A few days after the engagement was announced Mrs. Honeychurch made Lucy and her Fiasco come to a little garden-party in the neighbourhood, for naturally she wanted to show people that her daughter was marrying a presentable man.
Cecil was more than presentable; he looked distinguished1, and it was very pleasant to see his slim figure keeping step with Lucy, and his long, fair face responding when Lucy spoke2 to him. People congratulated Mrs. Honeychurch, which is, I believe, a social blunder, but it pleased her, and she introduced Cecil rather indiscriminately to some stuffy3 dowagers.
At tea a misfortune took place: a cup of coffee was upset over Lucy's figured silk, and though Lucy feigned4 indifference5, her mother feigned nothing of the sort but dragged her indoors to have the frock treated by a sympathetic maid. They were gone some time, and Cecil was left with the dowagers. When they returned he was not as pleasant as he had been.
"Do you go to much of this sort of thing?" he asked when they were driving home.
"Oh, now and then," said Lucy, who had rather enjoyed herself.
"Is it typical of country society?"
"I suppose so. Mother, would it be?"
"Plenty of society," said Mrs. Honeychurch, who was trying to remember the hang of one of the dresses.
Seeing that her thoughts were elsewhere, Cecil bent6 towards Lucy and said:
"To me it seemed perfectly7 appalling8, disastrous9, portentous10."
"I am so sorry that you were stranded11."
"Not that, but the congratulations. It is so disgusting, the way an engagement is regarded as public property--a kind of waste place where every outsider may shoot his vulgar sentiment. All those old women smirking12!"
"One has to go through it, I suppose. They won't notice us so much next time."
"But my point is that their whole attitude is wrong. An engagement--horrid word in the first place--is a private matter, and should be treated as such."
Yet the smirking old women, however wrong individually, were racially correct. The spirit of the generations had smiled through them, rejoicing in the engagement of Cecil and Lucy because it promised the continuance of life on earth. To Cecil and Lucy it promised something quite different--personal love. Hence Cecil's irritation13 and Lucy's belief that his irritation was just.
"How tiresome14!" she said. "Couldn't you have escaped to tennis?"
"I don't play tennis--at least, not in public. The neighbourhood is deprived of the romance of me being athletic15. Such romance as I have is that of the Inglese Italianato."
"Inglese Italianato?"
"E un diavolo incarnato! You know the proverb?"
She did not. Nor did it seem applicable to a young man who had spent a quiet winter in Rome with his mother. But Cecil, since his engagement, had taken to affect a cosmopolitan16 naughtiness which he was far from possessing.
"Well," said he, "I cannot help it if they do disapprove17 of me. There are certain irremovable barriers between myself and them, and I must accept them."
"We all have our limitations, I suppose," said wise Lucy.
"Sometimes they are forced on us, though," said Cecil, who saw from her remark that she did not quite understand his position.
"How?"
"It makes a difference doesn't it, whether we fully18 fence ourselves in, or whether we are fenced out by the barriers of others?"
She thought a moment, and agreed that it did make a difference.
"Difference?" cried Mrs. Honeychurch, suddenly alert. "I don't see any difference. Fences are fences, especially when they are in the same place."
"We were speaking of motives19," said Cecil, on whom the interruption jarred.
"My dear Cecil, look here." She spread out her knees and perched her card-case on her lap. "This is me. That's Windy Corner. The rest of the pattern is the other people. Motives are all very well, but the fence comes here."
"We weren't talking of real fences," said Lucy, laughing.
"Oh, I see, dear--poetry."
She leant placidly20 back. Cecil wondered why Lucy had been amused.
"I tell you who has no 'fences,' as you call them," she said, "and that's Mr. Beebe."
"A parson fenceless would mean a parson defenceless."
Lucy was slow to follow what people said, but quick enough to detect what they meant. She missed Cecil's epigram, but grasped the feeling that prompted it.
"Don't you like Mr. Beebe?" she asked thoughtfully.
"I never said so!" he cried. "I consider him far above the average. I only denied--" And he swept off on the subject of fences again, and was brilliant.
"Now, a clergyman that I do hate," said she wanting to say something sympathetic, "a clergyman that does have fences, and the most dreadful ones, is Mr. Eager, the English chaplain at Florence. He was truly insincere--not merely the manner unfortunate. He was a snob21, and so conceited22, and he did say such unkind things."
"What sort of things?"
"There was an old man at the Bertolini whom he said had murdered his wife."
"Perhaps he had."
"No!"
"Why 'no'?"
"He was such a nice old man, I'm sure."
Cecil laughed at her feminine inconsequence.
"Well, I did try to sift23 the thing. Mr. Eager would never come to the point. He prefers it vague--said the old man had 'practically' murdered his wife--had murdered her in the sight of God."
"Hush24, dear!" said Mrs. Honeychurch absently. "But isn't it intolerable that a person whom we're told to imitate should go round spreading slander25? It was, I believe, chiefly owing to him that the old man was dropped. People pretended he was vulgar, but he certainly wasn't that."
"Poor old man! What was his name?"
"Let's hope that Mrs. Harris there warn't no sich person," said her mother.
Cecil nodded intelligently.
"Isn't Mr. Eager a parson of the cultured type?" he asked.
"I don't know. I hate him. I've heard him lecture on Giotto. I hate him. Nothing can hide a petty nature. I HATE him."
"My goodness gracious me, child!" said Mrs. Honeychurch. "You'll blow my head off! Whatever is there to shout over? I forbid you and Cecil to hate any more clergymen."
He smiled. There was indeed something rather incongruous in Lucy's moral outburst over Mr. Eager. It was as if one should see the Leonardo on the ceiling of the Sistine. He longed to hint to her that not here lay her vocation28; that a woman's power and charm reside in mystery, not in muscular rant29. But possibly rant is a sign of vitality30: it mars the beautiful creature, but shows that she is alive. After a moment, he contemplated31 her flushed face and excited gestures with a certain approval. He forebore to repress the sources of youth.
Nature--simplest of topics, he thought--lay around them. He praised the pine-woods, the deep lasts of bracken, the crimson32 leaves that spotted33 the hurt-bushes, the serviceable beauty of the turnpike road. The outdoor world was not very familiar to him, and occasionally he went wrong in a question of fact. Mrs. Honeychurch's mouth twitched34 when he spoke of the perpetual green of the larch35.
"I count myself a lucky person," he concluded, "When I'm in London I feel I could never live out of it. When I'm in the country I feel the same about the country. After all, I do believe that birds and trees and the sky are the most wonderful things in life, and that the people who live amongst them must be the best. It's true that in nine cases out of ten they don't seem to notice anything. The country gentleman and the country labourer are each in their way the most depressing of companions. Yet they may have a tacit sympathy with the workings of Nature which is denied to us of the town. Do you feel that, Mrs. Honeychurch?"
Mrs. Honeychurch started and smiled. She had not been attending. Cecil, who was rather crushed on the front seat of the victoria, felt irritable36, and determined37 not to say anything interesting again.
Lucy had not attended either. Her brow was wrinkled, and she still looked furiously cross--the result, he concluded, of too much moral gymnastics. It was sad to see her thus blind to the beauties of an August wood.
"'Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height,'" he quoted, and touched her knee with his own.
She flushed again and said: "What height?"
"'Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height, What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang). In height and in the splendour of the hills?'
Let us take Mrs. Honeychurch's advice and hate clergymen no more. What's this place?"
"Summer Street, of course," said Lucy, and roused herself.
The woods had opened to leave space for a sloping triangular38 meadow. Pretty cottages lined it on two sides, and the upper and third side was occupied by a new stone church, expensively simple, a charming shingled39 spire40. Mr. Beebe's house was near the church. In height it scarcely exceeded the cottages. Some great mansions41 were at hand, but they were hidden in the trees. The scene suggested a Swiss Alp rather than the shrine42 and centre of a leisured world, and was marred43 only by two ugly little villas44-- the villas that had competed with Cecil's engagement, having been acquired by Sir Harry45 Otway the very afternoon that Lucy had been acquired by Cecil.
"Cissie" was the name of one of these villas, "Albert" of the other. These titles were not only picked out in shaded Gothic on the garden gates, but appeared a second time on the porches, where they followed the semicircular curve of the entrance arch in block capitals. "Albert" was inhabited. His tortured garden was bright with geraniums and lobelias and polished shells. His little windows were chastely46 swathed in Nottingham lace. "Cissie" was to let. Three notice-boards, belonging to Dorking agents, lolled on her fence and announced the not surprising fact. Her paths were already weedy; her pocket-handkerchief of a lawn was yellow with dandelions.
"The place is ruined!" said the ladies mechanically. "Summer Street will never be the same again."
As the carriage passed, "Cissie's" door opened, and a gentleman came out of her.
"Stop!" cried Mrs. Honeychurch, touching47 the coachman with her parasol. "Here's Sir Harry. Now we shall know. Sir Harry, pull those things down at once!"
Sir Harry Otway--who need not be described--came to the carriage and said "Mrs. Honeychurch, I meant to. I can't, I really can't turn out Miss Flack."
"Am I not always right? She ought to have gone before the contract was signed. Does she still live rent free, as she did in her nephew's time?"
"But what can I do?" He lowered his voice. "An old lady, so very vulgar, and almost bedridden."
"Turn her out," said Cecil bravely.
Sir Harry sighed, and looked at the villas mournfully. He had had full warning of Mr. Flack's intentions, and might have bought the plot before building commenced: but he was apathetic48 and dilatory49. He had known Summer Street for so many years that he could not imagine it being spoilt. Not till Mrs. Flack had laid the foundation stone, and the apparition50 of red and cream brick began to rise did he take alarm. He called on Mr. Flack, the local builder,--a most reasonable and respectful man--who agreed that tiles would have made more artistic51 roof, but pointed52 out that slates53 were cheaper. He ventured to differ, however, about the Corinthian columns which were to cling like leeches54 to the frames of the bow windows, saying that, for his part, he liked to relieve the facade55 by a bit of decoration. Sir Harry hinted that a column, if possible, should be structural56 as well as decorative57.
Mr. Flack replied that all the columns had been ordered, adding, "and all the capitals different--one with dragons in the foliage58, another approaching to the Ionian style, another introducing Mrs. Flack's initials--every one different." For he had read his Ruskin. He built his villas according to his desire; and not until he had inserted an immovable aunt into one of them did Sir Harry buy.
This futile59 and unprofitable transaction filled the knight60 with sadness as he leant on Mrs. Honeychurch's carriage. He had failed in his duties to the country-side, and the country-side was laughing at him as well. He had spent money, and yet Summer Street was spoilt as much as ever. All he could do now was to find a desirable tenant61 for "Cissie"--some one really desirable.
"The rent is absurdly low," he told them, "and perhaps I am an easy landlord. But it is such an awkward size. It is too large for the peasant class and too small for any one the least like ourselves."
Cecil had been hesitating whether he should despise the villas or despise Sir Harry for despising them. The latter impulse seemed the more fruitful.
"You ought to find a tenant at once," he said maliciously62. "It would be a perfect paradise for a bank clerk."
"Exactly!" said Sir Harry excitedly. "That is exactly what I fear, Mr. Vyse. It will attract the wrong type of people. The train service has improved--a fatal improvement, to my mind. And what are five miles from a station in these days of bicycles?"
"Rather a strenuous63 clerk it would be," said Lucy.
Cecil, who had his full share of mediaeval mischievousness64, replied that the physique of the lower middle classes was improving at a most appalling rate. She saw that he was laughing at their harmless neighbour, and roused herself to stop him.
"Sir Harry!" she exclaimed, "I have an idea. How would you like spinsters?"
"My dear Lucy, it would be splendid. Do you know any such?"
"Yes; I met them abroad."
"Gentlewomen?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes, indeed, and at the present moment homeless. I heard from them last week--Miss Teresa and Miss Catharine Alan. I'm really not joking. They are quite the right people. Mr. Beebe knows them, too. May I tell them to write to you?"
"Indeed you may!" he cried. "Here we are with the difficulty solved already. How delightful65 it is! Extra facilities--please tell them they shall have extra facilities, for I shall have no agents' fees. Oh, the agents! The appalling people they have sent me! One woman, when I wrote--a tactful letter, you know--asking her to explain her social position to me, replied that she would pay the rent in advance. As if one cares about that! And several references I took up were most unsatisfactory--people swindlers, or not respectable. And oh, the deceit! I have seen a good deal of the seamy side this last week. The deceit of the most promising66 people. My dear Lucy, the deceit!"
She nodded.
"My advice," put in Mrs. Honeychurch, "is to have nothing to do with Lucy and her decayed gentlewomen at all. I know the type. Preserve me from people who have seen better days, and bring heirlooms with them that make the house smell stuffy. It's a sad thing, but I'd far rather let to some one who is going up in the world than to some one who has come down."
"I think I follow you," said Sir Harry; "but it is, as you say, a very sad thing."
"The Misses Alan aren't that!" cried Lucy.
"Yes, they are," said Cecil. "I haven't met them but I should say they were a highly unsuitable addition to the neighbourhood."
"Don't listen to him, Sir Harry--he's tiresome."
"It's I who am tiresome," he replied. "I oughtn't to come with my troubles to young people. But really I am so worried, and Lady Otway will only say that I cannot be too careful, which is quite true, but no real help."
"Then may I write to my Misses Alan?"
"Please!"
But his eye wavered when Mrs. Honeychurch exclaimed:
"Beware! They are certain to have canaries. Sir Harry, beware of canaries: they spit the seed out through the bars of the cages and then the mice come. Beware of women altogether. Only let to a man."
"Really--" he murmured gallantly67, though he saw the wisdom of her remark.
"Men don't gossip over tea-cups. If they get drunk, there's an end of them--they lie down comfortably and sleep it off. If they're vulgar, they somehow keep it to themselves. It doesn't spread so. Give me a man--of course, provided he's clean."
Sir Harry blushed. Neither he nor Cecil enjoyed these open compliments to their sex. Even the exclusion68 of the dirty did not leave them much distinction. He suggested that Mrs. Honeychurch, if she had time, should descend69 from the carriage and inspect "Cissie" for herself. She was delighted. Nature had intended her to be poor and to live in such a house. Domestic arrangements always attracted her, especially when they were on a small scale.
Cecil pulled Lucy back as she followed her mother.
"Mrs. Honeychurch," he said, "what if we two walk home and leave you?"
"Certainly!" was her cordial reply.
Sir Harry likewise seemed almost too glad to get rid of them. He beamed at them knowingly, said, "Aha! young people, young people!" and then hastened to unlock the house.
"Hopeless vulgarian!" exclaimed Cecil, almost before they were out of earshot,
"Oh, Cecil!"
"I can't help it. It would be wrong not to loathe70 that man."
"He isn't clever, but really he is nice."
"No, Lucy, he stands for all that is bad in country life. In London he would keep his place. He would belong to a brainless club, and his wife would give brainless dinner parties. But down here he acts the little god with his gentility, and his patronage71, and his sham72 aesthetics73, and every one--even your mother--is taken in."
"All that you say is quite true," said Lucy, though she felt discouraged. "I wonder whether--whether it matters so very much."
"It matters supremely75. Sir Harry is the essence of that garden-party. Oh, goodness, how cross I feel! How I do hope he'll get some vulgar tenant in that villa--some woman so really vulgar that he'll notice it. GENTLEFOLKS! Ugh! with his bald head and retreating chin! But let's forget him."
This Lucy was glad enough to do. If Cecil disliked Sir Harry Otway and Mr. Beebe, what guarantee was there that the people who really mattered to her would escape? For instance, Freddy. Freddy was neither clever, nor subtle, nor beautiful, and what prevented Cecil from saying, any minute, "It would be wrong not to loathe Freddy"? And what would she reply? Further than Freddy she did not go, but he gave her anxiety enough. She could only assure herself that Cecil had known Freddy some time, and that they had always got on pleasantly, except, perhaps, during the last few days, which was an accident, perhaps.
"Which way shall we go?" she asked him.
Nature--simplest of topics, she thought--was around them. Summer Street lay deep in the woods, and she had stopped where a footpath76 diverged77 from the highroad.
"Are there two ways?"
"Perhaps the road is more sensible, as we're got up smart."
"I'd rather go through the wood," said Cecil, With that subdued78 irritation that she had noticed in him all the afternoon. "Why is it, Lucy, that you always say the road? Do you know that you have never once been with me in the fields or the wood since we were engaged?"
"Haven't I? The wood, then," said Lucy, startled at his queerness, but pretty sure that he would explain later; it was not his habit to leave her in doubt as to his meaning.
She led the way into the whispering pines, and sure enough he did explain before they had gone a dozen yards.
"I had got an idea--I dare say wrongly--that you feel more at home with me in a room."
"A room?" she echoed, hopelessly bewildered.
"Yes. Or, at the most, in a garden, or on a road. Never in the real country like this."
"Oh, Cecil, whatever do you mean? I have never felt anything of the sort. You talk as if I was a kind of poetess sort of person."
"I don't know that you aren't. I connect you with a view--a certain type of view. Why shouldn't you connect me with a room?"
She reflected a moment, and then said, laughing:
"Do you know that you're right? I do. I must be a poetess after all. When I think of you it's always as in a room. How funny!"
To her surprise, he seemed annoyed.
"A drawing-room, pray? With no view?"
"Yes, with no view, I fancy. Why not?"
"I'd rather," he said reproachfully, "that connected me with the open air."
She said again, "Oh, Cecil, whatever do you mean?"
As no explanation was forthcoming, she shook off the subject as too difficult for a girl, and led him further into the wood, pausing every now and then at some particularly beautiful or familiar combination of the trees. She had known the wood between Summer Street and Windy Corner ever since she could walk alone; she had played at losing Freddy in it, when Freddy was a purple-faced baby; and though she had been to Italy, it had lost none of its charm.
Presently they came to a little clearing among the pines--another tiny green alp, solitary79 this time, and holding in its bosom80 a shallow pool.
She exclamed, "The Sacred Lake!"
"Why do you call it that?"
"I can't remember why. I suppose it comes out of some book. It's only a puddle81 now, but you see that stream going through it? Well, a good deal of water comes down after heavy rains, and can't get away at once, and the pool becomes quite large and beautiful. Then Freddy used to bathe there. He is very fond of it."
"And you?"
He meant, "Are you fond of it?" But she answered dreamily, "I bathed here, too, till I was found out. Then there was a row."
At another time he might have been shocked, for he had depths of prudishness within him. But now? with his momentary82 cult27 of the fresh air, he was delighted at her admirable simplicity83. He looked at her as she stood by the pool's edge. She was got up smart, as she phrased it, and she reminded him of some brilliant flower that has no leaves of its own, but blooms abruptly84 out of a world of green.
"Who found you out?"
"Charlotte," she murmured. "She was stopping with us. Charlotte-- Charlotte."
"Poor girl!"
She smiled gravely. A certain scheme, from which hitherto he had shrank, now appeared practical.
"Lucy!"
"Yes, I suppose we ought to be going," was her reply.
"Lucy, I want to ask something of you that I have never asked before."
At the serious note in his voice she stepped frankly85 and kindly86 towards him.
"What, Cecil?"
"Hitherto never--not even that day on the lawn when you agreed to marry me--"
He became self-conscious and kept glancing round to see if they were observed. His courage had gone.
"Yes?"
"Up to now I have never kissed you."
She was as scarlet87 as if he had put the thing most indelicately.
"No--more you have," she stammered88.
"Then I ask you--may I now?"
"Of course, you may, Cecil. You might before. I can't run at you, you know."
At that supreme74 moment he was conscious of nothing but absurdities89. Her reply was inadequate90. She gave such a business-like lift to her veil. As he approached her he found time to wish that he could recoil91. As he touched her, his gold pince-nez became dislodged and was flattened92 between them.
Such was the embrace. He considered, with truth, that it had been a failure. Passion should believe itself irresistible93. It should forget civility and consideration and all the other curses of a refined nature. Above all, it should never ask for leave where there is a right of way. Why could he not do as any labourer or navvy--nay, as any young man behind the counter would have done? He recast the scene. Lucy was standing94 flowerlike by the water, he rushed up and took her in his arms; she rebuked95 him, permitted him and revered96 him ever after for his manliness98. For he believed that women revere97 men for their manliness.
They left the pool in silence, after this one salutation. He waited for her to make some remark which should show him her inmost thoughts. At last she spoke, and with fitting gravity.
"Emerson was the name, not Harris."
"What name?"
"The old man's."
"What old man?"
"That old man I told you about. The one Mr. Eager was so unkind to."
He could not know that this was the most intimate conversation they had ever had.
订婚消息宣布了，几天以后，霍尼彻奇太太要露西与她的“败北将军”参加一次邻近的小型游园会，因为理所当然，她希望让大家看看她女儿将要嫁给一位仪表不凡的男士。
塞西尔岂止是仪表不凡；他看上去雍容华贵，看到他那修长的身材与露西并肩行走以及露西同他讲话时他那清秀的长脸作出热烈的反应，使人十分愉快。人们纷纷向霍尼彻奇太太祝贺，这我以为是一个社交方面的失误，但是她对此却很高兴，几乎不加任何选择地把塞西尔介绍给几位古板而且乏味的富孀。
吃茶点时发生了一件不幸的事：一杯咖啡倒翻了，泼在露西那条印花绸裙上。虽然露西装出一副满不在乎的样子，她的母亲却丝毫不掩饰自己的情绪，把她拉进屋内，让一个好心的女仆把这连衣裙擦干净。她们俩离开有好一会儿，留下塞西尔与那些富孀周旋。她们回来后，发现他不像先前那样给人好感了。
他们乘车回家途中，他问，“你常常参加这种活动吗？”
“哦，时不时参加，”露西说，她玩得相当开心。
“这是典型的地方社交活动吗？”
“我想是的。妈妈，你说呢？”
“社交活动很多，”霍尼彻奇太太说，她正在努力回忆一件衣裙的下摆的样式。
塞西尔发现她在想别的心事，便弯身向露西说道：
“对我说来，这样的社交活动真是糟透了，令人惊讶，简直是一场灾难。”
“很抱歉，你被弄得束手无策。”
“倒不是这一点，而是那些祝贺。把订婚当作公共财产——就像是一块荒地那样，人人都可以在那里倾吐自己的庸俗的感想，真令人恶心。那些老太婆一个个在那里傻笑不止！”
“我看人人都得过这一关吧。下次她们就不会这样注意我们了。”
“不过我要说的是她们的整个态度都错了。订婚—一首先这是一个可怕的词儿一是个人的事情，就应该把它作为个人的事情来对待。”
从个人的观点来看，那些傻笑的老太婆是错了，然而从种族的观点来看，她们再错也还是正确的。通过她们的微笑，世世代代的精神得到了体现，它为塞西尔与露西的婚约欢欣鼓舞，因为婚约使地球上的生命得以延续下去。婚约许给塞西尔和露西的东西却很不一样——那是个人的爱情。因而产生了塞西尔的怒气以及露西认为塞西尔的怒气是合情和理的想法。
“真讨厌！”她说。“你不能脱身去打网球吗？”
“我不打网球——至少在公开场合不打。这样，这一带就不会流传有关我在体育方面很活跃的传说了。有关我的传说是意大利化的英国人①（译注：①原文为Inglese Italianato，意大利语）的传说。”
“意大利化的英国人？”
“他是魔鬼的化身②（译注：原文为? un diavolo incarnato，意大利语。）！你知道这句谚语吗？”
她不知道。这句谚语也不适用于一位和他母亲在罗马安静地度过一个冬天的青年男子。不过塞西尔从订婚以来喜欢装出一副见过世面的调皮样子，实际上他丝毫也不具备那种气质。
“好吧，”他说，“要是他们不赞成我，我也没有办法。我和他们之间有着某些无法搬掉的屏障，然而我必须接受他们。”
“我想我们大家都有自己的局限吧，”露西明智地说。
“不过有时候这些是强加给我们的，”塞西尔说，从她的话里发现她没有好好理解他的态度。
“怎么强加法？”
“我们在自己的周围筑起一道栅栏，还是别人筑起栅栏把我们隔在外边，这二者是不一样的，对不？”
她想了一会儿，同意二者是不一样的。
“不一样？”霍尼彻奇太太突然警觉起来，叫道。“我可看不出什么不一样。栅栏就是栅栏，尤其是在同一个地方的。”
“我们是在讨论动机啊，”塞西尔说，人家打断他，使他很不痛快。
“亲爱的塞西尔，你来看。”她把双膝放平，把牌盒搁在膝上。“这张是我。那张是风角。剩下的那些就是其他人。动机嘛都没有问题，但栅栏就在这里。”
“我们讲的可不是真的栅栏啊，”露西说着笑了起来。
“哦，亲爱的，我明白了——是诗歌。”
她安详地向后靠去。塞西尔弄不懂为什么露西感到顶有趣。
“我来告诉你谁没有筑起你所说的那种‘栅栏’吧，”她说，“那就是毕比先生。”
“一个不被栅栏围住的牧师意味着是个无法自卫的牧师。”
尽管露西在领会别人讲话方面相当迟钝，但还是能相当快地辨别所讲的话的意思。她没有听懂塞西尔的那句警句，但是领会了促使塞西尔讲这句话的情绪。
“你不喜欢毕比先生吗？”她问道，陷入了沉思。
“我从来没有说过不喜欢毕比先生！”他嚷了起来。“我认为他远远在一般人之上。我只是否认——”他迅速地又转到栅栏这一话题，讲得精彩极了。
“说到一个我确实十分讨厌的牧师，”她说，想说一些同情的话，“一个的确筑起了栅栏，而且是最糟糕的栅栏的牧师，那就是伊格先生，在佛罗伦萨的那位英国副牧师。他虚伪透顶——不仅是态度令人遗憾的问题。他还是个势利小人，沾沾自喜到了极点，他确实说过这种刻薄的话。”
“什么话？”
“贝尔托利尼公寓有位老人，他说那位老人谋害了自己的妻子。”
“也许是真的呢？”
“啊，不！”
“为什么‘不’？”
“他是一个非常好的老人，我可以肯定。”
塞西尔听了她这种女性的缺乏逻辑性的话，不觉笑出来。
“哦，对他的话我进行了仔细的分析。伊格先生永远不把话讲到点子上。他喜欢讲得很玄——说那个老人‘实际上’谋害了自己的妻子——在上帝的眼里他谋害了她。”
“小声点，亲爱的！”霍尼彻奇太太心不在焉地说。
“有这么一个人，说是我们的楷模，可是他却到处传播中伤的谣言，这难道是可以容忍的吗？我相信主要是由于他的缘故，那位老人才被开除的。人们借口说老人很庸俗下流，可是他绝不是那种人。”
“可怜的老人！他叫什么名字？”
“哈里斯，”露西信口说道。
“但愿没有哈里斯太太其人，”她的母亲说。
塞西尔理解地点了点头。
“伊格先生不是属于很有修养的那一类牧师吗？”他问。
“我不知道。我讨厌他。我听他讲解过乔托。我讨厌他。他心胸狭窄，这是再清楚不过的事了。我真讨厌他！”
“哎呀，我的天，孩子啊！”霍尼彻奇太太叫道，“我的头都要给你搞昏了！有什么好嚷嚷的？我不许你和塞西尔再讨厌什么牧师了。”
他笑了。露西对伊格先生义愤填膺地发作确实有点不协调的地方。这就好像你竟看到莱奥纳多的作品出现在西斯廷教堂的天花板上一样①（译注：罗马梵蒂冈的西斯廷教堂的天顶画为米开朗琪罗所作）。他很想暗示她，她的才能不在这方面；一个女人的魔力和魅力在于她是个谜，而不在于她慷慨陈词。但是慷慨陈词也可能是生命力旺盛的标志：它对这位美人造成了损害，但是却说明了她是活生生的。过' -会儿，他端详着她的涨红的脸与激动的手势，心里带着几分赞许。他克制自己不去抑制青春的源泉。
他认为在众多的话题中，大自然这一话题是最简单的了。大自然现在就在他们身边。他赞美松林、长满欧洲蕨的深潭、灌木丛中的斑斑红叶、美丽有用的收费公路。他对外面的世界不太熟悉，偶尔会把一桩事实搞错。当他谈到落叶松四季常青时，霍尼彻奇太太的嘴抽搐了一下。
“我认为我是个幸运儿，”他得出这个结论。“我在伦敦时，我感到我再也离不开它了。可是我在乡村时，对乡村又有同感。我深信鸟啊、树啊、还有天空，终究是生活中最美好的东西，而生活在其中的人，一定是最美好的人。说实在的，十个人中间有九个人好像什么也没有注意到。乡村绅士和乡村雇工，各有其特点，但他们都是最扫兴的伙伴。不过他们对大自然的变化，有一种默默的同情，而我们这些城里人却没有这种感情。霍尼彻奇太太，你有没有这种感觉？”
霍尼彻奇太太吃了一惊，微微一笑。她刚才没有好好在听。塞西尔坐在马车的前座，被挤得东歪西倒，心里很烦恼，决意不再提有趣的事情了。
露西也没有在听。她皱着眉，看上去仍然非常生气——他的结论是：这完全是道德锻炼太多的结果。看到她对八月中的树林这样的美好景色视而不见，实在使人感到悲哀。
…姑娘啊，从那边山上的高处下来吧，…他引用了一句诗，一面用自己的膝盖碰碰她的。
她的脸又红了，说：“什么高处？”“姑娘啊，从那边山上的高处下来吧：生活在高处，在高处和灿烂的群山中，有什么乐趣呢？（牧羊人唱道）①（译注：引自英国诗人丁尼生的长诗《公主》。与原文文略有出入。）我们还是接受霍尼彻奇太太的劝告，不要再讨厌牧师了。这是什么地方？”
“当然是夏街哕，”露西说着，惊醒过来。
树林豁然开朗，让位给一块三角形的斜坡草地。草地两侧排列着漂亮的小房子，地势较高的第三边被一座用石头新砌的教堂占去了，它朴实大方，但造价昂贵，上面有一座很好看的铺着木瓦的尖塔。毕比先生的房子就在教堂附近。它几乎并不比那些小房子高。附近还有几处大宅第，但周围都是树木，所以看不见。这景色使人想起瑞士的阿尔卑斯高山，而不是悠闲的社会的圣地或中心，而美中不足的是有两幢难看的小别墅——它们像是在和塞西尔的订婚进行比赛，因为就在塞西尔获得露西的那个下午，哈里·奥特韦爵士获得了这两幢别墅。
其中的一幢叫做“希西”，另一幢叫“艾伯特”。两个名字不仅以衬有阴影的哥特体出现在院门上，还以大写印刷体沿着人口处半圆形拱门的曲线，第二次出现在门廊上。“艾伯特”楼有人居住。它那饱尝苦难的花园盛开着灿烂的天竺葵与半边莲，还铺有闪闪发亮的贝壳。楼房的小窗子都遮着素净的诺丁汉花边窗帘。“希西”楼准备出租。多金公司的三块布告板懒洋洋地靠在栅栏上，宣布这人们意料之中的事实。它的那些小径已杂草丛生；不过手帕大小的一方草坪开满了金黄色的蒲公英。
“这地方给毁了！”太太和小姐毫无表情地说。“夏街永远不会是以前的夏街了。”
马车驶过时，“希西”楼的门开了，一位先生从里面走出来。
“停车！”霍尼彻奇太太喊道，用花阳伞碰了碰马车夫。“哈里爵士来了。现在我们就会知道了。哈里爵士，请立刻把这些都拆了！”
哈里·奥特韦爵士——此人不需要描绘——走到马车边说：
“霍尼彻奇太太，我是想拆的。可是不能，我实在不能把弗拉克小姐撵出去。”
“我不是总是说得对的吗？签合同之前她早就该离开了。她是不是还像过去她侄子住在这里时一样，仍旧白住在这里？”
“可我又有什么法子呢？”他压低了嗓音说。“一位老太太，非常招人嫌，又病得几乎起不了床。”
“把她撵出去，”塞西尔鼓起了勇气说。
哈里爵士叹了口气，忧伤地望着两幢房子。弗拉克先生的打算，他早就完全得知，原可以在房屋建造之前，就把这块地买下来；但是他却拖拖拉拉，漠然处之。多少年来，他对夏街已是非常熟悉，以致无法想象夏街会受到糟蹋。直到弗拉克太太安放好奠基石，红色与奶油色的砖块砌起的幽灵不断升高时，他才惊慌起来。他去拜访了当地的这位营造商弗拉克先生——一位非常通情达理、受人尊敬的先生——此人同意应用瓦片盖屋顶可使之更具有艺术风格．可是指出石板比瓦片便宜。不过他对科林斯式圆柱①（译注：①科林斯是古希腊著名的奴隶制城邦．其圆柱风格带有叶形装饰的钟状柱顶。）像水蛭那样紧附在凸肚窗框上提出不同意见，说按照他个人意见，他想在屋子的门面上加一些装饰，这样不致太单调。哈里爵士则暗示，如果可能的话，柱子既是一种装饰，更是一种支撑结构。弗拉克先生回答说所有的柱子都已定制了，还补充道：“所有的柱顶造型都不一样——有一个是龙伏在叶丛里，另一个接近爱奥尼亚风格（译注：爱奥尼亚人是古希腊四种民族之一，其柱子的柱顶有涡卷形装饰），还有一个标有弗拉克太太姓名的第一个字母——每个柱顶都各不相同。”这是因为他读过他所喜欢的罗斯金（译注：罗斯金在专著《威尼斯的石建筑》和《建筑的七盏灯》中主张屋主有权利按照自己的心愿把屋子建造得富有变化而多样化。）的作品的缘故。他建造别墅可以说是随心所欲；只是在他把他的一位很难搬动的姑母安置在一幢楼里以后，哈里爵士才把别墅买了下来。
爵士把身子靠在霍尼彻奇太太的马车上，这一笔白费心思又得不偿失的交易使得他心里充满了悲哀。他对乡村未能恪尽自己的职责，而乡村也在嘲笑他。他花了钱，但夏街仍然被糟蹋得不成样子。他现在所能做的只是为“希西”楼找一位称心的房客——某一位真正称心的房客。
“那房租便宜得简直荒谬，”他对他们说，“而我嘛，也许可以算是一个容易对付的房东。不过房子的大小很伤脑筋。对农民阶层来说它太大了，但是对多少有点儿跟我们相像的人来说，它又太小了。”
塞西尔一直犹豫不决，不知道应该鄙视那些小别墅呢，还是应该鄙视哈里爵士，因为爵士鄙视小别墅。似乎后面的那种冲动更有成效。
“你应该马上找一位房客，”他不怀好意地说。“对一个银行小职员来说，这所房子可算是理想的天堂啊。”
“一点也不错！”哈里爵士兴奋地说。“我怕的就是这个，维斯先生。它会把不合适的人请进来。现在火车服务有了改进—一照我看来，这种改进简直是致命伤。再说，在目前的自行车时代，离火车站五英里又算得了什么？”
“那他必须是个体力充沛的小职员才行，”露西说。
通过中世纪的方式来作弄人，塞西尔倒很擅长，便回答说下中产阶层人士的体格有了速度惊人的改善。她发现他在嘲笑他们这位无辜的邻居，便振作起来制止他。
“哈里爵士！”她嚷道。“我有个主意。你觉得老小姐怎么样？”
“亲爱的露西，那真是好极了。你认识什么老小姐吗？”
“是的；我在海外结识过一些。”
“是大家闺秀吗？”他试探地问。
“是的，的确是的，可是目前却无家可归。我上星期收到她们的信。特莉莎小姐和凯瑟琳·艾伦小姐，我真的不是在开玩笑，她们可算是合适的人选。毕比先生也认识她们。我可以让她们给你写信吗？”
“完全可以！”他大声说道。“现在我们的难题已经解决了。多么令人高兴呀！还有额外的好处——请告诉她们，她们将享受额外的好处，因为我将不收代办费。天哪，那些代理商！他们给我找来的人多可怕呀！有一位是妇女，我写信给她——你知道，一封非常婉转的信——请她告诉我她的社会地位，她却回答说她可以预付房租。似乎房租是什么了不起的事似的！而由我查询所得的几份介绍材料都极不令人满意——那些人中，有的是骗子，有的身份有问题。啊，天大的骗局！上星期我看到了多少阴暗面啊。甚至听上去非常有前途的人也在进行欺骗！亲爱的露西，天大的骗局啊！”
她点了点头。
霍尼彻奇太太插进来说，“我劝你压根儿不要理会露西和她的那两位家道中落的大家闺秀。我熟悉那种人。我可不愿结交那些曾经过过好日子、带着使屋子闻起来一股霉味儿的传家宝的人。这种情况确实很悲惨，不过我宁愿把房子租给一个社会地位正在上升的人，而不愿租给一个已经走下坡路的人。”
“我想我懂你的意思，”哈里爵士说，“不过，正如你所说的，这种情况很悲惨。”
“两位艾伦小姐可不是那种人！”露西大声说。
“是的，她们是那种人，”塞西尔说。“我和她们没有见过面，但是我要说她们加入这一地区是极不合适的。”
“别听他的话，哈里爵士——他真讨厌。”
“讨厌的可是我啊，”他回答。“我不该把自己的苦恼向青年人诉说。可是我真的非常担心，而奥特韦夫人只会说我这个人再仔细也不会过分，这话当然不错，可是实在帮不了什么忙。”
“那么我可以写信给两位艾伦小姐吗？”
“请写吧！”他叫道。
然而当霍尼彻奇太太大声说下面的话时，他的目光变得犹豫了。
“当心！她们一定会养金丝雀的。哈里爵士，对金丝雀可得小心：它们把鸟食从笼子的条缝中吐出来，结果把老鼠都召来了。你对女人都得小心。把房子只租给男人吧。”
“不至于吧——”他谦恭有礼地低声说，尽管认为她的话很有道理。
“男人喝茶时不会搬弄是非。如果他们喝酒喝醉了，他们就醉了，到此为止——他们舒舒服服地躺下，一直睡到酒醒。如果他们足粗人，他们也只限于自己粗俗。粗俗不会因此得到传播。我欢迎男人——当然他必须衣冠整洁。”
哈里爵士脸红了。对男性这样坦率的恭维，他与塞西尔听了都感到不舒服。即使把邋遢男子排除在外，他们也没有感到殊荣。他提议如果霍尼彻奇太太有工夫的话，可以下车，亲自到“希西”楼去看看。她十分高兴。老天爷存心要她贫穷，住在这样的屋子里。家庭布置向来对她具有吸引力，尤其是小规模的家庭布置。
露西跟着她的母亲走，塞西尔把她拉回来。
“霍尼彻奇太太，”他说，“我们两个把你撇下，自己走回家，怎么样？”
“当然可以！”她亲切地回答。
哈里爵士似乎同样高兴能摆脱他们。他知趣地对他们笑着说，“啊哈！这些年轻人，这些年轻人，这些年轻人啊！”接着他迅速地用钥匙打开了楼屋的大门。
“简直俗不可耐，无药可救！”几乎还没等他们走到听不见的地方，塞西尔便嚷了起来。
“我说塞西尔！”
“我实在忍不住了。这老家伙不讨人厌才怪呢！”
“他这个人不太聪明，可实实在在是个好人。”
“不，露西，他代表着乡村生活中所有的不好的东西。在伦敦他就会安分守己了。他会成为笨蛋俱乐部的成员，他的老婆请起客来也将是笨头笨脑的。在这里他却成了一尊小小的偶像，一副温文尔雅的恩赐态度，还有他那套冒牌美学，每个人一甚至你母亲——也受了他的骗。”
“你说的这一切都很对，”露西说，虽然感到有些泄气。“我不知道这——这一点是否那么重要。”
“这一点可是绝对重要。哈里爵士体现着那次游园会的本质。天哪，我感到非常生气！我真希望他的那幢别墅找到一个俗不可耐的房客——某一个真正俗不可耐的女人，让他也觉察到。上流社会人士！哼！就凭他的秃顶和陷进去的下巴！得了，我们不谈他了。”
露西很高兴这样做。要是塞西尔不喜欢哈里·奥特韦爵士和毕比先生，那么真正和她关系亲密的人要逃脱这番厄运又有什么保障呢？就拿弗雷迪来说吧。弗雷迪既不聪明，又不敏锐，长得也不漂亮，任何时候塞西尔都会说，“弗雷迪不讨人厌才怪呢！”怎样才能阻挡他这样说呢？而她又该怎样回答呢？她只想到弗雷迪为止，没有再想下去，但是这已经足够使她担心的了。她只能这样来安慰自己：塞西尔与弗雷迪相识已有一段时间，他们相处得一直很愉快，除了也许最近这几天，这或许是一种巧合吧。
“我们走哪条路？”她问他。
大自然——这是再简单不过的话题，她这样想——就在他们的周围。夏街就在树林深处，她走到公路和一条小路的交叉处停了步。
“难道有两条路可走吗？”
“也许走大路更明智些，因为我们都穿得漂漂亮亮的。”
“我可宁愿穿林子，”塞西尔抑制着恼怒说，而露西已觉察到他整个下午都带着这种情绪。“露西，你为什么老是说要走大路？你可知道，自从我们订婚以来，你一次也没有陪我在田间或树林里走过。”
“是吗？那就穿林子吧，”露西说，对他的怪脾气感到吃惊．不过深信他以后会解释清楚的；让她对自己的意图堕入五里雾中可不是塞西尔的习惯。
她领先进入发出飒飒声响的松林，果然，他们走了还不到t-来码，他就开始解释了。
“我有个想法——我敢说是个错误的想法一你我一起在房间里时，你感到更加自在。”
“在房间里？”她重复一遍，完全搞糊涂了。
“是的，或者至多在花园里，或者在大路上。可绝不会像这样的真正乡间。”
“唉，塞西尔，你到底是什么意思啊？我可从来没有这样的感觉。听你讲，我好像是个女诗人什么的人了。”
“我可不知道你不是那样的人。我把你同一种风景——某种风景——联系起来。你为什么不把我和房间联系起来？”
她思索了一会儿，然后笑出声来，说：
“你可知道你说得完全正确吗？这我可知道。说到底，我一定是个女诗人。我想到你时，总好像是在房间里。真有意思！”
使她惊奇的是他好像生气了。
“请问是客厅吧？看不到风景，是不是？”
“是的，我想看不到风景。为什么不可以这样呢？”
他带着责备的口气说，“我宁愿你把我和野外联系在一起。”
她又说了一遍，“唉，塞西尔，你到底是什么意思啊？”
她见他不想作解释，也就不再去想这个话题了，认为这对一个姑娘来说是太难解了，便领着他向树林深处走去，时而在一些特别美丽或特别熟悉的树丛前停下来。自从她能单独散步以来，就熟悉从夏街到风角的这片树林了；她曾和弗雷迪在林子里玩，故意让弗雷迪迷失方向，那时弗雷迪还是个紫红脸色的小宝宝；而今她虽然去过意大利，这片树林对她却并没有减少丝毫的魅力。
不一会儿，他们便来到松林中的一小片空地——又有一座小小的绿色山冈，这时候非常清静，环抱着一个浅水塘。
她叫嚷道，“神圣湖！”
“你为什么叫它神圣湖？”
“这个我记不清了。我想这个名字出自某一本书吧。如今它只是一个小水潭了，不过你看到通过水潭的那条小溪吗？哦，下暴雨后，大量的水流下来，一时出不去，这样小潭就变得相当大，而且也好看了。那时弗雷迪常在这里洗澡。他非常喜欢这个水塘。”
“那么你呢？”
他的意思是“你喜欢吗？”可是她却像在梦幻中一样，回答说，“我也在这里洗澡，直到我被发现。于是引起了轩然大波。”
如果在其他场合，他很可能会感到震惊，因为迂腐的道德观念在他脑中是很根深蒂固的。可是现在，他一时热衷于迷恋新鲜空气，对露西的这种值得赞赏的纯真感到欣慰。她站在水塘边上，他望着她。用她刚才的话说，她穿得漂漂亮亮的，使他想起一朵光辉灿烂的花朵，这朵花没有自己的叶子，但是一下子从一片绿色丛中开出花来。
“是谁发现你的？”
“夏绿蒂，”她低声说。“她当时住在我们家里。夏绿蒂一夏绿蒂。”
“可怜的姑娘！”
她严肃地笑笑。他有一项计划，过去一直不敢提出来，这时似乎是切实可行的了。
“露西！”
“嗯，我看我们应该回去了，”这是她的回答。
“露西，我对你有一个请求，那是我以前从没提出过的。”
听到他一本正经的语调，她坦率而和蔼地向他走去。
“塞西尔，什么请求？”
“我一直没有——甚至那天在草地上你答应嫁给我的时候，我都没有——”
他变得很不自然，眼光不断向周围扫去，生怕有人看到他们。他的勇气消失了。
“什么事？”
“到现在为止，我还没有吻过你。”
她的脸变得通红，好像他用了十分粗鲁的话谈论接吻似的。
“是的——你没有，”她嗫嗫嚅嚅地说。
“那么我问你——现在我可以吗？”
“当然可以，塞西尔。你以前就可以。你知道，我可不能把身子投向你啊！”
在这一十分美妙的时刻，他只感觉到一切都很荒谬可笑。她的回答令人不够满意。她只是有条不紊地朝上揭开她的面纱。他一面向她迎上去，一面心里却希望能后撤。当他接触她的面颊时，他的金丝边眼镜从鼻梁上滑了下来，给紧压在两人之间。
他们就这样拥抱了一下。他认为这一次确确实实失败了。应该相信炽热的爱情是不可阻挡的。什么彬彬有礼呀，体贴人微呀，以及绅士风度的其他种种需要诅咒的表现，都应该统统置诸脑后。首先，当你有权通行时，就不应去请求获得批准。他为什么不能像普通工人或苦力——不，像任何年轻的站柜台的那样行动呢？他重新设计了那一幕。露西花枝招展地站在水塘边；他冲向前去，把她搂在怀里；她先是斥责他，后来顺从了，并且由于他的男子汉气概而从此很钦佩他，因为他相信女人钦佩男人是为了男人具有男子汉气概的缘故。
这是他向她唯一的致意，后来他们就默默地离开了水塘。他期待她讲一些话，这些话将向他启示她内心世界的最深处。她终于说话了。严肃得恰如其分。
“他的姓氏是艾默森，不是哈里斯。”
“什么姓氏？”
“老人的姓氏。”
“哪个老人？”
“我对你讲过的那个老人。就是伊格先生对他很不客气的那个老人。”
他不可能知道这正是他们之间的一次最亲密的谈话。
收听单词发音 |
1
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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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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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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smirking
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| v.傻笑( smirk的现在分词 ) | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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sift
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| v.筛撒，纷落，详察 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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rant
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| v.咆哮；怒吼；n.大话；粗野的话 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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larch
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| n.落叶松 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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shingled
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| adj.盖木瓦的；贴有墙面板的v.用木瓦盖(shingle的过去式和过去分词形式) | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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chastely
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| adv.贞洁地，清高地，纯正地 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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dilatory
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| adj.迟缓的，不慌不忙的 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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51
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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53
slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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54
leeches
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| n.水蛭( leech的名词复数 )；蚂蟥；榨取他人脂膏者；医生 | |
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55
facade
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| n.(建筑物的)正面，临街正面；外表 | |
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56
structural
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| adj.构造的，组织的，建筑（用）的 | |
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57
decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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58
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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59
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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60
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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61
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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62
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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63
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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64
mischievousness
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| 恶作剧 | |
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65
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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66
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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67
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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68
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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69
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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70
loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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71
patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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72
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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73
aesthetics
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| n.(尤指艺术方面之)美学，审美学 | |
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74
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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75
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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76
footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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77
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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78
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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79
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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80
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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81
puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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82
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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83
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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84
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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85
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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86
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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87
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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88
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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90
inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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91
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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92
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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93
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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94
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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95
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
revere
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| vt.尊崇，崇敬，敬畏 | |
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98
manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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