Of course he reserved a first-class carriage for the all-day journey. He would have patronized a train de luxe had there been one, or a motor, had the more brilliant extravagance come into being. To spend less to-day that he might have more to-morrow was a principle that only a long period of dire4 privation could have etched into his creed5, and, no doubt, he would have managed to be a luxurious6 pauper7.
During the journey his uneasy apprehensions8 were varied10 with remorseful11 memories of three old servants that had adored and spoilt him since he had come into the world, and to whom he had not given a thought during the past four years. These were the housekeeper12, Mrs. Felt, Biscom, the butler, and Cobbs, the coachman. The sure instincts of childhood had driven him to take his little woes13, not to his mother’s sterile14 bosom15, but to the warm and pillowed surfaces of the personage who had inherited certain of the honours of Ordham, even as Lord Bridgminster had inherited his. Biscom, sovereign of the pantries, had permitted him to make himself ill as often as he desired, and Cobbs had taught him how to ride and had now his dogs in charge. Then there was Craven, the old gardener—he turned hot and cold at the thought that he had not brought a present to one of them!
Cobbs, in a rusty16 livery, awaited him at the little moorland station, and Ordham made up in the warmth of his greeting for the lack of a more substantial proof of his affections. There was no footman with the wagonette, and while Hines was attending to his boxes, he asked Cobbs if all the old servants were alive and at the castle. He was not surprised to learn that the immense staff kept during his father’s lifetime had been reduced to ten, including those within and without. But at least he should see the older faces, and the prospect18 cheered him somewhat as he drove through the purple dusk of the moors19. For a wave of homesickness had swamped his spirits, then regret, anger, astonishment20. For twenty years this beautiful moorland had practically been his, no doubt would come to him in time; but now, now, in the day of his youth, when he most wanted lands and riches and power (it is, until decay sets in, always the immediate time that seems the one desirable period for the great gifts of life), he came as a suppliant21 to the brother he detested22, a man who was even too mean to live as became his position, and who, no doubt, would barely extend to him a welcome. It was a wonder he had sent the wagonette. Ordham had fully23 expected to go on to the next town and make the rest of the journey in a fly.
Cobbs volunteered the information that the shooting was uncommonly24 good this year, but Ordham felt no interest in the subject until it occurred to him that if he wished to accomplish the purpose of his journey he must take pains to propitiate25 Bridgminster in every way. At this detestable thought his haughty26 crest27 went up at least two inches. But he had wise moments, as we have seen, and it was seldom he was not capable of cool rational thought. He reflected presently that, after all, he was very young and that it was not only a close relative to whom he had come to ask a good bit of money, but the head of his house, to whom he stood next in succession. Bridgminster should have been a father to his brood of younger brothers, and it was incredible that he did not accept his obligations. It was time he did, and Ordham felt himself in a temper to bring him to his senses.
But as the carriage approached the high fell upon whose broad table-land the castle stood, he felt more keenly still the freak of fortune which had deprived him of his inheritance. That cold, splendid, formal mass of white and sculptured stone, a palace of the Italian Renaissance28 rather than an English castle, built by Inigo Jones in 1622-26, and raised above the lofty fell again by a triple terrace, surrounded by Italian gardens, and over-looking thousands of acres of moorland, woods and farms, and a hundred little stone villages, was one of the show places of the north, and it was wasted on a boor30 whose favourite literature was The Pink ‘Un, and who would not even permit others to enjoy what he could not appreciate. There had not been a house party at Ordham since his father’s death, and, no doubt, the lovely gardens were a wilderness31, the superb rooms rat-eaten. To-night there was not a point of light in the vast fa?ade. Ordham lowered his eyelids32 until they covered the unpleasant glitter of his eyes, and drew his lips against his teeth. Hines, covertly33 watching him, wondered if he were in pain.
The carriage drove through the unlighted tunnel into the courtyard. The old butler, the gardener, and a footman stood at the foot of the grand staircase, and as Ordham, banishing34 his gloomy thoughts, descended36 and shook hands with them, asking intimate personal questions of each, the mask of dignified37 servitude fell from their faces, and they gazed, smiling and tearful, upon the young man who had lorded it over and bewitched them for twenty years. Ordham almost laughed outright38 as he realized how they yearned39 to say, “My lord.” He wished to God they could. There was no affected40 philosophy about Ordham. He longed as ardently41 to be a peer of the realm as he did for the income of the estates. But after he had convinced them that they had barely left his thoughts during the years of his exile, he added wistfully that he was glad to see the old place again and wished that death might have spared his father. Ordham was always adored by servants. With neither familiarity nor condescension42, always kind (save to Hines, who sometimes got the benefit of his tempers), with a smile of peculiar43 sweetness and an impenetrable reserve, a careless acceptance of devotion, yet with a tacit admission of a minion’s claim to call himself a man, generous, yet never so lavish44 as to suggest that perhaps his was not the divine right to be waited on hand and foot,—he fulfilled the ideal of the great lord to the most exacting45 class of mortals in the world. And these old men had all the retainer’s pride in his uncommonly fine manners, in which there was still nothing old-fashioned, in his aristocratic if not strictly46 handsome face, in the languid but dignified carriage of his well-knit figure.
He followed the footman up the wide marble staircase to his old suite47, immense rooms, with lofty frescoed48 ceilings, and still sparsely49 furnished with the mahogany pieces he had carved when a boy. He felt a thousand years old and sick at heart. When he saw Felt standing50 there to greet him, he nearly fell into her great bosom, but contented51 himself with taking her hand in both his own and shaking it for a full minute. She told him (tearfully) that he had grown and improved, and he bade her invite him for tea in her sitting room on the following day, adding bitterly that he should feel at home nowhere else.
“I suppose there is no company in the house?” he asked, with intention.
“Oh, no, sir. His lordship never entertains. Come four years now we have never had a visitor save her ladyship, and she found it so dull she could never stay long. The first year there was a hunt breakfast, but it was stiff and sad, Mr. Biscom said, and now the county gentlemen don’t even call at the castle. It’s not like the old days, Mr. John.”
“What on earth does he do with himself?” He could surrender something of his reserve to this old woman who had given him many a shaking, and he was anxious to know more of the brother of whom he had seen so little.
Mrs. Felt shook her head. “He mopes terrible, sir. You wouldn’t think it of a man who loves a gun and a horse as he does—but those long evenings all alone! He don’t seem one to read—not like you, Mr. John. He’s changed a good bit, even since he come—and the last six months or so, before the shooting began—” She paused significantly.
“Does he drink?” No one can be as blunt as a diplomatist.
“There’d be no hiding it from you, sir. You’d see it in a minute for yourself. We’ve known he was getting more comfort out of drink these two years past, and, as I said, these last few months—well, you can’t burn bottles, and his man, for all his solemn pretending that his lordship is perfection, don’t take the trouble to bury them, neither. We all have our suspicions that Mr. Flint drinks with his lordship.”
“What?”
“No wonder it turns your stomach, sir. It do ours. The Ordhams, begging your pardon, have never been like that. There’s been wild ones, and most of them could drink themselves under the table, I’ve heard from my father and grandfather; but never one that lived familiar with his man and had naught52 to do with gentlemen. If his mother hadn’t been such a young thing when she died, and straight from the schoolroom, we’d have our suspicions.”
Ordham laughed shortly. “The King of Bavaria, whose royal blood is a thousand years old, consorts53 wholly with his lackeys54. He has a rotten spot in his brain, and so, no doubt, has my brother. What else can be expected of a recluse55 that never opens a book? He can’t shoot and hunt the year round.”
Hines entered and Mrs. Felt departed. When Ordham had finished dressing56, half an hour later, the footman knocked, and informing him that all the rooms on this floor, with the exception of his own and his lordship’s suites57, the dining room, and a small room adjoining, were closed, escorted him down the long familiar corridors to the sanctum of his brother. It was a square room, whose old frescoes58 had been whitewashed59, and furnished with several leather chairs, a couch, a desk, and a table, the last littered with racing60 calendars and sporting magazines. It was empty and Ordham sniffed61 in disgust; it was the sort of room he hated—utterly, baldly, savagely62 masculine. He had supposed that at least he could console himself in the beautiful rooms devoted63 to entertaining, and now felt that even the old boudoir of his paternal64 grandmother, done up in “tapestries” worked with her own hands, and replete65 with Victorian horrors, would have made him gratefully sentimental66. Again his spirits took a downward plunge67. He felt nauseated68. And through what avenue could he approach the man? He was even more demoralized than he had counted upon.
There was a shuffling69 step on the hard floor of the passage that led in from the corridor, and Lord Bridgminster entered. He was a big man who, once strong and athletic70, was now merely heavy. His face was large and red, his eyes small and dull. He wore a full beard and mustache, which made him look older than he was and hid but little of the scar that disfigured the right side of his face. Nor did it lend him any of the dignity of his younger brother, and he carried his shoulders loosely and moved his hands incessantly72. In his youth he had been handsome, with well-cut features and the fresh colouring of his race, but not a vestige73 of either youth or beauty remained.
“How d’y do?” he said politely enough, extending a limp hand. “I’m a bit off my feed, but you look fit—why shouldn’t you? Wish I were twenty-four.”
They walked into the dining room together, and Ordham, whose languid eyes missed little, noted74 a flicker75 pass between Biscom and Thomas. It said as plainly as speech, “O lud, what a contrast!” Involuntarily he drew himself up, and at the same time resented that any brother of his should be scorned by the very servants as unworthy of the great position to which he had been born. It was almost as if a changeling had been slipped into the family cradle, and yet he knew that there were many like him, for the race is always reverting76 to its primitive77 types.
The dinner, served at a small table by an open window, consisted of the heavy joints78 and vegetables that Ordham detested; but it surprised him that his brother, whom he remembered as a man of mighty79 appetite, barely picked at it. Nor would he talk. The amenities—as he understood them—over, he responded with but an occasional grunt80 to the guest’s attempts at conversation, and finally the silence became so oppressive that Ordham lost what little appetite the sight and odours of the repast had left him. When the pudding appeared, hopeful of starting a congenial topic, he asked Bridgminster why he did not go up to London and consult a doctor.
“There are doctors in every town in Yorkshire,” growled81 his lordship. “Why should I go to London? Haven’t seen it for eighteen years. Should lose my way.”
“There are cabs,” suggested his brother, delicately. “Or I should be happy to guide you. If you have lost your appetite, there must be something serious the matter.”
“Not at all!” Bridgminster raised his voice shrilly82. “There’s nothing the matter worth mentioning. Can’t a man be a bit off his feed without taking a day’s journey to pay two guineas to some damned swindler?”
“One can be seriously upset without being threatened with extinction83; and when doctors were invented to keep one fit, why be uncomfortable?”
“I thought you wanted a week’s shooting. Wasn’t that what you said in that letter you honoured me with after you passed those examinations?”
Ordham blushed at this sarcastic84 reference to the only excuse he had been able to think of when inviting85 himself to the castle of his fathers. But it must be made to serve. He answered suavely86: “One gets so little of that sort of thing on the Continent. Do you go out every day?”
“Certainly. Am I really to have the pleasure of your company on the moors from morning till night?”
“Well—a good part of the day. Remember that I am a bit out of practice, and not as hard as you are.”
“I’m no longer hard, but I go out and potter about. It is a damned sight better than sitting in the house. And I loved it once! God! how I loved it.”
Ordham glanced at him with a fleeting87 pity. The creature was mournfully without resources. No wonder he drank during the long dark winters of the north. This might be the auspicious88 moment for the opening of his campaign; he asked abruptly89: “Why don’t you have some of the boys to stop with you if you don’t like outsiders—”
“They are outsiders so far as I am concerned. I want no one. That’s all I have to say on the subject.”
Ordham relapsed into silence. After dinner he smoked on the upper terrace, Lord Bridgminster in his study. They did not meet again even to part for the night.
But they met at breakfast and went together to the covers. It was a long, hot, silent, fatiguing90, hideous91 day. And on the morrow followed its duplicate, and again on the morrow. The bags were small. Bridgminster’s hand was unsteady, and Ordham more and more indifferent as to whether he hit a bird or a bush. (The beater kept out of the way.) Each dinner was a repetition of the first, a cold and tasteless luncheon92 was served on the moor17, and he had to appear at the early breakfast. On the third night he went to bed feeling like a weary soldier on the battle-field, a cow-boy, a day labourer. They were the three most detestable days of his life; even that period of apprehension9 induced by the vagaries93 of Frau von Wass was as nothing to this unremitting physical discomfort94 in the society of a boor that never opened his mouth.
On the morning of the fourth day he deliberately95 remained in bed until noon, sending his brother word that his wrist was lame96. The afternoon he idled about the park, almost happy in visiting every nook associated with his boyhood, and lay for an hour on the edge of the pool in the sunken garden surrounded by its silent rigid97 pointed98 trees, reflected like the spires99 of a submerged city. He had made a bare dash through Italy, and determined100 to visit it during the autumn with Margarethe Styr. Later he descended into the village at the base of the fell and renewed many old friendships, and promised to take a hand at cricket on the green on the following Saturday. But the cordial welcome he received from these simple folk, who had always regarded themselves as his future tenants101, and their ill-concealed dislike of the man who never gave them a nod in passing, revived his despondency and futile102 annoyance103 with fate.
He learned upon his return to the castle that his brother had not gone out that day, and when he appeared in the dining room it was apparent that he had been drinking. He made no response to Ordham’s greeting and sat through the dinner speechless, his face purple, his breath hot and fevered, barely touching104 his food. But when the servants had left for the last time, he opened his mouth and spoke105:
“Should you be willing to break the entail106 of this property?”
Ordham, by this time in a state of boiling wrath107, disgust, and gloom, which made him wholly reckless, shot a look of contempt at the noble lord at the head of the table and replied curtly108, “Of course not.”
“Then you are a fool. A new millionnaire would pay a cool half million for it.”
“What do you want of more money? You do not spend nine-tenths of what you have.”
“The mills are on their last legs. Money is money. What is the use of a silly ark like this? I have done with it in any case. I’m going back to my box in Scotland—lived too long in a house. This Italian thing should be turned into a barrack or a sanatorium. What rot, what insensate pride, to build a palace too big for the biggest family ever born! I believe it is haunted anyhow. I hate it—and my own shootings are better.”
“You might lend it to my mother and the boys, with the necessary income to keep it up.”
Bridgminster merely laughed at this practical suggestion. His laugh was still well-bred, almost silent, but his loose cheeks shook, his eyes watered. “As if she did not spend enough as it is. I have no desire to die a pauper.”
“You seem to forget that you could not. Do you mind telling me who or what you are saving for? You have no boys to educate, as my father had—unless you contemplate109 marrying.”
“Marrying!” He hurled110 out the word with a coarse violence, which, however, failed to disgust his next of kin29. “I read somewhere that in America they use Chinamen as house servants. I have a mind to turn out Felt and the rest of them and put in the pig-tails. I’d never see a woman if I could help it.” And then he indulged in observations not to be repeated.
“You are fortunate in being able to indulge your antipathies111. There is nothing for me but to marry some woman with money, and this I must do in short order whether I like her or not.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you like her or not; you’d hate her before long.” Hopefully: “She might buy this place.”
“You forget that I have gone in for diplomacy112. I shall be little in England.”
“Well, then, help me to dispose of it to this vulgarian for half a million of money.”
Ordham made no reply, but helped himself to a glass of chartreuse.
“Why don’t you drink port? I didn’t know those silly liqueurs were in the house.”
“I dislike heavy wines.”
“You aren’t half an Englishman, anyhow. You haven’t eaten a breakfast since you came. Tea and toast—by God! You might be a woman. No wonder you can’t shoot. You haven’t answered my question.”
“I answered it at the beginning of this edifying113 conversation.”
Bridgminster hesitated perceptibly; then, with evident reluctance114, but very clearly, he put another question: “Would you help me to break this entail if I gave you five thousand pounds?”
Ordham turned upon him his heavy glittering eyes. “Not for the entire half million.”
“You look upon it as your own, I suppose?”
“I have tried to make you understand that I should not be able to live here; but if I can help it, it shall never go out of the family. Good God! Have you no family pride?”
“Family pride! Who cares for it nowadays? Half the peerage is made up of tradesmen. I want to know that the half million this museum represents is invested in consols.”
“I don’t fancy that it would all be invested in your name. Did I, as heir presumptive, give my consent—But I shall not give my consent. If you will excuse me, I will go out and smoke. And it is likely that I shall leave in the morning.”
“What did you come here for?”
Ordham had risen; looking down into the disagreeable eyes of his brother, he answered deliberately: “To ask you for a thousand pounds. I am in debt for that amount. Also, to ask you to increase my income. I have not one quarter enough to keep me properly.”
Bridgminster laughed again, and for fully a minute the two men looked deep into each other’s eyes, unaware115, perhaps, of all they revealed.
The older brother, his thick upper lip almost flattened116 in a leer, spoke first: “Do you wish I were dead?”
“How can you say such a thing?”
The formula, with which he so long had been wont117 lightly to extricate118 himself from corners, sprang from his lips. He turned on his heel and walked the length of the room. It was a very long room, and when he stood before his brother once more, the flutter in his nerves had subsided119. Again the eyes met and held each other, until Ordham said distinctly:
“I do.”
He had expected that Bridgminster would laugh again, and it had crossed his mind that if he did the port bottle might fly at his face. But to his astonishment his brother cowered120 in his chair, his purple face paling, and put out his hands with feebly warding121 motions.
“Don’t say that!” He stammered122 and his tongue was thick. “I—I fancy I am superstitious123. I’m a bit off my feed—worse than ever to-day. It’s this damned haunted barrack. I’ll go back to Scotland to-morrow.”
Ordham moved a step closer. Transfixing the wretched man with his cold contracted eyes, he made no reply. Bridgminster stirred uncontrollably. “It is a big sum,” he muttered.
Still Ordham made no reply, but his eyes were little more than glittering lines. Bridgminster’s chest heaved, a flash leaped into his injected eyes.
“I believe you’d kill me if you got a chance—if you thought you wouldn’t be found out.”
“I would.”
“And every damned servant in the castle would swear you free,” whimpered his lordship. “Do you think I can’t see what silly asses124 they are about you? They hate me. I haven’t a friend in the world but my man, and he could be bought by anybody. You’d be a murderer all the same, though.”
“That would not disturb me for a moment.”
Bridgminster felt of his flabby muscles. His jaw125 fell, his eye rolled. “Do you mean to murder me?” he gasped126.
Ordham hesitated deliberately, never removing his eyes. “No,” he said finally. “It would be a nasty business. But I want that money.”
Bridgminster rose heavily. “Come into the office,” he said.
Ordham followed the lord of the manor127 into his shabby sanctuary128. The air was stale, the windows unopened. There was a bottle of Scotch129 whiskey on the table. Bridgminster sat down at the desk, and after some fumbling130 found his check book and wrote an order for a thousand pounds. The act seemed to restore his equilibrium131 for the moment. He tore out the check and flung it at his brother, who stood negligently132 beside the desk, but with nothing of indifference133 in the eyes into which he seemed to have thrown the whole weight of his brain.
“There!” he shouted. “Take it and be damned. And not another penny as long as I live—as long as I live—Oh! I’m off my feed! I’m off my feed!” He broke down, and flinging his head into his arms, wept aloud.
Ordham, who had had as much as he could endure, left the room and went up to his own. His forehead was damp and cold, he trembled slightly. He doubted if ever again he should be equal to a similar concentration of his faculties134, even over a demoralized drunkard; certainly he had no desire to repeat the hideous experience. Better marry and have done with it.
He did not go down to the terrace, but sat at his window until long after midnight. He felt sick and disgusted, little elated at the successful termination of his visit and the prospect of a year or two’s peace of mind. A thousand pounds seemed to him a poor compensation for his descent into those foul135 depths of human nature where the civilized136 brute137 slays138 with his mind even if he withhold139 his hand. It was his disposition140 to dwell on the fair and splendid surfaces, harming no man and ignoring the primal141 passions that crawled over their sands below. Had he, upon his majority, realized the expectations of his careless boyhood, it is doubtful if he ever would have experienced a mean, much less a criminal, impulse, for, although this may be said of many men, Ordham had true refinement142 of mind and a surpassing indolence. He was a fair sample of all that civilization has yet accomplished143 for its aristocracies, and had no desire even to be reminded of elemental instincts, much less to be their victim. And the wretched want of money, of a petty thousand pounds, had transformed himself and his brother into two aboriginals144. He might in time banish35 the sensations and impulses he had experienced to-night, but he doubted if he could ever forget the bestial145 degradation146 of the head of his house.
And what excuse for such deterioration147? His mind flew to Margarethe Styr, who had lifted herself from untold148 horrors to the very heights of character, intellect, fame. Where had she found that strength? What mysterious arrangement of particles had enabled her to rise from that abyss in which thousands of her sort burned out their brief lives? Was it genius alone? Genius availed little those that began life in the dark back-waters of society unless propelled by force of character, an indomitable will. She too, in her determined seclusion149, lived a selfish life of a sort, but at least she gave delight to thousands, she spent freely on promising150 young singers, and she was an example for all women, dreaming ambitiously, to follow. More, she was an inspiration. And she had come out of what? The picture was not to be invoked151, but the bare fact made the man downstairs, who had been born one of the inheritors of the earth, the more unfit to live.
He realized suddenly that he felt closer to Styr than he had ever felt before. And she was the one person on earth to whom he could confess the horrid152 experience of this night. He made up his mind to return to her at once, no matter where she was. They could meet in the various cities where she sang, as freely as in her home, although not, of course, as delightfully153.
Then his mind swung to the future, the future he must face upon his second return from Munich. He should never willingly exchange a syllable154 with his brother again. There was not the faintest hope that Bridgminster would increase his income. Nor was the man’s health, as far as he could judge, seriously impaired155. He might go mad and be chucked into an asylum156, but lunatics lived forever. True, he might fall on his gun, or break his neck on the hunting field, but these were mere71 contingencies157. Meanwhile, save for this passing relief, his own problem was as serious as ever. He should spend five times his present income in any capital to which he was accredited158, and he could think of nothing he would not rather do than force his mother into heavy sacrifices. Turn over the detestable question as often as he might, he could find but one solution. He had disliked the prospect of matrimony before he knew Margarethe Styr, and it was doubly hateful now. He did not want to marry her, nor could he spend his life dawdling159 at her skirts; but—well—once more he was forced to admit that he could not have everything in life he wanted at once. There should be that last long visit to Munich, however, and then he would return and swallow his medicine.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
creditors
|
|
| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
reminders
|
|
| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
dire
|
|
| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
luxurious
|
|
| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
pauper
|
|
| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
apprehensions
|
|
| 疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
remorseful
|
|
| adj.悔恨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
woes
|
|
| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
sterile
|
|
| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
rusty
|
|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
moor
|
|
| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
moors
|
|
| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
suppliant
|
|
| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
detested
|
|
| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
uncommonly
|
|
| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
propitiate
|
|
| v.慰解，劝解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
crest
|
|
| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
renaissance
|
|
| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
boor
|
|
| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
covertly
|
|
| adv.偷偷摸摸地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
banishing
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
banish
|
|
| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
outright
|
|
| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
ardently
|
|
| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
condescension
|
|
| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
lavish
|
|
| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
exacting
|
|
| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
suite
|
|
| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
frescoed
|
|
| 壁画( fresco的名词复数 )； 温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
sparsely
|
|
| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
naught
|
|
| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
consorts
|
|
| n.配偶( consort的名词复数 )；（演奏古典音乐的）一组乐师；一组古典乐器；一起v.结伴( consort的第三人称单数 )；交往；相称；调和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
lackeys
|
|
| n.听差( lackey的名词复数 )；男仆（通常穿制服）；卑躬屈膝的人；被待为奴仆的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
recluse
|
|
| n.隐居者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
suites
|
|
| n.套( suite的名词复数 )；一套房间；一套家具；一套公寓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
frescoes
|
|
| n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 )；温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
whitewashed
|
|
| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
racing
|
|
| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
sniffed
|
|
| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
savagely
|
|
| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
replete
|
|
| adj.饱满的，塞满的；n.贮蜜蚁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
nauseated
|
|
| adj.作呕的，厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
shuffling
|
|
| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
athletic
|
|
| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
vestige
|
|
| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
flicker
|
|
| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
reverting
|
|
| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
joints
|
|
| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
grunt
|
|
| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
shrilly
|
|
| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
extinction
|
|
| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
sarcastic
|
|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
inviting
|
|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
suavely
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
fleeting
|
|
| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
auspicious
|
|
| adj.吉利的；幸运的，吉兆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
fatiguing
|
|
| a.使人劳累的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
vagaries
|
|
| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
spires
|
|
| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
tenants
|
|
| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
futile
|
|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
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： |
|
|
|
|
106
entail
|
|
| vt.使承担，使成为必要，需要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
curtly
|
|
| adv.简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
contemplate
|
|
| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
hurled
|
|
| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
antipathies
|
|
| 反感( antipathy的名词复数 )； 引起反感的事物； 憎恶的对象； （在本性、倾向等方面的）不相容 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
diplomacy
|
|
| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
edifying
|
|
| adj.有教训意味的，教训性的，有益的v.开导，启发( edify的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
unaware
|
|
| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
flattened
|
|
| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
extricate
|
|
| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
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： |
|
|
|
|
120
cowered
|
|
| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
warding
|
|
| 监护，守护（ward的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
asses
|
|
| n. 驴，愚蠢的人，臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
manor
|
|
| n.庄园，领地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
sanctuary
|
|
| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
fumbling
|
|
| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
equilibrium
|
|
| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
negligently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
faculties
|
|
| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
slays
|
|
| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
withhold
|
|
| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
primal
|
|
| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
refinement
|
|
| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
aboriginals
|
|
| （某国的）公民( aboriginal的名词复数 )； 土著人特征； 土生动物（或植物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
bestial
|
|
| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
deterioration
|
|
| n.退化；恶化；变坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
untold
|
|
| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
seclusion
|
|
| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
invoked
|
|
| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
delightfully
|
|
| 大喜，欣然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
syllable
|
|
| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
impaired
|
|
| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
contingencies
|
|
| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
accredited
|
|
| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
dawdling
|
|
| adj.闲逛的，懒散的v.混（时间）( dawdle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |