy, how grateful I should be!”
“I have found it,” said the Honorable Freddy, with his cherubic smile. He possessed7 the blonde curling hair and artless expression that may be symbolical8 of guilelessness or the admirable mask of guile9.
“Thank Heaven!” breathed his mother. Then, with a sense that the thanksgiving might, after all, be premature10, she inquired: “But of what nature is this post? Before it can be seriously considered, one must be certain that it entails11 no loss of caste, demands nothing derogatory in the nature of service from one who—I need not remind you of your position, or of the fact that your family must be considered.”
She smoothed her darling’s silky hair, which exhaled12 the choicest perfume of Bond Street, and kissed his brow, as pure and shadowless as a slice of cream cheese, as the young man replied:
“Dearest mother, you certainly need not.”
45“Then tell me of this post. Is it anything,” the Marchioness asked, “in the Diplomatic line?”
“Without a good deal of diplomacy13 a man would be no good for the shop,” admitted Freddy; “but otherwise, your guess is out.”
Doubt darkened his mother’s eyes.
“Don’t say,” she exclaimed, “that you have accepted a Club Secretaryship? To me it seems the last resource of the unsuccessful man.”
“It will never be mine,” said Freddy, “because I can’t keep accounts, and they wouldn’t have me. Try again.”
“I trust it has nothing to do with Art,” breathed the Marchioness, who loathed14 the children of canvas and palette with an unreasonable15 loathing16.
“In a way it has,” replied her son, “and in another way it hasn’t. Come! I’ll give you a lead. There is a good deal of straw in the business for one thing.”
“You cannot contemplate17 casting in your lot with the agricultural classes? No! I knew the example of your unhappy cousin Reginald would prevent you from adopting so wild a course ... but you spoke18 of straw.”
“Of straw. And flowers. And tulles.”
“Flowers and tools! Gardening is a craze which has become fashionable of late. But I cannot calmly see you in an apron19, potting plants.”
“It is not a question of potting plants, but of potting customers,” said Freddy, showing his white teeth in a charming smile.
“You see, I have decided21, and gone into trade. If I were a wealthy cad, I should keep a bucket-shop. Being a poor gentleman, I am going to make a bonnet22-shop keep me. And, what is more—I intend to trim all the bonnets23 myself!”
46There was no heart disease upon the maternal24 side of the house. The Marchioness did not become pale blue, and sink backwards25, clutching at her corsage. She rose to her feet and boxed her son’s right ear. He calmly offered the left one for similar treatment.
“Don’t send me out looking uneven,” he said simply. “If I pride myself upon anything, it is a well-balanced appearance. And I have to put in an hour or so at the shop by-and-by.” He glanced in the mantel-mirror as he spoke, and observing with gratification that his immaculate necktie had escaped disarrangement, he twisted his little mustache, smiled, and knew himself irresistible26.
“The shop! Degenerate27 boy!” cried his mother. “Who is your partner in this—this enterprise?”
“You know her by sight, I think,” returned the cherub6 coolly. “Mrs. Vivianson, widow of the man who led the Doncaster Fusiliers to the top of Mealie Kop and got shot there. Awfully28 fetching, and as clever as they make them!”
“That woman one sees everywhere with a positive procession of young men at her heels!”
“That woman, and no other.”
“She is hardly——”
“I will admit she has some style.”
“Admit, when you and all the other women have copied the color of her hair and the cut of her sleeves for three seasons past! I like that!”
Freddy was growing warm.
“When you accuse me of imitating the appearance of a person of that kind,” said Lady Glanmire, in a cold fury, “you insult your mother. And when you ally yourself with her in the face of Society, as you are about to do, you are going too far. As to this millinery establishment, it shall not open.”
47“My dear mother,” said Freddy, “it has been open for a week.”
He drew a card from an exquisite31 case mounted in gold. On the pasteboard appeared the following inscription32 in neat characters of copperplate:—
FREDDY & CIE
Court Milliners,
11, Condover Street, W.
“Mrs. V. is company,” observed the son, with a spice of vulgarity; “and uncommonly35 good company, too. As for myself, my talents have at last found scope, and millinery is my métier. How often haven’t you said that no one has such exquisite taste in the arrangement of flowers——”
“As you, Freddy! It is true! But——”
“Haven’t you declared, over and over again, that you have never had a maid who could put on a mantle37, adjust a fold of lace, or pin on a toque as skillfully as your own son?”
“To spend one’s life in arranging combinations to set off other women’s complexions40. Can you call that womanly for a woman? To my mind,” pursued Freddy, “it is the only occupation for a man of real refinement41. To crown Beauty with beauty! To dream exquisite confections, which shall add the one touch wanting to exquisite youth or magnificent middle-age! To build up with deft42 touches a creation which shall betray in every detail, in every effect, the hand of a genius united to the soul of a lover, and reap not only gold, but glory! Would this not be Fame?”
48“Ah! I no longer recognize you. You do not talk like your dear old self!” cried the Marchioness.
“I am glad of it,” replied Freddy, “for, frankly43, I was beginning to find my dear old self a bore.” He drew out a watch, and his monogram44 and crest45 in diamonds scintillated46 upon the case. His eye gleamed with proud triumph as he said: “Ten to twelve. At twelve I am due at Condover Street. Come, not as my mother, if you are ashamed of my profession, but as a customer ashamed of that bonnet” (Lady Glanmire was dressed for walking), “which you ought to have given to your cook long ago. Unless you would prefer your own brougham, mine is at the door.”
The vehicle in question bore the smartest appearance. The Marchioness entered it without a murmur33, and was whirled to Condover Street. The name of Freddy & Cie. appeared in a delicate flourish of golden letters above the chastely-decorated portals of the establishment, and the plate-glass window contained nothing but an assortment47 of plumes48, ribbons, chiffons, and shapes of the latest mode, but not a single completed article of head apparel.
The street was already blocked with carriages, the vestibule packed, the shop thronged49 with a vast and ever-increasing assemblage of women, amongst whom Lady Glanmire recognized several of her dearest friends. She wished she had not come, and looked for Freddy. Freddy had vanished. His partner, Mrs. Vivianson, a vividly-tinted, elegant brunette of some thirty summers, assisted by three or four charming girls, modestly attired50 and elegantly coiffée, was busily engaged with those would-be customers, not a few, who sought admission to the inner room, whose pale green portière bore in gold letters of embroidery51 the word atelier.
“You see,” she was saying, “to the outer shop admission is quite free. We are charmed to see everybody 49who likes to come, don’t you know? and show them the latest shades and shapes and things. But consultation52 with Monsieur Freddy—we charge five shillings for that. Unusual? Perhaps. But Monsieur Freddy is Monsieur Freddy!” And her shrug53 was worthy54 of a Parisienne. “Why do you ask? ‘Is it true that he is the younger son of the Duke of Deershire?’ Dear Madame, to us he is Monsieur Freddy; and we seek no more.”
“A born tradeswoman!” thought Lady Glanmire, as the silver coins were exchanged for little colored silk tickets bearing mystic numbers. She moved forward and tendered two half-crowns; and Freddy’s partner and Freddy’s mother looked one another in the face. But Mrs. Vivianson maintained an admirable composure.
And then the curtains of the atelier parted, and a young and pretty woman came out quickly. She was charmingly dressed, and wore the most exquisite of hats, and a murmur went up at sight of it. She stretched out her hands to a friend who rushed impulsively55 to meet her, and her voice broke in a sob56 of rapture57.
“Did you ever see anything so sweet? And he did it like magic—one scarcely saw his fingers move!” she cried; and her friend burst into exclamations58 of delight, and a chorus rose up about them.
“Wonderful!”
“Extraordinary!”
“He does it while you wait!”
“Just for curiosity, I really must!”
And a wave of eager women surged towards the green portière. Three went in, being previously60 deprived of their headgear by the respectful attendants, who averred61 that it put Monsieur Freddy’s taste out of gear for the day to be compelled to gaze upon any creation other than his own. And then it came to the turn of Lady Glanmire.
She, disbonneted, entered the sanctum. A pale, clear, 50golden light illumined it from above; the walls were hung with draperies of delicate pink, the carpet was moss62-green. In the center of the apartment, upon a broad, low divan63, reclined the figure of a slender young man. He wore a black satin mask, concealing64 the upper part of his face, a loose, lounging suit of black velvet65, and slippers66 of the same with the embroidered67 initial “F.” Round him stood, mute and attentive68 as slaves, some half-dozen pretty young women, bearing trays of trimmings of every conceivable kind. In the background rose a grove69 of stands supporting hat-shapes, bonnet-shapes, toque-foundations, the skeletons of every conceivable kind of headgear.
Silent, the Marchioness stood before her disguised son.
He gently put up his eyeglass, to accommodate which aid to vision his mask had been specially30 designed, and motioned her to the sitter’s chair, so constructed that with a touch of Monsieur Freddy’s foot upon a lever it would revolve70, presenting the customer from every point of view. He touched the lever now, and chair and Marchioness spun71 slowly around. But for the presence of the young ladies with their trays of flowers, plumes, gauzes, and ribbons, Freddy’s mother could have screamed. All the while Freddy remained silent, absorbed in contemplation, as though trying to fix upon his memory features seen for the first time. At last he spoke.
“Tall,” he said, “and inclined to a becoming embonpoint. The eyes blue-gray, the hair of auburn touched with silver, the features, of the Anglo-Roman type, somewhat severe in outline, the chin——A hat to suit this client”—he spoke in a sad, sweet, mournful voice—“would cost five guineas. A Marquise shape, of broadtail”—one of the young lady attendants placed the shape required in the artist’s hands—“the brim lined 51with a rich drapery of chenille and silk.... Needle and thread, Miss Banks. Thank you....” His fingers moved like white lightning as he deftly72 wielded73 the feminine implement74 and snatched his materials from the boxes proffered75 in succession by the girls. “Black and white tips of ostrich76 falling over one side from a ring of cut steel,” he continued in the same dreamy tone. “A knot of point d’Irlande, with a heart of Neapolitan violets, and”—he rose from the divan and lightly placed the beautiful completed fabric77 upon the Marchioness’s head—“here is your hat, Madame. Five guineas. Good-morning. Next, please!”
Emotion choked his mother’s utterance78. At the same moment she saw herself in the glass silently swung towards her by one of the attendants, and knew that she was suited to a marvel79. She made her exit, paid her five guineas, and returned home, embarrassed by the discovery that there was an artist in the family.
One thing was clear, no more was to be said. The Maison Freddy became the morning resort of the smart world; it was considered the thing to have hats made while Society waited. True, they came to pieces easily, not being copper-nailed and riveted80, so to speak; but what poems they were! The charming conversation of Monsieur Freddy, the half-mystery that veiled his identity, as his semi-mask partially81 concealed82 his fair and smiling countenance83, added to the attractions of the Condover Street atelier.
Money rolled in; the banking84 account of the partners grew plethoric85; and then Mrs. Vivianson, in spite of the claims of the business upon her time, in spite of the Platonic86 standpoint she had up to the present maintained in her relations with Freddy, began to be jealous.
“Or—no! I will not admit that such a thing is possible!” she said, as she looked through some recent entries in the day-book of the firm. “But that American 52millionairess girl comes too often. She has bought a hat every day for three weeks past. Good for business in one way, but bad for it in another. If he should marry, what becomes of the Maison Freddy?”
She sighed and passed between the curtains. It was the slack time after luncheon87, and Freddy was enjoying a moment’s interval88. Stretched on his divan, his embroidered slippers elevated in the air, he smoked a perfumed cigarette surrounded by the materials of his craft. He smiled at Mrs. Vivianson as she entered, and then raised his aristocratic eyebrows89 in surprise.
“Has anything gone wrong? You swept in as tragically90 as my mother when she comes to disown me. She does it regularly every week, and as regularly takes me on again.” He exhaled a scented91 cloud, and smiled once more.
“Freddy,” said Mrs. Vivianson, going direct to the point, “this little speculation92 of ours has turned out very well, hasn’t it?”
“Beyond dreams!” acquiesced93 Freddy. She went on:
“You came to me a penniless detrimental94, with a talent of which nobody guessed that anything could be made. I gave this gift a chance to develop. I set you on your legs, and——”
“Me voici! You don’t want me to rise up and bless you, do you?” said Freddy, with half-closed eyes. “Thanks awfully, you know, all the same!”
“I don’t know that I want thanks, quite,” said Mrs. Vivianson. “I’ve had back every penny that I invested, and pulled off a bouncing profit. Your share amounts to a handsome sum. In a little while you’ll be able to pay your debts.”
“I shall never do that!” said Freddy, with feeling.
“Marry, and leave me—perhaps,” went on Mrs. Vivianson. A shade swept over her face, her dark eyes glowed somberly, the lines of her mouth hardened.
53“Keep as you are!” cried Freddy, rebounding97 to a sitting position on the divan.
“Where’s that new Medici shape in gold rice-straw and the amber98 crêpe chiffon, and the orange roses with crimson99 hearts?” His nimble fingers darted100 hither and thither101, his eyes shone, and his cheeks were flushed with the enthusiasm of the artist. “A tuft of black and yellow cock’s feathers, à la Mephistophele,” he cried, “a topaz buckle102, and it is finished. You must wear with it a jabot of yellow point d’Alen?on. It is the hat of hats for a jealous woman!”
“How dare you!” cried Mrs. Vivianson. But Freddy did not seem to hear her—he was rapt in the contemplation of the new masterpiece; and as he rose and gracefully103 placed it on his partner’s head, Miss Cornelia Vanderdecken was ushered104 in. She was superbly beautiful in the ivory-skinned, jetty-locked, slender American style, and she wore a hat that Freddy had made the day before, which set off her charms to admiration105.
She occupied the sitter’s chair as Mrs. Vivianson glided106 from the room, and Freddy’s blue eyes dwelt upon her worshipingly. To do him justice, he had lost his heart before he learned that Cornelia was an heiress. Now words escaped him that brought a faint pink stain to her ivory cheek.
“Ah!” he cried impulsively, “you are ruining my business.”
“Oh, why, Monsieur Freddy? Please tell me!” asked Miss Vanderdecken, with na?ve curiosity.
“Because,” said Freddy, while a bright blush showed beyond the limits of his black satin mask, “you are so beautiful that it is torture to make hats for other women—since I have seen you.”
There was a pause. Then Miss Cornelia’s silk foundations rustled107 as she turned resolutely108 toward the divan.
54“I can’t return the compliment,” she said, “by telling you that it is torture to me to wear hats made by any other man since I have seen you, for other men don’t make hats, and I can’t really see you through that thing you wear over your face. But——”
Her voice faltered109, and Freddy, with a gesture, dismissed his lady assistants. Then he removed his mask. Their eyes met, and Cornelia uttered a faint exclamation59.
“Oh my! You’re just like him!”
“Who is he?” asked Freddy.
“I can’t quite say, because I don’t know,” returned Cornelia; “but all girls have their ideals, from the time they wear Swiss pinafores to the time they wear forty-eight inch corsets; and I won’t deny”—her voice trembled—“but what you fill the bill. My! What are you doing?”
For Freddy had grasped his materials and was making a hat. It was of palest blush tulle, with a crown of pink roses, and an aigrette of flamingo110 plumes was fastened with a Cupid’s bow in pink topaz.
“Love’s first confession,” the young man murmured as he bit off the last thread, “should be whispered beneath a hat like this.” And he gracefully placed it on Cornelia’s raven111 hair.
Mrs. Vivianson, her ear to the keyhole of a side door, quivered from head to foot with rage and jealousy112. Time was when he, a penniless, high-bred boy, had implored113 her to marry him. Now—her blood boiled at the remembrance of the half hint, the veiled suggestion she had made, that they should unite in a more intimate partnership114 than that already consolidated115. With her jealousy was mingled116 despair. As long as Freddy and his hats remained the fashion, the shop would pay, and pay royally. There had as yet occurred no abatement117 in the onflow of aristocratic patronage118. To avow119 his 55identity—never really doubted—to become an engaged man, meant ruin to the business. The blood hummed in her head. She clung to the door-handle and entered, as Freddy, with real grace and eloquence120, pleaded his suit.
“And you are really a Marquis’s second son, though you make hats for money?” she heard Cornelia say. “I always guessed you had real old English blood in you, from the tone of your voice and the shape of your finger-nails, even when you wore a mask. And it seemed as though I couldn’t do anything but buy hats. I surmised121 it was vanity at the time, but now I guess it was—love!”
“My dearest!” said Freddy, bending his blonde head over her jeweled hands. “My Cornelia! I will make you a hat every day when you are married. Ah! I have it! You shall wear one of mine to go away in upon the day we are wed95, the inspiration of a bridegroom, thought out and achieved between the church door and the chancel. What an idea for a lover! What an advertisement for the shop!” His blue eyes beamed at the thought.
But Cornelia’s face fell.
“I don’t know how to say it, dear, but we shall never be married. Poppa is perfectly122 rocky on one point, and that is that the man I hitch123 up with shall never have dabbled124 as much as his little finger in trade. ‘You have dollars enough to buy one of the real high-toned sort,’ he keeps saying, ‘and if blood royal is to be got for money, Silas P. Vanderdecken is the man to get it. So run along and play, little girl, till the right man comes along.’ And I know he’ll say you’re the wrong one!”
Freddy’s complexion39, grown transparent125 from excess of emotion and lack of exercise, paled to an ivory hue126. His sedentary life had softened127 his condition and unstrung his nerves. He adored Cornelia, and had looked forward to a lifetime spent in adorning128 her beauty with 56bonnets of the most becoming shapes and designs. Now that a coarse Transatlantic millionaire with soft shirt-fronts and broad-leaved felt hats might step in and shatter for ever his beautiful dream of union, bitter revulsion seized him. He feared his fate. What was he? The second son of a poor Marquis, with a particularly healthy elder brother. He looked upon the chiffons, the flowers and the feathers that surrounded him, and felt that the hopes of a heart reared upon so frail129 a basis were insecure indeed. Then his old blood rallied to his heart, and he rose from the divan and clasped the now tearful Cornelia to his breast.
“Go, my dearest,” he said, “tell all to your father—plead for me. Do not write or wire—bring me his verdict to-morrow. Meanwhile I will compose two hats. Each shall be a masterpiece—a swan-song of my Art. One is to be worn if”—his voice broke—“if I am to be happy; the other if I am fated to despair. Go now, for I must be alone to carry out my inspiration.”
And Cornelia went. Then Freddy, sternly refusing to receive any more customers that day, set himself to the completion of his task. Before very long both hats were actualities. Hat Number One was an Empire shape of dead-leaf beaver130, the crown draped with dove-colored silk, a spray of sere131 oak-leaves and rue36 in front, a fine scarf of black lace, partly to veil the face of the wearer, thrown back over one side of the brim and caught with a clasp of black pearls set in oxidized silver. It breathed of chastened woe132 and temperate133 sadness, and was to be worn if Papa Vanderdecken persisted in refusing to accept Freddy as a suitor.
But Hat Number Two! It was of the palest blue guipure straw, draped with coral silk and Cluny lace. In front was a spray of moss rosebuds134 and forget-me-nots, dove’s wings of burnished135 hues136 were set at either side. It was the very hat to be worn by a bringer of 57joyful news, the ideal hat under which might be appropriately exchanged the first kiss of plighted137 passion. Upon it Freddy pinned a fairy-like card, white and gold-edged.
“If I am to be happy, wear this,” was written upon it; and upon a buff card attached to the hat of rejection138 he inscribed139: “Wear this, if I am to be unhappy.” Then he closed the large double bandbox in which he had packed the hats, breathed a kiss into the folds of the silver paper, and, ringing the bell, bade a messenger carry the box to the hotel at which Cornelia Vanderdecken was staying, and where, millionairess though she was, she was still content to dress with the help of a deft maid and the adoration140 of a devoted141 companion. Then the exhausted142 artist fell back on the divan. Cornelia was to come at twelve upon the morrow.
“Then I shall learn my fate,” said Freddy. He drove home in his brougham, and passed a sleepless143 night. The fateful hour found him again upon his divan, surrounded by the materials of his craft, waiting feverishly144 for Cornelia.
The curtains parted. He started up at the rustling145 of her gown and the jingling146 of her bangles. Horror! she wore the somber96 hat of sorrow, though under its shadow her face was curiously147 bright.
She advanced toward Freddy. He reeled and staggered backward, raised his white hand to his delicate throat, and fell fainting amongst his cushions. Cornelia screamed. Mrs. Vivianson and her young ladies came hurrying in. As the stylish148 widow noted149 Cornelia’s headgear, her eyes flashed and joy was in her face. Then it clouded over, for she knew that Papa Vanderdecken had been coaxed150 over, and Freddy was an accepted man. My reader, being exceptionally acute, will realize that the jealous woman had changed the tickets on the hats.
58“Not that it was much use,” she avowed151 to herself, as she entered with smelling-salts and burnt feathers to restore Freddy’s consciousness. “When he revives, she will tell him the truth.” But Freddy only regained152 consciousness to lose it in the ravings of delirium153. He had an attack of brain fever, in which he wandered through groves154 of bonnet shops, looking unavailingly for Cornelia. And then came the crisis, and he woke up with an ice-bandage on, to find himself in his bedroom at Glanmire House, with the Marchioness leaning over him.
“Mother, my heart is broken,” said the boy—he was really little more. “The world exists no more for me. Let me make my last hat—and leave it.”
“Oh, Freddy, don’t you know me?” gasped155 Cornelia in the background; but the repentant156 woman who had brought about all this trouble drew the girl away.
“Even good news broken suddenly to him in his weak state,” said Mrs. Vivianson in a rapid whisper, “may prove fatal. I have a plan which may gradually enlighten him.”
“I trust you,” said Cornelia. “You have saved his life with your nursing. Now give him back to me!”
“Hush!” said Mrs. Vivianson.
She had rapidly dispatched a messenger to Condover Street, and now, as Freddy again opened his eyes and repeated his piteous request, the messenger returned. Then all present gathered about the bed, whose inmate157 had been raised upon supporting pillows. It was a queer scene as the shaded electric light above the bed played upon Freddy’s pallid158 features, showing the ravages159 of sickness there. “Now!” said Mrs. Vivianson. She placed the milliner’s box upon the bed, and Freddy’s feeble fingers, diving into it, drew forth160 a spray of orange blossoms and a diaphanous161 cloud of filmy lace.
“Black—not white!” Freddy gasped brokenly. “It 59is a mourning toque that I must make. Let Cornelia wear it at my funeral.”
“Cornelia will not wear it at your funeral, Freddy,” said Mrs. Vivianson, bending over him; “for she is going to marry you, not to bury you.” And, drawing the tearful girl to Freddy’s side, she flung over her beautiful head the bridal veil, and crowned her with a wreath of orange blossoms. And as, with a feeble cry, Freddy opened his wasted arms and Cornelia fell into them, Mrs. Vivianson, her work of atonement completed, pressed the offered hand of Freddy’s mother, and hurried out of the room and out of the story. Which ends, as stories ought, happily for the lovers, who are now honeymooning162 in the Riviera.
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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unemployed
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| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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lucrative
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| adj.赚钱的，可获利的 | |
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cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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possessed
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symbolical
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guile
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premature
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entails
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exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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loathed
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unreasonable
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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spoke
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apron
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shudder
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decided
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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23
bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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24
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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25
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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26
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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28
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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29
chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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30
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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31
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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32
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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33
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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34
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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35
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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36
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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37
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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38
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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39
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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40
complexions
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| 肤色( complexion的名词复数 )； 面色； 局面； 性质 | |
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41
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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42
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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43
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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44
monogram
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| n.字母组合 | |
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45
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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46
scintillated
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| v.（言谈举止中）焕发才智( scintillate的过去式和过去分词 )；谈笑洒脱；闪耀；闪烁 | |
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47
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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48
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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49
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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52
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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53
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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54
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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55
impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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56
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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57
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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58
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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59
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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60
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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61
averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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62
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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63
divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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64
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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65
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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66
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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67
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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68
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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69
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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70
revolve
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| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
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71
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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72
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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73
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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74
implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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75
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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77
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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78
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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79
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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80
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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81
partially
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|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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82
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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83
countenance
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|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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84
banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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85
plethoric
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| adj.过多的，多血症的 | |
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86
platonic
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| adj.精神的；柏拉图（哲学）的 | |
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87
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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88
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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89
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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90
tragically
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|
| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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91
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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92
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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93
acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
detrimental
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|
| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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95
wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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96
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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97
rebounding
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| 蹦跳运动 | |
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98
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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99
crimson
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|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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100
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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101
thither
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|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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102
buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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103
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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104
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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106
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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107
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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109
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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110
flamingo
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| n.红鹳，火烈鸟 | |
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111
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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112
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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113
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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115
consolidated
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| a.联合的 | |
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116
mingled
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| 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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117
abatement
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| n.减(免)税，打折扣，冲销 | |
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118
patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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119
avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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120
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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121
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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122
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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123
hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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124
dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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125
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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126
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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127
softened
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| （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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128
adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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129
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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130
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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131
sere
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| adj.干枯的；n.演替系列 | |
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132
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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133
temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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134
rosebuds
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| 蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女，初入社交界的少女( rosebud的名词复数 ) | |
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135
burnished
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|
| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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136
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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137
plighted
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| vt.保证，约定（plight的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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138
rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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139
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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140
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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141
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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142
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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143
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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144
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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145
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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146
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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147
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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148
stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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149
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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150
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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151
avowed
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| 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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152
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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153
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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154
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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155
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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156
repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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157
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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158
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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159
ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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160
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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161
diaphanous
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| adj.(布)精致的，半透明的 | |
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162
honeymooning
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| 度蜜月（honeymoon的现在分词形式） | |
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