"Come, Sylvia, it is nine o'clock! Little slug-a-bed, don't you mean to get up to-day?" said Miss Yule, bustling1 into her sister's room with the wide-awake appearance of one to whom sleep was a necessary evil, to be endured and gotten over as soon as possible.
"No, why should I?" And Sylvia turned her face away from the flood of light that poured into the room as Prue put aside the curtains and flung up the window.
"Why should you? What a question, unless you are ill; I was afraid you would suffer for that long row yesterday, and my predictions seldom fail."
"I am not suffering from any cause whatever, and your prediction does fail this time; I am only tired of everybody and everything, and see nothing worth getting up for; so I shall just stay here till I do. Please put the curtain down and leave me in peace."
Prue had dropped her voice to the foreboding tone so irritating to nervous persons whether sick or well, and Sylvia laid her arm across her eyes with an impatient gesture as she spoke2 sharply.
"Nothing worth getting up for," cried Prue, like an aggravating3 echo. "Why, child, there are a hundred pleasant things to do if you would only think so. Now don't be dismal4 and mope away this lovely day. Get up and try my plan; have a good breakfast, read the papers, and then work in your garden before it grows too warm; that is wholesome5 exercise and you've neglected it sadly of late."
"I don't wish any breakfast; I hate newspapers, they are so full of lies; I'm tired of the garden, for nothing goes right this year; and I detest6 taking exercise merely because it's wholesome. No, I'll not get up for that."
"Then stay in the house and draw, read, or practise. Sit with Mark in the studio; give Miss Hemming8 directions about your summer things, or go into town about your bonnet9. There is a matinee, try that; or make calls, for you owe fifty at least. Now I'm sure there's employment enough and amusement enough for any reasonable person."
Prue looked triumphant10, but Sylvia was not a "reasonable person," and went on in her former despondingly petulant11 strain.
"I'm tired of drawing; my head is a jumble12 of other people's ideas already, and Herr Pedalsturm has put the piano out of tune13. Mark always makes a model of me if I go to him, and I don't like to see my eyes, arms, or hair in all his pictures. Miss Hemming's gossip is worse than fussing over new things that I don't need. Bonnets14 are my torment15, and matinees are wearisome, for people whisper and flirt16 till the music is spoiled. Making calls is the worst of all; for what pleasure or profit is there in running from place to place to tell the same polite fibs over and over again, and listen to scandal that makes you pity or despise your neighbors. I shall not get up for any of these things."
Prue leaned on the bedpost meditating17 with an anxious face till a forlorn hope appeared which caused her to exclaim--
"Mark and I are going to see Geoffrey Moor18, this morning, just home from Switzerland, where his poor sister died, you know. You really ought to come with us and welcome him, for though you can hardly remember him, he's been so long away, still, as one of the family, it is a proper compliment on your part. The drive will do you good, Geoffrey will be glad to see you, it is a lovely old place, and as you never saw the inside of the house you cannot complain that you are tired of that yet."
"Yes I can, for it will never seem as it has done, and I can no longer go where I please now that a master's presence spoils its freedom and solitude19 for me. I don't know him, and don't care to, though his name is so familiar. New people always disappoint me, especially if I've heard them praised ever since I was born. I shall not get up for any Geoffrey Moor, so that bait fails."
Sylvia smiled involuntarily at her sister's defeat, but Prue fell back upon her last resource in times like this. With a determined20 gesture she plunged21 her hand into an abysmal22 pocket, and from a miscellaneous collection of treasures selected a tiny vial, presenting it to Sylvia with a half pleading, half authoritative23 look and tone.
"I'll leave you in peace if you'll only take a dose of chamomilla. It is so soothing24, that instead of tiring yourself with all manner of fancies, you'll drop into a quiet sleep, and by noon be ready to get up like a civilized25 being. Do take it, dear; just four sugar-plums, and I'm satisfied."
Sylvia received the bottle with a docile26 expression; but the next minute it flew out of the window, to be shivered on the walk below, while she said, laughing like a wilful27 creature as she was--
"I have taken it in the only way I ever shall, and the sparrows can try its soothing effects with me; so be satisfied."
"Very well. I shall send for Dr. Baum, for I'm convinced that you are going to be ill. I shall say no more, but act as I think proper, because it's like talking to the wind to reason with you in one of these perverse28 fits."
As Prue turned away, Sylvia frowned and called after her--
"Spare yourself the trouble, for Dr. Baum will follow the chamomilla, if you bring him here. What does he know about health, a fat German, looking lager beer and talking sauer-kraut? Bring me _bona fide_ sugar-plums and I'll take them; but arsenic29, mercury, and nightshade are not to my taste."
"Would you feel insulted if I ask whether your breakfast is to be sent up, or kept waiting till you choose to come down?"
Prue looked rigidly30 calm, but Sylvia knew that she felt hurt, and with one of the sudden impulses which ruled her the frown melted to a smile, as drawing her sister down she kissed her in her most loving manner.
"Dear old soul, I'll be good by-and-by, but now I'm tired and cross, so let me keep out of every one's way and drowse myself into a cheerier frame of mind. I want nothing but solitude, a draught31 of water, and a kiss."
Prue was mollified at once, and after stirring fussily32 about for several minutes gave her sister all she asked, and departed to the myriad33 small cares that made her happiness. As the door closed, Sylvia sighed a long sigh of relief, and folding her arms under her head drifted away into the land of dreams, where ennui34 is unknown.
All the long summer morning she lay wrapt in sleeping and waking dreams, forgetful of the world about her, till her brother played the Wedding March upon her door on his way to lunch. The desire to avenge35 the sudden downfall of a lovely castle in the air roused Sylvia, and sent her down to skirmish with Mark. Before she could say a word, however, Prue began to talk in a steady stream, for the good soul had a habit of jumbling36 news, gossip, private opinions and public affairs into a colloquial37 hodge-podge, that was often as trying to the intellects as the risibles of her hearers.
"Sylvia, we had a charming call, and Geoffrey sent his love to you. I asked him over to dinner, and we shall dine at six, because then my father can be with us. I shall have to go to town first, for there are a dozen things suffering for attention. You can't wear a round hat and lawn jackets without a particle of set all summer. I want some things for dinner,--and the carpet must be got. What a lovely one Geoffrey had in the library! Then I must see if poor Mrs. Beck has had her leg comfortably off, find out if Freddy Lennox is dead, and order home the mosquito nettings. Now don't read all the afternoon, and be ready to receive any one who may come if I should get belated."
The necessity of disposing of a suspended mouthful produced a lull38, and Sylvia seized the moment to ask in a careless way, intended to bring her brother out upon his favorite topic,--
"How did you find your saint, Mark?"
"The same sunshiny soul as ever, though he has had enough to make him old and grave before his time. He is just what we need in our neighborhood, and particularly in our house, for we are a dismal set at times, and he will do us all a world of good."
"What will become of me, with a pious39, prosy, perfect creature eternally haunting the house and exhorting40 me on the error of my ways!" cried Sylvia.
"Don't disturb yourself; he is not likely to take much notice of you; and it is not for an indolent, freakish midge to scoff41 at a man whom she does not know, and couldn't appreciate if she did," was Mark's lofty reply.
"I rather liked the appearance of the saint, however," said Sylvia, with an expression of naughty malice42, as she began her lunch.
"Why, where did you see him!" exclaimed her brother.
"I went over there yesterday to take a farewell run in the neglected garden before he came. I knew he was expected, but not that he was here; and when I saw the house open, I slipped in and peeped wherever I liked. You are right, Prue; it is a lovely old place."
"Now I know you did something dreadfully unladylike and improper43. Put me out of suspense44, I beg of you."
Prue's distressful45 face and Mark's surprise produced an inspiring effect upon Sylvia, who continued, with an air of demure46 satisfaction--
"I strolled about, enjoying myself, till I got into the library, and there I rummaged47, for it was a charming place, and I was happy as only those are who love books, and feel their influence in the silence of a room whose finest ornaments48 they are."
"I hope Moor came in and found you trespassing49."
"No, I went out and caught him playing. When I'd stayed as long as I dared, and borrowed a very interesting old book--
"Sylvia! did you really take one without asking?" cried Prue, looking almost as much alarmed as if she had stolen the spoons.
"Yes; why not? I can apologize prettily50, and it will open the way for more. I intend to browse51 over that library for the next six months."
"But it was such a liberty,--so rude, so--- dear, dear; and he as fond and careful of his books as if they were his children! Well, I wash my hands of it, and am prepared for anything now!"
Mark enjoyed Sylvia's pranks52 too much to reprove, so he only laughed while one sister lamented53 and the other placidly54 went on--
"When I had put the book nicely in my pocket, Prue, I walked into the garden. But before I'd picked a single flower, I heard little Tilly laugh behind the hedge and some strange voice talking to her. So I hopped55 upon a roller to see, and nearly tumbled off again; for there was a man lying on the grass, with the gardener's children rioting over him. Will was picking his pockets, and Tilly eating strawberries out of his hat, often thrusting one into the mouth of her long neighbor, who always smiled when the little hand came fumbling56 at his lips. You ought to have seen the pretty picture, Mark."
"Did he see the interesting picture on your side of the wall?"
"No, I was just thinking what friendly eyes he had, listening to his pleasant talk with the little folks, and watching how they nestled to him as if he were a girl, when Tilly looked up and cried, 'I see Silver!' So I ran away, expecting to have them all come racing57 after. But no one appeared, and I only heard a laugh instead of the 'stop thief' that I deserved."
"If I had time I should convince you of the impropriety of such wild actions; as I haven't, I can only implore58 you never to do so again on Geoffrey's premises59," said Prue, rising as the carriage drove round.
"I can safely promise that," answered Sylvia, with a dismal shake of the head, as she leaned listlessly from the window till her brother and sister were gone.
At the appointed time Moor entered Mr. Yule's hospitably60 open door; but no one came to meet him, and the house was as silent as if nothing human inhabited it. He divined the cause of this, having met Prue and Mark going downward some hours before, and saying to himself, "The boat is late," he disturbed no one, but strolled into the drawing-rooms and looked about him. Being one of those who seldom find time heavy on their hands, he amused himself with observing what changes had been made during his absence. His journey round the apartments was not a long one, for, coming to an open window, he paused with an expression of mingled61 wonder and amusement.
A pile of cushions, pulled from chair and sofa, lay before the long window, looking very like a newly deserted62 nest. A warm-hued picture lifted from the wall stood in a streak63 of sunshine; a half-cleared leaf of fruit lay on a taboret, and beside it, with a red stain on its title-page, appeared the stolen book. At sight of this Moor frowned, caught up his desecrated64 darling and put it in his pocket. But as he took another glance at the various indications of what had evidently been a solitary65 revel66 very much after his own heart, he relented, laid back the book, and, putting aside the curtain floating in the wind, looked out into the garden, attracted thither67 by the sound of a spade.
A lad was at work near by, and wondering what new inmate68 the house had gained, the neglected guest waited to catch a glimpse of the unknown face. A slender boy, in a foreign-looking blouse of grey linen69; a white collar lay over a ribbon at the throat, stout70 half boots covered a trim pair of feet, and a broad-brimmed hat flapped low on the forehead. Whistling softly he dug with active gestures; and, having made the necessary cavity, set a shrub71, filled up the hole, trod it down scientifically, and then fell back to survey the success of his labors72. But something was amiss, something had been forgotten, for suddenly up came the shrub, and seizing a wheelbarrow that stood near by, away rattled73 the boy round the corner out of sight. Moor smiled at his impetuosity, and awaited his return with interest, suspecting from appearances that this was some _protege_ of Mark's employed as a model as well as gardener's boy.
Presently up the path came the lad, with head down and steady pace, trundling a barrow full of richer earth, surmounted74 by a watering-pot. Never stopping for breath he fell to work again, enlarged the hole, flung in the loam75, poured in the water, reset76 the shrub, and when the last stamp and pat were given performed a little dance of triumph about it, at the close of which he pulled off his hat and began to fan his heated face. The action caused the observer to start and look again, thinking, as he recognized the energetic worker with a smile, "What a changeful thing it is! haunting one's premises unseen, and stealing one's books unsuspected; dreaming one half the day and masquerading the other half. What will happen next? Let us see but not be seen, lest the boy turn shy and run away before the pretty play is done!"
Holding the curtain between the window and himself, Moor peeped through the semi-transparent screen, enjoying the little episode immensely. Sylvia fanned and rested a few minutes, then went up and down among the flowers, often pausing to break a dead leaf, to brush away some harmful insect, or lift some struggling plant into the light; moving among them as if akin7 to them, and cognizant of their sweet wants. If she had seemed strong-armed and sturdy as a boy before, now she was tender fingered as a woman, and went humming here and there like any happy-hearted bee.
"Curious child!" thought Moor, watching the sunshine glitter on her uncovered head, and listening to the air she left half sung. "I've a great desire to step out and see how she will receive me. Not like any other girl, I fancy."
But, before he could execute his design, the roll of a carriage was heard in the avenue, and pausing an instant, with head erect77 like a startled doe, Sylvia turned and vanished, dropping flowers as she ran. Mr. Yule, accompanied by his son and daughter, came hurrying in with greetings, explanations, and apologies, and in a moment the house was full of a pleasant stir. Steps went up and down, voices echoed through the rooms, savory78 odors burst forth79 from below, and doors swung in the wind, as if the spell was broken and the sleeping palace had wakened with a word.
Prue made a hasty toilet and harassed80 the cook to the verge81 of spontaneous combustion82, while Mark and his father devoted83 themselves to their guest. Just as dinner was announced Sylvia came in, as calm and cool as if wheelbarrows were myths and linen suits unknown. Moor was welcomed with a quiet hand-shake, a grave salutation, and a look that seemed to say, "Wait a little, I take no friends on trust."
All through dinner, though she sat as silent as a well-bred child, she looked and listened with an expression of keen intelligence that children do not wear, and sometimes smiled to herself, as if she saw or heard something that pleased and interested her. When they rose from table she followed Prue up stairs, quite forgetting the disarray84 in which the drawing-room was left. The gentlemen took possession before either sister returned, and Mark's annoyance85 found vent86 in a philippic against oddities in general and Sylvia in particular; but his father and friend sat in the cushionless chairs, and pronounced the scene amusingly novel. Prue appeared in the midst of the laugh, and having discovered other delinquencies above, her patience was exhausted87, and her regrets found no check in the presence of so old a friend as Moor.
"Something must be done about that child, father, for she is getting entirely88 beyond my control. If I attempt to make her study she writes poetry instead of her exercises, draws caricatures instead of sketching89 properly, and bewilders her music teacher by asking questions about Beethoven and Mendelssohn, as if they were personal friends of his. If I beg her to take exercise, she rides like an Amazon all over the Island, grubs in the garden as if for her living, or goes paddling about the bay till I'm distracted lest the tide should carry her out to sea. She is so wanting in moderation she gets ill, and when I give her proper medicines she flings them out of the window, and threatens to send that worthy90, Dr. Baum, after them. Yet she must need something to set her right, for she is either overflowing91 with unnatural92 spirits or melancholy93 enough to break one's heart."
"What have you done with the little black sheep of my flock,--not banished94 her, I hope?" said Mr. Yule, placidly, ignoring all complaints.
"She is in the garden, attending to some of her disagreeable pets, I fancy. If you are going out there to smoke, please send her in, Mark; I want her."
As Mr. Yule was evidently yearning95 for his after-dinner nap, and Mark for his cigar, Moor followed his friend, and they stepped through the window into the garden, now lovely with the fading glow of summer sunset.
"You must know that this peculiar96 little sister of mine clings to some of her childish beliefs and pleasures in spite of Prue's preaching and my raillery," began Mark, after a refreshing97 whiff or two. "She is overflowing with love and good will, but being too shy or too proud to offer it to her fellow-creatures, she expends98 it upon the necessitous inhabitants of earth, air, and water with the most charming philanthropy. Her dependants99 are neither beautiful nor very interesting, nor is she sentimentally100 enamored of them; but the more ugly and desolate101 the creature, the more devoted is she. Look at her now; most young ladies would have hysterics over any one of those pets of hers."
Moor looked, and thought the group a very pretty one, though a plump toad102 sat at Sylvia's feet, a roly-poly caterpillar103 was walking up her sleeve, a blind bird chirped104 on her shoulder, bees buzzed harmlessly about her head, as if they mistook her for a flower, and in her hand a little field mouse was breathing its short life away. Any tender-hearted girl might have stood thus surrounded by helpless things that pity had endeared, but few would have regarded them with an expression like that which Sylvia wore. Figure, posture105, and employment were so childlike in their innocent unconsciousness, that the contrast was all the more strongly marked between them and the sweet thoughtfulness that made her face singularly attractive with the charm of dawning womanhood. Moor spoke before Mark could dispose of his smoke.
"This is a great improvement upon the boudoir full of lap-dogs, worsted-work and novels, Miss Sylvia. May I ask if you feel no repugnance106 to some of your patients; or is your charity strong enough to beautify them all?"
"I dislike many people, but few animals, because however ugly I pity them, and whatever I pity I am sure to love. It may be silly, but I think it does me good; and till I am wise enough to help my fellow-beings, I try to do my duty to these humbler sufferers, and find them both grateful and affectionate."
There was something very winning in the girl's manner as she spoke, touching107 the little creature in her hand almost as tenderly as if it had been a child. It showed the newcomer another phase of this many-sided character; and while Sylvia related the histories of her pets at his request, he was enjoying that finer history which every ingenuous108 soul writes on its owner's countenance109 for gifted eyes to read and love. As she paused, the little mouse lay stark110 and still in her gentle hand; and though they smiled at themselves, both young men felt like boys again as they helped her scoop111 a grave among the pansies, owning the beauty of compassion112, though she showed it to them in such a simple shape.
Then Mark delivered his message, and Sylvia went away to receive Prue's lecture, with outward meekness113, but such an absent mind that the words of wisdom went by her like the wind.
"Now come and take our twilight114 stroll, while Mark keeps Mr. Moor in the studio and Prue prepares another exhortation," said Sylvia, as her father woke, and taking his arm, they paced along the wide piazza115 that encircled the whole house.
"Will father do me a little favor?"
"That is all he lives for, dear."
"Then his life is a very successful one;" and the girl folded her other hand over that already on his arm. Mr. Yule shook his head with a regretful sigh, but asked benignly--
"What shall I do for my little daughter?"
"Forbid Mark to execute a plot with which he threatens me. He says he will bring every gentleman he knows (and that is a great many) to the house, and make it so agreeable that they will keep coming; for he insists that I need amusement, and nothing will be so entertaining as a lover or two. Please tell him not to, for I don't want any lovers yet."
"Why not?" asked her father, much amused at her twilight confidences.
"I'm afraid. Love is so cruel to some people, I feel as if it would be to me, for I am always in extremes, and continually going wrong while trying to go right. Love bewilders the wisest, and it would make me quite blind or mad, I know; therefore I'd rather have nothing to do with it, for a long, long while."
"Then Mark shall be forbidden to bring a single specimen116. I very much prefer to keep you as you are. And yet you may be happier to do as others do; try it, if you like, my dear."
"But I can't do as others do; I've tried, and failed. Last winter, when Prue made me go about, though people probably thought me a stupid little thing, moping in corners, I was enjoying myself in my own way, and making discoveries that have been very useful ever since. I know I'm whimsical, and hard to please, and have no doubt the fault was in myself, but I was disappointed in nearly every one I met, though I went into what Prue calls 'our best society.' The girls seemed all made on the same pattern; they all said, did, thought, and wore about the same things, and knowing one was as good as knowing a dozen. Jessie Hope was the only one I cared much for, and she is so pretty, she seems made to be looked at and loved."
"How did you find the young gentlemen, Sylvia?"
"Still worse; for, though lively enough among themselves they never found it worth their while to offer us any conversation but such as was very like the champagne117 and ice-cream they brought us,--sparkling, sweet, and unsubstantial. Almost all of them wore the superior air they put on before women, an air that says as plainly as words, 'I may ask you and I may not.' Now that is very exasperating118 to those who care no more for them than so many grasshoppers119, and I often longed to take the conceit120 out of them by telling some of the criticisms passed upon them by the amiable121 young ladies who looked as if waiting to say meekly122, 'Yes, thank you.'"
"Don't excite yourself, my dear; it is all very lamentable123 and laughable, but we must submit till the world learns better. There are often excellent young persons among the 'grasshoppers,' and if you cared to look you might find a pleasant friend here and there," said Mr. Yule, leaning a little toward his son's view of the matter.
"No, I cannot even do that without being laughed at; for no sooner do I mention the word friendship than people nod wisely and look as if they said, 'Oh, yes, every one knows what that sort of thing amounts to.' I should like a friend, father; some one beyond home, because he would be newer; a man (old or young, I don't care which), because men go where they like, see things with their own eyes, and have more to tell if they choose. I want a person simple, wise, and entertaining; and I think I should make a very grateful friend if such an one was kind enough to like me."
"I think you would, and perhaps if you try to be more like others you will find friends as they do, and so be happy, Sylvia."
"I cannot be like others, and their friendships would not satisfy me. I don't try to be odd; I long to be quiet and satisfied, but I cannot; and when I do what Prue calls wild things, it is not because I am thoughtless or idle, but because I am trying to be good and happy. The old ways fail, so I attempt new ones, hoping they will succeed; but they don't, and I still go looking and longing124 for happiness, yet always failing to find it, till sometimes I think I am a born disappointment."
"Perhaps love would bring the happiness, my dear?"
"I'm afraid not; but, however that may be, I shall never go running about for a lover as half my mates do. When the true one comes I shall know him, love him at once, and cling to him forever, no matter what may happen. Till then I want a friend, and I will find one if I can. Don't you believe there may be real and simple friendships between men and women without falling into this everlasting125 sea of love?"
Mr. Yule was laughing quietly under cover of the darkness, but composed himself to answer gravely--
"Yes, for some of the most beautiful and famous friendships have been such, and I see no reason why there may not be again. Look about, Sylvia, make yourself happy; and, whether you find friend or lover, remember there is always the old Papa glad to do his best for you in both capacities."
Sylvia's hand crept to her father's shoulder, and her voice was full of daughterly affection, as she said--
"I'll have no lover but 'the old Papa' for a long while yet. But I will look about, and if I am fortunate enough to find and good enough to keep the person I want, I shall be very happy; for, father, I really think I need a friend."
Here Mark called his sister in to sing to them, a demand that would have been refused but for a promise to Prue to behave her best as an atonement for past pranks. Stepping in she sat down and gave Moor another surprise, as from her slender throat there came a voice whose power and pathos127 made a tragedy of the simple ballad128 she was singing.
"Why did you choose that plaintive129 thing, all about love, despair, and death? It quite breaks one's heart to hear it," said Prue, pausing in a mental estimate of her morning's shopping.
"It came into my head, and so I sung it. Now I'll try another, for I am bound to please you--if I can." And she broke out again with an airy melody as jubilant as if a lark130 had mistaken moonlight for the dawn and soared skyward, singing as it went. So blithe131 and beautiful were both voice and song they caused a sigh of pleasure, a sensation of keen delight in the listener, and seemed to gift the singer with an unsuspected charm. As she ended Sylvia turned about, and seeing the satisfaction of their guest in his face, prevented him from expressing it in words by saying, in her frank way--
"Never mind the compliments. I know my voice is good, for that you may thank nature; that it is well trained, for that praise Herr Pedalsturm; and that you have heard it at all, you owe to my desire to atone126 for certain trespasses132 of yesterday and to-day, because I seldom sing before strangers."
"Allow me to offer my hearty133 thanks to Nature, Pedalsturm, and Penitence134, and also to hope that in time I may be regarded, not as a stranger, but a neighbor and a friend."
Something in the gentle emphasis of the last word struck pleasantly on the girl's ear, and seemed to answer an unspoken longing. She looked up at him with a searching glance, appeared to find some 'assurance given by looks,' and as a smile broke over her face she offered her hand as if obeying a sudden impulse, and said, half to him, half to herself--
"I think I have found the friend already."
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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akin
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hemming
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bonnet
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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petulant
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jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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17
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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18
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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19
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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21
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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22
abysmal
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| adj.无底的，深不可测的，极深的；糟透的，极坏的；完全的 | |
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23
authoritative
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| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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24
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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25
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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26
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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27
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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28
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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29
arsenic
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| n.砒霜，砷；adj.砷的 | |
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30
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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31
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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32
fussily
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| adv.无事空扰地，大惊小怪地，小题大做地 | |
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33
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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34
ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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35
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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36
jumbling
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| 混杂( jumble的现在分词 )； （使）混乱； 使混乱； 使杂乱 | |
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37
colloquial
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| adj.口语的，会话的 | |
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38
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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39
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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40
exhorting
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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41
scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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42
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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43
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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44
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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45
distressful
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| adj.苦难重重的，不幸的，使苦恼的 | |
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46
demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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47
rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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48
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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49
trespassing
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| [法]非法入侵 | |
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50
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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51
browse
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| vi.随意翻阅，浏览；(牛、羊等)吃草 | |
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52
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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53
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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55
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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56
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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57
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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58
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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59
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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60
hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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61
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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62
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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63
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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64
desecrated
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| 毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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66
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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67
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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68
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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69
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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71
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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72
labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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73
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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74
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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75
loam
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| n.沃土 | |
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76
reset
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| v.重新安排，复位；n.重新放置；重放之物 | |
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77
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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78
savory
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| adj.风味极佳的，可口的，味香的 | |
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79
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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80
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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81
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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82
combustion
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| n.燃烧；氧化；骚动 | |
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83
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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84
disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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85
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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86
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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87
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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88
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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89
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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90
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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91
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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92
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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93
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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94
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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96
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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97
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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98
expends
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| v.花费( expend的第三人称单数 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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99
dependants
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| 受赡养者，受扶养的家属( dependant的名词复数 ) | |
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100
sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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101
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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102
toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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103
caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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104
chirped
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的过去式 ) | |
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105
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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106
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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107
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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108
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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109
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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110
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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111
scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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112
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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113
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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114
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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115
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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116
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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117
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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118
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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119
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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120
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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121
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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122
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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123
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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124
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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125
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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126
atone
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| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
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127
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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128
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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129
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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130
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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131
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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132
trespasses
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| 罪过( trespass的名词复数 )； 非法进入 | |
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133
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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134
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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