When Harry had come back with his fellowship, his uncle had for a few weeks been very proud of him,—had declared that he should never be called upon to earn his bread, and had allowed him two hundred and fifty pounds a year to begin with: but no return had been made to this favor. Harry had walked in and out of the Hall as though it had already belonged to him,—as many a father delights to see his eldest6 son doing. But the uncle in this instance had not taken any delight in seeing it. An uncle is different from a father,—an uncle who has never had a child of his own. He wanted deference,—what he would have called respect; while Harry was at first prepared to give him a familiar affection based on equality,—on an equality in money matters and worldly interests,—though I fear that Harry allowed to be seen his own intellectual superiority. Mr. Prosper, though an ignorant man, and by no means clever, was not such a fool as not to see all this. Then had come the persistent7 refusal to hear the sermons, and Mr. Prosper had sorrowfully declared to himself that his heir was not the young man that he should have been.
He did not then think of marrying, nor did he stop the allowance; but he did feel that his heir was not what he should have been. But then the terrible disgrace of that night in London had occurred, and his eyes had been altogether opened by that excellent young man, Mr. Augustus Scarborough; then he began to look about him. Then dim ideas of the charms and immediate9 wealth of Miss Thoroughbung flitted before his eyes, and he told himself again and again of the prospects10 and undoubted good birth of Miss Puffle. Miss Puffle had disgraced herself, and therefore he had thrown Buston Hall at the feet of Miss Thoroughbung.
But now he had heard stories about that "excellent young man, Augustus Scarborough," which had shaken his faith. He had been able to exclaim indignantly that Harry Annesley had told a lie. "A lie!" He had been surprised to find that a young man who had lived so much in the fashionable world as Captain Scarborough had cared nothing for this. And as Miss Thoroughbung became more and more exacting11 in regard to money, he thought, himself, less and less of the lie. It might be well that Harry should ultimately have the property, though he should never again be taken into favor, and there should be no farther question of the allowance. As Miss Thoroughbung reiterated12 her demands for the ponies13, he began to feel that the acres of Buston would not be disgraced forever by the telling of that lie. But the sermons remained, and he would never willingly again see his nephew. As he turned all this in his mind, the idea of spending what was left of the winter at Cairo returned to him. He would go to Cairo for the winter, and to the Italian lakes for the spring, and to Switzerland for the summer. Then he might return to Cairo. At the present moment Buston Hall and the neighborhood of Buntingford had few charms for him. He was afraid that Miss Thoroughbung would not give way about the ponies; and against the ponies he was resolved.
He was sitting in this state with a map before him, and with the squire14's letter upon the map, when Matthew, the butler, opened the door and announced a visitor. As soon as Mr. Barry had gone, he had supported nature by a mutton-chop and a glass of sherry, and the debris15 were now lying on the side-table. His first idea was to bid Matthew at once remove the glass and the bone, and the unfinished potato and the crust of bread. To be taken with such remnants by any visitor would be bad, but by this visitor would be dreadful. Lunch should be eaten in the dining-room, where chop bones and dirty glasses would be in their place. But here in his book-room they would be disgraceful. But then, as Matthew was hurriedly collecting the two plates and the salt-cellar, his master began to doubt whether this visitor should be received at all. It was no other than Miss Thoroughbung.
Mr. Prosper, in order to excuse his slackness in calling on the lady, had let it be known that he was not quite well, and Miss Thoroughbung had responded to this move by offering her services as nurse to her lover. He had then written to herself that, though he had been a little unwell, "suffering from a cold in the chest, to which at this inclement16 season of the year it was peculiarly liable," he was not in need of anything beyond a little personal attention, and would not trouble her for those services, for the offer of which he was bound to be peculiarly grateful. Thus he had thought to keep Miss Thoroughbung at a distance; but here she was with those hated ponies at his very door. "Matthew," he said, making a confidant, in the distress17 of the moment of his butler, "I don't think I can see her."
"You must, sir; indeed you must."
"Must!"
"Well, yes; I'm afraid so. Considering all things,—the matrimonial prospects and the rest of it,—I think you must, sir."
"She hasn't a right to come here, you know,—as yet." It will be understood that Mr. Prosper was considerably18 discomposed when he spoke19 with such familiar confidence to his servant. "She needn't come in here, at any rate."
"In the drawing-room, if I might be allowed to suggest, sir."
"Show Miss Thoroughbung into the drawing-room," said he with all his dignity. Then Matthew retired20, and the Squire of Buston felt that five minutes might be allowed to collect himself, and the mutton-chop bone need not be removed.
When the five minutes were over, with slow steps he walked across the intervening billiard-room, and slowly opened the drawing-room door. Would she rush into his arms, and kiss him again as he entered? He sincerely hoped that there would be no such attempt; but if there were, he was sternly resolved to repudiate21 it. There should be nothing of the kind till she had clearly declared, and had put it under writing by herself and her lawyers, that she would consent to come to Buston without the ponies. But there was no such attempt. "How do you do, Mr. Prosper?" she said, in a loud voice, standing22 up in the middle of the room. "Why don't you ever come and see me? I take it very ill of you; and so does Miss Tickle23. There is no one more partial to you than Miss Tickle. We were talking of you only last night over a despatched crab24 that we had for supper." Did they have despatched crabs25 for supper every night? thought Mr. Prosper to himself. It was certainly a strong reason against his marriage. "I told her that you had a cold in your head."
"In my chest," said Mr. Prosper, meekly26.
"'Bother colds!' said Miss Tickle. 'When people are keeping company together they ought to see each other.' Those were Miss Tickle's very words."
That it should be said of him, Mr. Prosper, of Buston, that he was "keeping company" with any woman! He almost resolved, on the spur of the moment, that under no circumstances could he now marry Miss Thoroughbung. But unfortunately his offer had been made, and the terms of the settlement, as suggested by himself, placed in the hands of his lawyer. If Miss Thoroughbung chose to hold him to his offer, he must marry her. It was not that he feared an action for breach27 of promise, but that, as a gentleman, it would behoove28 him to be true to his word. He need not, however, marry Miss Tickle. He had offered no terms in respect to Miss Tickle. With great presence of mind he resolved at once that Miss Tickle should never find a permanent resting-place for her foot at Buston Hall. "I am extremely indebted to Miss Tickle," said he.
"Why haven't you come over just to have a little chat in a friendly way? It's all because of those stupid lawyers, I suppose. What need you and I care for the lawyers? They can do their work without troubling us, except that they will be sure to send in their bills fast enough."
"I have had Mr. Barry, from the firm of Messrs. Grey & Barry, of Lincoln's Inn, with me this morning."
"I know you have. I saw the little man at Soames & Simpson's, and drove out here immediately, after five minutes' conversation. Now, Mr. Prosper, you must let me have those ponies."
That was the very thing which he was determined29 not to do. The ponies grew in imagination, and became enormous horses capable of consuming any amount of oats. Mr. Prosper was not of a stingy nature, but he had already perceived that his escape, if it were effected, must be made good by means of those ponies. A steady old pair of carriage-horses had been kept by him, and by his father before him, and he was not going to be driven out of the old family ways by a brewer's daughter. And he had, but that morning, instructed his lawyer to stand out against the ponies. He felt that this was the moment for firmness. Now, this instant, he must be staunch, or he would be saddled with this woman,—and with Miss Tickle,—for the whole of his life. She had left him no time for consideration, but had come upon him as soon almost as the words spoken to the lawyer had been out of his mouth. But he would be firm. Miss Thoroughbung opened out instantly about the ponies, and he at once resolved that he would be firm. But was it not very indelicate on her part to come to him and to press him in this manner? He began to hope that she also would be firm about the ponies, and that in this way the separation might be effected. At the present moment he stood dumb. Silence would not in this case be considered as giving consent. "Now, like a good man, do say that I shall have the ponies," she continued. "I can keep 'em out of my own money, you know, if that's all." He perceived at once that the offer amounted to a certain yielding on her part, but he was no longer anxious that she should give way. "Do'ee now say yes, like a dear old boy." She came closer to him, and took hold of his arm, as though she were going to perform that other ceremony. But he was fully8 aware of the danger. If there came to be kissing between them it would be impossible for him to go back afterward30 in such a manner but that the blame of the kiss should rest with him. When he should desire to be "off," he could not plead that the kissing had been all her doing. A man in Mr. Prosper's position has difficulties among which he must be very wary31. And then the ridicule32 of the world is so strong a weapon, and is always used on the side of the women! He gave a little start, but he did not at once shake her off. "What's the objection to the ponies, dear?"
"Two pair of horses! It's more than we ought to keep." He should not have said "we." He felt, when it was too late, that he should not have said "we."
"They aren't horses."
"It's the same, as far as the stables are concerned."
"But there's room enough, Lord bless you! I've been in to look. I can assure you that Dr. Stubbs says they are required for my health. You ask him else. It's just what I'm up to—is driving. I've only taken to them lately, and I cannot bring myself to give 'em up. Do'ee love. You're not going to throw over your own Matilda for a couple of little beasts like that!"
Every word that came out of her mouth was an offence. But he could not tell her so; nor could he reject her on that score. He should have thought beforehand what kind of words might probably come out of her mouth. Was her name Matilda? Of course he knew the fact. Had any one asked him he could have said, with two minutes' consideration, that her name was Matilda. But it had never become familiar to his ears, and now she spoke of it as though he had called her Matilda since their earliest youth. And to be called "Love!" It might be very nice when he had first called her "Love" a dozen times; but now it sounded extravagant—and almost indelicate. And he was about to throw her over for a couple of little beasts. He felt that that was his intention, and he blushed because it was so. He was a true gentleman, who would not willingly depart from his word. If he must go on with the ponies he must. But he had never yet yielded about the ponies. He felt now that they were his only hope. But as the difficulties of his position pressed upon him the sweat stood out upon his brow. She saw it all and understood it all, and deliberately33 determined to take advantage of his weakness. "I don't think that there is anything else astray between us. We've settled about the jointure,—four hundred a year. It's too little, Soames & Simpson say; but I'm soft, and in love, you know." Here she leered at him, and he began to hate her. "You oughtn't to want a third of my income, you know. But you're to be lord and master, and you must have your own way. All that's settled."
"There is Miss Tickle," he said, in a voice that was almost cadaverous.
"Miss Tickle is of course to come. You said that from the very first moment when you made the offer."
"Never!"
"Oh, Peter, how can you say so!" He shrunk visibly from the sound of his own Christian34 name. But she determined to persevere35. The time must come when she should call him Peter, and why not commence the practice now, at once? Lovers always do call each other Peter and Matilda. She wasn't going to stand any nonsense, and if he intended to marry her and use a large proportion of her fortune, Peter he should be to her. "You did, Peter. You know you told me how much attached you were to her."
"I didn't say anything about her coming with you."
"Oh, Peter, how can you be so cruel? Do you mean to say that you will deprive me of the friend of my youth?"
"At any rate, there shall never be a pony36 come into my yard!" He knew when he made this assertion that he was abandoning his objection to Miss Tickle. She had called him cruel, and his conscience told him that if he received Miss Thoroughbung and refused admission to Miss Tickle he would be cruel. Miss Tickle, for aught that he knew, might have been a friend of her youth. At any rate, they had been constant companions for many years. Therefore, as he had another solid ground on which to stand, he could afford to yield as to Miss Tickle. But as he did so, he remembered that Miss Tickle had accused him of "keeping company," and he declared to himself that it would be impossible to live in the same house with her.
"But Miss Tickle may come?" said Miss Thoroughbung. Was the solid ground—the rock, as he believed it to be, of the ponies, about to sink beneath his feet? "Say that Miss Tickle may come. I should be nothing without Miss Tickle. You cannot be so hard-hearted as that."
"I don't see what is the good of talking about Miss Tickle till we have come to some settlement about the ponies. You say that you must have the ponies. To tell you the truth, Miss Thoroughbung, I don't like any such word as 'must.' And a good many things have occurred to me."
"What kind of things, deary?"
"I think you are inclined to be—gay—"
"Me! gay!"
"While I am sober, and perhaps a little grave in my manners of life. I am thinking only of domestic happiness, while your mind is intent upon social circles. I fear that you would look for your bliss37 abroad."
"In France or Germany?"
"When I say abroad, I mean out of your own house. There is perhaps some discrepancy38 of taste of which I ought earlier to have taken cognizance."
"Nothing of the kind," said Miss Thoroughbung. "I am quite content to live at home and do not want to go abroad, either to France nor yet to any other English county. I should never ask for anything, unless it be for a single month in London."
Here was a ground upon which he perhaps could make his stand. "Quite impossible!" said Mr. Prosper.
"Or for a fortnight," said Miss Thoroughbung.
"I never go up to London except on business."
"But I might go alone, you know—with Miss Tickle. I shouldn't want to drag you away. I have always been in the habit of having a few weeks in London about the Exhibition time."
"I shouldn't wish to be left by my wife."
"Of course we could manage all that. We're not to settle every little thing beforehand, and put it into the deeds. A precious sum we should have to pay the lawyers!"
"It's as well we should understand each other."
"I think it pretty nearly is all settled that has to go into the deeds. I thought I'd just run over, after seeing Mr. Barry, and give the final touch. If you'll give way, dear, about Miss Tickle and the ponies, I'll yield in everything else. Nothing, surely, can be fairer than that."
He knew that he was playing the hypocrite, and he knew also that it did not become him as a gentleman to be false to a woman. He was aware that from minute to minute, and almost from word to word, he was becoming ever more and more averse39 to this match which he had proposed to himself. And he knew that in honesty he ought to tell her that it was so. It was not honest in him to endeavor to get rid of her by a side-blow, as it were. And yet this was the attempt which he had hitherto been making. But how was he to tell her the truth? Even Mr. Barry had not understood the state of his mind. Indeed, his mind had altered since he had seen Mr. Barry.
He had heard within the last half hour many words spoken by Miss Thoroughbung which proved that she was altogether unfit to be his wife. It was a dreadful misfortune that he should have rushed into such peril40; but was he not bound as a gentleman to tell her the truth? "Say that I shall have Jemima Tickle!" The added horrors of the Christian name operated upon him with additional force. Was he to be doomed41 to have the word Jemima hallooed about his rooms and staircases for the rest of his life? And she had given up the ponies, and was taking her stand upon Miss Tickle, as to whom at last he would be bound to give way. He could see now that he should have demanded her whole income, and have allowed her little or no jointure. That would have been grasping, monstrous42, altogether impracticable, but it would not have been ungentleman-like. This chaffering about little things was altogether at variance43 with his tastes,—and it would be futile44. He must summon courage to tell her that he no longer wished for the match; but he could not do it on this morning. Then,—for that morning,—some benign45 god preserved him.
Matthew came into the room and whispered into his ear that a gentleman wished to see him. "What gentleman?" Matthew again whispered that it was his brother-in-law. "Show him in," said Mr. Prosper, with a sudden courage. He had not seen Mr. Annesley since the day of his actual quarrel with Harry. "I shall have the ponies?" said Miss Thoroughbung during the moment that was allowed to her.
"We are interrupted now. I am afraid that the rest of this interview must be postponed46." It should never be renewed, though he might have to leave the country forever. Of that he gave himself assurance. Then the parson was shown into the room.
The constrained47 introduction was very painful to Mr. Prosper, but was not at all disagreeable to the lady. "Mr. Annesley knows me very well. We are quite old friends. Joe is going to marry his eldest girl. I hope Molly is quite well." The rector said that Molly was quite well. When he had come away from home just now he had left Joe at the parsonage. "You'll find him there a deal oftener than at the brewery," said Miss Thoroughbung. "You know what we're going to do, Mr. Annesley. There are no fools like old fools." A thunder-black cloud came across Mr. Prosper's face. That this woman should dare to call him an old fool! "We were discussing a few of our future arrangements. We've arranged everything about money in the most amicable48 manner, and now there is merely a question of a pair of ponies."
"We need not trouble Mr. Annesley about that, I think."
"And Miss Tickle! I'm sure the rector will agree with me that old friends like me and Miss Tickle ought not to be separated. And it isn't as though there was any dislike between them, because he has already said that he finds Miss Tickle charming."
"D–––– Miss Tickle!" he said; whereupon the rector looked astonished, and Miss Thoroughbung jumped a foot from off the ground. "I beg the lady's pardon," said Mr. Prosper, piteously, "and yours, Miss Thoroughbung,—and yours, Mr. Annesley." It was as though a new revelation of character had been given. No one except Matthew had ever heard the Squire of Buston swear. And with Matthew the cursings had been by no means frequent, and had been addressed generally to some article of his clothing, or to some morsel49 of food prepared with less than the usual care. But now the oath had been directed against a female, and the chosen friend of his betrothed50. And it had been uttered in the presence of a clergyman, his brother-in-law, and the rector of his parish. Mr. Prosper felt that he was disgraced forever. Could he have overheard them laughing over his ebullition in the drawing-room half an hour afterward, and almost praising his violence, some part of the pain might have been removed. As it was he felt at the time that he was disgraced forever.
"We will return to the subject when next we meet," said Miss Thoroughbung.
"I am very sorry that I should so far have forgotten myself," said Mr. Prosper, "but—"
"It does not signify,—not as far as I am concerned;" and she made a little motion to the clergyman, half bow and half courtesy. Mr. Annesley bowed in return, as though declaring that neither did it signify very much as far as he was concerned. Then she left the room, and Matthew handed her into the carriage, when she took the ponies in hand with quite as much composure as though her friend had not been sworn at.
"Upon my word, sir," said Prosper, as soon as the door was shut, "I beg your pardon. But I was so moved by certain things which have occurred that I was carried much beyond my usual habits."
"Don't mention it."
"It is peculiarly distressing51 to me that I should have been induced to forget myself in the presence of a clergyman of the parish and my brother-in-law. But I must beg you to forget it."
"Oh, certainly. I will tell you now why I have come over."
"I can assure you that such is not my habit," continued Mr. Prosper, who was thinking much more of the unaccustomed oath which he had sworn than of his brother-in-law's visit, strange as it was. "No one, as a rule, is more guarded in his expressions than I am. How it should have come to pass that I was so stirred I can hardly tell. But Miss Thoroughbung had said certain words which had moved me very much." She had called him "Peter" and "deary," and had spoken of him as "keeping company" with her. All these disgusting terms of endearment52 he could not repeat to his brother-in-law, but felt it necessary to allude53 to them.
"I trust that you may be happy with her when she is your wife."
"I can't say. I really don't know. It's a very important step to take at my age, and I'm not quite sure that I should be doing wisely."
"It's not too late," said Mr. Annesley.
"I don't know. I can't quite say." Then Mr. Prosper drew himself up, remembering that it would not become him to discuss the matter of his marriage with the father of his heir.
"I have come over here," said Mr. Annesley, "to say a few words about Harry." Mr. Prosper again drew himself up. "Of course you're aware that Harry is at present living with us." Here Mr. Prosper bowed. "Of course, in his altered circumstances, it will not do that he shall be idle, and yet he does not like to take a final step without letting you know what it is." Here Mr. Prosper bowed twice. "There is a gentleman of fortune going out to the United States on a mission which will probably occupy him for three or four years. I am not exactly warranted in mentioning his name, but he has taken in hand a political project of much importance." Again Mr. Prosper bowed. "Now he has offered Harry the place of private secretary, on condition that Harry will undertake to stay the entire term. He is to have a salary of three hundred a year, and his travelling expenses will of course be paid for him. If he goes, poor boy! he will in all probability remain in his new home and become a citizen of the United States. Under these circumstances I have thought it best to step up and tell you in a friendly manner what his plans are." Then he had told his tale, and Mr. Prosper again bowed.
The rector had been very crafty54. There was no doubt about the wealthy gentleman with the American project, and the salary had been offered. But in other respects there had been some exaggeration. It was well known to the rector that Mr. Prosper regarded America and all her institutions with a religious hatred55. An American was to him an ignorant, impudent56, foul-mouthed, fraudulent creature, to have any acquaintance with whom was a disgrace. Could he have had his way, he would have reconstituted the United States as British Colonies at a moment's notice. Were he to die without having begotten57 another heir, Buston must become the property of Harry Annesley; and it would be dreadful to him to think that Buston should be owned by an American citizen. "The salary offered is too good to be abandoned," said Mr. Annesley, when he saw the effect which his story had produced.
"Everything is going against me!" exclaimed Mr. Prosper.
"Well: I will not talk about that. I did not come here to discuss Harry or his sins,—nor, for the matter of that, his virtues58. But I felt it would be improper59 to let him go upon his journey without communicating with you." So saying, he took his departure and walked back to the rectory.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
prosper
|
|
| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
harry
|
|
| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
enchantment
|
|
| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
persistent
|
|
| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
exacting
|
|
| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
reiterated
|
|
| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
ponies
|
|
| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
squire
|
|
| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
debris
|
|
| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
inclement
|
|
| adj.严酷的，严厉的，恶劣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
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： |
|
|
|
|
20
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
repudiate
|
|
| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
tickle
|
|
| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
crab
|
|
| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
crabs
|
|
| n.蟹( crab的名词复数 )；阴虱寄生病；蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
behoove
|
|
| v.理应；有益于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
wary
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
persevere
|
|
| v.坚持，坚忍，不屈不挠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
bliss
|
|
| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
discrepancy
|
|
| n.不同；不符；差异；矛盾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
averse
|
|
| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
variance
|
|
| n.矛盾，不同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
futile
|
|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
benign
|
|
| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
postponed
|
|
| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
constrained
|
|
| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
amicable
|
|
| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
morsel
|
|
| n.一口，一点点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
betrothed
|
|
| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
distressing
|
|
| a.使人痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
endearment
|
|
| n.表示亲爱的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
allude
|
|
| v.提及，暗指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
crafty
|
|
| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
hatred
|
|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
impudent
|
|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
begotten
|
|
| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
improper
|
|
| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |