When Sibyl Andres left the studio, after meeting Mrs. Taine, her mind was dominated by one thought--that she must get away from the world that saw only evil in her friendship with Aaron King--a friendship that, to the mountain girl, was as pure as her relations to Myra Willard or Brian Oakley.
Under the watchful1, experienced care of the woman with the disfigured face, only the worthy2 had been permitted to enter into the life of this child of the hills. Sibyl's character--mind and heart and body and soul--had been formed by the strength and purity of her mountain environment; by her association with her parents, with Myra Willard, and with her parents' life-long friends; and by her mental comradeship with the greatest spirits that music and literature have given to the world. As her physical strength and beauty was the gift of her free mountain life, the beauty and strength of her pure spirit was the gift of those kindred spirits that are as mountains in the mental and spiritual life of the race.
Love had come to Sibyl Andres, not as it comes to those girls who, in the hot-house of passion we call civilization, are forced into premature3 and sickly bloom by an atmosphere of sensuality. Love had come to her so gently, so naturally, so like the opening of a wild flower, that she had not yet understood that it was love. Even as her womanhood had come to fulfill4 her girlhood, so Aaron King had come into her life to fulfill her womanhood. She had chosen her mate with an unconscious obedience5 to the laws of life that was divinely reckless of the world.
Myra Willard, wise in her experience, and in her more than mother love for Sibyl, saw and recognized that which the girl herself did not yet understand. Satisfied as to the character of Aaron King, as it had been tested in those days of unhampered companionship; and seeing, as well, his growing love for the girl, the woman had been content not to meddle6 with that which she conceived to be the work of God. And why not the work of God? Should the development, the blossoming, and the fruiting of human lives, that the race may flower and fruit, be held less a work of divinity than the plants that mature and blossom and reproduce themselves in their children?
The character of Mrs. Taine represented those forces in life that are, in every way, antagonistic7 to the forces that make the character of a Sibyl Andres possible. In a spirit of wanton, selfish cruelty, that was born of her worldly environment and training, "The Age" had twisted and distorted the very virtues8 of "Nature" into something as hideously9 ugly and vile10 as her own thoughts. The woman--product of gross materialism11 and sensuality--had caught in her licentious12 hands God's human flower and had crushed its beauty with deliberate purpose. Wounded, frightened, dismayed, not understanding, unable to deny, the girl turned in reluctant flight from the place that was, to her, because of her love, holy ground.
It was impossible for Sibyl not to believe Mrs. Taine--the woman had spoken so kindly15; had seemed so reluctant to speak at all; had appeared so to appreciate her innocence16. A thousand trivial and unimportant incidents, that, in the light of the worldly woman's words, could be twisted to evidence the truth of the things she said, came crowding in upon the girl's mind. Instead of helping17 Aaron King with his work, instead of truly enjoying life with him, as she had thought, her friendship was to him a menace, a danger. She had believed--and the belief had brought her a strange happiness--that he had cared for her companionship. He had cared only to use her for his pictures--as he used his brushes. He had played with her--as she had seen him toy idly with a brush, while thinking over his work. He would throw her aside, when she had served his purpose, as she had seen him throw a worn-out brush aside.
The woman who was still a child could not blame the artist--she was too loyal to what she had thought was their friendship; she was too unselfish in her yet unrecognized love for her chosen mate. No, she could not blame him--only--only--she wished--oh how she wished--that she had understood. It would not have hurt so, perhaps, if she had understood.
In all the cruel tangle18 of her emotions, in all her confused and bewildering thoughts, in all her suffering one thing was clear; she must get away from the world that could see only evil--she must go at once. Conrad Lagrange and Aaron King might come at any moment. She could not face them; now that she knew. She wished Myra was home. But she would leave a little note and Myra--dear Myra with her disfigured face--would understand.
Quickly, the girl wrote her letter. Hurriedly, she dressed in her mountain costume. Still acting19 under her blind impulse to escape, she made no explanations to the neighbors, when she went for the horse. In her desire to avoid coming face to face with any one, she even chose the more unfrequented streets through the orange groves20. In her humiliation21 and shame, she wished for the kindly darkness of the night. Not until she had left the city far behind, and, in the soft dusk, drew near the mouth of the canyon22, did she regain23 some measure of her self-control.
As she was overtaking the Power Company's team and wagon24 of supplies, she turned in her saddle, for the first time, to look back. A mile away, on the road, she could see a cloud of dust and a dark, moving spot which she knew to be an automobile25. One of the Company machines, she thought; and drew a breath of relief that Fairlands was so far away.
It was quite dark as she entered the canyon; but, as she drew near, she could see against the sky, those great gates, opening silently, majestically26 to receive her. From within the canyon, she watched, as she rode, to see them slowly close again. The sight of the encircling peaks and ridges27, rising in solemn grandeur29 out of the darkness into the light of the stars, comforted her. The night wind, drawing down the canyon, was sweet and bracing30 with the odor of the hills. The roar of the tumbling Clear Creek31, filling the night with its deep-toned music, soothed32 and calmed her troubled mind. Presently, she would be with her friends, and, somehow, all would be well.
The girl had ridden half the distance, perhaps, from the canyon gates to the Ranger33 Station when, above the roar of the mountain stream, her quick ear caught the sound of an automobile, behind her. Looking back, she saw the gleam of the lights, like two great eyes in the darkness. A Company machine, going up to the Head-Work, she thought. Or, perhaps the Doctor, to see some one of the mountain folk.
As the automobile drew nearer, she reined34 her horse out of the road, and halted in the thick chaparral to let it pass. The blazing lights, as her horse turned to face the approaching machine, blinded her. The animal restive35 under the ordeal36, demanded all her attention. She scarcely noticed that the automobile had slowed down, when within a few feet of her, until a man, suddenly, stood at her horse's head; his hand on the bridle-rein as though to assist her. At the same instant, the machine moved past them, and stopped; its engine still running.
Still with the thought of the Company men in her mind, the girl saw only their usual courtesy. "Thank you," she said, "I can handle him very nicely."
But the man--whom she had not had time to see, blinded as she had been by the light, and who was now only dimly visible in the darkness--stepped close to the horse's shoulder, as if to make himself more easily heard above the noise of the machine, his hand still holding the bridle-rein.
"It is Miss Andres, is it not?" He spoke14 as though he was known to her; and the girl--still thinking that it was one of the Company men, and feeling that he expected her to recognize him--leaned forward to see his face, as she answered.
Instantly, the stranger--standing13 close and taking advantage of the girl's position as she stooped toward him from the saddle--caught her in his powerful arms and lifted her to the ground. At the same moment, the man's companion who, under cover of the darkness and the noise of the machine, had drawn37 close to the other side of the horse, caught the bridle-rein.
Before the girl, taken so off her guard could cry out, a softly-rolled, silk handkerchief was thrust between her lips and skillfully tied in place. She struggled desperately38; but, against the powerful arms of her captor, her splendid, young strength was useless. As he bound her hands, the man spoke reassuringly39; "Don't fight, Miss. I'm not going to hurt you. I've got to do this; but I'll be as easy as I can. It will do you no good to wear yourself out."
Frightened as she was, the girl felt that the stranger was as gentle as the circumstances permitted him to be. He had not, in fact, hurt her at all; and, in his voice, she caught a tone of genuine regret. He seemed to be acting wholly against his will; as if driven by some power that rendered him, in fact, as helpless as his victim.
The other man, still standing by the horse's head, spoke sharply; "All right there?"
"All right, sir," gruffly answered the man who held Sibyl, and lifting the helpless girl gently in his arms he seated her carefully in the machine. An automobile-coat was thrown around her, the high collar turned up to hide the handkerchief about her lips, and her hat was replaced by an "auto-cap," pulled low. Then her captor went back to the horse; the other man took the seat beside her; and the car moved forward.
The girl's fright now gave way to perfect coolness. Realizing the uselessness of any effort to escape, she wisely saved her strength; watchful to take quick advantage of any opportunity that might present itself. Silently, she worked at her bonds, and endeavored to release the bandage that prevented her from crying out. But the hands that had bound her had been too skillful. Turning her head, she tried to see her companion's face. But, in the darkness, with upturned collar and cap pulled low over "auto-glasses," the identity of the man driving the car was effectually hidden.
Only when they were passing the Ranger Station and Sibyl saw the lights through the trees, did she, for a moment, renew her struggle. With all her strength she strained to release her hands. One cry from her strong, young voice would bring Brian Oakley so quickly after the automobile that her safety would be assured. On that mountain road, the chestnut40 would soon run them down. She even tried to throw herself from the car; but, bound as she was, the hand of her companion easily prevented, and she sank back in the seat, exhausted41 by her useless exertion42.
At the foot of the Oak Knoll43 trail the automobile stopped. The man who had been following on Sibyl's horse came up quickly. Swiftly, the two men worked; placing sacks of supplies and blankets--as the girl guessed--on the animal. Presently, the one who had bound her, lifted her gently from the automobile "Don't hurt yourself, Miss," he said in her ear, as he carried her toward the horse. "It will do you no good." And the girl did not again resist, as he lifted her to the saddle.
The driver of the car said something to his companion in a low tone, and Sibyl heard her captor answer, "The girl will be as safe with me as if she were in her own home."
Again, the other spoke, and the girl heard only the reply; "Don't worry; I understand that. I'll go through with it. You've left me no chance to do anything else."
Then, stepping to the horse's head and taking the bridle-rein, the man who seemed to be under orders, led the way up the canyon. Behind them, the girl heard the automobile starting on its return. The sound died away in the distance. The silence of the night was disturbed only by the sound of the man's hob-nailed boots and the horse's iron-shod feet on the road.
Once, her captor halted a moment, and, coming to the horse's shoulder, asked if she was comfortable. The girl bowed her head. "I'm sorry for that gag," he said. "As soon as it's safe, I'll remove it; but I dare not take chances." He turned abruptly44 away and they went on.
Dimly, Sibyl saw, in her companion's manner, a ray of hope. That no immediate45 danger threatened, she was assured. That the man was acting against his will, was as evident. Wisely, she resolved to bend her efforts toward enlisting46 his sympathies,--to make it hard for him to carry out the purpose of whoever controlled him,--instead of antagonizing him by continued resistance and repeated attempts to escape, and so making it easier for him to do his master's bidding.
Leaving the canyon by the Laurel Creek trail, they reached Burnt Pine, where the man removed the handkerchief that sealed the girl's lips.
"Oh, thank you," she said quietly. "That is so much better."
"I'm sorry that I had to do it," he returned, as he unbound her arms. "There, you may get down now, and rest, while I fix a bit of lunch for you."
The girl sprang to the ground. "It is a relief to be free," she said. "But, really, I'm not a bit tired. Can't I help you with the pack?"
"No," returned the other, gruffly, as though he understood her purpose and put himself on his guard. "We'll only be here a few minutes, and it's a long road ahead. You must rest."
Obediently, she sat down on the ground, her back against a tree.
As they lunched, in the dim light of the stars, she said, "May I ask where you are taking me?"
"It's a long road, Miss Andres. We'll be there to-morrow night," he answered reluctantly.
Again, she ventured timidly; "And is, is--some one waiting for--for us, at the end of our journey?"
The man's voice was kinder as he answered, "no, Miss Andres; there'll he just you and me, for some time. And," he added, "you don't need to fear _me_."
"I am not at all afraid of you," she returned gently. "But I am--" she hesitated--"I am sorry for you--that you have to do this."
The man arose abruptly. "We must he going."
For some distance beyond Burnt Pine, they kept to the Laurel Creek trail, toward San Gorgonio; then they turned aside to follow some unmarked way, known only to the man. When the first soft tints48 of the day shone in the sky behind the peaks and ridges, while Sibyl's friends were assembling at the Carleton Ranch49 in Clear Creek Canyon, and Brian Oakley was directing the day's search, the girl was following her guide in the wild depths of the mountain wilderness50, miles from any trail. The country was strange to her, but she knew that they were making their way, far above the canyon rim51, on the side of the San Bernardino range, toward the distant Cold Water country that opened into the great desert beyond.
As the light grew stronger, Sibyl saw her companion a man of medium height, with powerful shoulders and arms; dressed in khaki, with mountain boots. Under his arm, as he led the way with a powerful stride that told of almost tireless strength, the girl saw the familiar stock of a Winchester rifle. Presently he halted, and as he turned, she saw his face. It was not a bad face. A heavy beard hid mouth and cheek and throat, but the nose was not coarse or brutal52, and the brow was broad and intelligent. In the brown eyes there was, the girl thought, a look of wistful sadness, as though there were memories that could not be escaped.
"We will have breakfast here, if you please, Miss Andres," he said gravely.
"I'm so hungry," she answered, dismounting. "May I make the coffee?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry; but there must be no telltale smoke. The Ranger and his riders are out by now, as like as not."
"You seem very familiar with the country," she said, moving easily toward the rifle which he had leaned against a tree, while he busied himself with the pack of supplies.
"I am," he answered. "I have been forced to learn it thoroughly53. By the way, Miss Andres,"--he added, without turning his head, as he knelt on the ground to take food from the pack,--"that Winchester will do you no good. It is not loaded. I have the shells in my belt." He arose, facing her, and throwing open his coat, touched the butt54 of a Colt forty-five that hung in a shoulder holster under his left armpit. "This will serve in case quick action is needed, and it is always safely out of your reach, you see."
The girl laughed. "I admit that I was tempted," she said. "I might have known that you put the rifle within my reach to try me."
"I thought it would save you needless disappointment to make things clear at once," he answered. "Breakfast is ready."
The incident threw a strong light upon the character with which Sibyl had to deal. She realized, more than ever, that her only hope lay in so winning this man's sympathies and friendship that he would turn against whoever had forced him into his present position. The struggle was to be one of those silent battles of the spirit, where the forces that war are not seen but only felt, and where those who fight must often fight with smiling faces. The girl's part was to enlist47 her captor to fight for her, against himself. She saw, as clearly, the need of approaching her object with caution. Eager to know who it was that ruled this man, and by what peculiar55 power a character so strong could be so subjected, she dared not ask. Hour after hour, as they journeyed deeper and deeper into the mountain wilds, she watched and waited for some sign that her companion's mood would make it safe for her to approach him. Meanwhile, she exercised all her womanly tact56 to lead him to forget his distasteful position, and so to make his uncongenial task as pleasant as possible.
The girl did not realize how far her decision, in itself, aroused the admiring sympathy of her captor. Her coolness, self-possession, and bravery in meeting the situation with calm, watchful readiness, rather than with hysterical57 moaning and frantic58 pleading, did more than she realized toward accomplishing her purpose.
During that long forenoon, she sought to engage her guide in conversation, quite as though they were making a pleasure trip that was mutually agreeable. The man--as though he also desired his thoughts removed as far as might be from his real mission--responded readily, and succeeded in making himself a really interesting companion. Only once, did the girl venture to approach dangerous ground.
"Really," she said, "I wish I knew your name. It seems so stupid not to know how to address you. Is that asking too much?"
The man did not answer for some time, and the girl saw his face clouded with somber59 thought.
"I beg your pardon," she said gently. "I--I ought not to have asked."
"My name is Henry Marston, Miss Andres," he said deliberately60. "But it is not the name by which I am known these days," he added bitterly. "It is an honorable name, and I would like to hear it again--" he paused--"from you."
Sibyl returned gently, "Thank you, Mr. Marston--believe me, I do appreciate your confidence, and--" she in turn hesitated--"and I will keep the trust."
By noon, they had reached Granite61 Peak in the Galenas, having come by an unmarked way, through the wild country around the head of Clear Creek Canyon.
They had finished lunch, when Marston, looking at his watch, took a small mirror from his pocket and stood gazing expectantly toward the distant valley where Fairlands lay under the blue haze62. Presently, a flash of light appeared; then another and another. It was the signal that Aaron King had seen and to which he had called Brian Oakley's attention, that first day of their search.
With his mirror, the man on Granite Peak answered and the girl, watching and understanding that he was communicating with some one, saw his face grow dark with anger. She did not speak.
They had traveled a half mile, perhaps, from the peak, when the man again stopped, saying, "You must dismount here, please."
Removing the things from the saddle, he led the horse a little way down the Galena Valley side of the ridge28, and tied the reins63 to a tree. Then, slapping the animal about the head with his open hand, he forced the horse to break the reins, and started him off toward the distant valley. Again, the girl understood and made no comment.
Lifting the pack to his own strong shoulders, her companion--his eyes avoiding hers in shame--said gruffly, "Come."
Their way, now, led down from the higher levels of peak and ridge, into the canyons64 and gorges66 of the Cold Water country. There was no trail, but the man went forward as one entirely67 at home. At the head of a deep gorge65, where their way seemed barred by the face of an impossible cliff that towered above their heads a thousand feet and dropped, another thousand, sheer to the tops of the pines below, he halted and faced the girl, enquiringly. "You have a good head, Miss Andres?"
Sibyl smiled. "I was born in the mountains, Mr. Marston," she answered. "You need not fear for me."
Drawing near to the very brink68 of the precipice69, he led her, by a narrow ledge70, across the face of the cliff; and then, by an easier path, down the opposite wall of the gorge.
It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at a little log cabin that was so hidden in the wild tangle of mountain growth at the bottom of the narrow canyon as to be invisible from a distance of a hundred yards.
The girl knew that they had reached the end of their journey. Nearly exhausted by the hours of physical exertion, and worn with the mental and nervous strain, she sank down upon the blankets that her companion spread for her upon the ground.
"As soon as it is dark, I will cook a hot supper for you," he said, regarding her kindly. "Poor child, this has been a hard, hard, day for you. For me--"
Fighting to keep back the tears, she tried to thank him. For a moment he stood looking down at her. Then she saw his face grow black with rage, and, clenching71 his great fists, he turned away.
While waiting for the darkness that would hide the smoke of the fire, the man gathered cedar72 boughs73 from trees near-by, and made a comfortable bed in the cabin, for the girl. As soon as it was dark, he built a fire in the rude fire-place, and, in a few minutes, announced supper. The meal was really excellent; and Sibyl, in spite of her situation, ate heartily74; which won an admiring comment from her captor.
The meal finished, he said awkwardly, "I want to thank you, Miss Andres, for making this day as easy for me as you have. We will be alone here, until Friday, at least; perhaps longer. There is a bar to the cabin door. You may rest here as safely as though you were in your own room. Good night."
Before she could answer, he was gone.
A few minutes later, Sibyl stood in the open door. "Mr. Marston," she called.
"Yes, Miss Andres," came, instantly, out of the darkness.
"Please come into the cabin."
There was no answer.
"It will be cold out there. Please come inside."
"Thank you, Miss Andres; but I will do very nicely. Bar the door and go to sleep."
"But, Mr. Marston, I will sleep better if I know that you are comfortable."
The man came to her and she saw him in the dim light of the fire, standing hat in hand. He spoke wonderingly. "Do you mean, Miss Andres, that you would not be afraid to sleep, if I occupied the cabin with you?"
"No," she answered, "I am not afraid. Come in."
But he did not move to cross the threshold. "And why are you not afraid?" he asked curiously75.
"Because," she answered, "I know that you are a gentleman."
The man laughed harshly--such a laugh as Sibyl had never before heard. "A gentleman! This is the first time I have heard that word in connection with myself for many a year, Miss Andres. You have little reason for using it--after what I have done to you--and am doing."
"Oh, but you see, I know that you are forced to do what you are doing. You _are_ a gentleman, Mr. Marston.--Won't you please come in and sleep by the fire? You will be so uncomfortable out there. And you have had such a hard day."
"God bless you, for your good heart, Miss Andres," the man said brokenly. "But I will not intrude76 upon your privacy to-night. Don't you see," he added savagely77, "don't you see that I--I _can't?_ Bar your door, please, and let me play the part assigned to me. Your kindness to me, your confidence in me, is wasted."
He turned abruptly away and disappeared in the darkness.
收听单词发音 |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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fulfill
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| vt.履行，实现，完成；满足，使满意 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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materialism
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| n.［哲］唯物主义，唯物论；物质至上 | |
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licentious
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| adj.放纵的，淫乱的 | |
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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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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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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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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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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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humiliation
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canyon
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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wagon
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automobile
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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bracing
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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ranger
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| n.国家公园管理员，护林员；骑兵巡逻队员 | |
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reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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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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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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enlisting
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| v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的现在分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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canyons
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| n.峡谷( canyon的名词复数 ) | |
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gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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