Of what a sailor suffers.
COWPER
‘The intelligence that was the cause of old Sir Roger’s death, who might be said to be conducted from this world to the next by a blessed euthanasia, (a kind of passing with a light and lofty step from a narrow entry to a spacious1 and glorious apartment, without ever feeling he trod the dark and rugged2 threshold that lies between), was the signal and pledge to this ancient family of the restitution3 of their faded honours, and fast-declining possessions. Grants, reversals of fines, restoration of land and chattels4, and offers of pensions, and provisions, and remunerations, and all that royal gratitude5, in the effervescence of its enthusiasm, could bestow6, came showering on the Mortimer family, as fast and faster than fines, confiscations, and sequestrations, had poured on them in the reign7 of the usurper8. In fact, the language of King Charles to the Mortimers was like that of the Eastern monarchs9 to their favourites, — ‘Ask what thou wilt11, and it shall be granted to thee, even to the half of my kingdom.’ The Mortimers asked only for their own, — and being thus more reasonable, both in their expectations and demands, than most other applicants12 at that period, they succeeded in obtaining what they required.
‘Thus Mrs Margaret Mortimer (so unmarried females were named at the date of the narrative) was again acknowledged as the wealthy and noble heiress of the Castle. Numerous invitations were sent to her to visit the court, which, though recommended by letters from divers13 of the court-ladies, who had been acquainted, traditionally at least, with her family, and enforced by a letter from Catherine of Braganza, written by her own hand, in which she acknowledged the obligations of the king to the house of Mortimer, were steadily14 rejected by the high-minded heiress of its honours and its spirit. — ‘From these towers,’ said she to Mrs Ann, ‘my grandfather led forth15 his vassals16 and tenants17 in aid of his king, — to these towers he led what was left of them back, when the royal cause seemed lost for ever. Here he lived and died for his sovereign, — and here will I live and die. And I feel that I shall do more effectual service to his Majesty18, by residing on my estates, and protecting my tenants, and repairing,’ — she added with a smile, — ‘even with my needle, the rents made in the banners of our house by many a Puritan’s bullet, than if I flaunted19 it in Hyde-Park in my glass coach, or masqueraded it all night in that of St James’s,1 even though I were sure to encounter the Duchess of Cleveland on one side, and Louise de Querouaille on the other, — fitter place for them than me.’ — And so saying, Mrs Margaret Mortimer resumed her tapestry20 work. Mrs Ann looked at her with an eye that spoke21 volumes, — and the tear that trembled in it made the lines more legible.
1 See a comedy of Wycherly’s, entitled, ‘Love in a Wood, or St James’s Park,’ where the company are represented going there at night in masks, and with torches.
‘After the decided22 refusal of Mrs Margaret Mortimer to go to London, the family resumed their former ancestorial habits of stately regularity23, and decorous grandeur24, such as became a magnificent and well-ordered household, of which a noble maiden25 was the head and president. But this regularity was without rigour, and this monotony without apathy26 — the minds of these highly fated females were too familiar with trains of lofty thinking, and images of noble deeds, to sink into vacancy27, or feel depression from solitude28. I behold29 them,’ said the stranger, ‘as I once saw them, seated in a vast irregularly shaped apartment, wainscotted with oak richly and quaintly30 carved, and as black as ebony — Mrs Ann Mortimer, in a recess31 which terminated in an ancient casement32 window, the upper panes33 of which were gorgeously emblazoned with the arms of the Mortimers, and some legendary34 atchievements of the former heroes of the family. A book she valued much1 lay on her knee, on which she fixed35 her eyes intently — the light that came through the casement chequering its dark lettered pages with hues37 of such glorious and fantastic colouring, that they resembled the leaves of some splendidly-illuminated38 missal, with all its pomp of gold, and azure39, and vermilion.
1 Taylor’s Book of Martyrs40.
‘At a little distance sat her two grand-nieces, employed in work, and relieving their attention to it by conversation, for which they had ample materials. They spoke of the poor whom they had visited and assisted, — of the rewards they had distributed among the industrious41 and orderly, — and of the books which they were studying; and of which the well-filled shelves of the library furnished them with copious42 and noble stores.
‘Sir Roger had been a man of letters as well as of arms. He had been often heard to say, that next to a well-stocked armoury in time of war, was a well-stocked library in time of peace; and even in the midst of his latter grievances44 and privations, he contrived45 every year to make an addition to his own.
‘His grand-daughters, well instructed by him in the French and Latin languages, had read Mezeray, Thuanus, and Sully. In English, they had Froissart in the black-letter translation of Pynson, imprinted46 1525. Their poetry, exclusive of the classics, consisted chiefly of Waller, Donne, and that constellation47 of writers that illuminated the drama in the latter end of the reign of Elizabeth, and the commencement of that of James, — Marlow, and Massinger, and Shirley, and Ford48 — cum multis aliis. Fairfax’s translations had made them familiar with the continental49 poets; and Sir Roger had consented to admit, among his modern collection, the Latin poems (the only ones then published) of Milton, for the sake of that in Quintum Novembris, — for Sir Roger, next to the fanatics51, held the Catholics in utter abomination.’
‘Then he will be damned to all eternity,’ said Aliaga, ‘and that’s some satisfaction.’
‘Thus their retirement52 was not inelegant, nor unaccompanied with those delights at once soothing53 and elating, which arise from a judicious54 mixture of useful occupation and literary tastes.
‘On all they read or conversed56 of, Mrs Ann Mortimer was a living comment. Her conversation, rich in anecdote57, and accurate to minuteness, sometimes rising to the loftiest strains of eloquence58, as she related ‘deeds of the days of old,’ and often borrowing the sublimity59 of inspiration, as the reminiscences of religion softened60 and solemnized the spirit with which she spake, — like the influence of time on fine paintings, that consecrates61 the tints63 it mellows64, and makes the colours it has half obscured more precious to the eye of feeling and of taste, than they were in the glow of their early beauty, — her conversation was to her grand-nieces at once history and poetry.
‘The events of English history then not recorded, had a kind of traditional history more vivid, if not so faithful as the records of modern historians, in the memories of those who had been agents and sufferers (the terms are probably synonimous) in those memorable65 periods.
‘There was an entertainment then, banished66 by modern dissipation now, but alluded67 to by the great poet of that nation, whom your orthodox and undeniable creed68 justly devotes to eternal damnation.
‘In winter’s tedious nights sit by the fire,
— and tell the tales
Of woful ages long ago betid;
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
We cited up a thousand heavy times.’
‘When memory thus becomes the depository of grief, how faithfully is the charge kept! — and how much superior are the touches of one who paints from the life, and the heart, and the senses, — to those of one who dips his pen in his ink-stand, and casts his eye on a heap of musty parchments, to glean69 his facts or his feelings from them! Mrs Ann Mortimer had much to tell, — and she told it well. If history was the subject, she could relate the events of the civil wars — events which resembled indeed those of all civil wars, but which derived70 a peculiar71 strength of character, and brilliancy of colouring, from the hand by which they were sketched72. She told of the time when she rode behind her brother, Sir Roger, to meet the King at Shrewsbury; and she almost echoed the shout uttered in the streets of that loyal city, when the University of Oxford73 sent in its plate to be coined for the exigences of the royal cause. She told also, with grave humour, the anecdote of Queen Henrietta making her escape with some difficulty from a house on fire, — and, when her life was scarce secure from the flames that consumed it, rushing back among them — to save her lap-dog!
‘But of all her historical anecdotes74, Mrs Ann valued most what she had to relate of her own family. On the virtue75 and valour of her brother Sir Roger, she dwelt with an unction whose balm imparted itself to her hearers; and even Elinor, in spite of the Puritanism of her early principles, wept as she listened. But when Mrs Ann told of the King taking shelter for one night in the Castle, under the protection only of her mother and herself, to whom he intrusted his rank and his misfortunes, (arriving under a disguise), — (Sir Roger being absent fighting his battles in Yorkshire) — when she added that her aged76 mother, Lady Mortimer, then seventy-four, after spreading her richest velvet77 mantle78, lined with fur, as a quilt for the bed of her persecuted79 sovereign, tottered80 into the armoury, and, presenting the few servants that followed her with what arms could be found, adjured81 them by brand and blade, by lady’s love, and their hopes of heaven, to defend her royal guest. When she related that a band of fanatics, after robbing a church of all its silver-plate, and burning the adjacent vicarage, drunk with their success, had invested the Castle, and cried aloud for ‘the man’ to be brought unto them, that he might be hewed82 to pieces before the Lord in Gilgal — and Lady Mortimer had called on a young French officer in Prince Rupert’s corps83, who, with his men, had been billetted on the Castle for some days — and that this youth, but seventeen years of age, had met two desperate attacks of the assailants, and twice retired84 covered with his own blood and that of the assailants, whom he had in vain attempted to repel86 — and that Lady Mortimer, finding all was lost, had counselled the royal fugitive87 to make his escape, — and furnished him with the best horse left in Sir Roger’s stables to effect his flight, while she returned to the great hall, whose windows were now shattered by the balls that hissed88 and flew round her head, and whose doors were fast yielding to the crows and other instruments which a Puritan smith, who was both chaplain and colonel of the band, had lent them, and instructed them in the use of — and how Lady Mortimer fell on her knees before the young Frenchman, and adjured him to make good the defence till King Charles was safe, and free, and far — and how the young Frenchman had done all that man could do; — and finally, when the Castle, after an hour’s obstinate89 resistance, yielded to the assault of the fanatics, he had staggered, covered with blood, to the foot of the great chair which that ancient lady had immoveably occupied, (paralyzed by terror and exhaustion), and dropping his sword, then for the first time, exclaimed, ‘J’ai fait mon devoir!’ and expired at her feet — and how her mother sat in the same rigour of attitude, while the fanatics ravaged90 through the Castle, — drank half the wines in the cellar, — thrust their bayonets through the family-pictures, which they called the idols91 of the high-places, — fired bullets through the wainscot, and converted half the female servants after their own way, — and on finding their search after the King fruitless, in mere92 wantonness of mischief94, were about to discharge a piece of ordnance95 in the hall that must have shattered it in pieces, while Lady Mortimer sat torpidly96 looking on, — till, perceiving that the piece was accidentally pointed97 towards the very door through which King Charles had passed from the hall, her recollection seemed suddenly to return, and starting up and rushing before the mouth of the piece, exclaimed, ‘Not there! — you shall not there!’ — and as she spoke, dropt dead in the hall. When Mrs Ann told these and other thrilling tales of the magnanimity, the loyalty98, and the sufferings of her high ancestry99, in a voice that alternately swelled100 with energy, and trembled with emotion, and as she told them, pointed to the spot where each had happened, — her young hearers felt a deep stirring of the heart, — a proud yet mellowed101 elation102 that never yet was felt by the reader of a written history, though its pages were as legitimate103 as any sanctioned by the royal licenser104 at Madrid.
‘Nor was Mrs Ann Mortimer less qualified105 to take an interesting share in their lighter106 studies. When Waller’s poetry was its subject, she could tell of the charms of his Sacharissa, whom she knew well, — the Lady Dorothea Sidney, daughter of the Earl of Leicester, — and compare, with those of his Amoret, the Lady Sophia Murray. And in balancing the claims of these poetical107 heroines, she gave so accurate an account of their opposite styles of beauty, — entered so minutely into the details of their dress and deportment, — and so affectingly hinted, with a mysterious sigh, that there was one then at court whom Lucius, Lord Falkland, the gallant108, the learned, and the polished, had whispered was far superior to both, — that her auditors109 more than suspected she had herself been one of the most brilliant stars in that galaxy110 whose faded glories were still reflected in her memory, — and that Mrs Ann, amid her piety111 and patriotism112, still blended a fond reminiscence of the gallantries of that court where her youth had been spent, — and over which the beauty, the magnificent taste, and national gaiete of the ill-fated Henrietta, had once thrown a light as dazzling as it was transient. She was listened to by Margaret and Elinor with equal interest, but with far different feelings. Margaret, beautiful, vivacious113, haughty114, and generous, and resembling her grandfather and his sister alike in character and person, could have listened for ever to narrations115 that, while they confirmed her principles, gave a kind of holiness to the governing feelings of her heart, and made her enthusiasm a kind of virtue in her eyes. An aristocrat116 in politics, she could not conceive that public virtue could soar to a higher pitch than a devoted117 attachment118 to the house of Stuart afforded for its flight; and her religion had never given her any disturbance119. — Strictly120 attached to the Church of England, as her forefathers121 had been from its first establishment, she included in an adherence122 to this not only all the graces of religion, but all the virtues123 of morality; and she could hardly conceive how there could be majesty in the sovereign, or loyalty in the subject, or valour in man, or virtue in woman, unless they were comprised within the pale of the Church of England. These qualities, with their adjuncts, had been always represented to her as co-existent with an attachment to monarchy124 and Episcopacy, and vested solely125 in those heroic characters of her ancestry, whose lives, and even deaths, it was a proud delight to their young descendant to listen to, — while all the opposite qualities, — all that man can hate, or woman despise, — had been represented to her as instinctively126 resident in the partizans of republicanism and the Presbytery. Thus her feelings and her principles, — her reasoning powers and the habits of her life, all took one way; and she was not only unable to make the least allowance for a divergence127 from this way, but utterly129 unable to conceive that another existed for those who believed in a God, or acknowledged human power at all. She was as much at a loss to conceive how any good could come out of that Nazareth of her abhorrence130, as an ancient geographer131 would have been to have pointed out America in a classical map. — Such was Margaret.
‘Elinor, on the other hand, bred up amid a clamour of perpetual contention132, — for the house of her mother’s family, in which her first years had been passed, was, in the language of the profane133 of those times, a scruple134-shop, where the godly of all denominations135 held their conferences of contradiction, — had her mind early awakened136 to differences of opinion, and opposition137 of principle. Accustomed to hear these differences and oppositions138 often expressed with the most unruly vehemence139, she had never, like Margaret, indulged in a splendid aristocracy of imagination, that bore every thing before it, and made prosperity and adversity alike pay tribute to the pride of its triumph. Since her admission into the house of her grandfather, the mind of Elinor had become still more humble140 and patient, — more subdued141 and self-denied. Compelled to hear the opinions she was attached to decried142, and the characters she reverenced143 vilified144, she sat in reflective silence; and, balancing the opposite extremes which she was destined145 to witness, she came to the right conclusion, — that there must be good on both sides, however obscured or defaced by passion and by interest, and that great and noble qualities must exist in either party, where so much intellectual power, and so much physical energy, had been displayed by both. Nor could she believe that these clear and mighty146 spirits would be for ever opposed to each other in their future destinations, — she loved to view them as children who had ‘fallen out by the way,’ from mistaking the path that led to their father’s house, but who would yet rejoice together in the light of his presence, and smile at the differences that divided them on their journey.
‘In spite of the influence of her early education, Elinor had learned to appreciate the advantages of her residence in her grandfather’s castle. She was fond of literature and of poetry. She possessed147 imagination and enthusiasm, — and these qualities met with their loveliest indulgence amid the picturesque148 and historical scenery that surrounded the Castle, — the lofty tales told within its walls, and to which every stone in them seemed to cry out in attestation149, — and the heroic and chivalrous150 characters of its inmates152, with whom the portraits of their high descended153 ancestry seemed starting from their gorgeous frames to converse55, as the tale of their virtues and their valour was told in their presence. This was a different scene from that in which she had passed her childhood. The gloomy and narrow apartments, divested155 of all ornament156, and awaking no associations but those of an awful futurity — the uncouth157 habits, austere158 visages, denunciatory language, and polemical fury of its inmates or guests, struck her with a feeling for which she reproached herself, but did not suppress; and though she continued a rigid160 Calvinist in her creed, and listened whenever she could to the preaching of the non-conformist ministers, she had adopted in her pursuits the literary tastes, and in her manners the dignified161 courtesy, that became the descendant of the Mortimers.
‘Elinor’s beauty, though of a style quite different from that of her cousin, was yet beauty of the first and finest character. Margaret’s was luxuriant, lavish162, and triumphant163, — every movement displayed a conscious grace, — every look demanded homage164, and obtained it the moment it was demanded. Elinor’s was pale, contemplative, and touching165; — her hair was as black as jet, and the thousand small curls into which, according to the fashion of the day, it was woven, seemed as if every one of them had been twined by the hand of nature, — they hung so softly and shadowingly, that they appeared like a veil dropping over the features of a nun159, till she shook them back, and there beamed among them an eye of dark and brilliant light, like a star amid the deepening shades of twilight166. She wore the rich dress prescribed by the taste and habits of Mrs Ann, who had never, even in the hour of extreme adversity, relaxed in what may be called the rigour of her aristocratical costume, and would have thought it little less than a desecration167 of the solemnity, had she appeared at prayers, even though celebrated168 (as she loved to term it) in the Castle-hall, unless arrayed in satins and velvets, that, like ancient suits of armour43, could have stood alone and erect169 without the aid of human inhabitant. There was a soft and yielding tone in the gently modulated170 harmony of Elinor’s form and movements, — a gracious melancholy171 in her smile, — a tremulous sweetness in her voice, — an appeal in her look, which the heart that refused to answer could not have living pulse within its region. No head of Rembrandt’s, amid its contrasted luxuries of light and shade, — no form of Guido’s, hovering173 in exquisite174 and speechful undulation between earth and heaven, could vie with the tint62 and character of Elinor’s countenance175 and form. There was but one touch to be added to the picture of her beauty, and that touch was given by no physical grace, — no exterior176 charm. It was borrowed from a feeling as pure as it was intense, — as unconscious as it was profound. The secret fire that lit her eyes with that lambent glory, while it caused the paleness of her young cheek, — that preyed177 on her heart, while it seemed to her imagination that she clasped a young cherub179 in her arms, like the unfortunate queen of Virgil, — that fire was a secret even to herself. — She knew she felt, but knew not what she felt.
‘When first admitted into the Castle, and treated with sufficient hauteur180 by her grandfather and his sister, who could not forget the mean descent and fanatic50 principles of her father’s family, she remembered, that, amid the appalling182 grandeur and austere reserve of her reception, her cousin, John Sandal, was the only one who spoke to her in accents of tenderness, or turned on her an eye that beamed consolation183. She remembered him as the beautiful and gentle boy who had lightened all her tasks, and partaken in all her recreations.
‘At an early age John Sandal, at his own request, had been sent to sea, and had never since visited the Castle. On the Restoration, the remembered services of the Mortimer family, and the high fame of the youth’s courage and ability, had procured185 him a distinguished186 situation in the navy. John Sandal’s consequence now rose in the eyes of the family, of whom he was at first an inmate151 on toleration only; and even Mrs Ann Mortimer began to express some anxiety to hear tidings of her valiant187 cousin John. When she spoke thus, the light of Elinor’s eye fell on her aunt with as rich a glow as ever summer sun on an evening landscape; but she felt, at the same moment, an oppression, — an indefinable suspension of thought, of speech, almost of breath, which was only relieved by the tears which, when retired from her aunt’s presence, she indulged in. Soon this feeling was exchanged for one of deeper and more agitating188 interest. The war with the Dutch broke out, and Captain John Sandal’s name, in spite of his youth, appeared conspicuous189 among those of the officers appointed to that memorable service.
‘Mrs Ann, long accustomed to hear the names of her family uttered always in the same breath with the stirring report of high heroic deeds, felt the elation of spirit she had experienced in bygone days, combined with happier associations, and more prosperous auguries190. Though far advanced in life, and much declined in strength, it was observed, that during the reports of the war, and while she listened to the accounts of her kinsman191’s valour and fast-advancing eminence192, her step became firm and elastic193, her lofty figure dilated194 to its youthful height, and a colour at times visited her cheek, with as rich and brilliant a tinge195 as when the first sighs of love murmured over its young roses. The high minded Margaret, partaking that enthusiasm which merged196 all personal feeling in the glory of her family and of her country, heard of the perils198 to which her cousin (whom she hardly remembered) was exposed, only with a haughty confidence that he would meet them as she felt she would have met them herself, had she been, like him, the last male descendant of the family of Mortimer. Elinor trembled and wept, — and when alone she prayed fervently199.
‘It was observable, however, that the respectful interest with which she had hitherto listened to the family legends so eloquently202 told by Mrs Ann, was now exchanged for a restless and unappeaseable anxiety for tales of the naval203 heroes who had dignified the family history. Happily she found a willing narrator in Mrs Ann, who had little need to search her memory, and no occasion to consult her invention, for splendid stories of those whose home was the deep, and whose battle-field was the wild waste ocean. Amid the gallery richly hung with family portraits, she pointed out the likeness204 of many a bold adventurer, whom the report of the riches and felicities of the new discovered world had tempted85 on speculations205 sometimes wild and disastrous206, sometimes prosperous beyond the golden dreams of cupidity207. ‘How precarious208! — how perilous209!’ murmured Elinor, shuddering210. But when Mrs Ann told the tale of her uncle, the literary speculator, the polished scholar, the brave and gentle of the family, who had accompanied Sir Walter Raleigh on his calamitous211 expedition, and years after died of grief for his calamitous death, Elinor, with a start of horror, caught her aunt’s arm, emphatically extended towards the portrait, and implored213 her to desist. The decorum of the family was so great, that this liberty could not be taken without an apology for indisposition; — it was duly though faintly made, and Elinor retired to her apartment.
‘From February 1665, — from the first intelligence of De Ruyter’s enterprises, till the animating214 period when the Duke of York was appointed to the command of the Royal fleet, — all was eager and anticipative excitement, and eloquent201 expatiations on ancient achievements, and presageful hopes of new honours, on the part of the heiress of Mortimer and Mrs Ann, and profound and speechless emotion on that of Elinor.
‘The hour arrived, and an express was dispatched from London to Mortimer Castle with intelligence, in which King Charles, with that splendid courtesy which half redeemed215 his vices184, announced himself most deeply interested, inasmuch as it added to the honours of the loyal family, whose services he appreciated so highly. The victory was complete, — and Captain John Sandal, in the phrase which the King’s attachment to French manners and language was beginning to render popular, had ‘covered himself with glory.’ Amid the thickest of the fight, in an open boat, he had carried a message from Lord Sandwich to the Duke of York, under a shower of balls, and when older officers had stoutly216 declined the perilous errand; and when, on his return, Opdam the Dutch Admiral’s ship blew up, amid the crater217 of the explosion John Sandal plunged218 into the sea, to save the half-drowning, half-burning wretches219 who clung to the fragments that scorched220 them, or sunk in the boiling waves; and then, — dismissed on another fearful errand, flung himself between the Duke of York and the ball that struck at one blow the Earl of Falmouth, Lord Muskerry, and Mr Boyle, and when they all fell at the same moment, wiped, with unfaultering hand, and on bended knee, their brains and gore221, with which the Duke of York was covered from head to foot. When this was read by Mrs Ann Mortimer, with many pauses, caused by sight dim with age, and diffused222 with tears, — and when at length, finishing the long and laborious223 read detail, Mrs Ann exclaimed — ‘He is a hero!’ Elinor tremblingly whispered to herself — ‘He is a Christian224.’
‘The details of such an event forming a kind of era in a family so sequestered225, imaginative, and heroic, as that of the Mortimers, the contents of the letter signed by the King’s own hand were read over and over again. They formed the theme of converse at their meals, and the subject of their study and comment when alone. Margaret dwelt much on the gallantry of the action, and half-imagined she saw the tremendous explosion of Opdam’s ship. Elinor repeated to herself, ‘And he plunged amid the burning wave to save the lives of the men he had conquered!’ And some months elapsed before the brilliant vision of glory, and of grateful royalty226, faded from their imagination; and when it did, like that of Micyllus, it left honey on the eye-lids of the dreamer.
‘From the date of the arrival of this intelligence, a change had taken place in the habits and manners of Elinor, so striking as to become the object of notice to all but herself. Her health, her rest, and her imagination, became the prey178 of indefinable fantasies. The cherished images of the past, — the lovely visions of her golden childhood, — seemed fearfully and insanely contrasted in her imagination with the ideas of slaughter227 and blood, — of decks strewed228 with corses, — and of a young and terrible conqueror229 bestriding them amid showers of ball and clouds of fire. Her very senses reeled between these opposite impressions. Her reason could not brook230 the sudden transition from the smiling and Cupid-like companion of her childhood, to the hero of the embattled deep, and of nations and navies on fire, — garments rolled in blood, — the thunder of the battle and the shouting.
‘She sat and tried, as well as her wandering fancy would allow her, to reconcile the images of that remembered eye, whose beam rested on her like the dark blue of a summer heaven swimming in dewy light, — with the flash that darted231 from the burning eye of the conqueror, whose light was as fatal where it fell as his sword. She saw him, as he had once sat beside her, smiling like the first morning in spring, — and smiled in return. The slender form, the soft and springy movements, the kiss of childhood that felt like velvet, and scented232 like balm, — was suddenly exchanged in her dream (for all her thoughts were dreams) for a fearful figure of one drenched233 in blood, and spattered with brains and gore. And Elinor, half-screaming, exclaimed, ‘Is this he whom I loved?’ Thus her mind, vacillating between contrasts so strongly opposed, began to feel its moorings give way. She drifted from rock to rock, and on every rock she struck a wreck234.
‘Elinor relinquished235 her usual meetings with the family — she sat in her own apartment all the day, and most of the evening. It was a lonely turret236 projecting so far from the walls of the Castle, that there were windows, or rather casements237, on three sides. There Elinor sat to catch the blast, let it blow as it would, and imagined she heard in its meanings the cries of drowning seamen238. No music that her lute239, or that which Margaret touched with a more powerful and brilliant finger, could wean her from this melancholy indulgence.
‘Hush!’ she would say to the females who attended her — ‘Hush! let me listen to the blast! — It waves many a banner spread for victory, — it sighs over many a head that has been laid low!’
‘Her amazement240 that a being could be at once so gentle and so ferocious241 — her dread242 that the habits of his life must have converted the angel of her wilderness243 into a brave but brutal244 seaman245, estranged246 from the feelings that had rendered the beautiful boy so indulgent to her errors, — so propitiatory247 between her and her proud relatives, — so aidant in all her amusements, — so necessary to her very existence. — The tones of this dreamy life harmonized, awfully248 for Elinor, with the sound of the blast as it shook the turrets249 of the Castle, or swept the woods that groaned250 and bowed beneath its awful visitings. And this secluded251 life, intense feeling, and profound and heart-rooted secret of her silent passion, held perhaps fearful and indescribable alliance with that aberration252 of mind, that prostration253 at once of the heart and the intellect, that have been found to bring forth, according as the agents were impelled254, ‘the savour of life unto life, or of death unto death.’ She had all the intensity255 of passion, combined with all the devotedness256 of religion; but she knew not which way to steer257, or what gale258 to follow. She trembled and shrunk from her doubtful pilotage, and the rudder was left to the mercy of the winds and waves. Slender mercy do those experience who commit themselves to the tempests of the mental world — better if they had sunk at once amid the strife259 of the dark waters in their wild and wintry rage; there they would soon have arrived at the haven260 where they would be secure.
‘Such was the state of Elinor, when the arrival of one who had been long a stranger in the vicinity of the Castle caused a strong sensation in its inhabitants.
‘The widow Sandal, the mother of the young seaman, who had hitherto lived in obscurity on the interest of the small fortune bequeathed her by Sir Roger, (under the rigid injunction of never visiting the Castle), suddenly arrived in Shrewsbury, which was scarce a mile from it, and declared her intention of fixing her residence there.
‘The affection of her son had showered on her, with the profusion261 of a sailor, and the fondness of a child, all the rewards of his services — but their glory; — and in comparative affluence262, and honoured and pointed to as the mother of the young hero who stood high in royal favour, the widow of many sorrows took up her abode263 once more near the seat of her ancestors.
‘At this period, every step taken by the member of a family was a subject of anxious and solemn consultation264 to those who considered themselves its heads, and there was a kind of chapter held in Mortimer Castle on this singular movement of the widow Sandal. Elinor’s heart beat hard during the debate — it subsided265, however, at the determination, that the severe sentence of Sir Roger was not to be extended beyond his death, and that a descendant of the house of Mortimer should never live neglected while almost under the shadow of its walls.
‘The visit was accordingly solemnly paid, and gratefully received, — there was much stately courtesy on the part of Mrs Ann towards her niece, (whom she called cousin after the old English fashion), and a due degree of retrospective humility266 and decorous dejection on that of the widow. They parted mutually softened towards, if not pleased with each other, and the intercourse267 thus opened was unremittingly sustained by Elinor, whose weekly visits of ceremony soon became the daily visits of interest and of habit. The object of the thoughts of both was the theme of the tongue of but one; and, as is not uncommon268, she who said nothing felt the most. The details of his exploits, the description of his person, the fond enumeration269 of the promises of his childhood, and the graces and goodliness of his youth, were dangerous topics for the listener, to whom the bare mention of his name caused an intoxication270 of the heart, from which it scarce recovered for hours.
‘The frequency of these visits was not observed to be diminished by a faint rumour271, which the widow seemed to believe, rather from hope than probability, that Captain Sandal was about to visit the neighbourhood of the Castle. It was one evening in autumn, that Elinor, who had been prevented during the day from visiting her aunt, set out attended only by her maid and her usher272. There was a private path through the park, that opened by a small door on the verge128 of the suburbs where the widow lived. Elinor, on her arrival, found her aunt from home, and was informed she had gone to pass the evening with a friend in Shrewsbury. Elinor hesitated for a moment, and then recollecting273 that this friend was a grave staid widow of one of Oliver’s knights275, wealthy, however, and well respected, and a common acquaintance, she resolved to follow her thither276. As she entered the room, which was spacious, but dimly lit by an old-fashioned casement window, she was surprised to see it filled with an unusual number of persons, some of whom were seated, but the greater number were collected in the ample recess of the window, and among them Elinor saw a figure, remarkable277 rather for its height, than its attitude or pretension278, — it was that of a tall slender boy, about eighteen, with a beautiful infant in his arms, whom he was caressing279 with a tenderness that seemed rather associated with the retrospective fondness of brotherhood280, than the anticipated hope of paternity. The mother of the infant, proud of the notice bestowed281 on her child, made, however, the usual incredulous apology for its troubling him.
‘Troubling me!’ said the boy, in tones that made Elinor think it was the first time she had heard music. ‘Oh, no — if you knew how fond I am of children, — how long it is since I had the delight of pressing one to my breast — how long it may be again before’ — and averting282 his head, he bowed it over the babe. The room was very dark, from the increasing shades of evening, deepened by the effect of the heavy wainscotting of its walls; but at this moment, the last bright light of an autumnal evening, in all its rich and fading glory, burst on the casement, powering on every object a golden and purpureal light. That end of the apartment in which Elinor sat remained in the deepest shade. She then distinctly beheld283 the figure which her heart seemed to recognize before her senses. His luxuriant hair, of the richest brown, (its feathery summits tinged284 by the light resembling the halo round some glorified285 head), hung, according to the fashion of the day, in clusters on his bosom286, and half-concealed the face of the infant, as it lay like a nestling among them.
‘His dress was that of a naval officer, — it was splendidly adorned287 with lace, and the superb insignia of a foreign order, the guerdon of some daring deed; and as the infant played with these, and then looked upward, as if to repose288 its dazzled sight on the smile of its young protector, Elinor thought she had never beheld association and contrast so touchingly289 united, — it was like a finely coloured painting, where the tints are so mellowed and mingled290 into each other, that the eye feels no transition in passing from one brilliant hue36 to another, with such exquisite imperceptibility are they graduated, — it was like a fine piece of music, where the art of the modulator291 prevents your knowing that you pass from one key to another; so softly are the intermediate tones of harmony touched, that the ear knows not where it wanders, but wherever it wanders, feels its path is pleasant. The young loveliness of the infant, almost assimilated to the beauty of the youthful caresser, and yet contrasted with the high and heroic air of his figure, and the adornments of his dress, (splendid as they were), all emblematic292 of deeds of peril197 and of death, seemed to the imagination of Elinor like the cherub-angel of peace reposing293 on the breast of valour, and whispering that his toils295 were done. She was awoke from her vision by the voice of the widow. — ‘Niece, this is your cousin John Sandal.’ Elinor started, and received the salute296 of her kinsman, thus abruptly297 introduced, with an emotion, which, if it deprived her of those courtly graces which ought to have embellished298 her reception of the distinguished stranger, gave her, at least, the more touching ones of diffidence.
‘The forms of the day admitted of, and even sanctioned, a mode of salutation since exploded; and as Elinor felt the pressure of a lip as vermeil as her own, she trembled to think that that lip had often given the war-word to beings athirst for human blood, and that the arm that enfolded her so tenderly had pointed the weapons of death with resistless and terrible aim against bosoms299 that beat with all the cords of human affection. She loved her young kinsman, but she trembled in the arms of the hero.
‘John Sandal sat down by her, and in a few moments the melody of his tones, the gentle facility of his manner, the eyes that smiled when the lips were closed, and the lips whose smile was more eloquent in silence than the language of the brightest eyes, made her gradually feel at ease with herself — she attempted to converse, but paused to listen — she tried to look up, but felt like the worshippers of the sun, sickening under the blaze she gazed on, — and averted300 her eyes that she might see. There was a mild, inoppressive, but most seductive light in the dark-blue eyes that fell so softly on hers, like moon-light floating over a fine landscape. And there was a young and eloquent tenderness in the tones of that voice, which she expected to have spoken in thunder, that disarmed301 and dulcified speech almost to luxury. Elinor sat, and imbibed302 poison at every inlet of the senses, ear, and eye, and touch, for her kinsman, with a venial303, and to her imperceptible licence, had taken her hand as he spoke. And he spoke much, but not of war and blood, of the scenes where he had been so eminent304, and of the events to which his simple allusion305 would have given interest and dignity, — but of his return to his family, of the delight he felt at again beholding306 his mother, and of the hopes that he indulged of being not an unwelcome visitor at the Castle. He inquired after Margaret with affectionate earnestness, and after Mrs Ann with reverential regard; and in mentioning the names of these relatives, he spoke like one whose heart was at home before his steps, and whose heart could make every spot where it rested a home to itself and to others. Elinor could have listened for ever. The names of the relatives she loved and revered307 sounded in her ears like music, but the advancing night warned her of the necessity of returning to the Castle, where the hours were scrupulously308 observed; and when John Sandal offered to attend her home, she had no longer a motive309 to delay her departure.
‘It had appeared dark in the room where they were sitting, but it was still rich and purple twilight in the sky, when they set out for the Castle.
‘Elinor took the path through the park, and, absorbed in new feelings, was for the first time insensible of its woodland beauty, at once gloomy and resplendent, mellowed by the tints of autumnal colouring, and glorious with the light of an autumnal evening, — till she was roused to attention by the exclamations311 of her companion, who appeared rapt into delight at what he beheld. This sensibility of nature, this fresh and unworn feeling, in one whom she had believed hardened by scenes of toil294 and terror against the perception of beauty, — whom her imagination had painted to her as fitter to cross the Alps, than to luxuriate in Campania, — touched her deeply. She attempted to reply, but was unable, — she remembered how her quick susceptibility of nature had enabled her to sympathize with and improve on the admiration312 expressed by others, and she wondered at her silence, for she knew not its cause.
‘As they approached the Castle, the scene became glorious beyond the imagination of a painter, whose eye has dreamed of sun-set in foreign climes. The vast edifice313 lay buried in shade, — all its varied314 and strongly charactered features of tower and pinnacle315, bartizan and battlement, were melted into one dense316 and sombrous mass. The distant hills, with their conical summits, were still clearly defined in the dark-blue heaven, and their peaks still retained a hue of purple so brilliant and lovely, that it seemed as if the light had loved to linger there, and, parting, had left that tint as the promise of a glorious morning. The woods that surrounded the Castle stood as dark, and apparently317 as solid as itself. Sometimes a gleam like gold trembled over the tufted foliage318 of their summits, and at length, through a glade319 which opened among the dark and massive boles of the ancient trees, one last rich and gorgeous flood of light burst in, turned every blade of grass it touched into emerald for a moment, — paused on its lovely work — and parted. The effect was so instantaneous, brilliant, and evanishing, that Elinor had scarce time for a half uttered exclamation310, as she extended her arm in the direction where the light had fallen so brightly and so briefly320. She raised her eyes to her companion, in that full consciousness of perfect sympathy that makes words seem like counters, compared to the sterling321 gold of a heart-minted look. Her companion had turned towards it too. He neither uttered exclamation, nor pointed with finger, — he smiled, and his countenance was as that of an angel. It seemed to reflect and answer the last bright farewell of day, as if friends had parted smiling at each other. It was not alone the lips that smiled, — the eyes, the cheeks, every feature had its share in that effulgent322 light that was diffused over his aspect, and all combined to make that harmony to the eye, which is often as deliciously perceptible, as the combination of the most exquisite voices with the most perfect modulation323, is to the ear. To the last hour of her mortal existence, that smile, and the scene where it was uttered, were engraved324 on the heart of Elinor. It announced at once a spirit, that, like the ancient statue, answered every ray of light that fell on it with a voice of melody, and blended the triumph of the glories of nature with the profound and tender felicities of the heart. They spoke no more during the remainder of their walk, but there was more eloquence in their silence than in many words.
‘It was almost night before they arrived at the Castle. Mrs Ann received her distinguished kinsman with stately cordiality, and affection mingled with pride. Margaret welcomed him rather as the hero than the relative; and John, after the ceremonies of introduction, turned to repose himself on the smile of Elinor. They had arrived just at the time when the chaplain was about to read the evening prayers, — a form so strictly adhered to at the Castle, that not even the arrival of a stranger was permitted to interfere325 with its observance. Elinor watched this moment with peculiar solicitude326; — her religious feelings were profound, and amid all the young hero’s vivid display of the gentlest affections, and purest sensibilities by which our wretched existence can be enhanced or beautified, she still dreaded327 that religion, the companion of deep thought and solemn habits, might wander far for an abode before it settled in the heart of a sailor. The last doubt passed from her mind, as she beheld the intense but silent devotion with which John mingled in the family rite10. There is something very ennobling in the sight of male piety. To see that lofty form, that never bowed to man, bowed to the earth to God, — to behold the knee, whose joints328 would be as adamant329 under the influence of mortal force or threat, as flexible as those of infancy330 in the presence of the Almighty331, — to see the locked and lifted hands, to hear the fervent200 aspiration332, to feel the sound of the mortal weapon as it drags on the floor beside the kneeling warrior333, — these are things that touch the senses and the heart at once, and suggest the awful and affecting image of all physical energy prostrate334 before the power of the Divinity. Elinor watched him even to the forgetfulness of her own devotions; — and when his white hands, that seemed never formed to grasp a weapon of destruction, were clasped in devotion, and one of them slightly and occasionally raised to part the redundant335 curls that shaded his face as he knelt, she thought that she beheld at once angelic strength and angelic purity.
‘When the service concluded, Mrs Ann, after repeating her solemn welcome to her nephew, could not help expressing her satisfaction at the devotion he had showed; but she mingled with that expression a kind of incredulity, that men accustomed to toil and peril could ever have devotional feelings. John Sandal bowed to the congratulatory part of Mrs Ann’s speech, and, resting one hand on his short sword, and with the other removing the thick ringlets of his luxuriant hair, he stood before them a hero in deed, and a boy in form. A blush overspread his young features, as he said, in accents at once emphatic212 and tremulous, ‘Dear Aunt, why should you accuse those of neglecting the protection of the Almighty who need it most. They who ‘go down to the sea in ships, and occupy their business in the great waters,’ have the best right to feel, in their hour of peril, ‘it is but the wind and the storm fulfilling his word.’ A seaman without a belief and hope in God, is worse off than a seaman without chart or pilot.’
‘As he spoke with that trembling eloquence that makes conviction be felt almost before it is heard, Mrs Ann held out to him her withered336 but still snow-white hand to kiss. Margaret presented hers also, like a heroine to a feudal337 knight274; and Elinor turned aside, and wept in delicious agony.
‘When we set ourselves resolutely338 to discover perfection in a character, we are always sure to find it. But Elinor needed little aid from the pencil of imagination to colour the object that had been stamped by an ineffaceable touch upon her heart. Her kinsman’s character and temper developed themselves slowly, or rather were developed by external and accidental causes; for a diffidence almost feminine prevented his ever saying much, — and when he did, himself was the last theme he touched on. He unfolded himself like a blowing flower, — the soft and silken leaves expanded imperceptibly to the eye, and every day the tints were deepening, and the scent181 becoming richer, till Elinor was dazzled by their lustre339, and inebriated340 with the fragrance341.
‘This wish to discover excellencies in the object we love, and to identify esteem342 and passion by seeking the union of moral beauty and physical grace, is a proof that love is of a very ennobling character, — that, however the stream may be troubled by many things, the source at least is pure, — and that the heart capable of feeling it intensely, proves it possesses an energy that may one day be rewarded by a brighter object, and a holier flame, than earth ever afforded, or nature ever could kindle343.
‘Since her son’s arrival, the widow Sandal had betrayed a marked degree of anxiety, and a kind of restless precaution against some invisible evil. She was now frequently at the Castle. She could not be blind to the increasing attachment of John and Elinor, — and her only thought was how to prevent the possibility of their union, by which the interest of the former and her own importance would be materially affected344.
‘She had obtained, by indirect means, a knowledge of the contents of Sir Roger’s will; and the whole force of a mind which possessed more of art than of power, and of a temper which had more passion than energy, was strained to realize the hopes it suggested. Sir Roger’s will was singular. Alienated345 as he was from his daughter Sandal, and his younger son the father of Elinor, by the connexions they had adopted, it seemed to be the strongest object of his wishes to unite their descendants, and invest the wealth and rank of the house of Mortimer in the last of its representatives. He had therefore bequeathed his immense estates to his grand-daughter Margaret, in the event of her marrying her kinsman John Sandal; — in the case of his marrying Elinor, he was entitled to no more than her fortune of ￡5000; — and the bequest346 of the greater part of the property to a distant relative who bore the name of Mortimer, was to be the consequence of the non-intermarriage of Sandal with either of his cousins.
‘Mrs Ann Mortimer, anticipating the effect that this opposition of interest to affection might produce in the family, had kept the contents of the will a secret, — but Mrs Sandal had discovered it by means of the domestics at the Castle, and her mind wrought347 intensely on the discovery. She was a woman too long familiar with want and privation to dread any evil but their continuance, and too ambitious of the remembered distinctions of her early life, not to risk any thing that might enable her to recover them. She felt a personal feminine jealousy348 of the high-minded Mrs Ann, and the noble-hearted beautiful Margaret, which was unappeasable; and she hovered349 round the walls of the Castle like a departed spirit groaning350 for its re-admission to the place from which it had been driven, and feeling and giving no peace till its restoration was accomplished351.
‘When with these feelings was united the anxiety of maternal352 ambition for her son, who might be raised to a noble inheritance, or sunk to comparative mediocrity by his choice, the result may be easily guessed; and the widow Sandal, once determined353 on the end, felt little scruple about the means. Want and envy had given her an unslakeable appetite for the restored splendours of her former state; and false religion had taught her every shade and penumbra354 of hypocrisy355, every meanness of artifice356, every obliquity357 of insinuation. In her varied life she had known the good, and chosen the evil. The widow Sandal was now determined to interpose an insurmountable obstruction358 to their union.
‘Mrs Ann still flattered herself that the secret of Sir Roger’s will was suppressed. She saw the intense and disruptable feeling that seemed to mark John and Elinor for each other; and, with a feeling half-borrowed from magnanimity, half from romance, (for Mrs Ann had been fond of the high-toned romances of her day), she looked forward to the felicity of their union as being little disturbed by the loss of land and lordship, — of the immense revenues, — and the far-descended titles of the Mortimer family.
‘Highly as she prized these distinctions, dear to every noble mind, she prized still more highly the union of devoted hearts and congenial spirits, who, trampling359 on the golden apples that were flung in their path, pressed forward with unremitting ardour for the prize of felicity.
‘The wedding-day of John and Elinor was fixed, — the bridal clothes were made, — the noble and numerous friends summoned, — the Castle hall decorated, the bells of the parish church ringing out a loud and merry peal172, and the blue-coated serving men adorned with favours, and employed in garnishing360 the wassail bowl, which was doomed361 by many a thirsty eye to be often drained and often replenished362. Mrs Ann herself took with her own hands, from an ample chest of ebony, a robe of velvet and satin, which she had worn at the court of James the First, on the marriage of the princess Elizabeth with the prince palatine, of whom the former, to borrow the language of a contemporary writer, had ‘brided and bridled363 it so well, and indeed became herself so handsomely,’ that Mrs Ann, as she arrayed herself, thought she saw the splendid vision of the royal bridal float before her faded eyes in dim but gorgeous pageantry once more. The heiress, too, attired364 herself splendidly, but it was observed, that her beautiful cheek was paler than even that of the bride, and the smile which held a fixed unjoyous station on her features all that morning, seemed more like the effort of resolution than the expression of felicity. The widow Sandal had betrayed considerable agitation365, and quitted the Castle at an early hour. The bridegroom had not yet appeared, and the company, after having in vain for some time awaited his arrival, set out for the church, where they supposed he was impatiently expecting them.
‘The cavalcade366 was magnificent and numerous — the dignity and consequence of the Mortimer family had assembled all who had aspired367 to the distinction of their acquaintance, and such was then the feudal grandeur attendant on the nuptials368 of a high-descended family, that relatives, however remote in blood or in local distance, collected for sixty miles in every direction around the Castle, and presented a ‘host of friends, gorgeously arrayed and attended on that eventful morning.’
‘Most of the company, even including the females, were mounted on horseback, and this, by apparently increasing the number of the procession, added to its tumultuous magnificence. There were some cumbrous vehicles, misnamed carriages, of a fashion indescribably inconvenient370, but gorgeously gilded371 and painted, — and the Cupids on the pannels had been re-touched for the occasion. The bride was lifted on her palfrey by two peers, — Margaret rode beside her gallantly372 attended, — and Mrs Ann, who once more saw nobles contending for her withered hand, and adjusting her silken rein373, felt the long-faded glories of her family revive, and led the van of the pompous374 procession with as much dignity of demeanour, and as much glow of faded beauty, once eminent and resistless, as if she still followed the gorgeous nuptial369 progress of the princess palatine. They arrived at the church, — the bride, the relatives, the splendid company, the minister — all but the bridegroom, were there. There was a long painful silence. Several gentlemen of the bridal party rode rapidly out in every direction in which it was thought probable to meet him, — the clergyman stood at the altar, till, weary of standing375, he retired. The crowd from the neighbouring villages, combined with the numerous attendants, filled the church-yard. Their acclamations were incessant376, — the heat and distraction377 became intolerable, and Elinor begged for a few moments to be allowed to retire to the vestry.
‘There was a casement window which opened on the road, and Mrs Ann supported the bride as she tottered towards it, attempting to loose her wimple, and veil of costly378 lace. As Elinor approached the casement, the thundering hoofs379 of a horse at full speed shook the road. Elinor looked up mechanically, — the rider was John Sandal, — he cast a look of horror at the pale bride, and plunging380 his desperate spurs deeper, disappeared in a moment.
‘A year after this event, two figures were seen to walk, or rather wander, almost every evening, in the neighbourhood of a small hamlet in a remote part of Yorkshire. The vicinage was picturesque and attractive, but these figures seemed to move amid the scenery like beings, who, if they still retained eyes for nature, had lost all heart for it. That wan93 and attenuated381 form, so young, yet so withered, whose dark eyes emit a fearful light amid features chill and white as those of a statue, and the young graces of whose form seem to have been nipt like those of a lily that bloomed too soon in spring, and was destroyed by the frost of the treacherous382 season, whose whispers had first invited it to bud, — that is Elinor Mortimer, — and that figure that walks beside her, so stiff and rectangular, that it seems as its motion was regulated by mechanism383, whose sharp eyes are directed so straight forward, that they see neither tree on the right hand, or glade on the left, or heaven above, or earth beneath, or any thing but a dim vision of mystic theology for ever before them, which is aptly reflected in their cold contemplative light, that is the Puritan maiden sister of her mother, with whom Elinor had fixed her residence. Her dress is arranged with as much precision as if a mathematician384 had calculated the angles of every fold, — every pin’s point knows its place, and does its duty — the plaits of her round-eared cap do not permit one hair to appear on her narrow forehead, and her large hood154, adjusted after the fashion in which it was worn by the godly sisters, who rode out to meet Prynne on his return from the pillory385, lends a deeper shade to her rigid features, — a wretched-looking lacquey is carrying a huge clasped bible after her, in the mode in which she remembered to have seen Lady Lambert and Lady Desborough march to prayer, attended by their pages, while she proudly followed in their train, distinguished as the sister of that godly man and powerful preacher of the word, Sandal. From the day of her disappointed nuptials, Elinor, with that insulted feeling of maiden pride, which not even the anguish386 of her broken heart could suppress, had felt an unappeaseable anxiety to quit the scene of her disgrace and her misfortune. It was vainly opposed by her aunt and Margaret, who, horror-struck at the event of those disastrous nuptials, and wholly unconscious of the cause, had implored her, with all the energy of affection, to fix her residence at the Castle, within whose walls they pledged themselves he who had abandoned her should never be permitted to place his foot. Elinor answered the impassioned importunities, only by eager and clinging pressures of her cold hands, and by tears which trembled on her eyelids387, without the power to fall. — ‘Nay, stay with us,’ said the kind and noble-hearted Margaret, ‘you shall not leave us!’ And she pressed the hands of her kinswoman, with that cordial touch that gives a welcome as much to the heart as to the home of the inviter. — ‘Dearest cousin,’ said Elinor, answering, for the first time, this affectionate appeal with a faint and ghastly smile — ‘I have so many enemies within these walls, that I can no longer encounter them with safety to my life.’ — ‘Enemies!’ repeated Margaret. — ‘Yes, dearest cousin — there is not a spot where he trod — not a prospect388 on which he has gazed — not an echo which has repeated the sound of his voice, — that does not send daggers389 through my heart, which those who wish me to live would not willingly see infixed any longer.’ To the emphatic agony with which these words were uttered, Margaret had nothing to reply but with tears; and Elinor set out on her journey to the relative of her mother, a rigid Puritan, who resided in Yorkshire.
‘As the carriage was ordered for her departure, Mrs Ann, supported by her female attendants, stood on the draw-bridge to take leave of her niece, with solemn and affectionate courtesy. Margaret wept bitterly, and aloud, as she stood at a casement, and waved her hand to Elinor. Her aunt never shed a tear, till out of the presence of the domestics, — but when all was over, — ‘she entered into her chamber390, and wept there.’
‘When her carriage had driven some miles from the Castle, a servant on a fleet horse followed it at full speed with Elinor’s lute, which had been forgotten, — it was offered to her, and after viewing it for some moments with a look in which memory struggled with grief, she ordered its strings to be broken on the spot, and proceeded
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
restitution
|
|
| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
chattels
|
|
| n.动产，奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
usurper
|
|
| n. 篡夺者, 僭取者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
monarchs
|
|
| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
rite
|
|
| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
wilt
|
|
| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
applicants
|
|
| 申请人，求职人( applicant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
divers
|
|
| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
vassals
|
|
| n.奴仆( vassal的名词复数 )；（封建时代）诸侯；从属者；下属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
tenants
|
|
| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
flaunted
|
|
| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
tapestry
|
|
| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
regularity
|
|
| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
grandeur
|
|
| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
apathy
|
|
| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
vacancy
|
|
| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
behold
|
|
| v.看，注视，看到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
quaintly
|
|
| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
casement
|
|
| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
panes
|
|
| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
legendary
|
|
| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
hues
|
|
| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
azure
|
|
| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
martyrs
|
|
| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
industrious
|
|
| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
copious
|
|
| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
armour
|
|
| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
grievances
|
|
| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
imprinted
|
|
| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
constellation
|
|
| n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
Ford
|
|
| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
continental
|
|
| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
fanatic
|
|
| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
fanatics
|
|
| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
judicious
|
|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
converse
|
|
| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
conversed
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
anecdote
|
|
| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
sublimity
|
|
| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
consecrates
|
|
| n.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的名词复数 )；奉献v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的第三人称单数 )；奉献 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
tint
|
|
| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
tints
|
|
| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
mellows
|
|
| （使）成熟( mellow的第三人称单数 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
alluded
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
glean
|
|
| v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
sketched
|
|
| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
anecdotes
|
|
| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
mantle
|
|
| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
persecuted
|
|
| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
tottered
|
|
| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
adjured
|
|
| v.（以起誓或诅咒等形式）命令要求( adjure的过去式和过去分词 )；祈求；恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
hewed
|
|
| v.（用斧、刀等）砍、劈( hew的过去式和过去分词 )；砍成；劈出；开辟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
corps
|
|
| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
repel
|
|
| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
fugitive
|
|
| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
hissed
|
|
| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
obstinate
|
|
| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
ravaged
|
|
| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
idols
|
|
| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
wan
|
|
| (wide area network)广域网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
ordnance
|
|
| n.大炮，军械 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
torpidly
|
|
| adv.迟钝地，有气无力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
97
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
ancestry
|
|
| n.祖先，家世 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
swelled
|
|
| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
mellowed
|
|
| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
elation
|
|
| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
licenser
|
|
| n.认可证颁发者（尤指批准书籍出版或戏剧演出的官员） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
qualified
|
|
| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
poetical
|
|
| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
auditors
|
|
| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
galaxy
|
|
| n.星系；银河系；一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
piety
|
|
| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
patriotism
|
|
| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
vivacious
|
|
| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
narrations
|
|
| 叙述事情的经过，故事( narration的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
aristocrat
|
|
| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
forefathers
|
|
| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
adherence
|
|
| n.信奉，依附，坚持，固着 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
monarchy
|
|
| n.君主，最高统治者；君主政体，君主国 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
divergence
|
|
| n.分歧，岔开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
verge
|
|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
abhorrence
|
|
| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
geographer
|
|
| n.地理学者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
contention
|
|
| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
profane
|
|
| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
scruple
|
|
| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
denominations
|
|
| n.宗派( denomination的名词复数 )；教派；面额；名称 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
oppositions
|
|
| （强烈的）反对( opposition的名词复数 )； 反对党； （事业、竞赛、游戏等的）对手； 对比 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
vehemence
|
|
| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
decried
|
|
| v.公开反对，谴责( decry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
reverenced
|
|
| v.尊敬，崇敬( reverence的过去式和过去分词 )；敬礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
vilified
|
|
| v.中伤，诽谤( vilify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
attestation
|
|
| n.证词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
chivalrous
|
|
| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
inmate
|
|
| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
inmates
|
|
| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
hood
|
|
| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
divested
|
|
| v.剥夺( divest的过去式和过去分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
ornament
|
|
| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
uncouth
|
|
| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
nun
|
|
| n.修女，尼姑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
lavish
|
|
| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
homage
|
|
| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
desecration
|
|
| n. 亵渎神圣, 污辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
modulated
|
|
| 已调整[制]的，被调的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
peal
|
|
| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
hovering
|
|
| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
exterior
|
|
| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
preyed
|
|
| v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
cherub
|
|
| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
hauteur
|
|
| n.傲慢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
vices
|
|
| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
valiant
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
agitating
|
|
| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
auguries
|
|
| n.（古罗马）占卜术，占卜仪式( augury的名词复数 )；预兆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
kinsman
|
|
| n.男亲属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
elastic
|
|
| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
dilated
|
|
| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
merged
|
|
| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
perils
|
|
| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
fervently
|
|
| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
fervent
|
|
| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
eloquent
|
|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
eloquently
|
|
| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
naval
|
|
| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
speculations
|
|
| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
disastrous
|
|
| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
cupidity
|
|
| n.贪心，贪财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
precarious
|
|
| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
perilous
|
|
| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
shuddering
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
calamitous
|
|
| adj.灾难的，悲惨的；多灾多难；惨重 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
emphatic
|
|
| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
animating
|
|
| v.使有生气( animate的现在分词 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
redeemed
|
|
| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
stoutly
|
|
| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
crater
|
|
| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
wretches
|
|
| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
scorched
|
|
| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
gore
|
|
| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
diffused
|
|
| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
laborious
|
|
| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
sequestered
|
|
| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
royalty
|
|
| n.皇家，皇族 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
slaughter
|
|
| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
strewed
|
|
| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
conqueror
|
|
| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
scented
|
|
| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
233
drenched
|
|
| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
234
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
235
relinquished
|
|
| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
236
turret
|
|
| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
237
casements
|
|
| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
238
seamen
|
|
| n.海员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
239
lute
|
|
| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
240
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
241
ferocious
|
|
| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
242
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
243
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
244
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
245
seaman
|
|
| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
246
estranged
|
|
| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
247
propitiatory
|
|
| adj.劝解的；抚慰的；谋求好感的；哄人息怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
248
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
249
turrets
|
|
| （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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
250
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
251
secluded
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
252
aberration
|
|
| n.离开正路，脱离常规，色差 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
253
prostration
|
|
| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
254
impelled
|
|
| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
255
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
256
devotedness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
257
steer
|
|
| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
258
gale
|
|
| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
259
strife
|
|
| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
260
haven
|
|
| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
261
profusion
|
|
| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
262
affluence
|
|
| n.充裕，富足 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
263
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
264
consultation
|
|
| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
265
subsided
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
266
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
267
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
268
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
269
enumeration
|
|
| n.计数，列举；细目；详表；点查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
270
intoxication
|
|
| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
271
rumour
|
|
| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
272
usher
|
|
| n.带位员，招待员；vt.引导，护送；vi.做招待，担任引座员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
273
recollecting
|
|
| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
274
knight
|
|
| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
275
knights
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
276
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
277
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
278
pretension
|
|
| n.要求；自命，自称；自负 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
279
caressing
|
|
| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
280
brotherhood
|
|
| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
281
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
282
averting
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的现在分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
283
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
284
tinged
|
|
| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
285
glorified
|
|
| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
286
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
287
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
288
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
289
touchingly
|
|
| adv.令人同情地，感人地，动人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
290
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
291
modulator
|
|
| 调节器； 调制器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
292
emblematic
|
|
| adj.象征的，可当标志的；象征性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
293
reposing
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
294
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
295
toils
|
|
| 网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
296
salute
|
|
| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
297
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
298
embellished
|
|
| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
299
bosoms
|
|
| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
300
averted
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
301
disarmed
|
|
| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
302
imbibed
|
|
| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
303
venial
|
|
| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
304
eminent
|
|
| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
305
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
306
beholding
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
307
revered
|
|
| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
308
scrupulously
|
|
| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
309
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
310
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
311
exclamations
|
|
| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
312
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
313
edifice
|
|
| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
314
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
315
pinnacle
|
|
| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
316
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
317
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
318
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
319
glade
|
|
| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
320
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
321
sterling
|
|
| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
322
effulgent
|
|
| adj.光辉的；灿烂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
323
modulation
|
|
| n.调制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
324
engraved
|
|
| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
325
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
326
solicitude
|
|
| n.焦虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
327
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
328
joints
|
|
| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
329
adamant
|
|
| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
330
infancy
|
|
| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
331
almighty
|
|
| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
332
aspiration
|
|
| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
333
warrior
|
|
| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
334
prostrate
|
|
| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
335
redundant
|
|
| adj.多余的，过剩的；(食物)丰富的；被解雇的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
336
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
337
feudal
|
|
| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
338
resolutely
|
|
| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
339
lustre
|
|
| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
340
inebriated
|
|
| adj.酒醉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
341
fragrance
|
|
| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
342
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
343
kindle
|
|
| v.点燃，着火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
344
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
345
alienated
|
|
| adj.感到孤独的，不合群的v.使疏远( alienate的过去式和过去分词 )；使不友好；转让；让渡（财产等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
346
bequest
|
|
| n.遗赠；遗产，遗物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
347
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
348
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
349
hovered
|
|
| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
350
groaning
|
|
| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
351
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
352
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
353
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
354
penumbra
|
|
| n.（日蚀）半影部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
355
hypocrisy
|
|
| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
356
artifice
|
|
| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
357
obliquity
|
|
| n.倾斜度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
358
obstruction
|
|
| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
359
trampling
|
|
| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
360
garnishing
|
|
| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
361
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
362
replenished
|
|
| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
363
bridled
|
|
| 给…套龙头( bridle的过去式和过去分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
364
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
365
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
366
cavalcade
|
|
| n.车队等的行列 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
367
aspired
|
|
| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
368
nuptials
|
|
| n.婚礼；婚礼( nuptial的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
369
nuptial
|
|
| adj.婚姻的，婚礼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
370
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
371
gilded
|
|
| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
372
gallantly
|
|
| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
373
rein
|
|
| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
374
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
375
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
376
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
377
distraction
|
|
| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
378
costly
|
|
| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
379
hoofs
|
|
| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
380
plunging
|
|
| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
381
attenuated
|
|
| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
382
treacherous
|
|
| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
383
mechanism
|
|
| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
384
mathematician
|
|
| n.数学家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
385
pillory
|
|
| n.嘲弄；v.使受公众嘲笑；将…示众 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
386
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
387
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
388
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
389
daggers
|
|
| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
390
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |