Everybody in the valley knew him, and knew his condition. It did not interfere17 with his capacity as a worker, for the greater part of the time. He was one of the best shearers in the region, the best horse-breaker; and his services were always in demand, spite of the risk there was of his having at any time one of these attacks of wandering. His absences were a great grief to Ramona, not only from the loneliness in which it left her, but from the anxiety she felt lest his mental disorder18 might at any time take a more violent and dangerous shape. This anxiety was all the more harrowing because she must keep it locked in her own breast, her wise and loving instinct telling her that nothing could be more fatal to him than the knowledge of his real condition. More than once he reached home, breathless, panting, the sweat rolling off his face, crying aloud, “The Americans have found us out, Majella! They were on the trail! I baffled them. I came up another way.” At such times she would soothe19 him like a child; persuade him to lie down and rest; and when he waked and wondered why he was so tired, she would say, “You were all out of breath when you came in, dear. You must not climb so fast; it is foolish to tire one's self so.”
In these days Ramona began to think earnestly of Felipe. She believed Alessandro might be cured. A wise doctor could surely do something for him. If Felipe knew what sore straits she was in, Felipe would help her. But how could she reach Felipe without the Senora's knowing it? And, still more, how could she send a letter to Felipe without Alessandro's knowing what she had written? Ramona was as helpless in her freedom on this mountain eyrie as if she had been chained hand and foot.
And so the winter wore away, and the spring. What wheat grew in their fields in this upper air! Wild oats, too, in every nook and corner. The goats frisked and fattened20, and their hair grew long and silky; the sheep were already heavy again with wool, and it was not yet midsummer. The spring rains had been good; the stream was full, and flowers grew along its edges thick as in beds.
The baby had thrived; as placid21, laughing a little thing as if its mother had never known sorrow. “One would think she had suckled pain,” thought Ramona, “so constantly have I grieved this year; but the Virgin22 has kept her well.”
If prayers could compass it, that would surely have been so; for night and day the devout23, trusting, and contrite24 Ramona had knelt before the Madonna and told her golden beads25, till they were wellnigh worn smooth of all their delicate chasing.
At midsummer was to be a fete in the Saboba village, and the San Bernardino priest would come there. This would be the time to take the baby down to be christened; this also would be the time to send the letter to Felipe, enclosed in one to Aunt Ri, who would send it for her from San Bernardino. Ramona felt half guilty as she sat plotting what she should say and how she should send it,—she, who had never had in her loyal, transparent26 breast one thought secret from Alessandro since they were wedded27. But it was all for his sake. When he was well, he would thank her.
She wrote the letter with much study and deliberation; her dread of its being read by the Senora was so great, that it almost paralyzed her pen as she wrote. More than once she destroyed pages, as being too sacred a confidence for unloving eyes to read. At last, the day before the fete, it was done, and safely hidden away. The baby's white robe, finely wrought28 in open-work, was also done, and freshly washed and ironed. No baby would there be at the fete so daintily wrapped as hers; and Alessandro had at last given his consent that the name should be Majella. It was a reluctant consent, yielded finally only to please Ramona; and, contrary to her wont29, she had been willing in this instance to have her own wish fulfilled rather than his. Her heart was set upon having the seal of baptism added to the name she so loved; and, “If I were to die,” she thought, “how glad Alessandro would be, to have still a Majella!”
All her preparations were completed, and it was yet not noon. She seated herself on the veranda30 to watch for Alessandro, who had been two days away, and was to have returned the previous evening, to make ready for the trip to Saboba. She was disquieted31 at his failure to return at the appointed time. As the hours crept on and he did not come, her anxiety increased. The sun had gone more than an hour past the midheavens before he came. He had ridden fast; she had heard the quick strokes of the horse's hoofs32 on the ground before she saw him. “Why comes he riding like that?” she thought, and ran to meet him. As he drew near, she saw to her surprise that he was riding a new horse. “Why, Alessandro!” she cried. “What horse is this?”
He looked at her bewilderedly, then at the horse. True; it was not his own horse! He struck his hand on his forehead, endeavoring to collect his thoughts. “Where is my horse, then?” he said.
“My God! Alessandro,” cried Ramona. “Take the horse back instantly. They will say you stole it.”
“But I left my pony33 there in the corral,” he said. “They will know I did not mean to steal it. How could I ever have made the mistake? I recollect6 nothing, Majella. I must have had one of the sicknesses.”
Ramona's heart was cold with fear. Only too well she knew what summary punishment was dealt in that region to horse-thieves. “Oh, let me take it back, dear!” she cried, “Let me go down with it. They will believe me.”
“Majella!” he exclaimed, “think you I would send you into the fold of the wolf? My wood-dove! It is in Jim Farrar's corral I left my pony. I was there last night, to see about his sheep-shearing in the autumn. And that is the last I know. I will ride back as soon as I have rested. I am heavy with sleep.”
Thinking it safer to let him sleep for an hour, as his brain was evidently still confused, Ramona assented34 to this, though a sense of danger oppressed her. Getting fresh hay from the corral, she with her own hands rubbed the horse down. It was a fine, powerful black horse; Alessandro had evidently urged him cruelly up the steep trail, for his sides were steaming, his nostrils35 white with foam36. Tears stood in Ramona's eyes as she did what she could for him. He recognized her good-will, and put his nose to her face. “It must be because he was black like Benito, that Alessandro took him,” she thought. “Oh, Mary Mother, help us to get the creature safe back!” she said.
When she went into the house, Alessandro was asleep. Ramona glanced at the sun. It was already in the western sky. By no possibility could Alessandro go to Farrar's and back before dark. She was on the point of waking him, when a furious barking from Capitan and the other dogs roused him instantly from his sleep, and springing to his feet, he ran out to see what it meant. In a moment more Ramona followed,—only a moment, hardly a moment; but when she reached the threshold, it was to hear a gun-shot, to see Alessandro fall to the ground, to see, in the same second, a ruffianly man leap from his horse, and standing37 over Alessandro's body, fire his pistol again, once, twice, into the forehead, cheek. Then with a volley of oaths, each word of which seemed to Ramona's reeling senses to fill the air with a sound like thunder, he untied38 the black horse from the post where Ramona had fastened him, and leaping into his saddle again, galloped39 away, leading the horse. As he rode away, he shook his fist at Ramona, who was kneeling on the ground, striving to lift Alessandro's head, and to stanch40 the blood flowing from the ghastly wounds. “That'll teach you damned Indians to leave off stealing our horses!” he cried, and with another volley of terrible oaths was out of sight.
With a calmness which was more dreadful than any wild outcry of grief, Ramona sat on the ground by Alessandro's body, and held his hands in hers. There was nothing to be done for him. The first shot had been fatal, close to his heart,—the murderer aimed well; the after-shots, with the pistol, were from mere41 wanton brutality42. After a few seconds Ramona rose, went into the house, brought out the white altar-cloth, and laid it over the mutilated face. As she did this, she recalled words she had heard Father Salvierderra quote as having been said by Father Junipero, when one of the Franciscan Fathers had been massacred by the Indians, at San Diego. “Thank God.” he said, “the ground is now watered by the blood of a martyr44!”
“The blood of a martyr!” The words seemed to float in the air; to cleanse45 it from the foul46 blasphemies47 the murderer had spoken. “My Alessandro!” she said. “Gone to be with the saints; one of the blessed martyrs48; they will listen to what a martyr says.” His hands were warm. She laid them in her bosom49, kissed them again and again. Stretching herself on the ground by his side, she threw one arm over him, and whispered in his ear, “My love, my Alessandro! Oh, speak once to Majella! Why do I not grieve more? My Alessandro! Is he not blest already? And soon we will be with him! The burdens were too great. He could not bear them!” Then waves of grief broke over her, and she sobbed50 convulsively; but still she shed no tears. Suddenly she sprang to her feet, and looked wildly around. The sun was not many hours high. Whither should she go for help? The old Indian woman had gone away with the sheep, and would not be back till dark. Alessandro must not lie there on the ground. To whom should she go? To walk to Saboba was out of the question. There was another Indian village nearer,—the village of the Cahuillas, on one of the high plateaus of San Jacinto. She had once been there. Could she find that trail now? She must try. There was no human help nearer.
Taking the baby in her arms, she knelt by Alessandro, and kissing him, whispered, “Farewell, my beloved. I will not be long gone. I go to bring friends.” As she set off, swiftly running, Capitan, who had been lying by Alessandro's side, uttering heart-rending howls, bounded to his feet to follow her. “No, Capitan,” she said; and leading him back to the body, she took his head in her hands, looked into his eyes, and said, “Capitan, watch here.” With a whimpering cry, he licked her hands, and stretched himself on the ground. He understood, and would obey; but his eyes followed her wistfully till she disappeared from sight.
The trail was rough, and hard to find. More than once Ramona stopped, baffled, among the rocky ridges51 and precipices53. Her clothes were torn, her face bleeding, from the thorny54 shrubs55; her feet seemed leaden, she made her way so slowly. It was dark in the ravines; as she climbed spur after spur, and still saw nothing but pine forests or bleak56 opens, her heart sank within her. The way had not seemed so long before. Alessandro had been with her; it was a joyous57, bright day, and they had lingered wherever they liked, and yet the way had seemed short. Fear seized her that she was lost. If that were so, before morning she would be with Alessandro; for fierce beasts roamed San Jacinto by night. But for the baby's sake, she must not die. Feverishly58 she pressed on. At last, just as it had grown so dark she could see only a few hand-breadths before her, and was panting more from terror than from running, lights suddenly gleamed out, only a few rods ahead. It was the Cahuilla village. In a few moments she was there.
It is a poverty-stricken little place, the Cahuilla village,—a cluster of tule and adobe59 huts, on a narrow bit of bleak and broken ground, on San Jacinto Mountain; the people are very poor, but are proud and high-spirited,—veritable mountaineers in nature, fierce and independent.
Alessandro had warm friends among them, and the news that he had been murdered, and that his wife had run all the way down the mountain, with her baby in her arms, for help, went like wild-fire through the place. The people gathered in an excited group around the house where Ramona had taken refuge. She was lying, half unconscious, on a bed. As soon as she had gasped60 out her terrible story, she had fallen forward on the floor, fainting, and the baby had been snatched from her arms just in time to save it. She did not seem to miss the child; had not asked for it, or noticed it when it was brought to the bed. A merciful oblivion seemed to be fast stealing over her senses. But she had spoken words enough to set the village in a blaze of excitement. It ran higher and higher. Men were everywhere mounting their horses,—some to go up and bring Alessandro's body down; some organizing a party to go at once to Jim Farrar's house and shoot him: these were the younger men, friends of Alessandro. Earnestly the aged61 Capitan of the village implored62 them to refrain from such violence.
“Why should ten be dead instead of one, my sons?” he said. “Will you leave your wives and your children like his? The whites will kill us all if you lay hands on the man. Perhaps they themselves will punish him.”
A derisive63 laugh rose from the group. Never yet within their experience had a white man been punished for shooting an Indian. The Capitan knew that as well as they did. Why did he command them to sit still like women, and do nothing, when a friend was murdered?
“Because I am old, and you are young. I have seen that we fight in vain,” said the wise old man. “It is not sweet to me, any more than to you. It is a fire in my veins64; but I am old. I have seen. I forbid you to go.”
The women added their entreaties65 to his, and the young men abandoned their project. But it was with sullen66 reluctance67; and mutterings were to be heard, on all sides, that the time would come yet. There was more than one way of killing68 a man. Farrar would not be long seen in the valley. Alessandro should be avenged69.
As Farrar rode slowly down the mountain, leading his recovered horse, he revolved70 in his thoughts what course to pursue. A few years before, he would have gone home, no more disquieted at having killed an Indian than if he had killed a fox or a wolf. But things were different now. This Agent, that the Government had taken it into its head to send out to look after the Indians, had made it hot, the other day, for some fellows in San Bernardino who had maltreated an Indian; he had even gone so far as to arrest several liquor-dealers for simply selling whiskey to Indians. If he were to take this case of Alessandro's in hand, it might be troublesome. Farrar concluded that his wisest course would be to make a show of good conscience and fair-dealing by delivering himself up at once to the nearest justice of the peace, as having killed a man in self-defence, Accordingly he rode straight to the house of a Judge Wells, a few miles below Saboba, and said that he wished to surrender himself as having committed “justifiable71 homicide” on an Indian, or Mexican, he did net know which, who had stolen his horse. He told a plausible72 story. He professed73 not to know the man, or the place; but did not explain how it was, that, knowing neither, he had gone so direct to the spot.
He said: “I followed the trail for some time, but when I reached a turn, I came into a sort of blind trail, where I lost the track. I think the horse had been led up on hard sod, to mislead any one on the track. I pushed on, crossed the creek74, and soon found the tracks again in soft ground. This part of the mountain was perfectly75 unknown to me, and very wild. Finally I came to a ridge52, from which I looked down on a little ranch76. As I came near the house, the dogs began to bark, just as I discovered my horse tied to a tree. Hearing the dogs, an Indian, or Mexican, I could not tell which, came out of the house, flourishing a large knife. I called out to him, 'Whose horse is that?' He answered in Spanish, 'It is mine.' 'Where did you get it?' I asked. 'In San Jacinto,' was his reply. As he still came towards me, brandishing77 the knife, I drew my gun, and said, 'Stop, or I'll shoot!' He did not stop, and I fired; still he did not stop, so I fired again; and as he did not fall, I knocked him down with the butt78 of my gun. After he was down, I shot him twice with my pistol.”
The duty of a justice in such a case as this was clear. Taking the prisoner into custody79, he sent out messengers to summon a jury of six men to hold inquest on the body of said Indian, or Mexican; and early the next morning, led by Farrar, they set out for the mountain. When they reached the ranch, the body had been removed; the house was locked; no signs left of the tragedy of the day before, except a few blood-stains on the ground, where Alessandro had fallen. Farrar seemed greatly relieved at this unexpected phase of affairs. However, when he found that Judge Wells, instead of attempting to return to the valley that night, proposed to pass the night at a ranch only a few miles from the Cahuilla village, he became almost hysterical80 with fright. He declared that the Cahuillas would surely come and murder him in the night, and begged piteously that the men would all stay with him to guard him.
At midnight Judge Wells was roused by the arrival of the Capitan and head men of the Cahuilla village. They had heard of his arrival with his jury, and they had come to lead them to their village, where the body of the murdered man lay. They were greatly distressed81 on learning that they ought not to have removed the body from the spot where the death had taken place, and that now no inquest could be held.
Judge Wells himself, however, went back with them, saw the body, and heard the full account of the murder as given by Ramona on her first arrival. Nothing more could now be learned from her, as she was in high fever and delirium82; knew no one, not even her baby when they laid it on her breast. She lay restlessly tossing from side to side, talking incessantly83, clasping her rosary in her hands, and constantly mingling84 snatches of prayers with cries for Alessandro and Felipe; the only token of consciousness she gave was to clutch the rosary wildly, and sometimes hide it in her bosom, if they attempted to take it from her.
Judge Wells was a frontiersman, and by no means sentimentally85 inclined; but the tears stood in his eyes as he looked at the unconscious Ramona.
Farrar had pleaded that the preliminary hearing might take place immediately; but after this visit to the village, the judge refused his request, and appointed the trial a week from that day, to give time for Ramona to recover, and appear as a witness. He impressed upon the Indians as strongly as he could the importance of having her appear. It was evident that Farrar's account of the affair was false from first to last. Alessandro had no knife. He had not had time to go many steps from the door; the volley of oaths, and the two shots almost simultaneously86, were what Ramona heard as she ran to the door. Alessandro could not have spoken many words.
The day for the hearing came. Farrar had been, during the interval, in a merely nominal87 custody; having been allowed to go about his business, on his own personal guarantee of appearing in time for the trial. It was with a strange mixture of regret and relief that Judge Wells saw the hour of the trial arrive, and not a witness on the ground except Farrar himself. That Farrar was a brutal43 ruffian, the whole country knew. This last outrage88 was only one of a long series; the judge would have been glad to have committed him for trial, and have seen him get his deserts. But San Jacinto Valley, wild, sparsely89 settled as it was, had yet as fixed90 standards and criterions of popularity as the most civilized91 of communities could show; and to betray sympathy with Indians was more than any man's political head was worth. The word “justice” had lost its meaning, if indeed it ever had any, so far as they were concerned. The valley was a unit on that question, however divided it might be upon others. On the whole, the judge was relieved, though it was not without a bitter twinge, as of one accessory after the deed, and unfaithful to a friend; for he had known Alessandro well. Yet, on the whole, he was relieved when he was forced to accede92 to the motion made by Farrar's counsel, that “the prisoner be discharged on ground of justifiable homicide, no witnesses having appeared against him.”
He comforted himself by thinking—what was no doubt true—that even if the case had been brought to a jury trial, the result would have been the same; for there would never have been found a San Diego County jury that would convict a white man of murder for killing an Indian, if there were no witnesses to the occurrence except the Indian wife. But he derived93 small comfort from this. Alessandro's face haunted him, and also the memory of Ramona's, as she lay tossing and moaning in the wretched Cahuilla hovel. He knew that only her continued illness, or her death, could explain her not having come to the trial. The Indians would have brought her in their arms all the way, if she had been alive and in possession of her senses.
During the summer that she and Alessandro had lived in Saboba he had seen her many times, and had been impressed by her rare quality. His children knew her and loved her; had often been in her house; his wife had bought her embroidery94. Alessandro also had worked for him; and no one knew better than Judge Wells that Alessandro in his senses was as incapable95 of stealing a horse as any white man in the valley. Farrar knew it; everybody knew it. Everybody knew, also, about his strange fits of wandering mind; and that when these half-crazed fits came on him, he was wholly irresponsible. Farrar knew this. The only explanation of Farrar's deed was, that on seeing his horse spent and exhausted from having been forced up that terrible trail, he was seized by ungovernable rage, and fired on the second, without knowing what he did. “But he wouldn't have done it, if it hadn't been an Indian!” mused96 the judge. “He'd ha' thought twice before he shot any white man down, that way.”
Day after day such thoughts as these pursued the judge, and he could not shake them off. An uneasy sense that he owed something to Ramona, or, if Ramona were dead, to the little child she had left, haunted him. There might in some such way be a sort of atonement made to the murdered, unavenged Alessandro. He might even take the child, and bring it up in his own house. That was by no means an uncommon97 thing in the valley. The longer he thought, the more he felt himself eased in his mind by this purpose; and he decided98 that as soon as he could find leisure he would go to the Cahuilla village and see what could be done.
But it was not destined99 that stranger hands should bring succor100 to Ramona. Felipe had at last found trace of her. Felipe was on the way.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
destitution
|
|
| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
antagonism
|
|
| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
reticent
|
|
| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
recollect
|
|
| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
delusions
|
|
| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
maniac
|
|
| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
exhaustion
|
|
| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
herds
|
|
| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
remonstrated
|
|
| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
disorder
|
|
| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
soothe
|
|
| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
fattened
|
|
| v.喂肥( fatten的过去式和过去分词 )；养肥（牲畜）；使（钱）增多；使（公司）升值 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
devout
|
|
| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
contrite
|
|
| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
beads
|
|
| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
transparent
|
|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
wedded
|
|
| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
veranda
|
|
| n.走廊；阳台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
disquieted
|
|
| v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
hoofs
|
|
| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
untied
|
|
| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
galloped
|
|
| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
stanch
|
|
| v.止住（血等）；adj.坚固的；坚定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
brutality
|
|
| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
martyr
|
|
| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
cleanse
|
|
| vt.使清洁，使纯洁，清洗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
blasphemies
|
|
| n.对上帝的亵渎，亵渎的言词[行为]( blasphemy的名词复数 )；侮慢的言词（或行为） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
martyrs
|
|
| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
sobbed
|
|
| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
ridges
|
|
| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
precipices
|
|
| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
thorny
|
|
| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
shrubs
|
|
| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
bleak
|
|
| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
joyous
|
|
| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
feverishly
|
|
| adv. 兴奋地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
adobe
|
|
| n.泥砖，土坯，美国Adobe公司 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
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： |
|
|
|
|
61
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
derisive
|
|
| adj.嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
entreaties
|
|
| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
avenged
|
|
| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
revolved
|
|
| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
justifiable
|
|
| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
plausible
|
|
| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
creek
|
|
| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
ranch
|
|
| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
brandishing
|
|
| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
butt
|
|
| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
custody
|
|
| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
distressed
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
delirium
|
|
| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
mingling
|
|
| adj.混合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
sentimentally
|
|
| adv.富情感地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
simultaneously
|
|
| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
nominal
|
|
| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
outrage
|
|
| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
sparsely
|
|
| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
accede
|
|
| v.应允，同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
embroidery
|
|
| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
mused
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
succor
|
|
| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |