So the Harmers clung to the old faith, and were looked upon with grievous disfavour in consequence by the authorities for the time being. Many were the domiciliary visits paid them, and grievous were the fines inflicted6 upon them for nonconformity. Still, whether from information privately7 sent to them previous to these researches, or whether from the superior secrecy8 and snugness9 of their "Priest's chamber," certain it is, that although frequently denounced and searched, no priest or emissary of papacy was ever found concealed10 there; and so, although constantly harassed11 and vexed12, they were suffered to remain in possession of their estate.
As generation of Harmers succeeded generation, they continued the same stiff-necked race, clinging to their old tenets, and hardening their hearts to all inducements to desert them. Over and over again they went through "troublous times," especially when those God-fearing and enlightened Puritans domineered it over England. In after reigns13 difficulties arose, but the days of persecution14 were over then, and they had nothing to undergo comparable to their former trials.
It would have been naturally supposed that as at the commencement of the reign of Elizabeth the Harmers were by no means a wealthy race, they would speedily have been shorn of all the little property they then possessed15. But it was not so. The more they were persecuted16 so much the more they flourished, and from mere17 farmers they speedily rose to the rank of county families.
One reason, doubtless, for their immunity18 from more than comparatively petty persecutions, such as fines and imprisonments, was, that the Harmers never took any part in political affairs; neither in plots, nor risings, nor civil wars, were they ever known actively19 to interfere20.
As the Harmers were in other respects an obstinate21, quarrelsome race, stubborn in will, strong in their likes and dislikes, it was singular that they should never have actively bestirred themselves in favour of the cause which they all had so strongly at heart. The popular belief on the matter was, that a settled and traditional line of policy had been recommended, and enforced upon the family, by their priests; namely, to keep quite neutral in politics, in order that there might be at least one house in the country—and that, from its proximity22 to the sea-coast, peculiarly suitable to the purpose,—where, in cases of necessity, a secure hiding-place could be relied on. Mother Church is very good to her obedient children; and if the Harmers gave up their personal feelings for her benefit, and sheltered her ministers in time of peril23, she no doubt took care that in the long run they should not be losers. And so, while their Roman Catholic neighbours threw themselves into plots and parties, and lost house and land, and not uncommonly24 life, the Harmers rode quietly through the gale25, thriving more and more under the small persecutions they suffered for the faith's sake. And thus it happened that going into troubles as small proprietors in the reign of Elizabeth, they came out of them in that of George, owners of a large estate and a rambling26 old mansion27 in every style of architecture.
After that date, persecution having ceased, and "Priests' chambers28" being no longer useful, the Harmers ceased to enlarge their boundaries, and lived retired29 lives on their property, passing a considerable portion of their time on the Continent.
Robert Harmer had, contrary to the usual custom of his ancestors, six children—four sons and two daughters. Edward was, of course, intended to inherit the family property, and was brought up in accordance with the strictest traditions of his race; Robert was also similarly educated, in order to be fitted to take his brother's place should Edward not survive his father, or die leaving no heirs; Gregory was intended for the priesthood; and Herbert, the youngest of all, was left to take his chance in any position which the influence of his family or Church might obtain for him.
Herbert Harmer, however, was not so ready as the rest of his family to submit his judgment30 without question to that of others; and having, when about sixteen, had what he conceived an extremely heavy and unfair penance31 imposed upon him for some trifling32 offence, he quitted his home, leaving a letter behind him stating his intention of never returning to it. Herbert Harmer was not of the stuff of which a docile33 son of Holy Church is made; of a warm and affectionate disposition34, and a naturally buoyant, joyous35 frame of mind, the stern and repressive discipline to which he was subjected, and the monotonous36 existence he led in his father's house, seemed to him the height of misery37.
The lad, when he turned his back on home, knew little of the world. He had lived the life almost of a recluse38, never stirring beyond the grounds of the mansion except to attend mass at the Roman Catholic chapel39 at Canterbury, and this only upon grand occasions, as the family confessor, who acted also as his tutor, resided in the village, and ordinarily performed the service at the chapel attached to the place.
Companions he had none. Gregory, the brother next to him in age, was away in Italy studying for the priesthood; Cecilia and Angela he had seen but seldom, as they also were abroad, being educated in a convent; Edward and Robert were young men nearly ten years older than himself, and were when at home his father's companions rather than his, and both were of grave taciturn disposition, ascetic40 and bigoted41 even beyond the usual Harmer type.
Thrown therefore almost entirely42 upon his own resources, Herbert had sought what companionship he best could. Books, first and best; but of these his stock was limited. Religious and controversial treatises43, church histories, and polemical writings formed the principal part of the library, together with a few volumes of travel and biography which had somehow found their way there. On a library so limited as this the boy could not employ his whole time, but had to seek amusement and exercise out of doors, and the only companion he had there, was perhaps of all others the very one with whom he would have been most strictly44 forbidden to associate, had their intimacy45 been guessed at.
Robert Althorpe was the son of a tenant46 on the estate, and was a man of thirty or thereabouts. Originally a wild, reckless lad, he had, as many an English boy has done before and since, ran away to sea, and, after nearly fifteen years absence, had lately returned with only one arm, having lost the other in a naval47 engagement. On his return he had been received with open arms by his father, as at that time (that is, in the year 1795) all England was wild with our naval glory. And now Robert Althorpe passed his time, sitting by the fire smoking, or wandering about to relate his tales of adventure among the farmhouses48 of the country, at each of which he was received as a welcome guest.
The sailor took a particular fancy to young Herbert Harmer, whose ignorance of the world and eager desire to hear something of it, and whose breathless attention to his yarns49, amused and gratified him. On many a summer afternoon, then, when Herbert had finished his prescribed course of study, he would slip quietly away to meet Robert Althorpe, and would sit for hours under the trees listening to tales of the world and life of which he knew so little. Robert had in his period of service seen much; for those were stirring times. He had taken part in the victories of Howe and Jervis, and in the capture of the numerous West Indian isles50. He had fought, too, under the invincible51 Nelson at the Nile, in which battle he had lost his arm. He had been stationed for two years out on the Indian coast, and Herbert above all loved to hear of that wonderful country, then the recent scene of the victories of Clive and Hastings.
When therefore he left his home, the one fixed52 idea in Herbert Harmer's mind was, that first of all he would go to sea, and that then he would some day visit India; both which resolutions he carried into effect.
It was some ten years after, when the memory of the young brother of whom they had seen so little had nearly faded from the minds of his family, that a letter arrived from him, addressed to his father, but which was opened by his brother Edward as the head of the house, the old man having been three years before laid in the family vault53. Gregory too was dead, having died years previously54 of a fever contracted among the marshes55 near Rome. The contents of the letter, instead of being hailed with the delight with which news from a long lost prodigal56 is usually greeted, were received with unmingled indignation and horror.
A solemn family conclave57 was held in the old library, Edward Harmer at the head of the table, Father Paul at the foot, and the contents of the letter were taken into formal consideration. A joint58 answer was then drawn59 up, stating the horror and indignation with which his communication had been received—that the anathema60 had been passed against him, that to them he was dead for ever, and that they regretted that he had ever been born at all.
All this was expressed at great length, and with that exceedingly complicated bitterness of cursing, which is a characteristic of the Roman Church when roused. At the end, each of the family signed his or her name, and the priest added his, with a cross affixed61 there to, as a token for ever against him.
The contents of the letter which had caused all this commotion62 of spirit, were briefly63 as follows.
Herbert had gone to sea, and had for two years voyaged to different parts of the world. At the end of that time he had arrived in India, and there leaving his ship, had determined64 to cast his lot. After various employments, he had finally obtained a situation as a clerk to a planter up the country, whose daughter he had three years afterwards married; he was now doing well, and hoped that his father would forgive his having ran away from home.
So far the letter was satisfactory enough, it was the final paragraph which had caused the explosion of family wrath65 against him—namely, that his wife was a Protestant, and that having carefully examined the Bible with her, he had come to the conclusion that the Reformed Church more closely carried out the precepts66 and teachings of that book than his own. That he was afraid this would prove a serious annoyance67 to his father; but that, as he was so far away, and should never be likely to return to obtrude68 the new religion he had adopted upon them, he hoped that it would be no bar to his continuing an amicable69 correspondence with them.
This hope was, as has been seen, not destined70 to be realized. The answer was sealed and duly sent off, and henceforth Herbert Harmer, as far as his family was concerned, ceased to have any existence. It was nearly twenty years before they again heard of him, and then the news came that he had returned to England, a widower71, bringing his only son, a young man of about twenty-one years old, with him; that he had purchased a house in the neighbourhood of London, and that he did not intend to return to India.
Very shortly after his return, a letter from him was received by his elder brother, but immediately it was opened, and the first line showed from whom it came, it was closed unread, resealed, and returned to the writer.
During the thirty years which Herbert Harmer had been absent, the old place had certainly not improved. Edward and Robert had both been married, but were, like their brother, widowers72. Edward never had children. Robert had several born to him, but all had died quite young. The sisters had remained single.
It was a gloomy house in those days. They all lived together there. Father Paul was long since dead, and Father Gabriel literally73 reigned74 in his stead—a man even more gloomy and bigoted than his predecessors—chosen probably on that account, as being in keeping with the character of the people to whom he ministered. An unhappy family; unhappy in their lives and dispositions75, unhappy in the view they had taken of religion and its duties, very unhappy—and this was the only count to which they themselves would have pleaded guilty—very unhappy because the old line of Harmer would die with them, and that there was none of the name to inherit after them; for that Herbert the apostate76 should succeed them, that a Protestant Harmer should dwell where his Catholic ancestors had so long lived, was never even for a moment discussed as a possibility: the very idea would have been a desecration77, at which their dead fathers would have moved in their graves. Better, a thousand times better, that the old place should go to strangers. And so Edward's will was made; everything was done that could be done, and they dwelt in gloomy resignation, waiting for the end.
That end was to come to some of them sooner than they expected.
Edward and Robert Harmer had one interest, one worldly amusement, in which they indulged. As young men they had been for some time together at Genoa, and in that town of mariners78 they had become passionately79 attached to the sea. This taste they had never lost, and they still delighted occasionally to go out for a day's sailing, in a small pleasure yacht, which they kept at the little fishing-village of Herne Bay. She was an open boat, of about eight tons, and was considered a good sea-boat for her size. In this, with two men to sail her, under the command of an old one-armed sailor, whom they employed because he had once lived on the estate, they would go out for hours, once a week or so; not on fine sunny days—in them they had no pleasure—but when the wind blew fresh, and the waves broke a tawny80 yellow on the sand, and the long banks off the coast were white with foaming81 breakers. It was a strange sight in such weather, to see the two men, now from fifty to sixty years old, and very similar in face and figure, taking their places in the stern of their little craft, while the boatmen, in their rough-weather coats and fearnought hats, hoisted82 the sails and prepared for sea.
Very quiet they would sit, while the spray dashed over them, and the boat tore across the surface of the water, with a smile half glad, half defiant83, on their dark features, till the one-armed captain would say, touching84 his hat, "It is getting wilder, your honours; I think we had better put about." Then they would give an assenting85 gesture, and the boat's head would be turned to shore, where they would arrive, wet through and storm-beaten, but with a deep joy in their hearts, such as they experienced at no other time.
But once they went out, and came back alive no more. It happened thus. It was the 3rd of March, and the morning was overcast86 and dull; there was wind, though not strong, coming in short sudden puffs87, and then dying away again. The brothers started early, and drove over, through the village of Herne, to the little fishing-hamlet in the bay, and stopped at the cottage of the captain, as he termed himself, of their little yacht. The old sailor came out to the door.
"You are not thinking of going out to-day, your honours, are you?"
"Why not?" Edward Harmer asked; "don't you think there will be wind enough?"
"Aye, aye, your honour, wind enough, and more than enough before long; there is a gale brewing88 up there;" and the old man shaded his eyes with his remaining hand, and looked earnestly at the clouds.
"Pooh, pooh, man!" Robert Harmer said; "there is no wind to speak of yet, although I think with you that it may come on to blow as the sun goes down. What then? It is nearly easterly, so if we sail straight out we can always turn and run back again before the sea gets up high enough to prevent us. You know we are always ready to return when you give the word."
The old sailor made no further remonstrance89, but summoning the two young men who generally accompanied them, he busied himself in carrying down the oars90, and making preparations to launch the little boat which was to carry them to where the yacht was moored91 about a hundred yards out, with many quiet disapproving92 shakes of his head as he did so. They were soon in, and launched through the waves, which were breaking with a long, heavy, menacing roar. It was not rough yet, but even in the quarter of an hour which had elapsed between their arrival at the village, and reaching the side of the yacht, the aspect of the weather had changed much; the gusts94 of wind came more frequently, and with far greater force, whitening the surface of the water, and tearing off the tops of the waves in sheets of spray. The dull heavy clouds overhead were beginning to break up suddenly, as if stirred by some mighty95 force within themselves, great openings and rents seemed torn asunder96 in the dark curtain, and then as suddenly closed up again; but through these momentary97 openings, the scud98 could be seen flying rapidly past in the higher regions of the air.
On reaching the side of the yacht, which was rolling heavily on the rising waves, the one-armed sailor again glanced at the brothers to see if they noticed these ominous99 signs, and if they made any change in their determination; but they gave no signs of doing so. Their faces were both set in that expression of stern pleasure which they always wore on occasions like this, and with another disapproving shake of his head, even more decided100 than those in which he had before indulged, he turned to assist the men in fastening the boat they had come in to the moorings to await their return, in loosing the sails, and taking a couple of reefs in them, and preparing for a start.
In another five minutes the little craft was far out at sea, ploughing her way through the ever increasing waves, dashing them aside from her bows in sheets of spray, and leaving a broad white track behind her.
Before they had been gone fifteen minutes, the old sailor felt that it was indeed madness to go farther. He saw that the force of the wind was already more than the boat could bear, and was momentarily increasing, and that the sea was fast getting up under its power.
But as his counsel had been already once disregarded, he determined to let the first order for return come from the brothers, and he glanced for a moment from the sails and the sea to the two men sitting beside him. There was no thought of turning back there. Their lips were hard set, yet half smiling; their eyes wide open, as if to take in the tumultuous joy of the scene; their hands lay clenched102 on their knees. They had evidently no thought of danger, no thought of anything but deep, wild pleasure.
The old sailor bit his lips. He looked again over the sea, he looked at the sails, and at the lads crouched103 down in the bow with consternation104 strongly expressed on their faces; he glanced at the dark green water, rushing past the side, and sometimes as she lay over combing in over the gunwale; he felt the boat quiver under the shock as each succeeding wave struck her, and he knew she could bear no more. He therefore again turned round to the impassive figures beside him, and made his usual speech.
"Your honours, it is time to go about."
But this time so absorbed were they in their sensations, that they did not hear him, and he had to touch them to attract their notice, and to shout in their ears, "Your honours, we must go about."
They started at the touch, and rose like men waked suddenly from a dream. They cast a glance round, and seemed to take in for the first time the real state of things, the raging wind, the flying scud, the waves which rose round the boat, and struck her with a force that threatened to break her into fragments. And then Edward said, "Yes! by all means, if indeed it is not already too late. God forgive us for bringing you out into it; peccavi, culpa mea." And then the brothers, influenced not by fear for themselves, but for the lives of those whom they had brought into danger, commenced rapidly uttering, in a low voice, the prayers of their Church for those in peril.
The prayer was never to be finished. The men sprang with alacrity105 to the ropes when the order was given, "Prepare to go about;" but whether their fingers were numb106, or what it was which went wrong, no one will ever know. The boat obeyed her rudder, and came up into the wind. There was a momentary lull107, and then as her head payed round towards the shore, a fresh gust93 struck her with even greater force than ever. Some rope refused to run, it was but for an instant, but that instant sealed the fate of the boat; over she lay till her sail all but touched the water, and the sea poured in over her side. For a moment she seemed to try to recover herself, and then a wild cry went up to heaven, and the boat lay bottom upwards108 in the trough of the waves.
点击收听单词发音
1 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 ascertained | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 proprietors | |
n.所有人,业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 gentry | |
n.绅士阶级,上层阶级 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 inflicted | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 privately | |
adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 secrecy | |
n.秘密,保密,隐蔽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 snugness | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 harassed | |
adj. 疲倦的,厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 vexed | |
adj.争论不休的;(指问题等)棘手的;争论不休的问题;烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 );使苦恼;使生气;详细讨论 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 reigns | |
n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 );君主统治时期;任期;当政期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 persecuted | |
(尤指宗教或政治信仰的)迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 ); 烦扰,困扰或骚扰某人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 immunity | |
n.优惠;免除;豁免,豁免权 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 actively | |
adv.积极地,勤奋地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 uncommonly | |
adv. 稀罕(极,非常) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 penance | |
n.(赎罪的)惩罪 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 docile | |
adj.驯服的,易控制的,容易教的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 recluse | |
n.隐居者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 ascetic | |
adj.禁欲的;严肃的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 bigoted | |
adj.固执己见的,心胸狭窄的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 treatises | |
n.专题著作,专题论文,专著( treatise的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 tenant | |
n.承租人;房客;佃户;v.租借,租用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 naval | |
adj.海军的,军舰的,船的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 farmhouses | |
n.农舍,农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 yarns | |
n.纱( yarn的名词复数 );纱线;奇闻漫谈;旅行轶事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 isles | |
岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 vault | |
n.拱形圆顶,地窖,地下室 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 marshes | |
n.沼泽,湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 prodigal | |
adj.浪费的,挥霍的,放荡的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 conclave | |
n.秘密会议,红衣主教团 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 anathema | |
n.诅咒;被诅咒的人(物),十分讨厌的人(物) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 affixed | |
adj.[医]附着的,附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 );粘贴;加以;盖(印章) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 commotion | |
n.骚动,动乱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 precepts | |
n.规诫,戒律,箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 obtrude | |
v.闯入;侵入;打扰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 amicable | |
adj.和平的,友好的;友善的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 widower | |
n.鳏夫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 widowers | |
n.鳏夫( widower的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 dispositions | |
安排( disposition的名词复数 ); 倾向; (财产、金钱的)处置; 气质 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 apostate | |
n.背叛者,变节者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 desecration | |
n. 亵渎神圣, 污辱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 mariners | |
海员,水手(mariner的复数形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 tawny | |
adj.茶色的,黄褐色的;n.黄褐色 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 foaming | |
adj.布满泡沫的;发泡 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 hoisted | |
把…吊起,升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 defiant | |
adj.无礼的,挑战的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 assenting | |
同意,赞成( assent的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 overcast | |
adj.阴天的,阴暗的,愁闷的;v.遮盖,(使)变暗,包边缝;n.覆盖,阴天 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 puffs | |
n.吸( puff的名词复数 );(烟斗或香烟的)一吸;一缕(烟、蒸汽等);(呼吸或风的)呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 brewing | |
n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 remonstrance | |
n抗议,抱怨 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 oars | |
n.桨,橹( oar的名词复数 );划手v.划(行)( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 moored | |
adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 disapproving | |
adj.不满的,反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 gust | |
n.阵风,突然一阵(雨、烟等),(感情的)迸发 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 gusts | |
一阵强风( gust的名词复数 ); (怒、笑等的)爆发; (感情的)迸发; 发作 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 asunder | |
adj.分离的,化为碎片 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 scud | |
n.疾行;v.疾行 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
102 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
103 crouched | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
104 consternation | |
n.大为吃惊,惊骇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
105 alacrity | |
n.敏捷,轻快,乐意 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
106 numb | |
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
107 lull | |
v.使安静,使入睡,缓和,哄骗;n.暂停,间歇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
108 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |