UNCLE VENNER, trundling a wheelbarrow, was the earliest person stirring in the neighborhood the day after the storm.
Pyncheon Street, in front of the House of the Seven Gables, was a far pleasanter scene than a by-lane, confined by shabby fences, and bordered with wooden dwellings1 of the meaner class, could reasonably be expected to present. Nature made sweet amends2, that morning, for the five unkindly days which had preceded it. It would have been enough to live for, merely to look up at the wide benediction3 of the sky, or as much of it as was visible between the houses, genial4 once more with sunshine. Every object was agreeable, whether to be gazed at in the breadth, or examined more minutely. Such, for example, were the well-washed pebbles5 and gravel6 of the sidewalk; even the sky-reflecting pools in the centre of the street; and the grass, now freshly verdant7, that crept along the base of the fences, on the other side of which, if one peeped over, was seen the multifarious growth of gardens. Vegetable productions, of whatever kind, seemed more than negatively happy, in the juicy warmth and abundance of their life. The Pyncheon Elm, throughout its great circumference8, was all alive, and full of the morning sun and a sweet-tempered little breeze, which lingered within this verdant sphere, and set a thousand leafy tongues a-whispering all at once. This aged9 tree appeared to have suffered nothing from the gale10. It had kept its boughs11 unshattered, and its full complement12 of leaves; and the whole in perfect verdure, except a single branch, that, by the earlier change with which the elm-tree sometimes prophesies13 the autumn, had been transmuted14 to bright gold. It was like the golden branch that gained AEneas and the Sibyl admittance into Hades.
This one mystic branch hung down before the main entrance of the Seven Gables, so nigh the ground that any passer-by might have stood on tiptoe and plucked it off. Presented at the door, it would have been a symbol of his right to enter, and be made acquainted with all the secrets of the house. So little faith is due to external appearance, that there was really an inviting15 aspect over the venerable edifice16, conveying an idea that its history must be a decorous and happy one, and such as would be delightful17 for a fireside tale. Its windows gleamed cheerfully in the slanting18 sunlight. The lines and tufts of green moss19, here and there, seemed pledges of familiarity and sisterhood with Nature; as if this human dwelling-place, being of such old date, had established its prescriptive title among primeval oaks and whatever other objects, by virtue20 of their long continuance, have acquired a gracious right to be. A person of imaginative temperament21, while passing by the house, would turn, once and again, and peruse22 it well: its many peaks, consenting together in the clustered chimney; the deep projection23 over its basement-story; the arched window, imparting a look, if not of grandeur24, yet of antique gentility, to the broken portal over which it opened; the luxuriance of gigantic burdocks, near the threshold; he would note all these characteristics, and be conscious of something deeper than he saw. He would conceive the mansion25 to have been the residence of the stubborn old Puritan, Integrity, who, dying in some forgotten generation, had left a blessing26 in all its rooms and chambers27, the efficacy of which was to be seen in the religion, honesty, moderate competence28, or upright poverty and solid happiness, of his descendants, to this day.
One object, above all others, would take root in the imaginative observer’s memory. It was the great tuft of flowers — weeds, you would have called them, only a week ago — the tuft of crimson-spotted flowers, in the angle between the two front gables. The old people used to give them the name of Alice’s Posies, in remembrance of fair Alice Pyncheon, who was believed to have brought their seeds from Italy. They were flaunting29 in rich beauty and full bloom to-day, and seemed, as it were, a mystic expression that something within the house was consummated30.
It was but little after sunrise, when Uncle Venner made his appearance, as aforesaid, impelling31 a wheelbarrow along the street. He was going his matutinal rounds to collect cabbage-leaves, turnip-tops, potato-skins, and the miscellaneous refuse of the dinner-pot, which the thrifty32 housewives of the neighborhood were accustomed to put aside, as fit only to feed a pig. Uncle Venner’s pig was fed entirely33, and kept in prime order, on these eleemosynary contributions; insomuch that the patched philosopher used to promise that, before retiring to his farm, he would make a feast of the portly grunter, and invite all his neighbors to partake of the joints34 and spare-ribs which they had helped to fatten35. Miss Hepzibah Pyncheon’s housekeeping had so greatly improved, since Clifford became a member of the family, that her share of the banquet would have been no lean one; and Uncle Venner, accordingly, was a good deal disappointed not to find the large earthen pan, full of fragmentary eatables, that ordinarily awaited his coming at the back doorstep of the Seven Gables.
“I never knew Miss Hepzibah so forgetful before,” said the patriarch to himself. “She must have had a dinner yesterday — no question of that! She always has one, nowadays. So where’s the pot-liquor and potato-skins, I ask? Shall I knock, and see if she’s stirring yet? No, no —’t won’t do! If little Phoebe was about the house, I should not mind knocking; but Miss Hepzibah, likely as not, would scowl36 down at me out of the window, and look cross, even if she felt pleasantly. So, I’ll come back at noon.”
With these reflections, the old man was shutting the gate of the little back-yard. Creaking on its hinges, however, like every other gate and door about the premises37, the sound reached the ears of the occupant of the northern gable, one of the windows of which had a side-view towards the gate.
“Good-morning, Uncle Venner!” said the daguerreotypist, leaning out of the window. “Do you hear nobody stirring?”
“Not a soul,” said the man of patches. “But that’s no wonder. ’Tis barely half an hour past sunrise, yet. But I’m really glad to see you, Mr. Holgrave! There’s a strange, lonesome look about this side of the house; so that my heart misgave38 me, somehow or other, and I felt as if there was nobody alive in it. The front of the house looks a good deal cheerier; and Alice’s Posies are blooming there beautifully; and if I were a young man, Mr. Holgrave, my sweetheart should have one of those flowers in her bosom39, though I risked my neck climbing for it! Well, and did the wind keep you awake last night?”
“It did, indeed!” answered the artist, smiling. “If I were a believer in ghosts — and I don’t quite know whether I am or not — I should have concluded that all the old Pyncheons were running riot in the lower rooms, especially in Miss Hepzibah’s part of the house. But it is very quiet now.”
“Yes, Miss Hepzibah will be apt to over-sleep herself, after being disturbed, all night, with the racket,” said Uncle Venner. “But it would be odd, now, wouldn’t it, if the Judge had taken both his cousins into the country along with him? I saw him go into the shop yesterday.”
“At what hour?” inquired Holgrave.
“Oh, along in the forenoon,” said the old man. “Well, well! I must go my rounds, and so must my wheelbarrow. But I’ll be back here at dinner-time; for my pig likes a dinner as well as a breakfast. No meal-time, and no sort of victuals40, ever seems to come amiss to my pig. Good morning to you! And, Mr. Holgrave, if I were a young man, like you, I’d get one of Alice’s Posies, and keep it in water till Phoebe comes back.”
“I have heard,” said the daguerreotypist, as he drew in his head, “that the water of Maule’s well suits those flowers best.”
Here the conversation ceased, and Uncle Venner went on his way. For half an hour longer, nothing disturbed the repose41 of the Seven Gables; nor was there any visitor, except a carrier-boy, who, as he passed the front doorstep, threw down one of his newspapers; for Hepzibah, of late, had regularly taken it in. After a while, there came a fat woman, making prodigious42 speed, and stumbling as she ran up the steps of the shop-door. Her face glowed with fire-heat, and, it being a pretty warm morning, she bubbled and hissed43, as it were, as if all a-fry with chimney-warmth, and summer-warmth, and the warmth of her own corpulent velocity44. She tried the shop-door; it was fast. She tried it again, with so angry a jar that the bell tinkled46 angrily back at her.
“The deuce take Old Maid Pyncheon!” muttered the irascible housewife. “Think of her pretending to set up a cent-shop, and then lying abed till noon! These are what she calls gentlefolk’s airs, I suppose! But I’ll either start her ladyship, or break the door down!”
She shook it accordingly, and the bell, having a spiteful little temper of its own, rang obstreperously47, making its remonstrances48 heard — not, indeed, by the ears for which they were intended, — but by a good lady on the opposite side of the street. She opened the window, and addressed the impatient applicant49.
“You’ll find nobody there, Mrs. Gubbins.”
“But I must and will find somebody here!” cried Mrs. Gubbins, inflicting50 another outrage51 on the bell. “I want a half-pound of pork, to fry some first-rate flounders for Mr. Gubbins’s breakfast; and, lady or not, Old Maid Pyncheon shall get up and serve me with it!”
“But do hear reason, Mrs. Gubbins!” responded the lady opposite. “She, and her brother too, have both gone to their cousin’s, Judge Pyncheon’s at his country-seat. There’s not a soul in the house, but that young daguerreotype-man that sleeps in the north gable. I saw old Hepzibah and Clifford go away yesterday; and a queer couple of ducks they were, paddling through the mud-puddles! They’re gone, I’ll assure you.”
“And how do you know they’re gone to the Judge’s?” asked Mrs. Gubbins. “He’s a rich man; and there’s been a quarrel between him and Hepzibah this many a day, because he won’t give her a living. That’s the main reason of her setting up a cent-shop.”
“I know that well enough,” said the neighbor. “But they’re gone — that’s one thing certain. And who but a blood relation, that couldn’t help himself, I ask you, would take in that awful-tempered old maid, and that dreadful Clifford? That’s it, you may be sure.”
Mrs. Gubbins took her departure, still brimming over with hot wrath52 against the absent Hepzibah. For another half-hour, or, perhaps, considerably53 more, there was almost as much quiet on the outside of the house as within. The elm, however, made a pleasant, cheerful, sunny sigh, responsive to the breeze that was elsewhere imperceptible; a swarm54 of insects buzzed merrily under its drooping55 shadow, and became specks56 of light whenever they darted57 into the sunshine; a locust58 sang, once or twice, in some inscrutable seclusion59 of the tree; and a solitary60 little bird, with plumage of pale gold, came and hovered61 about Alice’s Posies.
At last our small acquaintance, Ned Higgins, trudged62 up the street, on his way to school; and happening, for the first time in a fortnight, to be the possessor of a cent, he could by no means get past the shop-door of the Seven Gables. But it would not open. Again and again, however, and half a dozen other agains, with the inexorable pertinacity63 of a child intent upon some object important to itself, did he renew his efforts for admittance. He had, doubtless, set his heart upon an elephant; or, possibly, with Hamlet, he meant to eat a crocodile. In response to his more violent attacks, the bell gave, now and then, a moderate tinkle45, but could not be stirred into clamor by any exertion64 of the little fellow’s childish and tiptoe strength. Holding by the door-handle, he peeped through a crevice65 of the curtain, and saw that the inner door, communicating with the passage towards the parlor66, was closed.
“Miss Pyncheon!” screamed the child, rapping on the window-pane, “I want an elephant!”
There being no answer to several repetitions of the summons, Ned began to grow impatient; and his little pot of passion quickly boiling over, he picked up a stone, with a naughty purpose to fling it through the window; at the same time blubbering and sputtering67 with wrath. A man — one of two who happened to be passing by — caught the urchin68’s arm.
“What’s the trouble, old gentleman?” he asked.
“I want old Hepzibah, or Phoebe, or any of them!” answered Ned, sobbing69. “They won’t open the door; and I can’t get my elephant!”
“Go to school, you little scamp!” said the man. “There’s another cent-shop round the corner. ’T is very strange, Dixey,” added he to his companion, “what’s become of all these Pyncheon’s! Smith, the livery-stable keeper, tells me Judge Pyncheon put his horse up yesterday, to stand till after dinner, and has not taken him away yet. And one of the Judge’s hired men has been in, this morning, to make inquiry70 about him. He’s a kind of person, they say, that seldom breaks his habits, or stays out o’ nights.”
“Oh, he’ll turn up safe enough!” said Dixey. “And as for Old Maid Pyncheon, take my word for it, she has run in debt, and gone off from her creditors71. I foretold72, you remember, the first morning she set up shop, that her devilish scowl would frighten away customers. They couldn’t stand it!”
“I never thought she’d make it go,” remarked his friend. “This business of cent-shops is overdone73 among the women-folks. My wife tried it, and lost five dollars on her outlay74!”
“Poor business!” said Dixey, shaking his head. “Poor business!”
In the course of the morning, there were various other attempts to open a communication with the supposed inhabitants of this silent and impenetrable mansion. The man of root-beer came, in his neatly75 painted wagon76, with a couple of dozen full bottles, to be exchanged for empty ones; the baker77, with a lot of crackers78 which Hepzibah had ordered for her retail79 custom; the butcher, with a nice titbit which he fancied she would be eager to secure for Clifford. Had any observer of these proceedings80 been aware of the fearful secret hidden within the house, it would have affected81 him with a singular shape and modification82 of horror, to see the current of human life making this small eddy83 hereabouts, — whirling sticks, straws and all such trifles, round and round, right over the black depth where a dead corpse84 lay unseen!
The butcher was so much in earnest with his sweetbread of lamb, or whatever the dainty might be, that he tried every accessible door of the Seven Gables, and at length came round again to the shop, where he ordinarily found admittance.
“It’s a nice article, and I know the old lady would jump at it,” said he to himself. “She can’t be gone away! In fifteen years that I have driven my cart through Pyncheon Street, I’ve never known her to be away from home; though often enough, to be sure, a man might knock all day without bringing her to the door. But that was when she’d only herself to provide for”
Peeping through the same crevice of the curtain where, only a little while before, the urchin of elephantine appetite had peeped, the butcher beheld85 the inner door, not closed, as the child had seen it, but ajar, and almost wide open. However it might have happened, it was the fact. Through the passage-way there was a dark vista86 into the lighter87 but still obscure interior of the parlor. It appeared to the butcher that he could pretty clearly discern what seemed to be the stalwart legs, clad in black pantaloons, of a man sitting in a large oaken chair, the back of which concealed88 all the remainder of his figure. This contemptuous tranquillity90 on the part of an occupant of the house, in response to the butcher’s indefatigable91 efforts to attract notice, so piqued92 the man of flesh that he determined93 to withdraw.
“So,” thought he, “there sits Old Maid Pyncheon’s bloody94 brother, while I’ve been giving myself all this trouble! Why, if a hog95 hadn’t more manners, I’d stick him! I call it demeaning a man’s business to trade with such people; and from this time forth96, if they want a sausage or an ounce of liver, they shall run after the cart for it!”
He tossed the titbit angrily into his cart, and drove off in a pet.
Not a great while afterwards there was a sound of music turning the corner and approaching down the street, with several intervals97 of silence, and then a renewed and nearer outbreak of brisk melody. A mob of children was seen moving onward98, or stopping, in unison99 with the sound, which appeared to proceed from the centre of the throng100; so that they were loosely bound together by slender strains of harmony, and drawn101 along captive; with ever and anon an accession of some little fellow in an apron102 and straw-hat, capering103 forth from door or gateway104. Arriving under the shadow of the Pyncheon Elm, it proved to be the Italian boy, who, with his monkey and show of puppets, had once before played his hurdy-gurdy beneath the arched window. The pleasant face of Phoebe — and doubtless, too, the liberal recompense which she had flung him — still dwelt in his remembrance. His expressive105 features kindled106 up, as he recognized the spot where this trifling107 incident of his erratic108 life had chanced. He entered the neglected yard (now wilder than ever, with its growth of hog-weed and burdock), stationed himself on the doorstep of the main entrance, and, opening his show-box, began to play. Each individual of the automatic community forthwith set to work, according to his or her proper vocation109: the monkey, taking off his Highland110 bonnet111, bowed and scraped to the by-standers most obsequiously112, with ever an observant eye to pick up a stray cent; and the young foreigner himself, as he turned the crank of his machine, glanced upward to the arched window, expectant of a presence that would make his music the livelier and sweeter. The throng of children stood near; some on the sidewalk; some within the yard; two or three establishing themselves on the very door-step; and one squatting113 on the threshold. Meanwhile, the locust kept singing in the great old Pyncheon Elm.
“I don’t hear anybody in the house,” said one of the children to another. “The monkey won’t pick up anything here.”
“ There is somebody at home,” affirmed the urchin on the threshold. “I heard a step!”
Still the young Italian’s eye turned sidelong upward; and it really seemed as if the touch of genuine, though slight and almost playful, emotion communicated a juicier sweetness to the dry, mechanical process of his minstrelsy. These wanderers are readily responsive to any natural kindness — be it no more than a smile, or a word itself not understood, but only a warmth in it — which befalls them on the roadside of life. They remember these things, because they are the little enchantments114 which, for the instant — for the space that reflects a landscape in a soap-bubble — build up a home about them. Therefore, the Italian boy would not be discouraged by the heavy silence with which the old house seemed resolute115 to clog116 the vivacity117 of his instrument. He persisted in his melodious118 appeals; he still looked upward, trusting that his dark, alien countenance119 would soon be brightened by Phoebe’s sunny aspect. Neither could he be willing to depart without again beholding120 Clifford, whose sensibility, like Phoebe’s smile, had talked a kind of heart’s language to the foreigner. He repeated all his music over and over again, until his auditors121 were getting weary. So were the little wooden people in his show-box, and the monkey most of all. There was no response, save the singing of the locust.
“No children live in this house,” said a schoolboy, at last. “Nobody lives here but an old maid and an old man. You’ll get nothing here! Why don’t you go along?”
“You fool, you, why do you tell him?” whispered a shrewd little Yankee, caring nothing for the music, but a good deal for the cheap rate at which it was had. “Let him play as he likes! If there’s nobody to pay him, that’s his own lookout122!”
Once more, however, the Italian ran over his round of melodies. To the common observer — who could understand nothing of the case, except the music and the sunshine on the hither side of the door — it might have been amusing to watch the pertinacity of the street-performer. Will he succeed at last? Will that stubborn door be suddenly flung open? Will a group of joyous123 children, the young ones of the house, come dancing, shouting, laughing, into the open air, and cluster round the show-box, looking with eager merriment at the puppets, and tossing each a copper124 for long-tailed Mammon, the monkey, to pick up?
But to us, who know the inner heart of the Seven Gables as well as its exterior125 face, there is a ghastly effect in this repetition of light popular tunes126 at its door-step. It would be an ugly business, indeed, if Judge Pyncheon (who would not have cared a fig89 for Paganini’s fiddle127 in his most harmonious128 mood) should make his appearance at the door, with a bloody shirt-bosom, and a grim frown on his swarthily white visage, and motion the foreign vagabond away! Was ever before such a grinding out of jigs129 and waltzes, where nobody was in the cue to dance? Yes, very often. This contrast, or intermingling of tragedy with mirth, happens daily, hourly, momently. The gloomy and desolate130 old house, deserted131 of life, and with awful Death sitting sternly in its solitude132, was the emblem133 of many a human heart, which, nevertheless, is compelled to hear the thrill and echo of the world’s gayety around it.
Before the conclusion of the Italian’s performance, a couple of men happened to be passing, On their way to dinner. “I say, you young French fellow!” called out one of them —“come away from that doorstep, and go somewhere else with your nonsense! The Pyncheon family live there; and they are in great trouble, just about this time. They don’t feel musical to-day. It is reported all over town that Judge Pyncheon, who owns the house, has been murdered; and the city marshal is going to look into the matter. So be off with you, at once!”
As the Italian shouldered his hurdy-gurdy, he saw on the doorstep a card, which had been covered, all the morning, by the newpaper that the carrier had flung upon it, but was now shuffled134 into sight. He picked it up, and perceiving something written in pencil, gave it to the man to read. In fact, it was an engraved135 card of Judge Pyncheon’s with certain pencilled memoranda136 on the back, referring to various businesses which it had been his purpose to transact137 during the preceding day. It formed a prospective138 epitome139 of the day’s history; only that affairs had not turned out altogether in accordance with the programme. The card must have been lost from the Judge’s vest-pocket in his preliminary attempt to gain access by the main entrance of the house. Though well soaked with rain, it was still partially140 legible.
“Look here; Dixey!” cried the man. “This has something to do with Judge Pyncheon. See!— here’s his name printed on it; and here, I suppose, is some of his handwriting.”
“Let’s go to the city marshal with it!” said Dixey. “It may give him just the clew he wants. After all,” whispered he in his companion’s ear,” it would be no wonder if the Judge has gone into that door and never come out again! A certain cousin of his may have been at his old tricks. And Old Maid Pyncheon having got herself in debt by the cent-shop — and the Judge’s pocket-book being well filled — and bad blood amongst them already! Put all these things together and see what they make!”
“Hush141, hush!” whispered the other. “It seems like a sin to he the first to speak of such a thing. But I think, with you, that we had better go to the city marshal.”
“Yes, yes!” said Dixey. “Well!— I always said there was something devilish in that woman’s scowl!”
The men wheeled about, accordingly, and retraced142 their steps up the street. The Italian, also, made the best of his way off, with a parting glance up at the arched window. As for the children, they took to their heels, with one accord, and scampered143 as if some giant or ogre were in pursuit, until, at a good distance from the house, they stopped as suddenly and simultaneously144 as they had set out. Their susceptible145 nerves took an indefinite alarm from what they had overheard. Looking back at the grotesque146 peaks and shadowy angles of the old mansion, they fancied a gloom diffused147 about it which no brightness of the sunshine could dispel148. An imaginary Hepzibah scowled149 and shook her finger at them, from several windows at the same moment. An imaginary Clifford — for (and it would have deeply wounded him to know it) he had always been a horror to these small people — stood behind the unreal Hepzibah, making awful gestures, in a faded dressing-gown. Children are even more apt, if possible, than grown people, to catch the contagion150 of a panic terror. For the rest of the day, the more timid went whole streets about, for the sake of avoiding the Seven Gables; while the bolder sig nalized their hardihood by challenging their comrades to race past the mansion at full speed.
It could not have been more than half an hour after the disappearance151 of the Italian boy, with his unseasonable melodies, when a cab drove down the street. It stopped beneath the Pyncheon Elm; the cabman took a trunk, a canvas bag, and a bandbox, from the top of his vehicle, and deposited them on the doorstep of the old house; a straw bonnet, and then the pretty figure of a young girl, came into view from the interior of the cab. It was Phoebe! Though not altogether so blooming as when she first tripped into our story — for, in the few intervening weeks, her experiences had made her graver, more womanly, and deeper-eyed, in token of a heart that had begun to suspect its depths — still there was the quiet glow of natural sunshine over her. Neither had she forfeited152 her proper gift of making things look real, rather than fantastic, within her sphere. Yet we feel it to be a questionable153 venture, even for Phoebe, at this juncture154, to cross the threshold of the Seven Gables. Is her healthful presence potent155 enough to chase away the crowd of pale, hideous156, and sinful phantoms158, that have gained admittance there since her departure? Or will she, likewise, fade, sicken, sadden, and grow into deformity, and be only another pallid159 phantom157, to glide160 noiselessly up and down the stairs, and affright children as she pauses at the window?
At least, we would gladly forewarn the unsuspecting girl that there is nothing in human shape or substance to receive her, unless it be the figure of Judge Pyncheon, who — wretched spectacle that he is, and frightful161 in our remembrance, since our night-long vigil with him!— still keeps his place in the oaken chair.
Phoebe first tried the shop-door. It did not yield to her hand; and the white curtain, drawn across the window which formed the upper section of the door, struck her quick perceptive162 faculty163 as something unusual. Without making another effort to enter here, she betook herself to the great portal, under the arched window. Finding it fastened, she knocked. A reverberation164 came from the emptiness within. She knocked again, and a third time; and, listening intently, fancied that the floor creaked, as if Hepzibah were coming, with her ordinary tiptoe movement, to admit her. But so dead a silence ensued upon this imaginary sound, that she began to question whether she might not have mistaken the house, familiar as she thought herself with its exterior.
Her notice was now attracted by a child’s voice, at some distance. It appeared to call her name. Looking in the direction whence it proceeded, Phoebe saw little Ned Higgins, a good way down the street, stamping, shaking his head violently, making deprecatory gestures with both hands, and shouting to her at mouth-wide screech165.
“No, no, Phoebe!” he screamed. “Don’t you go in! There’s something wicked there! Don’t — don’t — don’t go in!”
But, as the little personage could not be induced to approach near enough to explain himself, Phoebe concluded that he had been frightened, on some of his visits to the shop, by her cousin Hepzibah; for the good lady’s manifestations166, in truth, ran about an equal chance of scaring children out of their wits, or compelling them to unseemly laughter. Still, she felt the more, for this incident, how unaccountably silent and impenetrable the house had become. As her next resort, Phoebe made her way into the garden, where on so warm and bright a day as the present, she had little doubt of finding Clifford, and perhaps Hepzibah also, idling away the noontide in the shadow of the arbor167. Immediately on her entering the garden gate, the family of hens half ran, half flew to meet her; while a strange grimalkin, which was prowling under the parlor window, took to his heels, clambered hastily over the fence, and vanished. The arbor was vacant, and its floor, table, and circular bench were still damp, and bestrewn with twigs168 and the disarray169 of the past storm. The growth of the garden seemed to have got quite out of bounds; the weeds had taken advantage of Phoebe’s absence, and the long-continued rain, to run rampant170 over the flowers and kitchen-vegetables. Maule’s well had overflowed171 its stone border, and made a pool of formidable breadth in that corner of the garden.
The impression of the whole scene was that of a spot where no human foot had left its print for many preceding days — probably not since Phoebe’s departure — for she saw a side-comb of her own under the table of the arbor, where it must have fallen on the last afternoon when she and Clifford sat there.
The girl knew that her two relatives were capable of far greater oddities than that of shutting themselves up in their old house, as they appeared now to have done. Nevertheless, with indistinct misgivings172 of something amiss, and apprehensions173 to which she could not give shape, she approached the door that formed the customary communication between the house and garden. It was secured within, like the two which she had already tried. She knocked, however; and immediately, as if the application had been expected, the door was drawn open, by a considerable exertion of some unseen person’s strength, not wide, but far enough to afford her a side-long entrance. As Hepzibah, in order not to expose herself to inspection174 from without, invariably opened a door in this manner, Phoebe necessarily concluded that it was her cousin who now admitted her.
Without hesitation175, therefore, she stepped across the threshold, and had no sooner entered than the door closed behind her.
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dwellings
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amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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10
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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11
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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12
complement
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| n.补足物，船上的定员；补语；vt.补充，补足 | |
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13
prophesies
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的第三人称单数 ) | |
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14
transmuted
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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16
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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17
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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18
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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19
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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20
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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21
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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22
peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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23
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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24
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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25
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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26
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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27
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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28
competence
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| n.能力，胜任，称职 | |
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29
flaunting
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| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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30
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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31
impelling
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| adj.迫使性的，强有力的v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的现在分词 ) | |
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32
thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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33
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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34
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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35
fatten
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| v.使肥，变肥 | |
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36
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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37
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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38
misgave
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| v.使（某人的情绪、精神等）疑虑，担忧，害怕( misgive的过去式 ) | |
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39
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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40
victuals
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| n.食物；食品 | |
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41
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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42
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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43
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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44
velocity
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| n.速度，速率 | |
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45
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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46
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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47
obstreperously
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48
remonstrances
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| n.抱怨，抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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49
applicant
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| n.申请人，求职者，请求者 | |
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50
inflicting
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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51
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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52
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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53
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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54
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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55
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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56
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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57
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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58
locust
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| n.蝗虫；洋槐，刺槐 | |
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59
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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60
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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61
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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62
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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63
pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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64
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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65
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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66
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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67
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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68
urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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69
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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70
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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71
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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72
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
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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74
outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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75
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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76
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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77
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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78
crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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79
retail
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|
| v./n.零售；adv.以零售价格 | |
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80
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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81
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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82
modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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83
eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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84
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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85
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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86
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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87
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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88
concealed
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|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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89
fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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90
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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91
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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92
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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93
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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94
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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95
hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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96
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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97
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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98
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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99
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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100
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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101
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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102
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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103
capering
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的现在分词 )；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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104
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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105
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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106
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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107
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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108
erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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109
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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110
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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111
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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112
obsequiously
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113
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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114
enchantments
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| n.魅力( enchantment的名词复数 )；迷人之处；施魔法；着魔 | |
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115
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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116
clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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117
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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118
melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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119
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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120
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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121
auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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122
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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123
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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124
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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125
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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126
tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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127
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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128
harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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129
jigs
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| n.快步舞（曲）极快地( jig的名词复数 )；夹具v.（使）上下急动( jig的第三人称单数 ) | |
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130
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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131
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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132
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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133
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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134
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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136
memoranda
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| n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
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transact
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| v.处理；做交易；谈判 | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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epitome
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| n.典型，梗概 | |
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140
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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141
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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143
scampered
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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contagion
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| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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152
forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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153
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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154
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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156
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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158
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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159
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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perceptive
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| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
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163
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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164
reverberation
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| 反响； 回响； 反射； 反射物 | |
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165
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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166
manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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arbor
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| n.凉亭；树木 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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169
disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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170
rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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171
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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172
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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173
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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174
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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