“You know very well that he will come here exhausted22, that he will want to have everything comfortable,” he said to the housekeeper23 and the servants. “No one would like after a fatiguing24 journey to come into a bare sort of a miserable25 place like this.”
“My lord is no so hard to please,” said the housekeeper, standing9 her ground. “Last year he just took no notice. Whatever was done he was not heeding26.”
“Because he was unused to everything: now it is different; and I mean to have things comfortable for him.”
“Well, captain! I am sure it’s none of my wish to keep the poor young gentleman from his bits of little comforts. Ye’ll have his authority?”
“Oh, yes, I have his authority. It will be for your advantage to mind what I tell you; even more than with the late lord. I’ve been abroad with him. He left me but a short time ago; I was to follow him, and look after everything.”
At this the housekeeper looked at the under-factor Mr. Shaw’s subordinate, who had come to intimate to her her master’s return. “Will that be all right, Mr. Adamson?” Adamson put his shaggy head on one side like an intelligent dog and looked at the stranger. But they all knew Captain Underwood well enough, and no one was courageous27 enough to contradict him.
“It will, maybe, be as ye say,” said the under-factor cautiously. “Anyway it will do us no harm to take his orders,” he added, in an undertone to the woman. “He was always very far ben with the old lord.”
“The worse for him,” said that important functionary28 under her breath. But she agreed with Adamson afterwards that as long as it was my lord’s comfort he was looking after and not his own, his orders should be obeyed. As with every such person, the household distrusted this confident and unpaid29 major domo. But Underwood had not been tyrannical in his previous reign1, and young Lord Erradeen during his last residence at Auchnasheen had frightened them all. He had been like a man beside himself. If the captain could manage him better, they would be grateful to the captain; and thus Underwood, though by no means confident of a good reception, had no serious hindrances30 to encounter. He strolled forth31 when he had arranged everything to “look about him.” He saw the Birkenbraes boat pass in the evening light, returning from the castle, with a surprise which took away his breath. The boat was near enough to the shore as it passed to be recognised and its occupants; but not even Katie, whose eyesight was so keen, recognised the observer on the beach. He remarked that the party were in earnest conversation, consulting with each other over something, which seemed to secure everybody’s attention, so that the ordinary quick notice of a stranger, which is common to country people, was not called forth by his own appearance. It surprised him mightily32 to see that such visitors had ventured to Kinloch Houran. They never would have done so in the time of the last lord. Had Walter all at once become more friendly, more open-hearted, perhaps feeling in the company of his neighbours a certain safety? Underwood was confounded by this new suggestion. It did not please him. Nothing could be worse for himself than that Lord Erradeen should find amusement in the society of the neighbourhood. There would be no more riot if this was the case, no “pleasure,” no play; but perhaps a wife—most terrible of all anticipations33. Underwood had been deeply alarmed before by Katie Williamson’s ascendancy34; but when Lord Erradeen returned to his own influence, he had believed that risk to be over. If, however, it recurred35 again, and, in this moment while undefended by his, Underwood’s, protection, if the young fellow had rushed into the snare36 once more, the captain felt that the incident would acquire new significance.
There were women whom he might have tolerated if better could not be. Julia Herbert was one whom he could perhaps—it was possible—have “got on with,” though possibly she would have changed after her marriage; but with Katie, Underwood knew that he never would get on. If this were so he would have at once to disappear. All his hopes would be over—his prospect37 of gain or pleasure by means of Lord Erradeen. And he had “put up with” so much! nobody knew how much he had put up with. He had humoured the young fellow, and endured his fits of temper, his changes of purpose, his fantastic inconsistencies of every kind. What friendship it was on his part, after Erradeen had deserted him, left him planted there—as if he cared for the d—— place where he had gone only to please the young’un! thus to put all his grievances38 in his pocket and hurry over land and sea to make sure that all was comfortable for the ungrateful young man! That was true friendship, by Jove; what a man would do for a man! not like a woman that always had to be waited upon. Captain Underwood felt that his vested rights were being assailed39, and that if it came to this it would be a thing to be resisted with might and main. A wife! what did Erradeen want with a wife? Surely it would be possible to put before him the charms of liberty once more and prevent the sacrifice. He walked along the side of the loch almost keeping up with the boat, hot with righteous indignation, in spite of the cold wind which had driven Mrs. Forrester into the house. Presently he heard the sound of salutations on the water, of oars40 clanking upon rowlocks from a different quarter, and saw the boat from the isle—Hamish rowing in his red shirt—meet with the large four-oared boat from Birkenbraes and pause while the women’s voices exchanged a few sentences, chorused by Mr. Williamson’s bass41. Then the smaller boat came on towards the shore, towards the point near which a carriage was waiting. Captain Underwood quickened his steps a little, and he it was who presented himself to Julia Herbert’s eyes as she approached the bit of rocky beach, and hurrying down, offered his hand to help her.
“What a strange meeting,” cried Julia; “what a small world, as everybody says! Who could have thought, Captain Underwood, of seeing you here?”
“I might reply, if the surprise were not so delightful42, who could have thought, Miss Herbert, of seeing you here? for myself it is a second home to me, and has been for years.”
“My reason for being here is simple. Let me introduce you to my cousin, Lady Herbert. Sir Thomas has got the shootings lower down. I suppose you are with Lord Erradeen.”
Lady Herbert had given the captain a very distant bow. She did not like the looks of him, as indeed it has been stated no ladies did, whether in Sloebury or elsewhere; but at the name of Erradeen she paid a more polite attention, though the thought of her horses waiting so long in the cold was already grievous to her. “I hope,” she said, “that Lord Erradeen does not lodge43 his friends in that old ruin, as he does himself, people say.”
“We are at Auchnasheen, a house you may see among the trees,” said the captain. “Feudal remains44 are captivating, but not to live in. Does our friend Walter know, Miss Herbert, what happiness awaits him in your presence here?”
“What a pretty speech,” Julia cried; “far prettier than anything Walter could muster45 courage to say. No, Captain Underwood, he does not. It was all settled quite suddenly. I did not even know that he was here.”
“Julia, the horses have been waiting a long time,” said Lady Herbert. “I have no doubt Lord Erradeen is a very interesting subject—but I don’t know what Barber (who was the coachman) will say. I shall be glad to see your friends any day at luncheon46. Tell Lord Erradeen, please. We are two women alone, Sir Thomas is on the hills all day; all the more we shall be glad to see him—I mean you both—if you will take pity on our loneliness. Now, Julia, we really must not wait any longer.”
“Tell Walter I shall look for him,” said Julia, kissing her hand as they drove away. Underwood stood and looked after the carriage with varied47 emotions. As against Katie Williamson, he was overjoyed to have such an auxiliary—a girl who would not stand upon any punctilio—who would pursue her object with any assistance she could pick up, and would not be above an alliance defensive48 or offensive, a girl who knew the advantage of an influential49 friend. So far as that went he was glad: but, heavens! what a neighbourhood, bristling50 with women; a girl at every corner ready to decoy his prey51 out of his hands. He was rueful, even though he was in a measure satisfied. If he could play his cards sufficiently well to detach Walter from both one and the other, to show the bondage52 which was veiled under Julia’s smiles and complacency, as well as under Katie’s uncompromising code, and to carry him off under their very eyes, that would indeed be a triumph; but failing that, it was better for him to make an ally of Julia, and push her cause, than to suffer himself to be ousted53 by the other, the little parvenue, with her cool impertinence, who had been the first, he thought, to set Walter against him.
He walked back to Auchnasheen, full of these thoughts, and of plans to recover his old ascendancy. He had expedients54 for doing this which would not bear recording55, and a hundred hopes of awakening56 the passions, the jealousies57, the vanity of the young man whom already he had been able to sway beyond his expectations. He believed that he had led Walter by the nose, as he said, and had a mastery over him which would be easily recovered if he but got him for a day or two to himself. It was a matter of fact that he had done him much, if not fatal harm; and if the captain had been clever enough to know that he had no mastery whatever over his victim, and that Walter was the slave of his own shifting and uneasy moods, of his indolences and sudden impulses, and immediate58 abandonment of himself to the moment, but not of Captain Underwood, that tempter might have done him still more harm. But he did not possess this finer perception, and thus lost a portion of his power.
He went back to Auchnasheen to find a comfortable dinner, a good fire, a cheerful room, full of light and comfort, which reminded him of “old days,” which he gave a regretful yet comfortable thought to in passing—the time when he had waited, not knowing what moment the old lord, his former patron, should return from Kinloch Houran. And now he was waiting for the other—who was so unlike the old lord—and yet had already been of more use to Underwood, and served him better in his own way, than the old lord had ever done. He was much softened59, and even perhaps a little maudlin60 in his thoughts of Walter as he sat over that comfortable fire. What was he about, poor boy? Not so comfortable as this friend and retainer, who was drinking his wine and thinking of him. But he should find some one to welcome him when he returned. He should find a comfortable meal and good company, which was more than the foolish fellow would expect. It was foolish of him, in his temper, to dart away from those who really cared for him, who really could be of use to him; but by this time the young lord would be too glad, after his loneliness, to come back and find a faithful friend ready to make allowances for him, and so well acquainted with his circumstances here.
So well acquainted with his circumstances! Underwood, in his time, had no doubt wondered over these as much as any one; but that was long ago, and he had in the mean time become quite familiar with them, and did not any longer speculate on the subject. He had no supernatural curiosity for his part. He could understand that one would not like to see a ghost: and he believed in ghosts—in a fine, healthy, vulgar, natural apparition61, with dragging chains and hollow groans62. But as for anything else, he had never entered into the question, nor had he any thought of doing so now. However, as he sat by the fire with all these comfortable accessories round him, and listened now and then to hear if any one was coming, and sometimes was deceived by the wind in the chimneys, or the sound of the trees in the fresh breeze which had become keener and sharper since he came indoors, it happened, how he could not tell, that questions arose in the captain’s mind such as he had never known before.
The house was very still, the servants’ apartments were at a considerable distance from the sitting-rooms, and all was very quiet. Two or three times in the course of the evening, old Symington, who had also come to see that everything was in order for his master, walked all the way from these retired63 regions through a long passage running from one end of the house to the other, to the great door, which he opened cautiously, then shut again, finding nobody in sight, and retired the same way as he came, his shoes creaking all the way. This interruption occurring at intervals64 had a remarkable65 effect upon Underwood. He began to wait for its recurrence66, to count the steps, to feel a thrill of alarm as they passed the door of the room in which he was sitting. Oh, yes, no doubt it was Symington, who always wore creaking shoes, confound him! But what if it were not Symington? What if it might be some one else, some mysterious being who might suddenly open the door, and freeze into stone the warm, palpitating, somewhat unsteady person of a man who had eaten a very good dinner and drunk a considerable quantity of wine? This thought so penetrated67 his mind, that gradually all his thoughts were concentrated on the old servant’s perambulation, watching for it before it came, thinking of it after it had passed. The steady and solemn march at intervals, which seemed calculated and regular, was enough to have impressed the imagination of any solitary68 person. And the captain was of a primitive69 simplicity70 of mind in some respects. His fears paralysed him; he was afraid to get up, to open the door, to make sure what it was. How could he tell that he might not be seized by the hair of the head by some ghastly apparition, and dragged into a chamber71 of horrors! He tried to fortify72 himself with more wine, but that only made his tremor73 worse. Finally the panic came to a crisis, when Symington, pausing, knocked at the library door. Underwood remembered to have heard that no spirit could enter without invitation, and he shut his mouth firmly that no habitual74 “come in” might lay him open to the assault of the enemy. He sat breathless through the ensuing moment of suspense75, while Symington waited outside. The captain’s hair stood up on his head; his face was covered with a profuse76 dew; he held by the table in an agony of apprehension77 when he saw the door begin to turn slowly upon its hinges.
“My lord will not be home the night,” said Symington, slowly.
The sight of the old servant scarcely quieted the perturbation of Underwood. It had been a terrible day for Symington. He was ashy pale or grey, as old men become when the blood is driven from their faces. He had not been able to get rid of the scared and terror-stricken sensation with which he had watched the Birkenbraes party climbing the old stairs, and wandering as he thought at the peril78 of their lives upon the unsafe battlements. He had been almost violent in his calls to them to come down: but nobody had taken any notice, and they had talked about their guide and about the gentleman who was living with Lord Erradeen, till it seemed to Symington that he must go distracted. “Where there ever such fools—such idiots! since there is nobody staying with Lord Erradeen but me, his body servant,” the old man had said tremulously to himself. At Symington’s voice the captain gave a start and a cry. Even in the relief of discovering who it was, he could not quiet the excitement of his nerves.
“It’s you, old Truepenny,” he cried, yet looked at him across the table with a tremor, and a very forced and uncomfortable smile.
“That’s not my name,” said Symington, with, on his side, the irritation79 of a disturbed mind. “I’m saying that it’s getting late, and my lord will not be home to-night.”
“By Jove!” cried Captain Underwood, “when I heard you passing from one end of the house to the other, I thought it might be—the old fellow over there, coming himself——”
“I cannot tell, sir, what you are meaning by the old fellow over there. There’s no old fellow I know of but old Macalister; and it was not for him you took me.”
“If you could have heard how your steps sounded through the house! By Jove! I could fancy I hear them now.”
“Where?” Symington cried, coming in and shutting the door, which he held with his hand behind him, as if to bar all possible comers. And then the two men looked at each other, both breathless and pale.
“Sit down,” said Underwood. “The house feels chilly80 and dreary81, nobody living in it for so long. Have a glass of wine. One wants company in a damp, dreary old hole like this.”
“You are very kind, captain,” said the old man; “but Auchnasheen, though only my lord’s shooting-box, is a modern mansion82, and full of every convenience. It would ill become me to raise an ill name on it.”
“I wonder what Erradeen’s about?” said the captain. “I bet he’s worse off than we are. How he must wish he was off with me on the other side of the Channel.”
“Captain! you will, maybe, think little of me, being nothing but a servant; but it is little good you do my young lord on the ither side of the Channel.”
Underwood laughed, but not with his usual vigour83.
“What can I do with your young lord,” he said. “He takes the bit in his teeth, and goes—to the devil his own way.”
“Captain, there are some that think the like of you sore to blame.”
Underwood said nothing for a moment. When he spoke84 there was a quiver in his voice.
“Let me see the way to my room, Symington. Oh yes, I suppose it is the old room; but I’ve forgotten. I was there before? well, so I suppose; but I have forgotten. Take the candle as I tell you, and show me the way.”
He had not the least idea what he feared, and he did not remember ever having feared anything before; but to-night he hung close to Symington, following at his very heels. The old man was anxious and alarmed, but not in this ignoble85 way. He deposited the captain in his room with composure, who would but for very shame have implored86 him to stay. And then his footsteps sounded through the vacant house, going further and further off till they died away in the distance. Captain Underwood locked his door, though he felt it was a vain precaution, and hastened to hide his head under the bed-clothes: but he was well aware that this was a vain precaution too.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
mingling
|
|
| adj.混合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
follies
|
|
| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
vices
|
|
| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
dart
|
|
| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
subsided
|
|
| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
lasting
|
|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
relinquishment
|
|
| n.放弃；撤回；停止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
capabilities
|
|
| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
momentous
|
|
| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
isle
|
|
| n.小岛，岛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
steward
|
|
| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
actively
|
|
| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
zealous
|
|
| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
fatiguing
|
|
| a.使人劳累的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
heeding
|
|
| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
functionary
|
|
| n.官员；公职人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
unpaid
|
|
| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
hindrances
|
|
| 阻碍者( hindrance的名词复数 )； 障碍物； 受到妨碍的状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
mightily
|
|
| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
anticipations
|
|
| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
ascendancy
|
|
| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
recurred
|
|
| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
snare
|
|
| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
grievances
|
|
| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
assailed
|
|
| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
oars
|
|
| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
bass
|
|
| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
muster
|
|
| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
defensive
|
|
| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
influential
|
|
| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
bristling
|
|
| a.竖立的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
bondage
|
|
| n.奴役，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
ousted
|
|
| 驱逐( oust的过去式和过去分词 )； 革职； 罢黜； 剥夺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
expedients
|
|
| n.应急有效的，权宜之计的( expedient的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
recording
|
|
| n.录音，记录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
jealousies
|
|
| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
maudlin
|
|
| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
apparition
|
|
| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
groans
|
|
| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
recurrence
|
|
| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
fortify
|
|
| v.强化防御，为…设防；加强，强化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
tremor
|
|
| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
profuse
|
|
| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
chilly
|
|
| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
ignoble
|
|
| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |