Briefly4, then, the facts had been as follows. Horace Acres appeared to have been a heartless fortune-hunter—a handsome, plausible6 wretch7, ten years younger than his wife. He had made no secret to his friends of not being in love with her but of having a considerable regard for her more than considerable fortune. But hardly had he married her than his indifference8 developed into violent dislike, accompanied by some mysterious, inexplicable9 dread10 of her. He hated and feared her, and on the morning of the very day when he had put an end to himself he had begged her to divorce him; the case he promised would be undefended, and he would make it indefensible. She, poor soul, had refused to grant this; for, as corroborated11 by the evidence of[38] friends and servants, she was utterly12 devoted13 to him, and stated with that quiet dignity which distinguished14 her throughout this ordeal15, that she hoped that he was the victim of some miserable16 but temporary derangement17, and would come to his right mind again. He had dined that night at his club, leaving his month-old bride to pass the evening alone, and had returned between eleven and twelve that night in a state of vile18 intoxication19. He had gone up to her bedroom, pistol in hand, had locked the door, and his voice was heard screaming and yelling at her. Then followed the sound of one shot. On the table in his dressing-room was found a half-sheet of paper, dated that day, and this was read out in court. “The horror of my position,” he had written, “is beyond description and endurance. I can bear it no longer: my soul sickens....” The jury, without leaving the court, returned the verdict that he had committed suicide while temporarily insane, and the coroner, at their request, expressed their sympathy and his own with the poor lady, who, as testified on all hands, had treated her husband with the utmost tenderness and affection.
For six months Bertha Acres had travelled abroad, and then in the autumn she had bought Gate-house at Tarleton, and settled down to the absorbing trifles which make life in a small country town so busy and strenuous20.
Our modest little dwelling21 is within a stone’s throw of the Gate-house; and when, on the return of my wife and myself from two months in Scotland,[39] we found that Mrs. Acres was installed as a neighbour, Madge lost no time in going to call on her. She returned with a series of pleasant impressions. Mrs. Acres, still on the sunny slope that leads up to the table-land of life which begins at forty years, was extremely handsome, cordial, and charming in manner, witty22 and agreeable, and wonderfully well dressed. Before the conclusion of her call Madge, in country fashion, had begged her to dispose with formalities, and, instead of a frigid23 return of the call, to dine with us quietly next day. Did she play bridge? That being so, we would just be a party of four; for her brother, Charles Alington, had proposed himself for a visit....
I listened to this with sufficient attention to grasp what Madge was saying, but what I was really thinking about was a chess-problem which I was attempting to solve. But at this point I became acutely aware that her stream of pleasant impressions dried up suddenly, and she became stonily25 silent. She shut speech off as by the turn of a tap, and glowered26 at the fire, rubbing the back of one hand with the fingers of another, as is her habit in perplexity.
“Go on,” I said.
She got up, suddenly restless.
“All I have been telling you is literally27 and soberly true,” she said. “I thought Mrs. Acres charming and witty and good-looking and friendly. What more could you ask from a new acquaintance? And then, after I had asked her to dinner, I suddenly found for no earthly reason that I very much disliked her; I couldn’t bear her.”
“You said she was wonderfully well dressed,”[40] I permitted myself to remark.... If the Queen took the Knight——
“Don’t be silly!” said Madge. “I am wonderfully well dressed too. But behind all her agreeableness and charm and good looks I suddenly felt there was something else which I detested29 and dreaded30. It’s no use asking me what it was, because I haven’t the slightest idea. If I knew what it was, the thing would explain itself. But I felt a horror—nothing vivid, nothing close, you understand, but somewhere in the background. Can the mind have a ‘turn,’ do you think, just as the body can, when for a second or two you suddenly feel giddy? I think it must have been that—oh! I’m sure it was that. But I’m glad I asked her to dine. I mean to like her. I shan’t have a ‘turn’ again, shall I?”
Fungus, so called because he is the son of Humour and Gustavus Adolphus, rose from his place on the hearthrug, and with a horse laugh nuzzled against my leg, which is his way of biting those he loves. Then the most amiable32 of bull-dogs, who has a passion for the human race, lay down on my foot and sighed heavily. But Madge evidently wanted to talk, and I pushed the chessboard away.
“Tell me more about the horror,” I said.
“It was just horror,” she said—“a sort of sickness of the soul.”...
I found my brain puzzling over some vague reminiscence, surely connected with Mrs. Acres,[41] which those words mistily33 evoked34. But next moment that train of thought was cut short, for the old and sinister35 legend about the Gate-house came into my mind as accounting36 for the horror of which Madge spoke37. In the days of Elizabethan religious persecutions it had, then newly built, been inhabited by two brothers, of whom the elder, to whom it belonged, had Mass said there every Sunday. Betrayed by the younger, he was arrested and racked to death. Subsequently the younger, in a fit of remorse38, hanged himself in the panelled parlour. Certainly there was a story that the house was haunted by his strangled apparition39 dangling40 from the beams, and the late tenants41 of the house (which now had stood vacant for over three years) had quitted it after a month’s occupation, in consequence, so it was commonly said, of unaccountable and horrible sights. What was more likely, then, than that Madge, who from childhood has been intensely sensitive to occult and psychic42 phenomena43, should have caught, on that strange wireless44 receiver which is characteristic of “sensitives,” some whispered message?
“But you know the story of the house,” I said. “Isn’t it quite possible that something of that may have reached you? Where did you sit, for instance? In the panelled parlour?”
She brightened at that.
“Ah, you wise man!” she said. “I never thought of that. That may account for it all. I hope it does. You shall be left in peace with your chess for being so brilliant.”
I had occasion half an hour later to go to the[42] post-office, a hundred yards up the High Street, on the matter of a registered letter which I wanted to despatch45 that evening. Dusk was gathering46, but the red glow of sunset still smouldered in the west, sufficient to enable me to recognise familiar forms and features of passers-by. Just as I came opposite the post-office there approached from the other direction a tall, finely built woman, whom, I felt sure, I had never seen before. Her destination was the same as mine, and I hung on my step a moment to let her pass in first. Simultaneously47 I felt that I knew, in some vague, faint manner, what Madge had meant when she talked about a “sickness of the soul.” It was no nearer realisation to me than is the running of a tune5 in the head to the audible external hearing of it, and I attributed my sudden recognition of her feeling to the fact that in all probability my mind had subconsciously48 been dwelling on what she had said, and not for a moment did I connect it with any external cause. And then it occurred to me who, possibly, this woman was....
She finished the transaction of her errand a few seconds before me, and when I got out into the street again she was a dozen yards down the pavement, walking in the direction of my house and of the Gate-house. Opposite my own door I deliberately49 lingered, and saw her pass down the steps that led from the road to the entrance of the Gate-house. Even as I turned into my own door the unbidden reminiscence which had eluded50 me before came out into the open, and I cast my net over it. It was her husband, who, in the inexplicable communication he had left on his dressing-room table, just before[43] he shot himself, had written “my soul sickens.” It was odd, though scarcely more than that, for Madge to have used those identical words.
Charles Alington, my wife’s brother, who arrived next afternoon, is quite the happiest man whom I have ever come across. The material world, that perennial51 spring of thwarted52 ambition, physical desire, and perpetual disappointment, is practically unknown to him. Envy, malice53, and all uncharitableness are equally alien, because he does not want to obtain what anybody else has got, and has no sense of possession, which is queer, since he is enormously rich. He fears nothing, he hopes for nothing, he has no abhorrences or affections, for all physical and nervous functions are in him in the service of an intense inquisitiveness54. He never passed a moral judgment55 in his life, he only wants to explore and to know. Knowledge, in fact, is his entire preoccupation, and since chemists and medical scientists probe and mine in the world of tinctures and microbes far more efficiently56 than he could do, as he has so little care for anything that can be weighed or propagated, he devotes himself, absorbedly and ecstatically, to that world that lies about the confines of conscious existence. Anything not yet certainly determined57 appeals to him with the call of a trumpet58: he ceases to take an interest in a subject as soon as it shows signs of assuming a practical and definite status. He was intensely concerned, for instance, in wireless transmission, until Signor Marconi proved that it came within the scope of practical science, and then Charles abandoned it as dull. I had seen him last[44] two months before, when he was in a great perturbation, since he was speaking at a meeting of Anglo-Israelites in the morning, to show that the Scone59 Stone, which is now in the Coronation Chair at Westminster, was for certain the pillow on which Jacob’s head had rested when he saw the vision at Bethel; was addressing the Psychical60 Research Society in the afternoon on the subject of messages received from the dead through automatic script, and in the evening was, by way of a holiday, only listening to a lecture on reincarnation. None of these things could, as yet, be definitely proved, and that was why he loved them. During the intervals61 when the occult and the fantastic do not occupy him, he is, in spite of his fifty years and wizened62 mien63, exactly like a schoolboy of eighteen back on his holidays and brimming with superfluous64 energy.
I found Charles already arrived when I got home next afternoon, after a round of golf. He was betwixt and between the serious and the holiday mood, for he had evidently been reading to Madge from a journal concerning reincarnation, and was rather severe to me....
“Golf!” he said, with insulting scorn. “What is there to know about golf? You hit a ball into the air——”
I was a little sore over the events of the afternoon.
“That’s just what I don’t do,” I said. “I hit it along the ground!”
“Well, it doesn’t matter where you hit it,” said he. “It’s all subject to known laws. But the guess, the conjecture65: there’s the thrill and the excitement of life. The charlatan66 with his new cure for cancer, the[45] automatic writer with his messages from the dead, the reincarnationist with his positive assertions that he was Napoleon or a Christian67 slave—they are the people who advance knowledge. You have to guess before you know. Even Darwin saw that when he said you could not investigate without a hypothesis!”
“So what’s your hypothesis this minute?” I asked.
“Why, that we’ve all lived before, and that we’re going to live again here on this same old earth. Any other conception of a future life is impossible. Are all the people who have been born and have died since the world emerged from chaos68 going to become inhabitants of some future world? What a squash, you know, my dear Madge! Now, I know what you’re going to ask me. If we’ve all lived before, why can’t we remember it? But that’s so simple! If you remembered being Cleopatra, you would go on behaving like Cleopatra; and what would Tarleton say? Judas Iscariot, too! Fancy knowing you had been Judas Iscariot! You couldn’t get over it! you would commit suicide, or cause everybody who was connected with you to commit suicide from their horror of you. Or imagine being a grocer’s boy who knew he had been Julius C?sar.... Of course, sex doesn’t matter: souls, as far as I understand, are sexless—just sparks of life, which are put into physical envelopes, some male, some female. You might have been King David, Madge and poor Tony here one of his wives.”
“That would be wonderfully neat,” said I.
Charles broke out into a shout of laughter.
“It would indeed,” he said. “But I won’t talk sense any more to you scoffers. I’m absolutely tired[46] out, I will confess, with thinking. I want to have a pretty lady to come to dinner, and talk to her as if she was just herself and I myself, and nobody else. I want to win two-and-sixpence at bridge with the expenditure69 of enormous thought. I want to have a large breakfast to-morrow and read The Times afterwards, and go to Tony’s club and talk about crops and golf and Irish affairs and Peace Conferences, and all the things that don’t matter one straw!”
“You’re going to begin your programme to-night, dear,” said Madge. “A very pretty lady is coming to dinner, and we’re going to play bridge afterwards.”
Madge and I were ready for Mrs. Acres when she arrived, but Charles was not yet down. Fungus, who has a wild adoration70 for Charles, quite unaccountable, since Charles has no feelings for dogs, was helping71 him to dress, and Madge, Mrs. Acres, and I waited for his appearance. It was certainly Mrs. Acres whom I had met last night at the door of the post-office, but the dim light of sunset had not enabled me to see how wonderfully handsome she was. There was something slightly Jewish about her profile: the high forehead, the very full-lipped mouth, the bridged nose, the prominent chin, all suggested rather than exemplified an Eastern origin. And when she spoke she had that rich softness of utterance72, not quite hoarseness73, but not quite of the clear-cut distinctness of tone which characterises northern nations. Something southern, something Eastern....
“I am bound to ask one thing,” she said, when, after the usual greetings, we stood round the fireplace, waiting for Charles—“but have you got a dog?”
Madge moved towards the bell.
[47]“Yes, but he shan’t come down if you dislike dogs,” she said. “He’s wonderfully kind, but I know——”
“Ah, it’s not that,” said Mrs. Acres. “I adore dogs. But I only wished to spare your dog’s feelings. Though I adore them, they hate me, and they’re terribly frightened of me. There’s something anti-canine about me.”
It was too late to say more. Charles’s steps clattered75 in the little hall outside, and Fungus was hoarse74 and amused. Next moment the door opened, and the two came in.
Fungus came in first. He lolloped in a festive76 manner into the middle of the room, sniffed77 and snored in greeting, and then turned tail. He slipped and skidded78 on the parquet79 outside, and we heard him bundling down the kitchen stairs.
“Rude dog,” said Madge. “Charles, let me introduce you to Mrs. Acres. My brother, Mrs. Acres: Sir Charles Alington.”
Our little dinner-table of four would not permit of separate conversations, and general topics, springing up like mushrooms, wilted80 and died at their very inception81. What mood possessed82 the others I did not at that time know, but for myself I was only conscious of some fundamental distaste of the handsome, clever woman who sat on my right, and seemed quite unaffected by the withering83 atmosphere. She was charming to the eye, she was witty to the ear, she had grace and gracefulness84, and all the time she was something terrible. But by degrees, as I found my own distaste increasing, I saw that my brother-in-law’s interest was growing correspondingly keen.[48] The “pretty lady” whose presence at dinner he had desired and obtained was enchaining him—not, so I began to guess, for her charm and her prettiness, but for some purpose of study, and I wondered whether it was her beautiful Jewish profile that was confirming to his mind some Anglo-Israelitish theory, whether he saw in her fine brown eyes the glance of the seer and the clairvoyante, or whether he divined in her some reincarnation of one of the famous or the infamous85 dead. Certainly she had for him some fascination86 beyond that of the legitimate87 charm of a very handsome woman; he was studying her with intense curiosity.
“And you are comfortable in the Gate-house?” he suddenly rapped out at her, as if asking some question of which the answer was crucial.
“Ah! but so comfortable,” she said—“such a delightful88 atmosphere. I have never known a house that ‘felt’ so peaceful and homelike. Or is it merely fanciful to imagine that some houses have a sense of tranquillity91 about them and others are uneasy and even terrible?”
Charles stared at her a moment in silence before he recollected92 his manners.
“No, there may easily be something in it, I should say,” he answered. “One can imagine long centuries of tranquillity actually investing a home with some sort of psychical aura perceptible to those who are sensitive.”
She turned to Madge.
“And yet I have heard a ridiculous story that the house is supposed to be haunted,” she said. “If it is, it is surely haunted by delightful, contented93 spirits.”
[49]Dinner was over. Madge rose.
“Come in very soon, Tony,” she said to me, “and let’s get to our bridge.”
But her eyes said, “Don’t leave me long alone with her.”
Charles turned briskly round when the door had shut.
“An extremely interesting woman,” he said.
“Very handsome,” said I.
“Is she? I didn’t notice. Her mind, her spirit—that’s what intrigued94 me. What is she? What’s behind? Why did Fungus turn tail like that? Queer, too, about her finding the atmosphere of the Gate-house so tranquil90. The late tenants, I remember, didn’t find that soothing95 touch about it!”
“How do you account for that?” I asked.
“There might be several explanations. You might say that the late tenants were fanciful, imaginative people, and that the present tenant is a sensible, matter-of-fact woman. Certainly she seemed to be.”
“Or——” I suggested.
He laughed.
“Well, you might say—mind, I don’t say so—but you might say that the—the spiritual tenants of the house find Mrs. Acres a congenial companion, and want to retain her. So they keep quiet, and don’t upset the cook’s nerves!”
Somehow this answer exasperated96 and jarred on me.
“What do you mean?” I said. “The spiritual tenant of the house, I suppose, is the man who betrayed his brother and hanged himself. Why should he find a charming woman like Mrs. Acres a congenial companion?”
[50]Charles got up briskly. Usually he is more than ready to discuss such topics, but to-night it seemed that he had no such inclination97.
“Didn’t Madge tell us not to be long?” he asked. “You know how I run on if I once get on that subject, Tony, so don’t give me the opportunity.”
“But why did you say that?” I persisted.
“Because I was talking nonsense. You know me well enough to be aware that I am an habitual98 criminal in that respect.”
It was indeed strange to find how completely both the first impression that Madge had formed of Mrs. Acres and the feeling that followed so quickly on its heels were endorsed99 by those who, during the next week or two, did a neighbour’s duty to the newcomer. All were loud in praise of her charm, her pleasant, kindly100 wit, her good looks, her beautiful clothes, but even while this Lob-gesang was in full chorus it would suddenly die away, and an uneasy silence descended101, which somehow was more eloquent103 than all the appreciative104 speech. Odd, unaccountable little incidents had occurred, which were whispered from mouth to mouth till they became common property. The same fear that Fungus had shown of her was exhibited by another dog. A parallel case occurred when she returned the call of our parson’s wife. Mrs. Dowlett had a cage of canaries in the window of her drawing-room. These birds had manifested symptoms of extreme terror when Mrs. Acres entered the room, beating themselves against the wires of their cage, and uttering the alarm-note.... She inspired some sort of inexplicable[51] fear, over which we, as trained and civilised human beings, had control, so that we behaved ourselves. But animals, without that check, gave way altogether to it, even as Fungus had done.
Mrs. Acres entertained; she gave charming little dinner-parties of eight, with a couple of tables at bridge to follow, but over these evenings there hung a blight105 and a blackness. No doubt the sinister story of the panelled parlour contributed to this.
This curious secret dread of her, of which as on that first evening at my house, she appeared to be completely unconscious differed very widely in degree. Most people, like myself, were conscious of it, but only very remotely so, and we found ourselves at the Gate-house behaving quite as usual, though with this unease in the background. But with a few, and most of all with Madge, it grew into a sort of obsession106. She made every effort to combat it; her will was entirely107 set against it, but her struggle seemed only to establish its power over her. The pathetic and pitiful part was that Mrs. Acres from the first had taken a tremendous liking108 to her, and used to drop in continually, calling first to Madge at the window, in that pleasant, serene109 voice of hers, to tell Fungus that the hated one was imminent110.
Then came a day when Madge and I were bidden to a party at the Gate-house on Christmas evening. This was to be the last of Mrs. Acres’s hospitalities for the present, since she was leaving immediately afterwards for a couple of months in Egypt. So, with this remission ahead, Madge almost gleefully accepted the bidding. But when the evening came she was seized with so violent an attack of sickness[52] and shivering that she was utterly unable to fulfil her engagement. Her doctor could find no physical trouble to account for this: it seemed that the anticipation111 of her evening alone caused it, and here was the culmination112 of her shrinking from our kindly and pleasant neighbour. She could only tell me that her sensations, as she began to dress for the party, were like those of that moment in sleep when somewhere in the drowsy113 brain nightmare is ripening114. Something independent of her will revolted at what lay before her....
Spring had begun to stretch herself in the lap of winter when next the curtain rose on this veiled drama of forces but dimly comprehended and shudderingly115 conjectured116; but then, indeed, nightmare ripened117 swiftly in broad noon. And this was the way of it.
Charles Alington had again come to stay with us five days before Easter, and expressed himself as humorously disappointed to find that the subject of his curiosity was still absent from the Gate-house. On the Saturday morning before Easter he appeared very late for breakfast, and Madge had already gone her ways. I rang for a fresh teapot, and while this was on its way he took up The Times.
“I only read the outside page of it,” he said. “The rest is too full of mere89 materialistic118 dullnesses—politics, sports, money-market——”
He stopped, and passed the paper over to me.
“There, where I’m pointing,” he said—“among the deaths. The first one.”
What I read was this:
[53]
“Acres, Bertha. Died at sea, Thursday night, 30th March, and by her own request buried at sea. (Received by wireless from P. & O. steamer Peshawar.)”
He held out his hand for the paper again, and turned over the leaves.
“Lloyd’s,” he said. “The Peshawar arrived at Tilbury yesterday afternoon. The burial must have taken place somewhere in the English Channel.”
On the afternoon of Easter Sunday Madge and I motored out to the golf links three miles away. She proposed to walk along the beach just outside the dunes119 while I had my round, and return to the club-house for tea in two hours’ time. The day was one of most lucid120 spring: a warm south-west wind bowled white clouds along the sky, and their shadows jovially121 scudded122 over the sandhills. We had told her of Mrs. Acres’s death, and from that moment something dark and vague which had been lying over her mind since the autumn seemed to join this fleet of the shadows of clouds and leave her in sunlight. We parted at the door of the club-house, and she set out on her walk.
Half an hour later, as my opponent and I were waiting on the fifth tee, where the road crosses the links, for the couple in front of us to move on, a servant from the club-house, scudding123 along the road, caught sight of us, and, jumping from his bicycle, came to where we stood.
“You’re wanted at the club-house, sir,” he said to me. “Mrs. Carford was walking along the shore,[54] and she found something left by the tide. A body, sir. ’Twas in a sack, but the sack was torn, and she saw—— It’s upset her very much, sir. We thought it best to come for you.”
I took the boy’s bicycle and went back to the club-house as fast as I could turn the wheel. I felt sure I knew what Madge had found, and, knowing that, realised the shock.... Five minutes later she was telling me her story in gasps124 and whispers.
“The tide was going down,” she said, “and I walked along the high-water mark.... There were pretty shells; I was picking them up.... And then I saw it in front of me—just shapeless, just a sack ... and then, as I came nearer, it took shape; there were knees and elbows. It moved, it rolled over, and where the head was the sack was torn, and I saw her face. Her eyes were open, Tony, and I fled.... All the time I felt it was rolling along after me. Oh, Tony! she’s dead, isn’t she? She won’t come back to the Gate-house? Do you promise me?... There’s something awful! I wonder if I guess. The sea gives her up. The sea won’t suffer her to rest in it.”...
The news of the finding had already been telephoned to Tarleton, and soon a party of four men with a stretcher arrived. There was no doubt as to the identity of the body, for though it had been in the water for three days no corruption125 had come to it. The weights with which at burial it had been laden126 must by some strange chance have been detached from it, and by a chance stranger yet it had drifted to the shore closest to her home. That night it lay in the mortuary, and the inquest was[55] held on it next day, though that was a bank-holiday. From there it was taken to the Gate-house and coffined127, and it lay in the panelled parlour for the funeral on the morrow.
Madge, after that one hysterical129 outburst, had completely recovered herself, and on the Monday evening she made a little wreath of the spring-flowers which the early warmth had called into blossom in the garden, and I went across with it to the Gate-house. Though the news of Mrs. Acres’s death and the subsequent finding of the body had been widely advertised, there had been no response from relations or friends, and as I laid the solitary130 wreath on the coffin128 a sense of the utter loneliness of what lay within seized and encompassed131 me. And then a portent132, no less, took place before my eyes. Hardly had the freshly gathered flowers been laid on the coffin than they drooped133 and wilted. The stalks of the daffodils bent134, and their bright chalices135 closed; the odour of the wallflowers died, and they withered136 as I watched.... What did it mean, that even the petals137 of spring shrank and were moribund138?
I told Madge nothing of this; and she, as if through some pang139 of remorse, was determined to be present next day at the funeral. No arrival of friends or relations had taken place, and from the Gate-house there came none of the servants. They stood in the porch as the coffin was brought out of the house, and even before it was put into the hearse had gone back again and closed the door. So, at the cemetery140 on the hill above Tarleton, Madge and her brother and I were the only mourners.
[56]The afternoon was densely141 overcast142, though we got no rainfall, and it was with thick clouds above and a sea-mist drifting between the grave-stones that we came, after the service in the cemetery-chapel, to the place of interment. And then—I can hardly write of it now—when it came for the coffin to be lowered into the grave, it was found that by some faulty measurement it could not descend102, for the excavation143 was not long enough to hold it.
“And the kindly earth will not receive her,” she whispered.
There was awful delay: the diggers must be sent for again, and meantime the rain had begun to fall thick and tepid145. For some reason—perhaps some outlying feeler of Madge’s obsession had wound a tentacle146 round me—I felt that I must know that earth had gone to earth, but I could not suffer Madge to wait. So, in this miserable pause, I got Charles to take her home, and then returned.
Pick and shovel147 were busy, and soon the resting-place was ready. The interrupted service continued, the handful of wet earth splashed on the coffin-lid, and when all was over I left the cemetery, still feeling, I knew not why, that all was not over. Some restlessness and want of certainty possessed me, and instead of going home I fared forth148 into the rolling wooded country inland, with the intention of walking off these bat-like terrors that flapped around me. The rain had ceased, and a blurred149 sunlight penetrated150 the sea-mist which still blanketed the fields and woods, and for half an hour, moving briskly, I[57] endeavoured to fight down some fantastic conviction that had gripped my mind in its claws. I refused to look straight at that conviction, telling myself how fantastic, how unreasonable151 it was; but as often as I put out a hand to throttle152 it there came the echo of Madge’s words: “The sea will not suffer her; the kindly earth will not receive her.” And if I could shut my eyes to that there came some remembrance of the day she died, and of half-forgotten fragments of Charles’s superstitious153 belief in reincarnation. The whole thing, incredible though its component154 parts were, hung together with a terrible tenacity155.
Before long the rain began again, and I turned, meaning to go by the main-road into Tarleton, which passes in a wide-flung curve some half-mile outside the cemetery. But as I approached the path through the fields, which, leaving the less direct route, passes close to the cemetery and brings you by a steeper and shorter descent into the town, I felt myself irresistibly156 impelled157 to take it. I told myself, of course, that I wished to make my wet walk as short as possible; but at the back of my mind was the half-conscious, but none the less imperative158 need to know by ocular evidence that the grave by which I had stood that afternoon had been filled in, and that the body of Mrs. Acres now lay tranquil beneath the soil. My path would be even shorter if I passed through the graveyard159, and so presently I was fumbling160 in the gloom for the latch161 of the gate, and closed it again behind me. Rain was falling now thick and sullenly162, and in the bleared twilight163 I[58] picked my way among the mounds165 and slipped on the dripping grass, and there in front of me was the newly turned earth. All was finished: the grave-diggers had done their work and departed, and earth had gone back again into the keeping of the earth.
It brought me some great lightening of the spirit to know that, and I was on the point of turning away when a sound of stir from the heaped soil caught my ear, and I saw a little stream of pebbles166 mixed with clay trickle167 down the side of the mound164 above the grave: the heavy rain, no doubt, had loosened the earth. And then came another and yet another, and with terror gripping at my heart I perceived that this was no loosening from without, but from within, for to right and left the piled soil was falling away with the press of something from below. Faster and faster it poured off the grave, and ever higher at the head of it rose a mound of earth pushed upwards168 from beneath. Somewhere out of sight there came the sound as of creaking and breaking wood, and then through that mound of earth there protruded169 the end of the coffin. The lid was shattered: loose pieces of the boards fell off it, and from within the cavity there faced me white features and wide eyes. All this I saw, while sheer terror held me motionless; then, I suppose, came the breaking-point, and with such panic as surely man never felt before I was stumbling away among the graves and racing170 towards the kindly human lights of the town below.
I went to the parson who had conducted the service that afternoon with my incredible tale, and an hour later he, Charles Alington, and two or three men from the undertaker’s were on the spot. They[59] found the coffin, completely disinterred, lying on the ground by the grave, which was now three-quarters full of the earth which had fallen back into it. After what had happened it was decided171 to make no further attempt to bury it; and next day the body was cremated172.
Now, it is open to anyone who may read this tale to reject the incident of this emergence173 of the coffin altogether, and account for the other strange happenings by the comfortable theory of coincidence. He can certainly satisfy himself that one Bertha Acres did die at sea on this particular Thursday before Easter, and was buried at sea: there is nothing extraordinary about that. Nor is it the least impossible that the weights should have slipped from the canvas shroud174, and that the body should have been washed ashore175 on the coast by Tarleton (why not Tarleton, as well as any other little town near the coast?); nor is there anything inherently significant in the fact that the grave, as originally dug, was not of sufficient dimensions to receive the coffin. That all these incidents should have happened to the body of a single individual is odd, but then the nature of coincidence is to be odd. They form a startling series, but unless coincidences are startling they escape observation altogether. So, if you reject the last incident here recorded, or account for it by some local disturbance176, an earthquake, or the breaking of a spring just below the grave, you can comfortably recline on the cushion of coincidence....
For myself, I give no explanation of these events,[60] though my brother-in-law brought forward one with which he himself is perfectly177 satisfied. Only the other day he sent me, with considerable jubilation178, a copy of some extracts from a medi?val treatise179 on the subject of reincarnation which sufficiently180 indicates his theory. The original work was in Latin, which, mistrusting my scholarship, he kindly translated for me. I transcribe181 his quotations182 exactly as he sent them to me.
“We have these certain instances of his reincarnation. In one his spirit was incarnated183 in the body of a man; in the other, in that of a woman, fair of outward aspect, and of a pleasant conversation, but held in dread and in horror by those who came into more than casual intercourse184 with her.... She, it is said, died on the anniversary of the day on which he hanged himself, after the betrayal, but of this I have no certain information. What is sure is that, when the time came for her burial, the kindly earth would receive her not, but though the grave was dug deep and well it spewed her forth again.... Of the man in whom his cursed spirit was reincarnated185 it is said that, being on a voyage when he died, he was cast overboard with weights to sink him; but the sea would not suffer him to rest in her bosom186, but slipped the weights from him, and cast him forth again on to the coast.... Howbeit, when the full time of his expiation187 shall have come and his deadly sin forgiven, the corporal body which is the cursed receptacle of his spirit shall at length be purged188 with fire, and so he shall, in the infinite mercy of the Almighty189, have rest, and shall wander no more.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
friendliness
|
|
| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
tune
|
|
| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
plausible
|
|
| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
inexplicable
|
|
| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
corroborated
|
|
| v.证实，支持（某种说法、信仰、理论等）( corroborate的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
ordeal
|
|
| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
derangement
|
|
| n.精神错乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
vile
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
intoxication
|
|
| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
strenuous
|
|
| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
witty
|
|
| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
frigid
|
|
| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
tempting
|
|
| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
stonily
|
|
| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
glowered
|
|
| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
detested
|
|
| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
fungus
|
|
| n.真菌，真菌类植物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
mistily
|
|
| adv.有雾地，朦胧地，不清楚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
evoked
|
|
| [医]诱发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
accounting
|
|
| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
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： |
|
|
|
|
38
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
apparition
|
|
| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
dangling
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
tenants
|
|
| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
psychic
|
|
| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
phenomena
|
|
| n.现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
wireless
|
|
| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
despatch
|
|
| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
simultaneously
|
|
| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
subconsciously
|
|
| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
eluded
|
|
| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
perennial
|
|
| adj.终年的；长久的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
thwarted
|
|
| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
inquisitiveness
|
|
| 好奇，求知欲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
efficiently
|
|
| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
trumpet
|
|
| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
scone
|
|
| n.圆饼，甜饼，司康饼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
psychical
|
|
| adj.有关特异功能现象的；有关特异功能官能的；灵魂的；心灵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
wizened
|
|
| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
mien
|
|
| n.风采；态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
superfluous
|
|
| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
conjecture
|
|
| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
charlatan
|
|
| n.骗子；江湖医生；假内行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
chaos
|
|
| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
adoration
|
|
| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
hoarseness
|
|
| n.嘶哑， 刺耳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
clattered
|
|
| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
festive
|
|
| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
sniffed
|
|
| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
skidded
|
|
| v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的过去式和过去分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
parquet
|
|
| n.镶木地板 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
wilted
|
|
| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
inception
|
|
| n.开端，开始，取得学位 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
withering
|
|
| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
gracefulness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
infamous
|
|
| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
tranquillity
|
|
| n. 平静, 安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
recollected
|
|
| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
intrigued
|
|
| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
exasperated
|
|
| adj.恼怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
endorsed
|
|
| vt.& vi.endorse的过去式或过去分词形式v.赞同( endorse的过去式和过去分词 )；在（尤指支票的）背面签字；在（文件的）背面写评论；在广告上说本人使用并赞同某产品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
eloquent
|
|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
appreciative
|
|
| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
blight
|
|
| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
obsession
|
|
| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
imminent
|
|
| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
culmination
|
|
| n.顶点；最高潮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
drowsy
|
|
| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
ripening
|
|
| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
shudderingly
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
conjectured
|
|
| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
ripened
|
|
| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
materialistic
|
|
| a.唯物主义的，物质享乐主义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
dunes
|
|
| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
lucid
|
|
| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
jovially
|
|
| adv.愉快地，高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
scudded
|
|
| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
scudding
|
|
| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
gasps
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
corruption
|
|
| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
coffined
|
|
| vt.收殓（coffin的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
coffin
|
|
| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
encompassed
|
|
| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
portent
|
|
| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
drooped
|
|
| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
chalices
|
|
| n.高脚酒杯( chalice的名词复数 )；圣餐杯；金杯毒酒；看似诱人实则令人讨厌的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
136
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
petals
|
|
| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
moribund
|
|
| adj.即将结束的，垂死的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
cemetery
|
|
| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
densely
|
|
| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
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： |
|
|
|
|
143
excavation
|
|
| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
tepid
|
|
| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
tentacle
|
|
| n.触角，触须，触手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
shovel
|
|
| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
blurred
|
|
| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
throttle
|
|
| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
component
|
|
| n.组成部分，成分，元件；adj.组成的，合成的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
tenacity
|
|
| n.坚韧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
irresistibly
|
|
| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
impelled
|
|
| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
imperative
|
|
| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
graveyard
|
|
| n.坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
fumbling
|
|
| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
latch
|
|
| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
mound
|
|
| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
mounds
|
|
| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
pebbles
|
|
| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
trickle
|
|
| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
protruded
|
|
| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
racing
|
|
| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
cremated
|
|
| v.火葬，火化（尸体）( cremate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
emergence
|
|
| n.浮现，显现，出现，（植物）突出体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
shroud
|
|
| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
jubilation
|
|
| n.欢庆，喜悦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
treatise
|
|
| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
transcribe
|
|
| v.抄写，誉写；改编(乐曲)；复制，转录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
quotations
|
|
| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
incarnated
|
|
| v.赋予（思想、精神等）以人的形体( incarnate的过去式和过去分词 )；使人格化；体现；使具体化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
reincarnated
|
|
| v.赋予新形体，使转世化身( reincarnate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
expiation
|
|
| n.赎罪，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
purged
|
|
| 清除（政敌等）( purge的过去式和过去分词 )； 涤除（罪恶等）； 净化（心灵、风气等）； 消除（错事等）的不良影响 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
almighty
|
|
| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |