Clown. . . . ’Twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed,
you have a delight to sit, have you not?
Froth. I have so: because it is an open room, and good for winter.
Clo. Why, very well then: I hope here be truths.
—Measure for Measure.
Five days after the death of Raffles1, Mr. Bambridge was standing2 at his leisure under the large archway leading into the yard of the Green Dragon. He was not fond of solitary3 contemplation, but he had only just come out of the house, and any human figure standing at ease under the archway in the early afternoon was as certain to attract companionship as a pigeon which has found something worth pecking at. In this case there was no material object to feed upon, but the eye of reason saw a probability of mental sustenance4 in the shape of gossip. Mr. Hopkins, the meek-mannered draper opposite, was the first to act on this inward vision, being the more ambitious of a little masculine talk because his customers were chiefly women. Mr. Bambridge was rather curt5 to the draper, feeling that Hopkins was of course glad to talk to him, but that he was not going to waste much of his talk on Hopkins. Soon, however, there was a small cluster of more important listeners, who were either deposited from the passers-by, or had sauntered to the spot expressly to see if there were anything going on at the Green Dragon; and Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive things about the fine studs he had been seeing and the purchases he had made on a journey in the north from which he had just returned. Gentlemen present were assured that when they could show him anything to cut out a blood mare6, a bay, rising four, which was to be seen at Doncaster if they chose to go and look at it, Mr. Bambridge would gratify them by being shot “from here to Hereford.” Also, a pair of blacks which he was going to put into the break recalled vividly7 to his mind a pair which he had sold to Faulkner in ’19, for a hundred guineas, and which Faulkner had sold for a hundred and sixty two months later—any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the privilege of calling Mr. Bambridge by a very ugly name until the exercise made his throat dry.
When the discourse8 was at this point of animation9, came up Mr. Frank Hawley. He was not a man to compromise his dignity by lounging at the Green Dragon, but happening to pass along the High Street and seeing Bambridge on the other side, he took some of his long strides across to ask the horsedealer whether he had found the first-rate gig-horse which he had engaged to look for. Mr. Hawley was requested to wait until he had seen a gray selected at Bilkley: if that did not meet his wishes to a hair, Bambridge did not know a horse when he saw it, which seemed to be the highest conceivable unlikelihood. Mr. Hawley, standing with his back to the street, was fixing a time for looking at the gray and seeing it tried, when a horseman passed slowly by.
“Bulstrode!” said two or three voices at once in a low tone, one of them, which was the draper’s, respectfully prefixing the “Mr.;” but nobody having more intention in this interjectural naming than if they had said “the Riverston coach” when that vehicle appeared in the distance. Mr. Hawley gave a careless glance round at Bulstrode’s back, but as Bambridge’s eyes followed it he made a sarcastic10 grimace11.
“By jingo! that reminds me,” he began, lowering his voice a little, “I picked up something else at Bilkley besides your gig-horse, Mr. Hawley. I picked up a fine story about Bulstrode. Do you know how he came by his fortune? Any gentleman wanting a bit of curious information, I can give it him free of expense. If everybody got their deserts, Bulstrode might have had to say his prayers at Botany Bay.”
“What do you mean?” said Mr. Hawley, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and pushing a little forward under the archway. If Bulstrode should turn out to be a rascal12, Frank Hawley had a prophetic soul.
“I had it from a party who was an old chum of Bulstrode’s. I’ll tell you where I first picked him up,” said Bambridge, with a sudden gesture of his fore-finger. “He was at Larcher’s sale, but I knew nothing of him then—he slipped through my fingers—was after Bulstrode, no doubt. He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets. However, he blabbed to me at Bilkley: he takes a stiff glass. Damme if I think he meant to turn king’s evidence; but he’s that sort of bragging14 fellow, the bragging runs over hedge and ditch with him, till he’d brag13 of a spavin as if it ’ud fetch money. A man should know when to pull up.” Mr. Bambridge made this remark with an air of disgust, satisfied that his own bragging showed a fine sense of the marketable.
“What’s the man’s name? Where can he be found?” said Mr. Hawley.
“As to where he is to be found, I left him to it at the Saracen’s Head; but his name is Raffles.”
“Raffles!” exclaimed Mr. Hopkins. “I furnished his funeral yesterday. He was buried at Lowick. Mr. Bulstrode followed him. A very decent funeral.” There was a strong sensation among the listeners. Mr. Bambridge gave an ejaculation in which “brimstone” was the mildest word, and Mr. Hawley, knitting his brows and bending his head forward, exclaimed, “What?—where did the man die?”
“At Stone Court,” said the draper. “The housekeeper15 said he was a relation of the master’s. He came there ill on Friday.”
“Why, it was on Wednesday I took a glass with him,” interposed Bambridge.
“Did any doctor attend him?” said Mr. Hawley
“Yes. Mr. Lydgate. Mr. Bulstrode sat up with him one night. He died the third morning.”
“Go on, Bambridge,” said Mr. Hawley, insistently16. “What did this fellow say about Bulstrode?”
The group had already become larger, the town-clerk’s presence being a guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. Bambridge delivered his narrative17 in the hearing of seven. It was mainly what we know, including the fact about Will Ladislaw, with some local color and circumstance added: it was what Bulstrode had dreaded19 the betrayal of—and hoped to have buried forever with the corpse20 of Raffles—it was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode past the archway of the Green Dragon he was trusting that Providence21 had delivered him from. Yes, Providence. He had not confessed to himself yet that he had done anything in the way of contrivance to this end; he had accepted what seemed to have been offered. It was impossible to prove that he had done anything which hastened the departure of that man’s soul.
But this gossip about Bulstrode spread through Middlemarch like the smell of fire. Mr. Frank Hawley followed up his information by sending a clerk whom he could trust to Stone Court on a pretext22 of inquiring about hay, but really to gather all that could be learned about Raffles and his illness from Mrs. Abel. In this way it came to his knowledge that Mr. Garth had carried the man to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr. Hawley in consequence23 took an opportunity of seeing Caleb, calling at his office to ask whether he had time to undertake an arbitration24 if it were required, and then asking him incidentally about Raffles. Caleb was betrayed into no word injurious to Bulstrode beyond the fact which he was forced to admit, that he had given up acting25 for him within the last week. Mr Hawley drew his inferences, and feeling convinced that Raffles had told his story to Garth, and that Garth had given up Bulstrode’s affairs in consequence, said so a few hours later to Mr. Toller. The statement was passed on until it had quite lost the stamp of an inference, and was taken as information coming straight from Garth, so that even a diligent26 historian might have concluded Caleb to be the chief publisher of Bulstrode’s misdemeanors.
Mr. Hawley was not slow to perceive that there was no handle for the law either in the revelations made by Raffles or in the circumstances of his death. He had himself ridden to Lowick village that he might look at the register and talk over the whole matter with Mr. Farebrother, who was not more surprised than the lawyer that an ugly secret should have come to light about Bulstrode, though he had always had justice enough in him to hinder his antipathy27 from turning into conclusions. But while they were talking another combination was silently going forward in Mr. Farebrother’s mind, which foreshadowed what was soon to be loudly spoken of in Middlemarch as a necessary “putting of two and two together.” With the reasons which kept Bulstrode in dread18 of Raffles there flashed the thought that the dread might have something to do with his munificence28 towards his medical man; and though he resisted the suggestion that it had been consciously accepted in any way as a bribe29, he had a foreboding that this complication of things might be of malignant30 effect on Lydgate’s reputation. He perceived that Mr. Hawley knew nothing at present of the sudden relief from debt, and he himself was careful to glide31 away from all approaches towards the subject.
“Well,” he said, with a deep breath, wanting to wind up the illimitable discussion of what might have been, though nothing could be legally proven, “it is a strange story. So our mercurial32 Ladislaw has a queer genealogy33! A high-spirited young lady and a musical Polish patriot34 made a likely enough stock for him to spring from, but I should never have suspected a grafting35 of the Jew pawnbroker36. However, there’s no knowing what a mixture will turn out beforehand. Some sorts of dirt serve to clarify.”
“It’s just what I should have expected,” said Mr. Hawley, mounting his horse. “Any cursed alien blood, Jew, Corsican, or Gypsy.”
“I know he’s one of your black sheep, Hawley. But he is really a disinterested37, unworldly fellow,” said Mr. Farebrother, smiling.
“Ay, ay, that is your Whiggish twist,” said Mr. Hawley, who had been in the habit of saying apologetically that Farebrother was such a damned pleasant good-hearted fellow you would mistake him for a Tory.
Mr. Hawley rode home without thinking of Lydgate’s attendance on Raffles in any other light than as a piece of evidence on the side of Bulstrode. But the news that Lydgate had all at once become able not only to get rid of the execution in his house but to pay all his debts in Middlemarch was spreading fast, gathering38 round it conjectures40 and comments which gave it new body and impetus41, and soon filling the ears of other persons besides Mr. Hawley, who were not slow to see a significant relation between this sudden command of money and Bulstrode’s desire to stifle42 the scandal of Raffles. That the money came from Bulstrode would infallibly have been guessed even if there had been no direct evidence of it; for it had beforehand entered into the gossip about Lydgate’s affairs, that neither his father-in-law nor his own family would do anything for him, and direct evidence was furnished not only by a clerk at the Bank, but by innocent Mrs. Bulstrode herself, who mentioned the loan to Mrs. Plymdale, who mentioned it to her daughter-in-law of the house of Toller, who mentioned it generally. The business was felt to be so public and important that it required dinners to feed it, and many invitations were just then issued and accepted on the strength of this scandal concerning Bulstrode and Lydgate; wives, widows, and single ladies took their work and went out to tea oftener than usual; and all public conviviality43, from the Green Dragon to Dollop’s, gathered a zest44 which could not be won from the question whether the Lords would throw out the Reform Bill.
For hardly anybody doubted that some scandalous reason or other was at the bottom of Bulstrode’s liberality to Lydgate. Mr. Hawley indeed, in the first instance, invited a select party, including the two physicians, with Mr Toller and Mr. Wrench45, expressly to hold a close discussion as to the probabilities of Raffles’s illness, reciting to them all the particulars which had been gathered from Mrs. Abel in connection with Lydgate’s certificate, that the death was due to delirium46 tremens; and the medical gentlemen, who all stood undisturbedly on the old paths in relation to this disease, declared that they could see nothing in these particulars which could be transformed into a positive ground of suspicion. But the moral grounds of suspicion remained: the strong motives47 Bulstrode clearly had for wishing to be rid of Raffles, and the fact that at this critical moment he had given Lydgate the help which he must for some time have known the need for; the disposition49, moreover, to believe that Bulstrode would be unscrupulous, and the absence of any indisposition to believe that Lydgate might be as easily bribed50 as other haughty-minded men when they have found themselves in want of money. Even if the money had been given merely to make him hold his tongue about the scandal of Bulstrode’s earlier life, the fact threw an odious51 light on Lydgate, who had long been sneered52 at as making himself subservient53 to the banker for the sake of working himself into predominance, and discrediting54 the elder members of his profession. Hence, in spite of the negative as to any direct sign of guilt55 in relation to the death at Stone Court, Mr. Hawley’s select party broke up with the sense that the affair had “an ugly look.”
But this vague conviction of indeterminable guilt, which was enough to keep up much head-shaking and biting innuendo56 even among substantial professional seniors, had for the general mind all the superior power of mystery over fact. Everybody liked better to conjecture39 how the thing was, than simply to know it; for conjecture soon became more confident than knowledge, and had a more liberal allowance for the incompatible57. Even the more definite scandal concerning Bulstrode’s earlier life was, for some minds, melted into the mass of mystery, as so much lively metal to be poured out in dialogue, and to take such fantastic shapes as heaven pleased.
This was the tone of thought chiefly sanctioned by Mrs. Dollop, the spirited landlady58 of the Tankard in Slaughter59 Lane, who had often to resist the shallow pragmatism of customers disposed to think that their reports from the outer world were of equal force with what had “come up” in her mind. How it had been brought to her she didn’t know, but it was there before her as if it had been “scored with the chalk on the chimney-board—” as Bulstrode should say, “his inside was that black as if the hairs of his head knowed the thoughts of his heart, he’d tear ’em up by the roots.”
“That’s odd,” said Mr. Limp, a meditative60 shoemaker, with weak eyes and a piping voice. “Why, I read in the ‘Trumpet61’ that was what the Duke of Wellington said when he turned his coat and went over to the Romans.”
“Very like,” said Mrs. Dollop. “If one raskill said it, it’s more reason why another should. But hypocrite as he’s been, and holding things with that high hand, as there was no parson i’ the country good enough for him, he was forced to take Old Harry62 into his counsel, and Old Harry’s been too many for him.”
“Ay, ay, he’s a ’complice you can’t send out o’ the country,” said Mr. Crabbe, the glazier, who gathered much news and groped among it dimly. “But by what I can make out, there’s them says Bulstrode was for running away, for fear o’ being found out, before now.”
“He’ll be drove away, whether or no,” said Mr. Dill, the barber, who had just dropped in. “I shaved Fletcher, Hawley’s clerk, this morning—he’s got a bad finger—and he says they’re all of one mind to get rid of Bulstrode. Mr. Thesiger is turned against him, and wants him out o’ the parish. And there’s gentlemen in this town says they’d as soon dine with a fellow from the hulks. ‘And a deal sooner I would,’ says Fletcher; ‘for what’s more against one’s stomach than a man coming and making himself bad company with his religion, and giving out as the Ten Commandments are not enough for him, and all the while he’s worse than half the men at the tread-mill?’ Fletcher said so himself.”
“It’ll be a bad thing for the town though, if Bulstrode’s money goes out of it,” said Mr. Limp, quaveringly.
“Ah, there’s better folks spend their money worse,” said a firm-voiced dyer, whose crimson63 hands looked out of keeping with his good-natured face.
“But he won’t keep his money, by what I can make out,” said the glazier. “Don’t they say as there’s somebody can strip it off him? By what I can understan’, they could take every penny off him, if they went to lawing.”
“No such thing!” said the barber, who felt himself a little above his company at Dollop’s, but liked it none the worse. “Fletcher says it’s no such thing. He says they might prove over and over again whose child this young Ladislaw was, and they’d do no more than if they proved I came out of the Fens—he couldn’t touch a penny.”
“Look you there now!” said Mrs. Dollop, indignantly. “I thank the Lord he took my children to Himself, if that’s all the law can do for the motherless. Then by that, it’s o’ no use who your father and mother is. But as to listening to what one lawyer says without asking another—I wonder at a man o’ your cleverness, Mr. Dill. It’s well known there’s always two sides, if no more; else who’d go to law, I should like to know? It’s a poor tale, with all the law as there is up and down, if it’s no use proving whose child you are. Fletcher may say that if he likes, but I say, don’t Fletcher me!”
Mr. Dill affected64 to laugh in a complimentary65 way at Mrs. Dollop, as a woman who was more than a match for the lawyers; being disposed to submit to much twitting from a landlady who had a long score against him.
“If they come to lawing, and it’s all true as folks say, there’s more to be looked to nor money,” said the glazier. “There’s this poor creetur as is dead and gone; by what I can make out, he’d seen the day when he was a deal finer gentleman nor Bulstrode.”
“Finer gentleman! I’ll warrant him,” said Mrs. Dollop; “and a far personabler man, by what I can hear. As I said when Mr. Baldwin, the tax-gatherer, comes in, a-standing where you sit, and says, ‘Bulstrode got all his money as he brought into this town by thieving and swindling,’—I said, ‘You don’t make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: it’s set my blood a-creeping to look at him ever sin’ here he came into Slaughter Lane a-wanting to buy the house over my head: folks don’t look the color o’ the dough-tub and stare at you as if they wanted to see into your backbone66 for nothingk.’ That was what I said, and Mr. Baldwin can bear me witness.”
“And in the rights of it too,” said Mr. Crabbe. “For by what I can make out, this Raffles, as they call him, was a lusty, fresh-colored man as you’d wish to see, and the best o’ company—though dead he lies in Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can understan’, there’s them knows more than they should know about how he got there.”
“I’ll believe you!” said Mrs. Dollop, with a touch of scorn at Mr. Crabbe’s apparent dimness. “When a man’s been ’ticed to a lone67 house, and there’s them can pay for hospitals and nurses for half the country-side choose to be sitters-up night and day, and nobody to come near but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he can hang together, and after that so flush o’ money as he can pay off Mr. Byles the butcher as his bill has been running on for the best o’ joints68 since last Michaelmas was a twelvemonth—I don’t want anybody to come and tell me as there’s been more going on nor the Prayer-book’s got a service for—I don’t want to stand winking69 and blinking and thinking.”
Mrs. Dollop looked round with the air of a landlady accustomed to dominate her company. There was a chorus of adhesion from the more courageous70; but Mr. Limp, after taking a draught71, placed his flat hands together and pressed them hard between his knees, looking down at them with blear-eyed contemplation, as if the scorching72 power of Mrs. Dollop’s speech had quite dried up and nullified his wits until they could be brought round again by further moisture.
“Why shouldn’t they dig the man up and have the Crowner?” said the dyer. “It’s been done many and many’s the time. If there’s been foul73 play they might find it out.”
“Not they, Mr. Jonas!” said Mrs Dollop, emphatically. “I know what doctors are. They’re a deal too cunning to be found out. And this Doctor Lydgate that’s been for cutting up everybody before the breath was well out o’ their body—it’s plain enough what use he wanted to make o’ looking into respectable people’s insides. He knows drugs, you may be sure, as you can neither smell nor see, neither before they’re swallowed nor after. Why, I’ve seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i’ Middlemarch—I say I’ve seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in the glass or out, and yet have griped you the next day. So I’ll leave your own sense to judge. Don’t tell me! All I say is, it’s a mercy they didn’t take this Doctor Lydgate on to our club. There’s many a mother’s child might ha’ rued74 it.”
The heads of this discussion at “Dollop’s” had been the common theme among all classes in the town, had been carried to Lowick Parsonage on one side and to Tipton Grange on the other, had come fully to the ears of the Vincy family, and had been discussed with sad reference to “poor Harriet” by all Mrs. Bulstrode’s friends, before Lydgate knew distinctly why people were looking strangely at him, and before Bulstrode himself suspected the betrayal of his secrets. He had not been accustomed to very cordial relations with his neighbors, and hence he could not miss the signs of cordiality; moreover, he had been taking journeys on business of various kinds, having now made up his mind that he need not quit Middlemarch, and feeling able consequently to determine on matters which he had before left in suspense75.
“We will make a journey to Cheltenham in the course of a month or two,” he had said to his wife. “There are great spiritual advantages to be had in that town along with the air and the waters, and six weeks there will be eminently76 refreshing77 to us.”
He really believed in the spiritual advantages, and meant that his life henceforth should be the more devoted78 because of those later sins which he represented to himself as hypothetic, praying hypothetically for their pardon:—“if I have herein transgressed79.”
As to the Hospital, he avoided saying anything further to Lydgate, fearing to manifest a too sudden change of plans immediately on the death of Raffles. In his secret soul he believed that Lydgate suspected his orders to have been intentionally80 disobeyed, and suspecting this he must also suspect a motive48. But nothing had been betrayed to him as to the history of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions. As to any certainty that a particular method of treatment would either save or kill, Lydgate himself was constantly arguing against such dogmatism; he had no right to speak, and he had every motive for being silent. Hence Bulstrode felt himself providentially secured. The only incident he had strongly winced81 under had been an occasional encounter with Caleb Garth, who, however, had raised his hat with mild gravity.
Meanwhile, on the part of the principal townsmen a strong determination was growing against him.
A meeting was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary82 question which had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera83 case in the town. Since the Act of Parliament, which had been hurriedly passed, authorizing84 assessments86 for sanitary measures, there had been a Board for the superintendence of such measures appointed in Middlemarch, and much cleansing88 and preparation had been concurred89 in by Whigs and Tories. The question now was, whether a piece of ground outside the town should be secured as a burial-ground by means of assessment85 or by private subscription91. The meeting was to be open, and almost everybody of importance in the town was expected to be there.
Mr. Bulstrode was a member of the Board, and just before twelve o’clock he started from the Bank with the intention of urging the plan of private subscription. Under the hesitation92 of his projects, he had for some time kept himself in the background, and he felt that he should this morning resume his old position as a man of action and influence in the public affairs of the town where he expected to end his days. Among the various persons going in the same direction, he saw Lydgate; they joined, talked over the object of the meeting, and entered it together.
It seemed that everybody of mark had been earlier than they. But there were still spaces left near the head of the large central table, and they made their way thither93. Mr. Farebrother sat opposite, not far from Mr. Hawley; all the medical men were there; Mr. Thesiger was in the chair, and Mr. Brooke of Tipton was on his right hand.
Lydgate noticed a peculiar94 interchange of glances when he and Bulstrode took their seats.
After the business had been fully opened by the chairman, who pointed87 out the advantages of purchasing by subscription a piece of ground large enough to be ultimately used as a general cemetery95, Mr. Bulstrode, whose rather high-pitched but subdued96 and fluent voice the town was used to at meetings of this sort, rose and asked leave to deliver his opinion. Lydgate could see again the peculiar interchange of glances before Mr. Hawley started up, and said in his firm resonant97 voice, “Mr. Chairman, I request that before any one delivers his opinion on this point I may be permitted to speak on a question of public feeling, which not only by myself, but by many gentlemen present, is regarded as preliminary.”
Mr. Hawley’s mode of speech, even when public decorum repressed his “awful language,” was formidable in its curtness98 and self-possession. Mr. Thesiger sanctioned the request, Mr. Bulstrode sat down, and Mr. Hawley continued.
“In what I have to say, Mr. Chairman, I am not speaking simply on my own behalf: I am speaking with the concurrence99 and at the express request of no fewer than eight of my fellow-townsmen, who are immediately around us. It is our united sentiment that Mr. Bulstrode should be called upon—and I do now call upon him—to resign public positions which he holds not simply as a tax-payer, but as a gentleman among gentlemen. There are practices and there are acts which, owing to circumstances, the law cannot visit, though they may be worse than many things which are legally punishable. Honest men and gentlemen, if they don’t want the company of people who perpetrate such acts, have got to defend themselves as they best can, and that is what I and the friends whom I may call my clients in this affair are determined100 to do. I don’t say that Mr. Bulstrode has been guilty of shameful101 acts, but I call upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous statements made against him by a man now dead, and who died in his house—the statement that he was for many years engaged in nefarious102 practices, and that he won his fortune by dishonest procedures—or else to withdraw from positions which could only have been allowed him as a gentleman among gentlemen.”
All eyes in the room were turned on Mr. Bulstrode, who, since the first mention of his name, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost too violent for his delicate frame to support. Lydgate, who himself was undergoing a shock as from the terrible practical interpretation103 of some faint augury104, felt, nevertheless, that his own movement of resentful hatred105 was checked by that instinct of the Healer which thinks first of bringing rescue or relief to the sufferer, when he looked at the shrunken misery106 of Bulstrode’s livid face.
The quick vision that his life was after all a failure, that he was a dishonored man, and must quail107 before the glance of those towards whom he had habitually108 assumed the attitude of a reprover—that God had disowned him before men and left him unscreened to the triumphant109 scorn of those who were glad to have their hatred justified—the sense of utter futility110 in that equivocation111 with his conscience in dealing112 with the life of his accomplice113, an equivocation which now turned venomously upon him with the full-grown fang114 of a discovered lie:—all this rushed through him like the agony of terror which fails to kill, and leaves the ears still open to the returning wave of execration115. The sudden sense of exposure after the re-established sense of safety came—not to the coarse organization of a criminal, but to the susceptible116 nerve of a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery and predominance as the conditions of his life had shaped for him.
But in that intense being lay the strength of reaction. Through all his bodily infirmity there ran a tenacious117 nerve of ambitious self-preserving will, which had continually leaped out like a flame, scattering118 all doctrinal fears, and which, even while he sat an object of compassion119 for the merciful, was beginning to stir and glow under his ashy paleness. Before the last words were out of Mr. Hawley’s mouth, Bulstrode felt that he should answer, and that his answer would be a retort. He dared not get up and say, “I am not guilty, the whole story is false”—even if he had dared this, it would have seemed to him, under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for covering to his nakedness, a frail120 rag which would rend121 at every little strain.
For a few moments there was total silence, while every man in the room was looking at Bulstrode. He sat perfectly122 still, leaning hard against the back of his chair; he could not venture to rise, and when he began to speak he pressed his hands upon the seat on each side of him. But his voice was perfectly audible, though hoarser123 than usual, and his words were distinctly pronounced, though he paused between sentence as if short of breath. He said, turning first toward Mr. Thesiger, and then looking at Mr. Hawley—
“I protest before you, sir, as a Christian124 minister, against the sanction of proceedings125 towards me which are dictated126 by virulent127 hatred. Those who are hostile to me are glad to believe any libel uttered by a loose tongue against me. And their consciences become strict against me. Say that the evil-speaking of which I am to be made the victim accuses me of malpractices—” here Bulstrode’s voice rose and took on a more biting accent, till it seemed a low cry—“who shall be my accuser? Not men whose own lives are unchristian, nay128, scandalous—not men who themselves use low instruments to carry out their ends—whose profession is a tissue of chicanery129—who have been spending their income on their own sensual enjoyments130, while I have been devoting mine to advance the best objects with regard to this life and the next.”
After the word chicanery there was a growing noise, half of murmurs131 and half of hisses132, while four persons started up at once—Mr. Hawley, Mr. Toller, Mr. Chichely, and Mr. Hackbutt; but Mr. Hawley’s outburst was instantaneous, and left the others behind in silence.
“If you mean me, sir, I call you and every one else to the inspection133 of my professional life. As to Christian or unchristian, I repudiate134 your canting palavering Christianity; and as to the way in which I spend my income, it is not my principle to maintain thieves and cheat offspring of their due inheritance in order to support religion and set myself up as a saintly Killjoy. I affect no niceness of conscience—I have not found any nice standards necessary yet to measure your actions by, sir. And I again call upon you to enter into satisfactory explanations concerning the scandals against you, or else to withdraw from posts in which we at any rate decline you as a colleague. I say, sir, we decline to co-operate with a man whose character is not cleared from infamous135 lights cast upon it, not only by reports but by recent actions.”
“Allow me, Mr. Hawley,” said the chairman; and Mr. Hawley, still fuming136, bowed half impatiently, and sat down with his hands thrust deep in his pockets.
“Mr. Bulstrode, it is not desirable, I think, to prolong the present discussion,” said Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid137 trembling man; “I must so far concur90 with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley in expression of a general feeling, as to think it due to your Christian profession that you should clear yourself, if possible, from unhappy aspersions. I for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing. But I must say that your present attitude is painfully inconsistent with those principles which you have sought to identify yourself with, and for the honor of which I am bound to care. I recommend you at present, as your clergyman, and one who hopes for your reinstatement in respect, to quit the room, and avoid further hindrance138 to business.”
Bulstrode, after a moment’s hesitation, took his hat from the floor and slowly rose, but he grasped the corner of the chair so totteringly that Lydgate felt sure there was not strength enough in him to walk away without support. What could he do? He could not see a man sink close to him for want of help. He rose and gave his arm to Bulstrode, and in that way led him out of the room; yet this act, which might have been one of gentle duty and pure compassion, was at this moment unspeakably bitter to him. It seemed as if he were putting his sign-manual to that association of himself with Bulstrode, of which he now saw the full meaning as it must have presented itself to other minds. He now felt the conviction that this man who was leaning tremblingly on his arm, had given him the thousand pounds as a bribe, and that somehow the treatment of Raffles had been tampered139 with from an evil motive. The inferences were closely linked enough; the town knew of the loan, believed it to be a bribe, and believed that he took it as a bribe.
Poor Lydgate, his mind struggling under the terrible clutch of this revelation, was all the while morally forced to take Mr. Bulstrode to the Bank, send a man off for his carriage, and wait to accompany him home.
Meanwhile the business of the meeting was despatched, and fringed off into eager discussion among various groups concerning this affair of Bulstrode—and Lydgate.
Mr. Brooke, who had before heard only imperfect hints of it, and was very uneasy that he had “gone a little too far” in countenancing140 Bulstrode, now got himself fully informed, and felt some benevolent141 sadness in talking to Mr. Farebrother about the ugly light in which Lydgate had come to be regarded. Mr. Farebrother was going to walk back to Lowick.
“Step into my carriage,” said Mr. Brooke. “I am going round to see Mrs. Casaubon. She was to come back from Yorkshire last night. She will like to see me, you know.”
So they drove along, Mr. Brooke chatting with good-natured hope that there had not really been anything black in Lydgate’s behavior—a young fellow whom he had seen to be quite above the common mark, when he brought a letter from his uncle Sir Godwin. Mr. Farebrother said little: he was deeply mournful: with a keen perception of human weakness, he could not be confident that under the pressure of humiliating needs Lydgate had not fallen below himself.
When the carriage drove up to the gate of the Manor142, Dorothea was out on the gravel143, and came to greet them.
“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Brooke, “we have just come from a meeting—a sanitary meeting, you know.”
“Was Mr. Lydgate there?” said Dorothea, who looked full of health and animation, and stood with her head bare under the gleaming April lights. “I want to see him and have a great consultation144 with him about the Hospital. I have engaged with Mr. Bulstrode to do so.”
“Oh, my dear,” said Mr. Brooke, “we have been hearing bad news—bad news, you know.”
They walked through the garden towards the churchyard gate, Mr. Farebrother wanting to go on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the whole sad story.
She listened with deep interest, and begged to hear twice over the facts and impressions concerning Lydgate. After a short silence, pausing at the churchyard gate, and addressing Mr. Farebrother, she said energetically—
“You don’t believe that Mr. Lydgate is guilty of anything base? I will not believe it. Let us find out the truth and clear him!”
1 raffles [ˈræflz] 第10级 | |
n.抽彩售物( raffle的名词复数 )v.以抽彩方式售(物)( raffle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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2 standing [ˈstændɪŋ] 第8级 | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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3 solitary [ˈsɒlətri] 第7级 | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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4 sustenance [ˈsʌstənəns] 第9级 | |
n.食物,粮食;生活资料;生计 | |
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5 curt [kɜ:t] 第9级 | |
adj.简短的,草率的 | |
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6 mare [meə(r)] 第10级 | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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7 vividly ['vɪvɪdlɪ] 第9级 | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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8 discourse [ˈdɪskɔ:s] 第7级 | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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9 animation [ˌænɪˈmeɪʃn] 第8级 | |
n.活泼,兴奋,卡通片/动画片的制作 | |
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10 sarcastic [sɑ:ˈkæstɪk] 第9级 | |
adj.讥讽的,讽刺的,嘲弄的 | |
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11 grimace [grɪˈmeɪs] 第10级 | |
vi. 扮鬼脸;作怪相;作苦相 n. 鬼脸;怪相;痛苦的表情 | |
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12 rascal [ˈrɑ:skl] 第9级 | |
n.流氓;不诚实的人 | |
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13 brag [bræg] 第8级 | |
n. 吹牛,自夸 vi. 吹牛,自夸 vt. 吹牛,吹嘘 | |
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14 bragging [b'ræɡɪŋ] 第8级 | |
v.自夸,吹嘘( brag的现在分词 );大话 | |
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15 housekeeper [ˈhaʊski:pə(r)] 第8级 | |
n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
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16 insistently [in'sistəntli] 第7级 | |
ad.坚持地 | |
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17 narrative [ˈnærətɪv] 第7级 | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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18 dread [dred] 第7级 | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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19 dreaded [ˈdredɪd] 第7级 | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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20 corpse [kɔ:ps] 第7级 | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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21 providence [ˈprɒvɪdəns] 第12级 | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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22 pretext [ˈpri:tekst] 第7级 | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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23 consequence [ˈkɒnsɪkwəns] 第8级 | |
n.结果,后果;推理,推断;重要性 | |
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24 arbitration [ˌɑ:bɪˈtreɪʃn] 第10级 | |
n.调停,仲裁 | |
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25 acting [ˈæktɪŋ] 第7级 | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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26 diligent [ˈdɪlɪdʒənt] 第7级 | |
adj.勤勉的,勤奋的 | |
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27 antipathy [ænˈtɪpəθi] 第9级 | |
n.憎恶;反感,引起反感的人或事物 | |
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28 munificence [mju:'nɪfɪsns] 第10级 | |
n.宽宏大量,慷慨给与 | |
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29 bribe [braɪb] 第7级 | |
n.贿赂;vt.向…行贿,买通;vi.行贿 | |
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30 malignant [məˈlɪgnənt] 第7级 | |
adj.恶性的,致命的;恶意的,恶毒的 | |
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31 glide [glaɪd] 第7级 | |
n.溜,滑行;(时间)消逝;vt.滑翔;滑行;悄悄地走;消逝;vi.使滑行;使滑动 | |
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32 mercurial [mɜ:ˈkjʊəriəl] 第10级 | |
adj.善变的,活泼的 | |
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33 genealogy [ˌdʒi:niˈælədʒi] 第11级 | |
n.家系,宗谱 | |
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34 patriot [ˈpeɪtriət] 第7级 | |
n.爱国者,爱国主义者 | |
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35 grafting ['grɑ:ftɪŋ] 第8级 | |
嫁接法,移植法 | |
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36 pawnbroker [ˈpɔ:nbrəʊkə(r)] 第12级 | |
n.典当商,当铺老板 | |
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37 disinterested [dɪsˈɪntrəstɪd] 第8级 | |
adj.不关心的,不感兴趣的 | |
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38 gathering [ˈgæðərɪŋ] 第8级 | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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39 conjecture [kənˈdʒektʃə(r)] 第9级 | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
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40 conjectures [kənˈdʒektʃəz] 第9级 | |
推测,猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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41 impetus [ˈɪmpɪtəs] 第7级 | |
n.推动,促进,刺激;推动力 | |
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42 stifle [ˈstaɪfl] 第9级 | |
vt.使窒息;闷死;扼杀;抑止,阻止 | |
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43 conviviality [kənˌvɪvɪ'ælətɪ] 第10级 | |
n.欢宴,高兴,欢乐 | |
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44 zest [zest] 第9级 | |
n.乐趣;滋味,风味;兴趣 | |
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45 wrench [rentʃ] 第7级 | |
vt.猛拧;挣脱;使扭伤;vi. 扭伤;猛扭;猛绞;n.扳手;痛苦,难受,扭伤 | |
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46 delirium [dɪˈlɪriəm] 第10级 | |
n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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47 motives [ˈməutivz] 第7级 | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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48 motive [ˈməʊtɪv] 第7级 | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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49 disposition [ˌdɪspəˈzɪʃn] 第7级 | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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50 bribed [braibd] 第7级 | |
v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 );向(某人)行贿,贿赂 | |
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51 odious [ˈəʊdiəs] 第10级 | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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52 sneered [sniəd] 第7级 | |
讥笑,冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53 subservient [səbˈsɜ:viənt] 第11级 | |
adj.卑屈的,阿谀的 | |
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54 discrediting [dɪsˈkredɪtɪŋ] 第9级 | |
使不相信( discredit的现在分词 ); 使怀疑; 败坏…的名声; 拒绝相信 | |
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55 guilt [gɪlt] 第7级 | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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56 innuendo [ˌɪnjuˈendəʊ] 第11级 | |
n.暗指,讽刺 | |
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57 incompatible [ˌɪnkəmˈpætəbl] 第7级 | |
adj.不相容的,不协调的,不相配的 | |
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58 landlady [ˈlændleɪdi] 第7级 | |
n.女房东,女地主,女店主 | |
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59 slaughter [ˈslɔ:tə(r)] 第8级 | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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60 meditative [ˈmedɪtətɪv] 第12级 | |
adj.沉思的,冥想的 | |
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61 trumpet [ˈtrʌmpɪt] 第7级 | |
n.喇叭,喇叭声;vt.吹喇叭,吹嘘;vi.吹喇叭;发出喇叭般的声音 | |
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62 harry [ˈhæri] 第8级 | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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63 crimson [ˈkrɪmzn] 第10级 | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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64 affected [əˈfektɪd] 第9级 | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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65 complimentary [ˌkɒmplɪˈmentri] 第8级 | |
adj.赠送的,免费的,赞美的,恭维的 | |
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66 backbone [ˈbækbəʊn] 第9级 | |
n.脊骨,脊柱,骨干;刚毅,骨气 | |
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67 lone [ləʊn] 第9级 | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
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68 joints [dʒɔints] 第7级 | |
接头( joint的名词复数 ); 关节; 公共场所(尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所) (非正式); 一块烤肉 (英式英语) | |
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69 winking ['wɪŋkɪŋ] 第7级 | |
n.瞬眼,目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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70 courageous [kəˈreɪdʒəs] 第8级 | |
adj.勇敢的,有胆量的 | |
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71 draught [drɑ:ft] 第10级 | |
n.拉,牵引,拖;一网(饮,吸,阵);顿服药量,通风;v.起草,设计 | |
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72 scorching ['skɔ:tʃiŋ] 第9级 | |
adj. 灼热的 | |
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73 foul [faʊl] 第7级 | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;vt.弄脏;妨害;犯规;vi. 犯规;腐烂;缠结;n.犯规 | |
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74 rued [ru:d] 第10级 | |
v.对…感到后悔( rue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75 suspense [səˈspens] 第8级 | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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76 eminently [ˈemɪnəntli] 第7级 | |
adv.突出地;显著地;不寻常地 | |
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77 refreshing [rɪˈfreʃɪŋ] 第8级 | |
adj.使精神振作的,使人清爽的,使人喜欢的 | |
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78 devoted [dɪˈvəʊtɪd] 第8级 | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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79 transgressed [trænsˈgrest] 第11级 | |
v.超越( transgress的过去式和过去分词 );越过;违反;违背 | |
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80 intentionally [in'tenʃənli] 第8级 | |
ad.故意地,有意地 | |
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81 winced [wɪnst] 第10级 | |
赶紧避开,畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82 sanitary [ˈsænətri] 第8级 | |
adj.卫生方面的,卫生的,清洁的,卫生的 | |
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83 cholera [ˈkɒlərə] 第10级 | |
n.霍乱 | |
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84 authorizing [ˈɔ:θəraizɪŋ] 第9级 | |
授权,批准,委托( authorize的现在分词 ) | |
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85 assessment [əˈsesmənt] 第7级 | |
n.评价;评估;对财产的估价,被估定的金额 | |
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86 assessments [əˈsesmənts] 第7级 | |
n.评估( assessment的名词复数 );评价;(应偿付金额的)估定;(为征税对财产所作的)估价 | |
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87 pointed [ˈpɔɪntɪd] 第7级 | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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88 cleansing ['klenzɪŋ] 第9级 | |
n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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89 concurred [] 第8级 | |
同意(concur的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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90 concur [kənˈkɜ:(r)] 第8级 | |
