For my own part, I have often courted the historic influence of the spot. But it is singular how few come on pilgrimage to this famous hill; how many spend their lives almost at its base, and never once obey the summons of the shadowy past, as it beckons18 them to the summit. Till a year or two since, this portion of our history had been very imperfectly written, and, as we are not a people of legend or tradition, it was not every citizen of our ancient town that could tell, within half a century, so much as the date of the witchcraft19 delusion20. Recently, indeed, an historian has treated the subject in a manner that will keep his name alive, in the only desirable connection with the errors of our ancestry21, by converting the hill of their disgrace into an honorable monument of his own antiquarian lore22, and of that better wisdom, which draws the moral while it tells the tale. But we are a people of the present, and have no heartfelt interest in the olden time. Every fifth of November, in commemoration of they know not what, or rather without an idea beyond the momentary23 blaze, the young men scare the town with bonfires on this haunted height, but never dream of paying funeral honors to those who died so wrongfully, and, without a coffin24 or a prayer, were buried here.
Though with feminine susceptibility, my companions caught all the melancholy25 associations of the scene, yet these could but imperfectly overcome the gayety of girlish spirits. Their emotions came and went with quick vicissitude26, and sometimes combined to form a peculiar5 and delicious excitement, the mirth brightening the gloom into a sunny shower of feeling, and a rainbow in the mind. My own more sombre mood was tinged27 by theirs. With now a merry word and next a sad one, we trod among the tangled28 weeds, and almost hoped that our feet would sink into the hollow of a witch’s grave. Such vestiges29 were to be found within the memory of man, but have vanished now, and with them, I believe, all traces of the precise spot of the executions. On the long and broad ridge30 of the eminence, there is no very decided31 elevation32 of any one point, nor other prominent marks, except the decayed stumps33 of two trees, standing34 near each other, and here and there the rocky substance of the hill, peeping just above the woodwax.
There are few such prospects35 of town and village, woodland and cultivated field, steeples and country seats, as we beheld36 from this unhappy spot. No blight37 had fallen on old Essex; all was prosperity and riches, healthfully distributed. Before us lay our native town, extending from the foot of the hill to the harbor, level as a chess board embraced by two arms of the sea, and filling the whole peninsula with a close assemblage of wooden roofs, overtopped by many a spire38, and intermixed with frequent heaps of verdure, where trees threw up their shade from unseen trunks. Beyond was the bay and its islands, almost the only objects, in a country unmarked by strong natural features, on which time and human toil39 had produced no change. Retaining these portions of the scene, and also the peaceful glory and tender gloom of the declining sun, we threw, in imagination, a veil of deep forest over the land, and pictured a few scattered40 villages, and this old town itself a village, as when the prince of hell bore sway there. The idea thus gained of its former aspect, its quaint41 edifices43 standing far apart, with peaked roofs and projecting stories, and its single meeting-house pointing up a tall spire in the midst; the vision, in short, of the town in 1692, served to introduce a wondrous44 tale of those old times.
I had brought the manuscript in my pocket. It was one of a series written years ago, when my pen, now sluggish45 and perhaps feeble, because I have not much to hope or fear, was driven by stronger external motives46, and a more passionate47 impulse within, than I am fated to feel again. Three or four of these tales had appeared in the “Token,” after a long time and various adventures, but had encumbered48 me with no troublesome notoriety, even in my birthplace. One great heap had met a brighter destiny: they had fed the flames; thoughts meant to delight the world and endure for ages had perished in a moment, and stirred not a single heart but mine. The story now to be introduced, and another, chanced to be in kinder custody49 at the time, and thus, by no conspicuous50 merits of their own, escaped destruction.
The ladies, in consideration that I had never before intruded51 my performances on them, by any but the legitimate52 medium, through the press, consented to hear me read. I made them sit down on a moss-grown rock, close by the spot where we chose to believe that the death tree had stood. After a little hesitation53 on my part, caused by a dread54 of renewing my acquaintance with fantasies that had lost their charm in the ceaseless flux55 of mind, I began the tale, which opened darkly with the discovery of a murder.
A hundred years, and nearly half that time, have elapsed since the body of a murdered man was found, at about the distance of three miles, on the old road to Boston. He lay in a solitary56 spot, on the bank of a small lake, which the severe frost of December had covered with a sheet of ice. Beneath this, it seemed to have been the intention of the murderer to conceal57 his victim in a chill and watery58 grave, the ice being deeply hacked59, perhaps with the weapon that had slain60 him, though its solidity was too stubborn for the patience of a man with blood upon his hand. The corpse61 therefore reclined on the earth, but was separated from the road by a thick growth of dwarf62 pines. There had been a slight fall of snow during the night, and as if nature were shocked at the deed, and strove to hide it with her frozen tears, a little drifted heap had partly buried the body, and lay deepest over the pale dead face. An early traveller, whose dog had led him to the spot, ventured to uncover the features, but was affrighted by their expression. A look of evil and scornful triumph had hardened on them, and made death so life-like and so terrible, that the beholder63 at once took flight, as swiftly as if the stiffened65 corpse would rise up and follow.
I read on, and identified the body as that of a young man, a stranger in the country, but resident during several preceding months in the town which lay at our feet. The story described, at some length, the excitement caused by the murder, the unavailing quest after the perpetrator, the funeral ceremonies, and other commonplace matters, in the course of which, I brought forward the personages who were to move among the succeeding events. They were but three. A young man and his sister; the former characterized by a diseased imagination and morbid66 feelings; the latter, beautiful and virtuous67, and instilling68 something of her own excellence69 into the wild heart of her brother, but not enough to cure the deep taint70 of his nature. The third person was a wizard; a small, gray, withered71 man, with fiendish ingenuity72 in devising evil, and superhuman power to execute it, but senseless as an idiot and feebler than a child to all better purposes. The central scene of the story was an interview between this wretch73 and Leonard Doane, in the wizard’s hut, situated74 beneath a range of rocks at some distance from the town. They sat beside a smouldering fire, while a tempest of wintry rain was beating on the roof. The young man spoke75 of the closeness of the tie which united him and Alice, the consecrated76 fervor77 of their affection from childhood upwards78, their sense of lonely sufficiency to each other, because they only of their race had escaped death, in a night attack by the Indians. He related his discovery or suspicion of a secret sympathy between his sister and Walter Brome, and told how a distempered jealousy79 had maddened him. In the following passage, I threw a glimmering80 light on the mystery of the tale.
“Searching,” continued Leonard, “into the breast of Walter Brome, I at length found a cause why Alice must inevitably82 love him. For he was my very counterpart! I compared his mind by each individual portion, and as a whole, with mine. There was a resemblance from which I shrunk with sickness, and loathing83, and horror, as if my own features had come and stared upon me in a solitary place, or had met me in struggling through a crowd. Nay84! the very same thoughts would often express themselves in the same words from our lips, proving a hateful sympathy in our secret souls. His education, indeed, in the cities of the old world, and mine in this rude wilderness85, had wrought86 a superficial difference. The evil of his character, also, had been strengthened and rendered prominent by a reckless and ungoverned life, while mine had been softened87 and purified by the gentle and holy nature of Alice. But my soul had been conscious of the germ of all the fierce and deep passions, and of all the many varieties of wickedness, which accident had brought to their full maturity88 in him. Nor will I deny that, in the accursed one, I could see the withered blossom of every virtue89, which, by a happier culture, had been made to bring forth fruit in me. Now, here was a man whom Alice might love with all the strength of sisterly affection, added to that impure90 passion which alone engrosses91 all the heart. The stranger would have more than the love which had been gathered to me from the many graves of our household — and I be desolate92!”
Leonard Doane went on to describe the insane hatred93 that had kindled94 his heart into a volume of hellish flame. It appeared, indeed, that his jealousy had grounds, so far as that Walter Brome had actually sought the love of Alice, who also had betrayed an undefinable, but powerful interest in the unknown youth. The latter, in spite of his passion for Alice, seemed to return the loathful antipathy95 of her brother; the similarity of their dispositions96 made them like joint97 possessors of an individual nature, which could not become wholly the property of one, unless by the extinction98 of the other. At last, with the same devil in each bosom99, they chanced to meet, they two on a lonely road. While Leonard spoke, the wizard had sat listening to what he already knew, yet with tokens of pleasurable interest, manifested by flashes of expression across his vacant features, by grisly smiles and by a word here and there, mysteriously filling up some void in the narrative100. But when the young man told how Walter Brome had taunted101 him with indubitable proofs of the shame of Alice, and, before the triumphant102 sneer103 could vanish from his face, had died by her brother’s hand, the wizard laughed aloud. Leonard started, but just then a gust104 of wind came down the chimney, forming itself into a close resemblance of the slow, unvaried laughter, by which he had been interrupted. “I was deceived,” thought he; and thus pursued his fearful story.
“I trod out his accursed soul, and knew that he was dead; for my spirit bounded as if a chain had fallen from it and left me free. But the burst of exulting105 certainty soon fled, and was succeeded by a torpor106 over my brain and a dimness before my eyes, with the sensation of one who struggles through a dream. So I bent107 down over the body of Walter Brome, gazing into his face, and striving to make my soul glad with the thought, that he, in very truth, lay dead before me. I know not what space of time I had thus stood, nor how the vision came. But it seemed to me that the irrevocable years since childhood had rolled back, and a scene, that had long been confused and broken in my memory, arrayed itself with all its first distinctness. Methought I stood a weeping infant by my father’s hearth108; by the cold and blood-stained hearth where he lay dead. I heard the childish wail109 of Alice, and my own cry arose with hers, as we beheld the features of our parent, fierce with the strife110 and distorted with the pain, in which his spirit had passed away. As I gazed, a cold wind whistled by, and waved my father’s hair. Immediately I stood again in the lonesome 91 road, no more a sinless child, but a man of blood, whose tears were falling fast over the face of his dead enemy. But the delusion was not wholly gone; that face still wore a likeness111 of my father; and because my soul shrank from the fixed112 glare of the eyes, I bore the body to the lake, and would have buried it there. But before his icy sepulchre was hewn, I heard the voice of two travellers and fled.”
Such was the dreadful confession113 of Leonard Doane. And now tortured by the idea of his sister’s guilt, yet sometimes yielding to a conviction of her purity; stung with remorse114 for the death of Walter Brome, and shuddering115 with a deeper sense of some unutterable crime, perpetrated, as he imagined, in madness or a dream; moved also by dark impulses, as if a fiend were whispering him to meditate117 violence against the life of Alice; he had sought this interview with the wizard, who, on certain conditions, had no power to withhold118 his aid in unravelling119 the mystery. The tale drew near its close.
The moon was bright on high; the blue firmament120 appeared to glow with an inherent brightness; the greater stars were burning in their spheres; the northern lights threw their mysterious glare far over the horizon; the few small clouds aloft were burdened with radiance; but the sky, with all its variety of light, was scarcely so brilliant as the earth. The rain of the preceding night had frozen as it fell, and, by that simple magic, had wrought wonders. The trees were hung with diamonds and many-colored gems121; the houses were overlaid with silver, and the streets paved with slippery brightness; a frigid122 glory was flung over all familiar things, from the cottage chimney to the steeple of the meetinghouse, that gleamed upward to the sky. This living world, where we sit by our firesides, or go forth to meet beings like ourselves, seemed rather the creation of wizard power, with so much of the resemblance to known objects that a man might shudder116 at the ghostly shape of his old beloved dwelling123, and the shadow of a ghostly tree before his door. One looked to behold64 inhabitants suited to such a town, glittering in icy garments, with the motionless features, cold, sparkling eyes, and just sensation enough in their frozen hearts to shiver at each other’s presence.
By this fantastic piece of description, and more in the same style, I intended to throw a ghostly glimmer81 round the reader, so that his imagination might view the town through a medium that should take off its every-day aspect, and make it a proper theatre for so wild a scene as the final one. Amid this unearthly show, the wretched brother and sister were represented as setting forth, at midnight, through the gleaming streets, and directing their steps to a graveyard124, where all the dead had been laid, from the first corpse in that ancient town, to the murdered man who was buried three days before. As they went, they seemed to see the wizard gliding125 by their sides, or walking dimly on the path before them. But here I paused, and gazed into the faces of my two fair auditors126, to judge whether, even on the hill where so many had been brought to death by wilder tales than this, I might venture to proceed. Their bright eyes were fixed on me; their lips apart. I took courage, and led the fated pair to a new-made grave, where for a few moments, in the bright and silent midnight, they stood alone. But suddenly there was a multitude of people among the graves.
Each family tomb had given up its inhabitants, who, one by one, through distant years, had been borne to its dark chamber127, but now came forth and stood in a pale group together. There was the gray ancestor, the aged128 mother, and all their descendants, some withered and full of years, like themselves, and others in their prime; there, too, were the children who went prattling129 to the tomb, and there the maiden130 who yielded her early beauty to death’s embrace, before passion had polluted it. Husbands and wives arose, who had lain many years side by side, and young mothers who had forgotten to kiss their first babes, though pillowed so long on their bosoms131. Many had been buried in the habiliments of life, and still wore their ancient garb132; some were old defenders133 of the infant colony, and gleamed forth in their steel-caps and bright breast-plates, as if starting up at an Indian war-cry; other venerable shapes had been pastors134 of the church, famous among the New England clergy136, and now leaned with hands clasped over their gravestones, ready to call the congregation to prayer. There stood the early settlers, those old illustrious ones, the heroes of tradition and fireside legends, the men of history whose features had been so long beneath the sod that few alive could have remembered them. There, too, were faces of former townspeople, dimly recollected137 from childhood, and others, whom Leonard and Alice had wept in later years, but who now were most terrible of all, by their ghastly smile of recognition. All, in short, were there; the dead of other generations, whose moss-grown names could scarce be read upon their tombstones, and their successors, whose graves were not yet green; all whom black funerals had followed slowly thither138 now reappeared where the mourners left them. Yet none but souls accursed were there, and fiends counterfeiting139 the likeness of departed saints.
The countenances140 of those venerable men, whose very features had been hallowed by lives of piety141, were contorted now by intolerable pain or hellish passion, and now by an unearthly and derisive142 merriment. Had the pastors prayed, all saintlike as they seemed, it had been blasphemy143. The chaste144 matrons, too, and the maidens145 with untasted lips, who had slept in their virgin146 graves apart from all other dust, now wore a look from which the two trembling mortals shrank, as if the unimaginable sin of twenty worlds were collected there. The faces of fond lovers, even of such as had pined into the tomb, because there their treasure was, were bent on one another with glances of hatred and smiles of bitter scorn, passions that are to devils what love is to the blest. At times, the features of those who had passed from a holy life to heaven would vary to and fro, between their assumed aspect and the fiendish lineaments whence they had been transformed. The whole miserable147 multitude, both sinful souls and false spectres of good men, groaned148 horribly and gnashed their teeth, as they looked upward to the calm loveliness of the midnight sky, and beheld those homes of bliss149 where they must never dwell. Such was the apparition150, though too shadowy for language to portray151; for here would be the moonbeams on the ice, glittering through a warrior’s breast-plate, and there the letters of a tombstone, on the form that stood before it; and whenever a breeze went by, it swept the old men’s hoary152 heads, the women’s fearful beauty, and all the unreal throng153, into one indistinguishable cloud together.
I dare not give the remainder of the scene, except in a very brief epitome154. This company of devils and condemned155 souls had come on a holiday, to revel156 in the discovery of a complicated crime; as foul157 a one as ever imagined in their dreadful abode158. In the course of the tale, the reader had been permitted to discover that all the incidents were results of the machinations of the wizard, who had cunningly devised that Walter Brome should tempt159 his unknown sister to guilt and shame, and himself perish by the hand of his twin-brother. I described the glee of the fiends at this hideous160 conception, and their eagerness to know if it were consummated. The story concluded with the Appeal of Alice to the spectre of Walter Brome, his reply, absolving161 her from every stain; and the trembling awe162 with which ghost and devil fled, as from the sinless presence of an angel.
The sun had gone down. While I held my page of wonders in the fading light, and read how Alice and her brother were left alone among the graves, my voice mingled163 with the sigh of a summer wind, which passed over the hill-top, with the broad and hollow sound as of the flight of unseen spirits. Not a word was spoken till I added that the wizard’s grave was close beside us, and that the woodwax had sprouted164 originally from his unhallowed bones. The ladies started; perhaps their cheeks might have grown pale had not the crimson165 west been blushing on them; but after a moment they began to laugh, while the breeze took a livelier motion, as if responsive to their mirth. I kept an awful solemnity of visage, being, indeed, a little piqued166 that a narrative which had good authority in our ancient superstitions167, and would have brought even a church deacon to Gallows Hill, in old witch times, should now be considered too grotesque168 and extravagant169 for timid maids to tremble at. Though it was past supper time, I detained them a while longer on the hill, and made a trial whether truth were more powerful than fiction.
We looked again towards the town, no longer arrayed in that icy splendor170 of earth, tree, and edifice42, beneath the glow of a wintry midnight, which shining afar through the gloom of a century had made it appear the very home of visions in visionary streets. An indistinctness had begun to creep over the mass of buildings and blend them with the intermingled tree-tops, except where the roof of a statelier mansion171, and the steeples and brick towers of churches, caught the brightness of some cloud that yet floated in the sunshine. Twilight172 over the landscape was congenial to the obscurity of time. With such eloquence173 as my share of feeling and fancy could supply, I called back hoar antiquity174, and bade my companions imagine an ancient multitude of people, congregated175 on the hill-side, spreading far below, clustering on the steep old roofs, and climbing the adjacent heights, wherever a glimpse of this spot might be obtained. I strove to realize and faintly communicate the deep, unutterable loathing and horror, the indignation, the affrighted wonder, that wrinkled on every brow, and filled the universal heart. See! the whole crowd turns pale and shrinks within itself, as the virtuous emerge from yonder street. Keeping pace with that devoted177 company, I described them one by one; here tottered178 a woman in her dotage179, knowing neither the crime imputed180 her, nor its punishment; there another, distracted by the universal madness, till feverish181 dreams were remembered as realities, and she almost believed her guilt. One, a proud man once, was so broken down by the intolerable hatred heaped upon him, that he seemed to hasten his steps, eager to hide himself in the grave hastily dug at the foot of the gallows. As they went slowly on, a mother looked behind, and beheld her peaceful dwelling; she cast her eyes elsewhere, and groaned inwardly yet with bitterest anguish182, for there was her little son among the accusers. I watched the face of an ordained183 pastor135, who walked onward184 to the same death; his lips moved in prayer; no narrow petition for himself alone, but embracing all his fellow-sufferers and the frenzied185 multitude; he looked to Heaven and trod lightly up the hill.
Behind their victims came the afflicted186, a guilty and miserable band; villains187 who had thus avenged188 themselves on their enemies, and viler189 wretches190, whose cowardice191 had destroyed their friends; lunatics, whose ravings had chimed in with the madness of the land; and children, who had played a game that the imps176 of darkness might have envied them, since it disgraced an age, and dipped a people’s hands in blood. In the rear of the procession rode a figure on horseback, so darkly conspicuous, so sternly triumphant, that my hearers mistook him for the visible presence of the fiend himself; but it was only his good friend, Cotton Mather, proud of his well-won dignity, as the representative of all the hateful features of his time; the one blood-thirsty man, in whom were concentrated those vices192 of spirit and errors of opinion that sufficed to madden the whole surrounding multitude. And thus I marshalled them onward, the innocent who were to die, and the guilty who were to grow old in long remorse — tracing their every step, by rock, and shrub193, and broken track, till their shadowy visages had circled round the hill-top, where we stood. I plunged194 into my imagination for a blacker horror, and a deeper woe195, and pictured the scaffold —
But here my companions seized an arm on each side; their nerves were trembling; and, sweeter victory still, I had reached the seldom trodden places of their hearts, and found the well-spring of their tears. And now the past had done all it could. We slowly descended196, watching the lights as they twinkled gradually through the town, and listening to the distant mirth of boys at play, and to the voice of a young girl warbling somewhere in the dusk, a pleasant sound to wanderers from old witch times. Yet, ere we left the hill, we could not but regret that there is nothing on its barren summit, no relic197 of old, nor lettered stone of later days, to assist the imagination in appealing to the heart. We build the memorial column on the height which our fathers made sacred with their blood, poured out in a holy cause. And here, in dark, funereal198 stone, should rise another monument, sadly commemorative of the errors of an earlier race, and not to be cast down, while the human heart has one infirmity that may result in crime.
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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8
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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vegetate
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| v.无所事事地过活 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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beckons
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的第三人称单数 ) | |
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witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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vicissitude
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| n.变化，变迁，荣枯，盛衰 | |
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tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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vestiges
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| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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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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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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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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37
blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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38
spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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39
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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40
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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41
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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42
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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43
edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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44
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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45
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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46
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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47
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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48
encumbered
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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50
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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51
intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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52
legitimate
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|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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53
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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54
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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55
flux
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| n.流动；不断的改变 | |
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56
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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57
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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58
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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59
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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60
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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61
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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62
dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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63
beholder
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| n.观看者，旁观者 | |
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64
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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65
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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66
morbid
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|
| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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67
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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68
instilling
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| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instil的现在分词 )；逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的现在分词 ) | |
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69
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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70
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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71
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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72
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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73
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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74
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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75
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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76
consecrated
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|
| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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77
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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78
upwards
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|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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79
jealousy
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|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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80
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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81
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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82
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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83
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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84
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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85
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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86
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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87
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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88
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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89
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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90
impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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91
engrosses
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| v.使全神贯注( engross的第三人称单数 ) | |
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92
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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93
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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94
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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95
antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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96
dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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97
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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98
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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99
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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100
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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101
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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102
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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103
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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104
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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105
exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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106
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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107
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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108
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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109
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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110
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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111
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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112
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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113
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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114
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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115
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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116
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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117
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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118
withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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119
unravelling
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| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的现在分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
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120
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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121
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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122
frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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123
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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124
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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125
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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126
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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127
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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128
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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129
prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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130
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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131
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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132
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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133
defenders
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| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
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134
pastors
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| n.（基督教的）牧师( pastor的名词复数 ) | |
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135
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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136
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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137
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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138
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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139
counterfeiting
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| n.伪造v.仿制，造假( counterfeit的现在分词 ) | |
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140
countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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141
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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142
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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143
blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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144
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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145
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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146
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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147
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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148
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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149
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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150
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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151
portray
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| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
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152
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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153
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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154
epitome
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| n.典型，梗概 | |
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155
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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156
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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157
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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158
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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159
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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160
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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161
absolving
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| 宣告…无罪，赦免…的罪行，宽恕…的罪行( absolve的现在分词 )； 不受责难，免除责任 [义务] ,开脱（罪责） | |
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162
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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163
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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164
sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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165
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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166
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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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
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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169
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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170
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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171
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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172
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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173
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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174
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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175
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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176
imps
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| n.（故事中的）小恶魔( imp的名词复数 )；小魔鬼；小淘气；顽童 | |
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177
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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178
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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179
dotage
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| n.年老体衰；年老昏聩 | |
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180
imputed
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| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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181
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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182
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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183
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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184
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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185
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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186
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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187
villains
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| n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 )；罪犯；（小说、戏剧等中的）反面人物；淘气鬼 | |
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188
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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189
viler
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| adj.卑鄙的( vile的比较级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
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190
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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191
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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192
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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193
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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194
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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195
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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196
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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197
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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198
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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