BESSY had not seen her little girl that day, and filled with compunction by Justine's reminder1, she hastened directly to the school-room.
Of late, in certain moods, her maternal2 tenderness had been clouded by a sense of uneasiness in the child's presence, for Cicely was the argument most effectually used by Mr. Langhope and Mr. Tredegar in their efforts to check the triumph of Amherst's ideas. Bessy, still unable to form an independent opinion on the harassing3 question of the mills, continued to oscillate between the views of the contending parties, now regarding Cicely as an innocent victim and herself as an unnatural4 mother, sacrificing her child's prospects5 to further Amherst's enterprise, and now conscious of a vague animosity against the little girl, as the chief cause of the dissensions which had so soon clouded the skies of her second marriage. Then again, there were moments when Cicely's rosy6 bloom reminded her bitterly of the child she had lost--the son on whom her ambitions had been fixed7. It seemed to her now that if their boy had lived she might have kept Amherst's love and have played a more important part in his life; and brooding on the tragedy of the child's sickly existence she resented the contrast of Cicely's brightness and vigour8. The result was that in her treatment of her daughter she alternated between moments of exaggerated devotion and days of neglect, never long happy away from the little girl, yet restless and self-tormenting in her presence.
After her talk with Justine she felt more than usually disturbed, as she always did when her unprofitable impulses of self-exposure had subsided10. Bessy's mind was not made for introspection, and chance had burdened it with unintelligible11 problems. She felt herself the victim of circumstances to which her imagination attributed the deliberate malice13 that children ascribe to the furniture they run against in playing. This helped her to cultivate a sense of helpless injury and to disdain14 in advance the advice she was perpetually seeking. How absurd it was, for instance, to suppose that a girl could understand the feelings of a married woman! Justine's suggestion that she should humble15 herself still farther to Amherst merely left in Bessy's mind a rankling17 sense of being misunderstood and undervalued by those to whom she turned in her extremity18, and she said to herself, in a phrase that sounded well in her own ears, that sooner or later every woman must learn to fight her battles alone.
In this mood she entered the room where Cicely was at supper with her governess, and enveloped19 the child in a whirl of passionate20 caresses21. But Cicely had inherited the soberer Westmore temper, and her mother's spasmodic endearments22 always had a repressive effect on her. She dutifully returned a small fraction of Bessy's kisses, and then, with an air of relief, addressed herself once more to her bread and marmalade.
"You don't seem a bit glad to see me!" Bessy exclaimed, while the little governess made a nervous pretence23 of being greatly amused at this prodigious24 paradox25, and Cicely, setting down her silver mug, asked judicially26: "Why should I be gladder than other days? It isn't a birthday."
This Cordelia-like answer cut Bessy to the quick. "You horrid27 child to say such a cruel thing when you know I love you better and better every minute! But you don't care for me any longer because Justine has taken you away from me!"
This last charge had sprung into her mind in the act of uttering it, but now that it was spoken it instantly assumed the proportions of a fact, and seemed to furnish another justification29 for her wretchedness. Bessy was not naturally jealous, but her imagination was thrall30 to the spoken word, and it gave her a sudden incomprehensible relief to associate Justine with the obscure causes of her suffering.
"I know she's cleverer than I am, and more amusing, and can tell you about plants and animals and things...and I daresay she tells you how tiresome31 and stupid I am...."
She sprang up suddenly, abashed32 by Cicely's astonished gaze, and by the governess's tremulous attempt to continue to treat the scene as one of "Mamma's" most successful pleasantries.
"Don't mind me--my head aches horribly. I think I'll rush off for a gallop33 on Impulse before dinner. Miss Dill, Cicely's nails are a sight--I suppose that comes of grubbing up wild-flowers."
And with this parting shot at Justine's pursuits she swept out of the school-room, leaving pupil and teacher plunged34 in a stricken silence from which Cicely at length emerged to say, with the candour that Miss Dill dreaded35 more than any punishable offense36: "Mother's prettiest--but I do like Justine the best."
* * * * *
It was nearly dark when Bessy mounted the horse which had been hastily saddled in response to her order; but it was her habit to ride out alone at all hours, and of late nothing but a hard gallop had availed to quiet her nerves. Her craving37 for occupation had increased as her life became more dispersed38 and agitated39, and the need to fill every hour drove her to excesses of bodily exertion40, since other forms of activity were unknown to her.
As she cantered along under the twilight41 sky, with a strong sea-breeze in her face, the rush of air and the effort of steadying her nervous thoroughbred filled her with a glow of bodily energy from which her thoughts emerged somewhat cleansed42 of their bitterness.
She had been odious43 to poor little Cicely, for whom she now felt a sudden remorseful44 yearning45 which almost made her turn her horse's head homeward, that she might dash upstairs and do penance46 beside the child's bed. And that she should have accused Justine of taking Cicely from her! It frightened her to find herself thinking evil of Justine. Bessy, whose perceptions were keen enough in certain directions, knew that her second marriage had changed her relation to all her former circle of friends. Though they still rallied about her, keeping up the convenient habit of familiar intercourse47, she had begun to be aware that their view of her had in it an element of criticism and compassion48. She had once fancied that Amherst's good looks, and the other qualities she had seen in him, would immediately make him free of the charmed circle in which she moved; but she was discouraged by his disregard of his opportunities, and above all by the fundamental differences in his view of life. He was never common or ridiculous, but she saw that he would never acquire the small social facilities. He was fond of exercise, but it bored him to talk of it. The men's smoking-room anecdotes49 did not amuse him, he was unmoved by the fluctuations50 of the stock-market, he could not tell one card from another, and his perfunctory attempts at billiards51 had once caused Mr. Langhope to murmur52, in his daughter's hearing: "Ah, that's the test--I always said so!"
Thus debarred from what seemed to Bessy the chief points of contact with life, how could Amherst hope to impose himself on minds versed53 in these larger relations? As the sense of his social insufficiency grew on her, Bessy became more sensitive to that latent criticism of her marriage which--intolerable thought!--involved a judgment54 on herself. She was increasingly eager for the approval and applause of her little audience, yet increasingly distrustful of their sincerity55, and more miserably56 persuaded that she and her husband were the butt57 of some of their most effective stories. She knew also that rumours58 of the disagreement about Westmore were abroad, and the suspicion that Amherst's conduct was the subject of unfriendly comment provoked in her a reaction of loyalty59 to his ideas....
From this turmoil60 of conflicting influences only her friendship with Justine Brent remained secure. Though Justine's adaptability61 made it easy for her to fit into the Lynbrook life, Bessy knew that she stood as much outside of it as Amherst. She could never, for instance, be influenced by what Maria Ansell and the Gaineses and the Telfers thought. She had her own criteria62 of conduct, unintelligible to Bessy, but giving her an independence of mind on which her friend leaned in a kind of blind security. And that even her faith in Justine should suddenly be poisoned by a jealous thought seemed to prove that the consequences of her marriage were gradually infecting her whole life. Bessy could conceive of masculine devotion only as subservient64 to its divinity's least wish, and she argued that if Amherst had really loved her he could not so lightly have disturbed the foundations of her world. And so her tormented65 thoughts, perpetually circling on themselves, reverted66 once more to their central grievance67--the failure of her marriage. If her own love had died out it would have been much simpler--she was surrounded by examples of the mutual68 evasion69 of a troublesome tie. There was Blanche Carbury, for instance, with whom she had lately struck up an absorbing friendship...it was perfectly70 clear that Blanche Carbury wondered how much more she was going to stand! But it was the torment9 of Bessy's situation that it involved a radical71 contradiction, that she still loved Amherst though she could not forgive him for having married her.
Perhaps what she most suffered from was his too-prompt acceptance of the semi-estrangement72 between them. After nearly three years of marriage she had still to learn that it was Amherst's way to wrestle73 with the angel till dawn, and then to go about his other business. Her own mind could revolve74 in the same grievance as interminably as a squirrel in its wheel, and her husband's habit of casting off the accepted fact seemed to betoken75 poverty of feeling. If only he had striven a little harder to keep her--if, even now, he would come back to her, and make her feel that she was more to him than those wretched mills!
When she turned her mare76 toward Lynbrook, the longing77 to see Amherst was again uppermost. He had not written for weeks--she had been obliged to tell Maria Ansell that she knew nothing of his plans, and it mortified78 her to think that every one was aware of his neglect. Yet, even now, if on reaching the house she should find a telegram to say that he was coming, the weight of loneliness would be lifted, and everything in life would seem different....
Her high-strung mare, scenting79 the homeward road, and excited by the fantastic play of wayside lights and shadows, swept her along at a wild gallop with which the fevered rush of her thoughts kept pace, and when she reached the house she dropped from the saddle with aching wrists and brain benumbed.
She entered by a side door, to avoid meeting any one, and ran upstairs at once, knowing that she had barely time to dress for dinner. As she opened the door of her sitting-room80 some one rose from the chair by the fire, and she stood still, facing her husband....
It was the moment both had desired, yet when it came it found them tongue-tied and helpless.
Bessy was the first to speak. "When did you get here? You never wrote me you were coming!"
Amherst advanced toward her, holding out his hand. "No; you must forgive me. I have been very busy," he said.
Always the same excuse! The same thrusting at her of the hateful fact that Westmore came first, and that she must put up with whatever was left of his time and thoughts!
"You are always too busy to let me hear from you," she said coldly, and the hand which had sprung toward his fell back to her side.
Even then, if he had only said frankly81: "It was too difficult--I didn't know how," the note of truth would have reached and moved her; but he had striven for the tone of ease and self-restraint that was habitual82 among her friends, and as usual his attempt had been a failure.
"I am sorry--I'm a bad hand at writing," he rejoined; and his evil genius prompted him to add: "I hope my coming is not inconvenient83?"
The colour rose to Bessy's face. "Of course not. But it must seem rather odd to our visitors that I should know so little of your plans."
At this he humbled84 himself still farther. "I know I don't think enough about appearances--I'll try to do better the next time."
Appearances! He spoke28 as if she had been reproaching him for a breach85 of etiquette86...it never occurred to him that the cry came from her humiliated87 heart! The tide of warmth that always enveloped her in his presence was receding88, and in its place a chill fluid seemed to creep up slowly to her throat and lips.
In Amherst, meanwhile, the opposite process was taking place. His wife was still to him the most beautiful woman in the world, or rather, perhaps, the only woman to whose beauty his eyes had been opened. That beauty could never again penetrate89 to his heart, but it still touched his senses, not with passion but with a caressing90 kindliness91, such as one might feel for the bright movements of a bird or a kitten. It seemed to plead with him not to ask of her more than she could give--to be content with the outward grace and not seek in it an inner meaning. He moved toward her again, and took her passive hands in his.
"You look tired. Why do you ride so late?"
"Oh, I just wanted to give Impulse a gallop. I hadn't time to take her out earlier, and if I let the grooms92 exercise her they'll spoil her mouth."
Amherst frowned. "You ought not to ride that mare alone at night. She shies at everything after dark."
"She's the only horse I care for--the others are all cows," she murmured, releasing her hands impatiently.
"Well, you must take me with you the next time you ride her."
She softened93 a little, in spite of herself. Riding was the only amusement he cared to share with her, and the thought of a long gallop across the plains at his side brought back the warmth to her veins94.
"Yes, we'll go tomorrow. How long do you mean to stay?" she asked, looking up at him eagerly.
He was pleased that she should wish to know, yet the question embarrassed him, for it was necessary that he should be back at Westmore within three days, and he could not put her off with an evasion.
Bessy saw his hesitation95, and her colour rose again. "I only asked," she explained, "because there is to be a fancy ball at the Hunt Club on the twentieth, and I thought of giving a big dinner here first."
Amherst did not understand that she too had her inarticulate moments, and that the allusion96 to the fancy ball was improvised97 to hide an eagerness to which he had been too slow in responding. He thought she had enquired98 about his plans only that he might not again interfere99 with the arrangements of her dinner-table. If that was all she cared about, it became suddenly easy to tell her that he could not stay, and he answered lightly: "Fancy balls are a little out of my line; but at any rate I shall have to be back at the mills the day after tomorrow."
The disappointment brought a rush of bitterness to her lips. "The day after tomorrow? It seems hardly worth while to have come so far for two days!"
"Oh, I don't mind the journey--and there are one or two matters I must consult you about."
There could hardly have been a more ill-advised answer, but Amherst was reckless now. If she cared for his coming only that he might fill a place at a fancy-dress dinner, he would let her see that he had come only because he had to go through the form of submitting to her certain measures to be taken at Westmore.
Bessy was beginning to feel the physical reaction of her struggle with the mare. The fatigue100 which at first had deadened her nerves now woke them to acuter sensibility, and an appealing word from her husband would have drawn101 her to his arms. But his answer seemed to drive all the blood back to her heart.
"I don't see why you still go through the form of consulting me about Westmore, when you have always done just as you pleased there, without regard to me or Cicely."
Amherst made no answer, silenced by the discouragement of hearing the same old grievance on her lips; and she too seemed struck, after she had spoken, by the unprofitableness of such retorts.
"It doesn't matter--of course I'll do whatever you wish," she went on listlessly. "But I could have sent my signature, if that is all you came for----"
"Thanks," said Amherst coldly. "I shall remember that the next time."
They stood silent for a moment, he with his eyes fixed on her, she with averted102 head, twisting her riding-whip between her fingers; then she said suddenly: "We shall be late for dinner," and passing into her dressing-room she closed the door.
Amherst roused himself as she disappeared.
"Bessy!" he exclaimed, moving toward her; but as he approached the door he heard her maid's voice within, and turning away he went to his own room.
* * * * *
Bessy came down late to dinner, with vivid cheeks and an air of improvised ease; and the manner of her entrance, combined with her husband's unannounced arrival, produced in their observant guests the sense of latent complications. Mr. Langhope, though evidently unaware103 of his son-in-law's return till they greeted each other in the drawing-room, was too good a card-player to betray surprise, and Mrs. Ansell outdid herself in the delicate art of taking everything for granted; but these very dissimulations sharpened the perception of the other guests, whom long practice had rendered expert in interpreting such signs.
Of all this Justine Brent was aware; and conscious also that, by every one but herself, the suspected estrangement between the Amhersts was regarded as turning merely on the question of money. To the greater number of persons present there was, in fact, no other conceivable source of conjugal104 discord105, since every known complication could be adjusted by means of the universal lubricant. It was this unanimity106 of view which bound together in the compactness of a new feudalism the members of Bessy Amherst's world; which supplied them with their pass-words and social tests, and defended them securely against the insidious107 attack of ideas.
* * * * *
The Genius of History, capriciously directing the antics of its marionettes, sometimes lets the drama languish108 through a series of unrelated episodes, and then, suddenly quickening the pace, packs into one scene the stuff of a dozen. The chance meeting of Amherst and Justine, seemingly of no significance to either, contained the germ of developments of which both had begun to be aware before the evening was over. Their short talk--the first really intimate exchange of words between them--had the effect of creating a sense of solidarity109 that grew apace in the atmosphere of the Lynbrook dinner-table.
Justine was always reluctant to take part in Bessy's week-end dinners, but as she descended110 the stairs that evening she did not regret having promised to be present. She frankly wanted to see Amherst again--his tone, his view of life, reinforced her own convictions, restored her faith in the reality and importance of all that Lynbrook ignored and excluded. Her extreme sensitiveness to surrounding vibrations111 of thought and feeling told her, as she glanced at him between the flowers and candles of the long dinner-table, that he too was obscurely aware of the same effect; and it flashed across her that they were unconsciously drawn together by the fact that they were the only two strangers in the room. Every one else had the same standpoint, spoke the same language, drew on the same stock of allusions112, used the same weights and measures in estimating persons and actions. Between Mr. Langhope's indolent acuteness of mind and the rudimentary processes of the rosy Telfers there was a difference of degree but not of kind. If Mr. Langhope viewed the spectacle more objectively, it was not because he had outlived the sense of its importance, but because years of experience had familiarized him with its minutest details; and this familiarity with the world he lived in had bred a profound contempt for any other.
In no way could the points of contact between Amherst and Justine Brent have been more vividly113 brought out than by their tacit exclusion114 from the currents of opinion about them. Amherst, seated in unsmiling endurance at the foot of the table, between Mrs. Ansell, with her carefully-distributed affabilities, and Blanche Carbury, with her reckless hurling115 of conversational116 pebbles117, seemed to Justine as much of a stranger as herself among the people to whom his marriage had introduced him. So strongly did she feel the sense of their common isolation118 that it was no surprise to her, when the men reappeared in the drawing-room after dinner, to have her host thread his way, between the unfolding bridge-tables, straight to the corner where she sat. Amherst's methods in the drawing-room were still as direct as in the cotton-mill. He always went up at once to the person he sought, without preliminary waste of tactics; and on this occasion Justine, without knowing what had passed between himself and Bessy, suspected from the appearance of both that their talk had resulted in increasing Amherst's desire to be with some one to whom he could speak freely and naturally on the subject nearest his heart.
She began at once to question him about Westmore, and the change in his face showed that his work was still a refuge from all that made life disheartening and unintelligible. Whatever convictions had been thwarted119 or impaired120 in him, his faith in the importance of his task remained unshaken; and the firmness with which he held to it filled Justine with a sense of his strength. The feeling kindled121 her own desire to escape again into the world of deeds, yet by a sudden reaction it checked the growing inclination122 for Stephen Wyant that had resulted from her revolt against Lynbrook. Here was a man as careless as Wyant of the minor123 forms, yet her appreciation124 of him was not affected125 by the lack of adaptability that she accused herself of criticizing in her suitor. She began to see that it was not the sense of Wyant's social deficiencies that had held her back; and the discovery at once set free her judgment of him, enabling her to penetrate to the real causes of her reluctance126. She understood now that the flaw she felt was far deeper than any defect of manner. It was the sense in him of something unstable127 and incalculable, something at once weak and violent, that was brought to light by the contrast of Amherst's quiet resolution. Here was a man whom no gusts128 of chance could deflect129 from his purpose; while she felt that the career to which Wyant had so ardently130 given himself would always be at the mercy of his passing emotions.
As the distinction grew clearer, Justine trembled to think that she had so nearly pledged herself, without the excuse of love, to a man whose failings she could judge so lucidly131.... But had she ever really thought of marrying Wyant? While she continued to talk with Amherst such a possibility became more and more remote, till she began to feel it was no more than a haunting dream. But her promise to see Wyant the next day reminded her of the nearness of her peril132. How could she have played with her fate so lightly--she, who held her life so dear because she felt in it such untried powers of action and emotion? She continued to listen to Amherst's account of his work, with enough outward self-possession to place the right comment and put the right question, yet conscious only of the quiet strength she was absorbing from his presence, of the way in which his words, his voice, his mere16 nearness were slowly steadying and clarifying her will.
In the smoking-room, after the ladies had gone upstairs, Amherst continued to acquit133 himself mechanically of his duties, against the incongruous back-ground of his predecessor's remarkable134 sporting-prints--for it was characteristic of his relation to Lynbrook that his life there was carried on in the setting of foils and boxing-gloves, firearms and racing-trophies, which had expressed Dick Westmore's ideals. Never very keenly alive to his material surroundings, and quite unconscious of the irony135 of this proximity136, Amherst had come to accept his wife's guests as unquestioningly as their background, and with the same sense of their being an inevitable137 part of his new life. Their talk was no more intelligible12 to him than the red and yellow hieroglyphics138 of the racing-prints, and he smoked in silence while Mr. Langhope discoursed139 to Westy Gaines on the recent sale of Chinese porcelains140 at which he had been lucky enough to pick up the set of Ming for his daughter, and Mason Winch expounded141 to a group of languid listeners the essential dependence63 of the labouring-man on the prosperity of Wall Street. In a retired142 corner, Ned Bowfort was imparting facts of a more personal nature to a chosen following who hailed with suppressed enjoyment143 the murmured mention of proper names; and now and then Amherst found himself obliged to say to Fenton Carbury, who with one accord had been left on his hands, "Yes, I understand the flat-tread tire is best," or, "There's a good deal to be said for the low tension magneto----"
But all the while his conscious thoughts were absorbed in the remembrance of his talk with Justine Brent. He had left his wife's presence in that state of moral lassitude when the strongest hopes droop144 under the infection of indifference145 and hostility146, and the effort of attainment147 seems out of all proportion to the end in view; but as he listened to Justine all his energies sprang to life again. Here at last was some one who felt the urgency of his task: her every word and look confirmed her comment of the afternoon: "Westmore must be foremost to you both in time--I don't see how either of you can escape it."
She saw it, as he did, to be the special outlet148 offered for the expression of what he was worth to the world; and with the knowledge that one other person recognized his call, it sounded again loudly in his heart. Yes, he would go on, patiently and persistently149, conquering obstacles, suffering delay, enduring criticism--hardest of all, bearing with his wife's deepening indifference and distrust. Justine had said "Westmore must be foremost to you both," and he would prove that she was right--spite of the powers leagued against him he would win over Bessy in the end!
Those observers who had been struck by the length and animation150 of Miss Brent's talk with her host--and among whom Mrs. Ansell and Westy Gaines were foremost--would hardly have believed how small a part her personal charms had played in attracting him. Amherst was still under the power of the other kind of beauty--the soft graces personifying the first triumph of sex in his heart--and Justine's dark slenderness could not at once dispel151 the milder image. He watched her with pleasure while she talked, but her face interested him only as the vehicle of her ideas--she looked as a girl must look who felt and thought as she did. He was aware that everything about her was quick and fine and supple152, and that the muscles of character lay close to the surface of feeling; but the interpenetration of spirit and flesh that made her body seem like the bright projection153 of her mind left him unconscious of anything but the oneness of their thoughts.
So these two, in their hour of doubt, poured strength into each other's hearts, each unconscious of what they gave, and of its hidden power of renewing their own purposes.
收听单词发音 |
1
reminder
|
|
| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
harassing
|
|
| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
unnatural
|
|
| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
subsided
|
|
| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
unintelligible
|
|
| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
intelligible
|
|
| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
rankling
|
|
| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
caresses
|
|
| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
endearments
|
|
| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
prodigious
|
|
| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
paradox
|
|
| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
judicially
|
|
| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
justification
|
|
| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
thrall
|
|
| n.奴隶；奴隶制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
tiresome
|
|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
abashed
|
|
| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
gallop
|
|
| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
offense
|
|
| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
craving
|
|
| n.渴望,热望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
dispersed
|
|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
cleansed
|
|
| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
odious
|
|
| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
remorseful
|
|
| adj.悔恨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
penance
|
|
| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
anecdotes
|
|
| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
fluctuations
|
|
| 波动，涨落，起伏( fluctuation的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
billiards
|
|
| n.台球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
versed
|
|
| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
miserably
|
|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
butt
|
|
| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
rumours
|
|
| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
turmoil
|
|
| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
adaptability
|
|
| n.适应性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
criteria
|
|
| n.标准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
dependence
|
|
| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
subservient
|
|
| adj.卑屈的，阿谀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
tormented
|
|
| 饱受折磨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
reverted
|
|
| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
grievance
|
|
| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
evasion
|
|
| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
estrangement
|
|
| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
wrestle
|
|
| vi.摔跤，角力；搏斗；全力对付 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
revolve
|
|
| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
betoken
|
|
| v.预示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
mare
|
|
| n.母马，母驴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
mortified
|
|
| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
scenting
|
|
| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
humbled
|
|
| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
etiquette
|
|
| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
humiliated
|
|
| 感到羞愧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
receding
|
|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
penetrate
|
|
| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
caressing
|
|
| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
kindliness
|
|
| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
grooms
|
|
| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
improvised
|
|
| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
averted
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
unaware
|
|
| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
conjugal
|
|
| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
discord
|
|
| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
unanimity
|
|
| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
insidious
|
|
| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
languish
|
|
| vi.变得衰弱无力，失去活力，（植物等）凋萎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
solidarity
|
|
| n.团结；休戚相关 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
vibrations
|
|
| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
allusions
|
|
| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
exclusion
|
|
| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
hurling
|
|
| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
conversational
|
|
| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
pebbles
|
|
| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
isolation
|
|
| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
thwarted
|
|
| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
impaired
|
|
| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
kindled
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
unstable
|
|
| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
gusts
|
|
| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
deflect
|
|
| v.(使)偏斜，(使)偏离，(使)转向 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
ardently
|
|
| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
lucidly
|
|
| adv.清透地，透明地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
acquit
|
|
| vt.宣判无罪；(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
proximity
|
|
| n.接近，邻近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
hieroglyphics
|
|
| n.pl.象形文字 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
discoursed
|
|
| 演说（discourse的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
porcelains
|
|
| n.瓷，瓷器( porcelain的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
expounded
|
|
| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
droop
|
|
| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
attainment
|
|
| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
outlet
|
|
| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
persistently
|
|
| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
animation
|
|
| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
dispel
|
|
| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
supple
|
|
| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
projection
|
|
| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |