It happened once in a northern county that I found myself at a farmer’s fireside, and in company which the four winds of heaven seemed to have blown together. The farmer was a joyous1 old man; and the evening, a wintry one, and wild with wind and snow, flew away with jest and mirth and tale and song. Our entertainer had no wish that our joy should subside2; for he heaped the fire till the house shone to its remotest rafter, loaded his table with rustic3 delicacies4, and once when a pause ensued after the chanting of one of Robin5 Hood’s ballads6, he called out, “Why stays the story, and what stops the rhyme? Have I heated my hearth8, have I spread my tables and poured forth9 my strong drink, for the poor in fancy and the lame10 in speech? Up, up; and give me a grave tale or a gay, to gladden or sadden the present moment, and lend wings to the leaden feet of evening time. Rise, I say: else may the fire that flames so high; the table which groans11 with food, for which water and air and earth have been sought; and the board that perfumes you with the odor[207] of ale and mead,——may the first cease to warm, and the rest to nourish ye.”
“Master,” said a hale and joyous personage, whose shining and gladsome looks showed sympathy and alliance with the good cheer and fervent14 blood of merry old England, “since thy table smokes, and thy brown ale flows more frankly15 for the telling of a true old tale, then a true old tale thou shalt have; shame fall me if I balk16 thee, as the peasant folks say, in the dales of bonny Derby.
“Those who have never seen Haddon Hall, the ancient residence of the Vernons of Derbyshire, can have but an imperfect notion of the golden days of old England. Though now deserted17 and dilapidated, its halls silent, the sacred bell of its chapel18 mute; though its tables no longer send up the cheering smell of roasted boars and spitted oxen; though the music and the voice of the minstrel are silenced, and the light foot of the dancer no longer sounds on the floor; though no gentle knights19 and gentler dames22 go trooping hand in hand, and whispering among the twilight23 groves24, and the portal no longer sends out its shining helms and its barbed steeds,——where is the place that can recall the stately hospitality and glory of former times, like the Hall of old Haddon?
“It happened on a summer evening, when I was a boy, that several curious old people had seated themselves on a little round knoll25 near the gate of Haddon Hall; and their talk was of the Vernons, the Cavendishes, the Manners, and many old names once renowned26 in Derbyshire. I had fastened myself to the apron-string[208] of a venerable dame21, at whose girdle hung a mighty27 iron key, which commanded the entrance of the hall; her name was Dolly Foljambe; and she boasted her descent from an ancient red cross knight20 of that name, whose alabaster28 figure, in mail, may be found in Bakewell church. This high origin, which, on consulting family history, I find had not the concurrence29 of clergy30, seemed not an idle vanity of the humble31 portress; she had the straight frame, and rigid32, demure33, and even warlike cast of face, which alabaster still retains of her ancestor; and had she laid herself by his side, she might have passed muster34, with an ordinary antiquarian, for a coeval36 figure. At our feet the river Wye ran winding37 and deep; at our side rose the hall huge and gray; and the rough heathy hills, renowned in Druidic and Roman and Saxon and Norman story, bounded our wish for distant prospects38, and gave us the mansion39 of the Vernons for our contemplation, clear of all meaner encumbrances40 of landscape.
“‘Ah! dame Foljambe,’ said an old husbandman, whose hair was whitened by acquaintance with seventy winters, ‘it’s a sore and a sad sight to look at that fair tower and see no smoke ascending41. I remember it in a brighter day, when many a fair face gazed out at the windows, and many a gallant42 form appeared at the gate. Then were the days when the husbandman could live,——could whistle as he sowed, dance and sing as he reaped, and could pay his rent in fatted oxen to my lord and in fatted fowls44 to my lady. Ah! dame Foljambe, we remember when men could cast their lines in the Wye; could feast on the red deer and the fallow deer, on the plover47 and the ptarmigan; had right of the common for[209] their flocks, of the flood for their nets, and of the air for their harquebuss. Ah! dame, old England is no more the old England it was, than that hall, dark and silent and desolate48, is the proud hall that held Sir George Vernon, the King of the Peak, and his two lovely daughters, Margaret and Dora. Those were days, dame; those were days!’ And as he ceased, he looked up to the tower, with an eye of sorrow, and shook and smoothed down his white hairs.
“‘I tell thee,’ replied the ancient portress, sorely moved in mind between present duty and service to the noble owner of Haddon and her lingering affection for the good old times, of which memory shapes so many paradises,——‘I tell thee the tower looks as high and as lordly as ever; and there is something about its silent porch and its crumbling49 turrets51 which gives it a deeper hold of our affections than if an hundred knights even now came prancing52 forth at its porch, with trumpets53 blowing and banners displayed.’
“‘Ah! dame Foljambe,’ said the husbandman, ‘yon deer now bounding so blithely55 down the old chase, with his horny head held high, and an eye that seems to make naught56 of mountain and vale, it is a fair creature. Look at him! see how he cools his feet in the Wye, surveys his shadow in the stream, and now he contemplates57 his native hills again. So! away he goes, and we gaze after him, and admire his speed and his beauty. But were the hounds at his flanks, and the bullets in his side, and the swords of the hunters bared for the brittling, ah! dame, we should change our cheer; we should think that such shapely limbs and such stately antlers might[210] have reigned58 in wood and on hill for many summers. Even so we think of that stately old hall, and lament60 its destruction.’
“‘Dame Foljambe thinks not so deeply on the matter,’ said a rustic; ‘she thinks, the less the hall fire, the less is the chance of the hall being consumed; the less the company, the longer will the old hall floor last, which she sweeps so clean, telling so many stories of the tree that made it, that the seven Virtues61 in tapestry62 would do well in avoiding wild company; and that the lass with the long shanks, Diana, and her nymphs, will hunt more to her fancy on her dusty acre of old arras, than in the dubious63 society of the lords and the heroes of the court gazette. Moreover, the key at her girdle is the commission by which she is keeper of this cast-off and moth-eaten garment of the noble name of Manners; and think ye that she holds that power lightly, which makes her governess of ten thousand bats and owls46, and gives her the awful responsibility of an armory64 containing almost an entire harquebuss, the remains65 of a pair of boots, and the relique of a buff jerkin?’
“What answer to this unceremonious attack on ancient things committed to her keeping the portress might have made, I had not an opportunity to learn; her darkening brow indicated little meekness66 of reply; a voice, however, much sweeter than the dame’s intruded67 on the debate. In the vicinity of the hall, at the foot of a limestone68 rock, the summer visitors of Haddon may and do refresh themselves at a small fount of pure water, which love of the clear element induced one of the old ladies to confine within the limits of a large stone basin.[211] Virtues were imputed69 to the spring, and the superstition70 of another proprietor71 erected73 beside it a cross of stone, lately mutilated and now removed, but once covered with sculptures and rude emblems74, which conveyed religious instruction to an ignorant people. Towards this fountain a maiden75 from a neighboring cottage was observed to proceed, warbling, as she went, a fragment of one of those legendary76 ballads which the old minstrels, illiterate77 or learned, scattered78 so abundantly over the country.
DORA VERNON.
It happened between March and May-day,
When wood-buds wake which slumbered79 late,
When hill and valley grow green and gayly,
And every wight longs for a mate;
When lovers sleep with an open eyelid80,
Like nightingales on the orchard81 tree,
And sorely wish they had wings for flying,
So they might with their true love be;
A knight all worthy82, in this sweet season,
Went out to Cardiff with bow and gun,
Not to chase the roebuck, nor shoot the pheasant,
But hunt the fierce fox so wild and dun.
And by his side was a young maid riding,
With laughing blue eyes and sunny hair;
And who was it but young Dora Vernon,
Young Rutland’s true love, and Haddon’s heir.
Her gentle hand was a good bow bearing;
The deer at speed or the fowl43 on wing
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Stayed in their flight, when the bearded arrow
Her white hand loosed from the sounding string.
Old men made bare their locks, and blest her,
As blithe54 she rode down the Durwood side,
Her steed rejoiced in his lovely rider,
Arched his neck proudly, and pranced83 in pride.
“This unexpected minstrelsy was soon interrupted by dame Foljambe, whose total devotion to the family of Rutland rendered her averse84 to hear the story of Dora Vernon’s elopement profaned85 in the familiar ballad7 strain of a forgotten minstrel. ‘I wonder at the presumption86 of that rude minion87,’ said the offended portress, ‘in chanting such ungentle strains in my ear. Home to thy milk-pails, idle hussy,——home to thy distaff, foolish maiden; or, if thou wilt88 sing, come over to my lodge89 when the sun is down, and I will teach thee a strain of a higher sort, made by a great court lord, on the marriage of her late Grace. It is none of your rustic chants, but full of fine words, both long and lordly; it begins:
“Come burn your incense90, ye godlike graces,
Come, Cupid, dip your darts91 in light;
Unloose her starry92 zone, chaste93 Venus,
And trim the bride for the bridal night.”
“‘None of your vulgar chants, minion, I tell thee; but stuffed with spiced words, and shining with gods and garters and stars and precious stones, and odors thickly dropping; a noble strain indeed.’ The maiden smiled, nodded acquiescence94, and, tripping homeward, renewed her homely95 and interrupted song, till the riverbank[213] and the ancient towers acknowledged, with their sweetest echoes, the native charms of her voice.
“‘I marvel96 much,’ said the hoary97 portress, ‘at the idle love for strange and incredible stories which possesses as with a demon98 the peasants of this district. Not only have they given a saint, with a shirt of haircloth and a scourge99, to every cavern100, and a druid with his golden sickle101 and his mistletoe to every circle of shapeless stones, but they have made the Vernons, the Cavendishes, the Cockaynes, and the Foljambes erect72 on every wild place crosses or altars of atonement for crimes which they never committed; unless fighting ankle-deep in heathen blood, for the recovery of Jerusalem and the holy sepulchre, required such outlandish penance102. They cast, too, a supernatural light round the commonest story; if you credit them, the ancient chapel bell of Haddon, safely lodged103 on the floor for a century, is carried to the top of the turret50, and, touched by some invisible hand, is made to toll104 forth midnight notes of dolor and woe105, when any misfortune is about to befall the noble family of Rutland. They tell you, too, that wailings of no earthly voice are heard around the decayed towers and along the garden terraces, on the festival night of the saint who presided of old over the fortunes of the name of Vernon. And no longer agone than yesterday, old Edgar Ferrars assured me that he had nearly as good as seen the apparition107 of the King of the Peak himself, mounted on his visionary steed, and with imaginary horn and hound and halloo pursuing a spectre stag over the wild chase of Haddon. Nay108, so far has vulgar credulity and assurance gone, that the great garden[214] entrance, called the Knight’s porch, through which Dora Vernon descended109 step by step among her twenty attendant maidens110, all rustling111 in embroidered112 silks, and shining and sparkling like a winter sky, in diamonds, and such-like costly113 stones,——to welcome her noble bridegroom, Lord John Manners, who came cap in hand with his company of gallant gentlemen——’
“‘Nay, now, dame Foljambe,’ interrupted the husbandman, ‘all this is fine enough, and lordly too, I’ll warrant; but thou must not apparel a plain old tale in the embroidered raiment of thy own brain, nor adorn114 it in the precious stones of thy own fancy. Dora Vernon was a lovely lass, and as proud as she was lovely: she bore her head high, dame; and well she might, for she was a gallant knight’s daughter; and lords and dukes, and what not, have descended from her. But, for all that, I cannot forget that she ran away in the middle of a moonlight night with young Lord John Manners, and no other attendant than her own sweet self. Ay, dame, and for the diamonds, and what not, which thy story showers on her locks and her garments, she tied up her berry brown locks in a menial’s cap, and ran away in a mantle115 of Bakewell brown, three yards for a groat. Ay, dame, and instead of going out regularly by the door, she leapt out of a window; more by token she left one of her silver-heeled slippers116 fastened in the grating, and the place has ever since been called the Lady’s Leap.’
“Dame Foljambe, like an inexperienced rider, whose steed refuses obedience117 to voice and hand, resigned the contest in despair, and allowed her rustic companion to enter full career into the debatable land, where she had[215] so often fought and vanquished118 in defence of the decorum of the mode of alliance between the houses of Haddon and Rutland.
“‘And now, dame,’ said the husbandman, ‘I will tell thee the story in my own and my father’s way. The last of the name of Vernon was renowned far and wide for the hospitality and magnificence of his house, for the splendor119 of his retinue120, and more for the beauty of his daughters, Margaret and Dorothy. This is speaking in thy own manner, dame Foljambe; but truth’s truth. He was much given to hunting and hawking122, and jousting123, with lances either blunt or sharp; and though a harquebuss generally was found in the hand of the gallant hunters of that time, the year of grace 1560, Sir George Vernon despised that foreign weapon; and well he might, for he bent125 the strongest bow, and shot the surest shaft126, of any man in England. His chase-dogs, too, were all of the most expert and famous kinds, his falcons127 had the fairest and most certain flight; and though he had seen foreign lands, he chiefly prided himself in maintaining unimpaired the old baronial grandeur129 of his house. I have heard my grandsire say, how his great-grandsire told him, that the like of the Knight of Haddon, for a stately form and a noble, free, and natural grace of manner, was not to be seen in court or camp. He was hailed, in common tale and in minstrel song, by the name of the King of the Peak; and it is said his handsome person and witchery of tongue chiefly prevented his mistress, good Queen Bess, from abridging130 his provincial131 designation with the headsman’s axe132.
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“‘It happened in the fifth year of the reign59 of his young and sovereign mistress, that a great hunting festival was held at Haddon, where all the beauty and high blood of Derbyshire assembled. Lords of distant counties came; for to bend a bow or brittle133 the deer, under the eye of Sir George Vernon, was an honor sought for by many. Over the chase of Haddon, over the Hill of Stanton, over Bakewell-Edge, over Chatsworth Hill and Hardwicke Plain, and beneath the ancient Castle of Bolsover, as far as the edge of the forest of old Sherwood, were the sounds of harquebuss and bowstring heard, and the cry of dogs and the cheering of men. The brown-mouthed and white-footed dogs of Derbyshire were there among the foremost; the snow-white hound and the coal-black, from the Scottish border and bonny Westmoreland, preserved or augmented134 their ancient fame; nor were the dappled hounds of old Godfrey Foljambe, of Bakewell bank, far from the throat of the red deer when they turned at bay, and gored135 horses and riders. The great hall floor of Haddon was soon covered with the produce of wood and wild.
“‘Nor were the preparations for feasting this noble hunting-party unworthy the reputation for solid hospitality which characterized the ancient King of the Peak. Minstrels had come from distant parts, as far even as the Scottish border; bold, free-spoken, rude, rough-witted men; “for the selvage of the web,” says the northern proverb, “is aye the coarsest cloth.” But in the larder137 the skill of man was chiefly employed, and a thousand rarities were prepared for pleasing the eye and appeasing138 the appetite. In the kitchen, with its huge chimneys[217] and prodigious139 spits, the menial maidens were flooded nigh ankle-deep in the richness of roasted oxen and deer; and along the passage, communicating with the hall of state, men might have slided along, because of the fat droppings of that prodigious feast, like a slider on the frozen Wye. The kitchen tables, of solid plank140, groaned141 and yielded beneath the roasted beeves and the spitted deer; while a stream of rich smoke, massy and slow and savory142, sallied out at the grated windows, and sailed round the mansion, like a mist exhaled143 by the influence of the moon. I tell thee, dame Foljambe, I call those the golden days of old England.
“‘But I wish you had seen the hall prepared for this princely feast. The floor, of hard and solid stone, was strewn deep with rushes and fern; and there lay the dogs of the chase in couples, their mouths still red with the blood of stags, and panting yet from the fervor144 and length of their pursuit. At the lower end of the hall, where the floor subsided145 a step, was spread a table for the stewards146 and other chiefs over the menials. There sat the keeper of the bows, the warder of the chase, and the head falconer, together with many others of lower degree, but mighty men among the retainers of the noble name of Vernon. Over their heads were hung the horns of stags, the jaws147 of boars, the skulls148 of the enormous bisons, and the foreheads of foxes. Nor were there wanting trophies149, where the contest had been more bloody150 and obstinate,——banners and shields and helmets, won in the Civil and Scottish and Crusading wars, together with many strange weapons of annoyance151 or defence, borne in the Norwegian and Saxon broils152.[218] Beside them were hung rude paintings of the most renowned of these rustic heroes, all in the picturesque153 habiliments of the times. Horns and harquebusses and swords and bows and buff coats and caps were thrown in negligent154 groups all about the floor; while their owners sat in expectation of an immediate155 and ample feast, which they hoped to wash down with floods of that salutary beverage156, the brown blood of barley157.
“‘At the upper end of the hall, where the floor was elevated exactly as much in respect as it was lowered in submission158 at the other, there the table for feasting the nobles stood; and well was it worthy of its station. It was one solid plank of white sycamore, shaped from the entire shaft of an enormous tree, and supported on squat159 columns of oak, ornamented161 with the arms of the Vernons, and grooved162 into the stone floor, beyond all chance of being upset by human powers. Benches of wood, curiously163 carved, and covered, in times of more than ordinary ceremony, with cushions of embroidered velvet164, surrounded this ample table; while in the recess165 behind appeared a curious work in arras, consisting of festivals and processions and bridals, executed from the ancient poets; and for the more staid and grave, a more devout166 hand had wrought167 some scenes from the controversial fathers and the monkish168 legends of the ancient church. The former employed the white hands of Dora Vernon herself; while the latter were the labors169 of her sister Margaret, who was of a serious turn, and never happened to be so far in love as to leap from a window.’
“‘And now,’ said dame Foljambe, ‘I will describe[219] the Knight of Haddon, with his fair daughters and principal guests, myself.’ ‘A task that will last thee to doomsday, dame,’ muttered the husbandman. The portress heeded170 not this ejaculation, but with a particular stateliness of delivery proceeded. ‘The silver dinner-bell rung on the summit of Haddon Hall, the warder thrice wound his horn, and straightway the sound of silver spurs was heard in the passage, the folding-door opened, and in marched my own ancestor, Ferrars Foljambe by name. I have heard his dress too often described not to remember it. A buff jerkin, with slashed171 and ornamented sleeves, a mantle of fine Lincoln green, fastened round his neck with wolf-claws of pure gold, a pair of gilt172 spurs on the heels of his brown hunting-boots, garnished173 above with taslets of silver, and at the square and turned-up toes, with links of the same metal connected with the taslets. On his head was a boar-skin cap, on which the white teeth of the boar were set, tipt with gold. At his side was a hunting-horn, called the white hunting-horn of Tutbury, banded with silver in the middle, belted with black silk at the ends, set with buckles174 of silver, and bearing the arms of Edmund, the warlike brother of Edward Longshanks. This fair horn descended by marriage to Stanhope, of Elvaston, who sold it to Foxlowe, of Staveley. The gift of a king and the property of heroes was sold for some paltry175 pieces of gold.’
“‘Dame Foljambe,’ said the old man, ‘the march of thy tale is like the course of the Wye, seventeen miles of links and windings176 down a fair valley five miles long. A man might carve thy ancestor’s figure in alabaster in[220] the time thou describest him. I must resume my story, dame; so let thy description of old Ferrars Foljambe stand; and suppose the table filled about with the gallants of the chase and many fair ladies, while at the head sat the King of the Peak himself, his beard descending177 to his broad girdle, his own natural hair of dark brown——blessings on the head that keeps God’s own covering on it, and scorns the curled inventions of man!——falling in thick masses on his broad, manly178 shoulders. Nor silver nor gold wore he; the natural nobleness of his looks maintained his rank and pre-eminence among men; the step of Sir George Vernon was one that many imitated, but few could attain,——at once manly and graceful179. I have heard it said that he carried privately180 in his bosom181 a small rosary of precious metal, in which his favorite daughter Dora had entwined one of her mother’s tresses. The ewer-bearers entered with silver basins full of water; the element came pure and returned red; for the hands of the guests were stained with the blood of the chase. The attendant minstrels vowed182 that no hands so shapely, nor fingers so taper184 and long and white and round, as those of the Knight of Haddon, were that day dipped in water.
“‘There is wondrous185 little pleasure in describing a feast of which we have not partaken: so pass we on to the time when the fair dames retired186, and the red wine in cups of gold, and the ale in silver flagons, shone and sparkled as they passed from hand to lip beneath the blaze of seven massy lamps. The knights toasted their mistresses, the retainers told their exploits, and the minstrels with harp124 and tongue made music and song[221] abound187. The gentles struck their drinking-vessels on the table till they rang again; the menials stamped with the heels of their ponderous188 boots on the solid floor; while the hounds, imagining they heard the call to the chase, leaped up, and bayed in hoarse189 but appropriate chorus.
“‘The ladies now reappeared in the side galleries, and overlooked the scene of festivity below. The loveliest of many counties were there; but the fairest was a young maid of middle size, in a dress disencumbered of ornament160, and possessed190 of one of those free and graceful forms which may be met with in other counties, but for which our own Derbyshire alone is famous. Those who admired the grace of her person were no less charmed with her simplicity191 and natural meekness of deportment. Nature did much for her, and art strove in vain to rival her with others; while health, that handmaid of beauty, supplied her eye and her cheek with the purest light and the freshest roses. Her short and rosy192 upper lip was slightly curled, with as much of maiden sanctity, perhaps, as pride; her white high forehead was shaded with locks of sunny brown, while her large and dark hazel eyes beamed with free and unaffected modesty193. Those who observed her close might see her eyes, as she glanced about, sparkling for a moment with other lights, but scarce less holy, than those of devotion and awe194. Of all the knights present, it was impossible to say who inspired her with those love-fits of flushing joy and delicious agitation195; each hoped himself the happy person; for none could look on Dora Vernon without awe and love. She leaned her white bosom, shining through the[222] veil which shaded it, near one of the minstrel’s harps196; and looking round on the presence, her eyes grew brighter as she looked; at least so vowed the knights and so sang the minstrels.
“‘All the knights arose when Dora Vernon appeared. “Fill all your wine-cups, knights,” said Sir Lucas Peverel. “Fill them to the brim,” said Sir Henry Avenel. “And drain them out, were they deeper than the Wye,” said Sir Godfrey Gernon. “To the health of the Princess of the Peak,” said Sir Ralph Cavendish. “To the health of Dora Vernon,” said Sir Hugh de Wodensley; “beauty is above titles, she is the loveliest maiden a knight ever looked on, with the sweetest name too.” “And yet, Sir Knight,” said Peverel, filling his cup, “I know one who thinks so humbly197 of the fair name of Vernon, as to wish it charmed into that of De Wodensley.” “He is not master of a spell so profound,” said Avenel. “And yet he is master of his sword,” answered De Wodensley, with a darkening brow. “I counsel him to keep it in his sheath,” said Cavendish, “lest it prove a wayward servant.” “I will prove its service on thy bosom where and when thou wilt, Lord of Chatsworth,” said De Wodensley. “Lord of Darley,” answered Cavendish, “it is a tempting198 moonlight, but there is a charm over Haddon to-night it would be unseemly to dispel199. To-morrow, I meet Lord John Manners to try whose hawk121 has the fairer flight and whose love the whiter hand. That can be soon seen; for who has so fair a hand as the love of young Rutland? I shall be found by Durwood-Tor when the sun is three hours up, with my sword drawn,——there’s my hand on ’t, De Wodensley.” And he wrung200 the[223] knight’s hand till the blood seemed starting from beneath his finger-nails.
“‘“By the saints, Sir Knights,” said Sir Godfrey Gernon, “you may as well beard one another about the love of ‘some bright particular star and think to wed13 it,’ as the wild wizard of Warwick says, as quarrel about this unattainable love. Hearken, minstrels: while we drain our cups to this beauteous lass, sing some of you a kindly201 love-strain, wondrously202 mirthful and melancholy203. Here’s a cup of Rhenish, and a good gold Harry204 in the bottom on’t, for the minstrel who pleases me.” The minstrels laid their hands on the strings205, and a sound was heard like the swarming206 of bees before summer thunder. “Sir Knight,” said one, “I will sing ye Cannie Johnnie Armstrong with all the seventeen variations.” “He was hanged for cattle stealing,” answered the knight; “I’ll have none of him.” “What say you to Dick of the Cow, or the Harper of Lochmaben?” said another, with something of a tone of diffidence. “What! you northern knaves207, can you sing of nothing but thievery and jail-breaking?” “Perhaps your knightship,” humbly suggested a third, “may have a turn for the supernatural, and I’m thinking the Fairy Legend of young Tamlane is just the thing that suits your fancy.” “I like the naïveté of the young lady very much,” answered the knight, “but the fair dames of Derbyshire prize the charms of lovers with flesh and blood, before the gayest Elfin-knight that ever ran a course from Carlisle to Caerlaverock.” “What would your worship say to William of Cloudesley?” said a Cumberland minstrel. “Or to the Friar of Orders Grey?” said a harper from the halls of the Percys.
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“‘“Minstrels,” said Sir Ralph Cavendish, “the invention of sweet and gentle poesy is dead among you. Every churl208 in the Peak can chant us these beautiful but common ditties. Have you nothing new for the honor of the sacred calling of verse and the beauty of Dora Vernon? Fellow,——harper,——what’s your name?——you with the long hair and the green mantle,” said the knight, beckoning209 to a young minstrel who sat with his harp held before him, and his face half buried in his mantle’s fold; “come, touch your strings and sing; I’ll wager210 my gold-hilted sword against that pheasant feather in thy cap, that thou hast a new and a gallant strain; for I have seen thee measure more than once the form of fair Dora Vernon with a ballad-maker’s eye. Sing, man, sing.”
“‘The young minstrel, as he bowed his head to this singular mode of request, blushed from brow to bosom; nor were the face and neck of Dora Vernon without an acknowledgment of how deeply she sympathized in his embarrassment211. A finer instrument, a truer hand, or a more sweet and manly voice hardly ever united to lend grace to rhyme.
THE MINSTREL’S SONG.
Last night a proud page came to me;
Sir Knight, he said, I greet you free;
The moon is up at midnight hour,
All mute and lonely is the bower212:
To rouse the deer my lord is gone,
And his fair daughter’s all alone,
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As lily fair, and as sweet to see;
Arise, Sir Knight, and follow me.
The stars streamed out, the new-woke moon
O’er Chatsworth hill gleamed brightly down,
And my love’s cheeks, half seen, half hid,
With love and joy blushed deeply red:
Short was our time, and chaste our bliss213,
A whispered vow183 and a gentle kiss;
And one of those long looks, which earth
With all its glory is not worth.
The stars beamed lovelier from the sky,
The smiling brook214 flowed gentlier by;
Life, fly thou on; I’ll mind that hour
Of sacred love in greenwood bower;
Let seas between us swell215 and sound,
Still at her name my heart shall bound;
Her name——which like a spell I’ll keep,
To soothe216 me and to charm my sleep.
“‘“Fellow,” said Sir Ralph Cavendish, “thou hast not shamed my belief of thy skill; keep that piece of gold, and drink thy cup of wine in quiet to the health of the lass who inspired thy strain, be she lordly or be she low.” The minstrel seated himself, and the interrupted mirth recommenced, which was not long to continue. When the minstrel began to sing, the King of the Peak fixed217 his large and searching eyes on his person, with a scrutiny218 from which nothing could escape, and which called a flush of apprehension219 to the face of his daughter Dora. Something like a cloud came upon his brow at the first verse, which, darkening down through the second, became[226] as dark as a December night at the close of the third, when rising, and motioning Sir Ralph Cavendish to follow, he retired into the recess of the southern window.
“‘“Sir Knight,” said the lord of Haddon, “thou art the sworn friend of John Manners, and well thou knowest what his presumption dares at, and what are the lets between him and me. Cavendo tutus? ponder on thy own motto well. ‘Let seas between us swell and sound’:——let his song be prophetic for Derbyshire,——for England has no river deep enough and broad enough to preserve him from a father’s sword, whose peace he seeks to wound.” “Knight of Haddon,” said Sir Ralph, “John Manners is indeed my friend, and the friend of a Cavendish can be no mean person; a braver and a better spirit never aspired220 after beauty.” “Sir Knight,” said the King of the Peak, “I court no man’s counsel; hearken to my words. Look at the moon’s shadow on Haddon-dial; there it is beside the casement221; the shadow falls short of twelve. If it darkens the midnight hour, and John Manners be found here, he shall be cast fettered222, neck and heel, into the deepest dungeon223 of Haddon.”
“‘All this passed not unobserved of Dora Vernon, whose fears and affections divined immediate mischief224 from the calm speech and darkened brow of her father. Her heart sank within her when he beckoned225 her to withdraw; she followed him into the great tapestried226 room. “My daughter,——my love Dora,” said the not idle fears of a father, “wine has done more than its usual good office with the wits of our guests to-night; they look on thee with bolder eyes and speak of thee[227] with a bolder tongue than a father can wish. Retire, therefore, to thy chamber227. One of thy wisest attendants shall be thy companion. Adieu, my love, till sunrise!” He kissed her white temples and white brow; and Dora clung to his neck, and sobbed228 in his bosom, while the secret of her heart rose near her lips. He returned to his guests, and mirth and music, and the march of the wine-cup, recommenced with a vigor229 which promised reparation for the late intermission.
“‘The chamber, or, rather, temporary prison, of Dora Vernon was nigh the cross-bow room, and had a window which looked out on the terraced garden and the extensive chase toward the hill of Haddon. All that side of the hall lay in deep shadow, and the moon, sunk to the very summit of the western heath, threw a level and a farewell beam over river and tower. The young lady of Haddon seated herself in the recessed230 window, and lent her ear to every sound, and her eye to every shadow that flitted over the garden and chase. Her attendant maiden——shrewd, demure, and suspicious, of the ripe age of thirty, yet of a merry pleasant look, which had its admirers——sat watching every motion with the eye of an owl45.
“‘It was past midnight, when a foot came gliding231 along the passage, and a finger gave three slight scratches on the door of the chamber. The maid went out, and after a brief conference suddenly returned, red with blushes from ear to ear. “O my lady!” said the trusty maiden,——“O my sweet young lady, here’s that poor young lad,——ye know his name,——who gave me three yards of crimson232 ribbon to trim my peach-bloom mantle,[228] last Bakewell fair. An honester or a kinder heart never kept a promise; and yet I may not give him the meeting. O my young lady, my sweet young lady, my beautiful young lady, could you not stay here for half an hour by yourself?” Ere her young mistress could answer, the notice of the lover’s presence was renewed. The maiden again went; whispers were heard, and the audible salutation of lips; she returned again more resolute233 than ever to oblige her lover. “O my lady, my young lady, if ye ever hope to prosper234 in true love yourself, spare me but one half-hour with this harmless kind lad. He has come seven long miles to see my fair face, he says; and, O my lady, he has a handsome face of his own. O, never let it be said that Dora Vernon sundered235 true lovers! But I see consent written in your own lovely face,——so I will run; and, O my lady, take care of your own sweet, handsome self, when your faithful Nan’s away!” And the maiden retired with her lover.
“‘It was half an hour after midnight when one of the keepers of the chase, as he lay beneath a holly-bush listening, with a prolonged groan12, to the audible voice of revelry in the hall, from which his duty had lately excluded him, happened to observe two forms approaching; one of low stature236, a light step, and muffled237 in a common mantle; the other with the air and in the dress of a forester, a sword at his side and pistols in his belt. The ale and the wine had invaded the keeper’s brain and impaired128 his sight; yet he roused himself up with a hiccup238 and a “Hilloah,” and “Where go ye, my masters?” The lesser239 form whispered to the other, who[229] immediately said, “Jasper Jugg, is this you? Heaven be praised I have found you so soon; here’s that north-country pedler, with his beads240 and blue ribbon, he has come and whistled out pretty Nan Malkin, the lady’s favorite and the lord’s trusty maid. I left them under the terrace, and came to tell you.”
“‘The enraged241 keeper scarce heard this account of the faithlessness of his love to an end; he started off with the swiftness of one of the deer which he watched, making the boughs242 crash, as he forced his way through bush and glade243 direct for the hall, vowing244 desertion to the girl and destruction to the pedler. “Let us hasten our steps, my love,” said the lesser figure, in a sweet voice; and unmantling as she spoke136, turned back to the towers of Haddon the fairest face that ever left them,——the face of Dora Vernon herself. “My men and my horses are nigh, my love,” said the taller figure; and taking a silver call from his pocket, he imitated the sharp, shrill245 cry of the plover; then turning round, he stood and gazed towards Haddon, scarcely darkened by the setting of the moon, for the festal lights flashed from turret and casement, and the sound of mirth and revelry rang with augmenting246 din35. “Ah, fair and stately Haddon,” said Lord John Manners, “little dost thou know thou hast lost thy jewel from thy brow, else thy lights would be dimmed, thy mirth would turn to wailing106, and swords would be flashing from thy portals in all the haste of hot pursuit. Farewell, for a while, fair tower, farewell for a while. I shall return and bless the time I harped247 among thy menials and sang of my love, and charmed her out of thy little chamber window.” Several armed men now[230] came suddenly down from the hill of Haddon, horses richly caparisoned were brought from among the trees of the chase, and the ancestors of the present family of Rutland sought shelter, for a time, in a distant land, from the wrath248 of the King of the Peak.’”
The End
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1
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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2
subside
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| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
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3
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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6
ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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8
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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12
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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13
wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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14
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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15
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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16
balk
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| n.大方木料；v.妨碍；不愿前进或从事某事 | |
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17
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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18
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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19
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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20
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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21
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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23
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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24
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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28
alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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29
concurrence
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| n.同意；并发 | |
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30
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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31
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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32
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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33
demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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35
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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36
coeval
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| adj.同时代的；n.同时代的人或事物 | |
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37
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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38
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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39
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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40
encumbrances
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| n.负担( encumbrance的名词复数 )；累赘；妨碍；阻碍 | |
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41
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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42
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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43
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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44
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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45
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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46
owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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47
plover
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| n.珩，珩科鸟，千鸟 | |
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48
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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49
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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50
turret
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| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
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51
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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52
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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53
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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54
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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55
blithely
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| adv.欢乐地，快活地，无挂虑地 | |
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56
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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57
contemplates
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的第三人称单数 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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58
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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59
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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60
lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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61
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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62
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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63
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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64
armory
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| n.纹章，兵工厂，军械库 | |
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65
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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66
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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67
intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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68
limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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69
imputed
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| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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71
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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72
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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73
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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74
emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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75
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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76
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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77
illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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78
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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79
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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80
eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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81
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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82
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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83
pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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85
profaned
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| v.不敬( profane的过去式和过去分词 )；亵渎，玷污 | |
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86
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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87
minion
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| n.宠仆；宠爱之人 | |
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88
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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89
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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90
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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91
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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92
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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93
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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94
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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95
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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96
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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97
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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98
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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99
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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100
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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101
sickle
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| n.镰刀 | |
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102
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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103
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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104
toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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105
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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106
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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107
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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108
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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109
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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110
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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111
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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112
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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113
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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114
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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115
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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116
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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117
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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118
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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119
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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120
retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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121
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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122
hawking
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| 利用鹰行猎 | |
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123
jousting
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| （骑士）骑马用长矛比武( joust的现在分词 ) | |
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124
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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125
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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126
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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127
falcons
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| n.猎鹰( falcon的名词复数 ) | |
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128
impaired
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|
| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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130
abridging
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| 节略( abridge的现在分词 )； 减少； 缩短； 剥夺（某人的）权利（或特权等） | |
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131
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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132
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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133
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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134
Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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135
gored
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
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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137
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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138
appeasing
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的现在分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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139
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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140
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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141
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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142
savory
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| adj.风味极佳的，可口的，味香的 | |
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143
exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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144
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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145
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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146
stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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147
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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148
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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149
trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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150
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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151
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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152
broils
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| v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的第三人称单数 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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153
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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154
negligent
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| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
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155
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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156
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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157
barley
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| n.大麦，大麦粒 | |
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158
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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159
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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160
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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161
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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162
grooved
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| v.沟( groove的过去式和过去分词 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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163
curiously
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|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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164
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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165
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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166
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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167
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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168
monkish
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| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
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169
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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170
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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172
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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173
garnished
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| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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174
buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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175
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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176
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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177
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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178
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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179
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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180
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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181
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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182
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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183
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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184
taper
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| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
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185
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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186
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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187
abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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188
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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189
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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190
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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191
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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192
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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193
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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194
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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195
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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196
harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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197
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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198
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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199
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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200
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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201
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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202
wondrously
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| adv.惊奇地，非常，极其 | |
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203
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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204
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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205
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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206
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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207
knaves
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| n.恶棍，无赖( knave的名词复数 )；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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208
churl
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| n.吝啬之人；粗鄙之人 | |
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209
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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210
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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211
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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212
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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213
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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214
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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215
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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216
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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217
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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218
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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222
fettered
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| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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226
tapestried
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| adj.饰挂绣帷的，织在绣帷上的v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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228
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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229
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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230
recessed
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| v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的过去式和过去分词 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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231
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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232
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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233
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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234
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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235
sundered
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| v.隔开，分开( sunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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236
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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237
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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238
hiccup
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| n.打嗝 | |
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239
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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240
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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242
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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243
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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244
vowing
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的现在分词形式） | |
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245
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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246
augmenting
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| 使扩张 | |
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247
harped
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| vi.弹竖琴（harp的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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248
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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