HOLGRAVE, plunging1 into his tale with the energy and absorption natural to a young author, had given a good deal of action to the parts capable of being developed and exemplified in that manner. He now observed that a certain remarkable2 drowsiness3 (wholly unlike that with which the reader possibly feels himself affected) had been flung over the senses of his auditress. It was the effect, unquestionably, of the mystic gesticulations by which he had sought to bring bodily before Phoebe’s perception the figure of the mesmerizing4 carpenter. With the lids drooping5 over her eyes — now lifted for an instant, and drawn7 down again as with leaden weights — she leaned slightly towards him, and seemed almost to regulate her breath by his. Holgrave gazed at her, as he rolled up his manuscript, and recognized an incipient8 stage of that curious psychological condition which, as he had himself told Phoebe, he possessed9 more than an ordinary faculty10 of producing. A veil was beginning to be muffled11 about her, in which she could behold12 only him, and live only in his thoughts and emotions. His glance, as he fastened it on the young girl, grew involuntarily more concentrated; in his attitude there was the consciousness of power, investing his hardly mature figure with a dignity that did not belong to its physical manifestation13. It was evident, that, with but one wave of his hand and a corresponding effort of his will, he could complete his mastery over Phoebe’s yet free and virgin14 spirit: he could establish an influence over this good, pure, and simple child, as dangerous, and perhaps as disastrous15, as that which the carpenter of his legend had acquired and exercised over the ill-fated Alice.
To a disposition16 like Holgrave’s, at once speculative17 and active, there is no temptation so great as the opportunity of acquiring empire over the human spirit; nor any idea more seductive to a young man than to become the arbiter18 of a young girl’s destiny. Let us, therefore — whatever his defects of nature and education, and in spite of his scorn for creeds19 and institutions — concede to the daguerreotypist the rare and high quality of reverence20 for another’s individuality. Let us allow him integrity, also, forever after to be confided21 in; since he forbade himself to twine22 that one link more which might have rendered his spell over Phoebe indissoluble.
He made a slight gesture upward with his hand.
“You really mortify23 me, my dear Miss Phoebe!” he exclaimed, smiling half-sarcastically at her. “My poor story, it is but too evident, will never do for Godey or Graham! Only think of your falling asleep at what I hoped the newspaper critics would pronounce a most brilliant, powerful, imaginative, pathetic, and original winding24 up! Well, the manuscript must serve to light lamps with;— if, indeed, being so imbued25 with my gentle dulness, it is any longer capable of flame!”
“Me asleep! How can you say so?” answered Phoebe, as unconscious of the crisis through which she had passed as an infant of the precipice26 to the verge27 of which it has rolled. “No, no! I consider myself as having been very attentive28; and, though I don’t remember the incidents quite distinctly, yet I have an impression of a vast deal of trouble and calamity29 — so, no doubt, the story will prove exceedingly attractive.”
By this time the sun had gone down, and was tinting30 the clouds towards the zenith with those bright hues31 which are not seen there until some time after sunset, and when the horizon has quite lost its richer brilliancy. The moon, too, which had long been climbing overhead, and unobtrusively melting its disk into the azure33 — like an ambitious demagogue, who hides his aspiring34 purpose by assuming the prevalent hue32 of popular sentiment — now began to shine out, broad and oval, in its middle pathway. These silvery beams were already powerful enough to change the character of the lingering daylight. They softened35 and embellished36 the aspect of the old house; although the shadows fell deeper into the angles of its many gables, and lay brooding under the projecting story, and within the half-open door. With the lapse37 of every moment, the garden grew more picturesque38; the fruit-trees, shrubbery, and flower-bushes had a dark obscurity among them. The commonplace characteristics — which, at noontide, it seemed to have taken a century of sordid39 life to accumulate — were now transfigured by a charm of romance. A hundred mysterious years were whispering among the leaves, whenever the slight sea-breeze found its way thither40 and stirred them. Through the foliage41 that roofed the little summer-house the moonlight flickered42 to and fro, and fell silvery white on the dark floor, the table, and the circular bench, with a continual shift and play, according as the chinks and wayward crevices43 among the twigs44 admitted or shut out the glimmer45.
So sweetly cool was the atmosphere, after all the feverish46 day, that the summer eve might be fancied as sprinkling dews and liquid moonlight, with a dash of icy temper in them, out of a silver vase. Here and there, a few drops of this freshness were scattered47 on a human heart, and gave it youth again, and sympathy with the eternal youth of nature. The artist chanced to be one on whom the reviving influence fell. It made him feel — what he sometimes almost forgot, thrust so early as he had been into the rude struggle of man with man — how youthful he still was.
“It seems to me,” he observed, “that I never watched the coming of so beautiful an eve, and never felt anything so very much like happiness as at this moment. After all, what a good world we live in! How good, and beautiful! How young it is, too, with nothing really rotten or age-worn in it! This old house, for example, which sometimes has positively48 oppressed my breath with its smell of decaying timber! And this garden, where the black mould always clings to my spade, as if I were a sexton delving49 in a graveyard50! Could I keep the feeling that now possesses me, the garden would every day be virgin soil, with the earth’s first freshness in the flavor of its beans and squashes; and the house!— it would be like a bower51 in Eden, blossoming with the earliest roses that God ever made. Moonlight, and the sentiment in man’s heart responsive to it, are the greatest of renovators and reformers. And all other reform and renovation52, I suppose, will prove to be no better than moonshine!”
“I have been happier than I am now; at least, much gayer,” said Phoebe thoughtfully. “Yet I am sensible of a great charm in this brightening moonlight; and I love to watch how the day, tired as it is, lags away reluctantly, and hates to be called yesterday so soon. I never cared much about moonlight before. What is there, I wonder, so beautiful in it, to-night?”
“And you have never felt it before?” inquired the artist, looking earnestly at the girl through the twilight53.
“Never,” answered Phoebe; “and life does not look the same, now that I have felt it so. It seems as if I had looked at everything, hitherto, in broad daylight, or else in the ruddy light of a cheerful fire, glimmering54 and dancing through a room. Ah, poor me!” she added, with a half-melancholy55 laugh. “I shall never be so merry as before I knew Cousin Hepzibah and poor Cousin Clifford. I have grown a great deal older, in this little time. Older, and, I hope, wiser, and — not exactly sadder — but, certainly, with not half so much lightness in my spirits! I have given them my sunshine, and have been glad to give it; but, of course, I cannot both give and keep it. They are welcome, notwithstanding!”
“You have lost nothing, Phoebe, worth keeping, nor which it was possible to keep,” said Holgrave after a pause. “Our first youth is of no value; for we are never conscious of it until after it is gone. But sometimes — always, I suspect, unless one is exceedingly unfortunate — there comes a sense of second youth, gushing57 out of the heart’s joy at being in love; or, possibly, it may come to crown some other grand festival in life, if any other such there be. This bemoaning58 of one’s self (as you do now) over the first, careless, shallow gayety of youth departed, and this profound happiness at youth regained59 — so much deeper and richer than that we lost — are essential to the soul’s development. In some cases, the two states come almost simultaneously60, and mingle61 the sadness and the rapture62 in one mysterious emotion.”
“I hardly think I understand you,” said Phoebe.
“No wonder,” replied Holgrave, smiling; “for I have told you a secret which I hardly began to know before I found myself giving it utterance63. remember it, however; and when the truth becomes clear to you, then think of this moonlight scene!”
“It is entirely64 moonlight now, except only a little flush of faint crimson65, upward from the west, between those buildings,” remarked Phoebe. “I must go in. Cousin Hepzibah is not quick at figures, and will give herself a headache over the day’s accounts, unless I help her.”
But Holgrave detained her a little longer.
“Miss Hepzibah tells me,” observed he, “that you return to the country in a few days.”
“Yes, but only for a little while,” answered Phoebe; “for I look upon this as my present home. I go to make a few arrangements, and to take a more deliberate leave of my mother and friends. It is pleasant to live where one is much desired and very useful; and I think I may have the satisfaction of feeling myself so here.”
“You surely may, and more than you imagine,” said the artist. “Whatever health, comfort, and natural life exists in the house is embodied66 in your person. These blessings67 came along with you, and will vanish when you leave the threshold. Miss Hepzibah, by secluding68 herself from society, has lost all true relation with it, and is, in fact, dead; although she galvanizes herself into a semblance69 of life, and stands behind her counter, afflicting70 the world with a greatly-to-be-deprecated scowl71. Your poor cousin Clifford is another dead and long-buried person, on whom the governor and council have wrought72 a necromantic73 miracle. I should not wonder if he were to crumble74 away, some morning, after you are gone, and nothing be seen of him more, except a heap of dust. Miss Hepzibah, at any rate, will lose what little flexibility75 she has. They both exist by you.”
“I should be very sorry to think so,” answered Phoebe gravely. “But it is true that my small abilities were precisely76 what they needed; and I have a real interest in their welfare — an odd kind of motherly sentiment — which I wish you would not laugh at! And let me tell you frankly77, Mr. Holgrave, I am sometimes puzzled to know whether you wish them well or ill.”
“Undoubtedly,” said the daguerreotypist, “I do feel an interest in this antiquated78, poverty-stricken old maiden79 lady, and this degraded and shattered gentleman — this abortive80 lover of the beautiful. A kindly81 interest, too, helpless old children that they are! But you have no conception what a different kind of heart mine is from your own. It is not my impulse, as regards these two individuals, either to help or hinder; but to look on, to analyze82, to explain matters to myself, and to comprehend the drama which, for almost two hundred years, has been dragging its slow length over the ground where you and I now tread. If permitted to witness the close, I doubt not to derive83 a moral satisfaction from it, go matters how they may. There is a conviction within me that the end draws nigh. But, though Providence84 sent you hither to help, and sends me only as a privileged and meet spectator, I pledge myself to lend these unfortunate beings whatever aid I can!”
“I wish you would speak more plainly,” cried Phoebe, perplexed85 and displeased86; “and, above all, that you would feel more like a Christian87 and a human being! How is it possible to see people in distress88 without desiring, more than anything else, to help and comfort them? You talk as if this old house were a theatre; and you seem to look at Hepzibah’s and Clifford’s misfortunes, and those of generations before them, as a tragedy, such as I have seen acted in the hall of a country hotel, only the present one appears to be played exclusively for your amusement. I do not like this. The play costs the performers too much, and the audience is too cold-hearted.”
“You are severe,” said Holgrave, compelled to recognize a degree of truth in the piquant89 sketch90 of his own mood.
“And then,” continued Phoebe, “what can you mean by your conviction, which you tell me of, that the end is drawing near? Do you know of any new trouble hanging over my poor relatives? If so, tell me at once, and I will not leave them!”
“Forgive me, Phoebe!” said the daguerreotypist, holding out his hand, to which the girl was constrained91 to yield her own.” I am somewhat of a mystic, it must be confessed. The tendency is in my blood, together with the faculty of mesmerism, which might have brought me to Gallows92 Hill, in the good old times of witchcraft93. Believe me, if I were really aware of any secret, the disclosure of which would benefit your friends — who are my own friends, likewise — you should learn it before we part. But I have no such knowledge.”
“You hold something back!” said Phoebe.
“Nothing — no secrets but my own,” answered Holgrave. “I can perceive, indeed, that Judge Pyncheon still keeps his eye on Clifford, in whose ruin he had so large a share. His motives94 and intentions, however are a mystery to me. He is a determined95 and relentless96 man, with the genuine character of an inquisitor; and had he any object to gain by putting Clifford to the rack, I verily believe that he would wrench97 his joints98 from their sockets99, in order to accomplish it. But, so wealthy and eminent100 as he is — so powerful in his own strength, and in the support of society on all sides — what can Judge Pyncheon have to hope or fear from the imbecile, branded, half-torpid Clifford?”
“Yet,” urged Phoebe, “you did speak as if misfortune were impending101!”
“Oh, that was because I am morbid102!” replied the artist. “My mind has a twist aside, like almost everybody’s mind, except your own. Moreover, it is so strange to find myself an inmate103 of this old Pyncheon House, and sitting in this old garden —(hark, how Maule’s well is murmuring!)— that, were it only for this one circumstance, I cannot help fancying that Destiny is arranging its fifth act for a catastrophe104.”
“There.” cried Phoebe with renewed vexation; for she was by nature as hostile to mystery as the sunshine to a dark corner. “You puzzle me more than ever!”
“Then let us part friends!” said Holgrave, pressing her hand. “Or, if not friends, let us part before you entirely hate me. You, who love everybody else in the world!”
“Good-by, then,” said Phoebe frankly. “I do not mean to be angry a great while, and should be sorry to have you think so. There has Cousin Hepzibah been standing56 in the shadow of the doorway105, this quarter of an hour past! She thinks I stay too long in the damp garden. So, good-night, and good-by.”
On the second morning thereafter, Phoebe might have been seen, in her straw bonnet106, with a shawl on one arm and a little carpet-bag on the other, bidding adieu to Hepzibah and Cousin Clifford. She was to take a seat in the next train of cars, which would transport her to within half a dozen miles of her country village.
The tears were in Phoebe’s eyes; a smile, dewy with affectionate regret, was glimmering around her pleasant mouth. She wondered how it came to pass, that her life of a few weeks, here in this heavy-hearted old mansion107, had taken such hold of her, and so melted into her associations, as now to seem a more important centre-point of remembrance than all which had gone before. How had Hepzibah — grim, silent, and irresponsive to her overflow108 of cordial sentiment — contrived109 to win so much love? And Clifford — in his abortive decay, with the mystery of fearful crime upon him, and the close prison-atmosphere yet lurking110 in his breath — how had he transformed himself into the simplest child, whom Phoebe felt bound to watch over, and be, as it were, the providence of his unconsidered hours! Everything, at that instant of farewell, stood out prominently to her view. Look where she would, lay her hand on what she might, the object responded to her consciousness, as if a moist human heart were in it.
She peeped from the window into the garden, and felt herself more regretful at leaving this spot of black earth, vitiated with such an age-long growth of weeds, than joyful111 at the idea of again scenting112 her pine forests and fresh clover-fields. She called Chanticleer, his two wives, and the venerable chicken, and threw them some crumbs113 of bread from the breakfast-table. These being hastily gobbled up, the chicken spread its wings, and alighted close by Phoebe on the window-sill, where it looked gravely into her face and vented114 its emotions in a croak115. Phoebe bade it be a good old chicken during her absence, and promised to bring it a little bag of buckwheat.
“Ah, Phoebe!” remarked Hepzibah, “you do not smile so naturally as when you came to us! Then, the smile chose to shine out; now, you choose it should. It is well that you are going back, for a little while, into your native air. There has been too much weight on your spirits. The house is too gloomy and lonesome; the shop is full of vexations; and as for me, I have no faculty of making things look brighter than they are. Dear Clifford has been your only comfort!”
“Come hither, Phoebe,” suddenly cried her cousin Clifford, who had said very little all the morning. “Close!— closer!— and look me in the face!”
Phoebe put one of her small hands on each elbow of his chair, and leaned her face towards him, so that he might peruse116 it as carefully as he would. It is probable that the latent emotions of this parting hour had revived, in some degree, his bedimmed and enfeebled faculties117. At any rate, Phoebe soon felt that, if not the profound insight of a seer, yet a more than feminine delicacy118 of appreciation119, was making her heart the subject of its regard. A moment before, she had known nothing which she would have sought to hide. Now, as if some secret were hinted to her own consciousness through the medium of another’s perception, she was fain to let her eyelids120 droop6 beneath Clifford’s gaze. A blush, too — the redder, because she strove hard to keep it down — ascended121 bigger and higher, in a tide of fitful progress, until even her brow was all suffused122 with it.
“It is enough, Phoebe,” said Clifford, with a melancholy smile. “When I first saw you, you were the prettiest little maiden in the world; and now you have deepened into beauty. Girlhood has passed into womanhood; the bud is a bloom! Go, now — I feel lonelier than I did.”
Phoebe took leave of the desolate123 couple, and passed through the shop, twinkling her eyelids to shake off a dew-drop; for — considering how brief her absence was to be, and therefore the folly124 of being cast down about it — she would not so far acknowledge her tears as to dry them with her handkerchief. On the doorstep, she met the little urchin125 whose marvellous feats126 of gastronomy127 have been recorded in the earlier pages of our narrative128. She took from the window some specimen129 or other of natural history — her eyes being too dim with moisture to inform her accurately130 whether it was a rabbit or a hippopotamus131 — put it into the child’s hand as a parting gift, and went her way. Old Uncle Venner was just coming out of his door, with a wood-horse and saw on his shoulder; and, trudging132 along the street, he scrupled133 not to keep company with Phoebe, so far as their paths lay together; nor, in spite of his patched coat and rusty134 beaver135, and the curious fashion of his tow-cloth trousers, could she find it in her heart to outwalk him.
“We shall miss you, next Sabbath afternoon,” observed the street philosopher.” It is unaccountable how little while it takes some folks to grow just as natural to a man as his own breath; and, begging your pardon, Miss Phoebe (though there can be no offence in an old man’s saying it), that’s just what you’ve grown to me! My years have been a great many, and your life is but just beginning; and yet, you are somehow as familiar to me as if I had found you at my mother’s door, and you had blossomed, like a running vine, all along my pathway since. Come back soon, or I shall be gone to my farm; for I begin to find these wood-sawing jobs a little too tough for my back-ache.”
“Very soon, Uncle Venner,” replied Phoebe.
“And let it be all the sooner, Phoebe, for the sake of those poor souls yonder,” continued her companion. “They can never do without you, now — never, Phoebe; never — no more than if one of God’s angels had been living with them, and making their dismal136 house pleasant and comfortable! Don’t it seem to you they’d be in a sad case, if, some pleasant summer morning like this, the angel should spread his wings, and fly to the place he came from? Well, just so they feel, now that you’re going home by the railroad! They can’t bear it, Miss Phoebe; so be sure to come back!”
“I am no angel, Uncle Venner,” said Phoebe, smiling, as she offered him her hand at the street-corner. “But, I suppose, people never feel so much like angels as when they are doing what little good they may. So I shall certainly come back!”
Thus parted the old man and the rosy137 girl; and Phoebe took the wings of the morning, and was soon flitting almost as rapidly away as if endowed with the aerial locomotion138 of the angels to whom Uncle Venner had so graciously compared her.
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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mesmerizing
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| adj.有吸引力的，有魅力的v.使入迷( mesmerize的现在分词 ) | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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arbiter
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| n.仲裁人，公断人 | |
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creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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mortify
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| v.克制，禁欲，使受辱 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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tinting
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| 着色，染色（的阶段或过程） | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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42
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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44
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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45
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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46
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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47
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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48
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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49
delving
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| v.深入探究，钻研( delve的现在分词 ) | |
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50
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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51
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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52
renovation
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| n.革新，整修 | |
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53
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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54
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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55
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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56
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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57
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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58
bemoaning
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| v.为（某人或某事）抱怨( bemoan的现在分词 )；悲悼；为…恸哭；哀叹 | |
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59
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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60
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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61
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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62
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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63
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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64
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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65
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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66
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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67
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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68
secluding
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| v.使隔开，使隔绝，使隐退( seclude的现在分词 ) | |
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69
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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70
afflicting
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| 痛苦的 | |
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71
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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72
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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73
necromantic
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| 降神术的，妖术的 | |
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74
crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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flexibility
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| n.柔韧性，弹性，（光的）折射性，灵活性 | |
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76
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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77
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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78
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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79
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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80
abortive
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| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
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81
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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82
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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83
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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84
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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85
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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86
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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87
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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88
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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89
piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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90
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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91
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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92
gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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93
witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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94
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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95
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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96
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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97
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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98
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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99
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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100
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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101
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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102
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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103
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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104
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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105
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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106
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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107
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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108
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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109
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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110
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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111
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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112
scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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113
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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114
vented
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| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
croak
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| vi.嘎嘎叫，发牢骚 | |
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116
peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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117
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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118
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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119
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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120
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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121
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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124
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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125
urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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126
feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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127
gastronomy
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| n.美食法；美食学 | |
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128
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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129
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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130
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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131
hippopotamus
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| n.河马 | |
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132
trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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133
scrupled
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| v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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135
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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136
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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137
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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138
locomotion
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| n.运动，移动 | |
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