My Lady Dedlock is restless, very restless. The astonishedfashionable intelligence hardly knows where to have her. To-dayshe is at Chesney Wold; yesterday she was at her house in town; to-morrow she may be abroad, for anything the fashionable intelligencecan with confidence predict. Even Sir Leicester's gallantry hassome trouble to keep pace with her. It would have more but thathis other faithful ally, for better and for worse--the gout--dartsinto the old oak bedchamber at Chesney Wold and grips him by bothlegs.
Sir Leicester receives the gout as a troublesome demon1, but still ademon of the patrician2 order. All the Dedlocks, in the direct maleline, through a course of time during and beyond which the memoryof man goeth not to the contrary, have had the gout. It can beproved, sir. Other men's fathers may have died of the rheumatismor may have taken base contagion3 from the tainted4 blood of the sickvulgar, but the Dedlock family have communicated somethingexclusive even to the levelling process of dying by dying of theirown family gout. It has come down through the illustrious linelike the plate, or the pictures, or the place in Lincolnshire. Itis among their dignities. Sir Leicester is perhaps not whollywithout an impression, though he has never resolved it into words,that the angel of death in the discharge of his necessary dutiesmay observe to the shades of the aristocracy, "My lords andgentlemen, I have the honour to present to you another Dedlockcertified to have arrived per the family gout."Hence Sir Leicester yields up his family legs to the familydisorder as if he held his name and fortune on that feudal5 tenure6.
He feels that for a Dedlock to be laid upon his back andspasmodically twitched7 and stabbed in his extremities8 is a libertytaken somewhere, but he thinks, "We have all yielded to this; itbelongs to us; it has for some hundreds of years been understoodthat we are not to make the vaults9 in the park interesting on moreignoble terms; and I submit myself to the compromise.
And a goodly show he makes, lying in a flush of crimson10 and gold inthe midst of the great drawing-room before his favourite picture ofmy Lady, with broad strips of sunlight shining in, down the longperspective, through the long line of windows, and alternating withsoft reliefs of shadow. Outside, the stately oaks, rooted for agesin the green ground which has never known ploughshare, but wasstill a chase when kings rode to battle with sword and shield androde a-hunting with bow and arrow, bear witness to his greatness.
Inside, his forefathers11, looking on him from the walls, say, "Eachof us was a passing reality here and left this coloured shadow ofhimself and melted into remembrance as dreamy as the distant voicesof the rooks now lulling12 you to rest," and hear their testimony13 tohis greatness too. And he is very great this day. And woe14 toBoythorn or other daring wight who shall presumptuously15 contest aninch with him!
My Lady is at present represented, near Sir Leicester, by herportrait. She has flitted away to town, with no intention ofremaining there, and will soon flit hither again, to the confusionof the fashionable intelligence. The house in town is not preparedfor her reception. It is muffled16 and dreary17. Only one Mercury inpowder gapes18 disconsolate19 at the hall-window; and he mentioned lastnight to another Mercury of his acquaintance, also accustomed togood society, that if that sort of thing was to last--which itcouldn't, for a man of his spirits couldn't bear it, and a man ofhis figure couldn't be expected to bear it--there would be noresource for him, upon his honour, but to cut his throat!
What connexion can there be between the place in Lincolnshire, thehouse in town, the Mercury in powder, and the whereabout of Jo theoutlaw with the broom, who had that distant ray of light upon himwhen he swept the churchyard-step? What connexion can there havebeen between many people in the innumerable histories of this worldwho from opposite sides of great gulfs have, nevertheless, beenvery curiously20 brought together!
Jo sweeps his crossing all day long, unconscious of the link, ifany link there be. He sums up his mental condition when asked aquestion by replying that he "don't know nothink." He knows thatit's hard to keep the mud off the crossing in dirty weather, andharder still to live by doing it. Nobody taught him even thatmuch; he found it out.
Jo lives--that is to say, Jo has not yet died--in a ruinous placeknown to the like of him by the name of Tom-all-Alone's. It is ablack, dilapidated street, avoided by all decent people, where thecrazy houses were seized upon, when their decay was far advanced,by some bold vagrants21 who after establishing their own possessiontook to letting them out in lodgings22. Now, these tumblingtenements contain, by night, a swarm23 of misery24. As on the ruinedhuman wretch25 vermin parasites26 appear, so these ruined shelters havebred a crowd of foul27 existence that crawls in and out of gaps inwalls and boards; and coils itself to sleep, in maggot numbers,where the rain drips in; and comes and goes, fetching and carryingfever and sowing more evil in its every footprint than Lord Coodle,and Sir Thomas Doodle, and the Duke of Foodle, and all the finegentlemen in office, down to Zoodle, shall set right in fivehundred years--though born expressly to do it.
Twice lately there has been a crash and a cloud of dust, like thespringing of a mine, in Tom-all-Alone's; and each time a house hasfallen. These accidents have made a paragraph in the newspapersand have filled a bed or two in the nearest hospital. The gapsremain, and there are not unpopular lodgings among the rubbish. Asseveral more houses are nearly ready to go, the next crash in Tom-all-Alone's may be expected to be a good one.
This desirable property is in Chancery, of course. It would be aninsult to the discernment of any man with half an eye to tell himso. Whether "Tom" is the popular representative of the originalplaintiff or defendant28 in Jarndyce and Jarndyce, or whether Tomlived here when the suit had laid the street waste, all alone,until other settlers came to join him, or whether the traditionaltitle is a comprehensive name for a retreat cut off from honestcompany and put out of the pale of hope, perhaps nobody knows.
Certainly Jo don't know.
"For I don't," says Jo, "I don't know nothink."It must be a strange state to be like Jo! To shuffle30 through thestreets, unfamiliar31 with the shapes, and in utter darkness as tothe meaning, of those mysterious symbols, so abundant over theshops, and at the corners of streets, and on the doors, and in thewindows! To see people read, and to see people write, and to seethe32 postmen deliver letters, and not to have the least idea of allthat language--to be, to every scrap33 of it, stone blind and dumb!
It must be very puzzling to see the good company going to thechurches on Sundays, with their books in their hands, and to think(for perhaps Jo DOES think at odd times) what does it all mean, andif it means anything to anybody, how comes it that it means nothingto me? To be hustled34, and jostled, and moved on; and really tofeel that it would appear to be perfectly35 true that I have nobusiness here, or there, or anywhere; and yet to be perplexed36 bythe consideration that I AM here somehow, too, and everybodyoverlooked me until I became the creature that I am! It must be astrange state, not merely to be told that I am scarcely human (asin the case of my offering myself for a witness), but to feel it ofmy own knowledge all my life! To see the horses, dogs, and cattlego by me and to know that in ignorance I belong to them and not tothe superior beings in my shape, whose delicacy37 I offend! Jo'sideas of a criminal trial, or a judge, or a bishop38, or a govemment,or that inestimable jewel to him (if he only knew it) theConstitution, should be strange! His whole material and immateriallife is wonderfully strange; his death, the strangest thing of all.
Jo comes out of Tom-all-Alone's, meeting the tardy39 morning which isalways late in getting down there, and munches40 his dirty bit ofbread as he comes along. His way lying through many streets, andthe houses not yet being open, he sits down to breakfast on thedoor-step of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel inForeign Parts and gives it a brush when he has finished as anacknowledgment of the accommodation. He admires the size of theedifice and wonders what it's all about. He has no idea, poorwretch, of the spiritual destitution42 of a coral reef in the Pacificor what it costs to look up the precious souls among the coco-nutsand bread-fruit.
He goes to his crossing and begins to lay it out for the day. Thetown awakes; the great tee-totum is set up for its daily spin andwhirl; all that unaccountable reading and writing, which has beensuspended for a few hours, recommences. Jo and the other loweranimals get on in the unintelligible43 mess as they can. It ismarket-day. The blinded oxen, over-goaded, over-driven, neverguided, run into wrong places and are beaten out, and plunge44 red-eyed and foaming45 at stone walls, and often sorely hurt theinnocent, and often sorely hurt themselves. Very like Jo and hisorder; very, very like!
A band of music comes and plays. Jo listens to it. So does a dog--a drover's dog, waiting for his master outside a butcher's shop,and evidently thinking about those sheep he has had upon his mindfor some hours and is happily rid of. He seems perplexedrespecting three or four, can't remember where he left them, looksup and down the street as half expecting to see them astray,suddenly pricks46 up his ears and remembers all about it. Athoroughly vagabond dog, accustomed to low company and public-houses; a terrific dog to sheep, ready at a whistle to scamper47 overtheir backs and tear out mouthfuls of their wool; but an educated,improved, developed dog who has been taught his duties and knowshow to discharge them. He and Jo listen to the music, probablywith much the same amount of animal satisfaction; likewise as toawakened association, aspiration48, or regret, melancholy49 or joyfulreference to things beyond the senses, they are probably upon apar. But, otherwise, how far above the human listener is thebrute!
Turn that dog's descendants wild, like Jo, and in a very few yearsthey will so degenerate50 that they will lose even their bark--butnot their bite.
The day changes as it wears itself away and becomes dark anddrizzly. Jo fights it out at his crossing among the mud andwheels, the horses, whips, and umbrellas, and gets but a scanty51 sumto pay for the unsavoury shelter of Tom-all-Alone's. Twilightcomes on; gas begins to start up in the shops; the lamplighter,with his ladder, runs along the margin52 of the pavement. A wretchedevening is beginning to close in.
In his chambers53 Mr. Tulkinghorn sits meditating54 an application tothe nearest magistrate55 to-morrow morning for a warrant. Gridley, adisappointed suitor, has been here to-day and has been alarming.
We are not to be put in bodily fear, and that ill-conditionedfellow shall be held to bail56 again. From the ceiling,foreshortened Allegory, in the person of one impossible Romanupside down, points with the arm of Samson (out of joint57, and anodd one) obtrusively58 toward the window. Why should Mr.
Tulkinghorn, for such no reason, look out of window? Is the handnot always pointing there? So he does not look out of window.
And if he did, what would it be to see a woman going by? There arewomen enough in the world, Mr. Tulkinghorn thinks--too many; theyare at the bottom of all that goes wrong in it, though, for thematter of that, they create business for lawyers. What would it beto see a woman going by, even though she were going secretly? Theyare all secret. Mr. Tulkinghorn knows that very well.
But they are not all like the woman who now leaves him and hishouse behind, between whose plain dress and her refined mannerthere is something exceedingly inconsistent. She should be anupper servant by her attire59, yet in her air and step, though bothare hurried and assumed--as far as she can assume in the muddystreets, which she treads with an unaccustomed foot--she is a lady.
Her face is veiled, and still she sufficiently60 betrays herself tomake more than one of those who pass her look round sharply.
She never turns her head. Lady or servant, she has a purpose inher and can follow it. She never turns her head until she comes tothe crossing where Jo plies61 with his broom. He crosses with herand begs. Still, she does not turn her head until she has landedon the other side. Then she slightly beckons62 to him and says,"Come here!"Jo follows her a pace or two into a quiet court.
"Are you the boy I've read of in the papers?" she asked behind herveil.
"I don't know," says Jo, staring moodily63 at the veil, "nothinkabout no papers. I don't know nothink about nothink at all.""Were you examined at an inquest?""I don't know nothink about no--where I was took by the beadle, doyou mean?" says Jo. "Was the boy's name at the inkwhich Jo?""Yes.""That's me!" says Jo.
"Come farther up.""You mean about the man?" says Jo, following. "Him as wos dead?""Hush64! Speak in a whisper! Yes. Did he look, when he was living,so very ill and poor?""Oh, jist!" says Jo.
"Did he look like--not like YOU?" says the woman with abhorrence65.
"Oh, not so bad as me," says Jo. "I'm a reg'lar one I am! Youdidn't know him, did you?""How dare you ask me if I knew him?""No offence, my lady," says Jo with much humility66, for even he hasgot at the suspicion of her being a lady.
"I am not a lady. I am a servant.""You are a jolly servant!" says Jo without the least idea of sayinganything offensive, merely as a tribute of admiration67.
"Listen and be silent. Don't talk to me, and stand farther fromme! Can you show me all those places that were spoken of in theaccount I read? The place he wrote for, the place he died at, theplace where you were taken to, and the place where he was buried?
Do you know the place where he was buried?"Jo answers with a nod, having also nodded as each other place wasmentioned.
"Go before me and show me all those dreadful places. Stop oppositeto each, and don't speak to me unless I speak to you. Don't lookback. Do what I want, and I will pay you well."Jo attends closely while the words are being spoken; tells them offon his broom-handle, finding them rather hard; pauses to considertheir meaning; considers it satisfactory; and nods his ragged68 head.
"I'm fly," says Jo. "But fen29 larks69, you know. Stow hooking it!""What does the horrible creature mean?" exclaims the servant,recoiling from him.
"Stow cutting away, you know!" says Jo.
"I don't understand you. Go on before! I will give you more moneythan you ever had in your life."Jo screws up his mouth into a whistle, gives his ragged head a rub,takes his broom under his arm, and leads the way, passing deftlywith his bare feet over the hard stones and through the mud andmire.
Cook's Court. Jo stops. A pause.
"Who lives here?""Him wot give him his writing and give me half a bull," says Jo ina whisper without looking over his shoulder.
"Go on to the next."Krook's house. Jo stops again. A longer pause.
"Who lives here?""HE lived here," Jo answers as before.
After a silence he is asked, "In which room?""In the back room up there. You can see the winder from thiscorner. Up there! That's where I see him stritched out. This isthe public-ouse where I was took to.""Go on to the next!"It is a longer walk to the next, but Jo, relieved of his firstsuspicions, sticks to the forms imposed upon him and does not lookround. By many devious70 ways, reeking71 with offence of many kinds,they come to the little tunnel of a court, and to the gas-lamp(lighted now), and to the iron gate.
"He was put there," says Jo, holding to the bars and looking in.
"Where? Oh, what a scene of horror!""There!" says Jo, pointing. "Over yinder. Arnong them piles ofbones, and close to that there kitchin winder! They put him werynigh the top. They was obliged to stamp upon it to git it in. Icould unkiver it for you with my broom if the gate was open.
That's why they locks it, I s'pose," giving it a shake. "It'salways locked. Look at the rat!" cries Jo, excited. "Hi! Look!
There he goes! Ho! Into the ground!"The servant shrinks into a corner, into a corner of that hideousarchway, with its deadly stains contaminating her dress; andputting out her two hands and passionately72 telling him to keep awayfrom her, for he is loathsome73 to her, so remains74 for some moments.
Jo stands staring and is still staring when she recovers herself.
"Is this place of abomination consecrated75 ground?""I don't know nothink of consequential76 ground," says Jo, stillstaring.
"Is it blessed?""Which?" says Jo, in the last degree amazed.
"Is it blessed?""I'm blest if I know," says Jo, staring more than ever; "but Ishouldn't think it warn't. Blest?" repeats Jo, something troubledin his mind. "It an't done it much good if it is. Blest? Ishould think it was t'othered myself. But I don't know nothink!"The servant takes as little heed41 of what he says as she seems totake of what she has said herself. She draws off her glove to getsome money from her purse. Jo silently notices how white and smallher hand is and what a jolly servant she must be to wear suchsparkling rings.
She drops a piece of money in his hand without touching77 it, andshuddering as their hands approach. "Now," she adds, "show me thespot again!"Jo thrusts the handle of his broom between the bars of the gate,and with his utmost power of elaboration, points it out. Atlength, looking aside to see if he has made himself intelligible,he finds that he is alone.
His first proceeding78 is to hold the piece of money to the gas-lightand to be overpowered at finding that it is yellow--gold. His nextis to give it a one-sided bite at the edge as a test of itsquality. His next, to put it in his mouth for safety and to sweepthe step and passage with great care. His job done, he sets offfor Tom-all-Alone's, stopping in the light of innumerable gas-lampsto produce the piece of gold and give it another one-sided bite asa reassurance79 of its being genuine.
The Mercury in powder is in no want of society to-night, for myLady goes to a grand dinner and three or four balls. Sir Leicesteris fidgety down at Chesney Wold, with no better company than thegoat; he complains to Mrs. Rouncewell that the rain makes such amonotonous pattering on the terrace that he can't read the papereven by the fireside in his own snug80 dressing-room.
"Sir Leicester would have done better to try the other side of thehouse, my dear," says Mrs. Rouncewell to Rosa. "His dressing-roomis on my Lady's side. And in all these years I never heard thestep upon the Ghost's Walk more distinct than it is to-night!"
收听单词发音 |
1
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
patrician
|
|
| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
contagion
|
|
| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
tainted
|
|
| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
feudal
|
|
| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
tenure
|
|
| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
twitched
|
|
| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
extremities
|
|
| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
vaults
|
|
| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
forefathers
|
|
| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
lulling
|
|
| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
presumptuously
|
|
| adv.自以为是地，专横地，冒失地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
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） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
gapes
|
|
| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的第三人称单数 )；张开，张大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
disconsolate
|
|
| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
vagrants
|
|
| 流浪者( vagrant的名词复数 )； 无业游民； 乞丐； 无赖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
swarm
|
|
| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
parasites
|
|
| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
defendant
|
|
| n.被告；adj.处于被告地位的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
fen
|
|
| n.沼泽，沼池 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
shuffle
|
|
| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
unfamiliar
|
|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
seethe
|
|
| vi.拥挤，云集；发怒，激动，骚动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
hustled
|
|
| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bishop
|
|
| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
tardy
|
|
| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
munches
|
|
| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
heed
|
|
| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
destitution
|
|
| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
unintelligible
|
|
| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
foaming
|
|
| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
pricks
|
|
| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
scamper
|
|
| v.奔跑，快跑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
aspiration
|
|
| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
degenerate
|
|
| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
scanty
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
meditating
|
|
| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
magistrate
|
|
| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
bail
|
|
| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
obtrusively
|
|
| adv.冒失地，莽撞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
attire
|
|
| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
plies
|
|
| v.使用（工具）( ply的第三人称单数 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
beckons
|
|
| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
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： |
|
|
|
|
64
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
abhorrence
|
|
| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
larks
|
|
| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
devious
|
|
| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
reeking
|
|
| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
loathsome
|
|
| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
consecrated
|
|
| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
consequential
|
|
| adj.作为结果的，间接的；重要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
reassurance
|
|
| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
snug
|
|
| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |