The service of his meal, which had the charm of a picnic, was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor, whose report on the invalid1, however, was so favourable2 that Louis could quite dismiss the possibly homicidal aspect of his dealings with the bank-notes. The shock of the complete disappearance3 of the vast sum had perhaps brought Mrs. Maldon to the brink4 of death, but she had edged safely away again, in accordance with her own calm prophecy that very morning. When the doctor had gone, and the patient was indulged in her desire to be left alone for sleep, Louis very slowly and luxuriously5 finished his repast, with Rachel sitting opposite to him, in Mrs. Maldon's place, at the dining-table. He lit a cigarette and, gracefully6 leaning his elbows on the table, gazed at her through the beautiful grey smoke-veil, which was like the clouds of Paradise.
What thrilled Louis was the obvious fact that he fascinated her. She was transformed under his glance. How her eyes shone! How her cheek flushed and paled! What passionate7 vitality8 found vent9 in her little gestures! But in the midst of this transformation10 her honesty, her loyalty11, her exquisite12 ingenuousness13, her superb dependability remained. She was no light creature, no flirt14 nor seeker after dubious15 sensations. He felt that at last he was appreciated by one whose appreciation16 was tremendously worth having. He was confirmed in that private opinion of himself that no mistakes hitherto made in his career had been able to destroy. He felt happy and confident as never before.
Luck, of course; but luck deserved! He could marry this unique creature and be idolized and cherished for the rest of his life. In an instant, from being a scorner of conjugal17 domesticity, he became a scorner of the bachelor's existence, with its immeasurable secret ennui18 hidden beneath the jaunty19 cloak of a specious20 freedom—freedom to be bored, freedom to fret21, and long and envy, freedom to eat ashes and masticate22 dust! He would marry her. Yes, he was saved, because he was loved. And he meant to be worthy23 of his regenerate24 destiny. All the best part of his character came to the surface and showed in his face. But he did not ask his heart whether he was or was not in love with Rachel. The point did not present itself. He certainly never doubted that he was seeing her with a quite normal vision.
Their talk went through and through the enormous topic of the night and day, arriving at no conclusion whatever, except that there was no conclusion—not even a theory of a conclusion. (And the Louis who now discussed the case was an innocent, reborn Louis, quite unconnected with the Louis of the previous evening; he knew no more of the inwardness of the affair than Rachel did. Of such singular feats25 of doubling the personality is the self-deceiving mind capable.) After a time it became implicit26 in the tone of their conversation that the mysterious disappearance in a small, ordinary house of even so colossal27 a sum as nine hundred and sixty-five pounds did not mean the end of the world. That is to say, they grew accustomed to the situation. Louis, indeed, permitted himself to suggest, as a man of the large, still-existing world, that Rachel should guard against over-estimating the importance of the sum. True, as he had several times reflected, it did represent an income of about a pound a week! But, after all, what was a pound a week, viewed in a proper perspective?...
Louis somehow glided28 from the enormous topic to the topic of the newest cinema—Rachel had never seen a cinema, except a very primitive29 one, years earlier—and old Batchgrew was mentioned, he being notoriously a cinema magnate. "I cannot stand that man," said Rachel with a candour that showed to what intimacy31 their talk had developed. Louis was delighted by the explosion, and they both fell violently upon Thomas Batchgrew and found intense pleasure in destroying him. And Louis was saying to himself, enthusiastically, "How well she understands human nature!"
So that when old Batchgrew, without any warning or preliminary sound, stalked pompously32 into the room their young confusion was excessive. They felt themselves suddenly in the presence of not merely a personal adversary34, but of an enemy of youth and of love and of joy—of a being mysterious and malevolent35 who neither would nor could comprehend them. And they were at once resentful and intimidated36.
During the morning Councillor Batchgrew had provided himself—doubtless by purchase, since he had not been home—with a dandiacal spotted37 white waistcoat in honour of the warm and sunny weather. This waistcoat by its sprightly38 unsuitability to his aged39 uncouthness40, somehow intensified41 the sinister42 quality of his appearance.
Rachel, strangely at a loss, hesitated and glanced at Louis as if for succour.
"No, I haven't, Mr. Batchgrew," she said. "I haven't, I'm sure. And I've turned over every possible thing likely or unlikely."
Mr. Batchgrew growled—
"From th' look of ye I made sure that th' money had turned up all right—ye were that comfortable and cosy44! Who'd guess as nigh on a thousand pound's missing out of this house since last night!"
The heavy voice rolled over them brutally45. Louis attempted to withstand Mr. Batchgrew's glare, but failed. He was sure of the absolute impregnability of his own position; but the clear memory of at least one humiliating and disastrous46 interview with Thomas Batchgrew in the past robbed Louis' eye of its composure. The circumstances under which he had left the councillor's employ some years ago were historic and unforgettable.
"I came in back way instead of front way," said Thomas Batchgrew, "because I thought I'd have a look at that scullery door. Kitchen's empty."
"What about the scullery door?" Louis lightly demanded.
Rachel murmured—
"I forgot to tell you; it was open when I came down in the middle of the night." And then she added: "Wide open."
"Upon my soul!" said Louis slowly, with marked constraint47. "I really forget whether I looked at that door before I went to bed. I know I looked at all the others."
"And when you found it open, miss," pursued Thomas Batchgrew, "what did ye do?"
"I shut it and locked it."
"Where was the key?"
"In the door."
"Lock in order?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, how could it have been opened from the outside? There isn't a mark on the door, outside or in."
"As far as that goes, Mr. Batchgrew," said Rachel, "only last week the key fell out of the lock on the inside and slid down the brick floor to the outside—you know there's a slope. And I had to go out of the house by the front and the lamplighter climbed over the back gate for me and let me into the yard so that I could get the key again. That might have happened last night. Some one might have shaken the key out, and pulled it under the door with a bit of wire or something."
"That won't do," Thomas Batchgrew stopped her. "You said the key was in the door on the inside."
"Well, when they'd once opened the door from the outside, couldn't they have put the key on the inside again?"
"They? Who?"
"Burglars."
Thomas Batchgrew repeated sarcastically—
"Burglars! Burglars!" and snorted.
"Well, Mr. Batchgrew, either burglars must have been at work," said Louis, who was fascinated by Rachel's surprising news and equally surprising theory—"either burglars must have been at work," he repeated impressively, "or—the money is still in the house. That's evident."
"Is it?" snarled49 Batchgrew. "Look here, miss, and you, young Fores, I didn't make much o' this this morning, because I thought th' money 'ud happen be found. But seeing as it isn't, and as we're talking about it, what time was the rumpus last night?"
"What time?" Rachel muttered. "What time was it, Mr. Fores?"
"I dun'no'," said Louis. "Perhaps the doctor would know."
"Oh!" said Rachel, "Mrs. Tams said the hall clock had stopped; that must have been when Mrs. Maldon knocked up against it."
She went to the parlour door and opened it, displaying the hall clock, which showed twenty-five minutes past twelve. Louis had crept up behind Mr. Batchgrew, who in his inapposite white waistcoat stood between the two lovers, stertorous50 with vague anathema51.
"So that was the time," said he. "And th' burglars must ha' been and gone afore that. A likely thing burglars coming at twelve o'clock at night, isn't it? And I'll tell ye summat else. Them burglars was copped last night at Knype at eleven o'clock when th' pubs closed, if ye want to know—the whole gang of three on 'em."
"Then what about that burglary last night down the Lane?" Rachel asked sharply.
"Oh!" exclaimed Louis. "Was there a burglary down the Lane last night? I didn't know that."
"No, there wasn't," said Batchgrew ruthlessly. "That burglary was a practical joke, and it's all over the town. Denry Machin had a hand in that affair, and by now I dare say he wishes he hadn't."
"Still, Mr. Batchgrew," Louis argued superiorly, with the philosophic52 impartiality53 of a man well accustomed to the calm unravelling54 of crime, "there may be other burglars in the land beside just those three." He would not willingly allow the theory of burglars to crumble55. Its attractiveness increased every moment.
"There may and there mayn't, young Fores," said Thomas Batchgrew. "Did you hear anything of 'em?"
"And yet you ought to have been listening out for 'em."
"Why ought I to have been listening out for them?"
"Knowing there was all that money in th' house."
"Mr. Fores didn't know," said Rachel.
Louis felt himself unjustly smirched.
"It's scarcely an hour ago," said he, "that I heard about this money for the first time." And he felt as innocent and aggrieved58 as he looked.
"Then," he announced, "I'm going down to th' police-station, to put it i' Snow's hands."
Rachel straightened herself.
"But surely not without telling Mrs. Maldon?"
Mr. Batchgrew fingered his immense whiskers.
"Is she better?" he inquired threateningly. This was his first sign of interest in Mrs. Maldon's condition.
"Oh, yes; much. She's going on very well. The doctor's just been."
"Is she asleep?"
"She's resting. She may be asleep."
"Did ye tell her ye hadn't found her money?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"She didn't say anything."
"It might be municipal money, for all she seems to care!" remarked Thomas Batchgrew, with a short, bitter grin. "Well, I'll be moving to th' police-station. I've never come across aught like this before, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."
Rachel slipped out of the door into the hall.
"Please wait a moment, Mr. Batchgrew," she whispered timidly.
"What for?"
"Till I've told Mrs. Maldon."
"But if her's asleep?"
"I must waken her. I couldn't think of letting you go to the police-station without letting her know—after what she said this morning."
Rachel waited. Mr. Batchgrew glanced aside.
"Here! Come here!" said Mr. Batchgrew in a different tone. The fact was that, put to the proof, he dared not, for all his autocratic habit, openly disobey the injunction of the benignant, indifferent, helpless Mrs. Maldon. "Come here!" he repeated coarsely. Rachel obeyed, shamefaced despite herself. Batchgrew shut the door. "Now," he said grimly, "what's your secret? Out with it. I know you and her's got a secret. What is it?"
Rachel sat down on the sofa, hid her face in her hands, and startled both men by a sob60. She wept with violence. And then through her tears, and half looking up, she cried out passionately61: "It's all your fault. Why did you leave the money in the house at all? You know you'd no right to do it, Mr. Batchgrew!"
The councillor was shaken out of his dignity by the incredible impudence62 of this indictment63 from a chit like Rachel. Similar experiences, however, had happened to him before; for, though as a rule people most curiously64 conspired65 with him to keep up the fiction that he was sacred, at rare intervals66 somebody's self-control would break down, and bitter, inconvenient67 home truths would resound68 in the ear of Thomas Batchgrew. But he would recover himself in a few moments, and usually some diversion would occur to save him—he was nearly always lucky. A diversion occurred now, of the least expected kind. The cajoling tones of Mrs. Tams were heard on the staircase.
And then the firm but soft voice of Mrs. Maldon—
"I must speak to Mr. Batchgrew. I must have Mr. Batchgrew here at once. Didn't you hear me call and call to you?"
"That I didn't, ma'am! I was beating the feather bed in the back bedroom. Nay, not a step lower do you go, ma'am, not if I lose me job for it."
Thomas Batchgrew and Louis were already out in the hall. Half-way down the stairs stood Mrs. Maldon, supporting herself by the banisters and being supported by Mrs. Tams. She was wearing her pink peignoir with white frills at the neck and wrists. Her black hair was loose on her shoulders like the hair of a young girl. Her pallid70 and heavily seamed features with the deep shining eyes trembled gently, as if in response to a distant vibration71. She gazed upon the two silent men with an expression that united benignancy with profound inquietude and sadness. All her past life was in her face, inspiring it with strength and sorrow.
"Mr. Batchgrew," she said. "I've heard your voice for a long time. I want to speak to you."
And then she turned, yielded to the solicitous72 alarm of Mrs. Tams, climbed feebly up the stairs, and vanished round the corner at the top. And Mrs. Tams, putting her frowsy head for an instant over the hand-rail, stopped to adjure73 Mr. Batchgrew—
"Eh, mester; ye'd better stop where ye are awhile."
The two men had not a word to say. Mr. Batchgrew grunted75, vacillating. It seemed as if the majestic76 apparition77 of Mrs. Maldon had rebuked78 everything that was derogatory and undignified in her trustee, and that both he and Louis were apologizing to the empty hall for being common, base creatures. Each of them—and especially Louis—had the sense of being awakened80 to events of formidable grandeur81 whose imminence82 neither had suspected. Still assuring himself that his position was absolutely safe, Louis nevertheless was aware of a sinking in the stomach. He could rebut83 any accusation84. "And yet ...!" murmured his craven conscience. What could be the enigma85 between Mrs. Maldon and Rachel? He was now trying to convince himself that Mrs. Maldon had in fact divided the money into two parts, of which he had handled only one, and that the impressive mystery had to do with the other part of the treasure, which he had neither seen nor touched. How, then, could he personally be threatened? "And yet!..." said his conscience again.
"Her will have ye, mester!" said she to the councillor.
Thomas Batchgrew mounted after her.
Louis made a noise with his tongue as if starting a horse, and returned to the parlour.
Rachel, still on the sofa, showed her wet face.
"I've got no secret," she said passionately. "And I'm sure Mrs. Maldon hasn't. What's he driving at?"
She jumped from the Chesterfield and ran away upstairs, flying. He followed to the lobby, and saw her dash into her own room and feverishly89 shut the door, which was in full view at the top of the stairs. And Louis thought he had never lived in any moment so exquisite and so alarming as that moment.
He was now alone on the ground floor. He caught no sound from above.
"Well, I'd better get out of this," he said to himself. "Anyhow, I'm all right!... What a girl! Terrific!" And, lighting90 a fresh cigarette, he left the house.
V
"And now what's amiss?" Thomas Batchgrew demanded, alone with Mrs. Maldon in the tranquillity91 of the bedroom.
Mrs. Maldon lay once more in bed; the bedclothes covered her without a crease56, and from the neat fold-back of the white sheet her wrinkled ivory face and curving black hair emerged so still and calm that her recent flight to the stairs seemed unreal, impossible. The impression her mien92 gave was that she never had moved and never would move from the bed. Thomas Batchgrew's blusterous voice frankly93 showed acute irritation94. He was angry because nine hundred and sixty-five pounds had monstrously95 vanished, because the chance of a good investment was lost, because Mrs. Maldon tied his hands, because Rachel had forgotten her respect and his dignity in addressing him; but more because he felt too old to impose himself by sheer rough-riding, individual force on the other actors in the drama, and still more because he, and nobody else, had left the nine hundred and sixty-five pounds in the house. What an orgy of denunciation he would have plunged96 into had some other person insisted on leaving the money in the house with a similar result!
Mrs. Maldon looked up at him with a glance of compassion97. She was filled with pity for him because he had arrived at old age without dignity and without any sense of what was fine in life; he was not even susceptible98 to the chastening influences of a sick-room. She knew, indeed, that he hated and despised sickness in others, and that when ill himself he became a moaning mass of cowardice99 and vituperation. And in her heart she invented the most wonderful excuses for him, and transformed him into a martyr100 of destiny who had suffered both through ancestry101 and through environment. Was it his fault that he was thus tragically102 defective103? So that by the magic power of her benevolence104 he became dignified79 in spite of himself.
She said—
"Mr. Batchgrew, I want you to oblige me by not discussing my affairs with any one but me."
At that moment the front door closed firmly below, and the bedroom vibrated.
"Is that Louis going?" she asked.
Batchgrew went to the window and looked downward, lowering the pupils as far as possible so as to see the pavement.
"It's Louis going," he replied.
Mrs. Maldon sighed relief.
Mr. Batchgrew said no more.
"What were you talking about downstairs to those two?" Mrs. Maldon went on carefully.
"What d'ye suppose we were talking about?" retorted Batchgrew, still at the window. Then he turned towards her and proceeded in an outburst: "If you want to know, missis, I was asking that young wench what the secret was between you and her."
"The secret? Between Rachel and me?"
"Aye! Ye both know what's happened to them notes, and ye've made it up between ye to say nowt!"
Mrs. Maldon answered gravely—
"You are quite mistaken. I know nothing, and I'm sure Rachel doesn't. And we have made nothing up between us. How can you imagine such things?"
"Why don't ye have the police told?"
"I cannot do with the police in my house."
Mr. Batchgrew approached the bed almost threateningly.
"I'll tell you why ye won't have the police told. Because ye know Louis Fores has taken your money. It's as plain as a pikestaff. Ye put it on the chair on the landing here, and ye left it there, and he came along and pocketed it." Mrs. Maldon essayed to protest, but he cut her short. "Did he or did he not come upstairs after ye'd been upstairs yourself?"
As Mrs. Maldon hesitated, Thomas Batchgrew began to feel younger and more impressive.
"Yes, he did," said Mrs. Maldon at length. "But only because I asked him to come up—to fasten the window."
"What window?"
"The landing window."
Mr. Batchgrew, startled and delighted by this unexpected confirmation105 of his theory, exploded—
"Ha!... And how soon was that after ye'd been upstairs with the notes?"
"It was just afterwards."
"Ha!... I don't mind telling ye I've been suspecting that young man ever since this morning. I only learnt just now as he was in th' house all night. That made me think for a moment as he'd done it after ye'd all gone to bed. And for aught I know he may have. But done it some time he has, and you know it as well as I do, Elizabeth."
"We may be unjust to him. I should never forgive myself if I was. He has a very good side to him, has Louis!"
"I've never seen it," said Mr. Batchgrew, still growing in authority. "He began as a thief and he'll end as a thief, if it's no worse."
"Began as a thief?" Mrs. Maldon protested.
"Well, what d'ye suppose he left the bank for?"
"I never knew quite why he left the bank. I always understood there was some unpleasantness."
"If ye didn't know, it was because ye didn't want to know. Ye never do want to know these things. 'Unpleasantness!' There's only one sort of unpleasantness with the clerks in a bank!... I know, anyhow, because I took the trouble to find out for myself, when I had that bother with him in my own office. And a nice affair that was, too!"
"But you told me at the time that his books were all right with you. Only you preferred not to keep him." Mrs. Maiden's voice was now plaintive107.
Thomas Batchgrew came close to the bed and leaned on the foot of it.
"There's some things as you won't hear, Elizabeth. His books were all right, but he'd made 'em all right. I got hold of him afore he'd done more than he could undo—that's all. There's one trifle as I might ha' told ye if ye hadn't such a way of shutting folks up sometimes, missis. I'll tell ye now. Louis Fores went down on his knees to me in my office. On his knees, and all blubbing. What about that?"
Mrs. Maldon replied—
"You must have been glad ever since that you did give the poor boy another chance."
"There's nothing I've regretted more," said Thomas Batchgrew, with a grimness that became him. "I heard last week he's keeping books and handling cash for Horrocleave nowadays. I know how that'll end! I'd warn Horrocleave, but it's no business o' mine, especially as ye made me help ye to put him into Horrocleave's.... There's half a dozen people in this town and in Hanbridge that can add up Louis Fores, and have added him up! And now he's robbed ye in yer own house. But it makes no matter. He's safe enough!" He sardonically108 snorted. "He's safe enough. We canna' even stop the notes without telling the police, and ye won't have the police told. Oh, no! He's managed to get on th' right side o' you. However, he'll only finish in one way, that chap will, whether you and me's here to see it or not."
Mr. Batchgrew had grown really impressive, and he knew it.
"Don't let us be hard," pleaded Mrs. Maldon. And then, in a firmer, prouder voice: "There will be no scandal in my family, Mr. Batchgrew, as long as I live."
Mr. Batchgrew's answer was superb in its unconscious ferocity—
"That depends how long ye live."
His meaningless eyes rested on her with frosty impartiality, as he reflected—
"I wonder how long she'll last."
He felt strong; he felt immortal109. Exactly like Mrs. Maldon, he was convinced that he was old only by the misleading arithmetic of years, that he was not really old, and that there was a subtle and vital difference between all other people of his age and himself. As for Mrs. Maldon, he regarded her as a mere33 poor relic110 of an organism.
"At our age," Mrs. Maldon began, and paused as if collecting her thoughts.
"At our age! At our age!" he repeated, sharply deprecating the phrase.
"At our age," said Mrs. Maldon, with slow insistence111, "we ought not to be hard on others. We ought to be thinking of our own sins."
But, although Mrs. Maldon was perhaps the one person on earth whom he both respected and feared, Thomas Batchgrew listened to her injunction only with rough disdain112. He was incapable113 of thinking of his own sins. While in health, he was nearly as unaware114 of sin as an animal.
Nevertheless, he turned uneasily in the silence of the pale room, so full of the shy and prim30 refinement115 of Mrs. Maldon's individuality. He could talk morals to others in the grand manner, and with positive enjoyment116, but to be sermonized himself secretly exasperated117 him because it constrained118 him and made him self-conscious. Invariably, when thus attacked, he would execute a flank movement.
He said bluntly—
"And I suppose ye'll let him marry this Rachel girl if he's a mind to!"
Slowly a deep flush covered Mrs. Maldon's face.
"I have but just seen 'em together."
"I should never forgive myself if I stood by and let Louis marry Rachel," she said, and there was a sudden desperate urgency in her voice.
"Isn't she good enough for a nephew o' yours?"
"She's good enough for any man," said Mrs. Maldon quietly.
"Then it's him as isna' good enough! And yet, if he's got such a good side to him as ye say—" Mr. Batchgrew snorted.
"He's not suited to her—not at all."
"Now, missis," said Mr. Batchgrew in triumph, "at last we're getting down to your real opinion of young Fores."
"I feel I'm responsible for Rachel, and—What ought I to do about it?"
"Do? What can a body do when a respectable young woman wi' red hair takes a fancy to a youth? Nowt, Elizabeth. That young woman'll marry Louis Fores, and ye can take it from me."
"But why do you say a thing like that? I only began to notice anything myself last night."
"She's lost her head over him, that's all. I caught 'em just now.... As thick as thieves in your parlour!"
"What does it matter whether he is or not? She's lost her head over him, and she'll have him. It doesn't want a telescope to see as far as that."
"Well, then, I shall speak to her—I shall speak to her to-morrow morning, after she's had a good night's rest, when I feel stronger."
"Ay! Ye may! And what shalt say?"
"I shall warn her. I think I shall know how to do it," said Mrs. Maldon, with a certain air of confidence amid her trouble. "I wouldn't run the risk of a tragedy for worlds."
"It's no risk of a tragedy, as ye call it," said Thomas Batchgrew, very pleased with his own situation in the argument. "It's a certainty. She'll believe him afore she believes you, whatever ye say. You mark me. It's a certainty."
After elaborate preparations of his handkerchief, he blew his nose loudly, because blowing his nose loudly affected122 him in an agreeable manner.
A few minutes later he left, saying the car would be waiting for him at the back of the Town Hall. And Mrs. Maldon lay alone until Mrs. Tams came in with a tray.
"An' I hope that's enough company for one day!" said Mrs. Tarns. "Now, sup it up, do!"
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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3
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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4
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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5
luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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6
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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7
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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8
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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ingenuousness
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| n.率直；正直；老实 | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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15
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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18
ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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specious
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| adj.似是而非的；adv.似是而非地 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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masticate
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| v.咀嚼 | |
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23
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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regenerate
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| vt.使恢复，使新生；vi.恢复，再生；adj.恢复的 | |
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feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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pompously
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| adv.傲慢地，盛大壮观地；大模大样 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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40
uncouthness
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41
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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43
tersely
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| adv. 简捷地, 简要地 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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47
constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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stertorous
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| adj.打鼾的 | |
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51
anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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53
impartiality
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| n. 公平, 无私, 不偏 | |
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54
unravelling
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| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的现在分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
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crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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restively
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| adv.倔强地，难以驾御地 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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conspired
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| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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resound
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| v.回响 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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71
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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adjure
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| v.郑重敦促(恳请) | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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75
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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76
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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78
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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80
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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81
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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82
imminence
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| n.急迫，危急 | |
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83
rebut
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| v.辩驳，驳回 | |
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84
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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85
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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86
tarns
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| n.冰斗湖，山中小湖( tarn的名词复数 ) | |
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87
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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88
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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89
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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90
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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91
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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92
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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93
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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94
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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monstrously
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96
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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97
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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98
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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99
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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100
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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101
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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102
tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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103
defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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104
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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105
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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106
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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107
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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108
sardonically
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| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
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109
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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110
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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111
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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112
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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113
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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114
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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115
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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116
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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117
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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118
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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119
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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120
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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121
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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122
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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