Norcot was a handsome, fair man of five-and-thirty. The only ugly feature of his face appeared in an exaggerated chin. For the rest, his countenance7 showed strength and abundant determination. Any special distinction was lacking from it. He exhibited a breezy and amiable8 exterior9 to the world, loved a jest and doted upon an epigram. Frank honesty marked his utterances10, and his outlook upon life was generous. He had no enemies, and enjoyed considerable wealth, for despite the wars, his business prospered11, and his grievances13 in connection with it were more apparent than real. A humorous and hearty14 manner concealed15 some traits of Peter's character, for tremendous tenacity16 of purpose hid itself beneath superficial lightness of demeanour. He had a great gift of constancy that rose superior to side issues. His first object in life was to marry Grace Malherb, and now he strove to win his way by careful study of the girl and by every delicate art that he knew. Her father was upon his side, and the end seemed assured; but Peter desired that Grace should come to him of her own free will.
Now misfortune unexpected overtook the lover, for out of fiery17 sunshine crept a sudden mist, and soon the clouds grew dense19 and the day changed. The fog in streaks20 and patches swept down with heavy and increasing density21, until man and horse were brushed with its cold fingers. The light waned22 as evening approached, and the mist thickened steadily23 into fine dense rain. Norcot's hair dripped, his eyebrows24 were frosted, and he felt the cold drops running from his hat under his collar. The unexpected change of weather caused him no irritation25, for the man was never known to lose his temper, and that fact, in a tempestuous26 and ill-educated age, won for him wide measure of respect.
Now he murmured scraps28 from various sacred and profane30 authors and addressed them aloud to his horse.
"We must keep the weather on our right cheek, nag31. Tut, tut! How vast this silence and gloom! It helps us to know our place in nature, albeit32 we have lost our place in it. Lost, and found by being lost! Ha, ha!
"'Come, man,
Hyperbolized Nothing! know thy span,
Take thine own measure here: down, down and bow
Before thyself in thine Idea, thou
Huge emptiness!
"Crashaw, I thank thee. And I pray that thou wilt33 help me with Lady Grace. 'All daring dust and ashes,' indeed, to hope in that quarter; but time is on my side. She must yield—eh, Victor?"
The horse pricked34 his ears at sound of his name and splashed on, leaving a trail behind him where he had brushed the moisture from heath and grass. By Norcot's calculations he should now have been nearing the valley of West Dart3, and from thence he hoped to hit the mouth of the Swincombe River, and so reach his destination; but time passed; the faint wind blew now on one cheek, now upon the other, and at length Mr. Norcot realised that he was quite hopelessly lost. The darkness crowded in upon him and elbowed him; not one whisper penetrated35 it. He pulled up, drank a dram from a little silver spirit flask36, and listened for the murmur27 of running water. But another sound suddenly rewarded him. A shadow flitted across the gloom, and a thin, old voice was heard lifted up in song.
"A ha'penny for a rook;
A penny for a jay;
A noble for a fox;
An' twelvepence for a gray!'"
"Well met, neighbour!" shouted Norcot. "And since you sing, I doubt not you are happy; and since you are happy, you have a home and know the way to it."
"'Ess fay! An' you too, sir. I be Leaman Cloberry, coney-catcher of Dartmeet. An' who be you?"
"One Peter Norcot, from Chagford. This is not my country, and I'm seeking the River Swincombe—have been doing so for many hours in vain. Now 'Light thickens; and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood.' But where's the river?"
"You be within half a mile of it, your honour."
"Then I came straighter than I knew. That's the reward for always going straight, Mr. Cloberry; when darkness overtakes us, we go straight still. It has become a habit. I want the new farm of Mr. Malherb beneath Cater's Beam. And you shall show me the way thereto."
Leaman Cloberry shifted a small bag that he carried on his shoulder. He was bound in the same direction; but while Norcot might be supposed a friend to Fox Tor Farm, Cloberry crept thither37 with intentions the reverse of friendly. He had chosen the fog for a dark purpose. Now, however, he hid his designs and spoke38.
"I know the place and a good few of the men as works there."
"How do they prosper12? Malherb and Dartmoor must be flint and steel. Yet the man will prove tougher than the granite39, I hope."
Cloberry stroked a red mark on his cheek.
"Did you hear tell what chanced to Holne Church a week ago?" he asked.
"No, I did not."
"My gentleman from Fox Tor Farm took his ladies there to worship. An' I comed along same time with a vixen fox an' two cubs40 to hang 'em up in the sight of the nation, so as all men might see I'd earned my money. An' he falled on me like a cat-a-mountain, an' used awfulest language ever let fly in a burying-ground, an' hit me across the face with his whip."
"I'm heartily41 sorry and ashamed to hear it. Under a sacred fane, too! I grieve for this. It is a lesson to us all. Yet to kill foxes! Tut, tut! 'Volpone, by blood and rank' a gentleman.' I preserve game myself, yet pay tithe42 unquestioning to reynard."
"'Twas assault and battery, whether or no. An' Squire44 he took Malherb's part, an' parson was o' my side. An' I said as folks must live, an' Malherb, in his lofty way, sees the force of that, an' flings me half a sovereign. But I let it bide46 on the ground. You can't batter43 a man like that on a Sunday morning for money. I'm set against him, and I'll set other folk against him too."
"Think better of it. Half a sovereign is a very convenient embodiment of ten shillings. Take this one for showing me my way. 'I would be friends with you and have your love.' It is my rule of life."
Cloberry accepted the coin thus offered, declared that Peter was a hero, and presently put him upon his road to Fox Tor. But after Mr. Norcot had trotted out of sight, his guide followed in the same direction. The old man skulked47 under a wall until darkness had fallen upon the moor; then, walking out boldly into a fine piece of meadow-land upon which Maurice Malherb especially prized himself, he opened his sack and took therefrom a box with a pierced top. Gentle squeaking48 came from inside this receptacle; and now, opening it, Cloberry released a dozen fat and lively moles49.
"There, my little velvet-coats!" he said; "go to work an' tear the heart out of him when he sees what you can do. Increase an' multiply, my dears, like the children of Israel; an' presently I'll bring up a dozen more to help 'e!"
The moles crawled about uneasily, but presently began to dig and sink into the earth. The fog had lifted, and the lights of Fox Tor Farm now shone across the night. Leaman Cloberry shook his fist at them.
"That's a beginning," he growled50. "An' I'll bring rats for your byres an' stoats for your hen-roosts. I'll plague you; I'll fret51 your gizzard! An' I wish that I was Moses, for then I'd fetch along all the plagues of Egypt against 'e an' break your stone heart!"
Meanwhile, as the vermin-catcher tramped homeward, and presently so far recovered good temper as to sing his only song, Peter Norcot found a welcome and much sympathy. Malherb now regarded himself as an old Dartmoor man, familiar with every possible freak and manifestation52 of Nature upon the waste. He explained to Norcot the course proper to be pursued in a fog, and Peter, whose knowledge of the Moor extended from boyhood, listened very gravely, acknowledged his errors, and praised the older man's shrewdness in the matter.
Before dinner Mr. Malherb, in all the splendour of fine black, new pumps, and a frilled shirt-front with a diamond in it, went off to his cellar for those remarkable53 wines that he assured familiar guests were now no longer in the market; while the lover enjoyed some precious moments with his lady. Grace looked fair to see in her white muslin and blue ribbons. She wore the high waist of the period; her hair towered in a mass on the top of her head, yet little prim54 curls hung like flowers on either side; white shoes cased her feet, and the elastic55 of them made a cross between her ankles.
"The Moor suits you nobly, dear Grace," said Mr. Norcot, who was himself resplendent. "I never saw you lovelier."
"Do leave all that," she said. "Let us meet in peace."
"So be it," he answered, and continued—
"'Gracie, I swear by all I ever swore,
That from this hour I shall not love thee more,—
What! love no more? Oh! why this altered vow56?
Because I cannot love thee more than now!'"
A gentle look came into his blue eyes as he gazed upon her. It was not natural to them, but he had practised it often before the looking-glass, and could assume it at pleasure.
"Still occupied with other men's jests, Peter. If you only understood me! Do you know why I love Dartmoor? Because it leaves me alone. Because it cares no more for me than for the ant that crawls on the grass-blade. So big, so grand, so stern it is. And it always tells the truth."
"You are quite wrong. The Moor loves with a hopeless passion. It has kissed you. I see the print of its kisses on your cheek. It has kissed your little elbow, for I note a dimple there that is new to me."
Grace frowned and pulled up her mitten57. She sat upon the music-stool, struck a note or two, and did not answer. Peter sighed.
"You are cold, you are cold," he said. "What does Wycherley remark? 'Out of Nature's hands they came plain, open, silly, and fit for slaves, as she and heaven intended 'em; but damned Love——' There it is! 'Blessed Love,' if you happened to love me; doubly, trebly 'damned Love,' since your heart is set on somebody else."
"Not at all. I love nobody. I hate the word."
"And you are seventeen to-morrow!"
"'On that auspicious58 day began the race
Of every virtue59 joined in one sweet Grace.'"
"What is my birthday to you, Peter?"
"You can ask that! I must answer in an epigram. There is only one reply possible. Martial—but I know a beautiful translation:—
"'Believing hear what you deserve to hear:
Your birthday as my own to me is dear;
But yours gives most; for mine did only lend
Me to the world; yours gave to me a friend.'
Only that word 'friend' is too weak."
"I wish you would be content with friendship, and not fret me to death with all this nonsense. Do you know that father has bought me a lovely hunter for a birthday gift?"
"I do. And that horse will want a whip—until he knows your voice; and that whip Peter Norcot has provided. 'Tis almost worthy60 of you—a pretty toy."
"I don't want your whip," she said.
Mr. Norcot cast about for something from The Taming of the Shrew; but he changed his mind. Meantime Grace spoke again.
"I shall be sorry to give up riding my poor little 'Russet.' Still, he's not up to my weight now; and he's growing elderly and lazy, and I'm to hunt next season. Won't it be lovely?"
"Our Dartmoor blades will hunt no more foxes; they'll hunt for smiles from you," said Peter gloomily.
"You shall have some good long gallops61 with me if you will. I'm mastering the country well, and now with 'C?sar'—that's my new horse—I shall be able to go twice as far as formerly62."
"I rejoice. You must take me upon your favourite rides."
"One has a horrid63 fascination64 for me. 'Tis to the top of North Hisworthy Tor above Prince Town. From there you can look straight down into that great War Prison—the saddest sight for any woman's eyes."
Mr. Malherb entered at this moment.
"A tender fool," he said, "and her mother no better. Eight thousand French tigers behind those bars; and these women in their silly way would set 'em loose to-morrow."
"They long for their dens18 and their cubs, poor fellows," said Grace.
"They fought for their country—that's their only sin," murmured Annabel Malherb.
"They fought against England—that's their sin," retorted her husband hotly. "The lying, slippery rascals65! Dartmoor's too good for 'em. Honour! Three broke parole at Ashburton last week!"
"Isn't it wonderful? They play games and hold concerts and have play-acting!" said Grace.
"Their vile66 French levity," answered her father. "Instead of being on their knees asking God to forgive 'em, they dance and sing."
Mr. Norcot shook his head, as though to imply he echoed Malherb's sentiments. Then he asked a question, but did not guess the storm it would awaken67.
"And what about the American prisoners?"
"Curse 'em!" roared the farmer, like a sudden explosion of thunder. "Curse 'em living and dying, and, if I had my way, I'd hang the foul68 traitors—every man. Our own flesh and blood—a British Colony——"
"I'm afraid 'tis idle to dream that any more. The tea business. Never was such a shattering storm bred in a teacup before," answered Norcot. "A bad day for England——"
"Matricides, murderers, insolent69 democratical scoundrels!" cried the other. "My blood boils at the name. How is it that the Almighty70 has not sunk their stolen continent fathoms71 deep in the sea to cleanse72 it? Why are they allowed to live? Pirates—slave-driving, slave-hunting, slave-breeding pirates, and lynchers, and blackguards—self-constituted a Nation. A Nation! They make you believe in Hell against your will."
"They have more pluck and originality73 than the French, I am told," said Peter calmly. "They escape in a wonderful manner; they give the guards ceaseless trouble and anxiety."
"For why? They're bastard74 English. They've got our blood in their veins75. 'Twill take a few generations yet ere it all runs into the sink and leaves nothing but mongrel. A poisoned race—a fallen race. Pride has ruined 'em; as it ruined the Devil, their dam. Hanging, drawing, quartering, I say! No honest man——"
"Come to dinner, Maurice," said Mrs. Malherb. "And don't thus rage before eating. 'Tis very bad for you. They are at least out of mischief76 now, poor creatures."
"Never," answered her husband. "An American is never out of mischief until he is dead."
"The prison should be a good, handy market for farm produce," ventured Peter.
"It is; but I'd rather starve than touch their vile money," said Malherb.
He gave his arm to his daughter and went to the dining-room, while Mr. Norcot and Mrs. Malherb followed them.
Kekewich always waited upon the family, and not seldom he was addressed during the course of a meal concerning subjects within his wide knowledge. Now the talk turned to trade, and Norcot explained a serious problem of his own business.
"Everything is depressed77 in these fighting times," he said. "One looks for that and provides for it. But what shall be thought of our principal customers, the East India Company? Wool don't get cheaper, that's very certain, but they are sending down the price of long ells half-a-crown a piece. They say that our woollens are often a drug in the Indian market; and now to remedy the thin web, every piece of long ell in stripes shall weigh twelve pounds. We work web at coarser pitch to meet this want, and, of course, defeat the object of the demand by producing rubbish."
The conversation became profoundly technical, and Malherb, who deemed himself an expert upon wool, as upon most other subjects, uttered great words. Then Kekewich, himself an old wool-comber, became so interested that he forgot his business. At last he could stand it no more, but set down a dish violently and plunged78 into conversation, much to Norcot's entertainment. He perceived, however, that Kekewich knew far more about the matter than Mr. Malherb, and when the servant was from the room made a jest upon him.
"A wonderful man, and sane79 too. Sound sense—every word of it.
"'Old Kek doth with his lantern jaws80
Throw light upon the woollen laws.'"
"And upon most other matters," declared Grace. "And his thoughts are all his own—borrowed from nobody."
"It happens to me," confessed Peter, "that the things I think have always been better worded by others. With becoming modesty81, therefore, I borrow."
According to modern ideas of courtesy, Mrs. Malherb and her daughter were somewhat slighted during the progress of dinner; but women listened more and talked less a hundred years ago than now. Annabel saw that Peter's plate and glass were kept full, chatted with her daughter, laughed at her husband's jests, and departed to the drawing-room as soon as the table was cleared. Then Kekewich deposited two silver candlesticks and a pair of silver snuffers within reach of his master, produced a dish of dry walnuts82, and tenderly stationed a bottle of port at the elbow of each gentleman.
"I know you're only a one-bottle man, and you are wise at your age," said Malherb. "Indeed, I seldom do more myself, save on rare occasions, and never except during the hunting season."
"I hope you'll account for two bottles upon the day I marry Mistress Grace," answered Peter. "She grows an angel. Never beamed such radiant beauty.
"'Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do intreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.'
But I wish they would twinkle for me."
"To-morrow she is seventeen—God bless her! They are my heart and my soul—she and my son. But she's yours, Norcot, for I've said it. She shall reign45 over your place at Chagford. Her welfare is my first care in this world. Now leave that. Let our talk be about sheep. I have discovered that Dartmoor is the best sheep-walk in the kingdom. We shall have such wool for you next year as will make you generous against your will. Already I'm treating for certain three-year-old Dartmoor wethers that'll shear83 nine pounds of unwashed wool a fleece. Think of it! Take one shilling and threepence a pound and five hundred sheep—the result is nearly three hundred pounds of money in one year! Then I design to cross with the new Leicesters. Frankly84, I see a large fortune within ten years. It can hardly be avoided."
Mr. Norcot nodded thoughtfully. He knew the farmer's figures were absurdly high, both in wool and money.
"You look so far ahead. I always envy you that gift of foresight85. Yet, in sober honesty, you must not count to get more than a shilling a pound. If you could breed Merinos now."
"I've thought of that, too."
"Ah! I'll wager86 you have," said the merchant, with admiration87. "What don't you think of, Mr. Malherb? 'Tis good to know that another man of ideas has come on Dartmoor."
So the talk and the wine sped, and presently they joined the ladies. Annabel was at the piano, and Grace sat beside a peat fire, engaged with her needle. While the music ran, Peter, inspired by dinner and the fair maiden88 under his eyes, pulled forth89 a notebook and adventured an original rhyme. He was hurt at the girl's recent allusion90, and now determined91 to reveal powers unsuspected. But the gem92 he designed would not polish, and Grace herself went to the piano to sing an exceedingly doleful ballad93 before Mr. Norcot's effort was complete. Then he handed it to her in a book, while Mrs. Malherb spoke aside to Dinah Beer, and the master, who cared little for music, perused94 an agricultural survey of Devon.
Miss Malherb read, and her lip curled visibly.
"Sweet vestal Gracie's lovely eyes have lighted
Such fires within his breast that Peter's frighted;
For now, behold95! This man of noble mettle96
Doth feel his heart boil over like a kettle."
Annabel still talked with her woman, and Grace, after brief cogitation97, wrote a few lines under Mr. Norcot's effort, and handed it back again. He saw what she had said, and smiled—
"Though water boils apace and fire be bold,
Pour one on t'other, quickly both grow cold.
Therefore, good Peter, let thy heart boil over.
'Twill ease thee of thy pain; me of my lover."
He tore a scrap29 from the bottom of the sheet, and concluded the correspondence.
When Grace bade her father and his guest farewell and reached her room, she scanned Mr. Norcot's final comment, and found that it needed no reply. He had merely written—
"The epigrammatist rejoices; but the man weeps."
点击
收听单词发音
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1
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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2
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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4
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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5
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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7
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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8
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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9
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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10
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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11
prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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13
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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14
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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15
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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16
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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18
dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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19
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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21
density
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| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
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22
waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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23
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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24
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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25
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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26
tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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27
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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28
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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29
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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30
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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nag
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| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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32
albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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34
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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35
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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36
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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38
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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39
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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40
cubs
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| n.幼小的兽，不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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41
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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42
tithe
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| n.十分之一税；v.课什一税，缴什一税 | |
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43
batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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44
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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skulked
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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moles
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| 防波堤( mole的名词复数 )； 鼹鼠； 痣； 间谍 | |
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50
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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51
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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52
manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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53
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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55
elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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57
mitten
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| n.连指手套，露指手套 | |
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58
auspicious
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| adj.吉利的；幸运的，吉兆的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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61
gallops
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| （马等）奔驰，骑马奔驰( gallop的名词复数 ) | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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71
fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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72
cleanse
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| vt.使清洁，使纯洁，清洗 | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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76
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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81
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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82
walnuts
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| 胡桃（树）( walnut的名词复数 )； 胡桃木 | |
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83
shear
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| n.修剪，剪下的东西，羊的一岁；vt.剪掉，割，剥夺；vi.修剪，切割，剥夺，穿越 | |
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84
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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86
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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87
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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88
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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89
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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90
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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91
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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92
gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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93
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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94
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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95
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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96
mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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97
cogitation
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| n.仔细思考，计划，设计 | |
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