Prive and apert, and most entendeth ay
To do the gentil dedes that he can,
And take him for the gretest gentilman.
—Chaucer.
While Hilary was learning at Hereford that in time of sore distress1 differences of opinion in matters of Church and State lose all hold on the mind, Gabriel was destined2 to meet in Somersetshire the noblest of the King’s Generals—Sir Ralph Hopton.
Waller, while awaiting reinforcements from London, had made his headquarters in Bath, and, though few days passed without skirmishes in the neighbourhood, he had been able to hold in check the combined forces of Hopton, Hertford and Prince Maurice, and to protect not only Bath but Bristol.
The citizens of Bath held him in high esteem4, and when on the evening of the 16th June a messenger from the Royalist army was admitted into the city with a letter for the General, he had to run the gauntlet of some pretty sharp criticisms from the onlookers5 as he drew rein3 and dismounted at the door of the “Nag’s Head” in Northgate Street.
This the young man took in very good part, and Gabriel, who chanced to be leaning against the open door listening to one of Major Locke’s stories, felt drawn6 to him when he saw the imperturbable7 good humour with which he bore such taunts8 as:
“Let the barber shave your love-locks!” and, “Here’s a curled Court darling!”
“Take the gentleman’s horse,” said Gabriel, turning to one of the grinning ostlers, and then stepping forward he greeted the newcomer courteously9.
“I have a letter from Sir Ralph Hopton, and am to place it in Sir William Waller’s own hands,” said the young officer. “Is he within?”
Something in his voice and face seemed curiously10 familiar, and as Gabriel led him to the General’s room he could not resist hazarding a question.
“An I mistake not, sir, you must be a kinsman11 of Captain Heyworth?”
The young officer laughed.
“Truth! I myself am Captain Heyworth—Richard Heyworth of Shortell. Tell me, is my brother Joscelyn here?”
“Unfortunately not. He hath three weeks’ leave, and hath gone to London on business.”
“A curse on my ill-luck!” said Dick Heyworth. “I made sure I should have seen him here.”
He seemed so grievously disappointed that Gabriel felt the more drawn to him and announcing “Captain Heyworth,” watched the General’s surprise and perplexity as the visitor entered the room. Waller signed to him to remain in attendance, and put one or two rapid questions to Richard Heyworth.
“I sent a letter to Sir Ralph Hopton after the fray12 at Chewton Mendip by the hands of Mr. Reginald Powell—a prisoner we had taken—did it reach him safely?”
“Ay, sir—a letter proposing an exchange of prisoners. This is the General’s reply, and he bade me say he earnestly hoped you would agree to the second proposal he makes.”
Waller read the letter thoughtfully.
“I will write a reply,” he said at length, “and in the absence of your brother will send it by Lieutenant13 Harford, who shall accompany you on your return. I see, Sir Ralph writes from Wells; both you and your horse will need rest and refreshment14 after such a ride. Lieutenant Harford will see that you are well cared for.”
“Shall I return for your reply, sir?” asked Gabriel.
“Come for it at sunrise to-morrow,” said Waller, glancing again at the letter. Then, looking up at Dick Heyworth, “I would fain comply with Sir Ralph’s request could I consult my personal wishes, but I am bound to think only of the Cause. I will wish you good-night, sir.”
It only remained for Dick Heyworth to bow and withdraw, but Gabriel noted15 his look of annoyance16 as they entered the adjoining room, where the remains17 of the officers’ supper were still on the table.
“’Tis ever ‘the Cause, the Cause,’ with you Parliament folk,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Now if our two Generals could have met there might be some hope of making an end of the war.”
“Was that your errand?”
“That and the reply as to the exchange of prisoners. You had best not tell it in Gath, however. Sir Ralph Hopton, as you doubtless know, was an old friend of your General’s, and they served together in the German wars. He had a great wish to meet him and discuss this accursed civil strife20.”
“Of what avail would that be,” said Gabriel, “when the King will never offer terms that can be accepted, and when Parliament places no confidence in his promises.”
“Ay, there’s the rub,” said Dick.
“Your Cornishmen know how to fight,” said Gabriel. “They gave us a smart repulse21 at Chewton Mendip.”
“Yes,” said Dick, making great inroads on the plate of beef his companion had set before him. “They are the best soldiers we have, and are men after Sir Ralph’s own heart, for they are as little given to plundering23 as the best of your Puritan troops. Sir Ralph is like to break his heart over Prince Maurice’s men, for they plunder22 right and left.”
“It would be little to your General’s liking24, specially25 in his own county of Somerset.”
“That is what irks him so sorely, for they ruin the property of all his old friends and neighbours. But tell me of my brother, for I have not clapped eyes on him since you took Winchester.”
“He hath been several times of late at Gloucester, and was in high spirits at encountering there Mistress Clemency26 Coriton, his betrothed27.”
“He was ever a lucky dog,” said Dick, laughing.
“He came very near to being shot in the back t’other night, by a treacherous28 blackguard that serves under Prince Maurice,” observed Gabriel.
“Ha! I can guess who that is,” said Dick. “Now I understand the dark hints and innuendoes29 that Colonel Norton has thrown out once or twice of late. Tell me what really passed.”
Gabriel, though omitting Helena’s name, told the story of her father’s duel30 with Norton and of their subsequent errand.
“That was an affair after Joscelyn’s own heart,” cried Dick. “Did I not tell you he was a lucky dog? Such chances are for ever coming his way. Never mind, my turn will come.”
Just after sunrise the two young officers rode off together to Wells, and by the time they had reached Hopton’s quarters, an old house in the Close, they had become fast friends, united by their common affection for Joscelyn. Gabriel was taken into a panelled room, where the Royalist General sat writing at a table in the oriel window. He was a middle-aged31 man, with threads of grey already showing in his long dark hair, and there was something singularly noble in his clear, open face and dignified32 bearing. A man of stainless33 character, he found many of his co-workers very little to his taste, and he seemed grievously disappointed to learn that his old friend Waller had felt unable to agree to the proposed meeting. Gabriel could not help glancing at his expression now and then as he read the letter which he had eagerly opened.
It ran as follows:
“Sir,”—The experience which I have had of your worth and the happiness which I have enjoyed in your friendship, are wounding considerations to me, when I look upon this present distance between us; certainly, sir, my affections to you are so unchangeable, that hostilitie itself cannot violate my friendship to your person; but I must be true to the cause wherein I serve. The old limitation of usque ad aras holdeth still, and where my conscience is interested all other obligations are swallowed up. I should wait on you according to your desire, but that I look on you as engaged in that partie beyond the possibility of retreat, and consequents incapable34 of being wrought35 upon by anti-persuasion, and I know the conference could never be so close betwixt us, but that it would take wind and receive a construction to my dishonour36. That great God, who is the Searcher of all hearts, knows with what a sad sense I go upon this service, and with what a perfect hate I detest37 this war without an enemie, but I look upon it as opus domini which is enough to silence all passion in me. The God of Peace send us, in His good time, the blessing38 of peace, and in the meantime fit us to receive it. We are both on the stage and must act those parts that are assigned to us in this tragedy, but let us do it in the way of honour and without personal animositie; whatsoever39 the issue of it be, I shall never resign that dear title of
“Your most
“Affectionate Friend
“and Faithful Servant,
“William Waller.
“Bath, June 16, 1643.”
Sir Ralph Hopton sighed as he refolded the letter; it had only made him crave40 more passionately41 for an end of the war which was dividing England. He glanced a second time at Gabriel, struck by something familiar in his face. “Are you not one of the Herefordshire Harfords?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” replied Gabriel, “son of Dr. Bridstock Harford, of Hereford.”
“I met him many years ago at Canon Frome, when he must have been of your age; you are his living image. How is my kinsman, Sir Richard Hopton?”
“He is well, sir, but hath suffered from the plundering of his house at Canon Frome by the Royalists, to revenge his having accompanied my Lord Stamford last year when he took Hereford.”
“These plunderings and robberies are hateful to me,” said Sir Ralph. “Nothing does so much to embitter43 the struggle as the wanton destruction of property. By-the-bye, an’ I mistake not, you are connected with the Hoptons through a marriage with Madame Martha Harford, so that in somewhat remote fashion you are also akin19 to me. I could wish you were with us in this contest, but as they tell me Sir William Waller often says, we will part as enemies that may live to be friends.” Then bidding Dick Heyworth show all hospitality to Waller’s messenger, he dismissed them and began to write his reply to the Parliamentary General.
A few hours later, when Gabriel, with the letter in his wallet, paused at the city gate to take leave of Dick Heyworth, it chanced that Colonel Norton, lounging at his ease at the open window of an alehouse hard by, was roused to sudden interest in the proceedings44.
“’Tis the very man!” he exclaimed. “Now I shall get hold of his name, which hath slipped my memory, and will have some sport with the Puritan dog.”
He strolled out of the alehouse, carelessly greeted Dick Heyworth, and, with a mockingly profound bow and sarcastic45 smile, turned to Gabriel.
“Good day, sir!” he exclaimed. “Have you had any more midnight rides with the fair Helena?”
Dick Heyworth, seeing the angry flush which rose in his new friend’s face, hastily interposed, hoping to avert46 a storm.
“To name a lady in such a fashion in the open street, sir,——” he began, but there he was interrupted by Gabriel, who, furious at the insinuation and the insult conveyed in Norton’s look and tone, could no longer restrain his tongue.
“In her present abode47 she is little like to need protection from villainous assaults such as yours, sir,” he said, with that sudden fiery49 vehemence50 which comes with startling force now and then from the most self-controlled men.
“Ha!” said, Norton, with his short, harsh laugh. “I have no doubt you stowed her away very conveniently in the godly city of Gloucester, where, doubtless, all men are saints. Beggarly hypocrites that you are! But the King will soon triumph now, and I ask nothing better than to have the privilege of hanging you, you Puritan mongrel!”
“The King’s cause is ill served, sir, by such words,” said Dick, angrily. “You, perhaps, do not understand that Lieutenant Harford bears a letter from Sir Ralph Hopton, and cannot take up a personal quarrel.”
Norton burst into loud laughter.
“Bless you, my children!” he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with genuine merriment. “’Twas precisely51 the name of this gentleman that I wished to discover—do not let me detain you longer now, Mr. Harford, we shall meet again, for I never allow myself to be baulked.”
With a derisive52 smile he returned to the alehouse, and Dick Heyworth rode on for a little way with his new friend.
“That fellow has a bitter grudge53 against you and my brother,” he said. “You had best beware of him, for he sticks at nothing. ’Tis men of that make who are the ruin of His Majesty54’s Army.”
“But, on the other hand, you have men like my Lord Falkland and Sir Ralph Hopton and Sir Bevil Granville,” said Gabriel, his chivalrous55 nature readily sympathising with what was passing in his companion’s mind. “And, as you may guess, we have not a few narrow-minded zealots and fanatics56 who are ill to work with.”
“True, men like that Original Sin Smith that played Joscelyn false at Farnham,” said Dick, “Indeed, I think you are right, such a fellow revolts one even more than Colonel Norton, being both villain48 and hypocrite.”
Then, entrusting58 Gabriel with a letter for his brother, and many last messages, Dick Heyworth returned to Wells, and Gabriel rode back to Waller’s headquarters, his mind full of Sir Ralph Hopton’s last words, “We will part as enemies that may live to be friends.” If only Hilary would have given him as much comfort as that, how hopefully would he have faced the bitterness of this heart-rending strife!
The sun was setting when he rode into Bath, and the Abbey tower outlined against a saffron sky rose in solemn grandeur59, which unconsciously soothed60 his troubled mind, though, like most of his generation, he had very little feeling for the beautiful. What he had was gained almost entirely61 from the poetry of the Bible—a Book which had been to him and to his father before him the great educator, and to which, in common with all the best of the Puritans, he owed the sterling62 honesty and the moral courage that characterised him. To the modern world he would have seemed primitive63 and unsophisticated. But there is a certain kind of simplicity64 that is very ill compensated65 by 忙stheticism, and sturdy Puritan uprightness is sorely needed in these latter days of luxury, lying and greed of gain.
Having delivered the letter from Sir Ralph Hopton, and Dick Heyworth’s letter to his brother, into the General’s keeping, he went in search of Major Locke, and to his great delight found the rare treat of a letter from home awaiting him. His father gave him the new’s of Mrs. Unett’s death, and overwhelmed with the sense of what Hilary’s desolation would be, he lost no time in writing to her. But it is one thing to write a letter in time of war, and quite another to send it safely to its destination.
The next night the troops were ordered into the Bradford Valley, and a strong position was taken up on Claverton Down, for scouts66 had brought word that the Royalists meant to attempt Bath from that quarter. Some days passed before Gabriel found any one to whom he could entrust57 the letter, but at last Major Locke’s servant Tobias, who was carrying a packet to Mistress Helena at Gloucester, consented to take charge of it. Tobias, however, though thoroughly67 honest, was not blessed with brains. Thinking to save himself, he made what he fondly hoped was a short cut across the down, instead of availing himself of the sheltered valley. To his utter dismay, he came across a Royalist officer and a couple of scouts who were reconnoitering to see whether it would be possible after all to capture the city from the Bradford Valley, and while Hopton’s men were making a vigorous attack on the position at Claverton, poor Tobias found that his venture was like to cost him his life.
The scouts seized him and one glance at the face of the officer told him that his last hour was at hand.
“You come from Waller’s camp,” said Colonel Norton, sharply. “Don’t deny it, I can read it in your craven face. What strength has he there?”
Tobias told the number of the troops.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was but on an errand,” faltered68 the poor fellow. “I am nought69 but a servant, sir.”
“Whose servant?”
“Major Locke’s, sir,” said Tobias, sealing his own doom70 by the words.
Norton chuckled72 gleefully.
“Ha! that’s good hearing. You are carrying his letters no doubt. Here string him up, men, and we’ll turn out his pockets afterwards, and save him the discomfort73 of a struggle. These Puritans have such consciences, he would doubtless scruple74 to part with his trust.”
“Sir, sir,” pleaded poor Tobias. “They can be naught75 to you—they be no despatches—they be but private letters, and both of them only to ladies, sir.”
At this, Norton burst into a roar of laughter. The two scouts, hating both the work and the officer in command, took advantage of his convulsions of merriment, to loose the prisoner.
“Chuck the despatches and run,” whispered one of them. And Tobias needed no second bidding.
Flinging the letters on the ground, he ran like a hunted hare to the shelter of a little coppice, and though Norton swore at the scouts as they made a feint of rushing in pursuit, and sent more than one shot after the terrified messenger, he was too eager to seize on the letters before the wind whirled them away to trouble much about his victim. Tobias gasping76 for breath ran madly down the slope, till at length catching77 his foot on a tree stump78 he fell violently to the ground, severely79 spraining80 his ankle. But a sprained81 ankle means little to a man who has been at death’s door; he lay patiently enough in the wood till next day, and then limped down to Claverton to learn from the villagers that Waller had retired82 to Bath, and that the Royalists had abandoned the Avon, and were to attempt the capture of Bath from the north.
What with skirmishes and intricate manoeuvring, it was not until the Royalist forces had encamped at Marshfield that Norton had time to open the letters he had seized. But his satisfied chuckle71 as he read the first, and the malicious83 merriment in his eyes, showed that the capture had been worth making. The Major’s letter was short, and ran as follows:
“Dear Nell,—Captain Joscelyn Heyworth hath returned from London, where, at my request, he visited your godmother, Madam Harford. Strangely enough, she proves to be a kinswoman of Lieutenant Harford, your trusty rescuer. Madam Harford desires that at the earliest opportunity you travel with Cousin Malvina to London, and that you make her house—Notting hill Manor—your home until these calamities84 be overpast. Mr. Bennett and Alderman Pury will let you know when the journey may be attempted, and will find you a proper escort. I write in great haste; a battle is imminent85, Sir W. Waller hoping thereby86 to save Bath, and to prevent the army of the West from joining the King’s forces at Oxford87. I am just exchanged into Sir Arthur Hazlerigg’s new regiment88, known as the ‘Lobsters,’ and you would smile to see how fine we look, most thoroughly encased in armour89, like the knights90 of old. Truth to tell, I find it mighty91 cumbersome92, but it may serve. God keep you from all ill, and grant us in peaceful times a happy reunion. I could wish to have seen you safely wedded93 to such an one as Lt. G. H., but have not as yet broached94 the subject with him.
“Your loving father,
“George Locke.
“To Mrs. Helena Locke,
“at the House of Alderman Pury,
“Gloucester.”
Norton refolded this sheet carefully, and thrust it into an inner pocket, reflecting that later on it might suit his purposes to send it to little Mistress Nell. Then, with a smile of malicious enjoyment95, he read the address on the second letter.
“To Mistress Hilary Unett,
“care of the Rt. Rev42. the Bishop96 of Hereford.”
Unfastening the seal, he read with some surprise, the following words:
“I hesitate to break that silence which you most emphatically enforced when we last met, but the news of your bereavement97, which I have just learnt from my father, so stirs my heart that write I must, and should this only offend you more deeply I must pay the penalty. That you are desolate98 and sad at heart I well know. My beloved, if only I could comfort you I would ask nothing more—but this is the sorest part of our unhappy difference as to the war, that I am cut off from the right of serving you, and am doubtful whether you will even be at the trouble to read these lines. But should you read them, then I pray you read betwixt the lines the love for you which fills my heart—a love that is ill at expressing itself in words, but which will always be longing99 to serve you while life lasts. It is some consolation100 to me to know that you are with your grandfather, whose kindness when last he parted with me I cannot forget. I have just had the pleasure of seeing Sir Ralph Hopton, the noblest of all His Majesty’s Generals, being sent (in the absence of Captain Joscelyn Heyworth) with a letter from Sir W. Waller. Sir Ralph was kind enough to call cousins with me on account of Mistress Martha Harford, who was afterwards wedded to Mr. Michael Hopton—you will remember smiling over her mistaken epitaph on the monument in Bosbury Church. Was it in some other life that we spent that happy day at Bosbury, when we were betrothed? Would to God we could find ourselves there once more with hearts united! Should you see my father, will you let him know that we are expecting a decisive battle in the neighbourhood of Bath? I will write to him after it is over.
“Dear Hilary, for the sake of old days, I pray you at least to accept my sympathy in your sorrow, and
“Believe that I rest ever
“Your faithful servant,
“Gabriel Harford.”
Norton’s face, as he read, was a curious study. Anything more unlike his notion of a love-letter it was impossible to conceive. He read it twice, and a new sense of shame began to steal over him. His eyes at length rivetted themselves on the one sentence, “for the sake of old days,” but he was looking, in truth, at some scene long ago in his own life—a scene which softened101 him strangely, and called out the better side of his nature.
“Curse it!” he cried, at length, beginning to pace the room restlessly. “I wish I had never meddled102 with that boy’s love-letter. God! if I could undo103 the past!”
With a hand that shook, he took up a tankard of ale and hastily drained it.
“Humph! that’s better,” he muttered. “A pox on such soft-hearted sentiment! It must be as the proverb hath it, ‘Every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost.’ I can no more undo my past than I can get this letter back into the messenger’s pocket, and there’s an end on’t.”
With that he tore up the sheet and flung the pieces out of the window, watching the rapid way in which the summer wind whirled them into space. Then, drawing out the Major’s letter, he once more perused104 it, and very soon was laughing heartily105 over the father’s matrimonial hopes for his daughter.
“‘Twill be hard if I can’t contrive106 to put a spoke107 in his wheel,” he thought. “I’ll be revenged on him before long, and on Mr. Gabriel Harford, too. What does the fellow mean by philandering108 with little Nell, when he is still courting this Hereford lady? I should have had her t’other night if it had not been for his cursed knight-errantry.”
And then once more that memory which had no connection at all with little Helena Locke came back to torture him.
With an impatient shrug18 of the shoulders he drew out his pipe and began to fill it, humming to himself meanwhile a song from The Queen of Corinth:
Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan109;
Sorrow calls no time that’s gone;
Violets plucked the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again.
The next day one of the most obstinately110 contested battles of the campaign was fought on the slopes of Lansdown, and Norton, who with all his faults was an excellent soldier, had no time to think of past regrets or of private enmities. Again and again the Parliamentary troops charged down the hill, but Hopton’s Cornishmen with their deadly pikes pressed bravely on. The slaughter111 on both sides was terrible, the Royalists alone leaving fourteen hundred dead and wounded on the field, and Waller’s army, forced at length from their position on the brow of the hill by superior numbers, had to retire along the ridge112 to Bath about midnight.
The city was saved, for Hopton’s army was in no condition to attack it, and the noble-hearted Royalist General was full of sadness when, on the return of daylight, he visited the battlefield. He had himself been slightly wounded, but by sunrise he was in the saddle again, giving directions as to the relief of the injured, and by his kindly113 words bringing comfort to many of the poor fellows who had lain in torture on the hillside all through the night.
While he was thus occupied, Captain Nevill, the officer in attendance on him, drew his attention to a trumpeter from the Parliamentary army, accompanied by one of Waller’s officers. As the latter dismounted and came forward, Sir Ralph, scanning his face, saw that it was none other than Gabriel Harford, who, since Captain Heyworth had been left on the battle-field either dead or wounded, was acting114 as Waller’s galloper115. He had come with a request from the Parliamentary General for a day’s truce116 in order to succour the wounded and bury the dead.
“’Tis needed indeed by us as well as by you,” said Hopton; and his words were spoken to that awful accompaniment of groans117 and piteous cries for water which Gabriel could so well recall after the battle of Edgehill.
“Sir William Waller bade me also ask if any surgeon from Bath should be sent to the aid of Sir Bevil Granville,” he said, watching the General’s face with interest.
“The offer does credit to his humanity. Sir Bevil was Carried to Cold Ashton Vicarage,” replied Sir Ralph; “but he was dying last night, I think by now he is past surgeon’s aid.”
The words had hardly left his lips when a tremendous explosion threw both speaker and hearers to the ground. Gabriel and Captain Nevill escaped unhurt, and were soon on their feet again, eagerly bending over the prostrate118 form of the General, while others rushed to the yet more terribly injured Major Sheldon, and lifted aside the bodies of those who had been actually killed.
“There is life in him yet,” said Captain Nevill, with his fingers on the General’s pulse.
“Yes,” said Gabriel, “but there won’t be long, unless we can check this. Quick! off with your scarf, sir, and bind119 it about his arm while I hold the artery120.”
“I’ faith, sir, you’re as good as a leech,” said the Royalist Captain, unable even at that moment of anxiety to forbear a glance at the strangely attractive face of Waller’s envoy121.
“A poor substitute, but the son of a physician,” said Gabriel, deftly122 guiding the rather clumsy efforts of Captain Nevill.
A moan from Hopton brought a look of relief to both his helpers.
“Who is it?” he groaned123; “what hath chanced?”
“A powder-waggon accidentally exploded, sir,” said Captain Nevill.
“I can’t hear a word,” moaned Hopton; “it hath deafened124 and blinded me. Let the troops fall back on Marshfield.”
But here the agony becoming unbearable125 he lost consciousness, and naught remained for his saddened followers126 but to obey those last words, and carry him from the battle-field.
“I will ride back and send the best surgeon in Bath to wait upon him,” said Gabriel, longing to stay and search for his friend Joscelyn Heyworth, who must be lying somewhere on the hillside, though whether dead or wounded he could not tell. But his duty was to ride back to Waller with Hopton’s message, and personal wishes had to be stifled127.
“Should Sir Ralph recover I shall tell him he owes his life to you, for assuredly he would have bled to death had it not been for your promptitude,” said Captain Nevill, warmly. “Doth he know your name?”
“Yes, sir, ’tis Gabriel Harford. Farewell, and may God preserve your leader.”
Then, remounting his horse at the too of the hill, he galloped128 along the Lansdown ridge, making all speed back to Sir William Waller, that help might be sent as soon as possible to those tortured soldiers, whose groans still rang in his ears.
The horrors of the campaign made his heart ache, yet if ever war was unavoidable he honestly believed that it was this war, which had only been undertaken after years of patient endeavour to combat by peaceful means the King’s misrule. Again and again, moreover, the disputants had paused during the hostilities129 and had tried to come to a peaceful settlement, but the fatal bar of the King’s insincerity and the repeated discovery of his underhand dealings while negotiations130 for peace were yet going on had always frustrated131 the hopes of the distracted country.
Gabriel was ready and willing to lay down his life for the freedom of England and the preservation132 of the Reformed religion. The recent death of John Hampden the Patriot133, had, indeed, filled him with renewed eagerness to sacrifice everything for the cause. And, at the same time, he could not but feel, as his friend Joscelyn Hey worth had felt after the return from Chalgrove Field, a burning desire to call to account the main authors of all this woe134. His Majesty and the Archbishop might personally be well-meaning men, but their tyrannical government had filled him with loathing135, and he grieved to think of the thousands of homes which their policy had blighted136. For Sir Bevil Granville and for the brave Cornishmen who had fallen on the previous day he could only feel admiration137, but he would gladly have had in their stead those he deemed the cause of all the misery—the hard and aggressive Dr. Laud138 and the weak and untrustworthy King.
点击收听单词发音
1 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 rein | |
n.疆绳,统治,支配;vt.以僵绳控制,统治 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 onlookers | |
n.旁观者,观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 imperturbable | |
adj.镇静的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 taunts | |
嘲弄的言语,嘲笑,奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 courteously | |
adv.有礼貌地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 kinsman | |
n.男亲属 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 fray | |
v.争吵;打斗;磨损,磨破;n.吵架;打斗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 refreshment | |
n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 shrug | |
v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 akin | |
adj.同族的,类似的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 repulse | |
n.击退,拒绝;vt.逐退,击退,拒绝 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 plunder | |
vt.劫掠财物,掠夺;n.劫掠物,赃物;劫掠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 plundering | |
掠夺,抢劫( plunder的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 clemency | |
n.温和,仁慈,宽厚 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 betrothed | |
n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 treacherous | |
adj.不可靠的,有暗藏的危险的;adj.背叛的,背信弃义的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 innuendoes | |
n.影射的话( innuendo的名词复数 );讽刺的话;含沙射影;暗讽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 duel | |
n./v.决斗;(双方的)斗争 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 middle-aged | |
adj.中年的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 stainless | |
adj.无瑕疵的,不锈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 dishonour | |
n./vt.拒付(支票、汇票、票据等);vt.凌辱,使丢脸;n.不名誉,耻辱,不光彩 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 detest | |
vt.痛恨,憎恶 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 whatsoever | |
adv.(用于否定句中以加强语气)任何;pron.无论什么 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 crave | |
vt.渴望得到,迫切需要,恳求,请求 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 rev | |
v.发动机旋转,加快速度 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 embitter | |
v.使苦;激怒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 sarcastic | |
adj.讥讽的,讽刺的,嘲弄的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 avert | |
v.防止,避免;转移(目光、注意力等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 villain | |
n.反派演员,反面人物;恶棍;问题的起因 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 vehemence | |
n.热切;激烈;愤怒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 derisive | |
adj.嘲弄的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 grudge | |
n.不满,怨恨,妒嫉;vt.勉强给,不情愿做 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 chivalrous | |
adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 fanatics | |
狂热者,入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 entrust | |
v.信赖,信托,交托 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 entrusting | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 sterling | |
adj.英币的(纯粹的,货真价实的);n.英国货币(英镑) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 compensated | |
补偿,报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 ); 给(某人)赔偿(或赔款) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 scouts | |
侦察员[机,舰]( scout的名词复数 ); 童子军; 搜索; 童子军成员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 nought | |
n./adj.无,零 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 chuckle | |
vi./n.轻声笑,咯咯笑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 chuckled | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 scruple | |
n./v.顾忌,迟疑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 gasping | |
adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 stump | |
n.残株,烟蒂,讲演台;v.砍断,蹒跚而走 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 spraining | |
扭伤(关节)( sprain的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 sprained | |
v.&n. 扭伤 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 calamities | |
n.灾祸,灾难( calamity的名词复数 );不幸之事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 imminent | |
adj.即将发生的,临近的,逼近的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 regiment | |
n.团,多数,管理;v.组织,编成团,统制 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 knights | |
骑士; (中古时代的)武士( knight的名词复数 ); 骑士; 爵士; (国际象棋中)马 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 cumbersome | |
adj.笨重的,不便携带的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 wedded | |
adj.正式结婚的;渴望…的,执著于…的v.嫁,娶,(与…)结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 broached | |
v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 );打开并开始用;用凿子扩大(或修光);(在桶上)钻孔取液体 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 bereavement | |
n.亲人丧亡,丧失亲人,丧亲之痛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 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: |
|
|
102 meddled | |
v.干涉,干预(他人事务)( meddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
103 undo | |
vt.解开,松开;取消,撤销 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
104 perused | |
v.读(某篇文字)( peruse的过去式和过去分词 );(尤指)细阅;审阅;匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览(某篇文字) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
105 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
106 contrive | |
vt.谋划,策划;设法做到;设计,想出 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
107 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: |
|
|
108 philandering | |
v.调戏,玩弄女性( philander的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
109 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
110 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
111 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
112 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
113 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
114 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
115 galloper | |
骑马奔驰的人,飞驰的马,旋转木马; 轻野炮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
116 truce | |
n.休战,(争执,烦恼等的)缓和;v.以停战结束 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
117 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: |
|
|
118 prostrate | |
v.拜倒,平卧,衰竭;adj.拜倒的,平卧的,衰竭的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
119 bind | |
vt.捆,包扎;装订;约束;使凝固;vi.变硬 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
120 artery | |
n.干线,要道;动脉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
121 envoy | |
n.使节,使者,代表,公使 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
122 deftly | |
adv.灵巧地,熟练地,敏捷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
123 groaned | |
v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
124 deafened | |
使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 ); 使隔音 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
125 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
126 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
127 stifled | |
(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
128 galloped | |
(使马)飞奔,奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 ); 快速做[说]某事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
129 hostilities | |
n.战争;敌意(hostility的复数);敌对状态;战事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
130 negotiations | |
协商( negotiation的名词复数 ); 谈判; 完成(难事); 通过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
131 frustrated | |
adj.挫败的,失意的,泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 );挫败;使受挫折;令人沮丧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
132 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
133 patriot | |
n.爱国者,爱国主义者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
134 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
135 loathing | |
n.厌恶,憎恨v.憎恨,厌恶( loathe的现在分词);极不喜欢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
136 blighted | |
adj.枯萎的,摧毁的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
137 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
138 laud | |
n.颂歌;v.赞美 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |