The kitchen, a heavy-looking, smoke-blackened structure with a puncheon floor, stood just in the rear of the house, and so situated7 that from the door one could look through the entry to the front gate and the mountain road beyond.
POLLY.
POLLY.
Mrs. Standnege sat in the kitchen door one morning with bottles and bean-bags scattered8 around her, "sortin'" out seed-beans. She was a woman not much beyond middle age, but lean and yellow, with faded eyes and scant9 dun-colored hair, time and toil10 and diet having robbed her of the last remnant of youth, without giving her a lovely old age. She was a good type of the average mountain woman, illiterate11 but independent, and contented12 with her scant homespun dress, her house, her beanbags.
MRS. STANDNEGE.
MRS. STANDNEGE.
A heavy old loom13 occupied one corner of the kitchen, and Polly, the eldest14 daughter, sat on the high bench before it, industriously16 weaving, while S'phiry Ann stood by the smoke-stained mantel, watching the pine she had laid on the fire burst into vivid flame. A bundle of clothes lay at her feet, surmounted17 by a round flat gourd18, filled with brown jelly-like soap.
Polly was the eldest and she the youngest of eight children, but the others all lay safely and peacefully in the little neglected burial-ground at the foot of the mountain. She was unlike mother and sister. She had youth, she was supple19 and fair, her hair dark and abundant, her eyes gray and clear. She had the soft, drawling voice, but also a full share of the sturdy independence, of her race. The circumstances of her christening, Mrs. Standnege was rather fond of relating.
"Yes, S'phiry Ann is er oncommon name," she would say, not without a touch of complacency, "but her pap give it tu her. She was a month old to a day, when that travelin' preacher come through here an' held meetin' fer brother Dan'l on Sunday. He preached mos'ly about them liars20 droppin' dead at the 'postles' feet, an' Standnege came home all but persessed about it, an' nothin' ed do but he mus' name the baby S'phiry Ann instead er Sary Ann as we had thought. He 'lowed it sarved them onprincipled folks right to die, an' he wanted somethin' ter remin' him o' that sermont. Well, I ain't desputin' but it was right, but I tole Standnege then, an' I say so yit, that ef all the liars in the world war tuk outen it, thar wouldn't be many folks left."
S'phiry Ann had heard of the fate of the Sapphira figuring in sacred history; it had been deeply impressed on her mind in her tenderest years, and might possibly have left a good impression, for she grew up a singularly truthful21, upright girl. Just now, as she leaned against the mantel and stared at the fire, her face wore an unwontedly grave expression.
"Folks as set themselves up ter be better'n they ekals air mighty22 apt tu git tuk down, S'phiry Ann," said her mother, evidently resuming a conversation dropped a short time before.
"But I ain't a-settin' up ter be better'n my ekals, ma," said S'phiry Ann, gently but defensively.
"It 'peared like nothin' else yiste'day when you so p'intedly walked away from Gabe Plummer at meetin', an' it the fust time you had seed him since comin' from yer aunt Thomas over in Boondtown settle*mint*. Thar ain't no call ter treat Gabe so."
"But ain't we hearn he's tuk up with them distillers on the mountains?" said the girl in a low tone, a deep flush overspreading her face.
"Yes, we hev hearn it, but what o' that? Many a gal23 has tuk jes' sech."
"An' glad to get 'em, too," snapped Polly sharply, stopping to tie up a broken thread.
"Gabe Plummer is er oncommon steddy boy. He's er master hand at en'thing he wants ter do, an'—"
But S'phiry Ann did not linger to hear the full enumeration24 of her lover's virtues25. Hastily balancing the bundle of clothes on her head, she took up the blazing torch, and hurried to the spring, a crystal-clear stream, running out of a ledge26 of rock, and slipping away through a dark ravine to the river. If she imagined she had escaped all reproaches for her reprehensible27 conduct the day before, it was a sad mistake. Hardly had the fire been kindled28 and the rusty29 iron kettle filled with water when a young man came treading heavily through the laurel thicket30 above the spring, leaped down the crag, and saluted31 her.
"Mornin', S'phiry Ann."
"Mornin', Gabe," she said, blushing vividly32 and busying herself piling unnecessary fuel on the fire.
MR. STANDNEGE.
MR. STANDNEGE.
He was a fine specimen33 of the mountaineer, lithe34, well-made, toughened to hardy35 endurance, with tawny36 hair falling to his collar, and skin bronzed to a deep brown. He wore no coat, and his shirt was homespun, his nether37 garments of coarse brown jeans. He carried a gun, and a shot-bag and powder-horn were slung38 carelessly across his shoulders.
"I knowed you had a way er washin' on Monday, so I jest thought bein' as I was out a-huntin' I'd come roun'," he said, sitting down on the wash-bench, and laying the gun across his lap.
"You air welcome," she said, taking a tin pail and stepping to the spring to fill it.
"I wouldn't 'a' lowed so from yiste'day," darting39 a reproachful glance at her.
She made no reply.
"What made you do it, S'phiry Ann?" he exclaimed, no longer able to restrain himself. "I ain't desarved no sech; but if it was jes' ter tease me, why—"
She arose with the pail of water.
"No, it wasn't that," she said in a low tone, her eyes downcast, the color flickering40 uncertainly in her face.
"Then you didn't mean what was said that night a-comin' from the Dillin'ham gatherin'," he cried, turning a little pale. "Mebby it's somebody over in Boondtown settlement," a smoldering41 spark of jealousy42 flaming up.
"It's the 'stillery, Gabe," she said, and suddenly put down the pail to unburden her trembling hands. "You hadn't ought ter go inter43 it."
"But the crap last year made a plum' failure," he replied excusingly, his eyes shifting slightly under the light of hers. She was standing44 by the spring, against a background of dark green, a slanting45 sunbeam shifting its gold down through the overhanging pine on her dark, uncovered head, lighting46 up her earnest face, lending lustrous47 fire to her eyes. The scant cotton skirt and ill-fitting bodice she wore could not destroy the supple grace of her figure, molded for strength as well as beauty.
"The crap wusn't no excuse, an' if you mus' make whiskey up thar on the sly, I ain't no more tu say, an' I ain't no use fer ye."
"Yer mean it, S'phiry Ann?"
"I mean it, Gabe."
"Then you never keered," he cried with rising passion, "an' that half-way promise ter marry me was jest a lie ter fool me—nothin' but a lie, I'll make it if I please," bringing his down on the bench with a fierce blow.
"An' hide in the caves like a wild creetur, when the raiders air out on mountains?" she scornfully exclaimed.
GABE AND S'PHIRY ANN.
GABE AND S'PHIRY ANN.
His sunburned face flushed a dull red, he writhed48 under the cruel question.
"They ain't apt ter git me, that's certain," he muttered.
"You don't know that," more gently. "Think o' Al Hendries an' them Fletcher boys. They thought themselves too smart for the officers, but they wasn't. You know how they was caught arter lyin' out for weeks, a-takin' sleet49 an' rain an' all but starvin', an' tuk ter Atlanty an' put in jail, an' thar they staid a-pinin'. I staid 'long er Al's wife them days, for she was that skeery she hated ter see night come, an' I ain't forgot how she walked the floor a-wringin' her hands, or settin' bent50 over the fire a-dippin' snuff or a-smokin'—'twas all the comfort she had—an' the chilluns axin' for their pap, an' she not a-knowin' if he'd ever git back. Oh! 'twas turrible lonesome—-plum' heart-breakin' to the poor creetur. Then one day, 'long in the spring, Al crep' in, all broke down an' no 'count. The life gave outen him, an' for a while he sot roun' an' tried ter pick up, but the cold an' the jail had their way, an' he died."
She poured out the brief but tragic51 story breathlessly, then paused, looked down, and then up again. "Gabe, I sez ter myself then, 'None o' that in your'n, S'phiry Ann, none o' that in your'n.'"
She raised the bucket and threw its contents into a tub.
Gabe Plummer cast fiery52 glances at her, the spirit and firmness she displayed commanding his admiration53, even while they filled him with rage against her. Yes, he knew Al Hendries's story; he distinctly remembered the fury of resentment54 his fate roused among his comrades, the threats breathed against the law, but he held himself superior to that unfortunate fellow, gifted with keener wits, a more subtile wariness55. The stand S'phiry Ann had taken against him roused bitter resentment in his soul, but the fact that he loved her so strongly made him loath56 to leave her. A happy dream of one day having her in his home, pervading57 it with the sweetness of her presence, had been his close and faithful companion for years, comforting his lonely winter nights when the wind tore wildly over the mountains, and the rain beat upon his cabin roof, or giving additional glory to languorous58 summer noons, when the cloud-shadows seemed to lie motionless on the distant heights, and the sluggish59 river fed moisture to the heated valley.
What right had she to spoil this dream before it had become a reality? He could not trust himself to argue the matter with her then, but abruptly60 rose to his feet.
"We'll not say any more this mornin', though I do think a-settin' up Al Hendries's wife ag'in me is an onjestice. Me an' some o' the boys air comin' down ter ole man Whitaker's this evenin,' an' bein' agreeable I might step down to see you ag'in."
"Jest as ye please," she quietly replied; then with a tinge61 of color added, "Ef you'll go back ter the clearin' I'll do jest what I promised, Gabe."
But without saying whether he would or would not, Gabe shouldered his gun and went away.
S'phiry Ann had been very calm and decided62 throughout the interview, but the moment her lover had disappeared she sank trembling on the bench, her face hidden in her hands.
"Ef it hadn't 'a' be'n for thinkin' o' Al Hendries's wife I never could 'a' stood up ag'in him," she sighed faintly.
A squirrel springing nimbly from a laurel to a slender chesnut-tree paused on a swaying branch to look at her, and a bird fluttered softly in the sweet-gum above her. The sun slipped under a cloud, and when she rose to go about her work, the spring day had grown gray and dull. It sent a shiver through her, as she stared dejectedly at the overshadowed valley. She had little time, though, for idle indulgence—she must be at her washing; and presently when the clouds had drifted away, and the sunshine steeped the earth in its warmth again, her spirits rose, a song burst from her lips—an ancient hymn63, old almost as the everlasting64 mountains around her.
The day waxed to full noon, then waned65, and S'phiry Ann spread the clothes on the garden-fence and the grass to dry. There were other duties awaiting her. The geese must be driven up, the cows milked, and water brought from the spring for evening use. Then she would put on her clean cotton gown, and smooth the tangles66 out of her hair, before Gabe came in. It was all accomplished67 as she had planned, and at dusk she sat on the rear step of the entry taking a few minutes of well-earned rest. The light streamed out from the kitchen, falling across the clean, bare yard and sending shifting gleams up among the young leaves of the trees. On the kitchen step sat Eph, an orphan68 boy of twelve or thirteen the Standneges had adopted, whittling69 a hickory stick for a whistle, and at his side crouched70 a lean, ugly hound. S'phiry could see her father tilted71 back in a chair against the loom, talking to Jim Wise, a valley farmer who had come up to salt his cattle on the mountains, while her mother and sister passed back and forth72, preparing supper. The voices of the men were raised, and presently she heard Wise say:
"The raiders air out ter-night, so I hearn comin' up the mountain. They air expectin' ter ketch up with things this time, bein' as somebody has been a-tellin',—it 'pears so, anyway."
S'phiry Ann pressed her hands together with a little gasp73.
"The boys air got they years open," said Mr. Standnege with a slow smile, his half-shut eyes twinkling.
"But this is er onexpected move, an' they mayn't be a-lookin' fer it," persisted the other man.
"They air always a-ready an' a-lookin'. They ain't ter be tuk nappin'."
But the girl, listening with breathless attention, shivered, not sharing her father's easy confidence. She remembered that Gabe Plummer had said they were coming down to old man Whitaker's, and she knew that they were off guard. They would be caught, she thought, with a cold sensation around her heart; Gabe would be put in jail, and locked up, probably for months, and then come back with all the youth and strength gone from him. Even as these thoughts were passing through her mind, a sound fell on her ears, faint, far away, and yet to her, alert, keenly alive to the approach of danger, terribly significant. It was the steady tramp of iron-shod hoofs75 upon the road, and it approached from the valley. She sat motionless, but with fierce-beating heart, listening and feeling sure it was the enemy drawing near.
The revenue men had always looked upon the Standneges as peaceful, law-abiding citizens, and though no information had ever been obtained from them, the officers sometimes stopped with them, lounged in the entry, or sat at their board, partakers of their humble76 fare. Probably they intended stopping for supper. The girl devoutly77 hoped they would. The steady tramp grew louder, the hound pricked78 up his long ears, sniffed79 the air, then dashed around the house with a deep, hostile yelp80. The next moment a party of horsemen halted before the gate. Her fears were realized.
The dog barked noisily, the men chaffed each other in a hilarious81 way, while the horses stamped and breathed loudly, and the quiet place seemed all at once vivified with fresh life. Standnege went out to the gate followed by his guest; Mrs. Standnege and Polly came to the door and peered out, and Eph hurriedly closed his knife and thrust the whistle into his pocket preparatory to following his elders. The officers would not dismount, though hospitably82 pressed to do so.
"'Light, 'light, an' come in; the wimmen folks air jest a-gettin' supper," said Standnege cordially.
"Business is too urgent. We are bound to capture our men to-night. Why, the whole gang are coming down out of their lair83 to old man Whitaker's to-night, so we have been informed, and we must be on hand to welcome them."
Eph crossed the yard, but when he would have stepped up to take a short cut through the entry, his hand was caught in another hand so cold it sent a shiver of terror over him.
"My—why, S'phiry Ann!" he sharply exclaimed.
"Hush84!" she whispered, drawing him out of the light. "Will you go with me ter ole man Whitaker's, Eph?"
"This time o' night?"
"Yes, now."
"It's more'n a mile."
"We'll take the nigh cut through the woods."
"Dark as all git-out."
"I'm not afeerd; I'll go erlone then," she said with contempt.
"What air you up ter?—Good Lord! S'phiry Ann, do you think that could be done an' they a-ridin'?" suddenly understanding her purpose.
"Nothin' like tryin'," she replied, and glided85 like a shadow around the corner of the house.
The boy stared for a moment after her.
"Well, I never!" he muttered, and followed on.
They ran through the orchard86, an ill-kept, weedy place full of stunted87 apple-trees, across a freshly plowed89 field to the dense90, black woods beyond. It was a clear night, the sky thickly set with stars, and low in the west a pale new moon hanging between two towering sentinel peaks, but the light could not penetrate91 to the narrow pathway S'phiry Ann had selected as the nearest route to Whitaker's. The awful solitude92, the intense darkness, did not daunt93 her. She knew the way, her footing was sure, and she ran swiftly as a deer before the hunters, animated94 by one desire—to get to Whitaker's before the officers. It was a desperate chance. If her father detained them a few minutes longer—but if they hastened on—she caught her breath and quickened her own steps. Eph stumbled pantingly along behind her, divided between admiration at her fleetness and anger that he had been called on to take part in such a mad race.
In speaking of it afterward95, he said:
"I never seed a creetur git over more ground in ez short a time sence that hound o' Mis' Beaseley's got pizened. It's a dispensin' er providence97 her neck wusn't broke, a-rushin' through them gullies an' up them banks, an' it so dark you mought 'a' fell plum' inter the bottomless pit an' not 'a' knowed it."
But S'phiry Ann had no consideration to spare to personal danger, as she broke through the underbrush and climbed stony98, precipitous heights. Once an owl99 flew across her way, its outspread wings almost brushing her face, and with a terrified hoot100 sought a new hiding-place. The wind swept whisperingly through the forest, and a loosened stone rolled down and fell with a dull, hollow sound into the black depths of the ravine below them. Eph wished they had brought a torch, wished that he had not come, then struck out in a fresh heat, as he heard a mysterious rustling101 in the bushes behind him.
At last they emerged from the woods opposite Whitaker's, and S'phiry Ann leaned for a moment against the fence, panting, breathless, but exultant102. She had won the race.
The house was only one forlorn old room, built of rough hewn logs, with a rickety shed in the rear. A small garden spot and the meager103 space inclosed with the house comprised all the open ground. Mountains rose darkly above it, and, below, the mountain road wound and twisted in its tortuous104 course, to the fair, open valley. At the back of the dwelling105 the ridge106 shelved abruptly off into a deep ravine, dark the brightest noonday—an abyss of blackness at night.
From the low, wide, front door ruddy light streamed generously, defying the brooding night, playing fantastic tricks with the thickly growing bushes on the roadside. The girl had a good view of the interior, the men lounging around the fire, the vivid flame of pine-knots bringing out the lines in their tanned, weather-beaten faces, flashing into their lowering eyes, and searching out with cruel distinctness all the rough shabbiness of their coarse homespun and jeans.
There were the Whitaker boys, hardy, middle-aged107 men; Jeff Ward96, a little shriveled fellow with long, tangled108, gray beard and sharp, watchful109 eyes; Bill Fletcher, who had bravely survived the trials which had proved the death of his comrade, poor Al Hendries; Jeems Allen, a smooth-faced boy, and Gabe Plummer. He sat somewhat aloof110 from the others, staring gloomily into the fire, instead of giving attention to the lively story Jeff Ward was telling. At one end of the great hearth111, laid of rough unhewn rocks, sat old man Whitaker, at the other, his wife—a gray and withered112 couple; he tremulous with age, she deaf as a stone.
Nobody seemed to be on the lookout113 for enemies. The wide-flung door, the brilliant light, the careless group, gave an impression of security.
What had become of the revenue officers? No sound of hoofs struck upon the hard road, or murmur114 of voices betrayed hostile approach. Eph turned and peered down the road, then clutched excitedly at his companion's arm.
"Good Lord, S'phiry Ann! they're right down there a-hitchin' they horses an' a-gittin' ready ter creep up. I'm er-goin' ter leave here."
S'phiry Ann sprang across the fence, and the next moment stood in the door.
"The raiders! the raiders air a-comin'!" she cried, not loudly, but with startling distinctness; her torn dress, wild, loose hair, and brilliant, excited eyes, giving her a strangely unfamiliar115 aspect. The warning cry thrilled through the room and brought every man to his feet in an instant.
"Whar? which way?" exclaimed young Jeems Allen, staring first up among the smoke-blackened rafters, then at the solid log wall.
"'Tain't the time fer axin' questions, but fer runnin', boys," said Jeff Ward, making a dash toward the back door, closely followed by his comrades. Gabe Plummer had made a step toward S'phiry Ann, but she vanished as she appeared, and he escaped with his friends into the fastnesses of the woods. There was a shout from the raiders, creeping stealthily around the house, a disordered pursuit, and over the cabin the stillness following a sudden whirlwind seemed to fall.
S'phiry Ann crept cautiously out from the chimney-corner, slipped over the fence, and knelt down in the edge of the bushes, to watch and wait. The officers soon returned with torn clothes, scratched hands and faces, but without a prisoner. They were swearing in no measured terms at being baffled of their prey116.
Old man Whitaker and his wife had quietly remained in the house, apparently117 not greatly moved from their usual placidity118. Once the old woman dropped the ball of coarse yarn119 she was winding120, and rose to her feet, but the old man motioned her down again. They were questioned by the officers, but what reliable information could be expected from an imbecile old man and a deaf old woman? The girl could overlook the whole scene from a crack in the fence—the officers stamping about the room, the scattered chairs, the old people with their withered yellow faces, dim eyes, and bent, shrunken forms, and the dancing flames leaping up the wide sooty chimney. Satisfied that the distillers were safe, she softly rose and started across the road. One of the men caught a glimpse of her, the merest shadowy outline, and instantly shouted:
"There goes one of 'em now!"
She heard him—heard the rush of feet over the threshold and the bare yard, and without a backward glance, fled like a wild thing through the woods, home.
One afternoon, a week later, S'phiry Ann drew the wheel out into the middle of the kitchen floor, tightened121 the band, pulled a strip of yellow corn-husk from a chink in the logs to wrap the spindle, and set herself to finish spinning the "fillin'" for the piece of cloth in the loom. Her mother and sister were out in the garden sowing seeds, Eph was cutting bushes in the new ground, and she could hear the loud, resonant122 "geehaw" with which her father guided the ox drawing his plow88. It was a serenely123 still day—the heat of mid-summer in its glowing sunshine, with only a fleck124 of cloud here and there along the horizon, and mountains wrapped in a fine blue haze.
It had been a trying week to S'phiry Ann, but she had no time to mope and brood over her anxieties, no inclination125 to confide74 them to her family. She had not shirked daily duties, but went about them silently and without enthusiasm. The revenue officers, disgusted, angered at their disappointment, lingered on the mountains several days, seeking something to lay violent hands on. One still they found and destroyed, but if the earth had opened and swallowed them, their prey could not have disappeared more completely. The law is strong, but it loses its power when carried into the strongholds of the mountains, majestic, clothed in repose126, yielding up their secrets only to those bred and born upon them.
S'phiry Ann lifted her eyes to the lofty heights, yearning127 to know if her lover and his friends had found safe refuge, trembling with terror every time the dog barked or an ox-cart creaked slowly along the road. When the family were made acquainted with her part in that Monday night raid, there were various exclamatory remarks at the inconsistency of her behavior. Mrs. Standnege dropped her pipe, and stared at her in great amazement128.
"Well, ef you don't beat all! Last Sunday a-slightin' Gabe Plummer at meetin', an' now mighty nigh a-breakin' yer neck ter git him outen the way o' the raiders."
"Gabe wasn't the only one thar," said the girl in a low tone.
"But it stands ter reason you wouldn't 'a' done it, ef he hadn't 'a' be'n thar. Yer pap may hev ter look out fer a new farm-hand arter all," with a touch of facetious129 humor, but watching the slow reddening of the girl's throat and face. Standnege came to her aid—
"Let her be, ma, an' work it out in her own mind. Thar ain't no 'countin' fer the doin's o' wimmun folks, no how. They air mighty oncertain creeturs."
"Why, pap!" exclaimed his eldest daughter, a mixture of indignation and reproach in her tone.
"Now, I ain't a-meanin' ter throw off on 'em, an' I don't say as they ain't all steddy enough when they settle down, but a gal in love is the oncertainest creetur that ever lived. Now S'phiry Ann ain't a-lackin' in common sense an' grit130, if she does belong to me," he continued, with calm impartiality131; "an' ef she wants ter marry Gabe Plummer 'fore15 craps air laid by, she kin6 do it."
But it was Monday again, and S'phiry felt that her fortune was still an unsettled thing.
"Ef it hadn't 'a' be'n for thinkin' o' Al Hendries's wife," she said to herself again and again, and the old spinning-wheel flew swiftly beneath strong, young fingers, and the yellow corn-husk on the spindle filled slowly with smooth, even thread. She could look as downcast and troubled as her heart prompted, for no curious eyes were resting on her. Was it true? A shadow suddenly darkened the doorway132.
"Howd'y'do, S'phiry Ann?"
The half-twisted thread fell from her fingers, writhed and rolled along the floor, fair sport for the kitten lazily coiled on the hearth, while she turned toward the secretly wished-for, but unexpected, visitor. She trembled, and the color in her face flushed and paled.
"Gabe!" Then quickly, and with a swift searching glance toward the road, "is it safe for you ter be here?"
"Yes, they air gone—an' ter the devil, I hope." He leaned against the wall, jaded133, forlorn-looking, the week of hiding out not improving either temper or appearance.
"Take a cheer, an' set down, Gabe," she said, a vibration134 of tenderest pity in her voice.
"I ain't a-keerin' tu rest jest yit. That was a good turn you done us t'other night. No tellin' where we would be now ef it hadn't 'a' be'n fer that. I don't know how to thank you fer it, S'phiry Ann," he said, with strong emotion in his voice.
"Don't, Gabe!" she stammered135, stooping to snatch the tangled thread from the paws of the kitten.
"Would you 'a' done it fer me?"
"'Tain't fair tu be axin' sech questions," she said defensively.
"'Cordin' tu promise you air tu marry me."
"I saud ut ef you 'ud go back tu the clearin'."
"Yes, an' that's jest what I'm a-goin' tu do. I've had a week o' thinkin', an' now I'm willin' tu 'low you kin hev your way. Ain't I b'en tu put my head outen the holler?" he continued in angry disgust; "afeerd tu tech a leaf fer the noise it made? afeerd tu draw my breath? an' I tell ye, I ain't a-hankerin' arter any more sech days, an' I told the boys so, an' I'm a-goin' back tu the clearin' ef every crap fails."
S'phiry Ann stood by the wheel, her face turned from him, silent, motionless. He waited a moment, then strode across the floor, and laid his hand on her shoulder.
"We mus' settle it now, S'phiry, I ain't a-blamin' you now, though I don't say as I didn't, back yander a week ergo, fer standin' tu principle."
"Ef it hadn't 'a' be'n fer thinkin' o' Al Hendries's wife," she said gently.
"I've be'n a-lovin' you er long time, an' it's tu settle what we air a-goin' tu do."
"The clearin' settles it, Gabe," she murmured, and turned her head slowly until her eyes, softly radiant, met his eager, ardent136 ones.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
cove
|
|
| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
amber
|
|
| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
shrouded
|
|
| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
scant
|
|
| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
illiterate
|
|
| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
loom
|
|
| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
fore
|
|
| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
industriously
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
surmounted
|
|
| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
gourd
|
|
| n.葫芦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
supple
|
|
| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
liars
|
|
| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
truthful
|
|
| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
gal
|
|
| n.姑娘，少女 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
enumeration
|
|
| n.计数，列举；细目；详表；点查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
ledge
|
|
| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
reprehensible
|
|
| adj.该受责备的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
kindled
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
rusty
|
|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
thicket
|
|
| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
lithe
|
|
| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
hardy
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
tawny
|
|
| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
nether
|
|
| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
slung
|
|
| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
flickering
|
|
| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
smoldering
|
|
| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
inter
|
|
| v.埋葬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
lighting
|
|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
lustrous
|
|
| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
writhed
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
sleet
|
|
| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
fiery
|
|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
wariness
|
|
| n. 注意,小心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
loath
|
|
| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
pervading
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
languorous
|
|
| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
sluggish
|
|
| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
hymn
|
|
| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
waned
|
|
| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
tangles
|
|
| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
whittling
|
|
| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
crouched
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
tilted
|
|
| v. 倾斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
hoofs
|
|
| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
devoutly
|
|
| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
pricked
|
|
| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
sniffed
|
|
| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
yelp
|
|
| vi.狗吠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
hilarious
|
|
| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
hospitably
|
|
| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
lair
|
|
| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
glided
|
|
| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
orchard
|
|
| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
stunted
|
|
| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
plow
|
|
| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
plowed
|
|
| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
penetrate
|
|
| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
daunt
|
|
| vt.使胆怯，使气馁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
ward
|
|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
stony
|
|
| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
owl
|
|
| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
hoot
|
|
| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
exultant
|
|
| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
meager
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
tortuous
|
|
| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
tangled
|
|
| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
watchful
|
|
| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
lookout
|
|
| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
unfamiliar
|
|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
placidity
|
|
| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
yarn
|
|
| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
tightened
|
|
| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
resonant
|
|
| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
serenely
|
|
| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
fleck
|
|
| n.斑点，微粒 vt.使有斑点，使成斑驳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
facetious
|
|
| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
grit
|
|
| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
impartiality
|
|
| n. 公平, 无私, 不偏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
jaded
|
|
| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
vibration
|
|
| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |