Mr. Galloway at length concluded his long-delayed dinner that evening. Then he put on his hat, and, with Roland’s letter safe in his pocket, went out again to call on Lady Augusta. It happened, however, that Lady Augusta was not at home.
She had gone to dine at Colonel Joliffe’s, a family who lived some distance from Helstonleigh—necessitating an early departure from home, if she would be in time for their six o’clock dinner-hour. It had thus occurred that when the afternoon’s post arrived, Lady Augusta was in the bustle3 and hurry of dressing4; and Lady Augusta was one of those who are, and must be, in a bustle, even if they are only going to a friendly dinner-party.
Martha was busily assisting, and the cook brought up two letters. “Both for my lady,” she said, giving them to Martha.
“I have no time for letters now,” called out my lady. “Put them into my drawer, Martha.”
Martha did as she was bid, and Lady Augusta departed. She returned home pretty late, and the letters remained in their receptacle untouched.
Of course, to retire to rest late, necessitated5, with Lady Augusta Yorke, rising late the next morning. About eleven o’clock she came down to breakfast. A letter on the breakfast-table brought to her remembrance the letters of the previous night, and she sent Martha for them. Looking at their addresses, she perceived one of them to be from Roland; the other from Lord Carrick: and she laid them by her to be opened presently.
“Mr. Galloway called last night, my lady,” observed Martha.
“Oh, did he?” said Lady Augusta.
“He said he wanted to see your ladyship particularly. But I said you were gone to Colonel Joliffe’s.”
Barely had Lady Augusta tasted her coffee, the letters still lying unopened at her side, when William Yorke entered, having just left the cathedral.
“This is a terrible blow, Lady Augusta,” he observed, as he sat down.
“What’s a blow?” returned Lady Augusta. “Will you take some coffee, William?”
“Have you not heard of it?” he replied, declining the coffee with a gesture. “I thought it probable that you would have received news from Roland.”
“A letter arrived from Roland last night,” she said, touching6 the letter in question. “What is the matter? Is there bad news in it? What! have you heard anything?”
Mr. Yorke had not the slightest doubt that the letter before him must contain the same confession7 which had been conveyed to Arthur and to Mr. Galloway. He thought it better that she should hear it from him, than read it unprepared. He bent8 towards her, and spoke9 in a low tone of compassion10.
“I fear that the letter does contain bad news; very bad news, indeed. Ro—”
“Good heavens! what has happened to him?” she interrupted, falling into excitement, just as Roland himself might have done. “Is he ill? Has he got hurt? Is he killed?”
“Now, pray calm yourself, Lady Augusta. Roland is well in health, and has sailed for Port Natal11, under what he considers favourable12 auspices13. He—”
“Then why in the world do you come terrifying me out of my wits with your tales, William Yorke?” she broke forth14. “I declare you are no better than a child!”
“Nay, Lady Augusta, you terrified yourself, jumping to conclusions. Though Roland is safe and sound, there is still some very disagreeable news to be told concerning him. He has been making a confession of bad behaviour.”
“Oh,” cried Lady Augusta, in a tone which seemed to say, “Is that all?” as if bad behaviour and Roland might have some affinity15 for each other. William Yorke bent his head nearer, and dropped his voice lower.
“In that mysterious affair of the bank-note, when Arthur Channing was accused—”
“Well? well?” she hastily repeated—for he had made a slight pause—and a tone of dread16, as a shadow of evil, might be detected in her accents.
“It was Roland who took the note.”
Lady Augusta jumped up. She would not receive it. “It is not true; it cannot be true!” she reiterated17. “How dare you so asperse18 him, William Yorke? Thoughtless as Roland is, he would not be guilty of dishonour19.”
“He has written full particulars both to Arthur Channing and to Mr. Galloway,” said Mr. Yorke, calmly. “I have no doubt that that letter to you also relates to it. He confesses that to clear Arthur was a great motive20 in taking him from Helstonleigh.”
Lady Augusta seized the letter and tore it open. She was too agitated21 to read calmly, but she saw enough to convince her that Roland, and no other, had appropriated the money. This must have been the matter he had obscurely hinted at in one of his last conversations with her. The letter was concluded very much after Roland’s own fashion.
“Now, mother, if you care that anything in the shape of honour should ever shine round me again, you’ll go off straight to the college school, and set Tom Channing right with it and with the masters. And if you don’t, and I get drowned on my voyage, I’ll not say but my ghost will come again and haunt every one who has had to do with the injustice22.”
Ghosts were not agreeable topics to Lady Augusta, and she gave a shriek23 at the bare thought. But that was as nothing, compared with her anger. Honourable24 in the main—hot, hasty, impulsive25, losing all judgment26, all self-control when these fits of excitement came upon her—it is more than probable that her own course would have been to fly to the college school, unprompted by Roland. A sense of justice was strong within her; and in setting Tom right, she would not spare Roland, her own son though he was.
Before William Yorke knew what she was about, she had flown upstairs, and was down again with her things on. Before he could catch her up, she was across the Boundaries, entering the cloisters27, and knocking at the door of the college school.
There she broke in upon that interesting investigation28, touching the inked surplice.
Bywater, who seemed to think she had arrived for the sole purpose of setting at rest the question of the phial’s ownership, and not being troubled with any superfluous29 ideas of circumlocution30, eagerly held out the pieces to her when she was yards from his desk. “Do you know this, Lady Augusta? Isn’t it Gerald’s?”
“Yes, it is Gerald’s,” replied she. “He took it out of my desk one day in the summer, though I told him not, and I never could get it back again. Have you been denying that it was yours?” she sternly added to Gerald. “Bad luck to you, then, for a false boy. You are going to take a leaf out of your brother Roland’s pattern, are you? Haven’t I had enough of you bad boys on my hands, but there must something fresh come up about one or the other of you every day that the sun rises? Mr. Pye, I have come by Roland’s wish, and by my own, to set the young Channings right with the school. You took the seniorship from Tom, believing that it was his brother Arthur who robbed Mr. Galloway. Not but that I thought some one else would have had that seniorship, you know!”
In Lady Augusta’s present mood, had any one of her sons committed a murder, she must have proclaimed it, though it had been to condemn31 him to punishment. She had not come to shield Roland; and she did not care, in her anger, how bad she made him out to be; or whether she did it in Irish or English. The head-master could only look at her with astonishment32. He also believed her visit must have reference to the matter in hand.
“It is true, Lady Augusta. But for the suspicion cast upon his brother, Channing would not have lost the seniorship,” said the master, ignoring the hint touching himself.
“And all of ye”—turning round to face the wondering school—“have been ready to fling ye’re stones at Tom Channing, like the badly brought up boys that ye are. I have heard of it. And my two, Gerald and Tod, the worst of ye at the game. You may look, Mr. Tod, but I’ll be after giving ye a jacketing for ye’re pains. Let me tell ye all, that it was not Tom Channing’s brother took the bank-note; it was their brother—Gerald’s and Tod’s! It was my ill-doing boy, Roland, who took it.”
No one knew where to look. Some looked at her ladyship; some at the head-master; some at the Reverend William Yorke, who stood pale and haughty33; some at Gerald and Tod; some at Tom Channing. Tom did not appear to regard it as news: he seemed to have known it before: the excessive astonishment painted upon every other face was absent from his. But, half the school did not understand Lady Augusta. None understood her fully34.
“I beg your ladyship’s pardon,” said the head-master. “I do not comprehend what it is that you are talking about.”
“Not comprehend!” repeated her ladyship. “Don’t I speak plainly? My unhappy son Roland has confessed that it was he who stole the bank-note that so much fuss has been made about, and that Arthur Channing was taken up for. You two may look and frown”—nodding to Gerald and Tod—“but it was your own brother who was the thief; Arthur Channing was innocent. I’m sure I shan’t look a Channing in the face for months to come! Tell them about it in a straightforward35 way, William Yorke.”
Mr. Yorke, thus called upon, stated, in a few concise36 words, the facts to the master. His tone was low, but the boys caught the sense, that Arthur was really innocent, and that poor Tom had been degraded for nothing. The master beckoned37 Tom forward.
“Did you know of this, Channing?”
“Yes, sir; since the letter came to my brother Arthur last night.”
Lady Augusta rushed up impulsively38 to Tom. She seized his hands, and shook them heartily39. Tom never afterwards was sure that she didn’t kiss him. “You’ll live to be an honour to your parents yet, Tom,” she said, “when my boys are breaking my heart with wilfulness40.”
Tom’s face flushed with pleasure; not so much at the words as at the yearning41, repentant42 faces cast at him from all parts of the room. There was no mistaking that they were eager to offer reparation. Tom Channing innocent all this time! How should they make it up to him? He turned to resume his seat, but Huntley slipped out of the place he occupied as the head of the school, and would have pushed Tom into it. There was some slight commotion43, and the master lifted his spectacles.
“Silence, there! Huntley, what are you about? Keep your seat.”
“No, sir,” said Huntley, advancing a step forward. “I beg your pardon, sir, but the place is no longer mine. I never have considered it mine legally, and I will, with your permission, resign it to its rightful owner. The place is Channing’s; I have only occupied it for him.”
He quietly pushed Tom into it as he spoke, and the school, finding their voices, and ignoring the presence of the master and of Lady Augusta, sprang from their desks at one bound and seized upon Tom, wishing him luck, asking him to be a good old fellow and forgive them. “Long live Tom Channing, the senior of Helstonleigh school!” shouted bold Bywater; and the boys, thus encouraged, took up the shout, and the old walls echoed it. “Long live Tom Channing, the senior of Helstonleigh school!”
Before the noise had died away, Lady Augusta was gone, and another had been added to the company, in the person of Mr. Huntley. “Oh,” he said, taking in a rapid glance of affairs: “I see it is all right. Knowing how thoughtless Harry44 is, I feared he might not recollect45 to do an act of justice. That he would be the first to do it if he remembered, I knew.”
“As if I should forget that, sir!” responded Mr. Harry. “Why, I could no more live, with Channing under me now, than I could let any one of the others be above me. And I am not sorry,” added the young gentleman, sotto voce. “If the seniorship is a great honour, it is also a great bother. Here, Channing, take the keys.”
He flung them across the desk as he spoke; he was proceeding46 to fling the roll also, and two or three other sundries which belong to the charge of the senior boy, but was stopped by the head-master.
“Softly, Huntley! I don’t know that I can allow this wholesale47 changing of places and functions.”
“Oh yes, you can, sir,” said Harry, with a bright look. “If I committed any unworthy act, I should be degraded from the seniorship, and another appointed. The same thing can be done now, without the degradation49.”
“He deserves a recompense,” said Mr. Huntley to the master. “But this will be no recompense; it is Channing’s due. He will make you a better senior than Harry, Mr. Pye. And now,” added Mr. Huntley, improving upon the whole, “there will be no necessity to separate the seniorship from the Oxford50 exhibition.”
It was rather a free and easy mode of dealing51 with the master’s privileges, and Mr. Pye relaxed into a smile. In good truth, his sense of justice had been inwardly burning since the communication made by Lady Augusta. Tom, putting aside a little outburst or two of passion, had behaved admirably throughout the whole season of opprobrium52; there was no denying it. And Mr. Pye felt that he had done so.
“Will you do your duty as senior, Channing?” unnecessarily asked the master.
“I will try, sir.”
“Take your place, then.”
Mr. Huntley was the first to shake his hand when he was in it. “I told you to bear up bravely, my boy! I told you better days might be in store. Continue to do your duty in single-hearted honesty, under God, as I truly believe you are ever seeking to do it, and you may well leave things in His hands. God bless you, Tom!”
Tom was a little overcome. But Mr. Bywater made a divertisement. He seized the roll, with which it was no business of his to meddle53, and carried it to Mr. Pye. “The names have to be altered, sir.” In return for which Mr. Pye sternly motioned him to his seat, and Bywater favoured the school with a few winks54 as he lazily obeyed.
“Who could possibly have suspected Roland Yorke!” exclaimed the master, talking in an undertone with Mr. Huntley.
“Nay, if we are to compare merits, he was a far more likely subject for suspicion than Arthur,” was Mr. Huntley’s reply.
“He was, taking them comparatively. What I meant to imply was, that one could not have suspected that Roland, knowing himself guilty, would suffer another to lie under the stigma55. Roland has his good points—if that may be said of one who helps himself to bank-notes,” concluded the master.
“Ay, he is not all bad. Witness sending back the money to Galloway; witness his persistent56 championship of Arthur; and going away partly to clear him, as he no doubt has done! I was as sure from the first that Arthur Channing was not guilty, as that the sun shines in the heavens.”
“Did you suspect Roland?”
“No. I had a peculiar57 theory of my own upon the matter,” said Mr. Huntley, smiling, and apparently58 examining closely the grain of the master’s desk. “A theory, however, which has proved to be worthless; as so many theories which obtain favour in this world often are. But I will no longer detain you, Mr. Pye. You must have had enough hindrance59 from your legitimate60 business for one morning.”
“The hindrance is not at an end yet,” was the master’s reply, as he shook hands with Mr. Huntley. “I cannot think what has possessed61 the school lately: we are always having some unpleasant business or other to upset it.”
Mr. Huntley went out, nodding cordially to Tom as he passed his desk; and the master turned his eyes and his attention on Gerald Yorke.
Lady Augusta had hastened from the college school as impetuously as she had entered it. Her errand now was to the Channings. She was eager to show them her grieved astonishment, her vexation—to make herself the amende for Roland, so far as she could do so. She found both Mr. and Mrs. Channing at home. The former had purposed being in Guild62 Street early that morning; but so many visitors had flocked in to offer their congratulations that he had hitherto been unable to get away. Constance also was at home. Lady Augusta had insisted upon it that she should not come to the children on that, the first day after her father and mother’s return. They were alone when Lady Augusta entered.
Lady Augusta’s first movement was to fling herself into a chair and burst into tears. “What am I to say to you?” she exclaimed. “What apology can I urge for my unhappy boy?”
“Nay, dear Lady Augusta, do not let it thus distress63 you,” said Mr. Channing. “You are no more to be held responsible for what Roland has done, than we were for Arthur, when he was thought guilty.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sobbed64. “Perhaps, if I had been more strict with him always, he would never have done it. I wish I had made a point of giving them a whipping every night, all round, from the time they were two years old!” she continued, emphatically. “Would that have made my children turn out better, do you think?”
Mrs. Channing could not forbear a smile. “It is not exactly strictness that answers with children, Lady Augusta.”
“Goodness me! I don’t know what does answer with them, then! I have been indulgent enough to mine, as every one else knows; and see how they are turning out! Roland to go and take a bank-note! And, as if that were not bad enough, to let the odium rest upon Arthur! You will never forgive him! I am certain that you never can or will forgive him! And you and all the town will visit it upon me!”
When Lady Augusta fell into this tearful humour of complaint, it was better to let it run its course; as Mr. and Mrs. Channing knew by past experience. They both soothed65 her; telling her that no irreparable wrong had been done to Arthur; nothing but what would be now made right.
“It all turns contrary together!” exclaimed my lady, drying up her tears over the first grievance66, and beginning upon another. “I suppose, Constance, you and William Yorke will be making it up now.”
Constance’s self-conscious smile, and her drooping67 eyelids68 might have told, without words, that that was already done.
“And the next thing, of course, will be your getting married!” continued Lady Augusta. “When is it to be? I suppose you have been settling the time.”
The question was a direct and pointed48 one, and Lady Augusta waited for an answer. Mrs. Channing came to the relief of Constance.
“It would have been very soon indeed, Lady Augusta, but for this dreadful uncertainty69 about Charles. In any case, it will not be delayed beyond early spring.”
“Oh, to be sure! I knew that! Everything goes contrary and cross for me! What am I to do for a governess? I might pay a thousand a year and not find another like Constance. They are beginning to improve under you: they are growing more dutiful girls to me; and now it will all be undone70 again, and they’ll just be ruined!”
Constance looked up with her pretty timid blush. “William and I have been thinking, Lady Augusta, that, if you approved of it, they had better come for a few months to Hazledon House. I should then have them constantly under my own eye, and I think I could effect some good. We used to speak of this in the summer; and last night we spoke of it again.”
Lady Augusta flew into an ecstasy71 as great as her late grief had been. “Oh, it would be delightful72!” she exclaimed. “Such a relief to me! and I know it would be the making of them. I shall thank you and William for ever, Constance; and I don’t care what I pay you. I’d go without shoes to pay you liberally.”
Constance laughed. “As to payment,” she said, “I shall have nothing to do with that, on my own score, when once I am at Hazledon. Those things will lie in William’s department, not in mine. I question if he will allow you to pay him anything, Lady Augusta. We did not think of it in that light, but in the hope that it might benefit Caroline and Fanny.”
Lady Augusta turned impulsively to Mrs. Channing. “What good children God has given you!”
Tears rushed into Mrs. Channing’s eyes; she felt the remark in all its grateful truth. She was spared a reply; she did not like to contrast them with Lady Augusta’s, ever so tacitly, and say they were indeed good; for Sarah entered, and said another visitor was waiting in the drawing-room.
As Mr. Channing withdrew, Lady Augusta rose to depart. She took Mrs. Channing’s hand. “How dreadful for you to come home and find one of your children gone!” she uttered. “How can you bear it and be calm!”
Emotion rose then, and Mrs. Channing battled to keep it down. “The same God who gave me my children, has taught me how to bear,” she presently said. “For the moment, yesterday, I really was overwhelmed; but it passed away after a few hours’ struggle. When I left home, I humbly73 committed my child to God’s good care, in perfect trust; and I feel, that whether dead or alive, that care is still over him.”
“I wish to goodness one could learn to feel as you do!” uttered Lady Augusta. “Troubles don’t seem to touch you and Mr. Channing; you rise superior to them: but they turn me inside out. And now I must go! And I wish Roland had never been born before he had behaved so! You must try to forgive him, Mrs. Channing: you must promise to try and welcome him, should he ever come back again!”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Channing answered, with a bright smile. “The one will be as easy as the other has been. He is already forgiven, Lady Augusta.”
“I have done what I could in it. I have been to the college school, and told them all, and Tom is put into his place as senior. It’s true, indeed! and I hope every boy will be flogged for putting upon him; Gerald and Tod amongst the rest. And now, good-bye.”
Sarah was holding the street door open for Lady Augusta. Lady Augusta, who generally gave a word of gossip to every one, even as Roland, had her head turned towards the girl as she passed out of it, and thereby74 nearly fell over a boy who at the moment was seeking to enter, being led by a woman, as if he had no strength to walk alone. A tall, thin, white-faced boy, with great eyes and little hair, and a red handkerchief tied over his head, to hide the deficiency; but a beautiful boy in spite of all, for he bore a strange resemblance to Charles Channing.
Was it Charles? Or was it his shadow? My lady turned again to the hall, startling the house with her cries, that Charley’s ghost had come, and bringing forth its inmates75 in consternation76.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
contrive
|
|
| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
bustle
|
|
| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
necessitated
|
|
| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
natal
|
|
| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
auspices
|
|
| n.资助，赞助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
affinity
|
|
| n.亲和力，密切关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
reiterated
|
|
| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
asperse
|
|
| v.流言；n.流言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
dishonour
|
|
| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
impulsive
|
|
| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
cloisters
|
|
| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
superfluous
|
|
| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
circumlocution
|
|
| n. 绕圈子的话，迂回累赘的陈述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
condemn
|
|
| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
straightforward
|
|
| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
concise
|
|
| adj.简洁的，简明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
beckoned
|
|
| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
impulsively
|
|
| adv.冲动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
wilfulness
|
|
| 任性；倔强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
repentant
|
|
| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
commotion
|
|
| n.骚动，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
harry
|
|
| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
recollect
|
|
| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
wholesale
|
|
| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
opprobrium
|
|
| n.耻辱，责难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
meddle
|
|
| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
winks
|
|
| v.使眼色( wink的第三人称单数 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
stigma
|
|
| n.耻辱，污名；(花的)柱头 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
persistent
|
|
| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
hindrance
|
|
| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
guild
|
|
| n.行会，同业公会，协会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
sobbed
|
|
| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
grievance
|
|
| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
drooping
|
|
| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
uncertainty
|
|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
undone
|
|
| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
inmates
|
|
| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |