The result of her case, which filled many columns in local papers and was the sensation of the day in England when the account of it reached that land, may be summed up here in few words. Premi, or Miranda, as we may now call her, could never be persuaded to tell at whose hands she had received her terrible beating. Some feeling, perhaps of delicacy2, perhaps of pity for her old female companions, prevented her from letting out the secret. From the impossibility of knowing who was the actual offender3, no inmate4 of the zenana received the due reward of her barbarous conduct. Alicia suspected Darobti; but neither her name nor that of any other bibi escaped the lips of Miranda. She seemed to wish to draw a thick purdah over the past.
Thákar Dás narrowly escaped very severe punishment by being able to prove that it was not he, but a brother since dead, who had brought Miranda Macfinnis into the fort. The Hindu declared that he did not know that she was English; that he had taken her in from motives6 of pure compassion7; and though few believed his vehement8 assertions, the contrary could not be proved. But the chief could not so easily meet the second charge—that of having directed two attacks on the mission bungalow9, in the first of which an Englishman had been wounded and a Hindu youth violently carried away. The attempt to poison Kripá Dé aggravated10 the offence: though it was not proved that Thákar Dás actually committed the crime, there was strong suspicion against him. A very heavy fine was inflicted12, with long imprisonment13 in default of payment. Thákar Dás was a disgraced and ruined man. Unable otherwise to pay the heavy penalty imposed, the Hindu had to give up his fort and the land held for centuries by his forefathers14, and, accompanied by the female portion of his family, quit for ever that part of the country.
Mr. Thole had expressed his opinion that Chand Kor should be compelled to return to Mrs. Hartley the gold bracelet15 which she had tried to win from her by meanly bartering16 for it a bauble17 not worth a tenth part of its value, and not even legally her own. But Harold declined such reparation in behalf of his wife. “Mrs. Hartley threw the bracelet to the women of her own free will,” he said, “and, I am sure, would not desire such restitution19.”
“Was I right, darling?” he said to Alicia, after his return from an interview with Mr. Thole.
“Quite right,” answered his wife. “I would never wish to take back anything given for the Lord or His work.”
Alicia never knew the fate of that jewel. It was sold ere long with other valuables to purchase the bare necessaries of life for Chand Kor and Darobti, who had to pound their own rice and grind their own corn for themselves.
The evening after the conclusion of the trial, which lasted for some days, Alicia said joyfully20 to her husband, “Now one sheaf at least is gathered home. Premi—I mean Miranda—is our own, quite our own. She has almost recovered now, and will soon, I think, lose all trace of her bruises21, and look lovelier than ever.”
“You say that Premi is quite our own, my love,” observed Harold; “but are you her nearest relative? I think that you have more than once mentioned that she has a brother in England.”
“Oh! Cousin Gilbert, who was at home preparing to go to college in the Mutiny year, and so escaped the fate of his poor parents.”
“I should be sorry to trust her to his care,” cried Alicia. “Gilbert is a gay, thoughtless sort of fellow, and has been lately married to a foolish fashionable girl. I should be most unwilling23 to send our rescued cousin to them. It would not be mercy to her.”
“We must think of justice as well as of mercy, my Alicia. A brother has a right to be consulted about the future of an orphan24 sister. The English mail goes to-day; will you write to your cousin, or would you wish me to do so?”
Alicia felt and looked disappointed. She had encountered much difficulty in finding a jewel, and then in drawing it from the dark mine in which it had been buried; and now, was she contentedly25 to hand it over to one who had given nothing, suffered nothing, and who might place no value on what had cost her so much? It was with rather an ill grace that Alicia sat down to her desk. Everything seemed to combine to make the task distasteful. The wood of the desk was warped26 by the heat, the ink in the bottle half dried up. Alicia had to throw away one quill27 pen after another, and her own heated, languid hand moved wearily over the paper, which the pankah (for Robin28 had contrived30 a pankah in the new house) was perpetually trying to blow away to the other side of the room. The hot season was beginning, Alicia’s first hot season, and everything that she did was done with an effort.
Alicia had other little troubles connected with her newly-found cousin, troubles which she poured forth31 to Robin in the evening, when sunset had brought some slight relief from the heat. The brother and sister were slowly pacing up and down the veranda32, Alicia with rather a melancholy33 air.
“Is anything vexing34 my fair sister?” asked Robin in that cheerful and kindly35 tone which invited confidence and usually obtained it.
“I do not like to trouble Harold with all my small perplexities,” replied Alicia, wearily fanning herself as she spoke36.
“First let me relieve you of your fan, and then do you relieve yourself of your perplexities,” said Robin, taking from Alicia her little hand-pankah. He swayed it to and fro with an even, measured movement, far more effectual and soothing37 than Alicia’s fitful, fluttering shake.
“I thought that it would be so easy to make Premi happy and comfortable in my Paradise,” said Alicia (the coming of the guest had hastened the removal to the newly-built house). “I thought that the poor girl would find kindness and love so delicious after her miserable38 life in the fort. But in trying to make her well and happy, I find a difficulty at every step.”
“You know the definition of a difficulty—‘a thing to be overcome,’” remarked Robin. “Let us look steadily39 at yours; perhaps it will vanish as we look.”
“Of course Premi needs nourishment,” said Alicia; “but it is hard to know what to give her, especially as the hurt on her hand makes her unable to cook for herself. We all know that for invalids40 doctors always prescribe beef-tea, so I was determined41 that Premi should have it. With no small trouble I procured42 some beef from Chuanwál; I boiled it myself, for I could not trust Mangal to cook it—he always fails in the soup.”
“Heroic Alicia!” exclaimed Robin; “did you really stand fire in such weather as this?”
“Cooking certainly was no pleasure,” replied Alicia; “but I managed to do something, for I was so anxious to give my poor cousin what might help to make her well soon. I thought that she would enjoy anything prepared by my hands.”
“And the result?” asked Robin smiling, for he guessed what it was likely to have been.
“The poor foolish thing rejected my beef-tea almost with horror, as if I had been offering her boiled toads43 or snakes, or something equally disgusting. Premi clenched44 her teeth tightly, turned away her head, and would not touch nor even look at my soup.”
“You must remember, sister dear, that poor Premi has been brought up from childhood to regard beef-eating with utter disgust. She is now free from Hindu slavery, but the chains of its superstition45 are hanging on her still. We must have patience, dear Alicia, and try to remove them so gently that we shall not gall18 the poor wrists that have worn them so long.”
“Another difficulty is about dress,” said Alicia. “Premi—Miranda—came clad in little better than rags, blood-stained, too, from her terrible beating. I felt that Miranda should dress like an English lady, as she really is one by birth. I made the effort of rummaging46 through one of my big boxes—everything now is an effort—and selected a parcel of clothes. I thought that Miranda Macfinnis would look so nice in one of my neat-fitting costumes.”
Robin playfully inquired how Miranda Macfinnis had appreciated the costume.
“Not at all,” replied Alicia, smiling notwithstanding her disappointment. “Miranda made not the slightest attempt to help me to perform her toilet, though she offered no actual resistance. I had to dress her as I would have dressed a large doll. I held the sleeve ready, but the passive arm had to be guided into its place. I had to put every little hook into its corresponding eye, and after all my trouble saw that the clothes sat ill on one who had never donned a tight-fitting garment before. However, I was glad that a tiresome48 task had been accomplished49, and led Premi—I mean Miranda—in front of my mirror to let her see the effect.”
“What did she think of her own reflection?”
“Miranda just caught up her own soiled chaddar, and drew it closely around her—head, blue dress, and all.”
Robin laughed at Alicia’s vain attempt to make her cousin look like an English lady.
“The worst was when I tried to make my cousin put boots on,” continued Alicia, unable to resist joining in Robin’s mirthful laugh. “Her feet are certainly not larger than mine, and I had chosen an easy pair of boots. But all my persuasions50 and attempts to draw on the obnoxious51 articles ended in a burst of crying and sobbing52 on Premi’s part, and something like despair on mine.”
“Why distress53 the poor girl by compelling her to adopt English dress when she would look so much more beautiful in her own?” cried Robin. “Would you compare an ugly stiff hat—I beg your pardon, Alicia—with a chaddar falling in graceful54 folds round a slight, youthful form?”
“But suppose that Gilbert should send for his sister,” cried Alicia, with something between playfulness and impatience55, “would you have her create a sensation by tripping barefoot up a London staircase, or introduce her to a fashionable sister-in-law wrapped up in a chaddar?”
“Wait till you know what Gilbert decides on, and at least wait till cooler weather comes, before you inflict11 the torture of the boot on poor little feet accustomed to freedom. And as regards chaddars, could you not contrive29 to manufacture one out of your odd pieces of muslin?”
“But Miranda will never be able to appear as a lady in England if we let her continue to dress like a Hindu,” observed Alicia smiling.
“I do not think it likely that she will ever go to England,” said Robin; “and if she remain at Talwandi, surely it is better that Premi should remain as a kind of silver link between European and native. She will be far more useful in mission work if we do not quite separate her in dress and habits from those whom she once deemed to be her own people.”
“In mission work!” exclaimed Harold, who had just joined his wife and brother in the veranda. “Robin, do you forget that the poor girl is as yet not even a Christian56?”
“She will be one,” cried Robin the hopeful. “We shall see Premi a Christian—yes, and a worker. Alicia will rejoice over her sheaf.”
“God grant it!” said Harold fervently57. “Were Premi, who is so conversant58 with everything regarding Hindu zenanas, to be able to assist my dear wife in her work there, she would be an untold59 blessing60 to us all. Thákar Dás will be compelled to quit the fort, and I hope to be able to purchase it. I have been writing by this mail to Clarence, Ida, and other friends, to collect means for making the purchase.”
“And what would you do with the large building if you had it?” asked Alicia.
“I should find abundant use for it, my love. There would be space not only for a boys’ school, a prayer-room, and library, but for a place where converts might sleep. And—what think you, my Alicia?—might there not, in the women’s apartments, which are, as you know, in a separate quarter, be collected little Hindu girls from the town to form a small school, a little centre of light, to be presided over by my dear wife?”
“With Premi to teach under her!” exclaimed Robin.
“I think this is rather like building in cloudland,” observed Alicia, but she smiled as she spoke.
“If Premi is to be a teacher, she must be a learner first,” said Robin; “anyways, Miss Miranda Macfinnis should know how to read.”
“I will begin to teach her to-morrow,” said Alicia.
The task proved harder than that of persuading Miranda to adopt English costume. Robin made an alphabet in large Roman letters, to master which was to be Miss Macfinnis’s first step on the ladder of learning.
“I will teach her four or five letters each day,” Alicia had remarked, “and the alphabet will be mastered in a week.”
But a week passed, and all the young teacher’s efforts had not enabled her pupil to see clearly the difference between an A and an O.
“Miranda is dreadfully dull at learning, though quick at everything else,” sighed Alicia, when confiding62 her new trouble to Robin. “She, an English-born woman nearly sixteen years old, will not master the English alphabet.”
“Why not try the Gurmuki?”[10] suggested Robin; “it will be easier for one who knows no language but Panjabi to learn the familiar sounds.”
10. Gurmuki is the character in which Panjabi is usually written.
“I do not know the Gurmuki alphabet myself,” observed Alicia, with a slight shrug63 of her shoulders.
“Oh! I’ll teach you both, if you will be my pupils,” cried Robin. “Kripá Dé would have taught you better, no doubt; but as we’ve sent him off to Lahore for safety and further education, you must accept me as a master in default of a better. Premi is too shy of Harold to learn from him.”
It was true that Premi was less painfully bashful with Robin than with either his father or brother. Mr. Hartley was to her the buzurg (elder)—reverenced but feared; Harold was the Padre Sahib, in whose presence the shy young creature always drew her chaddar over her face; but Robin was a privileged person with Premi as with every one else. She knew that he, like herself, had risked life to save Kripá Dé; she looked on him as her old playmate’s bhai, or brother, and even spoke of him by that name. Robin once laughingly observed that Miss Miranda Macfinnis did not regard him as one of the lords of creation at all, but as a big, good-natured, shaggy dog, whom she did not expect to bite her.
So, under his tuition, Gurmuki lessons were begun, and Alicia was surprised to find that Premi learned more rapidly than herself, and with keener enjoyment64.
“Does Miranda know her own early history? is she aware that she has relations in England?” Harold inquired one day of his wife.
“She does not know much. You see, dearest, that I am scarcely strong enough yet in Urdu to tell a long, complicated story.”
“Robin had better tell her. Miranda does not seem shy with him,” observed Harold.
So, on the following morning, before lessons were begun, Robin gave Miranda a short, clear account of those early days of her life which had left no impression on memory. Miranda listened as she might have done to the story of what had happened to some one else many years ago. It was to her a thing of the past.
“But all this has to do with the present too,” observed Robin. “Do you know, Premi, that you have a white brother in England?”
“And a white sister too,” added Alicia, “the wife of that brother.”
There was a soft pleading look of love in Miranda’s dark eyes as she drew Alicia’s hand to her own bosom65, then pressed it to her own lips, and murmured, “Premi wants no sister but you.”
“But you have a brother,” said Robin: “his name is Gilbert Macfinnis; he is your nearest relation. He may wish to have you beside him in England.”
“Across the black sea!” exclaimed Miranda, and such a look of terror passed over her fair young face that in pity the conversation was changed.
That it was not forgotten appeared by the thoughtful, mournful expression which Miranda now often wore, and the anxious look with which she watched the opening of any letters. But never in conversation did Miranda allude66 to her white brother. As for his name, it was to her as yet unpronounceable, and more difficult to remember than the English alphabet. The young girl secretly regarded Robin as her white brother, and she had no wish for any beside.
Alicia’s greatest anxiety regarding her young cousin was in matters more important than her style of dress, education, or family relations. Harold’s wife, when once Miranda was safe under her roof, had calculated on her conversion67 to Christianity as a sure and probably an easy thing to be accomplished. Separated from all heathen influences, placed under the daily instruction of devoted68 and gifted spiritual pastors69, constantly with a friend like herself whose kindness the orphan repaid with clinging affection, how could Miranda fail to become a Christian? The once oppressed widow could not but see the difference between a religion of love and one of fear, the difference between loyalty70 to a Saviour71 and dread61 of a demon72, between freedom and bondage73, darkness and light. But those who, like the elder Hartley, have laboured long amongst those who have been from childhood brought up in superstition and error, know how strangely, it seems unaccountably, the heart clings to its idols74. Spiritual work is not like a sum in arithmetic—given so much time, so much labour, so much prayer, and then a certain visible result. We must toil47 and pray and seek to persuade, but the work of grace is, like life which is its symbol, something beyond the ken5 and the wisdom of man. In missionary75 work we must reverently76 accept, as if addressed to ourselves, the Saviour’s answer to His apostles, “It is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in His own power.” We can see, even with our half-blind eyes, reasons why this should be. Our insufficiency to do anything of ourselves throws us on the power of Him who is all-sufficient. We are humbled77, God is exalted78. We can but remove the swaddling bands from the spiritually dead; the voice of Omnipotence79 alone can say, “Come forth from the tomb!” We preach as it were to dry bones; the Spirit of God must breathe on them, or they will never revive and stand up. It is grace that opened our lips; it is grace that must wing our words, or they will fall short of the mark.
It was with such reflections that Harold tried to cheer his young wife, when with tears she spoke of the deadness of Miranda’s soul. “She drops asleep even when father is preaching in the native tongue. She only, I fear, listens to the Bible in order to please me. Miranda loves me, tenderly loves, but it seems as if she would not love the Saviour.”
“Patience, my love,” said Harold. “Remember the words, ‘Behold the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain.’ That blessed rain may be coming now, like the little cloud no bigger than the hand of a man which was seen rising above the sea, in answer to the prayer of Elijah.”
Robin, laying his hand on Alicia’s, quoted, not quite correctly, favourite lines,—
“Fret not for sheaves, but holy patience keep;
Wait for the early and the latter rain;
Gladness is sown; the Lord may let thee weep,
But know no tear of thine is shed in vain.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
offender
|
|
| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
inmate
|
|
| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
ken
|
|
| n.视野，知识领域 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
vehement
|
|
| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
bungalow
|
|
| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
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： |
|
|
|
|
11
inflict
|
|
| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
imprisonment
|
|
| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
forefathers
|
|
| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bracelet
|
|
| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
bartering
|
|
| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
bauble
|
|
| n.美观而无价值的饰物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
gall
|
|
| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
restitution
|
|
| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
joyfully
|
|
| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
bruises
|
|
| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
guardian
|
|
| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
contentedly
|
|
| adv.心满意足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
warped
|
|
| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
quill
|
|
| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
robin
|
|
| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
contrive
|
|
| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
veranda
|
|
| n.走廊；阳台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
vexing
|
|
| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
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： |
|
|
|
|
37
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
invalids
|
|
| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
toads
|
|
| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
clenched
|
|
| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
rummaging
|
|
| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的现在分词 )； 海关检查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
tiresome
|
|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
persuasions
|
|
| n.劝说，说服（力）( persuasion的名词复数 )；信仰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
obnoxious
|
|
| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
fervently
|
|
| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
conversant
|
|
| adj.亲近的，有交情的，熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
untold
|
|
| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
confiding
|
|
| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
shrug
|
|
| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
allude
|
|
| v.提及，暗指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
conversion
|
|
| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
pastors
|
|
| n.（基督教的）牧师( pastor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
saviour
|
|
| n.拯救者，救星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
bondage
|
|
| n.奴役，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
idols
|
|
| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
missionary
|
|
| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
reverently
|
|
| adv.虔诚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
humbled
|
|
| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
exalted
|
|
| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
omnipotence
|
|
| n.全能，万能，无限威力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |