They had decided6 to seek Rupert in Lancashire, and their best road westward7 lay through Knaresborough, and so forward by way of Skipton and the good town of Colne.
"The game grows dull," grumbled8 Michael. "We had primroses and lambs in Yoredale till I wearied of them. I thought Blake promised war and blows when we rode out to Nappa."
"The swim into York and the return—they were not enough for you?"
"I yawned so much in Yoredale," said the other, with his careless laugh. "There's much leeway to make up, babe Christopher."
As they neared Knaresborough, Michael felt his heart beat again. The sun was free of clouds, and shone full on a town beautiful as a man's dreams of fairyland. At the foot, Nidd River swirled9; and from the stream, tier on tier, the comely10 houses climbed the steep cliff-face, with trees and gardens softening11 all its outline. It was a town to live at ease in and dream high dreams, thought Kit12, until the wind of a cannon13-ball lifted his hat in passing.
At the turn of the road they found a sortie from the garrison15 hemmed16 in by fifty odd of Fairfax's dour17 Otley men. So Michael raised a shout of "A Mecca for the King," and Kit bellowed18 the same cry. The Fairfax men thought an attack in force had come; the sortie party—twenty of them, and all wounded—found new hope, and, when that affair was done, the Metcalfs rode with their new friends through the gateway19 of the town.
"I give you great thanks, gentlemen," said young Phil Amory, the leader of the sortie, as the drawbridge clashed behind them. "But for you, there'd have been no Knaresborough for us again."
"Oh, we happened to ride this way," laughed Michael. "Life is like that. And I'm devilish hungry, since you remind me of it."
"Sir, I did not remind you. We are trying to forget our stomachs."
"You have tobacco in the town?" asked Michael anxiously. "Good! It's better than a meal. I smoked my last pipeful yesterday."
"Good at the fight and the pipe," said Amory. "I like you, sir."
So they came in great content—save for three of the company, whose wounds bade them grumble—to the slope that led them to the Castle gateway, and were met here by a handful of friends who were riding to relieve them. The ladies of the garrison ran down from the battlements, and Kit was dizzied by the adulation shown him by the women. They had bright eyes, these ladies, and a great longing21 for hero-worship in and between the tiresome22 hardships of the siege. Michael was at home on the instant; battle and ladies' favours had always been his hobbies. But Kit drew apart and remembered Mistress Joan, and a mantle23 of surprising gravity was draped about him.
There was food of a kind in the dining-hall, with its chimney wide enough to roast an ox. Something that was named beef—though the garrison knew it for cold roast dog—was on the table. There was a steaming bowl of hot-pot, and none inquired what went to strengthening the stew24 of honest peas and lentils. But there was wine left, as at York, and across the board hale good fellows, and good fellows who were not hale at all, pledged Christopher and Michael.
It was a moment of sheer triumph for these two, for no healthy man can resist the praise of soldiers approving tried soldiers in their midst. When the toasting was done, a man in sober garments rose, lifting his glass with a queer contralto chuckle25.
"To the King, gentlemen, and to all good sorties on His Majesty26's behalf. For myself, as Vicar of the parish, I have no part in politics. I take no sides in this vexed27 question of King and Parliament." He let the ripple28 of mirth go past him, and maintained his gravity. "As a man, the case is different. As a man, you understand, I drink to His Majesty, and confusion to all Cropheads!"
When the toasts were ended, there was much chatter29 of what was doing in the outer world. The Metcalfs, coming from the open country, were like a news-sheet to these prisoned loyalists. They had to tell all that was afoot in the north, so far as they had learned the to-and-froing during their last months of adventure in the saddle, till at last Christopher remembered the errand they were riding on to-day.
"Gentlemen, it is time we took horse again," he said, with all the Metcalf downrightness. "York is a bigger town than yours, and we've her safety in our keeping."
He glanced up, sure that his brother would back the protest. He saw Michael at the far end of the room, preening30 his feathers under the kind eyes of a lady who palpably admired him. And a little chill took him unawares, as if the season were mid-winter, and some fool had let the wind in through an open door.
"So two men keep the safety of all York," laughed one of the garrison. "There's a fine Biblical sound about it, Vicar."
"So much to the good, then," said the Vicar quietly. "To my mind, those days are here again, and King Charles righting the good fight. Hey, my masters, you're deaf and blind to the meaning of this trouble." He turned to Christopher with a touch of deference31 that came pleasantly from an old man to a young. "How do you hold York's safety?" he asked. "What is your errand?"
"To find Rupert for them."
"And you're riding, two of you, to search England for him?"
"That is our errand, sir."
"Ah, that is faith! I wish good luck to your horses' feet."
"We need Rupert as much as York needs him," said Phil Amory. "It's a far cry, though; from here to Oxford32."
"To Oxford?" echoed Kit, with sharp dismay. "We thought to find him in Lancashire."
"The last news we had," said the Vicar—"true, it is a month old by now—was that they kept Rupert in Oxford, making peace between the rival factions33, attending councils—playing maid-of-all-work there, while the North is hungry for his coming. Why, his name alone is meat and drink to us."
"So they said in York, sir."
"Ay, and so they say wherever men have heard his record. Without fear, with a head on his shoulders and a heart in the right place—undoubtedly you ride on a fine errand. If I were younger, and if my cloth permitted, I would join you in the venture."
Christopher, seeing his brother still intent on dalliance, went down the room and tapped him on the shoulder. "We get to saddle, Michael," he said.
Michael, for his part, was astounded34 at the lad's air of mastery. He was aware, in some vague way, that dalliance of any kind was a fool's game, and that the man with a single purpose assumes command by a law of Nature.
"I dandled you on my knee, li'le Christopher, not long ago," he said, with his easy laugh.
"My thanks, Michael. I stand higher than your stirrup now, and York needs us."
Michael had an easy-going heart and a head that was apt to forget important matters; but he rose now, obedient to the baby of the Metcalf clan35. He paused to kiss the lady's hand, to murmur36 a wish that he might live to see again the only eyes worth looking into; and then he was a man of action once again, keen for the ride.
Miss Bingham rose and swept them a grave curtsey. Then she glanced at Christopher. "If you have a fault, sir—and all paragons38 have—it is a seriousness that reminds one of the Puritan."
She had drawn39 blood. It flamed in his cheeks for a moment, then died down. "I'm neither paragon37 nor Puritan—and no ladies' man," he added, with a touch of downright malice40.
"So much is obvious. You lack practice in the art, but you will learn in time."
Kit, in some odd way, felt youthful and ashamed. This girl, little older than himself, disdained41 his singleness of purpose, his fervour for the cause. "Oh, I leave that to Michael," he said, clumsily enough.
She was tired of warfare42 and the siege, and bore Kit a grudge43 because he had interrupted the diverting game of hearts that she and Michael had been playing. "You are riding to find Rupert?" she asked, her voice like velvet44. "He's the Prince to you—a paragon indeed—no ladies' man. Sir, when you find him, ask how it fares with the Duchess of Richmond, and see if his face changes colour."
"It is not true," said Kit passionately45.
"All that you left unsaid."
Michael clapped him on the shoulder. "Good for you, li'le Kit! All that women say is enough to drown us; but what they leave unsaid would sink a navy."
"Go, find your Prince," said Miss Bingham, with the same dangerous gentleness; "but, on your honour, promise to remind him of the Duchess. I should grieve to picture such a gallant47 without—oh, without the grace women lend a man."
"Michael, we're wasting a good deal of time," said Kit, disliking this girl a little more. "There'll be time enough for nonsense when we've brought Rupert into York."
Michael stood irresolute49 for a moment, divided, as his way was, between the separate calls of heart and head. And into the midst of his irresolution50 a guest intruded51 rudely. There had been a steady cannonading of the town, as reprisal52 after the sortie, and one among the lumbering53 iron balls crashed through the wall of the dining-chamber54, near the roof, passed forward and brought down a heavy frame—known as a "bread-creel" in the north here—on which oat-cakes were spread out to dry. With fuel scarce, they had learned to make kitchen and dining-chamber one. The cannon-ball buried itself in the masonry55 beyond. The bread-creel missed Miss Bingham's pretty head by a foot or so. One end of it struck Kit on the shoulder, reopening a new wound; the other tapped Michael on the skull56, and put dreams of Rupert out of mind for many a day.
The men at the far end of the hall ran forward. They found Michael lying prone57. One cross-piece of the creel was broken, where it had encountered his tough head, and all about the floor was a drift of the brittle58 oat-cake that had been drying overhead a moment since.
"A queer beginning for their ride," said young Phil Amory.
Michael opened two devil-may-care eyes between one forgetting and the next. "Life's like that, my lad. One never knows."
They carried him to an inner room, and Miss Bingham watched Amory and another trying to stanch59 Kit's wound.
"You're clumsy at the business," she said, putting them aside. With deft60 hands she fastened a tourniquet61 above the wound, and dressed it afterwards. Then she brought him wine; and, when a tinge62 of colour returned to his face, she crossed to the window and stood there, watching the red flare63 of cannonry that crossed the April sunlight.
"My thanks, Miss Bingham," said Kit, following her.
"Oh, none are needed! I am a little proud of my nursing skill, learned here in Knaresborough. Believe me, I would have done as much for any trooper."
"Still, any trooper would find grace to thank you."
Her eyes met his. There was blandishment in them, withdrawal64, enmity. Men were a game to her. Spoiled and flattered, accustomed to homage65 that had never found her heart, she thought men heartless, too, and the game a fair one.
"Thanks mean so little. Would you have had me watch you bleed to death? Is there no one in the world who would have missed you?"
"I do not know," said Kit, with a thought of Yoredale and the light in Ripley Castle.
"I will not have that name! There was never a Metcalf yet but stood for the King."
The cannonade outside grew louder, and Miss Bingham looked out again at the red spurts68 of flame. "A painter should be here," she said, turning at last. "My six-foot Puritan, what a picture it would make—the blue April sky, and the little tufts of cloud, fleecy as lambs'-wool, and the outrageous69 crimson70 flaring71 from the guns! Will they contrive72 to hit the Castle again, think you? It is time their marksmanship improved."
"I was thinking of Prince Rupert," he said stubbornly. "If Michael cannot ride with me, I must go alone."
Miss Bingham's heart was touched at last. This man, who could scarce stand from loss of blood, disdained her coquetry, and had one purpose—to find Rupert for the raising of the siege at York. Selfless, reliant in the midst of weakness, he saw the one goal only.
He bade her farewell, and asked Amory to find his horse for him. "But, sir, it is death to sit a saddle," protested the other. "Your wound——"
"It must heal or break again. That is the wound's concern. Mine is to find Rupert, as I promised."
Amory glanced quietly at him and wondered at the hardness of the man. "How will you get through the besiegers? Their cannon are pretty busy, as you hear."
"I had forgotten the besiegers. I must leave my horse, then, and find a way out on foot."
He got half-way to the outer gate, his weakness palpable at every step. Then his foot tripped against a cannon-ball that had fallen yesterday. He fell on his right shoulder, and the wound reopened in grim earnest.
Miss Bingham was the most troubled, maybe, of all the Knaresborough garrison during the week that followed. By all past knowledge of herself Michael should have been her chief concern. He was so gay and likeable, as he recovered slowly from his head-wound; his tongue was so smooth, his heart so bendable to the lightest breeze of a woman's skirts. Yet she found herself constantly at Kit's bedside, fighting the evil temper that had mastered him. He was consumed with rebellion against this weakness that kept him abed, and his persistent73 cry was that Rupert needed him, and would know that he had failed. He was still so young to the world that he believed all England knew what the Riding Metcalfs were doing for their King.
On the fourth day, to ease his trouble, Miss Bingham lied. She said that Michael was hale and well again, and had gone out in search of Rupert. Kit took the news quietly, and she slipped away to see that his noon-day meal was ready. When she returned with the tray, she found Christopher up and dressed. He was fumbling74 at the buckle75 of his sword-belt with all a sick man's impatience76.
"What are you doing, sir?" she cried, in frank dismay.
"Getting ready for the road. Michael is too easy-going to be trusted single-handed; and York, I tell you, needs the Prince."
"It will see him none the sooner if you die by the roadside now, instead of waiting till you're healed."
"But Michael—you do not know him. He means so well and dares so much; but the first pretty face that looks out o' window draws him."
"To be frank, he is in no danger of that kind," said Miss Bingham demurely77. "He lies in the next room and talks to me as Colonel Lovelace might—deft flattery and homage and what not. I thought all Cavaliers were smooth of tongue, as he is—until I met my Puritan."
"You said that he had gone to seek Rupert."
"Oh, I said. What will not women say? Their tongues are wayward."
"For my part, give me men," said Kit, with blunt challenge.
The end of that escapade was a high fever, that taxed Miss Bingham's skill and the patience that was foreign to her. Michael, too, in spite of all his gaiety, saw death come very close to his bedside. It was not the blows they had taken here in Knaresborough that had knocked their strength to bits. In the months that had passed since the riding out from Yoredale, each had taken wounds, time and time again, had tied any sort of bandage round them, and gone forward to the next sharp attack. They were proud of their tough breed, and had taken liberties with a strength that was only human, after all. And now they were laid by in a backwater of life, like riddled78 battleships in need of overhauling79.
It was when Kit was in that odd half-way land between great weakness and returning strength that a sudden turmoil80 came to him. His memory of Joan Grant grew weak and fugitive81. With him day by day was Miss Bingham, who had forgotten long since how to pick a quarrel. The beauty of an experience new to her spoiled life gave warmth and colour to a face that had once been merely pretty.
On one of these afternoons—a spurt67 of rain against the windows, and the sullen82 roar of guns outside—he lay watching her as she sat by the bedside, busy with a foolish piece of embroidery83. She was very near, had nursed him with devotion, had smoothed his pillow many times for him.
"Agnes," he said, "what will you say to me when my strength comes back, and I've brought Rupert into York?"
So then she knew that battle is not only for the men. She met her trouble with a courage that surprised her. "I—I should bid my Puritan go seek the lady who once flouted him. Oh, boy, you're in a dream! When you wake, remember that I nursed you back to health."
Two days later Kit was so far recovered that he was allowed to move abroad; and, while his strength was returning, the Vicar was his close companion. Something in Kit's bearing—dour hardihood half concealing84 some spiritual fire that burned beneath it—had attracted this parish priest since the lad's first coming. He showed him the comely parsonage, with its garden sloping to the wide bosom85 of the Nidd; talked of the town's beauty and antiquity—topics dear to him. Then, one afternoon, near gloaming, he led him up the steep face of the cliff to St. Robert's cell.
What is sown in the time between great sickness and recovery—good or ill—is apt to abide86 with a man, like impressions of the earlier childhood. And Kit, until he died, would not forget this hermitage, carved out of the solid rock that bottomed the whole town of Knaresborough. Without, facing the world that St. Robert had known, was his coat-of-arms, as if daring gossip to deny his record in the stress of battle. Within was a narrow chamber, roofed and floored by rock; at one end an altar, at the side a bed of stone—that, and the water dripping from the walls, and a strange sense of peace and holiness, as if a spirit brooded round about the place.
"Here is peace, sir," said Kit, a quick fire glowing in his eyes.
Kit glanced at him. The kindly88 smile, the trust and friendship of the parson's voice, brought back Yoredale and a flood of memories. When they went out into the dusk again, a red flare spurted89 from the Castle battlements, and in return there came the din20 of Roundhead cannon, and Kit's face hardened suddenly.
"True," said the Vicar, touching90 his arm. "Such as you must go through blare and gunshot before they tame their bodies. Good luck to you, lad, and strike shrewdly for the King."
The next day Kit was so far recovered that he would not stay under the same roof with Miss Bingham; Memories of Joan, who was far away, warred with his liking48 for this maid, who came less often to cajole and tease him back to health. It was easier to go out and rough it in the honest open. He was haunted, moreover, by the mystery and calm of that stone cell, where a dead man had left his living presence.
Michael had been fit for the road three days before, but would not leave his brother, since he had promised him the venture. And, moreover, Miss Bingham was kind again, after a season of indifference91 and neglect.
The old question was revived—by what means they should get through the besieging92 force. "There is only one way, obviously," said Michael, with his rollicking laugh. "We must go horsed. Will not Phil Amory lead a sortie?"
"Phil Amory will," agreed the youngster cheerily. "These rogues93 have been pelting94 us long enough with cannon-balls."
The Governor assented95 willingly. Hazard in the open was healthy for these high-mettled lads, who were pining under the inaction of the siege. "You shall go as you came, gentlemen," he said, with his grave smile. "One good turn deserves another."
They waited till one of the sentries96 on the battlements sent word that the besiegers were at their mid-day meal. He added that words had passed between himself and three of their men, who had shouted that pluck was dead in Knaresborough.
"Ah!" said Phil Amory.
They mounted—forty of the garrison and the two Metcalfs—and the gate opened for them. It was Kit—a free man again, with the enemy close in front—who lifted the first battle-cry.
"A Mecca for the King!" he roared, and his horse went light under him, as if it trod on air.
The besiegers ran hurriedly to their horses. Some mounted, others had no time. Into the thick of them crashed the sortie, and the work was swift and headlong in the doing. Through the steam and odours of the interrupted meal the attack crashed forward, till the sortie party, breathless, with a queer glee fluting97 at their hearts, found themselves at the far side of the town.
"You made a lane for us once," said Phil Amory. "Now we've made a lane for you. There's no time for farewells, friends—put spurs to your horses and gallop98."
He gave Michael no time for the protest ready to his lips, but turned about, and, with a bugle-cry of "Knaresborough for the King!" dashed through the enemy again. The Metcalfs waited till they saw the gate close on the forty who had hacked99 a way to liberty for them, and Michael half hoped they would be needed, because Miss Bingham was sheltered by the Castle walls.
"We have the road to Rupert, now," said Kit.
"So we have, lad."
"Then why look back at Knaresborough? You're in a dream, Michael."
"The prettiest eyes in England set me dreaming. I've good excuse."
So Kit, a little sore on his own account, and with a heartache hidden somewhere, grew serious as only the very young can do. "There is Rupert waiting for us," he snapped.
"Ah, true, grave brother. Let's get to Oxford, and the Duchess of Richmond will cure me of this folly100, maybe. There, lad, not so fiery101! It's no crime that a duchess should have pleasant eyes. Even princes must warm themselves at the hearth102 just now and then."
"What route to take?" asked Kit by and by, coming down from his pedestal of high, romantic gravity.
"We'll go by the sun so far as the winding103 roads will let us. Oxford lies south-west. Chance and the sun, between them, shall decide; but we had best keep free of towns and garrisons104."
"Undoubtedly," growled105 Christopher. "There would be the finest eyes in England glancing at you through the lattices."
In this odd way the brothers, different in experience and outlook, but bound together by some deep tie of affection, took up the hazard of a ride that was to end, they hoped, at Oxford. There was a fine, heedless simplicity106 about it all, a trust in open country and the sun's guidance, that was bred in the Metcalf men.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
haphazard
|
|
| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
primroses
|
|
| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
bleating
|
|
| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
fussy
|
|
| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
wayfaring
|
|
| adj.旅行的n.徒步旅行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
westward
|
|
| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
grumbled
|
|
| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
swirled
|
|
| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
comely
|
|
| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
kit
|
|
| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
cannon
|
|
| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
doffed
|
|
| v.脱去，（尤指）脱帽( doff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
garrison
|
|
| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
hemmed
|
|
| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
dour
|
|
| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
bellowed
|
|
| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
gateway
|
|
| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
din
|
|
| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
tiresome
|
|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
mantle
|
|
| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
stew
|
|
| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
chuckle
|
|
| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
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： |
|
|
|
|
28
ripple
|
|
| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
preening
|
|
| v.（鸟）用嘴整理（羽毛）( preen的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
factions
|
|
| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
astounded
|
|
| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
clan
|
|
| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
paragon
|
|
| n.模范，典型 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
paragons
|
|
| n.模范( paragon的名词复数 )；典型；十全十美的人；完美无缺的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
disdained
|
|
| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
warfare
|
|
| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
fatiguing
|
|
| a.使人劳累的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
irresolute
|
|
| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
irresolution
|
|
| n.不决断，优柔寡断，犹豫不定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
intruded
|
|
| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
reprisal
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，报复性劫掠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
lumbering
|
|
| n.采伐林木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
masonry
|
|
| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
prone
|
|
| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
brittle
|
|
| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
stanch
|
|
| v.止住（血等）；adj.坚固的；坚定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
deft
|
|
| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
tourniquet
|
|
| n.止血器，绞压器，驱血带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
flare
|
|
| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
withdrawal
|
|
| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
homage
|
|
| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
flouted
|
|
| v.藐视，轻视( flout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
spurt
|
|
| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
spurts
|
|
| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
outrageous
|
|
| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
flaring
|
|
| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
contrive
|
|
| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
persistent
|
|
| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
fumbling
|
|
| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
buckle
|
|
| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
demurely
|
|
| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
riddled
|
|
| adj.布满的；充斥的；泛滥的v.解谜，出谜题(riddle的过去分词形式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
overhauling
|
|
| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
turmoil
|
|
| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
fugitive
|
|
| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
embroidery
|
|
| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
concealing
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
abide
|
|
| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
sanctuary
|
|
| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
spurted
|
|
| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
besieging
|
|
| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
rogues
|
|
| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
pelting
|
|
| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
sentries
|
|
| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
fluting
|
|
| 有沟槽的衣料； 吹笛子； 笛声； 刻凹槽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
gallop
|
|
| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
hacked
|
|
| 生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
fiery
|
|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
garrisons
|
|
| 守备部队，卫戍部队( garrison的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |