Beauty, of course, is for the hero. Nevertheless, it is not always he on whom beauty works its most conquering influence. It is the dull commonplace man into whose slow brain she drops like a celestial1 light, and burns lastingly2. The poet, for instance, is a connoisseur3 of beauty: to the artist she is a model. These gentlemen by much contemplation of her charms wax critical. The days when they had hearts being gone, they are haply divided between the blonde and the brunette; the aquiline4 nose and the Proserpine; this shaped eye and that. But go about among simple unprofessional fellows, boors5, dunderheads, and here and there you shall find some barbarous intelligence which has had just enough to conceive, and has taken Beauty as its Goddess, and knows but one form to worship, in its poor stupid fashion, and would perish for her. Nay6, more: the man would devote all his days to her, though he is dumb as a dog. And, indeed, he is Beauty’s Dog. Almost every Beauty has her Dog. The hero possesses her; the poet proclaims her; the painter puts her upon canvas; and the faithful Old Dog follows her: and the end of it all is that the faithful Old Dog is her single attendant. Sir Hero is revelling7 in the wars, or in Armida’s bowers8; Mr. Poet has spied a wrinkle; the brush is for the rose in its season. She turns to her Old Dog then. She hugs him; and he, who has subsisted9 on a bone and a pat till there he squats10 decrepit11, he turns his grateful old eyes up to her, and has not a notion that she is hugging sad memories in him: Hero, Poet, Painter, in one scrubby one! Then is she buried, and the village hears languid howls, and there is a paragraph in the newspapers concerning the extraordinary fidelity12 of an Old Dog.
Excited by suggestive recollections of Nooredeen and the Fair Persian, and the change in the obscure monotony of his life by his having quarters in a crack hotel, and living familiarly with West–End people — living on the fat of the land (which forms a stout13 portion of an honest youth’s romance), Ripton Thompson breakfasted next morning with his chief at half-past eight. The meal had been fixed14 overnight for seven, but Ripton slept a great deal more than the nightingale, and (to chronicle his exact state) even half-past eight rather afflicted15 his new aristocratic senses and reminded him too keenly of law and bondage16. He had preferred to breakfast at Algernon’s hour, who had left word for eleven. Him, however, it was Richard’s object to avoid, so they fell to, and Ripton no longer envied Hippias in bed. Breakfast done, they bequeathed the consoling information for Algernon that they were off to hear a popular preacher, and departed.
“How happy everybody looks!” said Richard, in the quiet Sunday streets.
“Yes — jolly!” said Ripton.
“When I’m — when this is over, I’ll see that they are, too — as many as I can make happy,” said the hero; adding softly: “Her blind was down at a quarter to six. I think she slept well!”
“You’ve been there this morning?” Ripton exclaimed; and an idea of what love was dawned upon his dull brain.
“Will she see me, Ricky?”
“Yes. She’ll see you today. She was tired last night.”
“Positively17?”
Richard assured him that the privilege would be his.
“Here,” he said, coming under some trees in the park, “here’s where I talked to you last night. What a time it seems! How I hate the night!”
On the way, that Richard might have an exalted18 opinion of him, Ripton hinted decorously at a somewhat intimate and mysterious acquaintance with the sex. Headings of certain random19 adventures he gave.
“Well!” said his chief, “why not marry her?”
Then was Ripton shocked, and cried, “Oh!” and had a taste of the feeling of superiority, destined20 that day to be crushed utterly21.
He was again deposited in Mrs. Berry’s charge for a term that caused him dismal22 fears that the Fair Persian still refused to show her face, but Richard called out to him, and up Ripton went, unaware23 of the transformation24 he was to undergo. Hero and Beauty stood together to receive him. From the bottom of the stairs he had his vivaciously25 agreeable smile ready for them, and by the time he entered the room his cheeks were painfully stiff, and his eyes had strained beyond their exact meaning. Lucy, with one hand anchored to her lover, welcomed him kindly26. He relieved her shyness by looking so extremely silly. They sat down, and tried to commence a conversation, but Ripton was as little master of his tongue as he was of his eyes. After an interval27, the Fair Persian having done duty by showing herself, was glad to quit the room. Her lord and possessor then turned inquiringly to Ripton.
“You don’t wonder now, Rip?” he said.
“No, Richard!” Ripton waited to reply with sufficient solemnity, “indeed I don’t!”
He spoke28 differently; he looked differently. He had the Old Dog’s eyes in his head. They watched the door she had passed through; they listened for her, as dogs’ eyes do. When she came in, bonneted30 for a walk, his agitation31 was dog-like. When she hung on her lover timidly, and went forth32, he followed without an idea of envy, or anything save the secret raptures33 the sight of her gave him, which are the Old Dog’s own. For beneficent Nature requites34 him. His sensations cannot be heroic, but they have a fulness and a wagging delight as good in their way. And this capacity for humble35 unaspiring worship has its peculiar36 guerdon. When Ripton comes to think of Miss Random now, what will he think of himself? Let no one despise the Old Dog. Through him doth Beauty vindicate37 her sex.
It did not please Ripton that others should have the bliss38 of beholding39 her, and as, to his perceptions, everybody did, and observed her offensively, and stared, and turned their heads back, and interchanged comments on her, and became in a minute madly in love with her, he had to smother40 low growls41. They strolled about the pleasant gardens of Kensington all the morning, under the young chestnut42 buds, and round the windless waters, talking, and soothing43 the wild excitement of their hearts. If Lucy spoke, Ripton pricked44 up his ears. She, too, made the remark that everybody seemed to look happy, and he heard it with thrills of joy. “So everybody is, where you are!” he would have wished to say, if he dared, but was restrained by fears that his burning eloquence45 would commit him. Ripton knew the people he met twice. It would have been difficult to persuade him they were the creatures of accident.
From the Gardens, in contempt of Ripton’s frowned protest, Richard boldly struck into the park, where solitary46 carriages were beginning to perform the circuit. Here Ripton had some justification47 for his jealous pangs48. The young girl’s golden locks of hair; her sweet, now dreamily sad, face; her gentle graceful49 figure in the black straight dress she wore; a sort of half-conventional air she had — a mark of something not of class, that was partly beauty’s, partly maiden50 innocence51 growing conscious, partly remorse52 at her weakness and dim fear of the future it was sowing — did attract the eye-glasses. Ripton had to learn that eyes are bearable, but eye-glasses an abomination. They fixed a spell upon his courage; for somehow the youth had always ranked them as emblems53 of our nobility, and hearing two exquisite54 eye-glasses, who had been to front and rear several times, drawl in gibberish generally imputed55 to lords, that his heroine was a charming little creature, just the size, but had no style — he was abashed56; he did not fly at them and tear them. He became dejected. Beauty’s dog is affected57 by the eye-glass in a manner not unlike the common animal’s terror of the human eye.
Richard appeared to hear nothing, or it was homage58 that he heard. He repeated to Lucy Diaper Sandoe’s verses —
“The cockneys nod to each other aside,
The coxcombs lift their glasses,”
and projected hiring a horse for her to ride every day in the park, and shine among the highest.
They had turned to the West, against the sky glittering through the bare trees across the water, and the bright-edged rack. The lover, his imagination just then occupied in clothing earthly glories in celestial, felt where his senses were sharpest the hand of his darling falter59, and instinctively60 looked ahead. His uncle Algernon was leisurely61 jolting62 towards them on his one sound leg. The dismembered Guardsman talked to a friend whose arm supported him, and speculated from time to time on the fair ladies driving by. The two white faces passed him unobserved. Unfortunately Ripton, coming behind, went plump upon the Captain’s live toe — or so he pretended, crying, “Confound it, Mr. Thompson! you might have chosen the other.”
The horrible apparition64 did confound Ripton, who stammered65 that it was extraordinary.
“Not at all,” said Algernon. “Everybody makes up to that fellow. Instinct, I suppose!”
He had not to ask for his nephew. Richard turned to face the matter.
“Sorry I couldn’t wait for you this morning, uncle,” he said, with the coolness of relationship. “I thought you never walked so far.”
His voice was in perfect tone — the heroic mask admirable.
Algernon examined the downcast visage at his side, and contrived66 to allude67 to the popular preacher. He was instantly introduced to Ripton’s sister, Miss Thompson.
The Captain bowed, smiling melancholy68 approval of his nephew’s choice of a minister. After a few stray remarks, and an affable salute69 to Miss Thompson, he hobbled away, and then the three sealed volcanoes breathed, and Lucy’s arm ceased to be squeezed quite so much up to the heroic pitch.
This incident quickened their steps homeward to the sheltering wings of Mrs. Berry. All that passed between them on the subject comprised a stammered excuse from Ripton for his conduct, and a good-humoured rejoinder from Richard, that he had gained a sister by it: at which Ripton ventured to wish aloud Miss Desborough would only think so, and a faint smile twitched70 poor Lucy’s lips to please him. She hardly had strength to reach her cage. She had none to eat of Mrs. Berry’s nice little dinner. To be alone, that she might cry and ease her heart of its accusing weight of tears, was all she prayed for. Kind Mrs. Berry, slipping into her bedroom to take off her things, found the fair body in a fevered shudder71, and finished by undressing her completely and putting her to bed.
“Just an hour’s sleep, or so,” the mellifluous72 woman explained the case to the two anxious gentlemen. “A quiet sleep and a cup of warm tea goes for more than twenty doctors, it do — when there’s the flutters,” she pursued. “I know it by myself. And a good cry before-hand’s better than the best of medicine.”
She nursed them into a make-believe of eating, and retired73 to her softer charge and sweeter babe, reflecting, “Lord! Lord! the three of ’em don’t make fifty! I’m as old as two and a half of ’em, to say the least.” Mrs. Berry used her apron74, and by virtue75 of their tender years took them all three into her heart.
Left alone, neither of the young men could swallow a morsel76.
“Did you see the change come over her?” Richard whispered.
Ripton fiercely accused his prodigious77 stupidity.
The lover flung down his knife and fork: “What could I do? If I had said nothing, we should have been suspected. I was obliged to speak. And she hates a lie! See! it has struck her down. God forgive me!”
Ripton affected a serene78 mind: “It was a fright, Richard,” he said. “That’s what Mrs. Berry means by flutters. Those old women talk in that way. You heard what she said. And these old women know. I’ll tell you what it is. It’s this, Richard! — it’s because you’ve got a fool for your friend!”
“She regrets it,” muttered the lover. “Good God! I think she fears me.” He dropped his face in his hands.
Ripton went to the window, repeating energetically for his comfort: “It’s because you’ve got a fool for your friend!”
Sombre grew the street they had last night aroused. The sun was buried alive in cloud. Ripton saw himself no more in the opposite window. He watched the deplorable objects passing on the pavement. His aristocratic visions had gone like his breakfast. Beauty had been struck down by his egregious79 folly80, and there he stood — a wretch81!
Richard came to him: “Don’t mumble82 on like that, Rip!” he said. “Nobody blames you.”
“Ah! you’re very kind, Richard,” interposed the wretch, moved at the face of misery83 he beheld84.
“Listen to me, Rip! I shall take her home to-night. Yes! If she’s happier away from me! — do you think me a brute85, Ripton? Rather than have her shed a tear, I’d! —— I’ll take her home to-night!”
Ripton suggested that it was sudden; adding from his larger experience, people perhaps might talk.
The lover could not understand what they should talk about, but he said: “If I give him who came for her yesterday the clue? If no one sees or hears of me, what can they say? O Rip! I’ll give her up. I’m wrecked86 for ever! What of that? Yes — let them take her! The world in arms should never have torn her from me, but when she cries — Yes! all’s over. I’ll find him at once.”
He searched in out-of-the-way corners for the hat of resolve. Ripton looked on, wretcheder than ever.
The idea struck him:—“Suppose, Richard, she doesn’t want to go?”
It was a moment when, perhaps, one who sided with parents and guardians87 and the old wise world, might have inclined them to pursue their righteous wretched course, and have given small Cupid a smack88 and sent him home to his naughty Mother. Alas89! (it is THE PILGRIM’S SCRIP interjecting) women are the born accomplices90 of mischief91! In bustles92 Mrs. Berry to clear away the refection, and find the two knights93 helmed, and sees, though ’tis dusk, that they wear doubtful brows, and guesses bad things for her dear God Hymen in a twinkling.
“Dear! dear!” she exclaimed, “and neither of you eaten a scrap95! And there’s my dear young lady off into the prettiest sleep you ever see!”
“Ha?” cried the lover, illuminated96.
“Soft as a baby!” Mrs. Berry averred97. “I went to look at her this very moment, and there’s not a bit of trouble in her breath. It come and it go like the sweetest regular instrument ever made. The Black Ox haven’t trod on her foot yet! Most like it was the air of London. But only fancy, if you had called in a doctor! Why, I shouldn’t have let her take any of his quackery98. Now, there!”
Ripton attentively99 observed his chief, and saw him doff100 his hat with a curious caution, and peer into its recess101, from which, during Mrs. Berry’s speech, he drew forth a little glove — dropped there by some freak of chance.
“Keep me, keep me, now you have me!” sang the little glove, and amused the lover with a thousand conceits103.
“When will she wake, do you think, Mrs. Berry?” he asked.
“Oh! we mustn’t go for disturbing her,” said the guileful104 good creature. “Bless ye! let her sleep it out. And if you young gentlemen was to take my advice, and go and take a walk for to get a appetite — everybody should eat! it’s their sacred duty, no matter what their feelings be! and I say it who’m no chicken! — I’ll frickashee this — which is a chicken — against your return. I’m a cook, I can assure ye!”
The lover seized her two hands. “You’re the best old soul in the world!” he cried. Mrs. Berry appeared willing to kiss him. “We won’t disturb her. Let her sleep. Keep her in bed, Mrs. Berry. Will you? And we’ll call to inquire after her this evening, and come and see her tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be kind to her. There! there!” Mrs. Berry was preparing to whimper. “I trust her to you, you see. Good-bye, you dear old soul.”
He smuggled105 a handful of gold into her keeping, and went to dine with his uncles, happy and hungry.
Before they reached the hotel, they had agreed to draw Mrs. Berry into their confidence, telling her (with embellishments) all save their names, so that they might enjoy the counsel and assistance of that trump106 of a woman, and yet have nothing to fear from her. Lucy was to receive the name of Letitia, Ripton’s youngest and best-looking sister. The heartless fellow proposed it in cruel mockery of an old weakness of hers.
“Letitia!” mused102 Richard. “I like the name. Both begin with L. There’s something soft — womanlike — in the L.‘s.”
Material Ripton remarked that they looked like pounds on paper. The lover roamed through his golden groves107. “Lucy Feverel! that sounds better! I wonder where Ralph is. I should like to help him. He’s in love with my cousin Clare. He’ll never do anything till he marries. No man can. I’m going to do a hundred things when it’s over. We shall travel first. I want to see the Alps. One doesn’t know what the earth is till one has seen the Alps. What a delight it will be to her! I fancy I see her eyes gazing up at them.
‘And oh, your dear blue eyes, that heavenward glance
With kindred beauty, banished108 humbleness109,
Past weeping for mortality’s distress110 —
Yet from your soul a tear hangs there in trance,
And fills, but does not fall;
Softly I hear it call
At heaven’s gate, till Sister Seraphs press
To look on you their old love from the skies:
Those are the eyes of Seraphs bright on your blue eyes!’
Beautiful! These lines, Rip, were written by a man who was once a friend of my father’s. I intend to find him and make them friends again. You don’t care for poetry. It’s no use your trying to swallow it, Rip!”
“It sounds very nice,” said Ripton, modestly shutting his mouth.
“The Alps! Italy! Rome! and then I shall go to the East,” the hero continued. “She’s ready to go anywhere with me, the dear brave heart! Oh, the glorious golden East! I dream of the desert. I dream I’m chief of an Arab tribe, and we fly all white in the moonlight on our mares, and hurry to the rescue of my darling! And we push the spears, and we scatter111 them, and I come to the tent where she crouches112, and catch her to my saddle, and away! — Rip! what a life!”
Ripton strove to imagine he could enjoy it.
“And then we shall come home, and I shall lead Austin’s life, with her to help me. First be virtuous113, Rip! and then serve your country heart and soul. A wise man told me that. I think I shall do something.”
Sunshine and cloud, cloud and sunshine, passed over the lover. Now life was a narrow ring; now the distances extended, were winged, flew illimitably. An hour ago and food was hateful. Now he manfully refreshed his nature, and joined in Algernon’s encomiums on Miss Letitia Thompson.
Meantime Beauty slept, watched by the veteran volunteer of the hero’s band. Lucy awoke from dreams which seemed reality, to the reality which was a dream. She awoke calling for some friend, “Margaret!” and heard one say, “My name is Bessy Berry, my love! not Margaret.” Then she asked piteously where she was, and where was Margaret, her dear friend, and Mrs. Berry whispered, “Sure you’ve got a dearer!”
“Ah!” sighed Lucy, sinking on her pillow, overwhelmed by the strangeness of her state.
Mrs. Berry closed the frill of her nightgown and adjusted the bedclothes quietly.
Her name was breathed.
“Yes, my love?” she said.
“Is he here?”
“He’s gone, my dear.”
“Gone? — Oh, where?” The young girl started up in disorder114.
“Gone, to be back, my love! Ah! that young gentleman!” Mrs. Berry chanted: “Not a morsel have he eat; not a drop have he drunk!”
“O Mrs. Berry! why did you not make him?” Lucy wept for the famine-struck hero, who was just then feeding mightily115.
Mrs. Berry explained that to make one eat who thought the darling of his heart like to die, was a sheer impossibility for the cleverest of women; and on this deep truth Lucy reflected, with her eyes wide at the candle. She wanted one to pour her feelings out to. She slid her hand from under the bedclothes, and took Mrs. Berry’s, and kissed it. The good creature required no further avowal116 of her secret, but forthwith leaned her consummate117 bosom118 to the pillow, and petitioned heaven to bless them both! — Then the little bride was alarmed, and wondered how Mrs. Berry could have guessed it.
“Why,” said Mrs. Berry, “your love is out of your eyes, and out of everything ye do.” And the little bride wondered more. She thought she had been so very cautious not to betray it. The common woman in them made cheer together after their own April fashion. Following which Mrs. Berry probed for the sweet particulars of this beautiful love-match; but the little bride’s lips were locked. She only said her lover was above her in station.
“And you’re a Catholic, my dear!”
“Yes, Mrs. Berry!”
“And him a Protestant.”
“Yes, Mrs. Berry!”
“Dear, dear! — And why shouldn’t ye be?” she ejaculated, seeing sadness return to the bridal babe. “So as you was born, so shall ye be! But you’ll have to make your arrangements about the children. The girls to worship with you, the boys with him. It’s the same God, my dear! You mustn’t blush at it, though you do look so pretty. If my young gentleman could see you now!”
“Please, Mrs. Berry!” Lucy murmured.
“Why, he will, you know, my dear!”
“Oh, please, Mrs. Berry!”
“And you that can’t bear the thoughts of it! Well, I do wish there was fathers and mothers on both sides and dockments signed, and bridesmaids, and a breakfast! but love is love, and ever will be, in spite of them.”
She made other and deeper dives into the little heart, but though she drew up pearls, they were not of the kind she searched for. The one fact that hung as a fruit upon her tree of Love, Lucy had given her; she would not, in fealty119 to her lover, reveal its growth and history, however sadly she yearned120 to pour out all to this dear old Mother Confessor.
Her conduct drove Mrs. Berry from the rosy121 to the autumnal view of matrimony, generally heralded122 by the announcement that it is a lottery123.
“And when you see your ticket,” said Mrs. Berry, “you shan’t know whether it’s a prize or a blank. And, Lord knows! some go on thinking it’s a prize when it turns on ’em and tears ’em. I’m one of the blanks, my dear! I drew a blank in Berry. He was a black Berry to me, my dear! Smile away! he truly was, and I a-prizin’ him as proud as you can conceive! My dear!” Mrs. Berry pressed her hands flat on her apron. “We hadn’t been a three months man and wife, when that man — it wasn’t the honeymoon124, which some can’t say — that man — Yes! he kicked me. His wedded125 wife he kicked! Ah!” she sighed to Lucy’s large eyes, “I could have borne that. A blow don’t touch the heart,” the poor creature tapped her sensitive side. “I went on loving of him, for I’m a soft one. Tall as a Grenadier he is, and when out of service grows his moustache. I used to call him my body-guardsman — like a Queen! I flattered him like the fools we women are. For, take my word for it, my dear, there’s nothing here below so vain as a man! That I know. But I didn’t deserve it. . . . I’m a superior cook. . . . I did not deserve that noways.” Mrs. Berry thumped126 her knee, and accentuated127 up her climax128: “I mended his linen129. I saw to his adornments — he called his clothes, the bad man! I was a servant to him, my dear! and there — it was nine months — nine months from the day he swear to protect and cherish and that — nine calendar months, and my gentleman is off with another woman! Bone of his bone! — pish!” exclaimed Mrs. Berry, reckoning her wrongs over vividly130. “Here’s my ring. A pretty ornament131! What do it mean? I’m for tearin’ it off my finger a dozen times in the day. It’s a symbol? I call it a tomfoolery for the dead-alive to wear it, that’s a widow and not a widow, and haven’t got a name for what she is in any Dixonary. I’ve looked, my dear, and”— she spread out her arms —“Johnson haven’t got a name for me!”
At this impressive woe132 Mrs. Berry’s voice quavered into sobs133. Lucy spoke gentle words to the poor outcast from Johnson. The sorrows of Autumn have no warning for April. The little bride, for all her tender pity, felt happier when she had heard her landlady’s moving tale of the wickedness of man, which cast in bright relief the glory of that one hero who was hers. Then from a short flight of inconceivable bliss, she fell, shot by one on her hundred Argus-eyed fears.
“O Mrs. Berry! I’m so young! Think of me — only just seventeen!”
Mrs. Berry immediately dried her eyes to radiance. “Young, my dear! Nonsense! There’s no so much harm in being young, here and there. I knew an Irish lady was married at fourteen. Her daughter married close over fourteen. She was a grandmother by thirty! When any strange man began, she used to ask him what pattern caps grandmothers wore. They’d stare! Bless you! the grandmother could have married over and over again. It was her daughter’s fault, not hers, you know.”
“She was three years younger,” mused Lucy.
“She married beneath her, my dear. Ran off with her father’s bailiff’s son. ‘Ah, Berry!’ she’d say, ‘if I hadn’t been foolish, I should be my lady now — not Granny!’ Her father never forgave her — left all his estates out of the family.”
“Did her husband always love her?” Lucy preferred to know.
“In his way, my dear, he did,” said Mrs. Berry, coming upon her matrimonial wisdom. “He couldn’t help himself. If he left off, he began again. She was so clever, and did make him so comfortable. Cook! there wasn’t such another cook out of a Alderman’s kitchen; no, indeed! And she a born lady! That tells ye it’s the duty of all women! She had her saying —‘When the parlour fire gets low, put coals on the ketchen fire!’ and a good saying it is to treasure. Such is man! no use in havin’ their hearts if ye don’t have their stomachs.”
Perceiving that she grew abstruse134, Mrs. Berry added briskly: “You know nothing about that yet, my dear. Only mind me and mark me: don’t neglect your cookery. Kissing don’t last: cookery do!”
Here, with an aphorism135 worthy136 a place in THE PILGRIM’S SCRIP, she broke off to go posseting for her dear invalid137. Lucy was quite well; very eager to be allowed to rise and be ready when the knock should come. Mrs. Berry, in her loving considerateness for the little bride, positively commanded her to lie down, and be quiet, and submit to be nursed and cherished. For Mrs. Berry well knew that ten minutes alone with the hero could only be had while the little bride was in that unattainable position.
Thanks to her strategy, as she thought, her object was gained. The night did not pass before she learnt, from the hero’s own mouth, that Mr. Richards, the father of the hero, and a stern lawyer, was averse138 to his union with this young lady he loved, because of a ward63 of his, heiress to an immense property, whom he desired his son to espouse139; and because his darling Letitia was a Catholic — Letitia, the sole daughter of a brave naval140 officer deceased, and in the hands of a savage141 uncle, who wanted to sacrifice this beauty to a brute of a son. Mrs. Berry listened credulously142 to the emphatic143 narrative144, and spoke to the effect that the wickedness of old people formed the excuse for the wildness of young ones. The ceremonious administration of oaths of secrecy145 and devotion over, she was enrolled146 in the hero’s band, which now numbered three, and entered upon the duties with feminine energy, for there are no conspirators147 like women. Ripton’s lieutenancy148 became a sinecure149, his rank merely titular150. He had never been married — he knew nothing about licences, except that they must be obtained, and were not difficult — he had not an idea that so many days’ warning must be given to the clergyman of the parish where one of the parties was resident. How should he? All his forethought was comprised in the ring, and whenever the discussion of arrangements for the great event grew particularly hot and important, he would say, with a shrewd nod: “We mustn’t forget the ring, you know, Mrs. Berry!” and the new member was only prevented by natural complacence from shouting: “Oh, drat ye! and your ring, too.” Mrs. Berry had acted conspicuously151 in fifteen marriages, by banns, and by licence, and to have such an obvious requisite152 dinned153 in her ears was exasperating154. They could not have contracted alliance with an auxiliary155 more invaluable156, an authority so profound; and they acknowledged it to themselves. The hero marched like an automaton157 at her bidding; Lieutenant158 Thompson was rejoiced to perform services as errand-boy in the enterprise.
“It’s in hopes you’ll be happier than me, I do it,” said the devout159 and charitable Berry. “Marriages is made in heaven, they say; and if that’s the case, I say they don’t take much account of us below!”
Her own woful experiences had been given to the hero in exchange for his story of cruel parents.
Richard vowed160 to her that he would henceforth hold it a duty to hunt out the wanderer from wedded bonds, and bring him back bound and suppliant161.
“Oh, he’ll come!” said Mrs. Berry, pursing prophetic wrinkles: “he’ll come of his own accord. Never anywheres will he meet such a cook as Bessy Berry! And he know her value in his heart of hearts. And I do believe, when he do come, I shall be opening these arms to him again, and not slapping his impidence in the face — I’m that soft! I always was — in matrimony, Mr. Richards!”
As when nations are secretly preparing for war, the docks and arsenals162 hammer night and day, and busy contractors163 measure time by inches, and the air hums around for leagues as it were myriads164 of bees, so the house and neighbourhood of the matrimonial soft one resounded165 in the heroic style, and knew little of the changes of light decreed by Creation. Mrs. Berry was the general of the hour. Down to Doctors’ Commons she expedited the hero, instructing him how boldly to face the Law, and fib: for that the Law never could resist a fib and a bold face. Down the hero went, and proclaimed his presence. And lo! the Law danced to him its sedatest166 lovely bear’s-dance. Think ye the Law less susceptible167 to him than flesh and blood? With a beautiful confidence it put the few familiar questions to him, and nodded to his replies: then stamped the bond, and took the fee. It must be an old vagabond at heart that can permit the irrevocable to go so cheap, even to a hero. For only mark him when he is petitioned by heroes and heroines to undo168 what he does so easily! That small archway of Doctors’ Commons seems the eye of a needle, through which the lean purse has a way, somehow, of slipping more readily than the portly; but once through, all are camels alike, the lean purse an especially big camel. Dispensing169 tremendous marriage as it does, the Law can have no conscience.
“I hadn’t the slightest difficulty,” said the exulting170 hero.
“Of course not!” returns Mrs. Berry. “It’s as easy, if ye’re in earnest, as buying a plum bun.”
Likewise the ambassador of the hero went to claim the promise of the Church to be in attendance on a certain spot, on a certain day, and there hear oath of eternal fealty, and gird him about with all its forces: which the Church, receiving a wink94 from the Law, obsequiously171 engaged to do, for less than the price of a plum-cake.
Meantime, while craftsmen172 and skilled women, directed by Mrs. Berry, were toiling173 to deck the day at hand, Raynham and Belthorpe slept — the former soundly; and one day was as another to them. Regularly every morning a letter arrived from Richard to his father, containing observations on the phenomena174 of London; remarks (mainly cynical) on the speeches and acts of Parliament; and reasons for not having yet been able to call on the Grandisons. They were certainly rather monotonous175 and spiritless. The baronet did not complain. That cold dutiful tone assured him there was no internal trouble or distraction176. “The letters of a healthful physique!” he said to Lady Blandish, with sure insight. Complacently177 he sat and smiled, little witting that his son’s ordeal178 was imminent179, and that his son’s ordeal was to be his own. Hippias wrote that his nephew was killing180 him by making appointments which he never kept, and altogether neglecting him in the most shameless way, so that his ganglionic centre was in a ten times worse state than when he left Raynham. He wrote very bitterly, but it was hard to feel compassion181 for his offended stomach.
On the other hand, young Tom Blaize was not forthcoming, and had despatched no tidings whatever. Farmer Blaize smoked his pipe evening after evening, vastly disturbed. London was a large place — young Tom might be lost in it, he thought; and young Tom had his weaknesses. A wolf at Belthorpe, he was likely to be a sheep in London, as yokels182 have proved. But what had become of Lucy? This consideration almost sent Farmer Blaize off to London direct, and he would have gone had not his pipe enlightened him. A young fellow might play truant183 and get into a scrape, but a young man and a young woman were sure to be heard of, unless they were acting184 in complicity. Why, of course, young Tom had behaved like a man, the rascal185! and married her outright186 there, while he had the chance. It was a long guess. Still it was the only reasonable way of accounting187 for his extraordinary silence, and therefore the farmer held to it that he had done the deed. He argued as modern men do who think the hero, the upsetter of ordinary calculations, is gone from us. So, after despatching a letter to a friend in town to be on the outlook for son Tom, he continued awhile to smoke his pipe, rather elated than not, and mused on the shrewd manner he should adopt when Master Honeymoon did appear.
Toward the middle of the second week of Richard’s absence, Tom Bakewell came to Raynham for Cassandra, and privately188 handed a letter to the Eighteenth Century, containing a request for money, and a round sum. The Eighteenth Century was as good as her word, and gave Tom a letter in return, enclosing a cheque on her bankers, amply providing to keep the heroic engine in motion at a moderate pace. Tom went back, and Raynham and Lobourne slept and dreamed not of the morrow. The System, wedded to Time, slept, and knew not how he had been outraged189 — anticipated by seven pregnant seasons. For Time had heard the hero swear to that legalizing instrument, and had also registered an oath. Ah me! venerable Hebrew Time! he is unforgiving. Half the confusion and fever of the world comes of this vendetta190 he declares against the hapless innocents who have once done him a wrong. They cannot escape him. They will never outlive it. The father of jokes, he is himself no joke; which it seems the business of men to discover.
The days roll round. He is their servant now. Mrs. Berry has a new satin gown, a beautiful bonnet29, a gold brooch, and sweet gloves, presented to her by the hero, wherein to stand by his bride at the altar tomorrow; and, instead of being an old wary191 hen, she is as much a chicken as any of the party, such has been the magic of these articles. Fathers she sees accepting the facts produced for them by their children; a world content to be carved out as it pleases the hero.
At last Time brings the bridal eve, and is blest as a benefactor192. The final arrangements are made; the bridegroom does depart; and Mrs. Berry lights the little bride to her bed. Lucy stops on the landing where there is an old clock eccentrically correct that night. ’Tis the palpitating pause before the gates of her transfiguration. Mrs. Berry sees her put her rosy finger on the ONE about to strike, and touch all the hours successively till she comes to the TWELVE that shall sound “Wife” in her ears on the morrow, moving her lips the while, and looking round archly solemn when she has done; and that sight so catches at Mrs. Berry’s heart that, not guessing Time to be the poor child’s enemy, she endangers her candle by folding Lucy warmly in her arms, whimpering, “Bless you for a darling! you innocent lamb! You shall be happy! You shall!”
Old Time gazes grimly ahead.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
celestial
|
|
| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
lastingly
|
|
| [医]有残留性，持久地，耐久地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
connoisseur
|
|
| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
aquiline
|
|
| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
boors
|
|
| n.农民( boor的名词复数 )；乡下佬；没礼貌的人；粗野的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
revelling
|
|
| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
bowers
|
|
| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
subsisted
|
|
| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
squats
|
|
| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；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。 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
decrepit
|
|
| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
afflicted
|
|
| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
bondage
|
|
| n.奴役，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
exalted
|
|
| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
unaware
|
|
| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
transformation
|
|
| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
vivaciously
|
|
| adv.快活地；活泼地；愉快地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
bonneted
|
|
| 发动机前置的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
31
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
raptures
|
|
| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
requites
|
|
| vt.报答（requite的第三人称单数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
vindicate
|
|
| v.为…辩护或辩解，辩明；证明…正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bliss
|
|
| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
beholding
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
smother
|
|
| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
growls
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
chestnut
|
|
| n.栗树，栗子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
pricked
|
|
| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
justification
|
|
| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
pangs
|
|
| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
emblems
|
|
| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
imputed
|
|
| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
abashed
|
|
| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
homage
|
|
| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
falter
|
|
| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
jolting
|
|
| adj.令人震惊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
ward
|
|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
apparition
|
|
| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
allude
|
|
| v.提及，暗指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
salute
|
|
| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
twitched
|
|
| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
mellifluous
|
|
| adj.（音乐等）柔美流畅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
morsel
|
|
| n.一口，一点点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
prodigious
|
|
| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
egregious
|
|
| adj.非常的，过分的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
mumble
|
|
| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
beheld
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
wrecked
|
|
| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
guardians
|
|
| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
smack
|
|
| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
accomplices
|
|
| 从犯，帮凶，同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
bustles
|
|
| 热闹( bustle的名词复数 )； （女裙后部的）衬垫； 撑架 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
knights
|
|
| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
wink
|
|
| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
averred
|
|
| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
quackery
|
|
| n.庸医的医术，骗子的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
doff
|
|
| v.脱，丢弃，废除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
mused
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
conceits
|
|
| 高傲( conceit的名词复数 )； 自以为； 巧妙的词语； 别出心裁的比喻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
guileful
|
|
| adj.狡诈的，诡计多端的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
smuggled
|
|
| 水货 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
trump
|
|
| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
groves
|
|
| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
humbleness
|
|
| n.谦卑，谦逊；恭顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
scatter
|
|
| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
crouches
|
|
| n.蹲着的姿势( crouch的名词复数 )v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
virtuous
|
|
| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
disorder
|
|
| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
mightily
|
|
| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
avowal
|
|
| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
consummate
|
|
| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
fealty
|
|
| n.忠贞，忠节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
heralded
|
|
| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
lottery
|
|
| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
honeymoon
|
|
| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
wedded
|
|
| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
thumped
|
|
| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
accentuated
|
|
| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
ornament
|
|
| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
abstruse
|
|
| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
aphorism
|
|
| n.格言，警语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
invalid
|
|
| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
averse
|
|
| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
espouse
|
|
| v.支持，赞成，嫁娶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
naval
|
|
| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
credulously
|
|
| adv.轻信地，易被瞒地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
emphatic
|
|
| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
enrolled
|
|
| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
conspirators
|
|
| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
lieutenancy
|
|
| n.中尉之职，代理官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
sinecure
|
|
| n.闲差事，挂名职务 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
titular
|
|
| adj.名义上的，有名无实的；n.只有名义（或头衔）的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
conspicuously
|
|
| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
requisite
|
|
| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
dinned
|
|
| vt.喧闹（din的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
exasperating
|
|
| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
auxiliary
|
|
| adj.辅助的，备用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
invaluable
|
|
| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
automaton
|
|
| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
lieutenant
|
|
| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
devout
|
|
| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
vowed
|
|
| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
suppliant
|
|
| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
arsenals
|
|
| n.兵工厂，军火库( arsenal的名词复数 )；任何事物的集成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
contractors
|
|
| n.（建筑、监造中的）承包人( contractor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
myriads
|
|
| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
resounded
|
|
| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
sedatest
|
|
| adj.镇定的( sedate的最高级 )；泰然的；不慌不忙的（常用于名词前）；宁静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
167
susceptible
|
|
| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
undo
|
|
| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
dispensing
|
|
| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
exulting
|
|
| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
obsequiously
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
craftsmen
|
|
| n. 技工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
toiling
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
phenomena
|
|
| n.现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
distraction
|
|
| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
complacently
|
|
| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
ordeal
|
|
| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
imminent
|
|
| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
yokels
|
|
| n.乡下佬，土包子( yokel的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
truant
|
|
| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
rascal
|
|
| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
outright
|
|
| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
accounting
|
|
| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
outraged
|
|
| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
vendetta
|
|
| n.世仇，宿怨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
wary
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
benefactor
|
|
| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |