Such being their temperaments23, it was not to be wondered at when their procedure soon became decidedly irregular, their intimacy25 becoming the common talk and gossip of Mauchline.
A few months before Robert returned to Mossgiel farm Jean had received an invitation from her god-parents, Lord and Lady Glencairn, to visit Edinburgh, which she had accepted with eagerness, for she was becoming tired of her latest conquest and longed for the gay life of the capital.
Robert saw her leave Mauchline with no pangs26 of regret at her inconstancy and caprice. He was in a state of profound melancholy at the time, the thoughts of how he had fallen from the paths of[60] truth and virtue, the thoughts of the pure love of his sweetheart at home, filling his heart with grief and remorse27. He was thinking of all this as he approached the stile. How wretchedly weak and sinful he had been to forget his sworn vows28 to Mary, he thought remorsefully30. “May no harping31 voice from that past ever come to disturb her peace of mind,” he prayed fervently32.
Jean watched him, drawing ever nearer, with eyes filled with sudden shame and dread33 at what she had to tell him. Why had her brief infatuation for the poverty-stricken farmer led her into such depths of imprudence and recklessness? she thought angrily. As he reached the bottom of the stile she softly spoke35 his name, and noted36 with chagrin37 his startled look of surprise and annoyance38 as he raised his eyes to hers.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” she asked coquettishly, his presence exercising its old fascination40 for her.
“An accident,” she replied flippantly. “I was on my way home and would have been there ere this had it not been for a fortunate mishap42.”
“Fortunate mishap?” he repeated questioningly.
“Yes,” she retorted amiably43, “otherwise I should have missed seeing you,” and she smiled down into his pale startled face.
[61]
“I dinna understand why ye left Edinburgh,” he began, when she interrupted him.
“Because I thought you were still in Mauchline,” she explained quickly. He look at her questioningly. “I left Edinburgh for the sole purpose of seeing you, Robert,” she announced quietly, making room for him to sit beside her, but he did not accept the invitation.
“Well, noo, that was very kind of ye, Jean,” he replied a little uneasily. “But I’m not so conceited44 as to believe that. I ken34 the charms o’ Edinburgh town, with its handsome officers, soon made ye forget the quiet country village, and a’ your old flames, including your bashful humble45 servant,” and he made her a mocking bow.
His tone of satirical raillery made her wince46. “Forget?” she cried passionately47, jumping to her feet. “I wish to heaven I might forget everything, but I cannot—I cannot.” The sudden thought of her predicament caused her haughty49, rebellious50 spirit to quail51, and covering her face with her hands, she burst into a paroxysm of tears and sank heavily down upon the step.
He regarded the weeping woman silently. Was her attachment52 for him stronger than he had believed? Could it be possible she still entertained a passion for him? he asked himself anxiously. But no, that couldn’t be; she had left him two months ago with a careless word of farewell on her laughing lips. Yet why these tears, these wild words she had just uttered?[62] A wave of pity for her swept over him as he realized, if such were the case, that he must repulse53 her advances gently but none the less firmly. He had done with her forever when he said his last farewell. There could be no raking over of the dead ashes.
Jean angrily wiped away her tears. She must not give way to such weakness. She had an errand to perform which would need all her courage. He was evidently waiting for some explanation of her strange behavior, she told herself with a vain effort to steel her heart. Now was the time to tell him all, she thought fearfully, peeking54 out from behind her small linen55 ’kerchief, with which she was dabbing56 her eyes, at his cold, wondering face. The sooner it was done the sooner she would know what to expect at his hands. How should she begin? After a long, nervous pause she faltered57 out, “Have you forgotten the past, Robert, and all that we were to each other?”
“Nay, Jean, I remember everything,” he answered remorsefully. “But let us not speak of that noo, please. Ye ken that is all ended between us forever.” He turned away pale and trembling, for her presence, her looks and words recalled many things he wanted to forget, that shamed him to remember.
“Ended?” she repeated, an angry flush rising to the roots of her black hair. She looked at him in amazement. He, the poverty-stricken farmer, had repulsed58 her, the belle19 of Mauchline? Could she have heard aright? He who had always been at her beck[63] and call, two months ago her willing slave, could it be that he was over his infatuation for her? She had not thought of that possibility. She had expected him to be humble, gratefully flattered by her condescension59 in seeking him out. If he should refuse the proposal she had come so far to make! she thought in trepidation60. “He must not refuse, he shall not refuse,” and her face grew hard and set. But perhaps he was piqued61 because she had left him so unceremoniously two months ago, because she had not written him. Her tense lips relaxed into a smile. Oh, well, she would be nice to him now; she would make him think she was breaking her heart for him, work on his sympathy, then perhaps it would not be necessary to confess her humiliating plight63. No farmer doomed64 to lifelong poverty would be averse65 to winning the hand of the daughter of the rich Squire66 Armour. These thoughts, running through her mind, decided24 her next move, and with a fluttering sigh she rose from her seat and descended67 the step. She drew close to him and looking languishingly68 up into his face, murmured, “Why should it be ended, Robert? I love you just the same as I did in the past,” and she threw her arms about his neck, clinging to him passionately. “You do love me a little, tell me you do.”
“Jean, ye must be daft,” he panted, vainly trying to disengage himself from her embrace.
But she continued softly, alluringly69, “Think of[64] the old days, when I lay in your arms like this, Robbie. Think of those happy hours we spent together on the banks of the Doon. You were not cold to me then. Oh, let us live them all over again. How happy we will be. Kiss me, Rob,” and she lifted her flushed, piquant71 face, her crimson72 lips pursed temptingly, close to his. The warmth of her seductive body, the white bare arms in their short sleeves, which embraced his neck, the half-closed passionate48 eyes gazing invitingly73, languorously74 into his own, fired his naturally ardent75 blood, making his senses to reel from the contact. Slowly his arms, which had been restraining her amorous76 embrace, tightened77 their hold on her, drawing her closer and closer, while the drops of sweat poured down his white, yielding face, as with wild bloodshot eyes he battled with the temptations which beset78 him so wantonly, so dangerously. With a thrill of elation79 not unmixed with desire she felt him yielding to her embrace, and knew that she had won him again. With a cooing cry of delight she was about to press her warm lips to his, when suddenly a bird-like voice singing in the distance arrested her impulse.
rang out the voice of the singer plaintively81. With a cry of brief and horror Robert tore the clinging arms from about his neck and threw her madly from him.[65] “What is the matter, Robert?” she cried fearfully, looking at him in amazement.
“I think ye had better go noo, Jean,” he answered harshly, not looking at her. “’Twill be best for us both. Oh, how I despise my weakness, I had no right, no right noo.” And there was an agony of shame and remorse in his voice.
“Do you mean,” she asked white with rage. “That you are not free to do as you like?” He remained silent a moment.
Then his face grew calm and peaceful. “The lass whom ye hear singing is Mary Campbell, my betrothed82 wife,” he answered simply. “We are to be married when the plantin’ is done. We have been sweethearts for years, and if I have in my weakness forgotten my sworn vows to her, by God’s help I’ll strive to be more faithful in the future.” His voice vibrated with intense feeling as he made the resolution. Then he continued softly and tenderly, “And the love I bear my faithful Mary will never cease as long as this crimson current flows within me.” A mocking laugh greeted his words as he finished.
“I tell you, Robert Burns,” cried Jean threateningly, “she shall never be your wife, for I will——” But the angry words died suddenly on her lips at an unlooked-for interruption.
“Jean, Jean,” called a lazy voice. Turning quickly she saw with apprehension83 Lady Glencairn standing84 in the open doorway85 of the cottage, beckoning[66] leisurely86 to her. Had she heard her imprudent words? she asked herself in terror. But no, that were not possible. She had not raised her voice. For a moment she hesitated, not knowing what to do. Should she tell him the truth now? It would only mean a hurriedly whispered word or two, but as she looked at him standing there so proudly erect87, the angry, puzzled flush which her last hasty words had occasioned still mantling88 his swarthy face, she felt her courage slipping away from her. Why not wait and write him? she temporized89; that would be much better than creating a scene now, with the sharp eye of Lady Glencairn fastened upon them. Yes, she would do that, she decided hastily. She turned calmly and mounted the stile and without one backward glance descended to the other side. “Are you coming?” she asked indifferently over her shoulder, and without waiting for his answer walked quickly toward the house. Robert after a moment’s indecision gravely followed her, the look of puzzled concern still wrinkling his forehead.
“Oh, I beg your pardon; I didn’t know you were indulging in a tête-à-tête,” said Lady Glencairn frigidly90 as they reached the door.
“Lady Glencairn, this is Mr. Robert Burns,” stammered91 Jean nervously92, with a flush of embarrassment93 at her ladyship’s sarcastic94 smile.
“Oh, indeed, delighted I’m sure,” said her ladyship, with a careless nod, which changed to surprised[67] interest as Robert with simple, manly95 dignity removed his Tam O’Shanter and bowed low before the haughty beauty. “What an air for a peasant,” she mused96. “What dignity,” and she surveyed him critically from the top of his head, with its black clustering locks which gleamed purple in the sunshine, to the tip of his rough leather brogans; noting with admiration97 his stalwart frame, the well-shaped head and massive neck, the strength suggested in the broad shoulders, the deep chest, the herculean limbs with the swelling98 muscles displayed to such advantage within the tightly fitting breeches of doe skin. “What a handsome creature,” she thought with a thrill of admiration, as she took the mental inventory99 of his good points. “And decidedly interesting, I’ll wager100, if not dangerous,” she added, smiling contemplatively as she caught the look of respectful admiration which gleamed in his wonderfully magnetic eyes.
“Oh, James,” she called languidly re?ntering the room, “here is the young man who has so kindly101 assisted in repairing the coach—the young man who has just returned from Mauchline,” she added significantly.
“Nay, your ladyship, ’tis my brother Gilbert you must thank for his assistance, not me,” replied Robert, flushing. As the deep tones of his sonorous102 voice fell on her ear she felt an indefinable thrill of emotion steal over her that startled her. She looked at him[68] wonderingly. What peculiar103 magnetism104 was there in this farmer’s voice that could so easily move her, who had always prided herself on her coldness, her indifference105 to all men, including her husband, who was blissfully unconscious of his beautiful wife’s sentiments regarding him?
“Your brother had no easy task, I fear, Mr. Burns,” remarked Lord Glencairn genially106. Then he turned smilingly to Jean, who was standing impatiently in the doorway. “What have you been doing all this time, my dear Jean?” he asked lightly.
“Ask Mr. Burns,” insinuated107 Lady Glencairn with an odd little smile at Jean’s embarrassed countenance108. He looked inquiringly at the surprised face of the young farmer.
“Miss Armour has done me the honor of listening to some of my rhyming,” quietly replied Robert with a quick glance at Jean, his ready wit coming to her rescue.
“So then you are a poet,” murmured Lady Glencairn, with a smile. “Do you write love sonnets109 to your sweethearts, or does the muse incline at this season to songs of springtime?”
“Aye, my lady, he has the gift indeed,” spoke up Mrs. Burns deprecatingly. “But I dinna’ ken if it amounts to aught.”
“My mother doesna’ care for my poetry,” said Robert simply, turning to her ladyship.
“Dinna’ say that, laddie,” replied his mother[69] earnestly. “Ye ken I’m o’er fond of those verses to Highland Mary, but——”
“‘Highland Mary’? what a dear name,” interrupted Lady Glencairn sweetly, smiling at Robert. “Who is she, may I ask?” and she leaned forward questioningly in her chair.
“She is a—a friend,” he replied, flushing to the roots of his hair. Then he continued, softly, his eyes lighting110 up with love and devotion, “An’ she is as sweet and fragrant111 as a sprig of pure white heather plucked from her native Highlands.”
“Aye, and she’ll make a fine wife for Robert,” added Mrs. Burns complacently112.
“Aye, finer than I deserve, mither,” he replied, looking uneasily at Jean, who had started violently, then quickly leaned back against the door post, pale and trembling.
“Marry her? Never! He cannot, he must not,” she muttered to herself, frantically113.
“Why, Jean!” cried Lady Glencairn, going to her in sudden alarm. “What ails114 you, why do you look so wild?”
“I—I’m—a pain gripped my heart most suddenly,” she faltered. “I find it over warm here,” she gasped115. “I’ll await you without,” and she left the room, a strange, frightened look on her pale face.
With a puzzled frown Lady Glencairn turned and sank thoughtfully into a chair. Looking up suddenly,[70] she caught Robert’s eye fastened upon her face in eager scrutiny117. “Let me see, what were we speaking about?” she inquired indifferently.
“Ye were kind enough to ask me about my poetry,” answered Rob quietly. Jean’s queer behavior troubled him. What did it all mean? He feared she had aroused suspicion in her ladyship’s mind.
“Oh, to be sure, and I vow29 I’m curious,” she replied brightly. “I should like to read one of your poems, Mr. Burns, if you have one at hand.”
“He has bushels of them in the attic, your ladyship,” eagerly spoke Mrs. Burns.
“Aye, mother,” laughed Robert, “all waiting for the publisher. Here is one I but this day scribbled118 off, if—if ye really care to read it,” he added bashfully, taking a scrap119 of paper from the pocket of his loose shirt and handing it to Lady Glencairn.
She took it with a smile of amused indifference. A farmer and a poet! the idea was absurd. With an almost imperceptibly sarcastic lifting of her delicate eyebrows120 she read the title, “‘Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes.’” Then she read the verse in growing wonder and astonishment121. She had thought to please him with a word of praise, even if they were laughably commonplace and prosaic122; but it was with genuine enthusiasm that she heartily123 cried, “Really, ’tis a gem124, Mr. Burns, so charming withal, such beautiful sentiment, and writ62 in most excellent[71] style. Read it, James,” and she handed it to Lord Glencairn, who carefully perused125 it with apparent delight in its rhythmic126 beauty of composition.
“Thank ye, my lady,” replied Robert, flushing. “Your praise is o’er sweet to my hungry ear.” She gazed at him in open admiration.
“Here, Robert, are some more,” cried Mrs. Burns, entering the room with a box, which she placed before her son. “Show his lordship these, laddie,” and she hovered127 nervously around, her face flushed with excitement, watching anxiously every look and expression that passed over the faces of their guests.
Robert opened the box and selected a few of the poems at random128, which he handed to Lord Glencairn without a word.
“‘A man’s a man for a’ that,’ ‘Willie brewed129 a peck of malt,’ ‘Holy Willie’s Prayer,’ ‘The Lass of Balbehmyle,’” read Lord Glencairn slowly, glancing over their titles. Then he read them through earnestly, his noble face expressing the interest he felt; then with a sigh of pleasure he passed them to Lady Glencairn, who devoured130 the written pages eagerly, her face flushed and radiant. When she had finished, she leaned back in her chair and fixed131 her luminous132 eyes upon her husband’s beaming face.
“James,” said she decidedly, “you will please me well if you will influence some publisher to accept this young man’s poems and place them before the public. I’m sure he is most deserving, and—he interests me[72] greatly.” There was a peculiar glitter in her half-closed eyes as she gazed intently at Robert with an enigmatic smile parting her red lips. The gracious lady with her high-bred air, her alluring70 smile, her extreme condescension, was a revelation to the country-bred lad, who was brought in close contact for the first time with one so far above his station in life. He felt his awkwardness more than he had ever thought possible as he felt her critical eyes fastened upon him and heard her honeyed words of praise and encouragement.
“Mr. Burns,” said his lordship earnestly, “your poems interest me greatly, and I declare such genius as you display should be given an opportunity to develop. It will afford me much pleasure to take these verses, with your permission, back with me to Edinburgh and submit them to Sir William Creech, who is the largest publisher there, and a personal friend of mine, and if he accepts these poems as a criterion of your artistic133 ability, without the least doubt your success will be at once assured.” He put them carefully in the large wallet he had taken from an inside pocket while he was talking, and replaced it within his coat.
Robert looked at him, hardly daring to believe his ears. “I—I canna find words to express my unbounded gratitude134 to you, my lord,” he faltered, his voice low and shaking.
“I’d advise you to make a collection of your[73] poems, my lad,” continued Lord Glencairn quietly, touched by the sight of Robert’s expressive135 features, which he was vainly trying to control. “Chiefly those in the Scottish dialect; they are new and will create a sensation. Have them ready to forward to town when sent for.” There was a tense silence for a moment when he had finished.
Robert dared not trust his voice to speak, to utter his thanks. Finally he burst out. “My lord, how can I ever thank ye for this unlooked-for generosity136 to an absolute stranger!” he cried brokenly. “For years I have been praying for a publisher to edit my songs, but I could see no silver lining137 to the dark clouds of obscurity hanging over my unhappy, friendless head, clouds which threatened to engulf138 me in their maddening embrace. But now,” he continued eloquently139, his voice ringing with gladness, “the bright sunlight is peeping around the fast disappearing cloud, warming my very soul with its joyous140 rays. Oh, my lord, if ever the name of Robert Burns should e’en become familiar to his countrymen,’twill be through your graciousness, your benevolence141, to a poor unknown, humble plowman,” and his eyes filled with tears of love and gratitude for his noble benefactor142.
Lord Glencairn took a pinch of snuff from the small oblong box he held in his hand, and used his handkerchief vigorously to conceal143 the tears of sympathy which had welled up in his eyes as he listened[74] to the recital144 of Robert’s ambitions, his hopes and fears.
“My dear lad,” he said, trying to speak lightly, “I have done nothing as yet to deserve such fulsome145 words of thanks. ’Tis but a trifling146 thing I propose doing, and it pleases me, else perhaps I might not trouble myself to speak in your behalf.”
“Ah, noo, sir,” cried Mrs. Burns, wiping away the tears of joy, “’tis your big, noble heart which prompts ye to assist a struggling genius to something better, higher, and nobler in this life. God bless ye for it.”
The door opened, and Gilbert Burns quietly entered the room. Removing his Tam O’Shanter, he bowed respectfully to Lord Glencairn and said briefly147, “Your Lordship’s coach is repaired.”
With a word of thanks Lord Glencairn rose and assisted his wife into her cloak.
“Thank goodness we can proceed on our journey while it is yet light,” she said animatedly148, going to the door.
“I assure you, Mistress Burns, we have enjoyed your hospitality amazing well,” said Lord Glencairn, turning to their hostess. “Believe me, we’ll not forget it.”
They left the house, followed by their admiring hosts. Suddenly Lady Glencairn gave a little cry of delighted surprise as her eyes rested on the drooping149 figure of Highland Mary, sitting disconsolately[75] on a large rock beside the old well. “What a sweet, pretty flower of a lass!” she cried enthusiastically. “Come here, child,” she called aloud. Mary looked up quickly with a little gasp116 of surprise, for she had not noticed them come out. She rose bashfully to her feet and stood hesitating, her eyes timidly fixed on a piece of heather she was holding in her hand.
Lady Glencairn laughed amusedly. “I vow ’tis an uncommon150 modest shy wildflower truly,” she said to her husband. “Come here, child, I’ll not bite you,” and she held out her hands toward the wondering girl.
With a little silvery, timid laugh Mary walked quickly toward her. “I’m no afraid, my lady,” she replied quietly, but her heart was beating very fast, nevertheless, as she stood before the great lady, who was watching the flower-like face, with the delicate pink color coming and going, with such apparent admiration.
“That’s our Highland Mary,” triumphantly151 cried Souter, who had just come upon the scene.
“Oh, indeed,” replied her ladyship brightly. “So you are Highland Mary.”
“Isn’t she a dear,” said Lady Glencairn aloud to her husband.
She turned to Robert, who was proudly watching Mary, with eyes aglow153 with love and happiness. “No[76] wonder, Mr. Burns,” she said, a sigh involuntarily escaping her as she noted his rapt gaze, “that you have sought to portray154 in song and verse the sweet loveliness of this fair maiden155.” Then she turned suddenly to Mary.
“You’re a very pretty child,” she said carelessly. “But I suppose you know that well ere this.” She laughed cynically156 and turned away.
“She isna used to such compliments, your ladyship,” said Robert, noticing the embarrassed blush that mounted to Mary’s cheek. “She’s o’er shy, ye ken.”
“That’s the kind we raise in the Highlands,” declared Souter with a satisfied air.
“Come, James, it grows late,” wearily said Lady Glencairn, taking her husband’s arm. “And here is the coach.” As the vehicle with its prancing157 black horses champing restlessly at their bits drew up to the gate, she turned to Mary and said condescendingly, “Good-by, child; I suppose some day, when Mr. Burns is the Bard158 of Scotland, we’ll see you in town with him. Be sure to come and see me at Glencairn Hall.”
“Thank ye, my lady,” replied Mary, courtesying deeply, fortunately not discerning the sarcasm159 in the tired tones of the great lady’s voice.
Lord Glencairn helped her into the coach, and then turned to Robert with outstretched hand. “My lad,” he said cordially, “you may expect to hear[77] from me or Sir William Creech very shortly. Good-by.”
“Good-by, sir,” replied Robert, “and may Heaven bless you.”
“Oh, Lud,” cried Lady Glencairn as they were about to start, “we’re forgetting Jean.”
“The young lady strolled alang,” answered Gilbert quietly. “She said you would overtake her on the road.”
Lady Glencairn thanked him with a careless nod, and then leaned far out of the door to Robert. “Remember, Mr. Burns,” she said softly, pressing his hand, “I expect to see you in Edinburgh very soon, don’t forget,” and with another lingering look, full of meaning, she withdrew into the coach, and soon they were gone in a cloud of dust, while he stood there gazing after them like one in a dream with the last rays of the setting sun lighting up his dark, passionate face.
“Hurra! ’tis luck ye’re in, laddie,” shouted Souter in his ear. “The gentry160 have noticed ye. Ye should be dancing for joy, mon. I’m off to tell the lads of your good fortune,” and away he sped to the village, eager as any old gossip to spread the glorious news.
“Isna it all like a dream, Mary?” sighed Mrs. Burns rapturously, leading the way into the house, followed by the two lovers, who entered hand in hand and seated themselves in blissful silence on the high-backed[78] settle under the window, their favorite seat. For a few moments they sat motionless, regarding each other with moist eyes. It almost seemed too good to be true. In a few weeks perhaps Robert would be a great man, thought Mary proudly. “Weel, I always did have faith in Robert’s poetry,” suddenly declared Mrs. Burns with conviction.
Robert smiled at his mother’s words. “They would all say that now,” he thought, but without bitterness, for it was only the way of the world after all.
“Ye’ll soon hae riches noo,” said Mary happily.
“Aye, then ye shall hae a fine new gown, and—and we will be married noo, instead of waiting,” answered Robert, taking her tenderly in his arms.
“’Tis a bonnie, bonnie pair ye make,” said Mrs. Burns lovingly. “May God bless ye,” and she softly stole away, leaving them to their feast of love.
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1
labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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itched
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| v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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sociability
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| n.好交际，社交性，善于交际 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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bagatelle
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| n.琐事；小曲儿 | |
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illicit
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| adj.非法的，禁止的，不正当的 | |
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levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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belles
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| n.美女( belle的名词复数 )；最美的美女 | |
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belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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temperaments
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| 性格( temperament的名词复数 )； （人或动物的）气质； 易冲动； （性情）暴躁 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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29
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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30
remorsefully
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| adv.极为懊悔地 | |
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31
harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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32
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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33
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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34
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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35
spoke
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| 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
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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37
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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38
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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39
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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40
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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41
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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42
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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43
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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44
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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45
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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46
wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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47
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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48
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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49
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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50
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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51
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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52
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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53
repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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54
peeking
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| v.很快地看( peek的现在分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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55
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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56
dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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57
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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58
repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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59
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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60
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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61
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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62
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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63
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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64
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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65
averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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66
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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67
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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68
languishingly
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| 渐渐变弱地，脉脉含情地 | |
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69
alluringly
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| 诱人地，妩媚地 | |
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70
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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71
piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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72
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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73
invitingly
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| adv. 动人地 | |
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74
languorously
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| adv.疲倦地，郁闷地 | |
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75
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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76
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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77
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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78
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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79
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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80
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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81
plaintively
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|
| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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82
betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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83
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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84
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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85
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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86
leisurely
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|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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87
erect
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|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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88
mantling
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| 覆巾 | |
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89
temporized
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|
| v.敷衍( temporize的过去式和过去分词 )；拖延；顺应时势；暂时同意 | |
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90
frigidly
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| adv.寒冷地；冷漠地；冷淡地；呆板地 | |
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91
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92
nervously
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|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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93
embarrassment
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|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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94
sarcastic
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|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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95
manly
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|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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96
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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97
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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98
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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99
inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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100
wager
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|
| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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101
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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102
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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103
peculiar
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|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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104
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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105
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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106
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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107
insinuated
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| v.暗示( insinuate的过去式和过去分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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108
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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109
sonnets
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| n.十四行诗( sonnet的名词复数 ) | |
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110
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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111
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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112
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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113
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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114
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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115
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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116
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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117
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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118
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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119
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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120
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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121
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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122
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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123
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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124
gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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125
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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126
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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127
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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128
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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129
brewed
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| 调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 )； 酝酿； 沏（茶）； 煮（咖啡） | |
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130
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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131
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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132
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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133
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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134
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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135
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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136
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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137
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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138
engulf
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| vt.吞没，吞食 | |
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139
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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140
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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141
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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142
benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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143
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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144
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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145
fulsome
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| adj.可恶的，虚伪的，过分恭维的 | |
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146
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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147
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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148
animatedly
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| adv.栩栩如生地，活跃地 | |
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149
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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150
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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151
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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152
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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153
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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154
portray
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| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
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155
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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156
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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157
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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158
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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159
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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160
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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161
beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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