Work: A Story of Experience - Chapter 2
时间：2021-01-24 02:23:10
（单词翻译:单击）
A FORTNIGHT later, and Christie was off. Mrs. Flint had briefly1 answered that she had a room, and that work was always to be found in the city. So the girl packed her one trunk, folding away splendid hopes among her plain gowns, and filling every corner with happy fancies, utterly3 impossible plans, and tender little dreams, so lovely at the time, so pathetic to remember, when contact with the hard realities of life has collapsed4 our bright bubbles, and the frost of disappointment nipped all our morning glories in their prime. The old red stage stopped at Enos Devon's door, and his niece crossed the threshold after a cool handshake with the master of the house, and a close embrace with the mistress, who stood pouring out last words with spectacles too dim for seeing. Fat Ben swung up the trunk, slammed the door, mounted his perch5, and the ancient vehicle swayed with premonitory symptoms of departure.
Then something smote6 Christie's heart. "Stop!" she cried, and springing out ran back into the dismal7 room where the old man sat. Straight up to him she went with outstretched hand, saying steadily8, though her face was full of feeling:
"Uncle, I'm not satisfied with that good-bye. I don't mean to be sentimental9, but I do want to say, 'Forgive me!' I see now that I might have made you sorry to part with me, if I had tried to make you love me more. It's too late now, but I'm not too proud to confess when I'm wrong. I want to part kindly10; I ask your pardon; I thank you for all you've done for me, and I say good-bye affectionately now."
Mr. Devon had a heart somewhere, though it seldom troubled him; but it did make itself felt when the girl looked at him with his dead sister's eyes, and spoke11 in a tone whose unaccustomed tenderness was a reproach.
Conscience had pricked12 him more than once that week, and he was glad to own it now; his rough sense of honor was touched by her frank expression, and, as he answered, his hand was offered readily.
"I like that, Kitty, and think the better of you for't. Let bygones be bygones. I gen'lly got as good as I give, and I guess I deserved some on't. I wish you wal, my girl, I heartily13 wish you wal, and hope you won't forgit that the old house ain't never shet aginst you."
Christie astonished him with a cordial kiss; then bestowing14 another warm hug on Aunt Niobe, as she called the old lady in a tearful joke, she ran into the carriage, taking with her all the sunshine of the place.
Christie found Mrs. Flint a dreary15 woman, with "boarders" written all over her sour face and faded figure. Butcher's bills and house rent seemed to fill her eyes with sleepless16 anxiety; thriftless cooks and saucy17 housemaids to sharpen the tones of her shrill18 voice; and an incapable19 husband to burden her shoulders like a modern "Old man of the sea."
A little room far up in the tall house was at the girl's disposal for a reasonable sum, and she took possession, feeling very rich with the hundred dollars Uncle Enos gave her, and delightfully20 independent, with no milk-pans to scald; no heavy lover to elude21; no humdrum22 district school to imprison23 her day after day.
For a week she enjoyed her liberty heartily, then set about finding something to do. Her wish was to be a governess, that being the usual refuge for respectable girls who have a living to get. But Christie soon found her want of accomplishments25 a barrier to success in that line, for the mammas thought less of the solid than of the ornamental26 branches, and wished their little darlings to learn French before English, music before grammar, and drawing before writing.
So, after several disappointments, Christie decided27 that her education was too old-fashioned for the city, and gave up the idea of teaching. Sewing she resolved not to try till every thing else failed; and, after a few more attempts to get writing to do, she said to herself, in a fit of humility28 and good sense: "I'll begin at the beginning, and work my way up. I'll put my pride in my pocket, and go out to service. Housework I like, and can do well, thanks to Aunt Betsey. I never thought it degradation29 to do it for her, so why should I mind doing it for others if they pay for it? It isn't what I want, but it's better than idleness, so I'll try it!"
Full of this wise resolution, she took to haunting that purgatory30 of the poor, an intelligence office. Mrs. Flint gave her a recommendation, and she hopefully took her place among the ranks of buxom31 German, incapable Irish, and "smart" American women; for in those days foreign help had not driven farmers' daughters out of the field, and made domestic comfort a lost art.
At first Christie enjoyed the novelty of the thing, and watched with interest the anxious housewives who flocked in demanding that rara avis, an angel at nine shillings a week; and not finding it, bewailed the degeneracy of the times. Being too honest to profess32 herself absolutely perfect in every known branch of house-work, it was some time before she suited herself. Meanwhile, she was questioned and lectured, half engaged and kept waiting, dismissed for a whim33, and so worried that she began to regard herself as the incarnation of all human vanities and shortcomings.
"A desirable place in a small, genteel family," was at last offered her, and she posted away to secure it, having reached a state of desperation and resolved to go as a first-class cook rather than sit with her hands before her any longer.
A well-appointed house, good wages, and light duties seemed things to be grateful for, and Christie decided that going out to service was not the hardest fate in life, as she stood at the door of a handsome house in a sunny square waiting to be inspected.
Mrs. Stuart, having just returned from Italy, affected35 the artistic36, and the new applicant37 found her with a Roman scarf about her head, a rosary like a string of small cannon38 balls at her side, and azure39 draperies which became her as well as they did the sea-green furniture of her marine40 boudoir, where unwary walkers tripped over coral and shells, grew sea-sick looking at pictures of tempestuous41 billows engulfing42 every sort of craft, from a man-of-war to a hencoop with a ghostly young lady clinging to it with one hand, and had their appetites effectually taken away by a choice collection of water-bugs and snakes in a glass globe, that looked like a jar of mixed pickles43 in a state of agitation44.
MRS. STUART.
Madame was intent on a water-color copy of Turner's "Rain, Wind, and Hail," that pleasing work which was sold upsidedown and no one found it out. Motioning Christie to a seat she finished some delicate sloppy45 process before speaking. In that little pause Christie examined her, and the impression then received was afterward46 confirmed.
Mrs. Stuart possessed47 some beauty and chose to think herself a queen of society. She assumed majestic48 manners in public and could not entirely49 divest50 herself of them in private, which often produced comic effects. Zenobia troubled about fish-sauce, or Aspasia indignant at the price of eggs will give some idea of this lady when she condescended51 to the cares of housekeeping.
Presently she looked up and inspected the girl as if a new servant were no more than a new bonnet52, a necessary article to be ordered home for examination. Christie presented her recommendation, made her modest little speech, and awaited her doom53.
Mrs. Stuart read, listened, and then demanded with queenly brevity:
"Your name?"
"Christie Devon."
"Too long; I should prefer to call you Jane as I am accustomed to the name."
"As you please, ma'am."
"Your age?"
"Twenty-one."
"You are an American?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Stuart gazed into space a moment, then delivered the following address with impressive solemnity:
"I wish a capable, intelligent, honest, neat, well-conducted person who knows her place and keeps it. The work is light, as there are but two in the family. I am very particular and so is Mr. Stuart. I pay two dollars and a half, allow one afternoon out, one service on Sunday, and no followers54. My table-girl must understand her duties thoroughly55, be extremely neat, and always wear white aprons57."
"I think I can suit you, ma'am, when I have learned the ways of the house," meekly58 replied Christie.
Mrs. Stuart looked graciously satisfied and returned the paper with a gesture that Victoria might have used in restoring a granted petition, though her next words rather marred59 the effect of the regal act, "My cook is black."
"I have no objection to color, ma'am."
An expression of relief dawned upon Mrs. Stuart's countenance60, for the black cook had been an insurmountable obstacle to all the Irish ladies who had applied61. Thoughtfully tapping her Roman nose with the handle of her brush Madame took another survey of the new applicant, and seeing that she looked neat, intelligent, and respectful, gave a sigh of thankfulness and engaged her on the spot.
