"The Deane, March 17, 18--.
"MY DEAR MR. DUGDALE,--Your last letter, imposing1 upon me the task of advising my brother, in the sense of the conclusions arrived at by yourself and Mr. Meredith, gave me a great deal to think about. I could not answer it fully3 before, and I am sure the result which I have now to state to you will not, in reality, be displeasing4 to you, but I cannot uphold its soundness of wisdom, in a worldly sense, even to my own judgment5--though it carries with it all my sympathies; and I am confident Mr. Meredith will entirely6 disapprove7 of it.
"I was obliged to be careful in selecting an opportunity for entering upon the discussion prescribed by your letter with Fitzwilliam. Since his great affliction fell upon him, he is not so gentle, so easy of access, as he used to be; and though he will sometimes talk freely to me of the past, the occasions must be of his own choosing. Hence the delay. I took the best means, as I thought, of making him understand the gravity and earnestness of the matter it was necessary he should consider--I read your letter to him. The mere2 hearing of it distressed9 him very much. He said, what I also felt, that he had not thought it could be possible to make him feel the loss of Margaret more deeply, but that the statement of his present position, so clear, so true, so indisputable, has made him feel it. He listened while I read the letter again, at his request, and then left me suddenly, saying he would tell me what to answer as soon as he could.
"Some days elapsed, and we saw very little of him--I perceived that one of his dark moods was upon him--and yesterday he came to me, to tell me to answer your letter. He took me to the sitting-room11 which was Margaret's, and where everything remains12 just as she left it on the last day that she came downstairs at the Deane. I suppose he felt that I could understand his decision more clearly, and be less inclined to listen to all the reasons which render it unwise, when everything around should speak of her whose undimmed memory dictated13 it.
"The sum of what he said to me--with many strayings from the matter, and so much revival14 of the past in all its first bitterness, that I was astonished, such a faculty15 of grief being rarely seen in a man--was this. He cannot bring himself to contemplate16, as you and Mr. Meredith are agreed he ought, a second marriage. As nearly as possible, this was what he said:
"When we found out the wrong which had been innocently done to Gertrude, we hoped, indeed we were so persuaded, that the child we were expecting would be a boy, and the wrong be thus righted, that we never looked beyond the birth of the child, or discussed the future in any way with reference to a disappointment in that particular. The child would be the heir, and Gertrude's future would be safe, rich, and prosperous. Such were our dreams-and when the fearful awakening17 came, it was some time before I understood all it meant. It was weeks before I remembered that the wrong done to the child my Margaret had loved so much, that she broke her heart because that wrong had been done, could never be righted now. It was very long before the thought occurred to me that those to whom this dreadful truth was known would perceive that a second marriage, by giving me the chance of a male heir, and thus putting the two children on an equal footing in the eyes of the world, would afford me the only means of avoiding injustice19 to Eleanor."
"Here he stopped, and said he suffered equally about both children, for the youngest had also sustained the greatest loss of all. Then he continued:
"'I did think of this sometimes, but with horror, and a full knowledge that though it would be a just and wise thing in one sense for the interests of my children, it would be unjust and unwise towards them and myself, and any woman whom I might induce to marry me, in another. I daresay you will think I am talking nonsense, forgetting the influence, which, however slow, is always sure, of the lapse10 of time--forgetting that others have been heavily bereaved20 and yet have found consolation21, and even come to know much happiness again--when I tell you that I never could take the slightest interest in any woman any more. Well, supposing I am wrong there--I don't think I can be; there is something in my inmost heart which tells me I am right--we are dealing22 now not with the future, but with the present. James is right in pointing out that I must make up my mind to some course, and I am glad Meredith is still interested in me and in the children's future. Time may alter my state of mind, but if it does, no arrangements made now will be irrevocable.
"'But, as my life is uncertain, I am not justified23 in allowing any more time to go by, without providing, as well as I can, for the contingencies24 which may arise. Tell James I am deeply impressed with the truth of this, and the strong necessity of acting25 on all he and Meredith have set before me, though I cannot act upon it in the way in which they prescribe. For the present--and you will not need to be assured that I am not regardless of what Margaret would wish--I must only make all the reparation which money can make to Eleanor.'
"Then Fitzwilliam entered into a full explanation of the position of the estate, and gave me the enclosed memorandum26, which he wishes you and Mr. Meredith to see, and showed me how the ready money he can leave to Eleanor, and the income, apart from the entailed27 estate, which he can settle on her, in reality amount to within two thousand a year of the income which must come to Gertrude as heir of entail28. To this purpose he intends to devote all this money, his great object being to render the position of his children as nearly equal as possible, and so reduce the unintentional injustice done to Eleanor, and the wrong, now past atonement, inflicted30 on Gertrude, to such small dimensions as may relieve him from any suffering on the subject.
"He has requested that no portion of Mr. Carteret's property should be left to either of the children. They will be rich enough, and he considers, very justly, that Haldane's children will have a superior claim on Mr. Carteret, who was feverishly31 anxious, Fitzwilliam tells me, to have all his affairs settled; when he spoke32 to him, he did not like this idea at all, he is so much attached to little Gertrude; but when my brother told him he knew it would have been Margaret's wish that her brother should have all it was in their father's power to give, he was satisfied, and promised that it should be so.
"In telling you this, I daresay I am repeating what is already known to you; but I give it its place in the conversation between us, as bearing upon the point that the only way in which the past can now be repaired, is by securing to the children as much equality in money matters as possible.
"As a branch of this subject, I may tell you that the future disposition33 of my property has been discussed between us. In Davyntry I have, as I daresay you know, only a life-interest, and the money of which I have to dispose comes to me from my father. It is six hundred a year, and I shall at once make my will in favour of Eleanor. Thus the inequality in the fortunes of the girls will be decreased, and Fitzwilliam is much less likely than ever to live up to his income. The girls will both be very rich heiresses, no doubt, and I do not think any of us who are in the secret need feel that the advantage to Gerty of appearing as the heiress of the Deane is very material.
"Her father feels very deeply the condition of the entail which prescribed that she must bear her own name, her husband being obliged to assume it. There is a sting in that which you will thoroughly34 comprehend. He asked me if I thought that remembrance had contributed to the pain which Margaret had suffered about this calamity35, but I could assure him conscientiously36 that I did not think it had ever occurred to her. The child was so mere an infant, and the strong hope and expectation, disappointed by Eleanor's birth, possessed37 them so completely, that money matters, in connection with the future, were never discussed between them. He confirmed me in this. They never were; and now it is a keen source of regret to him, because, he says, he should be fortified38 by the knowledge of how she would have desired he should act, under the present circumstances.
"Poor fellow! I listened to him, seriously of course; but, sad as it was, I could hardly keep from smiling at the way in which he confounds the present with the past, forgetting that he had no fear, no misgivings39, no presentiment40, and therefore that no reason existed for such a discussion. All this will appear impracticable to Mr. Meredith, but he will have patience with my brother; he saw enough of what their life together was, to understand, in some degree, the immeasurable loss. My ignorance of all that had occurred, at the time of Margaret's death, is, perhaps, regrettable on this score, that I might have gotten at more of her mind than, for his sake, she would have betrayed to him; but it is too late now to repair that ignorance, and we must only do the best we can in the children's interests.
"Keeping in view the change time may produce--that my brother is still a young man, and that a second marriage may not always be so repugnant to him as it is at present--I think we may rest satisfied in having induced him to contemplate, and, no doubt, as soon as possible to make, a proper disposition of his property. As for the children, they are as happy as little unconscious creatures like them can be, and I Where is there a second Margaret to be found?
"Fitzwilliam spoke to me very freely on this point. He could not pretend to any woman that he loved her; and as, in that case, his second wife must necessarily marry him for mercenary motives42, could he regard any woman who would do so as a fitting representative of their mother to his children--could he make her even tolerably happy, thus entering upon a life in which there could be no mutual43 respect? Such arguments are all-powerful with a woman, especially with me; for I know how pure, how disinterested44, our lost Margaret's feelings and motives in her marriage were, and remember only too well seeing how they were realised--the doubt and dread18 she expressed when she first recognised the prospect45 for the future which lay before her. How wonderful and dreadful it seems to speak of her thus in the past, to refer to that which seemed so completely all in all to us then, and is now gone for ever!
"My brother is content with the care the children have from me, and, far more effectually, from Rose. Time teaches me her value more and more forcibly, and I am more and more thankful that, in the blackest and worst time of our distress8, you suggested her being sent for. How strange and fortunate that Margaret had given you a clue to what her wishes would have been! Neither Fitzwilliam nor I would have thought of her; indeed, I had entirely forgotten the 'Irish-Australian importation of Margaret's,' as I once heard poor Mrs. Carteret speak of her. She is a comfort to us all past describing.
"I do not know whether Fitzwilliam has told you that Terence Doran, Rose's husband, is coming to him in a month as factor. He is a very clever young man, we understand, and, though well placed in Ireland, willing to come here, for his wife's sake, to enable her to remain with the children. I have no intention of leaving the Deane for the present. Fitzwilliam seems restless; he does not say so, but I fancy he wishes to go abroad again. I should not be surprised if he started off soon on some prolonged tour.
"You ask me about the children. Before I reply to your questions, let me tell you how sorry we all are that there is no chance of our seeing you here. We understand, of course, that the state of your own health, and the duty you feel imposed upon you with regard to poor Mr. Carteret, to whom it would be naturally most distasteful to come here, furnish indisputable reasons for your absence, but we do not the less regret it. I infer from the news that Mr. Meredith means to leave England next month, that he has satisfactorily brought all his business to a conclusion. His return will be a great boon46 to his family. An absence which, by the time he reaches Melbourne, will have been prolonged to nearly two years, is a terrible slice out of this short mortal life. I suppose all the arrangements made for his son have succeeded to his satisfaction, and that you, with your invariable kindness, have undertaken the supervision47 of the boy.
"And now, about the children. Gertrude is a fine child, very like Margaret in face, and, so far as one can judge of so young a child, of a nice disposition, rather grave and sensitive. Her father idolises her; he is never weary of the little girl's company, and I can see that he is always tracing the likeness48 to the face hidden from him for a while. Little Eleanor is delicate and peevish49; indeed, if it be not foolish to say so of an infant, I should say she is of a passionate50 nature; she is not so pretty as Gertrude, but has large brown eyes, quite unlike either her sister or her poor mother. She is Rose Doran's favourite, and I can trace sometimes, in her candid51 Irish face, some surprise and displeasure when she notices my brother's intense affection for the elder girl. She has no knowledge of anything which makes the child an object of compassionate52 love to the father."
"MARCH 18.
/
"When I had written so far, I was interrupted by Fitzwilliam. He brought me a letter which he has written to Mr. Janvrin, of Lincoln's Inn, his solicitor53, and which contains instructions for the drawing up of a will according to the plan I have mentioned. He wishes me to recapitulate54 to you what would be the children's positions in the event of his death, unmarried, and not having revoked55 this will.
"Gertrude would succeed to all the entailed property, chargeable, as in Fitzwilliam's case, with a provision for her younger children.
"Eleanor would have all the savings56 from the general income up to the time of her father's death, and all such property as is not included in the entail.
"Haldane Carteret and I are named as the guardians58 and trustees, and my brother signifies his wish that his children should reside alternately with either Mrs. Carteret or me, according to the general convenience.
"Will you kindly59 communicate this to Mr. Meredith, together with my personal acknowledgment of the kind interest he has taken in us all during the sorrowful period of his stay in England?
"Always, my dear Mr. Dugdale, most faithfully yours,
"ELEANOR DAVYNTRY."
James Dugdale to Lady Davyntry.
"CHAYLEIGH, MARCH 20.
"MY DEAR LADY DAVYNTRY,--I have to thank you for your kind and explanatory letter. I never expected Baldwin to take the view of the matter on which I wrote to you which Meredith takes. Meredith is so much more of a man of the world than I am, has so much longer a head, and so much sounder judgment, that I could not hesitate to transmit to you and Baldwin his views, in which the world, could it know what we are so unfortunate as to know, would no doubt recognise reason and force. Well, we too recognise them, but that is all.
"All the dispositions60 which you tell me Baldwin has made are admirable under the circumstances, and considering his determination, which I do not think is likely to yield to the influence of time, which cannot restore her who was lost, and will, I am convinced, but increase his appreciation61 of the extent and severity of that loss. Gertrude gains only in name and appearance, and does her sister no real injury. I have often thought how terrible Baldwin's position would have been had not Eleanor lived. Then he must either have married again, or done an injury to the heir of entail by permitting Gertrude to succeed. Meredith was asking me about the succession, but I could not tell him. I fancy I heard, but I don't remember where, when, or how, that the next heir is a distant relative, with whom Baldwin is not acquainted.
"Mr. Carteret had told me, before I received your letter, Baldwin's wishes about his will, and that he intended to comply with them. The only legacy62 Gertrude will inherit from her grandfather is the unfinished portrait which you brought from Naples. He never mentioned it, or seemed to notice that I had had it unpacked63 and placed in the study, until the day on which he mentioned Baldwin's request, and then he looked at it, quite a fond, quiet smile. The calm, the impassability of old age is coming over him, fortunately for him.
"But while I perfectly64 understand the force and approve the object of the representation which Baldwin has made to Mr. Carteret, and while I heartily65 approve the reason and the generosity66 of the disposition you intend making of such portion of your property as is within your power, I do not think I am bound by similar restrictions67. Partly because the little I possess is so small, so utterly68 trivial and unimportant, in comparison with the handsome fortune, which the measures Baldwin is taking will secure, with your assistance, to Eleanor; and partly because I feel towards the elder child in a peculiar69 way, almost inexplicable70 to myself--I intend to bequeath to Gertrude the small sum I possess the power of bequeathing.
"She shall have it when I am gone, and it shall be left at her free and uncontrolled disposition; it will add a little yearly sum to her pleasures, or, if she be as like her mother in her nature as in her face, to her charities. It will be a great pleasure to me to know that Gertrude, whose splendid inheritance will come to her by a real though guiltless error, will at least have that small heritage in her own real undisputable right--not as the heiress of anything or any one, only as Margaret's child.
"I am so glad to know what you tell me concerning Rose Doran. She was always a good, genuine creature, and it is almost as rare as it is pleasant to anticipate excellence71 and not to be disappointed. Baldwin should be careful, however, of annoying her by displaying too marked a preference for Gerty. Rose is a very shrewd person, and in her impulsive72 Irish mind the process, which should make her suspicious of a reason for this preference, and jealous for the child whose life cost that of her mother, would not be a difficult one.
"Meredith's plans are unchanged. He has every reason to be satisfied with the arrangements made for Robert. I have no doubt the boy will do well. He wants neither ability nor application; I wish he had as much heart and as much frankness. Davyntry is looking very well, lonely, of course, but well taken care of; I ramble73 about there almost every day. Haldane and his wife are expected next week at the Croftons.
"Yours, dear Lady Davyntry, always truly,
"JAMES DUGDALE."
Hayes Meredith to Fitzwilliam Meriton Baldwin>.
"CHAYLEIGH, APRIL 2.
"MY DER BALDWIN,--I am off in a short time now, and this is to say good-bye--most likely for ever. At my time of life I am not likely to get back to England again, unless, indeed, I should make a fortune by some very unlikely hazard, of which not the faintest indication appears at present.
"I am very much obliged to you for letting me know all the arrangements you have made. I am sure you know my feeling in the matter was interest, not curiosity, and though not only the safest, surest, speediest, but also the most natural and agreeable way of putting an end to your difficulties appeared to me to be a second marriage, I am not going to blame you because you don't think so. I know the difficulties of the position, but, after all, you inflict29 a mere technical wrong on one sister, while you make up for it by endowing her with a much larger fortune than she would have had, had her real position been what her apparent one is--that of a younger child.
"From what you say of the amount of the savings which you expect to leave to Eleanor, I should think she would be little less rich than Gertrude, and without the burden of a large landed estate and establishment to keep up--also enjoying the immense advantage of being able to dispose of her property as she chooses, an advantage which Gertrude will not enjoy, and which, with my colonial ideas, I am disposed to estimate very highly indeed.
"I have so many kindnesses and attentions to thank you for, that I must put all my acknowledgments into this one, and beg you to believe that I feel them deeply. The most welcome of all the acts of friendship I have received from you is your promise not to lose sight of Robert. He will get on well, I think. If he does not, his heart will be more in fault than his head, in my belief.
"As to O----, I hardly know what to think of your proposal. I doubt its being altogether safe to open communications voluntarily with a man of his sort. He is so very likely, after his kind, to impute74 some bad, or at least suspicious motive41 to an act of charity which I should not be disposed to give him credit for understanding or believing in. The least danger we should have to fear would be his establishing himself as a regular pensioner75 in consideration of your aid extended to him in so inexplicable a fashion.
"But, beyond this, there is more to apprehend76. I think I told you he knew nothing of M----, not even her former name, nor her destination in England. If he receives a sum of money from you, he will naturally make inquiries77 about you, and there will be no means of keeping the required information from him. Once supply him with a clue to any connection between you and his worthy78 comrade deceased, and O---- must be very unlike the man I believe him to be, and must have profited very insufficiently79 by such companionship, if he does not see his way to a profitable secret, and the chance of chantage, in a very short time. This is the risk I foresee, and which I should not like to run.
"At the same time, I understand the feeling which has dictated the proposition you make to me, and I can quite believe, remembering her noble nature so well as I do remember it, that M---- would, as you suppose, have been glad to rescue from want the man to whom H---- owed, after all, relief in his last days, if to him she also owed the knowledge of her sorrow. I propose therefore (subject to your approval), when I arrive at Melbourne, to inquire, with judicious80 caution, into what has become of O----, and if I find him living and in distress, to assist him to a limited extent, provided he is not quite so incorrigible81 a scoundrel as that assisting him would be enabling him to prey82 on society on a larger and more successful scale.
"I would suggest, however, that under no circumstances should he be told that the money comes from you. I shall be credited, if I find him a proper object or anything short of an entirely unjustifiable object for your bounty83, with a charitable action, which it certainly never would have come into my head to perform; but I am quite willing, if it gives you any pleasure or consolation, to carry the burden of undeserved praise and such gratitude84 as is to be expected from O----, not a very oppressive quantity, I fancy.
"I am glad to hear good news of you all from Dugdale. And now, my dear Baldwin, nothing remains for me to say, except that which cannot be written. Farewell. We shall hear how the world wags for each of us through Dugdale.
"Yours faithfully,
quot;HAYES MEREDITH."
Mrs. Haldane Carteret to Miss Crofton.
c"CHAYLEIGH, APRIL 18.
"MY DEAR MINNIE,--I promised to write to you as soon as I arrived here, but I have been so busy, finding myself in a manner at home, and tant soit peu mistress of the house, that I could not manage it. No doubt you find it desperately85 dull at school, but then you are coming out after a while, and the vacation is not far off--and I can assure you I am almost as dull here as you are. I have my own way in everything, to be sure; but then that is not of much use, unless one has something in view which it is worth while to be persistent86 about. And really the old gentleman, though he is a dear nice old thing and sweet-tempered to a degree, is very tiresome87.
"You know, of course, from mamma's letter, that Haldane is not coming for a week or two. He has to remain in London to meet Mr. Baldwin on some very important business. I believe it is simply that Haldane is to be made trustee and guardian57 to our little nieces, if their father dies, and that cannot be anything very particular; but then, you know, there never were such children. (I am sure I shall not wish mine to be made such a fuss with, not that it is in the least likely.) Everything that concerns them must be fussed and bothered about in the most intolerable way.
"A great deal of this is Lady Davyntry's fault; I must say, though she and I are the greatest friends--as such near relations ought to be--she does worry me sometimes. However, she is not here to worry me now; she is at the Deane, and writes to Mr. Carteret almost every day, of course about nothing but the children. If they are made so much of now when they are infants, what will it be when they are grown up enough to understand, and be utterly spoiled by it, as of course they must be? It would not be easy to imagine worse training for the heiresses; however, you don't want me to moralise about them, but to tell you some news. And so I would, my dear Minnie, if I had any to tell, but I have not.
"Mr. Dugdale is, if possible, less amusing than ever: but I see very little of him. He has installed himself in poor Margaret's room--fortunately for me it is not the best room, as I suspect I should have had some difficulty in making him decamp, for he is excessively pertinacious88 in a quiet way, and as for Mr. Carteret interfering89, one might as well expect one of his pinned butterflies to stand up for one's rights; so there he generally is, except at meal-times, or when he is wandering about at Davyntry. The fact is, the house, and every one in it, is be-Baldwinised to an intolerable extent.
"Of course I was dreadfully sorry for poor dear Margaret. I must have been, considering she was my sister-in-law, if even she had not been my greatest friend; but there is reason in everything, and I should not be doing my duty to Haldane if I went on fretting90 for ever; there's nothing men dislike so much in women as moping, or an over-exhibition of feeling. I assure you if she had died only last week--and after all, the melancholy91 event took place at the Deane, you know, and not here at all--the house could not be more mopey.
"I don't think it is quite fair to me, considering the state of my health, and that my spirits naturally require a little rousing; and really sometimes, when I can get nothing out of Mr. Carteret but 'Yes, my dear,' or 'No, my dear,' and when I know he is thinking rather of Margaret or of the collection--such a lot of trash as it is, and it takes up such a quantity of room--I am quite provoked. And as for Mr. Dugdale, it is worse; for though he is very polite, I declare I don't think he ever really sees me, and I am sure, if he was asked suddenly, on oath, he could not tell whether my hair is red, black, or gray. And it is a nuisance when there are only two men in the house with one that they should be men of that sort.
"I don't suppose it will be much better when Haldane comes, for I fancy there is not the faintest chance of any company; nothing but Carteret and Crofton, Crofton and Carteret,--after a whole year, too, it is a little too bad. I have slipped out of mourning, though, that's a comfort. You know I never looked well in black, and it is not the dress after all, is it? Haldane thought I might go on with grays and lilacs, but mourning, however slight, is not considered lucky, and though I am not at all superstitious92 myself, it would never do to offend other people's prejudices, would it?
quot;There is really nothing to look forward to until you come home, except, perhaps, a visit from Robert Meredith; and he is only a boy; but he is very clever and amusing, and greatly inclined to make a fool of himself about me. Of course it would not do to encourage him if he were older; but it does me no harm, and keeps him out of mischief93. His father has sailed for Melbourne. I really have no more to say, as of course you get all the home news from mamma.--Your affectionate sister,
"LUCY CARTERET.
"P.S. I have just heard from Haldane. It is almost settled that he is to leave the army. Mr. Baldwin is going in a few days to the East, and intends to be away for three years at the least."
END OF VOL. II.
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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displeasing
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| 不愉快的，令人发火的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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distressed
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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sitting-room
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remains
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dictated
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revival
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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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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awakening
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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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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bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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contingencies
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| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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entail
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| vt.使承担，使成为必要，需要 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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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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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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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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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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recapitulate
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| v.节述要旨，择要说明 | |
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revoked
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| adj.[法]取消的v.撤销，取消，废除( revoke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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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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dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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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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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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impute
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| v.归咎于 | |
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pensioner
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| n.领养老金的人 | |
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apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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insufficiently
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| adv.不够地，不能胜任地 | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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pertinacious
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| adj.顽固的 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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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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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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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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