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He scarcely admitted his intention even to himself. He kept it as a secret even from himself. It was all too uncertain as yet. He would have to see how things went. Yes, he would have to see how things went. If he wasn't careful, she would just simply mock at the idea. He knew, sly and subtle as he was, that if he went to her plainly and said: "Miss March, I love you and want you to marry me, " her inevitable answer would be: "Get out. I don't want any of that tomfoolery. " This was her attitude to men and their't omfoolery. If he was not careful, she would turn round on him with her savage, sardonic ridicule, and dismiss him from the farm and from her own mind for ever. He would have to go gently. He would have to catch her as you catch a deer or a woodcock when you go out shooting. It's no good walking out into the forest and saying to the deer: Please fall to my gun. No, it is a slow, subtle battle. When you really go out to get a deer, you gather yourself together, you coil yourself inside yourself, and you advance secretly, before dawn, into the mountains. It is not so much what you do, when you go out hunting, as how you feel. You have to be subtle and cunning and absolutely fatally ready. It becomes like a fate. Your own fate overtakes and determines the fate of the deer you are hunting. First of all, even before you come in sight of your quarry, there is a strange battle, like mesmerism. Your own soul, as a hunter, has gone out to fasten on the soul of the deer, even before you see any deer. And the soul of the deer fights to escape. Even before the deer has any wind of you, it is so. It is a subtle, profound battle of wills which takes place in the invisible. And it is a battle never finished till your bullet goes home. When you are really worked up to the true pitch, and you come at last into range, you don't then aim as you do when you are firing at a bottle. It is your own will which carries the bullet into the heart of your quarry. The bullet's flight home is a sheer projection of your own fate into the fate of the deer. It happens like a supreme wish, a supreme act of volition, not as a dodge of cleverness.
他甚至对自己都不肯承认这个意图。他甚至对自己也想隐瞒。现在一切都还不确定呢。他得看看事情会怎样发展。是的，他是得看看事情会怎样发展。如果他不小心的话，她只会嘲笑这种想法。他知道，尽管自己一向机灵狡猾，可是如果他直接走向她，说： “马奇小姐，我爱你，我希望你能嫁给我。” 她一定会说： “走开。别再让我看到这种蠢事。” 这就是她对于男人们以及他们的 “蠢事” 的态度。如果他不谨慎的话，她就会凶巴巴地嘲讽奚落他一番，还会把他赶出农场，把他从她自己的脑海中永远清除。他得慢慢地进行。他得捉住她，就像人们外出打猎想办法捕捉一只鹿或是一只山鸡那样。如果直接走进森林，对一只鹿说： “请倒在我的枪下吧。” 那根本没有用。没用的，这将是一场漫长而微妙的战役。当你真的出去捕鹿的时候，你得聚精会神，蜷缩着身体，在拂晓之前，悄悄地一步一步潜入山中。外出打猎时，重要的不是你在做的事情，而是你心中的感觉。你必须得机敏、狡猾并做好万全的准备。这就像是一种命运。你自己的命运追上并且决定了那只被你追捕的鹿的命运。一开始，甚至在你看到猎物之前，一场神奇的如同催眠术一样的战役就已经展开了。作为一个猎人，甚至在看到任何一只鹿之前，你自己的灵魂就已经飞出去紧紧地捉住那只鹿的灵魂了。而鹿的灵魂则会奋力地想逃脱。的确是这样，即使那只鹿甚至都还没有感觉到你的气息。这是一场微妙而深刻的意志的战役，发生于无形中。这场战役永远不会结束，除非你的子弹射中了猎物。当你确实准备好出击的时候，当你终于踏入了射程，你不会像射一只瓶子那样来瞄准猎物。而是你自己的意志把子弹送进了猎物的心脏。那子弹射中目标，纯粹就是你自己的命运投射在了鹿的命运上。这一切的发生像是一种至高的意愿，一种意志的至高行动，而不是聪明的伎俩。
He was a huntsman in spirit, not a farmer, and not a soldier stuck in a regiment. And it was as a young hunter that he wanted to bring down March as his quarry, to make her his wife. So he gathered himself subtly together, seemed to withdraw into a kind of invisibility. He was not quite sure how he would go on. And March was suspicious as a hare. So he remained in appearance just the nice, odd stranger-youth, staying for a fortnight on the place.
他骨子里是个猎人，不是农民，也不是束缚在军团中的士兵。正因为他是个年轻的猎人，他想把马奇作为他的猎物，捕获她，让她成为自己的妻子。因此他暗自做好准备，像是要退到别人看不见的地方。他并不太清楚自己要怎样实施计划。而马奇也像野兔般敏感多疑。所以，他表面上继续装成一个亲切又有点古怪的陌生青年，打算在这里住两个星期。
He had been sawing logs for the fire in the afternoon. Darkness came very early. It was still a cold, raw mist. It was getting almost too dark to see. A pile of short sawed logs lay beside the trestle. March came to carry them indoors, or into the shed, as he was busy sawing the last log. He was working in his shirt-sleeves, and did not notice her approach; she came unwillingly, as if shy. He saw her stooping to the bright-ended logs, and he stopped sawing. A fire like lightning flew down his legs in the nerves.
那个下午，他一直在锯烧火用的木柴。天早早就黑了。又笼罩着潮湿阴冷的雾。四周黑漆漆的一片，几乎什么都看不见了。工作台旁边，已经堆了一堆锯好的短木柴。就在他忙着锯最后一根木材时，马奇走了过来，把木柴搬到里屋，或是棚屋里。他忙碌着，身上只穿了一件衬衫，并没有注意到她来了。她很不情愿地走了过来，似乎有点害羞。他见她俯身去抱起那些锯得光洁的木柴，就停止了工作。一道火焰如闪电般顺着神经传到他的双腿。
"March? " he said in his quiet, young voice.
“马奇？” 他用那年轻的声音轻轻地说道。
She looked up from the logs she was piling.
她正在堆木柴，闻声抬起了头。
"Yes! " she said.
“哎！” 她说。
He looked down on her in the dusk. He could see her not too distinctly.
暮色中，他低头看着她。他没有办法把她看得很清楚。
"I wanted to ask you something, " he said.
“我想问你件事。” 他说道。
"Did you? What was it? " she said. Already the fright was in her voice. But she was too much mistress of herself.
“是吗？什么事？” 她说道。她的声音已经透出惊慌。但是她很会控制自己。
"Why" -his voice seemed to draw out soft and subtle, it penetrated her nerves- "why, what do you think it is? "
“嗯，” 他缓缓地开口，声音柔和而微妙，把她的神经也穿透了， “嗯，你觉得我想问什么呢？”
She stood up, placed her hands on her hips, and stood looking at him transfixed, without answering. Again he burned with a sudden power.
她站起来，手插在腰上，呆呆地看着他，没有回答。他内心再次燃起一种突如其来的力量。
"Well, " he said, and his voice was so soft it seemed rather like a subtle touch, like the merest touch of a cat's paw, a feeling rather than a sound. "" Well-I wanted to ask you to marry me. "
“嗯，” 他说，声音是那么地轻柔，仿佛是一种微妙的触摸，仿佛是猫爪微微的碰触，更像是一种感觉而不是声音， “嗯，我想让你嫁给我。”
March felt rather than heard him. She was trying in vain to turn aside her face. A great relaxation seemed to have come over her. She stood silent, her head slightly on one side. He seemed to be bending towards her, invisibly smiling. It seemed to her fine sparks came out of him.
马奇不像是听到，更像是感觉到了他的话。她想把脸转过来，可是却动弹不得。一种极大的松弛感似乎传遍了她的全身。她沉默着站在那儿，脑袋微微偏向一旁。他似乎朝着她弯下身来，脸上带着若隐若现的微笑。她感觉好像有一道道的小火花从他身上迸出。
Then very suddenly she said: "Don't try any of your tomfoolery on me. "
然后，她很突然地冒出了一句： “别跟我来这一套愚蠢的把戏。”
A quiver went over his nerves. He had missed. He waited a moment to collect himself again. Then he said, putting all the strange softness into his voice, as if he were imperceptibly stroking her: "Why, it's not tomfoolery. It's not tomfoolery. I mean it. I mean it. What makes you disbelieve me? "
他的神经微微颤动了一下。他没有命中猎物。他过了一会儿才重新镇定下来。然后，他又开口了，声音里充满了奇特的温柔气息，似乎是在用一种察觉不到的方式轻抚她： “什么啊，那可不是蠢事。那不是蠢事啊。我是认真的。我是认真的啊。为什么你不相信我呢？”
He sounded hurt. And his voice had such a curious power over her; making her feel loose and relaxed. She struggled somewhere for her own power. She felt for a moment that she was lost-lost-lost. The word seemed to rock in her as if she were dying. Suddenly again she spoke.
他听上去似乎受伤了。他的声音有种神奇的力量，让她感到全身放松，绵软无力。她心底某处挣扎着要重获自己的力量。有那么一阵，她感觉自己迷失了--迷失了--迷失了。那些话似乎在她脑中盘旋，好像她就要死掉了。突然，她又开口说话了。
"You don't know what you are talking about, " she said, in a brief and transient stroke of scorn. "What nonsense! I" m old enough to be your mother. "
“你都不知道自己在说些什么。” 她带着一种短暂的不屑说了一句， “莫名其妙！我这年龄都可以当你妈了。”
"Yes, I do know what I" m talking about. Yes, I do, "he persisted softly, as if he were producing his voice in her blood. " I know quite well what I "m talking about. You're not old enough to be my mother. That isn't true. And what does it matter even if it was. You can marry me whatever age we are. What is age to me? And what is age to you! Age is nothing. "
“我知道，我当然知道自己在说什么。是的，我很清楚。” 他轻声坚持道，仿佛在把自己的声音注入到她的血液中， “我很清楚自己在说什么。你的年龄并没有老到可以当我的母亲。这不是真的。就算是真的，又有什么关系。不管我们多大，你都可以和我结婚啊。年龄对于我来说算什么？年龄对于你来说又算什么！年龄不能代表什么。”
A swoon went over her as he concluded. He spoke rapidly-in the rapid Cornish fashion-and his voice seemed to sound in her somewhere where she was helpless against it. "Age is nothing! " The soft, heavy insistence of it made her sway dimly out there in the darkness. She could not answer.
他说完了，她感觉到头晕目眩。他讲话很快--是康沃尔地区那种急速的说话风格--他的声音似乎在她心底某处无力抵御的地方回响。 “年龄并不能代表什么！” 他轻声但坚决地重复这句话，使她在黑暗里隐隐地摇晃起来。她无法回答。
A great exultance leaped like fire over his limbs. He felt he had won.
一阵狂喜如火焰般忽地涌上他的四肢。他觉得他已经赢了。
"I want to marry you, you see. Why shouldn't I? " he proceeded, soft and rapid. He waited for her to answer. In the dusk he saw her almost phosphorescent. Her eyelids were dropped, her face half-averted and unconscious. She seemed to be in his power. But he waited, watchful. He dared not yet touch her.
“我想娶你，你知道的。我为什么不能娶你呢？” 他继续说道，语气轻柔急速。他等着她回答。他似乎看见她在暮色中闪着点点磷光。她垂下眼睑，脸转到一边，表情木然，好像失去了意识似的。她似乎已被他掌控了。但他还是警惕地等待着。他还不敢碰她。
"Say then, " he said, 'say then you'll marry me. Say-say! He was softly insistent.
“说啊，” 他说道， “说你会嫁给我吧。说吧--说吧！” 他温柔地坚持着。
"What? " she asked, faint, from a distance, like one in pain. His voice was now unthinkably near and soft. He drew very near to her.
“什么？” 她在远处无力地问道，好像正承受着痛苦一样。他的声音现在变得难以想象地亲近和温柔。他已经靠她很近了。
"Say yes. "
“说你愿意。”
"Oh, I can't, " she wailed helplessly, half-articulate, as if semiconscious, and as if in pain, like one who dies. "How can I? "
“噢，我不能。” 她绝望地痛哭起来，声音模糊不清，仿佛陷入于半昏迷中，又仿佛陷入痛苦中，整个人像是快要死去了， “我怎么可以啊？”
"You can, " he said softly, laying his hand gently on her shoulder as she stood with her head averted and dropped, dazed. "You can. Yes, you can. What makes you say you can't? You can. You can. " And with awful softness he bent forward and just touched her neck with his mouth and his chin.
“你可以的。” 他轻轻地说，把手温柔地搭在她的肩膀上，而她则站在那里，把脸转向一旁，低垂着头，表情茫然。 “你可以的。是的，你可以的。你为什么要说自己不可以呢？你可以的。你是可以的。” 他非常温柔地靠近她，向前弯下身子，嘴巴和下巴刚好碰到她的脖子。
"Don't! " she cried, with a faint mad cry like hysteria, starting away and facing round on him. "What do you mean? " But she had no breath to speak with. It was as if she was killed.
“不要这样！” 她疯了一般狂乱地低声喊着，惊慌地跳到一旁，转过脸直视着他， “你是什么意思？” 但是她已经感到呼吸困难，都说不出话来了。她似乎已经被杀死了。
"I mean what I say, " he persisted softly and cruelly. "I want you to marry me. I want you to marry me. You know that, now, don't you? You know that, now? Don't you? Don't you? "
“我说的话都是认真的。” 他温柔而又残忍地坚持道， “我想要你嫁给我。我想要你嫁给我。你现在知道了，对吧？你现在知道了吧？你知道吗？你知道吗？”
"What? " she said.
“什么？” 她说。
"Know, " he replied.
“知道啊。” 他回答。
"Yes, " she said. "I know you say so. "
“我知道。” 她说。 “我知道你在说什么。”
"And you know I mean it, don't you? "
“而且你知道我是认真的，是吧？”
"I know you say so. "
“我知道你在说什么。”
"You believe me? " he said.
“你相信我？” 他说。
She was silent for some time. Then she pursed her lips.
她沉默了一阵。然后，她撅起了嘴。
"I don't know what I believe, " she said.
“我不知道要相信什么。” 她说。
"Are you out there? " came Banford's voice, calling from the house.
“你们在那里吗？” 班福德的声音从屋里传了出来。
"Yes, we're bringing in the logs, " he answered.
“是的，我们正在搬木柴进屋呢。” 他答道。
"I thought you'd gone lost, " said Banford disconsolately. "Hurry up, do, and come and let's have tea. The kettle's boiling. "
“我还以为你们迷路了呢。” 班福德不高兴地说道。 “快点干活吧，干完后就过来一起喝茶吧。壶里的水已经煮沸了。”
He stooped at once to take an armful of little logs and carry them into the kitchen, where they were piled in a corner. March also helped, filling her arms and carrying the logs on her breast as if they were some heavy child. The night had fallen cold.
他马上俯身搬起一大抱短木柴，搬到厨房里，放在角落里堆好。马奇也来帮忙。她用胳膊把柴火满满地抱在胸前，仿佛抱着个沉重的小孩子。夜晚寒气渐浓。
When the logs were all in, the two cleaned their boots noisily on the scraper outside, then rubbed them on the mat. March shut the door and took off her old felt hat-her farm-girl hat. Her thick, crisp, black hair was loose, her face was pale and strained. She pushed back her hair vaguely and washed her hands. Banford came hurrying into the dimly-lighted kitchen, to take from the oven the scones she was keeping hot.
当所有的木柴都搬进来后，两个人就到外面的刮泥板上很大声响地清理靴子，又在小垫子上把它们擦干净。马奇关上门，摘下她那顶旧毡帽--那顶农场女工的帽子。她那头稠密卷曲的黑发披散开来，苍白的脸紧绷着。她无意识地把头发往后拨了拨，又把手洗了洗。班福德匆匆走进灯光昏暗的厨房，把正在加热的烤饼从烤炉里拿出来。
"Whatever have you been doing all this time? " she asked fretfully. "I thought you were never coming in. And it's ages since you stopped sawing. What were you doing out there? "
“你们这么长时间都在做些什么啊？” 她发牢骚道， “我还以为你们永远都不进来了呢。而且你停止锯木头已经很久了。你们在外面干什么？”
"Well, " said Henry, "we had to stop that hole in the barn to keeps the rats out. "
“哦，” 亨利说道， “我们在堵住谷仓里面的那个洞，防止老鼠钻进去。”
"Why, I could see you standing there in the shed. I could see your shirt-sleeves, " challenged Banford.
“可是，我看见你们站在棚屋那边。我看见你穿的衬衣了。” 班福德质疑道。
"Yes, I was just putting the saw away. "
“是啊，我当时正把锯子放进去。”
They went in to tea. March was quite mute. Her face was pale and strained and vague. The youth, who always had the same ruddy, self-contained look on his face, as though he were keeping himself to himself, had come to tea in his shirt-sleeves as if he were at home. He bent over his plate as he ate his food.
他们进屋去喝茶了。马奇显得很沉默。她脸色苍白，而且紧绷着，有点恍惚。那年轻人穿着衬衣进屋喝茶，彷佛是在自己家里一样。他总是脸色红润，带着自足的神色，仿佛沉浸在自己的世界里。他吃东西的时候，头一直低垂着，正对着盘子。
"Aren't you cold? " said Banford spitefully. "In your shirtsleeves. "
“你不冷吗？” 班福德不怀好意地问道， “就只穿件衬衣。”
He looked up at her, with his chin near his plate, and his eyes very clear, pellucid, and unwavering as he watched her.
他抬起头来看着她，下巴都快碰到盘子了。他看着她，目光明亮清澈，毫不躲闪。
"No, I" m not cold, "he said with his usual soft courtesy. " It's much warmer in here than it is outside, you see. "
“不，我不冷。” 他如往常一般温和有礼地答道， “你知道，屋里比外面暖和多了。”
"I hope it is, " said Banford, feeling nettled by him. He had a strange, suave assurance and a wide-eyed bright look that got on her nerves this evening.
“希望如此。” 班福德说，有点被他惹恼了。他那奇怪又温和的自信表现，以及那天真欢快的表情，都让她这个晚上感到极其不舒服。
"But perhaps, " he said softly and courteously, "you don't like me coming to tea without my coat. I forgot that. "
“不过也许，” 他轻轻地、礼貌地说道， “你不喜欢我不穿外套就进来喝茶。我忘记穿了。”
"Oh, I don't mind, " said Banford: although she did.
“噢，我不介意。” 班福德说道。其实她是介意的。
"I'll go and get it, shall I? " he said.
“我去把外套拿来，好吧？” 他说。
March's dark eyes turned slowly down to him.
马奇那双乌黑的眼睛慢慢地转向他。
"No, don't you bother, " she said in her queer, twanging tone. "If you feel all right as you are, stop as you are. " She spoke with a crude authority.
“不，不用麻烦了。” 她用带鼻音的奇怪腔调说道， “如果你觉得这样舒服，那就不用换了。” 她的话带着一种生硬的不容置疑的意味。
"Yes, " said he, "I feel all right, if I" m not rude. "
“好，” 他说， “我感觉挺好的，要是你们不觉得我这样很无礼的话。”
"It's usually considered rude, " said Banford. "But we don't mind. "
“人们通常认为这是无礼的。” 班福德说， “不过我们不介意。”
"Go along, " considered rude ", " ejaculated March. "Who considers it rude? "
“拜托， ‘认为这是无礼的’ 。” 马奇突然喊道， “谁认为这是无礼的啊？”
"Why, you do, Nellie, in anybody else, " said Banford, bridling a little behind her spectacles, and feeling her food stick in her throat.
“什么，你啊，内利，其他人这么做你会觉得是无礼的啊。” 班福德说道。她那戴着眼睛的脸不悦地抬了起来，感觉食物卡在了喉咙里。
But March had again gone vague and unheeding, chewing her food as if she did not know she was eating at all. And the youth looked from one to another, with bright, watching eyes.
但是马奇却又心不在焉，对一切视而不见了。她咀嚼着食物，可是似乎根本就不知道自己正在吃东西。而那年轻人则用他那双明亮警惕的双眼，一会儿看看这个，一会儿又看看那个。
Banford was offended. For all his suave courtesy and soft voice, the youth seemed to her imprudent. She did not like to look at him. She did not like to meet his clear, watchful eyes, she did not like to see the strange glow in his face, his cheeks with their delicate fine hair, and his ruddy skin that was quite dull and yet which seemed to burn with a curious heat of life. It made her feel a little ill to look at him: the quality of his physical presence was too penetrating, too hot.
班福德被惹怒了。尽管这年轻人彬彬有礼而且声音温柔，但在她眼里，他还是显得放肆无礼。她不喜欢看着他。她不喜欢碰到他那双清澈警惕的眼睛，她不喜欢看见他脸上泛着的奇怪光芒，不喜欢看他脸颊上纤细的汗毛和他那红润的皮肤，那皮肤虽然晦暗，却似乎燃烧着神奇的生命之火。她看到他就觉得不舒服，他的存在太刺眼、太炽烈了。
After tea the evening was very quiet. The youth rarely went into the village. As a rule, he read: he was a great reader, in his own hours. That is, when he did begin, he read absorbedly. But he was not very eager to begin. Often he walked about the fields and along the hedges alone in the dark at night, prowling with a queer instinct for the night, and listening to the wild sounds.
喝完茶后，又是一个安静的夜晚。年轻人很少到村子里去。通常他会读读书。在属于他自己的时间里，他可是很喜欢读书的。也就是说，只要开始读，他就会读得津津有味。但是他并不太热心于开始读一本书。他常常会在夜色正浓的晚上独自走在田野里，或者沿着树篱漫步。带着对夜晚的一种神奇的直觉，他四处徘徊，倾听着野外的各种声音。
Tonight, however, he took a Captain Mayne Reid book from Banford's shelf and sat down with knees wide apart and immersed himself in his story. His brownish fair hair was long, and lay on his head like a thick cap, combed sideways. He was still in his shirt-sleeves, and bending forward under the lamplight, with his knees stuck wide apart and the book in his hand and his whole figure absorbed in the rather strenuous business of reading, he gave Banford's sitting-room the look of a lumber-camp. She resented this. For on her sitting-room floor she had a red Turkey rug and dark stain round, the fire-place had fashionable green tiles, the piano stood open with the latest dance music: she played quite well: and on the walls were March's hand-painted swans and water-lilies. Moreover, with the logs nicely, tremulously burning in the grate, the thick curtains drawn, the doors all shut, and the pine trees hissing and shuddering in the wind outside, it was cosy, it was refined and nice. She resented the big, raw, long-legged youth sticking his khaki knees out and sitting there with his soldier's shirt-cuffs buttoned on his thick red wrists. From time to time he turned a page, and from time to time he gave a sharp look at the fire, settling the logs. Then he immersed himself again in the intense and isolated business of reading.
然而今晚，他却从班福德的书架上取下一本关于梅恩? 里德船长的书，两腿分开坐着，专心地读起了故事。他那长长的、略带褐色的金发梳向两旁，像戴了一顶厚厚的帽子。他仍然只穿着衬衣，在灯光下俯身向前，双膝张开，手中捧着那本书。他全身心地投入到颇费心思的阅读当中，这让班福德的起居室看上去像是一处伐木营地。她讨厌这样。因为她的起居室地板上铺着红色的土耳其地毯，带着深色的镶边。壁炉上贴着流行的绿色瓷砖。钢琴立在屋中，琴盖打开着，上面摆着最新的舞曲：她钢琴弹得可好了。墙壁上挂着马奇手绘的天鹅和睡莲。而且，柴火在炉架上欢快地跳跃着，厚厚的窗帘已经拉下，所有的门都已经关上，屋外的松树在风中颤抖着，发出嘶嘶的声音。这一切是那么地舒适、优雅和美好。她讨厌那身形硕大、粗鲁无礼的长腿年轻人，讨厌他就那么伸出穿着卡其裤的膝盖坐在那里，士兵衬衣袖口的纽扣紧紧扣着又粗又红的手腕。他时不时翻过一页书，时不时又机敏地看一眼炉火，拨拨木柴。然后他又再次投入到紧张而专注的阅读中去了。
March, on the far side of the table, was spasmodically crocheting. Her mouth was pursed in an odd way, as when she had dreamed the fox's brush burned it, her beautiful, crisp black hair strayed in wisps. But her whole figure was absorbed in its bearing, as if she herself was miles away. In a sort of semi-dream she seemed to be hearing the fox singing round the house in the wind, singing wildly and sweetly and like a madness. With red but well-shaped hands she slowly crocheted the white cotton, very slowly, awkwardly.
马奇远远地坐在桌子另一边，时断时续地用钩针编织着。她的嘴古怪地撅着，仿佛又感觉到当初梦里狐狸的尾巴烧灼了她的嘴唇。她那美丽卷曲的黑发一缕一缕凌乱地披散着。不过她整个人都束手束脚的，就像她自己身处好几英里外似的。在半醒半梦之中，她似乎听见狐狸在风中绕着屋子歌唱。那歌声是如此狂野，如此甜蜜，彷佛着了魔一般。她用那通红但秀美的手慢慢地在白色的棉布上编织着，动作缓慢而迟钝。
Banford was also trying to read, sitting in her low chair. But between those two she felt fidgety. She kept moving and looking round and listening to the wind, and glancing secretly from one to the other of her companions. March, seated on a straight chair, with her knees in their close breeches crossed, and slowly, laboriously crocheting, was also a trial.
班福德坐在她那张低矮的椅子上，也试图读读书。但是夹在他们中间，她感到心烦意乱。她不停地动来动去，左顾右盼，又不时听听风声，还偷偷地注意着她的两个同伴，看看这个，又瞅瞅那个。马奇坐在一张直背椅上，她穿着紧身马裤，交叉双腿，正在慢慢地、费力地编织着。她也让班福德心烦。
"Oh dear! " said Banford, "My eyes are bad tonight. " And she pressed her fingers on her eyes.
“噢，天啊！” 班福德说道， “今晚我的眼睛不太好使。” 她用手遮住了双眼。
The youth looked up at her with his clear, bright look, but did not speak.
那年轻人抬头看她，眼神清澈明亮，但却什么也没说。
"Are they, Jill? " said March absently.
“是吗，吉尔？” 马奇漫不经心地说道。
Then the youth began to read again, and Banford perforce returned to her book. But she could not keep still. After a while she looked up at March, and a queer, almost malignant little smile was on her thin face.
年轻人又开始读书，班福德也只得继续看她的书。但她无法安静下来。过了一会儿，她抬头看着马奇，瘦削的脸上浮起一丝奇怪的、几乎是恶意的微笑。
"A penny for them, Nell, " she said suddenly.
“我用一个便士买它们，内利。” 她突然说道。
March looked round with big, startled black eyes, and went pale as if with terror. She had been listening to the fox singing so tenderly, so tenderly, as he wandered round the house.
马奇转头望来，受惊的黑眼睛睁得大大的。她脸都变白了，仿佛受了惊吓。她刚刚一直在听那只狐狸温柔至极地唱歌，它就在屋子周围徘徊着。
"What? " she said vaguely.
“什么？” 她迷迷糊糊地问道。
"A penny for them, " said Banford sarcastically. "Or twopence, if they're as deep as all that. "
“我用一个便士买它们。” 班福德嘲讽地说道。 “或者两个便士也行，如果它们有那么深刻的话。”
The youth was watching with bright, clear eyes from beneath the lamp.
年轻人在灯下用他那双明亮清澈的眼睛观察着这一切。
"Why, " came March's vague voice, "what do you want to waste your money for? "
“什么，” 马奇那模模糊糊的声音传了过来， “你为什么要这样浪费你的钱？”
"I thought it would be well spent, " said Banford.
“我觉得这样子花钱很值得啊。” 班福德说道。
"I wasn't thinking of anything except the way the wind was blowing, " said March.
“我在想风怎么刮成这样。” 马奇说。
"Oh dear, " replied Banford, "I could have had as original thought as that myself. I" m afraid I have wasted my money this time. "
“噢，天啊，” 班福德回应道， “这么奇特的想法，我自己也有呢。恐怕这次我的确是浪费钱了。”
"Well, you needn't pay, " said March.
“好了，你不用给我钱。” 马奇说。
The youth suddenly laughed. Both women looked at him: March rather surprised-looking, as if she had hardly known he was there.
年轻人突然大笑起来。两个女人都看着他，马奇显得非常惊讶，仿佛她一直都没有意识到他在那儿似的。
"Why, do you ever pay up on these occasions? " he asked.
“哎，你们一直都为这种事情付钱吗？” 他问。
"Oh yes, " said Banford. "We always do. I 'vesometimes had to pass a shilling a week to Nellie, in the winter-time. It costs much less in summer. "
“哦，是的。” 班福德说， “我们总是这样。冬天的时候，我有时每周要付给内利一个先令。夏天付的钱就少得多了。”
"What, paying for each other's thoughts? " he laughed.
“什么，为了知道对方的心思而付钱？” 他笑了起来。
"Yes, when we 'veabsolutely come to the end of everything else. "
“是的，当我们实在没什么事可做的时候。”
He laughed quickly, wrinkling his nose sharply like a puppy and laughing with quick pleasure, his eyes shining.
他立刻开心地笑了，像只小狗一样皱着鼻子，双眼闪闪发光。
"It's the first time I ever heard of that, " he said.
“我还是第一次听到这样的事情。” 他说。
"I guess you'd hear of it often enough if you stayed a winter on Bailey Farm, " said Banford lamentably.
“要是你在贝利农场呆一个冬天的话，这样的事情，我想你会时常听到的。” 班福德叹息道。
"Do you get so tired, then? " he asked.
“那么，你们都很疲乏了吧？” 他问道。
"So bored, " said Banford.
“是很烦闷。” 班福德答道。
"Oh! " he said gravely. "But why should you be bored? "
“哦！” 他严肃地说道， “但是你们为什么会感到烦闷呢？”
"Who wouldn't be bored? " said Banford.
“谁不烦闷呢？” 班福德说。
"I" m sorry to hear that, "he said gravely.
“听你这么说，我很抱歉。” 他认真地说道。
"You must be, if you were hoping to have a lively time here, " said Banford.
“你肯定会的，如果你指望能在这里快快活活过一阵子的话。” 班福德说道。
He looked at her long and gravely.
他长久地、严肃地看着她。
"Well, " he said, with his odd, young seriousness, "it's quite lively enough for me. "
“哦，” 他说，带着年轻人的奇怪的严肃神情， “对于我来说，这里足够有趣了。”
"I" m glad to hear it, "said Banford.
“你这么说，我很开心。” 班福德说。
And she returned to her book. In her thin, frail hair were already many threads of grey, though she was not yet thirty. The boy did not look down, but turned his eyes to March, who was sitting with pursed mouth laboriously crocheting, her eyes wide and absent. She had a warm, pale, fine skin and a delicate nose. Her pursed mouth looked shrewish. But the shrewish look was contradicted by the curious lifted arch of her dark brows, and the wideness of her eyes; a look of startled wonder and vagueness. She was listening again for the fox, who seemed to have wandered farther off into the night.
然后，她便继续看她的书了。虽然她还不到三十岁，可是那稀疏细软的头发里已经有很多根白头发了。年轻人没有往下看，而是把目光转向马奇。她正坐在那儿，撅着嘴，费力地编织着，眼睛睁得大大的却又心不在焉。她有着温热、苍白细嫩的皮肤和精致漂亮的鼻子。撅起的嘴巴让她看上去有点泼辣。但是她那带着好奇的、向上抬起的弯弯的黑眉毛，和她那睁得大大的眼睛，又与她泼辣的表情相矛盾。她看上去有些惊异，有些迷茫。她又再次侧耳倾听狐狸的歌声，它似乎已经渐行渐远，隐没在黑夜中了。
From under the edge of the lamp-light the boy sat with his face looking up, watching her silently, his eyes round and very clear and intent. Banford, biting her fingers irritably, was glancing at him under her hair. He sat there perfectly still, his ruddy face tilted up from the low level under the light, on the edge of the dimness, and watching with perfect abstract intentness. March suddenly lifted her great, dark eyes from her crocheting and saw him. She started, giving a little exclamation.
年轻人坐在灯光的边缘处，抬着头，静静地注视着她，圆圆的眼睛是那么的清澈、专注。班福德烦躁地咬着手指头，透过垂下来的头发偷偷看着他。他一动不动地坐在那儿，红润的脸在灯光下抬起，恰好在灯影的边缘处，全神贯注地注视着。马奇编着编着，突然抬起那双乌黑的大眼睛，一眼就看见了他。她吃了一惊，轻叫了一声。
"There he is! " she cried involuntarily, as if terribly startled.
“它就在那儿！” 她不由自主地叫道，仿佛受了很大的惊吓。
Banford looked round in amazement, sitting up straight.
班福德坐直了身子，转过头来惊异地瞧着她。
"Whatever has got you, Nellie? " she cried.
“你中什么邪了，内利？” 她喊道。
But March, her face flushed a delicate rose colour, was looking away to the door.
但是马奇却往门那边看去。她的脸突然间变成了好看的玫红色。
"Nothing! Nothing! " she said crossly. "Can't one speak? "
“没什么！没什么！” 她生气地说道， “说句话都不可以吗？”
"Yes, if you speak sensibly, " said Banford. "What ever did you mean? "
“可以，只要你说得清楚。” 班福德说道， “你到底在说什么啊？”
"I don't know what I meant, " cried March testily.
“我也不知道我在说什么。” 马奇恼怒地喊道。
"Oh, Nellie, I hope you aren't going jumpy and nervy. I feel I can't stand another thing! Whoever did you mean? Did you mean Henry? " cried poor, frightened Banford.
“噢，内利，我希望你不要这么大惊小怪、神经兮兮的。你再来一次的话，我可就受不了啦！你到底说的是谁啊？你说的是亨利吗？” 受到惊吓的可怜的班福德喊道。
"Yes. I suppose so, " said March laconically. She would never confess to the fox.
“是的。我想是的。” 马奇简洁地回答。她怎么也不会坦白她其实讲的是狐狸。
"Oh dear, my nerves are all gone for tonight, " wailed Banford.
“噢，天啊，今晚我的神经简直要崩溃了。” 班福德痛苦地说道。
At nine o'clockMarch brought in a tray with bread and cheese and tea-Henry had confessed that he liked a cup of tea. Banford drank a glass of milk and ate a little bread. And soon she said:
九点钟的时候，马奇端着一盘面包、奶酪和茶进屋了--亨利之前已经说了他想要一杯茶。班福德喝了一杯牛奶，又吃了点面包。过了不久，她开口说道：
"I" m going to bed, Nellie, I "m all nerves tonight. Are you coming? "
“我要去睡觉了，内利，今晚我的神经受够了。你也来睡吗？”
"Yes, I" m coming the minute I 'vetaken the tray away, said March.
“是啊，我把盘子收拾好就来。” 马奇说。
"Don't be long then, " said Banford fretfully. "Good-night, Henry. You'll see the fire is safe, if you come up last, won't you? "
“不要太久了。” 班福德烦躁地说道， “晚安，亨利。如果你最晚睡觉的话，帮忙照看火，好吗？”
"Yes, Miss Banford, I'll see it's safe, " he replied in his reassuring way.
“好的，班福德小姐，我会把火看好的。” 他用让人安心的语气回应道。