Then he woke, with the roar and thump still in his ears, for his head hung down over the straw below the level of his body. All his limbs were cramped6, and he found it difficult to rise. The first despair of waking was upon him, and he wished he could have died in his dream. Bright sunshine was streaming into the barn, lighting7 up its dark old corners where the cobwebs hung like lace. Framed in the big doorway8 was a green hill freckled9 with primroses10 and cuckoo flowers, with broom bushes budding against a thick blue sky that seemed to drip with sunshine.
He stumbled out into the stroke of the wind, now scarcely enough to ripple11 the big rain puddles12 that lay [305] blue and glimmering13 in the road. He was in a part of the country he did not know, doubtless beyond the frontiers of the Four Roads, in some by-lane behind Rushlake Green.
Though it was too late, he felt that even now he could not go back to Sunday Street. He shrank from meeting human beings, especially those who had sat before him in rows like pea-pods last night. Oh, those heads! he would never forget them, how they had stared and rolled.... He turned away from the road, and went up the rising ground behind the barn. It was a spread of wild land, some common now in its spring bloom of gorse and violets. He threw himself down upon the turf, and for a few minutes lay motionless, with the sun gently steaming his damp crumpled14 clothes.
He longed to be back in his dream, back in the red glow of the furnace, back at the old cross-roads in Kent. A sense of great cruelty and injustice15 was upon him. Why had the Lord called him from the work he loved, away to unknown cares and sorrows, to a life for which he was not fitted? It even seemed to him that if only he had been left a blacksmith this tragedy of Jerry would not have happened ... if Jerry had never been in the impossible, grotesque16 situation of “a clergyman’s son.”... Why had the Lord sent voices, which never came now, which, indeed, had not come since his marriage? Why had the Lord raised up the minister at Tenterden, to send him to a training college and try to make him what he never could be, a gentleman? He was no minister—only a poor image of one, which everybody laughed at. He had had qualms17 of doubts before this, but he had put them from him; now he was too exhausted18, too badly bruised19 and beaten, to deceive himself any further. He was no minister of God—he could hardly, after a twelve years’ pastorate, scrape together a [306] congregation; people went anywhere but to the Particular Baptists. They never asked for his ministrations at sick-beds, they hardly ever came to him to be married or buried, as if they doubted the efficacy of these rites20 at his hands; he had not performed one baptism in the last five years, and the only time his church has been full was when they had all come to gaze on him, to see how he bore his trouble. On the other hand, if a man had a sick sheep or an ailing21 cow, or if his horse went lame22 or spoiled his knees, he called him in at once. That ought to have shown him. He was not a minister but a farrier, and the people of Sunday Street knew it, and treated him accordingly.
He lay with his face hidden against the grass. It seemed as if his life had stopped like a watch, leaving him, like a stopped watch, still in being. Jerry, the centre and spring of his existence for twenty years, was gone; his ministry23 was gone—he could not go back after what had happened, and no brethren would call him elsewhere. He could not stay on at Sunday Street or return to the forge at Bethersden. Here he was, past middle age, without friends, without kin2, without livelihood24, without resources of any kind. He saw himself alone in a world burning and crashing to ruin, a world that bristled25 with the crosses of martyred boys and was black with the dead hopes of their fathers.
A sob26 broke from him, but without tears. His being seemed dried up. The horror of thick darkness was upon him, of this blasted world rocking and staggering to the pit, of the flame which devoured27 all, good and bad, elect and damned, wheat and weeds. Who could endure to the end of this Judgment28? Who hoped to be saved? All was burnt up, dried, and blasted. The day of the Lord had come indeed and had consumed him like a dry stick.
“My soul is full of troubles and my life draweth nigh unto the grave.
[307]
“I am counted with them that go down into the pit.
“Free among the dead, like the slain29 that lie in the grave, whom Thou rememberest no more.
“Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps.
“Thy wrath30 lieth hard upon me, and thou hast vexed31 me with thy waves.
“Thy fierce wrath goeth over me; thy terrors have cut me off.
“Lover and friend hast thou put from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness.”

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收听单词发音

1
huddled
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挤在一起(huddle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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2
kin
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n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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3
thump
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v.重击,砰然地响;n.重击,重击声 | |
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4
travail
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n.阵痛;努力 | |
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defiance
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n.挑战,挑衅,蔑视,违抗 | |
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6
cramped
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a.狭窄的 | |
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7
lighting
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n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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8
doorway
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n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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9
freckled
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adj.雀斑;斑点;晒斑;(使)生雀斑v.雀斑,斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
primroses
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n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 );淡黄色;追求享乐(招至恶果) | |
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11
ripple
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n.涟波,涟漪,波纹,粗钢梳;vt.使...起涟漪,使起波纹; vi.呈波浪状,起伏前进 | |
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12
puddles
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n.水坑, (尤指道路上的)雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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13
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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14
crumpled
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adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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15
injustice
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n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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16
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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17
qualms
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n.不安;内疚 | |
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18
exhausted
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adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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19
bruised
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[医]青肿的,瘀紫的 | |
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20
rites
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仪式,典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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21
ailing
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v.生病 | |
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22
lame
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adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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23
ministry
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n.(政府的)部;牧师 | |
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24
livelihood
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n.生计,谋生之道 | |
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bristled
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adj. 直立的,多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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26
sob
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n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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27
devoured
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吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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28
judgment
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n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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29
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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30
wrath
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n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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31
vexed
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adj.争论不休的;(指问题等)棘手的;争论不休的问题;烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 );使苦恼;使生气;详细讨论 | |
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