章节正文
is another gun. If it railly comes to trouble, six cartridges ain't
many, and you know I am slow-like about reloading." McLean reached
into his hip pocket and handed a shining big revolver to Freckles,
who slipped it beside the one already in his belt.
Then the Boss sat brooding.
"Freckles," he said at last, "we never know the timber of a man's
soul until something cuts into him deeply and brings the grain
out strong. You've the making of a mighty fine piece of furniture,
my boy, and you shall have your own way these few weeks yet.
Then, if you will go, I intend to take you to the city and educate
you, and you are to be my son, my lad--my own son!"
Freckles twisted his finger in Nellie's mane to steady himself.
"But why should you be doing that, sir?" he faltered.
McLean slid his arm around the boy's shoulder and gathered him close.
"Because I love you, Freckles," he said simply.
Freckles lifted a white face. "My God, sir!" he whispered. "Oh, my God!"
McLean tightened his clasp a second longer, then he rode down the trail.
Freckles lifted his hat and faced the sky. The harvest moon looked
down, sheeting the swamp in silver glory. The Limberlost sang her
night song. The swale softly rustled in the wind. Winged things of
night brushed his face; and still Freckles gazed upward, trying to
fathom these things that had come to him. There was no help from
the sky. It seemed far away, cold, and blue. The earth, where
flowers blossomed, angels walked, and love could be found, was better.
But to One, above, he must make acknowledgment for these miracles.
His lips moved and he began talking softly.
"Thank You for each separate good thing that has come to me," he
said, "and above all for the falling of the feather. For if it
didn't really fall from an angel, its falling brought an Angel, and
if it's in the great heart of you to exercise yourself any further
about me, oh, do please to be taking good care of her!"
CHAPTER VI
Wherein a Fight Occurs and Women Shoot Straight
The following morning Freckles, inexpressibly happy, circled the
Limberlost. He kept snatches of song ringing, as well as the wires.
His heart was so full that tears of joy glistened in his eyes.
He rigorously strove to divide his thought evenly between McLean and
the Angel. He realized to the fullest the debt he already owed the
Boss and the magnitude of last night's declaration and promises.
He was hourly planning to deliver his trust and then enter with
equal zeal on whatever task his beloved Boss saw fit to set him next.
He wanted to be ready to meet every device that Wessner and Black Jack
could think of to outwit him. He recognized their double leverage,
for if they succeeded in felling even one tree McLean became liable
for his wager.
Freckles' brow wrinkled in his effort to think deeply and strongly,
but from every swaying wild rose the Angel beckoned to him. When he
crossed Sleepy Snake Creek and the goldfinch, waiting as ever,
challenged: "SEE ME?" Freckles saw the dainty swaying grace of the
Angel instead. What is a man to do with an Angel who dismembers
herself and scatters over a whole swamp, thrusting a vivid reminder
upon him at every turn?
Freckles counted the days. This first one he could do little but
test his wires, sing broken snatches, and dream; but before the
week would bring her again he could do many things. He would carry
all his books to the swamp to show to her. He would complete his
flower bed, arrange every detail he had planned for his room, and
make of it a bower fairies might envy. He must devise a way to keep
water cool. He would ask Mrs. Duncan for a double lunch and an
especially nice one the day of her next coming, so that if the Bird
Woman happened to be late, the Angel might not suffer from thirst
and hunger. He would tell her to bring heavy leather leggings, so
that he might take her on a trip around the trail. She should make
friends with all of his chickens and see their nests.
On the line he talked of her incessantly.
"You needn't be thinking," he said to the goldfinch, "that because
I'm coming down this line alone day after day, it's always to be so.
Some of these times you'll be swinging on this wire, and you'll
see me coming, and you'll swing, skip, and flirt yourself around,
and chip up right spunky: `SEE ME?' I'll be saying `See you?
Oh, Lord! See her!' You'll look, and there she'll stand.
The sunshine won't look gold any more, or the roses pink, or the
sky blue, because she'll be the pinkest, bluest, goldest thing
of all. You'll be yelling yourself hoarse with the jealousy of her.
The sawbird will stretch his neck out of joint, and she'll turn the
heads of all the flowers. Wherever she goes, I can go back
afterward and see the things she's seen, walk the path she's walked,
hear the grasses whispering over all she's said; and if there's
a place too swampy for her bits of feet; Holy Mother! Maybe--maybe
she'd be putting the beautiful arms of her around me neck and letting
me carry her over!"
Freckles shivered as with a chill. He sent the cudgel whirling
skyward, dexterously caught it, and set it spinning.
"You damned presumptuous fool!" he cried. "The thing for you to be
thinking of would be to stretch in the muck for the feet of her to
be walking over, and then you could hold yourself holy to be even
of that service to her.
"Maybe she'll be wanting the cup me blue-and-brown chickens raised
their babies in. Perhaps she'd like to stop at the pool and see me
bullfrog that had the goodness to take on human speech to show me
the way out of me trouble. If there's any feathers falling that
day, why, it's from the wings of me chickens--it's sure to be, for
the only Angel outside the gates will be walking this timberline,
and every step of the way I'll be holding me breath and praying that
she don't unfold wings and sail away before the hungry eyes of me."
So Freckles dreamed his dreams, made his plans, and watched his line.
He counted not only the days, but the hours of each day. As he
told them off, every one bringing her closer, he grew happier in
the prospect of her coming. He managed daily to leave some offering
at the big elm log for his black chickens. He slipped under the
line at every passing, and went to make sure that nothing was
molesting them. Though it was a long trip, he paid them several
extra visits a day for fear a snake, hawk, or fox might have found
the baby. For now his chickens not only represented all his former
interest in them, but they furnished the inducement that was
bringing his Angel.
Possibly he could find other subjects that the Bird Woman wanted.
The teamster had said that his brother went after her every time he
found a nest. He never had counted the nests that he knew of, and
it might be that among all the birds of the swamp some would be
rare to her.
The feathered folk of the Limberlost were practically undisturbed
save by their natural enemies. It was very probable that among his
chickens others as odd as the big black ones could be found. If she
wanted pictures of half-grown birds, he could pick up fifty in one
morning's trip around the line, for he had fed, handled, and made
friends with them ever since their eyes opened.
He had gathered bugs and worms all spring as he noticed them on the
grass and bushes, and dropped them into the first little open mouth
he had found. The babies gladly had accepted this queer tri-parent
addition to their natural providers.
When the week had passed, Freckles had his room crisp and glowing
with fresh living things that represented every color of the swamp.
He carried bark and filled all the muckiest places of the trail.
It was middle July. The heat of the past few days had dried the
water around and through the Limberlost, so that it was possible to
cross it on foot in almost any direction--if one had an idea of
direction and did not become completely lost in its rank tangle of
vegetation and bushes. The brighter-hued flowers were opening.
The trumpet-creepers were flaunting their gorgeous horns of red
and gold sweetness from the tops of lordly oak and elm, and below
entire pools were pink-sheeted in mallow bloom.
The heat was doing one other thing that was bound to make Freckles,
as a good Irishman, shiver. As the swale dried, its inhabitants
were seeking the cooler depths of the swamp. They liked neither the
heat nor leaving the field mice, moles, and young rabbits of their
chosen location. He saw them crossing the trail every day as the
heat grew intense. The rattlers were sadly forgetting their
manners, for they struck on no provocationwhatever, and did not
even remember to rattle afterward. Daily Freckles was compelled to
drive big black snakes and blue racers from the nests of his chickens.
Often the terrified squalls of the parent birds would reach him far
down the line and he would run to rescue the babies.
He saw the Angel when the carriage turned from the corduroy into
the clearing. They stopped at the west entrance to the swamp,
waiting for him to precede them down the trail, as he had told them
it was safest for the horse that he should do. They followed the
east line to a point opposite the big chickens' tree, and Freckles
carried in the cameras and showed the Bird Woman a path he had
cleared to the log. He explained to her the effect the heat was
having on the snakes, and creeping back to Little Chicken, brought
him to the light. As she worked at setting up her camera, he told
her of the birds of the line, while she stared at him, wide-eyed
and incredulous.
They arranged that Freckles should drive the carriage into the east
entrance in the shade and then take the horse toward the north to
a better place he knew. Then he was to entertain the Angel at his
study or on the line until the Bird Woman finished her work and
came to them.
"This will take only a little time," she said. "I know where to set
the camera now, and Little Chicken is big enough to be good and too
small to run away or to act very ugly, so I will be coming soon to
see about those nests. I have ten plates along, and I surely won't
use more than two on him; so perhaps I can get some nests or young
birds this morning."
Freckles almost flew, for his dream had come true so soon. He was
walking the timber-line and the Angel was following him. He asked
to be excused for going first, because he wanted to be sure the
trail was safe for her. She laughed at his fears, telling him that
it was the polite thing for him to do, anyway.
"Oh!" said Freckles, "so you was after knowing that? Well, I didn't
s'pose you did, and I was afraid you'd think me wanting in respect
to be preceding you!"
The astonished Angel looked at him, caught the irrepressible gleam
of Irish fun in his eyes, so they stood and laughed together.
Freckles did not realize how he was talking that morning. He showed
her many of the beautiful nests and eggs of the line. She could
identify a number of them, but of some she was ignorant, so they
made notes of the number and color of the eggs, material, and
construction of nest, color, size, and shape of the birds, and went
to find them in the book.
At his room, when Freckles had lifted the overhanging bushes and
stepped back for her to enter, his heart was all out of time
and place. The study was vastly more beautiful than a week previous.
The Angel drew a deep breath and stood gazing first at one side,
then at another, then far down the cathedral aisle. "It's just
fairyland!" she cried ecstatically. Then she turned and stared at
Freckles as she had at his handiwork.
"What are you planning to be?" she asked wonderingly.
"Whatever Mr. McLean wants me to," he replied.
"What do you do most?" she asked.
"Watch me lines."
"I don't mean work!"
"Oh, in me spare time I keep me room and study in me books."
"Do you work on the room or the books most?"
"On the room only what it takes to keep it up, and the rest of the
time on me books."
The Angel studied him closely. "Well, maybe you are going to be a
great scholar," she said, "but you don't look it. Your face isn't
right for that, but it's got something big in it--something really great.
I must find out what it is and then you must work on it. Your father
many, and you know I am slow-like about reloading." McLean reached
into his hip pocket and handed a shining big revolver to Freckles,
who slipped it beside the one already in his belt.
Then the Boss sat brooding.
"Freckles," he said at last, "we never know the timber of a man's
soul until something cuts into him deeply and brings the grain
out strong. You've the making of a mighty fine piece of furniture,
my boy, and you shall have your own way these few weeks yet.
Then, if you will go, I intend to take you to the city and educate
you, and you are to be my son, my lad--my own son!"
Freckles twisted his finger in Nellie's mane to steady himself.
"But why should you be doing that, sir?" he faltered.
McLean slid his arm around the boy's shoulder and gathered him close.
"Because I love you, Freckles," he said simply.
Freckles lifted a white face. "My God, sir!" he whispered. "Oh, my God!"
McLean tightened his clasp a second longer, then he rode down the trail.
Freckles lifted his hat and faced the sky. The harvest moon looked
down, sheeting the swamp in silver glory. The Limberlost sang her
night song. The swale softly rustled in the wind. Winged things of
night brushed his face; and still Freckles gazed upward, trying to
fathom these things that had come to him. There was no help from
the sky. It seemed far away, cold, and blue. The earth, where
flowers blossomed, angels walked, and love could be found, was better.
But to One, above, he must make acknowledgment for these miracles.
His lips moved and he began talking softly.
"Thank You for each separate good thing that has come to me," he
said, "and above all for the falling of the feather. For if it
didn't really fall from an angel, its falling brought an Angel, and
if it's in the great heart of you to exercise yourself any further
about me, oh, do please to be taking good care of her!"
CHAPTER VI
Wherein a Fight Occurs and Women Shoot Straight
The following morning Freckles, inexpressibly happy, circled the
Limberlost. He kept snatches of song ringing, as well as the wires.
His heart was so full that tears of joy glistened in his eyes.
He rigorously strove to divide his thought evenly between McLean and
the Angel. He realized to the fullest the debt he already owed the
Boss and the magnitude of last night's declaration and promises.
He was hourly planning to deliver his trust and then enter with
equal zeal on whatever task his beloved Boss saw fit to set him next.
He wanted to be ready to meet every device that Wessner and Black Jack
could think of to outwit him. He recognized their double leverage,
for if they succeeded in felling even one tree McLean became liable
for his wager.
Freckles' brow wrinkled in his effort to think deeply and strongly,
but from every swaying wild rose the Angel beckoned to him. When he
crossed Sleepy Snake Creek and the goldfinch, waiting as ever,
challenged: "SEE ME?" Freckles saw the dainty swaying grace of the
Angel instead. What is a man to do with an Angel who dismembers
herself and scatters over a whole swamp, thrusting a vivid reminder
upon him at every turn?
Freckles counted the days. This first one he could do little but
test his wires, sing broken snatches, and dream; but before the
week would bring her again he could do many things. He would carry
all his books to the swamp to show to her. He would complete his
flower bed, arrange every detail he had planned for his room, and
make of it a bower fairies might envy. He must devise a way to keep
water cool. He would ask Mrs. Duncan for a double lunch and an
especially nice one the day of her next coming, so that if the Bird
Woman happened to be late, the Angel might not suffer from thirst
and hunger. He would tell her to bring heavy leather leggings, so
that he might take her on a trip around the trail. She should make
friends with all of his chickens and see their nests.
On the line he talked of her incessantly.
"You needn't be thinking," he said to the goldfinch, "that because
I'm coming down this line alone day after day, it's always to be so.
Some of these times you'll be swinging on this wire, and you'll
see me coming, and you'll swing, skip, and flirt yourself around,
and chip up right spunky: `SEE ME?' I'll be saying `See you?
Oh, Lord! See her!' You'll look, and there she'll stand.
The sunshine won't look gold any more, or the roses pink, or the
sky blue, because she'll be the pinkest, bluest, goldest thing
of all. You'll be yelling yourself hoarse with the jealousy of her.
The sawbird will stretch his neck out of joint, and she'll turn the
heads of all the flowers. Wherever she goes, I can go back
afterward and see the things she's seen, walk the path she's walked,
hear the grasses whispering over all she's said; and if there's
a place too swampy for her bits of feet; Holy Mother! Maybe--maybe
she'd be putting the beautiful arms of her around me neck and letting
me carry her over!"
Freckles shivered as with a chill. He sent the cudgel whirling
skyward, dexterously caught it, and set it spinning.
"You damned presumptuous fool!" he cried. "The thing for you to be
thinking of would be to stretch in the muck for the feet of her to
be walking over, and then you could hold yourself holy to be even
of that service to her.
"Maybe she'll be wanting the cup me blue-and-brown chickens raised
their babies in. Perhaps she'd like to stop at the pool and see me
bullfrog that had the goodness to take on human speech to show me
the way out of me trouble. If there's any feathers falling that
day, why, it's from the wings of me chickens--it's sure to be, for
the only Angel outside the gates will be walking this timberline,
and every step of the way I'll be holding me breath and praying that
she don't unfold wings and sail away before the hungry eyes of me."
So Freckles dreamed his dreams, made his plans, and watched his line.
He counted not only the days, but the hours of each day. As he
told them off, every one bringing her closer, he grew happier in
the prospect of her coming. He managed daily to leave some offering
at the big elm log for his black chickens. He slipped under the
line at every passing, and went to make sure that nothing was
molesting them. Though it was a long trip, he paid them several
extra visits a day for fear a snake, hawk, or fox might have found
the baby. For now his chickens not only represented all his former
interest in them, but they furnished the inducement that was
bringing his Angel.
Possibly he could find other subjects that the Bird Woman wanted.
The teamster had said that his brother went after her every time he
found a nest. He never had counted the nests that he knew of, and
it might be that among all the birds of the swamp some would be
rare to her.
The feathered folk of the Limberlost were practically undisturbed
save by their natural enemies. It was very probable that among his
chickens others as odd as the big black ones could be found. If she
wanted pictures of half-grown birds, he could pick up fifty in one
morning's trip around the line, for he had fed, handled, and made
friends with them ever since their eyes opened.
He had gathered bugs and worms all spring as he noticed them on the
grass and bushes, and dropped them into the first little open mouth
he had found. The babies gladly had accepted this queer tri-parent
addition to their natural providers.
When the week had passed, Freckles had his room crisp and glowing
with fresh living things that represented every color of the swamp.
He carried bark and filled all the muckiest places of the trail.
It was middle July. The heat of the past few days had dried the
water around and through the Limberlost, so that it was possible to
cross it on foot in almost any direction--if one had an idea of
direction and did not become completely lost in its rank tangle of
vegetation and bushes. The brighter-hued flowers were opening.
The trumpet-creepers were flaunting their gorgeous horns of red
and gold sweetness from the tops of lordly oak and elm, and below
entire pools were pink-sheeted in mallow bloom.
The heat was doing one other thing that was bound to make Freckles,
as a good Irishman, shiver. As the swale dried, its inhabitants
were seeking the cooler depths of the swamp. They liked neither the
heat nor leaving the field mice, moles, and young rabbits of their
chosen location. He saw them crossing the trail every day as the
heat grew intense. The rattlers were sadly forgetting their
manners, for they struck on no provocationwhatever, and did not
even remember to rattle afterward. Daily Freckles was compelled to
drive big black snakes and blue racers from the nests of his chickens.
Often the terrified squalls of the parent birds would reach him far
down the line and he would run to rescue the babies.
He saw the Angel when the carriage turned from the corduroy into
the clearing. They stopped at the west entrance to the swamp,
waiting for him to precede them down the trail, as he had told them
it was safest for the horse that he should do. They followed the
east line to a point opposite the big chickens' tree, and Freckles
carried in the cameras and showed the Bird Woman a path he had
cleared to the log. He explained to her the effect the heat was
having on the snakes, and creeping back to Little Chicken, brought
him to the light. As she worked at setting up her camera, he told
her of the birds of the line, while she stared at him, wide-eyed
and incredulous.
They arranged that Freckles should drive the carriage into the east
entrance in the shade and then take the horse toward the north to
a better place he knew. Then he was to entertain the Angel at his
study or on the line until the Bird Woman finished her work and
came to them.
"This will take only a little time," she said. "I know where to set
the camera now, and Little Chicken is big enough to be good and too
small to run away or to act very ugly, so I will be coming soon to
see about those nests. I have ten plates along, and I surely won't
use more than two on him; so perhaps I can get some nests or young
birds this morning."
Freckles almost flew, for his dream had come true so soon. He was
walking the timber-line and the Angel was following him. He asked
to be excused for going first, because he wanted to be sure the
trail was safe for her. She laughed at his fears, telling him that
it was the polite thing for him to do, anyway.
"Oh!" said Freckles, "so you was after knowing that? Well, I didn't
s'pose you did, and I was afraid you'd think me wanting in respect
to be preceding you!"
The astonished Angel looked at him, caught the irrepressible gleam
of Irish fun in his eyes, so they stood and laughed together.
Freckles did not realize how he was talking that morning. He showed
her many of the beautiful nests and eggs of the line. She could
identify a number of them, but of some she was ignorant, so they
made notes of the number and color of the eggs, material, and
construction of nest, color, size, and shape of the birds, and went
to find them in the book.
At his room, when Freckles had lifted the overhanging bushes and
stepped back for her to enter, his heart was all out of time
and place. The study was vastly more beautiful than a week previous.
The Angel drew a deep breath and stood gazing first at one side,
then at another, then far down the cathedral aisle. "It's just
fairyland!" she cried ecstatically. Then she turned and stared at
Freckles as she had at his handiwork.
"What are you planning to be?" she asked wonderingly.
"Whatever Mr. McLean wants me to," he replied.
"What do you do most?" she asked.
"Watch me lines."
"I don't mean work!"
"Oh, in me spare time I keep me room and study in me books."
"Do you work on the room or the books most?"
"On the room only what it takes to keep it up, and the rest of the
time on me books."
The Angel studied him closely. "Well, maybe you are going to be a
great scholar," she said, "but you don't look it. Your face isn't
right for that, but it's got something big in it--something really great.
I must find out what it is and then you must work on it. Your father
- timber [´timbə]
n.木材；木料；横梁 (初中英语单词) - harvest [´hɑ:vist] n.&v.收获；收割 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- winged [´wiŋd] a.有翼的 (初中英语单词)
- upward [´ʌpwəd] a.&ad.向上(的)；以上 (初中英语单词)
- feather [´feðə] n.羽毛 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- beloved [bi´lʌvd] a.为....所爱的 n.爱人 (初中英语单词)
- device [di´vais] n.装置；器具；策略 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- hunger [´hʌŋgə] n.饥饿；渴望 (初中英语单词)
- sunshine [´sʌnʃain] n.日光，阳光 (初中英语单词)
- wherever [weər´evə] conj.无论在哪里 (初中英语单词)
- goodness [´gudnis] n.优良；美德；精华 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- prospect [´prɔspekt, prəs´pekt] n.景色；境界 v.勘察 (初中英语单词)
- feathered [´feðəd] a.有羽毛的；羽状的 (初中英语单词)
- probable [´prɔbəbəl] a.大概的n.很可能的事 (初中英语单词)
- shiver [´ʃivə] v.&n.(使)颤抖；碎片 (初中英语单词)
- rattle [´rætl] n.嘎吱声 (初中英语单词)
- rescue [´reskju:] vt.&n.救援；挽救 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- entertain [,entə´tein] vt.招待；娱乐；使高兴 (初中英语单词)
- polite [pə´lait] a.有礼貌的；温和的 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- ignorant [´ignərənt] a.无知的，愚昧的 (初中英语单词)
- cathedral [kə´θi:drəl] n.大教堂 (初中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- strove [strəuv] strive的过去式 (高中英语单词)
- declaration [,deklə´reiʃən] n.宣布；宣言；申报 (高中英语单词)
- sleepy [´sli:pi] a.困的，想睡的 (高中英语单词)
- dainty [´deinti] a.秀丽的 n.美味 (高中英语单词)
- devise [di´vaiz] vt.设计，发明 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- jealousy [´dʒeləsi] n.妒忌；猜忌 (高中英语单词)
- damned [dæmd] a.该死的 ad.非常，极 (高中英语单词)
- gladly [´glædli] ad.愉快地，高兴地 (高中英语单词)
- tangle [´tæŋgəl] n.&vt.(使)缠结；纠纷 (高中英语单词)
- gorgeous [´gɔ:dʒəs] a.华丽的；宜人的 (高中英语单词)
- sweetness [´swi:tnis] n.甜蜜；芳香；亲切 (高中英语单词)
- location [ləu´keiʃən] n.定位；位置；地方 (高中英语单词)
- intense [in´tens] a.强烈的；紧张的 (高中英语单词)
- precede [pri´si:d] v.领先；先于 (高中英语单词)
- studied [´stʌdid] a.故意的；有计划的 (高中英语单词)
- revolver [ri´vɔlvə] n.左轮手枪；旋转者 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- magnitude [´mægnitju:d] n.宏大；重要性；大小 (英语四级单词)
- hoarse [hɔ:s] a.嘶哑的；嗓门粗哑的 (英语四级单词)
- unfold [ʌn´fəuld] v.展开；显露，表明 (英语四级单词)
- clearing [´kliəriŋ] n.(森林中的)空旷地 (英语四级单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- preceding [pri(:)´si:diŋ] a.在先的；前面的 (英语四级单词)
- vastly [´vɑ:stli, ´væstli] ad.巨大地；广阔地 (英语四级单词)
- acknowledgment [ək´nɔlidʒmənt] n.承认；鸣谢 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- leggings [´legiŋz] n.绑腿，裹腿 (英语六级单词)
- cudgel [´kʌdʒəl] n.短棍，棒 vt.棒打 (英语六级单词)
- wanting [´wɔntiŋ, wɑ:n-] a.短缺的；不足的 (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- inducement [in´dju:smənt] n.诱导，动机 (英语六级单词)
- lordly [´lɔ:dli] a.高贵的；高傲的 (英语六级单词)
- irishman [´aiəriʃmən] n.爱尔兰人 (英语六级单词)
- provocation [,prɔvə´keiʃən] n.挑衅；挑拨；激怒 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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