MISS HEPZIBAH PYNCHEON sat in the oaken elbow-chair, with her hands over her face, giving way to that heavy down-sinking of the heart which most persons have experienced, when the image of hope itself seems ponderously1 moulded of lead, on the eve of an enterprise at once doubtful and momentous2. She was suddenly startled by the tinkling3 alarum — high, sharp, and irregular — of a little bell. The maiden4 lady arose upon her feet, as pale as a ghost at cock-crow; for she was an enslaved spirit, and this the talisman5 to which she owed obedience6. This little bell — to speak in plainer terms — being fastened over the shop-door, was so contrived7 as to vibrate by means of a steel spring, and thus convey notice to the inner regions of the house when any customer should cross the threshold. Its ugly and spiteful little din8 (heard now for the first time, perhaps, since Hepzibah’s periwigged predecessor9 had retired10 from trade) at once set every nerve of her body in responsive and tumultuous vibration11. The crisis was upon her! Her first customer was at the door!
Without giving herself time for a second thought, she rushed into the shop, pale, wild, desperate in gesture and expression, scowling12 portentously14, and looking far better qualified15 to do fierce battle with a housebreaker than to stand smiling behind the counter, bartering16 small wares17 for a copper18 recompense. Any ordinary customer, indeed, would have turned his back and fled. And yet there was nothing fierce in Hepzibah’s poor old heart; nor had she, at the moment, a single bitter thought against the world at large, or one individual man or woman. She wished them all well, but wished, too, that she herself were done with them, and in her quiet grave.
The applicant19, by this time, stood within the doorway20. Coming freshly, as he did, out of the morning light, he appeared to have brought some of its cheery influences into the shop along with him. It was a slender young man, not more than one or two and twenty years old, with rather a grave and thoughtful expression for his years, but likewise a springy alacrity21 and vigor22. These qualities were not only perceptible, physically23, in his make and motions, but made themselves felt almost immediately in his character. A brown beard, not too silken in its texture24, fringed his chin, but as yet without completely hiding it; he wore a short mustache, too, and his dark, high-featured countenance25 looked all the better for these natural ornaments26. As for his dress, it was of the simplest kind; a summer sack of cheap and ordinary material, thin checkered27 pantaloons, and a straw hat, by no means of the finest braid. Oak Hall might have supplied his entire equipment. He was chiefly marked as a gentleman — if such, indeed, he made any claim to be — by the rather remarkable28 whiteness and nicety of his clean linen29.
He met the scowl13 of old Hepzibah without apparent alarm, as having heretofore encountered it and found it harmless.
“So, my dear Miss Pyncheon,” said the daguerreotypist — for it was that sole other occupant of the seven-gabled mansion30 —“I am glad to see that you have not shrunk from your good purpose. I merely look in to offer my best wishes, and to ask if I can assist you any further in your preparations.”
People in difficulty and distress31, or in any manner at odds32 with the world, can endure a vast amount of harsh treatment, and perhaps be only the stronger for it; whereas they give way at once before the simplest expression of what they perceive to be genuine sympathy. So it proved with poor Hepzibah; for, when she saw the young man’s smile — looking so much the brighter on a thoughtful face — and heard his kindly33 tone, she broke first into a hysteric giggle34 and then began to sob35.
“Ah, Mr. Holgrave,” cried she, as soon as she could speak, “I never can go through with it Never, never, never I wish I were dead, and in the old family tomb, with all my forefathers36! With my father, and my mother, and my sister. Yes, and with my brother, who had far better find me there than here! The world is too chill and hard — and I am too old, and too feeble, and too hopeless!”
“Oh, believe me, Miss Hepzibah,” said the young man quietly, “these feelings will not trouble you any longer, after you are once fairly in the midst of your enterprise. They are unavoidable at this moment, standing37, as you do, on the outer verge38 of your long seclusion39, and peopling the world with ugly shapes, which you will soon find to be as unreal as the giants and ogres of a child’s story-book. I find nothing so singular in life, as that everything appears to lose its substance the instant one actually grapples with it. So it will be with what you think so terrible.”
“But I am a woman!” said Hepzibah piteously. “I was going to say, a lady — but I consider that as past.”
“Well; no matter if it be past!” answered the artist, a strange gleam of half-hidden sarcasm40 flashing through the kindliness41 of his manner. “Let it go You are the better without it. I speak frankly42, my dear Miss Pyncheon! for are we not friends? I look upon this as one of the fortunate days of your life. It ends an epoch43 and begins one. Hitherto, the life-blood has been gradually chilling in your veins44 as you sat aloof45, within your circle of gentility, while the rest of the world was fighting out its battle with one kind of necessity or another. Henceforth, you will at least have the sense of healthy and natural effort for a purpose, and of lending your strength be it great or small — to the united struggle of mankind. This is success — all the success that anybody meets with!”
“It is natural enough, Mr. Holgrave, that you should have ideas like these,” rejoined Hepzibah, drawing up her gaunt figure with slightly offended dignity. “You are a man, a young man, and brought up, I suppose, as almost everybody is nowadays, with a view to seeking your fortune. But I was born a lady. and have always lived one; no matter in what narrowness of means, always a lady.”
“But I was not born a gentleman; neither have I lived like one,” said Holgrave, slightly smiling; “so, my dear madam, you will hardly expect me to sympathize with sensibilities of this kind; though, unless I deceive myself, I have some imperfect comprehension of them. These names of gentleman and lady had a meaning, in the past history of the world, and conferred privileges, desirable or otherwise, on those entitled to bear them. In the present — and still more in the future condition of society-they imply, not privilege, but restriction47!”
“These are new notions,” said the old gentlewoman, shaking her head. “I shall never understand them; neither do I wish it.”
“We will cease to speak of them, then,” replied the artist, with a friendlier smile than his last one, “and I will leave you to feel whether it is not better to be a true woman than a lady. Do you really think, Miss Hepzibah, that any lady of your family has ever done a more heroic thing, since this house was built, than you are performing in it to-day? Never; and if the Pyncheons had always acted so nobly, I doubt whether an old wizard Maule’s anathema48, of which you told me once, would have had much weight with Providence49 against them.”
“Ah!— no, no!” said Hepzibah, not displeased50 at this allusion51 to the sombre dignity of an inherited curse. “If old Maule’s ghost, or a descendant of his, could see me behind the counter to-day. he would call it the fulfillment of his worst wishes. But I thank you for your kindness, Mr. Holgrave, and will do my utmost to be a good shop-keeper.”
“Pray do” said Holgrave, “and let me have the pleasure of being your first customer. I am about taking a walk to the seashore, before going to my rooms, where I misuse52 Heaven’s blessed sunshine by tracing out human features through its agency. A few of those biscuits, dipt in sea-water, will be just what I need for breakfast. What is the price of half a dozen?”
“Let me be a lady a moment longer,” replied Hepzibah, with a manner of antique stateliness to which a melancholy53 smile lent a kind of grace. She put the biscuits into his hand, but rejected the compensation. “A Pyncheon must not, at all events under her forefathers’ roof, receive money for a morsel55 of bread from her only friend!”
Holgrave took his departure, leaving her, for the moment, with spirits not quite so much depressed56. Soon, however, they had subsided57 nearly to their former dead level. With a beating heart, she listened to the footsteps of early passengers, which now began to be frequent along the street. Once or twice they seemed to linger; these strangers, or neighbors, as the case might be, were looking at the display of toys and petty commodities in Hepzibah’s shop-window. She was doubly tortured; in part, with a sense of overwhelming shame that strange and unloving eyes should have the privilege of gazing, and partly because the idea occurred to her, with ridiculous importunity58, that the window was not arranged so skilfully59, nor nearly to so much advantage, as it might have been. It seemed as if the whole fortune or failure of her shop might depend on the display of a different set of articles, or substituting a fairer apple for one which appeared to be specked. So she made the change, and straightway fancied that everything was spoiled by it; not recognizing that it was the nervousness of the juncture60, and her own native squeamishness as an old maid, that wrought61 all the seeming mischief62.
Anon, there was an encounter, just at the door-step, betwixt two laboring64 men, as their rough voices denoted them to be. After some slight talk about their own affairs, one of them chanced to notice the shop-window, and directed the other’s attention to it.
“See here!” cried he; “what do you think of this? Trade seems to be looking up in Pyncheon Street!”
“Well, well, this is a sight, to be sure!” exclaimed the other. “In the old Pyncheon House, and underneath65 the Pyncheon Elm! Who would have thought it? Old Maid Pyncheon is setting up a cent-shop!”
“Will she make it go, think you, Dixey;” said his friend. “I don’t call it a very good stand. There’s another shop just round the corner.”
“Make it go!” cried Dixey, with a most contemptuous expression, as if the very idea were impossible to be conceived. “Not a bit of it! Why, her face — I’ve seen it, for I dug her garden for her one year — her face is enough to frighten the Old Nick himself, if he had ever so great a mind to trade with her. People can’t stand it, I tell you! She scowls66 dreadfully, reason or none, out of pure ugliness of temper.”
“Well, that’s not so much matter,” remarked the other man. “These sour-tempered folks are mostly handy at business, and know pretty well what they are about. But, as you say, I don’t think she’ll do much. This business of keeping cent-shops is overdone67, like all other kinds of trade, handicraft, and bodily labor63. I know it, to my cost! My wife kept a cent-shop three months, and lost five dollars on her outlay68.”
“Poor business!” responded Dixey, in a tone as if he were shaking his head —“poor business.”
For some reason or other, not very easy to analyze69, there had hardly been so bitter a pang70 in all her previous misery71 about the matter as what thrilled Hepzibah’s heart on overhearing the above conversation. The testimony72 in regard to her scowl was frightfully important; it seemed to hold up her image wholly relieved from the false light of her self-partialities, and so hideous73 that she dared not look at it. She was absurdly hurt, moreover, by the slight and idle effect that her setting up shop — an event of such breathless interest to herself — appeared to have upon the public, of which these two men were the nearest representatives. A glance; a passing word or two; a coarse laugh; and she was doubtless forgotten before they turned the corner. They cared nothing for her dignity, and just as little for her degradation74. Then, also, the augury75 of ill-success, uttered from the sure wisdom of experience, fell upon her half-dead hope like a clod into a grave. The man’s wife had already tried the same experiment, and failed! How could the born, lady the recluse76 of half a lifetime, utterly77 unpractised in the world, at sixty years of age — how could she ever dream of succeeding, when the hard, vulgar, keen, busy, hackneyed New England woman had lost five dollars on her little outlay! Success presented itself as an impossibility, and the hope of it as a wild hallucination.
Some malevolent78 spirit, doing his utmost to drive Hepzibah mad, unrolled before her imagination a kind of panorama79, representing the great thoroughfare of a city all astir with customers. So many and so magnificent shops as there were! Groceries, toy-shops, drygoods stores, with their immense panes80 of plate-glass, their gorgeous fixtures81, their vast and complete assortments82 of merchandise, in which fortunes had been invested; and those noble mirrors at the farther end of each establishment, doubling all this wealth by a brightly burnished83 vista84 of unrealities! On one side of the street this splendid bazaar85, with a multitude of perfumed and glossy86 salesmen, smirking87, smiling, bowing, and measuring out the goods. On the other, the dusky old House of the Seven Gables, with the antiquated88 shop-window under its projecting story, and Hepzibah herself, in a gown of rusty89 black silk, behind the counter, scowling at the world as it went by! This mighty90 contrast thrust itself forward as a fair expression of the odds against which she was to begin her struggle for a subsistence. Success? Preposterous91! She would never think of it again! The house might just as well be buried in an eternal fog while all other houses had the sunshine on them; for not a foot would ever cross the threshold, nor a hand so much as try the door!
But, at this instant, the shop-bell, right over her head, tinkled92 as if it were bewitched. The old gentlewoman’s heart seemed to be attached to the same steel spring, for it went through a series of sharp jerks, in unison93 with the sound. The door was thrust open, although no human form was perceptible on the other side of the half-window. Hepzibah, nevertheless, stood at a gaze, with her hands clasped, looking very much as if she had summoned up an evil spirit, and were afraid, yet resolved, to hazard the encounter.
“Heaven help me!” she groaned94 mentally. “Now is my hour of need!”
The door, which moved with difficulty on its creaking and rusty hinges, being forced quite open, a square and sturdy little urchin95 became apparent, with cheeks as red as an apple. He was clad rather shabbily (but, as it seemed, more owing to his mother’s carelessness than his father’s poverty), in a blue apron96, very wide and short trousers, shoes somewhat out at the toes, and a chip hat, with the frizzles of his curly hair sticking through its crevices97. A book and a small slate98, under his arm, indicated that he was on his way to school. He stared at Hepzibah a moment, as an elder customer than himself would have been likely enough to do, not knowing what to make of the tragic99 attitude and queer scowl wherewith she regarded him.
“Well, child,” said she, taking heart at sight of a personage so little formidable —“well, my child, what did you wish for?”
“That Jim Crow there in the window,” answered the urchin, holding out a cent, and pointing to the gingerbread figure that had attracted his notice, as he loitered along to school; “the one that has not a broken foot.”
So Hepzibah put forth46 her lank100 arm, and, taking the effigy101 from the shop-window, delivered it to her first customer.
“No matter for the money,” said she, giving him a little push towards the door; for her old gentility was contumaciously102 squeamish at sight of the copper coin, and, besides, it seemed such pitiful meanness to take the child’s pocket-money in exchange for a bit of stale gingerbread. “No matter for the cent. You are welcome to Jim Crow.”
The child, staring with round eyes at this instance of liberality, wholly unprecedented103 in his large experience of cent-shops, took the man of gingerbread, and quitted the premises104. No sooner had he reached the sidewalk (little cannibal that he was!) than Jim Crow’s head was in his mouth. As he had not been careful to shut the door, Hepzibah was at the pains of closing it after him, with a pettish105 ejaculation or two about the troublesomeness of young people, and particularly of small boys. She had just placed another representative of the renowned106 Jim Crow at the window, when again the shop-bell tinkled clamorously, and again the door being thrust open, with its characteristic jerk and jar, disclosed the same sturdy little urchin who, precisely107 two minutes ago, had made his exit. The crumbs108 and discoloration of the cannibal feast, as yet hardly consummated109, were exceedingly visible about his mouth.
“What is it now, child?” asked the maiden lady rather impatiently; “did you Come back to shut the door?”
“No,” answered the urchin, pointing to the figure that had just been put up; “I want that other Jim. Crow”
“Well, here it is for you,” said Hepzibah, reaching it down; but recognizing that this pertinacious110 customer would not quit her On any other terms, so long as she had a gingerbread figure in her shop, she partly drew back her extended hand, “Where is the cent?”
The little boy had the cent ready, but, like a true-born Yankee, would have preferred the better bargain to the worse. Looking somewhat chagrined111, he put the coin into Hepzibah’s hand, and departed, sending the second Jim Crow in quest of the former one. The new shop-keeper dropped the first solid result of her commercial enterprise into the till. It was done! The sordid112 stain of that copper coin could never be washed away from her palm. The little schoolboy, aided by the impish figure of the negro dancer, had wrought an irreparable ruin. The structure of ancient aristocracy had been demolished113 by him, even as if his childish gripe had torn down the seven-gabled mansion. Now let Hepzibah turn the old Pyncheon portraits with their faces to the wall, and take the map of her Eastern territory to kindle114 the kitchen fire, and blow up the flame with the empty breath of her ancestral traditions! What had she to do with ancestry115? Nothing; no more than with posterity116! No lady, now, but simply Hepzibah Pyncheon, a forlorn old maid, and keeper of a cent-shop!
Nevertheless, even while she paraded these ideas somewhat ostentatiously through her mind, it is altogether surprising what a calmness had come over her. The anxiety and misgivings117 which had tormented118 her, whether asleep or in melancholy day-dreams, ever since her project began to take an aspect of solidity, had now vanished quite away. She felt the novelty of her position, indeed, but no longer with disturbance119 or affright. Now and then, there came a thrill of almost youthful enjoyment120. It was the invigorating breath of a fresh outward atmosphere, after the long torpor121 and monotonous122 seclusion of her life. So wholesome123 is effort! So miraculous124 the strength that we do not know of! The healthiest glow that Hepzibah had known for years had come now in the dreaded125 crisis, when, for the first time, she had put forth her hand to help herself. The little circlet of the schoolboy’s copper coin — dim and lustreless126 though it was, with the small services which it had been doing here and there about the world — had proved a talisman, fragrant127 with good, and deserving to be set in gold and worn next her heart. It was as potent128, and perhaps endowed with the same kind of efficacy, as a galvanic ring! Hepzibah, at all events, was indebted to its subtile operation both in body and spirit; so much the more, as it inspired her with energy to get some breakfast, at which, still the better to keep up her courage, she allowed herself an extra spoonful in her infusion129 of black tea.
Her introductory day of shop-keeping did not run on, however, without many and serious interruptions of this mood of cheerful vigor. As a general rule, Providence seldom vouchsafes130 to mortals any more than just that degree of encouragement which suffices to keep them at a reasonably full exertion131 of their powers. In the case of our old gentlewoman, after the excitement of new effort had subsided, the despondency of her whole life threatened, ever and anon, to return. It was like the heavy mass of clouds which we may often see obscuring the sky, and making a gray twilight132 everywhere, until, towards nightfall, it yields temporarily to a glimpse of sunshine. But, always, the envious133 cloud strives to gather again across the streak134 of celestial135 azure136.
Customers came in, as the forenoon advanced, but rather slowly; in some cases, too, it must be owned, with little satisfaction either to themselves or Miss Hepzibah; nor, on the whole, with an aggregate137 of very rich emolument138 to the till. A little girl, sent by her mother to match a skein of cotton thread, of a peculiar139 hue140, took one that the near-sighted old lady pronounced extremely like, but soon came running back, with a blunt and cross message, that it would not do, and, besides, was very rotten! Then, there was a pale, care-wrinkled woman, not old but haggard, and already with streaks141 of gray among her hair, like silver ribbons; one of those women, naturally delicate, whom you at once recognize as worn to death by a brute142 — probably a drunken brute — of a husband, and at least nine children. She wanted a few pounds of flour, and offered the money, which the decayed gentlewoman silently rejected, and gave the poor soul better measure than if she had taken it. Shortly afterwards, a man in a blue cotton frock, much soiled, came in and bought a pipe, filling the whole shop, meanwhile, with the hot odor of strong drink, not only exhaled143 in the torrid atmosphere of his breath, but oozing144 out of his entire system, like an inflammable gas. It was impressed on Hepzibah’s mind that this was the husband of the care-wrinkled woman. He asked for a paper of tobacco; and as she had neglected to provide herself with the article, her brutal145 customer dashed down his newly-bought pipe and left the shop, muttering some unintelligible146 words, which had the tone and bitterness of a curse. Hereupon Hepzibah threw up her eyes, unintentionally scowling in the face of Providence!
No less than five persons, during the forenoon, inquired for ginger-beer, or root-beer, or any drink of a similar brewage, and, obtaining nothing of the kind, went off in an exceedingly bad humor. Three of them left the door open, and the other two pulled it so spitefully in going out that the little bell played the very deuce with Hepzibah’s nerves. A round, bustling147, fire-ruddy housewife of the neighborhood burst breathless into the shop, fiercely demanding yeast148; and when the poor gentlewoman, with her cold shyness of manner, gave her hot customer to understand that she did not keep the article, this very capable housewife took upon herself to administer a regular rebuke149.
“A cent-shop, and No yeast!” quoth she; “that will never do! Who ever heard of such a thing? Your loaf will never rise, no more than mine will to-day. You had better shut up shop at once.”
“Well,” said Hepzibah, heaving a deep sigh, “perhaps I had!”
Several times, moreover, besides the above instance, her lady-like sensibilities were seriously infringed150 upon by the familiar, if not rude, tone with which people addressed her. They evidently considered themselves not merely her equals, but her patrons and superiors. Now, Hepzibah had unconsciously flattered herself with the idea that there would be a gleam or halo, of some kind or other, about her person, which would insure an obeisance151 to her sterling152 gentility, or, at least, a tacit recognition of it. On the other hand, nothing tortured her more intolerably than when this recognition was too prominently expressed. To one or two rather officious offers of sympathy, her responses were little short of acrimonious153; and, we regret to say, Hepzibah was thrown into a positively154 unchristian state of mind by the suspicion that one of her customers was drawn155 to the shop, not by any real need of the article which she pretended to seek, but by a wicked wish to stare at her. The vulgar creature was determined156 to see for herself what sort of a figure a mildewed157 piece of aristocracy, after wasting all the bloom and much of the decline of her life apart from the world, would cut behind a counter. In this particular case, however mechanical and innocuous it might be at other times, Hepzibah’s contortion158 of brow served her in good stead.
“I never was so frightened in my life!” said the curious customer, in describing the incident to one of her acquaintances. “She’s a real old vixen, take my word of it! She says little, to be sure; but if you could only see the mischief in her eye!”
On the whole, therefore, her new experience led our decayed gentlewoman to very disagreeable conclusions as to the temper and manners of what she termed the lower classes, whom heretofore she had looked down upon with a gentle and pitying complaisance159, as herself occupying a sphere of unquestionable superiority. But, unfortunately, she had likewise to struggle against a bitter emotion of a directly opposite kind: a sentiment of virulence160, we mean, towards the idle aristocracy to which it had so recently been her pride to belong. When a lady, in a delicate and costly161 summer garb162, with a floating veil and gracefully163 swaying gown, and, altogether, an ethereal lightness that made you look at her beautifully slippered164 feet, to see whether she trod on the dust or floated in the air — when such a vision happened to pass through this retired street, leaving it tenderly and delusively165 fragrant with her passage, as if a bouquet166 of tea-roses had been borne along — then again, it is to be feared, old Hepzibah’s scowl could no longer vindicate167 itself entirely168 on the plea of near-sightedness.
“For what end,” thought she, giving vent54 to that feeling of hostility169 which is the only real abasement170 of the poor in presence of the rich —“for what good end, in the wisdom of Providence, does that woman live? Must the whole world toil171, that the palms of her hands may be kept white and delicate?”
Then, ashamed and penitent172, she hid her face.
“May God forgive me!” said she.
Doubtless, God did forgive her. But, taking the inward and outward history of the first half-day into consideration, Hepzibah began to fear that the shop would prove her ruin in a moral and religious point of view, without contributing very essentially173 towards even her temporal welfare.
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ponderously
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momentous
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tinkling
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maiden
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talisman
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obedience
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contrived
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din
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predecessor
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retired
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vibration
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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portentously
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qualified
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bartering
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wares
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copper
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applicant
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doorway
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alacrity
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vigor
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physically
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texture
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countenance
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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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checkered
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remarkable
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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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30
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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31
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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32
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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33
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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34
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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35
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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36
forefathers
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| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
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37
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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38
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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39
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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40
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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41
kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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42
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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43
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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44
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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45
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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46
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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47
restriction
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| n.限制，约束 | |
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48
anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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49
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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50
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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51
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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52
misuse
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| n.误用，滥用；vt.误用，滥用 | |
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53
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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54
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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55
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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56
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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57
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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58
importunity
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| n.硬要，强求 | |
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59
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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60
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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61
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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62
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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63
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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64
laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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65
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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66
scowls
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| 不悦之色，怒容( scowl的名词复数 ) | |
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67
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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68
outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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69
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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70
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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71
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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72
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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73
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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74
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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75
augury
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| n.预言，征兆，占卦 | |
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76
recluse
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| n.隐居者 | |
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77
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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78
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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79
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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80
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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81
fixtures
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| （房屋等的）固定装置( fixture的名词复数 )； 如（浴盆、抽水马桶）； 固定在某位置的人或物； （定期定点举行的）体育活动 | |
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82
assortments
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| 分类，各类物品或同类各种物品的聚集，混合物( assortment的名词复数 ) | |
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83
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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84
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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85
bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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86
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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87
smirking
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| v.傻笑( smirk的现在分词 ) | |
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88
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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89
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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90
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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91
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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92
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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93
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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94
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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95
urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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96
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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97
crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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98
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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99
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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100
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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101
effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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102
contumaciously
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103
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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104
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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105
pettish
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| adj.易怒的，使性子的 | |
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106
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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107
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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108
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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109
consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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110
pertinacious
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| adj.顽固的 | |
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111
chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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113
demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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114
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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115
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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116
posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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117
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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118
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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119
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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120
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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121
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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122
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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123
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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124
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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125
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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126
lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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127
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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128
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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129
infusion
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| n.灌输 | |
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130
vouchsafes
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的第三人称单数 )；允诺 | |
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131
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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132
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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133
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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134
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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135
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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136
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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137
aggregate
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| adj.总计的，集合的；n.总数；v.合计；集合 | |
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138
emolument
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| n.报酬，薪水 | |
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139
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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140
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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141
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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142
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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143
exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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144
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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145
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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146
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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147
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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148
yeast
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| n.酵母；酵母片；泡沫；v.发酵；起泡沫 | |
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149
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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150
infringed
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| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的过去式和过去分词 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
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151
obeisance
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| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
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152
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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153
acrimonious
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| adj.严厉的，辛辣的，刻毒的 | |
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154
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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155
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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156
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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157
mildewed
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| adj.发了霉的，陈腐的，长了霉花的v.（使）发霉，（使）长霉( mildew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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158
contortion
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| n.扭弯，扭歪，曲解 | |
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159
complaisance
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| n.彬彬有礼，殷勤，柔顺 | |
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160
virulence
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| n.毒力，毒性；病毒性；致病力 | |
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161
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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162
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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163
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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164
slippered
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| 穿拖鞋的 | |
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165
delusively
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| adv.困惑地，欺瞒地 | |
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166
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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167
vindicate
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| v.为…辩护或辩解，辩明；证明…正确 | |
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168
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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169
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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170
abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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171
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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172
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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173
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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