"What's this I hear, sir, about my patient's having gone off again?" cried the doctor in a sharp tone.
"I have heard the same," replied Mr. Strange. "But I don't believe it."
"Oh then--you are not privy4 to it? You did not send him?"
"Not I, Dr. Cavendish. I went to the Maze betimes this morning to--to pay him a visit; and I was met with a tale that the bird had flown."
"I can tell you, sir, that he was in a most unfit state to travel," said the doctor with angry emphasis. "I don't know what the consequences will be."
"Ay, if he had gone. But it's all moonshine."
"What do you mean by 'moonshine?' Has he gone, or has he not?"
"They say at the Maze he has; but I am sure he has not," was the answer. "There was a motive5 for his being denied to me, Dr. Cavendish; and so--and so--when I went in this morning they concocted6 an impromptu7 tale of his departure. That's what I think."
"They must have concocted it last night then," said the doctor. "The letter, informing me of the circumstance, was posted last night at Foxwood--and therefore must have been written last night."
"Did they write to tell you he had gone?" asked the detective, after a slight pause.
"Mrs. Grey wrote. I got it by the post this morning. She would not trouble me to come over again, she said, as Illy patient had found himself obliged to leave last night. But I have troubled myself to come," added the doctor, wrathfully, "and to see about it; for, of all mad acts, that man's getting up from his bed yesterday, and starting off by a shaking railway train was the maddest. Drive on, James."
The groom8 touched the horse at the short command, and the animal sprang forward. Mr. Strange thought he would let the station alone for a bit, and loiter about where he was. This letter, written last night, to tell of the departure, somewhat complicated matters.
A very short while, and the doctor came out again. Mr. Strange accosted9 him as he was about to step into his gig.
"Well, Dr. Cavendish, have you seen your patient?"
"No, I have not seen him," was the reply. "It is quite true that he is gone. I find he is embarking10 on a sea voyage, going off somewhere to the other end of the world, and he had to go up, or forfeit11 his passage-money."
"They told you, then, what they told me. As, of course, they would," he added inwardly.
"But there's something in it I don't altogether understand," resumed the doctor. "Not a syllable was spoken by the patient yesterday to denote that he was on the move, or that he had been on the move, even only to journey down from London. On the contrary, I gathered, or fancied I gathered, from the tenor13 of his remarks that he had been for some time stationary14, and would be stationary for an indefinite period to come. It was when I spoke12 to him about the necessity of keeping himself quiet and free from exertion15. What I don't understand is why he should not candidly16 have told me that he had this voyage before him."
Mr. Strange did not answer. Various doubts were crowding upon him. Had the man got away? in disguise, say? But no, he did not think it.
"By the way, you did not tell me your name," said the doctor, as he took his seat in the gig.
"My name! oh, did I not? My name is Tatton."
Dr. Cavendish bent17 down his head and spoke in a low tone. His groom was adjusting the apron18.
"You hinted last night at some great trouble that this gentleman was in, Mr. Tatton. I have been wondering whether that has to do with this sudden departure--whether he had reasons for being afraid to stay?"
"Just the question that has occurred to me, Dr. Cavendish," confessed the detective. "If he has gone away, it is fear that has driven him."
The gig bowled onwards. Mr. Strange stood still as he looked after it: and had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Philip Smith smoking his long pipe at his own window, and regarding the landscape with equanimity19. He went on the other way.
"Good morning, Mr. Tatton."
Mr. Tatton turned on his heel and saluted20 Sir Karl Andinnian, who had followed him up. There was a degree of suppressed indignation in Karl's face rarely seen.
"Is this true that I have just heard, Mr. Tatton," he began, calling the man by his true name--"that you have been again searching the Maze? My butler informs me that he saw you and two policemen quit it but now."
"It is true enough, Sir Karl. Salter is there. At least, he was there yesterday. There cannot be the slightest doubt that the sick man to whom Dr. Cavendish was called was Salter. I obtained a description of him from the doctor, and should have recognized it anywhere."
What was Karl to say? He could not attempt to deny that a sick man had been there. It was an unfortunate circumstance that Sir Adam, in regard to height and colour of hair, somewhat answered to the description of Philip Salter.
"Sir Karl, you must yourself see that there's a mystery somewhere," resumed the detective, who (having taken his clue from Superintendent21 Game) honestly believed that the baronet of Foxwood Court cared not a rap for Salter, and had no covert22 interest in the matter, beyond that of protecting his tenant23 at the Maze. "Some one, who is never seen by the public, is living at the Maze, that's certain; or, at any rate, dodging24 us there. Remember the gentleman in evening attire25 seen by the surgeon and nurse; and now there's this gentleman sick abed yesterday. These men could not be myths, Sir Karl. Who, then, are they?"
From sheer inability to advance any theory upon the point, lest he should do mischief26, Karl was silent. These repeated trials, these shocks of renewed dread27, were getting more than he knew how to bear. Had they come upon Adam this morning? He did not dare to ask.
"As to the tale told me by the woman servant and Mrs. Grey--that the sick gentleman was a relative who had come down by train and left again, it will not hold water," contemptuously resumed the detective. "Men don't go out for a day's journey when they are as ill as he is--no, nor take long sea voyages. Why, if what Dr. Cavendish fears is correct, there cannot be many weeks of life left in the man he saw yesterday; neither, if it be so, can the man himself be unconscious of it."
Karl's heart stood still with its shock of pain.
"Did Dr. Cavendish tell you that, Mr. Tatton?"
"Yes. Well, now, Sir Karl, that man is at the Maze still--I am convinced of it; and that man is Salter."
"What did you find this morning?"
"Nothing. Nothing more than I found before. When I spoke of the sick man, and asked where he was, this cock-and-bull tale was told me, which, of course, they had got up among themselves."
"As I said before, Mr. Tatton, I feel certain--I am certain--that you will never find Salter at the Maze; from the simple fact that he is not there to find--I am sure of it. I must most earnestly protest against these repeated annoyances28 to my tenant, Mrs. Grey; and if you do not leave her alone for the future, I shall see whether the law will not compel you. I do not--pray understand--I do not speak this in enmity to you, but simply to protect her."
"Of course I understand that, Sir Karl," was the ready answer. "There's no offence meant, and none taken. But if you could put yourself in my place, you'd see my difficulty. Upon my word, I never was so mystified before. There Salter is. Other people can see him, and have seen him; and yet, when I search I find no traces of him. A thought actually crossed my mind just now, whether there could be a subterranean29 passage from the Maze to Clematis Cottage, and that Salter makes his escape there to his cousin on occasion. I should like to search it."
"Come and do so at once," said Karl, half laughing. "Nothing convinces like ocular demonstration30. I give you full permission, as owner of the cottage; I doubt not Smith will, as its tenant. Come and ask him."
The detective was in earnest, and they crossed over. Seeing them making for the gate, Mr. Smith came out of his house, pipe in hand. It was one of those long churchwardens. Karl spoke a few words of explanation. Mr. Detective Tatton suspected there might be secret rooms, or doors, or fugitives31 hidden in Clematis Cottage, and would like to search it. After the first momentary32 look of surprise, the agent remained unruffled.
"Pass on, sir," said he, extending the thin end of his pipe to indicate the way. "You are welcome. Go where you please: search into every nook and corner; up the spouts33 and down the drains. If you surprise old Betty, tell her you're the plumber34."
Mr. Strange took him at his word. Karl and the agent waited in the sitting-room35 together.
"Is it after Sir Adam, sir?" breathed the agent.
"No. No suspicion of him. It's after the other I told you of. Hush36! Better be silent."
The agent put his pipe away. Karl stood at the open window. Old Betty, the ancient servant, came in with a scared face. She was a little deaf, but not with a deafness like Hopley's over the way.
"It's all right, Betty," called out her master. "Only looking to the drains and spouts."
Satisfied in one sense of the word--for in truth it was readily seen by the most unprofessional eye that there were no means afforded for concealment38 in the shallow-built cottage--the officer soon joined them again. He had not had really a suspicion of the cottage, he said by way of apology: it was merely a thought that crossed him. Mr. Smith, however, did not seem inclined to take the matter quite indifferently now, and accosted him.
"Now that you are satisfied, sir, perhaps you will have no objection to tell me who the individual may be, that you have fancied I would harbour in my house. I heard before from Sir Karl that you were after some one."
From the tone he spoke in, a very civil tone, tinged39 with mockery, the detective caught up the notion that Smith already knew; that Sir Karl must have told him: therefore he saw no occasion for observing any reticence40.
"When you know that we are looking for Philip Salter, you need not be so much surprised that we have cast a thought to this house as Salter's possible occasional refuge, Mr. Smith."
The very genuine astonishment41 that seized hold of Smith, pervading42 his every look, and word, and gesture, was enough to convince those who saw it that he was unprepared for the news.
"Philip Salter!" he exclaimed, gazing from one to the other, as if unable to believe. "Philip Salter! Why, is he here? Have you news that he is back in England?"
"We have news that he is here," said the detective blandly43. "We suspect that he is concealed44 at the Maze. Did you not know it, Mr. Smith?"
Mr. Smith sat down in the chair that was behind him as if sitting came easier than standing45, in his veritable astonishment.
"As Heaven is my judge, it is a mistake," he declared. "Salter is not at the Maze; never has been. We have never heard that he is back in England."
"Did you know that he left England?"
"Yes. At least, we had good reason to believe that he got away shortly after that dangerous escape of his. It's true it was never confirmed; but the confirmation46 to his family lies in the fact that we have never since heard of him, or from him."
"Never?"
"Never. Were he in England we should have been sure to have had some communication from him, had it only been an application for aid--for he could not live upon air; and outlets47 of earning are here closed to him. One thing you and ourselves may alike rest assured of, Mr. Detective--that, once he got safely away from the country he would not venture into it again."
What with one disappointment and another, the detective almost questioned whether it were not as Smith said; and that Salter, so far as Foxwood was concerned, would turn out to be indeed a myth. But then--who was this mysterious man at the Maze? He was passing out with a good day when Mr. Smith resumed.
"Have you any objection to tell me what gave rise to your suspicion that Salter was at Foxwood? Or in England at all?"
But the officer had tact48; plenty of it; or he would not have done for his post; and he turned the question off without any definite answer. For the true originator of the report, he who had caused it to reach the ears of Great Scotland Yard, was Sir Karl Andinnian.
Very conscious of the fact was Karl himself. He raised his hat from his brow as he went home, to wipe away the fever-damp gathered there. He remembered to have read somewhere of one of the tortures devised by inquisitionists in the barbarous days gone by. An unhappy prisoner would be shut in a spacious49 room; and, day by day, watched the walls contracting by some mysterious agency, and closing around him. It seemed to Karl that the walls of the world were closing around him now. Or, rather, round one who had become dearer to him in his dread position than himself--his most ill-fated brother.
At home or abroad there was not a single ray of light to illumine or cheer the gloom. Abroad lay apprehension51; at home only unhappiness, an atmosphere of estrangement52 that seemed to have nothing homelike or true in it. Karl went in, expecting to see the pony53-chaise waiting. He had been about to drive his wife out; but, alarmed by the report whispered to him by Hewitt, and unable to rest in tranquillity54, he had gone forth55 to see about what it meant. But the chaise was not there. Maclean was at work on the lawn.
"Has Lady Andinnian gone!" he enquired56, rather surprised--for Lucy had not learned to drive yet.
"My leddy is somewhere about the garden I think, Sir Karl," was the gardener's answer. "She sent the chay away again."
He found his wife sitting in a retired57 walk, a book in her hand, apparently58 reading it. Lucy was fading. Her face, worn and thin, had that indescribable air of pitiful sadness in it that tells of some deep-seated, ever-present sorrow. Karl was all too conscious of it. He blamed her for her course of conduct; but he did not attempt to conceal37 from himself that the trouble had originated with him.
"I am very sorry to have kept you waiting, Lucy," he began. "I had to go to Smith's on a little matter of business. You have sent the chaise away."
"I sent it away. The pony was tired of waiting. I don't care to go out at all to-day."
She spoke in an indifferent, almost a contemptuous tone. We must not blame her. Her naturally-sweet temper was being sorely tried: day by day her husband seemed to act so as to afford less promise of any reconciliation59.
"I could not help it," was all he answered.
She glanced up at the weary accent. If ever a voice spoke of unresisted despair, his did then. Her resentment60 vanished: her sympathy was aroused.
"You look unusually ill," she said.
"I am ill," he replied. "So ill that I should be almost glad to die."
Lucy paused. Somehow she never liked these semi-explanations. They invariably imbued61 her with a sense of self-reproach, an idea that she was acting50 harshly.
"Do you mean ill because of our estrangement?"
"Yes, for one thing. That makes all other trouble so much worse for me that at times I find it rather difficult to put up with."
Lucy played with her book. She wished she knew where her true duty lay. Oh how gladly, but for that dreadful wrong ever being enacted62 upon herself, would she fall upon his arm and whisper out her beseeching63 prayer: "Take me to you again, Karl!"
"Should the estranged64 terms we are living on, end in a total and visible separation, you will have the satisfaction of remembering in your after life, Lucy, that you have behaved cruelly to me. I repeat it: cruelly."
"I do not wish to separate," murmured Lucy.
"The time may soon come when you will be called upon to decide, one way or the other; when there will be nothing left to wait for; when all will be known to the world as it is known to us."
"I cannot understand you," said Lucy.
"Let it pass," he answered, declining as usual to speak openly upon the dreaded65 subject; for, to him, every word, so spoken, seemed fraught66 with danger. "You can guess what I mean, I daresay: and the less said the better."
"You seem always to blame me, Karl," she rejoined, her voice softening67 almost to tears.
"Your own heart should tell you that I have cause."
"It has been very hard for me to bear."
"Yes; no doubt. It has hurt your pride."
"And something besides my pride," rejoined Lucy, with a faint flush of resentment.
"What has the bearing and the pain for you been, in comparison with what I have had to bear and suffer!" he asked with emotion. "I, at least, have not tried to make it worse for you, Lucy, though you have for me. In my judgment68, we ought to have shared the burden; and so made it lighter69, if possible, for one another."
Ay, sometimes she had thought that herself. But then her womanly sense of insult, her justifiable70 resentment, would step in and scatter71 the thought to the winds. It was too bad of Karl to reflect on her "pride."
"Is it to last for ever?" she asked, after a pause.
"Heaven knows!" he answered. "Heaven knows that I have striven to do my best. I have committed no sin against you, Lucy, save that of having married you when--when I ought not. I have most bitterly expiated72 it."
He spoke like one from whom all hope in life has gone; his haggard and utterly73 spiritless face was bent downwards74. Lucy, her love all in force, her conscience aroused, touched his hand.
"If I have been more harshly judging than I ought, Karl, I pray you and heaven alike to forgive me."
He gave no answer: but he turned his hand upwards75 so that hers lay in it. Thus they sat for some time, saying nothing. A singing bird was perched on a tree in front of them; a light cloud passed over the face of the blue sky.
"But--you know, Karl," she began again in a half whisper, "it has not been right, or well, for--for those to have been at the Maze who have been there."
"I do know it. I have repeatedly told you I knew it. I would almost have given my life to get them out. It will not be long now; I fear, one way or the other, the climax76 I have been dreading77 seems to be approaching."
"What climax?"
"Discovery. Bringing with it disgrace and pain and shame. It is when I fear that, Lucy, that I feel most bitterly how wrong it was of me to marry. But I did not know all the complication; I never anticipated the evils that would ensue. You must forgive me, for I did it three-parts in ignorance."
He clasped her hand as he spoke. Her tears were gathering78 fast. Karl rose to depart, but she kept his fingers in hers, her tears dropping as she looked up at him.
"I ask, Karl, if we are to live this kind of life for ever?"
"As you shall will, Lucy. The life is of your choosing, not of mine."
One long look of doubt, of compassion79, of love, into each other's eyes; and then the hand-clasp that so thrilled through each of them was loosed; the fingers fell apart. Karl went off to the house, and Lucy burst into a storm of sobs80 so violent as to startle the little bird, and stop its song.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
maze
|
|
| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
syllable
|
|
| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
bowling
|
|
| n.保龄球运动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
privy
|
|
| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
concocted
|
|
| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
impromptu
|
|
| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
accosted
|
|
| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
embarking
|
|
| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
forfeit
|
|
| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
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： |
|
|
|
|
13
tenor
|
|
| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
stationary
|
|
| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
candidly
|
|
| adv.坦率地，直率而诚恳地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
equanimity
|
|
| n.沉着，镇定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
superintendent
|
|
| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
covert
|
|
| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
dodging
|
|
| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
attire
|
|
| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
annoyances
|
|
| n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 )；烦恼；打扰；使人烦恼的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
subterranean
|
|
| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
fugitives
|
|
| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
spouts
|
|
| n.管口( spout的名词复数 )；（喷出的）水柱；（容器的）嘴；在困难中v.（指液体）喷出( spout的第三人称单数 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
plumber
|
|
| n.(装修水管的)管子工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
concealment
|
|
| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
tinged
|
|
| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
reticence
|
|
| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
pervading
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
blandly
|
|
| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
confirmation
|
|
| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
outlets
|
|
| n.出口( outlet的名词复数 )；经销店；插座；廉价经销店 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
tact
|
|
| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
estrangement
|
|
| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
tranquillity
|
|
| n. 平静, 安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
reconciliation
|
|
| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
imbued
|
|
| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
enacted
|
|
| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
beseeching
|
|
| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
estranged
|
|
| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
fraught
|
|
| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
justifiable
|
|
| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
scatter
|
|
| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
expiated
|
|
| v.为（所犯罪过）接受惩罚，赎（罪）( expiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
downwards
|
|
| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
dreading
|
|
| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |