The most miserly of mortals might have warmed with the ridge7 view from Marley Down. Southward a violet haze8 of hills, larch-woods golden spired9 in glimmering10 green valleys, bluff11 knolls12 massive with many oaks, waving fields, blue smoke from a few scattered13 cottages. From Marley Down with its purple heather billowing between the pine woods like some Tyrian sea, the road curled to the red town sleeping amid its meadows.
Mrs. Betty Steel was at least an ?sthetician, and her eyes roved pleasurably over the woods and valleys as she drove in her smart dog-cart over Marley Down. She had been ridding her conscience of a number of belated country “calls” with a friend, Miss Gerratty, beside her, a plump little person in a pink frock. There was a certain cottage on Marley Down that Betty Steel had coveted14 for months, an antique gem15, oak panelled, brick floored, with great brown beams across the ceilings. Betty Steel had the woman’s greed for the possession of pretty things. The house in St. Antonia’s Square seemed too large and cumbersome16 for her at times. Perhaps it was something of a mausoleum, holding the ashes of a dead desire. Often she wearied of it and the endless domestic details, and longed for some nook where her restless individualism could live in its own atmosphere.
A glazier was tinkering at one of the cottage casements18 when Mrs. Betty drove up the grass track between sheets of glowing gorse. A pine wood backed the cottage on the west; in front, before the little lawn, a white fence linked up two banks of towering cypresses19. Mrs. Betty drew rein20 before the gate, and called to the man who was releading the casement17 frames.
“I hear the cottage is to let. Can you tell me where Mr. Pilgrim, the owner, lives. Somewhere on the Down, is it not?”
The man, an unpretentious, wet-nosed creature, crossed the grass plot, wiping his hands on a dirty apron21.
“Mr. Pilgrim’s just ’ad an offer, miss.”
“Has he?”
“Well, we’re doin’ the repairs. I ’ave ’eard that Mrs. Murchison of Roxton ’ave taken it.”
“Dr. Murchison’s wife?”
The man nodded.
“How utterly22 vexatious. I suppose Mr. Pilgrim would not sell?”
“Don’t know, miss, I ’ain’t the authority to say.”
Parker Steel’s wife flicked23 her horse up with the whip and turned back to the main road, a woman with a grievance24. Her companion in pink offered sympathy with a twitter. Being of the Steel faction25, she was wise as to the friction26 between the households, and a friend’s grievance has always an element of wickedness for a woman.
“How very annoying, dear!”
Mrs. Betty waved her whip.
“I have had that cottage in mind for over a year. Some one must have told the selfish wretch27 that I was after it.”
“Strangely like spite, dear,” cooed the dove in pink.
“I wonder what the Murchisons want with the place? To make a summer beer-garden for their brats28, perhaps.”
“Marley Down’s so bracing29. I hear Jim Murchison has been overworking himself. Probably he intends spending his week-ends here.”
“Rather curious.”
Miss Gerratty’s blue eyes were too shallow for the holding of a mystery.
“I can’t see anything strange in it, Betty. Jim Murchison has that assistant of his, a finnicking little fellow in glasses, with a neck like a giraffe’s. Strange that they should have snapped up your particular cottage.”
“Oh, that’s just like Kate Murchison,” and Mrs. Betty’s brown eyes sparkled.
Hatred30, like love, is a transfiguration of trifles, and nothing is too paltry31 to be registered against a foe32. Parker Steel’s wife drove home in the most unenviable of tempers, untouched by the scent33 of the bean-fields in bloom, or by the flash of the river through the green of June. She rattled34 down the steep hill into Roxton town at a pace that made Miss Gerratty wince35. Metaphorically36, Betty Steel would have given much to have had her bit in Catherine Murchison’s mouth, and to have treated her to a taste of her nimble whip.
Leaving Miss Gerratty at the end of Queen’s Walk by the old Jacobean Market-House, Mrs. Steel drove home alone, to find some half-dozen letters waiting for her, the mid-day post that she had missed by lunching with Mrs. Feveril, of The Cedars38. She shuffled39 the letters irritably40 through her hands like a pack of cards, her eyes sparkling into sudden vivacity41 as a foreign envelope showed among the rest. The letter bore the Egyptian Sphinx and pyramids, and the familiar writing of a friend.
The letter lay unopened in her lap awhile, as she sat by the open window of the drawing-room and looked out over the beds that were gorgeous with the flare42 of Oriental poppies. The lawn, studded with standard roses, swept to the trailing branches of an Indian cedar37. Rhododendrons were still in bloom in the little shrubbery under the rich green shade shed by two great oaks.
She tore open the envelope at last, having lingered like one who shirks the reading of news long waited for. The familiar squirl of the man’s handwriting made her smile, bringing back memories of a first serious affaire de c?ur with the quaint grotesqueness43 of the foolish past. She remembered the thin, raw-boned youth with the red mouth and the strenuous44 eyes who had kissed her one night after a river-party. He was still vivid to her, even to the recollection how his boating-shirt had slipped a button and given her a glimpse of a hairy chest. What a little fool she had been in those days! Mrs. Betty was not the slave of sentiment, and Surgeon-Major Shackleton had slipped with his somewhat strenuous love-making into the past. She still had occasional letters from him, and from other sundry45 friends, letters that she always showed her husband. Parker Steel was not a jealous being. He was mildly pleased by the conviction that he was still envied in secret by a bevy46 of old rivals.
“Dear Betty,—”
Mrs. Steel made a little grimace47 as she pictured the number of “dear Betties” who had probably drifted within the sphere of Charlie Shackleton’s passion for romance. She skipped through the letter with watchful48 eyes, ignoring the surgeon-major’s bantering49 persiflage50, the familiar gibes51 of an old friend. It was on the fourth page that she unearthed52 the news she delved54 for, tangled55 beneath the splutterings of an execrable pen.
“I think you asked me in your last letter whether I knew a fellow named Murchison at St. Peter’s. Haven’t you mentioned ‘the creature’ to me before? I remember Jim Murchison just as you describe him, a solid, brown-faced six-footer, one of those happy-go-lucky beggars who seem ready to punch creation. I left the place two years before he qualified56; he had brains, but if my pate57 serves me, he was the sworn slave of a drug we catalogue as C2H5OH. Not a bad sort of fool, but bibulous58 as blotting-paper. Funny he should have turned up your way, and married Kate of the golden hair. Mark this private, and let my friend Parker deal with the above formula. Glad to hear that he is raking in the guineas—”
The letter ended with a few personal paragraphs that Mrs. Betty hardly troubled to read. She crossed the hall to her husband’s study, hunted out a text-book on chemistry from the shelves, and proceeded with much patience and deliberation to unearth53 the scientific hieroglyph59 the surgeon-major’s letter contained. She found it at last, and smiled maliciously60 at its vulgar triteness61.
“C2H5OH, ethyl alcohol; commonly known as alcohol; a generic62 term for certain compounds which are the hydroxides of hydrocarbon63 radicals64. The active principle of intoxicating65 liquors.”
Mrs. Betty put the book back on the shelf, and buttoned Mr. Shackleton’s letter into her blouse. There was a queer glitter in her eyes, a spiteful sparkle of satisfaction. She went back to the drawing-room, and seating herself at the piano, played Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song” with fine verve and feeling.
Her husband found her in a brilliant mood that night at dinner. She looked sleek66 and handsome, blood in her cheeks and mischief67 in her eyes. Mrs. Betty at her best could be a very inflammatory and sensuous68 creature, like a Greek nymph taken from some Bacchic vase.
“The latest news, Parker—the Murchisons have snapped up my cottage on Marley Down.”
“The dickens they have! You don’t appear jealous.”
“No, I have a forgiving heart. The place is like a hermitage. What can the Murchisons want with such a cottage?”
Her husband, cold intellectualist, warmed to her beauty as to true Falernian.
“Am I a crystal gazer?”
“Read me the riddle69.”
Parker Steel laughed, and looked at her with a slight loosening of the mouth.
“Riddle-de-dee! You women are always analyzing70 imaginary motives71. Murchison has been looking run to death, lean as an overdriven horse. I don’t blame him for wishing to munch72 his oats in rustic73 seclusion74.”
Mrs. Betty bubbled over with sparkles of intuition.
“What does C2H5OH stand for, Parker?”
“C2H5OH! What on earth have you to do with chemical formul??”
“Answer my question.”
“Gin, if you like; the stuff the blue-ribbonites battle with.”
点击收听单词发音
1 ruby | |
n.红宝石,红宝石色 | |
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2 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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3 dwindle | |
v.逐渐变小(或减少) | |
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4 orchards | |
(通常指围起来的)果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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5 slashed | |
v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 );鞭打;割破;削减 | |
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6 thickets | |
n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 );丛状物 | |
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7 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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8 haze | |
n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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9 spired | |
v.(教堂的) 塔尖,尖顶( spire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 glimmering | |
n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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11 bluff | |
v.虚张声势,用假象骗人;n.虚张声势,欺骗 | |
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12 knolls | |
n.小圆丘,小土墩( knoll的名词复数 ) | |
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13 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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14 coveted | |
adj.令人垂涎的;垂涎的,梦寐以求的v.贪求,觊觎(covet的过去分词);垂涎;贪图 | |
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15 gem | |
n.宝石,珠宝;受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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16 cumbersome | |
adj.笨重的,不便携带的 | |
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17 casement | |
n.竖铰链窗;窗扉 | |
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18 casements | |
n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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19 cypresses | |
n.柏属植物,柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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20 rein | |
n.疆绳,统治,支配;vt.以僵绳控制,统治 | |
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21 apron | |
n.围裙;工作裙 | |
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22 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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23 flicked | |
(尤指用手指或手快速地)轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 ); (用…)轻挥; (快速地)按开关; 向…笑了一下(或瞥了一眼等) | |
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24 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
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25 faction | |
n.宗派,小集团;派别;派系斗争 | |
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26 friction | |
n.摩擦,摩擦力 | |
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27 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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28 brats | |
n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
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29 bracing | |
adj.令人振奋的 | |
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30 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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31 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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32 foe | |
n.敌人,仇敌 | |
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33 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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34 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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35 wince | |
n.畏缩,退避,(因痛苦,苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动;v.畏缩,退缩,退避 | |
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36 metaphorically | |
adv. 用比喻地 | |
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37 cedar | |
n.雪松,香柏(木) | |
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38 cedars | |
雪松,西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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39 shuffled | |
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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40 irritably | |
ad.易生气地 | |
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41 vivacity | |
n.快活,活泼,精神充沛 | |
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42 flare | |
v.闪耀,闪烁;n.潮红;突发 | |
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43 grotesqueness | |
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44 strenuous | |
adj.奋发的,使劲的;紧张的;热烈的,狂热的 | |
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45 sundry | |
adj.各式各样的,种种的 | |
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46 bevy | |
n.一群 | |
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47 grimace | |
v.做鬼脸,面部歪扭 | |
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48 watchful | |
adj.注意的,警惕的 | |
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49 bantering | |
adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑,说笑,逗乐( banter的现在分词 );(善意地)取笑,逗弄 | |
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50 persiflage | |
n.戏弄;挖苦 | |
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51 gibes | |
vi.嘲笑,嘲弄(gibe的第三人称单数形式) | |
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52 unearthed | |
出土的(考古) | |
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53 unearth | |
v.发掘,掘出,从洞中赶出 | |
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54 delved | |
v.深入探究,钻研( delve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55 tangled | |
adj. 纠缠的,紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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56 qualified | |
adj.合格的,有资格的,胜任的,有限制的 | |
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57 pate | |
n.头顶;光顶 | |
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58 bibulous | |
adj.高度吸收的,酗酒的 | |
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59 hieroglyph | |
n.象形文字, 图画文字 | |
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60 maliciously | |
adv.有敌意地 | |
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61 triteness | |
n.平凡,陈腐 | |
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62 generic | |
adj.一般的,普通的,共有的 | |
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63 hydrocarbon | |
n.烃,碳氢化合物 | |
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64 radicals | |
n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 );根基;基本原理;[数学]根数 | |
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65 intoxicating | |
a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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66 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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67 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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68 sensuous | |
adj.激发美感的;感官的,感觉上的 | |
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69 riddle | |
n.谜,谜语,粗筛;vt.解谜,给…出谜,筛,检查,鉴定,非难,充满于;vi.出谜 | |
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70 analyzing | |
v.分析;分析( analyze的现在分词 );分解;解释;对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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71 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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72 munch | |
v.用力嚼,大声咀嚼 | |
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73 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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74 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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