Containing Hints of Diana’s Experiences and of what They Led to
A fortnight after this memorable1 Ball the principal actors of both sexes had crossed the Channel back to England, and old Ireland was left to her rains from above and her undrained bogs2 below; her physical and her mental vapours; her ailments3 and her bog-bred doctors; as to whom the governing country trusted they would be silent or discourse4 humorously.
The residence of Sir Lukin Dunstane, in the county of Surrey, inherited by him during his recent term of Indian services, was on the hills, where a day of Italian sky, or better, a day of our breezy South-west, washed from the showery night, gives distantly a tower to view, and a murky5 web, not without colour: the ever-flying banner of the metropolis6, the smoke of the city’s chimneys, if you prefer plain language. At a first inspection7 of the house, Lady Dunstane did not like it, and it was advertized to be let, and the auctioneer proclaimed it in his dialect. Her taste was delicate; she had the sensitiveness of an invalid8: twice she read the stalking advertizement of the attractions of Copsley, and hearing Diana call it ‘the plush of speech,’ she shuddered9; she decided10 that a place where her husband’s family had lived ought not to stand forth11 meretriciously12 spangled and daubed, like a show-booth at a fair, for a bait; though the grandiloquent13 man of advertizing letters assured Sir Lukin that a public agape for the big and gaudy14 mouthful is in no milder way to be caught; as it is apparently15 the case. She withdrew the trumpeting16 placard. Retract17 we likewise ‘banner of the metropolis.’ That plush of speech haunts all efforts to swell18 and illuminate19 citizen prose to a princely poetic20.
Yet Lady Dunstane herself could name the bank of smoke, when looking North-eastward from her summerhouse, the flag of London: and she was a person of the critical mind, well able to distinguish between the simple metaphor21 and the superobese. A year of habitation induced her to conceal22 her dislike of the place in love: cat’s love, she owned. Here, she confessed to Diana, she would wish to live to her end. It seemed remote, where an invigorating upper air gave new bloom to her cheeks; but she kept one secret from her friend.
Copsley was an estate of nearly twelve hundred acres, extending across the ridge23 of the hills to the slopes North and South. Seven counties rolled their backs under this commanding height, and it would have tasked a pigeon to fly within an hour the stretch of country visible at the Copsley windows. Sunrise to right, sunset leftward, the borders of the grounds held both flaming horizons. So much of the heavens and of earth is rarely granted to a dwelling24. The drawback was the structure, which had no charm, scarce a face. ‘It is written that I should live in barracks,’ Lady Dunstane said. The colour of it taught white to impose a sense of gloom. Her cat’s love of the familiar inside corners was never able to embrace the outer walls. Her sensitiveness, too, was racked by the presentation of so pitiably ugly a figure to the landscape. She likened it to a coarse-featured country wench, whose cleaning and decorating of her countenance25 makes complexion26 grin and ruggedness27 yawn. Dirty, dilapidated, hung with weeds and parasites28, it would have been more tolerable. She tried the effect of various creepers, and they were as a staring paint. What it was like then, she had no heart to say.
One may, however, fall on a pleasurable resignation in accepting great indemnities29, as Diana bade her believe, when the first disgust began to ebb30. ‘A good hundred over there would think it a Paradise for an asylum’: she signified London. Her friend bore such reminders31 meekly32. They were readers of books of all sorts, political, philosophical33, economical, romantic; and they mixed the diverse readings in thought, after the fashion of the ardently35 youthful. Romance affected36 politics, transformed economy, irradiated philosophy. They discussed the knotty37 question, Why things were not done, the things being confessedly to do; and they cut the knot: Men, men calling themselves statesmen, declined to perform that operation, because, forsooth, other men objected to have it performed on them. And common humanity declared it to be for the common weal! If so, then it is clearly indicated as a course of action: we shut our eyes against logic38 and the vaunted laws of economy. They are the knot we cut; or would cut, had we the sword. Diana did it to the tune39 of Garryowen or Planxty Kelly. O for a despot! The cry was for a beneficent despot, naturally: a large-minded benevolent40 despot. In short, a despot to obey their bidding. Thoughtful young people who think through the heart soon come to this conclusion. The heart is the beneficent despot they would be. He cures those miseries41; he creates the novel harmony. He sees all difficulties through his own sanguine42 hues43. He is the musical poet of the problem, demanding merely to have it solved that he may sing: clear proof of the necessity for solving it immediately.
Thus far in their pursuit of methods for the government of a nation, to make it happy, Diana was leader. Her fine ardour and resonance44, and more than the convincing ring of her voice, the girl’s impassioned rapidity in rushing through any perceptible avenue of the labyrinth45, or beating down obstacles to form one, and coming swiftly to some solution, constituted her the chief of the pair of democratic rebels in questions that clamoured for instant solution. By dint46 of reading solid writers, using the brains they possessed47, it was revealed to them gradually that their particular impatience48 came perhaps of the most earnest desire to get to a comfortable termination of the inquiry49: the heart aching for mankind sought a nest for itself. At this point Lady Dunstane took the lead. Diana had to be tugged50 to follow. She could not accept a ‘perhaps’ that cast dubiousness51 on her disinterested52 championship. She protested a perfect certainty of the single aim of her heart outward. But she reflected. She discovered that her friend had gone ahead of her.
The discovery was reached, and even acknowledged, before she could persuade herself to swallow the repulsive53 truth. O self! self! self! are we eternally masking in a domino that reveals your hideous54 old face when we could be most positive we had escaped you? Eternally! the desolating55 answer knelled56. Nevertheless the poor, the starving, the overtaxed in labour, they have a right to the cry of Now! now! They have; and if a cry could conduct us to the secret of aiding, healing, feeding, elevating them, we might swell the cry. As it is, we must lay it on our wits patiently to track and find the secret; and meantime do what the individual with his poor pittance57 can. A miserable58 contribution! sighed the girl. Old Self was perceived in the sigh. She was haunted.
After all, one must live one’s life. Placing her on a lower pedestal in her self-esteem59, the philosophy of youth revived her; and if the abatement60 of her personal pride was dispiriting, she began to see an advantage in getting inward eyes.
‘It’s infinitely61 better I should know it, Emmy—I’m a reptile62! Pleasure here, pleasure there, I’m always thinking of pleasure. I shall give up thinking and take to drifting. Neither of us can do more than open purses; and mine’s lean. If the old Crossways had no tenant63, it would be a purse all mouth. And charity is haunted, like everything we do. Only I say with my whole strength yes, I am sure, in spite of the men professing64 that they are practical, the rich will not move without a goad65. I have and hold—you shall hunger and covet66, until you are strong enough to force my hand:—that ‘s the speech of the wealthy. And they are Christians67. In name. Well, I thank heaven I’m at war, with myself.’
‘You always manage to strike out a sentence worth remembering, Tony,’ said Lady Dunstane. ‘At war with ourselves, means the best happiness we can have.’
It suited her, frail68 as her health was, and her wisdom striving to the spiritual of happiness. War with herself was far from happiness in the bosom69 of Diana. She wanted external life, action, fields for energies, to vary the struggle. It fretted70 and rendered her ill at ease. In her solitary71 rides with Sir Lukin through a long winter season, she appalled72 that excellent but conventionally-minded gentleman by starting, nay73 supporting, theories next to profane74 in the consideration of a land-owner. She spoke75 of Reform: of the Repeal76 of the Corn Laws as the simple beginning of the grants due to the people. She had her ideas, of course, from that fellow Redworth, an occasional visitor at Copsley; and a man might be a donkey and think what he pleased, since he had a vocabulary to back his opinions. A woman, Sir Lukin held, was by nature a mute in politics. Of the thing called a Radical77 woman, he could not believe that she was less than monstrous78: ‘with a nose,’ he said; and doubtless, horse teeth, hatchet79 jaws80, slatternly in the gown, slipshod, awful. As for a girl, an unmarried, handsome girl, admittedly beautiful, her interjections, echoing a man, were ridiculous, and not a little annoying now and them, for she could be piercingly sarcastic81. Her vocabulary in irony82 was a quiverful. He admired her and liked her immensely; complaining only of her turn for unfeminine topics. He pardoned her on the score of the petty difference rankling83 between them in reference to his abandonment of his Profession, for here she was patriotically84 wrong-headed. Everybody knew that he had sold out in order to look after his estates of Copsley and Dunena, secondly85: and in the first place, to nurse and be a companion to his wife. He had left her but four times in five months; he had spent just three weeks of that time away from her in London. No one could doubt of his having kept his pledge, although his wife occupied herself with books and notions and subjects foreign to his taste—his understanding, too, he owned. And Redworth had approved of his retirement86, had a contempt for soldiering. ‘Quite as great as yours for civilians87, I can tell you,’ Sir Lukin said, dashing out of politics to the vexatious personal subject. Her unexpressed disdain88 was ruffling89.
‘Mr. Redworth recommends work: he respects the working soldier,’ said Diana.
Sir Lukin exclaimed that he had been a working soldier; he was ready to serve if his country wanted him. He directed her to anathematize Peace, instead of scorning a fellow for doing the duties next about him: and the mention of Peace fetched him at a bound back to politics. He quoted a distinguished90 Tory orator91, to the effect, that any lengthened92 term of peace bred maggots in the heads of the people.
‘Mr. Redworth spoke of it: he translated something from Aristophanes for a retort,’ said Diana.
‘Well, we’re friends, eh?’ Sir Lukin put forth a hand.
She looked at him surprised at the unnecessary call for a show, of friendship; she touched his hand with two tips of her fingers, remarking, ‘I should think so, indeed.’
He deemed it prudent93 to hint to his wife that Diana Merion appeared to be meditating94 upon Mr. Redworth.
‘That is a serious misfortune, if true,’ said Lady Dunstane. She thought so for two reasons: Mr. Redworth generally disagreed in opinion with Diana, and contradicted her so flatly as to produce the impression of his not even sharing the popular admiration95 of her beauty; and, further, she hoped for Diana to make a splendid marriage. The nibbles96 threatened to be snaps and bites. There had been a proposal, in an epistle, a quaint97 effusion, from a gentleman avowing98 that he had seen her, and had not danced with her on the night of the Irish ball. He was rejected, but Diana groaned99 over the task of replying to the unfortunate applicant100, so as not to wound him. ‘Shall I have to do this often, I wonder?’ she said.
‘Unless you capitulate,’ said her friend.
Diana’s exclamation101: ‘May I be heart-free for another ten years!’ encouraged Lady Dunstane to suppose her husband quite mistaken.
In the Spring Diana, went on a first pilgrimage to her old home, The Crossways, and was kindly102 entertained by the uncle and aunt of a treasured nephew, Mr. Augustus Warwick. She rode with him on the Downs. A visit of a week humanized her view of the intruders. She wrote almost tenderly of her host and hostess to Lady Dunstane; they had but ‘the one fault—of spoiling their nephew.’ Him she described as a ‘gentlemanly official,’ a picture of him. His age was thirty-four. He seemed ‘fond of her scenery.’ Then her pen swept over the Downs like a flying horse. Lady Dunstane thought no more of the gentlemanly official. He was a barrister who did not practise: in nothing the man for Diana. Letters came from the house of the Pettigrews in Kent; from London; from Halford Manor103 in Hertfordshire; from Lockton Grange in Lincolnshire: after which they ceased to be the thrice weekly; and reading the latest of them, Lady Dunstane imagined a flustered104 quill105. The letter succeeding the omission106 contained no excuse, and it was brief. There was a strange interjection, as to the wearifulness of constantly wandering, like a leaf off the tree. Diana spoke of looking for a return of the dear winter days at Copsley. That was her station. Either she must have had some disturbing experience, or Copsley was dear for a Redworth reason, thought the anxious peruser107; musing108, dreaming, putting together divers34 shreds109 of correspondence and testing them with her intimate knowledge of Diana’s character, Lady Dunstane conceived that the unprotected beautiful girl had suffered a persecution110, it might be an insult. She spelt over the names of the guests at the houses. Lord Wroxeter was of evil report: Captain Rampan, a Turf captain, had the like notoriety. And it is impossible in a great house for the hostess to spread her aegis111 to cover every dame112 and damsel present. She has to depend on the women being discreet113, the men civilized114.
‘How brutal115 men can be!’ was one of Diana’s incidental remarks, in a subsequent letter, relating simply to masculine habits. In those days the famous ancestral plea of ‘the passion for his charmer’ had not been altogether socially quashed down among the provinces, where the bottle maintained a sort of sway, and the beauty which inflamed116 the sons of men was held to be in coy expectation of violent effects upon their boiling blood. There were, one hears that there still are, remnants of the pristine118 male, who, if resisted in their suing, conclude that they are scorned, and it infuriates them: some also whose ‘passion for the charmer’ is an instinct to pull down the standard of the sex, by a bully119 imposition of sheer physical ascendancy120, whenever they see it flying with an air of gallant121 independence: and some who dedicate their lives to a study of the arts of the Lord Of Reptiles122, until they have worked the crisis for a display of him in person. Assault or siege, they have achieved their triumphs; they have dominated a frailer123 system of nerves, and a young woman without father, or brother, or husband, to defend her, is cryingly a weak one, therefore inviting124 to such an order of heroes. Lady Dunstane was quick-witted and had a talkative husband; she knew a little of the upper social world of her time. She was heartily125 glad to have Diana by her side again.
Not a word of any serious experience was uttered. Only on one occasion while they conversed126, something being mentioned of her tolerance127, a flush of swarthy crimson128 shot over Diana, and she frowned, with the outcry ‘Oh! I have discovered that I can be a tigress!’
Her friend pressed her hand, saying, ‘The cause a good one!’
‘Women have to fight.’
Diana said no more. There had been a bad experience of her isolated129 position in the world.
Lady Dunstane now indulged a partial hope that Mr. Redworth might see in this unprotected beautiful girl a person worthy130 of his esteem. He had his opportunities, and evidently he liked her. She appeared to take more cordially to him. She valued the sterling131 nature of the man. But they were a hopeless couple, they were so friendly. Both ladies noticed in him an abstractedness of look, often when conversing132, as of a man in calculation; they put it down to an ambitious mind. Yet Diana said then, and said always, that it was he who had first taught her the art of observing. On the whole, the brilliant marriage seemed a fairer prospect133 for her; how reasonable to anticipate, Lady Dunstane often thought when admiring the advance of Diana’s beauty in queenliness, for never did woman carry her head more grandly, more thrillingly make her presence felt; and if only she had been an actress showing herself nightly on a London stage, she would before now have met the superb appreciation134, melancholy135 to reflect upon!
Diana regained136 her happy composure at Copsley. She had, as she imagined, no ambition. The dulness of the place conveyed a charm to a nature recovering from disturbance137 to its clear smooth flow. Air, light, books, and her friend, these good things she had; they were all she wanted. She rode, she walked, with Sir Lukin or Mr. Redworth, for companion; or with Saturday and Sunday guests, Lord Larrian, her declared admirer, among them. ‘Twenty years younger!’ he said to her, shrugging, with a merry smile drawn138 a little at the corners to sober sourness; and she vowed139 to her friend that she would not have had the heart to refuse him. ‘Though,’ said she, ‘speaking generally, I cannot tell you what a foreign animal a husband would appear in my kingdom.’ Her experience had wakened a sexual aversion, of some slight kind, enough to make her feminine pride stipulate140 for perfect independence, that she might have the calm out of which imagination spreads wing. Imagination had become her broader life, and on such an earth, under such skies, a husband who is not the fountain of it, certainly is a foreign animal: he is a discordant141 note. He contracts the ethereal world, deadens radiancy. He is gross fact, a leash142, a muzzle143, harness, a hood144; whatever is detestable to the free limbs and senses. It amused Lady Dunstane to hear Diana say, one evening when their conversation fell by hazard on her future, that the idea of a convent was more welcome to her than the most splendid marriage. ‘For,’ she added, ‘as I am sure I shall never know anything of this love they rattle145 about and rave146 about, I shall do well to keep to my good single path; and I have a warning within me that a step out of it will be a wrong one—for me, dearest!’
She wished her view of the yoke147 to be considered purely148 personal, drawn from no examples and comparisons. The excellent Sir Lukin was passing a great deal of his time in London. His wife had not a word of blame for him; he was a respectful husband, and attentive149 when present; but so uncertain, owing to the sudden pressure of engagements, that Diana, bound on a second visit to The Crossways, doubted whether she would be able to quit her friend, whose condition did not allow of her being left solitary at Copsley. He came nevertheless a day before Diana’s appointed departure on her round of visits. She was pleased with him, and let him see it, for the encouragement of a husband in the observance of his duties. One of the horses had fallen lame117, so they went out for a walk, at Lady Dunstane’s request. It was a delicious afternoon of Spring, with the full red disk of sun dropping behind the brown beech-twigs. She remembered long afterward151 the sweet simpleness of her feelings as she took in the scent152 of wild flowers along the lanes and entered the woods jaws of another monstrous and blackening experience. He fell into the sentimental153 vein154, and a man coming from that heated London life to these glorified155 woods, might be excused for doing so, though it sounded to her just a little ludicrous in him. She played tolerantly second to it; she quoted a snatch of poetry, and his whole face was bent156 to her, with the petition that she would repeat the verse. Much struck was this giant exdragoon. Ah! how fine! grand! He would rather hear that than any opera: it was diviner! ‘Yes, the best poetry is,’ she assented157. ‘On your lips,’ he said. She laughed. ‘I am not a particularly melodious158 reciter.’ He vowed he could listen to her eternally, eternally. His face, on a screw of the neck and shoulders, was now perpetually three-quarters fronting. Ah! she was going to leave. ‘Yes, and you will find my return quite early enough,’ said Diana, stepping a trifle more briskly. His fist was raised on the length of the arm, as if in invocation. ‘Not in the whole of London is there a woman worthy to fasten your shoe-buckles! My oath on it! I look; I can’t spy one.’ Such was his flattering eloquence159.
She told him not to think it necessary to pay her compliments. ‘And here, of all places!’ They were in the heart of the woods. She found her hand seized—her waist. Even then, so impossible is it to conceive the unimaginable even when the apparition160 of it smites161 us, she expected some protesting absurdity162, or that he had seen something in her path.—What did she hear? And from her friend’s husband!
If stricken idiotic163, he was a gentleman; the tigress she had detected in her composition did not require to be called forth; half-a-dozen words, direct, sharp as fangs164 and teeth, with the eyes burning over them, sufficed for the work of defence. ‘The man who swore loyalty165 to Emma!’ Her reproachful repulsion of eyes was unmistakeable, withering166; as masterful as a superior force on his muscles.—What thing had he been taking her for?—She asked it within: and he of himself, in a reflective gasp167. Those eyes of hers appeared as in a cloud, with the wrath168 above: she had: the look of a Goddess in anger. He stammered169, pleaded across her flying shoulder—Oh! horrible, loathsome170, pitiable to hear!... ‘A momentary171 aberration172... her beauty... he deserved to be shot!... could not help admiring... quite lost his head.. on his honour! never again!’
Once in the roadway, and Copsley visible, she checked her arrowy pace for breath, and almost commiserated173 the dejected wretch174 in her thankfulness to him for silence. Nothing exonerated175 him, but at least he had the grace not to beg secresy. That would have been an intolerable whine176 of a poltroon177, adding to her humiliation178. He abstained179; he stood at her mercy without appealing.
She was not the woman to take poor vengeance180. But, Oh! she was profoundly humiliated181, shamed through and through. The question, was I guilty of any lightness—anything to bring this on me? would not be laid. And how she pitied her friend! This house, her heart’s home, was now a wreck183 to her: nay, worse, a hostile citadel184. The burden of the task of meeting Emma with an open face, crushed her like very guilt182. Yet she succeeded. After an hour in her bedchamber she managed to lock up her heart and summon the sprite of acting185 to her tongue and features: which ready attendant on the suffering female host performed his liveliest throughout the evening, to Emma’s amusement, and to the culprit exdragoon’s astonishment186; in whom, to tell the truth of him, her sparkle and fun kindled187 the sense of his being less criminal than he had supposed, with a dim vision of himself as the real proven donkey for not having been a harmless dash more so. But, to be just as well as penetrating188, this was only the effect of her personal charm on his nature. So it spurred him a moment, when it struck this doleful man that to have secured one kiss of those fresh and witty189 sparkling lips he would endure forfeits190, pangs191, anything save the hanging of his culprit’s head before his Emma. Reflection washed him clean. Secresy is not a medical restorative, by no means a good thing for the baffled amorously-adventurous cavalier, unless the lady’s character shall have been firmly established in or over his hazy192 wagging noddle. Reflection informed him that the honourable193, generous, proud girl spared him for the sake of the house she loved. After a night of tossing, he rose right heartily repentant194. He showed it in the best manner, not dramatically. On her accepting his offer to drive her down to the valley to meet the coach, a genuine illumination of pure gratitude195 made a better man of him, both to look at and in feeling. She did not hesitate to consent; and he had half expected a refusal. She talked on the way quite as usual, cheerfully, if not altogether so spiritedly. A flash of her matchless wit now and then reduced him to that abject196 state of man beside the fair person he has treated high cavalierly, which one craves197 permission to describe as pulp198. He was utterly199 beaten.
The sight of Redworth on the valley road was a relief to them both. He had slept in one of the houses of the valley, and spoke of having had the intention to mount to Copsley. Sir Lukin proposed to drive him back. He glanced at Diana, still with that calculating abstract air of his; and he was rallied. He confessed to being absorbed in railways, the new lines of railways projected to thread the land and fast mapping it.
‘You’ve not embarked200 money in them?’ said Sir Lukin.
The answer was: ‘I have; all I possess.’ And Redworth for a sharp instant set his eyes on Diana, indifferent to Sir Lukin’s bellow201 of stupefaction at such gambling202 on the part of a prudent fellow.
He asked her where she was to be met, where written to, during the Summer, in case of his wishing to send her news.
She replied: ‘Copsley will be the surest. I am always in communication with Lady Dunstane.’ She coloured deeply. The recollection of the change of her feeling for Copsley suffused203 her maiden204 mind.
The strange blush prompted an impulse in Redworth to speak to her at once of his venture in railways. But what would she understand of them, as connected with the mighty205 stake he was playing for? He delayed. The coach came at a trot206 of the horses, admired by Sir Lukin, round a corner. She entered it, her maid followed, the door banged, the horses trotted207. She was off.
Her destiny of the Crossways tied a knot, barred a gate, and pointed150 to a new direction of the road on that fine spring morning, when beech-buds were near the burst, cowslips yellowed the meadow-flats, and skylarks quivered upward.
For many long years Redworth had in his memory, for a comment on procrastination208 and excessive scrupulousness209 in his calculating faculty210, the blue back of a coach.
He declined the vacated place beside Sir Lukin, promising211 to come and spend a couple of days at Copsley in a fortnight—Saturday week. He wanted, he said, to have a talk with Lady Dunstane. Evidently he had railways on the brain, and Sir Lukin warned his wife to be guarded against the speculative212 mania213, and advise the man, if she could.
收听单词发音 |
1
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
bogs
|
|
| n.沼泽，泥塘( bog的名词复数 )；厕所v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的第三人称单数 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
ailments
|
|
| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
murky
|
|
| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
metropolis
|
|
| n.首府；大城市 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
invalid
|
|
| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
shuddered
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
meretriciously
|
|
| adv.meretricious（浮华的；华而不实的；粉饰的；俗艳的；俗气的）的变形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
grandiloquent
|
|
| adj.夸张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
gaudy
|
|
| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
trumpeting
|
|
| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
retract
|
|
| vt.缩回，撤回收回，取消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
swell
|
|
| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
illuminate
|
|
| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
poetic
|
|
| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
metaphor
|
|
| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
ruggedness
|
|
| 险峻，粗野； 耐久性； 坚固性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
parasites
|
|
| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
indemnities
|
|
| n.保障( indemnity的名词复数 )；赔偿；赔款；补偿金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
ebb
|
|
| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
reminders
|
|
| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
philosophical
|
|
| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
divers
|
|
| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
ardently
|
|
| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
knotty
|
|
| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
tune
|
|
| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
benevolent
|
|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
miseries
|
|
| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
sanguine
|
|
| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
hues
|
|
| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
resonance
|
|
| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
labyrinth
|
|
| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
dint
|
|
| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
dubiousness
|
|
| n.dubious（令人怀疑的）的变形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
52
disinterested
|
|
| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
repulsive
|
|
| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
desolating
|
|
| 毁坏( desolate的现在分词 )； 极大地破坏； 使沮丧； 使痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
knelled
|
|
| v.丧钟声( knell的过去式和过去分词 )；某事物结束的象征 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
pittance
|
|
| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
abatement
|
|
| n.减(免)税，打折扣，冲销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
reptile
|
|
| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
professing
|
|
| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
goad
|
|
| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
covet
|
|
| vt.垂涎；贪图(尤指属于他人的东西) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
frail
|
|
| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
fretted
|
|
| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
appalled
|
|
| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
profane
|
|
| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
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： |
|
|
|
|
76
repeal
|
|
| n.废止，撤消；v.废止，撤消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
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： |
|
|
|
|
78
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
hatchet
|
|
| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
jaws
|
|
| n.口部；嘴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
sarcastic
|
|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
rankling
|
|
| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
patriotically
|
|
| 爱国地；忧国地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
secondly
|
|
| adv.第二，其次 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
civilians
|
|
| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
ruffling
|
|
| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
orator
|
|
| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
lengthened
|
|
| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
meditating
|
|
| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
nibbles
|
|
| vt.& vi.啃，一点一点地咬（nibble的第三人称单数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
avowing
|
|
| v.公开声明，承认( avow的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
applicant
|
|
| n.申请人，求职者，请求者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
manor
|
|
| n.庄园，领地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
flustered
|
|
| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
quill
|
|
| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
omission
|
|
| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
peruser
|
|
| 精细阅读者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
108
musing
|
|
| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
shreds
|
|
| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
persecution
|
|
| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
aegis
|
|
| n.盾；保护，庇护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
inflamed
|
|
| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
pristine
|
|
| adj.原来的，古时的，原始的，纯净的，无垢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
bully
|
|
| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
ascendancy
|
|
| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
reptiles
|
|
| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
frailer
|
|
| 脆弱的( frail的比较级 )； 易损的； 易碎的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
inviting
|
|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
conversed
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
tolerance
|
|
| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
isolated
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
sterling
|
|
| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
conversing
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
vowed
|
|
| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
stipulate
|
|
| vt.规定，（作为条件）讲定，保证 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
discordant
|
|
| adj.不调和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
leash
|
|
| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
muzzle
|
|
| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
hood
|
|
| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
rattle
|
|
| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
rave
|
|
| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
yoke
|
|
| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
glorified
|
|
| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
melodious
|
|
| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
apparition
|
|
| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
smites
|
|
| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
idiotic
|
|
| adj.白痴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
fangs
|
|
| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
withering
|
|
| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
loathsome
|
|
| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
aberration
|
|
| n.离开正路，脱离常规，色差 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
commiserated
|
|
| v.怜悯，同情( commiserate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
exonerated
|
|
| v.使免罪，免除( exonerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
whine
|
|
| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
poltroon
|
|
| n.胆怯者；懦夫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
humiliation
|
|
| n.羞辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
abstained
|
|
| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
vengeance
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
humiliated
|
|
| 感到羞愧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
citadel
|
|
| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
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： |
|
|
|
|
188
penetrating
|
|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
witty
|
|
| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
forfeits
|
|
| 罚物游戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
pangs
|
|
| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
hazy
|
|
| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
repentant
|
|
| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
abject
|
|
| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
craves
|
|
| 渴望，热望( crave的第三人称单数 )； 恳求，请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
pulp
|
|
| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
embarked
|
|
| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
bellow
|
|
| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
gambling
|
|
| n.赌博；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
suffused
|
|
| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
trot
|
|
| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
procrastination
|
|
| n.拖延，耽搁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
scrupulousness
|
|
| n.一丝不苟；小心翼翼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
210
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
speculative
|
|
| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
mania
|
|
| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |