HETTY and Dinah both slept in the second story, in rooms adjoining each other, meagrely furnished rooms, with no blinds to shut out the light, which was now beginning to gather new strength from the rising of the moon — more than enough strength to enable Hetty to move about and undress with perfect comfort. She could see quite well the pegs1 in the old painted linen-press on which she hung her hat and gown; she could see the head of every pin on her red cloth pin-cushion; she could see a reflection of herself in the old- fashioned looking-glass, quite as distinct as was needful, considering that she had only to brush her hair and put on her night-cap. A queer old looking-glass! Hetty got into an ill temper with it almost every time she dressed. It had been considered a handsome glass in its day, and had probably been bought into the Poyser family a quarter of a century before, at a sale of genteel household furniture. Even now an auctioneer could say something for it: it had a great deal of tarnished2 gilding3 about it; it had a firm mahogany base, well supplied with drawers, which opened with a decided5 jerk and sent the contents leaping out from the farthest corners, without giving you the trouble of reaching them; above all, it had a brass6 candle-socket on each side, which would give it an aristocratic air to the very last. But Hetty objected to it because it had numerous dim blotches7 sprinkled over the mirror, which no rubbing would remove, and because, instead of swinging backwards8 and forwards, it was fixed9 in an upright position, so that she could only get one good view of her head and neck, and that was to be had only by sitting down on a low chair before her dressing-table. And the dressing-table was no dressing-table at all, but a small old chest of drawers, the most awkward thing in the world to sit down before, for the big brass handles quite hurt her knees, and she couldn’t get near the glass at all comfortably. But devout10 worshippers never allow inconveniences to prevent them from performing their religious rites11, and Hetty this evening was more bent12 on her peculiar13 form of worship than usual.
Having taken off her gown and white kerchief, she drew a key from the large pocket that hung outside her petticoat, and, unlocking one of the lower drawers in the chest, reached from it two short bits of wax candle — secretly bought at Treddleston — and stuck them in the two brass sockets14. Then she drew forth15 a bundle of matches and lighted the candles; and last of all, a small red-framed shilling looking-glass, without blotches. It was into this small glass that she chose to look first after seating herself. She looked into it, smiling and turning her head on one side, for a minute, then laid it down and took out her brush and comb from an upper drawer. She was going to let down her hair, and make herself look like that picture of a lady in Miss Lydia Donnithorne’s dressing-room. It was soon done, and the dark hyacinthine curves fell on her neck. It was not heavy, massive, merely rippling17 hair, but soft and silken, running at every opportunity into delicate rings. But she pushed it all backward to look like the picture, and form a dark curtain, throwing into relief her round white neck. Then she put down her brush and comb and looked at herself, folding her arms before her, still like the picture. Even the old mottled glass couldn’t help sending back a lovely image, none the less lovely because Hetty’s stays were not of white satin — such as I feel sure heroines must generally wear — but of a dark greenish cotton texture18.
Oh yes! She was very pretty. Captain Donnithorne thought so. Prettier than anybody about Hayslope — prettier than any of the ladies she had ever seen visiting at the Chase — indeed it seemed fine ladies were rather old and ugly — and prettier than Miss Bacon, the miller’s daughter, who was called the beauty of Treddleston. And Hetty looked at herself to-night with quite a different sensation from what she had ever felt before; there was an invisible spectator whose eye rested on her like morning on the flowers. His soft voice was saying over and over again those pretty things she had heard in the wood; his arm was round her, and the delicate rose-scent of his hair was with her still. The vainest woman is never thoroughly19 conscious of her own beauty till she is loved by the man who sets her own passion vibrating in return.
But Hetty seemed to have made up her mind that something was wanting, for she got up and reached an old black lace scarf out of the linen-press, and a pair of large ear-rings out of the sacred drawer from which she had taken her candles. It was an old old scarf, full of rents, but it would make a becoming border round her shoulders, and set off the whiteness of her upper arm. And she would take out the little ear-rings she had in her ears — oh, how her aunt had scolded her for having her ears bored!— and put in those large ones. They were but coloured glass and gilding, but if you didn’t know what they were made of, they looked just as well as what the ladies wore. And so she sat down again, with the large ear-rings in her ears, and the black lace scarf adjusted round her shoulders. She looked down at her arms: no arms could be prettier down to a little way below the elbow — they were white and plump, and dimpled to match her cheeks; but towards the wrist, she thought with vexation that they were coarsened by butter- making and other work that ladies never did.
Captain Donnithorne couldn’t like her to go on doing work: he would like to see her in nice clothes, and thin shoes, and white stockings, perhaps with silk clocks to them; for he must love her very much — no one else had ever put his arm round her and kissed her in that way. He would want to marry her and make a lady of her; she could hardly dare to shape the thought — yet how else could it be? Marry her quite secretly, as Mr. James, the doctor’s assistant, married the doctor’s niece, and nobody ever found it out for a long while after, and then it was of no use to be angry. The doctor had told her aunt all about it in Hetty’s hearing. She didn’t know how it would be, but it was quite plain the old Squire20 could never be told anything about it, for Hetty was ready to faint with awe4 and fright if she came across him at the Chase. He might have been earth-born, for what she knew. It had never entered her mind that he had been young like other men; he had always been the old Squire at whom everybody was frightened. Oh, it was impossible to think how it would be! But Captain Donnithorne would know; he was a great gentleman, and could have his way in everything, and could buy everything he liked. And nothing could be as it had been again: perhaps some day she should be a grand lady, and ride in her coach, and dress for dinner in a brocaded silk, with feathers in her hair, and her dress sweeping21 the ground, like Miss Lydia and Lady Dacey, when she saw them going into the dining-room one evening as she peeped through the little round window in the lobby; only she should not be old and ugly like Miss Lydia, or all the same thickness like Lady Dacey, but very pretty, with her hair done in a great many different ways, and sometimes in a pink dress, and sometimes in a white one — she didn’t know which she liked best; and Mary Burge and everybody would perhaps see her going out in her carriage — or rather, they would HEAR of it: it was impossible to imagine these things happening at Hayslope in sight of her aunt. At the thought of all this splendour, Hetty got up from her chair, and in doing so caught the little red-framed glass with the edge of her scarf, so that it fell with a bang on the floor; but she was too eagerly occupied with her vision to care about picking it up; and after a momentary22 start, began to pace with a pigeon-like stateliness backwards and forwards along her room, in her coloured stays and coloured skirt, and the old black lace scarf round her shoulders, and the great glass ear-rings in her ears.
How pretty the little puss looks in that odd dress! It would be the easiest folly23 in the world to fall in love with her: there is such a sweet babylike roundness about her face and figure; the delicate dark rings of hair lie so charmingly about her ears and neck; her great dark eyes with their long eye-lashes24 touch one so strangely, as if an imprisoned25 frisky26 sprite looked out of them.
Ah, what a prize the man gets who wins a sweet bride like Hetty! How the men envy him who come to the wedding breakfast, and see her hanging on his arm in her white lace and orange blossoms. The dear, young, round, soft, flexible thing! Her heart must be just as soft, her temper just as free from angles, her character just as pliant27. If anything ever goes wrong, it must be the husband’s fault there: he can make her what he likes — that is plain. And the lover himself thinks so too: the little darling is so fond of him, her little vanities are so bewitching, he wouldn’t consent to her being a bit wiser; those kittenlike glances and movements are just what one wants to make one’s hearth28 a paradise. Every man under such circumstances is conscious of being a great physiognomist. Nature, he knows, has a language of her own, which she uses with strict veracity29, and he considers himself an adept30 in the language. Nature has written out his bride’s character for him in those exquisite31 lines of cheek and lip and chin, in those eyelids32 delicate as petals33, in those long lashes curled like the stamen of a flower, in the dark liquid depths of those wonderful eyes. How she will dote on her children! She is almost a child herself, and the little pink round things will hang about her like florets round the central flower; and the husband will look on, smiling benignly34, able, whenever he chooses, to withdraw into the sanctuary35 of his wisdom, towards which his sweet wife will look reverently36, and never lift the curtain. It is a marriage such as they made in the golden age, when the men were all wise and majestic37 and the women all lovely and loving.
It was very much in this way that our friend Adam Bede thought about Hetty; only he put his thoughts into different words. If ever she behaved with cold vanity towards him, he said to himself it is only because she doesn’t love me well enough; and he was sure that her love, whenever she gave it, would be the most precious thing a man could possess on earth. Before you despise Adam as deficient38 in penetration39, pray ask yourself if you were ever predisposed to believe evil of any pretty woman — if you ever COULD, without hard head-breaking demonstration40, believe evil of the ONE supremely41 pretty woman who has bewitched you. No: people who love downy peaches are apt not to think of the stone, and sometimes jar their teeth terribly against it.
Arthur Donnithorne, too, had the same sort of notion about Hetty, so far as he had thought of her nature of all. He felt sure she was a dear, affectionate, good little thing. The man who awakes the wondering tremulous passion of a young girl always thinks her affectionate; and if he chances to look forward to future years, probably imagines himself being virtuously42 tender to her, because the poor thing is so clingingly fond of him. God made these dear women so — and it is a convenient arrangement in case of sickness.
After all, I believe the wisest of us must be beguiled43 in this way sometimes, and must think both better and worse of people than they deserve. Nature has her language, and she is not unveracious; but we don’t know all the intricacies of her syntax just yet, and in a hasty reading we may happen to extract the very opposite of her real meaning. Long dark eyelashes, now — what can be more exquisite? I find it impossible not to expect some depth of soul behind a deep grey eye with a long dark eyelash, in spite of an experience which has shown me that they may go along with deceit, peculation44, and stupidity. But if, in the reaction of disgust, I have betaken myself to a fishy45 eye, there has been a surprising similarity of result. One begins to suspect at length that there is no direct correlation46 between eyelashes and morals; or else, that the eyelashes express the disposition47 of the fair one’s grandmother, which is on the whole less important to us.
No eyelashes could be more beautiful than Hetty’s; and now, while she walks with her pigeonlike stateliness along the room and looks down on her shoulders bordered by the old black lace, the dark fringe shows to perfection on her pink cheek. They are but dim ill-defined pictures that her narrow bit of an imagination can make of the future; but of every picture she is the central figure in fine clothes; Captain Donnithorne is very close to her, putting his arm round her, perhaps kissing her, and everybody else is admiring and envying her — especially Mary Burge, whose new print dress looks very contemptible48 by the side of Hetty’s resplendent toilette. Does any sweet or sad memory mingle49 with this dream of the future — any loving thought of her second parents — of the children she had helped to tend — of any youthful companion, any pet animal, any relic50 of her own childhood even? Not one. There are some plants that have hardly any roots: you may tear them from their native nook of rock or wall, and just lay them over your ornamental51 flower-pot, and they blossom none the worse. Hetty could have cast all her past life behind her and never cared to be reminded of it again. I think she had no feeling at all towards the old house, and did not like the Jacob’s Ladder and the long row of hollyhocks in the garden better than other flowers — perhaps not so well. It was wonderful how little she seemed to care about waiting on her uncle, who had been a good father to her — she hardly ever remembered to reach him his pipe at the right time without being told, unless a visitor happened to be there, who would have a better opportunity of seeing her as she walked across the hearth. Hetty did not understand how anybody could be very fond of middle-aged52 people. And as for those tiresome53 children, Marty and Tommy and Totty, they had been the very nuisance of her life — as bad as buzzing insects that will come teasing you on a hot day when you want to be quiet. Marty, the eldest54, was a baby when she first came to the farm, for the children born before him had died, and so Hetty had had them all three, one after the other, toddling55 by her side in the meadow, or playing about her on wet days in the half-empty rooms of the large old house. The boys were out of hand now, but Totty was still a day-long plague, worse than either of the others had been, because there was more fuss made about her. And there was no end to the making and mending of clothes. Hetty would have been glad to hear that she should never see a child again; they were worse than the nasty little lambs that the shepherd was always bringing in to be taken special care of in lambing time; for the lambs WERE got rid of sooner or later. As for the young chickens and turkeys, Hetty would have hated the very word “hatching,” if her aunt had not bribed56 her to attend to the young poultry57 by promising58 her the proceeds of one out of every brood. The round downy chicks peeping out from under their mother’s wing never touched Hetty with any pleasure; that was not the sort of prettiness she cared about, but she did care about the prettiness of the new things she would buy for herself at Treddleston Fair with the money they fetched. And yet she looked so dimpled, so charming, as she stooped down to put the soaked bread under the hen-coop, that you must have been a very acute personage indeed to suspect her of that hardness. Molly, the housemaid, with a turn-up nose and a protuberant59 jaw60, was really a tender-hearted girl, and, as Mrs. Poyser said, a jewel to look after the poultry; but her stolid61 face showed nothing of this maternal62 delight, any more than a brown earthenware63 pitcher64 will show the light of the lamp within it.
It is generally a feminine eye that first detects the moral deficiencies hidden under the “dear deceit” of beauty, so it is not surprising that Mrs. Poyser, with her keenness and abundant opportunity for observation, should have formed a tolerably fair estimate of what might be expected from Hetty in the way of feeling, and in moments of indignation she had sometimes spoken with great openness on the subject to her husband.
“She’s no better than a peacock, as ’ud strut65 about on the wall and spread its tail when the sun shone if all the folks i’ the parish was dying: there’s nothing seems to give her a turn i’ th’ inside, not even when we thought Totty had tumbled into the pit. To think o’ that dear cherub66! And we found her wi’ her little shoes stuck i’ the mud an’ crying fit to break her heart by the far horse-pit. But Hetty never minded it, I could see, though she’s been at the nussin’ o’ the child ever since it was a babby. It’s my belief her heart’s as hard as a pebble67.”
“Nay, nay,” said Mr. Poyser, “thee mustn’t judge Hetty too hard. Them young gells are like the unripe68 grain; they’ll make good meal by and by, but they’re squashy as yet. Thee’t see Hetty ’ll be all right when she’s got a good husband and children of her own.”
“I don’t want to be hard upo’ the gell. She’s got cliver fingers of her own, and can be useful enough when she likes and I should miss her wi’ the butter, for she’s got a cool hand. An’ let be what may, I’d strive to do my part by a niece o’ yours — an’ THAT I’ve done, for I’ve taught her everything as belongs to a house, an’ I’ve told her her duty often enough, though, God knows, I’ve no breath to spare, an’ that catchin’ pain comes on dreadful by times. Wi’ them three gells in the house I’d need have twice the strength to keep ’em up to their work. It’s like having roast meat at three fires; as soon as you’ve basted69 one, another’s burnin’.”
Hetty stood sufficiently70 in awe of her aunt to be anxious to conceal71 from her so much of her vanity as could be hidden without too great a sacrifice. She could not resist spending her money in bits of finery which Mrs. Poyser disapproved72; but she would have been ready to die with shame, vexation, and fright if her aunt had this moment opened the door, and seen her with her bits of candle lighted, and strutting73 about decked in her scarf and ear-rings. To prevent such a surprise, she always bolted her door, and she had not forgotten to do so to-night. It was well: for there now came a light tap, and Hetty, with a leaping heart, rushed to blow out the candles and throw them into the drawer. She dared not stay to take out her ear-rings, but she threw off her scarf, and let it fall on the floor, before the light tap came again. We shall know how it was that the light tap came, if we leave Hetty for a short time and return to Dinah, at the moment when she had delivered Totty to her mother’s arms, and was come upstairs to her bedroom, adjoining Hetty’s.
Dinah delighted in her bedroom window. Being on the second story of that tall house, it gave her a wide view over the fields. The thickness of the wall formed a broad step about a yard below the window, where she could place her chair. And now the first thing she did on entering her room was to seat herself in this chair and look out on the peaceful fields beyond which the large moon was rising, just above the hedgerow elms. She liked the pasture best where the milch cows were lying, and next to that the meadow where the grass was half-mown, and lay in silvered sweeping lines. Her heart was very full, for there was to be only one more night on which she would look out on those fields for a long time to come; but she thought little of leaving the mere16 scene, for, to her, bleak74 Snowfield had just as many charms. She thought of all the dear people whom she had learned to care for among these peaceful fields, and who would now have a place in her loving remembrance for ever. She thought of the struggles and the weariness that might lie before them in the rest of their life’s journey, when she would be away from them, and know nothing of what was befalling them; and the pressure of this thought soon became too strong for her to enjoy the unresponding stillness of the moonlit fields. She closed her eyes, that she might feel more intensely the presence of a Love and Sympathy deeper and more tender than was breathed from the earth and sky. That was often Dinah’s mode of praying in solitude75. Simply to close her eyes and to feel herself enclosed by the Divine Presence; then gradually her fears, her yearning76 anxieties for others, melted away like ice-crystals in a warm ocean. She had sat in this way perfectly77 still, with her hands crossed on her lap and the pale light resting on her calm face, for at least ten minutes when she was startled by a loud sound, apparently78 of something falling in Hetty’s room. But like all sounds that fall on our ears in a state of abstraction, it had no distinct character, but was simply loud and startling, so that she felt uncertain whether she had interpreted it rightly. She rose and listened, but all was quiet afterwards, and she reflected that Hetty might merely have knocked something down in getting into bed. She began slowly to undress; but now, owing to the suggestions of this sound, her thoughts became concentrated on Hetty — that sweet young thing, with life and all its trials before her — the solemn daily duties of the wife and mother — and her mind so unprepared for them all, bent merely on little foolish, selfish pleasures, like a child hugging its toys in the beginning of a long toilsome journey in which it will have to bear hunger and cold and unsheltered darkness. Dinah felt a double care for Hetty, because she shared Seth’s anxious interest in his brother’s lot, and she had not come to the conclusion that Hetty did not love Adam well enough to marry him. She saw too clearly the absence of any warm, self-devoting love in Hetty’s nature to regard the coldness of her behaviour towards Adam as any indication that he was not the man she would like to have for a husband. And this blank in Hetty’s nature, instead of exciting Dinah’s dislike, only touched her with a deeper pity: the lovely face and form affected79 her as beauty always affects a pure and tender mind, free from selfish jealousies80. It was an excellent divine gift, that gave a deeper pathos81 to the need, the sin, the sorrow with which it was mingled82, as the canker in a lily-white bud is more grievous to behold83 than in a common pot-herb.
By the time Dinah had undressed and put on her night-gown, this feeling about Hetty had gathered a painful intensity84; her imagination had created a thorny85 thicket86 of sin and sorrow, in which she saw the poor thing struggling torn and bleeding, looking with tears for rescue and finding none. It was in this way that Dinah’s imagination and sympathy acted and reacted habitually87, each heightening the other. She felt a deep longing88 to go now and pour into Hetty’s ear all the words of tender warning and appeal that rushed into her mind. But perhaps Hetty was already asleep. Dinah put her ear to the partition and heard still some slight noises, which convinced her that Hetty was not yet in bed. Still she hesitated; she was not quite certain of a divine direction; the voice that told her to go to Hetty seemed no stronger that the other voice which said that Hetty was weary, and that going to her now in an unseasonable moment would only tend to close her heart more obstinately89. Dinah was not satisfied without a more unmistakable guidance than those inward voices. There was light enough for her, if she opened her Bible, to discern the text sufficiently to know what it would say to her. She knew the physiognomy of every page, and could tell on what book she opened, sometimes on what chapter, without seeing title or number. It was a small thick Bible, worn quite round at the edges. Dinah laid it sideways on the window ledge90, where the light was strongest, and then opened it with her forefinger91. The first words she looked at were those at the top of the left-hand page: “And they all wept sore, and fell on Paul’s neck and kissed him.” That was enough for Dinah; she had opened on that memorable92 parting at Ephesus, when Paul had felt bound to open his heart in a last exhortation93 and warning. She hesitated no longer, but, opening her own door gently, went and tapped on Hetty’s. We know she had to tap twice, because Hetty had to put out her candles and throw off her black lace scarf; but after the second tap the door was opened immediately. Dinah said, “Will you let me come in, Hetty?” and Hetty, without speaking, for she was confused and vexed94, opened the door wider and let her in.
What a strange contrast the two figures made, visible enough in that mingled twilight95 and moonlight! Hetty, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glistening96 from her imaginary drama, her beautiful neck and arms bare, her hair hanging in a curly tangle97 down her back, and the baubles98 in her ears. Dinah, covered with her long white dress, her pale face full of subdued99 emotion, almost like a lovely corpse100 into which the soul has returned charged with sublimer101 secrets and a sublimer love. They were nearly of the same height; Dinah evidently a little the taller as she put her arm round Hetty’s waist and kissed her forehead.
“I knew you were not in bed, my dear,” she said, in her sweet clear voice, which was irritating to Hetty, mingling102 with her own peevish103 vexation like music with jangling chains, “for I heard you moving; and I longed to speak to you again to-night, for it is the last but one that I shall be here, and we don’t know what may happen tomorrow to keep us apart. Shall I sit down with you while you do up your hair?”
“Oh yes,” said Hetty, hastily turning round and reaching the second chair in the room, glad that Dinah looked as if she did not notice her ear-rings.
Dinah sat down, and Hetty began to brush together her hair before twisting it up, doing it with that air of excessive indifference104 which belongs to confused self-consciousness. But the expression of Dinah’s eyes gradually relieved her; they seemed unobservant of all details.
“Dear Hetty,” she said, “It has been borne in upon my mind to- night that you may some day be in trouble — trouble is appointed for us all here below, and there comes a time when we need more comfort and help than the things of this life can give. I want to tell you that if ever you are in trouble, and need a friend that will always feel for you and love you, you have got that friend in Dinah Morris at Snowfield, and if you come to her, or send for her, she’ll never forget this night and the words she is speaking to you now. Will you remember it, Hetty?”
“Yes,” said Hetty, rather frightened. “But why should you think I shall be in trouble? Do you know of anything?”
Hetty had seated herself as she tied on her cap, and now Dinah leaned forwards and took her hands as she answered, “Because, dear, trouble comes to us all in this life: we set our hearts on things which it isn’t God’s will for us to have, and then we go sorrowing; the people we love are taken from us, and we can joy in nothing because they are not with us; sickness comes, and we faint under the burden of our feeble bodies; we go astray and do wrong, and bring ourselves into trouble with our fellow-men. There is no man or woman born into this world to whom some of these trials do not fall, and so I feel that some of them must happen to you; and I desire for you, that while you are young you should seek for strength from your Heavenly Father, that you may have a support which will not fail you in the evil day.”
Dinah paused and released Hetty’s hands that she might not hinder her. Hetty sat quite still; she felt no response within herself to Dinah’s anxious affection; but Dinah’s words uttered with solemn pathetic distinctness, affected her with a chill fear. Her flush had died away almost to paleness; she had the timidity of a luxurious105 pleasure-seeking nature, which shrinks from the hint of pain. Dinah saw the effect, and her tender anxious pleading became the more earnest, till Hetty, full of a vague fear that something evil was some time to befall her, began to cry.
It is our habit to say that while the lower nature can never understand the higher, the higher nature commands a complete view of the lower. But I think the higher nature has to learn this comprehension, as we learn the art of vision, by a good deal of hard experience, often with bruises106 and gashes107 incurred108 in taking things up by the wrong end, and fancying our space wider than it is. Dinah had never seen Hetty affected in this way before, and, with her usual benignant hopefulness, she trusted it was the stirring of a divine impulse. She kissed the sobbing109 thing, and began to cry with her for grateful joy. But Hetty was simply in that excitable state of mind in which there is no calculating what turn the feelings may take from one moment to another, and for the first time she became irritated under Dinah’s caress110. She pushed her away impatiently, and said, with a childish sobbing voice, “Don’t talk to me so, Dinah. Why do you come to frighten me? I’ve never done anything to you. Why can’t you let me be?”
Poor Dinah felt a pang111. She was too wise to persist, and only said mildly, “Yes, my dear, you’re tired; I won’t hinder you any longer. Make haste and get into bed. Good-night.”
She went out of the room almost as quietly and quickly as if she had been a ghost; but once by the side of her own bed, she threw herself on her knees and poured out in deep silence all the passionate112 pity that filled her heart.
As for Hetty, she was soon in the wood again — her waking dreams being merged113 in a sleeping life scarcely more fragmentary and confused.
收听单词发音 |
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pegs
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| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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blotches
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| n.（皮肤上的）红斑，疹块( blotch的名词复数 )；大滴 [大片]（墨水或颜色的）污渍 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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18
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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20
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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21
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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22
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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23
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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24
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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25
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
frisky
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| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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27
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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28
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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29
veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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30
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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31
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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32
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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33
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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34
benignly
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| adv.仁慈地，亲切地 | |
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35
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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36
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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37
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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38
deficient
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| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
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39
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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40
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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41
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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42
virtuously
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| 合乎道德地，善良地 | |
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43
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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44
peculation
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| n.侵吞公款[公物] | |
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45
fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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46
correlation
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| n.相互关系，相关，关连 | |
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47
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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48
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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49
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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50
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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51
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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52
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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53
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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54
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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55
toddling
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的现在分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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56
bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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57
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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58
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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59
protuberant
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| adj.突出的，隆起的 | |
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60
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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61
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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62
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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63
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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64
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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65
strut
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| v.肿胀，鼓起；大摇大摆地走；炫耀；支撑；撑开；n.高视阔步；支柱，撑杆 | |
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66
cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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67
pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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68
unripe
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| adj.未成熟的；n.未成熟 | |
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69
basted
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| v.打( baste的过去式和过去分词 )；粗缝；痛斥；（烤肉等时）往上抹[浇]油 | |
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70
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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71
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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72
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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74
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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75
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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76
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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77
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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78
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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79
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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80
jealousies
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| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
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81
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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82
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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83
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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84
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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85
thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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86
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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87
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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88
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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89
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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90
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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91
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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92
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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93
exhortation
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| n.劝告，规劝 | |
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94
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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95
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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96
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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97
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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98
baubles
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| n.小玩意( bauble的名词复数 )；华而不实的小件装饰品；无价值的东西；丑角的手杖 | |
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99
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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100
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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101
sublimer
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| 使高尚者，纯化器 | |
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102
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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103
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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104
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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105
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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106
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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107
gashes
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| n.深长的切口（或伤口）( gash的名词复数 )v.划伤，割破( gash的第三人称单数 ) | |
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108
incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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109
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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110
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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111
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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112
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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113
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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