vi.同意,意见一致,互助,同时发生 | |
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91 subscription [səbˈskrɪpʃn] 第8级 | |
n.预订,预订费,亲笔签名,调配法,下标(处方) | |
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92 hesitation [ˌhezɪ'teɪʃn] 第7级 | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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93 thither [ˈðɪðə(r)] 第12级 | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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94 peculiar [pɪˈkju:liə(r)] 第7级 | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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95 cemetery [ˈsemətri] 第8级 | |
n.坟墓,墓地,坟场 | |
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96 subdued [səbˈdju:d] 第7级 | |
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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97 resonant [ˈrezənənt] 第10级 | |
adj.(声音)洪亮的,共鸣的 | |
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98 curtness [kɜ:tnəs] 第9级 | |
n.简短;草率;简略 | |
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99 concurrence [kənˈkʌrəns] 第11级 | |
n.同意;并发 | |
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100 determined [dɪˈtɜ:mɪnd] 第7级 | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的;v.决定;断定(determine的过去分词) | |
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101 shameful [ˈʃeɪmfl] 第8级 | |
adj.可耻的,不道德的 | |
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102 nefarious [nɪˈfeəriəs] 第11级 | |
adj.恶毒的,极坏的 | |
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103 interpretation [ɪnˌtɜ:prɪˈteɪʃn] 第7级 | |
n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
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104 augury [ˈɔ:gjʊri] 第11级 | |
n.预言,征兆,占卦 | |
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105 hatred [ˈheɪtrɪd] 第7级 | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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106 misery [ˈmɪzəri] 第7级 | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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107 quail [kweɪl] 第10级 | |
n.鹌鹑;vi.畏惧,颤抖 | |
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108 habitually [hə'bitjuəli] 第7级 | |
ad.习惯地,通常地 | |
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109 triumphant [traɪˈʌmfənt] 第9级 | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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110 futility [fju:'tiləti] 第8级 | |
n.无用 | |
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111 equivocation [ɪˌkwɪvəˈkeɪʃn] 第10级 | |
n.模棱两可的话,含糊话 | |
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112 dealing [ˈdi:lɪŋ] 第10级 | |
n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
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113 accomplice [əˈkʌmplɪs] 第8级 | |
n.从犯,帮凶,同谋 | |
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114 fang [fæŋ] 第11级 | |
n.尖牙,犬牙 | |
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115 execration [ˌeksɪ'kreɪʃən] 第12级 | |
n.诅咒,念咒,憎恶 | |
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116 susceptible [səˈseptəbl] 第7级 | |
adj.过敏的,敏感的;易动感情的,易受感动的 | |
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117 tenacious [təˈneɪʃəs] 第9级 | |
adj.顽强的,固执的,记忆力强的,粘的 | |
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118 scattering ['skætərɪŋ] 第7级 | |
n.[物]散射;散乱,分散;在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的;分散在不同范围的;广泛扩散的;(选票)数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式);散布;驱散 | |
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119 compassion [kəmˈpæʃn] 第8级 | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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120 frail [freɪl] 第7级 | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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121 rend [rend] 第9级 | |
vt.把…撕开,割裂;把…揪下来,强行夺取 | |
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122 perfectly [ˈpɜ:fɪktli] 第8级 | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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124 Christian [ˈkrɪstʃən] 第7级 | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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125 proceedings [prə'si:diŋz] 第7级 | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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126 dictated [dikˈteitid] 第7级 | |
v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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127 virulent [ˈvɪrələnt] 第10级 | |
adj.有毒的,有恶意的,充满敌意的 | |
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128 nay [neɪ] 第12级 | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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129 chicanery [ʃɪˈkeɪnəri] 第10级 | |
n.欺诈,欺骗 | |
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130 enjoyments [enˈdʒɔɪmənts] 第7级 | |
愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 ); 令人愉快的事物; 享有; 享受 | |
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131 murmurs [ˈmə:məz] 第7级 | |
n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 );低语声;怨言;嘀咕 | |
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132 hisses [hisiz] 第10级 | |
嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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133 inspection [ɪnˈspekʃn] 第8级 | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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134 repudiate [rɪˈpju:dieɪt] 第9级 | |
vt.拒绝,拒付,拒绝履行 | |
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135 infamous [ˈɪnfəməs] 第8级 | |
adj.声名狼藉的,臭名昭著的,邪恶的 | |
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136 fuming [fjʊmɪŋ] 第7级 | |
愤怒( fume的现在分词 ); 大怒; 发怒; 冒烟 | |
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137 pallid [ˈpælɪd] 第11级 | |
adj.苍白的,呆板的 | |
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138 hindrance [ˈhɪndrəns] 第9级 | |
n.妨碍,障碍 | |
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139 tampered [ˈtæmpəd] 第9级 | |
v.窜改( tamper的过去式 );篡改;(用不正当手段)影响;瞎摆弄 | |
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140 countenancing [ˈkaʊntənənsɪŋ] 第9级 | |
v.支持,赞同,批准( countenance的现在分词 ) | |
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141 benevolent [bəˈnevələnt] 第9级 | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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142 manor [ˈmænə(r)] 第11级 | |
n.庄园,领地 | |
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143 gravel [ˈgrævl] 第7级 | |
n.砂跞;砂砾层;结石 | |
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144 consultation [ˌkɒnslˈteɪʃn] 第9级 | |
n.咨询;商量;商议;会议 | |
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