Three years have wrought7 great changes in the plateau. The harvests have been abundant, and at a little distance from where the men sit purple grapes hang in great clusters from the vines which have been grown from cuttings of that solitary8 plant which overhung the branch on the July day when they first came down its bank with the captain of the troopers and Andy the guide.
The building of the mill has been a work of time, and it is not yet a month since Bromley emptied the first yellow grist into the flaring9 hopper. Two long years were spent in shaping the upper and the nether10 stones, and the new mill was rightly called "golden," for five thousand guineas from the mints of George the Fourth and good Queen Vic. were melted in the forge and beaten into straps11 and bolts and rings and bands for the wooden machinery12. Gold glistens13 in the joints14 of the dripping-wheel, and gleams in the darkness at the bottom of the hopper, where the half of a priceless cavalry15 boot-leg distributes the corn between the grinding-stones. The hopper itself is rimmed16 with gold, and the circular wooden box, rough hewn, that covers the stones is bolted and belted with the metal elsewhere called precious; and from the half-roof of oak shingles18 to the slab19 floor, gold without stint20 enriches and solidifies21 the structure. It plates the handle and caps the top of the pole that shifts the water on to the wheel, and the half-door which shuts out Tumbler the bear swings on golden hinges and shuts with a golden hasp.
THE GOLDEN MILL.
THE GOLDEN MILL.
Healthy living and abundance of food have rounded the lusty brown limbs of the three soldiers and charged their veins22 with good red blood; but alas23! in the midst of the abundance of nature and the opulence24 of the golden mill, by reason of their tattered25 and scant26 covering they are pitiful objects to look upon as they sit together in the sunlight. The smart uniforms with yellow facings are gone, and the long cavalry boots, and the jaunty27 caps with cross-sabers above the flat vizors; and so little remains28 of their former clothing that they might almost blush in the presence of the bear.
Lieutenant29 Coleman has some rags of blue flannel30 hanging about his broad shoulders, which flutter in the soft wind where they are not gathered under the waistband of a pair of new and badly made canvas trousers having the letters "U.S." half lost in the clumsy seam of the right leg and a great "A" on the back, which sufficiently31 indicates that they have been made from the stiff cloth of the tent called "A," and that, if required, they could easily stand alone. Such as they are, these trousers, on account of their newness and great durability32, seem to be the pride of the colony. They are certainly much smarter than Philip's, which are open with rents and patched with rags of various shades of blue, and tied about his legs with strings33, and finally hung from his bare, tanned shoulders, under the telescope, by a single strip of canvas.
All three of the men have hard, bare feet, and the tunic34 or gown of faded blue cloth which hangs from Bromley's neck shows by its age that the overcoat-capes which were sacrificed to make it were sacrificed long ago. This what-you-may-call-it is girded in at the waist by a coil of young grape-vine covered with tender green leaves, and fringed at bottom with mingled35 tatters of blue cloth and old yellow lining36. And this completes the costume of the dignified37 corporal who enlisted38 from Harvard in his junior year, except some ends of trousers which hang about his knees like embroidered39 pantalets.
With all their poverty of apparel, the persons of the three soldiers, and their clothing as far as practicable, are sweet and clean, which shows that at least two of them have lost none of that pride which prompted them to stay on the mountain, and which still keeps up their courage in the autumn of the good year '69. And now let us see what it is that ails40 Philip.
Many entries in the diary for the fifth summer on the mountain, which is just over, indicate that the conduct of Philip was shrouded41 in an atmosphere of mystery which his companions vainly tried to penetrate42. So early as March 12, 1869, we find it recorded:
"Philip spends all his unemployed43 time in observations with the telescope."
In the following April and May, entries touching44 on this subject are most frequent, and Lieutenant Coleman and George Bromley have many conversations about Welton's peculiar45 conduct, and record many evidences of a state of mind which causes them much annoyance46 and some amusement.
"May 12. Requested Philip to remove one of the bee gums to the new bench. Instead of complying with my request, he plugged the holes with grass, removed the stone and board from the top, and emptied a wooden bowl of lye into the hive, destroying both swarm47 and honey. After this act of vandalism he entered the house, took down the telescope, and, slinging48 it over his shoulder, walked away in the direction of the point of rocks, whistling a merry tune49 as he went."
At another time he was asked to set the Slow-John in motion to crack a mess of hominy, and instead of spreading the corn on the rock he covered that receptacle with a layer of eggs, and hung the bucket on the long arm of the lever.
Such evidences of a profound absence of mind were constantly occurring; and if they were not indications of his desire to return to the world, his secret observations with the telescope made it plain enough that he was absorbed in events outside the borders of Sherman Territory. If questioned, he assigned all sorts of imaginary reasons for his conduct, and at the same time he held himself more and more aloof50 from his companions, to wander about the plateau alone.
During the previous winter, Philip had reported that one of the four young girls removed by the Confederates at the time of the capture of the officers had reappeared in the vicinity of the burned house. This fact was soon forgotten by Coleman and Bromley, who were working like beavers51, pecking the stones for the mill; but to Philip it was an event of absorbing interest. Where were the others? What sufferings and what indignities52 had the returned wanderer endured in her long absence, and what hardships and dangers had not she braved to reach her native valley again? Gentle as Philip's nature was, he possessed53 in a marked degree the power to love and the hunger to be loved in return. Occasionally a man in a dungeon54 or on a desert island, or in the shadow of a scaffold, has devoted55 himself to a one-sided passion in circumstances as baffling as those that hedged in Philip.
The sight of this lonely girl wandering back to the blackened ruin in the deserted56 clearing furnished the dolorous57 lady his knightly58 fancy craved59. A speck60 in the distance, he drew her to his arms in the magic lens, and consoled her with such words of sympathy and endearment61 as his fancy prompted. In short, he had the old disease that makes a princess out of a poor girl in cow-skin shoes and a homespun frock, and had it all the worse that she kept her distance, as this one did. In the long days when storms interrupted his observations, or fog hung over the valley, he wrote tender letters to his princess on prepared leaves of his prayer-book, in which the grave responses of the Litany ran in faint lines, like a water-mark, under the burning words on the paper.
He watched Jones and the kindly62 neighbors (not including Shifless) clearing away the wreckage63 and rebuilding the Smith house between the sturdy stone chimneys. The new cabin was divided by an open covered passage, through which Philip could look with the glass to the sunlit field beyond, and watch the Princess Smith entering either of the doors opposite to each other in the sides of the passage.
This love of Philip's had sprung into being full fledged, without any stage of infant growth like an ordinary passion. Besides its unsuspecting object, it was ample enough to take under its wings her wandering kinsfolk, dead or alive, and included the cow with the soundless bell which came to be milked in the evening by the hands of the princess herself, and then to crop the grass and lie in the dust of the road until morning.
From the time when she waved him a banner of smoke at sunrise until the firelight reddened on the cabin window, Philip came to linger almost constantly on the rocks, to the neglect of his share in the labors65 of the little community. When planting-time came, and hands were in demand to spade up the soil, his companions for the first time secured and hid away the telescope. For a day—for two days—Philip was uneasy, going and coming by himself, doing no work, speaking to no one, scarcely partaking of food. At last the suspense66 and disappointment became unendurable, and going to Lieutenant Coleman, resting from his work in the shade of a spreading chestnut67, he threw himself at his feet and begged for the return of the telescope, revealing for the first time the nature of his infatuation. His lips once opened, poor Philip ran on in a rhapsody so fantastic and incoherent that the diseased state of his mind was at the same time made apparent.
In the diary for July 6, Lieutenant Coleman writes:
"An unspeakable calamity68 has fallen on the dwellers69 in Sherman Territory. Reason has been blotted70 out in the mind of our companion Philip, and now we are but two in the company of an amiable71 madman."
In view of Philip's malady72 Lieutenant Coleman felt it wise to humor him with the telescope, and to try the effect of more active sympathy by joining him in his observations.
After an eager examination of the clearing in the valley, "Gone! Gone!" he cried in a voice of despair. "You have driven away my princess! You hate her—you and the other one! You hate me! I'm not wise enough for your company—you and the other one. Give me back my princess—give me back—"
Taking the glass from his trembling hand, Coleman leveled it on the house in the clearing; and, happily, there stood the woman, midway of the passage, and on the point of advancing into the light.
"Take her back, dear Philip," he said, returning him the telescope. "We will never steal her again—I and the other one. See, there she is!"
With a quick movement Philip looked, and without a spoken word he fell a-laughing and crooning in his delight, in a way so unnatural73 and so uncanny that it was sadder to see than his excitement.
The only chance of reclaiming74 Philip seemed to be in the direction of feigning75 sympathy with and interest in his delusion76, trusting to time, in the absence of opposition77, to bring him back to reason.
Never after this exhibition of petulance78 on the rocks with Lieutenant Coleman did he show the slightest tendency to violence. When he came in on that particular evening, the lieutenant took his hand, and in a few friendly words told him how glad he was that all was well and that the lost was found, and ordered the flag run up in honor of the occasion.
Philip looked in a dazed way at the flag, showing that that emblem79 had lost its old power to stir him with enthusiasm. All that summer, when his expert advice was sorely needed, poor infatuated Philip took no more interest in the construction of the golden mill than he took in the spots on the moon. He was as ignorant of the affairs of Sherman Territory as the Princess Smith, that plain, ignorant working-girl in the valley, was of his existence.
So week after week, and month after month, through the long summer and into the sad autumn days, his companions kept a melancholy80 watch on Philip, who wandered to and fro on the mountain, with the telescope in its leathern case strapped over his bare shoulders, as we saw him first in the shadow of the golden mill.
Scantily81 as the three soldiers were clad at that time, they still had their long blue overcoats to protect them from the cold of winter, and broken shoes to cover their feet; and so in the short December days poor Philip, grown nervous and haggard with want of sleep, strapped the telescope outside his coat, and wandered about the point of rocks.
The morning of January 10, as it dawned on the three forgotten soldiers,—if it may be said to have dawned at all,—cast a singular light on the mountain-top. It had come on to thaw82, and the time of the winter avalanches83 was at hand. The sky overhead was of a colorless density84 which was no longer a dome85; and it seemed to Philip, as he stood on the rocks, as if he could stretch out his hand and touch it. Somewhere in its depth the sun was blotted out. Ragged86 clouds settled below the mountain-top, and then, borne on an imperceptible wind, a sea of fog swallowed up the clouds and blotted out the valley and the ranges beyond, even as it had blotted out the sun, leaving Sherman Territory an island drifting through space.
Philip closed the telescope with a moan, and replaced it in its leathern case. Even the trees on the island, and the rocks heaped in ledges87, grew gray and indistinct, and presently the thick mist resolved itself into a vertical88 rain falling gently on the melting snow. The strokes of an ax in the direction of the house had a muffled89 sound, like an automatic buoy90 far out at sea. Philip turned with another sigh, and took the familiar path in the direction of the ax, groping his way in the mist as a mountaineer feels the trail in the night with his feet.
The sound of the chopping ceases, and a great stillness broods on the mountain. Evidently the chopper has sought shelter from the rain. Brown leaves begin to show where the snow has disappeared on the path, so familiar to the feet of the wanderer that no sound should be needed to toll91 him home. But to-day, while his feet are on the mountain-top, his aching heart is in the valley. She has gone forever from the arms of the lover she never saw. He sees before him the wedding of yesterday, and in his gentleness he is incapable92 of hating even his successful rival. He is capable only of grief. Bitter tears fall on his breast and on his clasped hands. A great aching is in his throat, and a dimness in his suffused93 eyes. He throws his arms out and presses his temples with his clenched94 hands, and mutters with a choking sound, as he walks. He does not know that the rain is falling on his upturned face. He turns to go back. He changes his mind and advances. He is no longer in the path. He has no thought of where he goes. The blades of dead grass, and the dry seeds and fragments of leaves, cling thick upon the sodden95 surface of his tattered boots. He strides on absently over the ground, parting the fog and cooling his feverish96 face in the rain; and every step leads him nearer to the boulder97 face of the mountain where the great avalanches are getting ready to fall a thousand feet into the Cove17 below.
The events of yesterday go before him. He sees the procession come out of the church house, the women in one group and the men following in another, and he and she going hand in hand in the advance. He feels the sunshine of yesterday on his head and the misery98 in his heart.
Then it is night, and he sees the lights of the frolic at the cabin in the clearing. He is no longer the cheerful, happy Philip of other years, but a weakened, distracted shadow of that other Philip staggering on through the rain.
He has forgotten his soldier comrades and the meaning of his life on the mountain. He has forgotten even his patriotism99 and the existence of the flag with thirty-three stars. Sherman Territory is receding100 under his feet, and the grief that he has created for himself so industriously101 and nursed so patiently is leading him on.
A blotch102 of shadows to the right assumes the ghostly form of spreading trees, the naked branches blending softly in the blanket of the fog. The gnarled chestnuts103, that looked like berry-bushes while they waited at the deserted cabin on that first night for the moon to go down, give no voice of warning, and Philip comes steadily104 on, with the telescope strapped to his back and the load in his heart. Under his heedless feet the dead weeds and the sodden leaves give way to the slippery rock.
PHILIP ON THE EDGE OF THE PRECIPICE105.
PHILIP ON THE EDGE OF THE PRECIPICE.
For a moment the slender figure crossed by the telescope is massed against the mist overhanging the Cove. Then there is a despairing cry and a futile106 clutching at the cruel ledge64, and, in the silence that follows, the vertical rain, out of the blanket of the fog, goes on shivering its tiny lances on the slippery rocks.
点击收听单词发音
1 patriots | |
爱国者,爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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2 vow | |
n.誓(言),誓约;v.起誓,立誓 | |
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3 tawny | |
adj.茶色的,黄褐色的;n.黄褐色 | |
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4 flares | |
n.喇叭裤v.(使)闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 );(使)(船舷)外倾;(使)鼻孔张大;(使)(衣裙、酒杯等)呈喇叭形展开 | |
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5 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
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6 strapped | |
adj.用皮带捆住的,用皮带装饰的;身无分文的;缺钱;手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词);用皮带抽打;包扎;给…打绷带 | |
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7 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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8 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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9 flaring | |
a.火焰摇曳的,过份艳丽的 | |
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10 nether | |
adj.下部的,下面的;n.阴间;下层社会 | |
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11 straps | |
n.带子( strap的名词复数 );挎带;肩带;背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 );用皮带抽打;包扎;给…打绷带 | |
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12 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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13 glistens | |
v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的第三人称单数 ) | |
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14 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) | |
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15 cavalry | |
n.骑兵;轻装甲部队 | |
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16 rimmed | |
adj.有边缘的,有框的v.沿…边缘滚动;给…镶边 | |
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17 cove | |
n.小海湾,小峡谷 | |
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18 shingles | |
n.带状疱疹;(布满海边的)小圆石( shingle的名词复数 );屋顶板;木瓦(板);墙面板 | |
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19 slab | |
n.平板,厚的切片;v.切成厚板,以平板盖上 | |
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20 stint | |
v.节省,限制,停止;n.舍不得化,节约,限制;连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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21 solidifies | |
(使)成为固体,(使)变硬,(使)变得坚固( solidify的第三人称单数 ); 使团结一致; 充实,巩固; 具体化 | |
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22 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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23 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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24 opulence | |
n.财富,富裕 | |
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25 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
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26 scant | |
adj.不充分的,不足的;v.减缩,限制,忽略 | |
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27 jaunty | |
adj.愉快的,满足的;adv.心满意足地,洋洋得意地;n.心满意足;洋洋得意 | |
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28 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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29 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
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30 flannel | |
n.法兰绒;法兰绒衣服 | |
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31 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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32 durability | |
n.经久性,耐用性 | |
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33 strings | |
n.弦 | |
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34 tunic | |
n.束腰外衣 | |
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35 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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36 lining | |
n.衬里,衬料 | |
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37 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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38 enlisted | |
adj.应募入伍的v.(使)入伍, (使)参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 );获得(帮助或支持) | |
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39 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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40 ails | |
v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 );感到不舒服;处境困难;境况不佳 | |
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41 shrouded | |
v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 );保密 | |
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42 penetrate | |
v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
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43 unemployed | |
adj.失业的,没有工作的;未动用的,闲置的 | |
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44 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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45 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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46 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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47 swarm | |
n.(昆虫)等一大群;vi.成群飞舞;蜂拥而入 | |
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48 slinging | |
抛( sling的现在分词 ); 吊挂; 遣送; 押往 | |
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49 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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50 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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51 beavers | |
海狸( beaver的名词复数 ); 海狸皮毛; 棕灰色; 拼命工作的人 | |
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52 indignities | |
n.侮辱,轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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53 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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54 dungeon | |
n.地牢,土牢 | |
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55 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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56 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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57 dolorous | |
adj.悲伤的;忧愁的 | |
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58 knightly | |
adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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59 craved | |
渴望,热望( crave的过去式 ); 恳求,请求 | |
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60 speck | |
n.微粒,小污点,小斑点 | |
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61 endearment | |
n.表示亲爱的行为 | |
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62 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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63 wreckage | |
n.(失事飞机等的)残骸,破坏,毁坏 | |
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64 ledge | |
n.壁架,架状突出物;岩架,岩礁 | |
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65 labors | |
v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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66 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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67 chestnut | |
n.栗树,栗子 | |
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68 calamity | |
n.灾害,祸患,不幸事件 | |
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69 dwellers | |
n.居民,居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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70 blotted | |
涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
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71 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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72 malady | |
n.病,疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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73 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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74 reclaiming | |
v.开拓( reclaim的现在分词 );要求收回;从废料中回收(有用的材料);挽救 | |
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75 feigning | |
假装,伪装( feign的现在分词 ); 捏造(借口、理由等) | |
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76 delusion | |
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑 | |
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77 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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78 petulance | |
n.发脾气,生气,易怒,暴躁,性急 | |
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79 emblem | |
n.象征,标志;徽章 | |
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80 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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81 scantily | |
adv.缺乏地;不充足地;吝啬地;狭窄地 | |
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82 thaw | |
v.(使)融化,(使)变得友善;n.融化,缓和 | |
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83 avalanches | |
n.雪崩( avalanche的名词复数 ) | |
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84 density | |
n.密集,密度,浓度 | |
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85 dome | |
n.圆屋顶,拱顶 | |
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86 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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87 ledges | |
n.(墙壁,悬崖等)突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 );(平窄的)壁架;横档;(尤指)窗台 | |
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88 vertical | |
adj.垂直的,顶点的,纵向的;n.垂直物,垂直的位置 | |
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89 muffled | |
adj.(声音)被隔的;听不太清的;(衣服)裹严的;蒙住的v.压抑,捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 );用厚厚的衣帽包着(自己) | |
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90 buoy | |
n.浮标;救生圈;v.支持,鼓励 | |
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91 toll | |
n.过路(桥)费;损失,伤亡人数;v.敲(钟) | |
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92 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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93 suffused | |
v.(指颜色、水气等)弥漫于,布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95 sodden | |
adj.浑身湿透的;v.使浸透;使呆头呆脑 | |
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96 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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97 boulder | |
n.巨砾;卵石,圆石 | |
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98 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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99 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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100 receding | |
v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 );向后倾斜;自原处后退或避开别人的注视;尤指问题 | |
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101 industriously | |
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102 blotch | |
n.大斑点;红斑点;v.使沾上污渍,弄脏 | |
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103 chestnuts | |
n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 );栗色;栗树;栗色马 | |
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104 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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105 precipice | |
n.悬崖,危急的处境 | |
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106 futile | |
adj.无效的,无用的,无希望的 | |
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