Richard Jeffray thrust back his chair from Sir Peter Hardacre’s dining-table, and stood stiff and ill at ease, like a man but half sure of his own dignity. The Dutch clock had struck three, and the winter sunlight was still flooding through the tall windows upon the polished floor. A log-fire blazed on the irons; decanters and glasses glistened1 on the table about a great china punch-bowl covered with green dragons and blue mandarins.
It was early in the afternoon, and yet Parson Jessel’s great wig2 was flapping forward with an unsaintly tilt3 over the pastor’s left eye. Sir Peter, a fat and tuberose-nosed aristocrat4, in a blue coat and a brocaded waistcoat, sprawled5 in his arm-chair at the end of the table, his paunch abutting6 against the board, his full-bottomed wig flowing in slovenly7 profusion8 about his blotchy9 face. On the far side of the table, with his back to the fire, sat Mr. Lot Hardacre, a heavy-shouldered gentleman in a scarlet10 hunting-coat and buckskin breeches, whose culture was half that of a jockey, half that of a card-sharper. A long clay pipe drooped11 from the angle of Mr. Lot Hardacre’s mouth, and his coarse, chapped hands were stuffed into the pockets of his breeches.
Richard Jeffray bowed to these three gentlemen as though he was not wholly at his ease. Sir Peter Hardacre’s ungainly torpor12 suggested that he had fed largely and too well.
“You will pardon me, Sir Peter,” he said, with a glance at Mr. Lot’s sodden13 and impudent14 face, “the days are short, and I must be in the saddle. You will make excuses for me to the ladies.”
The baronet puffed15 out his lips and elevated his eyebrows16 sleepily. Parson Jessel had already begun to snore. Mr. Lancelot alone appeared to retain the sparklings of intelligence in his protuberant17 blue eyes. He removed his pipe from his mouth, and winked18 at Richard Jeffray with an air of benignant patronage19.
“Sister Jilian’s above, cousin,” he said, “strumming on the harpsichord20. We’re coarse devils, Dick, eh? Jil is a gentle creature, and don’t swear—at least, not often.”
The baronet, bulging21 like a Silenus, nodded his head, and fumbling22 for his snuff-box spilled half the contents over his waistcoat.
“Going, Dick?” he quavered. “Gad, boy, it’s damned early; we shall be with the ladies in the turn of a box. Sit down, lad. Son Lot will tell ’ee how he won fifty guineas from that card-clipping Captain Carteret last week—sapped the soldier fairly. Egad, Lot has marrow23 in him. Parson, pass the punch.”
A loud snore from the ecclesiastic24 and a thick laugh from Mr. Lancelot betrayed how fate had dealt with the fuddled shepherd of the Hardacre souls. Sir Peter thrust out his lower lip, and swore.
“Damme,” he said, “what a dull dog it is! Dick, lad, I’ll match his sermons against the heaviest brew25 in Sussex. Kick him, Lot; kick his shins, boy; the bowl ain’t empty yet.”
The interlude was opportune26. Richard Jeffray bowed once more to the baronet, mumbled27 an excuse, and leaving Mr. Lot to the breaking of the cleric’s shins and slumber28, stepped nimbly towards the door. Sir Peter gazed after him with an expression of fat and over-fed pity. “The lad was a nice lad, but, damn it, he couldn’t drink, and, God help him, he wouldn’t swear!” The baronet shook his wig and took snuff with some asperity29. Meanwhile, Mr. Lot was amusing himself by holding the bowl of his pipe under the parson’s nose. Richard, as he closed the door, heard a mighty30 and portentous31 sneeze herald32 the awakening33 of that saintly soul.
Richard Jeffray rode out through Hardacre Park with a look of melancholy34 reflection on his face. He turned, when he had ridden two hundred yards or more, and gazed back at the old house, with its stately red turrets35 and high gables clear-cut against the thin blue of a winter sky. A great beechwood rose on the slope of the hill behind the place, while around it lay the terraced walks and trim lawns of the garden. Closely clipped hollies37 and yews38 rose above the still water of the moat. The warm, red brick, mellow39 in the slanting40 light of the sun, the ivied buttresses41, the lichened42 stone, seemed to tone rarely with the purple gloom of the wood beyond. And this betowered, tall-chimneyed, hundred-windowed house, this rare casket memorable43 with all the stateliness of a stately past, held for its jewels a bevy44 of boozing, fox-hunting bullies45 whose oaths and lewd46 badinage47 seemed fit only for a tavern48.
Richard Jeffray whipped his black mare49 out of Hardacre Chase, leaving the gaunt trees, the dew-drenched grass and rotting bracken for the muddy road that curled up towards the moors50. He was a slim yet wiry youth, with a sallow face and a pair of sparkling Spanish eyes. A sensitive intelligence showed in every fibre. He wore his own black hair unpowdered, and though nature appeared to have intended him for a macaroni, he boasted more scholarly slovenliness51 than fashionable elegance52 in his clothes. Cousin Lot thought him a pretty fellow enough, but too damned womanish to be of any use in the world. The local squires53 respected his wealth and his breeding, did not hesitate to set their daughters at his service, and chose to despise him over their punch-bowls as a milksop and a fool.
Richard topped the heath, and reined54 in to scan the shadowy slopes of the wilds of Pevensel. In the far south, huge, hog-backed hills brooded over the sea, purple under a passing cloud, or glistening55 in the slanting sun. South, east, and west rolled the forest land, hill on hill and valley on valley, mist-wrapped, splashed with light or smirched with shadow, a region of gloom, or of mysterious delight.
Richard Jeffray sat in the saddle and stared about him like a man refreshed. His pale face colored, his eyes brightened. This forest land, called Pevensel of old, and voted “a damned rubbish heap” by the Baronet Peter, appealed to the sentimentalist as a wild delicacy56 snatched from the material maw of Mammon. Here were no cropped hedges and sullen57 fields, no sour and unclean villages, no cabbage gardens, no frowsy and rubbish-ridden farms. Nature had her sway in Pevensel. Even the wild things were clean, sleek58, and fair of limb, beautiful according to the idea upon which each had been created. The falcon59 glimmering60 under the clouds; the hare scampering61 amid the heather. These were preferable to clumsy, bandy-legged oafs, and to women whose tongues were as unclean as their garments.
Richard rode on again down the sandy road that ran like a gray streak62 through the waste of green. Had six months passed since he had posted back from Italy with the news of his father’s death big in his heart? Had he not left England as a boy, and returned to it something of a man, intoxicated63 with many delightful64 superstitions65, and fired with a belief in the stately grandeur66 of the English nation. Sir Peter and his Sussex squires had tumbled Mr. Richard’s amiable67 theories down into their native mire68. Cousin Lot had laughed and sneered69 at him. The Lady Letitia had assailed70 his soul with such worldly wisdoms as disregarded sentiment and honor. Richard had ruled his own house at Rodenham six months, built his dead father’s tomb, and attempted to ingratiate himself with the boors71 who crowded Rodenham village. He had rattled72 his poetical73 notions against the skulls74 of his Sussex peers, and half-fooled himself into imagining that he was in love with gray-eyed Mistress Jilian, his cousin, who wore flaming petticoats and preposterous75 hoops76, and rouged77 and ogled78 like the veteran of thirty that she was. Richard Jeffray confessed himself a fool as he rode down that day through the wilds of Pevensel and cogitated79 upon the beauties of a rustic80 life. The landscape was certainly not at fault, and the man of sentiment believed himself in sympathy with nature. The human element was the poison in the pot. He supposed that these Wealden folk became, like the clay they lived upon, heavy and sodden, dedicated81 to the producing of wheat at sixty shillings a quarter.
The sky seemed prophetic of snow, a canopy82 of purple clouds pressing from the north like some fate-bearing vapor83 of the Norse legends. The west was a great cavern84 of fire, with ruddy veins85 of glowing ore tonguing scarlet and gold across the sky. The wild, fir-spired wastes of Pevensel loomed86 strange and mysterious under the slanting light. There were tall thickets87 bannered with crimson88 on the hills, stretches of rusty89 heather and dark-green gorse, covered as with a web of gold. Now and again a vague wind would start up out of the silence, and come roaring and moaning amid the swaying trees.
From Beacon90 Rock the road plunged91 suddenly into a broad valley. A tawny92, iron-stained stream trickled93 on one side of the highway; on the other a beechwood rose towards the west, its round pillars and bronze carpeting of leaves streaked94 and splashed by the setting sun. A thousand intertwining branches netted the red and angry splendor95 of the sky.
There was a sudden scuffling in the wood as Jeffray rode by, a score of black pigs running squeaking96 and grunting97 amid the dead leaves and bracken. Close to the road, under the shadow of a great beech36, sat an old woman with her chin near her knees, her nose a red hook above her lipless mouth. Behind the crone, and leaning against the trunk of the tree, stood a girl in a green gown and scarlet stays laced up over her full yet girlish bust98, her short gown displaying a pair of buckled99 shoes and neat, gray-stockinged ankles. She wore also a red cloak, the hood100, lined with rabbit-skin, turned back upon her shoulders.
Jeffray glanced at the pair as he reined in to avoid riding down a couple of pigs that were grunting and scurrying101 about the road. The girl in the red cloak was a tall wench with coal-black hair, petulant102, full lips, cheeks tanned a rich red, a color that would have made the ladies of St. James’s appear pale and dim. Her eyes were of a hard and crude blue, looking almost fierce under their straight black brows. There was a haughty103 and intractable air about her. The sensuous104 curve of her strong figure seemed to suggest the agility105 and strength of a beautiful savage106.
The old woman had clambered up and was laying her stick across the backs of the pigs with a verve that did her hardihood credit. The girl by the tree stood motionless, as though in no mood for playing under-swine-herd to the old lady. She was staring boldly at Jeffray, with no play of emotion upon her face, no softening107 of her large and petulant mouth. She looked, indeed, like a child of the wild woods, taught to rely solely108 upon her senses, and those primitive109 instincts that the forest life had developed.
The old woman dropped a courtesy to Jeffray as he rode on, but the girl by the tree favored him only with her barbaric stare. The storm wind was rising. It came crying through the wood like the massed trumpet-blasts of some black-bannered host. Jeffray drew his cloak about him, whipped up his horse, and held on for Rodenham. He still saw the hard blue eyes, the full, petulant lips, the black hair falling desirously about the ill-tempered and glowing face. He thought of Miss Jilian Hardacre’s rouged cheeks and simpering gray eyes. Surely the baronet’s daughter needed more blood under her delicate skin when even this forest wench made her seem thin and old.
点击收听单词发音
1 glistened | |
v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2 wig | |
n.假发 | |
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3 tilt | |
v.(使)倾侧;(使)倾斜;n.倾侧;倾斜 | |
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4 aristocrat | |
n.贵族,有贵族气派的人,上层人物 | |
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5 sprawled | |
v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词);蔓延;杂乱无序地拓展;四肢伸展坐着(或躺着) | |
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6 abutting | |
adj.邻接的v.(与…)邻接( abut的现在分词 );(与…)毗连;接触;倚靠 | |
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7 slovenly | |
adj.懒散的,不整齐的,邋遢的 | |
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8 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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9 blotchy | |
adj.有斑点的,有污渍的;斑污 | |
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10 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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11 drooped | |
弯曲或下垂,发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 torpor | |
n.迟钝;麻木;(动物的)冬眠 | |
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13 sodden | |
adj.浑身湿透的;v.使浸透;使呆头呆脑 | |
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14 impudent | |
adj.鲁莽的,卑鄙的,厚颜无耻的 | |
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15 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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16 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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17 protuberant | |
adj.突出的,隆起的 | |
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18 winked | |
v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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19 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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20 harpsichord | |
n.键琴(钢琴前身) | |
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21 bulging | |
膨胀; 凸出(部); 打气; 折皱 | |
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22 fumbling | |
n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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23 marrow | |
n.骨髓;精华;活力 | |
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24 ecclesiastic | |
n.教士,基督教会;adj.神职者的,牧师的,教会的 | |
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25 brew | |
v.酿造,调制 | |
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26 opportune | |
adj.合适的,适当的 | |
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27 mumbled | |
含糊地说某事,叽咕,咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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29 asperity | |
n.粗鲁,艰苦 | |
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30 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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31 portentous | |
adj.不祥的,可怕的,装腔作势的 | |
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32 herald | |
vt.预示...的来临,预告,宣布,欢迎 | |
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33 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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34 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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35 turrets | |
(六角)转台( turret的名词复数 ); (战舰和坦克等上的)转动炮塔; (摄影机等上的)镜头转台; (旧时攻城用的)塔车 | |
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36 beech | |
n.山毛榉;adj.山毛榉的 | |
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37 hollies | |
n.冬青(常绿灌木,叶尖而硬,有光泽,冬季结红色浆果)( holly的名词复数 );(用作圣诞节饰物的)冬青树枝 | |
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38 yews | |
n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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39 mellow | |
adj.柔和的;熟透的;v.变柔和;(使)成熟 | |
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40 slanting | |
倾斜的,歪斜的 | |
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41 buttresses | |
n.扶壁,扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑,加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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42 lichened | |
adj.长满地衣的,长青苔的 | |
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43 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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44 bevy | |
n.一群 | |
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45 bullies | |
n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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46 lewd | |
adj.淫荡的 | |
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47 badinage | |
n.开玩笑,打趣 | |
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48 tavern | |
n.小旅馆,客栈;小酒店 | |
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49 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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50 moors | |
v.停泊,系泊(船只)( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51 slovenliness | |
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52 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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53 squires | |
n.地主,乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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54 reined | |
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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55 glistening | |
adj.闪耀的,反光的v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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56 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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57 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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58 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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59 falcon | |
n.隼,猎鹰 | |
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60 glimmering | |
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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61 scampering | |
v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑,惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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62 streak | |
n.条理,斑纹,倾向,少许,痕迹;v.加条纹,变成条纹,奔驰,快速移动 | |
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63 intoxicated | |
喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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64 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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65 superstitions | |
迷信,迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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66 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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67 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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68 mire | |
n.泥沼,泥泞;v.使...陷于泥泞,使...陷入困境 | |
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69 sneered | |
讥笑,冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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71 boors | |
n.农民( boor的名词复数 );乡下佬;没礼貌的人;粗野的人 | |
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72 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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73 poetical | |
adj.似诗人的;诗一般的;韵文的;富有诗意的 | |
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74 skulls | |
颅骨( skull的名词复数 ); 脑袋; 脑子; 脑瓜 | |
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75 preposterous | |
adj.荒谬的,可笑的 | |
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76 hoops | |
n.箍( hoop的名词复数 );(篮球)篮圈;(旧时儿童玩的)大环子;(两端埋在地里的)小铁弓 | |
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77 rouged | |
胭脂,口红( rouge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78 ogled | |
v.(向…)抛媚眼,送秋波( ogle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79 cogitated | |
v.认真思考,深思熟虑( cogitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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81 dedicated | |
adj.一心一意的;献身的;热诚的 | |
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82 canopy | |
n.天篷,遮篷 | |
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83 vapor | |
n.蒸汽,雾气 | |
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84 cavern | |
n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
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85 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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86 loomed | |
v.隐约出现,阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 );隐约出现,阴森地逼近 | |
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87 thickets | |
n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 );丛状物 | |
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88 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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89 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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90 beacon | |
n.烽火,(警告用的)闪火灯,灯塔 | |
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91 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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92 tawny | |
adj.茶色的,黄褐色的;n.黄褐色 | |
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93 trickled | |
v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
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94 streaked | |
adj.有条斑纹的,不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 );使布满条纹 | |
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95 splendor | |
n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
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96 squeaking | |
v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 );吱吱叫;告密;充当告密者 | |
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97 grunting | |
咕哝的,呼噜的 | |
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98 bust | |
vt.打破;vi.爆裂;n.半身像;胸部 | |
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99 buckled | |
a. 有带扣的 | |
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100 hood | |
n.头巾,兜帽,覆盖;v.罩上,以头巾覆盖 | |
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101 scurrying | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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102 petulant | |
adj.性急的,暴躁的 | |
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103 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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104 sensuous | |
adj.激发美感的;感官的,感觉上的 | |
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105 agility | |
n.敏捷,活泼 | |
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106 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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107 softening | |
变软,软化 | |
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108 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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109 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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