"I don't stand on ceremony, Mistress Blythe," he told Anne. "It's a real pleasure to me to come here, and I'm not going to deny myself jest because you haven't got down to see me. There oughtn't to be no bargaining like that among the race that knows Joseph. I'll come when I can, and you come when you can, and so long's we have our pleasant little chat it don't matter a mite1 what roof's over us."
Captain Jim took a great fancy to Gog and Magog, who were presiding over the destinies of the hearth2 in the little house with as much dignity and aplomb3 as they had done at Patty's Place.
"Aren't they the cutest little cusses?" he would say delightedly; and he bade them greeting and farewell as gravely and invariably as he did his host and hostess. Captain Jim was not going to offend household deities4 by any lack of reverence5 and ceremony.
"You've made this little house just about perfect," he told Anne. "It never was so nice before. Mistress Selwyn had your taste and she did wonders; but folks in those days didn't have the pretty little curtains and pictures and nicknacks you have. As for Elizabeth, she lived in the past. You've kinder brought the future into it, so to speak. I'd be real happy even if we couldn't talk at all, when I come here—jest to sit and look at you and your pictures and your flowers would be enough of a treat. It's beautiful—beautiful."
Captain Jim was a passionate7 worshipper of beauty. Every lovely thing heard or seen gave him a deep, subtle, inner joy that irradiated his life. He was quite keenly aware of his own lack of outward comeliness8 and lamented9 it.
"Folks say I'm good," he remarked whimsically upon one occasion, "but I sometimes wish the Lord had made me only half as good and put the rest of it into looks. But there, I reckon He knew what He was about, as a good Captain should. Some of us have to be homely10, or the purty ones—like Mistress Blythe here—wouldn't show up so well."
One evening Anne and Gilbert finally walked down to the Four Winds light. The day had begun sombrely in gray cloud and mist, but it had ended in a pomp of scarlet11 and gold. Over the western hills beyond the harbor were amber12 deeps and crystalline shallows, with the fire of sunset below. The north was a mackerel sky of little, fiery13 golden clouds. The red light flamed on the white sails of a vessel14 gliding15 down the channel, bound to a southern port in a land of palms. Beyond her, it smote17 upon and incarnadined the shining, white, grassless faces of the sand dunes18. To the right, it fell on the old house among the willows19 up the brook20, and gave it for a fleeting21 space casements22 more splendid than those of an old cathedral. They glowed out of its quiet and grayness like the throbbing23, blood-red thoughts of a vivid soul imprisoned24 in a dull husk of environment.
"That old house up the brook always seems so lonely," said Anne. "I never see visitors there. Of course, its lane opens on the upper road—but I don't think there's much coming and going. It seems odd we've never met the Moores yet, when they live within fifteen minutes' walk of us. I may have seen them in church, of course, but if so I didn't know them. I'm sorry they are so unsociable, when they are our only near neighbors."
"Evidently they don't belong to the race that knows Joseph," laughed Gilbert. "Have you ever found out who that girl was whom you thought so beautiful?"
"No. Somehow I have never remembered to ask about her. But I've never seen her anywhere, so I suppose she must have been a stranger. Oh, the sun has just vanished—and there's the light."
As the dusk deepened, the great beacon25 cut swathes of light through it, sweeping26 in a circle over the fields and the harbor, the sandbar and the gulf27.
"I feel as if it might catch me and whisk me leagues out to sea," said Anne, as one drenched28 them with radiance; and she felt rather relieved when they got so near the Point that they were inside the range of those dazzling, recurrent flashes.
As they turned into the little lane that led across the fields to the Point they met a man coming out of it—a man of such extraordinary appearance that for a moment they both frankly29 stared. He was a decidedly fine-looking person-tall, broad-shouldered, well-featured, with a Roman nose and frank gray eyes; he was dressed in a prosperous farmer's Sunday best; in so far he might have been any inhabitant of Four Winds or the Glen. But, flowing over his breast nearly to his knees, was a river of crinkly brown beard; and adown his back, beneath his commonplace felt hat, was a corresponding cascade30 of thick, wavy31, brown hair.
"Anne," murmured Gilbert, when they were out of earshot, "you didn't put what Uncle Dave calls 'a little of the Scott Act' in that lemonade you gave me just before we left home, did you?"
"No, I didn't," said Anne, stifling32 her laughter, lest the retreating enigma33 should hear here. "Who in the world can he be?"
"I don't know; but if Captain Jim keeps apparitions34 like that down at this Point I'm going to carry cold iron in my pocket when I come here. He wasn't a sailor, or one might pardon his eccentricity35 of appearance; he must belong to the over-harbor clans36. Uncle Dave says they have several freaks over there."
"Uncle Dave is a little prejudiced, I think. You know all the over-harbor people who come to the Glen Church seem very nice. Oh, Gilbert, isn't this beautiful?"
The Four Winds light was built on a spur of red sand-stone cliff jutting37 out into the gulf. On one side, across the channel, stretched the silvery sand shore of the bar; on the other, extended a long, curving beach of red cliffs, rising steeply from the pebbled38 coves39. It was a shore that knew the magic and mystery of storm and star. There is a great solitude40 about such a shore. The woods are never solitary—they are full of whispering, beckoning41, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty42 soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity43. We can never pierce its infinite mystery—we may only wander, awed44 and spellbound, on the outer fringe of it. The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only—a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic45 music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels.
Anne and Gilbert found Uncle Jim sitting on a bench outside the lighthouse, putting the finishing touches to a wonderful, full-rigged, toy schooner46. He rose and welcomed them to his abode47 with the gentle, unconscious courtesy that became him so well.
"This has been a purty nice day all through, Mistress Blythe, and now, right at the last, it's brought its best. Would you like to sit down here outside a bit, while the light lasts? I've just finished this bit of a plaything for my little grand nephew, Joe, up at the Glen. After I promised to make it for him I was kinder sorry, for his mother was vexed48. She's afraid he'll be wanting to go to sea later on and she doesn't want the notion encouraged in him. But what could I do, Mistress Blythe? I'd PROMISED him, and I think it's sorter real dastardly to break a promise you make to a child. Come, sit down. It won't take long to stay an hour."
The wind was off shore, and only broke the sea's surface into long, silvery ripples50, and sent sheeny shadows flying out across it, from every point and headland, like transparent51 wings. The dusk was hanging a curtain of violet gloom over the sand dunes and the headlands where gulls52 were huddling53. The sky was faintly filmed over with scarfs of silken vapor54. Cloud fleets rode at anchor along the horizons. An evening star was watching over the bar.
"Isn't that a view worth looking at?" said Captain Jim, with a loving, proprietary55 pride. "Nice and far from the market-place, ain't it? No buying and selling and getting gain. You don't have to pay anything—all that sea and sky free—'without money and without price.' There's going to be a moonrise purty soon, too—I'm never tired of finding out what a moonrise can be over them rocks and sea and harbor. There's a surprise in it every time."
They had their moonrise, and watched its marvel56 and magic in a silence that asked nothing of the world or each other. Then they went up into the tower, and Captain Jim showed and explained the mechanism57 of the great light. Finally they found themselves in the dining room, where a fire of driftwood was weaving flames of wavering, elusive58, sea-born hues59 in the open fireplace.
"I put this fireplace in myself," remarked Captain Jim. "The Government don't give lighthouse keepers such luxuries. Look at the colors that wood makes. If you'd like some driftwood for your fire, Mistress Blythe, I'll bring you up a load some day. Sit down. I'm going to make you a cup of tea."
Captain Jim placed a chair for Anne, having first removed therefrom a huge, orange-colored cat and a newspaper.
"Get down, Matey. The sofa is your place. I must put this paper away safe till I can find time to finish the story in it. It's called A Mad Love. 'Tisn't my favorite brand of fiction, but I'm reading it jest to see how long she can spin it out. It's at the sixty-second chapter now, and the wedding ain't any nearer than when it begun, far's I can see. When little Joe comes I have to read him pirate yarns60. Ain't it strange how innocent little creatures like children like the blood-thirstiest stories?"
Captain Jim's tea proved to be nectar. He was pleased as a child with Anne's compliments, but he affected63 a fine indifference64.
"The secret is I don't skimp65 the cream," he remarked airily. Captain Jim had never heard of Oliver Wendell Holmes, but he evidently agreed with that writer's dictum that "big heart never liked little cream pot."
"We met an odd-looking personage coming out of your lane," said Gilbert as they sipped66. "Who was he?"
Captain Jim grinned.
"That's Marshall Elliott—a mighty fine man with jest one streak67 of foolishness in him. I s'pose you wondered what his object was in turning himself into a sort of dime68 museum freak."
"Is he a modern Nazarite or a Hebrew prophet left over from olden times?" asked Anne.
"Neither of them. It's politics that's at the bottom of his freak. All those Elliotts and Crawfords and MacAllisters are dyed-in-the-wool politicians. They're born Grit70 or Tory, as the case may be, and they live Grit or Tory, and they die Grit or Tory; and what they're going to do in heaven, where there's probably no politics, is more than I can fathom71. This Marshall Elliott was born a Grit. I'm a Grit myself in moderation, but there's no moderation about Marshall. Fifteen years ago there was a specially72 bitter general election. Marshall fought for his party tooth and nail. He was dead sure the Liberals would win—so sure that he got up at a public meeting and vowed73 that he wouldn't shave his face or cut his hair until the Grits75 were in power. Well, they didn't go in—and they've never got in yet—and you saw the result today for yourselves. Marshall stuck to his word."
"What does his wife think of it?" asked Anne.
"He's a bachelor. But if he had a wife I reckon she couldn't make him break that vow74. That family of Elliotts has always been more stubborn than natteral. Marshall's brother Alexander had a dog he set great store by, and when it died the man actilly wanted to have it buried in the graveyard76, 'along with the other Christians,' he said. Course, he wasn't allowed to; so he buried it just outside the graveyard fence, and never darkened the church door again. But Sundays he'd drive his family to church and sit by that dog's grave and read his Bible all the time service was going on. They say when he was dying he asked his wife to bury him beside the dog; she was a meek77 little soul but she fired up at THAT. She said SHE wasn't going to be buried beside no dog, and if he'd rather have his last resting place beside the dog than beside her, jest to say so. Alexander Elliott was a stubborn mule78, but he was fond of his wife, so he give in and said, 'Well, durn it, bury me where you please. But when Gabriel's trump79 blows I expect my dog to rise with the rest of us, for he had as much soul as any durned Elliott or Crawford or MacAllister that ever strutted80.' Them was HIS parting words. As for Marshall, we're all used to him, but he must strike strangers as right down peculiar-looking. I've known him ever since he was ten—he's about fifty now—and I like him. Him and me was out cod81-fishing today. That's about all I'm good for now—catching trout82 and cod occasional. But 'tweren't always so—not by no manner of means. I used to do other things, as you'd admit if you saw my life-book."
Anne was just going to ask what his life-book was when the First Mate created a diversion by springing upon Captain Jim's knee. He was a gorgeous beastie, with a face as round as a full moon, vivid green eyes, and immense, white, double paws. Captain Jim stroked his velvet83 back gently.
"I never fancied cats much till I found the First Mate," he remarked, to the accompaniment of the Mate's tremendous purrs. "I saved his life, and when you've saved a creature's life you're bound to love it. It's next thing to giving life. There's some turrible thoughtless people in the world, Mistress Blythe. Some of them city folks who have summer homes over the harbor are so thoughtless that they're cruel. It's the worst kind of cruelty—the thoughtless kind. You can't cope with it. They keep cats there in the summer, and feed and pet 'em, and doll 'em up with ribbons and collars. And then in the fall they go off and leave 'em to starve or freeze. It makes my blood boil, Mistress Blythe. One day last winter I found a poor old mother cat dead on the shore, lying against the skin-and-bone bodies of her three little kittens. She'd died trying to shelter 'em. She had her poor stiff paws around 'em. Master, I cried. Then I swore. Then I carried them poor little kittens home and fed 'em up and found good homes for 'em. I knew the woman who left the cat and when she come back this summer I jest went over the harbor and told her my opinion of her. It was rank meddling84, but I do love meddling in a good cause."
"How did she take it?" asked Gilbert.
"Cried and said she 'didn't think.' I says to her, says I, 'Do you s'pose that'll be held for a good excuse in the day of Jedgment, when you'll have to account for that poor old mother's life? The Lord'll ask you what He give you your brains for if it wasn't to think, I reckon.' I don't fancy she'll leave cats to starve another time."
"Was the First Mate one of the forsaken85?" asked Anne, making advances to him which were responded to graciously, if condescendingly.
"Yes. I found HIM one bitter cold day in winter, caught in the branches of a tree by his durn-fool ribbon collar. He was almost starving. If you could have seen his eyes, Mistress Blythe! He was nothing but a kitten, and he'd got his living somehow since he'd been left until he got hung up. When I loosed him he gave my hand a pitiful swipe with his little red tongue. He wasn't the able seaman86 you see now. He was meek as Moses. That was nine years ago. His life has been long in the land for a cat. He's a good old pal16, the First Mate is."
"I should have expected you to have a dog," said Gilbert.
Captain Jim shook his head.
"I had a dog once. I thought so much of him that when he died I couldn't bear the thought of getting another in his place. He was a FRIEND—you understand, Mistress Blythe? Matey's only a pal. I'm fond of Matey—all the fonder on account of the spice of devilment that's in him—like there is in all cats. But I LOVED my dog. I always had a sneaking87 sympathy for Alexander Elliott about HIS dog. There isn't any devil in a good dog. That's why they're more lovable than cats, I reckon. But I'm darned if they're as interesting. Here I am, talking too much. Why don't you check me? When I do get a chance to talk to anyone I run on turrible. If you've done your tea I've a few little things you might like to look at—picked 'em up in the queer corners I used to be poking88 my nose into."
Captain Jim's "few little things" turned out to be a most interesting collection of curios, hideous89, quaint90 and beautiful. And almost every one had some striking story attached to it.
Anne never forgot the delight with which she listened to those old tales that moonlit evening by that enchanted91 driftwood fire, while the silver sea called to them through the open window and sobbed92 against the rocks below them.
Captain Jim never said a boastful word, but it was impossible to help seeing what a hero the man had been—brave, true, resourceful, unselfish. He sat there in his little room and made those things live again for his hearers. By a lift of the eyebrow93, a twist of the lip, a gesture, a word, he painted a whole scene or character so that they saw it as it was.
Some of Captain Jim's adventures had such a marvellous edge that Anne and Gilbert secretly wondered if he were not drawing a rather long bow at their credulous94 expense. But in this, as they found later, they did him injustice95. His tales were all literally96 true. Captain Jim had the gift of the born storyteller, whereby "unhappy, far-off things" can be brought vividly97 before the hearer in all their pristine98 poignancy99.
Anne and Gilbert laughed and shivered over his tales, and once Anne found herself crying. Captain Jim surveyed her tears with pleasure shining from his face.
"I like to see folks cry that way," he remarked. "It's a compliment. But I can't do justice to the things I've seen or helped to do. I've 'em all jotted100 down in my life-book, but I haven't got the knack6 of writing them out properly. If I could hit on jest the right words and string 'em together proper on paper I could make a great book. It would beat A Mad Love holler, and I believe Joe'd like it as well as the pirate yarns. Yes, I've had some adventures in my time; and, do you know, Mistress Blythe, I still lust101 after 'em. Yes, old and useless as I be, there's an awful longing102 sweeps over me at times to sail out—out—out there—forever and ever."
"Like Ulysses, you would
'Sail beyond the sunset and the baths
Of all the western stars until you die,'"
said Anne dreamily.
"Ulysses? I've read of him. Yes, that's just how I feel—jest how all us old sailors feel, I reckon. I'll die on land after all, I s'pose. Well, what is to be will be. There was old William Ford69 at the Glen who never went on the water in his life, 'cause he was afraid of being drowned. A fortune-teller had predicted he would be. And one day he fainted and fell with his face in the barn trough and was drowned. Must you go? Well, come soon and come often. The doctor is to do the talking next time. He knows a heap of things I want to find out. I'm sorter lonesome here by times. It's been worse since Elizabeth Russell died. Her and me was such cronies."
Captain Jim spoke103 with the pathos104 of the aged49, who see their old friends slipping from them one by one—friends whose place can never be quite filled by those of a younger generation, even of the race that knows Joseph. Anne and Gilbert promised to come soon and often.
"He's a rare old fellow, isn't he?" said Gilbert, as they walked home.
"Somehow, I can't reconcile his simple, kindly105 personality with the wild, adventurous106 life he has lived," mused107 Anne.
"You wouldn't find it so hard if you had seen him the other day down at the fishing village. One of the men of Peter Gautier's boat made a nasty remark about some girl along the shore. Captain Jim fairly scorched108 the wretched fellow with the lightning of his eyes. He seemed a man transformed. He didn't say much—but the way he said it! You'd have thought it would strip the flesh from the fellow's bones. I understand that Captain Jim will never allow a word against any woman to be said in his presence."
"I wonder why he never married," said Anne. "He should have sons with their ships at sea now, and grandchildren climbing over him to hear his stories—he's that kind of a man. Instead, he has nothing but a magnificent cat."
But Anne was mistaken. Captain Jim had more than that. He had a memory.
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1
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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aplomb
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| n.沉着，镇静 | |
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deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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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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knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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casements
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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apparitions
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| n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 )；幽灵；鬼；（特异景象等的）出现 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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pebbled
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| 用卵石铺（pebble的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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coves
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| n.小海湾( cove的名词复数 )；家伙 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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49
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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50
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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51
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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52
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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53
huddling
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| n. 杂乱一团, 混乱, 拥挤 v. 推挤, 乱堆, 草率了事 | |
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54
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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55
proprietary
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| n.所有权，所有的；独占的；业主 | |
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56
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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57
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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58
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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59
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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60
yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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61
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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62
gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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63
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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64
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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65
skimp
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| v.节省花费，吝啬 | |
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66
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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68
dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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69
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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72
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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73
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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75
grits
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| n.粗磨粉；粗面粉；粗燕麦粉；粗玉米粉；细石子，砂粒等( grit的名词复数 )；勇气和毅力v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的第三人称单数 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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76
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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77
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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78
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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79
trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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80
strutted
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| 趾高气扬地走，高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
cod
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| n.鳕鱼；v.愚弄；哄骗 | |
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82
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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83
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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84
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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85
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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86
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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87
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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88
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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89
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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90
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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91
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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92
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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93
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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94
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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95
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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96
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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97
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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98
pristine
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| adj.原来的，古时的，原始的，纯净的，无垢的 | |
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99
poignancy
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| n.辛酸事，尖锐 | |
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100
jotted
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| v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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101
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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102
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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103
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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104
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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105
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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106
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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107
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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108
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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