It was the susceptible1 time of the year for plants, for birds, for maids: all innocent natural impulses respond to the subtle influence of spring. One may well gauge2 his advance in selfishness, worldliness, and sin by his loss of this annual susceptibility, by the failure of this sweet appeal to touch his heart. One must be very far gone if some note of it does not for a moment bring back the tenderest recollections of the days of joyous3 innocence4.
Even the city, with its mass of stone and brick, rectangles, straight lines, dust, noise, and fever of activity, is penetrated5 by this divine suggestion of the renewal6 of life. You can scarcely open a window without letting in a breath of it; the south wind, the twitter of a sparrow, the rustle7 of leaves in the squares, the smell of the earth and of some struggling plant in the area, the note of a distant hand-organ softened8 by distance, are begetting9 a longing10 for youth, for green fields, for love. As Carmen walked down the avenue with Mr. Lyon on a spring morning she almost made herself believe that an unworldly life with this simple-hearted gentleman--when he should come into his title and estate--would be more to her liking11 than the most brilliant success in place and power with Henderson. Unfortunately the spring influence also suggested the superior attractiveness of the only man who had ever taken her shallow fancy. And unfortunately the same note of nature suggested to Mr. Lyon the contrast of this artificial piece of loveliness with the domestic life of which he dreamed.
As for Margaret, she opened her heart to the spring without reserve. It was May. The soft maples12 had a purple tinge13, the chestnuts14 showed color, the apple-trees were in bloom (all the air was full of their perfume), the blackbirds were chattering15 in convention in the tall oaks, the bright leaves and the flowering shrubs16 were alive with the twittering and singing of darting17 birds. The soft, fleecy clouds, hovering18 as over a world just created, seemed to make near and participant in the scene the delicate blue of the sky. Margaret--I remember the morning--was standing19 on her piazza20, as I passed through the neighborhood drive, with a spray of apple-blossoms in her hand. For the moment she seemed to embody21 all the maiden22 purity of the scene, all its promise. I said, laughing:
"We shall have to have you painted as spring."
"But spring isn't painted at all," she replied, holding up the apple--blossoms, and coming down the piazza with a dancing step.
"And so it won't last. We want something permanent," I was beginning to say, when a carriage passed, going to our house. "I think that must be Henderson."
"Ah!" she exclaimed. Her sunny face clouded at once, and she turned to go in as I hurried away.
It was Mr. Henderson, and there was at least pretense23 enough of business to occupy us, with Mr. Morgan, the greater part of the day. It was not till late in the afternoon that Henderson appeared to remember that Margaret was in the neighborhood, and spoke24 of his intention of calling. My wife pointed25 out the way to him across the grounds, and watched him leisurely26 walking among the trees till he was out of sight.
"What an agreeable man Mr. Henderson is!" she said, turning to me; "most companionable; and yet--and yet, my dear, I'm glad he is not my husband. You suit me very well." There was an air of conviction about this remark, as if it were the result of deep reflection and comparison, and it was emphasized by the little possessory act of readjusting my necktie--one of the most subtle of female flatteries.
"But who wanted him to be your husband?" I asked. "Married women have the oddest habit of going about the world picking out the men they would not like to have married. Do they need continually to justify27 themselves?"
"No; they congratulate themselves. You never can understand."
"I confess I cannot. My first thought about an attractive woman whose acquaintance I make is not that I am glad I did not marry her."
"I dare say not. You are all inconsistent, you men. But you are the least so of any man in the world, I do believe."
It would be difficult to say whether the spring morning seemed more or less glorious to Margaret when she went indoors, but its serenity28 was gone.
It was like the premonition in nature of a change. She put the apple blossoms in water and placed the jug29 on the table, turning it about half a dozen times, moving her head from side to side to get the effect. When it was exactly right, she said to her aunt, who sat sewing in the bay-window, in a perfectly30 indifferent tone, "Mr. Fairchild just passed here, and said that Mr. Henderson had come."
"Ah!" Her aunt did not lift her eyes from her work, or appear to attach the least importance to this tremendous piece of news. Margaret was annoyed at what seemed to her an assumed indifference31. Her nerves were quivering with the knowledge that he had arrived, that he was in the next house, that he might be here any moment--the man who had entered into her whole life--and the announcement was no more to her aunt than if she had said it rained. She was provoked at herself that she should be so disturbed, yes, annoyed, at his proximity32. She wished he had not come--not today, at any rate. She looked about for something to do, and began to rearrange this and that trifle in the sitting-room33, which she had perfectly arranged once before in the morning, moving about here and there in a rather purposeless manner, until her aunt looked up and for a moment followed her movements till Margaret left the room. In her own chamber34 she sat by the window and tried to think, but there was no orderly mental process; in vain she tried to run over in her mind the past month and all her reflections and wise resolves. She heard the call of the birds, she inhaled35 the odor of the new year, she was conscious of all that was gracious and inviting36 in the fresh scene, but in her sub-consciousness there was only one thought--he was there, he was coming. She took up her sewing, but the needle paused in the stitch, and she found herself looking away across the lawn to the hills; she took up a book, but the words had no meaning, read and reread them as she would. He is there, he is coming. And what of it? Why should she be so disturbed? She was uncommitted, she was mistress of her own actions. Had she not been coolly judging his conduct? She despised herself for being so nervous and unsettled. If he was coming, why did he not come? Why was he waiting so long? She arose impatiently and went down-stairs. There was a necessity of doing something.
"Is there anything that you want from town, auntie?"
"Nothing that I know of. Are you going in?"
"No, unless you have an errand. It is such a fine day that it seems a pity to stay indoors."
"Well, I would walk if I were you." But she did not go; she went instead to her room. He might come any moment. She ought not to run away; and yet she wished she were away. He said he was coming on business. Was it not, then, a pretense? She felt humiliated37 in the idea of waiting for him if the business were not a pretense.
How insensible men are! What a mere38 subordinate thing to them in life is the love of a woman! Yes, evidently business was more important to him than anything else. He must know that she was waiting; and she blushed to herself at the very possibility that he should think such a thing. She was not waiting. It was lunch-time. She excused herself. In the next moment she was angry that she had not gone down as usual. It was time for him to come. He would certainly come immediately after lunch. She would not see him. She hoped never to see him. She rose in haste, put on her hat, put it on carefully, turning and returning before the glass, selected fresh gloves, and ran down-stairs.
"I'm going, auntie, for a walk to town."
The walk was a long one. She came back tired. It was late in the afternoon. Her aunt was quietly reading. She needed to ask her nothing: Mr. Henderson had not been there. Why had he written to her?
"Oh, the Fairchilds want us to come over to dinner," said Miss Forsythe, without looking up.
"I hope you will go, auntie. I sha'n't mind being alone."
"Why? It's perfectly informal. Mr. Henderson happens to be there."
"I'm too stupid. But you must go. Mr. Henderson, in New York, expressed the greatest desire to make your acquaintance."
Miss Forsythe smiled. "I suppose he has come up on purpose. But, dear, you must go to chaperon me. It would hardly be civil not to go, when you knew Mr. Henderson in New York, and the Fairchilds want to make it agreeable for him."
"Why, auntie, it is just a business visit. I'm too tired to make the effort. It must be this spring weather."
Perhaps it was. It is so unfortunate that the spring, which begets40 so many desires, brings the languor41 that defeats their execution. But there is a limit to the responsibility even of spring for a woman's moods. Just as Margaret spoke she saw, through the open window, Henderson coming across the lawn, walking briskly, but evidently not inattentive to the charm of the landscape. It was his springy step, his athletic42 figure, and, as he came nearer, the joyous anticipation43 in his face. And it was so sudden, so unexpected--the vision so long looked for! There was no time for flight, had she wanted to avoid him; he was on the piazza; he was at the open door. Her hand went quickly to her heart to still the rapid flutter, which might be from pain and might be from joy--she could not tell. She had imagined their possible meeting so many times, and it was not at all like this. She ought to receive him coldly, she ought to receive him kindly44, she ought to receive him indifferently. But how real he was, how handsome he was! If she could have obeyed the impulse of the moment I am not sure but she would have fled, and cast herself face downward somewhere, and cried a little and thanked God for him. He was in the room. In his manner there was no hesitation45, in his expression no uncertainty46. His face beamed with pleasure, and there was so much open admiration47 in his eyes that Margaret, conscious of it to her heart's core, feared that her aunt would notice it. And she met him calmly enough, frankly48 enough. The quickness with which a woman can pull herself together under such circumstances is testimony49 to her superior fibre.
"I've been looking across here ever since morning," he said, as soon as the hand-shaking and introduction were over, "and I've only this minute been released." There was no air of apology in this, but a delicate intimation of impatience50 at the delay. And still, what an unconscious brute51 a man is!
"I thought perhaps you had returned," said Margaret, "until my aunt was just telling me we were asked to dine with you."
Henderson gave her a quick glance. Was it possible she thought he could go away without seeing her?
"Yes, and I was commissioned to bring you over when you are ready." "I will not keep you waiting long, Mr. Henderson," interposed Miss Forsythe, out of the goodness of her heart. "My niece has been taking a long walk, and this debilitating52 spring weather--"
"Oh, since the sun has gone away, I think I'm quite up to the exertion53, since you wish it, auntie," a speech that made Henderson stare again, wholly unable to comprehend the reason of an indirection which he could feel--he who had been all day impatient for this moment. There was a little talk about the country and the city at this season, mainly sustained by Miss Forsythe and Henderson, and then he was left alone. "Of course you should go, Margaret," said her aunt, as they went upstairs; "it would not be at all the thing for me to leave you here. And what a fine, manly54, engaging fellow Mr. Henderson is!"
"Yes, he acts very much like a man;" and Margaret was gone into her room.
Go? There was not force enough in the commonwealth55, without calling out the militia56, to keep Margaret from going to the dinner. She stopped a moment in the middle of her chamber to think. She had almost forgotten how he looked--his eyes, his smile. Dear me! how the birds were singing outside, and how fresh the world was! And she would not hurry. He could wait. No doubt he would wait now any length of time for her. He was in the house, in the room below, perhaps looking out of the window, perhaps reading, perhaps spying about at her knick-knacks--she would like to look in at the door a moment to see what he was doing. Of course he was here to see her, and all the business was a pretext57. As she sat a moment upon the edge of her bed reflecting what to put on, she had a little pang58 that she had been doing him injustice59 in her thought. But it was only for an instant. He was here. She was not in the least flurried. Indeed, her mental processes were never clearer than when she settled upon her simple toilet, made as it was in every detail with the sure instinct of a woman who dresses for her lover. Heavens! what a miserable60 day it had been, what a rebellious61 day! He ought to be punished for it somehow. Perhaps the rose she put in her hair was part of the punishment. But he should not see how happy she was; she would be civil, and just a little reserved; it was so like a man to make a woman wait all day and then think he could smooth it all over simply by appearing.
But somehow in Henderson's presence these little theories of conduct did not apply. He was too natural, direct, unaffected, his pleasure in being with her was so evident! He seemed to brush aside the little defenses and subterfuges62. There was this about him that appeared to her admirable, and in contrast with her own hesitating indirection, that whatever he wanted--money, or position, or the love of woman--he went straight to his object with unconsciousness that failure was possible. Even in walking across the grounds in the soft sunset light, and chatting easily, their relations seemed established on a most natural basis, and Margaret found herself giving way to the simple enjoyment64 of the hour. She was not only happy, but her spirits rose to inexpressible gayety, which ran into the humor of badinage65 and a sort of spiritual elation63, in which all things seemed possible. Perhaps she recognized in herself, what Henderson saw in her. And with it all there was an access of tenderness for her aunt, the dear thing whose gentle life appeared so colorless.
I had never seen Margaret so radiant as at the dinner; her high spirits infected the table, and the listening and the talking were of the best that the company could give. I remembered it afterwards, not from anything special that was said, but from its flow of high animal spirits, and the electric responsive mood everyone was in; no topic carried too far, and the chance seriousness setting off the sparkling comments on affairs. Henderson's talk had the notable flavor of direct contact with life, and very little of the speculative66 and reflective tone of Morgan's, who was always generalizing and theorizing about it. He had just come from the West, and his off-hand sketches67 of men had a special cynicism, not in the least condemnatory68, mere good-natured acceptance, and in contrast to Morgan's moralizing and rather pitying cynicism. It struck me that he did not believe in his fellows as much as Morgan did; but I fancied that Margaret only saw in his attitude a tolerant knowledge of the world.
"Are the people on the border as bad as they are represented?" she asked.
"Certainly not much worse than they represent themselves," he replied; "I suppose the difference is that men feel less restraint there."
"It is something more than that," added Morgan. "There is a sort of drift-wood of adventure and devil-may-care-ism that civilization throws in advance of itself; but that isn't so bad as the slag69 it manufactures in the cities."
"I remember you said, Mr. Morgan, that men go West to get rid of their past," said Margaret.
"As New Yorkers go to Europe to get rid of their future?" Henderson inquired, catching70 the phrase.
"Yes"--Morgan turned to Margaret--"doubtless there is a satisfaction sometimes in placing the width of a continent between a man and what he has done. I've thought that one of the most popular verses in the Psalter, on the border, must be the one that says--you will know if I quote it right 'Look how wide also the East is from the West; so far hath He set our sins from us.'"
"That is dreadful," exclaimed Margaret. "To think of you spending your time in the service picking out passages to fit other people!"
"It sounds as if you had manufactured it," was Henderson's comment.
"No; that quiet Mr. Lyon pointed it out to me when we were talking about Montana. He had been there."
"By-the-way, Mr. Henderson," my wife asked, "do you know what has become of Mr. Lyon?"
"I believe he is about to go home."
"I fancied Miss Eschelle might have something to say about that," Morgan remarked.
"Perhaps, if she were asked. But Mr. Lyon appeared rather indifferent to American attractions."
Margaret looked quickly at Henderson as he said this, and then ventured, a little slyly, "She seemed to appreciate his goodness."
"Yes; Miss Eschelle has an eye for goodness."
This was said without change of countenance71, but it convinced the listener that Carmen was understood.
"And yet," said Margaret, with a little air of temerity72, "you seem to be very good friends."
"Oh, she is very charitable; she sees, I suppose, what is good in me; and I'll spare you the trouble of remarking that she must necessarily be very sharp-sighted."
"And I'm not going to destroy your illusion by telling you her real opinion of you," Margaret retorted.
Henderson begged to know what it was, but Margaret evaded73 the question by new raillery. What did she care at the moment what Carmen thought of Henderson? What--did either of them care what they were saying, so long as there was some personal flavor in the talk! Was it not enough to talk to each other, to see each other?
As we sat afterwards upon the piazza with our cigars, inhaling74 the odor of the apple blossoms, and yielding ourselves, according to our age, to the influence of the mild night, Margaret was in the high spirits which accompany the expectation of bliss75, without the sobering effect of its responsibility. Love itself is very serious, but the overture76 is full of freakish gayety. And it was all gayety that night. We all constituted ourselves a guard of honor to Miss Forsythe and Margaret when they went to their cottage, and there was a merry leave-taking in the moonlight. To be sure, Margaret walked with Henderson, and they lagged a little behind, but I had no reason to suppose that they were speaking of the stars, or that they raised the ordinary question of their being inhabited. I doubt if they saw the stars at all. How one remembers little trifles, that recur77 like the gay bird notes of the opening scenes that are repeated in the tragedy of the opera! I can see Margaret now, on some bantering78 pretext, running back, after we had said good-night, to give Henderson the blush-rose she had worn in her hair. How charming the girl was in this freakish action!
"Do you think he is good enough for her?" asked my wife, when we were alone.
"Who is good enough for whom?" I said, a yawn revealing my want of sentiment.
"Don't be stupid. You are not so blind as you pretend."
"Well, if I am not so blind as I pretend, though I did not pretend to be blind, I suppose that is mainly her concern."
"But I wish she had cared for Lyon."
"Perhaps Lyon did not care for her," I suggested.
"You never see anything. Lyon was a noble fellow."
"I didn't deny that. But how was I to know about Lyon, my dear? I never heard you say that you were glad he wasn't your husband."
"Don't be silly. I think Henderson has very serious intentions."
"I hope he isn't frivolous," I said.
"Well, you are. It isn't a joking matter--and you pretend to be so fond of Margaret!"
"So that is another thing I pretend? What do you want me to do? Which one do you want me to make my enemy by telling him or her that the other isn't good enough?"
"I don't want you to do anything, except to be reasonable, and sympathize."
"Oh, I sympathize all round. I assure you I've no doubt you are quite right." And in this way I crawled out of the discussion, as usual.
What a pretty simile79 it is, comparing life to a river, because rivers are so different! There are the calm streams that flow eagerly from the youthful sources, join a kindred flood, and go placidly80 to the sea, only broadening and deepening and getting very muddy at times, but without a rapid or a fall. There are others that flow carelessly in the upper sunshine, begin to ripple81 and dance, then run swiftly, and rush into rapids in which there is no escape (though friends stand weeping and imploring82 on the banks) from the awful plunge83 of the cataract84. Then there is the tumult85 and the seething86, the exciting race and rage through the canon, the whirlpools and the passions of love and revelations of character, and finally, let us hope, the happy emergence87 into the lake of a serene88 life. And the more interesting rivers are those that have tumults89 and experiences.
I knew well enough before the next day was over that it was too late for the rescue of Margaret or Henderson. They were in the rapids, and would have rejected any friendly rope thrown to draw them ashore90. And notwithstanding the doubts of my wife, I confess that I had so much sympathy with the genuineness of it that I enjoyed this shock of two strong natures rushing to their fate. Was it too sudden? Do two living streams hesitate when they come together? When they join they join, and mingle91 and reconcile themselves afterwards. It is only canals that flow languidly in parallel lines, and meet, if they meet at all, by the orderly contrivance of a lock.
In the morning the two were off for a stroll. There is a hill from which a most extensive prospect92 is had of the city, the teeming93 valley, with a score of villages and innumerable white spires94, of forests and meadows and broken mountain ranges. It was a view that Margaret the night before had promised to show Henderson, that he might see what to her was the loveliest landscape in the world. Whether they saw the view I do not know. But I know the rock from which it is best seen, and could fancy Margaret sitting there, with her face turned towards it and her hands folded in her lap, and Henderson sitting, half turned away from it, looking in her face. There is an apple orchard95 just below. It was in bloom, and all the invitation of spring was in the air. That he saw all the glorious prospect reflected in her mobile face I do not doubt--all the nobility and tenderness of it. If I knew the faltering96 talk in that hour of growing confidence and expectation, I would not repeat it. Henderson lunched at the Forsythe's, and after lunch he had some talk with Miss Forsythe. It must have been of an exciting nature to her, for, immediately after, that good woman came over in a great flutter, and was closeted with my wife, who at the end of the interview had an air of mysterious importance. It was evidently a woman's day, and my advice was not wanted, even if my presence was tolerated. All I heard my wife say through the opening door, as the consultation97 ended, was, "I hope she knows her own mind fully39 before anything is decided98."
As to the objects of this anxiety, they were upon the veranda99 of the cottage, quite unconscious of the necessity of digging into their own minds. He was seated, and she was leaning against the railing on which the honeysuckle climbed, pulling a flower in pieces.
"It is such a short time I have known you," she was saying, as if in apology for her own feeling.
"Yes, in one way;" and he leaned forward, and broke his sentence with a little laugh. "I think I must have known you in some pre-existent state."
"Perhaps. And yet, in another way, it seems long--a whole month, you know." And the girl laughed a little in her turn.
"It was the longest month I ever knew, after you left the city."
"Was it? I oughtn't to have said that first. But do you know, Mr. Henderson, you seem totally different from any other man I ever knew."
That this was a profound and original discovery there could be no doubt, from the conviction with which it was announced. "I felt from the first that I could trust you."
"I wish"--and there was genuine feeling in the tone--"I were worthier100 of such a generous trust."
There was a wistful look in her face--timidity, self-depreciation, worship--as Henderson rose and stood near her, and she looked up while he took the broken flower from her hand. There was but one answer to this, and in spite of the open piazza and the all-observant, all-revealing day, it might have been given; but at the moment Miss Forsythe was seen hurrying towards them through the shrubbery. She came straight to where they stood, with an air of New England directness and determination. One hand she gave to Henderson, the other to Margaret. She essayed to speak, but tears were in her eyes, and her lips trembled; the words would not come. She regarded them for an instant with all the overflowing101 affection of a quarter of a century of repression102, and then quickly turned and went in. In a moment they followed her. Heaven go with them!
After Henderson had made his hasty adieus at our house and gone, before the sun was down, Margaret came over. She came swiftly into the room, gave me a kiss as I rose to greet her, with a delightful103 impersonality104, as if she owed a debt somewhere and must pay it at once--we men who are so much left out of these affairs have occasionally to thank Heaven for a merciful moment--seized my wife, and dragged her to her room.
"I couldn't wait another moment," she said, as she threw herself on my wife's bosom105 in a passion of tears. "I am so happy! he is so noble, and I love him so!" And she sobbed106 as if it were the greatest calamity107 in the world. And then, after a little, in reply to a question--for women are never more practical than in such a crisis: "Oh, no--not for a long, long, long time. Not before autumn."
And the girl looked, through her glad tears, as if she expected to be admired for this heroism108. And I have no doubt she was.
收听单词发音 |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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begetting
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| v.为…之生父( beget的现在分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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longing
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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chestnuts
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| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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shrubs
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darting
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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standing
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piazza
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embody
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| vt.具体表达，使具体化；包含，收录 | |
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maiden
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pretense
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spoke
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pointed
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leisurely
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justify
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serenity
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29
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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30
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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31
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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32
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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33
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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34
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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35
inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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37
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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38
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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40
begets
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| v.为…之生父( beget的第三人称单数 )；产生，引起 | |
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41
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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42
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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43
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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44
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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46
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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47
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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48
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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49
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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50
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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51
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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52
debilitating
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| a.使衰弱的 | |
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53
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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54
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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56
militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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57
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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58
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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59
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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subterfuges
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| n.（用说谎或欺骗以逃脱责备、困难等的）花招，遁词( subterfuge的名词复数 ) | |
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63
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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badinage
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| n.开玩笑，打趣 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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condemnatory
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| adj. 非难的，处罚的 | |
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69
slag
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| n.熔渣，铁屑，矿渣；v.使变成熔渣，变熔渣 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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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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temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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73
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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74
inhaling
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| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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75
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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76
overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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recur
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| vi.复发，重现，再发生 | |
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78
bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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79
simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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80
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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81
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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82
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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83
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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84
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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85
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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86
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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87
emergence
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| n.浮现，显现，出现，（植物）突出体 | |
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88
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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89
tumults
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| 吵闹( tumult的名词复数 )； 喧哗； 激动的吵闹声； 心烦意乱 | |
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90
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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91
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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92
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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93
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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94
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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95
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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96
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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97
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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98
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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99
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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100
worthier
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| 应得某事物( worthy的比较级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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101
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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102
repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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103
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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104
impersonality
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| n.无人情味 | |
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105
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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106
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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107
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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108
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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