In the March and early April of the next year there was very bad weather in England: snow, sleet1 and storm, killing2 sheep, starving cattle, delaying railway-trains, and covering much in the woodland nooks where the primrose3 roots were getting ready their buds for sacrifice at Westminster in the drollest form of hero-worship which a generation bereft4 of any sense of humor ever invented.
The moors5 were vast unbroken plains of virginal whiteness, and the woods looked black against a steely sky as Hurstmanceaux got into the express which had been signalled by telegram to stop for him at the little station outside the park of a country house at which he had been staying in the North Riding. The engine snorted, hissed6 and flung up steam and fire into the chilly7 air as he hastened across the platform.
He got quickly into the carriage indicated to him by his servant, pushing his dog before him, and the train had moved off before he saw that there was a lady in the compartment8, to whom he lifted his Glengarry cap with a word of apology for the presence of his collie.
“I am very fond of dogs,” said the lady with a smile, and the collie smelt9 the hem10 of her gown and the fur of her cloak with approval.
“Thanks!” said his master, and, as he looked at her, thought how “well-groomed,” in his own vernacular11, she was. She did not belong to the county he felt sure. He had never seen her before, and he knew all the Ridings well.
She was plainly dressed in dark cloth; but the sables12 lining13 her cloak were of the finest; her gloves were of perfect fit and texture14; her buttoned velvet15 boots were admirably made; she had a little velvet toque on a shapely head; she had an air of great distinction and simplicity16 combined.
She resumed the perusal17 of her book, and he unfolded[145] a morning paper. The train swung on its way at great speed. The dog, Ossian, lay down in the middle of the carriage. The glass of the windows was silvered with hoar-frost; nothing was to be seen out of them of the country through which they were being hurried. The snow fell continually; there was no wind.
Ossian, waking out of his nap and yawning, much bored, began the conversation by laying his muzzle19 on the lady’s knees.
“Pray forgive him!” said his master.
“There is nothing to forgive. What a beauty he is!”
“He is as good as he looks. But perhaps he ought to apologize for being here.”
“Why?”
“Well, really, I do not know why; but it is expected that a dog’s owner should say so.”
“Only when he writes to the Times,” said the lady, amused. “In point of fact, it is I who am in the wrong place, for this is a smoking-carriage.”
Ossian having thus broken the ice between them they continued to talk, of the weather, of the news of the day, of the book she had brought with her, of dogs in general, and of the collie in particular.
They were neither of them very talkative by temperament20, or disposed to be communicative usually, but they got on very well together. He shifted his seat to the corner in front of her, and they continued to skim over a variety of subjects, harmoniously21 and agreeably to both, as the train glided22 over the frozen ground, scattering23 the fine white powder of the snow in front of it.
“How fast it snows!” said the lady rather anxiously, trying to rub the pane24 of glass nearest her clear with her handkerchief.
“Were you ever blocked up by a snowstorm?” asked Hurstmanceaux. “I have been—once in Scotland and once in Canada. It is a disagreeable experience.”
“It must be, indeed. I hope there will be no chance of that to-day?”
“Oh, no; men will have kept the line clear, no doubt!”
As he spoke25 the train slackened its speed, moved with a jerking and dragging sound for some time, and a little[146] while later stopped still with a great noise of rushing steam, and a jar which shook the carriage violently and flung Ossian against one of the doors.
“I suppose they have failed to keep the line clear,” he said, in answer to the glance. “Allow me to look out a moment.”
He let down a window and leaned out of it; but the air was so dense27 with steam and snow that he could not see a yard before him.
“Is it an accident?” she said.
“I do not think so. I imagine we have run into a snow-drift, nothing more.”
The noise of the steam rushing out of the engine, and the shouts of officials calling to each other, almost drowned his voice. He took his railway-key out of his pocket and opened the door.
“I will go and see what it is, and return in a moment,” he said to her, signing to Ossian to remain in the carriage, and leaving the door open.
She did not attempt to detain or to follow him.
“That is a thoroughbred woman,” he said to himself.
He did return in a few minutes, and brought word that they had stuck fast in the snow. The engine-driver had slackened speed in time to avoid an accident, but they might be detained for hours; the telegraph wires were all down through the weight of the snow.
“It is extremely disagreeable, but it is not dangerous,” he said to reassure28 her. “We shall be quittes pour la peur. We shall probably have time to get dreadfully keen about eating, and have nothing to eat. England is such a small place: one never thinks of ‘stoking’ when one travels in it.”
“My poor maid!” she said anxiously. “I am afraid she must be very frightened, wherever she is.”
“Can I look for her?”
“You are very kind, but how should you know her? I will get out myself.”
“It may be as well to get out. You would be warmer if you stayed in the carriage, but there is the chance that[147] a train may come up behind and run into ours, though men have gone down the line with lamps.”
She had nothing with her except her book and a bouquet29 of violets. Closely followed by Ossian, he accompanied her along the line, looking into each compartment to find her maid. There were many people, both in the train and out of it, talking confusedly, suggesting this, that, and the other; the air was full of fog and snow; the engine, snorting and smoking, stood with its brazen30 breast pushed against the high white hillocks.
When they found the maid, a grey elderly person, she was in a panic of terror, which made her perfectly31 useless. She was shaking from head to foot, and repeating disconnected Scriptural texts; she resisted all her mistress’s requests and entreaties32 to her to descend33; she said she wished to meet her God where she was.
“If there be any thieves in the train,” said Hurstmanceaux to the lady, “they will have an easy time with your jewel-box.”
“Were you going up to town, may I ask?” he ventured to inquire.
“No,” she answered. “Only from one country house to another.”
He wished he knew what country houses they were, but he could not ask that.
She argued with her maid very patiently and with great kindness, but made no impression.
“Poor Danvers! She is out of her mind with fear. What shall I do?” she said, appealing to him as though they had been old acquaintances.
“Are you afraid of a long walk?”
“No.”
“Will you come with me, then? I know the country. The nearest town is four miles away. I am going there to send help. Will you like to come?”
She did not immediately reply.
“May I present myself?” he added, “I am Lord Hurstmanceaux.”
[148]She looked up quickly.
“Indeed? You are very like your sister.”
“Which one? I have several.”
“Lady Kenilworth.”
He laughed.
“That is a great compliment. She is the beauty of the family. Do you know her? She is one of the beauties of England.”
“Not I; but my people do. I have seen her, of course!”
The tone was rather repellant; by no means cordial.
“Well, we must not lose daylight,” said Ronald. “Will you come? The snow is firm, and it will be fair cross-country walking. You will be less chilled than staying here in inaction; and it is not more than four miles to the town by short cuts which I know.”
She hesitated.
“But my poor woman? To leave her here alone——”
“I will tell my servant to stay and look after her. She will join you in the town, and you will continue your journey. I think you had better come with me. I must go myself, anyhow, for no one else knows the country. I have hunted and ridden over it scores of times, and I know every bush and briar.”
“I will come,” she said, without any further hesitation36.
“You are a good walker?” he said a little anxiously.
She laughed a little.
“Oh, yes; I shall not break down and cast my shoes.”
“Come along, then. It soon grows dark in these early spring days. Our Aprils are considerably37 worse than our Novembers.”
“He is rather too familiar,” she thought; but she perceived that it was his natural manner, which, when he was not irritated, or sarcastic38, or—as he frequently was—silent, had great frankness and simplicity in it.
“It is an odd thing to do,” she continued to say to herself, “to walk across country in the snow with a man one does not know. But he is certainly Lord Hurstmanceaux by his resemblance to his sister, and it will be better to walk than to sit still in a railway-carriage, with the chance of being frozen into bronchitis or smashed by an express train.”
[149]And she took her way across the bleak39, blank pastures which stretched around the scene of the accident, with little frozen brooks40 and ditches and sunken fences dividing them, and no trees or hedges to relieve the tedium41 of the level landscape, since scientific agriculture ruled supreme42.
“How well she carries herself,” thought Hurstmanceaux. “Who can she be possibly, that I do not know her by sight? And her people know Mouse and not me!”
The snow was hard, and afforded good footing. She crossed the ditches and little streams as easily and with as much elasticity43 as Ossian did, and went on her way quickly and with energy, carrying her bouquet of violets close up to her mouth to keep out the biting wind.
She asked him the name of the town to which they were going, and if they would be able to telegraph thence.
“I fear the wires will be damaged there, too,” he answered. “It is called Greater Thorpe. There is Lesser44 Thorpe, St. Mary’s Thorpe, Monk’s Thorpe, Dane’s Thorpe—the two latter charming names suggestive of the past. You would see the spire45 of Greater Thorpe from here if it were a clear day, or what does duty in England as a clear day.”
“One’s greatest want in England is distance,” she answered. “I was in India a little while ago. What an atmosphere! It is heaven only to live in it.”
“Yes, the light is wonderful.”
“That is on a piece with all we do there.”
“How vulgar, how fussy47, how common the conquerors48 look beside the conquered! Go into a bank, a counting-house, a police-station, and see the calm, stately, proud, reposeful49 natives in their flowing robes, bullied50 and sworn at by some smug, sandy-haired, snub-nosed official in a checked suit and a pot hat! One wishes for a second and successful mutiny.”
“It must be admitted we are neither pliant51 nor picturesque52. The Russians, when they succeed us, will at least ‘compose’ better. In what part of India were you?”
She told him, adding, “I have left with extreme regret.”
[150]“You were in the Framlingham’s Presidency53; did you know them?”
“I was on a visit to them.”
“If she would only say who she is!” thought Ronald, as a gust54 of wind blew them apart and sent the snow spray into their faces; he felt sure that she belonged to his world and that she was married; she had a composure of tone and manner which made her seem much older than her features looked. He was lost in admiration55 of the beauty of her feet as the wind lifted her skirts, or as she lifted herself over the ditches in a spring as easy as the dog’s.
“You enjoy this rough walk,” he said shortly to her.
“I think I do,” she answered. “But I should enjoy it more if I were sure I could telegraph from this Greater Thorpe.”
“You wish to reassure your people?”
“I do.”
“If she would only say who they are!” he thought, but she did not.
They could only converse56 when the wind lulled57, which was not very often; it blew straight in their faces over the bare level land, and he had some trouble in recognizing the landmarks58 in the white obliteration59 of the always featureless landscape, and in avoiding the barbed wire fencing which had many a day cost him many an angry oath as he had hunted over those pastures.
“I used to be a good deal in this country,” he said, as they at last left the wide level fields for a high road, and which was less exposed to the wind. “I used to hunt with the Vale of Thorpe hounds. I do not hunt anywhere now; and I have nothing now to bring me into the county since my cousin, Lord Roxhall, sold his place.”
“Vale Royal?”
“Yes? Do you know it?”
“I have seen it.”
“A fine old place, the biggest beeches60 in England, and a herd61 of wild cattle equal to the Chillingham. I only wish one of the red bulls would gore62 the wretched cad who has bought it, or perhaps in strict justice the bulls ought first to have gored63 Roxhall.”
[151]She did not reply; she was walking as easily and quickly as ever, though it was the fourth mile, and the cold of the bleak sunless day grew more intense as the hours wore away.
“Vale Royal was given by Henry the Second to the Roxhalls of that time,” he continued. “My cousin wanted money, it is true; but not so desperately64 that he need have done so vile65 a thing. He was led into it. The man who has bought it is a brute66 from the Northwestern States; made his fortune in all kinds of foul67 ways, drinking-shops, gambling-saloons, cattle-trading, opium-dealing, cheating poor devils who landed with a little money and went to him for advice and concessions68; an unspeakable rascal69, who after thirty years’ infamy70 out there pulls himself together, praises God for all His mercies, and comes back to this country to go to church, sit in Parliament, wear a tall hat, and buy English society and English estates. Don’t you agree with me that it is utterly71 disgraceful?”
She held her violets higher up to her face so that he saw nothing but her eyes, which were looking down the long straight white road which stretched out before them into a grey haze72 of fogs.
“I quite agree with you,” she said in very clear and incisive73 tones. “I think it utterly disgraceful. But the disgrace is as much to the bought as the buyer.”
“Certainly,” said Hurstmanceaux with great warmth. “A society is utterly rotten and ruined when such a fungus74 as this can take root in it. That I have always maintained. ‘Tell me whom you know and I will tell you what you are,’ is as true when said of society as when it is said of an individual. Certainly society only knows this man, this Massarene, in a perfunctory supercilious75 way, and only gives him the kind of nod which is the equivalent of a kick; but it does know him; it drinks his wines and eats his dinners; it nods to him, it elects him, it leaves cards on him; it lets him look ridiculous in white breeches and a gilded76 coat at St. James’s, and it makes him pay through the nose for all its amiabilities and tolerations. It is an infamy!”
She looked straight before her down the road and did not reply.
[152]“You said you agreed with me?” said Hurstmanceaux, surprised at her silence.
But there was a chillness in her tone which suggested to him that, however completely she shared his opinions, the subject was disagreeable to her.
“She can’t belong to that class herself, she is thoroughbred down to the ground,” he thought, as he said aloud, “I am afraid you are tired. The cold is beginning to tell on you.”
“No; I am not at all cold,” she answered, holding up nearer to her the poor violets shrivelling in the frost.
“What has come over her, I wonder,” he said to himself. “She was so frank and natural and pleasant, and now she is chilly and stiff, and scarcely opens her lips. It is since I spoke of Vale Royal. But she said she agreed with me. Perhaps she knows Gerald, and is fond of him. But he could hardly know anybody intimately whom I have never seen, or never heard of, at the least.”
“Yet there is this to be said. You blame this person,” she added in a low but clear tone as she walked on, looking straight before her. “You admit that your world is more contemptible78 than he. What obliged Lord Roxhall to live in such a manner that he was forced to sell his old estate? Are not nearly all of you tradesmen and horse-dealers and speculators? Who fill the markets with game, the wharfs79 with coal, the shows with fat cattle and brood-mares? Who breed herds80 of Shetland ponies81 to sell them to the cruel work of the mines? Who destroy all the wild-bird life of three kingdoms, that the slaughter82 of the battues may be wholesale83 and the pheasants sent in thousands to Leadenhall? Your own order, your own order. What has it done, what does it ever do, to make it so superior to the man from Dakota?”
Hurstmanceaux listened in extreme astonishment84. He could not understand the scorn and suppressed vehemence85 with which her words vibrated. He was silent because, in his own mind, he found the indictment86 a just one. But his aristocratic temper was in conflict with his intellectual judgment87.
“What have the English aristocracy brought into[153] fashion? What do they uphold by example and precept88?” she continued. “Their life is one course of reckless folly89; the summer is wasted in crowded London houses, varied90 by race-meetings and pigeon-shooting; the autumn and winter are spent in the incessant91 slaughtering92 of birds and beasts; their beautiful country houses are only visited at intervals93, when they are as crowded as a booth at a fair. What kind of example do they set to ‘the man from Dakota’? What do they suggest to him of self-denial, of culture, of true grace and courtesy, of contempt for ill-gotten riches? They crowd around him as poultry94 around a feeding-pan! The whole thing is discreditable. But perhaps the most shameful95 part in it is not his!”
Hurstmanceaux was silent. He thought of Cocky and his sister, and he felt his blood tingle96 under the lash97 of her stinging words.
“My own withers98 are unwrung,” he said at last with a smile. “I don’t do those things. My estates are extremely unproductive, and I live, for the chief part of the year, on one of them—Faldon.”
“It is on the sea, I think?”
“Yes; on the coast of Waterford.”
“Do you cut your timber?”
“I do not.”
“Do you preserve?”
“For sport? No. Wild life has a happy time of it, I assure you, with me.”
“I am glad to hear any Englishman say so.”
“Are we such a set of barbarians99?”
“Yes, you are very barbarous; much more so than the Hindoos whom you have conquered. Compare the simplicity of their diet, the purity of their arts, the beauty of their costume and their architecture, with a Lord Mayor’s feast, a Royal Academy show, a Manchester Canal, a Forth100 Bridge, a team of cyclists, a London woman’s gown! Barbarians!—barbarians indeed, worse than any Goth or Vandal!—the nation which destroyed Delhi!”
“She must surely be a Russian,” thought Hurstmanceaux. “They often speak English with an admirable fluency101. But why, if so, should Vale Royal affect her so singularly?”
[154]He was not impressionable in these ways; but his new acquaintance attracted him extremely. He admired her, and her voice charmed him like music.
At that moment Ossian, perceiving in a distant field some sheep feeding on swedes in the snow, could not resist his hereditary102 instinct of shepherding them, and caused his master some trouble, as the sheep entirely mistook the collie’s good intentions and fled away in all directions. The lady watched the scene, standing103 still under a pollarded willow104. When order was restored and they walked on again, she asked him what had made him give up hunting; in herself she regretted her late eloquence105, and wished her companion to forget it.
“What made you give up hunting?” she asked suddenly, as if conscious that the severity of her tone might appear strange to him.
“Well, I have never told anybody,” he answered, and paused.
Then he went on, in a rather embarrassed manner, nerved by the confidence which his unknown companion roused in him:
“I was one day in my own woods at Faldon sketching106; hounds were out, but I was not with them. I was sitting in the bracken quite hidden by it, and an old dog-fox slouched by me; his tail drooped107, he was dead beat, he could scarcely drag himself along; he had a bad gash108 in his side from a stake or something; he went up to an old hollow oak, and out of it came his bitch and three little cubs109; and they welcomed him, I assure you, just as his family might welcome a man going home after a hard campaign, and the bitch fell to licking the gash in his side, and the cubs frolicked around her. I never had the heart to hurt a fox again. Hares I never did hunt; it is barbarous work. But that fox, too, set me thinking. He cared for his home and his wife just like any good citizen going home in the tram to Peckham Rise or Brixton. It was a pretty sight that poor thing going home. I stopped there till dark to make sure the pack didn’t come after him.”
“You did very right,” she said in her soft grave voice. “I wish more men would pause and think like that.”
[155]The wind rose and blew some more fine snow powder over them and in their faces.
“It is half-past two o’clock,” he said, looking at his watch, “I am sure you must miss your luncheon110.”
“I should like a cup of tea,” she answered. “How much farther is it to Thorpe?”
“About three-quarters of a mile. We shall get there before dark. But I fear the Thorpe tea will not be up to your standard. However, they will give you a good fire at the Bell Inn.”
“The Bell Inn! It sounds like Charles Dickens and Washington Irving.”
“Yes; but there is no longer the abundance and the comfort of the old coaching-days; country inns, now, like most other things, hardly pay their own expenses.”
“I am afraid I prefer the wayside station on the edge of the Indian jungle, with ripe bananas brought to me on a cocoa-nut leaf, and the monkeys looking down for a share from the reed roofs.”
“So do I,” he said, thinking that she looked pale and fatigued111. “But for our sins we are in Woldshire, and we shall have to put up with coal fires and beefsteaks.”
She looked alarmed.
“Surely I shall not have to stay there?”
“That will depend on what state the roads and the lines are in; the snow is less thick about here. Where are you going to? Of course, horses cannot stir out in this frost.”
She avoided the direct question.
“Oh, well, it is an adventure; one must not complain. If I can get my poor woman to the town I will support its indifferent accommodation.”
“We will do the best we can, but the Thorpe mind is slow and uninventive. The rural brain in England is apt to be clogged112 with beer. Fortunately, however, whatever be its density113, it always retains its perception of the value of shillings and sovereigns. We will try that gentle stimulant114 so appreciated in politics, so especially appreciated since bribery115 was made a crime.”
They had now come near enough to the town to perceive in the haze the square shoulders of its roofs and the[156] tower of its famous church, all blurred116 and blotted117 by the fog like a too-much-washed water-color drawing. She did not seem to be tired, but she had lost her elasticity of movement; her eyes looked straight ahead, and no longer turned to meet his own frankly118 as they had done before. She seemed to wish to be silent, so he let the conversation drop, and walked on beside her mutely, as the straggling suburbs of a country town began to show themselves in the more frequent cottages, in the occasional alehouse, and in the presence of people in the roads, and in the small wayside gardens where they were scraping and sweeping119 clear little paths from the gates to the doors. Some of these, recognizing him, touched their hats; he spoke to the most capable-looking, told them briefly120 of the accident, and sent them on to the station-master, whilst he took his companion to the Bell Inn, an old house which had been a busy and prosperous place in the posting and coaching times of which he had spoken. It stood in the centre of a market-place, which was alive and noisy with country-folks once a week, but was now a desolate121 and well-nigh empty place filled with wind and driven snow.
“If you will rest here ten minutes,” he said to her, “I will come back as soon as I have seen the authorities and heard what they propose to do, and I will tell you if the lines are safe and the wires in working order. I am afraid you will find it very rough and uncomfortable, but they are lighting122 the fire and the landlady123 is a good soul; my cousins used to come and have some of her soup on hunting mornings; you will like her, I think.”
He held open the door of the only sitting-room124, and as she passed within bowed very low to her and went out into the street again.
As he reached the middle of the market-place he heard his name spoken, and, turning at the sound, saw her to his surprise coming toward him from the entrance of the inn. He went back a few steps to meet her. She was very pale still, and there was a pride which was almost aggressive in her attitude as she stood still on the slippery trodden stones and faced him.
“Pray do not come back to me,” she said coldly. “I can have all I need here till my woman can join me. But[157] there is something I ought to tell you, and I ought also to thank you for all your good nature and courtesy.”
She paused a moment whilst he looked at her in silence and surprise. She was evidently speaking under the influence of some strong and personal feeling.
“It is to Vale Royal that I am going,” she added with a visible effort. “I am Katherine Massarene.”
The blood leapt up into Hurstmanceaux’s face; he was dumb with amazement125 and regret; he forgot utterly that he was standing bareheaded in a snowy sloppy126 market-place with a dozen yokels127 staring and grinning about the gates of the inn yard. He drew a very long breath. “I beg your pardon,” he said gravely and with great humility128. “I am shocked——”
“You have no need to be so,” she replied, “I quite agreed with your views. But I cannot alter my father, nor you your world.”
She stroked the uplifted head of Ossian and turned to go back to the door of the Bell Inn. He strode after her and reached her side.
“I am extremely sorry,” he murmured. “I am shocked at my gross indiscretion. I cannot look for your forgiveness. But pray do let me beg of you to take off those pretty velvet boots at once, and let the woman rub your feet with spirits of some sort, failing eau de Cologne. I wish I had thought to take your dressing-bag from your woman.”
“Thanks.”
She looked at him a moment as she said the word, and he thought there were tears in her large serious eyes. Then she went inside the old posting-house and he saw her no more.
“That cad’s daughter, heavens and earth!” he said to himself as he brushed the men aside and hastened across the market-place.
He scarcely knew what he said to the frightened station-master and the obsequious129 mayor, and the bustling130 town clerk, and all the good people who crowded to welcome a live lord and hear of a railway accident. He was intensely surprised, disproportionately irritated, and sincerely vexed131 with himself for having spoken so incautiously.[158] He knew that every one of his words must have cut like a knife into the sensitive nerves of this woman whom he had admired and who had looked to him so thoroughbred.
He had felt more attracted to her than he had ever felt to any stranger, and to receive this shock of disillusion132 left him colder than he had been all day in the mists and the snow.
Suddenly it flashed across his memory that she must be the heiress whom Mouse had desired him to marry. Suspicion awoke in him.
He had not known her but it was very possible she had known him when he had entered the railway-carriage; she had spoken of his likeness133 to his sister. Her avoidance of any hint as to who she was or whither she was going appeared to him to suggest design. Why had she not disclosed her name until the very last moment? Though a poor man, for his rank, he had been a great deal run after by women on account of his physical beauty, and he was wary134 and suspicious where women were in question. She had caught him off his guard and he repented135 it.
If she were in truth William Massarene’s daughter she probably knew the share which his sister had so largely taken in the sales of Vale Royal and Blair Airon; and in the persuasion136 of society to accept the purchasers. He did not know the details of his sister’s diplomacy137, but he guessed enough of them for him to burn with shame at the mere138 conjecture139. When his own kith and kin18 were foremost in this disgraceful traffic what could his own condemnation140 of it look like—hypocrisy, affectation, subterfuge141?
What had possessed142 him to talk of such subjects on a public road to a stranger. He never by any chance “gave himself away.” Why had he done so this day merely because he had felt as if he had known for years a woman who had beautiful feet in fur-rimmed boots and a big bouquet of violets?
He was furious at his own folly, and he had told her that story of the fox too, which he had buried so closely in his own breast as men like him do secrete143 all their best[159] impulses and emotions of which they are more ashamed than of any of their sins and vices144! He had never been so incensed145 and troubled about a trifle in his whole life; and all the high breeding in him made him feel the keenest regret to have so cruelly mortified146 a woman about her own father and her own position.
To a gentleman the knowledge that he has insulted a person who cannot punish him for it is a very dreadful thing.
He had said no more than he meant, no more than he felt, and nothing which he would have retracted147; but he was extremely sorry that he had said it to the daughter of the man Massarene. To the man himself he would have had the greatest pleasure in saying it.
“What was I about to walk across country with a stranger and talk so indiscreetly to her?” he asked himself in self-reproach as sincere as it was useless.
She asked herself the same question as she dried her snow-wet clothes before the fire of the Bell Inn, and offered all the notes and gold in her purse to have an old post-chaise got ready at once, and the shoes of two horses roughed.
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sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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killing
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primrose
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bereft
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moors
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hissed
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chilly
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compartment
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9
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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10
hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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11
vernacular
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| adj.地方的，用地方语写成的；n.白话；行话；本国语；动植物的俗名 | |
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12
sables
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| n.紫貂( sable的名词复数 )；紫貂皮；阴暗的；暗夜 | |
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13
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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14
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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15
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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16
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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17
perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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18
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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19
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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20
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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21
harmoniously
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| 和谐地，调和地 | |
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22
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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23
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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24
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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25
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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26
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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27
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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28
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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29
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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30
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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31
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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32
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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33
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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34
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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35
asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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36
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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37
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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38
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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39
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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40
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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41
tedium
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| n.单调；烦闷 | |
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42
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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43
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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44
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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45
spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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46
defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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47
fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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48
conquerors
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| 征服者，占领者( conqueror的名词复数 ) | |
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49
reposeful
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| adj.平稳的，沉着的 | |
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50
bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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52
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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53
presidency
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| n.总统(校长，总经理)的职位(任期) | |
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54
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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55
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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56
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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57
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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58
landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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59
obliteration
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| n.涂去，删除；管腔闭合 | |
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60
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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61
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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62
gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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63
gored
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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65
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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66
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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67
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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68
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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69
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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70
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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71
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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72
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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73
incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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74
fungus
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| n.真菌，真菌类植物 | |
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75
supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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76
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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77
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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78
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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79
wharfs
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| 码头，停泊处 | |
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80
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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81
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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82
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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83
wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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84
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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85
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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86
indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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87
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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88
precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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89
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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90
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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91
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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92
slaughtering
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的现在分词 ) | |
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93
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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94
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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95
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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96
tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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97
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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98
withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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99
barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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100
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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101
fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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102
hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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103
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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104
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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105
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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106
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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107
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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109
cubs
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| n.幼小的兽，不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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110
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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111
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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112
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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113
density
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| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
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114
stimulant
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| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
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115
bribery
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| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
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116
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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117
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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118
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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119
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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120
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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121
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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122
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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123
landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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124
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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125
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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126
sloppy
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| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
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127
yokels
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| n.乡下佬，土包子( yokel的名词复数 ) | |
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128
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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129
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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130
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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131
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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132
disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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133
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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134
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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135
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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136
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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137
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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138
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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139
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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140
condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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141
subterfuge
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| n.诡计；藉口 | |
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142
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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143
secrete
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| vt.分泌；隐匿，使隐秘 | |
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144
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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145
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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146
mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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147
retracted
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| v.撤回或撤消( retract的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝执行或遵守；缩回；拉回 | |
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