Gie ower your house to me.
Edom of Gordon.
Morton had finished the revisal and the making out of a fair copy of the paper on which he and Poundtext had agreed to rest as a full statement of the grievances1 of their party, and the conditions on which the greater part of the insurgents2 would be contented4 to lay down their arms; and he was about to betake himself to repose5, when there was a knocking at the door of his apartment.
“Enter,” said Morton; and the round bullethead of Cuddie Headrigg was thrust into the room. “Come in,” said Morton, “and tell me what you want. Is there any alarm?”
“Na, stir; but I hae brought ane to speak wi’ you.”
“Who is that, Cuddie?” enquired6 Morton.
“Ane o’ your auld7 acquaintance,” said Cuddie; and, opening the door more fully8, he half led, half dragged in a woman, whose face was muffled9 in her plaid. —“Come, come, ye needna be sae bashfu’ before auld acquaintance, Jenny,” said Cuddie, pulling down the veil, and discovering to his master the well-remembered countenance10 of Jenny Dennison. “Tell his honour, now — there’s a braw lass — tell him what ye were wanting to say to Lord Evandale, mistress.”
“What was I wanting to say,” answered Jenny, “to his honour himsell the other morning, when I visited him in captivity11, ye muckle hash? — D’ye think that folk dinna want to see their friends in adversity, ye dour12 crowdy-eater?”
This reply was made with Jenny’s usual volubility; but her voice quivered, her cheek was thin and pale, the tears stood in her eyes, her hand trembled, her manner was fluttered, and her whole presence bore marks of recent suffering and privation, as well as nervous and hysterical13 agitation14.
“What is the matter, Jenny?” said Morton, kindly15. “You know how much I owe you in many respects, and can hardly make a request that I will not grant, if in my power.”
“Many thanks, Milnwood,” said the weeping damsel; “but ye were aye a kind gentleman, though folk say ye hae become sair changed now.”
“What do they say of me?” answered Morton.
“A’ body says,” replied Jenny, “that you and the whigs hae made a vow16 to ding King Charles aff the throne, and that neither he, nor his posteriors from generation to generation, shall sit upon it ony mair; and John Gudyill threeps ye’re to gie a’ the church organs to the pipers, and burn the Book o’ Common-prayer by the hands of the common hangman, in revenge of the Covenant17 that was burnt when the king cam hame.”
“My friends at Tillietudlem judge too hastily and too ill of me,” answered Morton. “I wish to have free exercise of my own religion, without insulting any other; and as to your family, I only desire an opportunity to show them I have the same friendship and kindness as ever.”
“Bless your kind heart for saying sae,” said Jenny, bursting into a flood of tears; “and they never needed kindness or friendship mair, for they are famished18 for lack o’ food.”
“Good God!” replied Morton, “I have heard of scarcity19, but not of famine! It is possible? — Have the ladies and the Major”—
“They hae suffered like the lave o’ us,” replied Jenny; “for they shared every bit and sup wi’ the whole folk in the Castle — I’m sure my poor een see fifty colours wi’ faintness, and my head’s sae dizzy wi’ the mirligoes that I canna stand my lane.”
The thinness of the poor girl’s cheek, and the sharpness of her features, bore witness to the truth of what she said. Morton was greatly shocked.
“Sit down,” he said, “for God’s sake!” forcing her into the only chair the apartment afforded, while he himself strode up and down the room in horror and impatience20. “I knew not of this,” he exclaimed in broken ejaculations — “I could not know of it. — Cold-blooded, iron-hearted fanatic22 — deceitful villain23! — Cuddie, fetch refreshments25 — food — wine, if possible — whatever you can find.”
“Whisky is gude eneugh for her,” muttered Cuddie; “ane wadna hae thought that gude meal was sae scant26 amang them, when the quean threw sae muckle gude kail-brose scalding het about my lugs27.”
Faint and miserable28 as Jenny seemed to be, she could not hear the allusion29 to her exploit during the storm of the Castle, without bursting into a laugh which weakness soon converted into a hysterical giggle30. Confounded at her state, and reflecting with horror on the distress31 which must have been in the Castle, Morton repeated his commands to Headrigg in a peremptory32 manner; and when he had departed, endeavoured to soothe33 his visitor.
“You come, I suppose, by the orders of your mistress, to visit Lord Evandale? — Tell me what she desires; her orders shall be my law.”
Jenny appeared to reflect a moment, and then said, “Your honour is sae auld a friend, I must needs trust to you, and tell the truth.”
“Be assured, Jenny,” said Morton, observing that she hesitated, “that you will best serve your mistress by dealing34 sincerely with me.”
“Weel, then, ye maun ken21 we’re starving, as I said before, and have been mair days than ane; and the Major has sworn that he expects relief daily, and that he will not gie ower the house to the enemy till we have eaten up his auld boots — and they are unco thick in the soles, as ye may weel mind, forby being teugh in the upper-leather. The dragoons, again, they think they will be forced to gie up at last, and they canna bide35 hunger weel, after the life they led at free quarters for this while bypast; and since Lord Evandale’s taen, there’s nae guiding them; and Inglis says he’ll gie up the garrison36 to the whigs, and the Major and the leddies into the bargain, if they will but let the troopers gang free themsells.”
“Scoundrels!” said Morton; “why do they not make terms for all in the Castle?”
“They are fear’d for denial o’ quarter to themsells, having dune37 sae muckle mischief38 through the country; and Burley has hanged ane or twa o’ them already — sae they want to draw their ain necks out o’ the collar at hazard o’ honest folk’s.”
“And you were sent,” continued Morton, “to carry to Lord Evandale the unpleasant news of the men’s mutiny?”
“Just e’en sae,” said Jenny; “Tam Halliday took the rue39, and tauld me a’ about it, and gat me out o’ the Castle to tell Lord Evandale, if possibly I could win at him.”
“But how can he help you?” said Morton; “he is a prisoner.”
“Well-a-day, ay,” answered the afflicted40 damsel; “but maybe he could mak fair terms for us — or, maybe, he could gie us some good advice — or, maybe, he might send his orders to the dragoons to be civil — or”—
“Or, maybe,” said Morton, “you were to try if it were possible to set him at liberty?”
“If it were sae,” answered Jenny with spirit, “it wadna be the first time I hae done my best to serve a friend in captivity.”
“True, Jenny,” replied Morton, “I were most ungrateful to forget it. But here comes Cuddie with refreshments — I will go and do your errand to Lord Evandale, while you take some food and wine.”
“It willna be amiss ye should ken,” said Cuddie to his master, “that this Jenny — this Mrs Dennison, was trying to cuittle favour wi’ Tam Rand, the miller’s man, to win into Lord Evandale’s room without ony body kennin’. She wasna thinking, the gipsy, that I was at her elbow.”
“And an unco fright ye gae me when ye cam ahint and took a grip o’ me,” said Jenny, giving him a sly twitch41 with her finger and her thumb —“if ye hadna been an auld acquaintance, ye daft gomeril”—
Cuddie, somewhat relenting, grinned a smile on his artful mistress, while Morton wrapped himself up in his cloak, took his sword under his arm, and went straight to the place of the young nobleman’s confinement42. He asked the sentinels if any thing extraordinary had occurred.
“Nothing worth notice,” they said, “excepting the lass that Cuddie took up, and two couriers that Captain Balfour had dispatched, one to the Reverend Ephraim Macbriar, another to Kettledrummle,” both of whom were beating the drum ecclesiastic43 in different towns between the position of Burley and the head-quarters of the main army near Hamilton.
“The purpose, I presume,” said Morton, with an affectation of indifference44, “was to call them hither.”
“So I understand,” answered the sentinel, who had spoke45 with the messengers.
He is summoning a triumphant46 majority of the council, thought Morton to himself, for the purpose of sanctioning whatever action of atrocity47 he may determine upon, and thwarting48 opposition49 by authority. I must be speedy, or I shall lose my opportunity.
When he entered the place of Lord Evandale’s confinement, he found him ironed, and reclining on a flock bed in the wretched garret of a miserable cottage. He was either in a slumber50, or in deep meditation51, when Morton entered, and turned on him, when aroused, a countenance so much reduced by loss of blood, want of sleep, and scarcity of food, that no one could have recognised in it the gallant52 soldier who had behaved with so much spirit at the skirmish of Loudon-hill. He displayed some surprise at the sudden entrance of Morton.
“I am sorry to see you thus, my lord,” said that youthful leader.
“I have heard you are an admirer of poetry,” answered the prisoner; “in that case, Mr Morton, you may remember these lines —
‘Stone walls do not a prison make,
Or iron bars a cage;
A free and quiet mind can take
These for a hermitage.’
But, were my imprisonment53 less endurable, I am given to expect tomorrow a total enfranchisement54.”
“By death?” said Morton.
“Surely,” answered Lord Evandale; “I have no other prospect55. Your comrade, Burley, has already dipped his hand in the blood of men whose meanness of rank and obscurity of extraction might have saved them. I cannot boast such a shield from his vengeance56, and I expect to meet its extremity57.”
“But Major Bellenden,” said Morton, “may surrender, in order to preserve your life.”
“Never, while there is one man to defend the battlement, and that man has one crust to eat. I know his gallant resolution, and grieved should I be if he changed it for my sake.”
Morton hastened to acquaint him with the mutiny among the dragoons, and their resolution to surrender the Castle, and put the ladies of the family, as well as the Major, into the hands of the enemy. Lord Evandale seemed at first surprised, and something incredulous, but immediately afterwards deeply affected58.
“What is to be done?” he said —“How is this misfortune to be averted59?”
“Hear me, my lord,” said Morton. “I believe you may not be unwilling60 to bear the olive branch between our master the King, and that part of his subjects which is now in arms, not from choice, but necessity.”
“You construe61 me but justly,” said Lord Evandale; “but to what does this tend?”
“Permit me, my lord”— continued Morton. “I will set you at liberty upon parole; nay62, you may return to the Castle, and shall have a safe conduct for the ladies, the Major, and all who leave it, on condition of its instant surrender. In contributing to bring this about you will only submit to circumstances; for, with a mutiny in the garrison, and without provisions, it will be found impossible to defend the place twenty-four hours longer. Those, therefore, who refuse to accompany your lordship, must take their fate. You and your followers63 shall have a free pass to Edinburgh, or where-ever the Duke of Monmouth may be. In return for your liberty, we hope that you will recommend to the notice of his Grace, as Lieutenant-General of Scotland, this humble64 petition and remonstrance65, containing the grievances which have occasioned this insurrection, a redress66 of which being granted, I will answer with my head, that the great body of the insurgents will lay down their arms.”
Lord Evandale read over the paper with attention.
“Mr Morton,” he said, “in my simple judgment67, I see little objection that can be made to the measure here recommended; nay, farther, I believe, in many respects, they may meet the private sentiments of the Duke of Monmouth: and yet, to deal frankly68 with you, I have no hopes of their being granted, unless, in the first place, you were to lay down your arms.”
“The doing so,” answered Morton, “would be virtually conceding that we had no right to take them up; and that, for one, I will never agree to.”
“Perhaps it is hardly to be expected you should,” said Lord Evandale; “and yet on that point I am certain the negotiations69 will be wrecked70. I am willing, however, having frankly told you my opinion, to do all in my power to bring about a reconciliation71.”
“It is all we can wish or expect,” replied Morton; “the issue is in God’s hands, who disposes the hearts of princes. — You accept, then, the safe conduct?”
“Certainly,” answered Lord Evandale; “and if I do not enlarge upon the obligation incurred72 by your having saved my life a second time, believe that I do not feel it the less.”
“And the garrison of Tillietudlem?” said Morton.
“Shall be withdrawn73 as you propose,” answered the young nobleman. “I am sensible the Major will be unable to bring the mutineers to reason; and I tremble to think of the consequences, should the ladies and the brave old man be delivered up to this bloodthirsty ruffian, Burley.”
“You are in that case free,” said Morton. “Prepare to mount on horseback; a few men whom I can trust shall attend you till you are in safety from our parties.”
Leaving Lord Evandale in great surprise and joy at this unexpected deliverance, Morton hastened to get a few chosen men under arms and on horseback, each rider holding the rein74 of a spare horse. Jenny, who, while she partook of her refreshment24, had contrived75 to make up her breach76 with Cuddie, rode on the left hand of that valiant77 cavalier. The tramp of their horses was soon heard under the window of Lord Evandale’s prison. Two men, whom he did not know, entered the apartment, disencumbered him of his fetters78, and, conducting him down stairs, mounted him in the centre of the detachment. They set out at a round trot79 towards Tillietudlem.
The moonlight was giving way to the dawn when they approached that ancient fortress80, and its dark massive tower had just received the first pale colouring of the morning. The party halted at the Tower barrier, not venturing to approach nearer for fear of the fire of the place. Lord Evandale alone rode up to the gate, followed at a distance by Jenny Dennison. As they approached the gate, there was heard to arise in the court-yard a tumult81, which accorded ill with the quiet serenity82 of a summer dawn. Cries and oaths were heard, a pistol-shot or two were discharged, and every thing announced that the mutiny had broken out. At this crisis Lord Evandale arrived at the gate where Halliday was sentinel. On hearing Lord Evandale’s voice, he instantly and gladly admitted him, and that nobleman arrived among the mutinous83 troopers like a man dropped from the clouds. They were in the act of putting their design into execution, of seizing the place into their own hands, and were about to disarm84 and overpower Major Bellenden and Harrison, and others of the Castle, who were offering the best resistance in their power.
The appearance of Lord Evandale changed the scene. He seized Inglis by the collar, and, upbraiding85 him with his villainy, ordered two of his comrades to seize and bind86 him, assuring the others, that their only chance of impunity87 consisted in instant submission88. He then ordered the men into their ranks. They obeyed. He commanded them to ground their arms. They hesitated; but the instinct of discipline, joined to their persuasion89 that the authority of their officer, so boldly exerted, must be supported by some forces without the gate, induced them to submit.
“Take away those arms,” said Lord Evandale to the people of the Castle; “they shall not be restored until these men know better the use for which they are intrusted with them. — And now,” he continued, addressing the mutineers, “begone! — Make the best use of your time, and of a truce90 of three hours, which the enemy are contented to allow you. Take the road to Edinburgh, and meet me at the House-of-Muir. I need not bid you beware of committing violence by the way; you will not, in your present condition, provoke resentment91 for your own sakes. Let your punctuality show that you mean to atone92 for this morning’s business.”
The disarmed93 soldiers shrunk in silence from the presence of their officer, and, leaving the Castle, took the road to the place of rendezvous94, making such haste as was inspired by the fear of meeting with some detached party of the insurgents, whom their present defenceless condition, and their former violence, might inspire with thoughts of revenge. Inglis, whom Evandale destined95 for punishment, remained in custody96. Halliday was praised for his conduct, and assured of succeeding to the rank of the culprit. These arrangements being hastily made, Lord Evandale accosted97 the Major, before whose eyes the scene had seemed to pass like the change of a dream.
“My dear Major, we must give up the place.”
“Is it even so?” said Major Bellenden. “I was in hopes you had brought reinforcements and supplies.”
“Not a man — not a pound of meal,” answered Lord Evandale.
“Yet I am blithe98 to see you,” returned the honest Major; “we were informed yesterday that these psalm-singing rascals99 had a plot on your life, and I had mustered100 the scoundrelly dragoons ten minutes ago in order to beat up Burley’s quarters and get you out of limbo101, when the dog Inglis, instead of obeying me, broke out into open mutiny. — But what is to be done now?”
“I have, myself, no choice,” said Lord Evandale; “I am a prisoner, released on parole, and bound for Edinburgh. You and the ladies must take the same route. I have, by the favour of a friend, a safe conduct and horses for you and your retinue102 — for God’s sake make haste — you cannot propose to hold out with seven or eight men, and without provisions — Enough has been done for honour, and enough to render the defence of the highest consequence to government. More were needless, as well as desperate. The English troops are arrived at Edinburgh, and will speedily move upon Hamilton. The possession of Tillietudlem by the rebels will be but temporary.”
“If you think so, my lord,” said the veteran, with a reluctant sigh — “I know you only advise what is honourable103 — if, then, you really think the case inevitable104, I must submit; for the mutiny of these scoundrels would render it impossible to man the walls. — Gudyill, let the women call up their mistresses, and all be ready to march — But if I could believe that my remaining in these old walls, till I was starved to a mummy, could do the King’s cause the least service, old Miles Bellenden would not leave them while there was a spark of life in his body!”
The ladies, already alarmed by the mutiny, now heard the determination of the Major, in which they readily acquiesced105, though not without some groans106 and sighs on the part of Lady Margaret, which referred, as usual, to the dejeune; of his Most Sacred Majesty107 in the halls which were now to be abandoned to rebels. Hasty preparations were made for evacuating108 the Castle; and long ere the dawn was distinct enough for discovering objects with precision, the ladies, with Major Bellenden, Harrison, Gudyill, and the other domestics, were mounted on the led horses, and others which had been provided in the neighbourhood, and proceeded towards the north, still escorted by four of the insurgent3 horsemen. The rest of the party who had accompanied Lord Evandale from the hamlet, took possession of the deserted109 Castle, carefully forbearing all outrage110 or acts of plunder111. And when the sun arose, the scarlet112 and blue colours of the Scottish Covenant floated from the Keep of Tillietudlem.
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1
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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insurgents
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| n.起义，暴动，造反( insurgent的名词复数 ) | |
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insurgent
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| adj.叛乱的，起事的；n.叛乱分子 | |
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4
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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5
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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8
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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9
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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10
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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12
dour
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| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
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13
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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15
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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16
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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18
famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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19
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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fanatic
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| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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25
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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26
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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27
lugs
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| 钎柄 | |
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28
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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29
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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30
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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31
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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33
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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34
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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35
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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37
dune
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| n.(由风吹积而成的)沙丘 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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40
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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42
confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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43
ecclesiastic
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| n.教士，基督教会；adj.神职者的，牧师的，教会的 | |
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44
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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45
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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46
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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47
atrocity
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| n.残暴，暴行 | |
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48
thwarting
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| 阻挠( thwart的现在分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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49
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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50
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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51
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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52
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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53
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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54
enfranchisement
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| 选举权 | |
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55
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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56
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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57
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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59
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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60
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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61
construe
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| v.翻译，解释 | |
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62
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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63
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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64
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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66
redress
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| n.赔偿，救济，矫正；v.纠正，匡正，革除 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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68
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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70
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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71
reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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72
incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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73
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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74
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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76
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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78
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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79
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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81
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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82
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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83
mutinous
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| adj.叛变的，反抗的；adv.反抗地，叛变地；n.反抗，叛变 | |
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84
disarm
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| v.解除武装，回复平常的编制，缓和 | |
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85
upbraiding
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| adj.& n.谴责（的）v.责备，申斥，谴责( upbraid的现在分词 ) | |
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86
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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88
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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92
atone
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| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
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93
disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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95
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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96
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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97
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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98
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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99
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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100
mustered
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| 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 | |
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101
limbo
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| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
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102
retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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103
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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104
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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105
acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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107
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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108
evacuating
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| 撤离，疏散( evacuate的现在分词 )； 排空（胃肠），排泄（粪便）； （从危险的地方）撤出，搬出，撤空 | |
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109
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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110
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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111
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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112
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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