London was our present point of rest; we determined1 to remain several months in this wonderful and celebrated2 city. Clerval desired the intercourse3 of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this time, but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally occupied with the means of obtaining the information necessary for the completion of my promise and quickly availed myself of the letters of introduction that I had brought with me, addressed to the most distinguished4 natural philosophers.
If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness, it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight5 had come over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of the information they might give me on the subject in which my interest was so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Henry soothed6 me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But busy, uninteresting, joyous7 faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow men; this barrier was sealed with the blood of William and Justine, and to reflect on the events connected with those names filled my soul with anguish8.
But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive9 and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of instruction and amusement. He was also pursuing an object he had long had in view. His design was to visit India, in the belief that he had in his knowledge of its various languages, and in the views he had taken of its society, the means of materially assisting the progress of European colonization10 and trade. In Britain only could he further the execution of his plan. He was forever busy, and the only check to his enjoyments11 was my sorrowful and dejected mind. I tried to conceal13 this as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him, alleging14 another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also began to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the head. Every thought that was devoted15 to it was an extreme anguish, and every word that I spoke16 in allusion17 to it caused my lips to quiver, and my heart to palpitate.
After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person in Scotland who had formerly18 been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned the beauties of his native country and asked us if those were not sufficient allurements19 to induce us to prolong our journey as far north as Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this invitation, and I, although I abhorred20 society, wished to view again mountains and streams and all the wondrous21 works with which Nature adorns22 her chosen dwelling23-places. We had arrived in England at the beginning of October, and it was now February. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the north at the expiration24 of another month. In this expedition we did not intend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, Oxford25, Matlock, and the Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the completion of this tour about the end of July. I packed up my chemical instruments and the materials I had collected, resolving to finish my labours in some obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland.
We quitted London on the 27th of March and remained a few days at Windsor, rambling26 in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us mountaineers; the majestic27 oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds28 of stately deer were all novelties to us.
From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city our minds were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted29 there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles I had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him, after the whole nation had forsaken30 his cause to join the standard of Parliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king and his companions, the amiable31 Falkland, the insolent32 Goring33, his queen, and son, gave a peculiar34 interest to every part of the city which they might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of the city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration35. The colleges are ancient and picturesque36; the streets are almost magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows of exquisite37 verdure, is spread forth38 into a placid39 expanse of waters, which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires40, and domes41, embosomed among aged43 trees.
I enjoyed this scene, and yet my enjoyment12 was embittered44 both by the memory of the past and the anticipation45 of the future. I was formed for peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never visited my mind, and if I was ever overcome by ennui46, the sight of what is beautiful in nature or the study of what is excellent and sublime47 in the productions of man could always interest my heart and communicate elasticity48 to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be — a miserable49 spectacle of wrecked50 humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.
We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most animating51 epoch52 of English history. Our little voyages of discovery were often prolonged by the successive objects that presented themselves. We visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden and the field on which that patriot53 fell. For a moment my soul was elevated from its debasing and miserable fears to contemplate54 the divine ideas of liberty and self sacrifice of which these sights were the monuments and the remembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains and look around me with a free and lofty spirit, but the iron had eaten into my flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my miserable self.
We left Oxford with regret and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next place of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this village resembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but everything is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of distant white Alps which always attend on the piny mountains of my native country. We visited the wondrous cave and the little cabinets of natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same manner as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter name made me tremble when pronounced by Henry, and I hastened to quit Matlock, with which that terrible scene was thus associated.
From Derby, still journeying northwards, we passed two months in Cumberland and Westmorland. I could now almost fancy myself among the Swiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the northern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the rocky streams were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also we made some acquaintances, who almost contrived55 to cheat me into happiness. The delight of Clerval was proportionably greater than mine; his mind expanded in the company of men of talent, and he found in his own nature greater capacities and resources than he could have imagined himself to have possessed56 while he associated with his inferiors. “I could pass my life here,” said he to me; “and among these mountains I should scarcely regret Switzerland and the Rhine.”
But he found that a traveller’s life is one that includes much pain amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are forever on the stretch; and when he begins to sink into repose57, he finds himself obliged to quit that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again engages his attention, and which also he forsakes58 for other novelties.
We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and Westmorland and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants when the period of our appointment with our Scotch59 friend approached, and we left them to travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had now neglected my promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the daemon’s disappointment. He might remain in Switzerland and wreak60 his vengeance61 on my relatives. This idea pursued me and tormented62 me at every moment from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and peace. I waited for my letters with feverish63 impatience64; if they were delayed I was miserable and overcome by a thousand fears; and when they arrived and I saw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I hardly dared to read and ascertain65 my fate. Sometimes I thought that the fiend followed me and might expedite my remissness66 by murdering my companion. When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Henry for a moment, but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the fancied rage of his destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great crime, the consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had indeed drawn67 down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of crime.
I visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might have interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it so well as Oxford, for the antiquity68 of the latter city was more pleasing to him. But the beauty and regularity69 of the new town of Edinburgh, its romantic castle and its environs, the most delightful70 in the world, Arthur’s Seat, St. Bernard’s Well, and the Pentland Hills compensated71 him for the change and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But I was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey.
We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrew’s, and along the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us. But I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers or enter into their feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and accordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotland alone. “Do you,” said I, “enjoy yourself, and let this be our rendezvous72. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere73 with my motions, I entreat74 you; leave me to peace and solitude75 for a short time; and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter76 heart, more congenial to your own temper.”
Henry wished to dissuade77 me, but seeing me bent78 on this plan, ceased to remonstrate79. He entreated80 me to write often. “I had rather be with you,” he said, “in your solitary81 rambles82, than with these Scotch people, whom I do not know; hasten, then, my dear friend, to return, that I may again feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence.”
Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of Scotland and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that the monster followed me and would discover himself to me when I should have finished, that he might receive his companion. With this resolution I traversed the northern highlands and fixed83 on one of the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene of my labours. It was a place fitted for such a work, being hardly more than a rock whose high sides were continually beaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely affording pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its inhabitants, which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy limbs gave tokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when they indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured84 from the mainland, which was about five miles distant.
On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of these was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but two rooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable penury85. The thatch86 had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the door was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought some furniture, and took possession, an incident which would doubtless have occasioned some surprise had not all the senses of the cottagers been benumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed at and unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance87 of food and clothes which I gave, so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations of men.
In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening, when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony88 beach of the sea to listen to the waves as they roared and dashed at my feet. It was a monotonous89 yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was far different from this desolate90 and appalling91 landscape. Its hills are covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered92 thickly in the plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky, and when troubled by the winds, their tumult93 is but as the play of a lively infant when compared to the roarings of the giant ocean.
In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived, but as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and irksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my laboratory for several days, and at other times I toiled94 day and night in order to complete my work. It was, indeed, a filthy95 process in which I was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of enthusiastic frenzy96 had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my mind was intently fixed on the consummation of my labour, and my eyes were shut to the horror of my proceedings97. But now I went to it in cold blood, and my heart often sickened at the work of my hands.
Thus situated98, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in a solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from the actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor99. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded100 to behold101. I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow creatures lest when alone he should come to claim his companion.
In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably102 advanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager hope, which I dared not trust myself to question but which was intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil that made my heart sicken in my bosom42.
1 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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2 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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3 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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4 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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5 blight | |
n.枯萎病;造成破坏的因素;vt.破坏,摧残 | |
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6 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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7 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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8 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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9 inquisitive | |
adj.求知欲强的,好奇的,好寻根究底的 | |
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10 colonization | |
殖民地的开拓,殖民,殖民地化; 移殖 | |
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11 enjoyments | |
愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 ); 令人愉快的事物; 享有; 享受 | |
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12 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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13 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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14 alleging | |
断言,宣称,辩解( allege的现在分词 ) | |
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15 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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16 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 | |
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17 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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18 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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19 allurements | |
n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 );吸引;诱惑物;有诱惑力的事物 | |
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20 abhorred | |
v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 );(厌恶地)回避;拒绝;淘汰 | |
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21 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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22 adorns | |
装饰,佩带( adorn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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23 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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24 expiration | |
n.终结,期满,呼气,呼出物 | |
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25 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
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26 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
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27 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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28 herds | |
兽群( herd的名词复数 ); 牧群; 人群; 群众 | |
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29 transacted | |
v.办理(业务等)( transact的过去式和过去分词 );交易,谈判 | |
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30 Forsaken | |
adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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31 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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32 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
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33 goring | |
v.(动物)用角撞伤,用牙刺破( gore的现在分词 ) | |
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34 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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35 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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36 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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37 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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38 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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39 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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40 spires | |
n.(教堂的) 塔尖,尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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41 domes | |
n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 );像圆屋顶一样的东西;圆顶体育场 | |
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42 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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43 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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44 embittered | |
v.使怨恨,激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45 anticipation | |
n.预期,预料,期望 | |
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46 ennui | |
n.怠倦,无聊 | |
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47 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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48 elasticity | |
n.弹性,伸缩力 | |
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49 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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50 wrecked | |
adj.失事的,遇难的 | |
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51 animating | |
v.使有生气( animate的现在分词 );驱动;使栩栩如生地动作;赋予…以生命 | |
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52 epoch | |
n.(新)时代;历元 | |
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53 patriot | |
n.爱国者,爱国主义者 | |
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54 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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55 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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56 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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57 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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58 forsakes | |
放弃( forsake的第三人称单数 ); 弃绝; 抛弃; 摒弃 | |
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59 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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60 wreak | |
v.发泄;报复 | |
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61 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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62 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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63 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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64 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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65 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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66 remissness | |
n.玩忽职守;马虎;怠慢;不小心 | |
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67 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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68 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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69 regularity | |
n.规律性,规则性;匀称,整齐 | |
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70 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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71 compensated | |
补偿,报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 ); 给(某人)赔偿(或赔款) | |
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72 rendezvous | |
n.约会,约会地点,汇合点;vi.汇合,集合;vt.使汇合,使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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73 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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74 entreat | |
v.恳求,恳请 | |
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75 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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76 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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77 dissuade | |
v.劝阻,阻止 | |
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78 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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79 remonstrate | |
v.抗议,规劝 | |
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80 entreated | |
恳求,乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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82 rambles | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
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83 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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84 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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85 penury | |
n.贫穷,拮据 | |
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86 thatch | |
vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部;n.茅草(屋) | |
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87 pittance | |
n.微薄的薪水,少量 | |
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88 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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89 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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90 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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91 appalling | |
adj.骇人听闻的,令人震惊的,可怕的 | |
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92 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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93 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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94 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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95 filthy | |
adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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96 frenzy | |
n.疯狂,狂热,极度的激动 | |
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97 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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98 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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99 persecutor | |
n. 迫害者 | |
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100 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) | |
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101 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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102 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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