I live at No. —— Twenty-sixth Street, in New York. The house is in some respects a curious one. It has enjoyed for the last two years the reputation of being haunted. It is a large and stately residence, surrounded by what was once a garden, but which is now only a green enclosure used for bleaching4 clothes. The dry basin of what has been a fountain, and a few fruit trees ragged5 and unpruned, indicate that this spot in past days was a pleasant, shady retreat, filled with fruits and flowers and the sweet murmur6 of waters.
The house is very spacious7. A hall of noble size leads to a large spiral staircase winding8 through its center, while the various apartments are of imposing9 dimensions. It was built some fifteen or twenty years since by Mr. A——, the well-known New York merchant, who five years ago threw the commercial world into convulsions by a stupendous bank fraud. Mr. A——, as everyone knows, escaped to Europe, and died not long after, of a broken heart. Almost immediately after the news of his decease reached this country and was verified, the report spread in Twenty-sixth Street that No. —— was haunted. Legal measures had dispossessed the widow of its former owner, and it was inhabited merely by a caretaker and his wife, placed there by the house agent into whose hands it had passed for the purposes of renting or sale. These people declared that they were troubled with unnatural12 noises. Doors were opened without any visible agency. The remnants of furniture scattered13 through the various rooms were, during the night, piled one upon the other by unknown hands. Invisible feet passed up and down the stairs in broad daylight, accompanied by the rustle14 of unseen silk dresses, and the gliding15 of viewless hands along the massive balusters. The caretaker and his wife declared they would live there no longer. The house agent laughed, dismissed them, and put others in their place. The noises and supernatural manifestations16 continued. The neighborhood caught up the story, and the house remained untenanted for three years. Several persons negotiated for it; but, somehow, always before the bargain was closed they heard the unpleasant rumors17 and declined to treat any further.
It was in this state of things that my landlady18, who at that time kept a boarding-house in Bleecker Street, and who wished to move further up town, conceived the bold idea of renting No. —— Twenty-sixth Street. Happening to have in her house rather a plucky19 and philosophical20 set of boarders, she laid her scheme before us, stating candidly21 everything she had heard respecting the ghostly qualities of the establishment to which she wished to remove us. With the exception of two timid persons,—a sea-captain and a returned Californian, who immediately gave notice that they would leave,—all of Mrs. Moffat's guests declared that they would accompany her in her chivalric22 incursion into the abode23 of spirits.
Our removal was effected in the month of May, and we were charmed with our new residence. The portion of Twenty-sixth Street where our house is situated24, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues, is one of the pleasantest localities in New York. The gardens back of the houses, running down nearly to the Hudson, form, in the summer time, a perfect avenue of verdure. The air is pure and invigorating, sweeping25, as it does, straight across the river from the Weehawken heights, and even the ragged garden which surrounded the house, although displaying on washing days rather too much clothesline, still gave us a piece of greensward to look at, and a cool retreat in the summer evenings, where we smoked our cigars in the dusk, and watched the fireflies flashing their dark lanterns in the long grass.
Of course we had no sooner established ourselves at No. —— than we began to expect ghosts. We absolutely awaited their advent26 with eagerness. Our dinner conversation was supernatural. One of the boarders, who had purchased Mrs. Crowe's Night Side of Nature for his own private delectation, was regarded as a public enemy by the entire household for not having bought twenty copies. The man led a life of supreme27 wretchedness while he was reading this volume. A system of espionage29 was established, of which he was the victim. If he incautiously laid the book down for an instant and left the room, it was immediately seized and read aloud in secret places to a select few. I found myself a person of immense importance, it having leaked out that I was tolerably well versed30 in the history of supernaturalism, and had once written a story the foundation of which was a ghost. If a table or a wainscot panel happened to warp31 when we were assembled in the large drawing-room, there was an instant silence, and everyone was prepared for an immediate10 clanking of chains and a spectral32 form.
After a month of psychological excitement, it was with the utmost dissatisfaction that we were forced to acknowledge that nothing in the remotest degree approaching the supernatural had manifested itself. Once the black butler asseverated33 that his candle had been blown out by some invisible agency while he was undressing himself for the night; but as I had more than once discovered this colored gentleman in a condition when one candle must have appeared to him like two, thought it possible that, by going a step further in his potations, he might have reversed this phenomenon, and seen no candle at all where he ought to have beheld34 one.
Things were in this state when an accident took place so awful and inexplicable35 in its character that my reason fairly reels at the bare memory of the occurrence. It was the tenth of July. After dinner was over I repaired, with my friend Dr. Hammond, to the garden to smoke my evening pipe. Independent of certain mental sympathies which existed between the Doctor and myself, we were linked together by a vice36. We both smoked opium37. We knew each other's secret, and respected it. We enjoyed together that wonderful expansion of thought, that marvelous intensifying38 of the perceptive39 faculties40, that boundless41 feeling of existence when we seem to have points of contact with the whole universe,—in short, that unimaginable spiritual bliss42, which I would not surrender for a throne, and which I hope you, reader, will never—never taste.
Those hours of opium happiness which the Doctor and I spent together in secret were regulated with a scientific accuracy. We did not blindly smoke the drug of paradise, and leave our dreams to chance. While smoking, we carefully steered43 our conversation through the brightest and calmest channels of thought. We talked of the East, and endeavored to recall the magical panorama44 of its glowing scenery. We criticized the most sensuous45 poets,—those who painted life ruddy with health, brimming with passion, happy in the possession of youth and strength and beauty. If we talked of Shakespeare's Tempest, we lingered over Ariel, and avoided Caliban. Like the Guebers, we turned our faces to the East, and saw only the sunny side of the world.
This skillful coloring of our train of thought produced in our subsequent visions a corresponding tone. The splendors46 of Arabian fairyland dyed our dreams. We paced the narrow strip of grass with the tread and port of kings. The song of the Rana arborea, while he clung to the bark of the ragged plum-tree, sounded like the strains of divine musicians. Houses, walls, and streets melted like rain clouds, and vistas47 of unimaginable glory stretched away before us. It was a rapturous companionship. We enjoyed the vast delight more perfectly48 because, even in our most ecstatic moments, we were conscious of each other's presence. Our pleasures, while individual, were still twin, vibrating and moving in musical accord.
On the evening in question, the tenth of July, the Doctor and myself drifted into an unusually metaphysical mood. We lit our large meerschaums, filled with fine Turkish tobacco, in the core of which burned a little black nut of opium, that, like the nut in the fairy tale, held within its narrow limits wonders beyond the reach of kings; we paced to and fro, conversing49. A strange perversity50 dominated the currents of our thought. They would not flow through the sun-lit channels into which we strove to divert them. For some unaccountable reason, they constantly diverged51 into dark and lonesome beds, where a continual gloom brooded. It was in vain that, after our old fashion, we flung ourselves on the shores of the East, and talked of its gay bazaars52, of the splendors of the time of Haroun, of harems and golden palaces. Black afreets continually arose from the depths of our talk, and expanded, like the one the fisherman released from the copper53 vessel54, until they blotted55 everything bright from our vision. Insensibly, we yielded to the occult force that swayed us, and indulged in gloomy speculation56. We had talked some time upon the proneness57 of the human mind to mysticism, and the almost universal love of the terrible, when Hammond suddenly said to me. "What do you consider to be the greatest element of terror?"
The question puzzled me. That many things were terrible, I knew. Stumbling over a corpse58 in the dark; beholding59, as I once did, a woman floating down a deep and rapid river, with wildly lifted arms, and awful, upturned face, uttering, as she drifted, shrieks60 that rent one's heart while we, spectators, stood frozen at a window which overhung the river at a height of sixty feet, unable to make the slightest effort to save her, but dumbly watching her last supreme agony and her disappearance61. A shattered wreck62, with no life visible, encountered floating listlessly on the ocean, is a terrible object, for it suggests a huge terror, the proportions of which are veiled. But it now struck me, for the first time, that there must be one great and ruling embodiment of fear,—a King of Terrors, to which all others must succumb63. What might it be? To what train of circumstances would it owe its existence?
"I confess, Hammond," I replied to my friend, "I never considered the subject before. That there must be one Something more terrible than any other thing, I feel. I cannot attempt, however, even the most vague definition."
"I am somewhat like you, Harry64," he answered. "I feel my capacity to experience a terror greater than anything yet conceived by the human mind;—something combining in fearful and unnatural amalgamation65 hitherto supposed incompatible66 elements. The calling of the voices in Brockden Brown's novel of Wieland is awful; so is the picture of the Dweller67 of the Threshold, in Bulwer's Zanoni; but," he added, shaking his head gloomily, "there is something more horrible still than those."
"Look here, Hammond," I rejoined, "let us drop this kind of talk, for Heaven's sake! We shall suffer for it, depend on it."
"I don't know what's the matter with me to-night," he replied, "but my brain is running upon all sorts of weird68 and awful thoughts. I feel as if I could write a story like Hoffman, to-night, if I were only master of a literary style."
"Well, if we are going to be Hoffmanesque in our talk, I'm off to bed. Opium and nightmares should never be brought together. How sultry it is! Good-night, Hammond."
"Good-night, Harry. Pleasant dreams to you."
We parted, and each sought his respective chamber69. I undressed quickly and got into bed, taking with me, according to my usual custom, a book, over which I generally read myself to sleep. I opened the volume as soon as I had laid my head upon the pillow, and instantly flung it to the other side of the room. It was Goudon's History of Monsters,—a curious French work, which I had lately imported from Paris, but which, in the state of mind I had then reached, was anything but an agreeable companion. I resolved to go to sleep at once; so, turning down my gas until nothing but a little blue point of light glimmered70 on the top of the tube, I composed myself to rest.
The room was in total darkness. The atom of gas that still remained alight did not illuminate71 a distance of three inches round the burner. I desperately72 drew my arm across my eyes, as if to shut out even the darkness, and tried to think of nothing. It was in vain. The confounded themes touched on by Hammond in the garden kept obtruding73 themselves on my brain. I battled against them. I erected74 ramparts of would-be blackness of intellect to keep them out. They still crowded upon me. While I was lying still as a corpse, hoping that by a perfect physical inaction I should hasten mental repose75, an awful incident occurred. A Something dropped, as it seemed, from the ceiling, plumb76 upon my chest, and the next instant I felt two bony hands encircling my throat, endeavoring to choke me.
I am no coward, and am possessed11 of considerable physical strength. The suddenness of the attack, instead of stunning77 me, strung every nerve to its highest tension. My body acted from instinct, before my brain had time to realize the terrors of my position. In an instant I wound two muscular arms around the creature, and squeezed it, with all the strength of despair, against my chest. In a few seconds the bony hands that had fastened on my throat loosened their hold, and I was free to breathe once more. Then commenced a struggle of awful intensity78. Immersed in the most profound darkness, totally ignorant of the nature of the Thing by which I was so suddenly attacked, finding my grasp slipping every moment, by reason, it seemed to me, of the entire nakedness of my assailant, bitten with sharp teeth in the shoulder, neck, and chest, having every moment to protect my throat against a pair of sinewy79, agile80 hands, which my utmost efforts could not confine,—these were a combination of circumstances to combat which required all the strength, skill, and courage that I possessed.
At last, after a silent, deadly, exhausting struggle, I got my assailant under by a series of incredible efforts of strength. Once pinned, with my knee on what I made out to be its chest, I knew that I was victor. I rested for a moment to breathe. I heard the creature beneath me panting in the darkness, and felt the violent throbbing81 of a heart. It was apparently82 as exhausted83 as I was; that was one comfort. At this moment I remembered that I usually placed under my pillow, before going to bed, a large yellow silk pocket handkerchief. I felt for it instantly; it was there. In a few seconds more I had, after a fashion, pinioned84 the creature's arms.
I now felt tolerably secure. There was nothing more to be done but to turn on the gas, and, having first seen what my midnight assailant was like, arouse the household. I will confess to being actuated by a certain pride in not giving the alarm before; I wished to make the capture alone and unaided.
Never losing my hold for an instant, I slipped from the bed to the floor, dragging my captive with me. I had but a few steps to make to reach the gas-burner; these I made with the greatest caution, holding the creature in a grip like a vice. At last I got within arm's length of the tiny speck85 of blue light which told me where the gas-burner lay. Quick as lightning I released my grasp with one hand and let on the full flood of light. Then I turned to look at my captive.
I cannot even attempt to give any definition of my sensations the instant after I turned on the gas. I suppose I must have shrieked86 with terror, for in less than a minute afterward87 my room was crowded with the inmates88 of the house. I shudder89 now as I think of that awful moment. I saw nothing! Yes; I had one arm firmly clasped round a breathing, panting, corporeal90 shape, my other hand gripped with all its strength a throat as warm, as apparently fleshy, as my own; and yet, with this living substance in my grasp, with its body pressed against my own, and all in the bright glare of a large jet of gas, I absolutely beheld nothing! Not even an outline,—a vapor91!
I do not, even at this hour, realize the situation in which I found myself. I cannot recall the astounding92 incident thoroughly93. Imagination in vain tries to compass the awful paradox94.
It breathed. I felt its warm breath upon my cheek. It struggled fiercely. It had hands. They clutched me. Its skin was smooth, like my own. There it lay, pressed close up against me, solid as stone,—and yet utterly95 invisible!
I wonder that I did not faint or go mad on the instant. Some wonderful instinct must have sustained me; for, absolutely, in place of loosening my hold on the terrible Enigma96, I seemed to gain an additional strength in my moment of horror, and tightened97 my grasp with such wonderful force that I felt the creature shivering with agony.
Just then Hammond entered my room at the head of the household. As soon as he beheld my face—which, I suppose, must have been an awful sight to look at—he hastened forward, crying, "Great heaven, Harry! what has happened?"
"Hammond! Hammond!" I cried, "come here. O, this is awful! I have been attacked in bed by something or other, which I have hold of; but I can't see it,—I can't see it!"
Hammond, doubtless struck by the unfeigned horror expressed in my countenance98, made one or two steps forward with an anxious yet puzzled expression. A very audible titter burst from the remainder of my visitors. This suppressed laughter made me furious. To laugh at a human being in my position! It was the worst species of cruelty. Now, I can understand why the appearance of a man struggling violently, as it would seem, with an airy nothing, and calling for assistance against a vision, should have appeared ludicrous. Then, so great was my rage against the mocking crowd that had I the power I would have stricken them dead where they stood.
"Hammond! Hammond!" I cried again, despairingly, "for God's sake come to me. I can hold the—the thing but a short while longer. It is overpowering me. Help me! Help me!"
"Harry," whispered Hammond, approaching me, "you have been smoking too much opium."
"I swear to you, Hammond, that this is no vision," I answered, in the same low tone. "Don't you see how it shakes my whole frame with its struggles? If you don't believe me, convince yourself. Feel it,—touch it."
Hammond advanced and laid his hand in the spot I indicated. A wild cry of horror burst from him. He had felt it!
In a moment he had discovered somewhere in my room a long piece of cord, and was the next instant winding it and knotting it about the body of the unseen being that I clasped in my arms.
"Harry," he said, in a hoarse99, agitated100 voice, for, though he preserved his presence of mind, he was deeply moved, "Harry, it's all safe now. You may let go, old fellow, if you're tired. The Thing can't move."
I was utterly exhausted, and I gladly loosed my hold.
Hammond stood holding the ends of the cord that bound the Invisible, twisted round his hand, while before him, self-supporting as it were, he beheld a rope laced and interlaced, and stretching tightly around a vacant space. I never saw a man look so thoroughly stricken with awe101. Nevertheless his face expressed all the courage and determination which I knew him to possess. His lips, although white, were set firmly, and one could perceive at a glance that, although stricken with fear, he was not daunted102.
The confusion that ensued among the guests of the house who were witnesses of this extraordinary scene between Hammond and myself,—who beheld the pantomime of binding103 this struggling Something,—who beheld me almost sinking from physical exhaustion104 when my task of jailer was over,—the confusion and terror that took possession of the bystanders, when they saw all this, was beyond description. The weaker ones fled from the apartment. The few who remained clustered near the door and could not be induced to approach Hammond and his Charge. Still incredulity broke out through their terror. They had not the courage to satisfy themselves, and yet they doubted. It was in vain that I begged of some of the men to come near and convince themselves by touch of the existence in that room of a living being which was invisible. They were incredulous, but did not dare to undeceive themselves. How could a solid, living, breathing body be invisible, they asked. My reply was this. I gave a sign to Hammond, and both of us—conquering our fearful repugnance105 to touch the invisible creature—lifted it from the ground, manacled as it was, and took it to my bed. Its weight was about that of a boy of fourteen.
"Now my friends," I said, as Hammond and myself held the creature suspended over the bed, "I can give you self-evident proof that here is a solid, ponderable body, which, nevertheless, you cannot see. Be good enough to watch the surface of the bed attentively106."
I was astonished at my own courage in treating this strange event so calmly; but I had recovered from my first terror, and felt a sort of scientific pride in the affair, which dominated every other feeling.
The eyes of the bystanders were immediately fixed107 on my bed. At a given signal Hammond and I let the creature fall. There was a dull sound of a heavy body alighting on a soft mass. The timbers of the bed creaked. A deep impression marked itself distinctly on the pillow, and on the bed itself. The crowd who witnessed this gave a low cry, and rushed from the room. Hammond and I were left alone with our Mystery.
We remained silent for some time, listening to the low, irregular breathing of the creature on the bed, and watching the rustle of the bedclothes as it impotently struggled to free itself from confinement108. Then Hammond spoke109.
"Harry, this is awful."
"Ay, awful."
"But not unaccountable."
"Not unaccountable! What do you mean? Such a thing has never occurred since the birth of the world. I know not what to think, Hammond. God grant that I am not mad, and that this is not an insane fantasy!"
"Let us reason a little, Harry. Here is a solid body which we touch, but which we cannot see. The fact is so unusual that it strikes us with terror. Is there no parallel, though, for such a phenomenon? Take a piece of pure glass. It is tangible110 and transparent111. A certain chemical coarseness is all that prevents its being so entirely112 transparent as to be totally invisible. It is not theoretically impossible, mind you, to make a glass which shall not reflect a single ray of light,—a glass so pure and homogeneous in its atoms that the rays from the sun will pass through it as they do through the air, refracted but not reflected. We do not see the air, and yet we feel it."
"That's all very well, Hammond, but these are inanimate substances. Glass does not breathe, air does not breathe. This thing has a heart that palpitates,—a will that moves it,—lungs that play, and inspire and respire."
"You forget the phenomena113 of which we have so often heard of late," answered the Doctor, gravely. "At the meetings called 'spirit circles,' invisible hands have been thrust into the hands of those persons round the table,—warm, fleshly hands that seemed to pulsate114 with mortal life."
"What? Do you think, then, that this thing is——"
"I don't know what it is," was the solemn reply; "but please the gods I will, with your assistance, thoroughly investigate it."
We watched together, smoking many pipes, all night long, by the bedside of the unearthly being that tossed and panted until it was apparently wearied out. Then we learned by the low, regular breathing that it slept.
The next morning the house was all astir. The boarders congregated115 on the landing outside my room, and Hammond and myself were lions. We had to answer a thousand questions as to the state of our extraordinary prisoner, for as yet not one person in the house except ourselves could be induced to set foot in the apartment.
The creature was awake. This was evidenced by the convulsive manner in which the bedclothes were moved in its efforts to escape. There was something truly terrible in beholding, as it were, those second-hand116 indications of the terrible writhings and agonized117 struggles for liberty which themselves were invisible.
Hammond and myself had racked our brains during the long night to discover some means by which we might realize the shape and general appearance of the Enigma. As well as we could make out by passing our hands over the creature's form, its outlines and lineaments were human. There was a mouth; a round, smooth head without hair; a nose, which, however, was little elevated above the cheeks; and its hands and feet felt like those of a boy. At first we thought of placing the being on a smooth surface and tracing its outlines with chalk, as shoemakers trace the outline of the foot. This plan was given up as being of no value. Such an outline would give not the slightest idea of its conformation.
A happy thought struck me. We would take a cast of it in plaster of Paris. This would give us the solid figure, and satisfy all our wishes. But how to do it? The movements of the creature would disturb the setting of the plastic covering, and distort the mold. Another thought. Why not give it chloroform? It had respiratory organs,—that was evident by its breathing. Once reduced to a state of insensibility, we could do with it what we would. Doctor X—— was sent for; and after the worthy118 physician had recovered from the first shock of amazement119, he proceeded to administer the chloroform. In three minutes afterward we were enabled to remove the fetters120 from the creature's body, and a modeler was busily engaged in covering the invisible form with the moist clay. In five minutes more we had a mold, and before evening a rough facsimile of the Mystery. It was shaped like a man—distorted, uncouth121, and horrible, but still a man. It was small, not over four feet and some inches in height, and its limbs revealed a muscular development that was unparalleled. Its face surpassed in hideousness122 anything I had ever seen. Gustav Doré, or Callot, or Tony Johannot, never conceived anything so horrible. There is a face in one of the latter's illustrations to Un Voyage où il vous plaira, which somewhat approaches the countenance of this creature, but does not equal it. It was the physiognomy of what I should fancy a ghoul might be. It looked as if it was capable of feeding on human flesh.
Having satisfied our curiosity, and bound every one in the house to secrecy123, it became a question what was to be done with our Enigma? It was impossible that we should keep such a horror in our house; it was equally impossible that such an awful being should be let loose upon the world. I confess that I would have gladly voted for the creature's destruction. But who would shoulder the responsibility? Who would undertake the execution of this horrible semblance124 of a human being? Day after day this question was deliberated gravely. The boarders all left the house. Mrs. Moffat was in despair, and threatened Hammond and myself with all sorts of legal penalties if we did not remove the Horror. Our answer was, "We will go if you like, but we decline taking this creature with us. Remove it yourself if you please. It appeared in your house. On you the responsibility rests." To this there was, of course, no answer. Mrs. Moffat could not obtain for love or money a person who would even approach the Mystery.
The most singular part of the affair was that we were entirely ignorant of what the creature habitually125 fed on. Everything in the way of nutriment that we could think of was placed before it, but was never touched. It was awful to stand by, day after day, and see the clothes toss, and hear the hard breathing, and know that it was starving.
Ten, twelve days, a fortnight passed, and it still lived. The pulsations of the heart, however, were daily growing fainter, and had now nearly ceased. It was evident that the creature was dying for want of sustenance126. While this terrible life-struggle was going on, I felt miserable127. I could not sleep. Horrible as the creature was, it was pitiful to think of the pangs128 it was suffering.
At last it died. Hammond and I found it cold and stiff one morning in the bed. The heart had ceased to beat, the lungs to inspire. We hastened to bury it in the garden. It was a strange funeral, the dropping of that viewless corpse into the damp hole. The cast of its form I gave to Doctor X——, who keeps it in his museum in Tenth Street.
As I am on the eve of a long journey from which I may not return, I have drawn129 up this narrative of an event the most singular that has ever come to my knowledge.
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narrate
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straightforward
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bleaching
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ragged
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murmur
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spacious
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winding
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immediate
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possessed
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unnatural
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scattered
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rustle
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gliding
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manifestations
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rumors
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landlady
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plucky
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philosophical
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situated
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sweeping
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advent
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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28
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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29
espionage
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| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
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30
versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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31
warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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32
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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33
asseverated
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| v.郑重声明，断言( asseverate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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35
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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36
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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37
opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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38
intensifying
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的现在分词 )；增辉 | |
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39
perceptive
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| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
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40
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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41
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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42
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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43
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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44
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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45
sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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46
splendors
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| n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 )；壮丽；光辉；显赫 | |
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47
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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48
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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49
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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50
perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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51
diverged
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| 分开( diverge的过去式和过去分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
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52
bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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53
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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54
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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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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56
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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57
proneness
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| n.俯伏，倾向 | |
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58
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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59
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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60
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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61
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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62
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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63
succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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64
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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amalgamation
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| n.合并，重组；；汞齐化 | |
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66
incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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illuminate
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| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
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72
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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73
obtruding
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| v.强行向前，强行，强迫( obtrude的现在分词 ) | |
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74
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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75
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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76
plumb
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| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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77
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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78
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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79
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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80
agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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81
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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82
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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83
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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84
pinioned
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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86
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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88
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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89
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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90
corporeal
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| adj.肉体的，身体的；物质的 | |
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91
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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92
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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93
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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94
paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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95
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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96
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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97
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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98
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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99
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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100
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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101
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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102
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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104
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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105
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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106
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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107
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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108
confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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109
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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110
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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111
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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112
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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113
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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114
pulsate
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| v.有规律的跳动 | |
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115
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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117
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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118
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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119
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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120
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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121
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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122
hideousness
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123
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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124
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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125
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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126
sustenance
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| n.食物，粮食；生活资料；生计 | |
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127
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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128
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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129
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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