WITH every allowance for a grief in which so deeply he shared, Mr. Tyrold felt nearly bowed down with sorrow, when he observed his own tenderness abate1 of its power to console, and his exhortations2 of their influence with his miserable3 daughter, whose complicated afflictions seemed desperate to herself, and to him nearly hopeless.
He now began to fear the rigid4 oeconomy and retirement5 of their present lives might add secret disgust or fatigue6 to the disappointment of her heart. He sighed at an idea so little in unison7 with all that had hitherto appeared of her disposition8; yet remembered she was very young and very lively, and thought that, if caught by a love of gayer scenes than Etherington afforded, she was at a season of life which brings its own excuse for such venial9 ambition.
He mentioned, therefore, with great kindness, their exclusion10 from all society, and proposed making an application to Mrs. Needham, a lady high in the esteem11 of Mrs. Tyrold, to have the goodness to take the charge of carrying them a little into the world, during the absence of their mother. ‘I can neither exact nor desire,’ he said, ‘to sequester12 you from all amusement for a term so utterly13 indefinite as that of her restoration; since it is now more than ever desirable to regain14 the favour of your uncle Relvil for Lionel, who has resisted every profession for which I have sought to prepare him; though his idle and licentious16 courses so little fit him for contentment with the small patrimony17 he will one day inherit.’
The sisters mutually and sincerely declined this proposition; Lavinia had too much employment to find time ever slow of passage; and Camilla, joined to the want of all spirit for recreation, had a dread18 of appearing in the county, lest she should meet with Sir Sedley Clarendel, whose two hundred pounds were amongst the evils ever present to her. The money which Eugenia meant to save for this account had all been given to Lionel; and now her marriage was at an end, and no particular sum expected, she must be very long in replacing it; especially as Jacob was first to be considered; though he had kindly19 protested he was in no haste to be paid.
Mr. Tyrold was not sorry to have his proposition declined; yet saw the sadness of Camilla unabated, and suggested, for a transient diversity, a visit to the Grove20; enquiring21 why an acquaintance begun with so much warmth and pleasure, seemed thus utterly relinquished22. Camilla had herself thought with shame of her apparently23 ungrateful neglect of Mrs. Arlbery; but the five guineas she had borrowed, and forgotten to pay, while she might yet have asked them of Sir Hugh, and which now she had no ability any where to raise, made the idea of meeting with her painful. And thus, overwhelmed with regret and repentance24 for all around, her spirits gone, and her heart sunk, she desired never more, except for Cleves, to stir from Etherington.
Had he seen the least symptom of her revival25, Mr. Tyrold would have been gratified by her strengthened love of home; but this was far from being the case; and, upon the marriage of Miss Dennel, which was now celebrated26, he was glad of an opportunity to force her abroad, from the necessity of making a congratulatory visit to the bride’s aunt, Mrs. Arlbery.
The chariot, therefore, of Sir Hugh being borrowed, she was compelled into this exertion27; which was ill repaid by her reception from Mrs. Arlbery, who, hurt as well as offended by her long absence and total silence, wore an air of the most chilling coldness. Camilla felt sorry and ashamed; but too much disturbed to attempt any palliation for her non-appearance, and remissness28 of even a note or message.
The room was full of morning visitors, all collected for the same complimentary29 purpose; but she was relieved with respect to her fears of Sir Sedley Clarendel, in hearing of his tour to the Hebrides.
Her mournful countenance30 soon, however, dispersed31 the anger of Mrs. Arlbery. ‘What,’ cried she, ‘has befallen you, my fair friend? if you are not immeasurably unhappy, you are very seriously ill.’
‘Yes,-no,-my spirits-have not been good–’ answered she, stammering;–‘but yours may, perhaps, assist to restore them.’
The composition of Mrs. Arlbery had no particle of either malice32 or vengeance33; she now threw off, therefore, all reserve, and taking her by the hand, said: ‘shall I keep you to spend the day with me? Yes, or no? Peace or war?’
And without waiting for an answer, she sent back the chariot, and a message to Mr. Tyrold, that she would carry home his daughter in the evening.
‘And now, my faithless Fair,’ cried she, as soon as they were alone, ‘tell me what has led you to this abominable34 fickleness35? with me, I mean! If you had grown tired of any body else, I should have thought nothing so natural. But you know, I suppose, that the same thing we philosophise into an admirable good joke for our neighbours, we moralise into a crime against ourselves.’
‘I thought,’ said Camilla, attempting to smile, ‘none but country cousins ever made apologies?’
‘Nay, now, I must forgive you without one word more!’ answered Mrs. Arlbery, laughing, and shaking hands with her; ‘a happy citation36 of one bon mot, is worth any ten offences. So, you see, you have nine to commit, in store, clear of all damages. But the pleasure of finding one has not said a good thing only for once, thence to be forgotten and die away in the winds, is far greater than you can yet awhile conceive. In the first pride of youth and beauty, our attention is all upon how we are looked at. But when those begin to be somewhat on the wane-when that barbarous time comes into play, which revenges upon poor miserable woman all the airs she has been playing upon silly man-our ambition, then, is how we are listened to. So now, cutting short reproach and excuse, and all the wearying round of explanation, tell me a little of your history since we last met.’
This was the last thing Camilla meant to undertake: but she began, in a hesitating manner, to speak of her little debt. Mrs. Arlbery, eagerly interrupting her, insisted it should not be mentioned; adding: ‘I go on vastly well again; I am breaking in two ponies37, and building a new phaeton; and I shall soon pay for both, without the smallest inconvenience,-except just pinching my servants, and starving my visitors. But tell me something of your adventures. You are not half so communicative as Rumour38, which has given me a thousand details of you, and married you and your whole set to at least halt a dozen men a piece, since you were last at the Grove. Amongst others, it asserts, that my old Lord Valhurst was seriously at your feet? That prating39 Mrs. Mittin, who fastened upon my poor little niece at Tunbridge, and who is now her factotum40, pretends that my lord’s own servants spoke41 of it publicly at Mrs. Berlinton’s .’
This was a fact that, being thus divulged42, a very few questions made impossible to deny; though Camilla was highly superior to the indelicacy and ingratitude44 of repaying the preference of any gentleman by publishing his rejection45.
‘And what in the world, my dear child,’ said Mrs. Arlbery, ‘could provoke you to so wild an action as refusing him?’
‘Good Heaven, Mrs. Arlbery!’
‘O, what-you were not in love with him? I believe not!-but if he was in love with you, take my word for it, that would have done quite as well. ’Tis such a little while that same love lasts, even when it is begun with, that you have but a few months to lose, to be exactly upon a par15 with those who set out with all the quivers of Cupid, darting46 from heart to heart. He has still fortune enough left for a handsome settlement; you can’t help outliving him, and then, think but how delectable47 would be your situation! Freedom, money at will, the choice of your own friends, and the enjoyment48 of your own humour!’
‘You would but try me, my dear Mrs. Arlbery; for you cannot, I’m sure, believe me capable of making so solemn an engagement for such mercenary hopes, and selfish purposes.’
‘This is all the romance of false reasoning. You have not sought the man, but the man you. You would not have solicited49 his acceptance, but yielded to his solicitation50 of yours. The balance is always just, where force is not used. The man has his reasons for chusing you; you have your reasons for suffering yourself to be chosen. What his are, you have no business to enquire51; nor has he the smallest right to investigate yours.’
This was by no means the style in which Camilla had been brought up to think of marriage; and Mrs. Arlbery presently added: ‘You are grave? yet I speak but as a being of the world I live in: though I address one that knows nothing about it. Tell me, however, a little more of your affairs. What are all these marriages and no marriages, our neighbourhood is so busy in making and unmaking?’
Camilla returned the most brief and quiet answers in her power; but was too late to save the delicacy43 of Eugenia in concealing52 her late double disappointments, the abortive53 preparations of Sir Hugh having travelled through all the adjoining country. ‘Poor little dear ugly thing!’ cried Mrs. Arlbery, ‘she must certainly go off with her footman;-unless, indeed, that good old pedant54, who teaches her that vast quantity of stuff she will have to unlearn, when once she goes a little about, will take compassion55 upon her and her thousands, and put them both into his own pockets.’
This raillery was painful, nearly to disgust to Camilla; who frankly56 declared she saw her sister with no eyes but those of respect and affection, and could not endure to hear her mentioned in so ridiculous a manner.
‘Never judge the heart of a wit,’ answered she, laughing, ‘by the tongue! We have often as good hearts, ay, and as much good nature, too, as the careful prosers who utter nothing but what is right, or the heavy thinkers who have too little fancy to say anything that is wrong. But we have a pleasure in our own rattle57 that cruelly runs away with our discretion58.’
She then more seriously apologized for what she had said, and declared herself an unaffected admirer of all she had heard of the good qualities of Eugenia.
Other subjects were then taken up, till they were interrupted by a visit from the young bride, Mrs. Lissin.
Jumping into the room, ‘I’m just run away,’ she cried, ‘without saying a word to any body! I ordered my coach myself, and told my own footman to whisper me when it came, that I might get off, without saying a word of the matter. Dear! how they’ll all stare when they miss me! I hope they’ll be frightened!’
‘And why so, you little chit? why do you want to make them uneasy?’
‘O! I don’t mind! I’m so glad to have my own way, I don’t care for anything else. Dear, how do you do, Miss Camilla Tyrold? I wonder you have not been to see me! I had a great mind to have invited you to have been one of my bride’s maids. But papa was so monstrous59 cross, he would not let me do hardly any thing I liked. I was never so glad in my life as when I went out of the house to be married! I’ll never ask him about any one thing as long as I live again. I’ll always do just what I chuse.’
‘And you are quite sure Mr. Lissin will never interfere60 with that resolution?’
‘O, I sha’n’t let him! I dare say he would else. That’s one reason I came out so, just now, on purpose to let him see I was my own mistress. And I told my coachman, and my own footman, and my maid, all three, that if they said one word, I’d turn ’em all away. For I intend always to turn ’em away when I don’t like ’em. I shall never say anything to Mr. Lissin first, for fear of his meddling61. I’m quite determined62 I won’t be crossed any more, now I’ve servants of my own. I’m sure I’ve been crossed long enough.’
Then, turning to Camilla, ‘Dear,’ she cried, ‘how grave you look! Dear, I wonder you don’t marry too! When I ordered my coach, just now, I was ready to cry for joy, to think of not having to ask papa about it. And to-day, at breakfast, I dare say I rung twenty times, for one thing or another. As fast as ever I could think of any thing, I went to ringing again. For when I was at papa’s , every time I rang the bell, he always asked me what I wanted. Only think of keeping one under so!’
‘And what in the world said Mr. Lissin to so prodigious63 an uproar64?’
‘O, he stared like any thing. But he could not say much: I intend to use him to it from the first, that he may never plague me, like papa, with asking me what’s the reason for every thing. If I don’t like the dinner to-day, I’ll order a new one, to be dressed for me on purpose. And Mr. Lissin, and papa, and Mrs. Mittin, and the rest of ’em, may eat the old one. Papa never let me order the dinner at home; he always would know what there was himself, and have what he chose. I’m resolved I’ll have every thing I like best, now, every day. I could not get at the cook alone this morning, because so many of ’em were in the way; though I rung for her a dozen times. But to-morrow, I’ll tell her of some things I intend to have the whole year through; in particular, currant tarts65, and minced66 veal67, and mashed68 potatoes. I’ve been determined upon that these three years, for against I was married.’
Then, taking Camilla by the hand, she begged she would accompany her to next room, saying, ‘Pray excuse me, Aunt Arlbery, because I want to talk to Miss Tyrold about a secret.’
When they came to another apartment, after carefully shutting the door, ‘Only think,’ she cried, ‘Miss Camilla Tyrold, of my marrying Mr. Lissin at last! Pray did you ever suspect it? I’m sure I did not. When papa told me of it, you can’t think how I was surprised. I always thought it would have been Colonel Andover, or Mr. Macdersey, or else Mr. Summers; unless it had been Mr. Wiggan; or else your brother; but Mr. Lissin never once came into my head, because of his being so old. I dare say he’s seven and twenty! only think!–But I believe he and papa had settled it all along, only papa never told it me, till just before hand. I don’t like him much; do you?’
‘I have not the pleasure to know him: but. 1 hope you will endeavour to like him better, now.’
‘I don’t much care whether I do or not, for I shall never mind him. I always determined never to mind a husband. One minds one’s papa because one can’t help it: But only think of my being married before you! though you’re seventeen years old-almost eighteen, I dare say-and I’m only just fifteen. I could not help thinking of it all the time I was dressing69 for a bride. You can’t think how pretty my dress was. Papa made Mrs. Mittin buy it, because, he said, she could get every thing so cheap: but I made her get it the dearest she could, for all that. Papa’s monstrous stingy.’
This secret conference was broken up by a violent ringing at the gate, succeeded by the appearance of Mr. Lissin, who, without any ceremony, opened the door of the chamber70 into which the ladies had retired71.
‘So, ma’am!’ said he, visibly very angry, ‘I have the pleasure at last to find you! dinner has waited till it is spoilt, and I hope, therefore, now, you will do us the favour to come and sit at the head of your table.’
She looked frightened, and he took her hand, which she had not courage to draw back, though in a voice that spoke a sob72 near at hand, ‘I’m sure,’ she cried, ‘this is not being treated like a married woman! and I’m sure if I’d known I might not do as I like, and come out when I’d a mind, I would not have married at all!’
Mr. Lissin, with little or no apology to Mrs. Arlbery, then conveyed his fair bride to her coach.
‘Poor simple girl!’ exclaimed Mrs. Arlbery. ‘Mr. Lissin, who is a country squire73 of Northwick, will soon teach her another lesson, than that of ordering her carriage just at dinner time! The poor child took it into her head that, because, upon marrying, she might say, “my house,” “my coach,” and “my servants,” instead of “my papa’s ;” and ring her bell for she pleased, and give her own orders, that she was to arrive at complete liberty and independence, and that her husband had merely to give her his name, and lodge74 in the same dwelling75: and she will regard him soon, as a tyrant76 and a brute77, for not letting her play all day long the part of a wild school girl, just come home for the holidays.’
The rest of the visit passed without further investigation78 on the part of Mrs. Arlbery, or embarrassment79 on that of Camilla; who found again some little pleasure in the conversation which, at first, had so much charmed, and the kindness which even her apparent neglect had not extinguished.
* * *
Mrs. Arlbery, in two days, claimed her again. Mr. Tyrold would not permit her to send an excuse, and she found that lady more kindly disposed to her than ever; but with an undisguised compassion and concern in her countenance and manner. She had now learnt that Edgar was gone abroad; and she had learnt that Camilla had private debts, to the amount of one hundred and eighteen pounds.
The shock of Camilla, when spoken to upon this subject, was terrible. She soon gathered, she had been betrayed by Mrs. Mittin, who, though she had made the communication as a profound secret to Mrs. Arlbery, with whom she had met at Mrs. Lissin’s , there was every reason to suppose would whisper it, in the same manner, to an hundred persons besides.
Mrs. Arlbery, seeing her just uneasiness, promised, in this particular, to obviate80 it herself, by a conference with Mrs. Mittin, in which she would represent, that her own ruin would be the consequence of divulging81 this affair, from the general opinion which would prevail, that she had seduced82 a young lady under age, to having dealings with a usurer.
Camilla, deeply colouring, accepted her kind offer; but was forced upon a confession83 of the transaction; though with a shame for her trust in such a character as Mrs. Mittin, that made her deem the relation a penance84 almost adequate to its wrong.
1 abate | |
vi.(风势,疼痛等)减弱,减轻,减退 | |
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2 exhortations | |
n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 );极力推荐;(正式的)演讲;(宗教仪式中的)劝诫 | |
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3 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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4 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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5 retirement | |
n.退休,退职 | |
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6 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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7 unison | |
n.步调一致,行动一致 | |
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8 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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9 venial | |
adj.可宽恕的;轻微的 | |
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10 exclusion | |
n.拒绝,排除,排斥,远足,远途旅行 | |
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11 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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12 sequester | |
vt.使退隐,使隔绝 | |
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13 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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14 regain | |
vt.重新获得,收复,恢复 | |
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15 par | |
n.标准,票面价值,平均数量;adj.票面的,平常的,标准的 | |
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16 licentious | |
adj.放纵的,淫乱的 | |
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17 patrimony | |
n.世袭财产,继承物 | |
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18 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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19 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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20 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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21 enquiring | |
a.爱打听的,显得好奇的 | |
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22 relinquished | |
交出,让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 ); 放弃 | |
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23 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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24 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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25 revival | |
n.复兴,复苏,(精力、活力等的)重振 | |
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26 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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27 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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28 remissness | |
n.玩忽职守;马虎;怠慢;不小心 | |
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29 complimentary | |
adj.赠送的,免费的,赞美的,恭维的 | |
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30 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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31 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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32 malice | |
n.恶意,怨恨,蓄意;[律]预谋 | |
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33 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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34 abominable | |
adj.可厌的,令人憎恶的 | |
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35 fickleness | |
n.易变;无常;浮躁;变化无常 | |
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36 citation | |
n.引用,引证,引用文;传票 | |
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37 ponies | |
矮种马,小型马( pony的名词复数 ); £25 25 英镑 | |
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38 rumour | |
n.谣言,谣传,传闻 | |
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39 prating | |
v.(古时用语)唠叨,啰唆( prate的现在分词 ) | |
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40 factotum | |
n.杂役;听差 | |
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41 spoke | |
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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42 divulged | |
v.吐露,泄露( divulge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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44 ingratitude | |
n.忘恩负义 | |
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45 rejection | |
n.拒绝,被拒,抛弃,被弃 | |
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46 darting | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的现在分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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47 delectable | |
adj.使人愉快的;美味的 | |
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48 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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49 solicited | |
v.恳求( solicit的过去式和过去分词 );(指娼妇)拉客;索求;征求 | |
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50 solicitation | |
n.诱惑;揽货;恳切地要求;游说 | |
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51 enquire | |
v.打听,询问;调查,查问 | |
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52 concealing | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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53 abortive | |
adj.不成功的,发育不全的 | |
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54 pedant | |
n.迂儒;卖弄学问的人 | |
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55 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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56 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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57 rattle | |
v.飞奔,碰响;激怒;n.碰撞声;拨浪鼓 | |
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58 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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59 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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60 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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61 meddling | |
v.干涉,干预(他人事务)( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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62 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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63 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
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64 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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65 tarts | |
n.果馅饼( tart的名词复数 );轻佻的女人;妓女;小妞 | |
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66 minced | |
v.切碎( mince的过去式和过去分词 );剁碎;绞碎;用绞肉机绞(食物,尤指肉) | |
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67 veal | |
n.小牛肉 | |
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68 mashed | |
a.捣烂的 | |
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69 dressing | |
n.(食物)调料;包扎伤口的用品,敷料 | |
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70 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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71 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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72 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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73 squire | |
n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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74 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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75 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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76 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
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77 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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78 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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79 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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80 obviate | |
v.除去,排除,避免,预防 | |
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81 divulging | |
v.吐露,泄露( divulge的现在分词 ) | |
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82 seduced | |
诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 ); 勾引; 诱使堕落; 使入迷 | |
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83 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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84 penance | |
n.(赎罪的)惩罪 | |
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