But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder
Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The works of that which once hath been."
Coleridge.
"
O
h, Warren, what is fame compared to what I have found to-day?" she said, sweetly. "What is fame, and wealth, and all worldly honors, compared to a brother's love? But one thing more is needed now to make me perfectly3 happy."
"I know what you mean, Georgia—your husband. Is it possible you care for him still, after all he has made you suffer?"
She looked up in his face, and he was answered.
"Then, for your sake, I am sorry he has gone," he said slowly.
"Gone?" she repeated, with a paling cheek. "Gone where?"
"To France, on some important mission from government that no one can fulfill4 so well as himself, and—I have not the faintest idea of when he will return."
"Now that I have told you all that has befallen me," said Georgia, some half an hour later that same afternoon, as brother and sister sat side by side at the window, "I[Pg 341] want to hear your adventures and 'hair-breadth 'scapes by flood and field' since that sad night long ago, when we parted last."
"I fear you are doomed5 to be disappointed, then, if you expect any such things from me," said her brother, smiling. "My life has been one of most inglorious safety so far, and I never had a hair-breadth escape of any kind, since I was born."
"How strange it is that I could ever believe you dead," said Georgia, musingly7. "Miss Jerusha, too, to use her own words, constantly averred8 that you had 'got taken in somewheres,' and never would hear for a moment that you had perished in the storm."
"Well, Miss Jerusha was right," said Warren, "though really I need not thank her for it, as I am quite certain, from your description, she is the old lady that turned me out that same night. However, I forgive her for that, and owe her a long debt of gratitude9 besides, for all she has done for you. You remember, of course, Georgia, the company we used to act with?"
"Yes, perfectly. Don't I remember my own performances on the tight-rope and on horseback as the 'Flying Circassian?" she said, smiling.
"Well, when the old lady turned me off that night, I never felt more like despairing in all my life. I was wretchedly clad—if you don't remember it, I do—and it was bitterly cold. Still, I would not go back without help of some kind, so I staggered on and on through the blinding storm, until at last, benumbed and helpless, I sank down on the frozen ground, as I thought, never to rise again."
"Poor little fellow!" said Georgia, sadly, in whose[Pg 342] mind the image of the slight, delicate boy he was then rose uppermost.
"I suppose I had fallen into that sort of stupor12 which precedes freezing to death, and was unconscious; but when next I awoke to the realities of this exceedingly real world, I was in bed in a meanly furnished room, and the first face I beheld13 was that of Betsey Stubbs, Georgia—the one who used to figure on the bills as Eugenia De Lacy?"
"And always played the artless little girl, although she was thirty years old," said Georgia, laughing. "Oh, I remember her."
"Well, there she was, and there I was with her, and with the company again. It turned out that two of the men were passing along the road, returning to the village—what do you call it?—Burnfield, and stumbled over me, lying stiff and nearly frozen on the road. They knew me immediately, and carried me off to where the rest of them were; and it was resolved that they should decamp with me, for that old tyrant14 of a manager thought it too much of a good thing to lose three at once. So, in spite of my tears, and cries, and struggles and entreaties15, I was forcibly carried off a little after midnight, when the storm cleared away, and brought back to the city.
"Well, Georgia, for nearly another year I remained at our old business, and with the old set, too closely watched to think of escaping, and to escape from them was now the sole aim of my life. The opportunity so long sought for came at last. One night a chance presented itself, and I was off; and fickle16 fortune, as if tired of making me a mark to poke17 fun at, came to my aid, and I made good[Pg 343] my escape from my jealous guardians18. For hours I wandered about through the city, until at last, worn out and exhausted19, I curled myself up on the marble door-steps of an aristocratic mansion20, and fell fast asleep.
"A hand grasping my shoulder and shaking me roughly awoke me after a time, and as I started up, I heard a gruff voice saying:
"I rubbed my eyes and looked up. An old gentleman, who had just alighted from a carriage, stood over me, with no very amiable22 expression of countenance23, shaking me as if he would shake a reply out of me by main force.
"I stammered24 out something—I don't know what—and terrified lest he should give me into the hands of a policeman, I tried to break away from him and fly; but the old gentleman held on like grim death, and seemed not to have the slightest intention of parting with me so easily.
"'You're a pickpocket25, ain't you?' said he, sharply.
"'No, sir,' said I, half-angrily, and looking him full in the face, 'I am not.'
"'I was tired, sir,' said I, 'and I sat down here to rest, and so fell asleep.'
"The old gentleman kept his sharp eyes fixed27 on me as if he would read me through, with a strange look of half-recognition on his face.
"'Please to let me go, sir,' said I, again struggling to get free.
"'Warren Randall Darrell,' replied I.[Pg 344]
"As if he had been struck, the old man loosened his hold and recoiled29; and I, seizing the opportunity, darted30 off, but only to find myself in the grasp of a servant who stood holding the horses.
"'Not so fast, my little shaver,' said he, grinning; 'just you wait till Mr. Randall's done with you.'
"'Mr. Randall!' repeated I, and instantly a sort of conviction flashed across my mind that he might be my grandfather.
"At the same instant the old man approached me, and catching31 me by the arm, gazed long and steadily32 into my face, plainly revealed by the light of a street-lamp. I looked up in his agitated33 face quite as unflinchingly, and so we stood for nearly five minutes, to the great bewilderment of the coachman, who stared first at one and then the other, as if he thought we had both lost our senses.
"'Alice Randall,' said I, my suspicion becoming certainty; 'and you are my grandfather.'
"'What!' he exclaimed, with a start. 'Do you know me? Who told you I was?'
"'No one,' said I; 'but I think so. My grandfather's name is Warren Randall, and that is the name on your door-plate there. I was called after him.'
"'You are right,' said he, in an agitated voice. 'I am your grandfather. My poor Alice! You have her eyes, boy—the same eyes that once made the light of my home. Where—tell me where is she now?'
"'I don't know,' said I, half-sobbing. 'She's dead, I'm afraid—she and Georgia.'
"'Who is Georgia?'[Pg 345]
"'My sister.'
"'And your father?' he said, with a darkening brow.
"'Is dead, too; has been dead this long, long time.'
"'And so you are an orphan35, and poor and friendless,' he said, speaking as much to himself as to me. 'Poor boy! poor little fellow! Warren, will you come and live with me—with your grandfather?'
"I thought for a moment, and then shook my head.
"'No,' said I, 'I can't. I must find my mother and Georgia.'
"'Where are they?' he said, eagerly. 'I thought you told me they were dead.'
"'I said I didn't know, and I don't. They may be dead, for it is over a year since I saw them last. I was carried away from them by force, and now I am going to seek for them.'
"'You!' said he. 'How can a little friendless boy like you find them? No, no, Warren, stay with me, and let me search for your mother. I may succeed, but you will starve ere you find them, or be put in prison. Warren you will stay?'"
"And you did?" said Georgia.
"And I did. I answered that what he said was true, and that he was far more likely to succeed than I was. That night I slept in a princely home, with servants to come at my call—with every luxury to charm every sense around me. Was not that a sudden change, Georgia, from the miserable36 quarters of the players?"
"It might have, if I had stayed long enough there," said Warren, smiling, "for I, with all my perfections—and if[Pg 346] you want a list of them just ask Miss Felice Leonard—am not infallible. I gave him my history, and he dispatched a trusty messenger to Burnfield, and upon his return he told me that both my mother and sister were dead. I believed him then, but I have since thought that, finding you provided for, he wished to keep me all to himself, and make me his sole heir.
"I had so long thought, Georgia, that you and my mother were dead that the revelations did not take me by surprise, and though I grieved for awhile, the novelty of everything around me kept my mind from dwelling38 much on my bereavement39. My grandfather told me he intended to send me to school, and, when he died, make me his sole heir, on condition that I would drop the detested40 name of Darrell and take his. Not being very particular about the matter, I readily consented, and two months afterward41 I was sent to old Yale, where he himself had been educated, there to be trained in the way I should go.
"Well, Georgia, I remained there four years, and won golden opinions from the big wigs42 of the institution, and delighted the heart of my kind old grandfather by my progress in the arts and sciences. A letter announcing his sudden death recalled me at last. I hurried back to New York in time to follow him to the grave, and, when the will was read, I found myself sole heir to his almost princely wealth.
"Then I went to Europe and Asia, and saw all the sights, from the pyramids of Egypt down, and wrote a book about my travels, as every one does now who goes three yards from his own vine and fig-tree. Then I came home, and lo! before I have been here three months, I find[Pg 347] that my sister, who was dead, comes to life again, and so—finis!"
"You should add, 'And they lived happy for ever after,'" said Georgia, smiling, "only, perhaps, it would not be strictly43 correct. And now that you have found your sister, what do you mean to do with her?"
"Make her mistress of the palatial44 mansion of the Randalls," said Warren, promptly45, "and settle one-half my fortune on her. That, Madam Wildair, is my unchangeable intention."
"Oh, Warren, dearest. I will never hear of such a thing!" said Georgia, vehemently46.
"Well, if you will excuse me for saying so, I don't care in the least whether you will or not—I shall do it. Not a word now, Mistress Georgia; you will find that you will have to obey your brother, since you have found him, and do for the future exactly as he tells you. Besides, Georgia, Warren Randall's sister shall never go back penniless to her husband," he said, proudly; "he shall find her his equal in wealth, as in everything else."
"Oh, Warren!" she said, with filling eyes.
"Not a word about it now," he said, putting his fingers over her lips; "to-morrow the world shall know you as you really are."
"Warren, listen to me," she said, taking his hand. "Until I meet Richmond again, I intend to keep my incognito47. Perhaps you may call it an odd fancy, but I really wish it. No one yet knows my secret but Mr. Curtis, Mr. Leonard, and Richmond's brother, and if I wish it they will keep it a secret. Let me still be Miss Randall until he comes."
"But when will he come?" broke in Warren, half im[Pg 348]patiently; "who knows? It may be years or—Georgia," he added, suddenly, "suppose we go to him, eh? When the mountain will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the mountain—rather that style of thing, isn't it? What do you say to a trip to France, ma belle48?"
"Oh, Warren!" she cried, catching her breath, her whole face growing radiant with delight.
"I am answered," he said, gayly; "this day week we start."
"For where, may I ask?" said Mr. Curtis, lounging in. "Your chateau49 in Spain? or on a wild-goose chase?"
"Something very like it," said Warren, laughing. "We are off to France, in search of one Richmond Wildair, plenipotentiary and ambassador extraordinary to the court of that distant and facetious50 region."
"Whew!" whistled Mr. Curtis, "I see, says the blind man. What a thing conjugal51 affection is, to be sure! When do you go?"
"This day week, in the Golden Arrow. And for some inscrutable feminine reason Georgia wishes you to preserve her secret inviolable until she returns. She is still Miss Randall; you understand? You and Mr. Leonard are not to mention she is Richmond Wildair's runaway52 wife."
"I'm dumb," said Mr. Curtis, shutting his lips as firmly as though they were never to be opened on earth again. "Neither tortures, nor anguish53, nor bad pale ale shall tear from this lacerated heart the fearful secret. Are you going to see after that prize of yours to-morrow, Mrs. Wild—gee Whittaker! I mean Miss Randall," said he, dropping his tone of stage agony, and speaking in his natural voice.
"Most decidedly," said Georgia, smiling.[Pg 349]
"And then you are going to throw yourself away on our painfully clever friend Wildair again, and leave all your friends here in Gotham to pine away, with tears in their eyes and their fingers in their mouths," said Mr. Curtis, in a lugubrious54 tone; "it's something I never expected of you, Mrs. Wil—pooh! I mean Miss Randall, and I must say I, for one, never deserved it."
"Mr. Curtis, you—you were in Burnfield since I was," said Georgia, hesitatingly, and coloring deeply; "how was Miss Jerusha and Emily Murray?"
"Well they were both in a state of mind—rather," said Mr. Curtis. "Miss Jerusha flamed up, and blew us all, sky high, in fact raised the ancient Harry55, in a way quite appalling56 to a person of tender nerves—myself, for instance—and gave Richmond what may be called, without exaggeration, particular fits! As for little Emily," said Mr. Curtis, turning red suddenly, "she—she didn't scold anybody, but she cried and took on so that I felt—I felt a sort of all-over as it were—a very peculiar57 feeling, to use a mild phrase, if you observe."
"Dear little Emily," said Georgia, sighing.
"That's just what I said," said Mr. Curtis, eagerly "but she didn't pay any attention to it. I suppose you know I—I went—I mean I asked—that is I offered—pshaw! what d'ye call it—proposed," said Mr. Curtis, blushing, and squirming uneasily in his chair.
"No, I did not know it," said Georgia, with difficulty repressing a smile.
"But I did though, and she refused me—she did, by Jove!" said Mr. Curtis, dolorously58.
"What bad taste the girl must have," said Mr. Randall.[Pg 350]
"You're another," said Mr. Curtis, fiercely; "she's no such thing! How dare you insinuate59 such a thing, Mr. Randall? There never yet was born a man good enough for her; and if you dare to doubt it, I'll be hanged if I don't knock you into the middle of next week—now then!"
Mr. Curtis was as fierce as a Bengal tiger. Mr. Randall threw himself into a chair, and laughed immoderately.
"My dear fellow, I cry you mercy, and most humbly60 beg Miss Emily Murray's pardon. I look forward some day to being acquainted with her myself, and if I find her all that you say, I shall consider the advisability of making her Mrs. Warren Randall."
"You be—shot!" growled61 Mr. Curtis, striding savagely62 up and down. "She's not to be had for the asking, I can tell you; and after refusing me, it's not likely she'd have anything to do with you. Mrs. Wildair—oh, darn it!—Miss Randall, I mean, when you see your husband, tell him his mother is very ill, and if he does not hasten home soon he will not see her alive. A precious small loss that would be though," said Mr. Curtis, in parenthesis—"a stiff, sneering63, high-and-mighty64 old virago65! Don't see, for my part, what Rich meant by ever having such a mother!"
One week later, Warren Randall and his sister were on board the Golden Arrow, en route for Merrie England. Fair breezes soon wafted66 them to the white cliffs of that "right little, tight little" island, and Georgia for the first time set foot on a foreign shore.
But now, in her impatience67 to rejoin and be reconciled to her husband, she would consent to make no stay; so they immediately crossed the channel into France, and posted at once for Paris. And there the first news they[Pg 351] heard from the American consul68 was that Mr. Wildair had left a fortnight before for St. Petersburg.
It was a disappointment to both, a bitter one to Georgia, and Warren felt it for her sake. To follow him was the first impulse of both, and they immediately started for the Russian capital.
But fortune still inclined to be capricious, and to doom6 Georgia's new-found patience to another trial. Mr. Wildair's political mission required dispatch, and a few days before their arrival he had gone. From the minister they learned that his first destination was a return to Paris, from thence to Baden Baden, and it was more than probable he would visit London and then return home.
"Well, Georgia," said Warren, "you see fate is against you, and has doomed you to disappointment. Nothing remains69 now but to make the best of a bad bargain and start on a regular sight-seeing tour, and 'do' Europe, as Curtis would call it. And, after all, perhaps it is for the best you did not meet him. He is now rapidly rising to political distinction, and his meeting with you might distract his thoughts, and would certainly keep him from entering heart and soul into the political arena70 as he does now. Besides, having lost you for so long, he will know how to value you all the more when you do return. Come, Georgia, what difference, after all, will a year or two make in a life? Don't think of returning now, but let us continue our tour."
"I am at your disposal, my dear Warren," said Georgia, with a smile and a sigh. "As you say, after all, a year more or less will not make a great deal of difference, and I am particularly anxious to continue our tour. Therefore, mon frere, do with me as you will."[Pg 352]
With an account of that tour, dearest reader, I will not weary your patience—already, I fear, too much taxed. All "grand tours" are alike—the same sights are seen, the same incidents occur, the same scenery and pictures are looked at and gone into raptures71 over, and the same people are met everywhere. The summer was spent traveling slowly through France and Germany, and the winter was passed in Italy. Early in the spring they visited Switzerland; and, almost imperceptibly, two years passed away.
And where, meanwhile, was he whose willful blindness and haughty72 pride had brought on his own desolation? Where was he, widowed in fate though not in fact?—where was Richmond Wildair?
Home again, drowning thought and his intolerable remorse73 in the giddy whirl of political life. He had returned in time to close his mother's eyes, and hear her last words—a wild appeal for Georgia, the wronged Georgia, to forgive her. And then, with all the power of his mighty intellect, he had given himself up to the life he had chosen, that life for which Heaven and nature had so well qualified74 him—a great legislator—and that life became to him wife, and home, and all. Already he had taken his seat in the Senate, and, though perhaps the youngest there, stood foremost among them all, crowned with his lofty genius as with a diadem75. The knowing ones whispered that at the next election he was certain of becoming Governor of his native State, and certainly, as far as popularity went, there could be little doubt of it. Never was there a young statesman, perhaps, who in so short a time had risen so rapidly to distinction, and won such "golden opinions" from all sorts of people.
Of almost all concerning his wife he was profoundly[Pg 353] ignorant. One thing he knew, and that was that she, and no other, had painted the wonderful picture about which the artistic76 world was still raving77. Hagar, in her mighty grief and dark despair, the wild, woeful, anguished78 form writhing79 yet majestic80 in her great wrongs, was Georgia as he had seen her last. And, as if to make conviction doubly sure, the picture bore her initials. One consolation81 it brought to him, and that was that she still lived. Every effort in human power he had made to discover her, but all he could succeed in learning was that a tall, dark, majestic-looking lady, bearing the name of Miss Randall, had received the prize; but nothing more was known of her. Then he sought for her brother, and heard he had gone to Europe, but whether alone or not he could not discover. A score of times within the day would Dick Curtis be on the point of telling him all, until the recollection of his promise would stop him, and he would inwardly fume82 at not having made a mental reservation at the time. Still, these tortures of doubt, and uncertainty83, and hope, and despair served Richmond just exactly right, he argued, and would teach him, if he ever did find Georgia, to treat her better for the future.
And so, while Georgia was roaming over the world, Richmond was rising to still higher fame and eminence84 in his native land; and neither dreamed how each had searched, and sought, and sorrowed in vain for the other.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
asunder
|
|
| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
fulfill
|
|
| vt.履行，实现，完成；满足，使满意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
musingly
|
|
| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
8
averred
|
|
| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
epithet
|
|
| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
stupor
|
|
| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
tyrant
|
|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
entreaties
|
|
| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
fickle
|
|
| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
poke
|
|
| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
guardians
|
|
| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
vagrant
|
|
| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
pickpocket
|
|
| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
juvenile
|
|
| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
heeding
|
|
| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
recoiled
|
|
| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
affluence
|
|
| n.充裕，富足 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
bereavement
|
|
| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
detested
|
|
| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
wigs
|
|
| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
palatial
|
|
| adj.宫殿般的，宏伟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
vehemently
|
|
| adv. 热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
incognito
|
|
| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
belle
|
|
| n.靓女 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
chateau
|
|
| n.城堡，别墅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
facetious
|
|
| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
conjugal
|
|
| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
runaway
|
|
| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
lugubrious
|
|
| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
harry
|
|
| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
dolorously
|
|
| adj. 悲伤的；痛苦的；悲哀的；阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
insinuate
|
|
| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
savagely
|
|
| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
sneering
|
|
| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
virago
|
|
| n.悍妇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
wafted
|
|
| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
consul
|
|
| n.领事；执政官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
arena
|
|
| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
raptures
|
|
| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
qualified
|
|
| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
diadem
|
|
| n.王冠，冕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
raving
|
|
| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
anguished
|
|
| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
writhing
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
fume
|
|
| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
uncertainty
|
|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |