"If, as I have, you also doe, Vertue attired1 in woman see, And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She;
And if this love, though placed so, From prophane men you hide, Which will no faith on this bestow2, Or, if they doe, deride3:
Then you have done a braver thing Than all the Worthies4 did, And a braver thence will spring, Which is, to keep that hid." --DR. DONNE.
Sir James Chettam's mind was not fruitful in devices, but his growing anxiety to "act on Brooke," once brought close to his constant belief in Dorothea's capacity for influence, became formative, and issued in a little plan; namely, to plead Celia's indisposition as a reason for fetching Dorothea by herself to the Hall, and to leave her at the Grange with the carriage on the way, after making her fully5 aware of the situation concerning the management of the estate.
In this way it happened that one day near four o'clock, when Mr. Brooke and Ladislaw were seated in the library, the door opened and Mrs. Casaubon was announced.
Will, the moment before, had been low in the depths of boredom6, and, obliged to help Mr. Brooke in arranging "documents" about hanging sheep-stealers, was exemplifying the power our minds have of riding several horses at once by inwardly arranging measures towards getting a lodging7 for himself in Middlemarch and cutting short his constant residence at the Grange; while there flitted through all these steadier images a tickling8 vision of a sheep-stealing epic9 written with Homeric particularity. When Mrs. Casaubon was announced he started up as from an electric shock, and felt a tingling10 at his finger-ends. Any one observing him would have seen a change in his complexion11, in the adjustment of his facial muscles, in the vividness of his glance, which might have made them imagine that every molecule12 in his body had passed the message of a magic touch. And so it had. For effective magic is transcendent nature; and who shall measure the subtlety13 of those touches which convey the quality of soul as well as body, and make a man's passion for one woman differ from his passion for another as joy in the morning light over valley and river and white mountain-top differs from joy among Chinese lanterns and glass panels? Will, too, was made of very impressible stuff. The bow of a violin drawn14 near him cleverly, would at one stroke change the aspect of the world for him, and his point of view shifted-- as easily as his mood. Dorothea's entrance was the freshness of morning.
"Well, my dear, this is pleasant, now," said Mr. Brooke, meeting and kissing her. "You have left Casaubon with his books, I suppose. That's right. We must not have you getting too learned for a woman, you know."
"There is no fear of that, uncle," said Dorothea, turning to Will and shaking hands with open cheerfulness, while she made no other form of greeting, but went on answering her uncle. "I am very slow. When I want to be busy with books, I am often playing truant15 among my thoughts. I find it is not so easy to be learned as to plan cottages."
She seated herself beside her uncle opposite to Will, and was evidently preoccupied16 with something that made her almost unmindful of him. He was ridiculously disappointed, as if he had imagined that her coming had anything to do with him.
"Why, yes, my dear, it was quite your hobby to draw plans. But it was good to break that off a little. Hobbies are apt to ran away with us, you know; it doesn't do to be run away with. We must keep the reins17. I have never let myself be run away with; I always pulled up. That is what I tell Ladislaw. He and I are alike, you know: he likes to go into everything. We are working at capital punishment. We shall do a great deal together, Ladislaw and I."
"Yes," said Dorothea, with characteristic directness, "Sir James has been telling me that he is in hope of seeing a great change made soon in your management of the estate--that you are thinking of having the farms valued, and repairs made, and the cottages improved, so that Tipton may look quite another place. Oh, how happy!"-- she went on, clasping her hands, with a return to that more childlike impetuous manner, which had been subdued18 since her marriage. "If I were at home still, I should take to riding again, that I might go about with you and see all that! And you are going to engage Mr. Garth, who praised my cottages, Sir James says."
"Chettam is a little hasty, my dear," said Mr. Brooke, coloring slightly; "a little hasty, you know. I never said I should do anything of the kind. I never said I should _not_ do it, you know."
"He only feels confident that you will do it," said Dorothea, in a voice as clear and unhesitating as that of a young chorister chanting a credo, "because you mean to enter Parliament as a member who cares for the improvement of the people, and one of the first things to be made better is the state of the land and the laborers19. Think of Kit20 Downes, uncle, who lives with his wife and seven children in a house with one sitting room and one bedroom hardly larger than this table!--and those poor Dagleys, in their tumble-down farmhouse21, where they live in the back kitchen and leave the other rooms to the rats! That is one reason why I did not like the pictures here, dear uncle--which you think me stupid about. I used to come from the village with all that dirt and coarse ugliness like a pain within me, and the simpering pictures in the drawing-room seemed to me like a wicked attempt to find delight in what is false, while we don't mind how hard the truth is for the neighbors outside our walls. I think we have no right to come forward and urge wider changes for good, until we have tried to alter the evils which lie under our own hands."
Dorothea had gathered emotion as she went on, and had forgotten everything except the relief of pouring forth22 her feelings, unchecked: an experience once habitual23 with her, but hardly ever present since her marriage, which had been a perpetual struggle of energy with fear. For the moment, Will's admiration24 was accompanied with a chilling sense of remoteness. A man is seldom ashamed of feeling that he cannot love a woman so well when he sees a certain greatness in her: nature having intended greatness for men. But nature has sometimes made sad oversights25 in carrying out her intention; as in the case of good Mr. Brooke, whose masculine consciousness was at this moment in rather a stammering26 condition under the eloquence27 of his niece. He could not immediately find any other mode of expressing himself than that of rising, fixing his eye-glass, and fingering the papers before him. At last he said--
"There is something in what you say, my dear, something in what you say--but not everything--eh, Ladislaw? You and I don't like our pictures and statues being found fault with. Young ladies are a little ardent28, you know--a little one-sided, my dear. Fine art, poetry, that kind of thing, elevates a nation-- emollit mores--you understand a little Latin now. But--eh? what?"
These interrogatives were addressed to the footman who had come in to say that the keeper had found one of Dagley's boys with a leveret in his hand just killed.
"I'll come, I'll come. I shall let him off easily, you know," said Mr. Brooke aside to Dorothea, shuffling29 away very cheerfully.
"I hope you feel how right this change is that I--that Sir James wishes for," said Dorothea to Will, as soon as her uncle was gone.
"I do, now I have heard you speak about it. I shall not forget what you have said. But can you think of something else at this moment? I may not have another opportunity of speaking to you about what has occurred," said Will, rising with a movement of impatience30, and holding the back of his chair with both hands.
"Pray tell me what it is," said Dorothea, anxiously, also rising and going to the open window, where Monk31 was looking in, panting and wagging his tail. She leaned her back against the window-frame, and laid her hand on the dog's head; for though, as we know, she was not fond of pets that must be held in the hands or trodden on, she was always attentive32 to the feelings of dogs, and very polite if she had to decline their advances.
Will followed her only with his eyes and said, "I presume you know that Mr. Casaubon has forbidden me to go to his house."
"No, I did not," said Dorothea, after a moment's pause. She was evidently much moved. "I am very, very sorry," she added, mournfully. She was thinking of what Will had no knowledge of--the conversation between her and her husband in the darkness; and she was anew smitten33 with hopelessness that she could influence Mr. Casaubon's action. But the marked expression of her sorrow convinced Will that it was not all given to him personally, and that Dorothea had not been visited by the idea that Mr. Casaubon's dislike and jealousy34 of him turned upon herself. He felt an odd mixture of delight and vexation: of delight that he could dwell and be cherished in her thought as in a pure home, without suspicion and without stint--of vexation because he was of too little account with her, was not formidable enough, was treated with an unhesitating benevolence35 which did not flatter him. But his dread36 of any change in Dorothea was stronger than his discontent, and he began to speak again in a tone of mere37 explanation.
"Mr. Casaubon's reason is, his displeasure at my taking a position here which he considers unsuited to my rank as his cousin. I have told him that I cannot give way on this point. It is a little too hard on me to expect that my course in life is to be hampered38 by prejudices which I think ridiculous. Obligation may be stretched till it is no better than a brand of slavery stamped on us when we were too young to know its meaning. I would not have accepted the position if I had not meant to make it useful and honorable. I am not bound to regard family dignity in any other light."
Dorothea felt wretched. She thought her husband altogether in the wrong, on more grounds than Will had mentioned.
"It is better for us not to speak on the subject," she said, with a tremulousness not common in her voice, "since you and Mr. Casaubon disagree. You intend to remain?" She was looking out on the lawn, with melancholy39 meditation40.
"Yes; but I shall hardly ever see you now," said Will, in a tone of almost boyish complaint.
"No," said Dorothea, turning her eyes full upon him, "hardly ever. But I shall hear of you. I shall know what you are doing for my uncle."
"I shall know hardly anything about you," said Will. "No one will tell me anything."
"Oh, my life is very simple," said Dorothea, her lips curling with an exquisite41 smile, which irradiated her melancholy. "I am always at Lowick."
"That is a dreadful imprisonment," said Will, impetuously.
"No, don't think that," said Dorothea. "I have no longings42."
He did not speak, but she replied to some change in his expression. "I mean, for myself. Except that I should like not to have so much more than my share without doing anything for others. But I have a belief of my own, and it comforts me."
"What is that?" said Will, rather jealous of the belief.
"That by desiring what is perfectly43 good, even when we don't quite know what it is and cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine power against evil--widening the skirts of light and making the struggle with darkness narrower."
"That is a beautiful mysticism--it is a--"
"Please not to call it by any name," said Dorothea, putting out her hands entreatingly44. "You will say it is Persian, or something else geographical45. It is my life. I have found it out, and cannot part with it. I have always been finding out my religion since I was a little girl. I used to pray so much--now I hardly ever pray. I try not to have desires merely for myself, because they may not be good for others, and I have too much already. I only told you, that you might know quite well how my days go at Lowick."
"God bless you for telling me!" said Will, ardently46, and rather wondering at himself. They were looking at each other like two fond children who were talking confidentially47 of birds.
"What is _your_ religion?" said Dorothea. "I mean--not what you know about religion, but the belief that helps you most?"
"To love what is good and beautiful when I see it," said Will. "But I am a rebel: I don't feel bound, as you do, to submit to what I don't like."
"But if you like what is good, that comes to the same thing," said Dorothea, smiling.
"Now you are subtle," said Will.
"Yes; Mr. Casaubon often says I am too subtle. I don't feel as if I were subtle," said Dorothea, playfully. "But how long my uncle is! I must go and look for him. I must really go on to the Hall. Celia is expecting me."
Will offered to tell Mr. Brooke, who presently came and said that he would step into the carriage and go with Dorothea as far as Dagley's, to speak about the small delinquent48 who had been caught with the leveret. Dorothea renewed the subject of the estate as they drove along, but Mr. Brooke, not being taken unawares, got the talk under his own control.
"Chettam, now," he replied; "he finds fault with me, my dear; but I should not preserve my game if it were not for Chettam, and he can't say that that expense is for the sake of the tenants50, you know. It's a little against my feeling:--poaching, now, if you come to look into it--I have often thought of getting up the subject. Not long ago, Flavell, the Methodist preacher, was brought up for knocking down a hare that came across his path when he and his wife were walking out together. He was pretty quick, and knocked it on the neck."
"That was very brutal51, I think," said Dorothea
"Well, now, it seemed rather black to me, I confess, in a Methodist preacher, you know. And Johnson said, `You may judge what a _hypocrite_ he is.' And upon my word, I thought Flavell looked very little like `the highest style of man'-- as somebody calls the Christian--Young, the poet Young, I think-- you know Young? Well, now, Flavell in his shabby black gaiters, pleading that he thought the Lord had sent him and his wife a good dinner, and he had a right to knock it down, though not a mighty52 hunter before the Lord, as Nimrod was--I assure you it was rather comic: Fielding would have made something of it--or Scott, now--Scott might have worked it up. But really, when I came to think of it, I couldn't help liking53 that the fellow should have a bit of hare to say grace over. It's all a matter of prejudice--prejudice with the law on its side, you know--about the stick and the gaiters, and so on. However, it doesn't do to reason about things; and law is law. But I got Johnson to be quiet, and I hushed the matter up. I doubt whether Chettam would not have been more severe, and yet he comes down on me as if I were the hardest man in the county. But here we are at Dagley's."
Mr. Brooke got down at a farmyard-gate, and Dorothea drove on. It is wonderful how much uglier things will look when we only suspect that we are blamed for them. Even our own persons in the glass are apt to change their aspect for us after we have heard some frank remark on their less admirable points; and on the other hand it is astonishing how pleasantly conscience takes our encroachments on those who never complain or have nobody to complain for them. Dagley's homestead never before looked so dismal54 to Mr. Brooke as it did today, with his mind thus sore about the fault-finding of the "Trumpet," echoed by Sir James.
It is true that an observer, under that softening55 influence of the fine arts which makes other people's hardships picturesque56, might have been delighted with this homestead called Freeman's End: the old house had dormer-windows in the dark red roof, two of the chimneys were choked with ivy57, the large porch was blocked up with bundles of sticks, and half the windows were closed with gray worm-eaten shutters58 about which the jasmine-boughs grew in wild luxuriance; the mouldering59 garden wall with hollyhocks peeping over it was a perfect study of highly mingled60 subdued color, and there was an aged61 goat (kept doubtless on interesting superstitious62 grounds) lying against the open back-kitchen door. The mossy thatch63 of the cow-shed, the broken gray barn-doors, the pauper64 laborers in ragged65 breeches who had nearly finished unloading a wagon66 of corn into the barn ready for early thrashing; the scanty68 dairy of cows being tethered for milking and leaving one half of the shed in brown emptiness; the very pigs and white ducks seeming to wander about the uneven69 neglected yard as if in low spirits from feeding on a too meagre quality of rinsings,-- all these objects under the quiet light of a sky marbled with high clouds would have made a sort of picture which we have all paused over as a "charming bit," touching70 other sensibilities than those which are stirred by the depression of the agricultural interest, with the sad lack of farming capital, as seen constantly in the newspapers of that time. But these troublesome associations were just now strongly present to Mr. Brooke, and spoiled the scene for him. Mr. Dagley himself made a figure in the landscape, carrying a pitchfork and wearing his milking-hat--a very old beaver71 flattened72 in front. His coat and breeches were the best he had, and he would not have been wearing them on this weekday occasion if he had not been to market and returned later than usual, having given himself the rare treat of dining at the public table of the Blue Bull. How he came to fall into this extravagance would perhaps be matter of wonderment to himself on the morrow; but before dinner something in the state of the country, a slight pause in the harvest before the Far Dips were cut, the stories about the new King and the numerous handbills on the walls, had seemed to warrant a little recklessness. It was a maxim73 about Middlemarch, and regarded as self-evident, that good meat should have good drink, which last Dagley interpreted as plenty of table ale well followed up by rum-and-water. These liquors have so far truth in them that they were not false enough to make poor Dagley seem merry: they only made his discontent less tongue-tied than usual. He had also taken too much in the shape of muddy political talk, a stimulant74 dangerously disturbing to his farming conservatism, which consisted in holding that whatever is, is bad, and any change is likely to be worse. He was flushed, and his eyes had a decidedly quarrelsome stare as he stood still grasping his pitchfork, while the landlord approached with his easy shuffling walk, one hand in his trouser-pocket and the other swinging round a thin walking-stick.
"Dagley, my good fellow," began Mr. Brooke, conscious that he was going to be very friendly about the boy.
"Oh, ay, I'm a good feller, am I? Thank ye, sir, thank ye," said Dagley, with a loud snarling75 irony76 which made Fag the sheep-dog stir from his seat and prick77 his ears; but seeing Monk enter the yard after some outside loitering, Fag seated himself again in an attitude of observation. "I'm glad to hear I'm a good feller."
Mr. Brooke reflected that it was market-day, and that his worthy78 tenant49 had probably been dining, but saw no reason why he should not go on, since he could take the precaution of repeating what he had to say to Mrs. Dagley.
"Your little lad Jacob has been caught killing79 a leveret, Dagley: I have told Johnson to lock him up in the empty stable an hour or two, just to frighten him, you know. But he will be brought home by-and-by, before night: and you'll just look after him, will you, and give him a reprimand, you know?"
"No, I woon't: I'll be dee'd if I'll leather my boy to please you or anybody else, not if you was twenty landlords istid o' one, and that a bad un."
Dagley's words were loud enough to summon his wife to the back-kitchen door--the only entrance ever used, and one always open except in bad weather--and Mr. Brooke, saying soothingly80, "Well, well, I'll speak to your wife--I didn't mean beating, you know," turned to walk to the house. But Dagley, only the more inclined to "have his say" with a gentleman who walked away from him, followed at once, with Fag slouching at his heels and sullenly81 evading82 some small and probably charitable advances on the part of Monk.
"How do you do, Mrs. Dagley?" said Mr. Brooke, making some haste. "I came to tell you about your boy: I don't want you to give him the stick, you know." He was careful to speak quite plainly this time.
Overworked Mrs. Dagley--a thin, worn woman, from whose life pleasure had so entirely83 vanished that she had not even any Sunday clothes which could give her satisfaction in preparing for church-- had already had a misunderstanding with her husband since he had come home, and was in low spirits, expecting the worst. But her husband was beforehand in answering.
"No, nor he woon't hev the stick, whether you want it or no," pursued Dagley, throwing out his voice, as if he wanted it to hit hard. "You've got no call to come an' talk about sticks o' these primises, as you woon't give a stick tow'rt mending. Go to Middlemarch to ax for _your_ charrickter."
"You'd far better hold your tongue, Dagley," said the wife, "and not kick your own trough over. When a man as is father of a family has been an' spent money at market and made himself the worse for liquor, he's done enough mischief84 for one day. But I should like to know what my boy's done, sir."
"Niver do you mind what he's done," said Dagley, more fiercely, "it's my business to speak, an' not yourn. An' I wull speak, too. I'll hev my say--supper or no. An' what I say is, as I've lived upo' your ground from my father and grandfather afore me, an' hev dropped our money into't, an' me an' my children might lie an' rot on the ground for top-dressin' as we can't find the money to buy, if the King wasn't to put a stop."
"My good fellow, you're drunk, you know," said Mr. Brooke, confidentially but not judiciously85. "Another day, another day," he added, turning as if to go.
But Dagley immediately fronted him, and Fag at his heels growled86 low, as his master's voice grew louder and more insulting, while Monk also drew close in silent dignified87 watch. The laborers on the wagon were pausing to listen, and it seemed wiser to be quite passive than to attempt a ridiculous flight pursued by a bawling88 man.
"I'm no more drunk nor you are, nor so much," said Dagley. "I can carry my liquor, an' I know what I meean. An' I meean as the King 'ull put a stop to 't, for them say it as knows it, as there's to be a Rinform, and them landlords as never done the right thing by their tenants 'ull be treated i' that way as they'll hev to scuttle89 off. An' there's them i' Middlemarch knows what the Rinform is--an' as knows who'll hev to scuttle. Says they, `I know who _your_ landlord is.' An' says I, `I hope you're the better for knowin' him, I arn't.' Says they, `He's a close-fisted un.' `Ay ay,' says I. `He's a man for the Rinform,' says they. That's what they says. An' I made out what the Rinform were-- an' it were to send you an' your likes a-scuttlin' an' wi' pretty strong-smellin' things too. An' you may do as you like now, for I'm none afeard on you. An' you'd better let my boy aloan, an' look to yoursen, afore the Rinform has got upo' your back. That's what I'n got to say," concluded Mr. Dagley, striking his fork into the ground with a firmness which proved inconvenient90 as he tried to draw it up again.
At this last action Monk began to bark loudly, and it was a moment for Mr. Brooke to escape. He walked out of the yard as quickly as he could, in some amazement91 at the novelty of his situation. He had never been insulted on his own land before, and had been inclined to regard himself as a general favorite (we are all apt to do so, when we think of our own amiability92 more than of what other people are likely to want of us). When he had quarrelled with Caleb Garth twelve years before he had thought that the tenants would be pleased at the landlord's taking everything into his own hands.
Some who follow the narrative93 of his experience may wonder at the midnight darkness of Mr. Dagley; but nothing was easier in those times than for an hereditary94 farmer of his grade to be ignorant, in spite somehow of having a rector in the twin parish who was a gentleman to the backbone95, a curate nearer at hand who preached more learnedly than the rector, a landlord who had gone into everything, especially fine art and social improvement, and all the lights of Middlemarch only three miles off. As to the facility with which mortals escape knowledge, try an average acquaintance in the intellectual blaze of London, and consider what that eligible96 person for a dinner-party would have been if he had learned scant67 skill in "summing" from the parish-clerk of Tipton, and read a chapter in the Bible with immense difficulty, because such names as Isaiah or Apollos remained unmanageable after twice spelling. Poor Dagley read a few verses sometimes on a Sunday evening, and the world was at least not darker to him than it had been before. Some things he knew thoroughly97, namely, the slovenly98 habits of farming, and the awkwardness of weather, stock and crops, at Freeman's End-- so called apparently99 by way of sarcasm100, to imply that a man was free to quit it if he chose, but that there was no earthly "beyond" open to him.
收听单词发音 |
1
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
deride
|
|
| v.嘲弄，愚弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
worthies
|
|
| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
boredom
|
|
| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
tickling
|
|
| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
epic
|
|
| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
tingling
|
|
| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
molecule
|
|
| n.分子，克分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
subtlety
|
|
| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
truant
|
|
| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
preoccupied
|
|
| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
reins
|
|
| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
laborers
|
|
| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
kit
|
|
| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
farmhouse
|
|
| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
oversights
|
|
| n.疏忽( oversight的名词复数 )；忽略；失察；负责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
stammering
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
shuffling
|
|
| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
monk
|
|
| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
smitten
|
|
| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
benevolence
|
|
| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
hampered
|
|
| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
meditation
|
|
| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
longings
|
|
| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
entreatingly
|
|
| 哀求地，乞求地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
geographical
|
|
| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
ardently
|
|
| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
confidentially
|
|
| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
delinquent
|
|
| adj.犯法的，有过失的；n.违法者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
tenants
|
|
| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
ivy
|
|
| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
mouldering
|
|
| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
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： |
|
|
|
|
61
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
thatch
|
|
| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
pauper
|
|
| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
wagon
|
|
| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
scant
|
|
| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
scanty
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
uneven
|
|
| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
beaver
|
|
| n.海狸，河狸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
flattened
|
|
| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
maxim
|
|
| n.格言，箴言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
stimulant
|
|
| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
snarling
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
prick
|
|
| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
soothingly
|
|
| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
evading
|
|
| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
judiciously
|
|
| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
bawling
|
|
| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
scuttle
|
|
| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
amiability
|
|
| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
hereditary
|
|
| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
backbone
|
|
| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
eligible
|
|
| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
slovenly
|
|
| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
sarcasm
|
|
| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |