The Figure against the Sky
When the whole Egdon concourse had left the site of the bonfire to its accustomed loneliness, a closely wrapped female figure approached the barrow from that quarter of the heath in which the little fire lay. Had the reddleman been watching he might have recognized her as the woman who had first stood there so singularly, and vanished at the approach of strangers. She ascended1 to her old position at the top, where the red coals of the perishing fire greeted her like living eyes in the corpse2 of day. There she stood still around her stretching the vast night atmosphere, whose incomplete darkness in comparison with the total darkness of the heath below it might have represented a venial3 beside a mortal sin.
That she was tall and straight in build, that she was lady-like in her movements, was all that could be learnt of her just now, her form being wrapped in a shawl folded in the old cornerwise fashion, and her head in a large kerchief, a protection not superfluous4 at this hour and place. Her back was towards the wind, which blew from the northwest; but whether she had avoided that aspect because of the chilly5 gusts6 which played about her exceptional position, or because her interest lay in the southeast, did not at first appear.
Her reason for standing8 so dead still as the pivot9 of this circle of heath-country was just as obscure. Her extraordinary fixity, her conspicuous10 loneliness, her heedlessness of night, betokened11 among other things an utter absence of fear. A tract12 of country unaltered from that sinister13 condition which made Caesar anxious every year to get clear of its glooms before the autumnal equinox, a kind of landscape and weather which leads travellers from the South to describe our island as Homer's Cimmerian land, was not, on the face of it, friendly to women.
It might reasonably have been supposed that she was listening to the wind, which rose somewhat as the night advanced, and laid hold of the attention. The wind, indeed, seemed made for the scene, as the scene seemed made for the hour. Part of its tone was quite special; what was heard there could be heard nowhere else. Gusts in innumerable series followed each other from the northwest, and when each one of them raced past the sound of its progress resolved into three. Treble, tenor14, and bass15 notes were to be found therein. The general ricochet of the whole over pits and prominences16 had the gravest pitch of the chime. Next there could be heard the baritone buzz of a holly17 tree. Below these in force, above them in pitch, a dwindled18 voice strove hard at a husky tune19, which was the peculiar20 local sound alluded21 to. Thinner and less immediately traceable than the other two, it was far more impressive than either. In it lay what may be called the linguistic22 peculiarity23 of the heath; and being audible nowhere on earth off a heath, it afforded a shadow of reason for the woman's tenseness, which continued as unbroken as ever.
Throughout the blowing of these plaintive24 November winds that note bore a great resemblance to the ruins of human song which remain to the throat of fourscore and ten. It was a worn whisper, dry and papery, and it brushed so distinctly across the ear that, by the accustomed, the material minutiae25 in which it originated could be realized as by touch. It was the united products of infinitesimal vegetable causes, and these were neither stems, leaves, fruit, blades, prickles, lichen26, nor moss27.
They were the mummied heathbells of the past summer, originally tender and purple, now washed colourless by Michaelmas rains, and dried to dead skins by October suns. So low was an individual sound from these that a combination of hundreds only just emerged from silence, and the myriads28 of the whole declivity29 reached the woman's ear but as a shrivelled and intermittent30 recitative. Yet scarcely a single accent among the many afloat tonight could have such power to impress a listener with thoughts of its origin. One inwardly saw the infinity31 of those combined multitudes; and perceived that each of the tiny trumpets32 was seized on entered, scoured33 and emerged from by the wind as thoroughly34 as if it were as vast as a crater35.
"The spirit moved them." A meaning of the phrase forced itself upon the attention; and an emotional listener's fetichistic mood might have ended in one of more advanced quality. It was not, after all, that the left-hand expanse of old blooms spoke36, or the right-hand, or those of the slope in front; but it was the single person of something else speaking through each at once.
Suddenly, on the barrow, there mingled37 with all this wild rhetoric38 of night a sound which modulated39 so naturally into the rest that its beginning and ending were hardly to be distinguished40. The bluffs41, and the bushes, and the heather-bells had broken silence; at last, so did the woman; and her articulation42 was but as another phrase of the same discourse43 as theirs. Thrown out on the winds it became twined in with them, and with them it flew away.
What she uttered was a lengthened44 sighing, apparently45 at something in her mind which had led to her presence here. There was a spasmodic abandonment about it as if, in allowing herself to utter the sound. the woman's brain had authorized46 what it could not regulate. One point was evident in this; that she had been existing in a suppressed state, and not in one of languor47, or stagnation48.
Far away down the valley the faint shine from the window of the inn still lasted on; and a few additional moments proved that the window, or what was within it, had more to do with the woman's sigh than had either her own actions or the scene immediately around. She lifted her left hand, which held a closed telescope. This she rapidly extended, as if she were well accustomed to the operation, and raising it to her eye directed it towards the light beaming from the inn.
The handkerchief which had hooded49 her head was now a little thrown back, her face being somewhat elevated. A profile was visible against the dull monochrome of cloud around her; and it was as though side shadows from the features of Sappho and Mrs. Siddons had converged50 upwards51 from the tomb to form an image like neither but suggesting both. This, however, was mere52 superficiality. In respect of character a face may make certain admissions by its outline; but it fully53 confesses only in its changes. So much is this the case that what is called the play of the features often helps more in understanding a man or woman than the earnest labours of all the other members together. Thus the night revealed little of her whose form it was embracing, for the mobile parts of her countenance54 could not be seen.
At last she gave up her spying attitude, closed the telescope, and turned to the decaying embers. From these no appreciable55 beams now radiated, except when a more than usually smart gust7 brushed over their faces and raised a fitful glow which came and went like the blush of a girl. She stooped over the silent circle, and selecting from the brands a piece of stick which bore the largest live coal at its end, brought it to where she had been standing before.
She held the brand to the ground, blowing the red coal with her mouth at the same time; till it faintly illuminated56 the sod, and revealed a small object, which turned out to be an hourglass, though she wore a watch. She blew long enough to show that the sand had all slipped through.
"Ah!" she said, as if surprised.
The light raised by her breath had been very fitful, and a momentary57 irradiation of flesh was all that it had disclosed of her face. That consisted of two matchless lips and a cheek only, her head being still enveloped58. She threw away the stick, took the glass in her hand, the telescope under her arm, and moved on.
Along the ridge59 ran a faint foot-track, which the lady followed. Those who knew it well called it a path; and, while a mere visitor would have passed it unnoticed even by day, the regular haunters of the heath were at no loss for it at midnight. The whole secret of following these incipient60 paths, when there was not light enough in the atmosphere to show a turnpike road, lay in the development of the sense of touch in the feet, which comes with years of night-rambling in little-trodden spots. To a walker practised in such places a difference between impact on maiden61 herbage, and on the crippled stalks of a slight footway, is perceptible through the thickest boot or shoe.
The solitary62 figure who walked this beat took no notice of the windy tune still played on the dead heathbells. She did not turn her head to look at a group of dark creatures further on, who fled from her presence as she skirted a ravine where they fed. They were about a score of the small wild ponies63 known as heath-croppers. They roamed at large on the undulations of Egdon, but in numbers too few to detract much from the solitude64.
The pedestrian noticed nothing just now, and a clue to her abstraction was afforded by a trivial incident. A bramble caught hold of her skirt, and checked her progress. Instead of putting it off and hastening along, she yielded herself up to the pull, and stood passively still. When she began to extricate65 herself it was by turning round and round, and so unwinding the prickly switch. She was in a desponding reverie.
Her course was in the direction of the small undying fire which had drawn66 the attention of the men on Rainbarrow and of Wildeve in the valley below. A faint illumination from its rays began to glow upon her face, and the fire soon revealed itself to be lit, not on the level ground, but on a salient corner or redan of earth, at the junction67 of two converging68 bank fences. Outside was a ditch, dry except immediately under the fire, where there was a large pool, bearded all round by heather and rushes. In the smooth water of the pool the fire appeared upside down.
The banks meeting behind were bare of a hedge, save such as was formed by disconnected tufts of furze, standing upon stems along the top, like impaled69 heads above a city wall. A white mast, fitted up with spars and other nautical70 tackle, could be seen rising against the dark clouds whenever the flames played brightly enough to reach it. Altogether the scene had much the appearance of a fortification upon which had been kindled71 a beacon72 fire.
Nobody was visible; but ever and anon a whitish something moved above the bank from behind, and vanished again. This was a small human hand, in the act of lifting pieces of fuel into the fire, but for all that could be seen the hand, like that which troubled Belshazzar, was there alone. Occasionally an ember rolled off the bank, and dropped with a hiss73 into the pool.
At one side of the pool rough steps built of clods enabled everyone who wished to do so to mount the bank; which the woman did. Within was a paddock in an uncultivated state, though bearing evidence of having once been tilled; but the heath and fern had insidiously74 crept in, and were reasserting their old supremacy75. Further ahead were dimly visible an irregular dwelling-house, garden, and outbuildings, backed by a clump76 of firs.
The young lady--for youth had revealed its presence in her buoyant bound up the bank--walked along the top instead of descending77 inside, and came to the corner where the fire was burning. One reason for the permanence of the blaze was now manifest: the fuel consisted of hard pieces of wood, cleft78 and sawn--the knotty79 boles of old thorn trees which grew in twos and threes about the hillsides. A yet unconsumed pile of these lay in the inner angle of the bank; and from this corner the upturned face of a little boy greeted her eves. He was dilatorily80 throwing up a piece of wood into the fire every now and then, a business which seemed to have engaged him a considerable part of the evening, for his face was somewhat weary.
"I am glad you have come, Miss Eustacia," he said, with a sigh of relief. "I don't like biding81 by myself."
"Nonsense. I have only been a little way for a walk. I have been gone only twenty minutes."
"It seemed long," murmured the sad boy. "And you have been so many times."
"Why, I thought you would be pleased to have a bonfire. Are you not much obliged to me for making you one?"
"Yes; but there's nobody here to play wi' me."
"I suppose nobody has come while I've been away?"
"Nobody except your grandfather--he looked out of doors once for 'ee. I told him you were walking round upon the hill to look at the other bonfires."
"A good boy."
"I think I hear him coming again, miss."
An old man came into the remoter light of the fire from the direction of the homestead. He was the same who had overtaken the reddleman on the road that afternoon. He looked wistfully to the top of the bank at the woman who stood there, and his teeth, which were quite unimpaired, showed like parian from his parted lips.
"When are you coming indoors, Eustacia?" he asked. "'Tis almost bedtime. I've been home these two hours, and am tired out. Surely 'tis somewhat childish of you to stay out playing at bonfires so long, and wasting such fuel. My precious thorn roots, the rarest of all firing, that I laid by on purpose for Christmas--you have burnt 'em nearly all!"
"I promised Johnny a bonfire, and it pleases him not to let it go out just yet," said Eustacia, in a way which told at once that she was absolute queen here. "Grandfather, you go in to bed. I shall follow you soon. You like the fire, don't you, Johnny?"
The boy looked up doubtfully at her and murmured, "I don't think I want it any longer."
Her grandfather had turned back again, and did not hear the boy's reply. As soon as the white-haired man had vanished she said in a tone of pique82 to the child, "Ungrateful little boy, how can you contradict me? Never shall you have a bonfire again unless you keep it up now. Come, tell me you like to do things for me, and don't deny it."
The repressed child said, "Yes, I do, miss," and continued to stir the fire perfunctorily.
"Stay a little longer and I will give you a crooked83 six-pence," said Eustacia, more gently. "Put in one piece of wood every two or three minutes, but not too much at once. I am going to walk along the ridge a little longer, but I shall keep on coming to you. And if you hear a frog jump into the pond with a flounce like a stone thrown in, be sure you run and tell me, because it is a sign of rain."
"Yes, Eustacia."
"Miss Vye, sir."
"Miss Vy--stacia."
"That will do. Now put in one stick more."
The little slave went on feeding the fire as before. He seemed a mere automaton84, galvanized into moving and speaking by the wayward Eustacia's will. He might have been the brass85 statue which Albertus Magnus is said to have animated86 just so far as to make it chatter87, and move, and be his servant.
Before going on her walk again the young girl stood still on the bank for a few instants and listened. It was to the full as lonely a place as Rainbarrow, though at rather a lower level; and it was more sheltered from wind and weather on account of the few firs to the north. The bank which enclosed the homestead, and protected it from the lawless state of the world without, was formed of thick square clods, dug from the ditch on the outside, and built up with a slight batter88 or incline, which forms no slight defense89 where hedges will not grow because of the wind and the wilderness90, and where wall materials are unattainable. Otherwise the situation was quite open, commanding the whole length of the valley which reached to the river behind Wildeve's house. High above this to the right, and much nearer thitherward than the Quiet Woman Inn, the blurred91 contour of Rainbarrow obstructed92 the sky.
After her attentive93 survey of the wild slopes and hollow ravines a gesture of impatience94 escaped Eustacia. She vented95 petulant96 words every now and then, but there were sighs between her words, and sudden listenings between her sighs. Descending from her perch97 she again sauntered off towards Rainbarrow, though this time she did not go the whole way.
Twice she reappeared at intervals98 of a few minutes and each time she said-
"Not any flounce into the pond yet, little man?"
"No, Miss Eustacia," the child replied.
"Well," she said at last, "I shall soon be going in, and then I will give you the crooked sixpence, and let you go home."
"Thank'ee, Miss Eustacia," said the tired stoker, breathing more easily. And Eustacia again strolled away from the fire, but this time not towards Rainbarrow. She skirted the bank and went round to the wicket before the house, where she stood motionless, looking at the scene.
Fifty yards off rose the corner of the two converging banks, with the fire upon it; within the bank, lifting up to the fire one stick at a time, just as before, the figure of the little child. She idly watched him as he occasionally climbed up in the nook of the bank and stood beside the brands. The wind blew the smoke, and the child's hair, and the corner of his pinafore, all in the same direction; the breeze died, and the pinafore and hair lay still, and the smoke went up straight.
While Eustacia looked on from this distance the boy's form visibly started--he slid down the bank and ran across towards the white gate.
"Well?" said Eustacia.
"A hopfrog have jumped into the pond. Yes, I heard 'en!"
"Then it is going to rain, and you had better go home. You will not be afraid?" She spoke hurriedly, as if her heart had leapt into her throat at the boy's words.
"No, because I shall hae the crooked sixpence."
"Yes. here it is. Now run as fast as you can--not that way--through the garden here. No other boy in the heath has had such a bonfire as yours."
The boy, who clearly had had too much of a good thing, marched away into the shadows with alacrity99. When he was gone Eustacia, leaving her telescope and hourglass by the gate, brushed forward from the wicket towards the angle of the bank, under the fire.
Here, screened by the outwork, she waited. In a few moments a splash was audible from the pond outside. Had the child been there he would have said that a second frog had jumped in; but by most people the sound would have been likened to the fall of a stone into the water. Eustacia stepped upon the bank.
"Yes?" she said, and held her breath.
Thereupon the contour of a man became dimly visible against the low-reaching sky over the valley, beyond the outer margin100 of the pool. He came round it and leapt upon the bank beside her. A low laugh escaped her--the third utterance101 which the girl had indulged in tonight. The first, when she stood upon Rainbarrow, had expressed anxiety; the second, on the ridge, had expressed impatience; the present was one of triumphant102 pleasure. She let her joyous103 eyes rest upon him without speaking, as upon some wondrous104 thing she had created out of chaos105.
"I have come," said the man, who was Wildeve. "You give me no peace. Why do you not leave me alone? I have seen your bonfire all the evening." The words were not without emotion, and retained their level tone as if by a careful equipoise between imminent106 extremes.
At this unexpectedly repressing manner in her lover the girl seemed to repress herself also. "Of course you have seen my fire," she answered with languid calmness, artificially maintained. "Why shouldn't I have a bonfire on the Fifth of November, like other denizens107 of the heath?"
"I knew it was meant for me."
"How did you know it? I have had no word with you since you--you chose her, and walked about with her, and deserted108 me entirely109, as if I had never been yours life and soul so irretrievably!"
"Eustacia! could I forget that last autumn at this same day of the month and at this same place you lighted exactly such a fire as a signal for me to come and see you? Why should there have been a bonfire again by Captain Vye's house if not for the same purpose?"
"Yes, yes--I own it," she cried under her breath, with a drowsy110 fervour of manner and tone which was quite peculiar to her. "Don't begin speaking to me as you did, Damon; you will drive me to say words I would not wish to say to you. I had given you up, and resolved not to think of you any more; and then I heard the news, and I came out and got the fire ready because I thought that you had been faithful to me."
"What have you heard to make you think that?" said Wildeve, astonished.
"That you did not marry her!" she murmured exultingly111. "And I knew it was because you loved me best, and couldn't do it....Damon, you have been cruel to me to go away, and I have said I would never forgive you. I do not think I can forgive you entirely, even now--it is too much for a woman of any spirit to quite overlook."
"If I had known you wished to call me up here only to reproach me, I wouldn't have come."
"But I don't mind it, and I do forgive you now that you have not married her, and have come back to me!"
"Who told you that I had not married her?"
"My grandfather. He took a long walk today, and as he was coming home he overtook some person who told him of a broken-off wedding--he thought it might be yours, and I knew it was."
"Does anybody else know?"
"I suppose not. Now Damon, do you see why I lit my signal fire? You did not think I would have lit it if I had imagined you to have become the husband of this woman. It is insulting my pride to suppose that."
Wildeve was silent; it was evident that he had supposed as much.
"Did you indeed think I believed you were married?" she again demanded earnestly. "Then you wronged me; and upon my life and heart I can hardly bear to recognize that you have such ill thoughts of me! Damon, you are not worthy112 of me--I see it, and yet I love you. Never mind, let it go--I must bear your mean opinion as best I may....It is true, is it not," she added with ill-concealed anxiety, on his making no demonstration114, "that you could not bring yourself to give me up, and are still going to love me best of all?"
"Yes; or why should I have come?" he said touchily115. "Not that fidelity116 will be any great merit in me after your kind speech about my unworthiness, which should have been said by myself if by anybody, and comes with an ill grace from you. However, the curse of inflammability is upon me, and I must live under it, and take any snub from a woman. It has brought me down from engineering to innkeeping--what lower stage it has in store for me I have yet to learn." He continued to look upon her gloomily.
She seized the moment, and throwing back the shawl so that the firelight shone full upon her face and throat, said with a smile, "Have you seen anything better than that in your travels?"
Eustacia was not one to commit herself to such a position without good ground. He said quietly, "No."
"Not even on the shoulders of Thomasin?"
"Thomasin is a pleasing and innocent woman."
"That's nothing to do with it," she cried with quick passionateness117. "We will leave her out; there are only you and me now to think of." After a long look at him she resumed with the old quiescent118 warmth, "Must I go on weakly confessing to you things a woman ought to conceal113; and own that no words can express how gloomy I have been because of that dreadful belief I held till two hours ago--that you had quite deserted me?"
"I am sorry I caused you that pain."
"But perhaps it is not wholly because of you that I get gloomy," she archly added. "It is in my nature to feel like that. It was born in my blood, I suppose."
"Hypochondriasis."
"Or else it was coming into this wild heath. I was happy enough at Budmouth. O the times, O the days at Budmouth! But Egdon will be brighter again now."
"I hope it will," said Wildeve moodily119. "Do you know the consequence of this recall to me, my old darling? I shall come to see you again as before, at Rainbarrow."
"Of course you will."
"And yet I declare that until I got here tonight I intended, after this one good-bye, never to meet you again."
"I don't thank you for that," she said, turning away, while indignation spread through her like subterranean120 heat. "You may come again to Rainbarrow if you like, but you won't see me; and you may call, but I shall not listen; and you may tempt121 me, but I won't give myself to you any more."
"You have said as much before, sweet; but such natures as yours don't so easily adhere to their words. Neither, for the matter of that, do such natures as mine."
"This is the pleasure I have won by my trouble," she whispered bitterly. "Why did I try to recall you? Damon, a strange warring takes place in my mind occasionally. I think when I become calm after you woundings, 'Do I embrace a cloud of common fog after all?' You are a chameleon122, and now you are at your worst colour. Go home, or I shall hate you!"
He looked absently towards Rainbarrow while one might have counted twenty, and said, as if he did not much mind all this, "Yes, I will go home. Do you mean to see me again?"
"If you own to me that the wedding is broken off because you love me best."
"I don't think it would be good policy," said Wildeve, smiling. "You would get to know the extent of your power too clearly."
"But tell me!"
"You know."
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know. I prefer not to speak of her to you. I have not yet married her; I have come in obedience123 to your call. That is enough."
"I merely lit that fire because I was dull, and thought I would get a little excitement by calling you up and triumphing over you as the Witch of Endor called up Samuel. I determined124 you should come; and you have come! I have shown my power. A mile and half hither, and a mile and half back again to your home--three miles in the dark for me. Have I not shown my power?"
He shook his head at her. "I know you too well, my Eustacia; I know you too well. There isn't a note in you which I don't know; and that hot little bosom125 couldn't play such a cold-blooded trick to save its life. I saw a woman on Rainbarrow at dusk looking down towards my house. I think I drew out you before you drew out me."
The revived embers of an old passion glowed clearly in Wildeve now; and he leant forward as if about to put his face towards her cheek.
"O no," she said, intractably moving to the other side of the decayed fire. "What did you mean by that?"
"Perhaps I may kiss your hand?"
"No, you may not."
"Then I may shake your hand?"
"No."
"Then I wish you good night without caring for either. Good-bye, good-bye."
She returned no answer, and with the bow of a dancingmaster he vanished on the other side of the pool as he had come.
Eustacia sighed--it was no fragile maiden sigh, but a sigh which shook her like a shiver. Whenever a flash of reason darted126 like an electric light upon her lover-as it sometimes would--and showed his imperfections, she shivered thus. But it was over in a second, and she loved on. She knew that he trifled with her; but she loved on. She scattered127 the half-burnt brands, went indoors immediately, and up to her bedroom without a light. Amid the rustles128 which denoted her to be undressing in the darkness other heavy breaths frequently came; and the same kind of shudder129 occasionally moved through her when, ten minutes later, she lay on her bed asleep.
收听单词发音 |
1
ascended
|
|
| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
venial
|
|
| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
superfluous
|
|
| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
chilly
|
|
| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
gusts
|
|
| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
gust
|
|
| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
pivot
|
|
| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
betokened
|
|
| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
tract
|
|
| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
tenor
|
|
| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bass
|
|
| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
prominences
|
|
| n.织物中凸起的部分；声望( prominence的名词复数 )；突出；重要；要事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
holly
|
|
| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
dwindled
|
|
| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
tune
|
|
| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
alluded
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
linguistic
|
|
| adj.语言的，语言学的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
peculiarity
|
|
| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
plaintive
|
|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
minutiae
|
|
| n.微小的细节，细枝末节；（常复数）细节，小事( minutia的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
lichen
|
|
| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
moss
|
|
| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
myriads
|
|
| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
declivity
|
|
| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
intermittent
|
|
| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
infinity
|
|
| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
trumpets
|
|
| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
scoured
|
|
| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
crater
|
|
| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
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： |
|
|
|
|
37
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
rhetoric
|
|
| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
modulated
|
|
| 已调整[制]的，被调的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
bluffs
|
|
| 恐吓( bluff的名词复数 )； 悬崖； 峭壁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
articulation
|
|
| n.（清楚的）发音；清晰度，咬合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
lengthened
|
|
| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
authorized
|
|
| a.委任的，许可的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
languor
|
|
| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
stagnation
|
|
| n. 停滞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
hooded
|
|
| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
converged
|
|
| v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的过去式 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
appreciable
|
|
| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
incipient
|
|
| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
ponies
|
|
| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
extricate
|
|
| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
junction
|
|
| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
converging
|
|
| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
impaled
|
|
| 钉在尖桩上( impale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
nautical
|
|
| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
kindled
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
beacon
|
|
| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
hiss
|
|
| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
insidiously
|
|
| 潜在地，隐伏地，阴险地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
supremacy
|
|
| n.至上；至高权力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
clump
|
|
| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
descending
|
|
| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
cleft
|
|
| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
knotty
|
|
| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
dilatorily
|
|
| adv.慢吞吞地，迟缓地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
biding
|
|
| v.等待，停留( bide的现在分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
pique
|
|
| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
automaton
|
|
| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
batter
|
|
| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
defense
|
|
| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
blurred
|
|
| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
obstructed
|
|
| 阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
vented
|
|
| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
petulant
|
|
| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
perch
|
|
| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
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： |
|
|
|
|
99
alacrity
|
|
| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
joyous
|
|
| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
wondrous
|
|
| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
chaos
|
|
| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
imminent
|
|
| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
denizens
|
|
| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
drowsy
|
|
| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
exultingly
|
|
| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
touchily
|
|
| adv.易动气地；过分敏感地；小心眼地；难以取悦地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
passionateness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
118
quiescent
|
|
| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
moodily
|
|
| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
subterranean
|
|
| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
tempt
|
|
| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
chameleon
|
|
| n.变色龙，蜥蜴；善变之人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
rustles
|
|
| n.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的名词复数 )v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |