But sure I am, among the ranks which fell,
’Tis the first fiend e’er counsell’d man to rise,
And win the bliss1 the sprite himself had forfeited2.
Old play.
We must resume our narrative3 at the period when Mary Avenel was conveyed to the apartment which had been formerly4 occupied by the two Glendinnings, and when her faithful attendant, Tibbie, had exhausted6 herself in useless attempts to compose and to comfort her. Father Eustace also dealt forth7 with well-meant kindness those apophthegms and dogmata of consolation8, which friendship almost always offers to grief, though they are uniformly offered in vain. She was at length left to indulge in the desolation of her own sorrowful feelings. She felt as those who, loving for the first time, have lost what they loved, before time and repeated calamity9 have taught them that every loss is to a certain extent reparable or endurable.
Such grief may be conceived better than it can be described, as is well known to those who have experienced it. But Mary Avenel had been taught by the peculiarity10 of her situation, to regard herself as the Child of Destiny; and the melancholy12 and reflecting turn of her disposition13 gave to her sorrows a depth and breadth peculiar11 to her character. The grave — and it was a bloody14 grave — had closed, as she believed, over the youth to whom she was secretly, but most warmly attached; the force and ardour of Halbert’s character bearing a singular correspondence to the energy of which her own was capable. Her sorrow did not exhaust itself in sighs and tears, but when the first shock had passed away, concentrated itself with deep and steady meditation15, to collect and calculate, like a bankrupt debtor16, the full amount of her loss. It seemed as if all that connected her with earth, had vanished with this broken tie. She had never dared to anticipate the probability of an ultimate union with Halbert, yet now his supposed fall seemed that of the only tree which was to shelter her from the storm. She respected the more gentle character, and more peaceful attainments17, of the younger Glendinning; but it had not escaped her (what never indeed escaped woman in such circumstances) that he was disposed to place himself in competition with what she, the daughter of a proud and warlike race, deemed the more manly18 qualities of his elder brother; and there is no time when a woman does so little justice to the character of a surviving lover, as when comparing him with the preferred rival of whom she has been recently deprived.
The motherly, but coarse kindness of Dame20 Glendinning, and the doating fondness of her old domestic, seemed now the only kind feeling of which she formed the object; and she could not but reflect how little these were to be compared with the devoted21 attachment22 of a high-souled youth, whom the least glance of her eye could command, as the high-mettled steed is governed by the bridle23 of the rider. It was when plunged24 among these desolating25 reflections, that Mary Avenel felt the void of mind, arising from the narrow and bigoted26 ignorance in which Rome then educated the children of her church. Their whole religion was a ritual, and their prayers were the formal iteration of unknown words, which, in the hour of affliction, could yield but little consolation to those who from habit resorted to them. Unused to the practice of mental devotion, and of personal approach to the Divine Presence by prayer, she could not help exclaiming in her distress27, “There is no aid for me on earth, and I know not how to ask it from Heaven!”
As she spoke28 thus in an agony of sorrow, she cast her eyes into the apartment, and saw the mysterious Spirit, which waited upon the fortunes of her house, standing29 in the moonlight in the midst of the room. The same form, as the reader knows, had more than once offered itself to her sight; and either her native boldness of mind, or some peculiarity attached to her from her birth, made her now look upon it without shrinking. But the White Lady of Avenel was now more distinctly visible, and more closely present, than she had ever before seemed to be, and Mary was appalled30 by her presence. She would, however, have spoken; but there ran a tradition, that though others who had seen the White Lady had asked questions and received answers, yet those of the house of Avenel who had ventured to speak to her, had never long survived the colloquy31. The figure, besides, as sitting up in her bed, Mary Avenel gazed on it intently, seemed by its gestures to caution her to keep silence, and at the same time to bespeak32 attention.
The White Lady then seemed to press one of the planks33 of the floor with her foot, while, in her usual low, melancholy, and musical chant, she repeated the following verses:
“Maiden35, whose sorrows wail36 the Living Dead,
Whose eyes shall commune with the Dead Alive,
Maiden, attend! Beneath my foot lies hid
The Word, the Law, the Path, which thou dost strive
To find and canst not find. — Could spirits shed
Tears for their lot, it were my lot to weep,
Showing the road which I shall never tread,
Though my foot points it. — Sleep, eternal sleep,
Dark, long, and cold forgetfulness my lot! —
But do not thou at human ills repine,
Secure there lies full guerdon in this spot
For all the woes37 that wait frail38 Adam’s line —
Stoop, then, and make it yours — I may not make it mine!”
The phantom39 stooped towards the floor as she concluded, as if with the intention of laying her hand on the board on which she stood. But ere she had completed that gesture, her form became indistinct, was presently only like the shade of a fleecy cloud, which passed betwixt earth and the moon, and was soon altogether invisible.
A strong impression of fear, the first which she had experienced in her life to any agitating40 extent, seized upon the mind of Mary Avenel, and for a minute she felt a disposition to faint. She repelled41 it, however, mustered42 her courage, and addressed herself to saints and angels, as her church recommended. Broken slumbers43 at length stole on her exhausted mind and frame, and she slept until the dawn was about to rise, when she was awakened44 by the cry of “Treason! treason! follow, follow!” which arose in the tower, when it was found that Piercie Shafton had made his escape.
Apprehensive45 of some new misfortune, Mary Avenel hastily arranged the dress which she had not laid aside, and, venturing to quit her chamber46, learned from Tibb, who, with her gray hairs dishevelled like those of a sibyl, was flying from room to room, that the bloody Southron villain47 had made his escape, and that Halbert Glendinning, poor bairn, would sleep unrevenged and unquiet in his bloody grave. In the lower apartments, the young men were roaring like thunder, and venting48 in oaths and exclamations49 against the fugitives50 the rage which they experienced in finding themselves locked up within the tower, and debarred from their vindictive51 pursuit by the wily precautions of Mysie Happer. The authoritative52 voice of the Sub-Prior commanding silence was next heard; upon which Mary Avenel, whose tone of feeling did not lead her to enter into counsel or society with the rest of the party, again retired53 to her solitary54 chamber.
The rest of the family held counsel in the spence, Edward almost beside himself with rage, and the Sub-Prior in no small degree offended at the effrontery55 of Mysie Happer in attempting such a scheme, as well as at the mingled56 boldness and dexterity57 with which it had been executed. But neither surprise nor anger availed aught. The windows, well secured with iron bars for keeping assailants out, proved now as effectual for detaining the inhabitants within. The battlements were open, indeed; but without ladder or ropes to act as a substitute for wings, there was no possibility of descending58 from them. They easily succeeded in alarming the inhabitants of the cottages beyond the precincts of the court; but the men had been called in to strengthen the guard for the night, and only women and children remained who could contribute nothing in the emergency, except their useless exclamations of surprise, and there were no neighbours for miles around. Dame Elspeth, however, though drowned in tears, was not so unmindful of external affairs, but that she could find voice enough to tell the women and children without, to “leave their skirling, and look after the cows that she couldna get minded, what wi’ the awfu’ distraction59 of her mind, what wi’ that fause slut having locked them up in their ain tower as fast as if they had been in the Jeddart tolbooth.”
Meanwhile, the men finding other modes of exit impossible, unanimously concluded to force the doors with such tools as the house afforded for the purpose. These were not very proper for the occasion, and the strength of the doors was great. The interior one, formed of oak, occupied them for three mortal hours, and there was little prospect60 of the iron door being forced in double the time.
While they were engaged in this ungrateful toil61, Mary Avenel had with much less labour acquired exact knowledge of what the Spirit had intimated in her mystic rhyme. On examining the spot which the phantom had indicated by her gestures, it was not difficult to discover that a board had been loosened, which might be raised at pleasure. On removing this piece of plank34, Mary Avenel was astonished to find the Black Book, well remembered by her as her mother’s favourite study, of which she immediately took possession, with as much joy as her present situation rendered her capable of feeling.
Ignorant in a great measure of its contents, Mary Avenel had been taught from her infancy62 to hold this volume in sacred veneration63. It is probable that the deceased Lady of Walter Avenel only postponed64 initiating65 her daughter into the mysteries of the Divine Word, until she should be better able to comprehend both the lessons which it taught, and the risk at which, in those times, they were studied. Death interposed, and removed her before the times became favourable66 to the reformers, and before her daughter was so far advanced in age as to be fit to receive religious instruction of this deep import. But the affectionate mother had made preparations for the earthly work which she had most at heart. There were slips of paper inserted in the volume, in which, by an appeal to, and a comparison of, various passages in holy writ67, the errors and human inventions with which the Church of Rome had defaced the simple edifice68 of Christianity, as erected70 by its divine architect, were pointed71 out. These controversial topics were treated with a spirit of calmness and Christian69 charity, which might have been an example to the theologians of the period; but they were clearly, fairly, and plainly argued, and supported by the necessary proofs and references. Other papers there were which had no reference whatever to polemics72, but were the simple effusions of a devout73 mind communing with itself. Among these was one frequently used, as it seemed from the state of the manuscript, on which the mother of Mary had transcribed74 and placed together those affecting texts to which the heart has recourse, in affliction, and which assures us at once of the sympathy and protection afforded to the children of the promise. In Mary Avenel’s state of mind, these attracted her above all the other lessons, which, coming from a hand so dear, had reached her at a time so critical, and in a manner so touching75. She read the affecting promise, “I will never leave thee nor forsake76 thee,” and the consoling exhortation77, “Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee.” She read them, and her heart acquiesced78 in the conclusion. Surely this is the word of God!
There are those to whom a sense of religion has come in storm and tempest; there are those whom it has summoned amid scenes of revelry and idle vanity; there are those, too, who have heard its “still small voice” amid rural leisure and placid79 contentment. But perhaps the knowledge which causeth not to err19, is most frequently impressed upon the mind during seasons of affliction; and tears are the softened80 showers which cause the seed of Heaven to spring and take root in the human breast. At least it was thus with Mary Avenel. She was insensible to the discordant81 noise which rang below, the clang of bars and the jarring symphony of the levers which they used to force them, the measured shouts of the labouring inmates82 as they combined their strength for each heave, and gave time with their voices to the exertion83 of their arms, and their deeply muttered vows84 of revenge on the fugitives who had bequeathed them at their departure a task so toilsome and difficult. Not all this din5, combined in hideous85 concert, and expressive86 of aught but peace, love, and forgiveness, could divert Mary Avenel from the new course of study on which she had so singularly entered. “The serenity87 of Heaven,” she said, “is above me; the sounds which are around are but those of earth and earthly passion.”
Meanwhile the noon was passed, and little impression was made on the iron grate, when they who laboured at it received a sudden reinforcement by the unexpected arrival of Christie of the Clinthill. He came at the head of a small party, consisting of four horsemen, who bore in their caps the sprig of holly88, which was the badge of Avenel.
“What, ho! — my masters,” he said, “I bring you a prisoner.”
“You had better have brought us liberty,” said Dan of the Howlet-hirst.
Christie looked at the state of affairs with great surprise. “An I were to be hanged for it,” he said, “as I may for as little a matter, I could not forbear laughing at seeing men peeping through their own bars like so many rats in a rat-trap, and he with the beard behind, like the oldest rat in the cellar.”
“Hush, thou unmannered knave,” said Edward, “it is the Sub-Prior; and this is neither time, place, nor company, for your ruffian jests.”
“What, ho! is my young master malapert?” said Christie; “why, man, were he my own carnal father, instead of being father to half the world, I would have my laugh out. And now it is over, I must assist you, I reckon, for you are setting very greenly about this gear — put the pinch nearer the staple89, man, and hand me an iron crow through the grate, for that’s the fowl90 to fly away with a wicket on its shoulders. I have broke into as many grates as you have teeth in your young head — ay, and broke out of them too, as the captain of the Castle of Lochmaben knows full well.”
Christie did not boast more skill than he really possessed91; for, applying their combined strength, under the direction of that experienced engineer, bolt and staple gave way before them, and in less than half an hour, the grate, which had so long repelled their force, stood open before them.
“And now,” said Edward, “to horse, my mates, and pursue the villain Shafton!”
“Halt, there,” said Christie of the Clinthill; “pursue your guest, my master’s friend and my own? — there go two words to that bargain. What the foul92 fiend would you pursue him for?”
“Let me pass,” said Edward, vehemently93, “I will be staid by no man — the villain has murdered my brother!”
“What says he?” said Christie, turning to the others; “murdered? who is murdered, and by whom?”
“The Englishman, Sir Piercie Shafton,” said Dan of the Howlet-hirst, “has murdered young Halbert Glendinning yesterday morning, and we have all risen to the fray94.”
“It is a bedlam95 business, I think,” said Christie. “First I find you all locked up in your own tower, and next I am come to prevent you revenging a murder that was never committed!”
“I tell you,” said Edward, “that my brother was slain96 and buried yesterday morning by this false Englishman.”
“And I tell you,” answered Christie, “that I saw him alive and well last night. I would I knew his trick of getting out of the grave; most men find it more hard to break through a green sod than a grated door.”
Every body now paused, and looked on Christie in astonishment97, until the Sub-Prior, who had hitherto avoided communication with him, came up and required earnestly to know, whether he meant really to maintain that Halbert Glendinning lived.
“Father,” he said, with, more respect than he usually showed to any one save his master, “I confess I may sometimes jest with those of your coat, but not with you; because, as you may partly recollect98, I owe you a life. It is certain as the sun is in heaven, that Halbert Glendinning supped at the house of my master the Baron99 of Avenel last night, and that he came thither100 in company with an old man, of whom more anon.”
“And where is he now?”
“The devil only can answer that question,” replied Christie, “for the devil has possessed the whole family, I think. He took fright, the foolish lad, at something or other which our Baron did in his moody101 humour, and so he jumped into the lake and swam ashore102 like a wild-duck. Robin103 of Redcastle spoiled a good gelding in chasing him this morning.”
“And why did he chase the youth?” said the Sub-Prior; “what harm had he done?”
“None that I know of,” said Christie; “but such was the Baron’s order, being in his mood, and all the world having gone mad, as I have said before.”
“Whither away so fast, Edward?” said the monk104.
“To Corri-nan-shian, Father,” answered the youth. —“Martin and Dan, take pickaxe and mattock, and follow me if you be men!”
“Right,” said the monk, “and fail not to give us instant notice what you find.”
“If you find aught there like Halbert Glendinning,” said Christie, hallooing after Edward, “I will be bound to eat him unsalted. —‘T is a sight to see how that fellow takes the bent105! — It is in the time of action men see what lads are made of. Halbert was aye skipping up and down like a roo, and his brother used to sit in the chimney nook with his book and sic-like trash — But the lad was like a loaded hackbut, which will stand in the corner as quiet as an old crutch106 until ye draw the trigger, and then there is nothing but flash and smoke. — But here comes my prisoner; and, setting other matters aside, I must pray a word with you, Sir Sub-Prior, respecting him. I came on before to treat about him, but I was interrupted with this fasherie.”
As he spoke, two more of Avenel’s troopers rode into the court-yard, leading betwixt them a horse, on which, with his hands bound to his side, sate107 the reformed preacher, Henry Warden108.
点击收听单词发音
1 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 forfeited | |
(因违反协议、犯规、受罚等)丧失,失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 calamity | |
n.灾害,祸患,不幸事件 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 peculiarity | |
n.独特性,特色;特殊的东西;怪癖 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 debtor | |
n.借方,债务人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 attainments | |
成就,造诣; 获得( attainment的名词复数 ); 达到; 造诣; 成就 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 err | |
vi.犯错误,出差错 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 dame | |
n.女士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 bridle | |
n.笼头,束缚;vt.抑制,约束;动怒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 desolating | |
毁坏( desolate的现在分词 ); 极大地破坏; 使沮丧; 使痛苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 bigoted | |
adj.固执己见的,心胸狭窄的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 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: |
|
|
29 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 appalled | |
v.使惊骇,使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的;丧胆的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 colloquy | |
n.谈话,自由讨论 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 bespeak | |
v.预定;预先请求 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 planks | |
(厚)木板( plank的名词复数 ); 政纲条目,政策要点 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 plank | |
n.板条,木板,政策要点,政纲条目 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 wail | |
vt./vi.大声哀号,恸哭;呼啸,尖啸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 woes | |
困境( woe的名词复数 ); 悲伤; 我好苦哇; 某人就要倒霉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 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: |
|
|
41 repelled | |
v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 mustered | |
v.集合,召集,集结(尤指部队)( muster的过去式和过去分词 );(自他人处)搜集某事物;聚集;激发 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 slumbers | |
睡眠,安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 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: |
|
|
45 apprehensive | |
adj.担心的,恐惧的,善于领会的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 villain | |
n.反派演员,反面人物;恶棍;问题的起因 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 venting | |
消除; 泄去; 排去; 通风 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 exclamations | |
n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 );感叹;感叹语;感叹词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 fugitives | |
n.亡命者,逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 vindictive | |
adj.有报仇心的,怀恨的,惩罚的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 authoritative | |
adj.有权威的,可相信的;命令式的;官方的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 effrontery | |
n.厚颜无耻 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 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: |
|
|
57 dexterity | |
n.(手的)灵巧,灵活 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 veneration | |
n.尊敬,崇拜 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 postponed | |
vt.& vi.延期,缓办,(使)延迟vt.把…放在次要地位;[语]把…放在后面(或句尾)vi.(疟疾等)延缓发作(或复发) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 initiating | |
v.开始( initiate的现在分词 );传授;发起;接纳新成员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 writ | |
n.命令状,书面命令 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 edifice | |
n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 ERECTED | |
adj. 直立的,竖立的,笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立,建立 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 polemics | |
n.辩论术,辩论法;争论( polemic的名词复数 );辩论;辩论术;辩论法 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 transcribed | |
(用不同的录音手段)转录( transcribe的过去式和过去分词 ); 改编(乐曲)(以适应他种乐器或声部); 抄写; 用音标标出(声音) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 forsake | |
vt.遗弃,抛弃;舍弃,放弃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 exhortation | |
n.劝告,规劝 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 acquiesced | |
v.默认,默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 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: |
|
|
81 discordant | |
adj.不调和的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 inmates | |
n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 vows | |
誓言( vow的名词复数 ); 郑重宣布,许愿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 expressive | |
adj.表现的,表达…的,富于表情的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 serenity | |
n.宁静,沉着,晴朗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 holly | |
n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 staple | |
n.主要产物,常用品,主要要素,原料,订书钉,钩环;adj.主要的,重要的;vt.分类 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 fowl | |
n.家禽,鸡,禽肉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 vehemently | |
adv. 热烈地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 fray | |
v.争吵;打斗;磨损,磨破;n.吵架;打斗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 bedlam | |
n.混乱,骚乱;疯人院 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 baron | |
n.男爵;(商业界等)巨头,大王 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 moody | |
adj.心情不稳的,易怒的,喜怒无常的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
102 ashore | |
adv.在(向)岸上,上岸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
103 robin | |
n.知更鸟,红襟鸟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
104 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
105 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
106 crutch | |
n.T字形拐杖;支持,依靠,精神支柱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
107 sate | |
v.使充分满足 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
108 warden | |
n.监察员,监狱长,看守人,监护人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |