Mr. Lothian’s sermon, as was expected, bore some reference to the momentous14 crisis of affairs. With that natural perversity15 to which even the best of men yield like their inferiors, the minister’s sermon, instead of being as Samuel Diarmid had suggested, ‘rousing,’ was calmer than usual in its tone; and he was so bold, almost rash, all things taken into consideration, as to take his text from the strange description in the Old Testament16 of those prophets whom Saul joined in their wild rapture17 of inspiration. By a rare self-denial he refrained from absolutely quoting the words which were on the lips of all his parishioners. ‘Is Saul also among the prophets?’—but dwelt upon the wild outburst which had so little effect upon the condition of the people, and upon the sorrowful calm of Samuel to whom no such ardour of religious excitement seemed to have been given. ‘From all we can see,’ said the minister, ‘he stood and looked on, not disapproving18, but well aware in his heart how little was to be expected from such bursts of enthusiasm.’ The attention in the church was absorbing. Sometimes there would be a stolen glance at Ailie, who listened like the rest with profound attention, a gleam of colour now and then flitting over her visionary face; and he was happy who could obtain from his seat a glimpse of the Ardnamore pew, with Mr. John’s dark head relieved against the high back. He sat alone, and was very conspicuous19 in the front of the gallery, and at any time he would have been notable among the shrewd, expressive20, peasant countenances21 round him. Something of the finer and more subtle varieties of expression given by education and intercourse22 with the world, and—though he was at best but a country squire—something of the flavour of race was in the passionate23, dark face, fixed24 upon the preacher with a defiant25 attention which seemed likely at any moment to burst into utterance26. People said he had actually risen to sneak27 when Mr. Lothian hastily gave the benediction28 and concluded the service. There had not been so exciting a ‘diet of worship’ on the Loch in the memory of man. The congregation, as it dispersed29, broke into little groups, discussing the one subject from every point of view.
‘I wonder how he daur speak, with her yonder before him like one of the saints, and sae humble30 for a’ her gifts.’ ‘And, eh, I wonder how a young lass could sit and listen to a’ yon from the minister and still bide31 steadfast32 in her ain way, said the gossips. ‘But I canna{67} haud with that way o’ finding fault with Scripture,’ said one of the fathers of the village. ‘A’ Scripture’s written for our instruction; and wha gave ony man authority to judge the auld33 prophets as if they were not examples every ane?’
‘It’s a fashion nowadays,’ said another. ‘I’ve heard some o’ them as hard on Jacob, honest man, as if he had been a neebor lad; and as for King Dawvid and his backslidings——’
‘Had he been a neebor lad, as ye say, he had never come within my door,’ cried Jenny Spence, ‘and seeing the Lord puts them to shame Himsel, wherefore should we set up for making them perfect? And, bless me, if ye think of a wheen naked men, tearing their claes, and ranting34 afore decent folk——’
‘Haud your tongue, Jenny!’ said John, ‘or speak o’ things ye understand.’
‘If I didna understand better nor you lads that never take thought of naething, it would be queer to me,’ retorted Jenny. ‘What wi’ your work, and your clavers, and Luckie Bisset ower the hill——’
‘Whisht! whisht! woman, it’s the Sawbath-day,’ said an older neighbour; and then the original subject was resumed.
Among the many church-going parties there was the habitual35 one from the Glebe. Jean Campbell, in her best attire36, the heavy, well-preserved, but somewhat rusty37 weeds which became the Captain’s widow was an imposing38 figure. Her crape was rather brown, but it was a more perfect evidence of rank to her than silk or satin. Her fresh, comely39 face looked out pleasantly from the white crimped borders, and overshadowing pent-house of black, which marked her condition. Not a new-made widow on all the Loch had deeper weeds than she; though Isabel by her side in her grey gown and with her rose ribbons looked fresh as the day.
Jean had many salutations to make as they issued out of church; and pretty Isabel, who was very conscious of the little step of superiority in her position which make her notice of her rustic40 neighbours, ‘a compliment,’ distributed her little greetings like a princess, shyly looking out for Miss Catherine, with whom she was wont41 to walk home a far as the gate of Lochhead, thus separating herself from the common level on which her stepmother stood.
‘Look well at Isabel of the Glebe as you pass her; you maun make your new frock like yon,’ an anxious mother would say to her daughter. ‘They say she’s aye meeting that young Stapylton on the braes, but he daurna come near her on the Sabbath-day.’ ‘Eh, no, I’m thinking he wouldna have the face, and her waiting for Miss{68} Catherine.’ Isabel was softly conscious of the comments made upon her. When Margaret and she were children, standing42 together waiting for their father on the same spot ten years before, the same looks had been turned upon them; the same curious observations made on their dress and their ‘manners;’ and ‘Ye dinna see the wee ladies behaving like that,’ had been a common admonition to the unruly children around.
‘I hope you are all well,’ she said to Jenny Spence with the pretty ‘English,’ which the Loch admired, and which, to tell the truth, Isabel herself often forgot, except on those Sabbatical occasions. And Jenny felt the compliment of the salutation and the pride of the connection so profoundly that she rushed into eager tender inquiries43 about Margaret, overwhelming the girl with her reverential affection. While she stood, with smiling dignity, listening to Jenny Spence, another little incident occurred that increased still further her importance with the crowd. Ailie Macfarlane was not in the habit of speaking to anyone as she left the church. She would pass through them all with her little Bible folded in her hands, her eyes either cast down or gazing rapt into the air, while everybody made way for her. But when she approached Isabel on this memorable44 day, Ailie paused. She took one of her hands from her Bible, and suddenly laid it upon Isabel’s. It was cold; and the girl, who had not expected it, made a little start backward from the touch.
‘It’s like ice to your warm blood,’ said Ailie; ‘and so am I to you. But I’m no acting45 on my ain notion. Isabel Diarmid, promise me you’ll come to the prayer-meeting the morn.’
‘O Ailie, how can I promise?’ said Isabel in dismay, ‘and Margaret so ill.’
‘Dinna set that up for an excuse. I’m bidden to ask you by them that will have no excuse,’ said Ailie. ‘To her ain Master she standeth or falleth—I’m no judging Margaret. But, Isabel, I’m bidden to summon you.’
‘I cannot leave my sister,’ faltered46 Isabel, raising her eyes to the crowd with a mute appeal for defence.
‘You can leave her for the hill,’ said Ailie, very low; and then she added hurriedly. ‘It’s no me that speaks. There’s awfu’ trouble and sorrow in your way, and you’re but a soft feckless thing to bear it. Come to the prayer-meeting the morn.’
It was just at this moment that Miss Catherine appeare. Isabel’s eyes had been diverted for the moment away from the church, and she had not seen the approach of her friend; who laid her hand upon the girl’s shoulder as Ailie repeated her invitation.{69}
‘Ailie Macfarlane,’ Miss Catherine said, while Isabel started nervously47 at the unexpected touch. ‘You are not to bid her to your meetings; she is too young, and she is my kinswoman, and I cannot let her go.’
‘If she was the queen’s kinswoman I would bid her,’ said Ailie. ‘What are your ranks and degrees to the Spirit of the Lord? I’m offering her far more than you can offer her, though you’re a lady and me but a simple lass. Now that persecution48 has come upon us, as was to be looked for, it canna be but the Spirit will be poured out double. It’s out of love to Isabel I ask her, that she may taste the first-fruits and be kent for ane of the chosen. Who are you that would stand between the Lord and His handmaid? I’m freed from earthly bonds this day. Isabel, I’ll say nae mair to ye; but tell Margaret I bid her arise and meet me—for the corn is whitening to the harvest; and come yoursel.’
When she had said these words she passed on with the same rapt look as before, speaking to no one, seeing no one. The people round had gathered close to hear what she said, and dispersed slowly out of her path as she turned, making way for her reluctantly, and full of curiosity. Some of the women even plucked at her dress as she passed. ‘Eh, Ailie! speak one word. Will’t bring judgment49 on the parish?’ said one anxious voice. But Ailie made no reply. She glided50 away from them, with that directness and silent speed of motion which gives a certain spiritual and ghostly air to the very movements of the abstracted and impassioned.
Isabel had forgotten her simple vanity. She stood trembling, with tears in her eyes, by Miss Catherine’s side, not even capable of pride in being thus adopted as the special charge of the great lady of the parish.
‘She says I’m coming to grief and trouble,’ sobbed51 poor Isabel. ‘Oh, is it my Margaret she means?’
‘Hush!’ said Miss Catherine drawing Isabel’s hand through her own; ‘you must not cry before all these folk. Come and tell me all that ails52 you. Is Margaret worse that you tremble so? and what can that poor thing know about it more than you or me? Can she know as well as Margaret herself?’
‘But if it was true that she had the Spirit?’ faltered Isabel through her tears. ‘And oh, Miss Catherine, it goes to my heart what she aye says—if Margaret had but faith!’
‘Margaret has all the faith a Christian53 woman wants—be you sure of that,’ said Miss Catherine, with impatience54; ‘and I wish the minister had taken order sooner to put a stop to all this. But, Isabel, there might be worse things in your way than the grief we all share. My dear, I{70} have been wanting long to speak to you. Put Ailie and her raving55 put of your mind, and come cannily56 up to Lochhead with me.’
‘Margaret will want me,’ said Isabel, awakening57 suddenly to a sense that admonitions of another kind were hanging over her.
‘I’ll not keep you long,’ said Miss Catherine, ‘and Jean shall say where you are. Good-day, Mrs. Diarmid. I am taking Isabel with me to have a talk. Give Margaret my love, and I’ll walk up to see her this afternoon and bring her sister back. There’s no change?’
‘I canna say there’s ony change, Miss Catherine,’ said Jean, divided between the melancholy58 meaning of what she said and the glory of this address; for even Miss Catherine, punctilious59 as she was in giving honour where honour was due, seldom addressed her by the dignified60 title of Mrs. Diarmid; ‘but she’s aye wearing away, and weaker every day.’
‘The Lord help us, there’s nothing else to be looked for,’ said Miss Catherine, sadly. And Isabel, who had regained61 her composure to some extent, fell weeping once more, silently leaning on her friend’s arm. There was nothing more said till they descended62 the brae, and made their way through the village. The Loch had never been trained to the custom of curtseying to the lady of the manor63. The groups stood aside with kindly64 looks to let her pass, and here and there a man better bred than usual took off his hat, but the salutations in general were rather nods of friendly greeting and smiles that broadened the honest rural faces than more reverential servilities. ‘How are all at home, John?’ Miss Catherine said, in her peremptory65 way as she passed. ‘How is all with ye, Janet?’ And then there was a needful pause, and the story of the children’s recovery from some childish epidemic66 would be told, or of the letter from ‘the lads’ in Canada, or of family distress67 and anxiety. When they were quite free of these interruptions, which had once more the effect of bringing composure to Isabel, whose April tears dried quickly, and whose heart could not be coerced68 out of hope, Miss Catherine turned to the special charge she had taken upon her.
‘My dear,’ she said, ‘I am going to be a cruel friend. I have made up in my mind all manner of hard things to say to you, Isabel. You are not to take them ill from me. We’re kindred far removed, but yet there’s one drop’s blood between you and me, and I know nobody on the Loch that wishes you well more warmly. Will you let me speak as if I were your mother? Had she been living it would have been her place.{71}’
‘Miss Catherine,’ said Isabel, with a thrill of nervous impatience, a sudden heat flushing to her face, ‘how can you ask it? Ye have always said whatever you liked to me.’
‘And you think I’ve sometimes been hard upon you?’ said Miss Catherine. ‘Well, we’ll not argue. Your mother was younger than me, Isabel, and she had no near friends any more than you. If she had had a father or a brother to take care of her, she never would have married Duncan Diarmid. I am meaning no offence to the Captain. He did very well for himself, and a man that makes his way is always to be respected; but he was a different man from what your mother thought when she married him, and her life was short, and far from happy. She was a sweet, wilful69 tender, hot-tempered thing, just like you.’
‘Eh, I’m no wilful!’ said Isabel, thrilling in every vein70 with the determination to resist all advice that could be given to her. They were almost alone on the green glistening road which wound round the head of the Loch, and the water rippled71 up upon the pebbles72, and flashed like a great mirror in the sunshine. The girl’s heart rose with the exhilaration of the brightness.
‘Your mother would take no advice,’ said Miss Catherine, ‘and she died at five-and-twenty, and left you, two poor babies, without a mother to guide you in the world.’
‘But, oh, it was not her fault she died,’ cried Isabel. ‘Folk die that are happy too.’
‘I’ll tell you what it was,’ said Miss Catherine; ‘not to put you against your father. He never pretended to more than he was. Duncan was aye honest, whatever else. But your mother saw qualities in him that no mortal could see. And when the hasty thing saw her idol73 broken, her heart broke too; and you’re like her—too like, Isabel.’
‘For one thing at least, I’m wronging nobody; and why should you say all this to me?’ cried the girl all flushed and resentful, and yet struggling with her tears.
‘How can I tell what you might be tempted74 to do? Margaret Diarmid—that’s your mother—gave me her word she would take time and think, and the very next Sabbath she was cried in the kirk! Isabel, I said I would be cruel. Do you know, do you ever think, what’s coming upon you, bairn?’
Isabel made no answer—her resentment75 could not stand against this solemnity of tone. She raised her eyes to Miss Catherine as one who awaits the sentence of fate.
‘While you are running about, out and in, like a{72} butterfly or a bird, and singing your songs, and working at your seam, and meeting strange folk upon the braes’—said Miss Catherine with emphasis. ‘I am not blaming you, even for the last. But all this time there’s coming a day when you will be left alone in the world, Isabel. Your bit cottage will still be yours—so to speak a home; but a home that’s empty and desolate76, what is that? And none to lean on, none to advise you, none to be your guide—silence in the chambers77, and cold on the hearth78; and you no better than a bairn, used from your cradle to lean on her and turn to her: what will you do when you are alone in the world?’
‘Oh, my Margaret!’ cried Isabel, drawing her hand from Catherine’s arm and bursting into a passion of tears. They were within the gate at Lochhead, and there was no one by to see the girl’s weeping, which was beyond control. She had been told of it again and again, and realised it to some degree, but never until now had brought her imagination to bear on the life that remained for herself after her sister was gone. Miss Catherine was softened79 by the violence of her emotion. She took Isabel into her arms and let fall a tear or two out of her old eyes, to mingle80 with those scorching81 drops that came wrung82 out of the other’s very heart.
‘Oh, you are cruel, cruel,’ cried Isabel, struggling out of her embrace; ‘I will die too! I canna bear it; I canna bear it! It is more than I can bear.’
Then Miss Catherine led her, blind with her tears, to a grassy83 seat hid among the trees, and sat down by her and did her best to administer comfort. ‘Isabel, you know well it must be so,’ she said at length, with some severity. ‘It cannot be that you have found it out for the first time to-day.’
‘Oh, do not speak to me,’ cried Isabel; ‘how can ye dare to say it is to be, when God could raise her up in a moment like Ailie? And there was Mary Diarmid down the Loch that was—dying—that’s what they said—and even she got the turn. Oh, do not speak to me, God is not cruel as you say.’
All these reproaches Miss Catherine bore, sitting compassionately84 by her victim until the force of her passion was spent; and when Isabel, faint and exhausted85, like a creature in a dream, could resist no longer, she resumed where she had left off.
‘My dear, I am thinking what is to become of you when this comes to pass—and so does Margaret. Bless her, she thinks of you night and day; and many a talk we have about you, Isabel, when you’re little thinking {73}of us. There is one good man in the parish that loves you well——’
‘I want no love,’ answered the girl, almost sullenly86. ‘Oh, Miss Catherine, don’t speak like this to me.’
‘But I am speaking for Margaret’s sake. There is one that would be a comfort and strength and blessing87 to any woman. And there is the other lad. Isabel! your father was rough and wild, and not a match for my kinswoman Margaret Diarmid; but he had always a heart. This lad has little heart. If you but heard how he can speak of them you hold most dear——’
‘Miss Catherine,’ said Isabel, with a voice of despair, starting to her feet, ‘I will run home to Margaret; I can bear no more.’
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
glistened
|
|
| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
glistening
|
|
| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
dissent
|
|
| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
tingle
|
|
| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
tingled
|
|
| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
measles
|
|
| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
jingled
|
|
| 喝醉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
momentous
|
|
| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
perversity
|
|
| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
testament
|
|
| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
rapture
|
|
| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
disapproving
|
|
| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
countenances
|
|
| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
defiant
|
|
| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
sneak
|
|
| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
benediction
|
|
| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
dispersed
|
|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
bide
|
|
| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
steadfast
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
auld
|
|
| adj.老的，旧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
ranting
|
|
| v.夸夸其谈( rant的现在分词 )；大叫大嚷地以…说教；气愤地)大叫大嚷；不停地大声抱怨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
attire
|
|
| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
rusty
|
|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
imposing
|
|
| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
comely
|
|
| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
rustic
|
|
| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
faltered
|
|
| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
persecution
|
|
| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
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： |
|
|
|
|
51
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： |
|
|
|
|
52
ails
|
|
| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
raving
|
|
| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
cannily
|
|
| 精明地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
punctilious
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
manor
|
|
| n.庄园，领地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
peremptory
|
|
| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
epidemic
|
|
| n.流行病；盛行；adj.流行性的，流传极广的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
coerced
|
|
| v.迫使做( coerce的过去式和过去分词 )；强迫；（以武力、惩罚、威胁等手段）控制；支配 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
wilful
|
|
| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
rippled
|
|
| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
pebbles
|
|
| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
idol
|
|
| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
mingle
|
|
| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
scorching
|
|
| adj. 灼热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
wrung
|
|
| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
compassionately
|
|
| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |