NEVER had the old house appeared so dismal1 to poor Hepzibah as when she departed on that wretched errand. There was a strange aspect in it. As she trode along the foot-worn passages, and opened one crazy door after another, and ascended2 the creaking staircase, she gazed wistfully and fearfully around. It would have been no marvel3, to her excited mind, if, behind or beside her, there had been the rustle4 of dead people’s garments, or pale visages awaiting her on the landing-place above. Her nerves were set all ajar by the scene of passion and terror through which she had just struggled. Her colloquy5 with Judge Pyncheon, who so perfectly6 represented the person and attributes of the founder7 of the family, had called back the dreary8 past. It weighed upon her heart. Whatever she had heard, from legendary9 aunts and grandmothers, concerning the good or evil fortunes of the Pyncheons — stories which had heretofore been kept warm in her remembrance by the chimney-corner glow that was associated with them — now recurred11 to her, sombre, ghastly, cold, like most passages of family history, when brooded over in melancholy12 mood. The whole seemed little else but a series of calamity13, reproducing itself in successive generations, with one general hue14, and varying in little, save the outline. But Hepzibah now felt as if the Judge, and Clifford, and herself — they three together, — were on the point of adding another incident to the annals of the house, with a bolder relief of wrong and sorrow, which would cause it to stand out from all the rest. Thus it is that the grief of the passing moment takes upon itself an individuality, and a character of climax15, which it is destined16 to lose after a while, and to fade into the dark gray tissue common to the grave or glad events of many years ago. It is but for a moment, comparatively, that anything looks strange or startling — a truth that has the bitter and the sweet in it.
But Hepzibah could not rid herself of the sense of something unprecedented17 at that instant passing and soon to be accomplished18. Her nerves were in a shake. Instinctively19 she paused before the arched window, and looked out upon the street, in order to seize its permanent objects with her mental grasp, and thus to steady herself from the reel and vibration20 which affected21 her more immediate22 sphere. It brought her up, as we may say, with a kind of shock, when she beheld23 everything under the same appearance as the day before, and numberless preceding days, except for the difference between sunshine and sullen24 storm. Her eyes travelled along the street, from doorstep to doorstep, noting the wet sidewalks, with here and there a puddle25 in hollows that had been imperceptible until filled with water. She screwed her dim optics to their acutest point, in the hope of making out, with greater distinctness, a certain window, where she half saw, half guessed, that a tailor’s seamstress was sitting at her work. Hepzibah flung herself upon that unknown woman’s companionship, even thus far off. Then she was attracted by a chaise rapidly passing, and watched its moist and glistening26 top, and its splashing wheels, until it had turned the corner, and refused to carry any further her idly trifling27, because appalled28 and overburdened, mind. When the vehicle had disappeared, she allowed herself still another loitering moment; for the patched figure of good Uncle Venner was now visible, coming slowly from the head of the street downward, with a rheumatic limp, because the east wind had got into his joints29. Hepzibah wished that he would pass yet more slowly, and befriend her shivering solitude30 a little longer. Anything that would take her out of the grievous present, and interpose human beings betwixt herself and what was nearest to her — whatever would defer31 for an instant the inevitable32 errand on which she was bound — all such impediments were welcome. Next to the lightest heart, the heaviest is apt to be most playful.
Hepzibah had little hardihood for her own proper pain, and far less for what she must inflict34 on Clifford. Of so slight a nature, and so shattered by his previous calamities35, it could not well be short of utter ruin to bring him face to face with the hard, relentless36 man who had been his evil destiny through life. Even had there been no bitter recollections, nor any hostile interest now at stake between them, the mere37 natural repugnance38 of the more sensitive system to the massive, weighty, and unimpressible one, must, in itself, have been disastrous39 to the former. It would be like flinging a porcelain40 vase, with already a crack in it, against a granite41 column. Never before had Hepzibah so adequately estimated the powerful character of her cousin Jaffrey — powerful by intellect, energy of will, the long habit of acting42 among men, and, as she believed, by his unscrupulous pursuit of selfish ends through evil means. It did but increase the difficulty that Judge Pyncheon was under a delusion43 as to the secret which he supposed Clifford to possess. Men of his strength of purpose and customary sagacity, if they chance to adopt a mistaken opinion in practical matters, so wedge it and fasten it among things known to be true, that to wrench44 it out of their minds is hardly less difficult than pulling up an oak. Thus, as the Judge required an impossibility of Clifford, the latter, as he could not perform it, must needs perish. For what, in the grasp of a man like this, was to become of Clifford’s soft poetic45 nature, that never should have had a task more stubborn than to set a life of beautiful enjoyment46 to the flow and rhythm of musical cadences47! Indeed, what had become of it already? Broken! Blighted48! All but annihilated49! Soon to be wholly so!
For a moment, the thought crossed Hepzibah’s mind, whether Clifford might not really have such knowledge of their deceased uncle’s vanished estate as the Judge imputed50 to him. She remembered some vague intimations, on her brother’s part, which — if the supposition were not essentially51 preposterous52 — might have been so interpreted. There had been schemes of travel and residence abroad, day-dreams of brilliant life at home, and splendid castles in the air, which it would have required boundless53 wealth to build and realize. Had this wealth been in her power, how gladly would Hepzibah have bestowed54 it all upon her iron-hearted kinsman55, to buy for Clifford the freedom and seclusion56 of the desolate57 old house! But she believed that her brother’s schemes were as destitute58 of actual substance and purpose as a child’s pictures of its future life, while sitting in a little chair by its mother’s knee. Clifford had none but shadowy gold at his command; and it was not the stuff to satisfy Judge Pyncheon!
Was there no help in their extremity59? It seemed strange that there should be none, with a city round about her. It would be so easy to throw up the window, and send forth60 a shriek61, at the strange agony of which everybody would come hastening to the rescue, well understanding it to be the cry of a human soul, at some dreadful crisis! But how wild, how almost laughable, the fatality63 — and yet how continually it comes to pass, thought Hepzibah, in this dull delirium64 of a world — that whosoever, and with however kindly65 a purpose, should come to help, they would be sure to help the strongest side! Might and wrong combined, like iron magnetized, are endowed with irresistible66 attraction. There would be Judge Pyncheon — a person eminent67 in the public view, of high station and great wealth, a philanthropist, a member of Congress and of the church, and intimately associated with whatever else bestows68 good name — so imposing69, in these advantageous70 lights, that Hepzibah herself could hardly help shrinking from her own conclusions as to his hollow integrity. The Judge, on one side! And who, on the other? The guilty Clifford! Once a byword! Now, an indistinctly remembered ignominy!
Nevertheless, in spite of this perception that the Judge would draw all human aid to his own behalf, Hepzibah was so unaccustomed to act for herself, that the least word of counsel would have swayed her to any mode of action. Little Phoebe Pyncheon would at once have lighted up the whole scene, if not by any available suggestion, yet simply by the warm vivacity71 of her character. The idea of the artist occurred to Hepzibah. Young and unknown, mere vagrant72 adventurer as he was, she had been conscious of a force in Holgrave which might well adapt him to be the champion of a crisis. With this thought in her mind, she unbolted a door, cobwebbed and long disused, but which had served as a former medium of communication between her own part of the house and the gable where the wandering daguerreotypist had now established his temporary home. He was not there. A book, face downward, on the table, a roll of manuscript, a half-written sheet, a newspaper, some tools of his present occupation, and several rejected daguerreotypes, conveyed an impression as if he were close at hand. But, at this period of the day, as Hepzibah might have anticipated, the artist was at his public rooms. With an impulse of idle curiosity, that flickered73 among her heavy thoughts, she looked at one of the daguerreotypes, and beheld Judge Pyncheon frowning at her. Fate stared her in the face. She turned back from her fruitless quest, with a heartsinking sense of disappointment. In all her years of seclusion, she had never felt, as now, what it was to be alone. It seemed as if the house stood in a desert, or, by some spell, was made invisible to those who dwelt around, or passed beside it; so that any mode of misfortune, miserable74 accident, or crime might happen in it without the possibility of aid. In her grief and wounded pride, Hepzibah had spent her life in divesting75 herself of friends; she had wilfully76 cast off the support which God has ordained77 his creatures to need from one another; and it was now her punishment, that Clifford and herself would fall the easier victims to their kindred enemy.
Returning to the arched window, she lifted her eyes — scowling78, poor, dim-sighted Hepzibah, in the face of Heaven!— and strove hard to send up a prayer through the dense79 gray pavement of clouds. Those mists had gathered, as if to symbolize80 a great, brooding mass of human trouble, doubt, confusion, and chill indifference81, between earth and the better regions. Her faith was too weak; the prayer too heavy to be thus uplifted. It fell back, a lump of lead, upon her heart. It smote82 her with the wretched conviction that Providence83 intermeddled not in these petty wrongs of one individual to his fellow, nor had any balm for these little agonies of a solitary84 soul; but shed its justice, and its mercy, in a broad, sunlike sweep, over half the universe at once. Its vastness made it nothing. But Hepzibah did not see that, just as there comes a warm sunbeam into every cottage window, so comes a lovebeam of God’s care and pity for every separate need.
At last, finding no other pretext85 for deferring86 the torture that she was to inflict on Clifford — her reluctance87 to which was the true cause of her loitering at the window, her search for the artist, and even her abortive88 prayer — dreading89, also, to hear the stern voice of Judge Pyncheon from below stairs, chiding90 her delay — she crept slowly, a pale, grief-stricken figure, a dismal shape of woman, with almost torpid91 limbs, slowly to her brother’s door, and knocked!
There was no reply.
And how should there have been? Her hand, tremulous with the shrinking purpose which directed it, had smitten92 so feebly against the door that the sound could hardly have gone inward. She knocked again. Still no response! Nor was it to be wondered at. She had struck with the entire force of her heart’s vibration, communicating, by some subtile magnetism93, her own terror to the summons. Clifford would turn his face to the pillow, and cover his head beneath the bedclothes, like a startled child at midnight. She knocked a third time, three regular strokes, gentle, but perfectly distinct, and with meaning in them; for, modulate94 it with what cautious art we will, the hand cannot help playing some tune10 of what we feel upon the senseless wood.
Clifford returned no answer.
“Clifford! dear brother.” said Hepzibah. “Shall I come in?”
A silence.
Two or three times, and more, Hepzibah repeated his name, without result; till, thinking her brother’s sleep unwontedly profound, she undid95 the door, and entering, found the chamber96 vacant. How could he have come forth, and when, without her knowledge? Was it possible that, in spite of the stormy day, and worn out with the irksomeness within doors he had betaken himself to his customary haunt in the garden, and was now shivering under the cheerless shelter of the summer-house? She hastily threw up a window, thrust forth her turbaned head and the half of her gaunt figure, and searched the whole garden through, as completely as her dim vision would allow. She could see the interior of the summer-house, and its circular seat, kept moist by the droppings of the roof. It had no occupant. Clifford was not thereabouts; unless, indeed, he had crept for concealment97 (as, for a moment, Hepzibah fancied might be the case) into a great, wet mass of tangled98 and broad-leaved shadow, where the squash-vines were clambering tumultuously upon an old wooden framework, set casually99 aslant100 against the fence. This could not be, however; he was not there; for, while Hepzibah was looking, a strange grimalkin stole forth from the very spot, and picked his way across the garden. Twice he paused to snuff the air, and then anew directed his course towards the parlor101 window. Whether it was only on account of the stealthy, prying102 manner common to the race, or that this cat seemed to have more than ordinary mischief103 in his thoughts, the old gentlewoman, in spite of her much perplexity, felt an impulse to drive the animal away, and accordingly flung down a window stick. The cat stared up at her, like a detected thief or murderer, and, the next instant, took to flight. No other living creature was visible in the garden. Chanticleer and his family had either not left their roost, disheartened by the interminable rain, or had done the next wisest thing, by seasonably returning to it. Hepzibah closed the window.
But where was Clifford? Could it be that, aware of the presence of his Evil Destiny, he had crept silently down the staircase, while the Judge and Hepzibah stood talking in the shop, and had softly undone104 the fastenings of the outer door, and made his escape into the street? With that thought, she seemed to behold105 his gray, wrinkled, yet childlike aspect, in the old-fashioned garments which he wore about the house; a figure such as one sometimes imagines himself to be, with the world’s eye upon him, in a troubled dream. This figure of her wretched brother would go wandering through the city, attracting all eyes, and everybody’s wonder and repugnance, like a ghost, the more to be shuddered106 at because visible at noontide. To incur107 the ridicule108 of the younger crowd, that knew him not — the harsher scorn and indignation of a few old men, who might recall his once familiar features! To be the sport of boys, who, when old enough to run about the streets, have no more reverence109 for what is beautiful and holy, nor pity for what is sad — no more sense of sacred misery110, sanctifying the human shape in which it embodies111 itself, — than if Satan were the father of them all! Goaded112 by their taunts113, their loud, shrill114 cries, and cruel laughter — insulted by the filth115 of the public ways, which they would fling upon him — or, as it might well be, distracted by the mere strangeness of his situation, though nobody should afflict116 him with so much as a thoughtless word — what wonder if Clifford were to break into some wild extravagance which was certain to be interpreted as lunacy? Thus Judge Pyncheon’s fiendish scheme would be ready accomplished to his hands!
Then Hepzibah reflected that the town was almost completely water-girdled. The wharves117 stretched out towards the centre of the harbor, and, in this inclement118 weather, were deserted119 by the ordinary throng120 of merchants, laborers121, and sea-faring men; each wharf122 a solitude, with the vessels123 moored124 stem and stern, along its misty125 length. Should her brother’s aimless footsteps stray thitherward, and he but bend, one moment, over the deep, black tide, would he not bethink himself that here was the sure refuge within his reach, and that, with a single step, or the slightest overbalance of his body, he might be forever beyond his kinsman’s gripe? Oh, the temptation! To make of his ponderous126 sorrow a security! To sink, with its leaden weight upon him, and never rise again!
The horror of this last conception was too much for Hepzibah. Even Jaffrey Pyncheon must help her now She hastened down the staircase, shrieking127 as she went.
“Clifford is gone!” she cried. “I cannot find my brother. Help, Jaffrey Pyncheon! Some harm will happen to him!”
She threw open the parlor-door. But, what with the shade of branches across the windows, and the smoke-blackened ceiling, and the dark oak-panelling of the walls, there was hardly so much daylight in the room that Hepzibah’s imperfect sight could accurately128 distinguish the Judge’s figure. She was certain, however, that she saw him sitting in the ancestral armchair, near the centre of the floor, with his face somewhat averted129, and looking towards a window. So firm and quiet is the nervous system of such men as Judge Pyncheon, that he had perhaps stirred not more than once since her departure, but, in the hard composure of his temperament130, retained the position into which accident had thrown him.
“I tell you, Jaffrey,” cried Hepzibah impatiently, as she turned from the parlor-door to search other rooms, “my brother is not in his chamber! You must help me seek him!”
But Judge Pyncheon was not the man to let himself be startled from an easy-chair with haste ill-befitting either the dignity of his character or his broad personal basis, by the alarm of an hysteric woman. Yet, considering his own interest in the matter, he might have bestirred himself with a little more alacrity131.
“Do you hear me, Jaffrey Pyncheon?” screamed Hepzibah, as she again approached the parlor-door, after an ineffectual search elsewhere. “Clifford is gone.”
At this instant, on the threshold of the parlor, emerging from within, appeared Clifford himself! His face was preternaturally pale; so deadly white, indeed, that, through all the glimmering132 indistinctness of the passageway, Hepzibah could discern his features, as if a light fell on them alone. Their vivid and wild expression seemed likewise sufficient to illuminate133 them; it was an expression of scorn and mockery, coinciding with the emotions indicated by his gesture. As Clifford stood on the threshold, partly turning back, he pointed134 his finger within the parlor, and shook it slowly as though he would have summoned, not Hepzibah alone, but the whole world, to gaze at some object inconceivably ridiculous. This action, so ill-timed and extravagant135 — accompanied, too, with a look that showed more like joy than any other kind of excitement — compelled Hepzibah to dread62 that her stern kinsman’s ominous136 visit had driven her poor brother to absolute insanity137. Nor could she otherwise account for the Judge’s quiescent138 mood than by supposing him craftily139 on the watch, while Clifford developed these symptoms of a distracted mind.
“Be quiet, Clifford!” whispered his sister, raising her hand to impress caution. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, be quiet!”
“Let him be quiet! What can he do better?” answered Clifford, with a still wilder gesture, pointing into the room which he had just quitted. “As for us, Hepzibah, we can dance now!— we can sing, laugh, play, do what we will! The weight is gone, Hepzibah! It is gone off this weary old world, and we may be as light-hearted as little Phoebe herself.”
And, in accordance with his words, he began to laugh, still pointing his finger at the object, invisible to Hepzibah, within the parlor. She was seized with a sudden intuition of some horrible thing. She thrust herself past Clifford, and disappeared into the room; but almost immediately returned, with a cry choking in her throat. Gazing at her brother with an affrighted glance of inquiry140, she beheld him all in a tremor141 and a quake, from head to foot, while, amid these commoted elements of passion or alarm, still flickered his gusty142 mirth.
“My God! what is to become of us?” gasped143 Hepzibah.
“Come!” said Clifford in a tone of brief decision, most unlike what was usual with him. “We stay here too long! Let us leave the old house to our cousin Jaffrey! He will take good care of it!”
Hepzibah now noticed that Clifford had on a cloak — a garment of long ago — in which he had constantly muffled144 himself during these days of easterly storm. He beckoned145 with his hand, and intimated, so far as she could comprehend him, his purpose that they should go together from the house. There are chaotic146, blind, or drunken moments, in the lives of persons who lack real force of character — moments of test, in which courage would most assert itself — but where these individuals, if left to themselves, stagger aimlessly along, or follow implicitly147 whatever guidance may befall them, even if it be a child’s. No matter how preposterous or insane, a purpose is a Godsend to them. Hepzibah had reached this point. Unaccustomed to action or responsibility — full of horror at what she had seen, and afraid to inquire, or almost to imagine, how it had come to pass — affrighted at the fatality which seemed to pursue her brother — stupefied by the dim, thick, stifling148 atmosphere of dread which filled the house as with a death-smell, and obliterated149 all definiteness of thought — she yielded without a question, and on the instant, to the will which Clifford expressed. For herself, she was like a person in a dream, when the will always sleeps. Clifford, ordinarily so destitute of this faculty150, had found it in the tension of the crisis.
“Why do you delay so?” cried he sharply. “Put on your cloak and hood33, or whatever it pleases you to wear! No matter what; you cannot look beautiful nor brilliant, my poor Hepzibah! Take your purse, with money in it, and come along!”
Hepzibah obeyed these instructions, as if nothing else were to be done or thought of. She began to wonder, it is true, why she did not wake up, and at what still more intolerable pitch of dizzy trouble her spirit would struggle out of the maze151, and make her conscious that nothing of all this had actually happened. Of course it was not real; no such black, easterly day as this had yet begun to be; Judge Pyncheon had not talked with, her. Clifford had not laughed, pointed, beckoned her away with him; but she had merely been afflicted152 — as lonely sleepers153 often are — with a great deal of unreasonable154 misery, in a morning dream!
“Now — now — I shall certainly awake!” thought Hepzibah, as she went to and fro, making her little preparations. “I can bear it no longer I must wake up now!”
But it came not, that awakening155 moment! It came not, even when, just before they left the house, Clifford stole to the parlor-door, and made a parting obeisance156 to the sole occupant of the room.
“What an absurd figure the old fellow cuts now!” whispered he to Hepzibah. “Just when he fancied he had me completely under his thumb! Come, come; make haste! or he will start up, like Giant Despair in pursuit of Christian157 and Hopeful, and catch us yet!”
As they passed into the street, Clifford directed Hepzibah’s attention to something on one of the posts of the front door. It was merely the initials of his own name, which, with somewhat of his characteristic grace about the forms of the letters, he had cut there when a boy. The brother and sister departed, and left Judge Pyncheon sitting in the old home of his forefathers158, all by himself; so heavy and lumpish that we can liken him to nothing better than a defunct159 nightmare, which had perished in the midst of its wickedness, and left its flabby corpse160 on the breast of the tormented161 one, to be gotten rid of as it might!
收听单词发音 |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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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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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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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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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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defer
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| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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calamities
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| n.灾祸，灾难( calamity的名词复数 )；不幸之事 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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38
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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39
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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40
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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41
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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42
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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43
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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44
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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45
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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46
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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47
cadences
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| n.（声音的）抑扬顿挫( cadence的名词复数 )；节奏；韵律；调子 | |
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48
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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49
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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50
imputed
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| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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52
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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53
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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54
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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56
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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57
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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58
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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59
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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60
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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61
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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62
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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63
fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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64
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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65
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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66
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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67
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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68
bestows
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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69
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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70
advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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71
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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72
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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73
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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74
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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75
divesting
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| v.剥夺( divest的现在分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
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76
wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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77
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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78
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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79
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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80
symbolize
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| vt.作为...的象征，用符号代表 | |
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81
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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82
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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83
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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84
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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85
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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86
deferring
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| v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的现在分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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87
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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88
abortive
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| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
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89
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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90
chiding
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| v.责骂，责备( chide的现在分词 ) | |
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91
torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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92
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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93
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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94
modulate
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| v.调整，调节(音的强弱)；变调 | |
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95
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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96
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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97
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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98
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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99
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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100
aslant
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| adv.倾斜地；adj.斜的 | |
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101
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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102
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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103
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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104
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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105
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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106
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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107
incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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108
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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109
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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110
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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111
embodies
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| v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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112
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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113
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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114
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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115
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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116
afflict
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| vt.使身体或精神受痛苦，折磨 | |
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117
wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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118
inclement
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| adj.严酷的，严厉的，恶劣的 | |
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119
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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120
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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121
laborers
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| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
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122
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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123
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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124
moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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125
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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126
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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127
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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128
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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129
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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130
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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131
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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132
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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133
illuminate
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| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
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134
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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135
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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136
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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137
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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138
quiescent
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| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
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139
craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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140
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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141
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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142
gusty
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| adj.起大风的 | |
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143
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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144
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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145
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146
chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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147
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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148
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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149
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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150
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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151
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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152
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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153
sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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154
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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155
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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156
obeisance
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| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
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157
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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158
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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159
defunct
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| adj.死亡的；已倒闭的 | |
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160
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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161
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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