The morning after the escape from Fort Douglas, when Mr. Sutherland strode off, leaving his daughter alone with me, I remember very well that Frances abruptly4 began putting my pillow to rights. Instead of keeping wide awake, as I should by all the codes of romance and common sense, I—poor fool—at once swooned, with a vague, glimmering5 consciousness that I was dying and this, perhaps, was the first blissful glimpse into paradise. When I came to my senses, Mr. Sutherland was again standing7 by the bedside with a half-shamed look of compassion8 under his shaggy brows.
"How far," I began, with a curious inability[Pg 390] to use my wits and tongue, "how far—I mean how long have I been asleep, sir?"
"Hoots9, mon! Dinna claver in that feckless fashion! It's months, lad, sin' ye opened y'r mouth wi' onything but daft gab10."
"Aye, months. The plain was snaw-white when ye began y'r bit nappie. Noo, d'ye no hear the clack o' the geese through yon open window?"
I tried to turn to that side of the little room, where a great wave of fresh, clear air blew from the prairie. For some reason my head refused to revolve13. Stooping, the elder man gently raised the sheet and rolled me over so that I faced the sweet freshness of an open, sunny view.
"Did I rive ye sore, lad?" asked the voice with a gruffness in strange contradiction to the gentleness of the touch.
Now I hold that however rasping a man's words may be, if he handle the sick with gentleness, there is much goodness under the rough surface. Thoughtlessness and stupidity, I know, are patent excuses for half the unkindness and sorrow of life. But thoughtlessness and stupidity are also responsible for most of life's brutality14 and crime. Not spiteful intentions alone, but the dulled, brutalized, deadened sensibilities—that go under the names of thoughtlessness and stupidity—make a man treat something weaker than himself with roughness, or in an excessive degree,[Pg 391] qualify for murder. When the harsh voice asked, "Do I rive ye sore?" I began to understand how surface roughness is as often caused by life's asperities15 as by the inner dullness akin16 to the brute17.
Indeed, if my thoughts had not been so intent on the daughter, I could have found Mr. Sutherland's character a wonderfully interesting study. The infinite capacity of a canny18 Scot for keeping his mouth shut I never realized till I knew Mr. Sutherland. For instance, now that consciousness had returned, I noticed that the father himself, and not the daughter, did all the waiting on me even to the carrying of my meals.
"How is your daughter, Mr. Sutherland?" I asked, surely a natural enough question to merit a civil reply.
"Aye—is it Frances y'r speerin' after?" he answered, meeting my question with a question; and he deigned19 not another word. But I lay in wait for him at the next meal.
"I haven't seen your daughter yet, Mr. Sutherland," I stuttered out with a deal of blushing. "I haven't even heard her about the house."
"No?" he asked with a show of surprise. "Have ye no seen Frances?" And that was all the satisfaction I got.
Between the dinner hour and supper time I conjured20 up various plots to hoodwink paternal22 caution.
"Mr. Sutherland," I began, "I have a message for your daughter."[Pg 392]
"Aye," said he.
"I wish her to hear it personally."
"Aye."
"When may I see her?"
"But the message is urgent." That was true; for had not forty-eight hours passed since I had regained25 consciousness and I had heard neither her footsteps nor her voice?
"Aye," said the imperturbable26 father.
"Very urgent, Mr. Sutherland," I added.
"Aye."
"When may I see her, Sir?"
"All in guid time. Ye maun bide quiet, lad."
"The message cannot wait," I declared. "It must be given at once."
"Your daughter is not at home?"
"What words wu'l ye have me bear to her, lad?" he asked.
That was too much for a youth in a peevish28 state of convalescence29. What lover could send his heart's eloquence30 by word of mouth with a peppery, prosaic31 father?
"Tell Mistress Sutherland I must see her at once," I quickly responded with a flash of temper that was ever wont32 to flare33 up when put to the test.
"Aye," he answered, with an amused look in the cold, steel eyes. "I'll deleever y'r message when—when"—and he hesitated in a way suggestive[Pg 393] of eternity—"I'll deleever y'r message when I see her."
At that I turned my face to the wall in the bitterness of spirit which only the invalid34, with all the strength of a man in his whims35 and the weakness of an infant in his body, knows. I spent a feverish36, restless night, with the hard-faced Scotchman watching from his armchair at my bedside. Once, when I suddenly awakened37 from sleep, or delirium39, his eyes were fastened on my face with a gleam of grave kindliness40.
"Mr. Sutherland," I cried, with all the impatience41 of a child, "please tell me, where is your daughter?"
"I sent her to a neighbor, sin' ye came to y'r senses, lad," said he. "Ye hae kept her about ye night and day sin' ye gaed daft, and losh, mon, ye hae gabbled wild talk enough to turn the head o' ony lassie clean daft. An' ye claver sic' nonsense when ye're daft, what would ye say when ye're sane42? Hoots, mon, ye maun learn to haud y'r tongue——"
"Mr. Sutherland," I interrupted in a great heat, quite forgetful of his hospitality, "I'm sorry to be the means of driving your daughter from her home. I beg you to send me back to Fort Douglas——"
"Haud quiet," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "An' wa'd ye have me expose the head of a mitherless bairn to a' the clack o' the auld43 geese in the settlement? Temper y'r ardor44 wi' discretion45, lad! 'Twas but the day before[Pg 394] yesterday she left and she was sair done wi' nursing you and losing of sleep! Till ye're fair y'rsel' again and up, and she's weel and rosy46 wi' full sleep, bide patient!"
That speech sent my face to the wall again; but this time not in anger. And that dogged fashion Mr. Sutherland had of taking his own way did me many a good turn. Often have I heard those bragging47 captains of the Hudson's Bay mercenaries swagger into the little cottage sitting-room48, while I lay in bed on the other side of the thin board partition, and relate to Mr. Sutherland all the incidents of their day's search for me.
"Aye, 'tis a goodly price for one poor rattle-pate," says Mr. Sutherland.
Whereupon, D'Orsonnens swears the price is more than my poor empty head is worth, and proceeds to describe me in terms which Mr. Sutherland will only tolerate when thundered from an orthodox pulpit.
"I'd have ye understand, Sir," he would declare with great dignity, "I'll have no papistical profanity under my roof."
Forthwith, he would show D'Orsonnens the door, lecturing the astonished soldier on the errors of Romanism; for whatever Mr. Sutherland deemed evil, from oaths to theological errors, he attributed directly to the pope.
Once I heard a Fort Douglas man observe that, as the search had proved futile51, I must have fallen into one of the air-holes of the ice.
"Nae doot the headstrong young mon is' gettin' what he deserves. I warrant he's warm in his present abode," answered Mr. Sutherland.
On another occasion D'Orsonnens asked who the man was that Mr. Sutherland's daughter had been nursing all winter.
"A puir body driven from Fort Douglas by those bloodthirsty villains," answered Mr. Sutherland, giving his visitor a strong toddy; and he at once improved the occasion by taking down a volume and reading the French officer a series of selections against Romanism. After that D'Orsonnens came no more.
"I hope I did not tell Nor'-West secrets in a Hudson's Bay house when I was delirious52, Mr. Sutherland," I remarked.
The Scotchman had lugged53 me from bed in a gentle, lumbering54, well-meant fashion, and I was sitting up for the first time.
"Ye're no the mon wi' a leak t' y'r mouth. I dinna say, though, ye're aye as discreet55 wi' the thoughts o' y'r heart as y'r head! Ye need na fash y'r noodle wi' remorse56 aboot company secrets. I canna say ye'll no fret57 aboot some other things ye hae told. A' the winter lang, 'twas Frances and stars and spooks and speerits and bogies and statues and graven images—wha' are forbidden by the Holy Scriptures—till the lassie thought ye gane clean daft! 'Twas a bonnie[Pg 396] e'e, like silver stars; or a bit blush, like the pippin; or laughter, like a wimplin' brook58; or lips, like posies; or hair, like links o' gold; and mair o' the like till the lassie came rinnin' oot o' y'r room, fair red wi' shame! Losh, mon, ye maun keep a still tongue in y'r head and not blab oot y'r thoughts o' a wife till she believes na mon can hae peace wi'out her. I wad na hae ye abate59 one jot60 o' all ye think, for her price is far above rubies61; but hae a care wi' y'r grand talk! After ye gang to the kirk, lad, na mon can keep that up."
His warning I laughed to the winds, as youth the world over has ever laughed sage23 counsels of chilling age.
I can compare my recovery only to the swift transition of seasons in those northern latitudes62. Without any lingering spring, the cold grayness of long, tense winter gives place to a radiant sun-burst of warm, yellow light. The uplands have long since been blown bare of snow by the March winds, and through the tangle63 of matted turf shoot myriad64 purple cups of the prairie anemone65, while the russet grass takes on emerald tints66. One day the last blizzard67 may be sweeping68 a white trail of stormy majesty69 across the prairie; the next a fragrance70 of flowers rises from the steaming earth and the snow-filled ravines have become miniature lakes reflecting the dazzle of a sunny sky and fleece clouds.
My convalescence was similar to the coming of summer. Without any weary fluctuation71 from[Pg 397] well to ill, and ill to well—which sickens the heart with a deferred72 hope—all my old-time strength came back with the glow of that year's June sun.
"There's nae accountin' for some wilful73 folk, lad," was Mr. Sutherland's remark, one evening after I was able to leave my room. "Ye hae risen frae y'r bed like the crocus frae snaw. An' Frances were hangin' aboot y'r pillow, lad, I'm nae sure y'd be up sae dapper and smart."
"I thought my nurse was to return when I was able to be up," I answered, strolling to the cottage door.
"Come back frae the door, lad. Dinna show y'rsel' tae the enemy. There be more speerin' for ye than hae love for y'r health. Have y'r wits aboot ye! Dinna be frettin' y'rsel' for Frances! The lassies aye rin fast enow tae the mon wi' sense to hold his ain!"
With that advice he motioned me to the only armchair in the room, and sitting down on the outer step to keep watch, began reading some theological disputation aloud.
"It's a pity you can't lay the theological thunderers on the doorstep to drive stray De Meurons off. Then you could come in and take this chair yourself," I answered, sitting back where no visitor could see me.
But Mr. Sutherland did not hear. He was deep in polemics75, rolling out stout76 threats, that[Pg 398] used Scriptural texts as a cudgel, with a zest77 that testified enjoyment78. "The wicked bend their bow," began the rasping voice; but when he cleared his throat, preparatory to the main argument, my thoughts went wandering far from the reader on the steps. As one whose dream is jarred by outward sound, I heard his tones quaver.
"Aye, Frances, 'tis you," he said, and away he went, pounding at the sophistries79 of some straw enemy.
A shadow was on the threshold, and before I had recalled my listless fancy, in tripped Frances Sutherland, herself, feigning80 not to see me. The gray eyes were veiled in the misty81 fashion of those fluffy82 things women wear, which let through all beauty, but bar out intrusion. I do not mean she wore a veil: veils and frills were not seen among the colonists83 in those days. But the heavy lashes84 hung low in the slumbrous, dreamy way that sees all and reveals nothing. Instinctively85 I started up, with wild thoughts thronging86 to my lips. At the same moment Mr. Sutherland did the most chivalrous87 thing I have seen in homespun or broadcloth.
"Hoots wi' y'r giddy claver," said he, before I had spoken a word; and walking off, he sat down at some distance.
Thereupon his daughter laughed merrily with a whole quiver of dangerous archery about her lips.
"That is the nearest to an untruth I have ever[Pg 399] heard him tell," she said, which mightily88 relieved my embarrassment89.
"Why did he say that?" I asked, with my usual stupidity.
"I am sure I cannot say," and looking straight at me, she let go the barbed shaft90, that lies hidden in fair eyes for unwary mortals.
"Sit down," she commanded, sinking into the chair I had vacated. "Sit down, Rufus, please!" This with an after-shot of alarm from the heavy lashes; for if a woman's eyes may speak, so may a man's, and their language is sometimes bolder.
"Thanks," and I sat down on the arm of that same chair.
For once in my life I had sense to keep my tongue still; for, if I had spoken, I must have let bolt some impetuous thing better left unsaid.
"Rufus," she began, in the low, thrilling tones that had enthralled91 me from the first, "do you know I was your sole nurse all the time you were delirious?"
"No wonder I was delirious! Dolt92, that I was, to have been delirious!" thought I to myself; but I choked down the foolish rejoinder and endeavored to look as wise as if my head had been ballasted with the weight of a patriarch's wisdom instead of ballooning about like a kite run wild.
"I think I know all your secrets."
"Oh!" A man usually has some secrets he would rather not share; and though I had not[Pg 400] swung the full tether of wild west freedom—thanks solely93 to her, not to me—I trembled at recollection of the passes that come to every man's life when he has been near enough the precipice94 to know the sensation of falling without going over.
"You talked incessantly95 of Miriam and Mr. Hamilton and Father Holland."
"And what did I say about Frances?"
"You said things about Frances that made her tremble."
"Tremble? What a brute, and you waiting on me day and——"
"Hush," she broke in. "Tremble because I am just a woman and not an angel, just a woman and not a star. We women are mortals just as you men are. Sometimes we're fools as well as mortals, just as you men are; but I don't think we're knaves96 quite so often, because we're denied the opportunity and hedged about and not tempted97."
As she gently stripped away the pretty hypocrisies98 with which lovers delude99 themselves and lay up store for disappointment, I began to discount that old belief about truth and knowledge rendering100 a woman mannish and arrogant101 and assertive102.
"You men marry women, expecting them to be angels, and very often the angel's highest ambition is to be considered a doll. Then your hope goes out and your faith——"
"But, Frances," I cried, "if any sensible man[Pg 401] had his choice of an angel and a fair, good woman——"
"No levity104! If he had choice of angels and stars and a good woman, he'd choose the woman. The star is mighty105 far away and cold and steely. The angel's a deal too perfect to know sympathy with faults and blunders. I tell you, Little Statue, life is only moil and toil106, unless love transmutes107 the base metal of hard duty into the pure gold of unalloyed delight."
"That's why I tremble. I must do more than angel or star! Oh, Rufus, if I can only live up to what you think I am—and you can live up to what I think you are, life will be worth living."
"That's love's leverage," said I.
Then there was silence; for the sun had set and the father was no longer reading. Shadows deepened into twilight108, and twilight into gloaming. And it was the hour when the brooding spirit of the vast prairie solitudes109 fills the stillness of night with voiceless eloquence. Why should I attempt to transcribe110 the silent music of the prairie at twilight, which every plain-dweller knows and none but a plain-dweller may understand? What wonder that the race native to this boundless111 land hears the rustling112 of spirits in the night wind, the sigh of those who have lost their way to the happy hunting-ground, and the wail113 of little ones whose feet are bruised[Pg 402] on the shadow trail? What wonder the gauzy northern lights are bands of marshaling warriors114 and the stars torches lighting115 those who ride the plains of heaven? Indeed, I defy a white man with all the discipline of science and reason to restrain the wanderings of mystic fancy during the hours of sunset on the prairie.
There is, I affirm, no such thing as time for lovers. If they have watches and clocks, the wretched things run too fast; and if the sun himself stood still in sympathy, time would not be long. So I confess I have no record of time that night Frances Sutherland returned to her home and Mr. Sutherland kept guard at the door. When he had passed the threshold impatiently twice, I recollected116 with regret that it was impossible to read theology in the dark. The third time he thrust his head in.
"Mind y'rselves," he called. "I hear men coming frae the river, a pretty hour, indeed, for visitin'. Frances, go ben and see yon back window's open!"
"Don't move," said I. "They can't see me here. It's dark. I want to hear what they say and the window is open. Indeed, Frances, I'm an expert at window-jumping," and I had begun to tell her of my scrape with Louis' drunken comrades in Fort Douglas, when I heard Mr. Sutherland's grating tones according the newcomers a curious welcome.[Pg 403] "Ye swearin', blasphemin', rampag'us, carousin' infidel, ye'll no darken my doorway117 this night. Y'r French gab may be foul118 wi' oaths for all I ken38; but ye'll no come into my hoose! An' you, Sir, a blind leader o' the blind, a disciple119 o' Beelzebub, wi' y'r Babylonish idolatries, wi' y'r incense120 that fair stinks121 in the nostrils122 o' decent folk, wi' y'r images and mummery and crossin' o' y'rsel', wi' y'r pagan, popish practises, wi' y'r skirts and petticoats, I'll no hae ye on my premises123, no, not an' ye leave y'r religion outside! An' you, Meester Hamilton, a respectable Protestant, I'm fair surprised to see ye in sic' company."
"'Tis Eric and Father Holland and Laplante," I shouted, springing to my feet and rushing to the doorway, but Frances put herself before me.
"Keep back," she whispered. "The priest and Mr. Hamilton have been here before; but father would not let them in. The other man may be a De Meuron. Be careful, Rufus! There's a price on your head."
"Ho—ho—my Ursus Major, prime guardian124 of Ursa Major, first of the heavenly constellations125 in the north," insolently126 laughed Louis Laplante through the dusk.
"Let me pass, Frances," I begged, thrusting her gently aside, but her trembling hands still clung to my arm.
"Impertinent rascal," rasped the irate127 Scotchman. "I'd have ye understand my name's[Pg 404] Sutherland, not Major Ursus. I'll no bide wi' y'r impudence128! Leave this place——"
"The Bruin growls," interrupted Louis with a laugh, and I heard Mr. Sutherland's gasp of amazed rage at the lengths of the Frenchman's insolence129.
"I must, dearest," I whispered, disengaging the slender hands from my arm; and I flung out into the dusk.
In the gloom, my approach was unnoticed; and when I came upon the group, Father Holland had laid his hand upon Mr. Sutherland's shoulder and in a low, tense voice was uttering words, which—thank an all-bountiful Providence130!—have no sectarian limits.
"And the King shall answer and say unto them, 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in: naked and ye clothed me not: sick and in prison and ye visited me not. Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me'——"
"Dinna con6 Holy Writ131 to me, Sir," interrupted Mr. Sutherland, throwing the priest's hand off and jerking back.
Then Louis Laplante saw me. There was a long, low whistle.
"Ye daft gommerel," gasped Mr. Sutherland, facing me with unutterable disgust. "Ye daft gommerel! A' my care and fret, waste—gane clean to waste. I wash m' hands o' ye——"
But Louis had knocked the Scotchman aside and tumbled into my arms, half laughing, half[Pg 405] crying and altogether as hysterical132 as was his wont.
"I pay you back at las', my comrade! Ha—old solemncholy! You thought the bird of passage, he come not back at all! But the birds return! So does Louis! He decoy-duck the whole covey! You generous? No more not generous than the son of a seigneur, mine enemy! You give life? He give life! You give liberty! So does Louis! You help one able help himself? Louis help one not able help himself! Ha! Très bien! Noblesse oblige! La Gloire! She—near! She here! She where I, Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, snare133 that she-devil, trap that fox, trick the tigress! Ha—ol' tombstone! Noblesse oblige—I say! She near—she here," and he flung up both arms like a frenzied134 maniac135.
"Man! Are you mad?" I demanded, uncertain whether he were apostrophizing Diable's squaw, or abstract glory. "Speak out!" I shouted, shaking him by the shoulder.
"These—are they all friends?" asked Louis, suddenly cooled and looking suspiciously at the group.
"All," said I, still holding him by the shoulder.
"Friend to the core," said I, laying both hands upon his shoulders.[Pg 406] "Core with prickles outside," gibed137 Louis.
"Louis," I commanded, utterly138 out of patience, "what of Miriam? Speak plain, man! Have you brought the tribe as you promised?"
It must have been mention of Miriam's name, for the white, drawn139 face of Eric Hamilton bent140 over my shoulder and fiery141, glowing eyes burned into the very soul of the Frenchman. Louis staggered back as if red irons had been thrust in his face.
"Sacredie," said he, backing against Father Holland, "I am no murderer."
It was then I observed that Frances Sutherland had followed me. Her slender white fingers were about the bronzed hand of the French adventurer.
"Monsieur Laplante will tell us what he knows," she said softly, and she waited for his answer.
"The daughter of L'Aigle," he replied slowly and collectedly, all the while feasting upon that fair face, "comes down the Red with her tribe and captives, many captive women. They pass here to-night. They camp south the rapids, this side of the rapids. Last night I leave them. I run forward, I find Le Petit Garçon—how you call him?—Leetle Fellow? He take me to the priest. He bring canoe here. He wait now for carry us down. We must go to the rapids—to the camp! There my contract! My bargain, it is finished," and he shrugged142 his shoulders, for Frances had removed her hand from his.[Pg 407]
Whether Louis Laplante's excitable nature were momentarily unbalanced by the success of his feat143, I leave to psychologists. Whether some premonition of his impending144 fate had wrought145 upon him strangely, let psychical146 speculators decide. Or whether Louis, the sly rogue147, worked up the whole situation for the purpose of drawing Frances Sutherland into the scene—which is what I myself suspect—I refer to private judgment148, and merely set down the incidents as they occurred. That was how Louis Laplante told us of bringing Diable's squaw and her captives back to Red River. And that was how Father Holland and Eric and Louis and Mr. Sutherland and myself came to be embarking149 with a camping outfit150 for a canoe-trip down the river.
"Have the Indians passed, or are they to come?" I asked Louis as Mr. Sutherland and Eric settled themselves in a swift, light canoe, leaving the rest of us to take our places in a larger craft, where Little Fellow, gurgling pleased recognition of me, acted as steersman.
"They come later. The fast canoe go forward and camp. We watch behind," ordered Louis, winking151 at me significantly.
I saw Frances step to her father's canoe.
"You're no coming, Frances," he protested, querulously.
"Don't say that, father. I never disobeyed you in my life, and I am coming! Don't tell me not to! Push out, Mr. Hamilton," and she picked up a paddle and I saw the canoe dart152 swiftly[Pg 408] forward into mid-current, where the darkness enveloped153 it; and we followed fast in its wake.
"No. Simpleton—you think Louis a fool?" he asked.
"Why did you lie to them?"
"Get them out of the way."
"Why?"
"Because, stupid, some ones they be killed to-night! The Englishman, he have a wife—he not be killed! Mademoiselle—she love a poor fool—or break her pretty heart! The father—he needed to stick-pin you both—so you never want for to fight each other," and Louis laughed low like the purr of water on his paddle-blade.
"Faith, lad," cried the priest, who had been unnaturally155 silent, because, I suppose, he was among aliens to his faith, "faith, lad, 'tis a good heart ye have, if ye'd but cut loose from the binding156 past. May this night put an end to your devil pranks157!"
And that night did!
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bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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stamina
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| n.体力；精力；耐力 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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standing
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compassion
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hoots
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gab
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gasped
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gasp
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revolve
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brutality
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asperities
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| n.粗暴( asperity的名词复数 )；（表面的）粗糙；（环境的）艰苦；严寒的天气 | |
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akin
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brute
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canny
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deigned
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conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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wink
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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23
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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24
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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25
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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26
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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27
trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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28
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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29
convalescence
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| n.病后康复期 | |
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30
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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31
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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32
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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33
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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34
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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35
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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36
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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37
awakened
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|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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38
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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39
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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40
kindliness
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|
| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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41
impatience
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|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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42
sane
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|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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43
auld
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|
| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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44
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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45
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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46
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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47
bragging
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的现在分词 )；大话 | |
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48
sitting-room
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|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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49
sterling
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|
| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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50
hawk
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|
| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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51
futile
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|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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52
delirious
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|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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53
lugged
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|
| vt.用力拖拉（lug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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54
lumbering
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|
| n.采伐林木 | |
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55
discreet
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|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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56
remorse
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|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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57
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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58
brook
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|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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59
abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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60
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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61
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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62
latitudes
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| 纬度 | |
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63
tangle
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|
| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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64
myriad
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|
| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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65
anemone
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| n.海葵 | |
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66
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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67
blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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68
sweeping
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|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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69
majesty
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|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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70
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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71
fluctuation
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|
| n.(物价的)波动，涨落；周期性变动；脉动 | |
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72
deferred
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|
| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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73
wilful
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|
| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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74
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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75
polemics
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|
| n.辩论术，辩论法；争论( polemic的名词复数 )；辩论；辩论术；辩论法 | |
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77
zest
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|
| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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78
enjoyment
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|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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79
sophistries
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|
| n.诡辩术( sophistry的名词复数 )；（一次）诡辩 | |
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80
feigning
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|
| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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81
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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82
fluffy
|
|
| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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83
colonists
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|
| n.殖民地开拓者，移民，殖民地居民( colonist的名词复数 ) | |
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84
lashes
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|
| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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85
instinctively
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|
| adv.本能地 | |
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86
thronging
|
|
| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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87
chivalrous
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|
| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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88
mightily
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|
| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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89
embarrassment
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|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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90
shaft
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|
| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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91
enthralled
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|
| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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92
dolt
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|
| n.傻瓜 | |
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93
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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94
precipice
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|
| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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95
incessantly
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|
| ad.不停地 | |
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96
knaves
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|
| n.恶棍，无赖( knave的名词复数 )；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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97
tempted
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|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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98
hypocrisies
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|
| n.伪善，虚伪( hypocrisy的名词复数 ) | |
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99
delude
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| vt.欺骗；哄骗 | |
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100
rendering
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|
| n.表现，描写 | |
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101
arrogant
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|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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102
assertive
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|
| adj.果断的，自信的，有冲劲的 | |
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103
grumble
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|
| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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104
levity
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|
| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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105
mighty
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|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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106
toil
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|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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107
transmutes
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|
| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的第三人称单数 ) | |
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108
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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109
solitudes
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|
| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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110
transcribe
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|
| v.抄写，誉写；改编(乐曲)；复制，转录 | |
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111
boundless
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|
| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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112
rustling
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|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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113
wail
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|
| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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114
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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115
lighting
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|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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116
recollected
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|
| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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118
foul
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|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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119
disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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120
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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121
stinks
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| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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122
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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123
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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124
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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125
constellations
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|
| n.星座( constellation的名词复数 )；一群杰出人物；一系列（相关的想法、事物）；一群（相关的人） | |
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126
insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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127
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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128
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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129
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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130
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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131
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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132
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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133
snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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134
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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135
maniac
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|
| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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136
pointed
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|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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137
gibed
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|
| v.嘲笑，嘲弄( gibe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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138
utterly
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|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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139
drawn
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|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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140
bent
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|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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141
fiery
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|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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142
shrugged
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|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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143
feat
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|
| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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144
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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145
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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146
psychical
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|
| adj.有关特异功能现象的；有关特异功能官能的；灵魂的；心灵的 | |
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147
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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148
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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149
embarking
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|
| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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150
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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151
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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152
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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153
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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155
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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156
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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157
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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