They had very little means of judging of any alteration8 Helen’s character might have undergone, except by their recollection of what she had previously9 been. For in her letters to Maud, written about once a month, she had confined herself entirely10 to remarks on the purely11 outward circumstances of her life, very often writing only of past times and of people she and Maud had known, at other times filling her letters, which never ceased to be affectionate, with descriptions of the scenery she beheld12 in her occasional excursions from Tübingen. She had purposely refrained from making Maud her confidant in what concerned her inward life; for, though still retaining the affectionate feeling which she associated with Maud, even back to her earliest childhood, she had grown sensible, during the months they had lived together, that Maud could no longer be regarded by her as a friend, in the sense of one with whom she might safely share every secret of her bosom13. Much in the characters of both Maud and her father had repelled14 her when she came to observe them closely, as indeed was but natural when we compare their studied indifference15 to most of the loftier aims of life with Helen’s fervour of mind and heart. It was thus with something of apprehension16, on her own side, also, that Helen looked forward to her return to England.
The Greshams had not greatly altered during the past two years, either in appearance or habits of life. Mr. Gresham’s reputation as a successful artist had continued to grow, and had brought him an increase of wealth, which he regarded by no means the least important of its consequences. I have not hitherto made any remark with regard to his stand-point as an artist, for the reason that there was very little to be said thereupon. He pursued multifarious branches of painting, never making an absolute failure, or at all events keeping them secret if he did make any, yet never, on the other hand, rising to productions which bore the unmistakable stamp of genius. He was possessed17 of considerable talent, without doubt, and took a pleasure in his profession, partly sincere, partly the logical outcome of his professed18 philosophy. He had a keen sense for the direction of popular taste, and was troubled by no subtle scruples19 with regard to the dignity of his art which might have withheld20 him from availing himself of popular favour. Probably few artists of his time were more successful, judged by the criterion of that substantial approbation21 which finds expression in the expenditure22 of pounds, shillings, and pence.
For Maud Gresham, now in her twentieth year, the intervening time had brought an event of some moment, which, however, found no place in the gossipy letters with which from time to time she favoured Helen Maud was engaged. It would be scarcely possible to conceive of a young lady who had passed through the days of wooing with a less fluctuating appetite, or who looked forward to her approaching marriage with a less fluttering heart. Her future husband, by name Mr. John Waghorn, she had been acquainted with for some two years. Her father had originally met him at his Club, had found him a gentlemanly kind of man, and one apparently24 possessed of means, and had ultimately invited him to dinner. It then became known that Mr. Waghorn was a railway director, and the suspicion of “means” became a satisfactory certainty. Mr. Gresham had intimated to his daughter that here was a very eligible25 match for her; Maud had reflected upon the matter and came to a similar conclusion; and an extremely gentlemanlike proposal had eventually made it clear that Mr. Waghorn entirely coincided with the views of his friend. Should nothing happen to prevent it, the marriage would be celebrated26 during the August of the present year.
During all the time that had elapsed since the death of Mr. Norman, his friend and executor had not once made an effort to fulfil the request made in the exclergyman’s will with regard to Arthur Golding. Deeming such a search impracticable, and sure to remain void of result, Mr. Gresham had constantly procrastinated27 the performance of this duty, always in the intention, however, of some day easing his conscience by the execution of some such measure as forwarding a communication to the police, or inserting advertisements in various newspapers. And these steps he did at length take, though not till the commencement of May in the present year. As sometimes will happen in similar cases, the event he had esteemed28 well-nigh impossible actually occurred on the very day when he had roused himself to such a perfunctory discharge of his obligations, and, after all, by a pure piece of chance. On that day, as Fate would have it, he discovered Arthur Golding.
Returning homewards on foot from the Strand29, he took a short cut out of Oxford30 Street by way of Rathbone Place, which brought him into Charlotte Place and past Mr. Tollady’s shop door. Glancing up by chance into the printer’s window, he saw a neatly-framed water-colour picture hanging there for sale, marked at the modest figure of five shillings. The execution of the drawing was in some respects remarkable31, but this would hardly have sufficed to detain him without some other source of interest. This, however, he found in the picture itself, its subject and outline; for it was a copy of a picture of his own which had recently been exhibited in London, and had attracted some attention. It was a copy, and yet not a copy; for while the attitudes and countenances32 of the figures were precisely34 as in the original picture, the colouring was altogether different, and indeed much more effective. Mr. Gresham regarded it with curiosity for some moments, and, after a slight hesitation35, entered the shop. Mr. Tollady was sitting there alone, and he rose as the stranger entered.
“Could you inform me by whom the drawing in the window was executed?” asked Mr. Gresham, speaking with that touch of aristocratic haughtiness36 which usually marked his speech when directed to those less wealthy than himself.
“It is by a young man who acts as my assistant, sir,” returned the printer.
“Is he in the habit of selling pictures?”
“He occupies most of his leisure time in drawing and painting; but this is the first I have succeeded in persuading him to try and sell.”
“Then you can, possibly, tell me how this copy was made? I mean, was it taken from the original picture, or otherwise?”
“It was made, sir, from an engraving37 in the Illustrated38 London News, which seemed to strike my young friend’s fancy. He purposed first to make a copy in crayon, but afterwards decided39 to make it a study of colour. He has often expressed a wish to see the original, but has had no opportunity.”
“I think I could afford him that,” said Mr. Gresham, with a slight smile. “Will you take the picture from the window and let me look at it again?”
The old man obeyed with sincere joy. The picture had been hanging for more than a month, and as yet no customer had offered. The artist took it in his hands and examined it closely.
“May I ask your opinion of its execution, sir?” asked Mr. Tollady, closely watching the artist’s face.
“It is not bad,” returned the other, looking suddenly into his questioner’s face, as if he half resented the liberty. “There are a few faults in the drawing, and many signs of inexperience in the colouring. Where has the young man received his instruction?”
“He has had none whatever, sir,” replied Mr. Tollady, in a tone not unmixed with pride. “The merit is solely40 his.”
Mr. Gresham looked up for a moment in surprise, but at once changed the look to a somewhat supercilious41 smile.
“And the demerits likewise, then,” he said. “I am glad no one else is responsible.”
“Do you know the original, sir?” asked Mr. Tollady, after a moment’s silence.
“I myself painted it,” replied the other, without looking up from the drawing.
The old man’s heart throbbed42 high. The way in which Mr. Gresham regarded the picture began to inspire him with hopes he had scarcely dared entertain.
“If you will put this in paper I will be the young man’s first patron,” said the artist, at length, after apparently hesitating. “And, what is his name?”
“Arthur Golding,” replied Mr. Tollady, as he took the picture and began to fold it in brown paper.
“What did you say?”
“Arthur Golding, sir,” repeated the other, in some surprise at the earnestness of the question.
Mr. Gresham knitted his brows in a puzzled look, and regarded the printer closely.
“Arthur Golding, eh?” he said at length. “Excuse my curiosity, but has he long been your assistant?”
“Nearly eight years, sir,” replied Mr. Tollady, smiling.
“But how old is he?”
“About nineteen.”
“H’m. Then he was a mere43 child when he came to you?”
“Little more.”
Mr. Gresham turned from the counter, walked into the doorway44, and stood there for some moments in reflection. Making up his mind, he again faced the printer.
“The name you have mentioned,” he said, “is one very familiar to me, and has raised my interest in an especial degree. Would you have any objection — I leave it, of course, entirely to your own discretion45 — to tell me what you know of this young man’s history previous to his first coming to you?”
Mr. Tollady’s turn for reflection had now come, and he was a minute before he replied —
“I think I can have no objection to do so, sir,” he then said. “Arthur Golding is at present out, and will not return for at least an hour, or I should have much preferred to ask his permission. But as I know he is altogether free from false pride, and as you have shown so kind an interest in his work, I will freely venture to tell you what I know. It is included in a very few words. He came to me originally in reply to a notice in my window that I wanted a boy. He referred me then for a testimonial to his character to a bird-dealer in St. Andrew Street, whose name I have forgotten. From him I learnt that the boy had been found by a friend of his destitute46 in the street one night, and had him brought home and put to bed; after which he had continued to lodge47 there, earning his living by working as errand-boy, or something of the kind at a neighbouring shop.”
“But before he was picked up in the street?” asked Mr. Gresham, seeing that the other paused.
“Of that I know very little, for he has always been reticent48 on the subject of his earliest years, and I should be loath49 to pain him by asking unpleasant questions. All I actually know is that he suffered the severest misery50, and that he lived at one time in one of the most wretched alleys51 off Whitecross Street, in the City.”
“Ah, he did!” ejaculated Mr. Gresham, who saw Arthur’s identity confirmed by this last particular. “Well, it is a somewhat singular thing, but I have for some time had an interest in discovering an Arthur Golding, and have, not an hour ago, sent advertisements to various newspapers, addressed to him, if he should be living. From what you tell me, I feel pretty sure that you have saved me further trouble. Did he ever speak to you, bye-the-by, of a gentleman called Mr. Norman?”
“I have no recollection of the name.”
“Nor of a town called Bloomford?”
“I think, never.”
“Very possibly not; it was merely an idea that occurred to me. May I trouble you for your own name?”
“My name is Samuel Tollady, sir.”
“Very well, Mr. Tollady; I will leave my card with you, and I shall feel obliged if you will allow your assistant, Arthur Golding, to call and see me, any time after six this evening. I may possibly show him the original of his drawing. Bye-the-by, you might give me some idea of his character. Pretty fair?”
“I have regarded him as my son, sir,” replied Mr. Tollady, “for so many years that I feel as if it were hardly right for me to praise him. Nevertheless, I will say that I have never known him guilty of a mean or dishonourable action, and I believe that he would lose his life sooner than commit either.”
“Strong expressions, those, Mr. Tollady,” replied the other, with his sceptical smile. “I am glad you told me that you regard him as a son; otherwise I might have — well, have given less credit to your judgment52 than I am still disposed to do. Good morning.”
Mr. Tollady, left alone, pursued his work with a lighter53 heart and a more cheerful look than had been his for many years. I say pursued his work; but during the hour which intervened between Mr. Gresham’s departure and Arthur’s return from his absence on a business matter, he was indeed scarcely capable of applying himself to anything. He walked up and down the shop rubbing his hands together in his delight, knitting his brows in the puzzle of wondering what could be the artist’s hidden connection with Arthur, and turning over and over in his pocket the five shillings which Mr. Gresham had paid for the picture.
How should he announce the news to Arthur? He knew very well that the absence of his picture from the window would at once strike the young man on his entrance, and this would exact an immediate54 explanation. Yet he scarcely knew how he should preserve the calmness necessary to give it. Be it noted55, that in contemplating56 the consequences of this event, Mr. Tollady only thought of their advantages to Arthur.
During the last two years, since Arthur had been able to take an active share in the business, things had looked up again at the old printing-shop, and prospects57 were now much brighter than they had been for many years. In pondering on the morning’s event, it appeared to Mr. Tollady as quite a natural thing that Arthur should forthwith leave the shop; but nothing was further from his mind than the least thought of selfish regret on this account. Such was not Samuel Tollady’s nature.
After a delay which seemed several hours instead of only one, Mr. Tollady’s anxious ear caught the sound of a well-known, light, quick step on the pavement outside, and the next moment Arthur Golding entered the shop.
He had grown to be tall for his age, and the promise of his boyhood was already fulfilling itself in his appearance as a young man. An abundance of hair, which was still light and wavy59, hung about a face in which handsome and manly23 outlines blended with an expression of serious thoughtfulness which at once struck one as remarkable. It was not the face of a robust60 and healthy youth, but decidedly pale and a trifle thin, and the ceaseless motion of his large blue eyes gave him somewhat of the restless appearance of one who is urged to constant activity and exertion61 by impulses from within.
“Well,” he exclaimed, in a full, joyous62 voice, as he entered the shop, “it is all right, Mr. Tollady. I have got the order!”
“Have you, my dear boy? I am glad of it — I am glad of it.”
The old man kept pacing up and down the shop, laughing inwardly, and quite surprising Arthur by the vividness of his delight. He had never seen him so pleased before at the mere acquisition of an order, and could scarcely understand it.
Mr. Tollady himself kept glancing towards the window, where the picture had hitherto hung, in the hope of attracting the young man’s attention thither63, but still without success.
“Well, come!” he exclaimed, at length. “As you have got the order, Arthur, it is only fair you should have some commission. What shall it be? Suppose we say five shillings — five shillings, eh?”
As he spoke64 he took the two half-crowns from his pocket, and pressed them into Arthur’s hand.
Then a sudden idea of the old man’s meaning flashed across the other’s mind. He turned rapidly towards the window, and at once perceived that his drawing was not there.
“It is gone! You have sold it!” exclaimed Arthur, with boyish delight, pressing one of Mr. Tollady’s hands in both his own. “To whom? Tell me! How did it happen?”
For a few moments the old man was unable to speak; but at length he summoned the resolution to begin his story.
As he proceeded, Arthur’s astonishment65 kept pace with the narrator’s delight, and when he knew the whole a serious expression rested upon his countenance33.
“What do you say the name on the card is?” he asked. “Gresham?”
“Yes, Gresham. Can you recall it?”
“Not in the least,” replied Arthur, plunged66 in thought.
“Do you recall the name of Norman?” asked Mr. Tollady, after a slight hesitation.
Arthur raised his head suddenly.
“Yes, I do; I recall it perfectly67. For years I have lost it. Mr. Norman was a clergyman.”
“I suppose you knew him some time before you met with me?”
“Forgive me, Mr. Tollady,” exclaimed Arthur, “for never having told you of this. I imagined it was an incident buried away in my old, miserable68 life, and little dreamt it would ever be spoken of again.”
Arthur then related, in few words, and as well as he could remember the details, the story of his brief acquaintance with Mr. Norman at Bloomford, naturally exaggerating much which he barely retained of the far-off memories of childhood, but giving a true and vivid account of that uneasy yearning69 in his child’s heart, that longing70 for a sight of his dead and gone father, and all the vague restlessness to which it gave rise, which had ultimately led to his running away from Bloomford.
Having completed his confidence, Arthur then went to work for a few hours at “case,” leaving Mr. Tollady to his reflections.
At the stated hour, Arthur took his way towards Portland Place, discovered the number, and rang the visitor’s bell. It was not without much natural tremulation that he found himself standing71 in the imposing72 doorway of what was a palace compared to any house he had ever entered. One moment he almost hoped they had not heard his ring, and that it might be possible to retreat unobserved to his life of happy obscurity; but bolder thoughts soon came to his assistance. The democratic education he had received told him that though this man might be wealthy, he was not necessarily an object of awe73, or even of respect. As an able artist he might command deference74, and that Arthur felt it would be no indignity75 to show. But as for his big house and his portentous76 doorbells, pooh! “A man’s a man for a’ that!”
A servant in livery at length opened the door, and, evidently apprised77 of Arthur’s expected arrival, at once requested him to walk in. He then led the way upstairs, treading noiselessly with slippered79 feet, till he arrived before a door concealed80 behind a heavy green curtain. The curtain he drew back, and requested Arthur to step in, informing him that he would apprise78 Mr. Gresham of his presence.
“What a dreadful house to live in!” was Arthur’s first thought, when left alone. The very air seemed oppressed by the weight of the luxury through which he had passed merely in ascending81 the stairs. The absolute silence which reigned82 throughout, scarcely broken by the affected83 whisper of the footman, seemed to assail84 his ears more painfully than the most intolerable noise. And now he looked around and surveyed the room he found himself in. The first glance showed him that it was a studio. An artist’s studio! How the recollection of all the studios he had ever read of flashed across his mind, dazzling his perceptions with unnumbered rays of glory. How often had he seen studios in the spirit — the studios of the great masters, to his imagination more sacred than any holy of holies reared by human superstition85; but with how faint a hope of ever sating his bodily eyes with the appearance of an actual one.
Eagerly he gazed round at the multifarious objects which met his look. The room was a spacious86 one, round in shape, and lighted from above, where there was a species of glass dome87, shaded on one side by a movable curtain, which allowed no ray to pass in that direction. Three or four large easels stood in the centre, each bearing an unfinished picture, one of a considerable size. On the walls hung a number of looking-glasses, also an abundance of framed sketches88, studies, oil and water-colour pictures.
In one corner lay a heap of armour89, very brightly polished, together with a few sheathed90 swords, and one or two enormous feathers. Against the wall, in another corner, hung a quantity of various-coloured robes. Everywhere were canvases, either finished, about to be finished, or never to be finished — canvases, as it seemed to Arthur, by hundreds.
As for the multitude of small articles of luxury which were scattered91 about the room on every available space, his eyes refused to take note of them individually. The furniture of the room consisted of massive antique chairs and tables, and the fire-place was surmounted92 by a lofty mantel-piece of dark oak, marvellously carved in elaborate foliage93, the whole a masterpiece. Then, standing on a small table near to one of the easels, he observed the colour-boxes, pallets, sheaves of brushes, together with a multitude of small appliances of which he knew neither the name nor the use. His mouth watered at the sight.
Surveying in turn the pictures hanging on, or leaning against the walls, he came at length to one at the sight of which he started in surprise. It was the picture which he had copied by means of the engraving; the subject, Arviragus coming forth58 from the cave with the corpse94 of Imogen in his arms, whilst Belarius and Guiderius regard him with surprise and grief. As he stood earnestly examining every feature and each tint95, to compare it with his own execution, he was startled by a cough close behind him. Turning, he found that Mr. Gresham had entered unobserved.
“You have discovered the ‘Imogen,’” said the artist, extending his hand to his visitor, and regarding him at the same time with a critical look.
“I was thinking how little I understand of art, and how I had spoilt the picture for want of skill in colouring.”
The speech was very well adapted to secure favour, but it was in no calculating spirit that Arthur uttered it. He spoke, as he always did, the veritable thoughts of his heart.
“Perhaps you underrate your skill,” returned Mr. Gresham, disposed to be gracious; “but it is not of that we have first to speak. Let us sit down. Now you will, in all probability, be prepared for my first question. Have you any objection to tell me precisely what you can remember of your life previous to your acquaintance with that bird-catcher, bird-trainer — whatever the man was — who lived Seven Dials way?”
Arthur replied that he had no objection whatever, and proceeded once again to relate those painful passages of his early years with which the reader is well acquainted. When he had finished, Mr. Gresham reflected a little.
“You have not heard of Mr. Norman since you left him in that — that somewhat abrupt96 manner?” he asked at length, with the touch of sarcasm97 seldom absent from his speech.
“Never,” replied Arthur.
“Very well. Then I must tell you that Mr. Norman died some three years ago, abroad. I was with him at the time of his death, and one of his last requests to me was that I should endeavour to rediscover you.”
Arthur looked up in the utmost surprise.
“I have no doubt,” proceeded Mr. Gresham, “that I have now fulfilled his wish, so far. May I ask you what is the nature of your plans as regards the future?”
“I have never reflected much upon them,” replied Arthur, “for I have grown accustomed to regard my future as inseparably connected with Mr. Tollady. I have learned printing from him, and, if he should die, I have always the means thereby98 of earning my living.”
“If he should die,” repeated the artist, with a rather unfeeling emphasis. “He appeared to me rather an old man.”
“He is an old man,” said Arthur, with some sadness in his tone.
There was silence for some moments, during which Mr. Gresham cast side glances at his companion, and seemed to be in some doubt how to proceed.
“What made you first think of drawing?” he asked, at length.
“I can scarcely say. I have always been fond of it, as long, almost, as I can remember.”
“You have never received lessons of any kind?”
“None at all.”
“Should you be inclined to take advantage of the opportunity of obtaining instruction, in case it presented itself?”
“I should be glad to do so,” replied the young man, with warmth.
Again Mr. Gresham paused, and this time he rose and paced the room.
“Mr. Norman,” he began again, resuming his seat, “appears to have taken considerable interest in your welfare, Mr. Golding; so much, indeed, that in his will he left some little provision for you, in the event of my being successful in the search.”
Arthur gazed at the speaker with unconcealed astonishment.
“You are surprised! Well, it remains99 with you to justify100 the hopes which seem to have prompted Mr. Norman’s kindness. We will say nothing at present of the details of the bequest101. Suppose I were to undertake to supply you with sufficient money to live upon, without the assistance of your own work, and to superintend your studies during an hour or two each day here in my own studio, would you be content to devote yourself entirely to art, and to pursue it in the manner I should suggest?”
For several minutes Arthur remained silent, experiencing sensations which deprived him of the power of rational thought. Conceive his situation. A youth of high spirit and lofty ambitions, inspired, though he knew it not, with the breath of genius, whose life hitherto had been hemmed102 between the narrowest bounds, who had pictured for his pleasure the most glowing futures103, without the hope of ever rising above a scant104 subsistence, procured105 by persevering106 manual work, for him to be thus suddenly, and without warning, presented with the chance of realising his most rapturous dream — a life devoted107 exclusively to the study of his beloved art; it was, indeed, too much for his brain to encompass108. He stood unable to reply.
“Well, what do you think?” said the artist, reading with amusement the thoughts which impressed themselves on the young man’s ingenuous109 features.
“I fear I could not reply without — without reflection,” said Arthur; “but no — I know I could not fulfil these conditions. If I were to withdraw from our business, Mr. Tollady would be unable to carry it on alone.”
“But he might obtain some one else.”
“No one else, I fear, who — who would suit him. No, sir; in any case I should be unable to devote myself entirely to art.”
“Could you spare some two or three hours each morning?”
“I — I fear not. It would be impossible for me to say without consulting Mr. Tollady.”
“Is Mr. Tollady’s business extensive?” asked Mr. Gresham, with a smile.
“It is not very large, sir; but I am glad to say it has been improving lately.”
“Bye-the-by, where did you receive your education — reading and writing, you know?”
“I owe it almost entirely to Mr. Tollady,” replied Arthur. “He has been my father ever since I have known him. It would be impossible to over-estimate my indebtedness to him.”
“I fancy Mr. Tollady must be a somewhat notable man,” said Mr. Gresham, with his peculiar110 smile. “Well, I think we have talked enough for the present. The best thing you can do will be to return home and acquaint Mr. Tollady with the propositions I have made to you. Talk the matter over together. Then come to see me again tomorrow, at the same time, and let me know the results you have arrived at. Will you do so?”
“I will, sir.”
“And, bye-the-by, bring me up a few of your drawings — your ordinary work, you know. I shall be better able to judge of your ability from them.”
So the interview ended, and Arthur returned to Charlotte Place, so distracted with contending emotions that he was quite unconscious of the streets he passed through, several times missing his way, and being roused at length by surprise when he heard Mr. Tollady speaking to him from the doorway of the shop.
Meanwhile Mr. Gresham had left his studio and descended111 to the library, where he found Maud writing a letter in the twilight112, for it was after seven o’clock.
“To Helen?” he asked, standing on the hearth-rug with his hands behind him.
Maud nodded, but did not look up.
“Have you told her of my discovery?”
“I am just doing so. Has he been yet?”
“Just gone.”
“Well?”
“Well?” repeated Mr. Gresham, feigning113 not to catch her meaning.
“What is the verdict?”
“Rather favourable114, on the whole. Indeed, considering his antecedents, I should say that he bears a wonderful resemblance to a gentleman.”
“Without, of course,” returned Maud, “exciting the least suspicion that he really may be a gentleman?”
“I wouldn’t commit myself to a decided opinion yet,” returned her father, smiling.
“And what do you intend to do with him?” asked Maud, after writing on for a few minutes.
“To tell you the truth, Maudie, I find it a trifle difficult to decide. At all events, I have offered him the chance of taking lessons here, and I fancy he will be much tempted115 to accept.”
“It doesn’t ever strike you, papa, that you may be doing a very foolish thing?”
“How so, Miss Gresham?”
“Wouldn’t it be much better for this young man to keep to his tailoring, or shoe-making, or whatever else it is he has been brought up to, without having his head disturbed with fancies which can never come to anything?”
“Pray be accurate, my dear. In the first place he is neither a tailor nor a shoemaker, but a printer; secondly116, I beg to tell you that he possesses a most uncommon117 talent, and the fancies, as you term them, may not improbably result in something very substantial indeed.”
“Oh, I have no desire to damp your philanthropy, papa,” returned Maud, with a sly look. “It is somewhat novel to find you taking such an absorbing interest in a sans culottes.”
“You are severe, Miss Gresham.”
“Not at all, papa. Do you authorise me to tell Helen what you say with regard to — to the foundling?”
“Just as you please. It will help to fill up the letter.”
“Do we dine alone, papa?” asked Maud, rising at length from her seat.
“Waghorn promised to drop in. I saw him at the Club this afternoon.”
“Oh, bother the man! He is here perpetually.”
“In a month or so, Maud, you are likely to find his society still more perpetual.”
“Pooh! That will be a different thing. Don’t stand all night in the dark there, papa. You seem unusually thoughtful to-night, and it doesn’t become you.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
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： |
|
|
|
|
2
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
contingency
|
|
| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
morbid
|
|
| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
accomplishments
|
|
| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
consistency
|
|
| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
alteration
|
|
| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
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： |
|
|
|
|
13
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
repelled
|
|
| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
withheld
|
|
| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
approbation
|
|
| n.称赞；认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
eligible
|
|
| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
procrastinated
|
|
| 拖延，耽搁( procrastinate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
esteemed
|
|
| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
strand
|
|
| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
countenances
|
|
| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
haughtiness
|
|
| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
engraving
|
|
| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
supercilious
|
|
| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
throbbed
|
|
| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
discretion
|
|
| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
destitute
|
|
| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
reticent
|
|
| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
loath
|
|
| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
alleys
|
|
| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
wavy
|
|
| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
robust
|
|
| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
joyous
|
|
| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
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： |
|
|
|
|
65
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
imposing
|
|
| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
indignity
|
|
| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
portentous
|
|
| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
apprised
|
|
| v.告知，通知( apprise的过去式和过去分词 )；评价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
apprise
|
|
| vt.通知，告知 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
slippered
|
|
| 穿拖鞋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
ascending
|
|
| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
reigned
|
|
| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
assail
|
|
| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
dome
|
|
| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
sketches
|
|
| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
armour
|
|
| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
sheathed
|
|
| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
surmounted
|
|
| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
tint
|
|
| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
sarcasm
|
|
| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
justify
|
|
| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
bequest
|
|
| n.遗赠；遗产，遗物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
hemmed
|
|
| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
futures
|
|
| n.期货，期货交易 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
scant
|
|
| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
persevering
|
|
| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
encompass
|
|
| vt.围绕，包围；包含，包括；完成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
ingenuous
|
|
| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
feigning
|
|
| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
secondly
|
|
| adv.第二，其次 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |