The death of the man who was our father changed our lives. It was not that we suffered a great grief; the chief trouble was the unanswered crying of failure. But we were changed in our feelings and in our relations; there was a new consciousness, a new carefulness.
We had lived between the woods and the water all our lives, Lettie and I, and she had sought the bright notes in everything. She seemed to hear the water laughing, and the leaves tittering and giggling2 like young girls; the aspen fluttered like the draperies of a flirt3, and the sound of the wood-pigeons was almost foolish in its sentimentality.
Lately, however, she had noticed again the cruel pitiful crying of a hedgehog caught in a gin, and she had noticed the traps for the fierce little murderers, traps walled in with a small fence of fir, and baited with the guts5 of a killed rabbit.
On an afternoon a short time after our visit to Cossethay, Lettie sat in the window seat. The sun clung to her hair, and kissed her with passionate6 splashes of colour brought from the vermilion, dying creeper outside. The sun loved Lettie, and was loath7 to leave her. She looked out over Nethermere to Highclose, vague in the September mist. Had it not been for the scarlet8 light on her face, I should have thought her look was sad and serious. She nestled up to the window, and leaned her head against the wooden shaft9. Gradually she drooped10 into sleep. Then she became wonderfully childish again—it was the girl of seventeen sleeping there, with her full pouting11 lips slightly apart, and the breath coming lightly. I felt the old feeling of responsibility; I must protect her, and take care of her.
There was a crunch12 of the gravel13. It was Leslie coming. He lifted his hat to her, thinking she was looking. He had that fine, lithe14 physique, suggestive of much animal vigour15; his person was exceedingly attractive; one watched him move about, and felt pleasure. His face was less pleasing than his person. He was not handsome; his eyebrows16 were too light, his nose was large and ugly, and his forehead, though high and fair, was without dignity. But he had a frank, good-natured expression, and a fine, wholesome17 laugh.
He wondered why she did not move. As he came nearer he saw. Then he winked19 at me and came in. He tiptoed across the room to look at her. The sweet carelessness of her attitude, the appealing, half-pitiful girlishness of her face touched his responsive heart, and he leaned forward and kissed her cheek where already was a crimson20 stain of sunshine.
She roused half out of her sleep with a little, petulant22 "Oh!" as an awakened23 child. He sat down behind her, and gently drew her head against him, looking down at her with a tender, soothing24 smile. I thought she was going to fall asleep thus. But her eyelids25 quivered, and her eyes beneath them flickered26 into consciousness.
"Leslie!—oh!—Let me go!" she exclaimed, pushing him away. He loosed her, and rose, looking at her reproachfully. She shook her dress, and went quickly to the mirror to arrange her hair.
He laughed indulgently, saying, "You shouldn't go to sleep then and look so pretty. Who could help?"
"It is not nice!" she said, frowning with irritation28.
"We are not 'nice'—are we? I thought we were proud of our unconventionality. Why shouldn't I kiss you?"
"Because it is a question of me, not of you alone."
"Dear me, you are in a way!"
"Mother is coming."
"Is she? You had better tell her."
Mother was very fond of Leslie.
"Well, sir," she said, "why are you frowning?"
He broke into a laugh.
"Lettie is scolding me for kissing her when she was playing 'Sleeping Beauty.'"
"Oh, but it appears I was sadly out of character," he said ruefully.
Lettie laughed and forgave him.
"Well," he said, looking at her and smiling, "I came to ask you to go out."
"It is a lovely afternoon," said mother.
She glanced at him, and said:
"I feel dreadfully lazy."
"Never mind!" he replied, "you'll wake up. Go and put your hat on."
He sounded impatient. She looked at him.
He seemed to be smiling peculiarly.
She lowered her eyes and went out of the room.
"She'll come all right," he said to himself, and to me. "She likes to play you on a string."
She must have heard him. When she came in again, drawing on her gloves, she said quietly:
"You come as well, Pat."
"I had rather stay and finish this sketch," I said, feeling uncomfortable.
"No, but do come, there's a dear." She took the brush from my hand, and drew me from my chair. The blood flushed into his cheeks. He went quietly into the hall and brought my cap.
"All right!" he said angrily. "Women like to fancy themselves Napoleons."
"They do, dear Iron Duke, they do," she mocked.
"Yet, there's a Waterloo in all their histories," he said, since she had supplied him with the idea.
"Say Peterloo, my general, say Peterloo."
"Ay, Peterloo," he replied, with a splendid curl of the lip—"Easy conquests!"
"'He came, he saw, he conquered,'" Lettie recited.
"Are you coming?" he said, getting more angry.
"When you bid me," she replied, taking my arm.
We went through the wood, and through the dishevelled border-land to the high road, through the border-land that should have been park-like, but which was shaggy with loose grass and yellow mole-hills, ragged33 with gorse and bramble and briar, with wandering old thorn-trees, and a queer clump34 of Scotch35 firs.
On the highway the leaves were falling, and they chattered36 under our steps. The water was mild and blue, and the corn stood drowsily37 in "stook."
We climbed the hill behind Highclose, and walked on along the upland, looking across towards the hills of arid38 Derbyshire, and seeing them not, because it was autumn. We came in sight of the head-stocks of the pit at Selsby, and of the ugly village standing39 blank and naked on the brow of the hill.
Lettie was in very high spirits. She laughed and joked continually. She picked bunches of hips41 and stuck them in her dress. Having got a thorn in her finger from a spray of blackberries, she went to Leslie to have it squeezed out. We were all quite gay as we turned off the high road and went along the bridle43 path, with the woods on our right, the high Strelley hills shutting in our small valley in front, and the fields and the common to the left. About half way down the lane we heard the slurr of the scythestone on the scythe44. Lettie went to the hedge to see. It was George mowing46 the oats on the steep hillside where the machine could not go. His father was tying up the corn into sheaves.
Straightening his back, Mr. Saxton saw us, and called to us to come and help. We pushed through a gap in the hedge and went up to him.
"Now then," said the father to me, "take that coat off," and to Lettie: "Have you brought us a drink? No;—come, that sounds bad! Going a walk I guess. You see what it is to get fat," and he pulled a wry47 face as he bent48 over to tie the corn. He was a man beautifully ruddy and burly, in the prime of life.
"Show me, I'll do some," said Lettie.
"Nay," he answered gently, "it would scratch your wrists and break your stays. Hark at my hands"—he rubbed them together—"like sandpaper!"
"That's a fine movement!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," replied the father, rising very red in the face from the tying, "and our George enjoys a bit o' mowing. It puts you in fine condition when you get over the first stiffness."
We moved across to the standing corn. The sun being mild, George had thrown off his hat, and his black hair was moist and twisted into confused half-curls. Firmly planted, he swung with a beautiful rhythm from the waist. On the hip42 of his belted breeches hung the scythestone; his shirt, faded almost white, was torn just above the belt, and showed the muscles of his back playing like lights upon the white sand of a brook49. There was something exceedingly attractive in the rhythmic50 body.
I spoke51 to him, and he turned round. He looked straight at Lettie with a flashing, betraying smile. He was remarkably52 handsome. He tried to say some words of greeting, then he bent down and gathered an armful of corn, and deliberately53 bound it up.
Like him, Lettie had found nothing to say. Leslie, however, remarked:
"I should think mowing is a nice exercise."
"It is," he replied, and continued, as Leslie picked up the scythe, "but it will make you sweat, and your hands will be sore."
"How do you do it?" Without waiting for a reply he proceeded. George said nothing, but turned to Lettie.
"You are picturesque," she said, a trifle awkwardly, "Quite fit for an Idyll."
"And you?" he said.
He took some long straws, cleaned them, and showed her the way to hold them. Instead of attending, she looked at his hands, big, hard, inflamed57 by the snaith of the scythe.
"I don't think I could do it," she said.
"No," he replied quietly, and watched Leslie mowing. The latter who was wonderfully ready at everything, was doing fairly well, but he had not the invincible59 sweep of the other, nor did he make the same crisp crunching60 music.
"I bet he'll sweat," said George.
"Don't you?" she replied.
"A bit—but I'm not dressed up."
"Do you know," she said suddenly, "your arms tempt61 me to touch them. They are such a fine brown colour, and they look so hard."
He held out one arm to her. She hesitated, then she swiftly put her finger tips on the smooth brown muscle, and drew them along. Quickly she hid her hand into the folds of her skirt, blushing.
He laughed a low, quiet laugh, at once pleasant and startling to hear.
"I wish I could work here," she said, looking away at the standing corn, and the dim blue woods. He followed her look, and laughed quietly, with indulgent resignation.
"I do!" she said emphatically.
"You feel so fine," he said, pushing his hand through his open shirt front, and gently rubbing the muscles of his side. "It's a pleasure to work or to stand still. It's a pleasure to yourself—your own physique."
She looked at him, full at his physical beauty, as if he were some great firm bud of life.
Leslie came up, wiping his brow.
George picked up his coat and helped him into it; saying:
"You may take a chill."
"It's a jolly nice form of exercise," said he.
George, who had been feeling one finger tip, now took out his pen-knife and proceeded to dig a thorn from his hand.
"What a hide you must have," said Leslie.
The father, glad of an excuse to straighten his back and to chat, came to us.
"You'd soon had enough," he said, laughing to Leslie.
George startled us with a sudden, "Holloa." We turned, and saw a rabbit, which had burst from the corn, go coursing through the hedge, dodging64 and bounding the sheaves. The standing corn was a patch along the hill-side some fifty paces in length, and ten or so in width.
"I didn't think there'd have been any in," said the father, picking up a short rake, and going to the low wall of the corn. We all followed.
"Watch!" said the father, "if you see the heads of the corn shake!"
We prowled round the patch of corn.
"Hold! Look out!" shouted the father excitedly, and immediately after a rabbit broke from the cover.
"Ay—Ay—Ay," was the shout, "turn him—turn him!" We set off full pelt65. The bewildered little brute66, scared by Leslie's wild running and crying, turned from its course, and dodged67 across the hill, threading its terrified course through the maze32 of lying sheaves, spurting68 on in a painful zigzag69, now bounding over an untied70 bundle of corn, now swerving71 from the sound of a shout. The little wretch72 was hard pressed; George rushed upon it. It darted73 into some fallen corn, but he had seen it, and had fallen on it. In an instant he was up again, and the little creature was dangling74 from his hand.
We returned, panting, sweating, our eyes flashing, to the edge of the standing corn. I heard Lettie calling, and turning round saw Emily and the two children entering the field as they passed from school.
"There's another!" shouted Leslie.
I saw the oat-tops quiver. "Here! Here!" I yelled. The animal leaped out, and made for the hedge. George and Leslie, who were on that side, dashed off, turned him, and he coursed back our way. I headed him off to the father who swept in pursuit for a short distance, but who was too heavy for the work. The little beast made towards the gate, but this time Mollie, with her hat in her hand and her hair flying, whirled upon him, and she and the little fragile lad sent him back again. The rabbit was getting tired. It dodged the sheaves badly, running towards the top hedge. I went after it. If I could have let myself fall on it I could have caught it, but this was impossible to me, and I merely prevented its dashing through the hole into safety. It raced along the hedge bottom. George tore after it. As he was upon it, it darted into the hedge. He fell flat, and shot his hand into the gap. But it had escaped. He lay there, panting in great sobs75, and looking at me with eyes in which excitement and exhaustion76 struggled like flickering77 light and darkness. When he could speak, he said, "Why didn't you fall on top of it?"
"I couldn't," said I.
We returned again. The two children were peering into the thick corn also. We thought there was nothing more. George began to mow. As I walked round I caught sight of a rabbit skulking78 near the bottom corner of the patch. Its ears lay pressed against its back; I could see the palpitation of the heart under the brown fur, and I could see the shining dark eyes looking at me. I felt no pity for it, but still I could not actually hurt it. I beckoned79 to the father. He ran up, and aimed a blow with the rake. There was a sharp little cry which sent a hot pain through me as if I had been cut. But the rabbit ran out, and instantly I forgot the cry, and gave pursuit, fairly feeling my fingers stiffen80 to choke it. It was all lame58. Leslie was upon it in a moment, and he almost pulled its head off in his excitement to kill it.
I looked up. The girls were at the gate, just turning away.
"There are no more," said the father.
At that instant Mary shouted.
"There's one down this hole."
The hole was too small for George to get his hand in, so we dug it out with the rake handle. The stick went savagely81 down the hole, and there came a squeak82.
"Mice!" said George, and as he said it the mother slid out. Somebody knocked her on the back, and the hole was opened out. Little mice seemed to swarm83 everywhere. It was like killing84 insects. We counted nine little ones lying dead.
"Poor brute," said George, looking at the mother, "What a job she must have had rearing that lot!" He picked her up, handled her curiously85 and with pity. Then he said, "Well, I may as well finish this to-night!"
His father took another scythe from off the hedge, and together they soon laid the proud, quivering heads low. Leslie and I tied up as they mowed86, and soon all was finished.
The beautiful day was flushing to die. Over in the west the mist was gathering87 bluer. The intense stillness was broken by the rhythmic hum of the engines at the distant coal-mine, as they drew up the last bantles of men. As we walked across the fields the tubes of stubble tinkled88 like dulcimers. The scent of the corn began to rise gently. The last cry of the pheasants came from the wood, and the little clouds of birds were gone.
I carried a scythe, and we walked, pleasantly weary, down the hill towards the farm. The children had gone home with the rabbits.
When we reached the mill, we found the girls just rising from the table. Emily began to carry away the used pots, and to set clean ones for us. She merely glanced at us and said her formal greeting. Lettie picked up a book that lay in the ingle seat, and went to the window. George dropped into a chair. He had flung off his coat, and had pushed back his hair. He rested his great brown arms on the table and was silent for a moment.
"Running like that," he said to me, passing his hand over his eyes, "makes you more tired than a whole day's work. I don't think I shall do it again."
"The sport's exciting while it lasts," said Leslie.
"It does you more harm than the rabbits do us good," said Mrs. Saxton.
"Oh, I don't know, mother," drawled her son, "it's a couple of shillings."
"And a couple of days off your life."
"What be that!" he replied, taking a piece of bread and butter, and biting a large piece from it.
"Pour us a drop of tea," he said to Emily.
"I don't know that I shall wait on such brutes," she replied, relenting, and flourishing the teapot.
"Oh," said he, taking another piece of bread and butter, "I'm not all alone in my savageness89 this time."
"Men are all brutes," said Lettie, hotly, without looking up from her book.
She did not reply. George began, in that deliberate voice that so annoyed Emily:
"It does make you mad, though, to touch the fur, and not be able to grab him"—he laughed quietly.
Emily moved off in disgust. Lettie opened her mouth sharply to speak, but remained silent.
"I don't know," said Leslie. "When it comes to killing it goes against the stomach."
"If you can run," said George, "you should be able to run to death. When your blood's up, you don't hang half way."
"I think a man is horrible," said Lettie, "who can tear the head off a little mite91 of a thing like a rabbit, after running it in torture over a field."
"If you began to run yourself—you'd be the same," said George.
"Why, women are cruel enough," said Leslie, with a glance at Lettie. "Yes," he continued, "they're cruel enough in their way"—another look, and a comical little smile.
"Well," said George, "what's the good finicking! If you feel like doing a thing—you'd better do it."
"Unless you haven't courage," said Emily, bitingly.
He looked up at her with dark eyes, suddenly full of anger.
"But," said Lettie—she could not hold herself from asking, "Don't you think it's brutal93, now—that you do think—isn't it degrading and mean to run the poor little things down?"
"Perhaps it is," he replied, "but it wasn't an hour ago."
"You have no feeling," she said bitterly.
He laughed deprecatingly, but said nothing.
We finished tea in silence, Lettie reading, Emily moving about the house. George got up and went out at the end. A moment or two after we heard him across the yard with the milk-buckets, singing "The Ash Grove94."
"He doesn't care a scrap95 for anything," said Emily with accumulated bitterness. Lettie looked out of the window across the yard, thinking. She looked very glum96.
After a while we went out also, before the light faded altogether from the pond. Emily took us into the lower garden to get some ripe plums. The old garden was very low. The soil was black. The cornbind and goosegrass were clutching at the ancient gooseberry bushes, which sprawled97 by the paths. The garden was not very productive, save of weeds, and perhaps, tremendous lank40 artichokes or swollen98 marrows99. But at the bottom, where the end of the farm buildings rose high and grey, there was a plum-tree which had been crucified to the wall, and which had broken away and leaned forward from bondage100. Now under the boughs101 were hidden great mist-bloomed, crimson treasures, splendid globes. I shook the old, ragged trunk, green, with even the fresh gum dulled over, and the treasures fell heavily, thudding down among the immense rhubarb leaves below. The girls laughed, and we divided the spoil, and turned back to the yard. We went down to the edge of the garden, which skirted the bottom pond, a pool chained in a heavy growth of weeds. It was moving with rats, the father had said. The rushes were thick below us; opposite, the great bank fronted us, with orchard103 trees climbing it like a hillside. The lower pond received the overflow104 from the upper by a tunnel from the deep black sluice105.
Two rats ran into the black culvert at our approach. We sat on some piled, mossy stones to watch. The rats came out again, ran a little way, stopped, ran again, listened, were reassured106, and slid about freely, dragging their long naked tails. Soon six or seven grey beasts were playing round the mouth of the culvert, in the gloom. They sat and wiped their sharp faces, stroking their whiskers. Then one would give a little rush and a little squirm of excitement and would jump vertically107 into the air, alighting on four feet, running, sliding into the black shadow. One dropped with an ugly plop into the water, and swam toward us, the hoary108 imp30, his sharp snout and his wicked little eyes moving at us. Lettie shuddered109. I threw a stone into the dead pool, and frightened them all. But we had frightened ourselves more, so we hurried away, and stamped our feet in relief on the free pavement of the yard.
Leslie was looking for us. He had been inspecting the yard and the stock under Mr. Saxton's supervision110.
"Were you running away from me?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "I have been to fetch you a plum. Look!" And she showed him two in a leaf.
"They are too pretty to eat!" said he.
"You have not tasted yet," she laughed.
"Come," he said, offering her his arm. "Let us go up to the water." She took his arm.
It was a splendid evening, with the light all thick and yellow lying on the smooth pond. Lettie made him lift her on to a leaning bough102 of willow111. He sat with his head resting against her skirts. Emily and I moved on. We heard him murmur112 something, and her voice reply, gently, caressingly113:
"No—let us be still—it is all so still—I love it best of all now."
Emily and I talked, sitting at the base of the alders114, a little way on. After an excitement, and in the evening, especially in autumn, one is inclined to be sad and sentimental4. We had forgotten that the darkness was weaving. I heard in the little distance Leslie's voice begin to murmur like a flying beetle115 that comes not too near. Then, away down in the yard George began singing the old song, "I sowed the seeds of love."
This interrupted the flight of Leslie's voice, and as the singing came nearer, the hum of low words ceased. We went forward to meet George. Leslie sat up, clasping his knees, and did not speak. George came near, saying:
"The moon is going to rise."
"Let me get down," said Lettie, lifting her hands to him to help her. He, mistaking her wish, put his hands under her arms, and set her gently down, as one would a child. Leslie got up quickly, and seemed to hold himself separate, resenting the intrusion.
"I thought you were all four together," said George quietly. Lettie turned quickly at the apology:
"So we were. So we are—five now. Is it there the moon will rise?"
"Yes—I like to see it come over the wood. It lifts slowly up to stare at you. I always think it wants to know something, and I always think I have something to answer, only I don't know what it is," said Emily.
Where the sky was pale in the east over the rim21 of wood came the forehead of the yellow moon. We stood and watched in silence. Then, as the great disc, nearly full, lifted and looked straight upon us, we were washed off our feet in a vague sea of moonlight. We stood with the light like water on our faces. Lettie was glad, a little bit exalted116; Emily was passionately117 troubled; her lips were parted, almost beseeching118; Leslie was frowning, oblivious119, and George was thinking, and the terrible, immense moonbeams braided through his feeling. At length Leslie said softly, mistakenly:
"Come along, dear"—and he took her arm.
"Do you know," she said, as we were carefully descending121 the steep bank of the orchard, "I feel as if I wanted to laugh, or dance—something rather outrageous122."
"Surely not like that now," Leslie replied in a low voice, feeling really hurt.
"I do though! I will race you to the bottom."
"No, no, dear!" He held her back. When he came to the wicket leading on to the front lawns, he said something to her softly, as he held the gate.
I think he wanted to utter his half finished proposal, and so bind her.
She broke free, and, observing the long lawn which lay in grey shadow between the eastern and western glows, she cried:
"Polka!—a polka—one can dance a polka when the grass is smooth and short—even if there are some fallen leaves. Yes, yes—how jolly!"
She held out her hand to Leslie, but it was too great a shock to his mood. So she called to me, and there was a shade of anxiety in her voice, lest after all she should be caught in the toils123 of the night's sentiment.
"Pat—you'll dance with me—Leslie hates a polka." I danced with her. I do not know the time when I could not polka—it seems innate124 in one's feet, to dance that dance. We went flying round, hissing125 through the dead leaves. The night, the low hung yellow moon, the pallor of the west, the blue cloud of evening overhead went round and through the fantastic branches of the old laburnum, spinning a little madness. You cannot tire Lettie; her feet are wings that beat the air. When at last I stayed her she laughed as fresh as ever, as she bound her hair.
"There!" she said to Leslie, in tones of extreme satisfaction, "that was lovely. Do you come and dance now."
"But one cannot dance anything else on wet grass, and through shuffling127 dead leaves. You, George?"
"Emily says I jump," he replied.
"Come on—come on"—and in a moment they were bounding across the grass. After a few steps she fell in with him, and they spun128 round the grass. It was true, he leaped, sprang with large strides, carrying her with him. It was a tremendous, irresistible129 dancing. Emily and I must join, making an inner ring. Now and again there was a sense of something white flying near, and wild rustle130 of draperies, and a swish of disturbed leaves as they whirled past us. Long after we were tired they danced on.
"Have you finished?" Leslie asked.
She knew she was safe from his question that day.
"Yes," she panted. "You should have danced. Give me my hat, please. Do I look very disgraceful?"
He took her hat and gave it to her.
"Disgraceful?" he repeated.
"Oh, you are solemn to-night! What is it?"
"Yes, what is it?" he repeated ironically.
"It must be the moon. Now, is my hat straight? Tell me now—you're not looking. Then put it level. Now then! Why, your hands are quite cold, and mine so hot! I feel so impish," and she laughed.
"There—now I'm ready. Do you notice those little chrysanthemums132 trying to smell sadly; when the old moon is laughing and winking133 through those boughs. What business have they with their sadness!" She took a handful of petals134 and flung them into the air: "There—if they sigh they ask for sorrow—I like things to wink18 and look wild."
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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19
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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20
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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21
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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22
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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23
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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24
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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25
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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26
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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28
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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29
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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30
imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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31
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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32
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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33
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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34
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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35
scotch
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| 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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36
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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37
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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38
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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39
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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40
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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41
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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42
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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43
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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44
scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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45
mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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46
mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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47
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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48
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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49
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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50
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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51
spoke
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| 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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52
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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53
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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54
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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55
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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56
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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57
inflamed
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| 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 ) | |
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58
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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59
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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60
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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61
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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62
perspire
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| vi.出汗，流汗 | |
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63
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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64
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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65
pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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66
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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67
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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68
spurting
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的现在分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺； 溅射 | |
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69
zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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70
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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71
swerving
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的现在分词 ) | |
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72
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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73
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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74
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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75
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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76
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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77
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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78
skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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79
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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81
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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82
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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83
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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84
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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85
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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86
mowed
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| v.刈，割( mow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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88
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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89
savageness
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| 天然，野蛮 | |
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90
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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91
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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92
barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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93
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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94
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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95
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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96
glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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97
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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98
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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99
marrows
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| n.骨髓（marrow的复数形式） | |
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100
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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101
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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102
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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103
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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104
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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105
sluice
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| n.水闸 | |
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106
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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107
vertically
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| adv.垂直地 | |
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108
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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109
shuddered
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| 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 | |
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110
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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111
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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112
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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113
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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114
alders
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| n.桤木( alder的名词复数 ) | |
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115
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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116
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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117
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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118
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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119
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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120
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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121
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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122
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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123
toils
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| 网 | |
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124
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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125
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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126
jigging
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| n.跳汰选，簸选v.（使）上下急动( jig的现在分词 ) | |
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127
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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128
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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129
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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130
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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131
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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132
chrysanthemums
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| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
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133
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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134
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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