章节正文
exquisite agony, the sweet, blind, tumultuous exultation of the woman who
loves and is loved.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Bess, what do you think?" said Col. Zane, going into the kitchen next
morning, after he had returned from the pasture. "Clarke just came over and
asked for Betty. I called her. She came down looking as sweet and cool as one
of the lilies out by the spring. She said: 'Why, Mr. Clarke, you are almost a
stranger. I am pleased to see you. Indeed, we are all very glad to know you
have recovered from your severe burns.' She went on talking like that for all
the world like a girl who didn't care a snap for him. And she knows as well as
I do. Not only that, she has been actually breaking her heart over him all
these months. How did she do it? Oh, you women beat me all hollow!"
"Would you expect Betty to fall into his arms?" asked the Colonel's worthy
spouse, indignantly.
"Not exactly. But she was too cool, too friendly. Poor Alfred looked as if he
hadn't slept. He was nervous and scared to death. When Betty ran up stairs I
put a bug in Alfred's ear. He'll be all right now, if he follows my advice."
"Humph! What did Colonel Ebenezer Zane tell him?" asked Bessie, in disgust.
"Oh, not much. I simply told him not to lose his nerve; that a woman never
meant 'no'; that she often says it only to be made say 'yes.' And I ended up
with telling him if she got a little skittish, as thoroughbreds do sometimes,
to try a strong arm. That was my way."
"Col. Zane. if my memory does not fail me, you were as humble and beseeching
as the proudest girl could desire."
"I beseeching? Never!"
"I hope Alfred's wooing may go well. I like him very much. But I'm afraid.
Betty has such a spirit that it is quite likely she will refuse him for no
other reason than that he built his cabin before he asked her."
"Nonsense. He asked her long ago. Never fear, Bess, my sister will come back
as meek as a lamb."
Meanwhile Betty and Alfred were strolling down the familiar path toward the
river. The October air was fresh with a suspicion of frost. The clear notes of
a hunter's horn came floating down from the hills. A flock of wild geese had
alighted on the marshy ground at the end of the island where they kept up a
continual honk! honk! The brown hills, the red forest, and the yellow fields
were now at the height of their autumnal beauty. Soon the November north wind
would thrash the trees bare, and bow the proud heads of the daisies and the
goldenrod; but just now they flashed in the sun, and swayed back and forth in
all their glory.
"I see you limp. Are you not entirely well?' Betty was saying.
"Oh, I am getting along famously, thank you," said Alfred. "This one foot was
quite severely burned and is still tender."
"You have had your share of injuries. I heard my brother say you had been
wounded three times within a year."
"Four times."
"Jonathan told of the axe wound; then the wound Miller gave you, and finally
the burns. These make three, do they not?"
"Yes, but you see, all three could not be compared to the one you forgot to
mention."
"Let us hurry past here," said Betty, hastening to change the subject. "This
is where you had the dreadful fight with Miller."
"As Miller did go to meet Girty, and as he did not return to the Fort with the
renegade, we must believe he is dead. Of course, we do not know this to be
actually a fact. But something makes me think so. Jonathan and Wetzel have not
said anything; I can't get any satisfaction on that score from either; but I
am sure neither of them would rest until Miller was dead."
"I think you are right. But we may never know. All I can tell you is that
Wetzel and Jack trailed Miller to the river, and then they both came back. I
was the last to see Lewis that night before he left on Miller's trail. It
isn't likely I shall forget what Lewis said and how he looked. Miller was a
wicked man; yes, a traitor."
"He was a bad man, and he nearly succeeded in every one of his plans. I have
not the slightest doubt that had he refrained from taking part in the shooting
match he would have succeeded in abducting you, in killing me, and in leading
Girty here long before he was expected."
"There are many things that may never be explained, but one thing Miller did
always mystify us. How did he succeed in binding Tige?"
"To my way of thinking that was not so difficult as climbing into my room and
almost killing me, or stealing the powder from Capt. Boggs' room."
"The last, at least, gave me a chance to help," said Betty, with a touch of
her odd roguishness.
"That was the grandest thing a woman ever did," said Alfred, in a low tone.
"Oh, no, I only ran fast."
"I would have given the world to have seen you, but I was lying on the bench
wishing I were dead. I did not have strength to look out of a porthole. Oh!
that horrible time! I can never forget it. I lie awake at night and hear the
yelling and shooting. Then I dream of running over the burning roofs and it
all comes back so vividly I can almost feel the flames and smell the burnt
wood. Then I wake up and think of that awful moment when you were carried into
the blockhouse white, and, as I thought, dead."
"But I wasn't. And I think it best for us to forget that horrible siege. It is
past. It is a miracle that any one was spared. Ebenezer says we should not
grieve for those who are gone; they were heroic; they saved the Fort. He says
too, that we shall never again be troubled by Indians. Therefore let us forget
and be happy. I have forgotten Miller. You can afford to do the same."
"Yes, I forgive him." Then, after a long silence, Alfred continued, "Will you
go down to the old sycamore?"
Down the winding path they went. Coming to a steep place in the rocky bank
Alfred jumped down and then turned to help Betty. But she avoided his gaze,
pretended to not see his outstretched hands, and leaped lightly down beside
him. He looked at her with perplexity and anxiety in his eyes. Before he could
speak she ran on ahead of him and climbed down the bank to the pool. He
followed slowly, thoughtfully. The supreme moment had come. He knew it, and
somehow he did not feel the confidence the Colonel had inspired in him. It had
been easy for him to think of subduing this imperious young lady; but when the
time came to assert his will he found he could not remember what he had
intended to say, and his feelings were divided between his love for her and
the horrible fear that he should lose her.
When he reached the sycamore tree he found her sitting behind it with a
cluster of yellow daisies in her lap. Alfred gazed at her, conscious that all
his hopes of happiness were dependent on the next few words that would issue
from her smiling lips. The little brown hands, which were now rather nervously
arranging the flowers, held more than his life.
"Are they not sweet?" asked Betty, giving him a fleeting glance. "We call them
'black-eyed Susans.' Could anything be lovelier than that soft, dark brown?"
"Yes," answered Alfred, looking into her eyes.
"But--but you are not looking at my daisies at all," said Betty, lowering her
eyes.
"No, I am not," said Alfred. Then suddenly: "A year ago this very day we were
here."
"Here? Oh, yes, I believe I do remember. It was the day we came in my canoe
and had such fine fishing."
"Is that all you remember?"
"I can recollect nothing in particular. It was so long ago."
"I suppose you will say you had no idea why I wanted you to come to this spot
in particular."
"I supposed you simply wanted to take a walk, and it is very pleasant here."
"Then Col. Zane did not tell you?" demanded Alfred. Receiving no reply he went
on.
"Did you read my letter?"
"What letter?"
"The letter old Sam should have given you last fall. Did you read it?"
"Yes," answered Betty, faintly.
"Did your brother tell you I wanted to see you this morning?"
"Yes, he told me, and it made me very angry," said Betty, raising her head.
There was a bright red spot in each cheek. "You--you seemed to think you--that
I--well--I did not like it."
"I think I understand; but you are entirely wrong. I have never thought you
cared for me. My wildest dreams never left me any confidence. Col. Zane and
Wetzel both had some deluded notion that you cared--"
"But they had no right to say that or to think it," said Betty, passionately.
She sprang to her feet, scattering the daisies over the grass. "For them to
presume that I cared for you is absurd. I never gave them any reason to think
so, for--for I--I don't."
"Very well, then, there is nothing more to be said," answered Alfred, in a
voice that was calm and slightly cold. "I'm sorry if you have been annoyed. I
have been mad, of course, but I promise you that you need fear no further
annoyance from me. Come, I think we should return to the house."
And he turned and walked slowly up the path. He had taken perhaps a dozen
steps when she called him.
"Mr. Clarke, come back."
Alfred retraced his steps and stood before her again. Then he saw a different
Betty. The haughty poise had disappeared. Her head was bowed. Her little hands
were tightly pressed over a throbbing bosom.
"Well," said Alfred, after a moment.
"Why--why are you in such a hurry to go?"
"I have learned what I wanted to know. And after that I do not imagine I would
be very agreeable. I am going back. Are you coming?"
"I did not mean quite what I said," whispered Betty.
"Then what did you mean?" asked Alfred, in a stern voice.
"I don't know. Please don't speak so."
"Betty, forgive my harshness. Can you expect a man to feel as I do and remain
calm? You know I love you. You must not trifle any longer. You must not fight
any longer."
"But I can't help fighting."
"Look at me," said Alfred, taking her hands. "Let me see your eyes. I believe
you care a little for me, or else you wouldn't have called me back. I love
you. Can you understand that?"
"Yes, I can; and I think you should love me a great deal to make up for what
you made me suffer."
"Betty, look at me."
Slowly she raised her head and lifted the downcast eyes. Those telltale
traitors no longer hid her secret. With a glad cry Alfred caught her in his
arms. She tried to hide her face, but he got his hand under her chin and held
it firmly so that the sweet crimson lips were very near his own. Then he
slowly bent his head.
Betty saw his intention, closed her eyes and whispered.
"Alfred, please don't--it's not fair--I beg of you--Oh!"
That kiss was Betty's undoing. She uttered a strange little cry. Then her dark
head found a hiding place over his heart, and her slender form, which a moment
before had resisted so fiercely, sank yielding into his embrace.
"Betty, do you dare tell me now that you do not care for me?" Alfred whispered
into the dusky hair which rippled over his breast.
Betty was brave even in her surrender. Her hands moved slowly upward along his
arms, slipped over his shoulders, and clasped round his neck. Then she lifted
a flushed and tearstained face with tremulous lips and wonderful shining eyes.
"Alfred, I do love you--with my whole heart I love you. I never knew until
now."
The hours flew apace. The prolonged ringing of the dinner bell brought the
lovers back to earth, and to the realization that the world held others than
themselves. Slowly they climbed the familiar path, but this time as never
before. They walked hand in hand. From the blur they looked back. They wanted
to make sure they were not dreaming. The water rushed over the fall more
musically than ever before; the white patches of foam floated round and round
the shady pool; the leaves of the sycamore rustled cheerily in the breeze. On
a dead branch a wood-packer hammered industriously.
"Before we get out of sight of that dear old tree I want to make a
confession," said Betty, as she stood before Alfred. She was pulling at the
fringe on his hunting-coat.
"You need not make confessions to me."
"But this was dreadful; it preys on my conscience."
"Very well, I will be your judge. Your punishment shall be slight."
"One day when you were lying unconscious from your wound, Bessie sent me to
watch you. I nursed you for hours; and--and--do not think badly of me--I--I
kissed you."
"My darling," cried the enraptured young man.
When they at last reached the house they found Col. Zane on the doorstep.
"Where on earth have you been?" he said. "Wetzel was here. He said he would
not wait to see you. There he goes up the hill. He is behind that laurel."
They looked and presently saw the tall figure of the hunteremerge from the
bushes. He stopped and leaned on his rifle. For a minute he remained
loves and is loved.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Bess, what do you think?" said Col. Zane, going into the kitchen next
morning, after he had returned from the pasture. "Clarke just came over and
asked for Betty. I called her. She came down looking as sweet and cool as one
of the lilies out by the spring. She said: 'Why, Mr. Clarke, you are almost a
stranger. I am pleased to see you. Indeed, we are all very glad to know you
have recovered from your severe burns.' She went on talking like that for all
the world like a girl who didn't care a snap for him. And she knows as well as
I do. Not only that, she has been actually breaking her heart over him all
these months. How did she do it? Oh, you women beat me all hollow!"
"Would you expect Betty to fall into his arms?" asked the Colonel's worthy
spouse, indignantly.
"Not exactly. But she was too cool, too friendly. Poor Alfred looked as if he
hadn't slept. He was nervous and scared to death. When Betty ran up stairs I
put a bug in Alfred's ear. He'll be all right now, if he follows my advice."
"Humph! What did Colonel Ebenezer Zane tell him?" asked Bessie, in disgust.
"Oh, not much. I simply told him not to lose his nerve; that a woman never
meant 'no'; that she often says it only to be made say 'yes.' And I ended up
with telling him if she got a little skittish, as thoroughbreds do sometimes,
to try a strong arm. That was my way."
"Col. Zane. if my memory does not fail me, you were as humble and beseeching
as the proudest girl could desire."
"I beseeching? Never!"
"I hope Alfred's wooing may go well. I like him very much. But I'm afraid.
Betty has such a spirit that it is quite likely she will refuse him for no
other reason than that he built his cabin before he asked her."
"Nonsense. He asked her long ago. Never fear, Bess, my sister will come back
as meek as a lamb."
Meanwhile Betty and Alfred were strolling down the familiar path toward the
river. The October air was fresh with a suspicion of frost. The clear notes of
a hunter's horn came floating down from the hills. A flock of wild geese had
alighted on the marshy ground at the end of the island where they kept up a
continual honk! honk! The brown hills, the red forest, and the yellow fields
were now at the height of their autumnal beauty. Soon the November north wind
would thrash the trees bare, and bow the proud heads of the daisies and the
goldenrod; but just now they flashed in the sun, and swayed back and forth in
all their glory.
"I see you limp. Are you not entirely well?' Betty was saying.
"Oh, I am getting along famously, thank you," said Alfred. "This one foot was
quite severely burned and is still tender."
"You have had your share of injuries. I heard my brother say you had been
wounded three times within a year."
"Four times."
"Jonathan told of the axe wound; then the wound Miller gave you, and finally
the burns. These make three, do they not?"
"Yes, but you see, all three could not be compared to the one you forgot to
mention."
"Let us hurry past here," said Betty, hastening to change the subject. "This
is where you had the dreadful fight with Miller."
"As Miller did go to meet Girty, and as he did not return to the Fort with the
renegade, we must believe he is dead. Of course, we do not know this to be
actually a fact. But something makes me think so. Jonathan and Wetzel have not
said anything; I can't get any satisfaction on that score from either; but I
am sure neither of them would rest until Miller was dead."
"I think you are right. But we may never know. All I can tell you is that
Wetzel and Jack trailed Miller to the river, and then they both came back. I
was the last to see Lewis that night before he left on Miller's trail. It
isn't likely I shall forget what Lewis said and how he looked. Miller was a
wicked man; yes, a traitor."
"He was a bad man, and he nearly succeeded in every one of his plans. I have
not the slightest doubt that had he refrained from taking part in the shooting
match he would have succeeded in abducting you, in killing me, and in leading
Girty here long before he was expected."
"There are many things that may never be explained, but one thing Miller did
always mystify us. How did he succeed in binding Tige?"
"To my way of thinking that was not so difficult as climbing into my room and
almost killing me, or stealing the powder from Capt. Boggs' room."
"The last, at least, gave me a chance to help," said Betty, with a touch of
her odd roguishness.
"That was the grandest thing a woman ever did," said Alfred, in a low tone.
"Oh, no, I only ran fast."
"I would have given the world to have seen you, but I was lying on the bench
wishing I were dead. I did not have strength to look out of a porthole. Oh!
that horrible time! I can never forget it. I lie awake at night and hear the
yelling and shooting. Then I dream of running over the burning roofs and it
all comes back so vividly I can almost feel the flames and smell the burnt
wood. Then I wake up and think of that awful moment when you were carried into
the blockhouse white, and, as I thought, dead."
"But I wasn't. And I think it best for us to forget that horrible siege. It is
past. It is a miracle that any one was spared. Ebenezer says we should not
grieve for those who are gone; they were heroic; they saved the Fort. He says
too, that we shall never again be troubled by Indians. Therefore let us forget
and be happy. I have forgotten Miller. You can afford to do the same."
"Yes, I forgive him." Then, after a long silence, Alfred continued, "Will you
go down to the old sycamore?"
Down the winding path they went. Coming to a steep place in the rocky bank
Alfred jumped down and then turned to help Betty. But she avoided his gaze,
pretended to not see his outstretched hands, and leaped lightly down beside
him. He looked at her with perplexity and anxiety in his eyes. Before he could
speak she ran on ahead of him and climbed down the bank to the pool. He
followed slowly, thoughtfully. The supreme moment had come. He knew it, and
somehow he did not feel the confidence the Colonel had inspired in him. It had
been easy for him to think of subduing this imperious young lady; but when the
time came to assert his will he found he could not remember what he had
intended to say, and his feelings were divided between his love for her and
the horrible fear that he should lose her.
When he reached the sycamore tree he found her sitting behind it with a
cluster of yellow daisies in her lap. Alfred gazed at her, conscious that all
his hopes of happiness were dependent on the next few words that would issue
from her smiling lips. The little brown hands, which were now rather nervously
arranging the flowers, held more than his life.
"Are they not sweet?" asked Betty, giving him a fleeting glance. "We call them
'black-eyed Susans.' Could anything be lovelier than that soft, dark brown?"
"Yes," answered Alfred, looking into her eyes.
"But--but you are not looking at my daisies at all," said Betty, lowering her
eyes.
"No, I am not," said Alfred. Then suddenly: "A year ago this very day we were
here."
"Here? Oh, yes, I believe I do remember. It was the day we came in my canoe
and had such fine fishing."
"Is that all you remember?"
"I can recollect nothing in particular. It was so long ago."
"I suppose you will say you had no idea why I wanted you to come to this spot
in particular."
"I supposed you simply wanted to take a walk, and it is very pleasant here."
"Then Col. Zane did not tell you?" demanded Alfred. Receiving no reply he went
on.
"Did you read my letter?"
"What letter?"
"The letter old Sam should have given you last fall. Did you read it?"
"Yes," answered Betty, faintly.
"Did your brother tell you I wanted to see you this morning?"
"Yes, he told me, and it made me very angry," said Betty, raising her head.
There was a bright red spot in each cheek. "You--you seemed to think you--that
I--well--I did not like it."
"I think I understand; but you are entirely wrong. I have never thought you
cared for me. My wildest dreams never left me any confidence. Col. Zane and
Wetzel both had some deluded notion that you cared--"
"But they had no right to say that or to think it," said Betty, passionately.
She sprang to her feet, scattering the daisies over the grass. "For them to
presume that I cared for you is absurd. I never gave them any reason to think
so, for--for I--I don't."
"Very well, then, there is nothing more to be said," answered Alfred, in a
voice that was calm and slightly cold. "I'm sorry if you have been annoyed. I
have been mad, of course, but I promise you that you need fear no further
annoyance from me. Come, I think we should return to the house."
And he turned and walked slowly up the path. He had taken perhaps a dozen
steps when she called him.
"Mr. Clarke, come back."
Alfred retraced his steps and stood before her again. Then he saw a different
Betty. The haughty poise had disappeared. Her head was bowed. Her little hands
were tightly pressed over a throbbing bosom.
"Well," said Alfred, after a moment.
"Why--why are you in such a hurry to go?"
"I have learned what I wanted to know. And after that I do not imagine I would
be very agreeable. I am going back. Are you coming?"
"I did not mean quite what I said," whispered Betty.
"Then what did you mean?" asked Alfred, in a stern voice.
"I don't know. Please don't speak so."
"Betty, forgive my harshness. Can you expect a man to feel as I do and remain
calm? You know I love you. You must not trifle any longer. You must not fight
any longer."
"But I can't help fighting."
"Look at me," said Alfred, taking her hands. "Let me see your eyes. I believe
you care a little for me, or else you wouldn't have called me back. I love
you. Can you understand that?"
"Yes, I can; and I think you should love me a great deal to make up for what
you made me suffer."
"Betty, look at me."
Slowly she raised her head and lifted the downcast eyes. Those telltale
traitors no longer hid her secret. With a glad cry Alfred caught her in his
arms. She tried to hide her face, but he got his hand under her chin and held
it firmly so that the sweet crimson lips were very near his own. Then he
slowly bent his head.
Betty saw his intention, closed her eyes and whispered.
"Alfred, please don't--it's not fair--I beg of you--Oh!"
That kiss was Betty's undoing. She uttered a strange little cry. Then her dark
head found a hiding place over his heart, and her slender form, which a moment
before had resisted so fiercely, sank yielding into his embrace.
"Betty, do you dare tell me now that you do not care for me?" Alfred whispered
into the dusky hair which rippled over his breast.
Betty was brave even in her surrender. Her hands moved slowly upward along his
arms, slipped over his shoulders, and clasped round his neck. Then she lifted
a flushed and tearstained face with tremulous lips and wonderful shining eyes.
"Alfred, I do love you--with my whole heart I love you. I never knew until
now."
The hours flew apace. The prolonged ringing of the dinner bell brought the
lovers back to earth, and to the realization that the world held others than
themselves. Slowly they climbed the familiar path, but this time as never
before. They walked hand in hand. From the blur they looked back. They wanted
to make sure they were not dreaming. The water rushed over the fall more
musically than ever before; the white patches of foam floated round and round
the shady pool; the leaves of the sycamore rustled cheerily in the breeze. On
a dead branch a wood-packer hammered industriously.
"Before we get out of sight of that dear old tree I want to make a
confession," said Betty, as she stood before Alfred. She was pulling at the
fringe on his hunting-coat.
"You need not make confessions to me."
"But this was dreadful; it preys on my conscience."
"Very well, I will be your judge. Your punishment shall be slight."
"One day when you were lying unconscious from your wound, Bessie sent me to
watch you. I nursed you for hours; and--and--do not think badly of me--I--I
kissed you."
"My darling," cried the enraptured young man.
When they at last reached the house they found Col. Zane on the doorstep.
"Where on earth have you been?" he said. "Wetzel was here. He said he would
not wait to see you. There he goes up the hill. He is behind that laurel."
They looked and presently saw the tall figure of the hunteremerge from the
bushes. He stopped and leaned on his rifle. For a minute he remained
- pasture [´pɑ:stʃə]
n.牧场；放牧 v.吃(草) (初中英语单词) - severe [si´viə] a.严厉的；苛刻的 (初中英语单词)
- actually [´æktʃuəli] ad.事实上；实际上 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- humble [´hʌmbəl] a.谦卑的 vt.贬抑 (初中英语单词)
- suspicion [sə´spiʃən] n.怀(猜)疑；嫌疑 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- dreadful [´dredful] a.可怕的；讨厌的 (初中英语单词)
- satisfaction [,sætis´fækʃən] n.满意；满足 (初中英语单词)
- horrible [´hɔrəbəl] a.可怕的；恐怖的 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- miracle [´mirəkl] n.奇迹；令人惊奇的 (初中英语单词)
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:] ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- lightly [´laitli] ad.轻微地，稍微 (初中英语单词)
- anxiety [æŋ´zaiəti] n.挂念；渴望；焦虑的事 (初中英语单词)
- supreme [su:´pri:m, sju:-] a.最高的，无上的 (初中英语单词)
- assert [ə´sə:t] vt.认定；维护；坚持 (初中英语单词)
- conscious [´kɔnʃəs] a.意识的；自觉的 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- absurd [əb´sə:d] a.荒谬的，可笑的 (初中英语单词)
- slightly [´slaitli] ad.轻微地；细长的 (初中英语单词)
- agreeable [ə´gri:əbəl] a.适合的；符合的 (初中英语单词)
- trifle [´traifəl] n.琐事，小事；少量 (初中英语单词)
- firmly [´fə:mli] ad.坚固地，稳定地 (初中英语单词)
- intention [in´tenʃən] n.意图；打算；意义 (初中英语单词)
- slender [´slendə] a.细长的；微薄的 (初中英语单词)
- fiercely [´fiəsli] ad.凶猛地，残忍地 (初中英语单词)
- surrender [sə´rendə] vt.&n.交出；引渡；放弃 (初中英语单词)
- upward [´ʌpwəd] a.&ad.向上(的)；以上 (初中英语单词)
- realization [,riəlai´zeiʃən] n.实现；认识 (初中英语单词)
- breeze [bri:z] n.微风；不费力的事 (初中英语单词)
- punishment [´pʌniʃmənt] n.罚，刑罚 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- hunter [´hʌntə] n.猎人；猎狗；猎马 (初中英语单词)
- emerge [i´mə:dʒ] vi.出现；显露；暴露 (初中英语单词)
- exquisite [ik´skwizit] a.精巧的；敏锐的 (高中英语单词)
- colonel [´kə:nəl] n.海(陆)军上校 (高中英语单词)
- thrash [θræʃ] v.打(谷)；(用棍)痛打 (高中英语单词)
- severely [si´viəli] ad.剧烈地；严格地 (高中英语单词)
- heroic [hi´rəuik] a.英雄的，英勇的 (高中英语单词)
- thoughtfully [´θɔ:tfuli] ad.深思地；体贴地 (高中英语单词)
- dependent [di´pendənt] a.依赖的；从属的 (高中英语单词)
- haughty [´hɔ:ti] a.傲慢的，高傲的 (高中英语单词)
- tightly [´taitli] ad.紧，紧密地 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- crimson [´krimzən] a.&n.深(紫)红(的) (高中英语单词)
- unconscious [ʌn´kɔnʃəs] a.无意识的；不觉察的 (高中英语单词)
- miller [´milə] n.磨坊主；铣床(工) (英语四级单词)
- binding [´baindiŋ] a.捆绑的 n.捆绑(物) (英语四级单词)
- perplexity [pə´pleksiti] n.困惑；为难；纷乱 (英语四级单词)
- recollect [rekə´lekt] v.重新集合；恢复 (英语四级单词)
- cheerily [´tʃiərili] ad. 高兴地；愉快地 (英语四级单词)
- exultation [egzʌl´teiʃən] n.欢腾，狂欢 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- vividly [´vividli] ad.活泼地；生动地 (英语六级单词)
- outstretched [,aut´stretʃt] a.扩张的；伸长的 (英语六级单词)
- imperious [im´piəriəs] a.傲慢的；紧急的 (英语六级单词)
- sycamore [´sikəmɔ:] n.美国梧桐；枫树 (英语六级单词)
- fleeting [´fli:tiŋ] a.飞逝的，疾驰的 (英语六级单词)
- downcast [´daunkɑ:st] a.沮丧的；向下看的 (英语六级单词)
- tremulous [´tremjuləs] a.发抖的；震颤的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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