In seven years Ingeborg had six children. She completely realised during that period the Psalmist's ideal of a reward for a good man and was altogether the fruitful vine about the walls of his house. She was uninterruptedly fruitful. She rambled1 richly. She saw herself, at first with an astonished chagrin2 and afterwards with resignation, swarming3 up to the eaves of her little home, pauseless, gapless, luxuriantly threatening choke the very chimneys. At the beginning she deplored4 this uninterrupted abundance, for she could not but see that beneath it the family roof grew a little rotten and sometimes, though she made feeble efforts to keep it out, a rather dismal5 rain of discomfort6 soaked in and dimmed the brightness of things. Good servants would not come to such a teeming7 household. The children that were there suffered because of the children that were soon going to be there. It was a pity, she thought, that when one produced a new child one could not simultaneously8 produce a new mother for it, so that it should be as well looked after as one's first child had been. She could mend their stockings, because that could be done lying on a sofa, but she was never sure about anything else that concerned them. And there were so many things, such endless vital things to be seen to if babies were to flourish. And when the first ones grew bigger and she might have begun those intimate expeditions and communions with them she used to plan, she found that, too, was impossible, for she was so deeply engaged in providing them with more brothers and sisters that she was unable to move.
The days between her first and second child were the best. She was still strong enough to tub Robertlet every night and prepare his food, and keep a watchful9 eye on him most of the time; also, he was only one, and easy to deal with. And he was so exact and punctual in his ways that he seemed like a clock you wound up at regular intervals10 and knew would then go on by itself; and his clothes, naturally, were all new and needed little mending; and she still had Ilse, who did not marry till a year later; and she had persuaded herself, for one must needs persuade oneself of something, that after this next baby there would be a pause.
This persuasion11, and the few admonishments Edward Ingram had thrown at her that afternoon, helped her extraordinarily12. So easily could she be stirred to courage and enthusiasm that she was able to forget most of her fears and discomforts13 in the new business of training her mind to triumph over her body, and she got through a surprising quantity of mixed reading that winter and spring; and when at last in the following May her hour had come, she marched off almost recklessly with her two plaits already hanging down her back and her head held high and her eyes wide and shining to the fatal bedroom where Death she supposed, but refused to care, sat waiting to see if he could not get her this time, so filled was she with the spirit she had been cultivating for six months of proud determination not to be beaten.
She was, however, beaten.
It was the absence of pauses that beat her. She came to be, as the German phrase put it, in a continual condition of being blest. She came to be also continually more bloodless. Gradually sinking away more and more from energy as one child after the other sapped her up, she left off reading, dropping the more difficult things first. The Hibbert Journal went almost at once. Soon the Times was looked at languidly and not opened. The National Review gave her an earache14. Presently she was too far gone even for the Spectator. The Clarion15 lasted longest, but a growing distaste for its tone caused it finally to be abandoned. For she was becoming definitely religious; she was ceasing to criticise16 or to ask Why? She would sit for hours contemplating17 the beauty of acquiescence18. It gave her a boneless satisfaction. The more anæmic she grew the easier religion seemed to be. It was much the least difficult thing to be passive, to yield, not to think, not to decide, never to want explanations. And everybody praised her. How nice that was! Baroness19 Glambeck approved, Frau Dosch approved loudly. The elder Frau Dremmel came out each year twice and silently approved of a mother whose offspring was so strikingly like herself; while as for Kökensee, it regarded her with the respect due to a person becoming proverbial. It is true Robert seemed to love her rather less than more, in spite of her obviously deserving to be loved more than ever now that she was at one with him about Providence21; yet it was hardly fair to say that, either, for nobody could be kinder than he was when he was not busy. He was busy from morning to night. How nice that was, she thought, her hands folded; she had always thought it nice to be busy.
Of her six children Robertlet flourished, and so did the sister who came after him. The next two died, one doing it boldly of mumps22, a thing that had never been achieved before and greatly interested the doctor, who predicted a memorable23 future for him if he had been going to have one, and the other, more explicably, by falling out of the punt when his very existence depended on his keeping in it. Then they took to being born dead; two of them in succession did this; and it was after the second had done it that Ingeborg reached her lowest ebb24 of vitality25 and could hardly be got to say a sentence that did not include heaven.
When she had been up and dressed two months and still lay about on sofas being religious, Herr Dremmel, who was patient but slowly becoming conscious that there was an atmosphere of chapelle ardente about his parlour on his coming into it with the innocent briskness26 of a good man to his supper, thought perhaps the Meuk doctor, who by now was a familiar feature in his life, had better come over and advise; and so it was that Ingeborg went to Zoppot, that bracing27 and beautiful seaside resort near Danzig, leaving her home for the first time since her marriage, going indeed with as much unwillingness28 as so will-less a person could possess, but sent off regardless of her moist opposition29 by the doctor, who would not even allow her to take Robertlet and Ditti with her.
She went in the care of the nurse who had helped her after Robertlet's birth, and she was to stay there all June and all July, and all August and September as well if necessary.
"But what will they do without me?" she kept on feebly asking. "And my duties—how can I leave everything?"
Tears poured down her face at her departure. She gave keepsakes to both the servants. She sent for the sexton, with whom she had latterly grown friendly, and tried to speak but could not. She folded the impassive Robertlet and Ditti to her heart so many times that they were stirred to something almost approaching activity and resistance.
"Your prayers—you won't forget what Mummy taught you?" she wept, as though she were taking leave of them for ever.
"Dear Robert," she sobbed30, clinging to him with her cheek against his on the platform at Meuk where he saw her off, "do forgive me if I've been a bad wife to you. I have tried. You won't forget—will you—ever—that I did try?"
The nurse gave her a spoonful of Brand's Meat Jelly. The journey was a journey of jelly combating grief. All the way each relapse into woe31 was instantly interrupted by jelly; and it was not till the evening, when they reached the little pension on the sands which was to be their home for two months, and Ingeborg going to the open window gave a quick cry as the full freshness and saltness and heaving glancing beauty burst upon her, that the nurse threw the rest of the tin away and put her trust altogether in the sea.
Herr Dremmel returned to his wifeless home in a meditative32 frame of mind. As he jolted33 along in the same carriage, only grown more shaky, in which he had brought his bride back seven years before, he indulged, first, in a brief wonder at the ups and downs of women; from this he passed to a consideration of the superior reliability34 of chemicals; from this, again, he proceeded to reflect that, nevertheless, a man's life should be decorated at the edges, and that the most satisfactory decoration was a wife and family. Ingeborg, in spite of her ups and downs, had been a good wife to him, and he did not regret having attached her to his edges, but then he also had done his part and been a good husband to her. Few marriages, he thought, could have been so harmonious35 and successful as theirs. He loved her as an honest man should love his wife—at judicious36 intervals. Always he had affection for her, and liked being with her when she was feeling well. Her money—every wife should have a little—had helped him much, indeed had made most of the successes that had rewarded his labours possible, and she had given him a child a year, which was, he was aware, the maximum output and rendered him civically37 satisfactory. That these children should, four of them, not have succeeded in staying alive, and that the two who had should bear so striking a resemblance to his mother, a person he knew for unintelligent, were misfortunes, but one did not dwell on misfortunes; one turned one's back on them and went away and worked. The central fact of life, its core of splendour, he said to himself as, arrived at home, he hung up his hat in the passage and prepared to plunge38 with renewed appetite into his laboratory, was work; but, he added as he passed the open door of the sitting-room39, and was reminded by its untidiness of domesticities, since one had to withdraw occasionally from the heat of that great middle light and refresh oneself in something cooler, one needed a place of relaxation40 where the interest was more attenuated41, a ring of relative tepidity42 round the bright centre of one's life, and this ring was excellently supplied by the object commonly called the family circle. The harder he worked, the more hotly he pursued knowledge, the more urgent was a man's need for intervals of tepidity. One sought out one's little wife and rested one's brain; one took one's son on one's knee; one pulled, perhaps, the plait of one's daughter.
Life for Herr Dremmel was both great and simple. During the seven years of his marriage it had become continually more so. There were times he could remember previous to that event when he had lost sight of this truth in a confused hankering, periods during which he had hankered persistently43, moments that astonished him afterwards to call to mind when, the lilacs being out in the garden and the young corn of the fields asprout in the warm spring sun, his laboratory, that place of hopes and visions, had incredibly appeared to him to be mere45 bones. Marriage had banished46 these distortions of perception, and he had lived seven years in the full magnificent consciousness of the greatness and simplicity47 of life. He was armoured by his singleness of purpose. He never came out of his armour48 and was petty. Not once, while Ingeborg in a distant corner of the house was fearing that she had hurt him, or offended him, or had made him think she did not love him, had he been hurt or offended or thinking anything of the sort. He was absorbed in great things, great interests, great values. There was no room in his thoughts for meditations49 on minor50 concerns. The days were not wide enough for the bigness they had to hold, and it never would have occurred to him to devote any portion of their already limited space to inquiring if he had been hurt. His interested eyes, carefully examining and comparing and criticising phenomena52, had no time for introspection. As the years passed and successes followed upon his patience, his absorption and subjugation53 by his work became increasingly profound; for a man has but a handful of years, and cannot during that brief span live too inquisitively54. Herr Dremmel was wringing55 more out of Nature, who only asks to be forced to tell, each year. He was accumulating experiences and knowledge of an interest and value so great that everything else was trivial beside them. The passing day was forgotten in the interest of the day that was to come. The future was what his brain was perpetually concerned with, and an eye ranging with growing keenness over a growingly splendid and detailed56 vision cannot observe, it would be an interruption, a waste to observe, the fluctuations57 in the moods of, for instance, a family or a parish.
Wives, children, and parishes are adornments, obligations, and means of livelihood58. They are what a man has as well, but only as well. Herr Dremmel during these years had trained his parish to be unobtrusive in return for his own unobtrusiveness, and in spite of occasional restiveness59 on the part of Baron20 Glambeck, who continued from time to time, on the ground that the parish was becoming heathen and displaying the smug contentment characteristic of that condition, to endeavour to persuade the authorities to remove him somewhere else, was more firmly established than ever in the heart of a flock that only wanted to be left alone; and as for his wife and children, he regarded them benevolently60 as the necessary foundation of his existence, the airy cellars that kept the fabric61 above sweet and dry. Like cellars, one had to have them, and one was glad when they were good, but one did not live in them. As a wise man who wished to do fine work before being overtaken by the incapacitations of death, he had contrived62 his life so that it should contain enough love to make him able to forget love. It is not, he had come to know very well since his marriage, by doing without but by having that one can clear one's mind of wanting; and it is only the cleared mind that can achieve anything at all in the great work of helping63 the world to move more quickly on its journey towards the light.
For some weeks after Ingeborg's departure he was immensely unaware64 of her absence. It was June, that crowded month for him who has experimental fields; and small discomforts at home, such as ill-served, unpunctual meals and rooms growing steadily65 less dusted, at no time attracted his notice. He would come out of his laboratory after a good morning's work in much the same spirit with which the bridegroom issuing from his chamber66, a person details cannot touch, is filled, and would eat contentedly67 any food he found lying about and be off to his fields almost before Robertlet and Ditti had done struggling with their bibs and saying their preliminary grace.
The children, however, took no base advantage of this being left to themselves. Robertlet did not turn on Ditti and seize her dinner because she was a girl; Ditti did not conceal68 more than her share of pudding in her pocket for comfort during the empty afternoon hours. They sat in silence working through the meal, using their knives to eat with instead of their forks, for knives rather than forks were in their blood, and unmoved by the way in which bits they had carefully stalked round and round their plates ended by tumbling over the edge on to the tablecloth69. They were patient children, and when that happened they made no comment, but dropping their knives also on the tablecloth picked up the bits in their fingers and ate them. At the end Ditti said the closing grace as her mother had taught her, Robertlet having officiated at the opening one, and they both stood behind their chairs with their eyes shut while she expressed gratitude70 in German to the dear Saviour71 who had had the friendliness72 to be their guest on that occasion, and having reached the Amen, in which Robertlet joined, they did not fall upon each other and fight, as other unshepherded children filled with meat and pudding might have done, but left the room in a sober file and went to the kitchen and requested the servant Rosa, who was the one who would have been their nurse if they had had one, to accompany them to their bedroom and see that they cleaned their teeth.
They spent the afternoons in not being naughty.
Herr Dremmel, accordingly, because of this health and sobriety in his children and his own indifference73 to his comfort, had no domestic worries such as engulf74 other men whose wives are away to disturb him, and it was not till July was drawing to a close and a long drought forced leisure upon him that Ingeborg's image began to obtrude75 itself through the chinks of his work.
At first he thought of her as a mother, as somebody heavy, continually recovering from or preparing for illness; but presently he began to think of her as a wife, as his wife, as his proper complement76 and relaxation from all this toil77 shut up in a dull laboratory. She seemed to grow brighter and lighter78 thought of like that, and by the time he received a letter asking if she might stay away another fortnight to complete what was being a thorough cure she was so brightly in his mind that he felt extremely disappointed.
He wrote giving the permission she asked, and made the discovery that his house looked empty and that a fortnight was long. He paced the garden in the hot evenings, smoking beneath the lime-trees where he and she at the beginning used so gaily79 to breakfast, and forgot how slow of movement and mind she had been for several years, how little he had really seen of her, how more and more his attitude towards her had been one of patience; and when he went in to his supper, which he suddenly did not like and criticised, what he found himself looking for was not the figure he had been used to find lying silent on the sofa, but the quick, light, flitting thing that laughed and pulled his ears, the Ingeborg of the beginning, his little sheep.
On the day she came home, although it was the very height of harvesting and the first samples of the year's grain lay on his table waiting to be examined, he gave up the afternoon to driving in to Meuk to meet her, and waited on the platform with an impatient expectancy80 he had not felt for years.
"It is not good for man to live alone," were his first words as he embraced her largely in the door of the railway carriage, while the porter, in a fever to get out the hand luggage and run and attend to other passengers, had to wait till he had done. "Little sheep, how could you stay away so long from the old shepherd?"
She was looking very well, he thought—sunburnt and with many new freckles81, rounder, quite young, a sweet little wife for a long solitary82 husband to have coming home to him.
He lifted her proudly into the carriage and drove through Meuk with his arm round her, waving the other one at the doctor who rallied past them in his own high shaky vehicle and shouting, "Cured!"
The doctor, however, seemed surprised at seeing Ingeborg, and did not smile back but looked inscrutably at them both.
She asked about the welfare of the children, and whether their ears had been properly washed.
"Ears?" exclaimed Herr Dremmel. "And what, pray, have the ears of others to do with a reunited wedded83 couple?"
She hoped, a little hurriedly, that Rosa and the cook had been good to him.
"Rosa and the cook?" he cried. "What talk is this of Rosa and the cook? If you are not silent with your domesticities I will kiss you here and now in the middle of the open highroad."
She said she had never really thanked him for letting her go to Zoppot and be there so long.
"Too long, Little One," he interrupted, drawing her closer. "Almost had I forgotten what a dear little wife I possess."
"But I'm going to make up for it all now," she said, "and work harder than I've ever done in my life."
"At making the good Robert happy," he said, pinching her ear.
"And doing things for the children. Dreadful to think of them all this time without me. Were they good?"
"Good as fishes."
"Robert—fishes?"
"They are well, Little One, and happy. That is enough about the children. Tell me rather about you, how you filled up your days."
"I walked, I sailed, I bathed, I lay in the sun, and I made resolutions."
"Excellent. I shall await the result with interest."
"I hope you'll like them. I know they'll be very good for the children."
She had so earnest a face that he pulled it round by the chin and peered at it. Seen close she was always prettiest, full of delicacy84 and charm of soft fair skin, and after examining her a moment with a pleased smile he stooped down and did, after all, kiss her.
She flushed and resisted.
"What?" he said, amused. "The little wife growing virginal again?"
"You've made my hat crooked," she said, putting up her hands to straighten it. "Robert, how are the fields?"
"I will not talk about the fields. I will talk about you."
"Oh, Robert. You know," she added nervously85, "I'm not really well yet. I've still got to go on taking tiresome86 things—that tonic87, you know. The doctor there said I'm still anæmic—"
"We will feed her on portions of the strongest ox."
"So you mustn't mind, if I—if I—"
"I mind nothing if only I once more have my little wife at home," said Herr Dremmel; and when he helped her down on to the parsonage steps, where stood Robertlet and Ditti in a stiff and proper row waiting motionless till their mother should have got near enough for them to present her with the nosegays they were holding, he kissed her again, and again pinched her ear, and praised God aloud that his widowerhood was over.
They had tea, a meal that had long before been substituted for the heavier refreshment88 of coffee, in a parlour filled with flowers by Rosa and the cook, the very cake, baked for the occasion, being strewn with them. Herr Dremmel lounged on the sofa behind the table looking placidly89 content, with one arm round his wife, while Robertlet and Ditti, awed90 by the splendours of the decorations for their mother's home-coming and their own best clothes and spotless bibs, sat opposite, being more completely good than ever. From their side of the table they stared unflinchingly at the two people on the sofa—at their comfortably reclining, pleased-looking father, whom they knew so differently as a being always hurriedly going somewhere else, at their mother sitting up very straight, with her veil pushed up over her nose, pouring out tea and smiling at them and keeping on giving them more jam and more milk and more cake even after, aware from their sensations that overflowing91 could not be far off, they had informed her by anxious repetitions of the word satt, which she did not seem to hear, that they were already in a dangerous condition. And they wondered dimly why, when she poured out the tea, her hand shook and made it spill.
"I will now," said Herr Dremmel when the meal was finished, getting up and brushing crumbs92 out of the many folds that were characteristic of his clothes, "retire for a space into my laboratory."
He looked at Ingeborg and smiled. "Picture it," he said. "The only solace93 I have now had for two months and a half has been in the bony arms of my laboratory. I grow weary of them. It is well to have one's little wife home again. A man, to do his work, needs his life complete, equipped in each of its directions. His laboratory seems bony to him if he has not also a wife; his wife would seem not bony enough if he had not also a laboratory. Bony and boneless, bony and boneless—it is the swing of the pendulum94 of the wise man's life." And he bent95 over her and lifted her face up again by putting his finger under her chin. "Is it not so, Little One?" he asked, smiling.
"I—suppose so," said Ingeborg.
"Suppose so!"
He laughed, and pulled an escaping tendril of her hair, and went away in great contentment and immersed himself very happily in the saucers of new grain waiting to be weighed and counted.
It was a fine August afternoon, and his windows were open, for there was no wind to blow his papers about, and he was pleased when he presently became aware out of the corner of an eye withdrawn96 an instant from its work that his wife had come out on to the path below and was walking up and down it in the way she used to before the acuter period of the sofa and the interest in life beyond the grave had set in.
He liked to see her there. There was a grass bank sloping up from the path to beneath his windows, and by standing97 on tip-toe on the top of this and stretching up an arm as far as it would go one was just able to tap against the glass. He remembered how she used to do this when first they were married, on very fine days, to try to lure98 him out from his duties into dalliance with her among the lilacs. It amused him to find himself almost inclined to hope she would do it now, for it was long since there had been dalliance and he felt this was an occasion, this restoration to normality, on which some slight trifling99 in a garden would not be inappropriate.
But Ingeborg, though she loitered there nearly half an hour, did not even look up. She wandered up and down in the cool shade the house threw across the path in the afternoon, her hat off, apparently100 merely enjoying the beauty of a summer day bending towards its evening, and presently he forgot her in the vivid interest of what he was doing; so that it was the surprised expression of some one who has forgotten and is trying to recall that he looked at her when, after a knock at the door which he had not heard, he saw her come in and stand at the corner of his table waiting till he had done counting—a process he conducted aloud—to the end of the row of grains he was engaged upon.
His thoughts were still chiefly with them as he looked up at her when he had done and had written down the result, but there was room in them also for a slight wonder that she should be there. She had not penetrated101 into his laboratory for years. She had been tamed, after a period of recurring102 insurrections, into respect for its sanctity. But he did not mind being interrupted on this occasion; on the contrary, as soon as he had fully51 returned to consciousness he was pleased. There was a large warmth pervading103 Herr Dremmel that afternoon which made him inclined not to mind anything. "Well, Little One?" he said.
Immediately she began to deliver what sounded like a speech. He gazed at her in astonishment104. She appeared to be in a condition of extreme excitement; she was addressing him rapidly in a trembling voice; she was much flushed, and was holding on to the edge of the table. It was so sudden and so headlong that it was like nothing so much as the gushing105 forth106 of the long corked-up contents of an over-full bottle, and he gazed at her in an astonishment that did not for some time permit him to gather the drift of what she was saying.
When he did she had already got to the word Ruins.
"Ruins?" repeated Herr Dremmel.
"Ruins, ruins. It must stop—it can't go on. Oh, I saw it so clearly the last part of the time in Zoppot. I suppose it was the sea wind blew me clear. Our existence, Robert, our decently happy existence in a decently happy home with properly cared-for children—"
"But," interrupted Herr Dremmel, raising his hand, "one moment—what is it that must stop?"
"Oh, don't you see all that will be in ruins about us—but in ruins, Robert—all our happy life—if I go on in this—in this wild career of—of unbridled motherhood?"
Herr Dremmel stared. "Unbridled—?" he began; then he repeated, so deep was his astonishment, "Wild career of—Ingeborg, did you say unbridled motherhood?"
"Yes," said Ingeborg, pressing her hands together, evidently extraordinarily agitated107. "I learned that by heart at Zoppot, on purpose to say to you. I knew if I didn't directly I got into this room I'd forget everything I meant to say. I know it sounds ridiculous, the way I say it—"
"Unbridled motherhood?" repeated Herr Dremmel. "But—are you not a pastor's wife?"
"Oh, yes, yes—I know, I know. I know there's Duty and Providence, but there's me, too—there is me, too. And, Robert, won't you see? We shall be happy again if I'm well, we shall be two real people instead of just one person and a bit of one—you and a battered108 thing on a sofa—"
"Ingeborg, you call a wife and a mother engaged in carrying out her obligations a battered thing on a sofa?"
"Yes," said Ingeborg, hurrying on to the principal sentence of those she had prepared at Zoppot and learned by heart, desperately109 clutching at it before Robert's questions had undermined her courage and befogged the issues. "Yes, and I've come to the conclusion after ripe meditation—after ripe yes—the production of the—of the—yes, of the already extinct"—(dead seemed an unkind word, almost rude) "is wasteful110, and that—and that—....Oh, Robert," she cried, flinging out her hands and letting go all the rest of the things she had learned to say, "don't you think this persistent44 parenthood might end now?"
"It—it disagrees with me," she said, tears in her voice and in her anxious, appealing eyes.
"Am I to under—"
"Anyhow I can't go on," she cried, twisting her fingers about in an agony. "There's so little of me to go on with. I'm getting stupider every day. I've got no brains left. I've got no anything. Why, I can hardly get together enough courage to tell you this. Oh, Robert," she appealed, "it isn't as though it made you really happier—you don't really particularly notice the children when they're there—it isn't as though it made anybody really happier—and—and—I'm dreadfully sorry, but I've done."
And she dropped on to the floor beside him and put her cheek against his sleeve and tried to make up by kissing it and clinging to it for her subversion112 of that strange tremendous combination of Duty and Providence that so bestrode her life. "If only you wouldn't mind—" she kept on saying.
But Herr Dremmel, for the first time since he had known her, was deeply offended, deeply hurt. She had pierced his armour at the one vulnerable spot. His manhood was outraged113; his kindness, his patience, his affection were forgotten and spurned114. He looked down at the head against his arm with a face in which wounded pride, wrath115, shockedness at so great a defiance116 of duty, and the amazed aggrievement of him whose gifts and blessings117 are not wanted, struggled together. Then, as she still went on clinging and incoherently suggesting that he should not mind, he rose up, took her by the hand, helped her to her feet, and led her to the door; and there, after facing her a moment in silence with it opened in his hand while she stood blinking up at him with appealing eyes, he said dreadfully: "Evidently you do not and never have loved me."
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rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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deplored
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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simultaneously
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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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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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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extraordinarily
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discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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earache
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clarion
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| n.尖音小号声；尖音小号 | |
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16
criticise
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| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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18
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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19
baroness
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| n.男爵夫人，女男爵 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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mumps
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| n.腮腺炎 | |
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23
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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26
briskness
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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unwillingness
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| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
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29
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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30
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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31
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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32
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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33
jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
reliability
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| n.可靠性，确实性 | |
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35
harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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36
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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37
civically
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| 爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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38
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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39
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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40
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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41
attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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42
tepidity
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| 微温，微热； 温热 | |
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43
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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44
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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45
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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46
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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48
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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49
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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50
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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51
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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52
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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53
subjugation
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| n.镇压，平息，征服 | |
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54
inquisitively
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| 过分好奇地； 好问地 | |
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55
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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56
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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57
fluctuations
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| 波动，涨落，起伏( fluctuation的名词复数 ) | |
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58
livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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59
restiveness
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| n.倔强，难以驾御 | |
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60
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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61
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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62
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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63
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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64
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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65
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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66
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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68
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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69
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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70
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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71
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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72
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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73
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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74
engulf
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| vt.吞没，吞食 | |
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75
obtrude
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| v.闯入；侵入；打扰 | |
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76
complement
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| n.补足物，船上的定员；补语；vt.补充，补足 | |
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77
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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78
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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79
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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80
expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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81
freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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82
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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83
wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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85
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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86
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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87
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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88
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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89
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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90
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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92
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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93
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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94
pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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95
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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96
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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97
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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98
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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99
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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100
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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101
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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102
recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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103
pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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104
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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105
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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106
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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107
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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108
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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109
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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110
wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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111
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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112
subversion
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| n.颠覆，破坏 | |
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113
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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114
spurned
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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116
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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117
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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