'I came especially to see you,' he said, after the first greeting, 'and yet I scarcely expected to find you had left your room so early. Yesterday was a day of severe trial to you, dear Mrs. Claxton, but you seem to have gone through it bravely.'
'If I did,' said Alice, with a half-mournful smile, 'I think it must have been owing to my pride. I did not know I possessed1 any of that quality until there came occasion for its display. But I suffered dreadfully from reaction during the night, and was as low and as hysterical2 as my worst enemy could wish me.'
'But that feeling has passed away now?'
'O yes; with the morning light came brighter thoughts and better sense; and when your name was announced, I was thinking seasonably enough, as it seemed to me, of the mercy of Providence3 in giving me such kind friends in the midst of my affliction.'
'I am glad to find you in this frame of mind, dear Mrs. Claxton, as I have come to talk to you on a subject which will require your particular attention.'
'My particular attention,' she repeated, with a forced smile. 'It must be something serious, then.'
'It is serious, but not, I hope, distasteful,' said Martin. 'I have been with Mr. Statham this morning. I went to him to give him the opportunity of speaking to me upon a matter which I knew he had most deeply at heart, and which must sooner or later have been broached7 by him.'
He looked at her keenly, watching the effect of his words. Her face expressed great interest, but no alarm, no regret. He was glad of that, he thought to himself.
'I was with Humphrey for an hour, and when I left him I told him I should come straight to you. Mine is a strange errand, Alice'--it was perhaps the first time he had addressed her by her Christian8 name, and the word as spoken by him rang musically but mournfully on her ear--'a strange errand for a confirmed old bachelor!'
Alice started at the word.
'Yes,' continued Martin, very pale, but striving hard to smile and to command the inflexions of his voice, 'it is the old story of people preaching what they never intend to practise. Dear Alice, Humphrey Statham loves you, and I am here to ask you to marry him?'
Bravely done, Martin, at last! Bravely done, though you were asking for what you knew was equivalent to your death-warrant; bravely spoken, without a break in your voice, though her dear eyes were fixed9 upon you, and you had taken into yours that little hand which you were urging her to bestow10 upon another.
Alice was motionless for a moment. Then she drew back, shuddering11 and crying, 'I cannot, I cannot.'
'Stay, Alice,' said Martin, in his soft soothing12 tone. 'Humphrey Statham is a great and a good man, and you owe him much. You know that I would not unnecessarily wound your feelings, dear Alice; but I must tell you that when we first discovered who you were, it was entirely13 owing to Humphrey Statham's chivalry14, patience, and good sense that matters were arranged as they were, and that you were up to yesterday kept in ignorance of the fraud which had been practised. On you. I, misinformed and bigoted15 as I was, had intended to take other steps, but I yielded to Humphrey's calm counsel. Ever since that hour he has watched over your best interests with the keenest sympathy. Any comfort you have experienced is due to his fostering care and forethought, and so late as yesterday you yourself heard him plead your cause with eloquence16, which was inspired by his affection for you.'
He paused for a moment, and Alice spoke. 'It is not that,' she said; 'it is not that. I know all I owe to Mr. Statham; I have long since acknowledged to myself how kind and good he has been to me. But,' she added, with downcast eyes and flushing cheeks, 'how can I let a man like that take me for his wife? He thinks he loves me now, and doubtless he does. He is not the man to be led away by his feelings, but the love of any man for me would be exposed to a worse trial than that of time or use. Could Mr. Statham bear to know that the world was talking of his wife, to guess what it said? Is not the world filled with persons like Mr. Wetter, and should I not by marrying any honest man expose him to the sneers17 and gibes18 of such a crew. I could not do it! I would not do it!'
'There would be no question of that,' said Martin Gurwood. 'Recollect19 that your story in its minutest details is known to Mr. Statham, and that he is the last man in the world likely to act upon impulse, or without a calm analysis of the motives21 that prompt him. There is no one who can testify to this so strongly as myself, and I can declare to you solemnly that it was made clear to both of us long since how blameless you were, and how grievously you had been sinned against. Do not abide22 by that hastily-spoken decision, Alice, I beseech23 you. Think of what a noble fellow Humphrey is; recollect how true and steadfast24 and triumphant25 has been his advocacy of your cause; recollect that he is no longer young, and that on your reply to the question I have put to you hangs the hope of his future life.'
Alice was silent for a moment. Then she said, 'If I could think this--'
'Think it, believe it, rely on it! Standing27 to you, in the relation which was half self-assumed, half imposed upon me by the force of circumstances; loving you, as I do, with a brotherly regard--' (his voice faltered for an instant here; but he quickly regained28 its command)--'I could not be blinded in a matter in which your future happiness is involved, even by my affection for Humphrey Statham. Hearing this, you need have no farther fear. See, Alice, I may go back to Humphrey and make him happy, may I not? I may tell him, at least, that there is hope?'
Again a pause. Then the low but clear reply:
'You may.'
'God bless you, dear, for those words!' said Martin, bending down and touching29 her forehead with his lips. 'They will give new life to the noblest fellow in the world!' Then, as he drew back, he muttered to himself; 'It is all over now.'
'And you,' said Alice, laying her hand gently on his arm, 'you spoke of yourself just now as a confirmed bachelor; but I have had other hopes for you.'
'What do you mean?' he cried.
'Women's eyes are quick in such matters,' she said. 'Have you been too absorbed to perceive that there is one by whom your every movement is watched, your every thought anticipated? one for whose first proofs of kindness to me I was indebted to the interest she takes in you? one who--'
'I think you must be mistaken, my dear Alice,' said Martin coldly. 'It has been ordained30 that my life is to be celibate31 and solitary32; and what pleasure I am to have is to be derived33 from the contemplation of your happiness. So be it; I accept my fate. Now I must hasten back to Humphrey with the good news.'
He kissed her forehead again, and left the room. As he passed down the stairs, he saw through the open door Pauline seated at the table in the dining-room writing. She looked up at his approach; and though he had intended going straight out, he could not resist her implied invitation to speak to her.
'After all, it will be better so,' he said to himself.
'I thought you would be here this morning, Monsieur Martin,' said Pauline timidly. 'You have seen Alice, and you find her better than we could have hoped for, do you not?'
'Yes,' said Martin, 'I certainly found her better; but it was my good fortune to be the bearer of some news to her which I think has left her better still.'
'The idea which had haunted her previously--was it true? had he come to make the announcement?
'You the bearer of news?' she asked in tremulous tones.
'Yes,' he replied cheerily; 'good news for Alice, and news in which you, dear Mrs. Durham, will consequently rejoice. There is every reason that you, who have been so faithful to the trust reposed34 in you, so stanch35 a friend to us all, should be the first to hear it. Dear Alice is going to be married to Humphrey Statham.'
The tension of suspense36 had been so great that Pauline had scarcely strength to express her delight.
'Yes,' said Martin, speaking slowly and with emphasis, but purposely averting37 his eyes from his companion. 'It is a great blessing38 to me to know that two persons whom I love so dearly will be happy. I daresay it seems strange to other persons, and indeed it does sometimes to myself, to think that I, who am a confirmed bachelor, and who from very early youth determined39 to lead a single life, can take interest in settling the domestic matters of my friends. But in this instance, at least, I take the greatest interest; and I am sure that you will have the good sense to understand and appreciate my motive20.'
'You pay me a great compliment by saying so, Monsieur Martin,' said Pauline in a low constrained40 voice. Then, after a little pause, she asked, 'Have you five minutes to spare, Monsieur Martin, while I talk to you about myself?'
'Certainly,' said Martin; 'I was on my way to Humphrey with the news.'
'It is good news, and he can wait for it five minutes. If it were bad, it would go to him quickly enough,' said Pauline. 'I will not detain you longer than the time I have mentioned. I told you I wanted to talk to you about myself; and the subject is therefore not one in which I take much pleasure, or, indeed, much interest.'
'You should not speak so bitterly,' said Martin kindly41. 'There are two or three of us whose best regard you have won and retain.'
'I did not mean to be bitter, Monsieur Martin,' said Pauline humbly42. 'I will put what I have to say in very few words. It will be obvious to you that the time has now arrived when the manner of my life must be again altered. Alice will find, or rather has found, a guardian43 better able to watch over and protect her; and my part, so far as she is concerned, is played out. You know all my story, Monsieur Martin, and you know human nature sufficiently44 well to recognise me as a woman of activity, and to be sure that it would be impossible for me to endure the nullity of this English life, in which I have no place; and now that Alice is safe, and going to be happy and respectable for ever, no occupation. I must be kept from thought, too, Monsieur Martin; from thinking of the past--you comprehend that.'
'Not of the immediate45 past,' he said gently, 'Recollect what use you have been to us: how could we have done without you? It will be pleasant to you to recollect the services you have rendered to this poor girl: how by your aid, at that fearful time of trial in the house at Hendon, we were enabled to overcome the difficulties which arose, and which would have been too much for us, but for your quickness and mother-wit. You will recollect how successfully you have watched over her here, and how her health has suffered but little comparatively from the dreaded46 shock under your skilful47 nursing and kind companionship. It will be pleasant to recall all these things, will it not, Pauline?'
'Yes,' said Pauline, pondering; 'but there is another portion of my past upon which I shall not care to dwell. To prevent the thought of that coming over me, and striking sorrow and dismay into my soul, I must give up this dreamy easy-going existence, and take to a life of action. I am not a strong-minded woman, Monsieur Martin; and God knows I do not pretend to have a mission, or any nonsense of that kind. There are not many positions for which I am fitted; some would be beyond my moral, others beyond my physical, strength. But I must have a career of some sort; and away in France there are various means of honest industry for women among my compatriots such as are not to be found here.'
'You intend to leave England, then?' asked Martin.
'Yes,' said Pauline. 'Why should I remain? As I said before, my part here is played out. Do you think it will be long before Alice is married?'
'I cannot say,' said Martin. 'No date has been mentioned; but if I am consulted, I shall advise that the marriage take place as soon as possible. There is no reason for delay; and for my own part, I am anxious to get home again.'
'You will go back to your country parish?' asked Pauline.
'For a time, certainly,' said Martin; 'but my plans are indefinite.'
'On the day of my sister-in-law's marriage, then, when I have placed her in her husband's hands, and thus satisfied myself that she has no farther need of me, I shall bid her adieu, and shall go to France. And I have a request to make to you, Mr. Gurwood, in your position as Mr. Calverley's executor. You are aware that just before I came to reside in his house, I placed in his hands two thousand pounds, which he was good enough to invest for me. I shall now be glad if you will sell those securities, and let me have the money, for which I shall have a use about that time. Will you do so?'
'Certainly I will. But is there no chance of your altering your decision?'
'None. You think it is a right one, do you not?'
'It is a conscientious48 one, no doubt; but we shall all miss you very deeply.'
Her earnest eyes were fixed upon him as he spoke. His words were fair, as he meant his tone to be hearty49 and regretful; but he was not clever enough to hide from her his unmistakable pleasure at her decision. She knew that he approved of her departure for Alice's sake, and, bitterest thought of all to her, felt it a relief for his own.
There was an awkward silence for some minutes. To break it, Martin remarked:
'You will be glad to hear that there is no danger of any farther annoyance50 from Mr. Wetter. It appears that Humphrey saw him yesterday; and after what passed between them, he is perfectly51 satisfied that Mr. Wetter will not attempt any farther interference.'
'I am pleased to hear it,' said Pauline, 'but not surprised. Henrich Wetter was always a coward; barking loudly when suffered to run at large, but crouching52 and submissive directly the whip is shaken over him. No, Alice need fear him no more.'
'One word more,' said Martin, rising from his seat; 'one last word, Madame Du Tertre--I shall always think of you by that name, which is very familiar and very pleasant to me--one last word before I take my leave. Can nothing more be done for you to help you in the life which you have chosen?'
'Nothing,' she replied.
'Recollect that, though I am but a poor country parson, Humphrey Statham is what may be called a rich man; and I am sure I am justified54 in speaking for him, and saying that any amount of money which you might require would be at your service.'
'Pauline shook her head.
'Money in my country, more especially in the southern provinces, where my lot will most probably be cast, goes much farther than it does here; and what I have of my own will enable me not merely to live, but, as I trust, to do a certain amount of good to others. I am very grateful all the same, M. Martin, for your generous offer.'
'My generous offer,' said Martin, 'was simply proposing to acknowledge, in a very slight manner, the existence of a debt due to you by Alice's friends, and which can never be repaid. We will see later on if we cannot induce you to alter your decision.'
'Yes,' said Pauline quietly, 'we will see later on.'
Then Martin Gurwood took his leave of her, and walked back to his hotel. It was nearly over now; he had almost completed his self-appointed task. So well had he performed his mission, that Alice evidently had no idea of the sacrifice he was making in yielding her to his friend, no idea even that he had ever cared for her otherwise than as her guardian. That was proved by the manner in which she had hinted at her hope that he might find solace55 elsewhere. That was a strange notion too! Could it merely have arisen in Alice's imagination, or was there any real foundation for it? Had he been so absorbed in his infatuation about Alice as to have been blind to all else that was passing round him? He did not know; he could not say. If it was so, he had acted rightly and honestly in the course he had taken with Pauline. His infatuation for Alice! That was all over now: in his intemperate56 youth he had greatly erred57, in his forlorn middle age was he not justly punished?
And while Martin was jostling through the crowd, Pauline sat with her eyes fixed upon the fire, her mind filled with cognate58 thoughts. To her also the end had come. What had given the relish59 in her early days had long since grown distasteful to her; and the hope that had proved the light of her later life had, after doubtful flickering60, at length been rudely extinguished; and in the hearts both of Martin and Pauline there was the same dismal61 consciousness that they were justly punished for the misdeeds of their youth, and that their expiation was necessary and just.
Two months after the date of these occurrences, on a bright and balmy spring morning, at a little City church hiding away somewhere between enormous blocks of warehouses62, Humphrey Statham and Alice were married.
Brave to the last, Martin Gurwood performed the service, reading it with a strong manly63 voice, and imploring64 the blessing of Heaven on those concerned with unaffected fervour.
When the ceremony was ended, and the bride and bridegroom had departed, Martin joined the one other person who had been present--Pauline.
'Your plans for leaving are matured?' he said.
'So far matured,' she said, with a sad smile, 'that the cab with my luggage is at the end of the street, and that when I leave this, I go on board the steamer.'
'Indeed,' said Martin. 'Then you have taken leave of Alice?'.
'Yes; early this morning.'
'And you have told her of your plans?'
'No, indeed, for they are as yet undecided; but I have told her that I will write and let her know them.'
'Be sure that you do,' said Martin, 'for we are all of us deeply interested in you. I have brought you,' he added, handing her a packet, 'your own two thousand pounds. With them you will find two thousand pounds more--one thousand from Alice as your sister-in-law, one thousand from Humphrey as your dead husband's old friend. They bade me give you this with their united love, and hoped you would not shrink from accepting it.'
Pauline's voice shook very much as she replied, 'I will accept it certainly; I shall hope to find a good use for it.'
'Of that I have no doubt,' said Martin. They had reached the end of the street by this time, and found the luggage-laden cab in waiting. 'Good-bye, Madame Du Tertre,' said Martin, after he had handed her into the vehicle, 'good-bye, and God bless you.'
'Good-bye, M. Martin,' said Pauline, returning his hand-pressure, and looking for an instant straight into his eyes, 'good-bye.' Then when the cab had driven off, she threw up her hands and crying out passionately65, 'Adieu à jamais!' pulled her veil over her face and burst into a flood of tears.
点击收听单词发音
1 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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2 hysterical | |
adj.情绪异常激动的,歇斯底里般的 | |
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3 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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4 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
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5 spoke | |
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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6 forsook | |
forsake的过去式 | |
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7 broached | |
v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 );打开并开始用;用凿子扩大(或修光);(在桶上)钻孔取液体 | |
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8 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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9 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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10 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
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11 shuddering | |
v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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12 soothing | |
adj.慰藉的;使人宽心的;镇静的 | |
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13 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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14 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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15 bigoted | |
adj.固执己见的,心胸狭窄的 | |
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16 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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17 sneers | |
讥笑的表情(言语)( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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18 gibes | |
vi.嘲笑,嘲弄(gibe的第三人称单数形式) | |
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19 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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20 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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21 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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22 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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23 beseech | |
v.祈求,恳求 | |
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24 steadfast | |
adj.固定的,不变的,不动摇的;忠实的;坚贞不移的 | |
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25 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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26 expiation | |
n.赎罪,补偿 | |
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27 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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28 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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29 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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30 ordained | |
v.任命(某人)为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 );授予(某人)圣职;(上帝、法律等)命令;判定 | |
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31 celibate | |
adj.独身的,独身主义的;n.独身者 | |
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32 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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33 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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34 reposed | |
v.将(手臂等)靠在某人(某物)上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35 stanch | |
v.止住(血等);adj.坚固的;坚定的 | |
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36 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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37 averting | |
防止,避免( avert的现在分词 ); 转移 | |
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38 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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39 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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40 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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41 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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42 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
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43 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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44 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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45 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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46 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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47 skilful | |
(=skillful)adj.灵巧的,熟练的 | |
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48 conscientious | |
adj.审慎正直的,认真的,本着良心的 | |
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49 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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50 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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51 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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52 crouching | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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53 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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54 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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55 solace | |
n.安慰;v.使快乐;vt.安慰(物),缓和 | |
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56 intemperate | |
adj.无节制的,放纵的 | |
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57 erred | |
犯错误,做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58 cognate | |
adj.同类的,同源的,同族的;n.同家族的人,同源词 | |
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59 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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60 flickering | |
adj.闪烁的,摇曳的,一闪一闪的 | |
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61 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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62 warehouses | |
仓库,货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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63 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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64 imploring | |
恳求的,哀求的 | |
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65 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
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