"You will regard this as your first introduction into society," said Mr. Temple to his son. "I shall be glad to see you form friendships, which will bring you both pleasure and profit."
It was unfortunate that, despite his affection for his son, Mr. Temple could never avoid introducing into their conversations chance words and phrases which grated upon the sensitive mind of the younger man. The word "profit" was one of these. Arthur, however, made no comment upon this, and the rebellious3 expression which overcast4 his features for an instant was not observed by his father.
"You have much to speak of," continued Mr. Temple, "that will be new and interesting to many of our friends, and I need not say that as my son you will be heartily5 welcomed."
"That, of course, sir," said Arthur; "it will not be, I am afraid, for my own deservings."
"That cannot come, Arthur, until you are personally known, and then I trust it will be for your sake as well as for mine that friends will attach themselves to you. But indeed I have no doubt that such will be the case."
"You are more confident than I am, sir," said Arthur seriously. "I have my fears as to whether I shall feel at home in this new and polished atmosphere, after my experiences of the last two years."
"You have no need to fear, Arthur; I am satisfied with you. I think I shall not make you vain when I tell you that your manners are fitted for any circle."
Arthur's mother gazed fondly upon him as he replied, "It is an inheritance, sir, as are honour and truth, which I owe equally to you."
"I must confess that it was not with entire confidence I saw you depart for your travels, but you have returned improved, if anything. Contact with the world has already improved you, and has opened your mind to the value of the requirements of society."
"Whether it be so," said Arthur, with seriousness, "has yet to be proved. In the New World, with its rougher manners, I have seen much to admire--more, indeed, than in these more civilised surroundings. It is not whether they are fitted for me--it is whether I am fitted for them."
"There is plenty of romance to be found in these more sober scenes; it will come to you, Arthur, as it has come to others."
"In what shape, sir? And have you met with yours?"
Mr. Temple coloured slightly, and devoted6 himself more closely to his paper, which he was perusing7 in the intervals8 of the conversation. Mrs. Temple sighed and looked away. Arthur had inadvertently touched a chord which vibrated keenly in the breasts of his parents. He did not know, and had never heard, that his father had married for money and position, had married without love, but it was no less a fact. A fact of which his mother was not aware until after marriage. It was not a sudden discovery on her part; it was a gradual awakening9, made more bitter by the womanly suspicion of another face, fairer perhaps than hers, and better loved in the past. In this she invested Mr. Temple with qualities which he did not possess, and fashioned a hero--not hers, but another woman's--out of very common clay. There had never been any bickerings between her and her husband; she had not distressed10 him with any outburst of jealously; and he gave her no cause for complaint that the world would have recognised and sympathised with. He was an exemplary husband, faithful and attentive11, and was held up as a model by other wives. Mrs. Temple, before her marriage, had had her romance in her love for her husband; a romance carefully fed by him at that time, for he played the lover skillfully. But shortly after they became man and wife her dreams faded slowly and surely away. She saw that he had no heart for her, and it was most natural in her to be positive that, with his attractive person and the soft blandishments of speech of which she had had experience when he wooed her, he had bestowed13 his heart elsewhere. She kept her secret well, and he was ignorant of it. Had she led him to suspect that she believed herself to be betrayed, it would have caused him much amazement14. In the early years of her married life she was not regardless of his movements, but she made no discovery to confirm her jealousy15. She was in the habit of watching his expressions when he opened his letters, and of listening with agonised attention to the murmurings in his sleep; but she learnt nothing. Had there been anything to discover she would not have discovered it; she was no match for him in subtlety16. Slowly she accepted her fate, with no outward repining, and they lived that calm passionless life which to some souls is worse than death, and which with some highly nervous organisations occasionally leads to violent terminations and tragic17 results.
"You were saying, Arthur," said Mr. Temple, with a direct evasion18 of Arthur's light question, "that you saw much to admire in the rough manners of the men among whom you travelled."
"Very much, sir. The proper assertion of a proper independence, for instance. The kingliness of manhood has no such exemplification in this city of unrest as it has in the free air of the New World, where men and women are not unhealthfully crowded together in small spaces. I see here, among the lower classes of society, no such free step, no such blithe20 spirits, as I have been accustomed to see among men in the same position at the other end of the world."
"There are grades even there, Arthur."
"Surely, sir; and human beings, wherever they cluster, must be dependent upon each other; but there, all grades express in their tone and bearing their obligation to each other, as equally from those above to those below, as from those below to those above. It is mutual21, and there is no shame in it. Now, such dependence19 as I see here is ingrained in either real or assumed humiliation22. Where it is real, it is pitiable and unnatural23; where it is assumed, it is detestable. Either way it is bad and degrading."
"Admitting all this--which I do not--to what do you attribute this worse condition of affairs?"
"If you will pardon me," replied Arthur with modesty24, "I have not gone as far as that. I have my thoughts, but I must see more before I should consider myself justified25 in accusing. I merely record what present themselves as clear pictures to my mind."
"When you see more, and are able from positive experience and observation to form just conclusions, you will admit that we must accept the world as we find it, and that the only wise course is to make use of it to our advantage."
"To turn its foibles to our advantage, sir?"
"Most certainly."
"Its shipwrecks27 and calamities--you know what I mean, sir--to turn even those to our advantage?"
"It is always a difficult thing to argue with an enthusiast28, especially with an enthusiast whom one loves as I love you."
"I know you love me, sir," interrupted Arthur, warmly, "but I do not like the idea you have expressed. I think you would scarcely uphold it in its fulness."
"It is not difficult for a skilful29 disputant to turn his adversary's words against himself, and so to colour them as to make them bear a stronger and therefore different interpretation30. Logic31 is an excellent weapon, Arthur, but it may be much abused."
"Admitted, sir. But it seems to me that it would be more noble and honourable32 to turn the experience we gained of the world to the world's advantage instead of to our own."
"The two aims may go together; but it is an absolute necessity that we should never lose sight of ourselves."
"And of our own aggrandisement?" interrupted Arthur.
"Yes, if you put it that way, though there are pleasanter ways of expressing it."
"More polished ways, sir?"
"Yes."
"But not more truthful33."
"Probably not," said Mr. Temple, with no show of irritation34, though he was secretly annoyed. "Remember that self-preservation35 is Nature's first law."
"Which does not mean," said Arthur, flying off at a tangent, as is the way with most impulsive36 natures, "that we should be continually stabbing our comrades in the race, or grudging37 to others honours worthily38 won--such as yours, sir--or withholding39 from others a true meed of admiration40 because our own merits--which, of course in our own estimation, are very great--have not been so generally recognised."
"These are common phrases, Arthur. Let me warn you to beware of platitudes41. No platitudinarian ever rose in the world, or made for himself more than a mediocre42 reputation."
"That is flying away from the argument, sir," said Arthur vivaciously43.
"Very well, then. I understand you to express that you should deem yourself as fortunate if you were unsuccessful in an ambition as if you had accomplished44 it."
"Not quite that, sir, but in some small way I can imagine circumstances in which I should deem defeat a victory."
"Do not imagine, Arthur--or, at all events, imagine as little as you can. Action is what the world calls for, is what the world demands of its leaders. And if you can act in such a way as not to oppose an established order of things, success is all the more sure."
"There is much to admire in souls which, animated45 by high desires, suffer from opposing an established order of things, and are consequently not prosperous."
"You have hit a nail, Arthur," said Mr. Temple, with emphasis; "'consequently not prosperous.'"
"Exactly so, sir; you take my meaning. I see in these unprosperous men much more to admire than in successful time-servers. And remember, sir," said Arthur, who frequently showed much pertinaciousness46 in argument, "that the very carrying out in its integrity of the axiom that preservation is Nature's first law would rob history of its most noble and heroic examples. I hope you do not mind my expressing myself thus plainly and, as I perceive, antagonistically48 to your views."
"Not at all. It is better that you should speak plainly to me what is in your mind than that you should needlessly betray yourself to strangers, who would not understand you." (Arthur was about to say here that he should not be deterred49 from expressing himself clearly in any society, but his father anticipated the declaration, and gave him no opportunity of expressing it.) "It does one good to be able to relieve himself in confidence of the vapours that oppress him. The air becomes clearer afterwards. Notwithstanding our seeming difference, I trust that our sympathies are in common----"
"I trust so, sir."
"We speak and judge from different standpoints; I from a long and varied50 experience of human nature, you from the threshold of life. When you are my age, you will think exactly as I do, and will be perhaps endeavouring, as I am endeavouring now, to check in your own children the enthusiasm which blinds one with excess of light, and which almost invariably leads to false and unpractical conclusions."
Arthur pondered over these words in silence, as he sat and glanced at a newspaper, as his father was doing. The calm judicial51 air which Mr. Temple assumed in these arguments enabled him generally to obtain an apparent victory, but it was seldom that either of the disputants was satisfied with the result. Purposely cultivating the intimacy52 between himself and Arthur, so that he might counteract53 the enthusiasm which he feared might step in the worldly way of his son, Mr. Temple was conscious that he effected but little good, and he could not but acknowledge to himself with inward trepidation54 that Arthur never failed to advocate the nobler side. This acknowledgment brought to his soul a sense of deep reproach--reproach which had he not loved his son, and based all his hopes upon him, might have caused an estrangement55 between them. For it was Arthur's words which awoke, not exactly his conscience, but his intellectual judgment56, which compelled him to admit within the recesses57 of his own heart that he always played the meaner and the baser part in their arguments. Sometimes he asked himself if the lad was sincere; he subjected his own life as a young man to a critical analysis, to discover whether he had been led away in his estimate of men and things as he feared Arthur was being led away. It was characteristic of the man that at this period of his life--whatever he may have done in his more youthful days--he did not juggle58 with himself. In his solitary59 musings and communings with his inner nature he admitted the truth--but the glowing and delicate promptings never passed his lips, never found utterance60. So now, on looking back, he saw at a single mental glance the wide barrier which divided his passions and his enthusiasms from those of his son. This barrier may be expressed in one word: selfishness. It was this sentiment that had ruled his life, that had made him blind to the consequences he might inflict61 upon others by his acts. Whether it were a voluntary or involuntary guiding, by this sentiment had he been led step by step up the ladder, casting no look at the despair which lay behind him. It was otherwise with Arthur; his father recognised that his son's promptings were generous and noble, and that there was no atom of selfishness in his judgment of this and that. And when he came to this point a smile played about his lips, and a world of meaning found expression in his unuttered thought: "Arthur has not yet begun to live."
The lad thought also; he did not pause to ask himself whether his convictions were right or wrong--to those he was fixed62 by an unerring instinct. But he tried, with little success, to bring his views into harmony with his father's worldly wisdom. The only consolation63 he derived64 was in the reflection that there was more than one fair road to a goal. As to throwing a doubt upon his father's rectitude and honour, no shadow of such a thought crossed his mind. He felt, as his father did, that there was a barrier between them, and he mentally resolved to endeavour to break it down. He glanced at his father's immovable face and tightly-closed lips, and saw that he was occupied by musings that distressed him. "It is I," thought Arthur, "who have given him pain. He is disappointed in me. Surely it is only because we cannot arrive at an understanding." How to commence to break down this barrier? The first means were in his hands--a newspaper, the epitome66 of life in all its large and small aspects, from the deposing67 of an emperor to the celebration of a new style in bonnets68, from the horrible massacre69 of thousands of human beings in the East of Europe to the mild kicking of his wife by a costermonger in the East of London.
He commenced in a trembling voice--for the lad was the soul of ingenuousness70, and could not play a part, however small, without betraying himself--by an introductory comment on a political question of the day. Mr. Temple instantly aroused himself, and replied, without observing Arthur's agitation71. Gaining confidence, Arthur proceeded, and an animated conversation ensued. Their views were again antagonistic47, but there was nothing personally painful in their dissent72. With the skill of long experience Mr. Temple drew Arthur out upon the theme, and the lad became eloquent73, as earnestness generally is--but this eloquence74, combined with this earnestness, was of a standard so high, and the language and periods in which Arthur illustrated75 his points were at once so powerful and polished, that Mr. Temple thrilled with exultation76, and he thought, "All is well." His face cleared, his manner was almost joyous77, and when the subject was exhausted78 he said:
"Arthur, you have afforded me great delight. I cannot express my pride and pleasure. You are an orator79."
Arthur blushed and stammered80; the praise unnerved him, and brought him back to sober earth.
"Yes," continued Mr. Temple, "you are an orator, and you will fall into your proper groove81 in life---- Nay82, do not interrupt me; you will verify my prediction. When a great, a noble gift is given to a man, and he knows that it is his, and when opportunity is given to him as it will be given to you, it is impossible for him to neglect it. God has given you the gift of eloquence, and you will fail in your duty if you do not properly use it. You are far in advance of me; I am accounted a good speaker, but I confess to you that I never lose myself in my words; if I did, I should become incoherent. I know beforehand what I am about to say; your words are unstudied, and are conveyed with a fire which cannot but stir your listeners to enthusiasm. That your political views differ from mine hurts me but little." Arthur raised his face to his father's in quick, affectionate response. "I am a Conservative; if your views do not undergo change, you will become a Liberal; and in this you will but march with the times. The fields are equally honourable. You will become a champion, a leader of your party. My dear boy, my fondest hopes will be realised in you."
From politics they passed to other themes, drawn83 from the columns of the newspaper, and then silence reigned84 for a little while. Mrs. Temple had left the room, and Arthur was now engaged in a column which appeared to interest him more than politics, foreign complications or the state of the money market, all of which matters had formed subject of conversation.
Presently he spoke85.
"It is a great pleasure to me to be able to speak openly to you, sir, and to feel that, though you do not always agree with me, I can say exactly what is in my mind."
"Unhappily, Arthur, this kind of confidence is too rarely cultivated. It needs no cultivation86 in us. It already exists."
As he spoke his arm stole about Arthur's shoulder, and fondly rested there.
"You have so directed my thoughts to myself and the career before me that as I read I find myself almost unconsciously examining the relative impressions produced upon me by current events."
"An intellectual sign, Arthur."
"Pray, sir, do not flatter me too much," said Arthur, seriously; "it produces in me a sensation which is not entirely87 agreeable."
"You must make allowance, Arthur, for a father's pride in his son."
"Forgive me for my remark; I forgot myself for a moment. I doubt whether I deserve the love you bestow12 upon me."
"You more than deserve it, my dear boy, by returning it."
"Which I do sir, heartily, sincerely. Well then, I was about to say that I find myself much more affected88 by the domestic and social incidents in the newspapers than by the larger historical records. For instance, neither the political crisis nor the war produces within me so strong an impression as the sad history comprised in this short paragraph."
Mr. Temple turned his head towards the paper, and glanced at the paragraph pointed65 out by Arthur, making no attempt to read it.
"Concerning any public person, Arthur?"
"No, sir. Concerning one whose name might never have been known but for her misfortunes."
" Her misfortunes! A woman, then?"
"A poor girl, found drowned in the river."
"Murdered?"
"She met her death by her own hands. On the river bank she had placed her child, a mere26 infant three or four months old. The poor girl--scarcely my age, and well-looking, the account says--must have drowned herself in the night when it was dark. First she stripped herself of her warm underclothing, and wrapped her baby in it to protect it from the cold, hoping, no doubt, that it would fall into humane89 hands soon after she walked to her doom90. But the night passed, and the child was not discovered. By a strange fatality91, within a few hours after the girl-mother was drowned, the waves washed her body on to the river's bank near to the form of her child, and when the sun shone, its light fell upon the dead mother and her living child lying side by side. There was nothing about her to prove her identity; even the initials on her clothes had been carefully removed. But a paper was found, on which was written, evidently by one of fair education: 'By my sinful act I remove myself and my shame from the eyes of a cruel world. I die in despair, unconsoled by the belief that retribution will fall upon the head of him who betrayed and deserted92 me.' On the head of him who betrayed her! Is it possible that such a man, after reading this record of his guilt--as perhaps he may be doing at this very moment--can enjoy a moment's happiness? Is it possible that he can sleep? Though by this dead girl's generosity93 his secret is safe, retribution will fall upon him--as surely as there is a heaven above us! If I discovered that ever in my life I had clasped the hand of such a man, I should be tempted94 to cut mine from its wrist to rid myself of the shameful95 contamination of his touch! What is the matter, sir? You are ill!"
"A sudden faintness, Arthur--nothing more. I have been working hard lately, and I need rest. Goodnight."
As Mr. Temple rose to leave the room, he turned from Arthur's anxious gaze a face that was like the face of a ghost.
点击收听单词发音
1 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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2 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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3 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
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4 overcast | |
adj.阴天的,阴暗的,愁闷的;v.遮盖,(使)变暗,包边缝;n.覆盖,阴天 | |
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5 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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6 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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7 perusing | |
v.读(某篇文字)( peruse的现在分词 );(尤指)细阅;审阅;匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览(某篇文字) | |
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8 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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9 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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10 distressed | |
痛苦的 | |
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11 attentive | |
adj.注意的,专心的;关心(别人)的,殷勤的 | |
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12 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
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13 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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15 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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16 subtlety | |
n.微妙,敏锐,精巧;微妙之处,细微的区别 | |
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17 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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18 evasion | |
n.逃避,偷漏(税) | |
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19 dependence | |
n.依靠,依赖;信任,信赖;隶属 | |
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20 blithe | |
adj.快乐的,无忧无虑的 | |
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21 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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22 humiliation | |
n.羞辱 | |
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23 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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24 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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25 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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26 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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27 shipwrecks | |
海难,船只失事( shipwreck的名词复数 ); 沉船 | |
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28 enthusiast | |
n.热心人,热衷者 | |
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29 skilful | |
(=skillful)adj.灵巧的,熟练的 | |
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30 interpretation | |
n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
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31 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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32 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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33 truthful | |
adj.真实的,说实话的,诚实的 | |
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34 irritation | |
n.激怒,恼怒,生气 | |
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35 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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36 impulsive | |
adj.冲动的,刺激的;有推动力的 | |
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37 grudging | |
adj.勉强的,吝啬的 | |
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38 worthily | |
重要地,可敬地,正当地 | |
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39 withholding | |
扣缴税款 | |
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40 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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41 platitudes | |
n.平常的话,老生常谈,陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 );滥套子 | |
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42 mediocre | |
adj.平常的,普通的 | |
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43 vivaciously | |
adv.快活地;活泼地;愉快地 | |
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44 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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45 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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46 pertinaciousness | |
Pertinaciousness | |
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47 antagonistic | |
adj.敌对的 | |
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48 antagonistically | |
adv.敌对地,对抗性地 | |
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49 deterred | |
v.阻止,制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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51 judicial | |
adj.司法的,法庭的,审判的,明断的,公正的 | |
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52 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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53 counteract | |
vt.对…起反作用,对抗,抵消 | |
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54 trepidation | |
n.惊恐,惶恐 | |
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55 estrangement | |
n.疏远,失和,不和 | |
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56 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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57 recesses | |
n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 );(工作或业务活动的)中止或暂停期间;学校的课间休息;某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 );将(墙)做成凹形,在(墙)上做壁龛;休息,休会,休庭 | |
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58 juggle | |
v.变戏法,纂改,欺骗,同时做;n.玩杂耍,纂改,花招 | |
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59 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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60 utterance | |
n.用言语表达,话语,言语 | |
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61 inflict | |
vt.(on)把…强加给,使遭受,使承担 | |
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62 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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63 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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64 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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65 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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66 epitome | |
n.典型,梗概 | |
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67 deposing | |
v.罢免( depose的现在分词 );(在法庭上)宣誓作证 | |
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68 bonnets | |
n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 );(烟囱等的)覆盖物;(苏格兰男子的)无边呢帽;(女子戴的)任何一种帽子 | |
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69 massacre | |
n.残杀,大屠杀;v.残杀,集体屠杀 | |
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70 ingenuousness | |
n.率直;正直;老实 | |
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71 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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72 dissent | |
n./v.不同意,持异议 | |
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73 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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74 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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75 illustrated | |
adj. 有插图的,列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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76 exultation | |
n.狂喜,得意 | |
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77 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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78 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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79 orator | |
n.演说者,演讲者,雄辩家 | |
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80 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81 groove | |
n.沟,槽;凹线,(刻出的)线条,习惯 | |
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82 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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83 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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84 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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85 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 | |
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86 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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87 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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88 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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89 humane | |
adj.人道的,富有同情心的 | |
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90 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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91 fatality | |
n.不幸,灾祸,天命 | |
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92 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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93 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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94 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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95 shameful | |
adj.可耻的,不道德的 | |
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