I was very glad that he had come again, because that showed he was pleased with our place, and had appreciated the attention shown to him; and that is one thing I will say for him, with all his odd ways, and his violent tempers, and his rages and fads1, he was always deeply sensible of any little kindness shown to him. Poor man, he suffered dreadfully from his infirmity of temper; but I quite believe what he always told me—that it was nervous irritability2, and that it was caused by his constant ill-health, and that awful liver of his.
“Mary Jane,” he has said to me often, when we’ve been talking, “if I’d only had decent health and a pennyworth of digestion3 I should have been an angel upon earth. I should have been too good for this world, and died young.”
“Well, sir,” I said, “then, under these circumstances, your liver has been a blessing4 to you instead of a curse, because it has prolonged your life.”
“Good heavens! Mrs. Beckett,” he almost shrieked5. “Is it possible that you, you who have witnessed my awful sufferings, you who have seen me tear my hair and bite the{264} chair backs and kick the wall and hurl6 the coals out of the coal-scuttle at my own grinning demoniacal image in the looking-glass, can say such a thing as that? A blessing to prolong my life! Why, if the doctor had taken me away when I was born and drowned me in a pail of warm water, like they do the kittens, he would have been the best friend I ever had.”
“Oh, Mr. Saxon,” I said, “how can you say such dreadful things? I’m sure you have much to be thankful for. Many people envy you.”
“Do they?” he said. “Then more fools they. Look at me, Mrs. Beckett. Do you see how yellow I am? Do you know I go to bed at night half dead, and get up the next morning three-quarters dead, having spent the night in dreaming that I’m being hanged, or pursued by a mad bull, or having my chest jumped on by a demon7? Do you know that I can’t open a letter without trembling, lest it should tell me of some awful disaster? That I’m so nervous, that if I see anybody coming that I know, I bolt round a corner to get away from them, and that I’m so restless that I can never stay in one place more than a week together, and that I’ve had the same headache for ten years straight off?”
“Yes, sir,” I said; “I know that you do get like that sometimes, and it must be very unpleasant; but if you’d take more care of yourself, and not work so hard, and take more exercise, perhaps you’d be better.”
He laughed a contemptuous sort of laugh.
“Oh, of course, it’s all my own fault. Everybody tells me that. When I was a boy, the doctors said I should outgrow8 it; when I was a young man, they said after thirty I should be better. When I was thirty, they said it was a trying age; but by the time I was forty I should be all right. Well, I’m forty now, and look at me. I’m a wreck9—a perfect wreck.”
“Oh, come, sir,” I said; “I don’t see where the wreck comes in. You’re broad and upright, and you look as strong as a prize-fighter. Everybody who sees you says, ‘Is that Mr. Saxon? Why, I expected to see a cadaverous skeleton, by what I’ve heard about his being such an invalid10.{265}’”
“Oh yes, I know,” he said; “people say the same thing to me. I never get any sympathy. I dare say when I’m in my coffin11 people will come and look at me and say, ‘What a humbug12 that fellow is! Why, he looks as jolly as possible.’”
I tried to turn the conversation, because when Mr. Saxon begins to talk about himself and his wrongs and his ailments13 he will go on for hours if you’ll let him, so I asked him if he was writing anything new.
“Yes,” he said; “I’m writing my will. I’ve come down here to be able to work at it quietly, without anybody coming and putting me in a rage, and making me say something in that important document, in my temper, that I may be sorry for afterwards. Mrs. Beckett, I’ve left instructions that I’m to be cremated14. If you’d like to be present at the ceremony I’ll drop in a line to say that you are to be invited. It is a very curious spectacle, and well worth seeing.”
It was a nice thing, wasn’t it, for him to ask me to come and see him cremated? But it was no good taking him seriously when he was like that, so I said, “Thank you, sir; you are very kind; but I’d very much sooner see you eat a good dinner. What shall I order for you?”
He thought a minute, and then he said, “Let me see, I have four hours before dinner. I can get my will finished in three, so you can order me for dinner some salmon15 and cucumber, some roast pork and apple sauce, and a nice rich plum-pudding, and, I think, if I have a bottle of champagne16 with it, and after that some apples and some Brazil nuts, and a bottle of old port, the chances are that I shan’t linger long.”
“Oh, Mr. Saxon,” I said, “the idea of your eating such a dinner as that, and you complaining of indigestion! Why, it’s suicide!”
“Of course it is,” he said, with an awful grin. “That’s what I mean it to be. It’s the only way I can do it without letting the blessed insurance companies have the laugh of me.”
I only give you this conversation just to show you the sort of mood he was in when he came on his second visit. He hadn’t brought the Swedish gentleman with him to{266} get into a temper with, and as he could not well go on at me and Harry17, he went on the other tack18, and turned melancholy19.
I felt as if I should like to give him a good shaking; but, of course, I was obliged to be polite, so I said, “If you are dull when you’ve done your work, sir, I hope you will come downstairs and sit with us; my husband will be very pleased, I’m sure.”
“Thank you,” he said; and then he went upstairs, and presently when I passed his door I heard him giggling20 to himself, and presently he laughed right out loud.
I thought to myself, “I wonder what he’s so merry about all by himself,” so I knocked at the door, and made an excuse to go in.
He had several sheets of paper in front of him, and he was chuckling21 and writing, and grinning all over his face.
“Here, Mrs. Beckett,” he said, “what do you think of this for a will?”
“Good gracious, sir!” I said, “you’re not laughing over your will, are you?”
“Yes, I am. I can’t help it. It’s so jolly funny. Ha, ha, ha!”
He began to read his will to me, and presently, I couldn’t help it, I was obliged to laugh too. It was so utterly22 ridiculous. He had actually gone and made a comic will leaving the oddest things to people, and cracking jokes about everything, just as if it was the funniest thing in the world to say what’s to be done with your property when you’re dead.
“I say, Mrs. Beckett,” he said, “won’t it be a lark23 when the old lawyer reads this out? I hope he’ll be a good reader, and make the points. I’d give something to see the people when they hear it read. I hope they’ll be a good audience.”
When he saw that it amused me, he was as pleased as Punch, and quite jolly. All his melancholy had gone. He read that will over and over again to himself, and seemed thoroughly24 to enjoy it; and I’m quite sure that he felt awfully25 sorry that he couldn’t get all the people called together and have it read to them without his being dead,{267} so that he could hear them laugh at what he called his “wheezes.”
He said that he was sure his will would be a great success, and it put him in a good humour for the rest of the day, and he quite enjoyed his dinner, which, you may be sure, wasn’t roast pork or salmon, as he had ordered; but a nice fried sole, and a boiled chicken, and a semolina pudding, which I knew wouldn’t hurt him, and I wouldn’t let him have the champagne, pretending that we were quite out of the only brand he cared for.
After dinner he smoked a cigar by himself, and then he came down into our bar-parlour and smoked a pipe.
Several of our regular customers knew him, through his having been with us before, and they remembered him, so he joined in the conversation, which got on foreign parts; and, as he was known to travel abroad a good deal, they asked him questions about the places he had seen.
I will say this for Mr. Saxon: he never wanted much encouragement to start him off talking, and when he did begin he went on.
I’m quite sure that it wasn’t all true what he told the people in our bar-parlour. He couldn’t help exaggerating, if it was to save his life; but I believe the stories he told were founded on fact, only he made them as wonderful as he could.
He had been in the winter to Africa, and he told us of a very wonderful adventure he had with a lion. It seems he was very anxious to kill a lion and bring it home with him. So one day that he heard a lion had been seen in the mountains near where he was, he went off on a hunting expedition and camped out in the open air. The first night he thought it was very jolly; but when he woke up in the morning he found he had got the rheumatics so fearfully that he could hardly move. So he told the Arabs, who were with him, to go hunting, and he would stop in the tent and rub himself with liniment, as he couldn’t walk till the rheumatics went off.
The Arabs went off to look for the lion, and soon after they had gone Mr. Saxon heard a curious noise, and looking up, he saw a great big lion coming stealthily towards him.
He was awfully frightened, and picked up his gun and{268} went as white as death, and waited for the animal to come on. When it began to move, he noticed it was rather lame26, and moved very slowly, so he aimed at it and fired; but not being a good marksman, the shot went a long way over the lion’s head.
Then he felt so frightened, he said, that he was quite paralyzed, and he fired again; but the bullet didn’t go near the lion.
Then he dropped his gun and tried to run away; but the rheumatism27 was so dreadful that he couldn’t move, and still the lion crept nearer and nearer. He gave himself up for lost, and thought he should never see anybody again, when the animal, who was evidently in pain, limped into the tent.
He thought it would jump on him and eat him, but instead of that it only sat down on its haunches by his side in the tent and groaned28, and held up one of its paws.
All of a sudden, he having a lot of experience with dogs, guessed that the lion was suffering from rheumatism, and so he thought he would try an experiment. He got out his bottle of liniment, and took the lion’s leg and rubbed the liniment well into it, the lion sitting quite still all the time, only holding its head on one side, as the liniment was very strong, and it got up its nose and made its eyes water.
After he had rubbed it well the lion seemed to be better, and wagged its tail, and would have licked his hand, he said, only he didn’t like the liniment that was on it. And presently it got up and went away, walking much easier than before.
Mr. Saxon said the relief to his feelings was so great that he felt quite exhausted29, and fell asleep, and when he woke up, to his horror he saw three lions in his tent—it was the lion he had rubbed, who had brought his wife, the lioness, and his eldest30 son, a very fine young lion, and it was evident that he had brought them to be rubbed with the liniment, as they held out their legs towards him.
Mr. Saxon said that evidently all the family had slept in a damp place and got rheumatic. He rubbed the lioness and the young lion till all his liniment was gone, and then they went away.{269}
When the Arabs came back in the evening they said they had had no sport, as they found the lions gone from their lair31. “Yes,” said Mr. Saxon, “they have been here.” At first the Arabs would not believe him, but he showed them the footsteps of the lions, and then they did, and said it was very wonderful.
They had to camp in the same place that night, as Mr. Saxon was not well enough to go on. The next morning when they got up it was found that they were short of provisions, and they were wondering what they would do, when one of the Arabs said, “Oh, look there; there is a lion coming. Let us shoot him!” “No,” said Mr. Saxon, “perhaps it is one of my friends.” And so it was—it was the old lion, and he had a very fine sheep in his mouth. He marched into the tent, laid the sheep at Mr. Saxon’s feet, and then, nodding his head to the Arabs, turned round and walked away again.
He had brought Mr. Saxon a present of a sheep, to show his gratitude32 for being eased of the rheumatism with the liniment.
Mr. Saxon said it was one of the most wonderful instances of gratitude in a wild beast that had ever been known, and we all thought so too.
Some of the people in our parlour believed it was all gospel truth; but Harry laughed, and so did I. I had heard Mr. Saxon’s wonderful stories about his travels before.
I knew it was true about his suffering with rheumatism, though, because I had seen him; and I’ve heard the Swedish gentleman tell how, when Mr. Saxon was in Rome, he had it so bad that he could hardly move, and the twinges used to make him yell out. And one day one of the Pope’s chamberlains came to take him to the Vatican, and he couldn’t crawl across the room. He was in an awful state, because he was to be introduced to the Pope, and it was a great honour, and it made him very upset to think he should have to lose it. The Pope’s chamberlain, who was an Englishman, recommended a very hot bath. So Mr. Saxon had one put in his bedroom; and, in his hasty, impulsive33 way, got into it without trying the heat. It was so hot that he was nearly boiled alive, and he jumped out{270} in such a hurry that the bath was tilted34 over, and boiled all the pattern out of the carpet, and went through the ceiling, and Mr. Saxon danced about, and swore, and went on dreadfully—like he can if he’s put out. It cost him ten pounds for the damage; but his rheumatics had gone quite away, and he was able to be introduced to the Pope that afternoon; so he didn’t mind the ten pounds. But the Swedish gentleman told us that he was the colour of a boiled lobster35 for a fortnight afterwards.
Another time that he had the rheumatism come on very awkwardly—so the Swedish gentleman told us, and I think he tells the truth—was at Madrid. Mr. Saxon was at a bull-fight, and after the third bull had been killed the beautifully dressed men who fight the bulls all went out, and the people all began to jump into the arena36. Mr. Saxon and the Swedish gentleman thought that was a short cut to get out, so they got over into the circus too. Presently, to their horror, the doors were opened, and two bulls came galloping37 in. The Swedish gentleman jumped over the barriers quick; but Mr. Saxon, when he went to follow, had a sudden attack of rheumatics in his legs, and couldn’t move. He gave a horrified38 look, and saw one of the bulls making straight at him. He turned round to try and run; but the bull caught him, and threw him right up on the top of the barrier, and the Swedish gentleman seized him and pulled him over, while all the people clapped their hands, and shrieked with laughter.
Of course Mr. Saxon thought he must be wounded, and couldn’t make out why he didn’t feel where the bull’s horns had been; but when he looked round he saw all the people in the ring playing with the bulls, and the boys waving their cloaks in front of them, and then running away; and then he saw that the bulls had big indiarubber balls on their horns, to prevent them hurting.
It was explained to him afterwards by a Spanish gentleman that, after the real bull-fight is over, the young bulls, with their horns protected, are turned into the ring for the boys and young men to play with, and it is with these bulls that many, who afterwards become bull-fighters, take their first lesson. But it was very awkward for Mr. Saxon{271} having his rheumatics come on just as the bull was running at him, before about five thousand people in the great bullring at Madrid.
The Queen of Spain, Mr. Saxon told us, was in the royal box, and she laughed as heartily39 as anybody. So Mr. Saxon tells everybody that he has had the honour of appearing as a bull-fighter before the royal family in Madrid, which is much more true than a good many of the stories he tells about his adventures abroad, I dare say.
The next day Mr. Saxon was rather melancholy again, and he said he shouldn’t stop, as he thought the country didn’t suit him at that season of the year. It was the autumn; and he said the fall of the leaf always made him ill.
“My dear Mrs. Beckett,” he said, “all times are alike to me. In the winter my doctor says, ‘Ah, it’s the cold weather makes you queer; you’ll be better when it’s over.’ When the spring comes, he says, ‘People with livers are always queer in the spring.’ When it’s summer, he says, ‘The heat always upsets livers.’ When it’s autumn, he says, ‘People with the least acidity41 in their blood always feel the autumn;’ and when it’s winter it’s the cold that’s bad for me again. And that’s the game they’ve played with me for the last ten years. It’s just the same if I go out of town for the benefit of my health. If I go to the seaside, the sea is bad for bilious42 people. If I go inland, it isn’t bracing43 enough. If I go to a bracing place, the air is too strong for me. If I go to a relaxing place, the air is too mild for me. There isn’t one of the beggars who pocket my guinea that has the honesty to say that nothing will ever make me any better.”
“I wonder you take their prescriptions,” I said, “if you don’t believe they can do you any good.”
“I’m not going to take any more,” he said. “Why, this last year I’ve tried the hot-water cure, the lemon cure, and the cold-water cure. I’ve worn four different sorts of pads and belts, I’ve been medically rubbed, and I’ve put myself on milk diet. I buy everything that’s advertised in the newspapers and on the hoardings, and I take everything{272} everybody sends me, and the only time I was really well for a week was when I sent my little dog, who had a bad liver, to the veterinary surgeon, and he sent her some powders, and I took them by mistake for my own. When I went to get some more, the vet44. had gone for his holiday and left an assistant. The assistant looked over the books and sent me some more powders. I thought they tasted different; but I took them, and ever since that I have never been able to pass a cat’s-meat barrow without wanting to stand on my hind45 legs and beg. The stupid assistant had made up some powders to give a dainty pet dog an appetite instead of my little dog’s liver powders.”
“Oh, Mr. Saxon,” I said, laughing; “you don’t expect me to believe that!”
“I can’t help whether you believe it or not, Mrs. Beckett,” he said; “I’m only telling you what actually happened.”
I stopped with him a little and tried to persuade him to give us a little longer trial. He couldn’t expect changes of air to do him good in a day. He said there was something in that, and he’d try another day or two.
I got Harry to offer to go for a long walk with him; and when Harry came back, he said, “My dear, I really think this time Mr. Saxon is a bit dotty.”
“Whatever do you mean, Harry,” I said.
“Well, he’s been asking me if I could get him a nice jolly crew of sailors to man a pirate ship for him, as he thinks of turning pirate. He says he’s been ordered a sea voyage, and that’s the only way he could take it without feeling the monotony of it.”
“Oh,” I said, “you mustn’t take any notice of his talking like that. Once, when he was ordered horse exercise, I remember him saying that he’d turn highwayman, and wear a mask, and have pistols in his belt, as he must have something to occupy his mind while he was riding, or he should go to sleep and tumble off.”
Poor Mr. Saxon! I often wonder whether people, who don’t know him well, believe that he really means the idiotic46 things he says. He says them so seriously that you can’t help being taken in by them sometimes.
After he had been with us a couple of days he sent a telegram to London and had a telegram back, and then he{273} called me up, and he said, “Mrs. Beckett, I’m going to ask you a very great favour.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, wondering what was coming.
“A very dear friend of mine,” he said, “who has been for five years in a lunatic asylum47 has been cured, and is to be released to-morrow. He has a wife and family. Before he goes home to them we are anxious to see how he will behave—if he is quite cured, in fact.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, still wondering what I had to do with his mad friend.
“I have asked him to come here and stay with me.”
“What, sir!” I said, starting. “To come here!”
“Yes; but don’t be alarmed. I believe he is quite cured, and as sane48 as I am now. He is a very nice man—a little odd in his ways; but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He is coming to-night. I assure you there is no danger, or I wouldn’t have asked him: only his friends think it will be better for him to get accustomed to his freedom before he goes home.”
“Of course, sir,” I said; “but it’s a great responsibility for you.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid; but I want you to help me.”
“How, sir?”
“Well, please put him a very blunt knife at dinner, and if he gets up in the morning before I do and goes out, just ask your husband not to let him go far away or let him out of his sight. That’s all.”
“Very good, sir,” I said; but I didn’t like it, and I went down. I said to Harry, “Here’s a nice thing. Mr. Saxon has asked a lunatic to stay with him, and he wants us to look after him!”
That night the gentleman arrived. He was a very thin, very mild, amiable-looking gentleman of about fifty, with long black hair, turning grey.
Mr. Saxon told us he was a literary gentleman and a fine scholar, and had written a great many burlesques49, and it was this that had brought him to a lunatic asylum. He certainly was a little odd, and seemed rather nervous. I thought that was on account of his finding himself without any keepers about him.
He spoke50 very nicely, and laughed a good deal, and seemed a little fidgety and funny; but that was all.{274}
I put him a very blunt knife at dinner, and when he tried to cut his meat with it, he said, “God bless me; this is an awful knife! Give me another, please.”
I looked at Mr. Saxon for instructions; but he shook his head. So I said, “It’s the sharpest we have, sir.”
“Shall I cut your meat up for you, Bob?” said Mr. Saxon.
“No, thank you,” said the gentleman; and he made another try; but he groaned over it and went quite hot, and kept saying, “God bless me!” and muttering to himself.
He and Mr. Saxon sat and smoked pipes all the evening, and they went to bed early, Mr. Saxon telling me not to give his friend a candle, as it wasn’t advisable to trust him with fire.
The gentleman asked for a candle. But I said I was very sorry, but all the candles were engaged.
He went into his bedroom and went to bed in the dark. But he went on awfully, groaning51, and saying, “God bless me!” and that he never heard such a thing in his life.
In the morning he got up early, and, to our horror, came down with his hat on and went out.
“Harry,” I said, “Follow him, quick; he’s going towards the horse-pond.”
Harry said it was all very fine. He wished Mr. Saxon would take charge of his own lunatics; but he put on his hat, and went after the gentleman.
They came in in half an hour, the gentleman looking very bad tempered.
At breakfast, I heard him say to Mr. Saxon that the landlord had been following him.
“Nonsense, Bob,” said Mr. Saxon. “Come, old fellow, eat your breakfast.” There were chops for breakfast, and I had put the blunt knife on again. The gentleman tried to cut his chop with it, and then he flung it down, and said, “God bless me, Saxon, I can’t stand this place. I can’t cut my food; I have to go to bed in the dark; and I’m followed when I go out. One would think they took me for a lunatic.”
“Poor fellow,” I said to myself; “that’s always the way. They never have the slightest idea that they are lunatics.{275}”
The gentleman and Mr. Saxon went out for a walk, and the gentleman came in first and went up to the sitting-room52. I heard him open the window, and that gave me a turn. I thought, “Oh, dear me, he has given Mr. Saxon the slip. Perhaps he is going to throw himself out of the window.”
I rushed upstairs and opened the door, end saw that he was leaning half way out of the window. He made a movement, as if he was going to throw himself right out; but I rushed in, and seized him by the coat-tails.
“Sir,” I said; “come in, please; that window’s dangerous!”
“God bless me!” he said, turning round. “What does all this mean? Am I in a private lunatic asylum?”
“No, sir,” I said. “Pray be calm, sir. Come, sit down; you’re not very well. Mr. Saxon will be here directly.”
He sat down, and looked at me, with such a strange look on his face, that I felt he had been let out too soon, and I made up my mind to advise Mr. Saxon to send him back. It wasn’t safe to have an only half-cured lunatic about the place.
“Go out of the room, if you please, madam,” he said. “I think it is very great impertinence on your part to come in without being asked.”
“No, sir,” I said; “I shall not leave you in your present condition, and if you make any resistance I shall call my husband. Now be a good, kind creature, and sit still till Mr. Saxon comes in.”
“God bless me,” he said, “am I mad? What does it mean? I—I—confound it, Saxon” (Mr. Saxon had come in), “what sort of a place is this that you’ve asked me to? Is it an hotel, or an asylum for idiots? This woman is certainly mad!”
“Poor gentleman!” I thought, “they always think it’s you and not them that’s mad.”
Mr. Saxon looked at me and then at his friend, and then he burst out laughing.
I don’t know what put it into my head; but it came like a flash that I’d been “had,” as Harry calls it.
I went hot and cold, and didn’t know which way to look.{276}
“It’s all right, Bob,” said Mr. Saxon; “don’t blame Mrs. Beckett. It’s my fault. I told her you were only let out of a lunatic asylum yesterday, and she and her husband have been seeing that you don’t get into mischief53.”
I made for the door, and got downstairs quick. But I could hear the gentleman going on, and saying it was too bad, and that it was a shameful54 thing to have made out that he was a lunatic. But he was all right at dinner-time, and he laughed about it, and said Mr. Saxon was an awful man, and always up to some idiotic trick or other.
And so he was. But it was a long time before I felt quite comfortable with the gentleman we’d treated as a lunatic, and given a blunt knife to, and made to go to bed in the dark, and watched about wherever he went.
It was too bad of Mr. Saxon to play such a trick on us; for the gentleman was as sane as he was, and, if it came to that, a good deal saner55. For sometimes Mr. Saxon does things, and says things, that are only fit for a lunatic asylum; and I’ve heard his friends say to him, “Why, if anybody who didn’t know you were to hear you, they’d take you for a lunatic.”
Mr. Saxon and the gentleman who wrote burlesques went away together. Mr. Saxon was really much better when he left, and he said so. He’s promised to send us his portrait with his autograph under it to put up in our little private room, and before he left I got his permission to allow me to dedicate my next book to——
* * * * *
What! The billiard balls gone. Nonsense! You’ve looked everywhere for them, John, and they’re not there? You don’t mean to say they’re stolen? Well, I declare, what next! I suppose somebody has been in and found the place empty and walked off with them. I knew something would come of that separate entrance. It’s your own fault, for not locking the room up when you go to dinner. Your master will be in a fine way when he hears of it. I expect he’ll make you pay for them, and it will serve you right.
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fads
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| n.一时的流行，一时的风尚( fad的名词复数 ) | |
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irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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outgrow
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| vt.长大得使…不再适用；成长得不再要 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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coffin
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humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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ailments
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| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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cremated
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| v.火葬，火化（尸体）( cremate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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invalids
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| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
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acidity
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| n.酸度，酸性 | |
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bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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vet
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| n.兽医，退役军人；vt.检查 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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burlesques
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| n.滑稽模仿( burlesque的名词复数 )；（包括脱衣舞的）滑稽歌舞杂剧v.（嘲弄地）模仿，（通过模仿）取笑( burlesque的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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saner
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的比较级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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