Something delayed the arrival of the Wesleyan minister, and a youngman came temporarily in his stead. It was on the thirteenth ofJanuary 183- that Mr. Stockdale, the young man in question, made hishumble entry into the village, unknown, and almost unseen. But whenthose of the inhabitants who styled themselves of his connectionbecame acquainted with him, they were rather pleased with thesubstitute than otherwise, though he had scarcely as yet acquiredballast of character sufficient to steady the consciences of thehundred-and-forty Methodists of pure blood who, at this time, livedin Nether-Moynton, and to give in addition supplementary2 support tothe mixed race which went to church in the morning and chapel3 in theevening, or when there was a tea--as many as a hundred-and-tenpeople more, all told, and including the parish-clerk in the winter-time, when it was too dark for the vicar to observe who passed upthe street at seven o'clock--which, to be just to him, he was neveranxious to do.
It was owing to this overlapping4 of creeds5 that the celebratedpopulation-puzzle arose among the denser6 gentry7 of the districtaround Nether-Moynton: how could it be that a parish containingfifteen score of strong full-grown Episcopalians, and nearlythirteen score of well-matured Dissenters8, numbered barely two-and-twenty score adults in all?
The young man being personally interesting, those with whom he camein contact were content to waive9 for a while the graver question ofhis sufficiency. It is said that at this time of his life his eyeswere affectionate, though without a ray of levity10; that his hair wascurly, and his figure tall; that he was, in short, a very lovableyouth, who won upon his female hearers as soon as they saw and heardhim, and caused them to say, 'Why didn't we know of this before hecame, that we might have gied him a warmer welcome!'
The fact was that, knowing him to be only provisionally selected,and expecting nothing remarkable11 in his person or doctrine12, they andthe rest of his flock in Nether-Moynton had felt almost asindifferent about his advent13 as if they had been the soundestchurch-going parishioners in the country, and he their true andappointed parson. Thus when Stockdale set foot in the place nobodyhad secured a lodging14 for him, and though his journey had given hima bad cold in the head, he was forced to attend to that businesshimself. On inquiry15 he learnt that the only possible accommodationin the village would be found at the house of one Mrs. LizzyNewberry, at the upper end of the street.
It was a youth who gave this information, and Stockdale asked himwho Mrs. Newberry might be.
The boy said that she was a widow-woman, who had got no husband,because he was dead. Mr. Newberry, he added, had been a well-to-doman enough, as the saying was, and a farmer; but he had gone off ina decline. As regarded Mrs. Newberry's serious side, Stockdalegathered that she was one of the trimmers who went to church andchapel both.
'I'll go there,' said Stockdale, feeling that, in the absence ofpurely sectarian lodgings16, he could do no better.
'She's a little particular, and won't hae gover'ment folks, orcurates, or the pa'son's friends, or such like,' said the laddubiously.
'Ah, that may be a promising17 sign: I'll call. Or no; just you goup and ask first if she can find room for me. I have to see one ortwo persons on another matter. You will find me down at thecarrier's.'
In a quarter of an hour the lad came back, and said that Mrs.
Newberry would have no objection to accommodate him, whereuponStockdale called at the house.
It stood within a garden-hedge, and seemed to be roomy andcomfortable. He saw an elderly woman, with whom he madearrangements to come the same night, since there was no inn in theplace, and he wished to house himself as soon as possible; thevillage being a local centre from which he was to radiate at once tothe different small chapels18 in the neighbourhood. He forthwith senthis luggage to Mrs. Newberry's from the carrier's, where he hadtaken shelter, and in the evening walked up to his temporary home.
As he now lived there, Stockdale felt it unnecessary to knock at thedoor; and entering quietly he had the pleasure of hearing footstepsscudding away like mice into the back quarters. He advanced to theparlour, as the front room was called, though its stone floor wasscarcely disguised by the carpet, which only over-laid the troddenareas, leaving sandy deserts under the bulging19 mouldings of thetable-legs, playing with brass20 furniture. But the room looked snugand cheerful. The firelight shone out brightly, trembling on theknobs and handles, and lurking21 in great strength on the undersurface of the chimney-piece. A deep arm-chair, covered withhorsehair, and studded with a countless22 throng23 of brass nails, waspulled up on one side of the fireplace. The tea-things were on thetable, the teapot cover was open, and a little hand-bell had beenlaid at that precise point towards which a person seated in thegreat chair might be expected instinctively24 to stretch his hand.
Stockdale sat down, not objecting to his experience of the room thusfar, and began his residence by tinkling25 the bell. A little girlcrept in at the summons, and made tea for him. Her name, she said,was Marther Sarer, and she lived out there, nodding towards the roadand village generally. Before Stockdale had got far with his meal,a tap sounded on the door behind him, and on his telling theinquirer to come in, a rustle26 of garments caused him to turn hishead. He saw before him a fine and extremely well-made young woman,with dark hair, a wide, sensible, beautiful forehead, eyes thatwarmed him before he knew it, and a mouth that was in itself apicture to all appreciative27 souls.
'Can I get you anything else for tea?' she said, coming forward astep or two, an expression of liveliness on her features, and herhand waving the door by its edge.
'Nothing, thank you,' said Stockdale, thinking less of what hereplied than of what might be her relation to the household.
'You are quite sure?' said the young woman, apparently28 aware that hehad not considered his answer.
He conscientiously29 examined the tea-things, and found them allthere. 'Quite sure, Miss Newberry,' he said.
'It is Mrs. Newberry,' she said. 'Lizzy Newberry, I used to beLizzy Simpkins.'
'O, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Newberry.' And before he had occasionto say more she left the room.
Stockdale remained in some doubt till Martha Sarah came to clear thetable. 'Whose house is this, my little woman,' said he.
'Mrs. Lizzy Newberry's, sir.'
'Then Mrs. Newberry is not the old lady I saw this afternoon?'
'No. That's Mrs. Newberry's mother. It was Mrs. Newberry who comedin to you just by now, because she wanted to see if you was good-looking.'
Later in the evening, when Stockdale was about to begin supper, shecame again. 'I have come myself, Mr. Stockdale,' she said. Theminister stood up in acknowledgment of the honour. 'I am afraidlittle Marther might not make you understand. What will you havefor supper?--there's cold rabbit, and there's a ham uncut.'
Stockdale said he could get on nicely with those viands30, and supperwas laid. He had no more than cut a slice when tap-tap came to thedoor again. The minister had already learnt that this particularrhythm in taps denoted the fingers of his enkindling landlady31, andthe doomed32 young fellow buried his first mouthful under a look ofreceptive blandness33.
'We have a chicken in the house, Mr. Stockdale--I quite forgot tomention it just now. Perhaps you would like Marther Sarer to bringit up?'
Stockdale had advanced far enough in the art of being a young man tosay that he did not want the chicken, unless she brought it upherself; but when it was uttered he blushed at the daring gallantryof the speech, perhaps a shade too strong for a serious man and aminister. In three minutes the chicken appeared, but, to his greatsurprise, only in the hands of Martha Sarah. Stockdale wasdisappointed, which perhaps it was intended that he should be.
He had finished supper, and was not in the least anticipating Mrs.
Newberry again that night, when she tapped and entered as before.
Stockdale's gratified look told that she had lost nothing by notappearing when expected. It happened that the cold in the head fromwhich the young man suffered had increased with the approach ofnight, and before she had spoken he was seized with a violent fit ofsneezing which he could not anyhow repress.
Mrs. Newberry looked full of pity. 'Your cold is very bad to-night,Mr. Stockdale.'
Stockdale replied that it was rather troublesome.
'And I've a good mind'--she added archly, looking at the cheerlessglass of water on the table, which the abstemious35 minister was goingto drink.
'Yes, Mrs. Newberry?'
'I've a good mind that you should have something more likely to cureit than that cold stuff.'
'Well,' said Stockdale, looking down at the glass, 'as there is noinn here, and nothing better to be got in the village, of course itwill do.'
To this she replied, 'There is something better, not far off, thoughnot in the house. I really think you must try it, or you may beill. Yes, Mr. Stockdale, you shall.' She held up her finger,seeing that he was about to speak. 'Don't ask what it is; wait, andyou shall see.'
Lizzy went away, and Stockdale waited in a pleasant mood. Presentlyshe returned with her bonnet36 and cloak on, saying, 'I am so sorry,but you must help me to get it. Mother has gone to bed. Will youwrap yourself up, and come this way, and please bring that cup withyou?'
Stockdale, a lonely young fellow, who had for weeks felt a greatcraving for somebody on whom to throw away superfluous37 interest, andeven tenderness, was not sorry to join her; and followed his guidethrough the back door, across the garden, to the bottom, where theboundary was a wall. This wall was low, and beyond it Stockdalediscerned in the night shades several grey headstones, and theoutlines of the church roof and tower.
'It is easy to get up this way,' she said, stepping upon a bankwhich abutted38 on the wall; then putting her foot on the top of thestonework, and descending39 a spring inside, where the ground was muchhigher, as is the manner of graveyards40 to be. Stockdale did thesame, and followed her in the dusk across the irregular ground tillthey came to the tower door, which, when they had entered, shesoftly closed behind them.
'You can keep a secret?' she said, in a musical voice.
'Like an iron chest!' said he fervently41.
Then from under her cloak she produced a small lighted lantern,which the minister had not noticed that she carried at all. Thelight showed them to be close to the singing-gallery stairs, underwhich lay a heap of lumber42 of all sorts, but consisting mostly ofdecayed framework, pews, panels, and pieces of flooring, that fromtime to time had been removed from their original fixings in thebody of the edifice43 and replaced by new.
'Perhaps you will drag some of those boards aside?' she said,holding the lantern over her head to light him better. 'Or will youtake the lantern while I move them?'
'I can manage it,' said the young man, and acting44 as she ordered, heuncovered, to his surprise, a row of little barrels bound with woodhoops, each barrel being about as large as the nave47 of a heavywaggon-wheel.
When they were laid open Lizzy fixed48 her eyes on him, as if shewondered what he would say.
'You know what they are?' she asked, finding that he did not speak.
'Yes, barrels,' said Stockdale simply. He was an inland man, theson of highly respectable parents, and brought up with a single eyeto the ministry49; and the sight suggested nothing beyond the factthat such articles were there.
'You are quite right, they are barrels,' she said, in an emphatictone of candour that was not without a touch of irony50.
Stockdale looked at her with an eye of sudden misgiving51. 'Notsmugglers' liquor?' he said.
'Yes,' said she. 'They are tubs of spirit that have accidentallycome over in the dark from France.'
In Nether-Moynton and its vicinity at this date people always smiledat the sort of sin called in the outside world illicit52 trading; andthese little kegs of gin and brandy were as well known to theinhabitants as turnips53. So that Stockdale's innocent ignorance, andhis look of alarm when he guessed the sinister54 mystery, seemed tostrike Lizzy first as ludicrous, and then as very awkward for thegood impression that she wished to produce upon him.
'Smuggling is carried on here by some of the people,' she said in agentle, apologetic voice. 'It has been their practice forgenerations, and they think it no harm. Now, will you roll out oneof the tubs?'
'What to do with it?' said the minister.
'To draw a little from it to cure your cold,' she answered. 'It isso 'nation strong that it drives away that sort of thing in a jiffy.
O, it is all right about our taking it. I may have what I like; theowner of the tubs says so. I ought to have had some in the house,and then I shouldn't ha' been put to this trouble; but I drink nonemyself, and so I often forget to keep it indoors.'
'You are allowed to help yourself, I suppose, that you may notinform where their hiding-place is?'
'Well, no; not that particularly; but I may take any if I want it.
So help yourself.'
'I will, to oblige you, since you have a right to it,' murmured theminister; and though he was not quite satisfied with his part in theperformance, he rolled one of the 'tubs' out from the corner intothe middle of the tower floor. 'How do you wish me to get it out--with a gimlet, I suppose?'
'No, I'll show you,' said his interesting companion; and she held upwith her other hand a shoemaker's awl55 and a hammer. 'You must neverdo these things with a gimlet, because the wood-dust gets in; andwhen the buyers pour out the brandy that would tell them that thetub had been broached56. An awl makes no dust, and the hole nearlycloses up again. Now tap one of the hoops45 forward.'
Stockdale took the hammer and did so.
'Now make the hole in the part that was covered by the hoop46.'
He made the hole as directed. 'It won't run out,' he said.
'O yes it will,' said she. 'Take the tub between your knees, andsqueeze the heads; and I'll hold the cup.'
Stockdale obeyed; and the pressure taking effect upon the tub, whichseemed, to be thin, the spirit spirted out in a stream. When thecup was full he ceased pressing, and the flow immediately stopped.
'Now we must fill up the keg with water,' said Lizzy, 'or it willcluck like forty hens when it is handled, and show that 'tis notfull.'
'But they tell you you may take it?'
'Yes, the SMUGGLERS: but the BUYERS must not know that thesmugglers have been kind to me at their expense.'
'I see,' said Stockdale doubtfully. 'I much question the honesty ofthis proceeding57.'
By her direction he held the tub with the hole upwards58, and while hewent through the process of alternately pressing and ceasing topress, she produced a bottle of water, from which she tookmouthfuls, conveying each to the keg by putting her pretty lips tothe hole, where it was sucked in at each recovery of the cask frompressure. When it was again full he plugged the hole, knocked thehoop down to its place, and buried the tub in the lumber as before.
'Aren't the smugglers afraid that you will tell?' he asked, as theyrecrossed the churchyard.
'O no; they are not afraid of that. I couldn't do such a thing.'
'They have put you into a very awkward corner,' said Stockdaleemphatically. 'You must, of course, as an honest person, sometimesfeel that it is your duty to inform--really you must.'
'Well, I have never particularly felt it as a duty; and, besides, myfirst husband--' She stopped, and there was some confusion in hervoice. Stockdale was so honest and unsophisticated that he did notat once discern why she paused: but at last he did perceive thatthe words were a slip, and that no woman would have uttered 'firsthusband' by accident unless she had thought pretty frequently of asecond. He felt for her confusion, and allowed her time to recoverand proceed. 'My husband,' she said, in a self-corrected tone,'used to know of their doings, and so did my father, and kept thesecret. I cannot inform, in fact, against anybody.'
'I see the hardness of it,' he continued, like a man who looked farinto the moral of things. 'And it is very cruel that you should betossed and tantalized59 between your memories and your conscience. Ido hope, Mrs. Newberry, that you will soon see your way out of thisunpleasant position.'
'Well, I don't just now,' she murmured.
By this time they had passed over the wall and entered the house,where she brought him a glass and hot water, and left him to his ownreflections. He looked after her vanishing form, asking himselfwhether he, as a respectable man, and a minister, and a shininglight, even though as yet only of the halfpenny-candle sort, werequite justified60 in doing this thing. A sneeze settled the question;and he found that when the fiery61 liquor was lowered by the additionof twice or thrice the quantity of water, it was one of theprettiest cures for a cold in the head that he had ever known,particularly at this chilly62 time of the year.
Stockdale sat in the deep chair about twenty minutes sipping63 andmeditating, till he at length took warmer views of things, andlonged for the morrow, when he would see Mrs. Newberry again. Hethen felt that, though chronologically64 at a short distance, it wouldin an emotional sense be very long before to-morrow came, and walkedrestlessly round the room. His eye was attracted by a framed andglazed sampler in which a running ornament65 of fir-trees and peacockssurrounded the following pretty bit of sentiment:-'Rose-leaves smell when roses thrive,Here's my work while I'm alive;Rose-leaves smell when shrunk and shed,Here's my work when I am dead.
'Lizzy Simpkins. Fear God. Honour the King.
'Aged 11 years.
''Tis hers,' he said to himself. 'Heavens, how I like that name!'
Before he had done thinking that no other name from Abigail toZenobia would have suited his young landlady so well, tap-tap cameagain upon the door; and the minister started as her face appearedyet another time, looking so disinterested66 that the most ingeniouswould have refrained from asserting that she had come to affect hisfeelings by her seductive eyes.
'Would you like a fire in your room, Mr. Stockdale, on account ofyour cold?'
The minister, being still a little pricked67 in the conscience forcountenancing her in watering the spirits, saw here a way to self-chastisement. 'No, I thank you,' he said firmly; 'it is notnecessary. I have never been used to one in my life, and it wouldbe giving way to luxury too far.'
'Then I won't insist,' she said, and disconcerted him by vanishinginstantly.
Wondering if she was vexed68 by his refusal, he wished that he hadchosen to have a fire, even though it should have scorched69 him outof bed and endangered his self-discipline for a dozen days.
However, he consoled himself with what was in truth a rareconsolation for a budding lover, that he was under the same roofwith Lizzy; her guest, in fact, to take a poetical70 view of the termlodger; and that he would certainly see her on the morrow.
The morrow came, and Stockdale rose early, his cold quite gone. Hehad never in his life so longed for the breakfast hour as he didthat day, and punctually at eight o'clock, after a short walk, toreconnoitre the premises71, he re-entered the door of his dwelling72.
Breakfast passed, and Martha Sarah attended, but nobody camevoluntarily as on the night before to inquire if there were otherwants which he had not mentioned, and which she would attempt togratify. He was disappointed, and went out, hoping to see her atdinner. Dinner time came; he sat down to the meal, finished it,lingered on for a whole hour, although two new teachers were at thatmoment waiting at the chapel-door to speak to him by appointment.
It was useless to wait longer, and he slowly went his way down thelane, cheered by the thought that, after all, he would see her inthe evening, and perhaps engage again in the delightful73 tub-broaching in the neighbouring church tower, which proceeding heresolved to render more moral by steadfastly74 insisting that no watershould be introduced to fill up, though the tub should cluck likeall the hens in Christendom. But nothing could disguise the factthat it was a queer business; and his countenance75 fell when hethought how much more his mind was interested in that matter than inhis serious duties.
However, compunction vanished with the decline of day. Night came,and his tea and supper; but no Lizzy Newberry, and no sweettemptations. At last the minister could bear it no longer, and saidto his quaint1 little attendant, 'Where is Mrs. Newberry to-day?'
judiciously handing a penny as he spoke34.
'She's busy,' said Martha.
'Anything serious happened?' he asked, handing another penny, andrevealing yet additional pennies in the background.
'O no--nothing at all!' said she, with breathless confidence.
'Nothing ever happens to her. She's only biding76 upstairs in bedbecause 'tis her way sometimes.'
Being a young man of some honour, he would not question further, andassuming that Lizzy must have a bad headache, or other slightailment, in spite of what the girl had said, he went to beddissatisfied, not even setting eyes on old Mrs. Simpkins. 'I saidlast night that I should see her to-morrow,' he reflected; 'but thatwas not to be!'
Next day he had better fortune, or worse, meeting her at the foot ofthe stairs in the morning, and being favoured by a visit or two fromher during the day--once for the purpose of making kindly77 inquiriesabout his comfort, as on the first evening, and at another time toplace a bunch of winter-violets on his table, with a promise torenew them when they drooped78. On these occasions there wassomething in her smile which showed how conscious she was of theeffect she produced, though it must be said that it was rather ahumorous than a designing consciousness, and savoured more of pridethan of vanity.
As for Stockdale, he clearly perceived that he possessed79 unlimitedcapacity for backsliding, and wished that tutelary80 saints were notdenied to Dissenters. He set a watch upon his tongue and eyes forthe space of one hour and a half, after which he found it wasuseless to struggle further, and gave himself up to the situation.
'The other minister will be here in a month,' he said to himselfwhen sitting over the fire. 'Then I shall be off, and she willdistract my mind no more! . . . And then, shall I go on living bymyself for ever? No; when my two years of probation81 are finished, Ishall have a furnished house to live in, with a varnished82 door and abrass knocker; and I'll march straight back to her, and ask herflat, as soon as the last plate is on the dresser!
Thus a titillating83 fortnight was passed by young Stockdale, duringwhich time things proceeded much as such matters have done eversince the beginning of history. He saw the object of attachmentseveral times one day, did not see her at all the next, met her whenhe least expected to do so, missed her when hints and signs as towhere she should be at a given hour almost amounted to anappointment. This mild coquetry was perhaps fair enough under thecircumstances of their being so closely lodged84, and Stockdale put upwith it as philosophically85 as he was able. Being in her own house,she could, after vexing86 him or disappointing him of her presence,easily win him back by suddenly surrounding him with those littleattentions which her position as his landlady put it in her power tobestow. When he had waited indoors half the day to see her, and onfinding that she would not be seen, had gone off in a huff to thedreariest and dampest walk he could discover, she would restoreequilibrium in the evening with 'Mr. Stockdale, I have fancied youmust feel draught87 o' nights from your bedroom window, and so I havebeen putting up thicker curtains this afternoon while you were out;'
or, 'I noticed that you sneezed twice again this morning, Mr.
Stockdale. Depend upon it that cold is hanging about you yet; I amsure it is--I have thought of it continually; and you must let memake a posset for you.'
Sometimes in coming home he found his sitting-room88 rearranged,chairs placed where the table had stood, and the table ornamentedwith the few fresh flowers and leaves that could be obtained at thisseason, so as to add a novelty to the room. At times she would bestanding on a chair outside the house, trying to nail up a branch ofthe monthly rose which the winter wind had blown down; and of coursehe stepped forward to assist her, when their hands got mixed inpassing the shreds89 and nails. Thus they became friends again aftera disagreement. She would utter on these occasions some pretty anddeprecatory remark on the necessity of her troubling him anew; andhe would straightway say that he would do a hundred times as muchfor her if she should so require.
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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supplementary
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| adj.补充的，附加的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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overlapping
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| adj./n.交迭（的） | |
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creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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denser
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gentry
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dissenters
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waive
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levity
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remarkable
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doctrine
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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inquiry
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lodgings
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promising
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chapels
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bulging
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brass
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lurking
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countless
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throng
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instinctively
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tinkling
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rustle
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appreciative
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apparently
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conscientiously
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viands
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landlady
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doomed
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blandness
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| n.温柔，爽快 | |
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spoke
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| 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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abstemious
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| adj.有节制的，节俭的 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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abutted
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| v.（与…）邻接( abut的过去式和过去分词 )；（与…）毗连；接触；倚靠 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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graveyards
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| 墓地( graveyard的名词复数 )； 垃圾场； 废物堆积处； 收容所 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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illicit
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| adj.非法的，禁止的，不正当的 | |
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turnips
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| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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awl
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| n.尖钻 | |
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broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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tantalized
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| v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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chronologically
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| ad. 按年代的 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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biding
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| v.等待，停留( bide的现在分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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tutelary
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| adj.保护的；守护的 | |
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81
probation
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| n.缓刑(期)，(以观后效的)察看；试用(期) | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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83
titillating
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| adj.使人痒痒的； 使人激动的，令人兴奋的v.使觉得痒( titillate的现在分词 )；逗引；激发；使高兴 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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86
vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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87
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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