Wuthering Heights - Chapter 2
呼啸山庄 - 第2章
The_Ghost_in_the_Night
夜里的幽灵
Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights.
那天晚上,我正准备入睡,突然听到窗外传来奇怪的哭声。听起来像是一个孩子的哭泣,又像是一只动物的呜咽。
'You have brought me a letter, I hope,' said my host, 'from Mrs. Dean?'
我走到窗边,向外看去。外面的世界一片漆黑,只有月光照亮了荒原。突然,我看到一个白色的影子在房子周围徘徊。它像幽灵一样,在风中飘动,时而靠近窗户,时而消失在黑暗中。
'No,' I replied.
我吓坏了!我打开窗户,试图看清那是什么。但那影子已经消失了,只留下寒冷的风和荒原的寂静。
'You are not accustomed to the country, I can tell by your accent,' he said. 'Where did you come from?'
第二天早上,我问女管家迪恩太太关于那晚的事。她看起来很不安,但最终告诉了我真相。
'From the south.'
"那是凯瑟琳·肖恩的幽灵,"她低声说,"许多年前,她是这里的主人,希斯克利夫先生爱她胜过生命。但她嫁给了别人,希斯克利夫从未原谅她。现在,她的灵魂徘徊在这栋房子周围,无法安息。"
He went to the window, measuring the height with his eye, and then looked at me.
我震惊了。这个孤独的房子,冷漠的主人,徘徊的幽灵——这一切都开始变得可以理解了。希斯克利夫先生的孤独,是因为他失去了一生最爱的人,而他的冷漠,是他那颗破碎之心的外壳。
'If you stay here, I shall be your landlord's neighbor for some time. Will you tell me your name?'
'Mr. Lockwood,' I answered. 'And yours is Mr. Heathcliff?'
'Heathcliff,' he replied.
'And your wife is living, I suppose?'
'My wife is dead.'
That night, a strange thing happened. I was awakened by a sound at my window. I imagined it was a branch of a fir tree tapping against the pane, as I had heard it in the windy weather before. I determined to silence it, and pulled the sash.
But it was no branch! A small, pale hand, and the face of a child looked through the window.
'Let me in! Let me in!' cried a voice.
'Who are you?' I asked, pulling back the curtain.
'No, you won't!' she said, when she saw me. 'I have been a waif for twenty years.'
The ghost continued to tap at the pane. I felt horror and called for help.
'What's the matter?' shouted Heathcliff from below.
'There's someone at your window, sir,' I answered.
Heathcliff opened the window, but there was nothing there. He seemed disappointed. He rushed down the stairs.
The next morning, I asked Mrs. Dean about the ghost. She looked pale and frightened.
'It was Catherine Earnshaw,' she said. 'Mr. Heathcliff's love. She died many years ago, but her spirit has never left Wuthering Heights.'
I was stunned. A real ghost! In England! And in my landlord's house!
'You must leave,' Mrs. Dean said urgently. 'Mr. Heathcliff will not like that you have seen her.'
But I was curious. I wanted to know more about this Catherine and about Heathcliff. And so, I stayed, little knowing that my curiosity would lead me into the dark history of Wuthering Heights.