Under these disadvantages, the old loyalist’s story required more revision to render it fit for the public eye than those of the series which have preceded it; nor should it be concealed19 that the sentiment and tone of the affair may have undergone some slight, or perchance more than slight, metamorphosis, in its transmission to the reader through the medium of a thorough-going democrat20. The tale itself is a mere21 sketch22, with no involution of plot, nor any great interest of events, yet possessing, if I have rehearsed it aright, that pensive23 influence over the mind which the shadow of the old Province House flings upon the loiterer in its court-yard.
The hour had come — the hour of defeat and humiliation24 — when Sir William Howe was to pass over the threshold of the Province House, and embark25, with no such triumphal ceremonies as he once promised himself, on board the British fleet. He bade his servants and military attendants go before him, and lingered a moment in the loneliness of the mansion26, to quell27 the fierce emotions that struggled in his bosom28 as with a death throb29. Preferable, then, would he have deemed his fate, had a warrior’s death left him a claim to the narrow territory of a grave within the soil which the King had given him to defend. With an ominous30 perception that, as his departing footsteps echoed adown the staircase, the sway of Britain was passing forever from New England, he smote31 his clinched hand on his brow, and cursed the destiny that had flung the shame of a dismembered empire upon him.
“Would to God,” cried he, hardly repressing his tears of rage, “that the rebels were even now at the doorstep! A blood-stain upon the floor should then bear testimony32 that the last British ruler was faithful to his trust.”
The tremulous voice of a woman replied to his exclamation33.
“Heaven’s cause and the King’s are one,” it said. “Go forth, Sir William Howe, and trust in Heaven to bring back a Royal Governor in triumph.”
Subduing34, at once, the passion to which he had yielded only in the faith that it was unwitnessed, Sir William Howe became conscious that an aged35 woman, leaning on a gold-headed staff, was standing36 betwixt him and the door. It was old Esther Dudley, who had dwelt almost immemorial years in this mansion, until her presence seemed as inseparable from it as the recollections of its history. She was the daughter of an ancient and once eminent37 family, which had fallen into poverty and decay, and left its last descendant no resource save the bounty38 of the King, nor any shelter except within the walls of the Province House. An office in the household, with merely nominal39 duties, had been assigned to her as a pretext40 for the payment of a small pension, the greater part of which she expended41 in adorning42 herself with an antique magnificence of attire43. The claims of Esther Dudley’s gentle blood were acknowledged by all the successive Governors; and they treated her with the punctilious44 courtesy which it was her foible to demand, not always with success, from a neglectful world. The only actual share which she assumed in the business of the mansion was to glide45 through its passages and public chambers47, late at night, to see that the servants had dropped no fire from their flaring48 torches, nor left embers crackling and blazing on the hearths49. Perhaps it was this invariable custom of walking her rounds in the hush51 of midnight that caused the superstition52 of the times to invest the old woman with attributes of awe53 and mystery; fabling54 that she had entered the portal of the Province House, none knew whence, in the train of the first Royal Governor, and that it was her fate to dwell there till the last should have departed. But Sir William Howe, if he ever heard this legend, had forgotten it.
“Mistress Dudley, why are you loitering here?” asked he, with some severity of tone. “It is my pleasure to be the last in this mansion of the King.”
“Not so, if it please your Excellency,” answered the time-stricken woman. “This roof has sheltered me long. I will not pass from it until they bear me to the tomb of my forefathers55. What other shelter is there for old Esther Dudley, save the Province House or the grave?”
“Now Heaven forgive me!” said Sir William Howe to himself. “I was about to leave this wretched old creature to starve or beg. Take this, good Mistress Dudley,” he added, putting a purse into her hands. “King George’s head on these golden guineas is sterling57 yet, and will continue so, I warrant you, even should the rebels crown John Hancock their king. That purse will buy a better shelter than the Province House can now afford.”
“While the burden of life remains58 upon me, I will have no other shelter than this roof,” persisted Esther Dudley, striking her staff upon the floor with a gesture that expressed immovable resolve. “And when your Excellency returns in triumph, I will totter59 into the porch to welcome you.”
“My poor old friend!” answered the British General — and all his manly60 and martial61 pride could no longer restrain a gush62 of bitter tears. “This is an evil hour for you and me. The Province which the King intrusted to my charge is lost. I go hence in misfortune — perchance in disgrace — to return no more. And you, whose present being is incorporated with the past — who have seen Governor after Governor, in stately pageantry, ascend63 these steps — whose whole life has been an observance of majestic64 ceremonies, and a worship of the King — how will you endure the change? Come with us! Bid farewell to a land that has shaken off its allegiance, and live still under a royal government, at Halifax.”
“Never, never!” said the pertinacious65 old dame66. “Here will I abide67; and King George shall still have one true subject in his disloyal Province.”
“Beshrew the old fool!” muttered Sir William Howe, growing impatient of her obstinacy68, and ashamed of the emotion into which he had been betrayed. “She is the very moral of old-fashioned prejudice, and could exist nowhere but in this musty edifice69. Well, then, Mistress Dudley, since you will needs tarry, I give the Province House in charge to you. Take this key, and keep it safe until myself, or some other Royal Governor, shall demand it of you.”
Smiling bitterly at himself and her, he took the heavy key of the Province House, and delivering it into the old lady’s hands, drew his cloak around him for departure. As the General glanced back at Esther Dudley’s antique figure, he deemed her well fitted for such a charge, as being so perfect a representative of the decayed past — of an age gone by, with its manners, opinions, faith and feelings, all fallen into oblivion or scorn — of what had once been a reality, but was now merely a vision of faded magnificence. Then Sir William Howe strode forth, smiting70 his clinched hands together, in the fierce anguish71 of his spirit; and old Esther Dudley was left to keep watch in the lonely Province House, dwelling72 there with memory; and if Hope ever seemed to flit around her, still was it Memory in disguise.
The total change of affairs that ensued on the departure of the British troops did not drive the venerable lady from her stronghold. There was not, for many years afterwards, a Governor of Massachusetts; and the magistrates73, who had charge of such matters, saw no objection to Esther Dudley’s residence in the Province House, especially as they must otherwise have paid a hireling for taking care of the premises74, which with her was a labor75 of love. And so they left her the undisturbed mistress of the old historic edifice. Many and strange were the fables76 which the gossips whispered about her, in all the chimney corners of the town. Among the time-worn articles of furniture that had been left in the mansion there was a tall, antique mirror, which was well worthy77 of a tale by itself, and perhaps may hereafter be the theme of one. The gold of its heavily-wrought frame was tarnished78, and its surface so blurred79, that the old woman’s figure, whenever she paused before it, looked indistinct and ghost-like. But it was the general belief that Esther could cause the Governors of the overthrown80 dynasty, with the beautiful ladies who had once adorned81 their festivals, the Indian chiefs who had come up to the Province House to hold council or swear allegiance, the grim Provincial82 warriors83, the severe clergymen — in short, all the pageantry of gone days — all the figures that ever swept across the broad plate of glass in former times — she could cause the whole to reappear, and people the inner world of the mirror with shadows of old life. Such legends as these, together with the singularity of her isolated84 existence, her age, and the infirmity that each added winter flung upon her, made Mistress Dudley the object both of fear and pity; and it was partly the result of either sentiment that, amid all the angry license85 of the times, neither wrong nor insult ever fell upon her unprotected head. Indeed, there was so much haughtiness86 in her demeanor87 towards intruders, among whom she reckoned all persons acting88 under the new authorities, that it was really an affair of no small nerve to look her in the face. And to do the people justice, stern republicans as they had now become, they were well content that the old gentlewoman, in her hoop89 petticoat and faded embroidery90, should still haunt the palace of ruined pride and overthrown power, the symbol of a departed system, embodying91 a history in her person. So Esther Dudley dwelt year after year in the Province House, still reverencing92 all that others had flung aside, still faithful to her King, who, so long as the venerable dame yet held her post, might be said to retain one true subject in New England, and one spot of the empire that had been wrested93 from him.
And did she dwell there in utter loneliness? Rumor94 said, not so. Whenever her chill and withered heart desired warmth, she was wont95 to summon a black slave of Governor Shirley’s from the blurred mirror, and send him in search of guests who had long ago been familiar in those deserted96 chambers. Forth went the sable97 messenger, with the starlight or the moonshine gleaming through him, and did his errand in the burial ground, knocking at the iron doors of tombs, or upon the marble slabs98 that covered them, and whispering to those within: “My mistress, old Esther Dudley, bids you to the Province House at midnight.” And punctually as the clock of the Old South told twelve came the shadows of the Olivers, the Hutchinsons, the Dudleys, all the grandees99 of a by-gone generation, gliding100 beneath the portal into the well-known mansion, where Esther mingled101 with them as if she likewise were a shade. Without vouching102 for the truth of such traditions, it is certain that Mistress Dudley sometimes assembled a few of the stanch103, though crestfallen104, old Tories, who had lingered in the rebel town during those days of wrath105 and tribulation106. Out of a cobwebbed bottle, containing liquor that a royal Governor might have smacked107 his lips over, they quaffed108 healths to the King, and babbled109 treason to the Republic, feeling as if the protecting shadow of the throne were still flung around them. But, draining the last drops of their liquor, they stole timorously110 homeward, and answered not again if the rude mob reviled111 them in the street.
Yet Esther Dudley’s most frequent and favored guests were the children of the town. Towards them she was never stern. A kindly and loving nature, hindered elsewhere from its free course by a thousand rocky prejudices, lavished112 itself upon these little ones. By bribes113 of gingerbread of her own making, stamped with a royal crown, she tempted114 their sunny sportiveness beneath the gloomy portal of the Province House, and would often beguile115 them to spend a whole play-day there, sitting in a circle round the verge116 of her hoop petticoat, greedily attentive117 to her stories of a dead world. And when these little boys and girls stole forth again from the dark, mysterious mansion, they went bewildered, full of old feelings that graver people had long ago forgotten, rubbing their eyes at the world around them as if they had gone astray into ancient times, and become children of the past. At home, when their parents asked where they had loitered such a weary while, and with whom they had been at play, the children would talk of all the departed worthies118 of the Province, as far back as Governor Belcher and the haughty119 dame of Sir William Phipps. It would seem as though they had been sitting on the knees of these famous personages, whom the grave had hidden for half a century, and had toyed with the embroidery of their rich waistcoats, or roguishly pulled the long curls of their flowing wigs120. “But Governor Belcher has been dead this many a year,” would the mother say to her little boy. “And did you really see him at the Province House?” “Oh yes, dear mother! yes!” the half-dreaming child would answer. “But when old Esther had done speaking about him he faded away out of his chair.” Thus, without affrighting her little guests, she led them by the hand into the chambers of her own desolate heart, and made childhood’s fancy discern the ghosts that haunted there.
Living so continually in her own circle of ideas, and never regulating her mind by a proper reference to present things, Esther Dudley appears to have grown partially121 crazed. It was found that she had no right sense of the progress and true state of the Revolutionary War, but held a constant faith that the armies of Britain were victorious122 on every field, and destined123 to be ultimately triumphant124. Whenever the town rejoiced for a battle won by Washington, or Gates, or Morgan or Greene, the news, in passing through the door of the Province House, as through the ivory gate of dreams, became metamorphosed into a strange tale of the prowess of Howe, Clinton, or Cornwallis. Sooner or later it was her invincible125 belief the colonies would be prostrate126 at the footstool of the King. Sometimes she seemed to take for granted that such was already the case. On one occasion, she startled the townspeople by a brilliant illumination of the Province House, with candles at every pane127 of glass, and a transparency of the King’s initials and a crown of light in the great balcony window. The figure of the aged woman in the most gorgeous of her mildewed128 velvets and brocades was seen passing from casement129 to casement, until she paused before the balcony, and flourished a huge key above her head. Her wrinkled visage actually gleamed with triumph, as if the soul within her were a festal lamp.
“What means this blaze of light? What does old Esther’s joy portend130?” whispered a spectator. “It is frightful131 to see her gliding about the chambers, and rejoicing there without a soul to bear her company.”
“It is as if she were making merry in a tomb,” said another.
“Pshaw! It is no such mystery,” observed an old man, after some brief exercise of memory. “Mistress Dudley is keeping jubilee132 for the King of England’s birthday.”
Then the people laughed aloud, and would have thrown mud against the blazing transparency of the King’s crown and initials, only that they pitied the poor old dame, who was so dismally133 triumphant amid the wreck134 and ruin of the system to which she appertained.
Oftentimes it was her custom to climb the weary staircase that wound upward to the cupola, and thence strain her dimmed eyesight seaward and countryward, watching for a British fleet, or for the march of a grand procession, with the King’s banner floating over it. The passengers in the street below would discern her anxious visage, and send up a shout, “When the golden Indian on the Province House shall shoot his arrow, and when the cock on the Old South spire135 shall crow, then look for a Royal Governor again!”— for this had grown a byword through the town. And at last, after long, long years, old Esther Dudley knew, or perchance she only dreamed, that a Royal Governor was on the eve of returning to the Province House, to receive the heavy key which Sir William Howe had committed to her charge. Now it was the fact that intelligence bearing some faint analogy to Esther’s version of it was current among the townspeople. She set the mansion in the best order that her means allowed, and, arraying herself in silks and tarnished gold, stood long before the blurred mirror to admire her own magnificence. As she gazed, the gray and withered lady moved her ashen136 lips, murmuring half aloud, talking to shapes that she saw within the mirror, to shadows of her own fantasies, to the household friends of memory, and bidding them rejoice with her and come forth to meet the Governor. And while absorbed in this communion, Mistress Dudley heard the tramp of many footsteps in the street, and, looking out at the window, beheld137 what she construed138 as the Royal Governor’s arrival.
“O happy day! O blessed, blessed hour!” she exclaimed. “Let me but bid him welcome within the portal, and my task in the Province House, and on earth, is done!”
Then with tottering139 feet, which age and tremulous joy caused to tread amiss, she hurried down the grand staircase, her silks sweeping140 and rustling141 as she went, so that the sound was as if a train of spectral142 courtiers were thronging143 from the dim mirror. And Esther Dudley fancied that as soon as the wide door should be flung open, all the pomp and splendor144 of by-gone times would pace majestically145 into the Province House, and the gilded146 tapestry147 of the past would be brightened by the sunshine of the present. She turned the key — withdrew it from the lock — unclosed the door — and stepped across the threshold. Advancing up the court-yard appeared a person of most dignified148 mien149, with tokens, as Esther interpreted them, of gentle blood, high rank, and long-accustomed authority, even in his walk and every gesture. He was richly dressed, but wore a gouty shoe which, however, did not lessen150 the stateliness of his gait. Around and behind him were people in plain civic151 dresses, and two or three war-worn veterans, evidently officers of rank, arrayed in a uniform of blue and buff. But Esther Dudley, firm in the belief that had fastened its roots about her heart, beheld only the principal personage, and never doubted that this was the long-looked-for Governor, to whom she was to surrender up her charge. As he approached, she involuntary sank down on her knees and tremblingly held forth the heavy key.
“Receive my trust! take it quickly!” cried she, “for methinks Death is striving to snatch away my triumph. But he comes too late. Thank Heaven for this blessed hour! God save King George!”
“That, Madam, is a strange prayer to be offered up at such a moment,” replied the unknown guest of the Province House, and courteously152 removing his hat, he offered his arm to raise the aged woman. “Yet, in reverence153 for your gray hairs and long-kept faith, Heaven forbid that any here should say you nay154. Over the realms which still acknowledge his sceptre, God save King George!”
Esther Dudley started to her feet, and hastily clutching back the key gazed with fearful earnestness at the stranger; and dimly and doubtfully, as if suddenly awakened155 from a dream, her bewildered eyes half recognized his face. Years ago she had known him among the gentry156 of the province. But the ban of the King had fallen upon him! How, then, came the doomed157 victim here? Proscribed158, excluded from mercy, the monarch’s most dreaded159 and hated foe160, this New England merchant had stood triumphantly161 against a kingdom’s strength; and his foot now trod upon humbled162 Royalty163, as he ascended164 the steps of the Province House, the people’s chosen Governor of Massachusetts.
“Wretch56, wretch that I am!” muttered the old woman, with such a heart-broken expression that the tears gushed165 from the stranger’s eyes “Have I bidden a traitor166 welcome? Come, Death! come quickly!”
“Alas, venerable lady!” said Governor Hancock, tending her his support with all the reverence that a courtier would have shown to a queen.
“Your life has been prolonged until the world has changed around you. You have treasured up all that time has rendered worthless — the principles, feelings, manners, modes of being and acting, which another generation has flung aside — and you are a symbol of the past. And I, and these around me — we represent a new race of men — living no longer in the past, scarcely in the present — but projecting our lives forward into the future. Ceasing to model ourselves on ancestral superstitions167, it is our faith and principle to press onward168, onward! Yet,” continued he, turning to his attendants, “let us reverence, for the last time, the stately and gorgeous prejudices of the tottering Past!”
While the Republican Governor spoke169, he had continued to support the helpless form of Esther Dudley; her weight grew heavier against his arm; but at last, with a sudden effort to free herself, the ancient woman sank down beside one of the pillars of the portal. The key of the Province House fell from her grasp, and clanked against the stone.
“I have been faithful unto death,” murmured she. “God save the King!”
“She hath done her office!” said Hancock solemnly. “We will follow her reverently170 to the tomb of her ancestors; and then, my fellow-citizens, onward — onward! We are no longer children of the Past!”
As the old loyalist concluded his narrative, the enthusiasm which had been fitfully flashing within his sunken eyes, and quivering across his wrinkled visage, faded away, as if all the lingering fire of his soul were extinguished. Just then, too, a lamp upon the mantel-piece threw out a dying gleam, which vanished as speedily as it shot upward, compelling our eyes to grope for one another’s features by the dim glow of the hearth50. With such a lingering fire, methought, with such a dying gleam, had the glory of the ancient system vanished from the Province House, when the spirit of old Esther Dudley took its flight. And now, again, the clock of the Old South threw its voice of ages on the breeze, knolling the hourly knell171 of the Past, crying out far and wide through the multitudinous city, and filling our ears, as we sat in the dusky chamber46, with its reverberating172 depth of tone. In that same mansion — in that very chamber — what a volume of history had been told off into hours, by the same voice that was now trembling in the air. Many a Governor had heard those midnight accents, and longed to exchange his stately cares for slumber173. And as for mine host and Mr. Bela Tiffany and the old loyalist and me, we had babbled about dreams of the past, until we almost fancied that the clock was still striking in a bygone century. Neither of us would have wondered, had a hoop-petticoated phantom174 of Esther Dudley tottered175 into the chamber, walking her rounds in the hush of midnight, as of yore, and motioned us to quench176 the fading embers of the fire, and leave the historic precincts to herself and her kindred shades. But as no such vision was vouchsafed177, I retired178 unbidden, and would advise Mr. Tiffany to lay hold of another auditor13, being resolved not to show my face in the Province House for a good while hence — if ever.
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1
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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imbibed
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| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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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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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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potency
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| n. 效力，潜能 | |
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meridian
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| adj.子午线的；全盛期的 | |
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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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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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auditor
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| n.审计员，旁听着 | |
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auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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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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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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democrat
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士；民主党党员 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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quell
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| v.压制，平息，减轻 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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subduing
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| 征服( subdue的现在分词 )； 克制； 制服； 色变暗 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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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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eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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44
punctilious
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| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
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45
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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46
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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47
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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48
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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49
hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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50
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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51
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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52
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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53
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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54
fabling
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| v.讲故事，编寓言（fable的现在分词形式） | |
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55
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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56
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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57
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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58
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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59
totter
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| v.蹒跚， 摇摇欲坠；n.蹒跚的步子 | |
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60
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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61
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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62
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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63
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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64
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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65
pertinacious
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| adj.顽固的 | |
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66
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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67
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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68
obstinacy
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|
| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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69
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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70
smiting
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的现在分词 ) | |
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71
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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72
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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73
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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74
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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75
labor
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|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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76
fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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77
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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78
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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79
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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80
overthrown
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|
| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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81
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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82
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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83
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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84
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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85
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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86
haughtiness
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|
| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
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87
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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88
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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89
hoop
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|
| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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90
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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91
embodying
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| v.表现( embody的现在分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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92
reverencing
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| v.尊敬，崇敬( reverence的现在分词 )；敬礼 | |
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93
wrested
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|
| （用力）拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 )； 费力取得； （从…）攫取； （ 从… ） 强行取去… | |
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94
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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95
wont
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|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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96
deserted
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|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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97
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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98
slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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99
grandees
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| n.贵族，大公，显贵者( grandee的名词复数 ) | |
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100
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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101
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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102
vouching
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|
| n.（复核付款凭单等）核单v.保证( vouch的现在分词 )；担保；确定；确定地说 | |
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103
stanch
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|
| v.止住（血等）；adj.坚固的；坚定的 | |
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104
crestfallen
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|
| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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105
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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106
tribulation
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| n.苦难，灾难 | |
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107
smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
quaffed
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|
| v.痛饮( quaff的过去式和过去分词 )；畅饮；大口大口将…喝干；一饮而尽 | |
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109
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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110
timorously
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|
| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
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111
reviled
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
bribes
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| n.贿赂( bribe的名词复数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂v.贿赂( bribe的第三人称单数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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114
tempted
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|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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115
beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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116
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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117
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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118
worthies
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| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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119
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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120
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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121
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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122
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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123
destined
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|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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124
triumphant
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|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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125
invincible
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|
| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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126
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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127
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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128
mildewed
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|
| adj.发了霉的，陈腐的，长了霉花的v.（使）发霉，（使）长霉( mildew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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130
portend
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| v.预兆，预示；给…以警告 | |
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131
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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132
jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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133
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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134
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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135
spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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136
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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137
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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138
construed
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| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的过去式和过去分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
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139
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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140
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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141
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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142
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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143
thronging
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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144
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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145
majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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146
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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147
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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148
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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149
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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150
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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151
civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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152
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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153
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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154
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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155
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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156
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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157
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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158
proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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159
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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160
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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161
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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162
humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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163
royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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164
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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165
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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166
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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167
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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168
onward
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|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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169
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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170
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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171
knell
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| n.丧钟声；v.敲丧钟 | |
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172
reverberating
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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173
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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174
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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175
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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176
quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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177
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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178
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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