"For a woman of forty, Mary Isabel, you have the least sense of any person I have ever known," said Louisa Irving.
Louisa had said something similar in spirit to Mary Isabel almost every day of her life. Mary Isabel had never resented it, even when it hurt her bitterly. Everybody in Latimer knew that Louisa Irving ruled her meek1 little sister with a rod of iron and wondered why Mary Isabel never rebelled. It simply never occurred to Mary Isabel to do so; all her life she had given in to Louisa and the thought of refusing obedience2 to her sister's Mede-and-Persian decrees never crossed her mind. Mary Isabel had only one secret from Louisa and she lived in daily dread3 that Louisa would discover it. It was a very harmless little secret, but Mary Isabel felt rightly sure that Louisa would not tolerate it for a moment.
They were sitting together in the dim living room of their quaint5 old cottage down by the shore. The window was open and the sea-breeze blew in, stirring the prim6 white curtains fitfully, and ruffling8 the little rings of dark hair on Mary Isabel's forehead—rings which always annoyed Louisa. She thought Mary Isabel ought to brush them straight back, and Mary Isabel did so faithfully a dozen times a day; and in ten minutes they crept down again, kinking defiance9 to Louisa, who might make Mary Isabel submit to her in all things but had no power over naturally curly hair. Louisa had never had any trouble with her own hair; it was straight and sleek10 and mouse-coloured—what there was of it.
Mary Isabel's face was flushed and her wood-brown eyes looked grieved and pleading. Mary Isabel was still pretty, and vanity is the last thing to desert a properly constructed woman.
"I can't wear a bonnet11 yet, Louisa," she protested. "Bonnets12 have gone out for everybody except really old ladies. I want a hat: one of those pretty, floppy13 ones with pale blue forget-me-nots."
Then it was that Louisa made the remark quoted above.
"I wore a bonnet before I was forty," she went on ruthlessly, "and so should every decent woman. It is absurd to be thinking so much of dress at your age, Mary Isabel. I don't know what sort of a way you'd bedizen yourself out if I'd let you, I'm sure. It's fortunate you have somebody to keep you from making a fool of yourself. I'm going to town tomorrow and I'll pick you out a suitable black bonnet. You'd look nice starring round in leghorn and forget-me-nots, now, wouldn't you?"
Mary Isabel privately14 thought she would, but she gave in, of course, although she did hate bitterly that unbought, unescapable bonnet.
"Well, do as you think best, Louisa," she said with a sigh. "I suppose it doesn't matter much. Nobody cares how I look anyhow. But can't I go to town with you? I want to pick out my new silk."
"I'm as good a judge of black silk as you," said Louisa shortly. "It isn't safe to leave the house alone."
"But I don't want a black silk," cried Mary Isabel. "I've worn black so long; both my silk dresses have been black. I want a pretty silver-grey, something like Mrs. Chester Ford's."
"Did anyone ever hear such nonsense?" Louisa wanted to know, in genuine amazement15. "Silver-grey silk is the most unserviceable thing in the world. There's nothing like black for wear and real elegance16. No, no, Mary Isabel, don't be foolish. You must let me choose for you; you know you never had any judgment17. Mother told you so often enough. Now, get your sunbonnet and take a walk to the shore. You look tired. I'll get the tea."
Louisa's tone was kind though firm. She Was really good to Mary Isabel as long as Mary Isabel gave her her own way peaceably. But if she had known Mary Isabel's secret she would never have permitted those walks to the shore.
Mary Isabel sighed again, yielded, and went out. Across a green field from the Irving cottage Dr. Donald Hamilton's big house was hooding18 itself in the shadows of the thick fir grove19 that enabled the doctor to have a garden. There was no shelter at the cottage, so the Irving "girls" never tried to have a garden. Soon after Dr. Hamilton had come there to live he had sent a bouquet20 of early daffodils over by his housekeeper21. Louisa had taken them gingerly in her extreme fingertips, carried them across the field to the lawn fence, and cast them over it, under the amused grey eyes of portly Dr. Hamilton, who was looking out of his office window. Then Louisa had come back to the porch door and ostentatiously washed her hands.
"I guess that will settle Donald Hamilton," she told the secretly sorry Mary Isabel triumphantly22, and it did settle him—at least as far as any farther social advances were concerned.
Dr. Hamilton was an excellent physician and an equally excellent man. Louisa Irving could not have picked a flaw in his history or character. Indeed, against Dr. Hamilton himself she had no grudge23, but he was the brother of a man she hated and whose relatives were consequently taboo24 in Louisa's eyes. Not that the brother was a bad man either; he had simply taken the opposite side to the Irvings in a notable church feud25 of a dozen years ago, and Louisa had never since held any intercourse26 with him or his fellow sinners.
Mary Isabel did not look at the Hamilton house. She kept her head resolutely27 turned away as she went down the shore lane with its wild sweet loneliness of salt-withered grasses and piping sea-winds. Only when she turned the corner of the fir-wood, which shut her out from view of the houses, did she look timidly over the line-fence. Dr. Hamilton was standing28 there, where the fence ran out to the sandy shingle29, smoking his little black pipe, which he took out and put away when Mary Isabel came around the firs. Men did things like that instinctively30 in Mary Isabel's company. There was something so delicately virginal about her, in spite of her forty years, that they gave her the reverence31 they would have paid to a very young, pure girl.
Dr. Hamilton smiled at the little troubled face under the big sunbonnet. Mary Isabel had to wear a sunbonnet. She would never have done it from choice.
"What is the matter?" asked the doctor, in his big, breezy, old-bachelor voice. He had another voice for sick-beds and rooms of bereavement32, but this one suited best with the purring of the waves and winds.
"By your face. Come now, tell me what it is."
"It is really nothing. I have just been foolish, that is all. I wanted a hat with forget-me-nots and a grey silk, and Louisa says I must have black and a bonnet."
The doctor looked indignant but held his peace. He and Mary Isabel had tacitly agreed never to discuss Louisa, because such discussion would not make for harmony. Mary Isabel's conscience would not let the doctor say anything uncomplimentary of Louisa, and the doctor's conscience would not let him say anything complimentary34. So they left her out of the question and talked about the sea and the boats and poetry and flowers and similar non-combustible subjects.
These clandestine35 meetings had been going on for two months, ever since the day they had just happened to meet below the firs. It never occurred to Mary Isabel that the doctor meant anything but friendship; and if it had occurred to the doctor, he did not think there would be much use in saying so. Mary Isabel was too hopelessly under Louisa's thumb. She might keep tryst36 below the firs occasionally—so long as Louisa didn't know—but to no farther lengths would she dare go. Besides, the doctor wasn't quite sure that he really wanted anything more. Mary Isabel was a sweet little woman, but Dr. Hamilton had been a bachelor so long that it would be very difficult for him to get out of the habit; so difficult that it was hardly worth while trying when such an obstacle as Louisa Irving's tyranny loomed37 in the way. So he never tried to make love to Mary Isabel, though he probably would have if he had thought it of any use. This does not sound very romantic, of course, but when a man is fifty, romance, while it may be present in the fruit, is assuredly absent in blossom.
"I suppose you won't be going to the induction38 of my nephew Thursday week?" said the doctor in the course of the conversation.
"No. Louisa will not permit it. I had hoped," said Mary Isabel with a sigh, as she braided some silvery shore-grasses nervously39 together, "that when old Mr. Moody40 went away she would go back to the church here. And I think she would if—if—"
"If Jim hadn't come in Mr. Moody's place," finished the doctor with his jolly laugh.
Mary Isabel coloured prettily41. "It is not because he is your nephew, doctor. It is because—because—"
"Because he is the nephew of my brother who was on the other side in that ancient church fracas42? Bless you, I understand. What a good hater your sister is! Such a tenacity43 in holding bitterness from one generation to another commands admiration44 of a certain sort. As for Jim, he's a nice little chap, and he is coming to live with me until the manse is repaired."
She wondered if the young minister's advent46 would make any difference in regard to these shore-meetings; then decided47 quickly that it would not; then more quickly still that it wouldn't matter if it did.
"He will be company," admitted the doctor, who liked company and found the shore road rather lonesome. "I had a letter from him today saying that he'd come home with me from the induction. By the way, they're tearing down the old post office today. And that reminds me—by Jove, I'd all but forgotten. I promised to go up and see Mollie Marr this evening; Mollie's nerves are on the rampage again. I must rush."
With a wave of his hand the doctor hurried off. Mary Isabel lingered for some time longer, leaning against the fence, looking dreamily out to sea. The doctor was a very pleasant companion. If only Louisa would allow neighbourliness! Mary Isabel felt a faint, impotent resentment48. She had never had anything other girls had: friends, dresses, beaus, and it was all Louisa's fault—Louisa who was going to make her wear a bonnet for the rest of her life. The more Mary Isabel thought of that bonnet the more she hated it.
That evening Warren Marr rode down to the shore cottage on horseback and handed Mary Isabel a letter; a strange, scrumpled, soiled, yellow letter. When Mary Isabel saw the handwriting on the envelope she trembled and turned as deadly pale as if she had seen a ghost:
"Here's a letter for you," said Warren, grinning. "It's been a long time on the way—nigh fifteen years. Guess the news'll be rather stale. We found it behind the old partition when we tore it down today."
"It is my brother Tom's writing," said Mary Isabel faintly. She went into the room trembling, holding the letter tightly in her clasped hands. Louisa had gone up to the village on an errand; Mary Isabel almost wished she were home; she hardly felt equal to the task of opening Tom's letter alone. Tom had been dead for ten years and this letter gave her an uncanny sensation; as of a message from the spirit-land.
Fifteen years, ago Thomas Irving had gone to California and five years later he had died there. Mary Isabel, who had idolized her brother, almost grieved herself to death at the time.
Finally she opened the letter with ice-cold fingers. It had been written soon after Tom reached California. The first two pages were filled with descriptions of the country and his "job."
Look here, Mary Isabel, you are not to let Louisa boss you about as she was doing when I was at home. I was going to speak to you about it before I came away, but I forgot. Lou is a fine girl, but she is too domineering, and the more you give in to her the worse it makes her. You're far too easy-going for your own welfare, Mary Isabel, and for your own sake I Wish you had more spunk51. Don't let Louisa live your life for you; just you live it yourself. Never mind if there is some friction52 at first; Lou will give in when she finds she has to, and you'll both be the better for it, I want you to be real happy, Mary Isabel, but you won't be if you don't assert your independence. Giving in the way you do is bad for both you and Louisa. It will make her a tyrant53 and you a poor-spirited creature of no account in the world. Just brace54 up and stand firm.
When she had read the letter through Mary Isabel took it to her own room and locked it in her bureau drawer. Then she sat by her window, looking out into a sea-sunset, and thought it over. Coming in the strange way it had, the letter seemed a message from the dead, and Mary Isabel had a superstitious55 conviction that she must obey it. She had always had a great respect for Tom's opinion. He was right—oh, she felt that he was right. What a pity she had not received the letter long ago, before the shackles56 of habit had become so firmly riveted57. But it was not too late yet. She would rebel at last and—how had Tom phrased it—oh, yes, assert her independence. She owed it to Tom; It had been his wish—and he was dead—and she would do her best to fulfil it.
"I shan't get a bonnet," thought Mary Isabel determinedly58. "Tom wouldn't have liked me in a bonnet. From this out I'm just going to do exactly as Tom would have liked me to do, no matter how afraid I am of Louisa. And, oh, I am horribly afraid of her."
Mary Isabel was every whit7 as much afraid the next morning after breakfast but she did not look it, by reason of the flush on her cheeks and the glint in her brown eyes. She had put Tom's letter in the bosom60 of her dress and she pressed her fingertips on it that the crackle might give her courage.
"Louisa," she said firmly, "I am going to town with you."
"Nonsense," said Louisa shortly.
"You may call it nonsense if you like, but I am going," said Mary Isabel unquailingly. "I have made up my mind on that point, Louisa, and nothing you can say will alter it."
"Are you crazy, Mary Isabel?" she demanded.
"No, I am not crazy. But I am going to town and I am going to get a silver-grey silk for myself and a new hat. I will not wear a bonnet and you need never mention it to me again, Louisa."
"If you are going to town I shall stay home," said Louisa in a cold, ominous63 tone that almost made Mary Isabel quake. If it had not been for that reassuring64 crackle of Tom's letter I fear Mary Isabel would have given in. "This house can't be left alone. If you go, I'll stay."
Louisa honestly thought that would bring the rebel to terms. Mary Isabel had never gone to town alone in her life. Louisa did not believe she would dare to go. But Mary Isabel did not quail61. Defiance was not so hard after all, once you had begun.
Mary Isabel went to town and she went alone. She spent the whole delightful65 day in the shops, unhampered by Louisa's scorn and criticism in her examination of all the pretty things displayed. She selected a hat she felt sure Tom would like—a pretty crumpled49 grey straw with forget-me-nots and ribbons. Then she bought a grey silk of a lovely silvery shade.
When she got back home she unwrapped her packages and showed her purchases to Louisa. But Louisa neither looked at them nor spoke66 to Mary Isabel. Mary Isabel tossed her head and went to her own room. Her draught67 of freedom had stimulated68 her, and she did not mind Louisa's attitude half as much as she would have expected. She read Tom's letter over again to fortify69 herself and then she dressed her hair in a fashion she had seen that day in town and pulled out all the little curls on her forehead.
The next day she took the silver-grey silk to the Latimer dressmaker and picked out a fashionable design for it. When the silk dress came home, Louisa, who had thawed70 out somewhat in the meantime, unbent sufficiently71 to remark that it fitted very well.
"I am going to wear it to the induction tomorrow," Mary Isabel said, boldly to all appearances, quakingly in reality. She knew that she was throwing down the gauntlet for good and all. If she could assert and maintain her independence in this matter Louisa's power would be broken forever.
Twelve years before this, the previously72 mentioned schism73 had broken out in the Latimer church. The minister had sided with the faction74 which Louisa Irving opposed. She had promptly75 ceased going to his church and withdrew all financial support. She paid to the Marwood church, fifteen miles away, and occasionally she hired a team and drove over there to service. But she never entered the Latimer church again nor allowed Mary Isabel to do so. For that matter, Mary Isabel did not wish to go. She had resented the minister's attitude almost as bitterly as Louisa. But when Mr. Moody accepted a call elsewhere Mary Isabel hoped that she and Louisa might return to their old church home. Possibly they might have done so had not the congregation called the young, newly fledged James Anderson. Mary Isabel would not have cared for this, but Louisa sternly said that neither she nor any of hers should ever darken the doors of a church where the nephew of Martin Hamilton preached. Mary Isabel had regretfully acquiesced76 at the time, but now she had made up her mind to go to church and she meant to begin with the induction service.
Louisa stared at her sister incredulously.
"Have you taken complete leave of your senses, Mary Isabel?"
"No. I've just come to them," retorted Mary Isabel recklessly, gripping a chair-back desperately77 so that Louisa should not see how she was trembling. "It is all foolishness to keep away from church just because of an old grudge. I'm tired of staying home Sundays or driving fifteen miles to Marwood to hear poor old Mr. Grattan. Everybody says Mr. Anderson is a splendid young man and an excellent preacher, and I'm going to attend his services regularly."
Louisa had taken Mary Isabel's first defiance in icy disdain78. Now she lost her temper and raged. The storm of angry words beat on Mary Isabel like hail, but she fronted it staunchly. She seemed to hear Tom's voice saying, "Live your own life, Mary Isabel; don't let Louisa live it for you," and she meant to obey him.
"If you go to that man's induction I'll never forgive you," Louisa concluded.
Mary Isabel said nothing. She just primmed79 up her lips very determinedly, picked up the silk dress, and carried it to her room.
The next day was fine and warm. Louisa said no word all the morning. She worked fiercely and slammed things around noisily. After dinner Mary Isabel went to her room and came down presently, fine and dainty in her grey silk, with the forget-me-not hat resting on the soft loose waves of her hair. Louisa was blacking the kitchen stove.
She shot one angry glance at Mary Isabel, then gave a short, contemptuous laugh, the laugh of an angry woman who finds herself robbed of all weapons except ridicule80.
Mary Isabel flushed and walked with an unfaltering step out of the house and up the lane. She resented Louisa's laughter. She was sure there was nothing so very ridiculous about her appearance. Women far older than she, even in Latimer, wore light dresses and fashionable hats. Really, Louisa was very disagreeable.
"I have put up with her ways too long," thought Mary Isabel, with a quick, unwonted rush of anger. "But I never shall again—no, never, let her be as vexed81 and scornful as she pleases."
The induction services were interesting, and Mary Isabel enjoyed them. Doctor Hamilton was sitting across from her and once or twice she caught him looking at her admiringly. The doctor noticed the hat and the grey silk and wondered how Mary Isabel had managed to get her own way concerning them. What a pretty woman she was! Really, he had never realized before how very pretty she was. But then, he had never seen her except in a sunbonnet or with her hair combed primly back.
But when the service was over Mary Isabel was dismayed to see that the sky had clouded over and looked very much like rain. Everybody hurried home, and Mary Isabel tripped along the shore road filled with anxious thoughts about her dress. That kind of silk always spotted82, and her hat would be ruined if it got wet. How foolish she had been not to bring an umbrella!
She reached her own doorstep panting just as the first drop of rain fell.
"Thank goodness," she breathed.
Then she tried to open the door. It would not open.
She could see Louisa sitting by the kitchen window, calmly reading.
"Louisa, open the door quick," she called impatiently.
Louisa never moved a muscle, although Mary Isabel knew she must have heard.
"Louisa, do you hear what I say?" she cried, reaching over and tapping on the pane83 imperiously. "Open the door at once. It is going to rain—it is raining now. Be quick."
Louisa might as well have been a graven image for all the response she gave. Then did Mary Isabel realize her position. Louisa had locked her out purposely, knowing the rain was coming. Louisa had no intention of letting her in; she meant to keep her out until the dress and hat of her rebellion were spoiled. This was Louisa's revenge.
Mary Isabel turned with a gasp84. What should she do? The padlocked doors of hen-house and well-house and wood-house: revealed the thoroughness of Louisa's vindictive85 design. Where should she go? She would go somewhere. She would not have her lovely new dress and hat spoiled!
She caught her ruffled86 skirts up in her hand and ran across the yard. She climbed the fence into the field and ran across that. Another drop of rain struck her cheek. She never glanced back or she would have seen a horrified87 face peering from the cottage kitchen window. Louisa had never dreamed that Mary Isabel would seek refuge over at Dr. Hamilton's.
Dr. Hamilton, who had driven home from church with the young minister, saw her coming and ran to open the door for her. Mary Isabel dashed up the verandah steps, breathless, crimson88-cheeked, trembling with pent-up indignation and sense of outrage89.
"Louisa locked me out, Dr. Hamilton," she cried almost hysterically90. "She locked me out on purpose to spoil my dress. I'll never forgive her, I'll never go back to her, never, never, unless she asks me to. I had to come here. I was not going to have my dress ruined to please Louisa."
"Of course not—of course not," said Dr. Hamilton soothingly91, drawing her into his big cosy92 living room. "You did perfectly93 right to come here, and you are just in time. There is the rain now in good earnest."
Mary Isabel sank into a chair and looked at Dr. Hamilton with tears in her eyes.
"Wasn't it an unkind, unsisterly thing to do?" she asked piteously. "Oh, I shall never feel the same towards Louisa again. Tom was right—I didn't tell you about Tom's letter but I will by and by. I shall not go back to Louisa after her locking me out. When it stops raining I'll go straight up to my cousin Ella's and stay with her until I arrange my plans. But one thing is certain, I shall not go back to Louisa."
"I wouldn't," said the doctor recklessly. "Now, don't cry and don't worry. Take off your hat—you can go to the spare room across the hall, if you like. Jim has gone upstairs to lie down; he has a bad headache and says he doesn't want any tea. So I was going to get up a bachelor's snack for myself. My housekeeper is away. She heard, at church that her mother was ill and went over to Marwood."
When Mary Isabel came back from the spare room, a little calmer but with traces of tears on her pink cheeks, the doctor had as good a tea-table spread as any woman could have had. Mary Isabel thought it was fortunate that the little errand boy, Tommy Brewster, was there, or she certainly would have been dreadfully embarrassed, now that the flame of her anger had blown out. But later on, when tea was over and she and the doctor were left alone, she did not feel embarrassed after all. Instead, she felt delightfully94 happy and at home. Dr. Hamilton put one so at ease.
She told him all about Tom's letter and her subsequent revolt. Dr. Hamilton never once made the mistake of smiling. He listened and approved and sympathized.
"So I'm determined59 I won't go back," concluded Mary Isabel, "unless she asks me to—and Louisa will never do that. Ella will be glad enough to have me for a while; she has five children and can't get any help."
The doctor shrugged95 his shoulders. He thought of Mary Isabel as unofficial drudge96 to Ella Kemble and her family. Then he looked at the little silvery figure by the window.
"I think I can suggest a better plan," he said gently and tenderly. "Suppose you stay here—as my wife. I've always wanted to ask you that but I feared it was no use because I knew Louisa would oppose it and I did not think you would consent if she did not. I think," the doctor leaned forward and took Mary Isabel's fluttering hand in his, "I think we can be very happy here, dear."
Mary Isabel flushed crimson and her heart beat wildly. She knew now that she loved Dr. Hamilton—and Tom would have liked it—yes, Tom would. She remembered how Tom hated the thought of his sisters being old maids.
"Then," said the doctor briskly, "what is the matter with our being married right here and now?"
"Married!"
"Yes, of course. Here we are in a state where no licence is required, a minister in the house, and you all dressed in the most beautiful wedding silk imaginable. You must see, if you just look at it calmly, how much better it will be than going up to Mrs. Kemble's and thereby98 publishing your difference with Louisa to all the village. I'll give you fifteen minutes to get used to the idea and then I'll call Jim down."
Mary Isabel put her hands to her face.
"Think it over," said the doctor in a businesslike voice.
Mary Isabel thought—thought very hard for a few moments.
What would Tom have said?
Was it probable that Tom would have approved of such marrying in haste?
Mary Isabel came to the decision that he would have preferred it to having family jars bruited100 abroad. Moreover, Mary Isabel had never liked Ella Kemble very much. Going to her was only one degree better than going back to Louisa.
At last Mary Isabel took her hands down from her face. "Well?" said the doctor persuasively101 as she did so.
"I will consent on one condition," said Mary Isabel firmly. "And that is, that you will let me send word over to Louisa that I am going to be married and that she may come and see the ceremony if she will. Louisa has behaved very unkindly in this matter, but after all she is my sister—and she has been good to me in some ways—and I am not going to give her a chance to say that I got married in this—this headlong-fashion and never let her know."
"Tommy can take the word over," said the doctor.
Mary Isabel went to the doctor's desk and wrote a very brief note.
Dear Louisa:
I am going to be married to Dr. Hamilton right away. I've seen him often at the shore this summer. I would like you to be present at the ceremony if you choose.
Mary Isabel.
Tommy ran across the field with the note.
It had now ceased raining and the clouds were breaking. Mary Isabel thought that a good omen4. She and the doctor watched Tommy from the window. They saw Louisa come to the door, take the note, and shut the door in Tommy's face. Ten minutes later she reappeared, habited in her mackintosh, with her second-best bonnet on.
"She's—coming," said Mary Isabel, trembling.
The doctor put his arm protectingly about the little lady.
Mary Isabel tossed her head. "Oh, I'm not—I'm only excited. I shall never be afraid of Louisa again."
Louisa came grimly over the field, up the verandah steps, and into the room without knocking.
"Mary Isabel," she said, glaring at her sister and ignoring the doctor entirely102, "did you mean what you said in that letter?"
"Yes, I did," said Mary Isabel firmly.
"You are going to be married to that man in this shameless, indecent haste?"
"Yes."
"And nothing I can say will have the least effect on you?"
"Not the slightest."
"Then," said Louisa, more grimly than ever, "all I ask of you is to come home and be married from under your father's roof. Do have that much respect for your parents' memory, at least."
"Of course I will," cried Mary Isabel impulsively103, softening104 at once. "Of course we will—won't we?" she asked, turning prettily to the doctor.
Louisa snorted. "I'll go home and air the parlour," she said. "It's lucky I baked that fruitcake Monday. You can come when you're ready."
She stalked home across the field. In a few minutes the doctor and Mary Isabel followed, and behind them came the young minister, carrying his blue book under his arm, and trying hard and not altogether successfully to look grave.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
meek
|
|
| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
omen
|
|
| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
prim
|
|
| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
whit
|
|
| n.一点，丝毫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
ruffling
|
|
| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
defiance
|
|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
sleek
|
|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
bonnets
|
|
| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
floppy
|
|
| adj.松软的，衰弱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
hooding
|
|
| v.兜帽( hood的现在分词 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
19
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
bouquet
|
|
| n.花束，酒香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
taboo
|
|
| n.禁忌，禁止接近，禁止使用；adj.禁忌的；v.禁忌，禁制，禁止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
feud
|
|
| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
resolutely
|
|
| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
shingle
|
|
| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
reverence
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
bereavement
|
|
| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
demurely
|
|
| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
complimentary
|
|
| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
clandestine
|
|
| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
tryst
|
|
| n.约会；v.与…幽会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
loomed
|
|
| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
induction
|
|
| n.感应，感应现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
moody
|
|
| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
prettily
|
|
| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
fracas
|
|
| n.打架；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
tenacity
|
|
| n.坚韧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
primly
|
|
| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
advent
|
|
| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
crumpled
|
|
| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
spunk
|
|
| n.勇气，胆量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
friction
|
|
| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
tyrant
|
|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
brace
|
|
| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
shackles
|
|
| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
riveted
|
|
| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
determinedly
|
|
| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
quail
|
|
| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
naught
|
|
| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
ominous
|
|
| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
reassuring
|
|
| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
stimulated
|
|
| a.刺激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
fortify
|
|
| v.强化防御，为…设防；加强，强化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
thawed
|
|
| 解冻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
schism
|
|
| n.分派，派系，分裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
faction
|
|
| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
acquiesced
|
|
| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
primmed
|
|
| v.循规蹈矩的( prim的过去式和过去分词 )；整洁的；（人）一本正经；循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
vexed
|
|
| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
spotted
|
|
| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
pane
|
|
| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
vindictive
|
|
| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
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： |
|
|
|
|
87
horrified
|
|
| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
outrage
|
|
| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
hysterically
|
|
| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
soothingly
|
|
| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
cosy
|
|
| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
delightfully
|
|
| 大喜，欣然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
drudge
|
|
| n.劳碌的人；v.做苦工，操劳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
faltered
|
|
| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
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： |
|
|
|
|
100
bruited
|
|
| v.传播（传说或谣言）( bruit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
persuasively
|
|
| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
impulsively
|
|
| adv.冲动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
gallantly
|
|
| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |