The windows of the rooms stood open. Inside one of them the breakfast was on the table yet, Miss Blake seated at it. Matins at St. Jerome's had been unusually prolonged; and Sir Karl and Lady Andinnian had taken breakfast when she got home. The Reverend Damon Puff2 had now come to help Mr. Cattacomb; imparting to St. Jerome's an additional attraction.
While Miss Blake took her breakfast, Lucy went out amidst her flowers. The scent3 of the mignonette filled the air, the scarlet4 of the geraniums made the beds brilliant. Lucy wore one of her simple muslin dresses; it had sprigs of green upon it--for the weather was still that of summer, though the season was not, and the nightingales were no longer heard of an evening. Trinity church boasted a set of sweet-toned bells, and they were ringing on the air. When the Sacrament was administered--the first Sunday in each month--they generally did ring before service. This was the first Sunday in September. Lucy stooped to pick some mignonette as she listened to the bells. She was getting to look what she was--worn and unhappy. Nothing could be much less satisfactory than her life: it seemed to herself sometimes that she was like a poor flower withering5 for lack of sunshine. For the first time for several weeks she meant, that day, to stay for the after-service: her mind had really been in too great a chaos6 before: but this week she had been schooling7 herself in preparation for it, and praying and striving to feel tranquil8.
Karl came round the terrace from his room and crossed the lawn. In his hand he held a most exquisite9 rose, and offered it to her. She thanked him as she took it. In manner they were always courteous10 to one another.
"What a lovely day it is?" she said. "So calm and still."
"And not quite so hot as it was a few weeks ago," he replied. "Those must be Mr. Sumnor's bells."
"Yes. I wish they rang every Sunday. I think--it may be all fancy, but I can't help thinking it--that people would go to church more heartily11 if the bells rang for them as they are ringing now, instead of calling them with the usual ding-dong."
"There is something melancholy12 in the ringing of bells," observed Karl, in abstraction.
"But, when the heart is in itself melancholy, the melancholy of the bells brings to it a feeling of soothing13 consolation," was Lucy's hasty answer. And the next moment she felt sorry that she had said it. Never, willingly, did she allude14 to aught that could touch on their estrangement15.
"Talking of church, Lucy," resumed Karl, in a different and almost confidential16 tone, "I am beginning to feel really annoyed about that place, St. Jerome's. They are going too far. I wish you would speak a word of caution to Theresa."
"I--I scarcely like to," answered Lucy, after a pause, her delicate cheek faintly flushing, for she was conscious that she had not dared to talk much on any score with Theresa lately, lest Theresa might allude to the subject of the Maze17. Fearing that she avoided her when she could, so as to give no opportunity for private conversation. "She is so much older and wiser than I am--"
"Wiser!" interrupted Karl. "I think not. In all things, save one, you have ten times the good plain sense that she has. That one thing, Lucy, I shall never be able to understand, or account for, to my dying day."
"And, moreover, I was going to add," continued Lucy, flushing deeper at the allusion18, "I am quite sure that Theresa would not heed19 me, whatever I might say."
"Well, I don't know what is to be done. People are mocking at St. Jerome's and its frequenters' folly20 more than I care to hear, and blame me for allowing it to go on. I should not like to be written to by the Bishop21 of the Diocese."
"You written to!" cried Lucy in surprise.
"It is within the range of possibility. The place is on the Andinnian land."
"I think, were I you, I would speak to Mr. Cattacomb."
Karl made a wry22 face. He did not like the man. Moreover he fancied--as did Lucy in regard to Miss Blake--that whatever he might say would make no impression. But for this he had spoken to him before. But, now that another was come and the folly was being doubled, it lay in his duty to remonstrate24. The whole village gossiped and laughed; Sir Adam was furious. Ann Hopley carried the gossip home to her master--which of course lost nothing in the transit--and he abused Karl for not interfering25.
They went to church together, Karl and his wife. It was a thinner congregation than ordinary. Being a grand field-day at St. Jerome's with procession and banners, some of them had gone off thither26 as to a show. Kneeling by her husband's side in their pew, Lucy felt the influence of the holy place, and peace seemed to steal down upon her. Margaret Sumnor was opposite, looking at her: and in Margaret's face there was a strange, pitying compassion28, for she saw that that other face was becoming sadder day by day.
It was a plain, good sermon: Mr. Sumnor's sermons always were: its subject the blessings29 promised for the next world; its text, "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." The tears rose to Lucy's eyes as she listened. Karl listened too, wrapt in the words. Just for the quarter of an hour it lasted--the sermons were always short the first Sunday in the month--both of them seemed to have passed beyond their cares into Heaven. It almost seemed to matter little what the trouble of this short span on earth might be, with that glorious fruition to come hereafter.
"I am going to stay," whispered Lucy, as the service ended. A hint to him that he might depart without her.
Karl nodded, but made no other answer. The congregation filed out, and still he sat on. Lucy wondered. All in a moment it flashed upon her that he also must be going to stay. Her face turned crimson30: the question, was he fit for it, involuntarily suggesting itself.
He did stay. They knelt side by side together and received the elements of Christ's holy Ordinance31. After that, Karl was on his knees in his pew until the end, buried as it seemed in beseeching32 prayer. It was impossible for Lucy to believe that he could be living an ill life of any kind at that present time--whatever he might have done.
He held out his arm as they quitted the church, and she took it. It was not often that she did. Thus they walked home together, exchanging a sentence or two between whiles. Karl went at once to his room, saying he should not take anything to eat: he had a headache. Miss Blake had "snatched a morsel33," and had gone out again to hear the children's catechism, Hewitt said. One thing must be conceded--that she was zealous34 in her duties.
And so Lucy was alone. She took a "morsel" too, and went to sit under the acacia tree. When an hour or so had passed, Karl came up, and surprised her with tears on her cheeks.
"Is it any new grief?" he asked.
"No," she answered, half lost in the sorrow her thoughts had been abandoned to, and neglecting her usual reticence35. "I was but thinking that I am full young to have so much unhappiness."
"We both have enough of that, I expect. I know I have. But yours is partly of your own making, Lucy; mine is not."
"Not of his own making!" ran her thoughts. "Of his own planning, at any rate." But she would not say a word to mar27 the semi-peace which pervaded37, or ought to pervade36, their hearts that day.
"That was a nice sermon this morning," he resumed, sitting down by her on the bench.
"Very. I almost forgot that we were not close to Heaven: I forgot that we had, speaking according to earth's probabilities, years and years and years to live out here first."
"We shall have to live them out, Lucy, I suppose--by Heaven's will. The prospect38 of it looks anything but consolatory39."
"I thought you seemed very sad," she remarked in a low tone. "I had no idea you were going to stay."
"Sad!" He laid his hand upon her knee, not in any particular affection, but to give emphasis to his word. "Sad is not the term for it, Lucy. Misery40, rather; dread41; despair--the worst word you will. I wished, with a yearning42 wish, that I was in Mr. Sumnor's heaven--the heavens he described--if only some others could go before me, so that I did not leave them here."
Lucy wondered of whom he spoke23. She thought it must lie between herself and Mrs. Grey. Karl had been thinking of his poor proscribed43 brother, for whom the glad earth could never open her arms freely again.
"I think what Mr. Sumnor said must be true," resumed Lucy. "That the more sorrow we have to endure in this world, the brighter will be our entrance to the next. I am sure he has a great deal of sorrow himself: whenever he preaches of it he seems to feel it so deeply."
Karl appeared not to hear. He was gazing upwards44, a look of patient pain on his pale face. There were moments--and this was one--when Lucy's arms and heart alike yearned45 to encircle him, and ask for his love to be hers again. She cared for him still--oh, how much!--and wished she could awake to find the Maze, and all the trouble connected with it, a hideous46 dream.
They sat on, saying nothing. The birds sang as in spring, the trees waved gently beneath the blue sky, and the green grass was grateful for the eye to rest upon. On the handsome house lay the glad sun: not a sound of every-day labour, indoors or out, broke the stillness. All was essentially47 peace. Except--except within their own wearied breasts.
The bell of Trinity church rang out for service, arousing Lucy from her reverie. She said she should like to attend it.
"What! this afternoon?" exclaimed Karl. "You are not accustomed to go in the afternoon."
That was true. The heat of the summer weather had been almost unbearable48, and Lucy had not ventured to church in it more than once a day.
"It is cooler now," she answered. "And I always like to go if I can when I have stayed for the communion."
But Karl held back from it: rather, Lucy thought, in an unaccountable manner, for he was ever ready to second any wish of hers. He did not seem inclined to go forth49 again, and said, as a plea of excuse, that he preferred to retain the impression of the morning's sermon on his mind, rather than let it give place to an inferior one. His head was aching badly.
"I do not ask you to come," said Lucy, gently. "I should like to go myself, but I can go quite well alone."
When she came down with her things on, however, she found him ready also; and they set off together.
It may be questioned, though, whether Lucy would have gone had she foreseen what was to happen. In the middle of the service, while the "Magnificat" was being sung, a respectable, staid woman entered the church with an infant in her arms. A beautifully dressed infant. Its long white robe elaborately embroidered50, its delicate blue cloak of surpassing richness, its veil of lace dainty as a gossamer51 thread. The attire52, not often seen at Foxwood, caught Lucy's eye, and she wondered who the infant was. It seemed to her that she had seen the nurse's face before, and began to ransack53 her memory. In an instant it flashed on her with a shock--it was the servant at the Maze.
She turned her eyes on her husband: not intentionally54, but in an uncontrollable impulse. Karl was looking furtively55 at the woman and child--a red flush dyeing his face. Poor Lucy's benefit in the afternoon service was over.
The baby had come to be baptised. Ann Hopley sat down on a bench to which she was shown, just underneath56 the Andinnian pew. Towards the close of the second lesson, the clerk advanced to her, and entered on a whispered colloquy57. Every word of which was distinct to Karl and Lucy.
"Have you brought this infant to be christened?"
"To be baptised," replied Ann Hopley. "Not christened."
The clerk paused. "It's not usual with us to baptise children unless they are so delicate as to render it necessary," said he. "We prefer to christen at once."
"But this child is delicate," she answered. "My mistress, who is herself still very ill, has got nervous about it and wishes it done. The christening must be left until she is better."
"It's the baby at the Maze, I think?"
"Yes. Mrs. Grey's."
The second lesson came to an end. Mr. Sumnor's voice ceased, and he stepped out of the reading desk to perform the baptism. Ann Hopley had drawn58 away the veil, and Lucy saw the child's face; a fair, sweet, delicate little face, calm and placid59 in its sleep.
The congregation, a very small one always in the afternoon, rose up, and stood on tiptoe to see and hear. Mr. Sumnor, standing60 at the font, took the child in his arms.
"Name this child."
"Charles," was the audible and distinct reply of Ann Hopley. And Lucy Andinnian turned red and white; she thought it was, so to say, named after her husband. As indeed was the case.
The child was brought back to the bench again; and the afternoon service went on to its close. There was no sermon. When Lucy rose from her knees, the woman and baby had gone. Karl offered her his arm as they quitted the church, but she would not take it. They walked home side by side, saying never a word to each other.
"That was the reason why he wanted to keep me away from church this afternoon!" was Lucy's indignant thought. "And to dress it up like that! How, how shall I go on, and bear?"
But Lucy was mistaken. Karl had known no more about it than she, and was struck with astonishment61 to see Ann Hopley come in. It arose exactly as the woman had stated. During the night the child had seemed so ill that its mother had become nervously62 uneasy because it was not baptised, and insisted upon its being brought to church that afternoon.
Meanwhile Ann Hopley had hurried homewards. Partly to get out before the rest and avoid observation, partly because she wanted to be back with her mistress. After passing the Court gates, in traversing the short space of road between them and the Maze, she encountered Miss Blake coming home from St. Jerome's. Miss Blake, seeing a baby sumptuously63 attired64, and not at the moment recognizing Ann Hopley in her bonnet65, crossed the road to inquire whose child it was. Then she saw it was the servant at the Maze: but she stopped all the same.
"I should like to take a peep at the baby, nurse."
"It's asleep, ma'am, and I am in a hurry," was the answer, given in all truthfulness66, not in discourtesy; for it must be remembered than Ann Hopley had no grounds to suspect that this lady took any special interest in affairs at the Maze. "It slept all through its baptism."
"Oh it has been baptised, has it! At Mr. Sumnor's church!"
"Yes, at Mr. Sumnor's. There is no other church in the place but that," added the woman, totally ignoring St. Jerome's, but not thinking to give offence thereby67.
Miss Blake put aside the lace and looked at the sleeping baby. "What is its name, nurse?"
"Charles."
"Oh," said Miss Blake, the same notion striking her, as to the name, that had struck Lucy. "It is Mr. Grey's name I suppose--or something like it."
"No, it is not Mr. Grey's name," replied the woman.
"Who is the baby considered like!" went on Miss Blake, still regarding it. "Its father or its mother!"
"It's not much like anybody, that I see, ma'am. The child's too young to show any likeness68 yet."
"I declare that I see a likeness to Sir Karl Andinnian?" cried Miss Blake, speaking partly upon impulse. For, in looking whether she could trace this likeness, her fancy seemed to show her that it was there. "What a strange thing, nurse!"
With one startled gaze into Miss Blake's eyes, Ann Hopley went off in a huff. The suggestion had not been palatable69.
"If he's like Sir Karl, I must never bring him abroad again, lest by that means suspicion should come to my master," she thought, as she took the gate key from her pocket and let herself in. "But I don't believe it can be: for I'm sure there's not a bit of resemblance between the two brothers!"
"How plain it all is!" sighed Miss Blake, meekly70 regarding the cross upon her ivory prayer-book as she went over to the Court. "And that ridiculously simple Lucy does not see it! Bartimeus was blind, and so is she. He could see nothing until his eyes were opened: her eyes have been opened and yet she will not see!"
No, Miss Blake, neither could the self-righteous Pharisee see, when he went into the Temple to thank God that he was better than other men, and especially than the poor publican.
St. Jerome's was prospering71. It had taken--as Tom Pepp the bell-ringer phrased it--a spurt72. A rich maiden73 lady of uncertain age, fascinated by the Reverend Guy Cattacomb's oratory74 and spectacles, came over once a day in her brougham from Basham, and always put a substantial coin into the offertory-bag during the service.
The Reverend Damon Puff found favour too. He had a beautiful black moustache, which he was given to stroke lovingly at all kinds of unseasonable times, his hair was parted down the middle carefully, back and front, and he had an interesting lisp: otherwise he was a harmless kind of young man, devotedly75 attentive76 to the ladies, and not overburdened with brains. Mr. Puff had taken up his abode77 for the present at Basham, and came over in the omnibus. Two omnibus-loads of fair worshippers arrived now daily: there was frightful78 scuffling among them to get into the one that contained the parson.
But, flourishing though St. Jerome's was, people were talking about it in anything but a reverend manner. Sir Karl Andinnian was blamed for allowing it to go on unchecked--as he told his wife. Had Karl been a perfectly79 free man, unswayed by that inward and ever-present dread, he had certainly put a stop to it long ago, or obliged Farmer Truefit to do so; but as it was, he had done nothing. Not a single male person attended the services; and most of the ladies who did so were in their teens, or not much beyond them. Karl felt that this was not as it should be: but he had made no move to alter it. The sensitive fear of making enemies swayed him. Not fear for his own sake, but lest it should in some way draw observation on the Maze and on him whom it contained. When the mind is weighed down with an awful secret, danger seems to lie in everything, reasonable and unreasonable80. But Karl found he must do something.
A comic incident happened one day. There came a lady to Foxwood Court, sending in her card as "Mrs. Brown" and asking to see Sir Karl Andinnian. Sir Karl found she was from Basham. She had come over to pray him, she said with tears in her eyes, that he would put a stop to the goings-on at St. Jerome's and shut up the place. She had two daughters who had been drawn into its vortex and she could not draw them out again. Twice and three times every day of their lives did they come over to Foxwood, by rail, omnibus, or on foot; their whole thoughts and days were absorbed by St. Jerome's: by the services, by cleaning the church, by Mr. Cattacomb's lectures at home, or in helping81 Mr. Puff teach the children. Sir Karl replied that he did not know what he could do in the matter, and intimated very courteously82 that the more effectual remedy in regard to the Miss Browns would be for Mrs. Brown to keep the young ladies at home. They would not be kept at home, Mrs. Brown said with a burst of sobs83; they had learnt to set her at defiance84: and--she begged to hint to Sir Karl--that in her opinion it was not quite the right thing for a young girl to be closeted with a young man, for half an hour at a time, under plea of confession85, though the man did write himself priest. What on earth had they got to confess, Mrs. Brown wanted to know, becoming a little heated with the argument: if they'd confess how undutiful they were to her, their mother, perhaps some good might come of it.
Well, this occurred. Sir Karl got rid of Mrs. Brown; but he could not shut his ears to the public chatter86; and he was conscious that something or other ought to be done, or attempted. He could not see why people should expect that it lay in his hands, and he certainly did not know whether he could effect anything, even with all the good will in the world. Mr. Cattacomb might civilly laugh at him. Not knowing whether any power lay with him, or not, he felt inclined to put the question to the only lawyer Foxwood contained--Mr. St. Henry.
But oh, what was this petty grievance87 to the great trouble ever lying upon him? As nothing. The communication made to him by Ann Hopley, of the night watches she had seen, of the stranger who afterwards presented himself at the Maze gate with his questions, was so much addition to his tormenting88 dread. Just about this time, too, it came to his knowledge through Hewitt, that inquiries89 were being made as to the Maze. Private, whispered inquiries, not apparently90 with any particular object; more in the way of idle gossip. Who was putting them? Karl could not learn. Hewitt did not know who, but was sure of the fact. The story told by Mrs. Chaffen, of the gentleman she had seen at the Maze the night she entered it, and "which it was at her wits' end to know whether he were a ghost, or not," was circulating round the village and reached Karl's ears, to his intense annoyance91 and dismay. Added to all this, was the doubt that lay within himself, as to whether Smith the agent was Philip Salter, and what his course in the matter should be. In his own mind he felt persuaded that it was Salter, and no other; but the persuasion92 was scarcely sufficiently93 assured to induce him to act. He felt the danger of speaking a word of accusation94 to Smith wrongfully--the danger it might bring on his brother--and therefore he, in this, vacillated and hesitated, and did nothing.
Do not reproach Karl Andinnian with being an unstable95 or vacillating man. He was nothing of the kind. But he was living under exceptional circumstances, and there seemed to be risk to his unfortunate brother on the left hand and on the right. If discovery should chance to supervene through any rash step of his, Karl's, remorse96 would never cease from racking him to the end of his bitter life.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
exhaled
|
|
| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
puff
|
|
| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
withering
|
|
| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
chaos
|
|
| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
schooling
|
|
| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
allude
|
|
| v.提及，暗指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
estrangement
|
|
| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
confidential
|
|
| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
maze
|
|
| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
heed
|
|
| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
bishop
|
|
| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
wry
|
|
| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
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： |
|
|
|
|
24
remonstrate
|
|
| v.抗议，规劝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
interfering
|
|
| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
mar
|
|
| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
blessings
|
|
| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
ordinance
|
|
| n.法令；条令；条例 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
beseeching
|
|
| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
morsel
|
|
| n.一口，一点点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
zealous
|
|
| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
reticence
|
|
| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
pervade
|
|
| v.弥漫，遍及，充满，渗透，漫延 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
pervaded
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
consolatory
|
|
| adj.慰问的，可藉慰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
proscribed
|
|
| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
unbearable
|
|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
embroidered
|
|
| adj．绣花的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
gossamer
|
|
| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
attire
|
|
| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
ransack
|
|
| v.彻底搜索，洗劫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
intentionally
|
|
| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
furtively
|
|
| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
colloquy
|
|
| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
sumptuously
|
|
| 奢侈地，豪华地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
truthfulness
|
|
| n. 符合实际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
palatable
|
|
| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
prospering
|
|
| 成功，兴旺( prosper的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
spurt
|
|
| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
oratory
|
|
| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
devotedly
|
|
| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
courteously
|
|
| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
defiance
|
|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
grievance
|
|
| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
tormenting
|
|
| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
persuasion
|
|
| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
accusation
|
|
| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
unstable
|
|
| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |