Winter lay a long time prostrate1 on the earth. The men in the mines of Tempest, Warrall and Co. came out on strike on a question of the rearranging of the working system down below. The distress3 was not awful, for the men were on the whole wise and well-conditioned, but there was a dejection over the face of the country-side, and some suffered keenly. Everywhere, along the lanes and in the streets, loitered gangs of men, unoccupied and spiritless. Week after week went on, and the agents of the Miner's union held great meetings, and the ministers held prayer-meetings, but the strike continued. There was no rest. Always the crier's bell was ringing in the street; always the servants of the company were delivering handbills, stating the case clearly, and always the people talked and filled the months with bitter, and then hopeless, resenting. Schools gave breakfasts, chapels4 gave soup, well-to-do people gave teas—the children enjoyed it. But we, who knew the faces of the old men and the privations of the women, breathed a cold, disheartening atmosphere of sorrow and trouble.
Determined5 poaching was carried on in the Squire's woods and warrens. Annable defended his game heroically. One man was at home with a leg supposed to be wounded by a fall on the slippery roads—but really, by a man-trap in the woods. Then Annable caught two men, and they were sentenced to two months' imprisonment7.
On both the lodge8 gates of Highclose—on our side and on the far Eberwich side—were posted notices that trespassers on the drive or in the grounds would be liable to punishment. These posters were soon mudded over, and fresh ones fixed9.
The men loitering on the road by Nethermere, looked angrily at Lettie as she passed, in her black furs which Leslie had given her, and their remarks were pungent10. She heard them, and they burned in her heart. From my mother she inherited democratic views, which she now proceeded to debate warmly with her lover.
Then she tried to talk to Leslie about the strike. He heard her with mild superiority, smiled, and said she did not know. Women jumped to conclusions at the first touch of feeling; men must look at a thing all round, then make a decision—nothing hasty and impetuous—careful, long-thought-out, correct decisions. Women could not be expected to understand these things, business was not for them; in fact, their mission was above business—etc., etc., Unfortunately Lettie was the wrong woman to treat thus.
"So!" said she, with a quiet, hopeless tone of finality.
"There now, you understand, don't you, Minnehaha, my Laughing Water—So laugh again, darling, and don't worry about these things. We will not talk about them any more, eh?"
"No more."
"No more—that's right—you are as wise as an angel. Come here—pooh, the wood is thick and lonely! Look, there is nobody in the world but us, and you are my heaven and earth!"
"And hell?"
"Ah—if you are so cold—how cold you are!—it gives me little shivers when you look so—and I am always hot—Lettie!"
"Well?"
"You are cruel! Kiss me—now—No, I don't want your cheek—kiss me yourself. Why don't you say something?"
"You are offended!"
"It feels like snow to-day," she answered.
At last, however, winter began to gather her limbs, to rise, and drift with saddened garments northward13.
The strike was over. The men had compromised. It was a gentle way of telling them they were beaten. But the strike was over.
The birds fluttered and dashed; the catkins on the hazel loosened their winter rigidity14, and swung soft tassels15. All through the day sounded long, sweet whistlings from the brushes; then later, loud, laughing shouts of bird triumph on every hand.
I remember a day when the breast of the hills was heaving in a last quick waking sigh, and the blue eyes of the waters opened bright. Across the infinite skies of March great rounded masses of cloud had sailed stately all day, domed16 with a white radiance, softened17 with faint, fleeting18 shadows as if companies of angels were gently sweeping19 past; adorned20 with resting, silken shadows like those of a full white breast. All day the clouds had moved on to their vast destination, and I had clung to the earth yearning21 and impatient. I took a brush and tried to paint them, then I raged at myself. I wished that in all the wild valley where cloud shadows were travelling like pilgrims, something would call me forth24 from my rooted loneliness. Through all the grandeur25 of the white and blue day, the poised26 cloud masses swung their slow flight, and left me unnoticed.
At evening they were all gone, and the empty sky, like a blue bubble over us, swam on its pale bright rims22.
Leslie came, and asked his betrothed27 to go out with him, under the darkening wonderful bubble. She bade me accompany her, and, to escape from myself, I went.
It was warm in the shelter of the wood and in the crouching28 hollows of the hills. But over the slanting29 shoulders of the hills the wind swept, whipping the redness into our faces.
"Yes, those, where they hang over the brook31. They are ruddy like new blood freshening under the skin. Look, tassels of crimson32 and gold!" She pointed33 to the dusty hazel catkins mingled34 with the alder on her bosom35. Then she began to quote Christina Rossetti's "A Birthday."
"I'm glad you came to take me a walk," she continued—"Doesn't Strelley Mill look pretty? Like a group of orange and scarlet36 fungi37 in a fairy picture. Do you know, I haven't been, no, not for quite a long time. Shall we call now?"
"The daylight will be gone if we do. It is half past five—more! I saw him—the son—the other morning."
"Where?"
"He was carting manure—I made haste by."
"Did he speak to you—did you look at him?"
"No, he said nothing. I glanced at him—he's just the same, brick colour—stolid. Mind that stone—it rocks. I'm glad you've got strong boots on."
"Seeing that I usually wear them——"
She stood poised a moment on a large stone, the fresh spring brook hastening towards her, deepening, sidling round her.
"You won't call and see them, then?" she asked.
"Ah, yes—it's full of music."
"Shall we go on?" he said, impatient but submissive.
"I'll catch up in a minute," said I.
I went in and found Emily putting some bread into the oven.
"Come out for a walk," said I.
"Now? Let me tell mother—I was longing——"
She ran and put on her long grey coat and her red tam-o-shanter. As we went down the yard, George called to me.
"I'll come back," I shouted.
He came to the crew-yard gate to see us off. When we came out onto the path, we saw Lettie standing39 on the top bar of the stile, balancing with her hand on Leslie's head. She saw us, she saw George, and she waved to us. Leslie was looking up at her anxiously. She waved again, then we could hear her laughing, and telling him excitedly to stand still, and steady her while she turned. She turned round, and leaped with a great flutter, like a big bird launching, down from the top of the stile to the ground and into his arms. Then we climbed the steep hill-side—Sunny Bank, that had once shone yellow with wheat, and now waved black tattered40 ranks of thistles where the rabbits ran. We passed the little cottages in the hollow scooped41 out of the hill, and gained the highlands that look out over Leicestershire to Charnwood on the left, and away into the mountain knob of Derbyshire straight in front and towards the right.
The upper road is all grassy42, fallen into long disuse. It used to lead from the Abbey to the Hall; but now it ends blindly on the hill-brow. Half way along is the old White House farm, with its green mounting steps mouldering43 outside. Ladies have mounted here and ridden towards the Vale of Belvoir—but now a labourer holds the farm.
"Let us go right into the wood out of the quarry," said Leslie. "I have not been since I was a little lad."
"It is trespassing," said Emily.
"We don't trespass," he replied grandiloquently45.
So we went along by the hurrying brook, which fell over little cascades46 in its haste, never looking once at the primroses47 that were glimmering48 all along its banks. We turned aside, and climbed the hill through the woods. Velvety49 green sprigs of dog-mercury were scattered50 on the red soil. We came to the top of a slope, where the wood thinned. As I talked to Emily I became dimly aware of a whiteness over the ground. She exclaimed with surprise, and I found that I was walking, in the first shades of twilight51, over clumps52 of snowdrops. The hazels were thin, and only here and there an oak tree uprose. All the ground was white with snowdrops, like drops of manna scattered over the red earth, on the grey-green clusters of leaves. There was a deep little dell, sharp sloping like a cup, and white sprinkling of flowers all the way down, with white flowers showing pale among the first inpouring of shadow at the bottom. The earth was red and warm, pricked53 with the dark, succulent green of bluebell54 sheaths, and embroidered55 with grey-green clusters of spears, and many white flowerets. High above, above the light tracery of hazel, the weird56 oaks tangled57 in the sunset. Below, in the first shadows, drooped58 hosts of little white flowers, so silent and sad; it seemed like a holy communion of pure wild things, numberless, frail59, and folded meekly60 in the evening light. Other flower companies are glad; stately barbaric hordes62 of bluebells63, merry-headed cowslip groups, even light, tossing wood-anemones; but snowdrops are sad and mysterious. We have lost their meaning. They do not belong to us, who ravish them. The girls bent64 among them, touching65 them with their fingers, and symbolising the yearning which I felt. Folded in the twilight, these conquered flowerets are sad like forlorn little friends of dryads.
"What do they mean, do you think?" said Lettie in a low voice, as her white fingers touched the flowers, and her black furs fell on them.
"There are not so many this year," said Leslie.
"They remind me of mistletoe, which is never ours, though we wear it," said Emily to me.
"What do you think they say—what do they make you think, Cyril?" Lettie repeated.
"I don't know. Emily says they belong to some old wild lost religion. They were the symbol of tears, perhaps, to some strange hearted Druid folk before us."
"More than tears," said Lettie. "More than tears, they are so still. Something out of an old religion, that we have lost. They make me feel afraid."
"What should you have to fear?" asked Leslie.
"If I knew I shouldn't fear," she answered. "Look at all the snowdrops"—they hung in dim, strange flecks66 among the dusky leaves—"look at them—closed up, retreating, powerless. They belong to some knowledge we have lost, that I have lost and that I need. I feel afraid. They seem like something in fate. Do you think, Cyril, we can lose things off the earth—like mastodons, and those old monstrosities—but things that matter—wisdom?"
"It is against my creed," said I.
"I believe I have lost something," said she.
"Come," said Leslie, "don't trouble with fancies. Come with me to the bottom of this cup, and see how strange it will be, with the sky marked with branches like a filigree67 lid."
She rose and followed him down the steep side of the pit, crying, "Ah, you are treading on the flowers."
"No," said he, "I am being very careful."
They sat down together on a fallen tree at the bottom. She leaned forward, her fingers wandering white among the shadowed grey spaces of leaves, plucking, as if it were a rite11, flowers here and there. He could not see her face.
"Don't you care for me?" he asked softly.
"You?"—she sat up and looked at him, and laughed strangely. "You do not seem real to me," she replied, in a strange voice.
For some time they sat thus, both bowed and silent. Birds "skirred" off from the bushes, and Emily looked up with a great start as a quiet, sardonic68 voice said above us:
"A dove-cot, my eyes if it ain't! It struck me I 'eered a cooin', an' 'ere's th' birds. Come on, sweethearts, it's th' wrong place for billin' an' cooin', in th' middle o' these 'ere snowdrops. Let's 'ave yer names, come on."
"Clear off, you fool!" answered Leslie from below, jumping up in anger.
We all four turned and looked at the keeper. He stood in the rim23 of light, darkly; fine, powerful form, menacing us. He did not move, but like some malicious69 Pan looked down on us and said:
"Very pretty—pretty! Two—and two makes four. 'Tis true, two and two makes four. Come on, come on out o' this 'ere bridal bed, an' let's 'ave a look at yer."
"Can't you use your eyes, you fool," replied Leslie, standing up and helping70 Lettie with her furs. "At any rate you can see there are ladies here."
"Very sorry, Sir! You can't tell a lady from a woman at this distance at dusk. Who may you be, Sir?"
"Clear out! Come along, Lettie, you can't stay here now."
They climbed into the light.
"Oh, very sorry, Mr. Tempest—when yer look down on a man he never looks the same. I thought it was some young fools come here dallyin'—"
"Damn you—shut up!" exclaimed Leslie—"I beg your pardon, Lettie. Will you have my arm?"
They looked very elegant, the pair of them. Lettie was wearing a long coat which fitted close; she had a small hat whose feathers flushed straight back with her hair.
The keeper looked at them. Then, smiling, he went down the dell with great strides, and returned, saying, "Well, the lady might as well take her gloves."
She took them from him, shrinking to Leslie. Then she started, and said:
"Let me fetch my flowers."
She ran for the handful of snowdrops that lay among the roots of the trees. We all watched her.
"Sorry I made such a mistake—a lady!" said Annable. "But I've nearly forgot the sight o' one—save the squire's daughters, who are never out o' nights."
"No groom but a bridegroom, Sir, and then I think I'd rather groom a horse than a lady, for I got well bit—if you will excuse me, Sir."
"And you deserved it—no doubt."
"I got it—an' I wish you better luck, Sir. One's more a man here in th' wood, though, than in my lady's parlour, it strikes me."
"Oh, yes! 'Will you walk into my parlour——'"
"You're very smart for a keeper."
"Oh, yes Sir—I was once a lady's man. But I'd rather watch th' rabbits an' th' birds; an' it's easier breeding brats73 in th' Kennels74 than in th' town."
"They are yours, are they?" said I.
"You know 'em, do you, Sir? Aren't they a lovely little litter?—aren't they a pretty bag o' ferrets?—natural as weasels—that's what I said they should be—bred up like a bunch o' young foxes, to run as they would."
"They'll get nicely trapped, one of these days," said I.
"You are not doing your duty, it strikes me," put in Leslie sententiously.
The man laughed.
"Duties of parents!—tell me, I've need of it. I've nine—that is eight, and one not far off. She breeds well, the ow'd lass—one every two years—nine in fourteen years—done well, hasn't she?"
"You've done pretty badly, I think."
"I—why? It's natural! When a man's more than nature he's a devil. Be a good animal, says I, whether it's man or woman. You, Sir, a good natural male animal; the lady there—a female un—that's proper as long as yer enjoy it."
"And what then?"
"Do as th' animals do. I watch my brats—I let 'em grow. They're beauties, they are—sound as a young ash pole, every one. They shan't learn to dirty themselves wi' smirking77 deviltry—not if I can help it. They can be like birds, or weasels, or vipers78, or squirrels, so long as they ain't human rot, that's what I say."
"It's one way of looking at things," said Leslie.
"Ay. Look at the women looking at us. I'm something between a bull and a couple of worms stuck together, I am. See that spink!" he raised his voice for the girls to hear. "Pretty, isn't he? What for?—And what for do you wear a fancy vest and twist your moustache, Sir! What for, at the bottom! Ha—tell a woman not to come in a wood till she can look at natural things—she might see something—Good night, Sir."
He marched off into the darkness.
"Coarse fellow, that," said Leslie when he had rejoined Lettie, "but he's a character."
"He makes you shudder," she replied. "But yet you are interested in him. I believe he has a history."
"He seems to lack something," said Emily.
"I thought him rather a fine fellow," said I.
"Splendidly built fellow, but callous—no soul," remarked Leslie, dismissing the question.
Lettie was thoughtful, and I smiled.
It was a beautiful evening, still, with red, shaken clouds in the west. The moon in heaven was turning wistfully back to the east. Dark purple woods lay around us, painting out the distance. The near, wild, ruined land looked sad and strange under the pale afterglow. The turf path was fine and springy.
"Let us run!" said Lettie, and joining hands we raced wildly along, with a flutter and a breathless laughter, till we were happy and forgetful. When we stopped we exclaimed at once, "Hark!"
"A child!" said Lettie.
"At the Kennels," said I.
We hurried forward. From the house came the mad yelling and yelping80 of children, and the wild hysterical81 shouting of a woman.
"Tha' little devil—tha' little devil—tha' shanna—that tha' shanna!" and this was accompanied by the hollow sound of blows, and a pandemonium82 of howling. We rushed in, and found the woman in a tousled frenzy83 belabouring a youngster with an enamelled pan. The lad was rolled up like a young hedgehog—the woman held him by the foot, and like a flail84 came the hollow utensil85 thudding on his shoulders and back. He lay in the firelight and howled, while scattered in various groups, with the leaping firelight twinkling over their tears and their open mouths, were the other children, crying too. The mother was in a state of hysteria; her hair streamed over her face, and her eyes were fixed in a stare of overwrought irritation86. Up and down went her long arm like a windmill sail. I ran and held it. When she could hit no more, the woman dropped the pan from her nerveless hand, and staggered, trembling, to the squab. She looked desperately87 weary and fordone—she clasped and unclasped her hands continually. Emily hushed the children, while Lettie hushed the mother, holding her hard, cracked hands as she swayed to and fro. Gradually the mother became still, and sat staring in front of her; then aimlessly she began to finger the jewels on Lettie's finger.
Emily was bathing the cheek of a little girl, who lifted up her voice and wept loudly when she saw the speck88 of blood on the cloth. But presently she became quiet too, and Emily could empty the water from the late instrument of castigation89, and at last light the lamp.
I found Sam under the table in a little heap. I put out my hand for him, and he wriggled90 away, like a lizard91, into the passage. After a while I saw him in a corner, lying whimpering with little savage92 cries of pain. I cut off his retreat and captured him, bearing him struggling into the kitchen. Then, weary with pain, he became passive.
We undressed him, and found his beautiful white body all discoloured with bruises93. The mother began to sob94 again, with a chorus of babies. The girls tried to soothe95 the weeping, while I rubbed butter into the silent, wincing96 boy. Then his mother caught him in her arms, and kissed him passionately97, and cried with abandon. The boy let himself be kissed—then he too began to sob, till his little body was all shaken. They folded themselves together, the poor dishevelled mother and the half-naked boy, and wept themselves still. Then she took him to bed, and the girls helped the other little ones into their nightgowns, and soon the house was still.
"I canna manage 'em, I canna," said the mother mournfully. "They growin' beyont me—I dunna know what to do wi' 'em. An' niver a 'and does 'e lift ter 'elp me—no—'e cares not a thing for me—not a thing—nowt but makes a mock an' a sludge o' me."
"Ah, baby!" said Lettie, setting the bonny boy on his feet, and holding up his trailing nightgown behind him, "do you want to walk to your mother—go then—Ah!"
The child, a handsome little fellow of some sixteen months, toddled98 across to his mother, waving his hands as he went, and laughing, while his large hazel eyes glowed with pleasure. His mother caught him, pushed the silken brown hair back from his forehead, and laid his cheek against hers.
"Ah!" she said, "Tha's got a funny Dad, tha' has, not like another man, no, my duckie. 'E's got no 'art ter care for nobody, 'e 'asna, ma pigeon—no,—lives like a stranger to his own flesh an' blood."
The girl with the wounded cheek had found comfort in Leslie. She was seated on his knee, looking at him with solemn blue eyes, her solemnity increased by the quaint99 round head, whose black hair was cut short.
"'S my chalk, yes it is, 'n our Sam says as it's 'issen, an' 'e ta'es it and marks it all gone, so I wouldna gie 't 'im,"—she clutched in her fat little hand a piece of red chalk. "My Dad gen it me, ter mark my dolly's face red, what's on'y wood—I'll show yer."
She wriggled down, and holding up her trailing gown with one hand, trotted100 to a corner piled with a child's rubbish, and hauled out a hideous101 carven caricature of a woman, and brought it to Leslie. The face of the object was streaked102 with red.
"'Ere sh' is, my dolly, what my Dad make me—'er name's Lady Mima."
"Is it?" said Lettie, "and are these her cheeks? She's not pretty, is she?"
"Um—sh' is. My Dad says sh' is—like a lady."
"Rouge!" she nodded.
"And you wouldn't let Sam have it?"
"What will your father say?"
"Me Dad?"
"'E'd nobbut laugh," put in the mother, "an' say as a bite's bett'r'n a kiss."
"No, but 'e never laid a finger on 'em—nor me neither. But 'e's not like another man—niver tells yer nowt. He's more a stranger to me this day than 'e wor th' day I first set eyes on 'im."
"Where was that?" asked Lettie.
"When I wor a lass at th' 'All—an' 'im a new man come—fair a gentleman, an' a, an' a! An even now can read an' talk like a gentleman—but 'e tells me nothing—Oh no—what am I in 'is eyes but a sludge bump?—'e's above me, 'e is, an' above 'is own childer. God a-mercy, 'e 'll be in in a minute. Come on 'ere!"
She hustled106 the children to bed, swept the litter into a corner, and began to lay the table. The cloth was spotless, and she put him a silver spoon in the saucer.
We had only just got out of the house when he drew near. I saw his massive figure in the doorway107, and the big, prolific108 woman moved subserviently109 about the room.
"Hullo, Proserpine—had visitors?"
"I never axed 'em—they come in 'earin' th' childer cryin'. I never encouraged 'em——"
We hurried away into the night. "Ah, it's always the woman bears the burden," said Lettie bitterly.
"If he'd helped her—wouldn't she have been a fine woman now—splendid? But she's dragged to bits. Men are brutes—and marriage just gives scope to them," said Emily.
"Oh, you wouldn't take that as a fair sample of marriage," replied Leslie. "Think of you and me, Minnehaha."
"Ay."
"Oh—I meant to tell you—what do you think of Greymede old vicarage for us?"
"It's a lovely old place!" exclaimed Lettie, and we passed out of hearing.
We stumbled over the rough path. The moon was bright, and we stepped apprehensively110 on the shadows thrown from the trees, for they lay so black and substantial. Occasionally a moonbeam would trace out a suave111 white branch that the rabbits had gnawed112 quite bare in the hard winter. We came out of the woods into the full heavens. The northern sky was full of a gush114 of green light; in front, eclipsed Orion leaned over his bed, and the moon followed.
"When the northern lights are up," said Emily, "I feel so strange—half eerie—they do fill you with awe113, don't they?"
"Yes," said I, "they make you wonder, and look, and expect something."
"What do you expect?" she said softly, and looked up, and saw me smiling, and she looked down again, biting her lips.
When we came to the parting of the roads, Emily begged them just to step into the mill—just for a moment—and Lettie consented.
The kitchen window was uncurtained, and the blind, as usual, was not drawn115. We peeped in through the cords of budding honeysuckle. George and Alice were sitting at the table playing chess; the mother was mending a coat, and the father, as usual, was reading. Alice was talking quietly, and George was bent on the game. His arms lay on the table.
We made a noise at the door, and entered. George rose heavily, shook hands, and sat down again.
"Hullo, Lettie Beardsall, you are a stranger," said Alice. "Are you so much engaged?"
"And isn't she a toff, in her fine hat and furs and snowdrops. Look at her, George, you've never looked to see what a toff she is."
He raised his eyes, and looked at her apparel and at her flowers, but not at her face:
"Ay, she is fine," he said, and returned to the chess.
"They are pretty—give me some, will you?" said Alice, holding out her hand. Lettie gave her the flowers.
"Check!" said George deliberately118.
"Get out!" replied his opponent, "I've got some snowdrops—don't they suit me, an innocent little soul like me? Lettie won't wear them—she's not meek61 and mild and innocent like me. Do you want some?"
"If you like—what for?"
"To make you pretty, of course, and to show you an innocent little meekling."
"You're in check," he said.
"Where can you wear them?—there's only your shirt. Aw!—there!"—she stuck a few flowers in his ruffled119 black hair—"Look, Lettie, isn't he sweet?"
Lettie laughed with a strained little laugh:
"He's like Bottom and the ass's head," she said.
"He reminds me of that man in Hedda Gabler—crowned with vine leaves—oh, yes, vine leaves," said Emily.
"How's your mare's sprain121, Mr. Tempest?" George asked, taking no notice of the flowers in his hair.
"Oh—she'll soon be all right, thanks."
"Ah—George told me about it," put in the father, and he held Leslie in conversation.
"Pooh!" she said, "that's soon remedied!"—she moved her piece, and said triumphantly123, "Now, Sir!"
He surveyed the game, and, with deliberation moved. Alice pounced124 on him; with a leap of her knight125 she called "check!"
"I didn't see it—you may have the game now," he said.
"Beaten, my boy!—don't crow over a woman any more. Stale-mate—with flowers in your hair!"
He put his hand to his head, and felt among his hair, and threw the flowers on the table.
"Would you believe it——!" said the mother, coming into the room from the dairy.
"What?" we all asked.
"Nickie Ben's been and eaten the sile cloth. Yes! When I went to wash it, there sat Nickie Ben gulping127, and wiping the froth off his whiskers."
George laughed loudly and heartily128. He laughed till he was tired. Lettie looked and wondered when he would be done.
"I imagined," he gasped129, "how he'd feel with half a yard of muslin creeping down his throttle130."
This laughter was most incongruous. He went off into another burst. Alice laughed too—it was easy to infect her with laughter. Then the father began—and in walked Nickie Ben, stepping disconsolately—we all roared again, till the rafters shook. Only Lettie looked impatiently for the end. George swept his bare arms across the table, and the scattered little flowers fell broken to the ground.
"Oh—what a shame!" exclaimed Lettie.
"What?" said he, looking round. "Your flowers? Do you feel sorry for them?—you're too tender hearted; isn't she, Cyril?"
"Always was—for dumb animals, and things," said I.
"Don't you wish you was a little dumb animal, Georgie?" said Alice.
He smiled, putting away the chess-men.
"Shall we go, dear?" said Lettie to Leslie.
"I am tired," she said plaintively132.
He attended to her with little tender solicitations.
"Have we walked too far?" he asked.
"No, it's not that. No—it's the snowdrops, and the man, and the children—and everything. I feel just a bit exhausted133."
She kissed Alice, and Emily, and the mother.
"Good-night, Alice," she said. "It's not altogether my fault we're strangers. You know—really—I'm just the same—really. Only you imagine, and then what can I do?"
She said farewell to George, and looked at him through a quiver of suppressed tears.
George was somewhat flushed with triumph over Lettie: She had gone home with tears shaken from her eyes unknown to her lover; at the farm George laughed with Alice.
We escorted Alice home to Eberwich—"Like a blooming little monkey dangling134 from two boughs," as she put it, when we swung her along on our arms. We laughed and said many preposterous135 things. George wanted to kiss her at parting, but she tipped him under the chin and said, "Sweet!" as one does to a canary. Then she laughed with her tongue between her teeth, and ran indoors.
"She is a little devil," said he.
We took the long way home by Greymede, and passed the dark schools.
It was half past ten when he marched me across the road and into the sanded passage of the little inn. The place had been an important farm in the days of George's grand-uncle, but since his decease it had declined, under the governance of the widow and a man-of-all-work. The old grand-aunt was propped137 and supported by a splendid grand-daughter. The near kin2 of Meg were all in California, so she, a bonny delightful138 girl of twenty-four, stayed near her grand-ma.
As we tramped grittily down the passage, the red head of Bill poked139 out of the bar, and he said as he recognised George:
"Good-ev'nin'—go forward—'er's non abed yit."
We went forward, and unlatched the kitchen door. The great-aunt was seated in her little, round-backed armchair, sipping140 her "night-cap."
"Well, George, my lad!" she cried, in her querulous voice. "Tha' niver says it's thai, does ter? That's com'n for summat, for sure, else what brings thee ter see me?"
"No," he said. "Ah'n com ter see thee, nowt else. Wheer's Meg?"
"Ah!—Ha—Ha—Ah!—Me, did ter say?—come ter see me?—Ha—wheer's Meg!—an' who's this young gentleman?"
I was formally introduced, and shook the clammy corded hand of the old lady.
"Tha' looks delikit," she observed, shaking her cap and its scarlet geraniums sadly: "Cum now, sit thee down, an' dunna look so long o' th' leg."
I sat down on the sofa, on the cushions covered with blue and red checks. The room was very hot, and I stared about uncomfortably. The old lady sat peering at nothing, in reverie. She was a hard-visaged, bosomless dame141, clad in thick black cloth-like armour142, and wearing an immense twisted gold brooch in the lace at her neck.
We heard heavy, quick footsteps above.
"Er's commin'," remarked the old lady, rousing from her apathy143. The footsteps came downstairs—quickly, then cautiously round the bend. Meg appeared in the doorway. She started with surprise, saying:
"Well, I 'eered sumbody, but I never thought it was you." More colour still flamed into her glossy144 cheeks, and she smiled in her fresh, frank way. I think I have never seen a woman who had more physical charm; there was a voluptuous145 fascination146 in her every outline and movement; one never listened to the words that came from her lips, one watched the ripe motion of those red fruits.
"Get 'em a drop o' whiskey, Meg—you'll 'a'e a drop?"
I declined firmly, but did not escape.
"Nay," declared the old dame. "I s'll ha'e none o' thy no's. Should ter like it 'ot?—Say th' word, an' tha' 'as it."
I did not say the word.
"Then gi'e 'im claret," pronounced my hostess, "though it's thin-bellied stuff ter go to ter bed on"—and claret it was.
Meg went out again to see about closing. The grand-aunt sighed, and sighed again, for no perceptible reason but the whiskey.
"It's well you've come ter see me now," she moaned, "for you'll none 'a'e a chance next time you come'n;—No—I'm all gone but my cap——" She shook that geraniumed erection, and I wondered what sardonic fate left it behind.
"An' I'm forced ter say it, I s'll be thankful to be gone," she added, after a few sighs.
This weariness of the flesh was touching. The cruel truth is, however, that the old lady clung to life like a louse to a pig's back. Dying, she faintly, but emphatically declared herself, "a bit better—a bit better. I s'll be up to-morrow."
"I should a gone before now," she continued, "but for that blessed wench—I canna abear to think o' leavin 'er—come drink up, my lad, drink up—nay, tha' 'rt nobbut young yet, tha' 'rt none topped up wi' a thimbleful."
"Ay," resumed the grand-aunt. "I canna go in peace till 'er's settled—an' 'er's that tickle148 o' choosin'. Th' right sort 'asn't th' gumption149 ter ax' er."
She sniffed151, and turned scornfully to her glass. George grinned and looked conscious; as he swallowed a gulp126 of whiskey it crackled in his throat. The sound annoyed the old lady.
She turned again with a sniff150 to her glass. He frowned with irritation, half filled his glass with liquor, and drank again.
"I dare bet as tha' niver kissed a wench in thy life—not proper"—and she tossed the last drops of her toddy down her skinny throat.
Here Meg came along the passage.
"Come, gran'ma," she said. "I'm sure it's time as you was in bed—come on."
"Sit thee down an' drink a drop wi's—it's not ivry night as we 'a'e cumpny."
"No, let me take you to bed—I'm sure you must be ready."
"Sit thee down 'ere, I say, an' get thee a drop o' port. Come—no argy-bargyin'."
Meg fetched more glasses and a decanter. I made a place for her between me and George. We all had port wine. Meg, naïve and unconscious, waited on us deliciously. Her cheeks gleamed like satin when she laughed, save when the dimples held the shadow. Her suave, tawny153 neck was bare and bewitching. She turned suddenly to George as he asked her a question, and they found their faces close together. He kissed her, and when she started back, jumped and kissed her neck with warmth.
"Là—là—dy—dà—là—dy—dà—dy—dà," cried the old woman in delight, and she clutched her wineglass.
"Come on—chink!" she cried, "all together—chink to him!"
We four chinked and drank. George poured wine in a tumbler, and drank it off. He was getting excited, and all the energy and passion that normally were bound down by his caution and self-instinct began to flame out.
"Here, aunt!" said he, lifting his tumbler, "here's to what you want—you know!"
"I knowed tha' wor as spunky as ony on'em," she cried. "Tha' nobbut wanted warmin' up. I'll see as you're all right. It's a bargain. Chink again, ivrybody."
"A bargain," said he before he put his lips to the glass.
"What bargain's that?" said Meg.
The old lady laughed loudly and winked154 at George, who, with his lips wet with wine, got up and kissed Meg soundly, saying:
"There it is—that seals it."
Meg wiped her face with her big pinafore, and seemed uncomfortable.
"Aren't you comin', gran'ma?" she pleaded.
"Eh, tha' wants ter 'orry me off—what's thai say, George—a deep un, isna 'er?"
"Dunna go, Aunt, dunna be hustled off."
"Tush—Pish," snorted the old lady. "Yah, tha' 'rt a slow un, an' no mistakes! Get a candle, Meg, I'm ready."
Meg brought a brass155 bedroom candlestick. Bill brought in the money in a tin box, and delivered it into the hands of the old lady.
"Go thy ways to bed now, lad," said she to the ugly, wizened156 serving-man. He sat in a corner and pulled off his boots.
"Come an' kiss me good-night, George," said the old woman—and as he did so she whispered in his ear, whereat he laughed loudly. She poured whiskey into her glass and called to the serving-man to drink it. Then, pulling herself up heavily, she leaned on Meg and went upstairs. She had been a big woman, one could see, but now her shapeless, broken figure looked pitiful beside Meg's luxuriant form. We heard them slowly, laboriously157 climb the stairs. George sat pulling his moustache and half-smiling; his eyes were alight with that peculiar158 childish look they had when he was experiencing new and doubtful sensations. Then he poured himself more whiskey.
"I say, steady!" I admonished159.
"What for!" he replied, indulging himself like a spoiled child and laughing.
Bill, who had sat for some time looking at the hole in his stocking, drained his glass, and with a sad "Good-night," creaked off upstairs.
Presently Meg came down, and I rose and said we must be going.
"I'll just come an' lock the door after you," said she, standing uneasily waiting.
George got up. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself; then he got his balance, and, with his eyes on Meg, said:
"'Ere!" he nodded his head to her. "Come here, I want ter ax thee sumwhat."
She looked at him, half-smiling, half doubtful. He put his arm round her and looking down into her eyes, with his face very close to hers, said:
"Let's ha'e a kiss."
Quite unresisting she yielded him her mouth, looking at him intently with her bright brown eyes. He kissed her, and pressed her closely to him.
"I'm going to marry thee," he said.
"Go on!" she replied, softly, half glad, half doubtful.
"I am an' all," he repeated, pressing her more tightly to him.
I went down the passage, and stood in the open doorway looking out into the night. It seemed a long time. Then I heard the thin voice of the old woman at the top of the stairs:
"Meg! Meg! Send 'im off now. Come on!"
"Good-night, my lad, good luck to thee!" cried the voice like a ghoul from upper regions.
He kissed his betrothed a rather hurried good-night at the door.
"Good-night," she replied softly, watching him retreat. Then we heard her shoot the heavy bolts.
"You know," he began, and he tried to clear his throat. His voice was husky and strangulated with excitement. He tried again:
"You know—she—she's a clinker."
I did not reply, but he took no notice.
"Damn!" he ejaculated. "What did I let her go for!"
"It's the way she swings her body—an' the curves as she stands. It's when you look at her—you feel—you know."
I suppose I knew, but it was unnecessary to say so.
"You know—if ever I dream in the night—of women—you know—it's always Meg; she seems to look so soft, and to curve her body——"
Gradually his feet began to drag. When we came to the place where the colliery railway crossed the road, he stumbled, and pitched forward, only just recovering himself. I took hold of his arm.
"Good Lord, Cyril, am I drunk?" he said.
"Not quite," said I.
"No," he muttered, "couldn't be."
But his feet dragged again, and he began to stagger from side to side. I took hold of his arm. He murmured angrily—then, subsiding162 again, muttered, with slovenly163 articulation164:
"I—I feel fit to drop with sleep."
Along the dead, silent roadway, and through the uneven165 blackness of the wood, we lurched and stumbled. He was very heavy and difficult to direct. When at last we came to the brook we splashed straight through the water. I urged him to walk steadily166 and quietly across the yard. He did his best, and we made a fairly still entry into the farm. He dropped with all his weight on the sofa, and leaning down, began to unfasten his leggings. In the midst of his fumblings he fell asleep, and I was afraid he would pitch forward on to his head. I took off his leggings and his wet boots and his collar. Then, as I was pushing and shaking him awake to get off his coat, I heard a creaking on the stairs, and my heart sank, for I thought it was his mother. But it was Emily, in her long white nightgown. She looked at us with great dark eyes of terror, and whispered: "What's the matter?"
I shook my head and looked at him. His head had dropped down on his chest again.
"Is he hurt?" she asked, her voice becoming audible, and dangerous. He lifted his head, and looked at her with heavy, angry eyes.
"George!" she said sharply, in bewilderment and fear. His eyes seemed to contract evilly.
"Is he drunk?" she whispered, shrinking away, and looking at me. "Have you made him drunk—you?"
I nodded. I too was angry.
"Oh, if mother gets up! I must get him to bed! Oh, how could you!"
This sibilant whispering irritated him, and me. I tugged167 at his coat. He snarled168 incoherently, and swore. She caught her breath. He looked at her sharply, and I was afraid he would wake himself into a rage.
"Go upstairs!" I whispered to her. She shook her head. I could see him taking heavy breaths, and the veins169 of his neck were swelling170. I was furious at her disobedience.
"Go at once," I said fiercely, and she went, still hesitating and looking back.
I had hauled off his coat and waistcoat, so I let him sink again into stupidity while I took off my boots. Then I got him to his feet, and, walking behind him, impelled171 him slowly upstairs. I lit a candle in his bedroom. There was no sound from the other rooms. So I undressed him, and got him in bed at last, somehow. I covered him up and put over him the calf-skin rug, because the night was cold. Almost immediately he began to breathe heavily. I dragged him over to his side, and pillowed his head comfortably. He looked like a tired boy, asleep.
I stood still, now I felt myself alone, and looked round. Up to the low roof rose the carven pillars of dark mahogany; there was a chair by the bed, and a little yellow chest of drawers by the windows, that was all the furniture, save the calf-skin rug on the floor. In the drawers I noticed a book. It was a copy of Omar Khayyam, that Lettie had given him in her Khayyam days, a little shilling book with coloured illustrations.
I blew out the candle, when I had looked at him again. As I crept on to the landing, Emily peeped from her room, whispering, "Is he in bed?"
I nodded, and whispered good-night. Then I went home, heavily.
After the evening at the farm, Lettie and Leslie drew closer together. They eddied172 unevenly173 down the little stream of courtship, jostling and drifting together and apart. He was unsatisfied and strove with every effort to bring her close to him, submissive. Gradually she yielded, and submitted to him. She folded round her and him the snug174 curtain of the present, and they sat like children playing a game behind the hangings of an old bed. She shut out all distant outlooks, as an Arab unfolds his tent and conquers the mystery and space of the desert. So she lived gleefully in a little tent of present pleasures and fancies.
Occasionally, only occasionally, she would peep from her tent into the out space. Then she sat poring over books, and nothing would be able to draw her away; or she sat in her room looking out of the window for hours together. She pleaded headaches; mother said liver; he, angry like a spoilt child denied his wish, declared it moodiness175 and perversity176.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
prostrate
|
|
| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
chapels
|
|
| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
fend
|
|
| v.照料（自己），（自己）谋生，挡开，避开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
imprisonment
|
|
| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
pungent
|
|
| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
rite
|
|
| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
northward
|
|
| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
rigidity
|
|
| adj.钢性，坚硬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
tassels
|
|
| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
domed
|
|
| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
fleeting
|
|
| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
rims
|
|
| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
rim
|
|
| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
grandeur
|
|
| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
poised
|
|
| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
betrothed
|
|
| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
crouching
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
alder
|
|
| n.赤杨树 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
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： |
|
|
|
|
35
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
fungi
|
|
| n.真菌，霉菌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
tinkling
|
|
| n.丁当作响声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
tattered
|
|
| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
scooped
|
|
| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
mouldering
|
|
| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
quarries
|
|
| n.（采）石场( quarry的名词复数 )；猎物（指鸟，兽等）；方形石；（格窗等的）方形玻璃v.从采石场采得( quarry的第三人称单数 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
grandiloquently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
cascades
|
|
| 倾泻( cascade的名词复数 )； 小瀑布（尤指一连串瀑布中的一支）； 瀑布状物； 倾泻（或涌出）的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
primroses
|
|
| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
glimmering
|
|
| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
velvety
|
|
| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
clumps
|
|
| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
pricked
|
|
| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
bluebell
|
|
| n.风铃草 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
embroidered
|
|
| adj．绣花的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
tangled
|
|
| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
drooped
|
|
| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
frail
|
|
| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
meek
|
|
| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
hordes
|
|
| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
bluebells
|
|
| n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
flecks
|
|
| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
filigree
|
|
| n.金银丝做的工艺品；v.用金银细丝饰品装饰；用华而不实的饰品装饰；adj.金银细丝工艺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
sardonic
|
|
| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
malicious
|
|
| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
facetious
|
|
| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
brats
|
|
| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
kennels
|
|
| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
smirking
|
|
| v.傻笑( smirk的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
vipers
|
|
| n.蝰蛇( viper的名词复数 )；毒蛇；阴险恶毒的人；奸诈者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
yelping
|
|
| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
pandemonium
|
|
| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
flail
|
|
| v.用连枷打；击打；n.连枷（脱粒用的工具） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
utensil
|
|
| n.器皿，用具 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
speck
|
|
| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
castigation
|
|
| n.申斥，强烈反对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
wriggled
|
|
| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
lizard
|
|
| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
bruises
|
|
| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
soothe
|
|
| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
wincing
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
toddled
|
|
| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的过去式和过去分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
streaked
|
|
| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
rouge
|
|
| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
mower
|
|
| n.割草机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
hustled
|
|
| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
prolific
|
|
| adj.丰富的，大量的；多产的，富有创造力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
subserviently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
110
apprehensively
|
|
| adv.担心地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
suave
|
|
| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
gnawed
|
|
| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
gush
|
|
| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
jovial
|
|
| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
ruffled
|
|
| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
bully
|
|
| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
sprain
|
|
| n.扭伤,扭筋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
cogitated
|
|
| v.认真思考，深思熟虑( cogitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
123
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
pounced
|
|
| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
knight
|
|
| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
gulp
|
|
| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
gulping
|
|
| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
throttle
|
|
| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
alacrity
|
|
| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
plaintively
|
|
| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
dangling
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
preposterous
|
|
| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
ram
|
|
| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
propped
|
|
| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
poked
|
|
| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
sipping
|
|
| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
armour
|
|
| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
apathy
|
|
| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
glossy
|
|
| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
voluptuous
|
|
| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
acrid
|
|
| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
tickle
|
|
| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
gumption
|
|
| n.才干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
sniff
|
|
| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
sniffed
|
|
| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
spunk
|
|
| n.勇气，胆量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
tawny
|
|
| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
winked
|
|
| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
wizened
|
|
| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
laboriously
|
|
| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
admonished
|
|
| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
abated
|
|
| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
subsiding
|
|
| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的现在分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
slovenly
|
|
| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
articulation
|
|
| n.（清楚的）发音；清晰度，咬合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
uneven
|
|
| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
snarled
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
swelling
|
|
| n.肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
impelled
|
|
| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
eddied
|
|
| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
unevenly
|
|
| adv.不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
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： |
|
|
|
|
175
moodiness
|
|
| n.喜怒无常；喜怒无常，闷闷不乐；情绪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
perversity
|
|
| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |