With orphans’ heritage. Let your dead love
Marry its dead.
Gwendolen looked lovely and vigorous as a tall, newly-opened lily the next morning: there was a reaction of young energy in her, and yesterday’s self-distrust seemed no more than the transient shiver on the surface of a full stream. The roving archery match in Cardell Chase was a delightful5 prospect6 for the sport’s sake: she felt herself beforehand moving about like a wood-nymph under the beeches8 (in appreciative9 company), and the imagined scene lent a charm to further advances on the part of Grandcourt—not an impassioned lyrical Daphnis for the wood-nymph, certainly: but so much the better. To-day Gwendolen foresaw him making slow conversational10 approaches to a declaration, and foresaw herself awaiting and encouraging it according to the rational conclusion which she had expressed to her uncle.
When she came down to breakfast (after every one had left the table except Mrs. Davilow) there were letters on her plate. One of them she read with a gathering11 smile, and then handed it to her mamma, who, on returning it, smiled also, finding new cheerfulness in the good spirits her daughter had shown ever since waking, and said,
“You don’t feel inclined to go a thousand miles away?”
“Not exactly so far.”
“It was a sad omission12 not to have written again before this. Can’t you write now—before we set out this morning?”
“It is not so pressing. To-morrow will do. You see they leave town to-day. I must write to Dover. They will be there till Monday.”
“Shall I write for you, dear—if it teases you?”
Gwendolen did not speak immediately, but after sipping14 her coffee, answered brusquely, “Oh no, let it be; I will write to-morrow.” Then, feeling a touch of compunction, she looked up and said with playful tenderness, “Dear, old, beautiful mamma!”
“Old, child, truly.”
“Please don’t, mamma! I meant old for darling. You are hardly twenty-five years older than I am. When you talk in that way my life shrivels up before me.”
“One can have a great deal of happiness in twenty-five years, my dear.”
“I must lose no time in beginning,” said Gwendolen, merrily. “The sooner I get my palaces and coaches the better.”
“And a good husband who adores you, Gwen,” said Mrs. Davilow, encouragingly.
It was a slight drawback on her pleasure in starting that the rector was detained by magistrate’s business, and would probably not be able to get to Cardell Chase at all that day. She cared little that Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna chose not to go without him, but her uncle’s presence would have seemed to make it a matter of course that the decision taken would be acted on. For decision in itself began to be formidable. Having come close to accepting Grandcourt, Gwendolen felt this lot of unhoped-for fullness rounding itself too definitely. When we take to wishing a great deal for ourselves, whatever we get soon turns into mere16 limitation and exclusion17. Still there was the reassuring18 thought that marriage would be the gate into a larger freedom.
The place of meeting was a grassy19 spot called Green Arbor20, where a bit of hanging wood made a sheltering amphitheatre. It was here that the coachful of servants with provisions had to prepare the picnic meal; and the warden21 of the Chase was to guide the roving archers22 so as to keep them within the due distance from this centre, and hinder them from wandering beyond the limit which had been fixed23 on—a curve that might be drawn24 through certain well-known points, such as the double Oak, the Whispering Stones, and the High Cross. The plan was to take only a preliminary stroll before luncheon25, keeping the main roving expedition for the more exquisite26 lights of the afternoon. The muster27 was rapid enough to save every one from dull moments of waiting, and when the groups began to scatter28 themselves through the light and shadow made here by closely neighboring beeches and there by rarer oaks, one may suppose that a painter would have been glad to look on. This roving archery was far prettier than the stationary29 game, but success in shooting at variable marks were less favored by practice, and the hits were distributed among the volunteer archers otherwise than they would have been in target-shooting. From this cause, perhaps, as well as from the twofold distraction30 of being preoccupied31 and wishing not to betray her preoccupation, Gwendolen did not greatly distinguish herself in these first experiments, unless it were by the lively grace with which she took her comparative failure. She was in white and green as on the day of the former meeting, when it made an epoch32 for her that she was introduced to Grandcourt; he was continually by her side now, yet it would have been hard to tell from mere looks and manners that their relation to each other had at all changed since their first conversation. Still there were other grounds that made most persons conclude them to be, if not engaged already, on the eve of being so. And she believed this herself. As they were all returning toward Green Arbor in divergent groups, not thinking at all of taking aim but merely chattering33, words passed which seemed really the beginning of that end—the beginning of her acceptance. Grandcourt said, “Do you know how long it is since I first saw you in this dress?”
“The archery meeting was on the 25th, and this is the 13th,” said Gwendolen, laughingly. “I am not good at calculating, but I will venture to say that it must be nearly three weeks.”
A little pause, and then he said, “That is a great loss of time.”
“That your knowing me has caused you? Pray don’t be uncomplimentary; I don’t like it.”
Pause again. “It is because of the gain that I feel the loss.”
Here Gwendolen herself left a pause. She was thinking, “He is really very ingenious. He never speaks stupidly.” Her silence was so unusual that it seemed the strongest of favorable answers, and he continued:
“The gain of knowing you makes me feel the time I lose in uncertainty34. Do you like uncertainty?”
“I think I do, rather,” said Gwendolen, suddenly beaming on him with a playful smile. “There is more in it.”
Grandcourt met her laughing eyes with a slow, steady look right into them, which seemed like vision in the abstract, and then said, “Do you mean more torment35 for me?”
There was something so strange to Gwendolen in this moment that she was quite shaken out of her usual self-consciousness. Blushing and turning away her eyes, she said, “No, that would make me sorry.”
Grandcourt would have followed up this answer, which the change in her manner made apparently36 decisive of her favorable intention; but he was not in any way overcome so as to be unaware37 that they were now, within sight of everybody, descending38 the space into Green Arbor, and descending it at an ill-chosen point where it began to be inconveniently39 steep. This was a reason for offering his hand in the literal sense to help her; she took it, and they came down in silence, much observed by those already on the level—among others by Mrs. Arrowpoint, who happened to be standing40 with Mrs. Davilow. That lady had now made up her mind that Grandcourt’s merits were not such as would have induced Catherine to accept him, Catherine having so high a standard as to have refused Lord Slogan. Hence she looked at the tenant41 of Diplow with dispassionate eyes.
“Mr. Grandcourt is not equal as a man to his uncle, Sir Hugo Mallinger—too languid. To be sure, Mr. Grandcourt is a much younger man, but I shouldn’t wonder if Sir Hugo were to outlive him, notwithstanding the difference of years. It is ill calculating on successions,” concluded Mrs. Arrowpoint, rather too loudly.
“It is indeed,” said Mrs. Davilow, able to assent42 with quiet cheerfulness, for she was so well satisfied with the actual situation of affairs that her habitual43 melancholy44 in their general unsatisfactoriness was altogether in abeyance45.
I am not concerned to tell of the food that was eaten in that green refectory, or even to dwell on the stories of the forest scenery that spread themselves out beyond the level front of the hollow; being just now bound to tell a story of life at a stage when the blissful beauty of earth and sky entered only by narrow and oblique46 inlets into the consciousness, which was busy with a small social drama almost as little penetrated47 by a feeling of wider relations as if it had been a puppet-show. It will be understood that the food and champagne48 were of the best—the talk and laughter too, in the sense of belonging to the best society, where no one makes an invidious display of anything in particular, and the advantages of the world are taken with that high-bred depreciation49 which follows from being accustomed to them. Some of the gentlemen strolled a little and indulged in a cigar, there being a sufficient interval50 before four o’clock—the time for beginning to rove again. Among these, strange to say, was Grandcourt; but not Mr. Lush, who seemed to be taking his pleasure quite generously to-day by making himself particularly serviceable, ordering everything for everybody, and by this activity becoming more than ever a blot51 on the scene to Gwendolen, though he kept himself amiably52 aloof53 from her, and never even looked at her obviously. When there was a general move to prepare for starting, it appeared that the bows had all been put under the charge of Lord Brackenshaw’s valet, and Mr. Lush was concerned to save ladies the trouble of fetching theirs from the carriage where they were propped54. He did not intend to bring Gwendolen’s, but she, fearful lest he should do so, hurried to fetch it herself. The valet, seeing her approach, met her with it, and in giving it into her hand gave also a letter addressed to her. She asked no question about it, perceived at a glance that the address was in a lady’s handwriting (of the delicate kind which used to be esteemed55 feminine before the present uncial period), and moving away with her bow in her hand, saw Mr. Lush coming to fetch other bows. To avoid meeting him she turned aside and walked with her back toward the stand of carriages, opening the letter. It contained these words,
If Miss Harleth is in doubt whether she should accept Mr. Grandcourt,
let her break from her party after they have passed the Whispering
Stones and return to that spot. She will then hear something to decide
her; but she can only hear it by keeping this letter a strict secret
from every one. If she does not act according to this letter, she will
Harleth will feel herself bound in honor to guard.
Gwendolen felt an inward shock, but her immediate13 thought was, “It is come in time.” It lay in her youthfulness that she was absorbed by the idea of the revelation to be made, and had not even a momentary59 suspicion of contrivance that could justify60 her in showing the letter. Her mind gathered itself up at once into the resolution, that she would manage to go unobserved to the Whispering Stones; and thrusting the letter into her pocket she turned back to rejoin the company, with that sense of having something to conceal61 which to her nature had a bracing62 quality and helped her to be mistress of herself.
It was a surprise to every one that Grandcourt was not, like the other smokers63, on the spot in time to set out roving with the rest. “We shall alight on him by-and-by,” said Lord Brackenshaw; “he can’t be gone far.” At any rate, no man could be waited for. This apparent forgetfulness might be taken for the distraction of a lover so absorbed in thinking of the beloved object as to forget an appointment which would bring him into her actual presence. And the good-natured Earl gave Gwendolen a distant jocose64 hint to that effect, which she took with suitable quietude. But the thought in her mind was “Can he too be starting away from a decision?” It was not exactly a pleasant thought to her; but it was near the truth. “Starting away,” however, was not the right expression for the languor65 of intention that came over Grandcourt, like a fit of diseased numbness66, when an end seemed within easy reach: to desist then, when all expectation was to the contrary, became another gratification of mere will, sublimely67 independent of definite motive68. At that moment he had begun a second large cigar in a vague, hazy69 obstinacy70 which, if Lush or any other mortal who might be insulted with impunity71 had interrupted by overtaking him with a request for his return, would have expressed itself by a slow removal of his cigar, to say in an undertone, “You’ll be kind enough to go to the devil, will you?”
But he was not interrupted, and the rovers set off without any visible depression of spirits, leaving behind only a few of the less vigorous ladies, including Mrs. Davilow, who preferred a quiet stroll free from obligation to keep up with others. The enjoyment72 of the day was soon at its highest pitch, the archery getting more spirited and the changing scenes of the forest from roofed grove73 to open glade74 growing lovelier with the lengthening75 shadows, and the deeply-felt but undefinable gradations of the mellowing76 afternoon. It was agreed that they were playing an extemporized77 As you like it; and when a pretty compliment had been turned to Gwendolen about her having the part of Rosalind, she felt the more compelled to be surpassing in loveliness. This was not very difficult to her, for the effect of what had happened to-day was an excitement which needed a vent—a sense of adventure rather than alarm, and a straining toward the management of her retreat, so as not to be impeded78.
The roving had been lasting79 nearly an hour before the arrival at the Whispering Stones, two tall conical blocks that leaned toward each other like gigantic gray-mantled figures. They were soon surveyed and passed by with the remark that they would be good ghosts on a starlit night. But a soft sunlight was on them now, and Gwendolen felt daring. The stones were near a fine grove of beeches, where the archers found plenty of marks.
“How far are we from Green Arbor now?” said Gwendolen, having got in front by the side of the warden.
“Oh, not more than half a mile, taking along the avenue we’re going to cross up there: but I shall take round a couple of miles, by the High Cross.”
She was falling back among the rest, when suddenly they seemed all to be hurrying obliquely80 forward under the guidance of Mr. Lush, and lingering a little where she was, she perceived her opportunity of slipping away. Soon she was out of sight, and without running she seemed to herself to fly along the ground and count the moments nothing till she found herself back again at the Whispering Stones. They turned their blank gray sides to her: what was there on the other side? If there were nothing after all? That was her only dread81 now—to have to turn back again in mystification; and walking round the right-hand stone without pause, she found herself in front of some one whose large dark eyes met hers at a foot’s distance. In spite of expectation, she was startled and shrank bank, but in doing so she could take in the whole figure of this stranger and perceive that she was unmistakably a lady, and one who must have been exceedingly handsome. She perceived, also, that a few yards from her were two children seated on the grass.
“Miss Harleth?” said the lady.
“Yes.” All Gwendolen’s consciousness was wonder.
“Have you accepted Mr. Grandcourt?”
“No.”
“I have promised to tell you something. And you will promise to keep my secret. However you may decide you will not tell Mr. Grandcourt, or any one else, that you have seen me?”
“I promise.”
“My name is Lydia Glasher. Mr. Grandcourt ought not to marry any one but me. I left my husband and child for him nine years ago. Those two children are his, and we have two others—girls—who are older. My husband is dead now, and Mr. Grandcourt ought to marry me. He ought to make that boy his heir.”
She looked at the boy as she spoke82, and Gwendolen’s eyes followed hers. The handsome little fellow was puffing83 out his cheeks in trying to blow a tiny trumpet84 which remained dumb. His hat hung backward by a string, and his brown curls caught the sun-rays. He was a cherub85.
The two women’s eyes met again, and Gwendolen said proudly, “I will not interfere86 with your wishes.” She looked as if she were shivering, and her lips were pale.
“You are very attractive, Miss Harleth. But when he first knew me, I too was young. Since then my life has been broken up and embittered87. It is not fair that he should be happy and I miserable88, and my boy thrust out of sight for another.”
These words were uttered with a biting accent, but with a determined89 abstinence from anything violent in tone or manner. Gwendolen, watching Mrs. Glasher’s face while she spoke, felt a sort of terror: it was as if some ghastly vision had come to her in a dream and said, “I am a woman’s life.”
“Have you anything more to say to me?” she asked in a low tone, but still proud and coldly. The revulsion within her was not tending to soften90 her. Everyone seemed hateful.
“Nothing. You know what I wished you to know. You can inquire about me if you like. My husband was Colonel Glasher.”
“Then I will go,” said Gwendolen, moving away with a ceremonious inclination91, which was returned with equal grace.
In a few minutes Gwendolen was in the beech7 grove again but her party had gone out of sight and apparently had not sent in search of her, for all was solitude92 till she had reached the avenue pointed93 out by the warden. She determined to take this way back to Green Arbor, which she reached quickly; rapid movements seeming to her just now a means of suspending the thoughts which might prevent her from behaving with due calm. She had already made up her mind what step she would take.
Mrs. Davilow was of course astonished to see Gwendolen returning alone, and was not without some uneasiness which the presence of other ladies hindered her from showing. In answer to her words of surprise Gwendolen said,
“Oh, I have been rather silly. I lingered behind to look at the Whispering Stones, and the rest hurried on after something, so I lost sight of them. I thought it best to come home by the short way—the avenue that the warden had told me of. I’m not sorry after all. I had had enough walking.”
“Your party did not meet Mr. Grandcourt, I presume,” said Mrs. Arrowpoint, not without intention.
“No,” said Gwendolen, with a little flash of defiance94, and a light laugh. “And we didn’t see any carvings95 on the trees, either. Where can he be? I should think he has fallen into the pool or had an apoplectic96 fit.”
With all Gwendolen’s resolve not to betray any agitation97, she could not help it that her tone was unusually high and hard, and her mother felt sure that something unpropitious had happened.
Mrs. Arrowpoint thought that the self-confident young lady was much piqued98, and that Mr. Grandcourt was probably seeing reason to change his mind.
“If you have no objection, mamma, I will order the carriage,” said Gwendolen. “I am tired. And every one will be going soon.”
Mrs. Davilow assented99; but by the time the carriage was announced as ready—the horses having to be fetched from the stables on the warden’s premises—the roving party reappeared, and with them Mr. Grandcourt.
“Ah, there you are!” said Lord Brackenshaw, going up to Gwendolen, who was arranging her mamma’s shawl for the drive. “We thought at first you had alighted on Grandcourt and he had taken you home. Lush said so. But after that we met Grandcourt. However, we didn’t suppose you could be in any danger. The warden said he had told you a near way back.”
“You are going?” said Grandcourt, coming up with his usual air, as if he did not conceive that there had been any omission on his part. Lord Brackenshaw gave place to him and moved away.
“Yes, we are going,” said Gwendolen, looking busily at her scarf, which she was arranging across her shoulders Scotch100 fashion.
“May I call at Offendene to-morrow?”
“Oh yes, if you like,” said Gwendolen, sweeping101 him from a distance with her eyelashes. Her voice was light and sharp as the first touch of frost.
Mrs. Davilow accepted his arm to lead her to the carriage; but while that was happening, Gwendolen with incredible swiftness had got in advance of them, and had sprung into the carriage.
“I got in, mamma, because I wished to be on this side,” she said, apologetically. But she had avoided Grandcourt’s touch: he only lifted his hat and walked away—with the not unsatisfactory impression that she meant to show herself offended by his neglect.
The mother and daughter drove for five minutes in silence. Then Gwendolen said, “I intend to join the Langens at Dover, mamma. I shall pack up immediately on getting home, and set off by the early train. I shall be at Dover almost as soon as they are; we can let them know by telegraph.”
“Good heavens, child! what can be your reason for saying so?”
“My reason for saying it, mamma, is that I mean to do it.”
“But why do you mean to do it?”
“I wish to go away.”
“Is it because you are offended with Mr. Grandcourt’s odd behavior in walking off to-day?”
“It is useless to enter into such questions. I am not going in any case to marry Mr. Grandcourt. Don’t interest yourself further about it.”
“What can I say to your uncle, Gwendolen? Consider the position you place me in. You led him to believe only last night that you had made up your mind in favor of Mr. Grandcourt.”
“I am very sorry to cause you annoyance102, mamma, dear, but I can’t help it,” said Gwendolen, with still harder resistance in her tone. “Whatever you or my uncle may think or do, I shall not alter my resolve, and I shall not tell my reason. I don’t care what comes of it. I don’t care if I never marry any one. There is nothing worth caring for. I believe all men are bad, and I hate them.”
“But need you set off in this way, Gwendolen?” said Mrs. Davilow, miserable and helpless.
“Now mamma, don’t interfere with me. If you have ever had any trouble in your own life, remember it and don’t interfere with me. If I am to be miserable, let it be by my own choice.”
The mother was reduced to trembling silence. She began to see that the difficulty would be lessened103 if Gwendolen went away.
And she did go. The packing was all carefully done that evening, and not long after dawn the next day Mrs. Davilow accompanied her daughter to the railway station. The sweet dews of morning, the cows and horses looking over the hedges without any particular reason, the early travelers on foot with their bundles, seemed all very melancholy and purposeless to them both. The dingy104 torpor105 of the railway station, before the ticket could be taken, was still worse. Gwendolen had certainly hardened in the last twenty-four hours: her mother’s trouble evidently counted for little in her present state of mind, which did not essentially106 differ from the mood that makes men take to worse conduct when their belief in persons or things is upset. Gwendolen’s uncontrolled reading, though consisting chiefly in what are called pictures of life, had somehow not prepared her for this encounter with reality. Is that surprising? It is to be believed that attendance at the opéra bouffe in the present day would not leave men’s minds entirely107 without shock, if the manners observed there with some applause were suddenly to start up in their own families. Perspective, as its inventor remarked, is a beautiful thing. What horrors of damp huts, where human beings languish108, may not become picturesque109 through aerial distance! What hymning of cancerous vices110 may we not languish over as sublimest111 art in the safe remoteness of a strange language and artificial phrase! Yet we keep a repugnance112 to rheumatism113 and other painful effects when presented in our personal experience.
Mrs. Davilow felt Gwendolen’s new phase of indifference114 keenly, and as she drove back alone, the brightening morning was sadder to her than before.
Mr. Grandcourt called that day at Offendene, but nobody was at home.
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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cramped
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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saucily
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| adv.傲慢地，莽撞地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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arbor
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| n.凉亭；树木 | |
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warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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archers
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| n.弓箭手，射箭运动员( archer的名词复数 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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luncheon
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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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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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stationary
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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torment
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apparently
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unaware
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38
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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39
inconveniently
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| ad.不方便地 | |
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40
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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41
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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42
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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43
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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44
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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45
abeyance
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| n.搁置，缓办，中止，产权未定 | |
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46
oblique
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| adj.斜的，倾斜的，无诚意的，不坦率的 | |
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47
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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48
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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49
depreciation
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| n.价值低落，贬值，蔑视，贬低 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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51
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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52
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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53
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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54
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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56
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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57
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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59
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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60
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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61
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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62
bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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63
smokers
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| 吸烟者( smoker的名词复数 ) | |
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64
jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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65
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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sublimely
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| 高尚地，卓越地 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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71
impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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73
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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74
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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76
mellowing
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| 软化，醇化 | |
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77
extemporized
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| v.即兴创作，即席演奏( extemporize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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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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83
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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84
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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85
cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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86
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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90
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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91
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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93
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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94
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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95
carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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96
apoplectic
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| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
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97
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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98
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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99
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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101
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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102
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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103
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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104
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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105
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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106
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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107
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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108
languish
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| vi.变得衰弱无力，失去活力，（植物等）凋萎 | |
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109
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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110
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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111
sublimest
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| 伟大的( sublime的最高级 )； 令人赞叹的； 极端的； 不顾后果的 | |
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112
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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113
rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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114
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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