"Come out of doors, master—come out of doors. I can't talk or think right with walls around me—never could. Let's go out to the garden." These were almost the first words I ever heard Abel Armstrong say. He was a member of the board of school trustees in Stillwater, and I had not met him before this late May evening, when I had gone down to confer with him upon some small matter of business. For I was "the new schoolmaster" in Stillwater, having taken the school for the summer term.
It was a rather lonely country district—a fact of which I was glad, for life had been going somewhat awry2 with me and my heart was sore and rebellious3 over many things that have nothing to do with this narration4. Stillwater offered time and opportunity for healing and counsel. Yet, looking back, I doubt if I should have found either had it not been for Abel and his beloved garden.
Abel Armstrong (he was always called "Old Abel", though he was barely sixty) lived in a quaint5, gray house close by the harbour shore. I heard a good deal about him before I saw him. He was called "queer", but Stillwater folks seemed to be very fond of him. He and his sister, Tamzine, lived together; she, so my garrulous6 landlady7 informed me, had not been sound of mind at times for many years; but she was all right now, only odd and quiet. Abel had gone to college for a year when he was young, but had given it up when Tamzine "went crazy". There was no one else to look after her. Abel had settled down to it with apparent content: at least he had never complained.
"Always took things easy, Abel did," said Mrs. Campbell. "Never seemed to worry over disappointments and trials as most folks do. Seems to me that as long as Abel Armstrong can stride up and down in that garden of his, reciting poetry and speeches, or talking to that yaller cat of his as if it was a human, he doesn't care much how the world wags on. He never had much git-up-and-git. His father was a hustler, but the family didn't take after him. They all favoured the mother's people—sorter shiftless and dreamy. 'Taint8 the way to git on in this world."
No, good and worthy9 Mrs. Campbell. It was not the way to get on in your world; but there are other worlds where getting on is estimated by different standards, and Abel Armstrong lived in one of these—a world far beyond the ken1 of the thrifty10 Stillwater farmers and fishers. Something of this I had sensed, even before I saw him; and that night in his garden, under a sky of smoky red, blossoming into stars above the harbour, I found a friend whose personality and philosophy were to calm and harmonize and enrich my whole existence. This sketch11 is my grateful tribute to one of the rarest and finest souls God ever clothed with clay.
He was a tall man, somewhat ungainly of figure and homely12 of face. But his large, deep eyes of velvety13 nut-brown were very beautiful and marvellously bright and clear for a man of his age. He wore a little pointed15, well-cared-for beard, innocent of gray; but his hair was grizzled, and altogether he had the appearance of a man who had passed through many sorrows which had marked his body as well as his soul. Looking at him, I doubted Mrs. Campbell's conclusion that he had not "minded" giving up college. This man had given up much and felt it deeply; but he had outlived the pain and the blessing16 of sacrifice had come to him. His voice was very melodious17 and beautiful, and the brown hand he held out to me was peculiarly long and shapely and flexible.
We went out to the garden in the scented18 moist air of a maritime19 spring evening. Behind the garden was a cloudy pine wood; the house closed it in on the left, while in front and on the right a row of tall Lombardy poplars stood out in stately purple silhouette20 against the sunset sky.
"Always liked Lombardies," said Abel, waving a long arm at them. "They are the trees of princesses. When I was a boy they were fashionable. Anyone who had any pretensions22 to gentility had a row of Lombardies at the foot of his lawn or up his lane, or at any rate one on either side of his front door. They're out of fashion now. Folks complain they die at the top and get ragged-looking. So they do—so they do, if you don't risk your neck every spring climbing up a light ladder to trim them out as I do. My neck isn't worth much to anyone, which, I suppose, is why I've never broken it; and my Lombardies never look out-at-elbows. My mother was especially fond of them. She liked their dignity and their stand-offishness. They don't hobnob with every Tom, Dick and Harry23. If it's pines for company, master, it's Lombardies for society."
We stepped from the front doorstone into the garden. There was another entrance—a sagging24 gate flanked by two branching white lilacs. From it a little dappled path led to a huge apple-tree in the centre, a great swelling25 cone26 of rosy27 blossom with a mossy circular seat around its trunk. But Abel's favourite seat, so he told me, was lower down the slope, under a little trellis overhung with the delicate emerald of young hop-vines. He led me to it and pointed proudly to the fine view of the harbour visible from it. The early sunset glow of rose and flame had faded out of the sky; the water was silvery and mirror-like; dim sails drifted along by the darkening shore. A bell was ringing in a small Catholic chapel28 across the harbour. Mellowly29 and dreamily sweet the chime floated through the dusk, blent with the moan of the sea. The great revolving30 light at the channel trembled and flashed against the opal sky, and far out, beyond the golden sand-dunes of the bar, was the crinkled gray ribbon of a passing steamer's smoke.
"There, isn't that view worth looking at?" said old Abel, with a loving, proprietary32 pride. "You don't have to pay anything for it, either. All that sea and sky free—'without money and without price'. Let's sit down here in the hop-vine arbour, master. There'll be a moonrise presently. I'm never tired of finding out what a moonrise sheen can be like over that sea. There's a surprise in it every time. Now, master, you're getting your mouth in the proper shape to talk business—but don't you do it. Nobody should talk business when he's expecting a moonrise. Not that I like talking business at any time."
"Unfortunately it has to be talked of sometimes, Mr. Armstrong," I said.
"Yes, it seems to be a necessary evil, master," he acknowledged. "But I know what business you've come upon, and we can settle it in five minutes after the moon's well up. I'll just agree to everything you and the other two trustees want. Lord knows why they ever put me on the school board. Maybe it's because I'm so ornamental33. They wanted one good-looking man, I reckon."
His low chuckle34, so full of mirth and so free from malice35, was infectious. I laughed also, as I sat down in the hop-vine arbour.
"Now, you needn't talk if you don't want to," he said. "And I won't. We'll just sit here, sociable36 like, and if we think of anything worth while to say we'll say it. Otherwise, not. If you can sit in silence with a person for half an hour and feel comfortable, you and that person can be friends. If you can't, friends you'll never be, and you needn't waste time in trying."
Abel and I passed successfully the test of silence that evening in the hop-vine arbour. I was strangely content to sit and think—something I had not cared to do lately. A peace, long unknown to my stormy soul, seemed hovering37 near it. The garden was steeped in it; old Abel's personality radiated it. I looked about me and wondered whence came the charm of that tangled38, unworldly spot.
"Nice and far from the market-place isn't it?" asked Abel suddenly, as if he had heard my unasked question. "No buying and selling and getting gain here. Nothing was ever sold out of this garden. Tamzine has her vegetable plot over yonder, but what we don't eat we give away. Geordie Marr down the harbour has a big garden like this and he sells heaps of flowers and fruit and vegetables to the hotel folks. He thinks I'm an awful fool because I won't do the same. Well, he gets money out of his garden and I get happiness out of mine. That's the difference. S'posing I could make more money—what then? I'd only be taking it from people that needed it more. There's enough for Tamzine and me. As for Geordie Marr, there isn't a more unhappy creature on God's earth—he's always stewing39 in a broth40 of trouble, poor man. O' course, he brews41 up most of it for himself, but I reckon that doesn't make it any easier to bear. Ever sit in a hop-vine arbour before, master?"
"Great place for dreaming," said Abel complacently43. "Being young, no doubt, you dream a-plenty."
I answered hotly and bitterly that I had done with dreams.
"No, you haven't," said Abel meditatively44. "You may think you have. What then? First thing you know you'll be dreaming again—thank the Lord for it. I ain't going to ask you what's soured you on dreaming just now. After awhile you'll begin again, especially if you come to this garden as much as I hope you will. It's chockful of dreams—any kind of dreams. You take your choice. Now, I favour dreams of adventures, if you'll believe it. I'm sixty-one and I never do anything rasher than go out cod45-fishing on a fine day, but I still lust46 after adventures. Then I dream I'm an awful fellow—blood-thirsty."
I burst out laughing. Perhaps laughter was somewhat rare in that old garden. Tamzine, who was weeding at the far end, lifted her head in a startled fashion and walked past us into the house. She did not look at us or speak to us. She was reputed to be abnormally shy. She was very stout47 and wore a dress of bright red-and-white striped material. Her face was round and blank, but her reddish hair was abundant and beautiful. A huge, orange-coloured cat was at her heels; as she passed us he bounded over to the arbour and sprang up on Abel's knee. He was a gorgeous brute48, with vivid green eyes, and immense white double paws.
"Captain Kidd, Mr. Woodley." He introduced us as seriously as if the cat had been a human being. Neither Captain Kidd nor I responded very enthusiastically.
"You don't like cats, I reckon, master," said Abel, stroking the Captain's velvet14 back. "I don't blame you. I was never fond of them myself until I found the Captain. I saved his life and when you've saved a creature's life you're bound to love it. It's next thing to giving it life. There are some terrible thoughtless people in the world, master. Some of those city folks who have summer homes down the harbour are so thoughtless that they're cruel. It's the worst kind of cruelty, I think—the thoughtless kind. You can't cope with it. They keep cats there in the summer and feed them and pet them and doll them up with ribbons and collars; and then in the fall they go off and leave them to starve or freeze. It makes my blood boil, master."
"One day last winter I found a poor old mother cat dead on the shore, lying against the skin and bone bodies of her three little kittens. She had died trying to shelter them. She had her poor stiff claws around them. Master, I cried. Then I swore. Then I carried those poor little kittens home and fed 'hem21 up and found good homes for them. I know the woman who left the cat. When she comes back this summer I'm going to go down and tell her my opinion of her. It'll be rank meddling49, but, lord, how I love meddling in a good cause."
"Yes. I found him one bitter cold day in winter caught in the branches of a tree by his darn-fool ribbon collar. He was almost starving. Lord, if you could have seen his eyes! He was nothing but a kitten, and he'd got his living somehow since he'd been left till he got hung up. When I loosed him he gave my hand a pitiful swipe with his little red tongue. He wasn't the prosperous free-booter you behold51 now. He was meek52 as Moses. That was nine years ago. His life has been long in the land for a cat. He's a good old pal31, the Captain is."
"I should have expected you to have a dog," I said.
Abel shook his head.
"I had a dog once. I cared so much for him that when he died I couldn't bear the thought of ever getting another in his place. He was a friend—you understand? The Captain's only a pal. I'm fond of the Captain—all the fonder because of the spice of deviltry there is in all cats. But I loved my dog. There isn't any devil in a good dog. That's why they're more lovable than cats—but I'm darned if they're as interesting."
I laughed as I rose regretfully.
"Must you go, master? And we haven't talked any business after all. I reckon it's that stove matter you've come about. It's like those two fool trustees to start up a stove sputter53 in spring. It's a wonder they didn't leave it till dog-days and begin then."
"They merely wished me to ask you if you approved of putting in a new stove."
"Tell them to put in a new stove—any kind of a new stove—and be hanged to them," rejoined Abel. "As for you, master, you're welcome to this garden any time. If you're tired or lonely, or too ambitious or angry, come here and sit awhile, master. Do you think any man could keep mad if he sat and looked into the heart of a pansy for ten minutes? When you feel like talking, I'll talk, and when you feel like thinking, I'll let you. I'm a great hand to leave folks alone."
"I think I'll come often," I said, "perhaps too often."
"Not likely, master—not likely—not after we've watched a moonrise contentedly54 together. It's as good a test of compatibility as any I know. You're young and I'm old, but our souls are about the same age, I reckon, and we'll find lots to say to each other. Are you going straight home from here?"
"Yes."
"Then I'm going to bother you to stop for a moment at Mary Bascom's and give her a bouquet55 of my white lilacs. She loves 'em and I'm not going to wait till she's dead to send her flowers."
"She's very ill just now, isn't she?"
"She's got the Bascom consumption. That means she may die in a month, like her brother, or linger on for twenty years, like her father. But long or short, white lilac in spring is sweet, and I'm sending her a fresh bunch every day while it lasts. It's a rare night, master. I envy you your walk home in the moonlight along that shore."
"Better come part of the way with me," I suggested.
"No." Abel glanced at the house. "Tamzine never likes to be alone o' nights. So I take my moonlight walks in the garden. The moon's a great friend of mine, master. I've loved her ever since I can remember. When I was a little lad of eight I fell asleep in the garden one evening and wasn't missed. I woke up alone in the night and I was most scared to death, master. Lord, what shadows and queer noises there were! I darsn't move. I just sat there quaking, poor small mite56. Then all at once I saw the moon looking down at me through the pine boughs57, just like an old friend. I was comforted right off. Got up and walked to the house as brave as a lion, looking at her. Goodnight, master. Tell Mary the lilacs'll last another week yet."
From that night Abel and I were cronies. We walked and talked and kept silence and fished cod together. Stillwater people thought it very strange that I should prefer his society to that of the young fellows of my own age. Mrs. Campbell was quite worried over it, and opined that there had always been something queer about me. "Birds of a feather."
I loved that old garden by the harbour shore. Even Abel himself, I think, could hardly have felt a deeper affection for it. When its gate closed behind me it shut out the world and my corroding58 memories and discontents. In its peace my soul emptied itself of the bitterness which had been filling and spoiling it, and grew normal and healthy again, aided thereto by Abel's wise words. He never preached, but he radiated courage and endurance and a frank acceptance of the hard things of life, as well as a cordial welcome of its pleasant things. He was the sanest59 soul I ever met. He neither minimized ill nor exaggerated good, but he held that we should never be controlled by either. Pain should not depress us unduly60, nor pleasure lure61 us into forgetfulness and sloth62. All unknowingly he made me realize that I had been a bit of a coward and a shirker. I began to understand that my personal woes63 were not the most important things in the universe, even to myself. In short, Abel taught me to laugh again; and when a man can laugh wholesomely64 things are not going too badly with him.
That old garden was always such a cheery place. Even when the east wind sang in minor65 and the waves on the gray shore were sad, hints of sunshine seemed to be lurking66 all about it. Perhaps this was because there were so many yellow flowers in it. Tamzine liked yellow flowers. Captain Kidd, too, always paraded it in panoply67 of gold. He was so large and effulgent68 that one hardly missed the sun. Considering his presence I wondered that the garden was always so full of singing birds. But the Captain never meddled69 with them. Probably he understood that his master would not have tolerated it for a moment. So there was always a song or a chirp70 somewhere. Overhead flew the gulls71 and the cranes. The wind in the pines always made a glad salutation. Abel and I paced the walks, in high converse72 on matters beyond the ken of cat or king.
"I liked to ponder on all problems, though I can never solve them," Abel used to say. "My father held that we should never talk of things we couldn't understand. But, lord, master, if we didn't the subjects for conversation would be mighty73 few. I reckon the gods laugh many a time to hear us, but what matter? So long as we remember that we're only men, and don't take to fancying ourselves gods, really knowing good and evil, I reckon our discussions won't do us or anyone much harm. So we'll have another whack74 at the origin of evil this evening, master."
Tamzine forgot to be shy with me at last, and gave me a broad smile of welcome every time I came. But she rarely spoke75 to me. She spent all her spare time weeding the garden, which she loved as well as Abel did. She was addicted76 to bright colours and always wore wrappers of very gorgeous print. She worshipped Abel and his word was a law unto her.
"I am very thankful Tamzine is so well," said Abel one evening as we watched the sunset. The day had begun sombrely in gray cloud and mist, but it ended in a pomp of scarlet77 and gold. "There was a time when she wasn't, master—you've heard? But for years now she has been quite able to look after herself. And so, if I fare forth78 on the last great adventure some of these days Tamzine will not be left helpless."
"She is ten years older than you. It is likely she will go before you," I said.
Abel shook his head and stroked his smart beard. I always suspected that beard of being Abel's last surviving vanity. It was always so carefully groomed79, while I had no evidence that he ever combed his grizzled mop of hair.
"No, Tamzine will outlive me. She's got the Armstrong heart. I have the Marwood heart—my mother was a Marwood. We don't live to be old, and we go quick and easy. I'm glad of it. I don't think I'm a coward, master, but the thought of a lingering death gives me a queer sick feeling of horror. There, I'm not going to say any more about it. I just mentioned it so that some day when you hear that old Abel Armstrong has been found dead, you won't feel sorry. You'll remember I wanted it that way. Not that I'm tired of life either. It's very pleasant, what with my garden and Captain Kidd and the harbour out there. But it's a trifle monotonous80 at times and death will be something of a change, master. I'm real curious about it."
"I hate the thought of death," I said gloomily.
"Oh, you're young. The young always do. Death grows friendlier as we grow older. Not that one of us really wants to die, though, master. Tennyson spoke truth when he said that. There's old Mrs. Warner at the Channel Head. She's had heaps of trouble all her life, poor soul, and she's lost almost everyone she cared about. She's always saying that she'll be glad when her time comes, and she doesn't want to live any longer in this vale of tears. But when she takes a sick spell, lord, what a fuss she makes, master! Doctors from town and a trained nurse and enough medicine to kill a dog! Life may be a vale of tears, all right, master, but there are some folks who enjoy weeping, I reckon."
Summer passed through the garden with her procession of roses and lilies and hollyhocks and golden glow. The golden glow was particularly fine that year. There was a great bank of it at the lower end of the garden, like a huge billow of sunshine. Tamzine revelled81 in it, but Abel liked more subtly-tinted flowers. There was a certain dark wine-hued hollyhock which was a favourite with him. He would sit for hours looking steadfastly82 into one of its shallow satin cups. I found him so one afternoon in the hop-vine arbour.
"This colour always has a soothing83 effect on me," he explained. "Yellow excites me too much—makes me restless—makes me want to sail 'beyond the bourne of sunset'. I looked at that surge of golden glow down there today till I got all worked up and thought my life had been an awful failure. I found a dead butterfly and had a little funeral—buried it in the fern corner. And I thought I hadn't been any more use in the world than that poor little butterfly. Oh, I was woeful, master. Then I got me this hollyhock and sat down here to look at it alone. When a man's alone, master, he's most with God—or with the devil. The devil rampaged around me all the time I was looking at that golden glow; but God spoke to me through the hollyhock. And it seemed to me that a man who's as happy as I am and has got such a garden has made a real success of living."
"I hope I'll be able to make as much of a success," I said sincerely.
"I want you to make a different kind of success, though, master," said Abel, shaking his head. "I want you to do things—the things I'd have tried to do if I'd had the chance. It's in you to do them—if you set your teeth and go ahead."
"I believe I can set my teeth and go ahead now, thanks to you, Mr. Armstrong," I said. "I was heading straight for failure when I came here last spring; but you've changed my course."
"Given you a sort of compass to steer84 by, haven't I?" queried85 Abel with a smile. "I ain't too modest to take some credit for it. I saw I could do you some good. But my garden has done more than I did, if you'll believe it. It's wonderful what a garden can do for a man when he lets it have its way. Come, sit down here and bask86, master. The sunshine may be gone to-morrow. Let's just sit and think."
"You don't see the folks I see in this garden, master. You don't see anybody but me and old Tamzine and Captain Kidd. I see all who used to be here long ago. It was a lively place then. There were plenty of us and we were as gay a set of youngsters as you'd find anywhere. We tossed laughter backwards88 and forwards here like a ball. And now old Tamzine and older Abel are all that are left."
He was silent a moment, looking at the phantoms89 of memory that paced invisibly to me the dappled walks and peeped merrily through the swinging boughs. Then he went on:
"Of all the folks I see here there are two that are more vivid and real than all the rest, master. One is my sister Alice. She died thirty years ago. She was very beautiful. You'd hardly believe that to look at Tamzine and me, would you? But it is true. We always called her Queen Alice—she was so stately and handsome. She had brown eyes and red gold hair, just the colour of that nasturtium there. She was father's favourite. The night she was born they didn't think my mother would live. Father walked this garden all night. And just under that old apple-tree he knelt at sunrise and thanked God when they came to tell him that all was well.
"Alice was always a creature of joy. This old garden rang with her laughter in those years. She seldom walked—she ran or danced. She only lived twenty years, but nineteen of them were so happy I've never pitied her over much. She had everything that makes life worth living—laughter and love, and at the last sorrow. James Milburn was her lover. It's thirty-one years since his ship sailed out of that harbour and Alice waved him good-bye from this garden. He never came back. His ship was never heard of again.
"When Alice gave up hope that it would be, she died of a broken heart. They say there's no such thing; but nothing else ailed90 Alice. She stood at yonder gate day after day and watched the harbour; and when at last she gave up hope life went with it. I remember the day: she had watched until sunset. Then she turned away from the gate. All the unrest and despair had gone out of her eyes. There was a terrible peace in them—the peace of the dead. 'He will never come back now, Abel,' she said to me.
"In less than a week she was dead. The others mourned her, but I didn't, master. She had sounded the deeps of living and there was nothing else to linger through the years for. My grief had spent itself earlier, when I walked this garden in agony because I could not help her. But often, on these long warm summer afternoons, I seem to hear Alice's laughter all over this garden; though she's been dead so long."
He lapsed91 into a reverie which I did not disturb, and it was not until another day that I learned of the other memory that he cherished. He reverted92 to it suddenly as we sat again in the hop-vine arbour, looking at the glimmering93 radiance of the September sea.
"Master, how many of us are sitting here?"
"Two in the flesh. How many in the spirit I know not," I answered, humouring his mood.
"There is one—the other of the two I spoke of the day I told you about Alice. It's harder for me to speak of this one."
"Don't speak of it if it hurts you," I said.
"But I want to. It's a whim94 of mine. Do you know why I told you of Alice and why I'm going to tell you of Mercedes? It's because I want someone to remember them and think of them sometimes after I'm gone. I can't bear that their names should be utterly95 forgotten by all living souls.
"My older brother, Alec, was a sailor, and on his last voyage to the West Indies he married and brought home a Spanish girl. My father and mother didn't like the match. Mercedes was a foreigner and a Catholic, and differed from us in every way. But I never blamed Alec after I saw her. It wasn't that she was so very pretty. She was slight and dark and ivory-coloured. But she was very graceful96, and there was a charm about her, master—a mighty and potent97 charm. The women couldn't understand it. They wondered at Alec's infatuation for her. I never did. I—I loved her, too, master, before I had known her a day. Nobody ever knew it. Mercedes never dreamed of it. But it's lasted me all my life. I never wanted to think of any other woman. She spoiled a man for any other kind of woman—that little pale, dark-eyed Spanish girl. To love her was like drinking some rare sparkling wine. You'd never again have any taste for a commoner draught98.
"I think she was very happy the year she spent here. Our thrifty women-folk in Stillwater jeered99 at her because she wasn't what they called capable. They said she couldn't do anything. But she could do one thing well—she could love. She worshipped Alec. I used to hate him for it. Oh, my heart has been very full of black thoughts in its time, master. But neither Alec nor Mercedes ever knew. And I'm thankful now that they were so happy. Alec made this arbour for Mercedes—at least he made the trellis, and she planted the vines.
"She used to sit here most of the time in summer. I suppose that's why I like to sit here. Her eyes would be dreamy and far-away until Alec would flash his welcome. How that used to torture me! But now I like to remember it. And her pretty soft foreign voice and little white hands. She died after she had lived here a year. They buried her and her baby in the graveyard100 of that little chapel over the harbour where the bell rings every evening. She used to like sitting here and listening to it. Alec lived a long while after, but he never married again. He's gone now, and nobody remembers Mercedes but me."
Abel lapsed into a reverie—a tryst101 with the past which I would not disturb. I thought he did not notice my departure, but as I opened the gate he stood up and waved his hand.
Three days later I went again to the old garden by the harbour shore. There was a red light on a distant sail. In the far west a sunset city was built around a great deep harbour of twilight102. Palaces were there and bannered towers of crimson103 and gold. The air was full of music; there was one music of the wind and another of the waves, and still another of the distant bell from the chapel near which Mercedes slept. The garden was full of ripe odours and warm colours. The Lombardies around it were tall and sombre like the priestly forms of some mystic band. Abel was sitting in the hop-vine arbour; beside him Captain Kidd slept. I thought Abel was asleep, too; his head leaned against the trellis and his eyes were shut.
But when I reached the arbour I saw that he was not asleep. There was a strange, wise little smile on his lips as if he had attained104 to the ultimate wisdom and were laughing in no unkindly fashion at our old blind suppositions and perplexities.
Abel had gone on his Great Adventure.
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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narration
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| n.讲述，叙述；故事；记叙体 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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garrulous
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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worthy
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thrifty
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sketch
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homely
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velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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18
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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maritime
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| adj.海的，海事的，航海的，近海的，沿海的 | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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21
hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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22
pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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23
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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25
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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27
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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28
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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mellowly
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| 柔软且甜地，成熟地 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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31
pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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32
proprietary
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| n.所有权，所有的；独占的；业主 | |
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33
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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34
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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35
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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36
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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37
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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38
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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39
stewing
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| 炖 | |
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40
broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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41
brews
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| n.（尤指某地酿造的）啤酒( brew的名词复数 )；酿造物的种类；（茶）一次的冲泡量；（不同思想、环境、事件的）交融v.调制( brew的第三人称单数 )；酝酿；沏（茶）；煮（咖啡） | |
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42
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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45
cod
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| n.鳕鱼；v.愚弄；哄骗 | |
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46
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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48
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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49
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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51
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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52
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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53
sputter
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| n.喷溅声；v.喷溅 | |
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54
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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55
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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56
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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57
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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58
corroding
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| 使腐蚀，侵蚀( corrode的现在分词 ) | |
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59
sanest
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的最高级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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61
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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62
sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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63
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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wholesomely
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| 卫生地，有益健康地 | |
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65
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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66
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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67
panoply
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| n.全副甲胄，礼服 | |
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68
effulgent
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| adj.光辉的；灿烂的 | |
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69
meddled
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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71
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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74
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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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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76
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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77
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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78
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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79
groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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81
revelled
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| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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83
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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84
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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85
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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86
bask
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| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
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87
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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88
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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89
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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90
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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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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92
reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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93
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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94
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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95
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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96
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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97
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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98
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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99
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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101
tryst
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| n.约会；v.与…幽会 | |
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102
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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103
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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104
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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