After waiting a moment to compose herself, she read the announcement of her brother’s relapse.
There was nothing in the handwriting, there was no expression in any part of the letter which could suggest to her mind the faintest suspicion of foul1 play. Not the shadow of a doubt occurred to her that the summons to her brother’s bedside was genuine. The hand that held the letter dropped heavily into her lap; she became pale, and old, and haggard in a moment. Thoughts, far removed from her present aims and interests; remembrances that carried her back to other lands than England, to other times than the time of her life in service, prolonged their inner shadows to the surface, and showed the traces of their mysterious passage darkly on her face. The minutes followed each other, and still the servant below stairs waited vainly for the parlor2 bell. The minutes followed each other, and still she sat, tearless and quiet, dead to the present and the future, living in the past.
The entrance of the servant, uncalled, roused her. With a heavy sigh, the cold and secret woman folded the letter up again and addressed herself to the interests and the duties of the passing time.
She decided3 the question of going or not going to Zurich, after a very brief consideration of it. Before she had drawn4 her chair to the breakfast-table she had resolved to go.
Admirably as Captain Wragge’s stratagem5 had worked, it might have failed—unassisted by the occurrence of the morning—to achieve this result. The very accident against which it had been the captain’s chief anxiety to guard—the accident which had just taken place in spite of him—was, of all the events that could have happened, the one event which falsified every previous calculation, by directly forwarding the main purpose of the conspiracy6! If Mrs. Lecount had not obtained the information of which she was in search before the receipt of the letter from Zurich, the letter might have addressed her in vain. She would have hesitated before deciding to leave England, and that hesitation7 might have proved fatal to the captain’s scheme.
As it was, with the plain proofs in her possession, with the gown discovered in Magdalen’s wardrobe, with the piece cut out of it in her own pocketbook, and with the knowledge, obtained from Mrs. Wragge, of the very house in which the disguise had been put on, Mrs. Lecount had now at her command the means of warning Noel Vanstone as she had never been able to warn him yet, or, in other words, the means of guarding against any dangerous tendencies toward reconciliation8 with the Bygraves which might otherwise have entered his mind during her absence at Zurich. The only difficulty which now perplexed9 her was the difficulty of deciding whether she should communicate with her master personally or by writing, before her departure from England.
She looked again at the doctor’s letter. The word “instantly,” in the sentence which summoned her to her dying brother, was twice underlined. Admiral Bartram’s house was at some distance from the railway; the time consumed in driving to St. Crux10, and driving back again, might be time fatally lost on the journey to Zurich. Although she would infinitely11 have preferred a personal interview with Noel Vanstone, there was no choice on a matter of life and death but to save the precious hours by writing to him.
After sending to secure a place at once in the early coach, she sat down to write to her master.
Her first thought was to tell him all that had happened at North Shingles13 that morning. On reflection, however, she rejected the idea. Once already (in copying the personal description from Miss Garth’s letter) she had trusted her weapons in her master’s hands, and Mr. Bygrave had contrived14 to turn them against her. She resolved this time to keep them strictly15 in her own possession. The secret of the missing fragment of the Alpaca dress was known to no living creature but herself; and, until her return to England, she determined16 to keep it to herself. The necessary impression might be produced on Noel Vanstone’s mind without venturing into details. She knew by experience the form of letter which might be trusted to produce an effect on him, and she now wrote it in these words:
“DEAR MR. NOEL—Sad news has reached me from Switzerland. My beloved brother is dying and his medical attendant summons me instantly to Zurich. The serious necessity of availing myself of the earliest means of conveyance17 to the Continent leaves me but one alternative. I must profit by the permission to leave England, if necessary, which you kindly18 granted to me at the beginning of my brother’s illness, and I must avoid all delay by going straight to London, instead of turning aside, as I should have liked, to see you first at St. Crux.
“Painfully as I am affected19 by the family calamity20 which has fallen on me, I cannot let this opportunity pass without adverting21 to another subject which seriously concerns your welfare, and in which (on that account) your old housekeeper22 feels the deepest interest.
“I am going to surprise and shock you, Mr. Noel. Pray don’t be agitated23! pray compose yourself!
“The impudent24 attempt to cheat you, which has happily opened your eyes to the true character of our neighbors at North Shingles, was not the only object which Mr. Bygrave had in forcing himself on your acquaintance. The infamous25 conspiracy with which you were threatened in London has been in full progress against you under Mr. Bygrave’s direction, at Aldborough. Accident—I will tell you what accident when we meet—has put me in possession of information precious to your future security. I have discovered, to an absolute certainty, that the person calling herself Miss Bygrave is no other than the woman who visited us in disguise at Vauxhall Walk.
“I suspected this from the first, but I had no evidence to support my suspicions; I had no means of combating the false impression produced on you. My hands, I thank Heaven, are tied no longer. I possess absolute proof of the assertion that I have just made—proof that your own eyes can see—proof that would satisfy you, if you were judge in a Court of Justice.
“Perhaps even yet, Mr. Noel, you will refuse to believe me? Be it so. Believe me or not, I have one last favor to ask, which your English sense of fair play will not deny me.
“This melancholy26 journey of mine will keep me away from England for a fortnight, or, at most, for three weeks. You will oblige me—and you will certainly not sacrifice your own convenience and pleasure—by staying through that interval27 with your friends at St. Crux. If, before my return, some unexpected circumstance throws you once more into the company of the Bygraves, and if your natural kindness of heart inclines you to receive the excuses which they will, in that case, certainly address to you, place one trifling28 restraint on yourself, for your own sake, if not for mine. Suspend your flirtation29 with the young lady (I beg pardon of all other young ladies for calling her so!) until my return. If, when I come back, I fail to prove to you that Miss Bygrave is the woman who wore that disguise, and used those threatening words, in Vauxhall Wall, I will engage to leave your service at a day’s notice; and I will atone30 for the sin of bearing false witness against my neighbor by resigning every claim I have to your grateful remembrance, on your father’s account as well as on your own. I make this engagement without reserves of any kind; and I promise to abide31 by it—if my proofs fail—on the faith of a good Catholic, and the word of an honest woman. Your faithful servant,
“VIRGINIE LECOUNT.”
The closing sentences of this letter—as the housekeeper well knew when she wrote them—embodied the one appeal to Noel Vanstone which could be certainly trusted to produce a deep and lasting32 effect. She might have staked her oath, her life, or her reputation, on proving the assertion which she had made, and have failed to leave a permanent impression on his mind. But when she staked not only her position in his service, but her pecuniary33 claims on him as well, she at once absorbed the ruling passion of his life in expectation of the result. There was not a doubt of it, in the strongest of all his interests—the interest of saving his money—he would wait.
“Checkmate for Mr. Bygrave!” thought Mrs. Lecount, as she sealed and directed the letter. “The battle is over—the game is played out.”
While Mrs. Lecount was providing for her master’s future security at Sea View, events were in full progress at North Shingles.
As soon as Captain Wragge recovered his astonishment34 at the housekeeper’s appearance on his own premises35, he hurried into the house, and, guided by his own forebodings of the disaster that had happened, made straight for his wife’s room.
Never, in all her former experience, had poor Mrs. Wragge felt the full weight of the captain’s indignation as she felt it now. All the little intelligence she naturally possessed36 vanished at once in the whirlwind of her husband’s rage. The only plain facts which he could extract from her were two in number. In the first place, Magdalen’s rash desertion of her post proved to have no better reason to excuse it than Magdalen’s incorrigible37 impatience38: she had passed a sleepless39 night; she had risen feverish40 and wretched; and she had gone out, reckless of all consequences, to cool her burning head in the fresh air. In the second place, Mrs. Wragge had, on her own confession41, seen Mrs. Lecount, had talked with Mrs. Lecount, and had ended by telling Mrs. Lecount the story of the ghost. Having made these discoveries, Captain Wragge wasted no time in contending with his wife’s terror and confusion. He withdrew at once to a window which commanded an uninterrupted prospect42 of Noel Vanstone’s house, and there established himself on the watch for events at Sea View, precisely43 as Mrs. Lecount had established herself on the watch for events at North Shingles.
Not a word of comment on the disaster of the morning escaped him when Magdalen returned and found him at his post. His flow of language seemed at last to have run dry. “I told you what Mrs. Wragge would do,” he said, “and Mrs. Wragge has done it.” He sat unflinchingly at the window with a patience which Mrs. Lecount herself could not have surpassed. The one active proceeding45 in which he seemed to think it necessary to engage was performed by deputy. He sent the servant to the inn to hire a chaise and a fast horse, and to say that he would call himself before noon that day and tell the hostler when the vehicle would be wanted. Not a sign of impatience escaped him until the time drew near for the departure of the early coach. Then the captain’s curly lips began to twitch46 with anxiety, and the captain’s restless fingers beat the devil’s tattoo47 unremittingly on the window-pane.
The coach appeared at last, and drew up at Sea View. In a minute more, Captain Wragge’s own observation informed him that one among the passengers who left Aldborough that morning was—Mrs. Lecount.
The main uncertainty48 disposed of, a serious question—suggested by the events of the morning—still remained to be solved. Which was the destined49 end of Mrs. Lecount’s journey—Zurich or St. Crux? That she would certainly inform her master of Mrs. Wragge’s ghost story, and of every other disclosure in relation to names and places which might have escaped Mrs. Wragge’s lips, was beyond all doubt. But of the two ways at her disposal of doing the mischief—either personally or by letter—it was vitally important to the captain to know which she had chosen. If she had gone to the admiral’s, no choice would be left him but to follow the coach, to catch the train by which she traveled, and to outstrip50 her afterward51 on the drive from the station in Essex to St. Crux. If, on the contrary, she had been contented52 with writing to her master, it would only be necessary to devise measures for intercepting53 the letter. The captain decided on going to the post-office, in the first place. Assuming that the housekeeper had written, she would not have left the letter at the mercy of the servant—she would have seen it safely in the letter-box before leaving Aldborough.
“Good-morning,” said the captain, cheerfully addressing the postmaster. “I am Mr. Bygrave of North Shingles. I think you have a letter in the box, addressed to Mr.—?”
The postmaster was a short man, and consequently a man with a proper idea of his own importance. He solemnly checked Captain Wragge in full career.
“When a letter is once posted, sir,” he said, “nobody out of the office has any business with it until it reaches its address.”
The captain was not a man to be daunted54, even by a postmaster. A bright idea struck him. He took out his pocketbook, in which Admiral Bartram’s address was written, and returned to the charge.
“Suppose a letter has been wrongly directed by mistake?” he began. “And suppose the writer wants to correct the error after the letter is put into the box?”
“When a letter is once posted, sir,” reiterated55 the impenetrable local authority, “nobody out of the office touches it on any pretense56 whatever.”
“Granted, with all my heart,” persisted the captain. “I don’t want to touch it—I only want to explain myself. A lady has posted a letter here, addressed to ‘Noel Vanstone, Esq., Admiral Bartram’s, St. Crux-in-the-Marsh, Essex.’ She wrote in a great hurry, and she is not quite certain whether she added the name of the post-town, ‘Ossory.’ It is of the last importance that the delivery of the letter should not be delayed. What is to hinder your facilitating the post-office work, and obliging a lady, by adding the name of the post-town (if it happens to be left out), with your own hand? I put it to you as a zealous57 officer, what possible objection can there be to granting my request?”
The postmaster was compelled to acknowledge that there could be no objection, provided nothing but a necessary line was added to the address, provided nobody touched the letter but himself, and provided the precious time of the post-office was not suffered to run to waste. As there happened to be nothing particular to do at that moment, he would readily oblige the lady at Mr. Bygrave’s request.
Captain Wragge watched the postmaster’s hands, as they sorted the letters in the box, with breathless eagerness. Was the letter there? Would the hands of the zealous public servant suddenly stop? Yes! They stopped, and picked out a letter from the rest.
“‘Noel Vanstone, Esquire,’ did you say?” asked the postmaster, keeping the letter in his own hand.
“‘Noel Vanstone, Esquire,’” replied the captain, “‘Admiral Bartram’s, St. Crux-in-the-Marsh.’”
“Ossory, Essex,” chimed in the postmaster, throwing the letter back into the box. “The lady has made no mistake, sir. The address is quite right.”
Nothing but a timely consideration of the heavy debt he owed to appearances prevented Captain Wragge from throwing his tall white hat up in the air as soon as he found the street once more. All further doubt was now at an end. Mrs. Lecount had written to her master—therefore Mrs. Lecount was on her way to Zurich!
With his head higher than ever, with the tails of his respectable frock-coat floating behind him in the breeze, with his bosom’s native impudence58 sitting lightly on its throne, the captain strutted59 to the inn and called for the railway time-table. After making certain calculations (in black and white, as a matter of course), he ordered his chaise to be ready in an hour—so as to reach the railway in time for the second train running to London—with which there happened to be no communication from Aldborough by coach.
His next proceeding was of a far more serious kind; his next proceeding implied a terrible certainty of success. The day of the week was Thursday. From the inn he went to the church, saw the clerk, and gave the necessary notice for a marriage by license60 on the following Monday.
Bold as he was, his nerves were a little shaken by this last achievement; his hand trembled as it lifted the latch61 of the garden gate. He doctored his nerves with brandy and water before he sent for Magdalen to inform her of the proceedings62 of the morning. Another outbreak might reasonably be expected when she heard that the last irrevocable step had been taken, and that notice had been given of the wedding-day.
The captain’s watch warned him to lose no time in emptying his glass. In a few minutes he sent the necessary message upstairs. While waiting for Magdalen’s appearance, he provided himself with certain materials which were now necessary to carry the enterprise to its crowning point. In the first place, he wrote his assumed name (by no means in so fine a hand as usual) on a blank visiting-card, and added underneath63 these words: “Not a moment is to be lost. I am waiting for you at the door—come down to me directly.” His next proceeding was to take some half-dozen envelopes out of the case, and to direct them all alike to the following address: “Thomas Bygrave, Esq., Mussared’s Hotel, Salisbury Street, Strand64, London.” After carefully placing the envelopes and the card in his breast-pocket, he shut up the desk. As he rose from the writing-table, Magdalen came into the room.
The captain took a moment to decide on the best method of opening the interview, and determined, in his own phrase, to dash at it. In two words he told Magdalen what had happened, and informed her that Monday was to be her wedding-day.
He was prepared to quiet her, if she burst into a frenzy65 of passion; to reason with her, if she begged for time; to sympathize with her, if she melted into tears. To his inexpressible surprise, results falsified all his calculations. She heard him without uttering a word, without shedding a tear. When he had done, she dropped into a chair. Her large gray eyes stared at him vacantly. In one mysterious instant all her beauty left her; her face stiffened66 awfully67, like the face of a corpse68. For the first time in the captain’s experience of her, fear—all-mastering fear—had taken possession of her, body and soul.
“You are not flinching44,” he said, trying to rouse her. “Surely you are not flinching at the last moment?”
No light of intelligence came into her eyes, no change passed over her face. But she heard him—for she moved a little in the chair, and slowly shook her head.
“You planned this marriage of your own freewill,” pursued the captain, with the furtive69 look and the faltering70 voice of a man ill at ease. “It was your own idea—not mine. I won’t have the responsibility laid on my shoulders—no! not for twice two hundred pounds. If your resolution fails you; if you think better of it—?”
He stopped. Her face was changing; her lips were moving at last. She slowly raised her left hand, with the fingers outspread; she looked at it as if it was a hand that was strange to her; she counted the days on it, the days before the marriage.
“Friday, one,” she whispered to herself; “Saturday, two; Sunday, three; Monday—” Her hands dropped into her lap, her face stiffened again; the deadly fear fastened its paralyzing hold on her once more, and the next words died away on her lips.
Captain Wragge took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
“Damn the two hundred pounds!” he said. “Two thousand wouldn’t pay me for this!”
He put the handkerchief back, took the envelopes which he had addressed to himself out of his pocket, and, approaching her closely for the first time, laid his hand on her arm.
“Rouse yourself,” he said, “I have a last word to say to you. Can you listen?”
She struggled, and roused herself—a faint tinge71 of color stole over her white cheeks—she bowed her head.
“Look at these,” pursued Captain Wragge, holding up the envelopes. “If I turn these to the use for which they have been written, Mrs. Lecount’s master will never receive Mrs. Lecount’s letter. If I tear them up, he will know by to-morrow’s post that you are the woman who visited him in Vauxhall Walk. Say the word! Shall I tear the envelopes up, or shall I put them back in my pocket?”
There was a pause of dead silence. The murmur72 of the summer waves on the shingle12 of the beach and the voices of the summer idlers on the Parade floated through the open window, and filled the empty stillness of the room.
She raised her head; she lifted her hand and pointed73 steadily74 to the envelopes.
“Put them back,” she said.
“Do you mean it?” he asked.
“I mean it.”
As she gave that answer, there was a sound of wheels on the road outside.
“You hear those wheels?” said Captain Wragge.
“I hear them.”
“You see the chaise?” said the captain, pointing through the window as the chaise which had been ordered from the inn made its appearance at the garden gate.
“I see it.”
“And, of your own free-will, you tell me to go?”
“Yes. Go!”
Without another word he left her. The servant was waiting at the door with his traveling bag. “Miss Bygrave is not well,” he said. “Tell your mistress to go to her in the parlor.”
He stepped into the chaise, and started on the first stage of the journey to St. Crux.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
parlor
|
|
| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
stratagem
|
|
| n.诡计，计谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
conspiracy
|
|
| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
reconciliation
|
|
| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
crux
|
|
| adj.十字形；难事，关键，最重要点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
shingle
|
|
| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
shingles
|
|
| n.带状疱疹；（布满海边的）小圆石( shingle的名词复数 )；屋顶板；木瓦（板）；墙面板 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
conveyance
|
|
| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
adverting
|
|
| 引起注意（advert的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
impudent
|
|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
infamous
|
|
| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
flirtation
|
|
| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
atone
|
|
| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
abide
|
|
| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
lasting
|
|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
pecuniary
|
|
| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
incorrigible
|
|
| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
sleepless
|
|
| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
flinching
|
|
| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
twitch
|
|
| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
tattoo
|
|
| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
uncertainty
|
|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
outstrip
|
|
| v.超过，跑过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
intercepting
|
|
| 截取（技术），截接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
daunted
|
|
| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
reiterated
|
|
| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
pretense
|
|
| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
zealous
|
|
| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
impudence
|
|
| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
strutted
|
|
| 趾高气扬地走，高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
latch
|
|
| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
strand
|
|
| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
stiffened
|
|
| 加强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
furtive
|
|
| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
faltering
|
|
| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
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： |
|
|
|
|
72
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |