Little more than a year ago, however, the good doctor had been forced to succumb4, in his own person, to the two powerful foes5 that he had spent his lifetime in battling for others,—namely, disease and death. His professional income necessarily dying with him, only a moderate provision remained for his family; enough to enable them to eat the bread of carefulness, but not sufficient to maintain them in the degree of easy comfort and luxury to which they had long been accustomed. In due time changes and sacrifices became necessary; among which may be mentioned the letting of the vacant medical office to Doctor Remy, and the subsequent handing over of other dispensable rooms to the occupancy of Bergan Arling.
Before this last arrangement was effected, however, Astra had gone to New York, to see what could be done to make her art productive of something besides pleasure. That had been a very bright moment, amid the gloom and straitness following upon her father's death, wherein it had occurred to her that she possessed7 in brain and fingers, in her wonderful power of kneading together thought and matter into beautiful and significant shapes, the means of restoring to her mother the ease and independence which had been impaired8 by her father's death. Never had her art looked so divine as when it cast aside the soft drapery of personal gratifications and aims, and stood forth9 a young athlete, eager for strife10, a sturdy son of toil11, ready to earn its bread by the sweat of its brow.
Not that Astra expected to win success all at once, or quickly. There was a vast deal of practicality underlying12 her imaginativeness and enthusiasm,—the solid foundation which is needed to make genius available. She foresaw (no one more clearly) the difficulties, delays, and disappointments, before her. But what of that? She was young; she was in good health; she had a courageous13 heart, an energetic temperament14, and buoyant spirits; she could afford to work and wait. Her tastes were simple, her wants, outside the domain15 of art, few,—and, even there, deficiencies could be supplied, in a measure, by severe study and closer application. If the superior masters, the sojourn16 in Europe, to which she had looked forward, were denied her, she was not going to break her heart nor cloud her brow, about it. God, who had given her talent, would not leave it without due means of increase. Her duty was to work, to be brave, and to be cheerful; all else would come, in good time.
This, then, was the sort of a person who had now come to dwell under the same roof with Bergan; and who straightway set to work in her studio, which was divided from his office only by the airy breadth of the main hall. Of course, he saw her frequently; her art afforded them broader, freer ground upon which to meet than is always open to man and woman. Not that the proprieties18 need have been scandalized had Miss Lyte's occupation been the embroidering19 of roses in worsted, instead of the modelling of figures in clay; for the door between studio and sitting-room20 stood always open, and Mrs. Lyte, from her work-table, frequently threw a passing remark into the conversation that came so freely to her ears; while Cathie continually flashed in and out like a fire-fly or a humming bird. But the worsted roses would scarcely have constituted a subject of mutual21 interest for the young man and woman, as did the clay figures; nor would the talks over them have run so naturally, and almost inevitably22, upon the same elevated and impersonal23 plane of thought. Setting the worker entirely24 aside, Bergan could not fail to be deeply interested in the work. He liked to understand its process, and watch its progress. It was wonderful to him to see the dull clay slowly taking the shape of the viewless, informing thought. He went back to his office, not only with a deeper comprehension of the respective functions of mind and matter, but with a wider view of their scope and influence. Words, he saw, were also a kind of plastic material, through which thought revealed itself to eye and ear. He began to study expression, as well as meaning; he selected words, and constructed sentences, with greater care and conscientiousness25; he saw that, since thought could only become visible through form, form was a matter of more moment, and involved a stricter duty, than he had hitherto believed.
But if Bergan learned so much from the work, it must be acknowledged that he also learned something from the worker. She was so loyal to her art and her aims. She wrought26 with such cheerful diligence, such unwasting enthusiasm, and such thorough conscientiousness. Having done the best of which she was capable, she maintained such a steady front against the assaults of depression and discouragement, deploying27 their forces upon the wide space between her conception and her achievement. If she failed, she cheerfully declared that the failure had taught her more than any success could have done, and commenced anew; if she succeeded, she was soberly glad, as having gained an inch or two of the field,—over which, however, it might be long ere she could wave the banner of victory. The spectacle could not fail to have a healthful influence upon Bergan, inasmuch as Miss Lyte's patrons were not more numerous than his clients; he saw that she kept her face bright, and her spirit brave, under very real trials of limitation, delay, and disappointment. He always went to his own work with a stouter28 heart and steadier purpose, after watching hers for some moments; whether she merely retouched and revised the preceding day's labor29, with minute, inexhaustible patience; or quietly gathered up the fragments of a model overtaken by sudden disaster; or moulded moist clay, with rapt face, eyes lit by a deep, inward fire, and fingers so swift and forceful as to suggest the guidance of some unseen power. In this last case, he did not disturb her by so much as a word. He only looked on in silence until her white heat of inspiration had kindled30 something like a kindred glow in his own mind; when he noiselessly stole out, to plunge31 into his own work with renewed ardor32. We may well believe that, just at the moment when Bergan's lonely life and dim prospects33 were beginning to tell upon his spirits and energies, it was not without providential design that an object so inspiring and heartening as Astra Lyte in her studio, was placed before his eyes.
Nor was the benefit wholly on one side. Astra found real help and cheer in Bergan's intelligent interest and hearty34 appreciation35. Moreover, he was quick to see whenever mechanical contrivance or manly36 strength could come to her aid; and he knew how to furnish both, in fit and delicate measure. His perceptions were scarcely less nice than her own; he knew just when to extend the helping37 hand, and when to withdraw it; neither hesitation38 nor officiousness marred39 his aid.
But Bergan was not the only visitor at the studio. Doctor Remy's straight-featured, intellectual face was often to be seen there, with its chill and satirical expression half-obliterated by a look of kindly40 interest. And his aid was not less ready than Bergan's, and, perhaps, more valuable. Hints and criticisms, suggested by his profound anatomical and physiological41 knowledge, often came just in time to prevent a blunder, or clinch42 a success.
So time rolled on, for another month or two, doing much for the growth of acquaintance, and even a degree of intimacy43, between the artist, the lawyer, and the physician, thus thrown together under one roof, but very little for the pecuniary44 advantage of the two former. Astra had received a commission for a small portrait-medallion; Bergan had been employed to draw up a few law-papers. The two often exchanged good-humored jests upon the manifest ability of the world to get on without their help. But it was a much more serious matter for the young man than the maiden45. Astra had understood that, Art being a luxury, it must first create the demand which it meant to supply; but Bergan knew well that law was neither unknown nor unsought, in Berganton. Courts were held, and lawyers gathered, there; it was strange that so little of the work came to his hands. Meanwhile, the funds with which he had been supplied, on leaving home, were rapidly melting away; and he was unwilling46 to apply for more, both because he desired to be self-dependent, and disliked to admit failure.
He was sitting in his office, one afternoon, dividing his thoughts between his books and the unpromising state of his affairs, when there came a cautious knock at the door.
"Come in!" he called out, wondering if his long-expected client were about to present himself.
First, appeared a black hand and a nondescript hat; next, a woolly head and a wide, delighted grin; finally, a loose, slouching form, in a shapeless suit of plantation47 gray. No client was this. It was only his would-be property, Brick.
Perhaps Bergan's disappointment showed itself in his countenance48, for the negro hastily began to explain the reason of his coming.
"Gramma Rue49, she sent me, massa. She don't feel right smart, dese yere times, an' she say she tink her days drawin' to her close, an' she's mighty50 anxious to see you, massa, 'fore6 she done gone. So she tole me to ax you, could n' you come to yer ole room in de Hall, some ob dese yere ebenins, jes' so's to gib her a chance to talk wid you. Ole massa need n' know nothin' 'bout17 it; he's allers safe 'nough in de cottage dem times. An' she hopes you'll hab de kin'ness to come, 'case she's got suthin' bery partic'lar to say to you."
Bergan hesitated. He could not visit the old Hall without reviving painful recollections; besides, it did not suit his natural straightforwardness51 to go thither52 in a half-clandestine way. Yet how could he refuse the urgent request of Maumer Rue, weighted not only with the probability of coming death, but with the consideration of her long, faithful, life service of his mother's family? And, after all, there was no great harm in a visit to the deserted53 Hall, to gratify an old, infirm, attached dependent. He certainly need do no skulking54; if he chanced to come upon his uncle, he could fairly and frankly55 face both him and the situation.
Accordingly, he directed his evening stroll toward Bergan Hall. It was an obscure night of late March. A gray veil of cloud covered the wide expanse of sky, from horizon to zenith; through which only the faintest light struggled, to guide his steps up the ruined avenue. He could not but be reminded of his first forlorn coming upon the desolate56 scene; even though he was obliged to confess that, in some respects, matters were mending. Though the Hall stood silent and ruinous as before, under the sighing oaks, it was not wholly dark. An arch of light shone above the doorway57, and a second gleam came invitingly58 from the window of the room that he had once called his own. The door, too, yielded readily to his pressure. At this rate of improvement, a few years might easily transform the shadow-haunted old ruin into a cheery, heartwarm home.
It was only a passing thought, and did not slacken in the least the light, quick step with which he ran up to his old room. Rue had done her best to give it a look of home and welcome. A fire blazed on the hearth59, and reddened the walls; his favorite arm-chair was drawn60 before it; near by, stood a round table, with two tall candles, a few scattered61 books, and a tray of refreshments62. It all looked strangely familiar:—there was the secretary at which he had written his letters home; there was the book that he had been reading, with his mark between the leaves; there was the flute63, so few of whose long-prisoned harmonies he had been able to set free. Was it really five months since he saw them last?
Rue was not in the room when he entered it; it did not suit her notion of their respective positions to assume any quality of hostess. But she almost immediately appeared, and greeted him with tearful affection and respect. Bergan looked at her narrowly, and was pained to see that her tall form had lost much of its old erect65 stateliness, and that she leaned heavily on her cane66 as she walked. Still, there was no sign of immediate64 loosing of the silver life-cord; on the whole, he thought that she bore her heavy burden of years wonderfully well, and the thought came naturally to his lips.
"It may seem so," replied the old woman, with a slow shake of her head, "but I feel a greater change than you can see, Master Bergan. Till now, I never knew anything about the chill or the heaviness of age; it has come upon me all at once. I do not think, any more than you do, that the end itself is close at hand; but the beginning of the end is certainly here. Let it come as soon as the Lord wills; He knows I'm ready. Only it is borne in upon me that there's something more for me to do for the family, before I leave their service; though I cannot rightly see what. Sometimes I am almost sure that it's just to see that you are put into your rightful place as the master of Bergan Hall. If that is all that I am waiting for, I wish it might be done quickly. Couldn't you make up your mind to come back here now, if Master Harry67 would ask you kindly? I know I can get him to do it."
"Indeed, I could not, maumer," answered Bergan, quietly, but very firmly. "I am not yet in a position to treat with my uncle, on equal terms. And I am less than ever inclined to be dependent upon him, or any one. Let me beg you to give yourself no further care or thought in the matter."
Rue sighed deeply. There was something in the young man's tone that forestalled68 either argument or entreaty69.
"Pardon an old woman's curiosity," she said, at length, "but, are you very much nearer to independence than when you left here?"
"I cannot say that I am."
"Do you have much to do, in the way of your profession?"
"I could easily do more." There was a slight dryness in Bergan's intonation70, that did not escape the blind woman's quick ear.
"Come with, me, please; I have something to show you," said she, turning toward the door. "You had better bring a light, too; you will need it, though I do not."
She led the way to a large room on the other side of the hall,—the bed-chamber71 (and death-chamber, too) of the mansion's departed owners. It was lined, from floor to ceiling, with carved and panelled wainscoting. Rue went straightway to one side, not far from the mantel, ran her fingers carefully over the dark, uneven72 surface, and finally pressed hard on a projecting point.
"Now, Master Bergan," said she, pointing to a great, carved acorn73, "take hold of that, and push this way."
Bergan obeyed, and a considerable portion of the wainscoting slid easily to one side, disclosing a small room or closet, so artfully contrived74 between wall and chimney, that its existence could never have been suspected. It was lighted and ventilated by a window, and furnished with an armchair and a massive, old-fashioned secretary. Rue opened one of the compartments75 of the latter, and revealed several small canvas bags, which, it was easy to see, contained gold and silver coin.
Bergan was naturally a good deal surprised at sight of the hidden hoard76. It seemed scarcely credible77 that any man in his senses should care to lay up such idle store of the precious metals, which might otherwise be profitably employed in an easy process of self-augmentation. Still, he knew enough of his uncle's surly and suspicious character, and of his distrust of banks (which he had once heard him characterize as "ready sinks for fools' money"), to leave only room for a passing wonder.
"I have brought you here, Master Bergan," said Rue, solemnly, "because this secret rightly belongs to you, as the future master of the Hall. It is the duty of each owner to make it known to his heir, on his deathbed, or earlier. The place was contrived by Sir Harry, because there was something like it in the English Bergan Hall, which served for a hiding place for men and women in troublous times; and he provided for the keeping and handing down of the secret, in the same way as it, had been done there. It was only to be known to the owner and the heir."
"Then how came you to know it?" asked Bergan.
"I will tell you. When the third Harry Bergan was at the point of death, his heir was in Europe. The person whom he most trusted, in the world, was his body-servant, Cato. He gave the secret to him, to be kept till the heir's return. Cato was my great-great-great grandfather. He thought the same thing might happen again, and the secret be lost; so, on his deathbed, he told it to his son, and the son told it to his son, and so on, till my father, who had no son, told it to me. So, you see, the secret has run down in the black blood alongside of the white blood, and been kept just as sacredly. But the white blood has never known it till now; when I tell it to you, because I have no child living, and Brick is still too young to be trusted with such a matter."
"What a strange circumstance!" said Bergan, deeply interested. "Has the place ever been used except as a storeroom for valuables?"
"Only once, to my knowledge. During the Revolution, Colonel Bergan was hidden here some days, when a party of British were quartered on the premises,—some of the same party that Sergeant78 Jasper afterwards captured."
She paused for a moment, while Bergan silently looked round the narrow walls; and then she resumed.
"You see what use Master Harry makes of the place. And perhaps you know him well enough to understand that he will never tell any one where he keeps his money, until his breath is almost out of his body. That is why I brought you here. I cannot expect to outlive him; and if he should die suddenly, or with the secret only half-way off his tongue, it would die with him."
"Perhaps you have done well," said Bergan, after a moment of thought. "Certainly, I shall regard it only as a trust for the future owner of the Hall, whoever he may be."
"He will be none other than yourself," returned Rue, decidedly. "I only wish I were as certain of the time, as I am of the fact. And now," she continued, pointing to the bags of coin, "take as much of that as you need. Master Harry will never miss it; I don't think he ever counts it over, he is so sure that it is safe here. And it will all be your own some day."
"What do you mean!" exclaimed Bergan, angrily, starting back. "Do you take me for a thief?"
"Of course not, Master Bergan, of course not," answered Rue, earnestly and deprecatingly, laying her hand on his arm. "It is only because I know that it will be yours in time; and as Master Harry does not need it nor use it, why shouldn't you have the good of it now, when you need it more than you ever may again? If it suits you better, take it as a loan, and pay it back, when you are able."
"No! no!" said Bergan, turning hurriedly away, "it is impossible. You mean kindly, I know, Maumer Rue, but you do not seem to understand the facts. I have no more right to it than any stranger; I could not touch it, to save me from starving. Come, let us go! I have seen enough."
"I believe you are right," said Rue, after a pause, "and I am a foolish old woman. I could not bear to think that my dear Miss Eleanor's son was pinching himself, in the least, when there was so much idle gold in the old house; but I see you are right, sir; and I beg your pardon."
It was not without a sense of relief that Bergan soon after closed the door of the old Hall behind him, and stepped out into the cool, fresh night air. Not that he had suffered any real trial of temptation,—his principles were too true and firm for that;—but there had been something in the whole sombre scene—the deserted, death-scented chamber, the concealed79 closet, the hoarded80 gold—that had left him with a sense of oppression, which kept its hold of him all the way home.
It was late when he reached his office. To his surprise, it was not empty. A gentleman was sitting by the table, with a pile of papers before him, and a weary, discontented face, as if his waiting had outlasted81 his patience.
Bergan's heart gave a great leap. He divined that his long-looked-for client was before him!
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
succumb
|
|
| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
foes
|
|
| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
fore
|
|
| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
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： |
|
|
|
|
9
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
strife
|
|
| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
underlying
|
|
| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
domain
|
|
| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
sojourn
|
|
| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
bout
|
|
| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
proprieties
|
|
| n.礼仪，礼节；礼貌( propriety的名词复数 )；规矩；正当；合适 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
embroidering
|
|
| v.（在织物上）绣花( embroider的现在分词 )；刺绣；对…加以渲染（或修饰）；给…添枝加叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
impersonal
|
|
| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
conscientiousness
|
|
| 责任心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
deploying
|
|
| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的现在分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
stouter
|
|
| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
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： |
|
|
|
|
31
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
ardor
|
|
| n.热情，狂热 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
marred
|
|
| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
physiological
|
|
| adj.生理学的，生理学上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
clinch
|
|
| v.敲弯，钉牢；确定；扭住对方 [参]clench | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
pecuniary
|
|
| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
plantation
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
straightforwardness
|
|
| n.坦白，率直 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
skulking
|
|
| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
invitingly
|
|
| adv. 动人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
refreshments
|
|
| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
flute
|
|
| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
cane
|
|
| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
harry
|
|
| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
forestalled
|
|
| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
entreaty
|
|
| n.恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
intonation
|
|
| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
uneven
|
|
| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
acorn
|
|
| n.橡实，橡子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
compartments
|
|
| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
hoard
|
|
| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
credible
|
|
| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
sergeant
|
|
| n.警官，中士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
hoarded
|
|
| v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
outlasted
|
|
| v.比…长久，比…活得长( outlast的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |