Mrs. Bellbridge eyed her husband, prepared for a furious outbreak of rage. He stood silent, staring stupidly straight before him. The shock that had fallen on his dull brain had stunned1 it. For the time, he was a big idiot — speechless, harmless, helpless.
She put back the rubbish, and replaced the plank2, and picked up the chisel3. “Come, James,” she said; “pull yourself together.” It was useless to speak to him. She took his arm and led him out to the cab that was waiting at the door.
The driver, helping4 him to get in, noticed a piece of paper lying on the front seat. Advertisements, seeking publicity5 under all possible circumstances, are occasionally sent flying into the open windows of vehicles. The driver was about to throw the paper away, when Mrs. Bellbridge (seeing it on the other side) took it out of his hand. “It isn’t print,” she said; “it’s writing.” A closer examination showed that the writing was addressed to herself. Her correspondent must have followed her to the church, as well as to the house in St. John’s Wood. He distinguished6 her by the name which she had changed that morning, under the sanction of the clergy7 and the law.
This was what she read: “Don’t trouble yourself, madam, about the diamonds. You have made a mistake — you have employed the wrong man.”
Those words — and no more. Enough, surely, to justify8 the conclusion that he had stolen the diamonds. Was it worth while to drive to his lodgings9? They tried the experiment. The Expert had gone away on business — nobody knew where.
The newspaper came as usual on Friday morning. To Mrs. Bellbridge’s amazement10 it set the question of the theft at rest, on the highest authority. An article appeared, in a conspicuous11 position, thus expressed:
“Another of the many proofs that truth is stranger than fiction has just occurred at Liverpool. A highly respected firm of shipwreckers in that city received a strange letter at the beginning of the present week. Premising that he had some remarkable12 circumstances to communicate, the writer of the letter entered abruptly13 on the narrative14 which follows: A friend of his — connected with literature — had, it appeared, noticed a lady’s visiting card on his desk, and had been reminded by it (in what way it was not necessary to explain) of a criminal case which had excited considerable public interest at the time; viz., the trial of Captain Westerfield for willfully casting away a ship under his command. Never having heard of the trial, the writer, at his friend’s suggestion, consulted a file of newspapers — discovered the report — and became aware, for the first time, that a collection of Brazilian diamonds, consigned15 to the Liverpool firm, was missing from the wrecked16 vessel17 when she had been boarded by the salvage18 party, and had not been found since. Events, which it was impossible for him to mention (seeing that doing so would involve a breach20 of confidence placed in him in his professional capacity), had revealed to his knowledge a hiding-place in which these same diamonds, in all probability, were concealed21. This circumstance had left him no alternative, as an honest man, but to be beforehand with the persons, who (as he believed) contemplated22 stealing the precious stones. He had, accordingly, taken them under his protection, until they were identified and claimed by the rightful owners. In now appealing to these gentlemen, he stipulated23 that the claim should be set forth24 in writing, addressed to him under initials at a post-office in London. If the lost property was identified to his satisfaction, he would meet — at a specified25 place and on a certain day and hour — a person accredited26 by the firm and would personally restore the diamonds, without claiming (or consenting to receive) a reward. The conditions being complied with, this remarkable interview took place; the writer of the letter, described as an infirm old man very poorly dressed, fulfilled his engagement, took his receipt, and walked away without even waiting to be thanked. It is only an act of justice to add that the diamonds were afterward27 counted, and not one of them was missing.”
Miserable28, deservedly-miserable married pair. The stolen fortune, on which they had counted, had slipped through their fingers. The berths29 in the steamer for New York had been taken and paid for. James had married a woman with nothing besides herself to bestow30 on him, except an incumbrance in the shape of a boy.
Late on the fatal wedding-day his first idea, when he was himself again after the discovery in the summer-house, was to get back his passage-money, to abandon his wife and his stepson, and to escape to America in a French steamer. He went to the office of the English company, and offered the places which he had taken for sale. The season of the year was against him; the passenger-traffic to America was at its lowest ebb31, and profits depended upon freights alone.
If he still contemplated deserting his wife, he must also submit to sacrifice his money. The other alternative was (as he expressed it himself) to “have his pennyworth for his penny, and to turn his family to good account in New York.” He had not quite decided32 what to do when he got home again on the evening of his marriage.
At that critical moment in her life the bride was equal to the demand on her resources.
If she was foolish enough to allow James to act on his natural impulses, there were probably two prospects33 before her. In one state of his temper, he might knock her down. In another state of his temper, he might leave her behind him. Her only hope of protecting herself, in either case, was to tame the bridegroom. In his absence, she wisely armed herself with the most irresistible34 fascinations35 of her sex. Never yet had he seen her dressed as she was dressed when he came home. Never yet had her magnificent eyes looked at him as they looked now. Emotions for which he was not prepared overcame this much injured man; he stared at the bride in helpless surprise. That inestimable moment of weakness was all Mrs. Bellbridge asked for. Bewildered by his own transformation36, James found himself reading the newspaper the next morning sentimentally37, with his arm round his wife’s waist.
By a refinement38 of cruelty, not one word had been said to prepare little Syd for the dreary39 change that was now close at hand in her young life. The poor child had seen the preparations for departure, and had tried to imitate her mother in packing up. She had collected her few morsels40 of darned and ragged41 clothing, and had gone upstairs to put them into one of the dilapidated old trunks in the garret play ground, when the servant was sent to bring her back to the sitting-room42. There, enthroned in an easy-chair, sat a strange lady; and there, hiding behind the chair in undisguised dislike of the visitor, was her little brother Roderick. Syd looked timidly at her mother; and her mother said:
“Here is your aunt.”
The personal appearance of Miss Wigger might have suggested a modest distrust of his own abilities to Lavater, when that self-sufficient man wrote his famous work on Physiognomy. Whatever betrayal of her inner self her face might have presented, in the distant time when she was young, was now completely overlaid by a surface of a flabby fat which, assisted by green spectacles, kept the virtues43 (or vices) of this woman’s nature a profound secret until she opened her lips. When she used her voice, she let out the truth. Nobody could hear her speak, and doubt for a moment that she was an inveterately44 ill-natured woman.
“Make your curtsey, child!” said Miss Wigger. Nature had so toned her voice as to make it worthy45 of the terrors of her face. But for her petticoats, it would have been certainly taken for the voice of a man.
The child obeyed, trembling.
“You are to go away with me,” the school-mistress proceeded, “and to be taught to make yourself useful under my roof.”
Syd seemed to be incapable46 of understanding the fate that was in store for her. She sheltered herself behind her merciless mother. “I’m going away with you, mamma,” she said —“with you and Rick.”
Her mother took her by the shoulders, and pushed her across the room to her aunt.
The child looked at the formidable female creature with the man’s voice and the green spectacles.
“You belong to me,” said Miss Wigger, by way of encouragement, “and I have come to take you away.” At those dreadful words, terror shook little Syd from head to foot. She fell on her knees with a cry of misery47 that might have melted the heart of a savage48. “Oh, mamma, mamma, don’t leave me behind! What have I done to deserve it? Oh, pray, pray, pray have some pity on me!”
Her mother was as selfish and as cruel a woman as ever lived. But even her hard heart felt faintly the influence of the most intimate and most sacred of all human relationships. Her florid cheeks turned pale. She hesitated.
Miss Wigger marked (through her own green medium) that moment of maternal49 indecision — and saw that it was time to assert her experience as an instructress of youth.
“Leave it to me,” she said to her sister. “You never did know, and you never will know, how to manage children.”
She advanced. The child threw herself shrieking50 on the floor. Miss Wigger’s long arms caught her up — held her — shook her. “Be quiet, you imp19!” It was needless to tell her to be quiet. Syd’s little curly head sank on the schoolmistress’s shoulder. She was carried into exile without a word or a cry — she had fainted.
10.— The School.
Time’s march moves slowly, where weary lives languish51 in dull places.
Dating from one unkempt and unacknowledged birthday to another, Sydney Westerfield had attained52 the sixth year of her martyrdom at School. In that long interval53 no news of her mother, her brother, or her stepfather had reached England; she had received no letter, she had not even heard a report. Without friends, and without prospects, Roderick Westerfield’s daughter was, in the saddest sense of the word, alone in the world.
The hands of the ugly old clock in the school-room were approaching the time when the studies of the morning would come to an end. Wearily waiting for their release, the scholars saw an event happen which was a novelty in their domestic experience. The maid-of-all-work audaciously put her head in at the door, and interrupted Miss Wigger conducting the education of the first-class.
“If you please, miss, there’s a gentleman —”
Having uttered these introductory words, she was reduced to silence by the tremendous voice of her mistress.
“Haven’t I forbidden you to come here in school hours? Go away directly!”
Hardened by a life of drudgery54, under conditions of perpetual scolding, the servant stood her ground, and recovered the use of her tongue.
“There’s a gentleman in the drawing-room,” she persisted. Miss Wigger tried to interrupt her again. “And here’s his card!” she shouted, in a voice that was the louder of the two.
Being a mortal creature, the schoolmistress was accessible to the promptings of curiosity. She snatched the card out of the girl’s hand.
Mr. Herbert Linley, Mount Morven, Perthshire. “I don’t know this person,” Miss Wigger declared. “You wretch55, have you let a thief into the house?”
“A gentleman, if ever I see one yet,” the servant asserted.
“Hold your tongue! Did he ask for me? Do you hear?”
“You told me to hold my tongue. No; he didn’t ask for you.”
“Then who did he want to see?”
“It’s on his card.”
Miss Wigger referred to the card again, and discovered (faintly traced in pencil) these words: “To see Miss S.W.”
The schoolmistress instantly looked at Miss Westerfield. Miss Westerfield rose from her place at the head of her class.
The pupils, astonished at this daring act, all looked at the teacher — their natural enemy, appointed to supply them with undesired information derived57 from hated books. They saw one of Mother Nature’s favorite daughters; designed to be the darling of her family, and the conqueror58 of hearts among men of all tastes and ages. But Sydney Westerfield had lived for six weary years in the place of earthly torment59, kept by Miss Wigger under the name of a school. Every budding beauty, except the unassailable beauty of her eyes and her hair, had been nipped under the frosty superintendence of her maternal aunt. Her cheeks were hollow, her delicate lips were pale; her shabby dress lay flat over her bosom60. Observant people, meeting her when she was out walking with the girls, were struck by her darkly gentle eyes, and by the patient sadness of her expression. “What a pity!” they said to each other. “She would be a pretty girl, if she didn’t look so wretched and so thin.”
At a loss to understand the audacity61 of her teacher in rising before the class was dismissed, Miss Wigger began by asserting her authority. She did in two words: “Sit down!”
“I wish to explain, ma’am.”
“Sit down.”
“I beg, Miss Wigger, that you will allow me to explain.”
“Sydney Westerfield, you are setting the worst possible example to your class. I shall see this man myself. Will you sit down?”
Pale already, Sydney turned paler still. She obeyed the word of command — to the delight of the girls of her class. It was then within ten minutes of the half hour after twelve — when the pupils were dismissed to the playground while the cloth was laid for dinner. What use would the teacher make of that half hour of freedom?
In the meanwhile Miss Wigger had entered her drawing-room. With the slightest possible inclination62 of her head, she eyed the stranger through her green spectacles. Even under that disadvantage his appearance spoke63 for itself. The servant’s estimate of him was beyond dispute. Mr. Herbert Linley’s good breeding was even capable of suppressing all outward expression of the dismay that he felt, on finding himself face to face with the formidable person who had received him.
“What is your business, if you please?” Miss Wigger began.
Men, animals, and buildings wear out with years, and submit to their hard lot. Time only meets with flat contradiction when he ventures to tell a woman that she is growing old. Herbert Linley had rashly anticipated that the “young lady,” whom it was the object of his visit to see, would prove to be young in the literal sense of the word. When he and Miss Wigger stood face to face, if the door had been set open for him, he would have left the house with the greatest pleasure.
“I have taken the liberty of calling,” he said, “in answer to an advertisement. May I ask”— he paused, and took out a newspaper from the pocket of his overcoat —“If I have the honor of speaking to the lady who is mentioned here?”
He opened the newspaper, and pointed56 to the advertisement.
Miss Wigger’s eyes rested — not on the passage indicated, but on the visitor’s glove. It fitted him to such perfection that it suggested the enviable position in life which has gloves made to order. He politely pointed again. Still inaccessible64 to the newspaper, Miss Wigger turned her spectacles next to the front window of the room, and discovered a handsome carriage waiting at the door. (Money evidently in the pockets of those beautiful trousers, worthy of the gloves!) As patiently as ever, Linley pointed for the third time, and drew Miss Wigger’s attention in the right direction at last. She read the advertisement.
“A Young Lady wishes to be employed in the education of a little girl. Possessing but few accomplishments65, and having been only a junior teacher at a school, she offers her services on trial, leaving it to her employer to pay whatever salary she may be considered to deserve, if she obtains a permanent engagement. Apply by letter, to S.W., 14, Delta66 Gardens, N.E.”
“Most impertinent,” said Miss Wigger.
Mr. Linley looked astonished.
“I say, most impertinent!” Miss Wigger repeated.
Mr. Linley attempted to pacify67 this terrible woman. “It’s very stupid of me,” he said; “I am afraid I don’t quite understand you.”
“One of my teachers has issued an advertisement, and has referred to My address, without first consulting Me. Have I made myself understood, sir?” She looked at the carriage again, when she called him “sir.”
Not even Linley’s capacity for self-restraint could repress the expression of relief, visible in his brightening face, when he discovered that the lady of the advertisement and the lady who terrified him were two different persons.
“Have I made myself understood?” Miss Wigger repeated.
“Perfectly, madam. At the same time, I am afraid I must own that the advertisement has produced a favorable impression on me.”
“I fail entirely68 to see why,” Miss Wigger remarked.
“There is surely,” Linley repeated, “something straightforward69 — I might almost say, something innocent — in the manner in which the writer expresses herself. She seems to be singularly modest on the subject of her own attainments70, and unusually considerate of the interests of others. I hope you will permit me —?”
Before he could add, “to see the young lady,” the door was opened: a young lady entered the room.
Was she the writer of the advertisement? He felt sure of it, for no better reason than this: the moment he looked at her she interested him. It was an interest new to Linley, in his experience of himself. There was nothing to appeal to his admiration71 (by way of his senses) in the pale, worn young creature who stood near the door, resigned beforehand to whatever reception she might meet with. The poor teacher made him think of his happy young wife at home — of his pretty little girl, the spoiled child of the household. He looked at Sydney Westerfield with a heartfelt compassion72 which did honor to them both.
“What do you mean by coming here?” Miss Wigger inquired.
She answered gently, but not timidly. The tone in which the mistress had spoken had evidently not shaken her resolution, so far.
“I wish to know,” she said, “if this gentleman desires to see me on the subject of my advertisement?”
“Your advertisement?” Miss Wigger repeated. “Miss Westerfield! how dare you beg for employment in a newspaper, without asking my leave?”
“I only waited to tell you what I had done, till I knew whether my advertisement would be answered or not.”
She spoke as calmly as before, still submitting to the insolent73 authority of the schoolmistress with a steady fortitude74 very remarkable in any girl — and especially in a girl whose face revealed a sensitive nature. Linley approached her, and said his few kind words before Miss Wigger could assert herself for the third time.
“I am afraid I have taken a liberty in answering you personally, when I ought to have answered by letter. My only excuse is that I have no time to arrange for an interview, in London, by correspondence. I live in Scotland, and I am obliged to return by the mail to-night.”
He paused. She was looking at him. Did she understand him?
She understood him only too well. For the first time, poor soul, in the miserable years of her school life, she saw eyes that rested on her with the sympathy that is too truly felt to be uttered in words. The admirable resignation which had learned its first hard lesson under her mother’s neglect — which had endured, in after-years, the daily persecution75 that heartless companionship so well knows how to inflict76 — failed to sustain her, when one kind look from a stranger poured its balm into the girl’s sore heart. Her head sank; her wasted figure trembled; a few tears dropped slowly on the bosom of her shabby dress. She tried, desperately77 tried, to control herself. “I beg your pardon, sir,” was all she could say; “I am not very well.”
Miss Wigger tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the door. “Are you well enough to see your way out?” she asked.
Linley turned on the wretch with a mind divided between wonder and disgust. “Good God, what has she done to deserve being treated in that way?” he asked.
Miss Wigger’s mouth widened; Miss Wigger’s forehead developed new wrinkles. To own it plainly, the schoolmistress smiled.
When it is of serious importance to a man to become acquainted with a woman’s true nature — say, when he contemplates78 marriage — his one poor chance of arriving at a right conclusion is to find himself provoked by exasperating79 circumstances, and to fly into a passion. If the lady flies into a passion on her side, he may rely on it that her faults are more than balanced by her good qualities. If, on the other hand, she exhibits the most admirable self-control, and sets him an example which ought to make him ashamed of himself, he has seen a bad sign, and he will do well to remember it.
Miss Wigger’s self-control put Herbert Linley in the wrong, before she took the trouble of noticing what he had said.
“If you were not out of temper,” she replied, “I might have told you that I don’t allow my house to be made an office for the engagement of governesses. As it is, I merely remind you that your carriage is at the door.”
He took the only course that was open to him; he took his hat.
Sydney turned away to leave the room. Linley opened the door for her. “Don’t be discouraged,” he whispered as she passed him; “you shall hear from me.” Having said this, he made his parting bow to the schoolmistress. Miss Wigger held up a peremptory80 forefinger81, and stopped him on his way out. He waited, wondering what she would do next. She rang the bell.
“You are in the house of a gentlewoman,” Miss Wigger explained. “My servant attends visitors, when they leave me.” A faint smell of soap made itself felt in the room; the maid appeared, wiping her smoking arms on her apron82. “Door. I wish you good-morning”— were the last words of Miss Wigger.
Leaving the house, Linley slipped a bribe83 into the servant’s hand. “I am going to write to Miss Westerfield,” he said. “Will you see that she gets my letter?”
“That I will!”
He was surprised by the fervor84 with which the girl answered him. Absolutely without vanity, he had no suspicion of the value which his winning manner, his kind brown eyes, and his sunny smile had conferred on his little gift of money. A handsome man was an eighth wonder of the world, at Miss Wigger’s school.
At the first stationer’s shop that he passed, he stopped the carriage and wrote his letter.
“I shall be glad indeed if I can offer you a happier life than the life you are leading now. It rests with you to help me do this. Will you send me the address of your parents, if they are in London, or the name of any friend with whom I can arrange to give you a trial as governess to my little girl? I am waiting your answer in the neighborhood. If any hinderance should prevent you from replying at once, I add the name of the hotel at which I am staying — so that you may telegraph to me, before I leave London to-night.”
The stationer’s boy, inspired by a private view of half-a-crown, set off at a run — and returned at a run with a reply.
“I have neither parents nor friends, and I have just been dismissed from my employment at the school. Without references to speak for me, I must not take advantage of your generous offer. Will you help me to bear my disappointment, permitting me to see you, for a few minutes only, at your hotel? Indeed, indeed, sir, I am not forgetful of what I owe to my respect for you, and my respect for myself. I only ask leave to satisfy you that I am not quite unworthy of the interest which you have been pleased to feel in — S.W.”
In those sad words, Sydney Westerfield announced that she had completed her education.
1 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 plank | |
n.板条,木板,政策要点,政纲条目 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 chisel | |
n.凿子;v.用凿子刻,雕,凿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 publicity | |
n.众所周知,闻名;宣传,广告 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 lodgings | |
n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 consigned | |
v.把…置于(令人不快的境地)( consign的过去式和过去分词 );把…托付给;把…托人代售;丟弃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 wrecked | |
adj.失事的,遇难的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 salvage | |
v.救助,营救,援救;n.救助,营救 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 imp | |
n.顽童 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 breach | |
n.违反,不履行;破裂;vt.冲破,攻破 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 stipulated | |
vt.& vi.规定;约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 specified | |
adj.特定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 accredited | |
adj.可接受的;可信任的;公认的;质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 );委托;委任;把…归结于 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 berths | |
n.(船、列车等的)卧铺( berth的名词复数 );(船舶的)停泊位或锚位;差事;船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 );占铺位 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 fascinations | |
n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 );有魅力的东西;迷恋;陶醉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 transformation | |
n.变化;改造;转变 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 sentimentally | |
adv.富情感地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 morsels | |
n.一口( morsel的名词复数 );(尤指食物)小块,碎屑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 sitting-room | |
n.(BrE)客厅,起居室 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 inveterately | |
adv.根深蒂固地,积习地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 maternal | |
adj.母亲的,母亲般的,母系的,母方的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 shrieking | |
v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 languish | |
vi.变得衰弱无力,失去活力,(植物等)凋萎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 drudgery | |
n.苦工,重活,单调乏味的工作 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 conqueror | |
n.征服者,胜利者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 audacity | |
n.大胆,卤莽,无礼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 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: |
|
|
64 inaccessible | |
adj.达不到的,难接近的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 accomplishments | |
n.造诣;完成( accomplishment的名词复数 );技能;成绩;成就 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 delta | |
n.(流的)角洲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 pacify | |
vt.使(某人)平静(或息怒);抚慰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 straightforward | |
adj.正直的,坦率的;易懂的,简单的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 attainments | |
成就,造诣; 获得( attainment的名词复数 ); 达到; 造诣; 成就 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 inflict | |
vt.(on)把…强加给,使遭受,使承担 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 contemplates | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的第三人称单数 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 exasperating | |
adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 peremptory | |
adj.紧急的,专横的,断然的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 forefinger | |
n.食指 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 apron | |
n.围裙;工作裙 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 bribe | |
n.贿赂;v.向…行贿,买通 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 fervor | |
n.热诚;热心;炽热 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |