Work: A Story of Experience - Chapter 19
时间：2021-01-24 02:39:41
（单词翻译:单击）
WHEN it was all over, the long journey home, the quiet funeral, the first sad excitement, then came the bitter moment when life says to the bereaved1: "Take up your burden and go on alone." Christie's had been the still, tearless grief hardest to bear, most impossible to comfort; and, while Mrs. Sterling2 bore her loss with the sweet patience of a pious3 heart, and Letty mourned her brother with the tender sorrow that finds relief in natural ways, the widow sat among them, as tranquil4, colorless, and mute, as if her soul had followed David, leaving the shadow of her former self behind.
"He will not come to me, but I shall go to him," seemed to be the thought that sustained her, and those who loved her said despairingly to one another: "Her heart is broken: she will not linger long."
But one woman wise in her own motherliness always answered hopefully: "Don't you be troubled; Nater knows what's good for us, and works in her own way. Hearts like this don't break, and sorrer only makes 'em stronger. You mark my words: the blessed baby that's a comin' in the summer will work a merrycle, and you'll see this poor dear a happy woman yet."
Few believed in the prophecy; but Mrs. Wilkins stoutly6 repeated it and watched over Christie like a mother; often trudging7 up the lane in spite of wind or weather to bring some dainty mess, some remarkable8 puzzle in red or yellow calico to be used as a pattern for the little garments the three women sewed with such tender interest, consecrated9 with such tender tears; or news of the war fresh from Lisha who "was goin' to see it through ef he come home without a leg to stand on." A cheery, hopeful, wholesome10 influence she brought with her, and all the house seemed to brighten as she sat there freeing her mind upon every subject that came up, from the delicate little shirts Mrs. Sterling knit in spite of failing eyesight, to the fall of Richmond, which, the prophetic spirit being strong within her, Mrs. Wilkins foretold11 with sibylline12 precision.
She alone could win a faint smile from Christie with some odd saying, some shrewd opinion, and she alone brought tears to the melancholy13 eyes that sorely needed such healing dew; for she carried little Adelaide, and without a word put her into Christie's arms, there to cling and smile and babble14 till she had soothed15 the bitter pain and hunger of a suffering heart.
She and Mr. Power held Christie up through that hard time, ministering to soul and body with their hope and faith till life grew possible again, and from the dust of a great affliction rose the sustaining power she had sought so long.
As spring came on, and victory after victory proclaimed that the war was drawing to an end, Christie's sad resignation was broken, by gusts16 of grief so stormy, so inconsolable, that those about her trembled for her life. It was so hard to see the regiments17 come home proudly bearing the torn battle-flags, weary, wounded, but victorious18, to be rapturously welcomed, thanked, and honored by the grateful country they had served so well; to see all this and think of David in his grave unknown, unrewarded, and forgotten by all but a faithful few.
"I used to dream of a time like this, to hope and plan for it, and cheer myself with the assurance that, after all our hard work, our long separation, and the dangers we had faced, David would get some honor, receive some reward, at least be kept for me to love and serve and live with for a little while. But these men who have merely saved a banner, led a charge, or lost an arm, get all the glory, while he gave his life so nobly; yet few know it, no one thanked him, and I am left desolate19 when so many useless ones might have been taken in his place. Oh, it is not just! I cannot forgive God for robbing him of all his honors, and me of all my happiness."
So lamented20 Christie with the rebellious21 protest of a strong nature learning submission22 through the stern discipline of grief. In vain Mr. Power told her that David had received a better reward than any human hand could give him, in the gratitude23 of many women, the respect of many men. That to do bravely the daily duties of an upright life was more heroic in God's sight, than to achieve in an enthusiastic moment a single deed that won the world's applause; and that the seeming incompleteness of his life was beautifully rounded by the act that caused his death, although no eulogy24 recorded it, no song embalmed25 it, and few knew it but those he saved, those he loved, and the Great Commander who promoted him to the higher rank he had won.
Christie could not be content with this invisible, intangible recompense for her hero: she wanted to see, to know beyond a doubt, that justice had been done; and beat herself against the barrier that baffles bereaved humanity till impatient despair was wearied out, and passionate26 heart gave up the struggle.
Then, when no help seemed possible, she found it where she least expected it, in herself. Searching for religion, she had found love: now seeking to follow love she found religion. The desire for it had never left her, and, while serving others, she was earning this reward; for when her life seemed to lie in ashes, from their midst, this slender spire27 of flame, purifying while it burned, rose trembling toward heaven; showing her how great sacrifices turn to greater compensations; giving her light, warmth, and consolation28, and teaching her the lesson all must learn.
God was very patient with her, sending much help, and letting her climb up to Him by all the tender ways in which aspiring29 souls can lead unhappy hearts.
David's room had been her refuge when those dark hours came, and sitting there one day trying to understand the great mystery that parted her from David, she seemed to receive an answer to her many prayers for some sign that death had not estranged30 them. The house was very still, the window open, and a soft south wind was wandering through the room with hints of May-flowers on its wings. Suddenly a breath of music startled her, so airy, sweet, and short-lived that no human voice or hand could have produced it. Again and again it came, a fitful and melodious31 sigh, that to one made superstitious32 by much sorrow, seemed like a spirit's voice delivering some message from another world.
Christie looked and listened with hushed breath and expectant heart, believing that some special answer was to be given her. But in a moment she saw it was no supernatural sound, only the south wind whispering in David's flute33 that hung beside the window. Disappointment came first, then warm over her sore heart flowed the tender recollection that she used to call the old flute "David's voice," for into it he poured the joy and sorrow, unrest and pain, he told no living soul. How often it had been her lullaby, before she learned to read its language; how gaily34 it had piped for others; how plaintively35 it had sung for him, alone and in the night; and now how full of pathetic music was that hymn36 of consolation fitfully whispered by the wind's soft breath.
Ah, yes! this was a better answer than any supernatural voice could have given her; a more helpful sign than any phantom37 face or hand; a surer confirmation38 of her hope than subtle argument or sacred promise: for it brought back the memory of the living, loving man so vividly39, so tenderly, that Christie felt as if the barrier was down, and welcomed a new sense of David's nearness with the softest tears that had flowed since she closed the serene40 eyes whose last look had been for her.
After that hour she spent the long spring days lying on the old couch in his room, reading his books, thinking of his love and life, and listening to "David's voice." She always heard it now, whether the wind touched the flute with airy fingers or it hung mute; and it sung to her songs of patience, hope, and cheer, till a mysterious peace carne to her, and she discovered in herself the strength she had asked, yet never thought to find. Under the snow, herbs of grace had been growing silently; and, when the heavy rains had melted all the frost away, they sprung up to blossom beautifully in the sun that shines for every spire of grass, and makes it perfect in its time and place.
Mrs. Wilkins was right; for one June morning, when she laid "that blessed baby" in its mother's arms, Christie's first words were:
"Don't let me die: I must live for baby now," and gathered David's little daughter to her breast, as if the soft touch of the fumbling41 hands had healed every wound and brightened all the world.
"I told you so; God bless 'em both!" and Mrs. Wilkins retired42 precipitately43 to the hall, where she sat down upon the stairs and cried most comfortable tears; for her maternal44 heart was full of a thanksgiving too deep for words.
A sweet, secluded45 time to Christie, as she brooded over her little treasure and forgot there was a world outside. A fond and jealous mother, but a very happy one, for after the bitterest came the tenderest experience of her life. She felt its sacredness, its beauty, and its high responsibilities; accepted them prayerfully, and found unspeakable delight in fitting herself to bear them worthily46, always remembering that she had a double duty to perform toward the fatherless little creature given to her care.
It is hardly necessary to mention the changes one small individual made in that feminine household. The purring and clucking that went on; the panics over a pin-prick; the consultations47 over a pellet of chamomilla; the raptures48 at the dawn of a first smile; the solemn prophecies of future beauty, wit, and wisdom in the bud of a woman; the general adoration49 of the entire family at the wicker shrine50 wherein lay the idol51, a mass of flannel52 and cambric with a bald head at one end, and a pair of microscopic53 blue socks at the other. Mysterious little porringers sat unreproved upon the parlor54 fire, small garments aired at every window, lights burned at unholy hours, and three agitated55 nightcaps congregated56 at the faintest chirp57 of the restless bird in the maternal nest.
Of course Grandma grew young again, and produced nursery reminiscences on every occasion; Aunt Letty trotted58 day and night to gratify the imaginary wants of the idol, and Christie was so entirely59 absorbed that the whole South might have been swallowed up by an earthquake without causing her as much consternation60 as the appearance of a slight rash upon the baby.
No flower in David's garden throve like his little June rose, for no wind was allowed to visit her too roughly; and when rain fell without, she took her daily airing in the green-house, where from her mother's arms she soon regarded the gay sight with such sprightly61 satisfaction that she seemed a little flower herself dancing on its stem.
She was named Ruth for grandma, but Christie always called her "Little Heart's-ease," or "Pansy," and those who smiled at first at the mother's fancy, came in time to see that there was an unusual fitness in the name. All the bitterness seemed taken out of Christie's sorrow by the soft magic of the child: there was so much to live for now she spoke62 no more of dying; and, holding that little hand in hers, it grew easier to go on along the way that led to David.
A prouder mother never lived; and, as baby waxed in beauty and in strength, Christie longed for all the world to see her. A sweet, peculiar63, little face she had, sunny and fair; but, under the broad forehead where the bright hair fell as David's used to do, there shone a pair of dark and solemn eyes, so large, so deep, and often so unchildlike, that her mother wondered where she got them. Even when she smiled the shadow lingered in these eyes, and when she wept they filled and overflowed64 with great, quiet tears like flowers too full of dew. Christie often said remorsefully65:
"My little Pansy! I put my own sorrow into your baby soul, and now it looks back at me with this strange wistfulness, and these great drops are the unsubmissive tears I locked up in my heart because I would not be grateful for the good gift God gave me, even while he took that other one away. O Baby, forgive your mother; and don't let her find that she has given you clouds instead of sunshine."
This fear helped Christie to keep her own face cheerful, her own heart tranquil, her own life as sunny, healthful, and hopeful as she wished her child's to be. For this reason she took garden and green-house into her own hands when Bennet gave them up, and, with a stout5 lad to help her, did well this part of the work that David bequeathed to her. It was a pretty sight to see the mother with her year-old daughter out among the fresh, green things: the little golden head bobbing here and there like a stray sunbeam; the baby voice telling sweet, unintelligible66 stories to bird and bee and butterfly; or the small creature fast asleep in a basket under a rose-bush, swinging in a hammock from a tree, or in Bran's keeping, rosy67, vigorous, and sweet with sun and air, and the wholesome influence of a wise and tender love.
While Christie worked she planned her daughter's future, as mothers will, and had but one care concerning it. She did not fear poverty, but the thought of being straitened for the means of educating little Ruth afflicted68 her. She meant to teach her to labor69 heartily70 and see no degradation71 in it, but she could not bear to feel that her child should be denied the harmless pleasures that make youth sweet, the opportunities that educate, the society that ripens72 character and gives a rank which money cannot buy. A little sum to put away for Baby, safe from all risk, ready to draw from as each need came, and sacredly devoted73 to this end, was now Christie's sole ambition.
With this purpose at her heart, she watched her fruit and nursed her flowers; found no task too hard, no sun too hot, no weed too unconquerable; and soon the garden David planted when his life seemed barren, yielded lovely harvests to swell74 his little daughter's portion.
One day Christie received a letter from Uncle Enos expressing a wish to see her if she cared to come so far and "stop a spell." It both surprised and pleased her, and she resolved to go, glad that the old man remembered her, and proud to show him the great success of her life, as she considered Baby.
So she went, was hospitably75 received by the ancient cousin five times removed who kept house, and greeted with as much cordiality as Uncle Enos ever showed to any one. He looked askance at Baby, as if he had not bargained for the honor of her presence; but he said nothing, and Christie wisely refrained from mentioning that Ruth was the most remarkable child ever born.
She soon felt at home, and went about the old house visiting familiar nooks with the bitter, sweet satisfaction of such returns. It was sad to miss Aunt Betsey in the big kitchen, strange to see Uncle Enos sit all day in his arm-chair too helpless now to plod76 about the farm and carry terror to the souls of those who served him. He was still a crabbed77, gruff, old man; but the narrow, hard, old heart was a little softer than it used to be; and he sometimes betrayed the longing78 for his kindred that the aged79 often feel when infirmity makes them desire tenderer props80 than any they can hire.
Christie saw this wish, and tried to gratify it with a dutiful affection which could not fail to win its way. Baby unconsciously lent a hand, for Uncle Enos could not long withstand the sweet enticements of this little kinswoman. He did not own the conquest in words, but was seen to cuddle his small captivator in private; allowed all sorts of liberties with his spectacles, his pockets, and bald pate81; and never seemed more comfortable than when she confiscated82 his newspaper, and sitting on his knee read it to him in a pretty language of her own.
"She's a good little gal83; looks consid'able like you; but you warn't never such a quiet puss as she is," he said one day, as the child was toddling84 about the room with an old doll of her mother's lately disinterred from its tomb in the garret.
"She is like her father in that. But I get quieter as I grow old, uncle," answered Christie, who sat sewing near him.
"You be growing old, that's a fact; but somehow it's kind of becomin'. I never thought you'd be so much of a lady, and look so well after all you've ben through," added Uncle Enos, vainly trying to discover what made Christie's manners so agreeable in spite of her plain dress, and her face so pleasant in spite of the gray hair at her temples and the lines about her mouth.
It grew still pleasanter to see as she smiled and looked up at him with the soft yet bright expression that always made him think of her mother.
"I'm glad you don't consider me an entire failure, uncle. You know you predicted it. But though I have gone through a good deal, I don't regret my attempt, and when I look at Pansy I feel as if I'd made a grand success."
"You haven't made much money, I guess. If you don't mind tellin', what have you got to live on?" asked the old man, unwilling85 to acknowledge any life a success, if dollars and cents were left out of it.
"Only David's pension and what I can make by my garden."
"The old lady has to have some on't, don't she?" "She has a little money of her own; but I see that she and Letty have two-thirds of all I make."
"That ain't a fair bargain if you do all the work." "Ah, but we don't make bargains, sir: we work for one another and share every thing together."
"SHE'S A GOOD LITTLE GAL! LOOKS CONSID'ABLE LIKE YOU."
"How are you goin' to eddicate the little gal? I s'pose you think as much of culter and so on as ever you did," he presently added with a gruff laugh.
"More," answered Christie, smiling too, as she remembered the old quarrels. "I shall earn the money, sir. If the garden fails I can teach, nurse, sew, write, cook even, for I've half a dozen useful accomplishments88 at my fingers' ends, thanks to the education you and dear Aunt Betsey gave me, and I may have to use them all for Pansy's sake."
Pleased by the compliment, yet a little conscience-stricken at the small share he deserved of it, Uncle Enos sat rubbing up his glasses a minute, before he led to the subject he had in his mind.
"Ef you fall sick or die, what then?"
"I've thought of that," and Christie caught up the child as if her love could keep even death at bay. But Pansy soon struggled down again, for the dirty-faced doll was taking a walk and could not be detained. "If I am taken from her, then my little girl must do as her mother did. God has orphans89 in His special care, and He won't forget her I am sure."
Uncle Enos had a coughing spell just then; and, when he got over it, he said with an effort, for even to talk of giving away his substance cost him a pang90:
"I'm gettin' into years now, and it's about time I fixed up matters in case I'm took suddin'. I always meant to give you a little suthing, but as you didn't ask for't, I took good care on 't, and it ain't none the worse for waitin' a spell. I jest speak on't, so you needn't be anxious about the little gal. It ain't much, but it will make things easy I reckon."
"You are very kind, uncle; and I am more grateful than I can tell. I don't want a penny for myself, but I should love to know that my daughter was to have an easier life than mine."
"I s'pose you thought of that when you come so quick?" said the old man, with a suspicious look, that made Christie's eyes kindle91 as they used to years ago, but she answered honestly:
"I did think of it and hope it, yet I should have come quicker if you had been in the poor-house."
Neither spoke for a minute; for, in spite of generosity92 and gratitude, the two natures struck fire when they met as inevitably93 as flint and steel.
"What's your opinion of missionaries," asked Uncle Enos, after a spell of meditation94.
"If I had any money to leave them, I should bequeath it to those who help the heathen here at home, and should let the innocent Feejee Islanders worship their idols95 a little longer in benighted96 peace," answered Christie, in her usual decided97 way.
"That's my idee exactly; but it's uncommon98 hard to settle which of them that stays at home you'll trust your money to. You see Betsey was always pesterin' me to give to charity things; but I told her it was better to save up and give it in a handsome lump that looked well, and was a credit to you. When she was dyin' she reminded me on't, and I promised I'd do suthing before I follered. I've been turnin' on't over in my mind for a number of months, and I don't seem to find any thing that's jest right. You've ben round among the charity folks lately accordin' to your tell, now what would you do if you had a tidy little sum to dispose on?"
"Help the Freed people."
The answer came so quick that it nearly took the old gentleman's breath away, and he looked at his niece with his mouth open after an involuntary, "Sho!" had escaped him.
"David helped give them their liberty, and I would so gladly help them to enjoy it!" cried Christie, all the old enthusiasm blazing up, but with a clearer, steadier flame than in the days when she dreamed splendid dreams by the kitchen fire.
"Well, no, that wouldn't meet my views. What else is there?" asked the old man quite unwarmed by her benevolent99 ardor100.
"Wounded soldiers, destitute101 children, ill-paid women, young people struggling for independence, homes, hospitals, schools, churches, and God's charity all over the world."
"That's the pesky part on 't: there's such a lot to choose from; I don't know much about any of 'em," began Uncle Enos, looking like a perplexed102 raven103 with a treasure which it cannot decide where to hide.
"Whose fault is that, sir?"
The question hit the old man full in the conscience, and he winced104, remembering how many of Betsey's charitable impulses he had nipped in the bud, and now all the accumulated alms she would have been so glad to scatter105 weighed upon him heavily. He rubbed his bald head with a yellow bandana, and moved uneasily in his chair, as if he wanted to get up and finish the neglected job that made his helplessness so burdensome.
"I'll ponder on 't a spell, and make up my mind," was all he said, and never renewed the subject again.
But he had very little time to ponder, and he never did make up his mind; for a few months after Christie's long visit ended, Uncle Enos "was took suddin'," and left all he had to her.
Not an immense fortune, but far larger than she expected, and great was her anxiety to use wisely this unlooked-for benefaction. She was very grateful, but she kept nothing for herself, feeling that David's pension was enough, and preferring the small sum he earned so dearly to the thousands the old man had hoarded106 up for years. A good portion was put by for Ruth, something for "mother and Letty" that want might never touch them, and the rest she kept for David's work, believing that, so spent, the money would be blest.
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1
bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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stout
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| adj.强壮的，粗大的，结实的，勇猛的，矮胖的 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sibylline
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| adj.预言的；神巫的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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eulogy
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| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
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embalmed
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| adj.用防腐药物保存（尸体）的v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的过去式和过去分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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estranged
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| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
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melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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39
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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40
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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41
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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42
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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43
precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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44
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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45
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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46
worthily
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| 重要地，可敬地，正当地 | |
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47
consultations
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| n.磋商（会议）( consultation的名词复数 )；商讨会；协商会；查找 | |
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48
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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49
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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50
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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51
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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52
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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53
microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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54
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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55
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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56
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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58
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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59
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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60
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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61
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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62
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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63
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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remorsefully
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| adv.极为懊悔地 | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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ripens
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的第三人称单数 ) | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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74
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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75
hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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76
plod
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| v.沉重缓慢地走，孜孜地工作 | |
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77
crabbed
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| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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80
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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81
pate
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| n.头顶；光顶 | |
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82
confiscated
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| 没收，充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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84
toddling
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的现在分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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85
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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86
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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87
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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88
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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89
orphans
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| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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90
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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91
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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92
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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93
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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94
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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95
idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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96
benighted
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| adj.蒙昧的 | |
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97
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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98
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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99
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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100
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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101
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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102
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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103
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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104
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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106
hoarded
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| v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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