章节正文
his trail. He came on in a lame uneven trot, making straight for the tree.
When he reached the tree he crouched, or rather fell, on the ground within a
yard of Jonathan and his dog. He quivered and twitched; his nostrils flared;
at every pant drops of blood flecked the snow; his great dark eyes had a
strained and awful look, almost human in its agony.
Another yelp from the thicket and Jonathan looked up in time to see five
timber wolves, gaunt, hungry looking beasts, burst from the bushes. With their
noses close to the snow they followed the trail. When they came to the spot
where the deer had fallen a chorus of angry, thirsty howls filled the air.
"Well, if this doesn't beat me! I thought I knew a little about deer," said
Jonathan. "Tige, we will save this buck from those gray devils if it costs a
leg. Steady now, old fellow, wait."
When the wolves were within fifty yards of the tree and coming swiftly
Jonathan threw his rifle forward and yelled with all the power of his strong
lungs:
"Hi! Hi! Hi! Take 'em, Tige!"
In trying to stop quickly on the slippery snowcrust the wolves fell all over
themselves. One dropped dead and another fell wounded at the report of
Jonathan's rifle. The others turned tail and loped swiftly off into the
thicket. Tige made short work of the wounded one.
"Old White Tail, if you were the last buck in the valley, I would not harm
you," said Jonathan, looking at the panting deer. "You need have no farther
fear of that pack of cowards."
So saying Jonathan called to Tige and wended his way down the hill toward the
settlement.
An hour afterward he was sitting in Col. Zane's comfort able cabin, where all
was warmth and cheerfulness. Blazing hickory logs roared and crackled in the
stone fireplace.
"Hello, Jack, where did you come from?" said Col. Zane, who had just come in.
"Haven't seen you since we were snowed up. Come over to see about the horses?
If I were you I would not undertake that trip to Fort Pitt until the weather
breaks. You could go in the sled, of course, but if you care anything for my
advice you will stay home. This weather will hold on for some time. Let Lord
Dunmore wait."
"I guess we are in for some stiff weather."
"Haven't a doubt of it. I told Bessie last fall we might expect a hard winter.
Everything indicated it. Look at the thick corn-husks. The hulls of the nuts
from the shells bark here in the yard were larger and tougher than I ever saw
them. Last October Tige killed a raccoon that had the wooliest kind of a fur.
I could have given you a dozen signs of a hard winter. We shall still have a
month or six weeks of it. In a week will be ground-hog day and you had better
wait and decide after that."
"I tell you, Eb, I get tired chopping wood and hanging round the house."
"Aha! another moody spell," said Col. Zane, glancing kindly at his brother.
"Jack, if you were married you would outgrow those 'blue-devils.' I used to
have them. It runs in the family to be moody. I have known our father to take
his gun and go into the woods and stay there until he had fought out the
spell. I have done that myself, but once I married Bessie I have had no return
of the old feeling. Get married, Jack, and then you will settle down and work.
You will not have time to roam around alone in the woods."
"I prefer the spells, as you call them, any day," answered Jonathan, with a
short laugh. "A man with my disposition has no right to get married. This
weather is trying, for it keeps me indoors. I cannot hunt because we do not
need the meat. And even if I did want to hunt I should not have to go out of
sight of the fort. There were three deer in front of the barn this morning.
They were nearly starved. They ran off a little at sight of me, but in a few
moments came back for the hay I pitched out of the loft. This afternoon Tige
and I saved a big buck from a pack of wolves. The buck came right up to me. I
could have touched him. This storm is sending the deer down from the hills."
"You are right. It is too bad. Severe weather like this will kill more deer
than an army could. Have you been doing anything with your traps?"
"Yes, I have thirty traps out."
"If you are going, tell Sam to fetch down another load of fodder before he
unhitches."
"Eb, I have no patience with your brothers," said Col. Zane's wife to him
after he had closed the door. "They are all alike; forever wanting to be on
the go. If it isn't Indians it is something else. The very idea of going up
the river in this weather. If Jonathan doesn't care for himself he should
think of the horses."
"My dear, I was just as wild and discontented as Jack before I met you,"
remarked Col. Zane. "You may not think so, but a home and pretty little woman
will do wonders for any man. My brothers have nothing to keep them steady."
"Perhaps. I do not believe that Jonathan ever will get married. Silas may; he
certainly has been keeping company long enough with Mary Bennet. You are the
only Zane who has conquered that adventurous spirit and the desire to be
always roaming the woods in search of something to kill. Your old boy, Noah,
is growing up like all the Zanes. He fights with all the children in the
settlement. I cannot break him of it. He is not a bully, for I have never
known him to do anything mean or cruel. It is just sheer love of fighting."
"Ha! Ha! I fear you will not break him of that," answered Col. Zane. "It is a
good joke to say he gets it all from the Zanes. How about the McCollochs? What
have you to say of your father and the Major and John McColloch? They are not
anything if not the fighting kind. It's the best trait the youngster could
have, out here on the border. He'll need it all. Don't worry about him. Where
is Betty?"
"I told her to take the children out for a sled ride. Betty needs exercise.
She stays indoors too much, and of late she looks pale."
"What! Betty not looking well! She was never ill in her life. I have noticed
no change in her."
"No, I daresay you have not. You men can't see anything. But I can, and I tell
you, Betty is very different from the girl she used to be. Most of the time
she sits and gazes out of her window. She used to be so bright, and when she
was not romping with the children she busied herself with her needle.
Yesterday as I entered her room she hurriedly picked up a book, and, I think,
intentionally hid her face behind it. I saw she had been crying."
"Come to think of it, I believe I have missed Betty," said Col. Zane, gravely.
"She seems more quiet. Is she unhappy? When did you first see this change?"
"I think it a little while after Mr. Clarke left here last fall."
"Clarke! What has he to do with Betty? What are you driving at?" exclaimed the
Colonel, stopping in front of his wife. His faced had paled slightly. "I had
forgotten Clarke. Bess, you can't mean--"
"Now, Eb, do not get that look on your face. You always frighten me," answered
his wife, as she quietly placed her hand on his arm. "I do not mean anything
much, certainly nothing against Mr. Clarke. He was a true gentleman. I really
liked him."
"So did I," interrupted the Colonel.
"I believe Betty cared for Mr. Clarke. She was always different with him. He
has gone away and has forgotten her. That is strange to us, because we cannot
imagine any one indifferent to our beautiful Betty. Nevertheless, no matter
how attractive a woman may be men sometimes love and ride away. I hear the
children coming now. Do not let Betty see that we have been talking about her.
She is as quick as a steel trap."
A peal of childishlaughter came from without. The door opened and Betty ran
in, followed by the sturdy, rosy-checked youngsters. All three were white with
snow.
"We have had great fun," said Betty. "We went over the bank once and tumbled
off the sled into the snow. Then we had a snow-balling contest, and the boys
compelled me to strike my colors and fly for the house."
Col. Zane looked closely at his sister. Her cheeks were flowing with health;
her eyes were sparkling with pleasure. Failing to observe any indication of
the change in Betty which his wife had spoken, he concluded that women were
better qualified to judge their own sex than were men. He had to confess to
himself that the only change he could see in his sister was that she grew
prettier every day of her life
"Oh, papa. I hit Sam right in the head with a big snow-ball, and I made Betty
run into the house, and I slid down to all by myself. Sam was afraid," said
Noah to his father.
"Noah, if Sammy saw the danger in sliding down the hill he was braver than
you. Now both of you run to Annie and have these wet things taken off."
"I must go get on dry clothes myself," said Betty. "I am nearly frozen. It is
growing colder. I saw Jack come in. Is he going to Fort Pitt?"
"No. He has decided to wait until good weather. I met Mr. Filler over at the
garrison this afternoon and he wants you to go on the sled-ride to-night.
There is to be a dance down at Watkins' place. All the young people are going.
It is a long ride, but I guess it will be perfectly safe. Silas and Wetzel are
going. Dress yourself warmly and go with them. You have never seen old Grandma
Watkins."
"I shall be pleased to go," said Betty.
Betty's room was very cozy, considering that it was in a pioneer's cabin. It
had two windows, the larger of which opened on the side toward the river. The
walls had been smoothly plastered and covered with white birch-bark. They were
adorned with a few pictures and Indian ornaments. A bright homespun carpet
covered the floor. A small bookcase stood in the corner. The other furniture
consisted of two chairs, a small table, a bureau with a mirror, and a large
wardrobe. It was in this last that Betty kept the gowns which she had brought
from Philadelphia, and which were the wonder of all the girls in the village.
"I wonder why Eb looked so closely at me," mused Betty, as she slipped on her
little moccasins. "Usually he is not anxious to have me go so far from the
fort; and now he seemed to think I would enjoy this dance to-night. I wonder
what Bessie has been telling him."
Betty threw some wood on the smouldering fire in the little stone grate and
sat down to think. Like every one who has a humiliating secret, Betty was
eternally suspicious and feared the very walls would guess it. Swift as light
came the thought that her brother and his wife had suspected her secret and
had been talking about her, perhaps pitying her With this thought came the
fear that if she had betrayed herself to the Colonel's wife she might have
done so to others. The consciousness that this might well be true and that
even now the girls might be talking and laughing at her caused her exceeding
shame and bitterness.
Many weeks had passed since that last night that Betty and Alfred Clarke had
been together.
In due time Col. Zane's men returned and Betty learned from Jonathan that
Alfred had left them at Ft. Pitt, saying he was going south to his old home.
At first she had expected some word from Alfred, a letter, or if not that,
surely an apology for his conduct on that last evening they had been together.
But Jonathan brought her no word, and after hoping against hope and wearing
away the long days looking for a letter that never came, she ceased to hope
and plunged into despair.
The last few months had changed her life; changed it as only constant
thinking, and suffering that must be hidden from the world, can change the
life of a young girl. She had been so intent on her own thoughts, so deep in
her dreams that she had taken no heed of other people. She did not know that
those who loved her were always thinking of her welfare and would naturally
see even a slight change in her. With a sudden shock of surprise and pain she
realized that to-day for the first time in a month she had played with the
boys. Sammy had asked her why she did not laugh any more. Now she understood
the mad antics of Tige that morning; Madcap's whinney of delight; the
chattering of the squirrels, and Caesar's pranks in the snow. She had
neglected her pets. She had neglected her work, her friends, the boys'
lessons; and her brother. For what? What would her girl friends say? That she
was pining for a lover who had forgotten her. They would say that and it would
be true. She did think of him constantly.
With bitter pain she recalled the first days of the acquaintance which now
seemed so long past; how much she had disliked Alfred; how angry she had been
with him and how contemptuously she had spurned his first proffer of
friendship; how, little by little, her pride had been subdued; then the
struggle with her heart. And, at last, after he had gone, came the realization
that the moments spent with him had been the sweetest of her life. She thought
of him as she used to see him stand before her; so good to look at; so strong
and masterful, and yet so gentle.
"Oh, I cannot bear it," whispered Betty with a half sob, giving up to a rush
of tender feeling. "I love him. I love him, and I cannot forget him. Oh, I am
so ashamed."
Betty bowed her head on her knees. Her slight form quivered a while and then
grew still. When a half hour later she raised her head her face was pale and
cold. It bore the look of a girl who had suddenly become a woman; a woman who
saw the battle of life before her and who was ready to fight. Stern resolve
gleamed from her flashing eyes; there was no faltering in those set lips.
Betty was a Zane and the Zanes came of a fighting race. Their blood had ever
been hot and passionate; the blood of men quick to love and quick to hate. It
had flowed in the veins of daring, reckless men who had fought and died for
When he reached the tree he crouched, or rather fell, on the ground within a
yard of Jonathan and his dog. He quivered and twitched; his nostrils flared;
at every pant drops of blood flecked the snow; his great dark eyes had a
strained and awful look, almost human in its agony.
Another yelp from the thicket and Jonathan looked up in time to see five
timber wolves, gaunt, hungry looking beasts, burst from the bushes. With their
noses close to the snow they followed the trail. When they came to the spot
where the deer had fallen a chorus of angry, thirsty howls filled the air.
"Well, if this doesn't beat me! I thought I knew a little about deer," said
Jonathan. "Tige, we will save this buck from those gray devils if it costs a
leg. Steady now, old fellow, wait."
When the wolves were within fifty yards of the tree and coming swiftly
Jonathan threw his rifle forward and yelled with all the power of his strong
lungs:
"Hi! Hi! Hi! Take 'em, Tige!"
In trying to stop quickly on the slippery snowcrust the wolves fell all over
themselves. One dropped dead and another fell wounded at the report of
Jonathan's rifle. The others turned tail and loped swiftly off into the
thicket. Tige made short work of the wounded one.
"Old White Tail, if you were the last buck in the valley, I would not harm
you," said Jonathan, looking at the panting deer. "You need have no farther
fear of that pack of cowards."
So saying Jonathan called to Tige and wended his way down the hill toward the
settlement.
An hour afterward he was sitting in Col. Zane's comfort able cabin, where all
was warmth and cheerfulness. Blazing hickory logs roared and crackled in the
stone fireplace.
"Hello, Jack, where did you come from?" said Col. Zane, who had just come in.
"Haven't seen you since we were snowed up. Come over to see about the horses?
If I were you I would not undertake that trip to Fort Pitt until the weather
breaks. You could go in the sled, of course, but if you care anything for my
advice you will stay home. This weather will hold on for some time. Let Lord
Dunmore wait."
"I guess we are in for some stiff weather."
"Haven't a doubt of it. I told Bessie last fall we might expect a hard winter.
Everything indicated it. Look at the thick corn-husks. The hulls of the nuts
from the shells bark here in the yard were larger and tougher than I ever saw
them. Last October Tige killed a raccoon that had the wooliest kind of a fur.
I could have given you a dozen signs of a hard winter. We shall still have a
month or six weeks of it. In a week will be ground-hog day and you had better
wait and decide after that."
"I tell you, Eb, I get tired chopping wood and hanging round the house."
"Aha! another moody spell," said Col. Zane, glancing kindly at his brother.
"Jack, if you were married you would outgrow those 'blue-devils.' I used to
have them. It runs in the family to be moody. I have known our father to take
his gun and go into the woods and stay there until he had fought out the
spell. I have done that myself, but once I married Bessie I have had no return
of the old feeling. Get married, Jack, and then you will settle down and work.
You will not have time to roam around alone in the woods."
"I prefer the spells, as you call them, any day," answered Jonathan, with a
short laugh. "A man with my disposition has no right to get married. This
weather is trying, for it keeps me indoors. I cannot hunt because we do not
need the meat. And even if I did want to hunt I should not have to go out of
sight of the fort. There were three deer in front of the barn this morning.
They were nearly starved. They ran off a little at sight of me, but in a few
moments came back for the hay I pitched out of the loft. This afternoon Tige
and I saved a big buck from a pack of wolves. The buck came right up to me. I
could have touched him. This storm is sending the deer down from the hills."
"You are right. It is too bad. Severe weather like this will kill more deer
than an army could. Have you been doing anything with your traps?"
"Yes, I have thirty traps out."
"If you are going, tell Sam to fetch down another load of fodder before he
unhitches."
"Eb, I have no patience with your brothers," said Col. Zane's wife to him
after he had closed the door. "They are all alike; forever wanting to be on
the go. If it isn't Indians it is something else. The very idea of going up
the river in this weather. If Jonathan doesn't care for himself he should
think of the horses."
"My dear, I was just as wild and discontented as Jack before I met you,"
remarked Col. Zane. "You may not think so, but a home and pretty little woman
will do wonders for any man. My brothers have nothing to keep them steady."
"Perhaps. I do not believe that Jonathan ever will get married. Silas may; he
certainly has been keeping company long enough with Mary Bennet. You are the
only Zane who has conquered that adventurous spirit and the desire to be
always roaming the woods in search of something to kill. Your old boy, Noah,
is growing up like all the Zanes. He fights with all the children in the
settlement. I cannot break him of it. He is not a bully, for I have never
known him to do anything mean or cruel. It is just sheer love of fighting."
"Ha! Ha! I fear you will not break him of that," answered Col. Zane. "It is a
good joke to say he gets it all from the Zanes. How about the McCollochs? What
have you to say of your father and the Major and John McColloch? They are not
anything if not the fighting kind. It's the best trait the youngster could
have, out here on the border. He'll need it all. Don't worry about him. Where
is Betty?"
"I told her to take the children out for a sled ride. Betty needs exercise.
She stays indoors too much, and of late she looks pale."
"What! Betty not looking well! She was never ill in her life. I have noticed
no change in her."
"No, I daresay you have not. You men can't see anything. But I can, and I tell
you, Betty is very different from the girl she used to be. Most of the time
she sits and gazes out of her window. She used to be so bright, and when she
was not romping with the children she busied herself with her needle.
Yesterday as I entered her room she hurriedly picked up a book, and, I think,
intentionally hid her face behind it. I saw she had been crying."
"Come to think of it, I believe I have missed Betty," said Col. Zane, gravely.
"She seems more quiet. Is she unhappy? When did you first see this change?"
"I think it a little while after Mr. Clarke left here last fall."
"Clarke! What has he to do with Betty? What are you driving at?" exclaimed the
Colonel, stopping in front of his wife. His faced had paled slightly. "I had
forgotten Clarke. Bess, you can't mean--"
"Now, Eb, do not get that look on your face. You always frighten me," answered
his wife, as she quietly placed her hand on his arm. "I do not mean anything
much, certainly nothing against Mr. Clarke. He was a true gentleman. I really
liked him."
"So did I," interrupted the Colonel.
"I believe Betty cared for Mr. Clarke. She was always different with him. He
has gone away and has forgotten her. That is strange to us, because we cannot
imagine any one indifferent to our beautiful Betty. Nevertheless, no matter
how attractive a woman may be men sometimes love and ride away. I hear the
children coming now. Do not let Betty see that we have been talking about her.
She is as quick as a steel trap."
A peal of childishlaughter came from without. The door opened and Betty ran
in, followed by the sturdy, rosy-checked youngsters. All three were white with
snow.
"We have had great fun," said Betty. "We went over the bank once and tumbled
off the sled into the snow. Then we had a snow-balling contest, and the boys
compelled me to strike my colors and fly for the house."
Col. Zane looked closely at his sister. Her cheeks were flowing with health;
her eyes were sparkling with pleasure. Failing to observe any indication of
the change in Betty which his wife had spoken, he concluded that women were
better qualified to judge their own sex than were men. He had to confess to
himself that the only change he could see in his sister was that she grew
prettier every day of her life
"Oh, papa. I hit Sam right in the head with a big snow-ball, and I made Betty
run into the house, and I slid down to all by myself. Sam was afraid," said
Noah to his father.
"Noah, if Sammy saw the danger in sliding down the hill he was braver than
you. Now both of you run to Annie and have these wet things taken off."
"I must go get on dry clothes myself," said Betty. "I am nearly frozen. It is
growing colder. I saw Jack come in. Is he going to Fort Pitt?"
"No. He has decided to wait until good weather. I met Mr. Filler over at the
garrison this afternoon and he wants you to go on the sled-ride to-night.
There is to be a dance down at Watkins' place. All the young people are going.
It is a long ride, but I guess it will be perfectly safe. Silas and Wetzel are
going. Dress yourself warmly and go with them. You have never seen old Grandma
Watkins."
"I shall be pleased to go," said Betty.
Betty's room was very cozy, considering that it was in a pioneer's cabin. It
had two windows, the larger of which opened on the side toward the river. The
walls had been smoothly plastered and covered with white birch-bark. They were
adorned with a few pictures and Indian ornaments. A bright homespun carpet
covered the floor. A small bookcase stood in the corner. The other furniture
consisted of two chairs, a small table, a bureau with a mirror, and a large
wardrobe. It was in this last that Betty kept the gowns which she had brought
from Philadelphia, and which were the wonder of all the girls in the village.
"I wonder why Eb looked so closely at me," mused Betty, as she slipped on her
little moccasins. "Usually he is not anxious to have me go so far from the
fort; and now he seemed to think I would enjoy this dance to-night. I wonder
what Bessie has been telling him."
Betty threw some wood on the smouldering fire in the little stone grate and
sat down to think. Like every one who has a humiliating secret, Betty was
eternally suspicious and feared the very walls would guess it. Swift as light
came the thought that her brother and his wife had suspected her secret and
had been talking about her, perhaps pitying her With this thought came the
fear that if she had betrayed herself to the Colonel's wife she might have
done so to others. The consciousness that this might well be true and that
even now the girls might be talking and laughing at her caused her exceeding
shame and bitterness.
Many weeks had passed since that last night that Betty and Alfred Clarke had
been together.
In due time Col. Zane's men returned and Betty learned from Jonathan that
Alfred had left them at Ft. Pitt, saying he was going south to his old home.
At first she had expected some word from Alfred, a letter, or if not that,
surely an apology for his conduct on that last evening they had been together.
But Jonathan brought her no word, and after hoping against hope and wearing
away the long days looking for a letter that never came, she ceased to hope
and plunged into despair.
The last few months had changed her life; changed it as only constant
thinking, and suffering that must be hidden from the world, can change the
life of a young girl. She had been so intent on her own thoughts, so deep in
her dreams that she had taken no heed of other people. She did not know that
those who loved her were always thinking of her welfare and would naturally
see even a slight change in her. With a sudden shock of surprise and pain she
realized that to-day for the first time in a month she had played with the
boys. Sammy had asked her why she did not laugh any more. Now she understood
the mad antics of Tige that morning; Madcap's whinney of delight; the
chattering of the squirrels, and Caesar's pranks in the snow. She had
neglected her pets. She had neglected her work, her friends, the boys'
lessons; and her brother. For what? What would her girl friends say? That she
was pining for a lover who had forgotten her. They would say that and it would
be true. She did think of him constantly.
With bitter pain she recalled the first days of the acquaintance which now
seemed so long past; how much she had disliked Alfred; how angry she had been
with him and how contemptuously she had spurned his first proffer of
friendship; how, little by little, her pride had been subdued; then the
struggle with her heart. And, at last, after he had gone, came the realization
that the moments spent with him had been the sweetest of her life. She thought
of him as she used to see him stand before her; so good to look at; so strong
and masterful, and yet so gentle.
"Oh, I cannot bear it," whispered Betty with a half sob, giving up to a rush
of tender feeling. "I love him. I love him, and I cannot forget him. Oh, I am
so ashamed."
Betty bowed her head on her knees. Her slight form quivered a while and then
grew still. When a half hour later she raised her head her face was pale and
cold. It bore the look of a girl who had suddenly become a woman; a woman who
saw the battle of life before her and who was ready to fight. Stern resolve
gleamed from her flashing eyes; there was no faltering in those set lips.
Betty was a Zane and the Zanes came of a fighting race. Their blood had ever
been hot and passionate; the blood of men quick to love and quick to hate. It
had flowed in the veins of daring, reckless men who had fought and died for
- chorus [´kɔ:rəs]
n.合唱；齐声 v.合唱 (初中英语单词) - swiftly [´swiftli] ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词)
- valley [´væli] n.谷；河谷；流域 (初中英语单词)
- warmth [wɔ:mθ] n.温暖；热情；激动 (初中英语单词)
- undertake [,ʌndə´teik] vt.从事；承担；担保 (初中英语单词)
- disposition [,dispə´ziʃən] n.安排；性情；倾向 (初中英语单词)
- severe [si´viə] a.严厉的；苛刻的 (初中英语单词)
- patience [´peiʃəns] n.忍耐(力)；耐心；坚韧 (初中英语单词)
- youngster [´jʌŋstə] n.年轻人；小伙子；少年 (初中英语单词)
- unhappy [ʌn´hæpi] a.不幸的；不快乐的 (初中英语单词)
- slightly [´slaitli] ad.轻微地；细长的 (初中英语单词)
- frighten [´fraitn] vt.吓唬，使惊惧 (初中英语单词)
- nevertheless [,nevəðə´les] conj.&ad.然而；不过 (初中英语单词)
- attractive [ə´træktiv] a.有吸引力；诱人的 (初中英语单词)
- childish [´tʃaildiʃ] a.孩子的；幼稚的 (初中英语单词)
- laughter [´lɑ:ftə] n.笑，笑声 (初中英语单词)
- contest [kən´test, ´kɔntest] v.争辩 n.争夺；竞赛 (初中英语单词)
- indication [,indi´keiʃən] n.指示；征兆，迹象 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- confess [kən´fes] vt.供认；坦白；承认 (初中英语单词)
- frozen [´frəuzn] freeze 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- indian [´indiən] a.印度的 n.印度人 (初中英语单词)
- bureau [´bjuərəu] n.局；编辑部；事务所 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- intent [in´tent] a.专心致志的 n.意图 (初中英语单词)
- welfare [´welfeə] n.福利(事业) (初中英语单词)
- acquaintance [ə´kweintəns] n.相识；熟人，相识的人 (初中英语单词)
- thicket [´θikit] n.灌木丛；密集的东西 (高中英语单词)
- slippery [´slipəri] a.滑的；不稳固的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- indoors [,in´dɔ:z] ad.在屋里 (高中英语单词)
- indifferent [in´difrənt] a.不关心的；中立的 (高中英语单词)
- sturdy [´stə:di] a.坚强的；坚定的 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- smoothly [´smu:ðli] ad.光滑地；顺利地 (高中英语单词)
- suspicious [sə´spiʃəs] a.可疑的，多疑的 (高中英语单词)
- consciousness [´kɔnʃəsnis] n.意识；觉悟；知觉 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- passionate [´pæʃənit] a.易动情的；易怒的 (高中英语单词)
- reckless [´rekləs] a.不注意的；鲁莽的 (高中英语单词)
- uneven [ʌn´i:vən] a.崎岖的；不匀的 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- adventurous [əd´ventʃərəs] a.冒险的；惊险的 (英语四级单词)
- hurriedly [´hʌridli] ad.仓促地，忙乱地 (英语四级单词)
- considering [kən´sidəriŋ] prep.就...而论 (英语四级单词)
- apology [ə´pɔlədʒi] n.道歉(的话)；辩解 (英语四级单词)
- proffer [´prɔfə] vt.&n.提供；贡献 (英语四级单词)
- daring [´deəriŋ] a.&n.勇敢(的) (英语四级单词)
- cheerfulness [´tʃiəfulnis] n.高兴，愉快 (英语六级单词)
- hickory [´hikəri] n.山核桃(属) (英语六级单词)
- fodder [´fɔdə] n.饲料；创作素材 (英语六级单词)
- wanting [´wɔntiŋ, wɑ:n-] a.短缺的；不足的 (英语六级单词)
- discontented [,diskən´tentid] a.不平的；不满的 (英语六级单词)
- homespun [´həumspʌn] a.家里(织)的 (英语六级单词)
- bookcase [´buk-keis] n.书架(箱) (英语六级单词)
- contemptuously [kən´temptjuəsli] ad.蔑视地；傲慢地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
