Was it known why he stayed away? Yes. It was known twenty—forty times over, there being at least forty plausible3 reasons adduced to account for the unaccountable circumstance. Business it was not—that the gossips agreed. He had achieved the business on which he departed long ago. His four ringleaders he had soon scented5 out and run down. He had attended their trial, heard their conviction and sentence, and seen them safely shipped prior to transportation.
This was known at Briarfield. The newspapers had reported it. The Stilbro' Courier had given every particular, with amplifications. None applauded his perseverance7 or hailed his success, though the mill-owners were glad of it, trusting that the terrors of law vindicated10 would henceforward paralyze the sinister11 valour of disaffection. Disaffection, however, was still heard muttering to himself. He swore ominous12 oaths over the drugged beer of alehouses, and drank strange toasts in fiery13 British gin.
One report affirmed that Moore dared not come to Yorkshire; he knew his life was not worth an hour's purchase if he did.
"I'll tell him that," said Mr. Yorke, when his foreman mentioned the rumour14; "and if that does not bring him home full gallop15, nothing will."
Either that or some other motive16 prevailed at last to recall him. He announced to Joe Scott the day he should arrive at Stilbro', desiring his hackney to be sent to the George for his accommodation; and Joe Scott having informed Mr. Yorke, that gentleman made it in his way to meet him.
462It was market-day. Moore arrived in time to take his usual place at the market dinner. As something of a stranger, and as a man of note and action, the assembled manufacturers received him with a certain distinction. Some, who in public would scarcely have dared to acknowledge his acquaintance, lest a little of the hate and vengeance17 laid up in store for him should perchance have fallen on them, in private hailed him as in some sort their champion. When the wine had circulated, their respect would have kindled18 to enthusiasm had not Moore's unshaken nonchalance19 held it in a damp, low, smouldering state.
Mr. Yorke, the permanent president of these dinners, witnessed his young friend's bearing with exceeding complacency. If one thing could stir his temper or excite his contempt more than another, it was to see a man befooled by flattery or elate with popularity. If one thing smoothed, soothed20, and charmed him especially, it was the spectacle of a public character incapable21 of relishing22 his publicity—incapable, I say. Disdain24 would but have incensed25; it was indifference26 that appeased27 his rough spirit.
Robert, leaning back in his chair, quiet and almost surly, while the clothiers and blanket-makers vaunted his prowess and rehearsed his deeds—many of them interspersing28 their flatteries with coarse invectives against the operative class—was a delectable29 sight for Mr. Yorke. His heart tingled30 with the pleasing conviction that these gross eulogiums shamed Moore deeply, and made him half scorn himself and his work. On abuse, on reproach, on calumny31, it is easy to smile; but painful indeed is the panegyric32 of those we contemn33. Often had Moore gazed with a brilliant countenance34 over howling crowds from a hostile hustings35. He had breasted the storm of unpopularity with gallant36 bearing and soul elate; but he drooped37 his head under the half-bred tradesmen's praise, and shrank chagrined38 before their congratulations.
Yorke could not help asking him how he liked his supporters, and whether he did not think they did honour to his cause. "But it is a pity, lad," he added, "that you did not hang these four samples of the unwashed. If you had managed that feat40, the gentry41 here would have riven the horses out of the coach, yoked42 to a score of asses43, and drawn44 you into Stilbro' like a conquering general."
Moore soon forsook45 the wine, broke from the party,463 and took the road. In less than five minutes Mr. Yorke followed him. They rode out of Stilbro' together.
It was early to go home, but yet it was late in the day. The last ray of the sun had already faded from the cloud-edges, and the October night was casting over the moorlands the shadow of her approach.
Mr. Yorke, moderately exhilarated with his moderate libations, and not displeased46 to see young Moore again in Yorkshire, and to have him for his comrade during the long ride home, took the discourse47 much to himself. He touched briefly48, but scoffingly49, on the trials and the conviction; he passed thence to the gossip of the neighbourhood, and ere long he attacked Moore on his own personal concerns.
"Bob, I believe you are worsted, and you deserve it. All was smooth. Fortune had fallen in love with you. She had decreed you the first prize in her wheel—twenty thousand pounds; she only required that you should hold your hand out and take it. And what did you do? You called for a horse and rode a-hunting to Warwickshire. Your sweetheart—Fortune, I mean—was perfectly50 indulgent. She said, 'I'll excuse him; he's young.' She waited, like 'Patience on a monument,' till the chase was over and the vermin-prey run down. She expected you would come back then, and be a good lad. You might still have had her first prize.
"It capped her beyond expression, and me too, to find that, instead of thundering home in a breakneck gallop and laying your assize laurels51 at her feet, you coolly took coach up to London. What you have done there Satan knows; nothing in this world, I believe, but sat and sulked. Your face was never lily fair, but it is olive green now. You're not as bonny as you were, man."
"And who is to have this prize you talk so much about?"
"Only a baronet; that is all. I have not a doubt in my own mind you've lost her. She will be Lady Nunnely before Christmas."
"But she need not to have been. Fool of a lad! I swear you might have had her."
"By what token, Mr. Yorke?"
"By every token—by the light of her eyes, the red of her cheeks. Red they grew when your name was mentioned, though of custom they are pale."
"My chance is quite over, I suppose?"
464"It ought to be. But try; it is worth trying. I call this Sir Philip milk and water. And then he writes verses, they say—tags rhymes. You are above that, Bob, at all events."
"Would you advise me to propose, late as it is, Mr. Yorke—at the eleventh hour?"
"You can but make the experiment, Robert. If she has a fancy for you—and, on my conscience, I believe she has or had—she will forgive much. But, my lad, you are laughing. Is it at me? You had better grin at your own perverseness52. I see, however, you laugh at the wrong side of your mouth. You have as sour a look at this moment as one need wish to see."
"I have so quarrelled with myself, Yorke. I have so kicked against the pricks53, and struggled in a strait waistcoat, and dislocated my wrists with wrenching54 them in handcuffs, and battered55 my hard head by driving it against a harder wall."
"Ha! I'm glad to hear that. Sharp exercise yon! I hope it has done you good—ta'en some of the self-conceit out of you?"
"Self-conceit? What is it? Self-respect, self-tolerance even, what are they? Do you sell the articles? Do you know anybody who does? Give an indication. They would find in me a liberal chapman. I would part with my last guinea this minute to buy."
"Is it so with you, Robert? I find that spicy56. I like a man to speak his mind. What has gone wrong?"
"The machinery57 of all my nature; the whole enginery of this human mill; the boiler58, which I take to be the heart, is fit to burst."
"That suld be putten i' print; it's striking. It's almost blank verse. Ye'll be jingling59 into poetry just e'now. If the afflatus60 comes, give way, Robert. Never heed61 me; I'll bear it this whet39 [time]."
"Hideous62, abhorrent64, base blunder! You may commit in a moment what you will rue65 for years—what life cannot cancel."
"Lad, go on. I call it pie, nuts, sugar-candy. I like the taste uncommonly66. Go on. It will do you good to talk. The moor1 is before us now, and there is no life for many a mile round."
"I will talk. I am not ashamed to tell. There is a sort of wild cat in my breast, and I choose that you shall hear how it can yell."
"To me it is music. What grand voices you and Louis have! When Louis sings—tones off like a soft, deep bell—I've felt myself tremble again. The night is still. It listens. It is just leaning down to you, like a black priest to a blacker penitent67. Confess, lad. Smooth naught68 down. Be candid69 as a convicted, justified70, sanctified Methody at an experience meeting. Make yourself as wicked as Beelzebub. It will ease your mind."
"As mean as Mammon, you would say. Yorke, if I got off horseback and laid myself down across the road, would you have the goodness to gallop over me, backwards71 and forwards, about twenty times?"
"Wi' all the pleasure in life, if there were no such thing as a coroner's inquest."
"Hiram Yorke, I certainly believed she loved me. I have seen her eyes sparkle radiantly when she has found me out in a crowd; she has flushed up crimson72 when she has offered me her hand, and said, 'How do you do, Mr. Moore?'
"My name had a magical influence over her. When others uttered it she changed countenance—I know she did. She pronounced it herself in the most musical of her many musical tones. She was cordial to me; she took an interest in me; she was anxious about me; she wished me well; she sought, she seized every opportunity to benefit me. I considered, paused, watched, weighed, wondered. I could come to but one conclusion—this is love.
"I looked at her, Yorke. I saw in her youth and a species of beauty. I saw power in her. Her wealth offered me the redemption of my honour and my standing73. I owed her gratitude74. She had aided me substantially and effectually by a loan of five thousand pounds. Could I remember these things? Could I believe she loved me? Could I hear wisdom urge me to marry her, and disregard every dear advantage, disbelieve every flattering suggestion, disdain every well-weighed counsel, turn and leave her? Young, graceful75, gracious—my benefactress, attached to me, enamoured of me. I used to say so to myself; dwell on the word; mouth it over and over again; swell76 over it with a pleasant, pompous77 complacency, with an admiration78 dedicated79 entirely80 to myself, and unimpaired even by esteem81 for her; indeed I smiled in deep secrecy82 at her naïveté and simplicity83 in being the first to love, and to show it. That whip of yours seems to have a good heavy466 handle, Yorke; you can swing it about your head and knock me out of the saddle, if you choose. I should rather relish23 a loundering whack84."
"Tak patience, Robert, till the moon rises and I can see you. Speak plain out—did you love her or not? I could like to know. I feel curious."
"Sir—sir—I say—she is very pretty, in her own style, and very attractive. She has a look, at times, of a thing made out of fire and air, at which I stand and marvel85, without a thought of clasping and kissing it. I felt in her a powerful magnet to my interest and vanity. I never felt as if nature meant her to be my other and better self. When a question on that head rushed upon me, I flung it off, saying brutally86 I should be rich with her and ruined without her—vowing I would be practical, and not romantic."
"With this sensible resolve I walked up to Fieldhead one night last August. It was the very eve of my departure for Birmingham; for, you see, I wanted to secure Fortune's splendid prize. I had previously88 dispatched a note requesting a private interview. I found her at home, and alone.
"She received me without embarrassment89, for she thought I came on business. I was embarrassed enough, but determined90. I hardly know how I got the operation over; but I went to work in a hard, firm fashion—frightful enough, I dare say. I sternly offered myself—my fine person—with my debts, of course, as a settlement.
"It vexed91 me, it kindled my ire, to find that she neither blushed, trembled, nor looked down. She responded, 'I doubt whether I have understood you, Mr. Moore.'
"And I had to go over the whole proposal twice, and word it as plainly as A B C, before she would fully92 take it in. And then, what did she do? Instead of faltering93 a sweet Yes, or maintaining a soft, confused silence (which would have been as good), she started up, walked twice fast through the room, in the way that she only does, and no other woman, and ejaculated, 'God bless me!'
"Yorke, I stood on the hearth94, backed by the mantelpiece; against it I leaned, and prepared for anything—everything. I knew my doom95, and I knew myself. There was no misunderstanding her aspect and voice. She stopped and looked at me.
"'God bless me!' she piteously repeated, in that shocked, indignant, yet saddened accent. 'You have made a strange proposal—strange from you; and if you knew how strangely you worded it and looked it, you would be startled at yourself. You spoke96 like a brigand97 who demanded my purse rather than like a lover who asked my heart.'
"A queer sentence, was it not, Yorke? And I knew, as she uttered it, it was true as queer. Her words were a mirror in which I saw myself.
"'Gérard Moore, you know you don't love Shirley Keeldar.' I might have broken out into false swearing—vowed99 that I did love her; but I could not lie in her pure face. I could not perjure100 myself in her truthful101 presence. Besides, such hollow oaths would have been vain as void. She would no more have believed me than she would have believed the ghost of Judas, had he broken from the night and stood before her. Her female heart had finer perceptions than to be cheated into mistaking my half-coarse, half-cold admiration for true-throbbing, manly102 love.
"What next happened? you will say, Mr. Yorke.
"Why, she sat down in the window-seat and cried. She cried passionately103. Her eyes not only rained but lightened. They flashed, open, large, dark, haughty104, upon me. They said, 'You have pained me; you have outraged105 me; you have deceived me.'
"She added words soon to looks.
"'I did respect—I did admire—I did like you,' she said—'yes, as much as if you were my brother; and you—you want to make a speculation106 of me. You would immolate107 me to that mill, your Moloch!'
"I had the common sense to abstain108 from any word of excuse, any attempt at palliation. I stood to be scorned.
"Sold to the devil for the time being, I was certainly infatuated. When I did speak, what do you think I said?
"'Whatever my own feelings were, I was persuaded you loved me, Miss Keeldar.'
"Beautiful, was it not? She sat quite confounded. 'Is it Robert Moore that speaks?' I heard her mutter. 'Is it a man—or something lower?'
"'Do you mean,' she asked aloud—'do you mean you thought I loved you as we love those we wish to marry?'
"It was my meaning, and I said so.
"'You conceived an idea obnoxious109 to a woman's feelings,' was her answer. 'You have announced it in a fashion revolting to a woman's soul. You insinuate110 that all the frank kindness I have shown you has been a complicated, a bold, and an immodest manœuvre to ensnare a husband. You imply that at last you come here out of pity to offer me your hand, because I have courted you. Let me say this: Your sight is jaundiced; you have seen wrong. Your mind is warped111; you have judged wrong. Your tongue betrays you; you now speak wrong. I never loved you. Be at rest there. My heart is as pure of passion for you as yours is barren of affection for me.'
"I hope I was answered, Yorke?
"'I seem to be a blind, besotted sort of person,' was my remark.
"'Loved you!' she cried. 'Why, I have been as frank with you as a sister—never shunned112 you, never feared you. You cannot,' she affirmed triumphantly—'you cannot make me tremble with your coming, nor accelerate my pulse by your influence.'
"I alleged113 that often, when she spoke to me, she blushed, and that the sound of my name moved her.
"'Not for your sake!' she declared briefly. I urged explanation, but could get none.
"'When I sat beside you at the school feast, did you think I loved you then? When I stopped you in Maythorn Lane, did you think I loved you then? When I called on you in the counting-house, when I walked with you on the pavement, did you think I loved you then?'
"So she questioned me; and I said I did.
"By the Lord! Yorke, she rose, she grew tall, she expanded and refined almost to flame. There was a trembling all through her, as in live coal when its vivid vermilion is hottest.
"'That is to say that you have the worst opinion of me; that you deny me the possession of all I value most. That is to say that I am a traitor114 to all my sisters; that I have acted as no woman can act without degrading herself and her sex; that I have sought where the incorrupt of my kind naturally scorn and abhor63 to seek.' She and I were silent for many a minute. 'Lucifer, Star of the Morning,' she went on, 'thou art fallen! You, once high in my esteem, are hurled115 down; you, once intimate in my friendship, are cast out. Go!'
"I went not. I had heard her voice tremble, seen her lip quiver. I knew another storm of tears would fall, and then I believed some calm and some sunshine must come, and I would wait for it.
"As fast, but more quietly than before, the warm rain streamed down. There was another sound in her weeping—a softer, more regretful sound. While I watched, her eyes lifted to me a gaze more reproachful than haughty, more mournful than incensed.
"I relieved myself by what should have been a sigh, but it became a groan117. A sense of Cain-like desolation made my breast ache.
"'There has been error in what I have done,' I said, 'and it has won me bitter wages, which I will go and spend far from her who gave them.'
"I took my hat. All the time I could not have borne to depart so, and I believed she would not let me. Nor would she but for the mortal pang118 I had given her pride, that cowed her compassion119 and kept her silent.
"I was obliged to turn back of my own accord when I reached the door, to approach her, and to say, 'Forgive me.'
"'I could, if there was not myself to forgive too,' was her reply; 'but to mislead a sagacious man so far I must have done wrong.'
"I broke out suddenly with some declamation120 I do not remember. I know that it was sincere, and that my wish and aim were to absolve121 her to herself. In fact, in her case self-accusation was a chimera122.
"At last she extended her hand. For the first time I wished to take her in my arms and kiss her. I did kiss her hand many times.
"'Some day we shall be friends again,' she said, 'when you have had time to read my actions and motives123 in a true light, and not so horribly to misinterpret them. Time may give you the right key to all. Then, perhaps, you will comprehend me, and then we shall be reconciled.'
"Farewell drops rolled slow down her cheeks. She wiped them away.
"'I am sorry for what has happened—deeply sorry,' she sobbed124. So was I, God knows! Thus were we severed125."
"A queer tale!" commented Mr. Yorke.
"I'll do it no more," vowed his companion; "never more will I mention marriage to a woman unless I feel love. Henceforth credit and commerce may take care of themselves. Bankruptcy126 may come when it lists. I have done with slavish fear of disaster. I mean to work diligently127, wait patiently, bear steadily128. Let the worst come, I will take my axe129 and an emigrant's berth130, and go out with Louis to the West; he and I have settled it. No woman shall ever again look at me as Miss Keeldar looked, ever again feel towards me as Miss Keeldar felt. In no woman's presence will I ever again stand at once such a fool and such a knave131, such a brute and such a puppy."
"Tut!" said the imperturbable132 Yorke, "you make too much of it; but still, I say, I am capped. Firstly, that she did not love you; and secondly133, that you did not love her. You are both young; you are both handsome; you are both well enough for wit and even for temper—take you on the right side. What ailed8 you that you could not agree?"
"We never have been, never could be at home with each other, Yorke. Admire each other as we might at a distance, still we jarred when we came very near. I have sat at one side of a room and observed her at the other, perhaps in an excited, genial134 moment, when she had some of her favourites round her—her old beaux, for instance, yourself and Helstone, with whom she is so playful, pleasant, and eloquent135. I have watched her when she was most natural, most lively, and most lovely; my judgment136 has pronounced her beautiful. Beautiful she is at times, when her mood and her array partake of the splendid. I have drawn a little nearer, feeling that our terms of acquaintance gave me the right of approach. I have joined the circle round her seat, caught her eye, and mastered her attention; then we have conversed137; and others, thinking me, perhaps, peculiarly privileged, have withdrawn139 by degrees, and left us alone. Were we happy thus left? For myself, I must say No. Always a feeling of constraint140 came over me; always I was disposed to be stern and strange. We talked politics and business. No soft sense of domestic intimacy141 ever opened our hearts, or thawed142 our language and made it flow easy and limpid143. If we had confidences, they were confidences of the counting-house, not of the heart. Nothing in her cherished affection in me, made me better, gentler; she only stirred my brain and whetted144 my acuteness.471 She never crept into my heart or influenced its pulse; and for this good reason, no doubt, because I had not the secret of making her love me."
"Well, lad, it is a queer thing. I might laugh at thee, and reckon to despise thy refinements145; but as it is dark night and we are by ourselves, I don't mind telling thee that thy talk brings back a glimpse of my own past life. Twenty-five years ago I tried to persuade a beautiful woman to love me, and she would not. I had not the key to her nature; she was a stone wall to me, doorless and windowless."
"But you loved her, Yorke; you worshipped Mary Cave. Your conduct, after all, was that of a man—never of a fortune-hunter."
"Ay, I did love her; but then she was beautiful as the moon we do not see to-night. There is naught like her in these days. Miss Helstone, maybe, has a look of her, but nobody else."
"Who has a look of her?"
"That black-coated tyrant's niece—that quiet, delicate Miss Helstone. Many a time I have put on my spectacles to look at the lassie in church, because she has gentle blue een, wi' long lashes146; and when she sits in shadow, and is very still and very pale, and is, happen, about to fall asleep wi' the length of the sermon and the heat of the biggin', she is as like one of Canova's marbles as aught else."
"Was Mary Cave in that style?"
"Far grander!—less lass-like and flesh-like. You wondered why she hadn't wings and a crown. She was a stately, peaceful angel was my Mary."
"And you could not persuade her to love you?"
"Not with all I could do, though I prayed Heaven many a time, on my bended knees, to help me."
"Mary Cave was not what you think her, Yorke. I have seen her picture at the rectory. She is no angel, but a fair, regular-featured, taciturn-looking woman—rather too white and lifeless for my taste. But, supposing she had been something better than she was——"
"Robert," interrupted Yorke, "I could fell you off your horse at this moment. However, I'll hold my hand. Reason tells me you are right and I am wrong. I know well enough that the passion I still have is only the remnant of an illusion. If Miss Cave had possessed147 either feeling or sense, she could not have been so perfectly impassible to my regard as she showed herself; she must have preferred me to that copper-faced despot."
"Supposing, Yorke, she had been educated (no women were educated in those days); supposing she had possessed a thoughtful, original mind, a love of knowledge, a wish for information, which she took an artless delight in receiving from your lips, and having measured out to her by your hand; supposing her conversation, when she sat at your side, was fertile, varied148, imbued149 with a picturesque150 grace and genial interest, quiet flowing but clear and bounteous151; supposing that when you stood near her by chance, or when you sat near her by design, comfort at once became your atmosphere, and content your element; supposing that whenever her face was under your gaze, or her idea filled your thoughts, you gradually ceased to be hard and anxious, and pure affection, love of home, thirst for sweet discourse, unselfish longing152 to protect and cherish, replaced the sordid153, cankering calculations of your trade; supposing, with all this, that many a time, when you had been so happy as to possess your Mary's little hand, you had felt it tremble as you held it, just as a warm little bird trembles when you take it from its nest; supposing you had noticed her shrink into the background on your entrance into a room, yet if you sought her in her retreat she welcomed you with the sweetest smile that ever lit a fair virgin154 face, and only turned her eyes from the encounter of your own lest their clearness should reveal too much; supposing, in short, your Mary had been not cold, but modest; not vacant, but reflective; not obtuse155, but sensitive; not inane156, but innocent; not prudish157, but pure,—would you have left her to court another woman for her wealth?"
Mr. Yorke raised his hat, wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.
"The moon is up," was his first not quite relevant remark, pointing with his whip across the moor. "There she is, rising into the haze158, staring at us wi' a strange red glower159. She is no more silver than old Helstone's brow is ivory. What does she mean by leaning her cheek on Rushedge i' that way, and looking at us wi' a scowl160 and a menace?"
"Yorke, if Mary had loved you silently yet faithfully, chastely161 yet fervently162, as you would wish your wife to love, would you have left her?"
"Robert!"—he lifted his arm, he held it suspended, and paused—"Robert! this is a queer world, and men are made of the queerest dregs that Chaos163 churned up in her ferment164. I might swear sounding oaths—oaths that would make the poachers think there was a bittern booming in Bilberry Moss—that, in the case you put, death only should have parted me from Mary. But I have lived in the world fifty-five years; I have been forced to study human nature; and, to speak a dark truth, the odds165 are, if Mary had loved and not scorned me, if I had been secure of her affection, certain of her constancy, been irritated by no doubts, stung by no humiliations—the odds are" (he let his hand fall heavy on the saddle)—"the odds are I should have left her!"
They rode side by side in silence. Ere either spoke again they were on the other side of Rushedge. Briarfield lights starred the purple skirt of the moor. Robert, being the youngest, and having less of the past to absorb him than his comrade, recommenced first.
"I believe—I daily find it proved—that we can get nothing in this world worth keeping, not so much as a principle or a conviction, except out of purifying flame or through strengthening peril166. We err9, we fall, we are humbled167; then we walk more carefully. We greedily eat and drink poison out of the gilded168 cup of vice169 or from the beggar's wallet of avarice170. We are sickened, degraded; everything good in us rebels against us; our souls rise bitterly indignant against our bodies; there is a period of civil war; if the soul has strength, it conquers and rules thereafter."
"What art thou going to do now, Robert? What are thy plans?"
"For my private plans, I'll keep them to myself—which is very easy, as at present I have none. No private life is permitted a man in my position—a man in debt. For my public plans, my views are a little altered. While I was in Birmingham I looked a little into reality, considered closely and at their source the causes of the present troubles of this country. I did the same in London. Unknown, I could go where I pleased, mix with whom I would. I went where there was want of food, of fuel, of clothing; where there was no occupation and no hope. I saw some, with naturally elevated tendencies and good feelings, kept down amongst sordid privations and harassing171 griefs. I saw many originally low, and to whom lack of education left scarcely anything but animal wants, disappointed in474 those wants, ahungered, athirst, and desperate as famished172 animals. I saw what taught my brain a new lesson, and filled my breast with fresh feelings. I have no intention to profess173 more softness or sentiment than I have hitherto professed174; mutiny and ambition I regard as I have always regarded them. I should resist a riotous175 mob just as heretofore; I should open on the scent4 of a runaway176 ringleader as eagerly as ever, and run him down as relentlessly177, and follow him up to condign178 punishment as rigorously; but I should do it now chiefly for the sake and the security of those he misled. Something there is to look to, Yorke, beyond a man's personal interest, beyond the advancement179 of well-laid schemes, beyond even the discharge of dishonouring180 debts. To respect himself, a man must believe he renders justice to his fellow-men. Unless I am more considerate to ignorance, more forbearing to suffering, than I have hitherto been, I shall scorn myself as grossly unjust.—What now?" he said, addressing his horse, which, hearing the ripple181 of water, and feeling thirsty, turned to a wayside trough, where the moonbeam was playing in a crystal eddy182.
"Yorke," pursued Moore, "ride on; I must let him drink."
Yorke accordingly rode slowly forwards, occupying himself as he advanced in discriminating183, amongst the many lights now spangling the distance, those of Briarmains. Stilbro' Moor was left behind; plantations184 rose dusk on either hand; they were descending185 the hill; below them lay the valley with its populous186 parish: they felt already at home.
Surrounded no longer by heath, it was not startling to Mr. Yorke to see a hat rise, and to hear a voice speak behind the wall. The words, however, were peculiar138.
"When the wicked perisheth there is shouting," it said; and added, "As the whirlwind passeth, so is the wicked no more" (with a deeper growl): "terrors take hold of him as waters; hell is naked before him. He shall die without knowledge."
A fierce flash and sharp crack violated the calm of night. Yorke, ere he turned, knew the four convicts of Birmingham were avenged187.
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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6
hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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7
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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8
ailed
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| v.生病( ail的过去式和过去分词 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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9
err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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10
vindicated
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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11
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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12
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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13
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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14
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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15
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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16
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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17
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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18
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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19
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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20
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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21
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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22
relishing
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| v.欣赏( relish的现在分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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23
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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24
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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25
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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26
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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27
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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28
interspersing
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| v.散布，散置( intersperse的现在分词 )；点缀 | |
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29
delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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30
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
calumny
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| n.诽谤，污蔑，中伤 | |
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32
panegyric
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| n.颂词，颂扬 | |
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33
contemn
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| v.蔑视 | |
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34
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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35
hustings
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| n.竞选活动 | |
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36
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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37
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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38
chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
whet
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| v.磨快，刺激 | |
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40
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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41
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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42
yoked
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| 结合（yoke的过去式形式） | |
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43
asses
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| n. 驴，愚蠢的人，臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
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44
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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45
forsook
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| forsake的过去式 | |
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46
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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47
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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48
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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49
scoffingly
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| 带冷笑地 | |
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50
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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51
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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52
perverseness
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| n. 乖张, 倔强, 顽固 | |
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53
pricks
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| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
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54
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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55
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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56
spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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57
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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58
boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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59
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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60
afflatus
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| n.灵感，神感 | |
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61
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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62
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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63
abhor
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| v.憎恶；痛恨 | |
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64
abhorrent
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| adj.可恶的，可恨的，讨厌的 | |
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65
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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66
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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67
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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68
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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69
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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70
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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71
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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72
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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73
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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74
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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75
graceful
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|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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76
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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77
pompous
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|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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78
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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79
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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80
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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81
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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82
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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83
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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84
whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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85
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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86
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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87
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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88
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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89
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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90
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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91
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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92
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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93
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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94
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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95
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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96
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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97
brigand
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| n.土匪，强盗 | |
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98
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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99
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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100
perjure
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| v.作伪证；使发假誓 | |
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101
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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102
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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103
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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104
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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105
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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106
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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107
immolate
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| v.牺牲 | |
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108
abstain
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| v.自制，戒绝，弃权，避免 | |
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109
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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110
insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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111
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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112
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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114
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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115
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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116
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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117
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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118
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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119
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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120
declamation
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| n. 雄辩，高调 | |
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121
absolve
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| v.赦免，解除（责任等） | |
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122
chimera
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| n.神话怪物；梦幻 | |
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123
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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124
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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125
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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126
bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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127
diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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128
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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129
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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130
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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131
knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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132
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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133
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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134
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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135
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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136
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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138
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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139
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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thawed
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| 解冻 | |
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limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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whetted
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的过去式和过去分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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145
refinements
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| n.（生活）风雅；精炼( refinement的名词复数 )；改良品；细微的改良；优雅或高贵的动作 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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bounteous
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| adj.丰富的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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obtuse
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| adj.钝的；愚钝的 | |
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inane
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| adj.空虚的，愚蠢的，空洞的 | |
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prudish
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| adj.装淑女样子的，装规矩的，过分规矩的；adv.过分拘谨地 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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glower
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| v.怒目而视 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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chastely
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| adv.贞洁地，清高地，纯正地 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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harassing
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| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
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famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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condign
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| adj.应得的，相当的 | |
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advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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dishonouring
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| 使（人、家族等）丧失名誉（dishonour的现在分词形式） | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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182
eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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183
discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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184
plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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185
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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186
populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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187
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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