And wondering expectation.”—Akenside.
“My dear Fanny,” said Mrs. Duncan, addressing our heroine by her borrowed name, “if at all inclined to superstition3, you are now going to a place which will call it forth4. Dunreath Abbey is gothic and gloomy in the extreme, and recalls to one’s mind all the stories they ever heard of haunted houses and apparitions5. The desertion of the native inhabitants has hastened the depredations6 of time, whose ravages7 are unrepaired, except in the part immediately occupied by the domestics. Yet what is the change in the building compared to the revolution which took place in the fortunes of her who[Pg 411] once beheld8 a prospect9 of being its mistress. The earl of Dunreath’s eldest10 daughter, as I have often heard from many, was a celebrated11 beauty, and as good as she was handsome, but a malignant12 step-mother thwarted13 her happiness, and forced her to take shelter in the arms of a man who had everything but fortune to recommend him—but, in wanting that, he wanted everything to please her family. After some years of distress14, she found means to soften15 the heart of her father; but here the invidious step-mother again interfered16, and prevented her experiencing any good effects from his returning tenderness, and, it was rumored17, by a deep and iniquitous18 scheme, deprived her of her birthright. Like other rumors19, however, it gradually died away; perhaps from Lady Malvina and her husband never hearing of it, and none but them had a right to inquire into its truth. But if such a scheme was really contrived20, woe21 be to its fabricator; the pride and pomp of wealth can neither alleviate22 nor recompense the stings of conscience. Much rather,” continued Mrs. Duncan, laying her hands upon her children’s heads as they sat at her feet,—"much rather would I have my babes wander from door to door, to beg the dole23 of charity, than live upon the birthright of the orphan24. If Lady Dunreath, in reality, committed the crime she was accused of, she met, in some degree, a punishment for it. Soon after the Earl’s death she betrayed a partiality for a man every way inferior to her, which partiality, people have not scrupled25 to say, commenced and was indulged to a criminal degree during the lifetime of her husband. She would have married him, had not her daughter the Marchioness of Roslin, interfered. Proud and ambitious, her rage at the prospect of such an alliance, knew no bounds, and, seconded by the marquis, whose disposition26 was congenial to her own, they got the unfortunate mother into their power, and hurried her off to a convent in France. I know not whether she is yet living; indeed, I believe there are few either know or care, she was so much disliked for her haughty27 disposition. I have sometimes asked my aunt about her, but she would never gratify my curiosity. She has been brought up in the family, and no doubt thinks herself bound to conceal28 whatever they choose. She lives in ease and plenty, and is absolute mistress of the few domestics that reside at the Abbey. But of those domestics I caution you in time, or they will be apt to fill your head with frightful29 stories of the Abbey, which sometimes, if one’s spirits are weak, in spite of reason, will make an impression on the mind. They pretend that the Earl of Dunreath’s first wife haunts the Abbey, venting30 the most[Pg 412] piteous moans, which they ascribe to grief for the unfortunate fate of her daughter, and that daughter’s children being deprived of their rightful patrimony31. I honestly confess, when at the Abbey a few years ago, during some distresses32 of my husband, I heard strange noises one evening at twilight33 as I walked in a gallery. I told my aunt of them, and she was quite angry at the involuntary terror I expressed, and said it was nothing but the wind whistling through some adjoining galleries which I heard. But this, my dear Fanny,” said Mrs. Duncan, who on account of her children had continued the latter part of her discourse34 in a low voice, “is all between ourselves; for my aunt declared she would never pardon my mentioning my ridiculous fears, or the yet more ridiculous fears of the servants, to any human being.”
Amanda listened in silence to Mrs. Duncan’s discourse, fearful that if she spoke35 she should betray the emotions it excited.
They at last entered between the mountains that enclosed the valley on which the Abbey stood. The scene was solemn and solitary36. Every prospect, except one of the sea, seen through an aperture37 in one of the mountains, was excluded. Some of these mountains were bare, craggy, and projecting. Others were skirted with trees, robed with vivid green, and crowned with white and yellow furze. Some were all a wood of intermingled shades, and others covered with long and purple heath. Various streams flowed from them into the valley. Some stole gently down their sides in silver rills, giving beauty and vigor38 wherever they meandered39. Others tumbled from fragment to fragment, with a noise not undelightful to the ear, and formed for themselves a deep bed in the valley, over which trees, that appeared coeval41 with the building, bent42 their old and leafy heads.
At the foot of what to the rest was called a gently swelling43 hill lay the remains44 of the extensive gardens which had once given the luxuries of the vegetable world to the banquets of the Abbey; but the buildings which had nursed those luxuries were all gone to decay, and the gay plantations45 were overrun with the progeny46 of neglect and sloth47.
The Abbey was one of the most venerable looking buildings Amanda had ever beheld; but it was in melancholy48 grandeur49 she now saw it—in the wane50 of its days, when its glory was passed away, and the whole pile proclaimed desertion and decay. She saw it when, to use the beautiful language of Hutchinson, its pride was brought low, when its magnificence was[Pg 413] sinking in the dust, when tribulation51 had taken the seat of hospitality, and solitude52 reigned53, where once the jocund54 guest had laughed over the sparkling bowl, whilst the owls55 sang nightly their strains of melancholy to the moonshine that slept upon its mouldering56 battlements.
The heart of Amanda was full of the fond idea of her parents, and the sigh of tender remembrance stole from it. “How little room,” thought she, “should there be in the human heart for the worldly pride which so often dilates57 it, liable as all things are to change! the distress in which the descendants of noble families are so often seen, the decline of such families themselves, should check the arrogant58 presumption59 with which so many look forward to having their greatness and prosperity perpetuated60 through every branch of their posterity61.
“The proud possessors of this Abbey, surrounded with affluence62, and living in its full enjoyment63, never perhaps admitted the idea as at all probable, that one of their descendants should ever approach the seat of her ancestors without that pomp and elegance64 which heretofore distinguished65 its daughters. Alas66! one now approaches it neither to display nor contemplate67 the pageantry of wealth, but meek68 and lowly; not to receive the smile of love, or the embrace of relatives, but afflicted69 and unknown, glad to find a shelter, and procure70 the bread of dependence71, beneath its decaying roof.”
Mrs. Duncan happily marked not Amanda’s emotion as she gazed upon the Abbey. She was busily employed in answering her children’s questions, who wanted to know whether she thought they would be able to climb up the great big hills they saw.
The carriage at last stopped before the Abbey. Mrs. Bruce was already at the door to receive them. She was a little, smart old woman, and welcomed her niece and the children with an appearance of the greatest pleasure. On Amanda’s being presented to her, she gazed steadfastly72 in her face a few minutes, and then exclaimed, “Well, this is very strange; though I know I could never have seen this young lady before, her face is quite familiar to me.”
The hall into which they entered was large and gloomy, paved with black marble, and supported by pillars, through which the arched doors that led to various apartments were seen. Rude implements73, such as the Caledonians had formerly74 used in war and hunting, were ranged along the walls. Mrs. Bruce conducted them into a spacious75 parlor76, terminated by an elegant saloon. This, she told them, had once been the banqueting[Pg 414]room. The furniture, though faded, was still magnificent, and the windows, though still in the gothic style, from being enlarged considerably77 beyond their original dimensions, afforded a most delightful40 view of the domain78.
“Do you know,” said Mrs. Duncan, “this apartment, though one of the pleasantest in the Abbey in point of situation, always makes me melancholy. The moment I enter it I think of the entertainments once given in it, and then its present vacancy79 and stillness almost instantly reminds me that those who partook of these entertainments are now almost all humbled80 with the dust!” Her aunt laughed, and said, “she was very romantic.”
The solemnity of the Abbey was well calculated to heighten the awe2 which stole upon the spirit of Amanda from her first view of it. No noise was heard throughout it, except the hoarse81 creaking of the massy doors, as the servants passed from one room to another, adjusting Mrs. Duncan’s things, and preparing for dinner. Mrs. Duncan was drawn82 into a corner of the room by her aunt, to converse83, in a low voice, about family affairs, and the children were rambling84 about the hall, wondering and inquiring about everything they saw.
Thus left to herself, a soft languor85 gradually stole over the mind of Amanda, which was almost exhausted86 from the emotions it had experienced. The murmuring sound of waterfalls, and the buzzing of the flies that basked87 in the sunny rays which darted88 through the casements89, lulled90 her into a kind of pensive91 tranquillity92.
“Am I really,” she asked herself, “in the seat of my ancestors? Am I really in the habitation where my mother was born—where her irrevocable vows93 were plighted94 to my father? I am; and oh! within it may I at last find an asylum95 from the vices96 and dangers of the world; within it may my sorrowing spirit lose its agitation97, and subdue98, if not its affections, at least its murmurs99, at the disappointment of those affections.”
The appearance of dinner interrupted her. She made exertions100 to overcome any appearance of dejection, and the conversation, if not lively, was at least cheerful. After dinner Mrs. Duncan, who had been informed by Amanda of her predilection101 for old buildings, asked her aunt’s permission to show her the Abbey. Mrs. Bruce immediately arose, and said she would have that pleasure herself. She accordingly led the way. Many of the apartments yet displayed the sumptuous102 taste of those who had furnished them. “It is astonishing to me,” said Mrs. Duncan, “that so magnificent a pile as this[Pg 415] should be abandoned, as I may say, by its possessors.” “The Marquis of Roslin’s castle is a more modern structure than this,” said Mrs. Bruce, “and preferred by them on that account.” “So, like the family monument,” rejoined Mrs. Duncan, “they are merely satisfied with permitting this to stand, as it may help to transmit the marchioness’s name to posterity.” “How far does the marquis live from this?” asked Amanda. “About twelve miles,” replied Mrs. Bruce, who did not appear pleased with her niece’s conversation, and led the way to a long gallery ornamented103 with portraits of the family. This gallery Amanda knew well by description. This was the gallery in which her father had stopped to contemplate the picture of her mother, and her heart throbbed104 with impatience105 and anxiety to see that picture.
Mrs. Bruce, as she went before her, told her the names of the different portraits. She suddenly stopped before one. “That,” cried she, “is the Marchioness of Roslin’s, drawn for her when Lady Augusta Dunreath.” Amanda cast her eyes upon it, and perceived in the countenance106 the same haughtiness107 as still distinguished the marchioness. She looked at the next panel, and found it empty.
“The picture of Lady Malvina Dunreath hung there,” said Mrs. Bruce; “but after her unfortunate marriage it was taken down.” “And destroyed,” exclaimed Amanda mournfully. “No; but it was thrown into the old chapel108, where, with the rest of the lumber109 (the soul of Amanda was struck at these words), it has been locked up for years.” “And is it impossible to see it?” asked Amanda. “Impossible, indeed,” replied Mrs. Bruce. “The chapel, and the whole eastern part of the Abbey, have long been in a ruinous situation, on which account it has been locked up.” “This is the gallery,” whispered Mrs. Duncan, “in which I heard the strange noises; but not a word of them to my aunt.” Amanda could scarcely conceal the disappointment she felt at finding she could not see her mother’s picture. She would have entreated110 the chapel might be opened for that purpose, had she not feared exciting suspicions by doing so.
They returned from the gallery to the parlor; and in the course of conversation Amanda heard many interesting anecdotes111 of her ancestors from Mrs. Bruce. Her mother was also mentioned, and Mrs. Bruce, by dwelling112 on her worth, made amends113, in some degree, to Amanda for having called her picture lumber. She retired114 to her chamber115 with her mind at once softened116 and elevated by hearing of her mother’s virtues117. She[Pg 416] called upon her father’s spirit, upon them whose kindred souls were reunited in heaven, to bless their child, to strengthen, to support her in the thorny118 path marked out for her to take; nor to cease their tutelary119 care till she was joined to them by Providence120.
点击收听单词发音
1 awed | |
adj.充满敬畏的,表示敬畏的v.使敬畏,使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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3 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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4 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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5 apparitions | |
n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 );幽灵;鬼;(特异景象等的)出现 | |
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6 depredations | |
n.劫掠,毁坏( depredation的名词复数 ) | |
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7 ravages | |
劫掠后的残迹,破坏的结果,毁坏后的残迹 | |
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8 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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9 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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10 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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11 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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12 malignant | |
adj.恶性的,致命的;恶意的,恶毒的 | |
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13 thwarted | |
阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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14 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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15 soften | |
v.(使)变柔软;(使)变柔和 | |
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16 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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17 rumored | |
adj.传说的,谣传的v.传闻( rumor的过去式和过去分词 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷 | |
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18 iniquitous | |
adj.不公正的;邪恶的;高得出奇的 | |
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19 rumors | |
n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷 | |
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20 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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21 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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22 alleviate | |
v.减轻,缓和,缓解(痛苦等) | |
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23 dole | |
n.救济,(失业)救济金;vt.(out)发放,发给 | |
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24 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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25 scrupled | |
v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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27 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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28 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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29 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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30 venting | |
消除; 泄去; 排去; 通风 | |
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31 patrimony | |
n.世袭财产,继承物 | |
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32 distresses | |
n.悲痛( distress的名词复数 );痛苦;贫困;危险 | |
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33 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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34 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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35 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 | |
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36 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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37 aperture | |
n.孔,隙,窄的缺口 | |
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38 vigor | |
n.活力,精力,元气 | |
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39 meandered | |
(指溪流、河流等)蜿蜒而流( meander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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41 coeval | |
adj.同时代的;n.同时代的人或事物 | |
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42 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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43 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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44 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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45 plantations | |
n.种植园,大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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46 progeny | |
n.后代,子孙;结果 | |
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47 sloth | |
n.[动]树懒;懒惰,懒散 | |
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48 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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49 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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50 wane | |
n.衰微,亏缺,变弱;v.变小,亏缺,呈下弦 | |
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51 tribulation | |
n.苦难,灾难 | |
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52 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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53 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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54 jocund | |
adj.快乐的,高兴的 | |
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55 owls | |
n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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56 mouldering | |
v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 );腐烂,崩塌 | |
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57 dilates | |
v.(使某物)扩大,膨胀,张大( dilate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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58 arrogant | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的 | |
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59 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
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60 perpetuated | |
vt.使永存(perpetuate的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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61 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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62 affluence | |
n.充裕,富足 | |
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63 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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64 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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65 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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66 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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67 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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68 meek | |
adj.温顺的,逆来顺受的 | |
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69 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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71 dependence | |
n.依靠,依赖;信任,信赖;隶属 | |
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72 steadfastly | |
adv.踏实地,不变地;岿然;坚定不渝 | |
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73 implements | |
n.工具( implement的名词复数 );家具;手段;[法律]履行(契约等)v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 );执行;贯彻;使生效 | |
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74 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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75 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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76 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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77 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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78 domain | |
n.(活动等)领域,范围;领地,势力范围 | |
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79 vacancy | |
n.(旅馆的)空位,空房,(职务的)空缺 | |
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80 humbled | |
adj. 卑下的,谦逊的,粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下,贬低 | |
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81 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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82 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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83 converse | |
vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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84 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
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85 languor | |
n.无精力,倦怠 | |
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86 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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87 basked | |
v.晒太阳,取暖( bask的过去式和过去分词 );对…感到乐趣;因他人的功绩而出名;仰仗…的余泽 | |
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88 darted | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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89 casements | |
n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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90 lulled | |
vt.使镇静,使安静(lull的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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91 pensive | |
a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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92 tranquillity | |
n. 平静, 安静 | |
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93 vows | |
誓言( vow的名词复数 ); 郑重宣布,许愿 | |
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94 plighted | |
vt.保证,约定(plight的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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95 asylum | |
n.避难所,庇护所,避难 | |
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96 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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97 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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98 subdue | |
vt.制服,使顺从,征服;抑制,克制 | |
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99 murmurs | |
n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 );低语声;怨言;嘀咕 | |
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100 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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101 predilection | |
n.偏好 | |
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102 sumptuous | |
adj.豪华的,奢侈的,华丽的 | |
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103 ornamented | |
adj.花式字体的v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104 throbbed | |
抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 ); (心脏、脉搏等)跳动 | |
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105 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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106 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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107 haughtiness | |
n.傲慢;傲气 | |
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108 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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109 lumber | |
n.木材,木料;v.以破旧东西堆满;伐木;笨重移动 | |
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110 entreated | |
恳求,乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111 anecdotes | |
n.掌故,趣闻,轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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112 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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113 amends | |
n. 赔偿 | |
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114 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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115 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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116 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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117 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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118 thorny | |
adj.多刺的,棘手的 | |
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119 tutelary | |
adj.保护的;守护的 | |
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120 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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