Two or three things conduced to bring the baronet to a point. He had observed that Miss Keeldar looked pensive2 and delicate. This new phase in her demeanour smote3 him on his weak or poetic4 side. A spontaneous sonnet5 brewed6 in his brain; and while it was still working there, one of his sisters persuaded his lady-love to sit down to the piano and sing a ballad—one of Sir Philip's own ballads7. It was the least elaborate, the least affected—out of all comparison the best of his numerous efforts.
It chanced that Shirley, the moment before, had been gazing from a window down on the park. She had seen that stormy moonlight which "le Professeur Louis" was perhaps at the same instant contemplating8 from her own oak-parlour lattice; she had seen the isolated9 trees of the domain—broad, strong, spreading oaks, and high-towering heroic beeches—wrestling with the gale10. Her ear had caught the full roar of the forest lower down; the swift rushing of clouds, the moon, to the eye, hasting swifter still, had crossed her vision. She turned from sight and sound—touched, if not rapt; wakened, if not inspired.
She sang, as requested. There was much about love in the ballad—faithful love that refused to abandon its object; love that disaster could not shake; love that in calamity11 waxed fonder, in poverty clung closer. The words were set to a fine old air; in themselves they were simple and sweet. Perhaps, when read, they wanted force; when well sung, they wanted nothing. Shirley sang them well. She breathed into the feeling softness; she poured round the passion force. Her voice was fine476 that evening, its expression dramatic. She impressed all, and charmed one.
On leaving the instrument she went to the fire, and sat down on a seat—semi-stool, semi-cushion. The ladies were round her; none of them spoke12. The Misses Sympson and the Misses Nunnely looked upon her as quiet poultry13 might look on an egret, an ibis, or any other strange fowl14. What made her sing so? They never sang so. Was it proper to sing with such expression, with such originality15—so unlike a school-girl? Decidedly not. It was strange, it was unusual. What was strange must be wrong; what was unusual must be improper16. Shirley was judged.
Moreover, old Lady Nunnely eyed her stonily17 from her great chair by the fireside. Her gaze said, "This woman is not of mine or my daughters' kind. I object to her as my son's wife."
Her son, catching18 the look, read its meaning. He grew alarmed. What he so wished to win there was danger he might lose. He must make haste.
The room they were in had once been a picture-gallery. Sir Philip's father—Sir Monckton—had converted it into a saloon; but still it had a shadowy, long-withdrawing look. A deep recess19 with a window—a recess that held one couch, one table, and a fairy cabinet—formed a room within a room. Two persons standing20 there might interchange a dialogue, and, so it were neither long nor loud, none be the wiser.
Sir Philip induced two of his sisters to perpetrate a duet. He gave occupation to the Misses Sympson. The elder ladies were conversing21 together. He was pleased to remark that meantime Shirley rose to look at the pictures. He had a tale to tell about one ancestress, whose dark beauty seemed as that of a flower of the south. He joined her, and began to tell it.
There were mementoes of the same lady in the cabinet adorning22 the recess; and while Shirley was stooping to examine the missal and the rosary on the inlaid shelf, and while the Misses Nunnely indulged in a prolonged screech23, guiltless of expression, pure of originality, perfectly24 conventional and absolutely unmeaning, Sir Philip stooped too, and whispered a few hurried sentences. At first Miss Keeldar was struck so still you might have fancied that whisper a charm which had changed her to a statue; but she presently looked up and answered. They parted.477 Miss Keeldar returned to the fire, and resumed her seat. The baronet gazed after her, then went and stood behind his sisters. Mr. Sympson—Mr. Sympson only—had marked the pantomime.
That gentleman drew his own conclusions. Had he been as acute as he was meddling25, as profound as he was prying26, he might have found that in Sir Philip's face whereby to correct his inference. Ever shallow, hasty, and positive, he went home quite cock-a-hoop.
He was not a man that kept secrets well. When elate on a subject, he could not avoid talking about it. The next morning, having occasion to employ his son's tutor as his secretary, he must needs announce to him, in mouthing accents, and with much flimsy pomp of manner, that he had better hold himself prepared for a return to the south at an early day, as the important business which had detained him (Mr. Sympson) so long in Yorkshire was now on the eve of fortunate completion. His anxious and laborious27 efforts were likely, at last, to be crowned with the happiest success. A truly eligible28 addition was about to be made to the family connections.
"In Sir Philip Nunnely?" Louis Moore conjectured29.
Whereupon Mr. Sympson treated himself simultaneously30 to a pinch of snuff and a chuckling31 laugh, checked only by a sudden choke of dignity, and an order to the tutor to proceed with business.
For a day or two Mr. Sympson continued as bland32 as oil, but also he seemed to sit on pins, and his gait, when he walked, emulated33 that of a hen treading a hot girdle. He was for ever looking out of the window and listening for chariot-wheels. Bluebeard's wife—Sisera's mother—were nothing to him. He waited when the matter should be opened in form, when himself should be consulted, when lawyers should be summoned, when settlement discussions and all the delicious worldly fuss should pompously34 begin.
At last there came a letter. He himself handed it to Miss Keeldar out of the bag. He knew the handwriting; he knew the crest35 on the seal. He did not see it opened and read, for Shirley took it to her own room; nor did he see it answered, for she wrote her reply shut up, and was very long about it—the best part of a day. He questioned her whether it was answered; she responded, "Yes."
478Again he waited—waited in silence, absolutely not daring to speak, kept mute by something in Shirley's face—a very awful something—inscrutable to him as the writing on the wall to Belshazzar. He was moved more than once to call Daniel, in the person of Louis Moore, and to ask an interpretation36; but his dignity forbade the familiarity. Daniel himself, perhaps, had his own private difficulties connected with that baffling bit of translation; he looked like a student for whom grammars are blank and dictionaries dumb.
Mr. Sympson had been out, to while away an anxious hour in the society of his friends at De Walden Hall. He returned a little sooner than was expected. His family and Miss Keeldar were assembled in the oak parlour. Addressing the latter, he requested her to step with him into another room. He wished to have with her a "strictly37 private interview."
She rose, asking no questions and professing38 no surprise.
"Very well, sir," she said, in the tone of a determined39 person who is informed that the dentist is come to extract that large double tooth of his, from which he has suffered such a purgatory40 this month past. She left her sewing and her thimble in the window-seat, and followed her uncle where he led.
Shut into the drawing-room, the pair took seats, each in an arm-chair, placed opposite, a few yards between them.
"I have been to De Walden Hall," said Mr. Sympson. He paused. Miss Keeldar's eyes were on the pretty white-and-green carpet. That information required no response. She gave none.
"I have learned," he went on slowly—"I have learned a circumstance which surprises me."
Resting her cheek on her forefinger41, she waited to be told what circumstance.
"It seems that Nunnely Priory is shut up—that the family are gone back to their place in ——shire. It seems that the baronet—that the baronet—that Sir Philip himself has accompanied his mother and sisters."
"Indeed!" said Shirley.
"No, sir."
479"Is it news to you?"
"Yes, sir."
"I mean—I mean," pursued Mr. Sympson, now fidgeting in his chair, quitting his hitherto brief and tolerably clear phraseology, and returning to his customary wordy, confused, irritable43 style—"I mean to have a thorough explanation. I will not be put off. I—I—shall insist on being heard, and on—on having my own way. My questions must be answered. I will have clear, satisfactory replies. I am not to be trifled with. (Silence.)
"It is a strange and an extraordinary thing—a very singular—a most odd thing! I thought all was right, knew no other; and there—the family are gone!"
"I suppose, sir, they had a right to go."
"Sir Philip is gone!" (with emphasis).
Shirley raised her brows. "Bon voyage!" said she.
"This will not do; this must be altered, ma'am."
He drew his chair forward; he pushed it back; he looked perfectly incensed45, and perfectly helpless.
"Come, come now, uncle," expostulated Shirley, "do not begin to fret46 and fume47, or we shall make no sense of the business. Ask me what you want to know. I am as willing to come to an explanation as you. I promise you truthful48 replies."
"I want—I demand to know, Miss Keeldar, whether Sir Philip has made you an offer?"
"He has."
"I avow it. But now, go on. Consider that point settled."
"He made you an offer that night we dined at the priory?"
"It is enough to say that he made it. Go on."
"He proposed in the recess—in the room that used to be a picture-gallery—that Sir Monckton converted into it saloon?"
No answer.
"You were both examining a cabinet. I saw it all. My sagacity was not at fault—it never is. Subsequently you received a letter from him. On what subject—of what nature were the contents?"
"No matter."
"Ma'am, is that the way in which you speak to me?"
Shirley's foot tapped quick on the carpet.
480"There you sit, silent and sullen—you who promised truthful replies."
"Sir, I have answered you thus far. Proceed."
"I should like to see that letter."
"You cannot see it."
"Ungrateful being! Reared by me as my own daughter——"
"Once more, uncle, have the kindness to keep to the point. Let us both remain cool. For my part, I do not wish to get into a passion; but, you know, once drive me beyond certain bounds, I care little what I say—I am not then soon checked. Listen! You have asked me whether Sir Philip made me an offer. That question is answered. What do you wish to know next?"
"I desire to know whether you accepted or refused him, and know it I will."
"Certainly, you ought to know it. I refused him."
"Refused him! You—you, Shirley Keeldar, refused Sir Philip Nunnely?"
"I did."
"There it is! There it is! There it is!"
"Sincerely speaking, I am sorry, uncle, you are so disappointed."
Concession52, contrition53, never do any good with some people. Instead of softening54 and conciliating, they but embolden55 and harden them. Of that number was Mr. Sympson.
"I disappointed? What is it to me? Have I an interest in it? You would insinuate56, perhaps, that I have motives57?"
"Most people have motives of some sort for their actions."
"She accuses me to my face! I, that have been a parent to her, she charges with bad motives!"
"Bad motives I did not say."
"And now you prevaricate58; you have no principles!"
"Uncle, you tire me. I want to go away."
"Go you shall not! I will be answered. What are your intentions, Miss Keeldar?"
"In what respect?"
481"In respect of matrimony?"
"To be quiet, and to do just as I please."
"Just as you please! The words are to the last degree indecorous."
"Mr. Sympson, I advise you not to become insulting. You know I will not bear that."
"Do you assert, sir, that something in which I am concerned will end in infamy?"
"That it will—that it will. You said just now you would act as you please. You acknowledge no rules—no limitations."
"Silly stuff, and vulgar as silly!"
"You tire me, uncle."
"What, madam—what could be your reasons for refusing Sir Philip?"
"At last there is another sensible question; I shall be glad to reply to it. Sir Philip is too young for me. I regard him as a boy. All his relations—his mother especially—would be annoyed if he married me. Such a step would embroil63 him with them. I am not his equal in the world's estimation."
"Is that all?"
"Our dispositions64 are not compatible."
"He is very amiable—very excellent—truly estimable; but not my master—not in one point. I could not trust myself with his happiness. I would not undertake the keeping of it for thousands. I will accept no hand which cannot hold me in check."
"I thought you liked to do as you please. You are vastly inconsistent."
"When I promise to obey, it shall be under the conviction that I can keep that promise. I could not obey a youth like Sir Philip. Besides, he would never command me. He would expect me always to rule—to guide—and I have no taste whatever for the office."
"Not my husband; only my uncle."
"Where is the difference?"
"There is a slight difference—that is certain. And I know full well any man who wishes to live in decent comfort with me as a husband must be able to control me."
"A tyrant would not hold me for a day, not for an hour. I would rebel—break from him—defy him."
"Are you not enough to bewilder one's brain with your self-contradiction?"
"It is evident I bewilder your brain."
"You talk of Sir Philip being young. He is two-and-twenty."
"My husband must be thirty, with the sense of forty."
"You had better pick out some old man—some white-headed or bald-headed swain."
"No, thank you."
"I might do that with a boy; but it is not my vocation71. Did I not say I prefer a master—one in whose presence I shall feel obliged and disposed to be good; one whose control my impatient temper must acknowledge; a man whose approbation72 can reward, whose displeasure punish me; a man I shall feel it impossible not to love, and very possible to fear?"
"What is there to hinder you from doing all this with Sir Philip? He is a baronet—a man of rank, property, connections far above yours. If you talk of intellect, he is a poet—he writes verses; which you, I take it, cannot do, with all your cleverness."
"Neither his title, wealth, pedigree, nor poetry avail to invest him with the power I describe. These are feather-weights; they want ballast. A measure of sound, solid, practical sense would have stood him in better stead with me."
"You and Henry rave73 about poetry! You used to catch fire like tinder on the subject when you were a girl."
"O uncle, there is nothing really valuable in this world, there is nothing glorious in the world to come that is not poetry!"
"Marry a poet, then, in God's name!"
483"Show him me, and I will."
"Sir Philip."
"Not at all. You are almost as good a poet as he."
"Madam, you are wandering from the point."
"Indeed, uncle, I wanted to do so, and I shall be glad to lead you away with me. Do not let us get out of temper with each other; it is not worth while."
"Out of temper, Miss Keeldar! I should be glad to know who is out of temper."
"I am not, yet."
"If you mean to insinuate that I am, I consider that you are guilty of impertinence."
"You will be soon, if you go on at that rate."
"There it is! With your pert tongue you would try the patience of a Job."
"I know I should."
"No levity74, miss! This is not a laughing matter. It is an affair I am resolved to probe thoroughly75, convinced that there is mischief76 at the bottom. You described just now, with far too much freedom for your years and sex, the sort of individual you would prefer as a husband. Pray, did you paint from the life?"
Shirley opened her lips, but instead of speaking she only glowed rose-red.
"I shall have an answer to that question," affirmed Mr. Sympson, assuming vast courage and consequence on the strength of this symptom of confusion.
"It was an historical picture, uncle, from several originals."
"Several originals! Bless my heart!"
"I have been in love several times."
"With heroes of many nations."
"What next——"
"And philosophers."
"She is mad——"
"Don't ring the bell, uncle; you will alarm my aunt."
"Your poor dear aunt, what a niece has she!"
"Once I loved Socrates."
"I admired Themistocles, Leonidas, Epaminondas."
"Miss Keeldar——"
"To pass over a few centuries, Washington was a plain man, but I liked him; but to speak of the actual present——"
484"Ah! the actual present."
"To quit crude schoolgirl fancies, and come to realities."
"Realities! That is the test to which you shall be brought, ma'am."
"Confess I must. My heart is full of the secret. It must be spoken. I only wish you were Mr. Helstone instead of Mr. Sympson; you would sympathize with me better."
"Madam, it is a question of common sense and common prudence81, not of sympathy and sentiment, and so on. Did you say it was Mr. Helstone?"
"I will know the name; I will have particulars."
"They positively83 are rather alike. Their very faces are not dissimilar—a pair of human falcons—and dry, direct, decided both. But my hero is the mightier84 of the two. His mind has the clearness of the deep sea, the patience of its rocks, the force of its billows."
"Miss Keeldar, does the person reside in Briarfield? Answer me that."
"Uncle, I am going to tell you; his name is trembling on my tongue."
"Speak, girl!"
"That was well said, uncle. 'Speak, girl!' It is quite tragic87. England has howled savagely88 against this man, uncle, and she will one day roar exultingly89 over him. He has been unscared by the howl, and he will be unelated by the shout."
"I said she was mad. She is."
"This country will change and change again in her demeanour to him; he will never change in his duty to her. Come, cease to chafe90, uncle, I'll tell you his name."
"You shall tell me, or——"
"Listen! Arthur Wellesley, Lord Wellington."
Mr. Sympson rose up furious. He bounced out of the room, but immediately bounced back again, shut the door, and resumed his seat.
485"Ma'am, you shall tell me this. Will your principles permit you to marry a man without money—a man below you?"
"Never a man below me."
(In a high voice.) "Will you, Miss Keeldar, marry a poor man?"
"What right have you, Mr. Sympson, to ask me?"
"I insist upon knowing."
"You don't go the way to know."
"My family respectability shall not be compromised."
"A good resolution; keep it."
"Madam, it is you who shall keep it."
"Impossible, sir, since I form no part of your family."
"Do you disown us?"
"Whom will you marry, Miss Keeldar?"
"Whom have you in your eye?"
"Four rejected candidates."
"What do you mean? There are certain phrases potent94 to make my blood boil. Improper influence! What old woman's cackle is that?"
"Are you a young lady?"
"I am a thousand times better: I am an honest woman, and as such I will be treated."
"Do you know" (leaning mysteriously forward, and speaking with ghastly solemnity)—"do you know the whole neighbourhood teems95 with rumours96 respecting you and a bankrupt tenant97 of yours, the foreigner Moore?"
"Does it?"
"It does. Your name is in every mouth."
"It honours the lips it crosses, and I wish to the gods it may purify them."
"Is it that person who has power to influence you?"
"Beyond any whose cause you have advocated."
"Is it he you will marry?"
"When we speak the name of Moore, shame should be forgotten and fear discarded. The Moores know only honour and courage."
"I say she is mad."
"No, no; not for a province of possession, not for a century of life."
"You cannot separate the husband from his family."
"What then?"
"Mr. Louis Moore's sister you will be."
"Mr. Sympson, I am sick at heart with all this weak trash; I will bear no more. Your thoughts are not my thoughts, your aims are not my aims, your gods are not my gods. We do not view things in the same light; we do not measure them by the same standard; we hardly speak in the same tongue. Let us part."
"It is not," she resumed, much excited—"it is not that I hate you; you are a good sort of man. Perhaps you mean well in your way. But we cannot suit; we are ever at variance105. You annoy me with small meddling, with petty tyranny; you exasperate106 my temper, and make and keep me passionate107. As to your small maxims108, your narrow rules, your little prejudices, aversions, dogmas, bundle them off. Mr. Sympson, go, offer them a sacrifice to the deity109 you worship; I'll none of them. I wash my hands of the lot. I walk by another creed110, light, faith, and hope than you."
"Another creed! I believe she is an infidel."
"An—atheist!!!"
"Your god, sir, is the world. In my eyes you too, if not an infidel, are an idolater. I conceive that you ignorantly worship; in all things you appear to me too superstitious112. Sir, your god, your great Bel, your fish-tailed Dagon, rises before me as a demon113. You, and such as you, have raised him to a throne, put on him a crown, given him a sceptre. Behold114 how hideously115 he governs! See him busied at the work he likes best—making marriages. He binds116 the young to the old, the strong to the imbecile. He stretches out the arm of Mezentius, and fetters117 the dead to the living. In his realm there is hatred118—secret hatred; there is disgust—unspoken disgust; there is treachery—family treachery; there is vice119—deep, deadly domestic vice. In his dominions120 children grow unloving between parents who have never loved; infants are nursed on deception121 from their very birth; they are reared in an atmosphere corrupt122 with lies. Your god rules at the bridal of kings; look at your royal dynasties! Your deity is the deity of foreign aristocracies; analyze123 the blue blood of Spain! Your god is the Hymen of France; what is French domestic life? All that surrounds him hastens to decay; all declines and degenerates124 under his sceptre. Your god is a masked Death."
"This language is terrible! My daughters and you must associate no longer, Miss Keeldar; there is danger in such companionship. Had I known you a little earlier—but, extraordinary as I thought you, I could not have believed——"
"Now, sir, do you begin to be aware that it is useless to scheme for me; that in doing so you but sow the wind to reap the whirlwind? I sweep your cobweb projects from my path, that I may pass on unsullied. I am anchored on a resolve you cannot shake. My heart, my conscience shall dispose of my hand—they only. Know this at last."
Mr. Sympson was becoming a little bewildered.
"Never heard such language!" he muttered again and again; "never was so addressed in my life—never was so used!"
"You are quite confused, sir. You had better withdraw, or I will."
He rose hastily. "We must leave this place; they must pack up at once."
"Do not hurry my aunt and cousins; give them time."
"No more intercourse125; she's not proper."
He made his way to the door. He came back for his handkerchief. He dropped his snuff-box, leaving the contents scattered126 on the carpet; he stumbled out. Tartar lay outside across the mat; Mr. Sympson almost fell over him. In the climax127 of his exasperation128 he hurled129 an oath at the dog and a coarse epithet130 at his mistress.
"Poor Mr. Sympson! he is both feeble and vulgar," said Shirley to herself. "My head aches, and I am tired,"488 she added; and leaning her head upon a cushion, she softly subsided131 from excitement to repose132. One, entering the room a quarter of an hour afterwards, found her asleep. When Shirley had been agitated133, she generally took this natural refreshment134; it would come at her call.
The intruder paused in her unconscious presence, and said, "Miss Keeldar."
Perhaps his voice harmonized with some dream into which she was passing. It did not startle, it hardly roused her. Without opening her eyes, she but turned her head a little, so that her cheek and profile, before hidden by her arm, became visible. She looked rosy135, happy, half smiling, but her eyelashes were wet. She had wept in slumber136; or perhaps, before dropping asleep, a few natural tears had fallen after she had heard that epithet. No man—no woman—is always strong, always able to bear up against the unjust opinion, the vilifying137 word. Calumny138, even from the mouth of a fool, will sometimes cut into unguarded feelings. Shirley looked like a child that had been naughty and punished, but was now forgiven and at rest.
"Miss Keeldar," again said the voice. This time it woke her. She looked up, and saw at her side Louis Moore—not close at her side, but standing, with arrested step, two or three yards from her.
"O Mr. Moore!" she said. "I was afraid it was my uncle again: he and I have quarrelled."
"Mr. Sympson should let you alone," was the reply. "Can he not see that you are as yet far from strong?"
"I assure you he did not find me weak. I did not cry when he was here."
"He is about to evacuate139 Fieldhead—so he says. He is now giving orders to his family. He has been in the schoolroom issuing commands in a manner which, I suppose, was a continuation of that with which he has harassed140 you."
"Are you and Henry to go?"
"I believe, as far as Henry is concerned, that was the tenor141 of his scarcely intelligible142 directions; but he may change all to-morrow. He is just in that mood when you cannot depend on his consistency143 for two consecutive144 hours. I doubt whether he will leave you for weeks yet. To myself he addressed some words which will require a little attention and comment by-and-by, when I have time to bestow145 on them. At the moment he came in I was busied with a489 note I had got from Mr. Yorke—so fully146 busied that I cut short the interview with him somewhat abruptly147. I left him raving148. Here is the note. I wish you to see it. It refers to my brother Robert." And he looked at Shirley.
"I shall be glad to hear news of him. Is he coming home?"
"He is come. He is in Yorkshire. Mr. Yorke went yesterday to Stilbro' to meet him."
"Mr. Moore, something is wrong——"
"Did my voice tremble? He is now at Briarmains, and I am going to see him."
"What has occurred?"
"If you turn so pale I shall be sorry I have spoken. It might have been worse. Robert is not dead, but much hurt."
"O sir, it is you who are pale. Sit down near me."
"Read the note. Let me open it."
Miss Keeldar read the note. It briefly149 signified that last night Robert Moore had been shot at from behind the wall of Milldean plantation150, at the foot of the Brow; that he was wounded severely151, but it was hoped not fatally. Of the assassin, or assassins, nothing was known; they had escaped. "No doubt," Mr. Yorke observed, "it was done in revenge. It was a pity ill-will had ever been raised; but that could not be helped now."
"He is my only brother," said Louis, as Shirley returned the note. "I cannot hear unmoved that ruffians have laid in wait for him, and shot him down, like some wild beast from behind a wall."
"Be comforted; be hopeful. He will get better—I know he will."
Shirley, solicitous152 to soothe153, held her hand over Mr. Moore's as it lay on the arm of the chair. She just touched it lightly, scarce palpably.
"Well, give me your hand," he said. "It will be for the first time; it is in a moment of calamity. Give it me."
Awaiting neither consent nor refusal, he took what he asked.
"I am going to Briarmains now," he went on. "I want you to step over to the rectory and tell Caroline Helstone what has happened. Will you do this? She will hear it best from you."
"Say so."
"You will come back soon, and let me know more?"
"I will either come or write."
"Trust me for watching over Caroline. I will communicate with your sister too; but doubtless she is already with Robert?"
"Doubtless, or will be soon. Good-morning now."
"You will bear up, come what may."
"We shall see that."
Shirley's fingers were obliged to withdraw from the tutor's. Louis was obliged to relinquish155 that hand folded, clasped, hidden in his own.
"I thought I should have had to support her," he said, as he walked towards Briarmains, "and it is she who has made me strong. That look of pity, that gentle touch! No down was ever softer, no elixir156 more potent! It lay like a snowflake; it thrilled like lightning. A thousand times I have longed to possess that hand—to have it in mine. I have possessed157 it; for five minutes I held it. Her fingers and mine can never be strangers more. Having met once they must meet again."
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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brewed
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| 调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 )； 酝酿； 沏（茶）； 煮（咖啡） | |
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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11
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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12
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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13
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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14
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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15
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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16
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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17
stonily
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| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
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18
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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19
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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20
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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21
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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22
adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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23
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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24
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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25
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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26
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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27
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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28
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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29
conjectured
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| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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31
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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32
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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33
emulated
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| v.与…竞争( emulate的过去式和过去分词 )；努力赶上；计算机程序等仿真；模仿 | |
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34
pompously
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| adv.傲慢地，盛大壮观地；大模大样 | |
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35
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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36
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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37
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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38
professing
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| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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39
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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40
purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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41
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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42
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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43
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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44
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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45
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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46
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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47
fume
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| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
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48
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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49
avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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50
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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51
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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52
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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53
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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54
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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55
embolden
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| v.给…壮胆，鼓励 | |
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56
insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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57
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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58
prevaricate
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| v.支吾其词；说谎；n.推诿的人；撒谎的人 | |
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59
imbibed
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| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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60
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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61
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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62
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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63
embroil
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| vt.拖累；牵连；使复杂 | |
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64
dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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65
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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66
subduing
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| 征服( subdue的现在分词 )； 克制； 制服； 色变暗 | |
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67
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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68
rant
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| v.咆哮；怒吼；n.大话；粗野的话 | |
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69
doting
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| adj.溺爱的，宠爱的 | |
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70
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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71
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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72
approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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73
rave
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| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
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74
levity
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|
| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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75
thoroughly
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|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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76
mischief
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|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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77
cynical
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|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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78
trifling
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|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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79
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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80
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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81
prudence
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|
| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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82
precisely
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|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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83
positively
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|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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84
mightier
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|
| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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85
fustian
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| n.浮夸的；厚粗棉布 | |
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86
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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87
tragic
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|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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88
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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89
exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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90
chafe
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| v.擦伤；冲洗；惹怒 | |
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91
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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92
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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93
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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94
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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95
teems
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| v.充满( teem的第三人称单数 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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96
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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97
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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98
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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99
knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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100
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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101
conceals
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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102
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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103
usher
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| n.带位员，招待员；vt.引导，护送；vi.做招待，担任引座员 | |
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104
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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105
variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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106
exasperate
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| v.激怒，使（疾病）加剧，使恶化 | |
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107
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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108
maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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109
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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110
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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111
atheist
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| n.无神论者 | |
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112
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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113
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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114
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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115
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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116
binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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117
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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118
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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119
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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120
dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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121
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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122
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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123
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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124
degenerates
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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125
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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126
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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127
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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128
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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129
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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130
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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131
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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132
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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133
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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134
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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135
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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136
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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137
vilifying
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| v.中伤，诽谤( vilify的现在分词 ) | |
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138
calumny
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| n.诽谤，污蔑，中伤 | |
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139
evacuate
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| v.遣送；搬空；抽出；排泄；大(小)便 | |
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140
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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141
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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142
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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143
consistency
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| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
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144
consecutive
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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145
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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146
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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147
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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148
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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149
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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150
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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151
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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152
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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153
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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154
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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155
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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156
elixir
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| n.长生不老药，万能药 | |
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157
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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