章节正文
"'Where there is a will there is always a way.'"
"That's just what Ursula Townley said when her father locked her
in her room the night she was going to run away with Kenneth
MacNair," said the Story Girl.
We pricked up our ears, scenting a story.
"Who were Ursula Townley and Kenneth MacNair?" I asked.
"Kenneth MacNair was a first cousin of the Awkward Man's
grandfather, and Ursula Townley was the belle of the Island in her
day. Who do you suppose told me the story--no, read it to me, out
of his brown book?"
"Never the Awkward Man himself!" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Yes, he did," said the Story Girl triumphantly. "I met him one
day last week back in the maple woods when I was looking for
ferns. He was sitting by the spring, writing in his brown book.
He hid it when he saw me and looked real silly; but after I had
talked to him awhile I just asked him about it, and told him that
the gossips said he wrote poetry in it, and if he did would he
tell me, because I was dying to know. He said he wrote a little
of everything in it; and then I begged him to read me something
out of it, and he read me the story of Ursula and Kenneth."
"I don't see how you ever had the face," said Felicity; and even
Cecily looked as if she thought the Story Girl had gone rather
far.
"Never mind that," cried Felix, "but tell us the story. That's
the main thing."
"I'll tell it just as the Awkward Man read it, as far as I can,"
said the Story Girl, "but I can't put all his nice poetical
touches in, because I can't remember them all, though he read it
over twice for me."
CHAPTER II
A WILL, A WAY AND A WOMAN
"One day, over a hundred years ago, Ursula Townley was waiting for
Kenneth MacNair in a great beechwood, where brown nuts were
falling and an October wind was making the leaves dance on the
ground like pixy-people."
"What are pixy-people?" demanded Peter, forgetting the Story
Girl's dislike of interruptions.
"Hush," whispered Cecily. "That is only one of the Awkward Man's
poetical touches, I guess."
"There were cultivated fields between the grove and the dark blue
gulf; but far behind and on each side were woods, for Prince
Edward Island a hundred years ago was not what it is today. The
settlements were few and scattered, and the population so scanty
that old Hugh Townley boasted that he knew every man, woman and
child in it.
"Old Hugh was quite a noted man in his day. He was noted for
several things--he was rich, he was hospitable, he was proud, he
was masterful--and he had for daughter the handsomest young woman
in Prince Edward Island.
"Of course, the young men were not blind to her good looks, and
she had so many lovers that all the other girls hated her--"
"You bet!" said Dan, aside--
"But the only one who found favour in her eyes was the very last
man she should have pitched her fancy on, at least if old Hugh
were the judge. Kenneth MacNair was a dark-eyed young sea-captain
of the next settlement, and it was to meet him that Ursula stole
to the beechwood on that autumn day of crisp wind and ripe
sunshine. Old Hugh had forbidden his house to the young man,
making such a scene of fury about it that even Ursula's high
spirit quailed. Old Hugh had really nothing against Kenneth
himself; but years before either Kenneth or Ursula was born,
Kenneth's father had beaten Hugh Townley in a hotly contested
election. Political feeling ran high in those days, and old Hugh
had never forgiven" target="_blank" title="forgive的过去分词">forgiven the MacNair his victory. The feud between the
families dated from that tempest in the provincial teapot, and the
surplus of votes on the wrong side was the reason why, thirty
years after, Ursula had to meet her lover by stealth if she met
him at all."
"Was the MacNair a Conservative or a Grit?" asked Felicity.
"It doesn't make any difference what he was," said the Story Girl
impatiently. "Even a Tory would be romantic a hundred years ago.
Well, Ursula couldn't see Kenneth very often, for Kenneth lived
fifteen miles away and was often absent from home in his vessel.
On this particular day it was nearly three months since they had
met.
"The Sunday before, young Sandy MacNair had been in Carlyle
church. He had risen at dawn that morning, walked bare-footed for
eight miles along the shore, carrying his shoes, hired a harbour
fisherman to row him over the channel, and then walked eight miles
more to the church at Carlyle, less, it is to be feared, from a
zeal for holy things than that he might do an errand for his
adored brother, Kenneth. He carried a letter which he contrived
to pass into Ursula's hand in the crowd as the people came out.
This letter asked Ursula to meet Kenneth in the beechwood the next
afternoon, and so she stole away there when suspicious father and
watchful stepmother thought she was spinning in the granary loft."
"It was very wrong of her to deceive her parents," said Felicity
primly.
The Story Girl couldn't deny this, so she evaded the ethical side
of the question skilfully.
"I am not telling you what Ursula Townley ought to have done," she
said loftily. "I am only telling you what she DID do. If you
don't want to hear it you needn't listen, of course. There
wouldn't be many stories to tell if nobody ever did anything she
shouldn't do.
"Well, when Kenneth came, the meeting was just what might have
been expected between two lovers who had taken their last kiss
three months before. So it was a good half-hour before Ursula
said,
"'Oh, Kenneth, I cannot stay long--I shall be missed. You said in
your letter that you had something important to talk of. What is
it?'
"'My news is this, Ursula. Next Saturday morning my vessel, The
Fair Lady, with her captain on board, sails at dawn from
Charlottetown harbour, bound for Buenos Ayres. At this season
this means a safe and sure return--next May.'
"'Kenneth!' cried Ursula. She turned pale and burst into tears.
'How can you think of leaving me? Oh, you are cruel!'
"'Why, no, sweetheart,' laughed Kenneth. 'The captain of The Fair
Lady will take his bride with him. We'll spend our honeymoon on
the high seas, Ursula, and the cold Canadian winter under southern
palms.'
"'You want me to run away with you, Kenneth?' exclaimed Ursula.
"'Indeed, dear girl, there's nothing else to do!'
"'Oh, I cannot!' she protested. 'My father would--'
"'We'll not consult him--until afterward. Come, Ursula, you know
there's no other way. We've always known it must come to this.
YOUR father will never forgive me for MY father. You won't fail
me now. Think of the long parting if you send me away alone on
such a voyage. Pluck up your courage, and we'll let Townleys and
MacNairs whistle their mouldy feuds down the wind while we sail
southward in The Fair Lady. I have a plan.'
"'Let me hear it,' said Ursula, beginning to get back her breath.
"'There is to be a dance at The Springs Friday night. Are you
invited, Ursula?'
"'Yes.'
"'Good. I am not--but I shall be there--in the fir grove behind
the house, with two horses. When the dancing is at its height
you'll steal out to meet me. Then 'tis but a fifteen mile ride to
Charlottetown, where a good minister, who is a friend of mine,
will be ready to marry us. By the time the dancers have tired
their heels you and I will be on our vessel, able to snap our
fingers at fate.'
"'And what if I do not meet you in the fir grove?' said Ursula, a
little impertinently.
"'If you do not, I'll sail for South America the next morning, and
many a long year will pass ere Kenneth MacNair comes home again.'
"Perhaps Kenneth didn't mean that, but Ursula thought he did, and
it decided her. She agreed to run away with him. Yes, of course
that was wrong, too, Felicity. She ought to have said, 'No, I
shall be married respectably from home, and have a wedding and a
silk dress and bridesmaids and lots of presents.' But she didn't.
She wasn't as prudent as Felicity King would have been."
"She was a shameless hussy," said Felicity, venting on the long-
dead Ursula that anger she dare not visit on the Story Girl.
"Oh, no, Felicity dear, she was just a lass of spirit. I'd have
done the same. And when Friday night came she began to dress for
the dance with a brave heart. She was to go to The Springs with
her uncle and aunt, who were coming on horseback that afternoon,
and would then go on to The Springs in old Hugh's carriage, which
was the only one in Carlyle then. They were to leave in time to
reach The Springs before nightfall, for the October nights were
dark and the wooded roads rough for travelling.
"When Ursula was ready she looked at herself in the glass with a
good deal of satisfaction. Yes, Felicity, she was a vain baggage,
that same Ursula, but that kind didn't all die out a hundred years
ago. And she had good reason for being vain. She wore the sea-
green silk which had been brought out from England a year before
and worn but once--at the Christmas ball at Government House. A
fine, stiff, rustling silk it was, and over it shone Ursula's
crimson cheeks and gleaming eyes, and masses of nut brown hair.
"As she turned from the glass she heard her father's voice below,
loud and angry. Growing very pale, she ran out into the hall.
Her father was already half way upstairs, his face red with fury.
In the hall below Ursula saw her step-mother, looking troubled and
vexed. At the door stood Malcolm Ramsay, a homely neighbour youth
who had been courting Ursula in his clumsy way ever since she grew
up. Ursula had always hated him.
"'Ursula!' shouted old Hugh, 'come here and tell this scoundrel he
lies. He says that you met Kenneth MacNair in the beechgrove last
Tuesday. Tell him he lies! Tell him he lies!'
"Ursula was no coward. She looked scornfully at poor Ramsay.
"'The creature is a spy and a tale-bearer,' she said, 'but in this
he does not lie. I DID meet Kenneth MacNair last Tuesday.'
"'And you dare to tell me this to my face!' roared old Hugh.
'Back to your room, girl! Back to your room and stay there! Take
off that finery. You go to no more dances. You shall stay in
that room until I choose to let you out. No, not a word! I'll put
you there if you don't go. In with you--ay, and take your
knitting with you. Occupy yourself with that this evening instead
of kicking your heels at The Springs!'
"He snatched a roll of gray stocking from the hall table and flung
it into Ursula's room. Ursula knew she would have to follow it,
or be picked up and carried in like a naughty child. So she gave
the miserable Ramsay a look that made him cringe, and swept into
her room with her head in the air. The next moment she heard the
door locked behind her. Her first proceeding was to have a cry of
anger and shame and disappointment. That did no good, and then
she took to marching up and down her room. It did not calm her to
hear the rumble of the carriage out of the gate as her uncle and
aunt departed.
"'Oh, what's to be done?' she sobbed. 'Kenneth will be furious.
He will think I have failed him and he will go away hot with anger
against me. If I could only send a word of explanation I know he
would not leave me. But there seems to be no way at all--though I
have heard that there's always a way when there's a will. Oh, I
shall go mad! If the window were not so high I would jump out of
it. But to break my legs or my neck would not mend the matter.'
"The afternoon passed on. At sunset Ursula heard hoof-beats and
ran to the window. Andrew Kinnear of The Springs was tying his
horse at the door. He was a dashing young fellow, and a political
"That's just what Ursula Townley said when her father locked her
in her room the night she was going to run away with Kenneth
MacNair," said the Story Girl.
We pricked up our ears, scenting a story.
"Who were Ursula Townley and Kenneth MacNair?" I asked.
"Kenneth MacNair was a first cousin of the Awkward Man's
grandfather, and Ursula Townley was the belle of the Island in her
day. Who do you suppose told me the story--no, read it to me, out
of his brown book?"
"Never the Awkward Man himself!" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Yes, he did," said the Story Girl triumphantly. "I met him one
day last week back in the maple woods when I was looking for
ferns. He was sitting by the spring, writing in his brown book.
He hid it when he saw me and looked real silly; but after I had
talked to him awhile I just asked him about it, and told him that
the gossips said he wrote poetry in it, and if he did would he
tell me, because I was dying to know. He said he wrote a little
of everything in it; and then I begged him to read me something
out of it, and he read me the story of Ursula and Kenneth."
"I don't see how you ever had the face," said Felicity; and even
Cecily looked as if she thought the Story Girl had gone rather
far.
"Never mind that," cried Felix, "but tell us the story. That's
the main thing."
"I'll tell it just as the Awkward Man read it, as far as I can,"
said the Story Girl, "but I can't put all his nice poetical
touches in, because I can't remember them all, though he read it
over twice for me."
CHAPTER II
A WILL, A WAY AND A WOMAN
"One day, over a hundred years ago, Ursula Townley was waiting for
Kenneth MacNair in a great beechwood, where brown nuts were
falling and an October wind was making the leaves dance on the
ground like pixy-people."
"What are pixy-people?" demanded Peter, forgetting the Story
Girl's dislike of interruptions.
"Hush," whispered Cecily. "That is only one of the Awkward Man's
poetical touches, I guess."
"There were cultivated fields between the grove and the dark blue
gulf; but far behind and on each side were woods, for Prince
Edward Island a hundred years ago was not what it is today. The
settlements were few and scattered, and the population so scanty
that old Hugh Townley boasted that he knew every man, woman and
child in it.
"Old Hugh was quite a noted man in his day. He was noted for
several things--he was rich, he was hospitable, he was proud, he
was masterful--and he had for daughter the handsomest young woman
in Prince Edward Island.
"Of course, the young men were not blind to her good looks, and
she had so many lovers that all the other girls hated her--"
"You bet!" said Dan, aside--
"But the only one who found favour in her eyes was the very last
man she should have pitched her fancy on, at least if old Hugh
were the judge. Kenneth MacNair was a dark-eyed young sea-captain
of the next settlement, and it was to meet him that Ursula stole
to the beechwood on that autumn day of crisp wind and ripe
sunshine. Old Hugh had forbidden his house to the young man,
making such a scene of fury about it that even Ursula's high
spirit quailed. Old Hugh had really nothing against Kenneth
himself; but years before either Kenneth or Ursula was born,
Kenneth's father had beaten Hugh Townley in a hotly contested
election. Political feeling ran high in those days, and old Hugh
had never forgiven" target="_blank" title="forgive的过去分词">forgiven the MacNair his victory. The feud between the
families dated from that tempest in the provincial teapot, and the
surplus of votes on the wrong side was the reason why, thirty
years after, Ursula had to meet her lover by stealth if she met
him at all."
"Was the MacNair a Conservative or a Grit?" asked Felicity.
"It doesn't make any difference what he was," said the Story Girl
impatiently. "Even a Tory would be romantic a hundred years ago.
Well, Ursula couldn't see Kenneth very often, for Kenneth lived
fifteen miles away and was often absent from home in his vessel.
On this particular day it was nearly three months since they had
met.
"The Sunday before, young Sandy MacNair had been in Carlyle
church. He had risen at dawn that morning, walked bare-footed for
eight miles along the shore, carrying his shoes, hired a harbour
fisherman to row him over the channel, and then walked eight miles
more to the church at Carlyle, less, it is to be feared, from a
zeal for holy things than that he might do an errand for his
adored brother, Kenneth. He carried a letter which he contrived
to pass into Ursula's hand in the crowd as the people came out.
This letter asked Ursula to meet Kenneth in the beechwood the next
afternoon, and so she stole away there when suspicious father and
watchful stepmother thought she was spinning in the granary loft."
"It was very wrong of her to deceive her parents," said Felicity
primly.
The Story Girl couldn't deny this, so she evaded the ethical side
of the question skilfully.
"I am not telling you what Ursula Townley ought to have done," she
said loftily. "I am only telling you what she DID do. If you
don't want to hear it you needn't listen, of course. There
wouldn't be many stories to tell if nobody ever did anything she
shouldn't do.
"Well, when Kenneth came, the meeting was just what might have
been expected between two lovers who had taken their last kiss
three months before. So it was a good half-hour before Ursula
said,
"'Oh, Kenneth, I cannot stay long--I shall be missed. You said in
your letter that you had something important to talk of. What is
it?'
"'My news is this, Ursula. Next Saturday morning my vessel, The
Fair Lady, with her captain on board, sails at dawn from
Charlottetown harbour, bound for Buenos Ayres. At this season
this means a safe and sure return--next May.'
"'Kenneth!' cried Ursula. She turned pale and burst into tears.
'How can you think of leaving me? Oh, you are cruel!'
"'Why, no, sweetheart,' laughed Kenneth. 'The captain of The Fair
Lady will take his bride with him. We'll spend our honeymoon on
the high seas, Ursula, and the cold Canadian winter under southern
palms.'
"'You want me to run away with you, Kenneth?' exclaimed Ursula.
"'Indeed, dear girl, there's nothing else to do!'
"'Oh, I cannot!' she protested. 'My father would--'
"'We'll not consult him--until afterward. Come, Ursula, you know
there's no other way. We've always known it must come to this.
YOUR father will never forgive me for MY father. You won't fail
me now. Think of the long parting if you send me away alone on
such a voyage. Pluck up your courage, and we'll let Townleys and
MacNairs whistle their mouldy feuds down the wind while we sail
southward in The Fair Lady. I have a plan.'
"'Let me hear it,' said Ursula, beginning to get back her breath.
"'There is to be a dance at The Springs Friday night. Are you
invited, Ursula?'
"'Yes.'
"'Good. I am not--but I shall be there--in the fir grove behind
the house, with two horses. When the dancing is at its height
you'll steal out to meet me. Then 'tis but a fifteen mile ride to
Charlottetown, where a good minister, who is a friend of mine,
will be ready to marry us. By the time the dancers have tired
their heels you and I will be on our vessel, able to snap our
fingers at fate.'
"'And what if I do not meet you in the fir grove?' said Ursula, a
little impertinently.
"'If you do not, I'll sail for South America the next morning, and
many a long year will pass ere Kenneth MacNair comes home again.'
"Perhaps Kenneth didn't mean that, but Ursula thought he did, and
it decided her. She agreed to run away with him. Yes, of course
that was wrong, too, Felicity. She ought to have said, 'No, I
shall be married respectably from home, and have a wedding and a
silk dress and bridesmaids and lots of presents.' But she didn't.
She wasn't as prudent as Felicity King would have been."
"She was a shameless hussy," said Felicity, venting on the long-
dead Ursula that anger she dare not visit on the Story Girl.
"Oh, no, Felicity dear, she was just a lass of spirit. I'd have
done the same. And when Friday night came she began to dress for
the dance with a brave heart. She was to go to The Springs with
her uncle and aunt, who were coming on horseback that afternoon,
and would then go on to The Springs in old Hugh's carriage, which
was the only one in Carlyle then. They were to leave in time to
reach The Springs before nightfall, for the October nights were
dark and the wooded roads rough for travelling.
"When Ursula was ready she looked at herself in the glass with a
good deal of satisfaction. Yes, Felicity, she was a vain baggage,
that same Ursula, but that kind didn't all die out a hundred years
ago. And she had good reason for being vain. She wore the sea-
green silk which had been brought out from England a year before
and worn but once--at the Christmas ball at Government House. A
fine, stiff, rustling silk it was, and over it shone Ursula's
crimson cheeks and gleaming eyes, and masses of nut brown hair.
"As she turned from the glass she heard her father's voice below,
loud and angry. Growing very pale, she ran out into the hall.
Her father was already half way upstairs, his face red with fury.
In the hall below Ursula saw her step-mother, looking troubled and
vexed. At the door stood Malcolm Ramsay, a homely neighbour youth
who had been courting Ursula in his clumsy way ever since she grew
up. Ursula had always hated him.
"'Ursula!' shouted old Hugh, 'come here and tell this scoundrel he
lies. He says that you met Kenneth MacNair in the beechgrove last
Tuesday. Tell him he lies! Tell him he lies!'
"Ursula was no coward. She looked scornfully at poor Ramsay.
"'The creature is a spy and a tale-bearer,' she said, 'but in this
he does not lie. I DID meet Kenneth MacNair last Tuesday.'
"'And you dare to tell me this to my face!' roared old Hugh.
'Back to your room, girl! Back to your room and stay there! Take
off that finery. You go to no more dances. You shall stay in
that room until I choose to let you out. No, not a word! I'll put
you there if you don't go. In with you--ay, and take your
knitting with you. Occupy yourself with that this evening instead
of kicking your heels at The Springs!'
"He snatched a roll of gray stocking from the hall table and flung
it into Ursula's room. Ursula knew she would have to follow it,
or be picked up and carried in like a naughty child. So she gave
the miserable Ramsay a look that made him cringe, and swept into
her room with her head in the air. The next moment she heard the
door locked behind her. Her first proceeding was to have a cry of
anger and shame and disappointment. That did no good, and then
she took to marching up and down her room. It did not calm her to
hear the rumble of the carriage out of the gate as her uncle and
aunt departed.
"'Oh, what's to be done?' she sobbed. 'Kenneth will be furious.
He will think I have failed him and he will go away hot with anger
against me. If I could only send a word of explanation I know he
would not leave me. But there seems to be no way at all--though I
have heard that there's always a way when there's a will. Oh, I
shall go mad! If the window were not so high I would jump out of
it. But to break my legs or my neck would not mend the matter.'
"The afternoon passed on. At sunset Ursula heard hoof-beats and
ran to the window. Andrew Kinnear of The Springs was tying his
horse at the door. He was a dashing young fellow, and a political
- writing [´raitiŋ]
n.书写；写作；书法 (初中英语单词) - awhile [ə´wail] ad.少顷；片刻 (初中英语单词)
- poetry [´pəuitri] n.诗；诗意 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- dislike [dis´laik] vt.&n.不喜爱，厌恶 (初中英语单词)
- prince [´prins] n.王子；亲王；君主 (初中英语单词)
- beaten [´bi:tn] beat 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- victory [´viktəri] n.胜利，战胜 (初中英语单词)
- romantic [rəu´mæntik] a.传奇(式)的；浪漫的 (初中英语单词)
- absent [´æbsənt, əb´sent] a.不在的 vt.使缺席 (初中英语单词)
- channel [´tʃænəl] n.海峡；航道；途径 (初中英语单词)
- errand [´erənd] n.差使，使命 (初中英语单词)
- deceive [di´si:v] vt.欺骗，欺诈 (初中英语单词)
- vessel [´vesəl] n.容器；船；脉管 (初中英语单词)
- canadian [kə´neidiən] a.加拿大的n.加拿大人 (初中英语单词)
- consult [kən´sʌlt] v.商量；磋商；请教 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- voyage [´vɔi-idʒ] n.&vi.航海；航程；旅行 (初中英语单词)
- whistle [´wisəl] v.吹哨 n.口哨；汽笛 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- minister [´ministə] n.部长；大臣 v.伺候 (初中英语单词)
- wedding [´wediŋ] n.婚礼，结婚 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- satisfaction [,sætis´fækʃən] n.满意；满足 (初中英语单词)
- coward [´kauəd] n.胆怯者 a.胆小的 (初中英语单词)
- stocking [´stɔkiŋ] n.长统袜 (初中英语单词)
- miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- disappointment [,disə´pɔintmənt] n.失望；挫折 (初中英语单词)
- explanation [,eksplə´neiʃən] n.解释；说明；辩解 (初中英语单词)
- sunset [´sʌnset] n.日落；晚霞 (初中英语单词)
- awkward [´ɔ:kwəd] a.笨拙的；为难的 (高中英语单词)
- forbidden [fə´bidn] forbid的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- tempest [´tempist] n.暴风雨 (高中英语单词)
- conservative [kən´sə:vətiv] a.保守的 n.保守者 (高中英语单词)
- suspicious [sə´spiʃəs] a.可疑的，多疑的 (高中英语单词)
- spinning [´spiniŋ] n.纺织 a.纺织品的 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- prudent [´pru:dənt] a.谨慎的；精明的 (高中英语单词)
- horseback [´hɔ:sbæk] n.马背 (高中英语单词)
- homely [´həumli] a.朴素的；不漂亮的 (高中英语单词)
- clumsy [´klʌmzi] a.笨拙的；粗俗的 (高中英语单词)
- naughty [´nɔ:ti] a.顽皮的；下流的 (高中英语单词)
- proceeding [prə´si:diŋ] n.程序；进程；行动 (高中英语单词)
- rumble [´rʌmbəl] v.(使)隆隆响 n.隆隆声 (高中英语单词)
- triumphantly [trai´ʌmfəntli] ad.胜利地；洋洋得意地 (英语四级单词)
- hospitable [´hɔspitəbəl] a.好客的；招待周到的 (英语四级单词)
- forgiven [fə´givn] forgive的过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- provincial [prə´vinʃəl] a.省的 n.外省人 (英语四级单词)
- honeymoon [´hʌnimu:n] n.蜜月 (英语四级单词)
- parting [´pɑ:tiŋ] a.&n.分离(的) (英语四级单词)
- wooded [´wudid] a.多树林的 (英语四级单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- felicity [fi´lisiti] n.幸福；(措词)适当 (英语六级单词)
- cultivated [´kʌltiveitid] a.在耕作的；有教养的 (英语六级单词)
- stepmother [´step,mʌðə] n.继母，后母 (英语六级单词)
- half-hour [´hɑ:f-auə] n.&a.(每)三十分钟的 (英语六级单词)
- nightfall [´nait,fɔ:l] n.黄昏；傍晚 (英语六级单词)
- scoundrel [´skaundrəl] n.&a.无赖(的) (英语六级单词)
- dashing [´dæʃiŋ] a.勇猛的；生气勃勃的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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