Much elated Christie rushed home, selected a bag of necessary articles, bundled the rest of her possessions into an empty closet (lent her rent-free owing to a profusion62 of cockroaches), paid up her board, and at two o'clock introduced herself to Hepsey Johnson, her fellow servant.
Hepsey was a tall, gaunt woman, bearing the tragedy of her race written in her face, with its melancholy63 eyes, subdued64 expression, and the pathetic patience of a wronged dumb animal. She received Christie with an air of resignation, and speedily bewildered her with an account of the duties she would be expected to perform.
A long and careful drill enabled Christie to set the table with but few mistakes, and to retain a tolerably clear recollection of the order of performances. She had just assumed her badge of servitude, as she called the white apron56, when the bell rang violently and Hepsey, who was hurrying away to "dish up," said:
"It's de marster. You has to answer de bell, honey, and he likes it done bery spry."
Christie ran and admitted an impetuous, stout65 gentleman, who appeared to be incensed66 against the elements, for he burst in as if blown, shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and said all in one breath:
"You're the new girl, are you? Well, take my umbrella and pull off my rubbers."
"Sir?"
Mr. Stuart was struggling with his gloves, and, quite unconscious of the astonishment67 of his new maid, impatiently repeated his request.
"Take this wet thing away, and pull off my overshoes. Don't you see it's raining like the very deuce!"
Christie folded her lips together in a peculiar68 manner as she knelt down and removed a pair of muddy overshoes, took the dripping umbrella, and was walking away with her agreeable burden when Mr. Stuart gave her another shock by calling over the banister:
"I'm going out again; so clean those rubbers, and see that the boots I sent down this morning are in order."
"Yes, sir," answered Christie meekly, and immediately afterward startled Hepsey by casting overshoes and umbrella upon the kitchen floor, and indignantly demanding:
"Am I expected to be a boot-jack to that man?"
"I 'spects you is, honey."
"Am I also expected to clean his boots?"
"Yes, chile. Katy did, and de work ain't hard when you gits used to it."
"It isn't the work; it's the degradation; and I won't submit to it."
Christie looked fiercely determined69; but Hepsey shook her head, saying quietly as she went on garnishing70 a dish:
"Dere's more 'gradin' works dan dat, chile, and dem dat's bin71 'bliged to do um finds dis sort bery easy. You's paid for it, honey; and if you does it willin, it won't hurt you more dan washin' de marster's dishes, or sweepin' his rooms."
"There ought to be a boy to do this sort of thing. Do you think it's right to ask it of me?" cried Christie, feeling that being servant was not as pleasant a task as she had thought it.
"Dunno, chile. I'se shore I'd never ask it of any woman if I was a man, 'less I was sick or ole. But folks don't seem to 'member dat we've got feelin's, and de best way is not to mind dese ere little trubbles. You jes leave de boots to me; blackin' can't do dese ole hands no hurt, and dis ain't no deggydation to me now; I's a free woman."
"Why, Hepsey, were you ever a slave?" asked the girl, forgetting her own small injury at this suggestion of the greatest of all wrongs.
"All my life, till I run away five year ago. My ole folks, and eight brudders and sisters, is down dere in de pit now; waitin' for the Lord to set 'em free. And He's gwine to do it soon, soon!" As she uttered the last words, a sudden light chased the tragic72 shadow from Hepsey's face, and the solemn fervor73 of her voice thrilled Christie's heart. All her anger died out in a great pity, and she put her hand on the woman's shoulder, saying earnestly:
"I hope so; and I wish I could help to bring that happy day at once!"
For the first time Hepsey smiled, as she said gratefully, "De Lord bress you for dat wish, chile." Then, dropping suddenly into her old, quiet way, she added, turning to her work:
"Now you tote up de dinner, and I'll be handy by to 'fresh your mind 'bout24 how de dishes goes, for missis is bery 'ticular, and don't like no 'stakes in tendin'."
Thanks to her own neat-handed ways and Hepsey's prompting through the slide, Christie got on very well; managed her salver dexterously74, only upset one glass, clashed one dish-cover, and forgot to sugar the pie before putting it on the table; an omission75 which was majestically76 pointed34 out, and graciously pardoned as a first offence.
By seven o'clock the ceremonial was fairly over, and Christie dropped into a chair quite tired out with frequent pacings to and fro. In the kitchen she found the table spread for one, and Hepsey busy with the boots.
"Aren't you coming to your dinner, Mrs. Johnson?" she asked, not pleased at the arrangement.
"When you's done, honey; dere's no hurry 'bout me. Katy liked dat way best, and I'se used ter waitin'."
"But I don't like that way, and I won't have it. I suppose Katy thought her white skin gave her a right to be disrespectful to a woman old enough to be her mother just because she was black. I don't; and while I'm here, there must be no difference made. If we can work together, we can eat together; and because you have been a slave is all the more reason I should be good to you now."
If Hepsey had been surprised by the new girl's protest against being made a boot-jack of, she was still more surprised at this sudden kindness, for she had set Christie down in her own mind as "one ob dem toppin' smart ones dat don't stay long nowheres." She changed her opinion now, and sat watching the girl with a new expression on her face, as Christie took boot and brush from her, and fell to work energetically, saying as she scrubbed:
"I'm ashamed of complaining about such a little thing as this, and don't mean to feel degraded by it, though I should by letting you do it for me. I never lived out before: that's the reason I made a fuss. There's a polish, for you, and I'm in a good humor again; so Mr. Stuart may call for his boots whenever he likes, and we'll go to dinner like fashionable people, as we are."
There was something so irresistible77 in the girl's hearty78 manner, that Hepsey submitted at once with a visible satisfaction, which gave a relish79 to Christie's dinner, though it was eaten at a kitchen table, with a bare-armed cook sitting opposite, and three rows of burnished80 dish-covers reflecting the dreadful spectacle.
After this, Christie got on excellently, for she did her best, and found both pleasure and profit in her new employment. It gave her real satisfaction to keep the handsome rooms in order, to polish plate, and spread bountiful meals. There was an atmosphere of ease and comfort about her which contrasted agreeably with the shabbiness of Mrs. Flint's boarding-house, and the bare simplicity81 of the old home. Like most young people, Christie loved luxury, and was sensible enough to see and value the comforts of her situation, and to wonder why more girls placed as she was did not choose a life like this rather than the confinements82 of a sewing-room, or the fatigue83 and publicity84 of a shop.
She did not learn to love her mistress, because Mrs. Stuart evidently considered herself as one belonging to a superior race of beings, and had no desire to establish any of the friendly relations that may become so helpful and pleasant to both mistress and maid. She made a royal progress through her dominions85 every morning, issued orders, found fault liberally, bestowed86 praise sparingly, and took no more personal interest in her servants than if they were clocks, to be wound up once a day, and sent away the moment they got out of repair.
Mr. Stuart was absent from morning till night, and all Christie ever knew about him was that he was a kind-hearted, hot-tempered, and very conceited87 man; fond of his wife, proud of the society they managed to draw about them, and bent88 on making his way in the world at any cost.
If masters and mistresses knew how skilfully89 they are studied, criticised, and imitated by their servants, they would take more heed90 to their ways, and set better examples, perhaps. Mrs. Stuart never dreamed that her quiet, respectful Jane kept a sharp eye on all her movements, smiled covertly91 at her affectations, envied her accomplishments, and practised certain little elegancies that struck her fancy.
Mr. Stuart would have become apoplectic92 with indignation if he had known that this too intelligent table-girl often contrasted her master with his guests, and dared to think him wanting in good breeding when he boasted of his money, flattered a great man, or laid plans to lure93 some lion into his house. When he lost his temper, she always wanted to laugh, he bounced and bumbled about so like an angry blue-bottle fly; and when he got himself up elaborately for a party, this disrespectful hussy confided95 to Hepsey her opinion that "master was a fat dandy, with nothing to be vain of but his clothes," - a sacrilegious remark which would have caused her to be summarily ejected from the house if it had reached the august ears of master or mistress.
"My father was a gentleman; and I shall never forget it, though I do go out to service. I've got no rich friends to help me up, but, sooner or later, I mean to find a place among cultivated people; and while I'm working and waiting, I can be fitting myself to fill that place like a gentlewoman, as I am."
With this ambition in her mind, Christie took notes of all that went on in the polite world, of which she got frequent glimpses while "living out." Mrs. Stuart received one evening of each week, and on these occasions Christie, with an extra frill on her white apron, served the company, and enjoyed herself more than they did, if the truth had been known.
While helping96 the ladies with their wraps, she observed what they wore, how they carried themselves, and what a vast amount of prinking they did, not to mention the flood of gossip they talked while shaking out their flounces and settling their topknots.
Later in the evening, when she passed cups and glasses, this demure-looking damsel heard much fine discourse97, saw many famous beings, and improved her mind with surreptitious studies of the rich and great when on parade. But her best time was after supper, when, through the crack of the door of the little room where she was supposed to be clearing away the relics98 of the feast, she looked and listened at her ease; laughed at the wits, stared at the lions, heard the music, was impressed by the wisdom, and much edified99 by the gentility of the whole affair.
After a time, however, Christie got rather tired of it, for there was an elegant sameness about these evenings that became intensely wearisome to the uninitiated, but she fancied that as each had his part to play he managed to do it with spirit. Night after night the wag told his stories, the poet read his poems, the singers warbled, the pretty women simpered and dressed, the heavy scientific was duly discussed by the elect precious, and Mrs. Stuart, in amazing costumes, sailed to and fro in her most swan-like manner; while my lord stirred up the lions he had captured, till they roared their best, great and small.
"Good heavens! why don't they do or say something new and interesting, and not keep twaddling on about art, and music, and poetry, and cosmos100? The papers are full of appeals for help for the poor, reforms of all sorts, and splendid work that others are doing; but these people seem to think it isn't genteel enough to be spoken of here. I suppose it is all very elegant to go on like a set of trained canaries, but it's very dull fun to watch them, and Hepsey's stories are a deal more interesting to me."
Having come to this conclusion, after studying dilettanteism through the crack of the door for some months, Christie left the "trained canaries" to twitter and hop2 about their gilded102 cage, and devoted103 herself to Hepsey, who gave her glimpses into another sort of life so bitterly real that she never could forget it.
HEPSEY.
Friendship had prospered104 in the lower regions, for Hepsey had a motherly heart, and Christie soon won her confidence by bestowing her own. Her story was like many another; yet, being the first Christie had ever heard, and told with the unconscious eloquence105 of one who had suffered and escaped, it made a deep impression on her, bringing home to her a sense of obligation so forcibly that she began at once to pay a little part of the great debt which the white race owes the black.
Christie loved books; and the attic106 next her own was full of them. To this store she found her way by a sort of instinct as sure as that which leads a fly to a honey-pot, and, finding many novels, she read her fill. This amusement lightened many heavy hours, peopled the silent house with troops of friends, and, for a time, was the joy of her life.
Hepsey used to watch her as she sat buried in her book when the day's work was done, and once a heavy sigh roused Christie from the most exciting crisis of "The Abbot."
"What's the matter? Are you very tired, Aunty?" she asked, using the name that came most readily to her lips.
"No, honey; I was only wishin' I could read fast like you does. I's berry slow 'bout readin' and I want to learn a heap," answered Hepsey, with such a wistful look in her soft eyes that Christie shut her book, saying briskly:
"Then I'll teach you. Bring out your primer and let's begin at once."
"Dear chile, it's orful hard work to put learnin' in my ole head, and I wouldn't 'cept such a ting from you only I needs dis sort of help so bad, and I can trust you to gib it to me as I wants it."
Then in a whisper that went straight to Christie's heart, Hepsey told her plan and showed what help she craved107.
For five years she had worked hard, and saved her earnings108 for the purpose of her life. When a considerable sum had been hoarded109 up, she confided it to one whom she believed to be a friend, and sent him to buy her old mother. But he proved false, and she never saw either mother or money. It was a hard blow, but she took heart and went to work again, resolving this time to trust no one with the dangerous part of the affair, but when she had scraped together enough to pay her way she meant to go South and steal her mother at the risk of her life.
"I don't want much money, but I must know little 'bout readin' and countin' up, else I'll get lost and cheated. You'll help me do dis, honey, and I'll bless you all my days, and so will my old mammy, if I ever gets her safe away."
With tears of sympathy shining on her cheeks, and both hands stretched out to the poor soul who implored110 this small boon111 of her, Christie promised all the help that in her lay, and kept her word religiously.
From that time, Hepsey's cause was hers; she laid by a part of her wages for "ole mammy," she comforted Hepsey with happy prophecies of success, and taught with an energy and skill she had never known before. Novels lost their charms now, for Hepsey could give her a comedy and tragedy surpassing any thing she found in them, because truth stamped her tales with a power and pathos112 the most gifted fancy could but poorly imitate.
The select receptions upstairs seemed duller than ever to her now, and her happiest evenings were spent in the tidy kitchen, watching Hepsey laboriously113 shaping A's and B's, or counting up on her worn fingers the wages they had earned by months of weary work, that she might purchase one treasure, - a feeble, old woman, worn out with seventy years of slavery far away there in Virginia.
For a year Christie was a faithful servant to her mistress, who appreciated her virtues114, but did not encourage them; a true friend to poor Hepsey, who loved her dearly, and found in her sympathy and affection a solace115 for many griefs and wrongs. But Providence116 had other lessons for Christie, and when this one was well learned she was sent away to learn another phase of woman's life and labor94.
While their domestics amused themselves with privy117 conspiracy118 and rebellion at home, Mr. and Mrs. Stuart spent their evenings in chasing that bright bubble called social success, and usually came home rather cross because they could not catch it.
On one of these occasions they received a warm welcome, for, as they approached the house, smoke was seen issuing from an attic window, and flames flickering119 behind the half-drawn curtain. Bursting out of the carriage with his usual impetuosity, Mr. Stuart let himself in and tore upstairs shouting "Fire!" like an engine company.
In the attic Christie was discovered lying dressed upon her bed, asleep or suffocated120 by the smoke that filled the room. A book had slipped from her hand, and in falling had upset the candle on a chair beside her; the long wick leaned against a cotton gown hanging on the wall, and a greater part of Christie's wardrobe was burning brilliantly.
"I forbade her to keep the gas lighted so late, and see what the deceitful creature has done with her private candle!" cried Mrs. Stuart with a shrillness121 that roused the girl from her heavy sleep more effectually than the anathemas122 Mr. Stuart was fulminating against the fire.
Sitting up she looked dizzily about her. The smoke was clearing fast, a window having been opened; and the tableau123 was a striking one. Mr. Stuart with an excited countenance was dancing frantically124 on a heap of half-consumed clothes pulled from the wall. He had not only drenched125 them with water from bowl and pitcher126, but had also cast those articles upon the pile like extinguishers, and was skipping among the fragments with an agility127 which contrasted with his stout figure in full evening costume, and his besmirched128 face, made the sight irresistibly129 ludicrous.
Mrs. Stuart, though in her most regal array, seemed to have left her dignity downstairs with her opera cloak, for with skirts gathered closely about her, tiara all askew130, and face full of fear and anger, she stood upon a chair and scolded like any shrew.
The comic overpowered the tragic, and being a little hysterical131 with the sudden alarm, Christie broke into a peal101 of laughter that sealed her fate.
"Look at her! look at her!" cried Mrs. Stuart gesticulating on her perch as if about to fly. "She has been at the wine, or lost her wits. She must go, Horatio, she must go! I cannot have my nerves shattered by such dreadful scenes. She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain. Hepsey can watch her to-night, and at dawn she shall leave the house for ever."
"Not till after breakfast, my dear. Let us have that in comfort I beg, for upon my soul we shall need it," panted Mr. Stuart, sinking into a chair exhausted132 with the vigorous measures which had quenched133 the conflagration134.
Christie checked her untimely mirth, explained the probable cause of the mischief135, and penitently136 promised to be more careful for the future.
Mr. Stuart would have pardoned her on the spot, but Madame was inexorable, for she had so completely forgotten her dignity that she felt it would be impossible ever to recover it in the eyes of this disrespectful menial. Therefore she dismissed her with a lecture that made both mistress and maid glad to part.
She did not appear at breakfast, and after that meal Mr. Stuart paid Christie her wages with a solemnity which proved that he had taken a curtain lecture to heart. There was a twinkle in his eye, however, as he kindly added a recommendation, and after the door closed behind him Christie was sure that he exploded into a laugh at the recollection of his last night's performance.
This lightened her sense of disgrace very much, so, leaving a part of her money to repair damages, she packed up her dilapidated wardrobe, and, making Hepsey promise to report progress from time to time, Christie went back to Mrs. Flint's to compose her mind and be ready à la Micawber "for something to turn up."
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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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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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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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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18
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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19
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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20
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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21
elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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22
humdrum
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| adj.单调的，乏味的 | |
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23
imprison
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| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
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24
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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25
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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26
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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27
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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28
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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29
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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30
purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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31
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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32
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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33
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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34
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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35
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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36
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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37
applicant
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| n.申请人，求职者，请求者 | |
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38
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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39
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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40
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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41
tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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42
engulfing
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| adj.吞噬的v.吞没，包住( engulf的现在分词 ) | |
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43
pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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44
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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45
sloppy
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| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
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46
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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47
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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48
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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49
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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50
divest
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| v.脱去，剥除 | |
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51
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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52
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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53
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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54
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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55
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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56
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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57
aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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58
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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59
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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60
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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61
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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62
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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63
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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64
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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65
stout
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| adj.强壮的，粗大的，结实的，勇猛的，矮胖的 | |
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66
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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67
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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68
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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69
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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70
garnishing
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| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的现在分词 ) | |
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71
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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72
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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73
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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74
dexterously
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| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
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75
omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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76
majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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77
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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78
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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79
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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80
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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81
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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82
confinements
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| 限制，被监禁( confinement的名词复数 )； 分娩 | |
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83
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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84
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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85
dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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86
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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88
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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89
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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90
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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91
covertly
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| adv.偷偷摸摸地 | |
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92
apoplectic
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| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
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93
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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94
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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95
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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96
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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97
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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98
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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99
edified
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| v.开导，启发( edify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
cosmos
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| n.宇宙；秩序，和谐 | |
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101
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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102
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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103
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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104
prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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106
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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107
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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108
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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109
hoarded
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| v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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112
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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113
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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114
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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115
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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116
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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117
privy
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| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
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118
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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119
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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120
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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121
shrillness
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| 尖锐刺耳 | |
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122
anathemas
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| n.（天主教的）革出教门( anathema的名词复数 )；诅咒；令人极其讨厌的事；被基督教诅咒的人或事 | |
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123
tableau
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| n.画面，活人画（舞台上活人扮的静态画面） | |
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124
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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125
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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126
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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127
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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128
besmirched
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| v.弄脏( besmirch的过去式和过去分词 )；玷污；丑化；糟蹋（名誉等） | |
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129
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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130
askew
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| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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131
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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132
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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133
quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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134
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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135
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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136
penitently
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