Nor was the place sanctified by the lady Marian's portrait a Norman abbey, nor yet a battlemented castle. It was a room sliced off from the place where the housemaids kept their brooms and dust-pans on the third floor of a New York hotel. Macfarren had kept those rooms for twenty years. Meanwhile, bachelors' flats had sprung up all over town, but he was conservative and kept
[6]
his modest suite7 of two rooms until the advent8 of the Lady Marian made another room a necessity. For the portrait was so large—a full-length—and so conspicuous9 that it would have monopolized10 the whole of the cosey sitting-room12. Besides, Macfarren had a—superstition, perhaps—something about the portrait which made him shrink from exposing it to the vulgar gaze of the waiters and bell-boys who saw the inside of his room, and the jokes—how he would have chafed13 under them!—of the good fellows who came in occasionally for a quiet smoke and chat.
It seemed as if Destiny had had a share in giving to him the Lady Marian. Some years before, loitering in England, he had wandered into King's Lyndon, an old show-place in one of the midland counties and had seen this picture. It made a strange impression on him; and he was singularly unsusceptible to anything but ideas: they always impressed him tremendously. He was surprised and almost ashamed of the hold this face took upon him. He carried it in his mind through fifteen years, and once or twice when he had been arguing a case before a learned judge the sedate14, black figure on the bench had become Lady Marian, resplendent in white and pearls, and he had experienced a queer sensation as if he were pleading his cause to her instead of to the honorable court. And the other day on a flying trip to London he had suddenly come across her in an auction-room where a sale of antiques and curios was going on, and, with a recklessness entirely16 foreign to his
[7]
natural conservatism, he had bought her at a high figure—bought his divinity of fifteen years for hard cash. He had also hired a room for her, and, coming home to dinner on this particular evening, when, for the first time she hung in beauty on his walls, he entered the place made glorious by her presence, and, carefully closing the door after him, stood in homage18 before her. He had been smoking, but an instinctive19 reverence made him remove his cigar from his lips. He looked long and steadily20. This picture had helped him to understand himself. Would he have otherwise known that under this cool exterior21, this nature so distinctly intellectual, existed a sentiment so deep, so strong, so romantic? It came home to him that he was very like those old pagans who first took statues as their symbols and then came to worship the symbols. Then he looked into the eyes, and presently the eyes looked at him, loftily, yet not unkindly. And then—ah! sweet, strange, delicious moment—the lips parted into a dazzling smile!
Macfarren, moving mechanically like a sleep-walker, picked up a small lighted lamp from a table near, although the gas in a gaudy22 chandelier flared23 brightly above him, and examined the picture. He put the lamp down carefully. He was a member of the Nineteenth Century Club, and had heard some queer talk about psychology24 and theosophy which had impressed him as being rather more baseless and extravagant25 than Jack26 and the Bean-stalk. What, then, was this? He
[8]
walked rapidly into the outer sitting-room, locked the door, and returned. And there, sitting gracefully27 upright in a chair, was the Lady Marian.
Something common to worshipers in all ages happened to Macfarren. He fell on his knees. Lady Marian seemed in no wise disconcerted, and, leaning forward, held out her hand. Macfarren kissed passionately29 the warm pink palm.
"Friend," said she, in a soft and composed voice, "how came I hither?"
The question confused Macfarren hopelessly. He dared not tell her that he had bought her—that she came in a box which was opened in the custom-house, and that he had paid a thirty-per-cent ad valorem duty on her. He was inexpert as a liar32, although quick at diplomacy33. He could only murmur34, after an awkward pause, "I do not know."
"The last thing I remember," said Marian, looking around the unfamiliar35 room with calmly inquisitive36 eyes, "was a ball at Kenilworth, whither I went with Lady Stukely. My Lord of Leicester told me that our sovereign lady Queen Bess had signified that she would not excuse me from my turn of duty as bed-chamber-woman; and then he drank to my success at court in red wine, and I drank too. And I was moderate—I only drank two small flagons of red wine, a tankard of sack, and one poor half-gallon of good mulled ale."
Lady Marian uttered this quite composedly, but to say that Macfarren was completely staggered is hardly putting it strong enough, particularly as
[9]
she finished up by adding with an air of charming modesty37, "I was too bashful to take more!"
Macfarren gasped38 as he looked at her, but if she had told him that she had drank a brewery39 dry, it could not have dissolved the instant magic charm that her grace and beauty had laid softly upon him. In fact his only comment when the Lady Marian looked at him inquiringly, as if to ask his opinion, was—
"That's little enough, Lady Marian, if one is thirsty."
This astounding40 fib did not seem to strike Lady Marian as a fib at all, and she only asked eagerly:
"Think you the wine was drugged?"
Having entered on his career as a liar, there was now no retreat for Macfarren. Moreover, he was really at a loss for opinions, and his only resource was to lie, promptly41, thoroughly42, and consistently.
"I think not," he replied, humbly43. "A lady of rank would scarcely be so treated in the house of her friends, and besides," he added, with the mendacity of a man in love. "You drank so little—not more than a gallon altogether."
Marian's countenance assumed a look of genuine relief.
"They would hardly dare to play so scurvy44 a trick on the daughter of Lord Howard de Winstanley. And, although I have heard dark tales of what was done to Amy Robsart—thou dost know Amy, the daughter of Sir John Robsart of Cumnor Hall?"
[10]
"I have heard of her," replied Macfarren, and, his self-possession returning, he added, boldly, "through Sir Walter Scott of Abbotsford."
"Of what shire, pr'ythee?" asked Marian.
Macfarren had not practiced law at the New York bar for twenty years without being able to extricate45 himself from a tight place. He really could not recall for the moment what county in Scotland held Abbotsford, but he replied, at a venture:
"In Perthshire. Have you never heard of Melrose Abbey, near Jedburgh?"
Marian shook her head and glanced at Macfarren with something like scorn in her clear eyes.
"I belike me not of the Scotch46. It is a false and treacherous47 race, they say. They come to England and tell us they have noble castles and stately manor48-houses in Scotland, and, forsooth, they are nothing more than hovels and swineherds' cottages. The Abbotsford of which Sir Walter told thee is like enough a huntsman's lodge49."
"Indeed it is not," said Macfarren, earnestly. "It is a magnificent baronial hall. I have been there myself, and," he added, feeling obliged to say something in defense51 of Sir Walter Scott's character, "Sir Walter is a—er—a most respectable person."
"'Tis likely," replied Lady Marian, half scornfully, "and this Abbotsford, no doubt, is well furnished with household stuff he ravaged52 from English homes over the border. I think I have heard
[11]
of him—and that he is but little better than a border ruffian."
Macfarren, seeing it was impossible to rehabilitate54 Sir Walter's character, wisely refrained from further efforts in that direction.
"Thou art an Englishman, I see," she said, after a moment, "although thy speech is not like that about King's Lyndon. Mayhap thou art from London. Thy sober dress makes me think thou art from the Middle Temple."
This was extremely fortunate for Macfarren, who feared at every moment she would discover he was not of noble blood, and that therefore he should be scorned of her.
"I am a barrister," he answered eagerly.
Marian smiled sweetly: "Some ladies of rank condemn55 lawyers for mere56 clerks and scriveners, but my father, the Lord Howard de Winstanley, tells me that at court, Queen Bess doth treat them like lords and gentlemen—and, although they rank not with the nobility, yet are they equal with the gentry57 and the churchmen. Hast thou been to London ever?"
"I was there only three weeks ago," said Macfarren promptly.
Marian's eyes sparkled. "How doth the queen? Didst thou go to court? Are the ruffs and fardingales as huge as ever? How of my Lord Essex, in Ireland?"
"The queen was very well," said Macfarren.
"Where didst thou see her?" demanded Marian, before Macfarren, who was about to give her
[12]
an account of the Earl of Essex's adventures in Ireland, could add a word.
"In—in Westminster Abbey," said Macfarren lamely58. This was a wretched subterfuge59, but it satisfied Marian, who exclaimed:
"And who attended her? Was it at nooning or evening service? And has she aged53, as much I fear she hath?"
"She looked just as she has for a long, long time, ever since I first saw her," said he, desperately60. Clearly, she would ask embarrassing questions. "But," he added, artfully, "I was not presented to her, nor did she even honor me with a glance."
Marian smiled: "Poor queen! her eyesight doth somewhat fail. But, friend, what is thy name? and is there no entertainment to be had here?"
Macfarren had never before been ashamed of his name, but he wished he could have said he was a Cecil, a Fairfax, a Beauclerk, or any other proud Elizabethan name. He could only say, with a kind of proud humility61:
"My name is Macfarren, and I and all that is mine are at your service."
"Well said!" cried Marian. "But tell me, whose roof doth now shelter me? Whose house is this?"
"It is an ho—an inn," answered Macfarren.
"And a good hostelry, I do think," said Marian, glancing around, "though not like the inns of Suffolk. But, since thou wast in London lately, we can not be far from there."
[13]
"Only seven days," replied Macfarren, with nervous audacity62.
"But seven days! Then can my father come for me, if thou wilt63 send a messenger by post!"
"Indeed I will," responded Macfarren, with a sinking heart and a guilty conscience as he uttered this last colossal64 falsehood.
"And now," said Marian, as if entirely satisfied with the proposed arrangement, "let us see what victual mine host can provide. Beshrew me if I have tasted aught since we dined, at an hour before noon."
Macfarren looked furtively65 at his watch. It was half-past six—just his dinner-hour. It would be easy enough to take Marian down to dinner, if he could get one of the score of pleasant married women in the hotel with whom he was on friendly terms to go with her; and, although it is always awkward to suggest a chaperon to a girl, yet it must be done.
"We will go to the dining-room immediately. But I must secure a chaperon for you. That would be necessary, you know, to prevent talk," said Macfarren.
"A chaperon?" asked Marian, wonderingly. "Is it a head-covering, lest the wind should rumple67 my coif? Or is it one of the new coaches brought from France, in which I hear the nobility take the air?"
"It is neither," answered Macfarren, feeling anxious that no objection should be made to the arrangement. "It is a married lady to attend
[14]
you—" He halted, but Marian took it up at once.
"A lady-in-waiting, meanest thou? If she is of suitable rank I shall be well pleased. At King's Lyndon I had two damsels, daughters of knights68, to wait on my pleasure. Whom wilt have to attend me?"
Macfarren went through with a rapid mental calculation. A brilliant idea suddenly came to him. Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp, one of the most distinguished69 women of New York society, had come to the hotel for a few days while her Fifth Avenue mansion70 was in the hands of the decorators. He knew her, and knew her weakness for the English aristocracy. She dearly loved a lord, and, next to that, any member of a peer's family. So, after an instant's thought, he responded:
"I'll get Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp."
Marian seemed anything but struck by the name.
"And who is Dame71 Van Tromp?" she demanded, haughtily72.
Macfarren was a brave man, but at that he quaked. Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp's husband was a silent partner in one of the greatest silk-importing firms in New York, and, although Mrs. Van Tromp considered the fact that her husband's name did not appear in the firm-name relieved him from the stigma73 of work, yet it would be hard to make that nice distinction clear to Marian. So, after an uneasy pause, Macfarren could only blurt74 out:
"She is the wife of a silk-merchant."
[15]
Lady Marian surveyed him with a wide-eyed amazement75, not unmixed with contempt.
"A mercer's wife to attend the daughter of Lord Howard de Winstanley? Nay76, hadst thou not better call the kitchen scullion to keep her company? Friend, I like thee well, but I fear thou art a stranger to good company."
Macfarren, thoroughly abashed77, remained silent, while a burning blush came to his face. The unmerited scorn of this lovely girl was hard to bear.
"Dost thou not know some one of rank to keep me company?" she asked, presently, with some petulance78.
Macfarren ran hastily over in his mind a half-dozen names of the wives of titled and untitled Englishmen then in New York whom he had met in society. No, none of them would do; and, besides, he could not take the liberty.
"Dear lady," he said, after an embarrassed pause, "I myself am a commoner. I have no title except that of a gentleman and an honest man. I can not stoop to ask favors of those with whom my acquaintance is but slight. I offer you the protection of people like myself. You will not want for respect among them."
At this Marian jumped up with the greatest animation79. "Now, by my faith, I see thou art truly a gentleman, no matter what thy birth may be; for birth is but an accident. But honor, wisdom, and valor31 are no accidents. Nor is that noble science, the art of being a gentleman, an accident, and, although I will not go with the mercer's wife, yet
[16]
will I go alone with thee—for I see thou art both learned and polite; and look you, friend, for all that I value my place, I esteem80 honor, wisdom, and valor more than anything else in the world." And then, laughing, she added, "Hunger doth pinch me, and thou must take me quickly to the banqueting-hall to appease81 this gnawing82."
Macfarren smiled too. A nature so noble as hers could easily cast aside the fetters83 of conventional rank. She evidently believed in the great republic of merit, although she could not formulate84 her belief. She rose and moved gracefully forward to the door which Macfarren held open respectfully for her. As she passed by him into the clearer light of the little drawing-room and the brilliant corridor beyond, he received a kind of electric shock at her extreme loveliness. She wore a trailing gown of brocaded satin, and her long hanging sleeves were lined with crimson85 velvet86 and trimmed with swan's-down. A mighty87 ruff encircled her neck, and her hair was curiously88 arranged with pearls. Her slender hands were crossed before her. As she stepped out in the hall she noticed the carpet, which had escaped her observation before. She started back.
"What! dost thou lay fine cloths upon the floor instead of rushes? I would like to have a gown of this rich stuff when I go to court. Canst thou not buy me enough for a train, or even a petticoat?"
"Certainly, with pleasure," said Macfarren.
"But will it not cost a prince's ransom89?" cried Marian, anxiously, stooping down and picking up a
[17]
small rug that lay before the door. "Think how my lady Stukely would fume90 if she saw me with a petticoat of this queenly stuff."
She held the rug up before her in admiration91, but, as if suddenly ashamed of her childishness, dropped it and walked rapidly down the corridor, Macfarren keeping at her side. Macfarren knew but little of the dress of women, and, having seen many startling costumes in New York society of late years, flattered himself that his companion's guise92 was not much out of the ordinary run. But his illusion vanished when Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp swept out, gorgeous in dinner-dress, from a door opening on the corridor. He saw at once that she was stricken with surprise, and, as she bowed to him, her eyes asked, expressively94:
"Who is she?"
Nor was Marian one whit15 less impressed with the descendant of the Knickerbockers. She gave one comprehensive glance of admiration, and whispered hurriedly to Macfarren:
"What noble dame is that?"
Macfarren felt a certain malicious96 pleasure as he answered, sotto voce:
"That is Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp, the lady who I suggested should attend you to the table."
Marian's countenance changed to one of angry and amazed disgust.
"If mercers' wives dress thus, how can they be told from queens and princesses?" she inquired, haughtily.
"They can't," responded Macfarren, "except
[18]
that queens and princesses are usually much less toploftical."
"But," demanded Marian, "are there not sumptuary laws that forbid the daughters of tradesmen and merchants from wearing stuffs reserved for the nobility and gentry?"
"There has been a very strong effort to pass sumptuary laws in Ohio and Georgia and Maine and Kansas, but they have generally proved inoperative," answered Macfarren. Seeing, however, his companion's puzzled look, he hastened forward and said, "Ah! there is the elevator."
Mrs. Van Tromp had preceded them, and stood by the door. As Marian and Macfarren approached, the former gave her a look of unmistakable disdain97, which, to Macfarren's horror, was supplemented by a command given in a clear and self-possessed98 voice:
"Give place, madam."
Mrs. Van Tromp made no reply, but glanced, stupefied for a moment, at Macfarren, who turned pale and then red. A flush rose to her face, and, without replying, she turned half around from Marian and rang the bell again.
The elevator then appeared at the top of the opening, and slowly descended99.
Marian's look of scorn and disdain gradually changed to one of genuine alarm. She clutched Macfarren nervously100 by the arm. Her breath came in short, quick gasps101, and as the elevator boy threw the sliding door open she almost shrieked102. Mrs. Van Tromp, without noticing either Macfarren or his
[19]
companion, calm as if nothing out of the common run had occurred, stepped in and began coolly arranging a stray lock of her hair before the mirrors with which the elevator was lined. The boy waited, the rope in his hand, looking impatiently at Macfarren. A lucky idea flew into Macfarren's mind.
"If you don't get in, she'll think you are afraid," he whispered.
The effect was magical. Marian raised her lovely, proud head and stepped gingerly in, the boy shut the door with a loud whack104, and, with a vicious pull at the rope, they began to descend95. Macfarren saw, however, by the tightly compressed lips and the hands fiercely clinched105 to prevent their trembling, that Marian was suffering all the tortures of a proud soul in a paroxysm of fear. Surreptitiously he saw her make the sign of the cross on her breast. He dared not address Mrs. Van Tromp, who, though blandness106 itself in her air and countenance, yet, indicated dangerous possibilities; so to all three the ride was uncomfortable and the atmosphere surcharged with electricity.
The elevator stopped at the door of the dining-room. This opened on a broad, square corridor, red-carpeted, the lofty ceiling and walls elaborately frescoed107. The dining-room itself was a noble apartment, seating five hundred persons, blazing from end to end with crystal chandeliers which were reflected in great mirrors placed at intervals108. It was full of that subtile flavor of luxury peculiar109 to the best American hotels. The broad doorway110, with its folding leaves wide open, was guarded by a mag
[20]
nificent person who looked like a major-general in plain clothes, but who was really the head waiter; and from within this huge doorway poured a flood of warm light, of soft chatter111, of delicious and enticing112 odors.
But here a terrible development seemed likely to occur. Mrs. Van Tromp, with a slight and supercilious113 inclination114 of her head, was about to step out, as the elevator-boy flung the door open with a bang.
But Marian was too adroit115 for her. With an indescribably quick and graceful28 motion she too made for the door. The elevator-boy, with a delighted grin, gave way for the two ladies. He hoped to witness one of those feminine wrangles116 which sometimes vary the monotony of hotel life. The two ladies stood up boldly facing each other. Marian spoke117 first.
"Madam, what may your name be?"
Mrs. Van Tromp paused for a moment. Should she reply to her or not? But a glance at the beauty and undeniable elegance118 of the new-comer, and a knowledge of Macfarren's position in the world, seemed to determine that the enemy before her was worthy119 of her steel. So she replied, in her stateliest manner:
"I am not aware of any obligation that I am under to tell you my name; but, if it affords you any peculiar pleasure, I will say that I am Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp. Now, will you be good enough to let me pass?"
"Nay, are you not a silk-merchant's wife,
[21]
madam?" asked Marian, holding her ground stoutly120.
An angry blush rose to Mrs. Van Tromp's cheek. This was clearly unendurable.
"I am. Nor have I ever had occasion to blush for any of my husband's commercial transactions; and I insist" (in the tone of "I command") "that you let me pass."
"Let you pass before the daughter of Lord Howard de Winstanley? Madam, if even for the sake of blessed peace I let you pass, would I not do my lineage wrong, my order wrong? Is not the law of precedence well fixed121? Good lack! when peddlers' wives take the way of peers' daughters, then will there be fine coil."
Mrs. Van Tromp started back as if she had been shot. She turned to Macfarren with a look which said, "Explain." Macfarren saw the road to peace open.
"May I present to you the Lady Marian de Winstanley, of King's Lyndon, in Suffolk?" Feeling obliged to say something more, he added, "The Lady Marian is unused to our methods, and—a—does not fully—"
But Mrs. Van Tromp relieved him of the embarrassment122 of proceeding123 further. She held out her hand to Marian with a brilliant smile. "How am I to apologize?" she said. "I didn't comprehend. How rude you must have thought me! Of course Lady Marian could not be expected to understand our methods."
"Ah!" said Marian, with beautiful condescen
[22]
sion, "although our ways differ, I make no doubt that humble124 folk have as many sterling125 virtues126 as the nobility and gentry."
"Yes," said Mrs. Van Tromp, thinking her new acquaintance's remark included herself, Mrs. Van Tromp, among the gentry anyhow. "Of course we are very new, and society, outside of a small set in New York and a few families at Newport, is crude. Fortunately, here we have an old Knickerbocker circle—"
"Knicker—what?" asked Lady Marian, somewhat saucily127.
"Bocker," answered Mrs. Van Tromp, affably. "Knickerbocker: The old Dutch families. We try to keep to ourselves as much as possible—and we have the AssociationofcolonialdamesthedaughtersoftheAmericanrevolution—" Mrs. Van Tromp rattled129 this and several other names off volubly, although she had heretofore maintained a carefully acquired English slowness of speech, and wound up with—
"But unluckily, we have no hereditary130 nobility."
"Yet," responded Marian, "you do ape us wonderfully well. I have not seen many mercers' wives who looked the noble dame like you."
Mrs. Van Tromp did not know whether to be pleased or not with this remark; but it is hard to fall out with peers' daughters, and, besides, from Lady Marian's occasional use of "thee" and "thou" she rashly assumed that she was one of the dozen or so members of the society of Friends
[23]
in the English Peerage, and she knew plain speaking was a characteristic of the Friends. So she only laughed brightly and said:
"You'll certainly take the pas now."
Lady Marian, nothing loath131, stepped out of the elevator.
Mrs. Van Tromp turned to whisper to Macfarren, "So charming! So unique! I declare, I knew her to be a person of high rank the very moment I saw her. And wasn't it kind of her to excuse my rudeness? Pray add your apologies to mine."
Macfarren, with a sardonic132 grin, agreed.
They were now standing133 in the corridor. A dozen or more men were passing back and forth134, giving their hats and coats to the young man who presided over the shelf-like arrangement of such articles, stopping to chat with one another, and all gazing with unfeigned admiration at Macfarren's companion. He nodded to them carelessly, while Mrs. Van Tromp carefully avoided seeing them, especially those who came suspiciously near her. She meant to monopolize11 this precious scion135 of the nobility herself. Already before her delighted vision came the dream of a visit to King's Lyndon, and the charms of her next season in London. Four times had she crossed the ocean in vain, and never had she been able to get presented at court; but this lucky accident might do the whole business for her.
"My friend," said Marian, turning to Macfarren, "I would not thou shouldst think me fearful,—
[24]
my grandsire drew a mighty bow at Bosworth Field, and none of my race have a drop of craven blood,—but I feared me yon contrivance was something supernatural. Tell me, was there anything of the black art in it? I made me the sign of the cross, that doth keep devils at bay; but the thing I saw was marvelous."
"It is perfectly137 right," said Macfarren, glad to relieve her. "It was all done with a rope and pulley. But let us go in to dinner."
"Thou shalt walk by my side," said Marian to Mrs. Van Tromp. "Thou seest I am not always the proud creature thou took'st me for."
The association with the great had its disadvantages, thought Mrs. Van Tromp as she accepted this gracious condescension138, but its advantages were too obvious to be overlooked. So, with much satisfaction, she supported Marian on the left, while Macfarren walked by her on the right. Marian took an opportunity to whisper to Macfarren, "I tolerate her only for your sake," in a tone which made him thrill with delight.
At the doorway the head-waiter saluted139 them with a profound bow. Marian stopped short, and, carefully disposing of her train, made in return a courtesy so deep and so graceful that every eye was turned on her. As they passed on, she said, "I know neither the name nor the rank of the person I courtesied to, but I am sure he hath an air of breeding."
When they entered the room everybody's attention was fixed upon them. Marian bore the
[25]
scrutiny with perfect composure. Like all truly beautiful women, she seemed superbly unconscious of it, and, as she swept with majestic140 grace toward the upper part of the room, Macfarren glowed with pride at presenting so much dignity and loveliness to an admiring world. When they reached Mrs. Van Tromp's table, that lady gave unmistakable signs of a willingness to leave her own table for the privilege of dining with Lady Marian and Macfarren; but Macfarren, albeit141 the most courteous142 of men, had a fund of polite resolution that had more than once brought Mrs. Van Tromp and other grand dames128 to bay. He meant to have a tête-à-tête with Marian: so, with consummate143 tact144, he managed to leave Mrs. Van Tromp in the lurch145 and to take his seat with Marian at a table at the very top of the room. He had a design in this which quickly bore fruit. Marian remarked with pleasure that the top of the room was given her without dissent146. There was no one at the table except themselves.
When they were seated, and the waiter had handed them each a menu card, Macfarren observed that Marian was deeply puzzled by hers.
"What may this mean?" she asked. "It is not English, nor French, nor Latin, although it doth somewhat resemble all three. Or is it," she asked, archly, "a madrigal147 writ148 in my honor?"
"No," said Macfarren, smiling; "although, if one could write at all, one might be inspired by such a theme."
It was an old, old compliment, but it was evi
[26]
dently new to Marian, who smiled, and said, "Thou hast a dainty wit."
Macfarren concluded not to trouble her about the menu, as she probably knew nothing about it: so he beckoned149 to the waiter, and said, "Turtle-soup for both." The waiter vanished.
Marian had not ceased to gaze about her with an air of surprised admiration.
"Never saw I so fine an hostelry before," said she. "Art thou not deceiving me, and is not this the house of some feudal150 prince?"
"Indeed it is not," replied Macfarren, earnestly. "It is nothing but an inn, I assure you."
"And all these gayly-costumed people—are they not persons of consideration?"
"Some of them are," answered Macfarren, "but most of them are merchants and traders."
Just then the waiter brought a tiny silver-plated tureen of soup and set it down before them. At that moment Macfarren caught sight of Mrs. Van Tromp at the next table but one, who smiled coquettishly at him and held up a glass of red wine in expressive93 pantomime. But, while he was watching her, he saw a sudden change come over her face—a look of paralyzed astonishment151: she sat, her hand holding the wineglass suspended in the air, a silhouette152, motionless against the background, and rigid153 with amazement. Macfarren turned to his companion, and saw at once. Marian had raised the tureen to her dainty mouth, and was drinking the turtle-soup without the formality of a soup-plate or a tablespoon.
[27]
Macfarren was of a nature too loyal to see anything to excite mirth in this unexpected breach154 of custom in the woman he had loved for fifteen years: he only felt a blind and furious anger against those who might make her a subject of ridicule155. Marian, however, had no suspicion of what was passing in his mind, but, after draining the tureen, set it down with a sigh of satisfaction, saying, "By my faith, that was a royal dish of broth156."
Mrs. Van Tromp's horrified157 amazement was bad enough, but when Macfarren turned and saw James, his waiter for ten years, heretofore a model of gravity and discreetness158, with his mouth stretched from ear to ear convulsed with silent laughter, he could scarcely refrain from braining him with the water-decanter before him. In an instant James saw the dangerous look in Macfarren's eye, and, as if by magic, his countenance assumed its look of wonted stolidity159, but not until Macfarren had hissed160 at him, in an aside, "Confound your infernal insolence161, if you smile again I'll break every bone in your rascally162 body." James was an arrant163 coward, and not a tremor164 appeared upon the placid165 surface of his countenance during the rest of the dinner—not even when he handed Macfarren a card from Mrs. Van Tromp, on which was scrawled166, "Quite unconventional, but so high-bred."
Then came the ordering of the dinner. Macfarren, without consulting his vis-à-vis, did it all. He did not bother with the entrées, but required plain roast beef, potatoes, and plum-pudding.
[28]
Meanwhile Marian continued to gaze around with delight. Macfarren felt at every moment the subtile charm of her exquisite167 womanhood. Understanding as he did the reason of her peculiar ignorance of every-day matters, nothing she did shocked him. Marian talked gayly and unreservedly, and promised him a wild boar's head for his Christmas dinner if he came to King's Lyndon. "And, though they may want to place thee with the clerks and the chaplain," she said, smiling, "I will have thee above the salt with me, for I see thou hast the heart and soul as well as the manners of a gentleman."
In a few minutes the simple dinner ordered by Macfarren came. Marian's eyes glistened168 as they rested on the roast beef. "That came from a goodly baron50 of roast beef; but where is the ale wherewith to wash it down?" she asked.
Macfarren, with a terrible recollection of Marian's performances in the ale-drinking line, hastily took up the wine-list, marked off two bottles of Bass's ale, and handed it to the obsequious169 James, who disappeared and in a few moments returned with it. He fetched glasses with a flourish, and, drawing the cork170, the creamy flood poured into the tumbler at Marian's plate. This, however, did not seem to please Marian. Looking around, she saw near by a pitcher171. "Bring me yon tankard," she said to James. James, warned by the light in Macfarren's eye, brought the pitcher. Marian, quietly pouring all of the ale in her glass, and all left in the bottle, into the pitcher, James in a twinkling
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opened the other bottle and poured it in also, when, lifting the pitcher as she had done the tureen of soup to her rosy172 lips, she drank the quart of ale in a single breath.
Macfarren's agony of pity was painful to him. The idea that she would be laughed at inspired him with frenzy173. Yet, having perfect self-control, he gave no outward indication of the tumult174 within him, and managed to say in quite his ordinary voice to Marian, "Won't you let me give you some of this roast beef?"
"In faith I will," responded Marian, with alacrity175, and, reaching over, she picked up a large slice of rare beef in her fingers and began munching176 it with much enjoyment177. Macfarren was past being flustered178 then.
"Won't you have some potatoes?" he asked, politely.
"Some—what didst thou say?"
"Potatoes. Just try some."
"What strange stuff is that? Will it not give me a palsy, or the falling sickness? Methinks I have heard they were poisonous."
"They are excellent and very wholesome," said Macfarren, helping179 her, and gently thrusting a fork into her hand. "Sir Walter Raleigh brought them from—from—" he felt a strange hesitation180 at saying the word "America."
"Then will I try them," said Marian, dropping the fork and taking a spoon. "Dost thou know Sir Walter?" asked she, while busily engaged in munching the beef and ladling up the potatoes.
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"I know all about him," said Macfarren.
"And my Lord Cecil of Burleigh?"
"Oh, yes. A very great man. Sir Walter I take to be one of the noblest characters of the reign17 of Queen Bess."
"Then," said Lady Marian, bridling181, and laying down her spoon, "thou must have strange notions of loyalty182. Sir Walter is a dangerous man; and if the queen should let him out from the Tower, where he now languishes183 in just punishment for his crimes, the realm will rue184 it. He hath dealings with the devil, hath Sir Walter."
A sudden idea came to Macfarren. "Have you ever heard," he asked, eagerly, "of a maker185 of plays at the Globe Theatre, in Blackfriars—one William Shakespeare?"
"I have heard of him," carelessly replied Marian—"an indifferent good player. Our lady the queen hath taken some small notice of him. For my part, I wonder she should trouble about a beggarly strolling play-actor like this Jack Shakespeare. Now, Ben Jonson hath writ good plays, and he is of better birth and breeding than Tom Shakespeare—or Jack, or what you will."
The depth of Macfarren's infatuation may be judged when he let this speech pass unchallenged.
Although Marian ate heartily186, yet the dinner was comparatively short, and Macfarren had no idea of ordering any dessert but the pudding. Before he knew it, however, the table had been cleared, and James had placed before them not only plum-pudding, but a strawberry ice and a
[31]
dish of nuts and raisins187. Lady Marian attacked the nuts first, cracking them between her small strong white teeth like a squirrel, and then said to Macfarren, "Lend me thy dagger188 for the pudding." Macfarren gazed at her stupidly. "Hast not thou a dagger?" she asked, impatiently. "These pointless blades I see here can cut nothing. Feel in thy belt."
Mechanically Macfarren put his hand in his pocket, and, drawing out his penknife, opened the largest blade, and handed it to her. This seemed to pacify189 Marian, who with the assistance of her fingers, speedily disposed of the pudding.
Then came the strawberry ice. With a silent but dreadful apprehension190 Macfarren watched her, and when something between a shriek103 and a groan191 pierced the air, he was the only person in the dining-room who was not surprised. Marian had gulped192 down half the plateful at once. Clapping her hands to her face, she rocked back and forth in her chair, evidently suffering agony. Several ladies half rose from their chairs; the head-waiter rushed forward; but Mrs. Van Tromp was already on the spot, holding Marian's hands.
"Dear Lady Marian, tell us what it is," she asked, in soothing193 tones.
"I know not," said Marian, faintly. "I think it must have been that evil stuff called potatoes. As soon as I had swallowed it I felt a giddiness, my head whirled, and I have heard it hath subtle and dangerous qualities."
"It couldn't have been the potatoes, do you
[32]
think?" said Mrs. Van Tromp. "Perhaps it was the ale."
"Thou art a fool," responded Marian, tartly194. "Dost thou think a Howard de Winstanley so lily-livered that one poor beaker of ale—and weak at that—could do this mischief195?"
Mrs. Van Tromp was considerably196 nettled197 by this speech, but the name Howard de Winstanley had not lost its magic.
"Let us get out of here," said Macfarren, hurriedly; and, Marian rising, he offered her his arm, and, with Mrs. Van Tromp on the other side, they went out of the dining-room as they had entered it, and, as before, were the cynosure198 of all eyes.
When they reached the corridor, Macfarren realized that he must have a little while to think before taking another step. What to do with his fair protégée was troubling him excessively; and so, to gain at least a few minutes' time, he proposed that they should enter a little alcove199 at the end of the main hall, where a tiny fire crackled cheerfully. So he led the way, and Marian sank on the luxurious200 sofa, while Mrs. Van Tromp drew up a chair, and, spreading wide her gorgeous fan of peacocks' feathers, settled herself to hear all about King's Lyndon.
"Now do tell us about your lovely place in Suffolk. I am very fond of those old English places. The last time we were in England we spent a delightful201 week at Fairlight, Sir Herbert Cheevor's place in Suffolk. It was charming—no Americans except ourselves."
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This last was the most charming part of it to Mrs. Van Tromp.
"I know Fairlight well," replied Marian; "although it has been some years since I was there. But the Cheevors—what Cheevors? It is the manor house of the Shadwells."
"Yes, a good many years ago; but—"
Macfarren here, seeing trouble ahead, cut in dexterously202 by a sly jog of Mrs. Van Tromp's elbow, by which she dropped her fan, and, with a thousand apologies for his awkwardness, he picked it up. The ruse203 succeeded, temporarily.
"I'm sure you'll like it here," continued Mrs. Van Tromp, "so many English are here this winter. There's quite a little colony on Staten Island. Of course you'll be invited to the F. C. D. C's and the Patriarchs and Matriarchs?"
Marian, without answering, turned two wondering eyes on Macfarren. Him at least she could understand.
"They are balls and banquets," he explained.
Marian turned to Mrs. Van Tromp. "I can not go except my father, the Lord Howard de Winstanley, go with me, or else my lady Stukely," she said.
"Oh, there won't be any trouble about that. I will see that your father and Lady Stukely get cards," responded Mrs. Van Tromp, eagerly.
Here was a go, indeed—taking Lord Howard de Winstanley and Lady Marian de Winstanley and Lady Stukely all to the Matriarchs under her wing! What a happy woman then was Mrs. Van Tromp!
[34]
But if the mention of these magic names filled the descendant of the Knickerbockers with rapture204, what were her blissful feelings when Lady Marian said gravely:
"I am bed-chamber woman to the queen, and she hath got so vexatious in her old age, that I know not if she will excuse either my poor self or Lady Stukely from court, even for a day."
Mrs. Van Tromp, although a matron of the strictest propriety206 could at that instant have embraced Macfarren for having introduced her to Lady Marian. Macfarren, in spite of the strange and risqué position in which he found himself and the woman he most honored in the world, could scarcely keep his countenance. Mrs. Van Tromp's expressive face, sparkling with pleasure, was in striking contrast to Lady Marian's statuesque calm.
"Now, pray, tell us something about the queen," kept on Mrs. Van Tromp. "We all take such an interest in everything relating to her—such a model woman in every respect."
"Is she?" dryly remarked Marian. "I know she hath a heavy hand. See you this ear of mine? Well, one day, as I was in her closet, handing her her petticoat, I happened to glance sidewise out of the window at my Lord Essex in the court-yard, and the queen fetched me such a box on the ear, it stings me yet, and called me a lazy vixen, with eyes for none but cavaliers, and if I did not behave myself better she would pack me off home. And being vexed207 and sore, I did complain to my Lord Bishop208 of London, who told me he could do nothing to
[35]
help me, for the queen had sworn at him like any trooper as he stood in his bishop's robes, and had kicked and cuffed209 him most cruelly."
Mrs. Van Tromp's countenance was a study during all this. She finally murmured faintly:
"I'd no idea the queen was that sort of a person."
"And," continued Lady Marian, animated210 by the recital211 of her wrongs at the queen's hands, "she doth wear apparel too young for her years, and paints her face, albeit she be near seventy. And dances—"
"Dances!" said Mrs. Van Tromp, almost breathless with surprise.
"Yes," promptly answered Lady Marian, getting up with alacrity, "not a stately measure like this—"
And here, she walked with matchless grace, a few steps of a courtly dance.
"But a hoydenish212 thing like this—"
Throwing her train over her arm, Lady Marian executed a pas de seul that would have done credit to any ballet girl in the world. Her heels flew up and her toes flew out, her skirts whirled wildly about, and she was a perfect picture of grace and abandon.
To a man of Macfarren's nature, who had a tender respect for all women, this exhibition, however graceful, could not but be painful. But when the woman in the case was the one dearest to him in the whole world, the pain became agony. But far was it from Mrs. Van Tromp to be shocked at
[36]
any performance of Lady Marian de Winstanley, bed-chamber woman to the queen.
"Is that the queen's favorite dance?" she cried. "Then, dear Lady Marian, may I ask you to teach me a few steps of it."
And the first thing Macfarren saw, Mrs. Van Tromp's train was over her arm and she was capering213 about as furiously as Lady Marian.
Now, although Macfarren was suffering the tortures of the damned, in addition to which he momentarily expected the angry interference of the proprietor214, and to have the misery215 of seeing Lady Marian thrust disgracefully out of the hotel, the spectacle of Mrs. Van Tromp as an elderly Bacchante was too much for him. He lay back in his chair and laughed until he thought he should have died. A cow trying to walk a tight rope would have been graceful compared to Mrs. Van Tromp's elephantine attempts—but when with a final hop30, skip and a jump, she asked him what he thought of it, he lied desperately.
"Beautiful—beautiful!" he cried, "you'll make a sensation, sure—and Van Tromp will get a divorce," he added mentally.
Mrs. Van Tromp and Lady Marian, each exhausted216 by the exercise, sat down panting—and Macfarren drew a long breath of relief when the show was over.
Mrs. Van Tromp, after fanning herself for a moment turned to Lady Marian and asked:
"Were you ill coming over in the steamer?"
"What?" inquired Marian.
[37]
Mrs. Van Tromp repeated her question, adding, "I always feel every revolution of the screw myself."
"What means she?" asked Marian of Macfarren. "Steamer—screw—what are they? I never saw them in Suffolk, or Norfolk either."
Macfarren felt perfectly helpless. How could he explain it to her? For the first time he floundered.
"Steam, you know," he said, blunderingly,—"the steam that comes out of a teakettle—"
"Yes," interrupted Mrs. Van Tromp, who had not exactly taken in what Marian had said. "Doesn't it seem strange that it should propel a ship three hundred miles a day across the ocean? Dear me!"
"The steam from a teakettle propel a ship three hundred miles a day! Madam, either thou art grossly deceived, or else thou—"
"But perhaps you came over in a yacht," cried Mrs. Van Tromp, thinking the lady Marian unused to the records of the Cunarders and White Star ships, in which passengers are so profoundly interested. "Of course on a yacht it is quite different, you know. There isn't any object in covering so many miles a day. But I must say I like fast traveling. The slowest time we ever made in crossing was two hundred miles a day, and we were out nearly fourteen days."
"But the steam from the teakettle—and two hundred miles a day? Did I hear aright?" asked Marian.
[38]
"You certainly did," said Mrs. Van Tromp, with a heightened color.
"Then, madam," said Lady Marian, rising majestically217, "I can only say that such crazy tales reflect neither grace nor credit on you, and if you be not taken for one who loves marvels218 more than truth it will much surprise me."
Mrs. Van Tromp rose too. She hated to give up taking Lady Marian and her father and Lady Stukely to the Matriarchs, but there were some things she could not stand.
"I am sure," she said, speaking in a tone of lofty dignity, but fluttering her fan with some agitation219, "that you do not mean to imply that I say what is false; but your language is at least open to that inference."
"Madam," replied Marian, with equal haughtiness220, "my language and your inference are one. And that thou thinkest me a poor credulous221 fool adds not one whit to the good will I owe thee. This comes," she continued, with severe displeasure, "of mercers' wives playing lady."
Macfarren's position during this colloquy222 was awkward in the extreme. He had been blest in always seeing women in their gracious and lovable aspect, and now with these two ladies, each a queen in her own realm, facing each other, crimson and defiant223, himself responsible for their meeting, the situation was anything but agreeable to his fastidious nature. But it need scarcely be said that his sympathies were all with Marian. Unconsciously she had been the aggressor; but how un
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just to judge her by that stricter code of manners that governed Mrs. Van Tromp! How proud the young girl looked, serene224 in her consciousness of rank and position! How like an angry fish-wife looked Mrs. Van Tromp! And what was he to say or do? Obviously, nothing.
Mrs. Van Tromp made the next move. She was furiously vexed, but, being at the core a very shrewd woman, she did not intend to close every chink of reconciliation225. The Lady Marian was certainly a very queer person, and this might be only one of her numerous peculiarities226; but she was the daughter of Lord Howard de Winstanley and chaperoned by Lady Stukely. So, making a low bow, she said:
"I am sorry that this should have occurred. I feel myself blameless, though; and when Lady Marian de Winstanley makes the apology she owes me, and which she also owes herself, I shall be glad to forget that it has ever happened."
But, before she could sail gracefully off, the Lady Marian had started up, and, seizing Macfarren by the arm nervously, cried out, in a voice full of distress227:
"Let us return to your lodgings228. I am better there than elsewhere in this strange inn, and there I will remain alone with thee the seven days thou sayest it will take for my father to reach me."
Poor Mrs. Van Tromp!
In moments of great excitement all kinds and classes of people are apt to fall into the same homely229 idiomatic230 language. Therefore Mrs. Van
[40]
Tromp said, or rather shouted, at this terrible instant, "The brazen231 hussy!" and with one fierce scowl232 that took in both Macfarren and the Lady Marian, and with a wild rustle233 of draperies, she flew down the corridor, the swish-swish of her trained dress sounding like the flapping wings of a frightened domestic fowl234.
"You've done it now," was Macfarren's involuntary exclamation235; but he was too loyal to his new-found love to let any other word escape him. There was nothing for him but to take her back to his apartments, call up the proprietor, and settle upon some temporary plan for the protection of this solitary236 and beautiful young creature. "Come," said he, leading the way.
"Perhaps," said Marian, as they walked rapidly down the long, narrow, red-carpeted hall, "I was hasty with the mercer's wife; but the low-bred creature did vex205 me with her lies. But I think she hath not all her wits about her. Didst thou not observe the strange ways of speech she had?" tapping her forehead significantly.
"Perhaps," said Macfarren; "but here is the door." He opened it, and ushered237 her into his little drawing-room as if she had been a queen. Marian turned and locked the door behind them. "To keep the mad woman out," she explained.
Macfarren led her to a sofa. "Now," said he, "let us determine upon your immediate66 future. Rest assured, all that reverence and the tenderest respect can do for you shall be done."
"I believe thee," answered Marian, turning her
[41]
large clear gaze upon him. "I know not who nor what thou art, but this: thou art a gentleman; and that is enough."
Macfarren bowed to the ground.
"But it seems plain to me," she continued. "London, thou sayest, is but seven days from here by land."
"By land and water," corrected Macfarren.
"Well, it matters not," she said, impatiently, "so it be seven days. My father is there, and will quickly send a trusty person after me. Now, tell me, friend, who are the persons of chief consideration in this town?"
Macfarren stopped to think a moment. He answered, not according to his own conviction, but merely by the general estimate: "The—the—Vanderbilts and the Astors, I presume."
"Who are they?" demanded Marian.
"Rich merchants," responded Macfarren.
"That will do then," said Marian, decisively. "This, then, is my plan. I will go to the house of the first thou didst name. No doubt they will be pleased to entertain a daughter of the house of Winstanley. I will crave136 their hospitality until my father doth send or come; and in leaving I will present them with this string of pearls, which will do doubt delight their honest hearts, unused to the gold and glitter of the great. Thou shalt take me; so get thy sword and mantle238 and come."
She was evidently determined239; but at that moment a tremendous knocking came at the door. "Open! open!" he heard half a dozen voices
[42]
shout, and "Murder!" He recognized the voices. There was the loud basso of the proprietor and the weak treble of the room-clerk, and there was Marsden, his particular chum, and Smithers, the greatest gossip of the hotel smoking-room, all bellowing240 in chorus, and the door must yield soon. A cold horror seized him. Marian, the woman he would have died to save—and then, strongly, strangely, the coward's longing241 to escape from it all possessed him like a devil; had he a pistol all would soon be over. In one moment was concentrated the agony of a lifetime. He thought he was going mad. He put his hands to his reeling head, and felt himself sinking by inches into black forgetfulness.
"I say, old fellow, you had a close call!" was what he next heard, in Marsden's voice. "Your clothes were smoking; the picture's burned to a crisp; and next time you fall asleep with a lighted cigar in your mouth just have the fire-brigade handy. This'll cost you in the neighborhood of five hundred dollars' damage to furniture and books alone."
"Thank God!" was all Macfarren answered.
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patrician
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| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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quaintly
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| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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6
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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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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monopolized
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| v.垄断( monopolize的过去式和过去分词 )；独占；专卖；专营 | |
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monopolize
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| v.垄断，独占，专营 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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13
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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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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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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steadily
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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psychology
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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30
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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unfamiliar
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inquisitive
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modesty
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gasped
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brewery
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| n.啤酒厂 | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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scurvy
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| adj.下流的，卑鄙的，无礼的；n.坏血病 | |
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45
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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46
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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47
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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48
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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49
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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50
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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51
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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52
ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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53
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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54
rehabilitate
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| vt.改造(罪犯)，修复；vi.复兴，(罪犯)经受改造 | |
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55
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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56
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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57
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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58
lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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59
subterfuge
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| n.诡计；藉口 | |
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60
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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61
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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62
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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63
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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64
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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65
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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66
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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67
rumple
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；n.褶纹，皱褶 | |
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68
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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69
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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70
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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71
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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72
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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73
stigma
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| n.耻辱，污名；(花的)柱头 | |
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74
blurt
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| vt.突然说出，脱口说出 | |
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75
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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76
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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77
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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79
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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80
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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81
appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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82
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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83
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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84
formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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85
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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86
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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87
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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88
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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89
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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90
fume
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| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
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91
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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92
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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93
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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94
expressively
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| ad.表示(某事物)地；表达地 | |
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95
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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96
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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97
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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98
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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99
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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100
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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101
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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102
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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104
whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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105
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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106
blandness
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| n.温柔，爽快 | |
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107
frescoed
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| 壁画( fresco的名词复数 )； 温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
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108
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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109
peculiar
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|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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110
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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111
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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112
enticing
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| adj.迷人的；诱人的 | |
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113
supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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114
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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115
adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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116
wrangles
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| n.（尤指长时间的）激烈争吵，口角，吵嘴( wrangle的名词复数 )v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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117
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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118
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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119
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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120
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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121
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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122
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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123
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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124
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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125
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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126
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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127
saucily
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| adv.傲慢地，莽撞地 | |
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128
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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129
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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130
hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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131
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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132
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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133
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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134
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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135
scion
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| n.嫩芽，子孙 | |
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136
crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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137
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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138
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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139
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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140
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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141
albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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142
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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143
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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144
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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145
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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146
dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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147
madrigal
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| n.牧歌；（流行于16和17世纪无乐器伴奏的）合唱歌曲 | |
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148
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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149
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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150
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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151
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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152
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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153
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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154
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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155
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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156
broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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157
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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158
discreetness
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| 谨慎，用心深远 | |
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159
stolidity
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| n.迟钝，感觉麻木 | |
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160
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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161
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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162
rascally
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| adj. 无赖的，恶棍的 adv. 无赖地，卑鄙地 | |
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163
arrant
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| adj.极端的；最大的 | |
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164
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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165
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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166
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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167
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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168
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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170
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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171
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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172
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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173
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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174
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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175
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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176
munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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177
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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178
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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179
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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180
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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181
bridling
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的现在分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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182
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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183
languishes
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| 长期受苦( languish的第三人称单数 )； 受折磨； 变得（越来越）衰弱； 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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184
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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185
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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186
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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187
raisins
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| n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
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188
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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189
pacify
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| vt.使(某人)平静(或息怒)；抚慰 | |
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190
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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191
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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192
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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193
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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194
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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195
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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196
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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197
nettled
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| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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198
cynosure
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| n.焦点 | |
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199
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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200
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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201
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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202
dexterously
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| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
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203
ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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204
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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205
vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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206
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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207
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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208
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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209
cuffed
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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hoydenish
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| adj.顽皮的，爱嬉闹的，男孩子气的 | |
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capering
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的现在分词 )；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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215
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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218
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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219
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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220
haughtiness
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| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
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221
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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222
colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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223
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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224
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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225
reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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226
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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227
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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228
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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229
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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230
idiomatic
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| adj.成语的，符合语言习惯的 | |
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231
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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232
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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233
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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234
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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235
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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236
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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237
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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238
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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239
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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240
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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241
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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