She was a remnant of the Pottowattomies. She did not know when she was born, but, from her knowledge of events that happened in her lifetime, the approximate dates of which we knew, she must have been over ninety.
Her solitary6 life and habitual7 silence had developed a taciturnity that steals upon those who dwell in the stillness of the forest. There was a far away look in the old eyes, and a tinge8 of bitterness in her low voice, as she talked sadly in her broken English, of the days that were gone.
She cherished the traditions of her people, and their sorrows lingered in her heart. Like shriveled leaves clinging to withered9 boughs10, her memories 32seemed to rustle12 faintly when a new breath of interest touched them, and from among these rustlings we culled13 the arrow’s story.
The little cabin was very old. Its furnishings were in keeping with its occupant and sufficient for her simple needs. There was a rough stone fireplace at one end of the single room. A flat projecting boulder14 on one side of its interior provided a shelf for the few cooking utensils15. They were hung on a rickety iron swinging arm over the wood fire when in use. A much worn turkey wing, with charred16 edges, lay near the hearth17, with which the scattered ashes were dusted back into the fireplace. A bedstead, constructed of birch saplings, occupied the other end of the room. Several coon and fox skins, neatly18 sewed together, and a couple of gray blankets, laid over some rush mats, completed the sleeping arrangements. With the exception of a few bunches of bright hued19 feathers, stuck about in various chinks, the rough walls were bare of ornament20.
The other furniture consisted of a couple of low stools, a heavy rocking chair and a small pine table. A kerosene21 lantern and some candles illumined the squalid interior at night.
In an open space near the cabin was a small patch of cultivated ground that produced a few vegetables. Sunflowers and hollyhocks grew along its edge and gave a touch of color to the surroundings.
Waukena
33The old settlers and their families, who lived in the river country, provided Waukena with most of her food supplies and the few other comforts that were necessary to her lonely existence.
Many times I studied the rugged22 old face in the fire light. Among the melancholy23 lines there lurked24 a certain grimness and lofty reserve. There was no humility25 in the modelling of the determined26 mouth and chin. The features were those of a mother of warriors27. The blood of heroes, unknown and forgotten, was in her veins29, and the savage30 fatalism of centuries slumbered31 in the placid32 dark eyes. It was the calmed face of one who had defied vicissitude33, and who, with head unbowed, would meet finality.
My friend the historian had known her many years, and had made copious34 notes of her childhood recollections of the enforced departure of her tribe from the river country. She and several others had taken refuge in a swamp until the soldiers had gone. They then made their way north and dwelt for a few years near the St. Joseph, where a favored portion of the tribe was allowed to retain land, but finally returned to their old haunts.
When she was quite young her mother gave her the headless arrow, which she took from one of the recesses35 in the log wall and showed to us. It was a slender shaft36 of hickory, perfectly37 straight, and fragments of the dyed feathers that once ornamented38 it still adhered to its delicately notched39 base. At the other end were frayed40 remnants of animal fiber41 that had once held the point in place. There were dark stains along the shaft that had survived the 34years. The old squaw held it tenderly in her hands as she talked of it, and always replaced it carefully in the narrow niche42 when the subject was changed.
Nearly a hundred years ago the shaft was fashioned by an old arrowmaker up the river for Little Turtle, a young hunter, who hoped to kill a particular bald eagle with it. For a long time the bird had soared with unconquered wings over the river country, and seemed to bear a charmed life. It had successfully eluded43 him for nearly a year, but finally fell when the twang of Little Turtle’s bow sent the new weapon into his breast, as he sat unsuspectingly on a limb of a dead tree that bent44 over the river.
The victor proudly bore his trophy45 to his bark canoe and paddled down the stream to Whippoorwill Bayou. He pulled the little craft up into the underbrush at twilight46, and sat quietly on the bank until the full moon came out from among the trees.
On the other side of the bayou were heavy masses of wild grape vines that had climbed over some dead trees and undergrowth. Through a strange freak of nature the convoluted47 piles had resolved themselves into grotesque48 shapes that, in the magic sheen of the moonlight, suggested the head and shoulders of a gigantic human figure, with long locks and overhanging brows, standing49 at the edge of the forest. The lusty growth had crept over the lower trees in such a way that the distribution of the shadows completed the illusion. An unkempt old man seemed to stand wearily, with masses of the tangled verdure heaped over his extended hands. It was only when 35the moon was near the horizon that the lights and shadows produced the strange apparition51. The weird52 figure, sculptured by the sorcery of the pale beams, was called “The Father of the Vines” by the red men, and he was believed to have an occult influence over the living things that dwelt in the forests along the river.
Under one of the burdened hands was a dark grotto53 that led back into the mysteries of the woods, and from it came the low cry of a whippoorwill. Little Turtle instantly rose, dragged out the concealed54 canoe, paddled silently over the moonlit water, and entered the grotto. A shadowy figure had glided55 out to meet him, for the whippoorwill call was Nebowie’s signal to her lover.
For months the grotto had been their trysting place. Rose winged hours were spent there, and the great hands seemed to be held in benediction56, as the world old story was told within the hidden recesses.
Nebowie’s father, Moose Jaw57, a scarred old warrior28 and hunter, had told White Wolf that his dark-eyed willowy daughter should go to his wigwam when the wild geese again crossed the sky, and White Wolf was anxiously counting the days that lay between him and the fruition of his hopes.
He was a tall, low browed, villainous looking savage. He had once saved Moose Jaw from an untimely death. The old Indian was crossing a frozen marsh58 one winter morning, with a deer on his shoulders, and broke through the ice. White Wolf happened to see him and effected his rescue. He had 36long gazed from afar on the light in Moose Jaw’s wigwam, but Nebowie’s eyes were downcast when he came. He lived down the river, and the people of his village seldom came up as far as Whippoorwill Bayou.
His persistent59 visits, encouraged by the grateful old Indian, and frowned upon by the flower he sought, gradually became less frequent, and finally ceased, when he learned the secret of Nebowie and Little Turtle, after stealthily haunting the neighborhood of the bayou for several weeks.
An evil light came into White Wolf’s sinister61 eyes, and the fires of blood lust50 kindled62 in his breast. He went on the path of vengeance63. The savage and the esthete are alike when the coveted64 male or female of their kind is taken by another. He was too crafty65 to wage open warfare66 and resolved to eliminate his rival in some way that would not arouse suspicion and resentment67 when he again sought Nebowie’s smiles.
Old Moose Jaw smoked many pipes, and meditated68 philosophically69 over his daughter’s obstinate70 disregard of the compact with White Wolf. Nebowie’s mother had been dead several years, and the old Indian was easily reconciled to what appeared to be his daughter’s resolution to remain with him, for the little bark wigwam would be lonely without her. She went cheerfully about her various tasks, and never mentioned Little Turtle, until one day they came together and told him their story. As nothing had been seen of White Wolf for a long time, the 37old man assumed that his ardor71 had cooled, and finally consented to the building of the new Wigwam on the bayou bank near the Father of the Vines, where Nebowie would still be near him. He had no objections to Little Turtle and hoped that the obligation to White Wolf could be discharged in some other way.
He rejoiced when the small black eyes of a papoose blinked at him when he visited the new wigwam one afternoon during the following summer. He spent much time with the little wild thing on his knee when she was old enough to be handled by anybody but her mother. He would sit for hours, gently swinging the birch bark cradle that hung from a low bough11 near the bank, for he was no longer able to hunt or fish, and took no part in the activities of the men of the village. Little Turtle’s prowess amply supplied both wigwams with food and raiment, and there was no need for further exertion72.
White Wolf had apparently73 recovered from his infatuation. He occasionally came up the river, but his connection with the affairs of the community, whose little habitations were widely scattered through the woods beyond the bayou, was considered a thing of the past.
Little Turtle was highly esteemed74 by the men of his village, and two years after his marriage he was made its chief.
The following spring delegations75 from the various villages along the river departed for a general powwow of the tribe, near the mouth of the St. Joseph, 38in the country of the dunes76, about eighty miles away. Little Turtle and White Wolf went with them. Time had nurtured77 the demon78 in the heart of the baffled suitor, but there were no indications of enmity during the trip. The party broke up on its way home and took different trails. Little Turtle never returned.
Nebowie pined in anguish79 for the home coming, and White Wolf waited for her sorrow to pass. She spent months of misery80, and finally carried her aching heart to the “Black Robe,” who ministered to the spiritual needs of her people, after the formula of his sect81, in the little mission house up the river. He was a kindly82 counselor83 and listened with sympathy to her story.
He belonged to that hardy84 and zealous85 band of ecclesiastics86 who had come into the land of another race to build new altars, and to teach what they believed to be the ways to redemption. He told Nebowie to take her sorrow to the white man’s deity87 and gave her a small silver crucifix as a token that would bring divine consolation88 and peace. Forms of penance89 and supplication90 were prescribed, and she was sent away with the blessing91 of the devout92 priest.
Nebowie carried her cross and, during the still hours in the little wigwam, she held it to her anguished93 breast. The months brought no surcease. In the quiet ministry94 of the woods there crept into her heart a belief that the magic of the Black Robe’s God was futile95.
The inevitable96 atavism came and she departed 39into the silences. For a long time her whereabouts were unknown. During the bitter months her intuitive mind worked out the problem. Something that she found in the wilderness97 had solved the mystery of her loved one’s disappearance98, and, when she returned, she hammered her silver crucifix into an arrow head, bound it with deer sinew to the hickory shaft of the arrow with which Little Turtle had killed the bald eagle, and meditated upon the hour of her revenge. White Wolf was doomed99, and his executioner patiently bided100 the time for action.
He renewed his visits and condoled101 with the sad old man, but made no progress with Nebowie, although she sometimes seemed to encourage his advances.
One evening in the early fall he returned from a hunting trip over the marshes102. He followed one of the small trails that skirted the woods near his village. A shadowy form moved silently among the trees. There was a low whir, and something sped through the dusk.
When they found White Wolf in the morning the hair on one side of his head was matted with blood, and a small hole led into his stilled brain, but there was no clue to the motive103 or to the author of the tragedy. He was duly mourned and buried after the manner of his fathers. His taking off was numbered among the enigmas104 of the past, and was soon forgotten.
Nebowie continued her home life with her father and her little one, but tranquility was in her face. 40She felt within her the glow that retribution brings to the savage heart—whether it be red or white. A recompense had come to her tortured soul that softened105 the after years. The silver of the arrow point had achieved a mission that had failed when it bore the form of a cross.
During our exploration of the sites of the old Indian villages in the river country, we discovered a large pasture that had never been ploughed. Traces of two well worn trails led through it, and, on a little knoll106 near the center of the field, we found what appeared to be burial mounds107.
We were reluctant to desecrate109 the hallowed spot, but finally yielded to the temptation to open one of them. We unearthed110 two skeletons. They were both in a sitting position. I picked up one of the skulls111 and curiously113 examined it. Something rattled114 within the uncanny relic115 and dropped to the grass. The small object proved to be a silver arrowhead, and Waukena’s story came home to us with startling reality. We replaced the bones and reshaped the mound108 as best we could, but carried with us the mouldy skull112 and its carefully wrought116 messenger of death.
Nearly all of the Indians in the river country were buried in a sitting position. The grim skeletons of the vanished race belong to the world that is under ground. In countless117 huddled118 hordes119, they sit in the gloom of the fragrant120 earth, with hands outstretched, 41as if in mute appeal, and wait through the years for whatever gods may come.
In the darkness that may be eternal, the disputations of theologians do not disturb the gathering121 mould. The multitudinous forms of reward and punishment, that play in empty pageantry upon the hopes and fears of those who walk the green earth, touch not the myriads122 in its bosom123.
The self appointed, who bear the lights of man born dogma, and the blessings124 and curses of imaginary deities125, into the paths of the unknowable, grope as blindly among pagan bones as through cathedral aisles126.
That evening we rowed up the river to carry our story to Waukena. She held the mouldy skull in her lap for a long time and regarded it with deep interest. Sealed fountains within her aged60 heart seemed to well anew, for there were tears in her eyes when she raised them toward us.
Waukena was the little girl that played around the stricken wigwam on the bayou, and she had treasured the stained shaft as a heritage from those she had loved. To her it was a sacred thing. The life currents it had changed had passed on, but they seemed to meet again as the gray haired woman sat before her flickering127 fire, with the mute toys of the fateful drama about her. We left her alone with her musings.
When we came one evening, a week later, the door was open, but the ashes on the hearth were cold. On the rough table lay the mouldy skull, that 42was once the home of relentless128 passion, and near it, before its eyeless caverns129, was the blood stained shaft, with the silver point neatly fitted back into its place.
Waukena may have stolen away through the solitudes130 of the dim forest, and yielded her tired heart unto the gods of her people, for she was never again seen in the river country. Her chastened soul may still wander in the shadowy vistas131 of the winter woods, when the sun sinks in aureoles of crimson132 beyond the lacery of the tall trees—that stand still and ghostly—their slender boles tinged133 with hues134 of red, like the lost arrow shafts135 of those who are gone.
Sadly and thoughtfully we walked down the old trail that bordered the bayou. We sat for a long time on the moss136 covered bank and talked of the arrow and the destinies it had touched. The pearly disk of the full moon hung in the eastern sky. A faint mist veiled the surface of the softly lisping water. An owl1 swept low over the bayou into the gloom of the forest. The pond lilies had closed their chalices137 and sealed their fragrance138 for another day. Hosts of tiny wings were moving among the sedges. Fireflies gemmed139 the dark places and vanished, as human lives come out of the void, waver with transient glow, and are gone.
There was a tender eloquence140 and witchery in the gentle murmurings of the night. Mystic voices were in the woods. Beyond the other shore the hoary141 form of the Father of the Vines seemed transfigured 43with a holy light. From somewhere in the gloom of the grotto came the plaintive142 notes of a whippoorwill.
As one crying in the wilderness, Nebowie’s spirit was calling for her lost lover from among the embowered labyrinths143.
In the twilights of drowsy144 summers, the wild cadence145 still enchants146 the bayou. The moon still rides through the highways of the star strewn skies, and, with pensive147 luster148, pictures the guardian149 of the trysting place of long ago. The shadows below the lofty forehead have deepened, and the great silent figure bends with the weight of the onward150 years.
Out yonder, in the moonlit woods,
With the burden of the fruitage
Where the hiding purpling clusters
Are caught by silver beams,
Of his leafy net of dreams.
With the weariness of fulfillment,
His tendril woven brow
Is bowed before the mystery
Of the eternal Why and How.
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1
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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2
unravelled
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| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的过去式和过去分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
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3
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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4
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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5
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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8
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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9
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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10
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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12
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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13
culled
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| v.挑选，剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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15
utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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16
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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18
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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19
hued
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| 有某种色调的 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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21
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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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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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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25
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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27
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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29
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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slumbered
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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vicissitude
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| n.变化，变迁，荣枯，盛衰 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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36
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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37
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
notched
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| a.有凹口的，有缺口的 | |
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40
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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42
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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43
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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44
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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45
trophy
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| n.优胜旗，奖品，奖杯，战胜品，纪念品 | |
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46
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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convoluted
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| adj.旋绕的；复杂的 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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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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50
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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51
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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52
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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53
grotto
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| n.洞穴 | |
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54
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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55
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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56
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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57
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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58
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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59
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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61
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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62
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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63
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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64
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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65
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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66
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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67
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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68
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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69
philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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70
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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71
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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72
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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73
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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74
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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75
delegations
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| n.代表团( delegation的名词复数 )；委托，委派 | |
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76
dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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77
nurtured
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| 养育( nurture的过去式和过去分词 )； 培育； 滋长； 助长 | |
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78
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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79
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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80
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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81
sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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82
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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83
counselor
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| n.顾问，法律顾问 | |
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84
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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85
zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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86
ecclesiastics
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| n.神职者，教会，牧师( ecclesiastic的名词复数 ) | |
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87
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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88
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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89
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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90
supplication
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| n.恳求，祈愿，哀求 | |
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91
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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92
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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93
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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94
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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95
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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96
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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97
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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98
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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99
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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100
bided
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| v.等待，停留( bide的过去式 )；居住；等待；面临 | |
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101
condoled
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| v.表示同情，吊唁( condole的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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103
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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104
enigmas
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| n.难于理解的问题、人、物、情况等，奥秘( enigma的名词复数 ) | |
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105
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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106
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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107
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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108
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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109
desecrate
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| v.供俗用，亵渎，污辱 | |
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110
unearthed
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| 出土的（考古） | |
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111
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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112
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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113
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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114
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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115
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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116
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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117
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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118
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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119
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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120
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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121
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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122
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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123
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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124
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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125
deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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126
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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127
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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128
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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129
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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130
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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131
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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132
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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133
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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135
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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136
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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137
chalices
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| n.高脚酒杯( chalice的名词复数 )；圣餐杯；金杯毒酒；看似诱人实则令人讨厌的事物 | |
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138
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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139
gemmed
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| 点缀（gem的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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140
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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141
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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142
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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143
labyrinths
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| 迷宫( labyrinth的名词复数 )； （文字，建筑）错综复杂的 | |
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144
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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145
cadence
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| n.（说话声调的）抑扬顿挫 | |
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146
enchants
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| 使欣喜，使心醉( enchant的第三人称单数 )； 用魔法迷惑 | |
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147
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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148
luster
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| n.光辉；光泽，光亮；荣誉 | |
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149
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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150
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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151
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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152
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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153
entangled
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| 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 ) | |
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154
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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155
meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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