Being of the inferior sex, her father decreed that she should be brought up in the image of the tradition which ground so small the women who had married into the family; she must become, like her own mother, aloof8 and calm and infinitely9 conscious of her position. But neither precept10 nor example had the smallest effect on her: for dignity, she had boisterousness11; for calm, buoyant, irrepressible spirits; and for self-control, a marked tendency to allure12 and kindle13 the susceptibilities of the other sex, were he peer or ploughboy.
Alone, too, of her race, she had no spark of that passionate14 affection for her home that was one of the most salient characteristics of the others.
She gave an instance of this defect when, at the age of fifteen, she ran away from Stanier half-way through August, while the family were in residence after the{30} season in London, being unable to stand the thought of that deadly and awful stateliness which would last without break till January, when the assembling of the Houses of Parliament would take them all back to the metropolis15 which she loved with extraordinary fervour. Part of the way she went in a train, part of the way she rode, and eventually arrived back at the huge house in St. James’s Square, now empty and sheeted, and persuaded the caretaker, who had been her nurse and adored her with unique devotion, to take her in and send no news to Stanier of her arrival.
“Darling Cooper,” she said, with her arms round the old woman’s neck and her delicious face bestowing19 kisses on her, “unless you promise to say nothing about my coming here, I shall leave the house and get really lost. They say a healthy girl can always get a living.”
“Eh, my dear,” said Cooper, much shocked, “what are you saying?”
“What am I saying?” asked Hester. “I’m just saying what I shall do. I shall buy a monkey and a barrel-organ and dress like a gipsy and tell fortunes. But I won’t go back to that awful Stanier.”
“But it’s your papa’s house,” said Cooper. “Young ladies have to live with their families till they are married.”
“This one won’t,” said Hester. “And I believe it’s true, Cooper, that we own it through the power of the devil. It’s a dreadful place: there’s a blight21 on it. Grandmamma was turned to stone there, and mamma has been turned to stone, and they’re trying to turn me to stone.”
Poor Cooper was in a fair quandary22; she knew that Hester was perfectly23 capable of rushing out of the house unless she gave her the desired promise, and then with what face would she encounter Lord Yardley, how stammer24 forth25 the miserable26 confession27 that Hester had been{31} here? Not less impossible to contemplate29 was the housing of this entrancing imp28, and keeping to herself the secret of Hester’s whereabouts. Even more impossible was the third count of giving Hester the promise, and then breaking it by sending a clandestine30 communication to her mother, for that would imply the loss of Hester’s trust in her, and she could not face the idea of those eyes turned reproachfully on her as on some treacherous31 foe32.
“Darling Cooper, you wouldn’t like me to be turned to stone,” she said. “I know I should make a lovely statue, but it’s better to be alive.”
“Eh, my dear, be a good girl and go back to Stanier,” pleaded Cooper. “Think of your mamma and the anxiety she’s in about you.”
Hester made “a face.” “It’s silly to say that,” she said. “Mamma anxious, indeed! Mamma couldn’t be anxious: she’s dead inside.”
Cooper felt she could not argue the point with any conviction, for she was entirely34 of Hester’s opinion.
“And I’ve had no tea, Cooper,” said the girl, “and I am so hungry.”
“Bless the child, but I’ll get you your tea,” said Cooper. “And then you’ll be a good girl and let me send off a telegram....”
What Hester’s future plans really were she had not yet determined35 to herself; she was still acting36 under the original impulse which had made her run away. Come what might, she had found the idea of Stanier utterly37 impossible that morning; the only thing that mattered was to get away.
But as Cooper bustled38 about with the preparations of the tea, she began to consider what she really expected. She was quite undismayed at what she had done, and was on that score willing to confront any stone faces that might be-Gorgon her, but her imagination could not picture what she was going to do. Would she live here{32} perdue for the next six months till the family of stone brought their Pharaoh-presence into London again? She could not imagine that. Was it to come, then, to the threatened barrel-organ and the monkey and the telling of fortunes? Glib39 and ready as had been her speech on that subject, it lacked reality when seriously contemplated40 in the mirror of the future.
But if she was not proposing to live here with Cooper, or to run away definitely—a prospect41 for which, at the age of fifteen, she felt herself, now that it grimly stared her in the face, wholly unripe—there was nothing to be done, but to-day or to-morrow, or on one of the conceivable to-morrows, to go back again. And yet her whole nature revolted against that.
She was sitting in the window-seat of the big hall as this dismal42 debate went on in her head, but all the parties to that conference were agreed on one thing—namely, that Cooper should not telegraph to her mother, and that, come what might, Cooper should not be imagined to be an accomplice43. Just then she heard a step on the threshold outside, and simultaneously44 the welcome jingle45 of a tea-tray from the opposite direction. Hester tiptoed towards the latter of these sounds, and found Cooper laden46 with good things on a tray advancing up the corridor.
“Go back to your room, Cooper,” she whispered; “there is some one at the door. I will see who it is.”
“Eh, now, let me open the door,” said Cooper, visibly apprehensive47.
“No! Go away!” whispered Hester, and remained there during imperative48 peals49 of the bell till Cooper had vanished.
She tried, by peeping sideways out of the hall window, to arrive at the identity of this impatient visitor, but could see nothing of him. Then, with cold courage, she went to the front-door and opened it. She expected something bad—her mother, perhaps, or her brothers’ tutor, or the groom50 of the chambers—but she had conjectured51 nothing so bad as this, for on the doorstep stood her father.{33}
That formidable figure was not often encountered by her. In London she practically never saw him at all; in the country she saw him but once a day, when, with the rest of the family, she waited in the drawing-room before dinner for his entrance with her mother. Then they all stood up, and paired off to go in to dinner. In some remote manner Hester felt that she had no existence for him, but that he, at close quarters, had a terrible existence for her. Generally, he took no notice whatever of her, but to-day she realised that she existed for him in so lively a manner that he had come up from Stanier to get into touch with her. Such courage as she had completely oozed52 out of her: she had become just a stone out of the family quarry53.
“So you’re here,” he said, shutting the door behind him.
“Yes,” said Hester.
“And do you realise what you’ve done?” he asked.
“I’ve run away,” said she.
“I don’t mean that,” said he; “that’s soon remedied. But you’ve made me spend half the day travelling in order to find you. Now you’re going to suffer for it. Stand up here in front of me.”
As he spoke54 he drew off his fine white gloves and put the big sapphire55 ring that he wore into his pocket. At that Hester guessed his purpose.
“I shan’t,” she said.
He gave her so ill-omened and ugly a glance that her heart quailed56. “You will do as I tell you,” he said.
Hester felt her pulses beating small and quick. Fear perhaps accounted for that, but more dominant57 than fear in her mind was the sense of her hatred58 of her father. He was like a devil, one of those contorted waterspouts on the church at home. She found herself obeying him.
“Now I am going to punish you,” he said, “for being such a nuisance to me. By ill-luck you are my daughter, and as you don’t know how a daughter of mine ought to behave, I am going to show you what happens when{34} she behaves as you have done. Your mother has often told me that you are a wilful59 and vulgar child, disobedient to your governesses, and, in a word, common. But now you have forced your commonness upon my notice, and I’m going to make you sorry for having done so. Hold your head up.”
He drew back his arm, and with his open hand smacked60 her across her cheek; with his left hand he planted a similar and stinging blow. Four times those white thin fingers of his blazoned61 themselves on her face, and then he paused.
“Well, why don’t you cry?” he said.
“Because I don’t choose to,” said Hester.
“Put your head up again,” said he.
She stood there firm as a rock for half a dozen more of those bitter blows, and then into his black heart there came a conviction, bitterer than any punishment he had inflicted63 on her, that he was beaten. In sheer rage at this he took her by her shoulders and shook her violently. And then came the end, for she simply collapsed64 on the floor, still untamed. Her bodily force might fail, but she flew no flag of surrender.
She came to herself again with the sense of Cooper near her. She turned weary eyes this way and that, but saw nothing of her father.
“Oh, Cooper, has that devil gone?” she asked.
“Eh, my lady,” said Cooper, “who are you talking of? There’s no one here but his lordship.”
Hester raised herself on her elbow and saw that awful figure standing65 by the great chimneypiece. The first thought that came into her mind was for Cooper.
“I wish to tell you that ever since I entered the house Cooper has been saying that she must telegraph to you that I was here,” she said.
He nodded. “That’s all right then, Cooper,” he said.
Hester watched her father take the sapphire ring from his waistcoat pocket. He put this on, and then his gloves.{35}
“Her ladyship will stay here to-night, Cooper,” he said. “And you will take her to the station to-morrow morning and bring her down to Stanier.”
He did not so much as glance at Hester, and next moment the front door had closed behind him.
Hester arrived back at Stanier next day after this abortive66 expedition, and it was clear at once that orders had been issued that no word was to be said to her on the subject of what she had done. She had mid-day dinner with her governess, rode afterwards with her brothers, and as usual stood up when her father entered the drawing-room in the evening. The awful life had closed like a trap upon her again, rather more tightly than before, for she was subject to a closer supervision67.
But though the apparent victory was with her father, she knew (and was somehow aware that he knew it, too) that her spirit had not yielded one inch to him, and that he, for all his grim autocracy68, was conscious, as regards her, of imperfect mastery. If he had broken her will, so she acutely argued, she would not now have been watched; her doings would not, as they certainly were, have been reported to him by the governess. That was meat and drink to her. But from being a mere69 grim presence in the background he had leaped into reality, and with the whole force of her nature, she hated him.
The substance of the Stanier legend, faint though the faith in it had become, was, of course, well known to her, and every morning, looking like some young sexless angel newly come to earth, she added to her very tepid70 prayers the fervent71 and heartfelt petition that the devil would not long delay in exacting72 his part of the bargain.
Two years passed, and Hester became aware that there were schemes on foot for marrying her off with the utmost possible speed. The idea of marriage in the abstract was wholly to her mind, since then she would be quit of the terrible life at Stanier, but in the concrete she was not so{36} content with her selected deliverer. This was the mild and highborn Marquis of Blakeney, a man precisely73 twice her age, of plain, serious mind and irreproachable74 morals. He adored her in a rapt and tongue-tied manner, and no doubt Hester had encouraged him with those little smiles and glances which she found it impossible not to bestow18 on any male denizen75 of this earth, without any distinct ulterior views. But when it became evident, by his own express declaration made with the permission of her father, that he entertained such views, Hester wondered whether it would be really possible to kiss that seal-like whiskered face with any semblance76 of wifely enthusiasm.
Had there been any indication that her pious77 petition with regard to the speedy ratification78 of the Stanier legend as regards her father would be granted, she would probably have recommended the mild Marquis to take his vows79 to other shrines80, but her father seemed to be suffering no inconvenience from her prayers, and she accepted the rapt and tongue-tied devotion. Instantly all the bonds of discipline and suppression were relaxed; even in her father’s eyes her engagement made her something of a personage, and Hester hated him more than ever.
And then the vengeance81 of winged, vindictive82 love, more imperious than her father, overtook and punished her, breaking her spirit, which he had never done. At a dance given at Blakeney Castle to celebrate the engagement, she saw young Ralph Brayton, penniless and debonair83, with no seal-face and no marquisate, and the glance of each pierced through the heart of the other. He was the son of the family solicitor84 of Lord Blakeney, and even while his father was drawing out the schedule of munificent85 settlements for the bride-to-be, the bride gave him something more munificent yet, and settled it, her heart, upon him for all perpetuity.
She did her best to disown, if not to stifle86, what had come upon her, and had her marriage but been fixed87 for a month earlier than the day appointed, she would prob{37}ably have married her affianced bridegroom, and let love hang itself in its own silken noose89 and chance its being quite strangled. As it was, even while her room at Stanier was silky and shimmering90 with the appurtenances of a bride, she slipped out one night as the moon set, and joined her lover at the park gates. By dawn they had come to London, and before evening she was safe in the holding of her husband’s arms.
On the news reaching Lord Yardley he had a stroke from which he did not recover for many years, though he soon regained91 sufficient power of babbling92 speech to make it abundantly clear that he would never see Hester again. As she was equally determined never to see him, their wills were in complete harmony. That brutal93 punishment she had received from those thin white hands two years before, followed by the bondage94 of her life at home, had rendered her perfectly callous95 as regards him. Had he been sorry for it, she might have shrugged96 her pretty shoulders and forgotten it; for that cold pale slab97 of womanhood, her mother, she felt nothing whatever.
This outrageous98 marriage of Hester’s, followed by her father’s stroke, were contrary to all tradition as regards the legend, for these calamities99, indeed, looked as if one of the high contracting parties was not fulfilling his share of the bargain, and the behaviour of Philip, Lord Stanier, the stricken man’s eldest100 son, added weight to the presumption101 that the luck of the Staniers (to put it at that) was on the wane—fading, fading like the ink of the original bond. Instead of marrying at the age of twenty or twenty-one, as his father and forefathers102 had done, he remained obstinately103 celibate104 and ludicrously decorous. In appearance he was dark, heavy of feature, jowled even in his youth by a fleshiness of neck, and built on massive lines in place of the slenderness of his race, though somehow, in spite of these aberrations106 from the type, he yet presented an example, or, rather, a parody107, of the type. But when you came to mind, and that which lies behind{38} body and mind alike, that impenetrable essence of individuality, then the professors in heredity would indeed have held up bewildered hands of surrender. He was studious and hesitating, his mental processes went with a tread as deliberate as his foot, and in place of that swift eagerness of the Stanier mind, which, so to speak, threw a lasso over the mental quarry with one swing of a lithe108 arm, and entangled109 it, poor Philip crept on hands and knees towards it and advanced ever so imperceptibly nearer. In the matter of mode of life the difference between him and the type was most marked of all. Hitherto the eldest son had married early and wisely for the sole object of the perpetuation110 of the breed, and having arrived at that, pursued the ways of youth in copious111 indiscretions which his wife, already tamed and paralysed, had no will to resent. Philip, on the other hand, living in the gloom of the house beneath the stroke and the shadow that had fallen on his father, seemed to have missed his youth altogether. Life held for him no bubbling draught112 that frothed on his lips and was forgotten; he abstained113 from all the fruits of vigour114 and exuberance115. One family characteristic alone was his—the passionate love of his home, so that he preferred even in these conditions to live here than find freedom elsewhere. There he dreamed and studied, and neither love nor passion nor intrigue116 came near him. He cared little for his mother; his father he hated and feared. And yet some germ of romance, perhaps, lay dormant117 but potential in his soul, for more and more he read of Italy, and of the swift flowering of love in the South....
It seemed as if the hellish bargain made three hundred years ago had indeed become obsolete118, for the weeks and months added themselves together into a swiftly mounting total of years, while a nightmare of eclipsed existence brooded over the great house at Stanier. Since the stroke that had fallen on him after Hester’s runaway119 match, Lord Yardley would have no guests in the house,{39} and with the constancy of the original Colin, would never leave the place himself. Grinning and snarling120 in his bath-chair, he would be drawn121 up and down its long galleries by the hour together, with his battered122 and petrified123 spouse124 walking by his side, at first unable to speak with any coherence125, but as the years went on attaining126 to a grim ejaculatory utterance127 that left no doubt as to his meaning.
Sometimes it was his whim128 to enter the library, and if Philip was there he would give vent17 to dreadful and stuttering observations as he clenched129 and unclenched the nerveless hands that seemed starving to throttle130 his son’s throat. Then, tired with this outpouring of emotion, he would doze62 in his chair, and wake from his doze into a paroxysm of tremulous speechlessness. At dinner-time he would have the riband of the Garter pinned across his knitted coat and be wheeled, with his wife walking whitely by his side, into the gallery, where the unmarried Philip, and his newly-married brother and his wife, stood up at his entrance, and without recognition he would pass, jibbering, at the head of that small and dismal procession, into the dining-room.
He grew ever thinner and more wasted in body, but such was some consuming fire within him that he needed the sustenance131 of some growing and gigantic youth. He was unable to feed himself, and his attendant standing by him put into that open chasm132 of a mouth, still lined with milk-white teeth, his monstrous133 portions. A couple of bites was sufficient to prepare for the gulp134, and again his mouth was ready to receive.
Then, when the solid entertainment was over, and the women gone, there remained the business of wine, and, sound trencherman though he was, his capacity over this was even more remarkable135. He took his port by the tumblerful, the first of which he would drink like one thirsty for water, and this in some awful manner momentarily restored his powers of speech. Like the first drops before a storm, single words began dripping from his lips, as this restoration of speech took place, his eye,{40} brightening with malevolence136, fixed itself on Philip, and night after night he would gather force for the same lunatic tirade137.
“You sitting there,” he would say, “you, Philip, you aren’t a Stanier! Why don’t you get a bitch to your kennel138, and rear a mongrel or two? You heavy-faced lout139, you can’t breed, you can’t drink, you can do nought140 but grow blear-eyed over a pack of printed rubbish. There was Hester: she married some sort of sweeper, and barren she is at that. I take blame to myself there: if only I had smacked her face a dozen times instead of once, I’d have tamed her: she would have come to heel. And the third of you, Ronald there, with your soapy-faced slut of a wife, you’d be more in your place behind a draper’s counter than here at Stanier. And they tell me that there’s no news yet that you’re going to give an heir to the place. Heir, good God....”
Ronald had less patience than his brother. He would have drunk pretty stiffly by now, and he would bang the table and make the glasses jingle.
“Now you keep a civil tongue in your head, father,” he said, “and I’ll do the same for you. A pretty figure you cut with your Garter and your costermonger talk. It’s your own nest you’re fouling141, and you’ve fouled142 it well. There was never yet a Stanier till you who took to a bath-chair and a bib and a man to feed him when he couldn’t find the way to his own mouth.”
“Here, steady, Ronald!” Philip would say.
“I’m steadier than that palsy-stricken jelly there,” said Ronald. “If he leaves me alone I leave him alone: it isn’t I who begin. But if you or he think I’m going to sit here and listen to his gutter-talk, you’re in error.”
He left his seat with a final reversal of the decanter and banged out of the room.
Then, as likely as not, the old man would begin to whimper. Though, apparently143, he did all he could to make residence at Stanier impossible for his sons, he seemed above all to fear that he would succeed in doing so.{41}
“Your brother gets so easily angered with me,” he would say. “I’m sure I said nothing to him that a loving father shouldn’t. Go after him, Phil, and ask him to come back and drink a friendly glass with his poor father.”
“I think you had better let him be, sir,” said Philip. “He didn’t relish144 what you said of his wife and his childlessness.”
“Well, I meant nothing, I meant nothing. Mayn’t a father have a bit of chaff145 over his wine with his sons? As for his wife, I’m sure she’s a very decent woman, and if it was that which offended him, there’s that diamond collar my lady wears. Bid her take it off and give it to Janet as a present from me. Then we shall be all comfortable again.”
“I should leave it alone for to-night,” said Philip. “You can give it her to-morrow. Won’t you come and have your rubber of whist?”
His eye would brighten again at that, for in his day he had been a great player, and if he went to the cards straight from his wine, which for a little made order in the muddle146 and confusion of his brain, he would play a hand or two with the skill that had been an instinct with him. His tortoise-shell kitten must first be brought him, for that was his mascotte, which reposed147 on his lap, and for the kitten there was a saucerful of chopped fish to keep it quiet. It used to drag fragments from the dish on to the riband of the Garter, and eat from there.
He could not hold the cards himself, and they were arranged in a stand in front of him, and his attendant pulled out the one to which he pointed88 a quivering finger. If the cards were not in his favour he would chuck the kitten off his knee. “Drown it; the devil’s in it,” he would mumble148. Then, before long, the gleam of lucidity150 rent in his clouds by the wine would close up again, and he would play with lamentable151 lunatic cunning, revoking152 and winking153 at his valet, and laughing with pleasure as the tricks were gathered. At the end{42} he would calculate his winnings and insist on their being paid. They were returned to the loser when his valet had abstracted them from his pocket....
Any attempt to move him from Stanier had to be abandoned, for it brought on such violent agitation154 that his life was endangered if it were persisted in, and even if it had been possible to certify155 him as insane, neither Philip nor his brother nor his wife would have consented to his removal to a private asylum157, for some impregnable barrier of family pride stood in the way. Nor, perhaps, would it have been easy to obtain the necessary certificate. He had shown no sign of homicidal or suicidal mania158, and it would have been hard to have found any definite delusion159 from which he suffered. He was just a very terrible old man, partly paralytic160, who got drunk and lucid149 together of an evening. He certainly hated Philip, but Philip’s habits and Philip’s celibacy161 were the causes of that; he cheated at cards, but the sane156 have been known to do likewise.
Indeed, it seemed as if after their long and glorious noon in which, as by some Joshua-stroke, the sun had stayed his course in the zenith, that the fortunes of the Staniers were dipping swiftly into the cold of an eternal night. In mockery of that decline their wealth, mounting to more prodigious162 heights, resembled some Pharaoh’s pyramid into which so soon a handful of dust would be laid. In the last decade of the nineteenth century the long leases of the acres which a hundred years ago had been let for building land at Brighton were tumbling in, and in place of ground-rents the houses came into their possession, while, with true Stanier luck, this coincided with a revival163 of Brighton as a watering-place. Fresh lodes were discovered in their Cornish properties, and the wave of gold rose ever higher, bearing on it those who seemed likely to be the last of the name. Philip, now a little over forty years old, was still unmarried; Ronald, ten years his junior, was childless; and Lady{43} Hester Brayton, now a widow, had neither son nor daughter to carry on the family.
Already it looked as if the vultures were coming closer across the golden sands of the desert on which these survivors164 were barrenly gathered, for an acute and far-seeing solicitor had unearthed165 a family of labourers living in a cottage in the marsh166 between Broomhill and Appledore, who undoubtedly167 bore the name of Stanier, and he had secured from the father, who could just write his name, a duly-attested document to the effect that if Jacob Spurway succeeded in establishing him in the family possessions and honours, he would pay him the sum of a hundred thousand pounds in ten annual instalments. That being made secure, it was worth while secretly to hunt through old wills and leases, and he had certainly discovered that Colin Stanier (?t. Elizabeth) had a younger brother, Ronald, who inhabited a farm not far from Appledore and had issue. That issue could, for the most part, be traced, or, at any rate, firmly inferred right down to the present. Then came a most gratifying search through the chronicles and pedigrees of the line now in possession, and, explore as he might, John Spurway could find no collateral168 line still in existence. Straight down, from father to son, as we have seen, ran the generations; till the day of Lady Hester Brayton, no daughter had been born to an Earl of Yardley, and the line of such other sons as the lords of Stanier begot169 had utterly died out. The chance of establishing this illiterate170 boor171 seemed to Mr. Jacob Spurway a very promising172 one, and he not only devoted173 to it his time and his undoubted abilities, but even made a few clandestine and judicious174 purchases. There arrived, for instance, one night at the Stanier cottage a wholly genuine Elizabethan chair in extremely bad condition, which was modestly placed in the kitchen behind the door; a tiger-ware jug175 found its way to the high chimneypiece and got speedily covered with dust, and a much-tarnished Elizabethan seal{44}top spoon made a curious addition to the Britannia metal equipage for the drinking of tea.
But if this drab and barren decay of the direct line of Colin Stanier roused the interest of Mr. Spurway, it appeared in the year 1892 to interest others not less ingenious, and (to adopt the obsolete terms of the legend) it really looked as if Satan remembered the bond to which he was party, and bestirred himself to make amends176 for his forgetfulness. And first—with a pang177 of self-reproach—he turned his attention to this poor bath-chaired paralytic, now so rapidly approaching his seventieth year. Then there was Philip to consider, and Ronald.... Lady Hester he felt less self-reproachful about, for, unhampered by children, and consoled for the loss of her husband by the very charming attentions of others, she was in London queen of the smart Bohemia, which was the only court at all to her mind, and was far more amusing than the garden parties at Buckingham Palace to which, so pleasant was Bohemia, she was no longer invited.
So then, just about the time that Mr. Spurway was sending Elizabethan relics178 to the cottage in the Romney Marsh, there came over Lord Yardley a strange and rather embarrassing amelioration of his stricken state. From a medical point of view he became inexplicably179 better, though from another point of view it could be as confidently stated that he became irretrievably worse. His clouded faculties180 were pierced by the sun of lucidity again, the jerks and quivers of his limbs and his speech gave way to a more orderly rhythm, and his doctor congratulated himself on the eventual16 success of a treatment that for twenty years had produced no effect whatever. Strictly181 speaking, that treatment could be more accurately182 described as the absence of treatment: Sir Thomas Logan had said all along that the utmost that doctors could do was to assist Nature in effecting a cure: a bath-chair and the indulgence of anything the patient felt inclined to do was the sum of the curative process. Now at last it bore (professionally speaking) the most gratifying fruit. Co{45}herence visited his speech, irrespective of the tumblers of port (indeed, these tumblers of port produced a normal incoherence), his powerless hands began to grasp the cards again, and before long he was able to perambulate the galleries through which his bath-chair had so long wheeled him, on his own feet with the aid of a couple of sticks. Every week that passed saw some new feat105 of convalescence183 and the strangeness of the physical and mental recovery touched the fringes of the miraculous184.
But while Sir Thomas Logan, in his constant visits to Stanier during this amazing recovery, never failed to find some fresh and surprising testimonial to his skill, he had to put away from himself with something of an effort certain qualms185 that insisted on presenting themselves to him. It seemed even while his patient’s physical and mental faculties improved in a steady and ascending186 ratio of progress, that some spiritual deterioration187 balanced, or more than balanced, this recovery. Hard and cruel Lord Yardley had been before the stroke had fallen on him—without compassion188, without human affection—now, in the renewal189 of his vital forces, these qualities blazed into a conflagration190, and it was against Philip, above all others, that their heat and fury were directed.
While his father was helpless Philip had staunchly remained with him, sharing with his mother and with Ronald and his wife the daily burden of companionship. But now there was something intolerable in his father’s lucid and concentrated hatred of him. Daily now Lord Yardley would come into the library where Philip was at his books, in order to glut191 his passion with proximity192. He would take a chair near Philip’s, and, under pretence193 of reading, would look at him in silence with lips that trembled and twitching194 fingers. Once or twice, goaded195 by Philip’s steady ignoring of his presence, he broke out into speeches of hideous196 abuse, the more terrible because it was no longer the drunken raving197 of a paralytic, but the considered utterance of a clear and hellish brain.
Acting on the great doctor’s advice, Philip, without{46} saying a word to his father, made arrangements for leaving Stanier. He talked the matter over with that marble mother of his, and they settled that he would be wise to leave England for the time being. If his father, as might so easily happen, got news of him in London or in some place easily accessible, the awful law of attraction which his hatred made between them might lead to new developments: the more prudent198 thing was that he should efface199 himself altogether.
Italy, to one of Philip’s temperament200, appeared an obvious asylum, but beyond that his whereabouts was to be left vague, so that his mother, without fear of detection in falsehood, could say that she did not know where he was. She would write him news of Stanier to some forwarding agency in Rome, with which he would be in communication, and he would transmit news of himself through the same channel.
One morning before the house was astir, Philip came down into the great hall. Terrible as these last years had been, rising to this climax201 which had driven him out, it was with a bleeding of the heart that he left the home that was knitted into his very being, and beat in his arteries202. He would not allow himself to wonder how long it might be before his return: it did not seem possible that in his father’s lifetime he should tread these floors again, and in the astounding203 rejuvenation204 that there had come over Lord Yardley, who could say how long this miracle of restored vitality205 might work its wonders?
As he moved towards the door a ray of early sunlight struck sideways on to the portrait of Colin Stanier, waking it to another day of its imperishable youth. It illumined, too, the legendary206 parchment let into the frame; by some curious effect of light the writing seemed to Philip for one startled moment to be legible and distinct....
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
effete
|
|
| adj.无生产力的，虚弱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
superstitions
|
|
| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
epoch
|
|
| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
inhuman
|
|
| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
arrogance
|
|
| n.傲慢，自大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
precept
|
|
| n.戒律；格言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
boisterousness
|
|
| n.喧闹；欢跃；（风暴）狂烈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
12
allure
|
|
| n.诱惑力，魅力；vt.诱惑，引诱，吸引 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
kindle
|
|
| v.点燃，着火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
metropolis
|
|
| n.首府；大城市 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
eventual
|
|
| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
vent
|
|
| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
bestowing
|
|
| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
reassured
|
|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
blight
|
|
| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
quandary
|
|
| n.困惑，进迟两难之境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
stammer
|
|
| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
imp
|
|
| n.顽童 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
contemplate
|
|
| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
clandestine
|
|
| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
treacherous
|
|
| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
foe
|
|
| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bustled
|
|
| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
glib
|
|
| adj.圆滑的，油嘴滑舌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
contemplated
|
|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
accomplice
|
|
| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
simultaneously
|
|
| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
jingle
|
|
| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
apprehensive
|
|
| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
imperative
|
|
| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
peals
|
|
| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
conjectured
|
|
| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
oozed
|
|
| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
quarry
|
|
| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
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： |
|
|
|
|
55
sapphire
|
|
| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
quailed
|
|
| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
dominant
|
|
| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
hatred
|
|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
wilful
|
|
| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
smacked
|
|
| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
blazoned
|
|
| v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布；夸示；装饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
doze
|
|
| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
collapsed
|
|
| adj.倒塌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
abortive
|
|
| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
supervision
|
|
| n.监督，管理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
autocracy
|
|
| n.独裁政治，独裁政府 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
tepid
|
|
| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
fervent
|
|
| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
exacting
|
|
| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
irreproachable
|
|
| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
denizen
|
|
| n.居民，外籍居民 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
ratification
|
|
| n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
vows
|
|
| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
shrines
|
|
| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
vengeance
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
vindictive
|
|
| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
debonair
|
|
| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
solicitor
|
|
| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
munificent
|
|
| adj.慷慨的，大方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
stifle
|
|
| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
noose
|
|
| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
shimmering
|
|
| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
babbling
|
|
| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
bondage
|
|
| n.奴役，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
callous
|
|
| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
outrageous
|
|
| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
calamities
|
|
| n.灾祸，灾难( calamity的名词复数 )；不幸之事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
presumption
|
|
| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
forefathers
|
|
| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
obstinately
|
|
| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
celibate
|
|
| adj.独身的，独身主义的；n.独身者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
feat
|
|
| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
aberrations
|
|
| n.偏差( aberration的名词复数 )；差错；脱离常规；心理失常 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
parody
|
|
| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
lithe
|
|
| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
entangled
|
|
| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
perpetuation
|
|
| n.永存，不朽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
copious
|
|
| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
abstained
|
|
| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
exuberance
|
|
| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
intrigue
|
|
| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
dormant
|
|
| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
obsolete
|
|
| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
runaway
|
|
| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
snarling
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
battered
|
|
| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
petrified
|
|
| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
spouse
|
|
| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
coherence
|
|
| n.紧凑；连贯；一致性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
attaining
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
whim
|
|
| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
clenched
|
|
| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
throttle
|
|
| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
sustenance
|
|
| n.食物，粮食；生活资料；生计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
chasm
|
|
| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
gulp
|
|
| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
malevolence
|
|
| n.恶意，狠毒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
tirade
|
|
| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
kennel
|
|
| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
lout
|
|
| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
nought
|
|
| n.／adj.无，零 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
fouling
|
|
| n.（水管、枪筒等中的）污垢v.使污秽( foul的现在分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
fouled
|
|
| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
relish
|
|
| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
chaff
|
|
| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
muddle
|
|
| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
reposed
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
mumble
|
|
| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
lucid
|
|
| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
lucidity
|
|
| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
lamentable
|
|
| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
revoking
|
|
| v.撤销，取消，废除( revoke的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
winking
|
|
| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
certify
|
|
| vt.证明，证实；发证书(或执照)给 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
mania
|
|
| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
delusion
|
|
| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
paralytic
|
|
| adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
celibacy
|
|
| n.独身(主义) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
prodigious
|
|
| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
revival
|
|
| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
survivors
|
|
| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
unearthed
|
|
| 出土的（考古） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
marsh
|
|
| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
collateral
|
|
| adj.平行的；旁系的；n.担保品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
begot
|
|
| v.为…之生父( beget的过去式 )；产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
illiterate
|
|
| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
boor
|
|
| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
judicious
|
|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
jug
|
|
| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
amends
|
|
| n. 赔偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
relics
|
|
| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
inexplicably
|
|
| adv.无法说明地，难以理解地，令人难以理解的是 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
faculties
|
|
| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
convalescence
|
|
| n.病后康复期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
miraculous
|
|
| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
qualms
|
|
| n.不安；内疚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
ascending
|
|
| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
deterioration
|
|
| n.退化；恶化；变坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
renewal
|
|
| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
conflagration
|
|
| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
glut
|
|
| n.存货过多，供过于求；v.狼吞虎咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
proximity
|
|
| n.接近，邻近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
twitching
|
|
| n.颤搐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
goaded
|
|
| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
raving
|
|
| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
efface
|
|
| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
arteries
|
|
| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
astounding
|
|
| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
rejuvenation
|
|
| n. 复原，再生, 更新, 嫩化, 恢复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
vitality
|
|
| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
legendary
|
|
| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |