But the black, lowering sky, as I turned my eyes upward, wore, doubtless, the same visage as when it frowned upon the ante-revolutionary New Englanders. The wintry blast had the same shriek22 that was familiar to their ears. The Old South Church, too, still pointed23 its antique spire24 into the darkness, and was lost between earth and heaven; and as I passed, its clock, which had warned so many generations how transitory was their lifetime, spoke25 heavily and slow the same unregarded moral to myself. “Only seven o’clock,” thought I. “My old friend’s legends will scarcely kill the hours ‘twixt this and bedtime.”
Passing through the narrow arch, I crossed the court-yard, the confined precincts of which were made visible by a lantern over the portal of the Province House. On entering the bar-room, I found, as I expected, the old tradition monger seated by a special good fire of anthracite, compelling clouds of smoke from a corpulent cigar. He recognized me with evident pleasure; for my rare properties as a patient listener invariably make me a favorite with elderly gentlemen and ladies of narrative26 propensities27. Drawing a chair to the fire, I desired mine host to favor us with a glass apiece of whiskey punch, which was speedily prepared, steaming hot, with a slice of lemon at the bottom, a dark-red stratum28 of port wine upon the surface, and a sprinkling of nutmeg strewn over all. As we touched our glasses together, my legendary friend made himself known to me as Mr. Bela Tiffany; and I rejoiced at the oddity of the name, because it gave his image and character a sort of individuality in my conception. The old gentleman’s draught29 acted as a solvent30 upon his memory, so that it overflowed31 with tales, traditions, anecdotes32 of famous dead people, and traits of ancient manners, some of which were childish as a nurse’s lullaby, while others might have been worth the notice of the grave historian. Nothing impressed me more than a story of a black mysterious picture, which used to hang in one of the chambers34 of the Province House, directly above the room where we were now sitting. The following is as correct a version of the fact as the reader would be likely to obtain from any other source, although, assuredly, it has a tinge35 of romance approaching to the marvellous.
In one of the apartments of the Province House there was long preserved an ancient picture, the frame of which was as black as ebony, and the canvas itself so dark with age, damp, and smoke, that not a touch of the painter’s art could be discerned. Time had thrown an impenetrable veil over it, and left to tradition and fable36 and conjecture37 to say what had once been there portrayed38. During the rule of many successive governors, it had hung, by prescriptive and undisputed right, over the mantel-piece of the same chamber33; and it still kept its place when Lieutenant–Governor Hutchinson assumed the administration of the province, on the departure of Sir Francis Bernard.
The Lieutenant–Governor sat, one afternoon, resting his head against the carved back of his stately armchair, and gazing up thoughtfully at the void blackness of the picture. It was scarcely a time for such inactive musing39, when affairs of the deepest moment required the ruler’s decision, for within that very hour Hutchinson had received intelligence of the arrival of a British fleet, bringing three regiments41 from Halifax to overawe the insubordination of the people. These troops awaited his permission to occupy the fortress42 of Castle William, and the town itself. Yet, instead of affixing44 his signature to an official order, there sat the Lieutenant–Governor, so carefully scrutinizing45 the black waste of canvas that his demeanor46 attracted the notice of two young persons who attended him. One, wearing a military dress of buff, was his kinsman47, Francis Lincoln, the Provincial48 Captain of Castle William; the other, who sat on a low stool beside his chair, was Alice Vane, his favorite niece.
She was clad entirely49 in white, a pale, ethereal creature, who, though a native of New England, had been educated abroad, and seemed not merely a stranger from another clime, but almost a being from another world. For several years, until left an orphan50, she had dwelt with her father in sunny Italy, and there had acquired a taste and enthusiasm for sculpture and painting which she found few opportunities of gratifying in the undecorated dwellings of the colonial gentry51. It was said that the early productions of her own pencil exhibited no inferior genius, though, perhaps, the rude atmosphere of New England had cramped52 her hand, and dimmed the glowing colors of her fancy. But observing her uncle’s steadfast53 gaze, which appeared to search through the mist of years to discover the subject of the picture, her curiosity was excited.
“Is it known, my dear uncle,” inquired she, “what this old picture once represented? Possibly, could it be made visible, it might prove a masterpiece of some great artist — else, why has it so long held such a conspicuous54 place?”
As her uncle, contrary to his usual custom (for he was as attentive55 to all the humors and caprices of Alice as if she had been his own best-beloved child), did not immediately reply, the young Captain of Castle William took that office upon himself.
“This dark old square of canvas, my fair cousin,” said he, “has been an heirloom in the Province House from time immemorial. As to the painter, I can tell you nothing; but, if half the stories told of it be true, not one of the great Italian masters has ever produced so marvellous a piece of work as that before you.”
Captain Lincoln proceeded to relate some of the strange fables56 and fantasies which, as it was impossible to refute them by ocular demonstration57, had grown to be articles of popular belief, in reference to this old picture. One of the wildest, and at the same time the best accredited59, accounts, stated it to be an original and authentic60 portrait of the Evil One, taken at a witch meeting near Salem; and that its strong and terrible resemblance had been confirmed by several of the confessing wizards and witches, at their trial, in open court. It was likewise affirmed that a familiar spirit or demon58 abode behind the blackness of the picture, and had shown himself, at seasons of public calamity61, to more than one of the royal governors. Shirley, for instance, had beheld this ominous62 apparition63, on the eve of General Abercrombie’s shameful64 and bloody65 defeat under the walls of Ticonderoga. Many of the servants of the Province House had caught glimpses of a visage frowning down upon them, at morning or evening twilight66 — or in the depths of night, while raking up the fire that glimmered67 on the hearth68 beneath; although, if any were bold enough to hold a torch before the picture, it would appear as black and undistinguishable as ever. The oldest inhabitant of Boston recollected69 that his father, in whose days the portrait had not wholly faded out of sight, had once looked upon it, but would never suffer himself to be questioned as to the face which was there represented. In connection with such stories, it was remarkable70 that over the top of the frame there were some ragged71 remnants of black silk, indicating that a veil had formerly72 hung down before the picture, until the duskiness of time had so effectually concealed73 it. But, after all, it was the most singular part of the affair that so many of the pompous75 governors of Massachusetts had allowed the obliterated76 picture to remain in the state chamber of the Province House.
“Some of these fables are really awful,” observed Alice Vane, who had occasionally shuddered77, as well as smiled, while her cousin spoke. “It would be almost worth while to wipe away the black surface of the canvas, since the original picture can hardly be so formidable as those which fancy paints instead of it.”
“But would it be possible,” inquired her cousin, “to restore this dark picture to its pristine78 hues79?”
“Such arts are known in Italy,” said Alice.
The Lieutenant–Governor had roused himself from his abstracted mood, and listened with a smile to the conversation of his young relatives. Yet his voice had something peculiar80 in its tones when he undertook the explanation of the mystery.
“I am sorry, Alice, to destroy your faith in the legends of which you are so fond,” remarked he; “but my antiquarian researches have long since made me acquainted with the subject of this picture — if picture it can be called — which is no more visible, nor ever will be, than the face of the long buried man whom it once represented. It was the portrait of Edward Randolph, the founder81 of this house, a person famous in the history of New England.”
“Of that Edward Randolph,” exclaimed Captain Lincoln, “who obtained the repeal82 of the first provincial charter, under which our forefathers83 had enjoyed almost democratic privileges! He that was styled the arch-enemy of New England, and whose memory is still held in detestation as the destroyer of our liberties!”
“It was the same Randolph,” answered Hutchinson, moving uneasily in his chair. “It was his lot to taste the bitterness of popular odium.”
“Our annals tell us,” continued the Captain of Castle William, “that the curse of the people followed this Randolph where he went, and wrought84 evil in all the subsequent events of his life, and that its effect was seen likewise in the manner of his death. They say, too, that the inward misery85 of that curse worked itself outward, and was visible on the wretched man’s countenance87, making it too horrible to be looked upon. If so, and if this picture truly represented his aspect, it was in mercy that the cloud of blackness has gathered over it.”
“These traditions are folly88 to one who has proved, as I have, how little of historic truth lies at the bottom,” said the Lieutenant–Governor. “As regards the life and character of Edward Randolph, too implicit89 credence90 has been given to Dr. Cotton Mather, who — I must say it, though some of his blood runs in my veins91 — has filled our early history with old women’s tales, as fanciful and extravagant92 as those of Greece or Rome.”
“And yet,” whispered Alice Vane, “may not such fables have a moral? And, methinks, if the visage of this portrait be so dreadful, it is not without a cause that it has hung so long in a chamber of the Province House. When the rulers feel themselves irresponsible, it were well that they should be reminded of the awful weight of a people’s curse.”
The Lieutenant–Governor started, and gazed for a moment at his niece, as if her girlish fantasies had struck upon some feeling in his own breast, which all his policy or principles could not entirely subdue94. He knew, indeed, that Alice, in spite of her foreign education, retained the native sympathies of a New England girl.
“Peace, silly child,” cried he, at last, more harshly than he had ever before addressed the gentle Alice. “The rebuke95 of a king is more to be dreaded96 than the clamor of a wild, misguided multitude. Captain Lincoln, it is decided97. The fortress of Castle William must be occupied by the royal troops. The two remaining regiments shall be billeted in the town, or encamped upon the Common. It is time, after years of tumult98, and almost rebellion, that his majesty’s government should have a wall of strength about it.”
“Trust, sir — trust yet awhile to the loyalty99 of the people,” said Captain Lincoln; “nor teach them that they can ever be on other terms with British soldiers than those of brotherhood100, as when they fought side by side through the French War. Do not convert the streets of your native town into a camp. Think twice before you give up old Castle William, the key of the province, into other keeping than that of true-born New Englanders.”
“Young man, it is decided,” repeated Hutchinson, rising from his chair. “A British officer will be in attendance this evening, to receive the necessary instructions for the disposal of the troops. Your presence also will be required. Till then, farewell.”
With these words the Lieutenant–Governor hastily left the room, while Alice and her cousin more slowly followed, whispering together, and once pausing to glance back at the mysterious picture. The Captain of Castle William fancied that the girl’s air and mien101 were such as might have belonged to one of those spirits of fable-fairies, or creatures of a more antique mythology102 — who sometimes mingled103 their agency with mortal affairs, half in caprice, yet with a sensibility to human weal or woe104. As he held the door for her to pass, Alice beckoned105 to the picture and smiled.
“Come forth106, dark and evil Shape!” cried she. “It is thine hour!”
In the evening, Lieutenant–Governor Hutchinson sat in the same chamber where the foregoing scene had occurred, surrounded by several persons whose various interests had summoned them together. There were the selectmen of Boston, plain, patriarchal fathers of the people, excellent representatives of the old puritanical107 founders108, whose sombre strength had stamped so deep an impress upon the New England character. Contrasting with these were one or two members of Council, richly dressed in the white wigs109, the embroidered110 waistcoats and other magnificence of the time, and making a somewhat ostentatious display of courtier-like ceremonial. In attendance, likewise, was a major of the British army, awaiting the Lieutenant–Governor’s orders for the landing of the troops, which still remained on board the transports. The Captain of Castle William stood beside Hutchinson’s chair with folded arms, glancing rather haughtily111 at the British officer, by whom he was soon to be superseded112 in his command. On a table, in the centre of the chamber, stood a branched silver candlestick, throwing down the glow of half a dozen wax-lights upon a paper apparently113 ready for the Lieutenant–Governor’s signature.
Partly shrouded114 in the voluminous folds of one of the window curtains, which fell from the ceiling to the floor, was seen the white drapery of a lady’s robe. It may appear strange that Alice Vane should have been there at such a time; but there was something so childlike, so wayward, in her singular character, so apart from ordinary rules, that her presence did not surprise the few who noticed it. Meantime, the chairman of the Selectmen was addressing to the Lieutenant–Governor a long and solemn protest against the reception of the British troops into the town.
“And if your Honor,” concluded this excellent but somewhat prosy old gentleman, “shall see fit to persist in bringing these mercenary sworders and musketeers into our quiet streets, not on our heads be the responsibility. Think, sir, while there is yet time, that if one drop of blood be shed, that blood shall be an eternal stain upon your Honor’s memory. You, sir, have written with an able pen the deeds of our forefathers. The more to be desired is it, therefore, that yourself should deserve honorable mention, as a true patriot115 and upright ruler, when your own doings shall be written down in history.”
“I am not insensible, my good sir, to the natural desire to stand well in the annals of my country,” replied Hutchinson, controlling his impatience116 into courtesy, “nor know I any better method of attaining117 that end than by withstanding the merely temporary spirit of mischief119, which, with your pardon, seems to have infected elder men than myself. Would you have me wait till the mob shall sack the Province House, as they did my private mansion? Trust me, sir, the time may come when you will be glad to flee for protection to the king’s banner, the raising of which is now so distasteful to you.”
“Yes,” said the British major, who was impatiently expecting the Lieutenant–Governor’s orders. “The demagogues of this Province have raised the devil and cannot lay him again. We will exorcise him, in God’s name and the king’s.”
“If you meddle120 with the devil, take care of his claws!” answered the Captain of Castle William, stirred by the taunt121 against his countrymen.
“Craving your pardon, young sir,” said the venerable Selectman, “let not an evil spirit enter into your words. We will strive against the oppressor with prayer and fasting, as our forefathers would have done. Like them, moreover, we will submit to whatever lot a wise Providence122 may send us — always, after our own best exertions123 to amend124 it.”
“And there peep forth the devil’s claws!” muttered Hutchinson, who well understood the nature of Puritan submission125. “This matter shall be expedited forthwith. When there shall be a sentinel at every corner, and a court of guard before the town house, a loyal gentleman may venture to walk abroad. What to me is the outcry of a mob, in this remote province of the realm? The king is my master, and England is my country! Upheld by their armed strength, I set my foot upon the rabble126, and defy them!”
He snatched a pen, and was about to affix43 his signature to the paper that lay on the table, when the Captain of Castle William placed his hand upon his shoulder. The freedom of the action, so contrary to the ceremonious respect which was then considered due to rank and dignity, awakened127 general surprise, and in none more than in the Lieutenant–Governor himself. Looking angrily up, he perceived that his young relative was pointing his finger to the opposite wall. Hutchinson’s eye followed the signal; and he saw, what had hitherto been unobserved, that a black silk curtain was suspended before the mysterious picture, so as completely to conceal74 it. His thoughts immediately recurred128 to the scene of the preceding afternoon; and, in his surprise, confused by indistinct emotions, yet sensible that his niece must have had an agency in this phenomenon, he called loudly upon her.
“Alice! — come hither, Alice!”
No sooner had he spoken than Alice Vane glided129 from her station, and pressing one hand across her eyes, with the other snatched away the sable130 curtain that concealed the portrait. An exclamation131 of surprise burst from every beholder132; but the Lieutenant–Governor’s voice had a tone of horror.
“By Heaven!” said he, in a low, inward murmur134, speaking rather to himself than to those around him, “if the spirit of Edward Randolph were to appear among us from the place of torment135, he could not wear more of the terrors of hell upon his face!”
“For some wise end,” said the aged136 Selectman, solemnly, “hath Providence scattered away the mist of years that had so long hid this dreadful effigy137. Until this hour no living man hath seen what we behold133!”
Within the antique frame, which so recently had inclosed a sable waste of canvas, now appeared a visible picture, still dark, indeed, in its hues and shadings, but thrown forward in strong relief. It was a half-length figure of a gentleman in a rich but very old-fashioned dress of embroidered velvet138, with a broad ruff and a beard, and wearing a hat, the brim of which overshadowed his forehead. Beneath this cloud the eyes had a peculiar glare, which was almost lifelike. The whole portrait started so distinctly out of the background, that it had the effect of a person looking down from the wall at the astonished and awe-stricken spectators. The expression of the face, if any words can convey an idea of it, was that of a wretch86 detected in some hideous139 guilt140, and exposed to the bitter hatred141 and laughter and withering142 scorn of a vast surrounding multitude. There was the struggle of defiance143, beaten down and overwhelmed by the crushing weight of ignominy. The torture of the soul had come forth upon the countenance. It seemed as if the picture, while hidden behind the cloud of immemorial years, had been all the time acquiring an intenser depth and darkness of expression, till now it gloomed forth again, and threw its evil omen40 over the present hour. Such, if the wild legend may be credited, was the portrait of Edward Randolph, as he appeared when a people’s curse had wrought its influence upon his nature.
“ ‘T would drive me mad — that awful face!” said Hutchinson, who seemed fascinated by the contemplation of it.
“Be warned, then!” whispered Alice. “He trampled144 on a people’s rights. Behold his punishment — and avoid a crime like his!”
The Lieutenant–Governor actually trembled for an instant; but, exerting his energy — which was not, however, his most characteristic feature — he strove to shake off the spell of Randolph’s countenance.
“Girl!” cried he, laughing bitterly as he turned to Alice, “have you brought hither your painter’s art — your Italian spirit of intrigue145 — your tricks of stage effect — and think to influence the councils of rulers and the affairs of nations by such shallow contrivances? See here!”
“Stay yet a while,” said the Selectman, as Hutchinson again snatched the pen; “for if ever mortal man received a warning from a tormented146 soul, your Honor is that man!”
“Away!” answered Hutchinson fiercely. “Though yonder senseless picture cried ‘Forbear!’— it should not move me!”
Casting a scowl147 of defiance at the pictured face (which seemed at that moment to intensify148 the horror of its miserable149 and wicked look), he scrawled150 on the paper, in characters that betokened151 it a deed of desperation, the name of Thomas Hutchinson. Then, it is said, he shuddered, as if that signature had granted away his salvation152.
“It is done,” said he; and placed his hand upon his brow.
“May Heaven forgive the deed,” said the soft, sad accents of Alice Vane, like the voice of a good spirit flitting away.
When morning came there was a stifled153 whisper through the household, and spreading thence about the town, that the dark, mysterious picture had started from the wall, and spoken face to face with Lieutenant–Governor Hutchinson. If such a miracle had been wrought, however, no traces of it remained behind, for within the antique frame nothing could be discerned save the impenetrable cloud, which had covered the canvas since the memory of man. If the figure had, indeed, stepped forth, it had fled back, spirit-like, at the daydawn, and hidden itself behind a century’s obscurity. The truth probably was, that Alice Vane’s secret for restoring the hues of the picture had merely effected a temporary renovation154. But those who, in that brief interval155, had beheld the awful visage of Edward Randolph, desired no second glance, and ever afterwards trembled at the recollection of the scene, as if an evil spirit had appeared visibly among them. And as for Hutchinson, when, far over the ocean, his dying hour drew on, he gasped156 for breath, and complained that he was choking with the blood of the Boston Massacre157; and Francis Lincoln, the former Captain of Castle William, who was standing118 at his bedside, perceived a likeness158 in his frenzied159 look to that of Edward Randolph. Did his broken spirit feel, at that dread93 hour, the tremendous burden of a People’s curse?
At the conclusion of this miraculous160 legend, I inquired of mine host whether the picture still remained in the chamber over our heads; but Mr. Tiffany informed me that it had long since been removed, and was supposed to be hidden in some out-of-the-way corner of the New England Museum. Perchance some curious antiquary may light upon it there, and, with the assistance of Mr. Howorth, the picture cleaner, may supply a not unnecessary proof of the authenticity161 of the facts here set down. During the progress of the story a storm had been gathering162 abroad, and raging and rattling163 so loudly in the upper regions of the Province House, that it seemed as if all the old governors and great men were running riot above stairs while Mr. Bela Tiffany babbled164 of them below. In the course of generations, when many people have lived and died in an ancient house, the whistling of the wind through its crannies, and the creaking of its beams and rafters, become strangely like the tones of the human voice, or thundering laughter, or heavy footsteps treading the deserted165 chambers. It is as if the echoes of half a century were revived. Such were the ghostly sounds that roared and murmured in our ears when I took leave of the circle round the fireside of the Province House, and plunging166 down the door steps, fought my way homeward against a drifting snow-storm.
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1
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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2
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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snuggest
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| adj.整洁的( snug的最高级 )；温暖而舒适的；非常舒适的；紧身的 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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6
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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merging
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| 合并（分类） | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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compensated
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| 补偿，报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 )； 给（某人）赔偿（或赔款） | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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beheld
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| 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 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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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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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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propensities
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| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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stratum
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| n.地层，社会阶层 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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solvent
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| n.溶剂；adj.有偿付能力的 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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musing
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| 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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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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41
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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42
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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43
affix
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| n.附件，附录 vt.附贴，盖(章)，签署 | |
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44
affixing
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| v.附加( affix的现在分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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45
scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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46
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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47
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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48
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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49
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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50
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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51
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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52
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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53
steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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54
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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55
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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56
fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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57
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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58
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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59
accredited
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| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
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60
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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61
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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62
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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63
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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64
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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65
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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66
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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67
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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69
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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71
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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72
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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73
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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74
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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75
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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76
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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77
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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78
pristine
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| adj.原来的，古时的，原始的，纯净的，无垢的 | |
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79
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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80
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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81
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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82
repeal
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| n.废止，撤消；v.废止，撤消 | |
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83
forefathers
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| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
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84
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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85
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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86
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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87
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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88
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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89
implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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90
credence
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| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
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91
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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92
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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93
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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94
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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95
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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96
dreaded
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| 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) | |
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97
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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98
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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99
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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100
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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101
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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102
mythology
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| n.神话，神话学，神话集 | |
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103
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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104
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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105
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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107
puritanical
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| adj.极端拘谨的；道德严格的 | |
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108
founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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109
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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110
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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111
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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112
superseded
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| [医]被代替的，废弃的 | |
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113
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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114
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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115
patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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116
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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117
attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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118
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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119
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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120
meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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121
taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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122
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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123
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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124
amend
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| vt.修改，修订，改进；n.[pl.]赔罪，赔偿 | |
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125
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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126
rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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127
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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128
recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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129
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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130
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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131
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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132
beholder
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| n.观看者，旁观者 | |
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133
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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134
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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135
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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136
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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137
effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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138
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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139
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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140
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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141
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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142
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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143
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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144
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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145
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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146
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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147
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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148
intensify
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| vt.加强；变强；加剧 | |
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149
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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150
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151
betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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152
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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153
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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154
renovation
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| n.革新，整修 | |
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155
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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156
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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157
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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158
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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159
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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160
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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161
authenticity
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| n.真实性 | |
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162
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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163
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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164
babbled
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| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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165
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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166
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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