"There, sis, that's the last chore on my list. Bob's milking. Nothing more for me to do but put on my white collar for meeting. Avonlea is more than lively since the evangelist came, ain't it, though!"
Mollie Bell nodded. She was curling her hair before the tiny mirror that hung on the whitewashed1 wall and distorted her round, pink-and-white face into a grotesque2 caricature.
"Wonder who'll stand up to-night," said Eben reflectively, sitting down on the edge of the wood-box. "There ain't many sinners left in Avonlea—only a few hardened chaps like myself."
"You shouldn't talk like that," said Mollie rebukingly3. "What if father heard you?"
"Father wouldn't hear me if I shouted it in his ear," returned Eben. "He goes around, these days, like a man in a dream and a mighty4 bad dream at that. Father has always been a good man. What's the matter with him?"
"I don't know," said Mollie, dropping her voice. "Mother is dreadfully worried over him. And everybody is talking, Eb. It just makes me squirm. Flora5 Jane Fletcher asked me last night why father never testified, and him one of the elders. She said the minister was perplexed6 about it. I felt my face getting red."
"Why didn't you tell her it was no business of hers?" said Eben angrily. "Old Flora Jane had better mind her own business."
"But all the folks are talking about it, Eb. And mother is fretting7 her heart out over it. Father has never acted like himself since these meetings began. He just goes there night after night, and sits like a mummy, with his head down. And almost everybody else in Avonlea has testified."
"Oh, no, there's lots haven't," said Eben. "Matthew Cuthbert never has, nor Uncle Elisha, nor any of the Whites."
"But everybody knows they don't believe in getting up and testifying, so nobody wonders when they don't. Besides," Mollie laughed—"Matthew could never get a word out in public, if he did believe in it. He'd be too shy. But," she added with a sigh, "it isn't that way with father. He believes in testimony8, so people wonder why he doesn't get up. Why, even old Josiah Sloane gets up every night."
"With his whiskers sticking out every which way, and his hair ditto," interjected the graceless Eben.
"When the minister calls for testimonials and all the folks look at our pew, I feel ready to sink through the floor for shame," sighed Mollie. "If father would get up just once!"
Miriam Bell entered the kitchen. She was ready for the meeting, to which Major Spencer was to take her. She was a tall, pale girl, with a serious face, and dark, thoughtful eyes, totally unlike Mollie. She had "come under conviction" during the meetings, and had stood up for prayer and testimony several times. The evangelist thought her very spiritual. She heard Mollie's concluding sentence and spoke9 reprovingly.
"You shouldn't criticize your father, Mollie. It isn't for you to judge him."
Eben had hastily slipped out. He was afraid Miriam would begin talking religion to him if he stayed. He had with difficulty escaped from an exhortation10 by Robert in the cow-stable. There was no peace in Avonlea for the unregenerate, he reflected. Robert and Miriam had both "come out," and Mollie was hovering11 on the brink12.
"Dad and I are the black sheep of the family," he said, with a laugh, for which he at once felt guilty. Eben had been brought up with a strict reverence14 for all religious matters. On the surface he might sometimes laugh at them, but the deeps troubled him whenever he did so.
Indoors, Miriam touched her younger sister's shoulder and looked at her affectionately.
"Won't you decide to-night, Mollie?" she asked, in a voice tremulous with emotion.
Mollie crimsoned15 and turned her face away uncomfortably. She did not know what answer to make, and was glad that a jingle16 of bells outside saved her the necessity of replying.
Soon after, Eben brought the family pung and his chubby18 red mare19 to the door for Mollie. He had not as yet attained20 to the dignity of a cutter of his own. That was for his elder brother, Robert, who presently came out in his new fur coat and drove dashingly away with bells and glitter.
"Thinks he's the people," remarked Eben, with a fraternal grin.
The rich winter twilight21 was purpling over the white world as they drove down the lane under the over-arching wild cherry trees that glittered with gemmy hoar-frost. The snow creaked and crisped under the runners. A shrill22 wind was keening in the leafless dogwoods. Over the trees the sky was a dome23 of silver, with a lucent star or two on the slope of the west. Earth-stars gleamed warmly out here and there, where homesteads were tucked snugly24 away in their orchards25 or groves26 of birch.
"The church will be jammed to-night," said Eben. "It's so fine that folks will come from near and far. Guess it'll be exciting."
"If only father would testify!" sighed Mollie, from the bottom of the pung, where she was snuggled amid furs and straw. "Miriam can say what she likes, but I do feel as if we were all disgraced. It sends a creep all over me to hear Mr. Bentley say, 'Now, isn't there one more to say a word for Jesus?' and look right over at father."
Eben flicked27 his mare with his whip, and she broke into a trot28. The silence was filled with a faint, fairy-like melody from afar down the road where a pungful of young folks from White Sands were singing hymns30 on their way to meeting.
"Look here, Mollie," said Eben awkwardly at last, "are you going to stand up for prayers to-night?"
"I—I can't as long as father acts this way," answered Mollie, in a choked voice. "I—I want to, Eb, and Mirry and Bob want me to, but I can't. I do hope that the evangelist won't come and talk to me special to-night. I always feels as if I was being pulled two different ways, when he does."
Back in the kitchen at home Mrs. Bell was waiting for her husband to bring the horse to the door. She was a slight, dark-eyed little woman, with thin, vivid-red cheeks. From out of the swathings in which she had wrapped her bonnet31, her face gleamed sad and troubled. Now and then she sighed heavily.
The cat came to her from under the stove, languidly stretching himself, and yawning until all the red cavern32 of his mouth and throat was revealed. At the moment he had an uncanny resemblance to Elder Joseph Blewett of White Sands—Roaring Joe, the irreverent boys called him—when he grew excited and shouted. Mrs. Bell saw it—and then reproached herself for the sacrilege.
"But it's no wonder I've wicked thoughts," she said, wearily. "I'm that worried I ain't rightly myself. If he would only tell me what the trouble is, maybe I could help him. At any rate, I'd KNOW. It hurts me so to see him going about, day after day, with his head hanging and that look on his face, as if he had something fearful on his conscience—him that never harmed a living soul. And then the way he groans34 and mutters in his sleep! He has always lived a just, upright life. He hasn't no right to go on like this, disgracing his family."
Mrs. Bell's angry sob35 was cut short by the sleigh at the door. Her husband poked36 in his busy, iron-gray head and said, "Now, mother." He helped her into the sleigh, tucked the rugs warmly around her, and put a hot brick at her feet. His solicitude37 hurt her. It was all for her material comfort. It did not matter to him what mental agony she might suffer over his strange attitude. For the first time in their married life Mary Bell felt resentment38 against her husband.
They drove along in silence, past the snow-powdered hedges of spruce, and under the arches of the forest roadways. They were late, and a great stillness was over all the land. David Bell never spoke. All his usual cheerful talkativeness had disappeared since the revival39 meetings had begun in Avonlea. From the first he had gone about as a man over whom some strange doom40 is impending41, seemingly oblivious42 to all that might be said or thought of him in his own family or in the church. Mary Bell thought she would go out of her mind if her husband continued to act in this way. Her reflections were bitter and rebellious43 as they sped along through the glittering night of the winter's prime.
"I don't get one bit of good out of the meetings," she thought resentfully. "There ain't any peace or joy for me, not even in testifying myself, when David sits there like a stick or stone. If he'd been opposed to the revivalist coming here, like old Uncle Jerry, or if he didn't believe in public testimony, I wouldn't mind. I'd understand. But, as it is, I feel dreadful humiliated44."
Revival meetings had never been held in Avonlea before. "Uncle" Jerry MacPherson, who was the supreme45 local authority in church matters, taking precedence of even the minister, had been uncompromisingly opposed to them. He was a stern, deeply religious Scotchman, with a horror of the emotional form of religion. As long as Uncle Jerry's spare, ascetic46 form and deeply-graved square-jawed face filled his accustomed corner by the northwest window of Avonlea church no revivalist might venture therein, although the majority of the congregation, including the minister, would have welcomed one warmly.
But now Uncle Jerry was sleeping peacefully under the tangled48 grasses and white snows of the burying ground, and, if dead people ever do turn in their graves, Uncle Jerry might well have turned in his when the revivalist came to Avonlea church, and there followed the emotional services, public testimonies49, and religious excitement which the old man's sturdy soul had always abhorred50.
Avonlea was a good field for an evangelist. The Rev13. Geoffrey Mountain, who came to assist the Avonlea minister in revivifying the dry bones thereof, knew this and reveled in the knowledge. It was not often that such a virgin51 parish could be found nowadays, with scores of impressionable, unspoiled souls on which fervid52 oratory53 could play skillfully, as a master on a mighty organ, until every note in them thrilled to life and utterance54. The Rev. Geoffrey Mountain was a good man; of the earth, earthy, to be sure, but with an unquestionable sincerity55 of belief and purpose which went far to counterbalance the sensationalism of some of his methods.
He was large and handsome, with a marvelously sweet and winning voice—a voice that could melt into irresistible56 tenderness, or swell57 into sonorous58 appeal and condemnation59, or ring like a trumpet60 calling to battle.
His frequent grammatical errors, and lapses61 into vulgarity, counted for nothing against its charm, and the most commonplace words in the world would have borrowed much of the power of real oratory from its magic. He knew its value and used it effectively—perhaps even ostentatiously.
Geoffrey Mountain's religion and methods, like the man himself, were showy, but, of their kind, sincere, and, though the good he accomplished62 might not be unmixed, it was a quantity to be reckoned with.
So the Rev. Geoffrey Mountain came to Avonlea, conquering and to conquer. Night after night the church was crowded with eager listeners, who hung breathlessly on his words and wept and thrilled and exulted63 as he willed. Into many young souls his appeals and warnings burned their way, and each night they rose for prayer in response to his invitation. Older Christians65, too, took on a new lease of intensity66, and even the unregenerate and the scoffers found a certain fascination67 in the meetings. Threading through it all, for old and young, converted and unconverted, was an unacknowledged feeling for religious dissipation. Avonlea was a quiet place,—and the revival meetings were lively.
When David and Mary Bell reached the church the services had begun, and they heard the refrain of a hallelujah hymn29 as they were crossing Harmon Andrews' field. David Bell left his wife at the platform and drove to the horse-shed.
Mrs. Bell unwound the scarf from her bonnet and shook the frost crystals from it. In the porch Flora Jane Fletcher and her sister, Mrs. Harmon Andrews, were talking in low whispers. Presently Flora Jane put out her lank68, cashmere-gloved hand and plucked Mrs. Bell's shawl.
"Mary, is the elder going to testify to-night?" she asked, in a shrill whisper.
Mrs. Bell winced69. She would have given much to be able to answer "Yes," but she had to say stiffly,
"I don't know."
Flora Jane lifted her chin.
"Well, Mrs. Bell, I only asked because every one thinks it is strange he doesn't—and an elder, of all people. It looks as if he didn't think himself a Christian64, you know. Of course, we all know better, but it LOOKS that way. If I was you, I'd tell him folks was talking about it. Mr. Bentley says it is hindering the full success of the meetings."
Mrs. Bell turned on her tormentor70 in swift anger. She might resent her husband's strange behavior herself, but nobody else should dare to criticize him to her.
"I don't think you need to worry yourself about the elder, Flora Jane," she said bitingly. "Maybe 'tisn't the best Christians that do the most talking about it always. I guess, as far as living up to his profession goes, the elder will compare pretty favorably with Levi Boulter, who gets up and testifies every night, and cheats the very eye-teeth out of people in the daytime."
Levi Boulter was a middle-aged71 widower72, with a large family, who was supposed to have cast a matrimonial eye Flora Janeward. The use of his name was an effective thrust on Mrs. Bell's part, and silenced Flora Jane. Too angry for speech she seized her sister's arm and hurried her into church.
But her victory could not remove from Mary Bell's soul the sting implanted there by Flora Jane's words. When her husband came up to the platform she put her hand on his snowy arm appealingly.
"Oh, David, won't you get up to-night? I do feel so dreadful bad—folks are talking so—I just feel humiliated."
David Bell hung his head like a shamed schoolboy.
"You don't care for my feelings," said his wife bitterly. "And Mollie won't come out because you're acting74 so. You're keeping her back from salvation75. And you're hindering the success of the revival—Mr. Bentley says so."
David Bell groaned76. This sign of suffering wrung77 his wife's heart. With quick contrition78 she whispered,
"There, never mind, David. I oughtn't to have spoken to you so. You know your duty best. Let's go in."
"I—don't—know. I guess not. Mollie's just a foolish young girl yet. Never mind—come in."
He followed her dejectedly in, and up the aisle81 to their pew in the center of the church. The building was warm and crowded. The pastor82 was reading the Bible lesson for the evening. In the choir83, behind him, David Bell saw Mollie's girlish face, tinged84 with a troubled seriousness. His own wind-ruddy face and bushy gray eyebrows85 worked convulsively with his inward throes. A sigh that was almost a groan33 burst from him.
"I'll have to do it," he said to himself in agony.
When several more hymns had been sung, and late arrivals began to pack the aisles86, the evangelist arose. His style for the evening was the tender, the pleading, the solemn. He modulated87 his tones to marvelous sweetness, and sent them thrillingly over the breathless pews, entangling88 the hearts and souls of his listeners in a mesh89 of subtle emotion. Many of the women began to cry softly. Fervent90 amens broke from some of the members. When the evangelist sat down, after a closing appeal which, in its way, was a masterpiece, an audible sigh of relieved tension passed like a wave over the audience.
After prayer the pastor made the usual request that, if any of those present wished to come out on the side of Christ, they would signify the wish by rising for a moment in their places. After a brief interval91, a pale boy under the gallery rose, followed by an old man at the top of the church. A frightened, sweet-faced child of twelve got tremblingly upon her feet, and a dramatic thrill passed over the congregation when her mother suddenly stood up beside her. The evangelist's "Thank God" was hearty92 and insistent93.
David Bell looked almost imploringly94 at Mollie; but she kept her seat, with downcast eyes. Over in the big square "stone pew" he saw Eben bending forward, with his elbows on his knees, gazing frowningly at the floor.
"I'm a stumbling block to them both," he thought bitterly.
A hymn was sung and prayer offered for those under conviction. Then testimonies were called for. The evangelist asked for them in tones which made it seem a personal request to every one in that building.
Many testimonies followed, each infused with the personality of the giver. Most of them were brief and stereotyped95. Finally a pause ensued. The evangelist swept the pews with his kindling96 eyes and exclaimed, appealingly,
"Has EVERY Christian in this church to-night spoken a word for his Master?"
There were many who had not testified, but every eye in the building followed the pastor's accusing glance to the Bell pew. Mollie crimsoned with shame. Mrs. Bell cowered97 visibly.
Although everybody looked thus at David Bell, nobody now expected him to testify. When he rose to his feet, a murmur98 of surprise passed over the audience, followed by a silence so complete as to be terrible. To David Bell it seemed to possess the awe47 of final judgment99.
Twice he opened his lips, and tried vainly to speak. The third time he succeeded; but his voice sounded strangely in his own ears. He gripped the back of the pew before him with his knotty100 hands, and fixed101 his eyes unseeingly on the Christian Endeavor pledge that hung over the heads of the choir.
"Brethren and sisters," he said hoarsely102, "before I can say a word of Christian testimony here to-night I've got something to confess. It's been lying hard and heavy on my conscience ever since these meetings begun. As long as I kept silence about it I couldn't get up and bear witness for Christ. Many of you have expected me to do it. Maybe I've been a stumbling block to some of you. This season of revival has brought no blessing103 to me because of my sin, which I repented104 of, but tried to conceal105. There has been a spiritual darkness over me.
"Friends and neighbors, I have always been held by you as an honest man. It was the shame of having you know I was not which has kept me back from open confession106 and testimony. Just afore these meetings commenced I come home from town one night and found that somebody had passed a counterfeit107 ten-dollar bill on me. Then Satan entered into me and possessed108 me. When Mrs. Rachel Lynde come next day, collecting for foreign missions, I give her that ten dollar bill. She never knowed the difference, and sent it away with the rest. But I knew I'd done a mean and sinful thing. I couldn't drive it out of my thoughts. A few days afterwards I went down to Mrs. Rachel's and give her ten good dollars for the fund. I told her I had come to the conclusion I ought to give more than ten dollars, out of my abundance, to the Lord. That was a lie. Mrs. Lynde thought I was a generous man, and I felt ashamed to look her in the face. But I'd done what I could to right the wrong, and I thought it would be all right. But it wasn't. I've never known a minute's peace of mind or conscience since. I tried to cheat the Lord, and then tried to patch it up by doing something that redounded109 to my worldly credit. When these meetings begun, and everybody expected me to testify, I couldn't do it. It would have seemed like blasphemy110. And I couldn't endure the thought of telling what I'd done, either. I argued it all out a thousand times that I hadn't done any real harm after all, but it was no use. I've been so wrapped up in my own brooding and misery111 that I didn't realize I was inflicting112 suffering on those dear to me by my conduct, and, maybe, holding some of them back from the paths of salvation. But my eyes have been opened to this to-night, and the Lord has given me strength to confess my sin and glorify113 His holy name."
The broken tones ceased, and David Bell sat down, wiping the great drops of perspiration114 from his brow. To a man of his training, and cast of thought, no ordeal115 could be more terrible than that through which he had just passed. But underneath116 the turmoil117 of his emotion he felt a great calm and peace, threaded with the exultation118 of a hard-won spiritual victory.
Over the church was a solemn hush119. The evangelist's "amen" was not spoken with his usual unctuous120 fervor121, but very gently and reverently122. In spite of his coarse fiber123, he could appreciate the nobility behind such a confession as this, and the deeps of stern suffering it sounded.
Before the last prayer the pastor paused and looked around.
"Is there yet one," he asked gently, "who wishes to be especially remembered in our concluding prayer?"
For a moment nobody moved. Then Mollie Bell stood up in the choir seat, and, down by the stove, Eben, his flushed, boyish face held high, rose sturdily to his feet in the midst of his companions.
"Thank God," whispered Mary Bell.
"Amen," said her husband huskily.
"Let us pray," said Mr. Bentley.
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1
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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rebukingly
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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exhortation
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| n.劝告，规劝 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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15
crimsoned
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| 变为深红色（crimson的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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28
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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29
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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35
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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36
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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37
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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38
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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39
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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41
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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42
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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43
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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44
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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45
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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46
ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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47
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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48
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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49
testimonies
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| （法庭上证人的）证词( testimony的名词复数 )； 证明，证据 | |
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50
abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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51
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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52
fervid
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| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
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53
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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54
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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55
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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56
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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57
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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58
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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59
condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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60
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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61
lapses
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| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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62
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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63
exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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65
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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66
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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67
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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68
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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69
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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71
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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72
widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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73
pester
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| v.纠缠，强求 | |
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74
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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78
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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80
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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81
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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82
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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83
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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84
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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86
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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87
modulated
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| 已调整[制]的，被调的 | |
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88
entangling
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| v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的现在分词 ) | |
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89
mesh
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| n.网孔，网丝，陷阱；vt.以网捕捉，啮合，匹配；vi.适合； [计算机]网络 | |
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90
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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91
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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92
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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93
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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94
imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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95
stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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96
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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97
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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98
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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99
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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100
knotty
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| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
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101
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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102
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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103
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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104
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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106
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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107
counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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108
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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109
redounded
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| v.有助益( redound的过去式和过去分词 )；及于；报偿；报应 | |
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110
blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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111
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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112
inflicting
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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113
glorify
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| vt.颂扬，赞美，使增光，美化 | |
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114
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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115
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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116
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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117
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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118
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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119
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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120
unctuous
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| adj.油腔滑调的，大胆的 | |
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121
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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122
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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123
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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