He bellowed2 for Nick and his boots.
“Where is Master Lionel? he asked when the boots had been fetched.
“He be just ridden in, Sir Oliver.”
“Bid him hither.”
Promptly4, in answer to that summons, came Sir Oliver’s half-brother — a slender lad favouring his mother the dissolute Ralph Tressilian’s second wife. He was as unlike Sir Oliver in body as in soul. He was comely5 in a very gentle, almost womanish way; his complexion6 was fair and delicate, his hair golden, and his eyes of a deep blue. He had a very charming stripling grace — for he was but in his twenty-first year — and he dressed with all the care of a Court-gallant.
“Has that whelp Godolphin been to visit you?” he asked as he entered.
“Aye,” growled7 Sir Oliver. “He came to tell me some things and to hear some others in return.”
“Ha. I passed him just beyond the gates, and he was deaf to my greeting. ’Tis a most cursed insufferable pup.”
“Art a judge of men, Lal.” Sir Oliver stood up booted. “I am for Arwenack to exchange a compliment or two with Sir John.”
His tight-pressed lips and resolute8 air supplemented his words so well that Lionel clutched his arm.
“You’re not . . . you’re not . . .?”
“I am.” And affectionately, as if to soothe9 the lad’s obvious alarm, he patted his brother’s shoulder. “Sir John,” he explained, “talks too much. ’Tis a fault that wants correcting. I go to teach him the virtue10 of silence.”
“There will be trouble, Oliver.”
“So there will — for him. If a man must be saying of me that I am a pirate, a slave-dealer, a murderer, and Heaven knows what else, he must be ready for the consequences. But you are late, Lal. Where have you been?”
“I rode as far as Malpas.”
“As far as Malpas?” Sir Oliver’s eyes narrowed, as was the trick with him. “I hear it whispered what magnet draws you thither11,” he said. “Be wary12, boy. You go too much to Malpas.”
“How?” quoth Lionel a trifle coldly.
“I mean that you are your father’s son. Remember it, and strive not to follow in his ways lest they bring you to his own end. I have just been reminded of these predilections13 of his by good Master Peter. Go not over often to Malpas, I say. No more.” But the arm which he flung about his younger brother’s shoulders and the warmth of his embrace made resentment14 of his warning quite impossible.
When he was gone, Lionel sat him down to dine, with Nick to wait on him. He ate but little, and never addressed the old servant in the course of that brief repast. He was very pensive15. In thought he followed his brother on that avenging16 visit of his to Arwenack. Killigrew was no babe, but man of his hands, a soldier and a seaman17. If any harm should come to Oliver . . . He trembled at the thought; and then almost despite him his mind ran on to calculate the consequences to himself. His fortune would be in a very different case, he refected. In a sort of horror, he sought to put so detestable a reflection from his mind; but it returned insistently18. It would not be denied. It forced him to a consideration of his own circumstances.
All that he had he owed to his brother’s bounty20. That dissolute father of theirs had died as such men commonly die, leaving behind him heavily encumbered21 estates and many debts; the very house of Penarrow was mortgaged, and the moneys raised on it had been drunk, or gambled, or spent on one or another of Ralph Tressilian’s many lights o’ love. Then Oliver had sold some little property near Helston, inherited from his mother; he had sunk the money into a venture upon the Spanish Main. He had fitted out and manned a ship, and had sailed with Hawkins upon one of those ventures, which Sir John Killigrew was perfectly23 entitled to account pirate raids. He had returned with enough plunder24 in specie and gems25 to disencumber the Tressilian patrimony26. He had sailed again and returned still wealthier. And meanwhile, Lionel had remained at home taking his ease. He loved his ease. His nature was inherently indolent, and he had the wasteful27 extravagant28 tastes that usually go with indolence. He was not born to toil29 and struggle, and none had sought to correct the shortcomings of his character in that respect. Sometimes he wondered what the future might hold for him should Oliver come to marry. He feared his life might not be as easy as it was at present. But he did not seriously fear. It was not in his nature — it never is in the natures of such men — to give any excess of consideration to the future. When his thoughts did turn to it in momentary30 uneasiness, he would abruptly31 dismiss them with the reflection that when all was said Oliver loved him, and Oliver would never fail to provide adequately for all his wants.
In this undoubtedly32 he was fully33 justified34. Oliver was more parent than brother to him. When their father had been brought home to die from the wound dealt him by an outraged35 husband — and a shocking spectacle that sinner’s death had been with its hasty terrified repentance36 — he had entrusted37 Lionel to his elder brother’s care. At the time Oliver was seventeen and Lionel twelve. But Oliver had seemed by so many years older than his age, that the twice-widowed Ralph Tressilian had come to depend upon this steady, resolute, and masterful child of his first marriage. It was into his ear that the dying man had poured the wretched tale of his repentance for the life he had lived and the state in which he was leaving his affairs with such scant38 provision for his sons. For Oliver he had no fear. It was as if with the prescience that comes to men in his pass he had perceived that Oliver was of those who must prevail, a man born to make the world his oyster39. His anxieties were all for Lionel, whom he also judged with that same penetrating40 insight vouchsafed41 a man in his last hours. Hence his piteous recommendation of him to Oliver, and Oliver’s ready promise to be father, mother, and brother to the youngster.
All this was in Lionel’s mind as he sat musing42 there, and again he struggled with that hideous43 insistent19 thought that if things should go ill with his brother at Arwenack, there would be great profit to himself; that these things he now enjoyed upon another’s bounty he would then enjoy in his own right. A devil seemed to mock him with the whispered sneer44 that were Oliver to die his own grief would not be long-lived. Then in revolt against that voice of an egoism so loathsome45 that in his better moments it inspired even himself with horror, he bethought him of Oliver’s unvarying, unwavering affection; he pondered all the loving care and kindness that through these years past Oliver had ever showered upon him; and he cursed the rottenness of a mind that could even admit such thoughts as those which he had been entertaining. So wrought46 upon was he by the welter of his emotions, by that fierce strife47 between his conscience and his egotism, that he came abruptly to his feet, a cry upon his lips.
“Vade retro, Sathanas!”
Old Nicholas, looking up abruptly, saw the lad’s face, waxen, his brow bedewed with sweat.
“Master Lionel! Master Lionel!” he cried, his small bright eyes concernedly scanning his young master’s face. “What be amiss?”
Lionel mopped his brow. “Sir Oliver has gone to Arwenack upon a punitive48 business,” said he.
“An’ what be that, zur?” quoth Nicholas.
“He has gone to punish Sir John for having maligned50 him.”
A grin spread upon the weather-beaten countenance51 of Nicholas.
“Be that so? Marry, ’twere time. Sir John he be over long i’ th’ tongue.”
Lionel stood amazed at the man’s easy confidence and supreme52 assurance of how his master must acquit53 himself.
“You . . . you have no fear, Nicholas. . . . ” He did not add of what. But the servant understood, and his grin grew broader still.
“Fear? Lackaday! I bain’t afeeard for Sir Oliver, and doan’t ee be afeeard. Sir Oliver’ll be home to sup with a sharp-set appetite —’tis the only difference fighting ever made to he.”
The servant was justified of his confidence by the events, though through a slight error of judgment54 Sir Oliver did not quite accomplish all that promised and intended. In anger, and when he deemed that he had been affronted55, he was — as his chronicler never wearies of insisting, and as you shall judge before the end of this tale is reached — of a tigerish ruthlessness. He rode to Arwenack fully resolved to kill his calumniator57. Nothing less would satisfy him. Arrived at that fine embattled castle of the Killigrews which commanded the entrance to the estuary58 of the Fal, and from whose crenels the country might be surveyed as far as the Lizard59, fifteen miles away, he found Peter Godolphin there before him; and because of Peter’s presence Sir Oliver was more deliberate and formal in his accusation60 of Sir John than he had intended. He desired, in accusing Sir John, also to clear himself in the eyes of Rosamund’s brother, to make the latter realize how entirely61 odious62 were the calumnies63 which Sir John had permitted himself, and how basely prompted.
Sir John, however, came halfway64 to meet the quarrel. His rancour against the Pirate of Penarrow — as he had come to dub65 Sir Oliver — endered him almost as eager to engage as was his visitor.
They found a secluded66 corner of the deer-park for their business, and there Sir John — a slim, sallow gentleman of some thirty years of age — made an onslaught with sword and dagger67 upon Sir Oliver, full worthy68 of the onslaught he had made earlier with his tongue. But his impetuosity availed him less than nothing. Sir Oliver was come there with a certain purpose, and it was his way that he never failed to carry through a thing to which he set his hand.
In three minutes it was all over and Sir Oliver was carefully wiping his blade, whilst Sir John lay coughing upon the turf tended by white-faced Peter Godolphin and a scared groom69 who had been bidden thither to make up the necessary tale of witnesses.
Sir Oliver sheathed70 his weapons and resumed his coat, then came to stand over his fallen foe71, considering him critically.
“I think I have silenced him for a little time only,” he said. “And I confess that I intended to do better. I hope, however, that the lesson will suffice and that he will lie no more — at least concerning me.”
“Do you mock a fallen man?” was Master Godolphin’s angry protest.
“God forbid!” said Sir Oliver soberly. “There is no mockery in my heart. There is, believe me, nothing but regret — regret that I should not have done the thing more thoroughly72. I will send assistance from the house as I go. Give you good day, Master Peter.”
From Arwenack he rode round by Penryn on his homeward way. But he did not go straight home. He paused at the Gates of Godolphin Court, which stood above Trefusis Point commanding the view of Carrick Roads. He turned in under the old gateway73 and drew up in the courtyard. Leaping to the kidney-stones that paved it, he announced himself a visitor to Mistress Rosamund.
He found her in her bower74 — a light, turreted75 chamber76 on the mansion’s eastern side, with windows that looked out upon that lovely sheet of water and the wooded slopes beyond. She was sitting with a book in her lap in the deep of that tall window when he entered, preceded and announced by Sally Pentreath, who, now her tire-woman, had once been her nurse.
She rose with a little exclamation77 of gladness when he appeared under the lintel — scarce high enough to admit him without stooping — and stood regarding him across the room with brightened eyes and flushing cheeks.
What need is there to describe her? In the blaze of notoriety into which she was anon to be thrust by Sir Oliver Tressilian there was scarce a poet in England who did not sing the grace and loveliness of Rosamund Godolphin, and in all conscience enough of those fragments have survived. Like her brother she was tawny78 headed and she was divinely tall, though as yet her figure in its girlishness was almost too slender for her height.
“I had not looked for you so early. . . . ” she was beginning, when she observed that his countenance was oddly stern. “Why . . . what has happened?” she cried, her intuitions clamouring loudly of some mischance.
“Naught79 to alarm you, sweet; yet something that may vex80 you.” He set an arm about that lissom81 waist of hers above the swelling82 farthingale, and gently led her back to her chair, then flung himself upon the window-seat beside her. “You hold Sir John Killigrew in some affection?” he said between statement and inquiry83.
“Why, yes. He was our guardian84 until my brother came of full age.”
Sir Oliver made a wry85 face. “Aye, there’s the rub. Well, I’ve all but killed him.”
She drew back into her chair, recoiling86 before him, and he saw horror leap to her eyes and blench87 her face. He made haste to explain the causes that had led to this, he told her briefly88 of the calumnies concerning him that Sir John had put about to vent22 his spite at having been thwarted89 in a matter of his coveted90 licence to build at Smithick.
“That mattered little,” he concluded. “I knew these tales concerning me were abroad, and I held them in the same contempt as I hold their utterer. But he went further, Rose: he poisoned your brother’s mind against me, and he stirred up in him the slumbering91 rancour that in my father’s time was want to lie between our houses. To-day Peter came to me with the clear intent to make a quarrel. He affronted me as no man has ever dared.”
She cried out at that, her already great alarm redoubled. He smiled.
“Do not suppose that I could harm him. He is your brother, and, so, sacred to me. He came to tell me that no betrothal92 was possible between us, forbade me ever again to visit Godolphin Court, dubbed93 me pirate and vampire94 to my face and reviled95 my father’s memory. I tracked the evil of all this to its source in Killigrew, and rode straight to Arwenack to dam that source of falsehood for all time. I did not accomplish quite so much as I intended. You see, I am frank, my Rose. It may be that Sir John will live; if so I hope that he may profit by this lesson. I have come straight to you,” he concluded, “that you may hear the tale from me before another comes to malign49 me with false stories of this happening.”
“You . . . you mean Peter?” she cried.
“Alas!” he sighed.
She sat very still and white, looking straight before her and not at all at Sir Oliver. At length she spoke96.
“I am not skilled in reading men,” she said in a sad, small voice. “How should I be, that am but a maid who has led a cloistered97 life. I was told of you that you were violent and passionate98, a man of bitter enmities, easily stirred to hatreds99, cruel and ruthless in the persecution100 of them.”
“You, too, have been listening to Sir John,” he muttered, and laughed shortly.
“All this was I told,” she pursued as if he had not spoken, “and all did I refuse to believe because my heart was given to you. Yet . . . yet of what have you made proof to-day?”
“Of forbearance,” said he shortly.
“Forbearance?” she echoed, and her lips writhed101 in a smile of weary irony102. “Surely you mock me!”
He set himself to explain.
“I have told you what Sir John had done. I have told you that the greater part of it — and matter all that touched my honour — I know Sir John to have done long since. Yet I suffered it in silence and contempt. Was that to show myself easily stirred to ruthlessness? What was it but forbearance? When, however, he carries his petty huckster’s rancour so far as to seek to choke for me my source of happiness in life and sends your brother to affront56 me, I am still so forbearing that I recognize your brother to be no more than a tool and go straight to the hand that wielded103 him. Because I know of your affection for Sir John I gave him such latitude104 as no man of honour in England would have given him.”
Then seeing that she still avoided his regard, still sat in that frozen attitude of horror at learning that the man she loved had imbrued his hands with the blood of another whom she also loved, his pleading quickened to a warmer note. He flung himself upon his knees beside her chair, and took in his great sinewy105 hands the slender fingers which she listlessly surrendered. “Rose,” he cried, and his deep voice quivered with intercession, “dismiss all that you have heard from out your mind. Consider only this thing that has befallen. Suppose that Lionel my brother came to you, and that, having some measure of power and authority to support him, he swore to you that you should never wed3 me, swore to prevent this marriage because he deemed you such a woman as could not bear my name with honour to myself; and suppose that to all this he added insult to the memory of your dead father, what answer would you return him? Speak, Rose! Be honest with thyself and me. Deem yourself in my place, and say in honesty if you can still condemn106 me for what I have done. Say if it differs much from what you would wish to do in such a case as I have named.”
Her eyes scanned now his upturned face, every line of which was pleading to her and calling for impartial107 judgment. Her face grew troubled, and then almost fierce. She set her hands upon his shoulders, and looked deep into his eyes.
“You swear to me, Noll, that all is as you have told it me — you have added naught, you have altered naught to make the tale more favourable108 to yourself?”
“You need such oaths from me?” he asked, and she saw sorrow spread upon his countenance.
“If I did I should not love thee, Noll. But in such an hour I need your own assurance. Will you not be generous and bear with me, strengthen me to withstand anything that may be said hereafter?”
“As God’s my witness, I have told you true in all,” he answered solemnly.
She sank her head to his shoulder. She was weeping softly, overwrought by this climax109 to all that in silence and in secret she had suffered since he had come a-wooing her.
“Then,” she said, “I believe you acted rightly. I believe with you that no man of honour could have acted otherwise. I must believe you, Noll, for did I not, then I could believe in naught and hope for naught. You are as a fire that has seized upon the better part of me and consumed it all to ashes that you may hold it in your heart. I am content so you be true.”
“True I shall ever be, sweetheart,” he whispered fervently110. “Could I be less since you are sent to make me so?”
She looked at him again, and now she was smiling wistfully through her tears.
“And you will bear with Peter?” she implored111 him.
“He shall have no power to anger me,” he answered. “I swear that too. Do you know that but to-day he struck me?”
“Struck you? You did not tell me that!”
“My quarrel was not with him but with the rogue112 that sent him. I laughed at the blow. Was he not sacred to me?”
“He is good at heart, Noll,” she pursued. “In time he will come to love you as you deserve, and you will come to know that he, too, deserves your love.”
“He deserves it now for the love he bears to you.”
“And you will think ever thus during the little while of waiting that perforce must lie before us?”
“I shall never think otherwise, sweet. Meanwhile I shall avoid him, and that no harm may come should he forbid me Godolphin Court I’ll even stay away. In less than a year you will be of full age, and none may hinder you to come and go. What is a year, with such hope as mine to still impatience113?”
She stroked his face. “Art very gentle with me ever, Noll,” she murmured fondly. “I cannot credit you are ever harsh to any, as they say.”
“Heed them not,” he answered her. “I may have been something of all that, but you have purified me, Rose. What man that loved you could be aught but gentle.” He kissed her, and stood up. “I had best be going now,” he said. “I shall walk along the shore towards Trefusis Point to-morrow morning. If you should chance to be similarly disposed. . . . ”
She laughed, and rose in her turn. “I shall be there, dear Noll.”
“’Twere best so hereafter,” he assured her, smiling, and so took his leave.
She followed him to the stair-head, and watched him as he descended114 with eyes that took pride in the fine upright carriage of that stalwart, masterful lover.
点击收听单词发音
1 ERECTED | |
adj. 直立的,竖立的,笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立,建立 | |
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2 bellowed | |
v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的过去式和过去分词 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
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3 wed | |
v.娶,嫁,与…结婚 | |
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4 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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5 comely | |
adj.漂亮的,合宜的 | |
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6 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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7 growled | |
v.(动物)发狺狺声, (雷)作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 );低声咆哮着说 | |
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8 resolute | |
adj.坚决的,果敢的 | |
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9 soothe | |
v.安慰;使平静;使减轻;缓和;奉承 | |
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10 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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11 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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12 wary | |
adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
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13 predilections | |
n.偏爱,偏好,嗜好( predilection的名词复数 ) | |
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14 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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15 pensive | |
a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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16 avenging | |
adj.报仇的,复仇的v.为…复仇,报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 );为…报复 | |
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17 seaman | |
n.海员,水手,水兵 | |
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18 insistently | |
ad.坚持地 | |
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19 insistent | |
adj.迫切的,坚持的 | |
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20 bounty | |
n.慷慨的赠予物,奖金;慷慨,大方;施与 | |
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21 encumbered | |
v.妨碍,阻碍,拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22 vent | |
n.通风口,排放口;开衩;vt.表达,发泄 | |
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23 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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24 plunder | |
vt.劫掠财物,掠夺;n.劫掠物,赃物;劫掠 | |
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25 gems | |
growth; economy; management; and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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26 patrimony | |
n.世袭财产,继承物 | |
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27 wasteful | |
adj.(造成)浪费的,挥霍的 | |
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28 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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29 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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30 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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31 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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32 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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33 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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34 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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35 outraged | |
a.震惊的,义愤填膺的 | |
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36 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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37 entrusted | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38 scant | |
adj.不充分的,不足的;v.减缩,限制,忽略 | |
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39 oyster | |
n.牡蛎;沉默寡言的人 | |
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40 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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41 vouchsafed | |
v.给予,赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 );允诺 | |
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42 musing | |
n. 沉思,冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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43 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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44 sneer | |
v.轻蔑;嘲笑;n.嘲笑,讥讽的言语 | |
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45 loathsome | |
adj.讨厌的,令人厌恶的 | |
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46 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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47 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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48 punitive | |
adj.惩罚的,刑罚的 | |
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49 malign | |
adj.有害的;恶性的;恶意的;v.诽谤,诬蔑 | |
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50 maligned | |
vt.污蔑,诽谤(malign的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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51 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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52 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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53 acquit | |
vt.宣判无罪;(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
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54 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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55 affronted | |
adj.被侮辱的,被冒犯的v.勇敢地面对( affront的过去式和过去分词 );相遇 | |
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56 affront | |
n./v.侮辱,触怒 | |
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57 calumniator | |
n.中伤者,诽谤者 | |
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58 estuary | |
n.河口,江口 | |
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59 lizard | |
n.蜥蜴,壁虎 | |
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60 accusation | |
n.控告,指责,谴责 | |
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61 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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62 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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63 calumnies | |
n.诬蔑,诽谤,中伤(的话)( calumny的名词复数 ) | |
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64 halfway | |
adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途 | |
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65 dub | |
vt.(以某种称号)授予,给...起绰号,复制 | |
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66 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) | |
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67 dagger | |
n.匕首,短剑,剑号 | |
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68 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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69 groom | |
vt.给(马、狗等)梳毛,照料,使...整洁 | |
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70 sheathed | |
adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的;覆盖的;铠装的;装鞘了的v.将(刀、剑等)插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 );包,覆盖 | |
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71 foe | |
n.敌人,仇敌 | |
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72 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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73 gateway | |
n.大门口,出入口,途径,方法 | |
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74 bower | |
n.凉亭,树荫下凉快之处;闺房;v.荫蔽 | |
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75 turreted | |
a.(像炮塔般)旋转式的 | |
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76 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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77 exclamation | |
n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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78 tawny | |
adj.茶色的,黄褐色的;n.黄褐色 | |
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79 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
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80 vex | |
vt.使烦恼,使苦恼 | |
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81 lissom | |
adj.柔软的,轻快而优雅的 | |
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82 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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83 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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84 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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85 wry | |
adj.讽刺的;扭曲的 | |
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86 recoiling | |
v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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87 blench | |
v.退缩,畏缩 | |
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88 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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89 thwarted | |
阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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90 coveted | |
adj.令人垂涎的;垂涎的,梦寐以求的v.贪求,觊觎(covet的过去分词);垂涎;贪图 | |
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91 slumbering | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的现在分词形式) | |
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92 betrothal | |
n. 婚约, 订婚 | |
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93 dubbed | |
v.给…起绰号( dub的过去式和过去分词 );把…称为;配音;复制 | |
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94 vampire | |
n.吸血鬼 | |
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95 reviled | |
v.辱骂,痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96 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 | |
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97 cloistered | |
adj.隐居的,躲开尘世纷争的v.隐退,使与世隔绝( cloister的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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99 hatreds | |
n.仇恨,憎恶( hatred的名词复数 );厌恶的事 | |
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100 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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101 writhed | |
(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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103 wielded | |
手持着使用(武器、工具等)( wield的过去式和过去分词 ); 具有; 运用(权力); 施加(影响) | |
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104 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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105 sinewy | |
adj.多腱的,强壮有力的 | |
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106 condemn | |
vt.谴责,指责;宣判(罪犯),判刑 | |
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107 impartial | |
adj.(in,to)公正的,无偏见的 | |
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108 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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109 climax | |
n.顶点;高潮;v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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110 fervently | |
adv.热烈地,热情地,强烈地 | |
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111 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112 rogue | |
n.流氓;v.游手好闲 | |
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113 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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114 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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