1. August the Eighth. Morning and Afternoon
At post-time on that following Monday morning, Cytherea watched so anxiously for the postman, that as the time which must bring him narrowed less and less her vivid expectation had only a degree less tangibility1 than his presence itself. In another second his form came into view. He brought two letters for Cytherea.
One from Miss Aldclyffe, simply stating that she wished Cytherea to come on trial: that she would require her to be at Knapwater House by Monday evening.
The other was from Edward Springrove. He told her that she was the bright spot of his life: that her existence was far dearer to him than his own: that he had never known what it was to love till he had met her. True, he had felt passing attachments3 to other faces from time to time; but they all had been weak inclinations4 towards those faces as they then appeared. He loved her past and future, as well as her present. He pictured her as a child: he loved her. He pictured her of sage5 years: he loved her. He pictured her in trouble; he loved her. Homely6 friendship entered into his love for her, without which all love was evanescent.
He would make one depressing statement. Uncontrollable circumstances (a long history, with which it was impossible to acquaint her at present) operated to a certain extent as a drag upon his wishes. He had felt this more strongly at the time of their parting than he did now—and it was the cause of his abrupt7 behaviour, for which he begged her to forgive him. He saw now an honourable8 way of freeing himself, and the perception had prompted him to write. In the meantime might he indulge in the hope of possessing her on some bright future day, when by hard labour generated from her own encouraging words, he had placed himself in a position she would think worthy9 to be shared with him?
Dear little letter; she huddled10 it up. So much more important a love-letter seems to a girl than to a man. Springrove was unconsciously clever in his letters, and a man with a talent of that kind may write himself up to a hero in the mind of a young woman who loves him without knowing much about him. Springrove already stood a cubit higher in her imagination than he did in his shoes.
During the day she flitted about the room in an ecstasy11 of pleasure, packing the things and thinking of an answer which should be worthy of the tender tone of the question, her love bubbling from her involuntarily, like prophesyings from a prophet.
In the afternoon Owen went with her to the railway-station, and put her in the train for Carriford Road, the station nearest to Knapwater House.
Half-an-hour later she stepped out upon the platform, and found nobody there to receive her—though a pony12-carriage was waiting outside. In two minutes she saw a melancholy13 man in cheerful livery running towards her from a public-house close adjoining, who proved to be the servant sent to fetch her. There are two ways of getting rid of sorrows: one by living them down, the other by drowning them. The coachman drowned his.
He informed her that her luggage would be fetched by a spring-waggon in about half-an-hour; then helped her into the chaise and drove off.
Her lover’s letter, lying close against her neck, fortified14 her against the restless timidity she had previously16 felt concerning this new undertaking17, and completely furnished her with the confident ease of mind which is required for the critical observation of surrounding objects. It was just that stage in the slow decline of the summer days, when the deep, dark, and vacuous18 hot-weather shadows are beginning to be replaced by blue ones that have a surface and substance to the eye. They trotted19 along the turnpike road for a distance of about a mile, which brought them just outside the village of Carriford, and then turned through large lodge-gates, on the heavy stone piers20 of which stood a pair of bitterns cast in bronze. They then entered the park and wound along a drive shaded by old and drooping21 lime-trees, not arranged in the form of an avenue, but standing22 irregularly, sometimes leaving the track completely exposed to the sky, at other times casting a shade over it, which almost approached gloom—the under surface of the lowest boughs23 hanging at a uniform level of six feet above the grass—the extreme height to which the nibbling24 mouths of the cattle could reach.
‘Is that the house?’ said Cytherea expectantly, catching25 sight of a grey gable between the trees, and losing it again.
‘No; that’s the old manor-house—or rather all that’s left of it. The Aldycliffes used to let it sometimes, but it was oftener empty. ’Tis now divided into three cottages. Respectable people didn’t care to live there.’
‘Why didn’t they?’
‘Well, ’tis so awkward and unhandy. You see so much of it has been pulled down, and the rooms that are left won’t do very well for a small residence. ’Tis so dismal26, too, and like most old houses stands too low down in the hollow to be healthy.’
‘Do they tell any horrid27 stories about it?’
‘No, not a single one.’
‘Ah, that’s a pity.’
‘Yes, that’s what I say. ’Tis jest the house for a nice ghastly hair-on-end story, that would make the parish religious. Perhaps it will have one some day to make it complete; but there’s not a word of the kind now. There, I wouldn’t live there for all that. In fact, I couldn’t. O no, I couldn’t.’
‘Why couldn’t you?’
‘The sounds.’
‘What are they?’
‘One is the waterfall, which stands so close by that you can hear that there waterfall in every room of the house, night or day, ill or well. ’Tis enough to drive anybody mad: now hark.’
He stopped the horse. Above the slight common sounds in the air came the unvarying steady rush of falling water from some spot unseen on account of the thick foliage28 of the grove2.
‘There’s something awful in the timing29 o’ that sound, ain’t there, miss?’
‘When you say there is, there really seems to be. You said there were two—what is the other horrid sound?’
‘The pumping-engine. That’s close by the Old House, and sends water up the hill and all over the Great House. We shall hear that directly.... There, now hark again.’
From the same direction down the dell they could now hear the whistling creak of cranks, repeated at intervals30 of half-a-minute, with a sousing noise between each: a creak, a souse, then another creak, and so on continually.
‘Now if anybody could make shift to live through the other sounds, these would finish him off, don’t you think so, miss? That machine goes on night and day, summer and winter, and is hardly ever greased or visited. Ah, it tries the nerves at night, especially if you are not very well; though we don’t often hear it at the Great House.’
‘That sound is certainly very dismal. They might have the wheel greased. Does Miss Aldclyffe take any interest in these things?’
‘Well, scarcely; you see her father doesn’t attend to that sort of thing as he used to. The engine was once quite his hobby. But now he’s getten old and very seldom goes there.’
‘How many are there in family?’
‘Only her father and herself. He’s a’ old man of seventy.’
‘I had thought that Miss Aldclyffe was sole mistress of the property, and lived here alone.’
‘No, m—’ The coachman was continually checking himself thus, being about to style her miss involuntarily, and then recollecting32 that he was only speaking to the new lady’s-maid.
‘She will soon be mistress, however, I am afraid,’ he continued, as if speaking by a spirit of prophecy denied to ordinary humanity. ‘The poor old gentleman has decayed very fast lately.’ The man then drew a long breath.
‘Why did you breathe sadly like that?’ said Cytherea.
‘Ah!... When he’s dead peace will be all over with us old servants. I expect to see the old house turned inside out.’
‘She will marry, do you mean?’
‘Marry—not she! I wish she would. No, in her soul she’s as solitary33 as Robinson Crusoe, though she has acquaintances in plenty, if not relations. There’s the rector, Mr. Raunham—he’s a relation by marriage—yet she’s quite distant towards him. And people say that if she keeps single there will be hardly a life between Mr. Raunham and the heirship34 of the estate. Dang it, she don’t care. She’s an extraordinary picture of womankind—very extraordinary.’
‘In what way besides?’
‘You’ll know soon enough, miss. She has had seven lady’s-maids this last twelvemonth. I assure you ’tis one body’s work to fetch ’em from the station and take ’em back again. The Lord must be a neglectful party at heart, or he’d never permit such overbearen goings on!’
‘Does she dismiss them directly they come!’
‘Not at all—she never dismisses them—they go theirselves. Ye see ’tis like this. She’s got a very quick temper; she flees in a passion with them for nothing at all; next mornen they come up and say they are going; she’s sorry for it and wishes they’d stay, but she’s as proud as a lucifer, and her pride won’t let her say, “Stay,” and away they go. ’Tis like this in fact. If you say to her about anybody, “Ah, poor thing!” she says, “Pooh! indeed!” If you say, “Pooh, indeed!” “Ah, poor thing!” she says directly. She hangs the chief baker35, as mid15 be, and restores the chief butler, as mid be, though the devil but Pharaoh herself can see the difference between ’em.’
Cytherea was silent. She feared she might be again a burden to her brother.
‘However, you stand a very good chance,’ the man went on, ‘for I think she likes you more than common. I have never known her send the pony-carriage to meet one before; ’tis always the trap, but this time she said, in a very particular ladylike tone, “Roobert, gaow with the pony-kerriage.”... There, ’tis true, pony and carriage too are getten rather shabby now,’ he added, looking round upon the vehicle as if to keep Cytherea’s pride within reasonable limits.
”Tis to be hoped you’ll please in dressen her to-night.’
‘Why to-night?’
‘There’s a dinner-party of seventeen; ’tis her father’s birthday, and she’s very particular about her looks at such times. Now see; this is the house. Livelier up here, isn’t it, miss?’
They were now on rising ground, and had just emerged from a clump36 of trees. Still a little higher than where they stood was situated37 the mansion38, called Knapwater House, the offices gradually losing themselves among the trees behind.
2. Evening
The house was regularly and substantially built of clean grey freestone throughout, in that plainer fashion of Greek classicism which prevailed at the latter end of the last century, when the copyists called designers had grown weary of fantastic variations in the Roman orders. The main block approximated to a square on the ground plan, having a projection39 in the centre of each side, surmounted40 by a pediment. From each angle of the inferior side ran a line of buildings lower than the rest, turning inwards again at their further end, and forming within them a spacious41 open court, within which resounded42 an echo of astonishing clearness. These erections were in their turn backed by ivy-covered ice-houses, laundries, and stables, the whole mass of subsidiary buildings being half buried beneath close-set shrubs43 and trees.
There was opening sufficient through the foliage on the right hand to enable her on nearer approach to form an idea of the arrangement of the remoter or lawn front also. The natural features and contour of this quarter of the site had evidently dictated44 the position of the house primarily, and were of the ordinary, and upon the whole, most satisfactory kind, namely, a broad, graceful45 slope running from the terrace beneath the walls to the margin46 of a placid47 lake lying below, upon the surface of which a dozen swans and a green punt floated at leisure. An irregular wooded island stood in the midst of the lake; beyond this and the further margin of the water were plantations48 and greensward of varied49 outlines, the trees heightening, by half veiling, the softness of the exquisite50 landscape stretching behind.
The glimpses she had obtained of this portion were now checked by the angle of the building. In a minute or two they reached the side door, at which Cytherea alighted. She was welcomed by an elderly woman of lengthy51 smiles and general pleasantness, who announced herself to be Mrs. Morris, the housekeeper52.
‘Mrs. Graye, I believe?’ she said.
‘I am not—O yes, yes, we are all mistresses,’ said Cytherea, smiling, but forcedly. The title accorded her seemed disagreeably like the first slight scar of a brand, and she thought of Owen’s prophecy.
Mrs. Morris led her into a comfortable parlour called The Room. Here tea was made ready, and Cytherea sat down, looking, whenever occasion allowed, at Mrs. Morris with great interest and curiosity, to discover, if possible, something in her which should give a clue to the secret of her knowledge of herself, and the recommendation based upon it. But nothing was to be learnt, at any rate just then. Mrs. Morris was perpetually getting up, feeling in her pockets, going to cupboards, leaving the room two or three minutes, and trotting53 back again.
‘You’ll excuse me, Mrs. Graye,’ she said, ‘but ’tis the old gentleman’s birthday, and they always have a lot of people to dinner on that day, though he’s getting up in years now. However, none of them are sleepers—she generally keeps the house pretty clear of lodgers54 (being a lady with no intimate friends, though many acquaintances), which, though it gives us less to do, makes it all the duller for the younger maids in the house.’ Mrs. Morris then proceeded to give in fragmentary speeches an outline of the constitution and government of the estate.
‘Now, are you sure you have quite done tea? Not a bit or drop more? Why, you’ve eaten nothing, I’m sure.... Well, now, it is rather inconvenient55 that the other maid is not here to show you the ways of the house a little, but she left last Saturday, and Miss Aldclyffe has been making shift with poor old clumsy me for a maid all yesterday and this morning. She is not come in yet. I expect she will ask for you, Mrs. Graye, the first thing.... I was going to say that if you have really done tea, I will take you upstairs, and show you through the wardrobes—Miss Aldclyffe’s things are not laid out for to-night yet.’
She preceded Cytherea upstairs, pointed56 out her own room, and then took her into Miss Aldclyffe’s dressing57-room, on the first-floor; where, after explaining the whereabouts of various articles of apparel, the housekeeper left her, telling her that she had an hour yet upon her hands before dressing-time. Cytherea laid out upon the bed in the next room all that she had been told would be required that evening, and then went again to the little room which had been appropriated to herself.
Here she sat down by the open window, leant out upon the sill like another Blessed Damozel, and listlessly looked down upon the brilliant pattern of colours formed by the flower-beds on the lawn—now richly crowded with late summer blossom. But the vivacity58 of spirit which had hitherto enlivened her, was fast ebbing59 under the pressure of prosaic60 realities, and the warm scarlet61 of the geraniums, glowing most conspicuously62, and mingling63 with the vivid cold red and green of the verbenas, the rich depth of the dahlia, and the ripe mellowness64 of the calceolaria, backed by the pale hue65 of a flock of meek66 sheep feeding in the open park, close to the other side of the fence, were, to a great extent, lost upon her eyes. She was thinking that nothing seemed worth while; that it was possible she might die in a workhouse; and what did it matter? The petty, vulgar details of servitude that she had just passed through, her dependence67 upon the whims68 of a strange woman, the necessity of quenching69 all individuality of character in herself, and relinquishing70 her own peculiar71 tastes to help on the wheel of this alien establishment, made her sick and sad, and she almost longed to pursue some free, out-of-doors employment, sleep under trees or a hut, and know no enemy but winter and cold weather, like shepherds and cowkeepers, and birds and animals—ay, like the sheep she saw there under her window. She looked sympathizingly at them for several minutes, imagining their enjoyment72 of the rich grass.
‘Yes—like those sheep,’ she said aloud; and her face reddened with surprise at a discovery she made that very instant.
The flock consisted of some ninety or a hundred young stock ewes: the surface of their fleece was as rounded and even as a cushion, and white as milk. Now she had just observed that on the left buttock of every one of them were marked in distinct red letters the initials ‘E. S.’
‘E. S.’ could bring to Cytherea’s mind only one thought; but that immediately and for ever—the name of her lover, Edward Springrove.
‘O, if it should be-!’ She interrupted her words by a resolve. Miss Aldclyffe’s carriage at the same moment made its appearance in the drive; but Miss Aldclyffe was not her object now. It was to ascertain74 to whom the sheep belonged, and to set her surmise75 at rest one way or the other. She flew downstairs to Mrs. Morris.
‘Whose sheep are those in the park, Mrs. Morris?’
‘Farmer Springrove’s.’
‘What Farmer Springrove is that?’ she said quickly.
‘Why, surely you know? Your friend, Farmer Springrove, the cider-maker, and who keeps the Three Tranters Inn; who recommended you to me when he came in to see me the other day?’
Cytherea’s mother-wit suddenly warned her in the midst of her excitement that it was necessary not to betray the secret of her love. ‘O yes,’ she said, ‘of course.’ Her thoughts had run as follows in that short interval:—
‘Farmer Springrove is Edward’s father, and his name is Edward too.
‘Edward knew I was going to advertise for a situation of some kind.
‘He watched the Times, and saw it, my address being attached.
‘He thought it would be excellent for me to be here that we might meet whenever he came home.
‘He told his father that I might be recommended as a lady’s-maid; and he knew my brother and myself.
‘His father told Mrs. Morris; Mrs. Morris told Miss Aldclyffe.’
The whole chain of incidents that drew her there was plain, and there was no such thing as chance in the matter. It was all Edward’s doing.
The sound of a bell was heard. Cytherea did not heed76 it, and still continued in her reverie.
‘That’s Miss Aldclyffe’s bell,’ said Mrs. Morris.
‘I suppose it is,’ said the young woman placidly77.
‘Well, it means that you must go up to her,’ the matron continued, in a tone of surprise.
Cytherea felt a burning heat come over her, mingled78 with a sudden irritation79 at Mrs. Morris’s hint. But the good sense which had recognized stern necessity prevailed over rebellious80 independence; the flush passed, and she said hastily—
‘Yes, yes; of course, I must go to her when she pulls the bell—whether I want to or no.’
However, in spite of this painful reminder81 of her new position in life, Cytherea left the apartment in a mood far different from the gloomy sadness of ten minutes previous. The place felt like home to her now; she did not mind the pettiness of her occupation, because Edward evidently did not mind it; and this was Edward’s own spot. She found time on her way to Miss Aldclyffe’s dressing-room to hurriedly glide82 out by a side door, and look for a moment at the unconscious sheep bearing the friendly initials. She went up to them to try to touch one of the flock, and felt vexed83 that they all stared sceptically at her kind advances, and then ran pell-mell down the hill. Then, fearing any one should discover her childish movements, she slipped indoors again, and ascended84 the staircase, catching glimpses, as she passed, of silver-buttoned footmen, who flashed about the passages like lightning.
Miss Aldclyffe’s dressing-room was an apartment which, on a casual survey, conveyed an impression that it was available for almost any purpose save the adornment85 of the feminine person. In its hours of perfect order nothing pertaining86 to the toilet was visible; even the inevitable88 mirrors with their accessories were arranged in a roomy recess89 not noticeable from the door, lighted by a window of its own, called the dressing-window.
The washing-stand figured as a vast oak chest, carved with grotesque90 Renaissance91 ornament92. The dressing table was in appearance something between a high altar and a cabinet piano, the surface being richly worked in the same style of semi-classic decoration, but the extraordinary outline having been arrived at by an ingenious joiner and decorator from the neighbouring town, after months of painful toil87 in cutting and fitting, under Miss Aldclyffe’s immediate73 eye; the materials being the remains93 of two or three old cabinets the lady had found in the lumber-room. About two-thirds of the floor was carpeted, the remaining portion being laid with parquetry of light and dark woods.
Miss Aldclyffe was standing at the larger window, away from the dressing-niche. She bowed, and said pleasantly, ‘I am glad you have come. We shall get on capitally, I dare say.’
Her bonnet94 was off. Cytherea did not think her so handsome as on the earlier day; the queenliness of her beauty was harder and less warm. But a worse discovery than this was that Miss Aldclyffe, with the usual obliviousness95 of rich people to their dependents’ specialities, seemed to have quite forgotten Cytherea’s inexperience, and mechanically delivered up her body to her handmaid without a thought of details, and with a mild yawn.
Everything went well at first. The dress was removed, stockings and black boots were taken off, and silk stockings and white shoes were put on. Miss Aldclyffe then retired96 to bathe her hands and face, and Cytherea drew breath. If she could get through this first evening, all would be right. She felt that it was unfortunate that such a crucial test for her powers as a birthday dinner should have been applied97 on the threshold of her arrival; but set to again.
Miss Aldclyffe was now arrayed in a white dressing-gown, and dropped languidly into an easy-chair, pushed up before the glass. The instincts of her sex and her own practice told Cytherea the next movement. She let Miss Aldclyffe’s hair fall about her shoulders, and began to arrange it. It proved to be all real; a satisfaction.
Miss Aldclyffe was musingly98 looking on the floor, and the operation went on for some minutes in silence. At length her thoughts seemed to turn to the present, and she lifted her eyes to the glass.
‘Why, what on earth are you doing with my head?’ she exclaimed, with widely opened eyes. At the words she felt the back of Cytherea’s little hand tremble against her neck.
‘Perhaps you prefer it done the other fashion, madam?’ said the maiden99.
‘No, no; that’s the fashion right enough, but you must make more show of my hair than that, or I shall have to buy some, which God forbid!’
‘It is how I do my own,’ said Cytherea naively100, and with a sweetness of tone that would have pleased the most acrimonious101 under favourable102 circumstances; but tyranny was in the ascendant with Miss Aldclyffe at this moment, and she was assured of palatable103 food for her vice104 by having felt the trembling of Cytherea’s hand.
‘Yours, indeed! Your hair! Come, go on.’ Considering that Cytherea possessed105 at least five times as much of that valuable auxiliary106 to woman’s beauty as the lady before her, there was at the same time some excuse for Miss Aldclyffe’s outburst. She remembered herself, however, and said more quietly, ‘Now then, Graye—By-the-bye, what do they call you downstairs?’
‘Mrs. Graye,’ said the handmaid.
‘Then tell them not to do any such absurd thing—not but that it is quite according to usage; but you are too young yet.’
This dialogue tided Cytherea safely onward107 through the hairdressing till the flowers and diamonds were to be placed upon the lady’s brow. Cytherea began arranging them tastefully, and to the very best of her judgment108.
‘That won’t do,’ said Miss Aldclyffe harshly.
‘Why?’
‘I look too young—an old dressed doll.’
‘Will that, madam?’
‘No, I look a fright—a perfect fright!’
‘This way, perhaps?’
‘Heavens! Don’t worry me so.’ She shut her lips like a trap.
Having once worked herself up to the belief that her head-dress was to be a failure that evening, no cleverness of Cytherea’s in arranging it could please her. She continued in a smouldering passion during the remainder of the performance, keeping her lips firmly closed, and the muscles of her body rigid109. Finally, snatching up her gloves, and taking her handkerchief and fan in her hand, she silently sailed out of the room, without betraying the least consciousness of another woman’s presence behind her.
Cytherea’s fears that at the undressing this suppressed anger would find a vent31, kept her on thorns throughout the evening. She tried to read; she could not. She tried to sew; she could not. She tried to muse110; she could not do that connectedly. ‘If this is the beginning, what will the end be!’ she said in a whisper, and felt many misgivings111 as to the policy of being overhasty in establishing an independence at the expense of congruity112 with a cherished past.
3. Midnight
The clock struck twelve. The Aldclyffe state dinner was over. The company had all gone, and Miss Aldclyffe’s bell rang loudly and jerkingly.
Cytherea started to her feet at the sound, which broke in upon a fitful sleep that had overtaken her. She had been sitting drearily113 in her chair waiting minute after minute for the signal, her brain in that state of intentness which takes cognizance of the passage of Time as a real motion—motion without matter—the instants throbbing114 past in the company of a feverish115 pulse. She hastened to the room, to find the lady sitting before the dressing shrine116, illuminated117 on both sides, and looking so queenly in her attitude of absolute repose118, that the younger woman felt the awfullest sense of responsibility at her Vandalism in having undertaken to demolish119 so imposing120 a pile.
The lady’s jewelled ornaments121 were taken off in silence—some by her own listless hands, some by Cytherea’s. Then followed the outer stratum122 of clothing. The dress being removed, Cytherea took it in her hand and went with it into the bedroom adjoining, intending to hang it in the wardrobe. But on second thoughts, in order that she might not keep Miss Aldclyffe waiting a moment longer than necessary, she flung it down on the first resting-place that came to hand, which happened to be the bed, and reentered the dressing-room with the noiseless footfall of a kitten. She paused in the middle of the room.
She was unnoticed, and her sudden return had plainly not been expected. During the short time of Cytherea’s absence, Miss Aldclyffe had pulled off a kind of chemisette of Brussels net, drawn123 high above the throat, which she had worn with her evening dress as a semi-opaque covering to her shoulders, and in its place had put her night-gown round her. Her right hand was lifted to her neck, as if engaged in fastening her night-gown.
But on a second glance Miss Aldclyffe’s proceeding124 was clearer to Cytherea. She was not fastening her night-gown; it had been carelessly thrown round her, and Miss Aldclyffe was really occupied in holding up to her eyes some small object that she was keenly scrutinizing125. And now on suddenly discovering the presence of Cytherea at the back of the apartment, instead of naturally continuing or concluding her inspection126, she desisted hurriedly; the tiny snap of a spring was heard, her hand was removed, and she began adjusting her robes.
Modesty127 might have directed her hasty action of enwrapping her shoulders, but it was scarcely likely, considering Miss Aldclyffe’s temperament128, that she had all her life been used to a maid, Cytherea’s youth, and the elder lady’s marked treatment of her as if she were a mere129 child or plaything. The matter was too slight to reason about, and yet upon the whole it seemed that Miss Aldclyffe must have a practical reason for concealing131 her neck.
With a timid sense of being an intruder Cytherea was about to step back and out of the room; but at the same moment Miss Aldclyffe turned, saw the impulse, and told her companion to stay, looking into her eyes as if she had half an intention to explain something. Cytherea felt certain it was the little mystery of her late movements. The other withdrew her eyes; Cytherea went to fetch the dressing-gown, and wheeled round again to bring it up to Miss Aldclyffe, who had now partly removed her night-dress to put it on the proper way, and still sat with her back towards Cytherea.
Her neck was again quite open and uncovered, and though hidden from the direct line of Cytherea’s vision, she saw it reflected in the glass—the fair white surface, and the inimitable combination of curves between throat and bosom133 which artists adore, being brightly lit up by the light burning on either side.
And the lady’s prior proceedings134 were now explained in the simplest manner. In the midst of her breast, like an island in a sea of pearl, reclined an exquisite little gold locket, embellished135 with arabesque136 work of blue, red, and white enamel137. That was undoubtedly138 what Miss Aldclyffe had been contemplating139; and, moreover, not having been put off with her other ornaments, it was to be retained during the night—a slight departure from the custom of ladies which Miss Aldclyffe had at first not cared to exhibit to her new assistant, though now, on further thought, she seemed to have become indifferent on the matter.
‘My dressing-gown,’ she said, quietly fastening her night-dress as she spoke140.
Cytherea came forward with it. Miss Aldclyffe did not turn her head, but looked inquiringly at her maid in the glass.
‘You saw what I wear on my neck, I suppose?’ she said to Cytherea’s reflected face.
‘Yes, madam, I did,’ said Cytherea to Miss Aldclyffe’s reflected face.
Miss Aldclyffe again looked at Cytherea’s reflection as if she were on the point of explaining. Again she checked her resolve, and said lightly—
‘Few of my maids discover that I wear it always. I generally keep it a secret—not that it matters much. But I was careless with you, and seemed to want to tell you. You win me to make confidences that....’
She ceased, took Cytherea’s hand in her own, lifted the locket with the other, touched the spring and disclosed a miniature.
‘It is a handsome face, is it not?’ she whispered mournfully, and even timidly.
‘It is.’
But the sight had gone through Cytherea like an electric shock, and there was an instantaneous awakening141 of perception in her, so thrilling in its presence as to be well-nigh insupportable. The face in the miniature was the face of her own father—younger and fresher than she had ever known him—but her father!
Was this the woman of his wild and unquenchable early love? And was this the woman who had figured in the gate-man’s story as answering the name of Cytherea before her judgment was awake? Surely it was. And if so, here was the tangible142 outcrop of a romantic and hidden stratum of the past hitherto seen only in her imagination; but as far as her scope allowed, clearly defined therein by reason of its strangeness.
Miss Aldclyffe’s eyes and thoughts were so intent upon the miniature that she had not been conscious of Cytherea’s start of surprise. She went on speaking in a low and abstracted tone.
‘Yes, I lost him.’ She interrupted her words by a short meditation143, and went on again. ‘I lost him by excess of honesty as regarded my past. But it was best that it should be so.... I was led to think rather more than usual of the circumstances to-night because of your name. It is pronounced the same way, though differently spelt.’
The only means by which Cytherea’s surname could have been spelt to Miss Aldclyffe must have been by Mrs. Morris or Farmer Springrove. She fancied Farmer Springrove would have spelt it properly if Edward was his informant, which made Miss Aldclyffe’s remark obscure.
Women make confidences and then regret them. The impulsive144 rush of feeling which had led Miss Aldclyffe to indulge in this revelation, trifling145 as it was, died out immediately her words were beyond recall; and the turmoil146, occasioned in her by dwelling147 upon that chapter of her life, found vent in another kind of emotion—the result of a trivial accident.
Cytherea, after letting down Miss Aldclyffe’s hair, adopted some plan with it to which the lady had not been accustomed. A rapid revulsion to irritation ensued. The maiden’s mere touch seemed to discharge the pent-up regret of the lady as if she had been a jar of electricity.
‘How strangely you treat my hair!’ she exclaimed.
A silence.
‘I have told you what I never tell my maids as a rule; of course nothing that I say in this room is to be mentioned outside it.’ She spoke crossly no less than emphatically.
‘It shall not be, madam,’ said Cytherea, agitated148 and vexed that the woman of her romantic wonderings should be so disagreeable to her.
‘Why on earth did I tell you of my past?’ she went on.
Cytherea made no answer.
The lady’s vexation with herself, and the accident which had led to the disclosure swelled149 little by little till it knew no bounds. But what was done could not be undone150, and though Cytherea had shown a most winning responsiveness, quarrel Miss Aldclyffe must. She recurred151 to the subject of Cytherea’s want of expertness, like a bitter reviewer, who finding the sentiments of a poet unimpeachable152, quarrels with his rhymes.
‘Never, never before did I serve myself such a trick as this in engaging a maid!’ She waited for an expostulation: none came. Miss Aldclyffe tried again.
‘The idea of my taking a girl without asking her more than three questions, or having a single reference, all because of her good l—, the shape of her face and body! It was a fool’s trick. There, I am served right, quite right—by being deceived in such a way.’
‘I didn’t deceive you,’ said Cytherea. The speech was an unfortunate one, and was the very ‘fuel to maintain its fires’ that the other’s petulance153 desired.
‘You did,’ she said hotly.
‘I told you I couldn’t promise to be acquainted with every detail of routine just at first.’
‘Will you contradict me in this way! You are telling untruths, I say.’
Cytherea’s lip quivered. ‘I would answer the remark if—if—’
‘If what?’
‘If it were a lady’s!’
‘You girl of impudence—what do you say? Leave the room this instant, I tell you.’
‘And I tell you that a person who speaks to a lady as you do to me, is no lady herself!’
‘To a lady? A lady’s-maid speaks in this way. The idea!’
‘Don’t “lady’s-maid” me: nobody is my mistress I won’t have it!’
‘Good Heavens!’
‘I wouldn’t have come—no—I wouldn’t! if I had known!’
‘What?’
‘That you were such an ill-tempered, unjust woman!’
‘Possest beyond the Muse’s painting,’ Miss Aldclyffe exclaimed—
‘A Woman, am I! I’ll teach you if I am a Woman!’ and lifted her hand as if she would have liked to strike her companion. This stung the maiden into absolute defiance154.
‘I dare you to touch me!’ she cried. ‘Strike me if you dare, madam! I am not afraid of you—what do you mean by such an action as that?’
Miss Aldclyffe was disconcerted at this unexpected show of spirit, and ashamed of her unladylike impulse now it was put into words. She sank back in the chair. ‘I was not going to strike you—go to your room—I beg you to go to your room!’ she repeated in a husky whisper.
Cytherea, red and panting, took up her candlestick and advanced to the table to get a light. As she stood close to them the rays from the candles struck sharply on her face. She usually bore a much stronger likeness155 to her mother than to her father, but now, looking with a grave, reckless, and angered expression of countenance156 at the kindling157 wick as she held it slanting158 into the other flame, her father’s features were distinct in her. It was the first time Miss Aldclyffe had seen her in a passionate159 mood, and wearing that expression which was invariably its concomitant. It was Miss Aldclyffe’s turn to start now; and the remark she made was an instance of that sudden change of tone from high-flown invective160 to the pettiness of curiosity which so often makes women’s quarrels ridiculous. Even Miss Aldclyffe’s dignity had not sufficient power to postpone161 the absorbing desire she now felt to settle the strange suspicion that had entered her head.
‘You spell your name the common way, G, R, E, Y, don’t you?’ she said, with assumed indifference162.
‘No,’ said Cytherea, poised163 on the side of her foot, and still looking into the flame.
‘Yes, surely? The name was spelt that way on your boxes: I looked and saw it myself.’
The enigma164 of Miss Aldclyffe’s mistake was solved. ‘O, was it?’ said Cytherea. ‘Ah, I remember Mrs. Jackson, the lodging-house keeper at Budmouth, labelled them. We spell our name G, R, A, Y, E.’
‘What was your father’s trade?’
Cytherea thought it would be useless to attempt to conceal130 facts any longer. ‘His was not a trade,’ she said. ‘He was an architect.’
‘The idea of your being an architect’s daughter!’
‘There’s nothing to offend you in that, I hope?’
‘O no.’
‘Why did you say “the idea”?’
‘Leave that alone. Did he ever visit in Gower Street, Bloomsbury, one Christmas, many years ago?—but you would not know that.’
‘I have heard him say that Mr. Huntway, a curate somewhere in that part of London, and who died there, was an old college friend of his.’
‘What is your Christian165 name?’
‘Cytherea.’
‘No! And is it really? And you knew that face I showed you? Yes, I see you did.’ Miss Aldclyffe stopped, and closed her lips impassibly. She was a little agitated.
‘Do you want me any longer?’ said Cytherea, standing candle in hand and looking quietly in Miss Aldclyffe’s face.
‘Well—no: no longer,’ said the other lingeringly.
‘With your permission, I will leave the house to morrow morning, madam.’
‘Ah.’ Miss Aldclyffe had no notion of what she was saying.
‘And I know you will be so good as not to intrude132 upon me during the short remainder of my stay?’
Saying this Cytherea left the room before her companion had answered. Miss Aldclyffe, then, had recognized her at last, and had been curious about her name from the beginning.
The other members of the household had retired to rest. As Cytherea went along the passage leading to her room her skirts rustled166 against the partition. A door on her left opened, and Mrs. Morris looked out.
‘I waited out of bed till you came up,’ she said, ‘it being your first night, in case you should be at a loss for anything. How have you got on with Miss Aldclyffe?’
‘Pretty well—though not so well as I could have wished.’
‘Has she been scolding?’
‘A little.’
‘She’s a very odd lady—’tis all one way or the other with her. She’s not bad at heart, but unbearable167 in close quarters. Those of us who don’t have much to do with her personally, stay on for years and years.’
‘Has Miss Aldclyffe’s family always been rich?’ said Cytherea.
‘O no. The property, with the name, came from her mother’s uncle. Her family is a branch of the old Aldclyffe family on the maternal168 side. Her mother married a Bradleigh—a mere nobody at that time—and was on that account cut by her relations. But very singularly the other branch of the family died out one by one—three of them, and Miss Aldclyffe’s great-uncle then left all his property, including this estate, to Captain Bradleigh and his wife—Miss Aldclyffe’s father and mother—on condition that they took the old family name as well. There’s all about it in the “Landed Gentry169.” ’Tis a thing very often done.’
‘O, I see. Thank you. Well, now I am going. Good-night.’
收听单词发音 |
1
tangibility
|
|
| n.确切性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
attachments
|
|
| n.（用电子邮件发送的）附件( attachment的名词复数 )；附着；连接；附属物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
inclinations
|
|
| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
sage
|
|
| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
huddled
|
|
| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
fortified
|
|
| adj. 加强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
mid
|
|
| adj.中央的，中间的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
vacuous
|
|
| adj.空的，漫散的，无聊的，愚蠢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
piers
|
|
| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
drooping
|
|
| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
boughs
|
|
| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
nibbling
|
|
| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
timing
|
|
| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
intervals
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
vent
|
|
| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
recollecting
|
|
| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
heirship
|
|
| n.继承权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
baker
|
|
| n.面包师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
clump
|
|
| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
projection
|
|
| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
surmounted
|
|
| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
resounded
|
|
| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
shrubs
|
|
| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
dictated
|
|
| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
plantations
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
lengthy
|
|
| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
trotting
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
lodgers
|
|
| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
vivacity
|
|
| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
ebbing
|
|
| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
prosaic
|
|
| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
conspicuously
|
|
| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
mingling
|
|
| adj.混合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
mellowness
|
|
| 成熟； 芳醇； 肥沃； 怡然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
meek
|
|
| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
dependence
|
|
| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
WHIMS
|
|
| 虚妄，禅病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
quenching
|
|
| 淬火，熄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
relinquishing
|
|
| 交出，让给( relinquish的现在分词 )； 放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
ascertain
|
|
| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
surmise
|
|
| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
heed
|
|
| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
placidly
|
|
| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
rebellious
|
|
| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
reminder
|
|
| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
glide
|
|
| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
vexed
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
ascended
|
|
| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
adornment
|
|
| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
pertaining
|
|
| 与…有关系的，附属…的，为…固有的(to) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
grotesque
|
|
| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
renaissance
|
|
| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
ornament
|
|
| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
obliviousness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
musingly
|
|
| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
99
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
naively
|
|
| adv. 天真地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
acrimonious
|
|
| adj.严厉的，辛辣的，刻毒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
palatable
|
|
| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
vice
|
|
| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
auxiliary
|
|
| adj.辅助的，备用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
onward
|
|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
muse
|
|
| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
misgivings
|
|
| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
congruity
|
|
| n.全等，一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
drearily
|
|
| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
throbbing
|
|
| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
shrine
|
|
| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
demolish
|
|
| v.拆毁(建筑物等)，推翻(计划、制度等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
imposing
|
|
| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
ornaments
|
|
| 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 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
stratum
|
|
| n.地层，社会阶层 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
scrutinizing
|
|
| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
modesty
|
|
| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
concealing
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
intrude
|
|
| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
embellished
|
|
| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
arabesque
|
|
| n.阿拉伯式花饰；adj.阿拉伯式图案的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
enamel
|
|
| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
meditation
|
|
| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
impulsive
|
|
| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
turmoil
|
|
| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
swelled
|
|
| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
undone
|
|
| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
recurred
|
|
| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
unimpeachable
|
|
| adj.无可指责的；adv.无可怀疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
petulance
|
|
| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
defiance
|
|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
kindling
|
|
| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
invective
|
|
| n.痛骂，恶意抨击 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
postpone
|
|
| v.延期，推迟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
poised
|
|
| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
enigma
|
|
| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
rustled
|
|
| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
unbearable
|
|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
gentry
|
|
| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |