The character of the son as much as the influence of the father, tended to the fulfilment of these injunctions. Oswald Millbank was of a proud and independent nature; reserved, a little stern. The early and constantly-reiterated dogma of his father, that he belonged to a class debarred from its just position in the social system, had aggravated4 the grave and somewhat discontented humour of his blood. His talents were considerable, though invested with no dazzling quality. He had not that quick and brilliant apprehension5, which, combined with a memory of rare retentiveness6, had already advanced Coningsby far beyond his age, and made him already looked to as the future hero of the school. But Millbank possessed7 one of those strong, industrious8 volitions whose perseverance9 amounts almost to genius, and nearly attains10 its results. Though Coningsby was by a year his junior, they were rivals. This circumstance had no tendency to remove the prejudice which Coningsby entertained against him, but its bias11 on the part of Millbank had a contrary effect.
The influence of the individual is nowhere so sensible as at school. There the personal qualities strike without any intervening and counteracting12 causes. A gracious presence, noble sentiments, or a happy talent, make their way there at once, without preliminary inquiries13 as to what set they are in, or what family they are of, how much they have a-year, or where they live. Now, on no spirit had the influence of Coningsby, already the favourite, and soon probably to become the idol14, of the school, fallen more effectually than on that of Millbank, though it was an influence that no one could suspect except its votary15 or its victim.
At school, friendship is a passion. It entrances the being; it tears the soul. All loves of after-life can never bring its rapture16, or its wretchedness; no bliss17 so absorbing, no pangs18 of jealousy19 or despair so crushing and so keen! What tenderness and what devotion; what illimitable confidence; infinite revelations of inmost thoughts; what ecstatic present and romantic future; what bitter estrangements and what melting reconciliations20; what scenes of wild recrimination, agitating21 explanations, passionate22 correspondence; what insane sensitiveness, and what frantic23 sensibility; what earthquakes of the heart and whirlwinds of the soul are confined in that simple phrase, a schoolboy’s friendship! Tis some indefinite recollection of these mystic passages of their young emotion that makes grey-haired men mourn over the memory of their schoolboy days. It is a spell that can soften24 the acerbity25 of political warfare26, and with its witchery can call forth27 a sigh even amid the callous28 bustle29 of fashionable saloons.
The secret of Millbank’s life was a passionate admiration30 and affection for Coningsby. Pride, his natural reserve, and his father’s injunctions, had, however, hitherto successfully combined to restrain the slightest demonstration31 of these sentiments. Indeed, Coningsby and himself were never companions, except in school, or in some public game. The demeanour of Coningsby gave no encouragement to intimacy32 to one, who, under any circumstances, would have required considerable invitation to open himself. So Millbank fed in silence on a cherished idea. It was his happiness to be in the same form, to join in the same sport, with Coningsby; occasionally to be thrown in unusual contact with him, to exchange slight and not unkind words. In their division they were rivals; Millbank sometimes triumphed, but to be vanquished33 by Coningsby was for him not without a degree of mild satisfaction. Not a gesture, not a phrase from Coningsby, that he did not watch and ponder over and treasure up. Coningsby was his model, alike in studies, in manners, or in pastimes; the aptest scholar, the gayest wit, the most graceful34 associate, the most accomplished35 playmate: his standard of excellent. Yet Millbank was the very last boy in the school who would have had credit given him by his companions for profound and ardent36 feeling. He was not indeed unpopular. The favourite of the school like Coningsby, he could, under no circumstances, ever have become; nor was he qualified37 to obtain that general graciousness among the multitude, which the sweet disposition38 of Henry Sydney, or the gay profusion39 of Buckhurst, acquired without any effort. Millbank was not blessed with the charm of manner. He seemed close and cold; but he was courageous40, just, and inflexible41; never bullied42, and to his utmost would prevent tyranny. The little boys looked up to him as a stern protector; and his word, too, throughout the school was a proverb: and truth ranks a great quality among boys. In a word, Millbank was respected by those among whom he lived; and school-boys scan character more nicely than men suppose.
A brother of Henry Sydney, quartered in Lancashire, had been wounded recently in a riot, and had received great kindness from the Millbank family, in whose immediate43 neighbourhood the disturbance44 had occurred. The kind Duke had impressed on Henry Sydney to acknowledge with cordiality to the younger Millbank at Eton, the sense which his family entertained of these benefits; but though Henry lost neither time nor opportunity in obeying an injunction, which was grateful to his own heart, he failed in cherishing, or indeed creating, any intimacy with the object of his solicitude45. A companionship with one who was Coningsby’s relative and most familiar friend, would at the first glance have appeared, independently of all other considerations, a most desirable result for Millbank to accomplish. But, perhaps, this very circumstance afforded additional reasons for the absence of all encouragement with which he received the overtures46 of Lord Henry. Millbank suspected that Coningsby was not affected47 in his favour, and his pride recoiled48 from gaining, by any indirect means, an intimacy which to have obtained in a plain and express manner would have deeply gratified him. However, the urgent invitation of Buckhurst and Henry Sydney, and the fear that a persistence49 in refusal might be misinterpreted into churlishness, had at length brought Millbank to their breakfast-mess, though, when he accepted their invitation, he did not apprehend50 that Coningsby would have been present.
It was about an hour before sunset, the day of this very breakfast, and a good number of boys, in lounging groups, were collected in the Long Walk. The sports and matches of the day were over. Criticism had succeeded to action in sculling and in cricket. They talked over the exploits of the morning; canvassed51 the merits of the competitors, marked the fellow whose play or whose stroke was improving; glanced at another, whose promise had not been fulfilled; discussed the pretensions52, and adjudged the palm. Thus public opinion is formed. Some, too, might be seen with their books and exercises, intent on the inevitable53 and impending54 tasks. Among these, some unhappy wight in the remove, wandering about with his hat, after parochial fashion, seeking relief in the shape of a verse. A hard lot this, to know that you must be delivered of fourteen verses at least in the twenty-four hours, and to be conscious that you are pregnant of none. The lesser55 boys, urchins56 of tender years, clustered like flies round the baskets of certain vendors57 of sugary delicacies58 that rested on the Long Walk wall. The pallid59 countenance60, the lacklustre eye, the hoarse61 voice clogged62 with accumulated phlegm, indicated too surely the irreclaimable and hopeless votary of lollypop, the opium-eater of schoolboys.
‘It is settled, the match to-morrow shall be between Aquatics63 and Drybobs,’ said a senior boy; who was arranging a future match at cricket.
‘But what is to be done about Fielding major?’ inquired another. ‘He has not paid his boating money, and I say he has no right to play among the Aquatics before he has paid his money.’
‘Oh! but we must have Fielding major, he is such a devil of a swipe.’
‘I declare he shall not play among the Aquatics if he does not pay his boating money. It is an infernal shame.’
‘Let us ask Buckhurst. Where is Buckhurst?’
‘Have you got any toffy?’ inquired a dull looking little boy, in a hoarse voice, of one of the vendors of scholastic64 confectionery.
‘No; I want toffy.’
‘Very nice Tom Trot, sir.’
‘No, I want toffy; I have been eating Tom Trot all day.’
‘Where is Buckhurst? We must settle about the Aquatics.’
‘Well, I for one will not play if Fielding major plays amongst the Aquatics. That is settled.’
‘Oh! nonsense; he will pay his money if you ask him.’
‘I shall not ask him again. The captain duns us every day. It is an infernal shame.’
‘I say, Burnham, where can one get some toffy? This fellow never has any.’
‘I will tell you; at Barnes’ on the bridge. The best toffy in the world.’
‘I will go at once. I must have some toffy.’
‘Just help me with this verse, Collins,’ said one boy to another, in an imploring66 tone, ‘that’s a good fellow.’
‘Well, give it us: first syllable67 in fabri is short; three false quantities in the two first lines! You’re a pretty one. There, I have done it for you.’
‘That’s a good fellow.’
‘Any fellow seen Buckhurst?’
‘Gone up the river with Coningsby and Henry Sydney.’
‘But he must be back by this time. I want him to make the list for the match to-morrow. Where the deuce can Buckhurst be?’
And now, as rumours68 rise in society we know not how, so there was suddenly a flying report in this multitude, the origin of which no one in his alarm stopped to ascertain69, that a boy was drowned.
What boy? When, where, how? Who was absent? Who had been on the river to-day? Buckhurst. The report ran that Buckhurst was drowned. Great were the trouble and consternation71. Buckhurst was ever much liked; and now no one remembered anything but his good qualities.
‘Who heard it was Buckhurst?’ said Sedgwick, captain of the school, coming forward.
‘I heard Bradford tell Palmer it was Buckhurst,’ said a little boy.
‘Where is Bradford?’
‘Here.’
‘What do you know about Buckhurst?’
‘Wentworth told me that he was afraid Buckhurst was drowned. He heard it at the Brocas; a bargeman told him about a quarter of an hour ago.’
‘Here is Wentworth! Here is Wentworth!’ a hundred voices exclaimed, and they formed a circle round him.
‘Well, what did you hear, Wentworth?’ asked Sedgwick.
‘I was at the Brocas, and a bargee told me that an Eton fellow had been drowned above Surley, and the only Eton boat above Surley to-day, as I can learn, is Buckhurst’s four-oar. That is all.’
‘Oh! come, come,’ said Sedgwick, ‘there is come chance. Who is with Buckhurst; who knows?’
‘I saw him walk down to the Brocas with Vere,’ said a boy.
‘I hope it is not Vere,’ said a little boy, with a tearful eye; ‘he never lets any fellow bully73 me.’
‘Here is Maltravers,’ halloed out a boy; ‘he knows something.’
‘Well, what do you know, Maltravers?’
‘I heard Boots at the Christopher say that an Eton fellow was drowned, and that he had seen a person who was there.’
‘Bring Boots here,’ said Sedgwick.
Instantly a band of boys rushed over the way, and in a moment the witness was produced.
‘What have you heard, Sam, about this accident?’ said Sedgwick.
‘Well, sir, I heard a young gentleman was drowned above Monkey Island,’ said Boots.
‘And no name mentioned?’
‘Well, sir, I believe it was Mr. Coningsby.’
‘Coningsby, Coningsby! By Heavens I hope not,’ said Sedgwick.
‘I very much fear so,’ said Boots; ‘as how the bargeman who told me saw Mr. Coningsby in the Lock House laid out in flannels75.’
‘I had sooner any fellow had been drowned than Coningsby,’ whispered one boy to another.
‘What a clever fellow he was!’
‘And so deuced generous!’
‘He would have got the medal if he had lived.’
‘And how came he to be drowned? for he was such a fine swimmer!’
‘I heerd Mr. Coningsby was saving another’s life,’ continued Boots in his evidence, ‘which makes it in a manner more sorrowful.’
‘Poor Coningsby!’ exclaimed a boy, bursting into tears: ‘I move the whole school goes into mourning.’
‘I wish we could get hold of this bargeman,’ said Sedgwick. ‘Now stop, stop, don’t all run away in that mad manner; you frighten the people. Charles Herbert and Palmer, you two go down to the Brocas and inquire.’
But just at this moment, an increased stir and excitement were evident in the Long Walk; the circle round Sedgwick opened, and there appeared Henry Sydney and Buckhurst.
There was a dead silence. It was impossible that suspense77 could be strained to a higher pitch. The air and countenance of Sydney and Buckhurst were rather excited than mournful or alarmed. They needed no inquiries, for before they had penetrated78 the circle they had become aware of its cause.
Buckhurst, the most energetic of beings, was of course the first to speak. Henry Sydney indeed looked pale and nervous; but his companion, flushed and resolute79, knew exactly how to hit a popular assembly, and at once came to the point.
‘It is all a false report, an infernal lie; Coningsby is quite safe, and nobody is drowned.’
There was a cheer that might have been heard at Windsor Castle. Then, turning to Sedgwick, in an undertone Buckhurst added,
‘It is all right, but, by Jove! we have had a shaver. I will tell you all in a moment, but we want to keep the thing quiet, and so let the fellows disperse80, and we will talk afterwards.’
In a few moments the Long Walk had resumed its usual character; but Sedgwick, Herbert, and one or two others turned into the playing fields, where, undisturbed and unnoticed by the multitude, they listened to the promised communication of Buckhurst and Henry Sydney.
‘You know we went up the river together,’ said Buckhurst. ‘Myself, Henry Sydney, Coningsby, Vere, and Millbank. We had breakfasted together, and after twelve agreed to go up to Maidenhead. Well, we went up much higher than we had intended. About a quarter of a mile before we had got to the Lock we pulled up; Coningsby was then steering81. Well, we fastened the boat to, and were all of us stretched out on the meadow, when Millbank and Vere said they should go and bathe in the Lock Pool. The rest of us were opposed; but after Millbank and Vere had gone about ten minutes, Coningsby, who was very fresh, said he had changed his mind and should go and bathe too. So he left us. He had scarcely got to the pool when he heard a cry. There was a fellow drowning. He threw off his clothes and was in in a moment. The fact is this, Millbank had plunged82 in the pool and found himself in some eddies83, caused by the meeting of two currents. He called out to Vere not to come, and tried to swim off. But he was beat, and seeing he was in danger, Vere jumped in. But the stream was so strong, from the great fall of water from the lasher84 above, that Vere was exhausted85 before he could reach Millbank, and nearly sank himself. Well, he just saved himself; but Millbank sank as Coningsby jumped in. What do you think of that?’
‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Sedgwick, Herbert, and all. The favourite oath of schoolboys perpetuates86 the divinity of Olympus.
‘And now comes the worst. Coningsby caught Millbank when he rose, but he found himself in the midst of the same strong current that had before nearly swamped Vere. What a lucky thing that he had taken into his head not to pull to-day! Fresher than Vere, he just managed to land Millbank and himself. The shouts of Vere called us, and we arrived to find the bodies of Millbank and Coningsby apparently87 lifeless, for Millbank was quite gone, and Coningsby had swooned on landing.’
‘If Coningsby had been lost,’ said Henry Sydney, ‘I never would have shown my face at Eton again.’
‘Can you conceive a position more terrible?’ said Buckhurst. ‘I declare I shall never forget it as long as I live. However, there was the Lock House at hand; and we got blankets and brandy. Coningsby was soon all right; but Millbank, I can tell you, gave us some trouble. I thought it was all up. Didn’t you, Henry Sydney?’
‘Well, we were fairly frightened here,’ said Sedgwick. ‘The first report was, that you had gone, but that seemed without foundation; but Coningsby was quite given up. Where are they now?’
‘They are both at their tutors’. I thought they had better keep quiet. Vere is with Millbank, and we are going back to Coningsby directly; but we thought it best to show, finding on our arrival that there were all sorts of rumours about. I think it will be best to report at once to my tutor, for he will be sure to hear something.’
‘I would if I were you.’
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
disapproved
|
|
| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
aggravated
|
|
| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
retentiveness
|
|
| n.有记性；记性强；保持力；好记性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
7
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
industrious
|
|
| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
perseverance
|
|
| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
attains
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的第三人称单数 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
bias
|
|
| n.偏见，偏心，偏袒；vt.使有偏见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
counteracting
|
|
| 对抗，抵消( counteract的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
idol
|
|
| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
votary
|
|
| n.崇拜者；爱好者；adj.誓约的，立誓任圣职的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
rapture
|
|
| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
bliss
|
|
| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
pangs
|
|
| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
reconciliations
|
|
| 和解( reconciliation的名词复数 )； 一致； 勉强接受； （争吵等的）止息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
agitating
|
|
| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
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： |
|
|
|
|
23
frantic
|
|
| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
soften
|
|
| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
acerbity
|
|
| n.涩，酸，刻薄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
warfare
|
|
| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
callous
|
|
| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
bustle
|
|
| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
vanquished
|
|
| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
qualified
|
|
| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
profusion
|
|
| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
inflexible
|
|
| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
bullied
|
|
| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
solicitude
|
|
| n.焦虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
overtures
|
|
| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
recoiled
|
|
| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
persistence
|
|
| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
apprehend
|
|
| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
canvassed
|
|
| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的过去式和过去分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
pretensions
|
|
| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
impending
|
|
| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
urchins
|
|
| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
vendors
|
|
| n.摊贩( vendor的名词复数 )；小贩；（房屋等的）卖主；卖方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
delicacies
|
|
| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
pallid
|
|
| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
clogged
|
|
| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
aquatics
|
|
| n.水生植物，水生动物( aquatic的名词复数 )；水上运动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
scholastic
|
|
| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
trot
|
|
| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
imploring
|
|
| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
syllable
|
|
| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
rumours
|
|
| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
ascertain
|
|
| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
bully
|
|
| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
groan
|
|
| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
flannels
|
|
| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
smothered
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
disperse
|
|
| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
steering
|
|
| n.操舵装置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
eddies
|
|
| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
lasher
|
|
| n.堰，堰下的水溏，鞭打者；装石工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
85
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
perpetuates
|
|
| n.使永存，使人记住不忘( perpetuate的名词复数 )；使永久化，使持久化，使持续 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
fishy
|
|
| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |