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Entering the gate and passing the shrubs, the silhouette of a house rose to view, black, low, and rather long;
進(jìn)了門，走過灌木，眼前便現(xiàn)出了一所房子的剪影，又黑又矮卻相當(dāng)長。
but the guiding light shone nowhere. All was obscurity.
但是那道引路的光卻消失了。一切都模模糊糊。
Were the inmates retired to rest? I feared it must be so.
難道屋里的人都安息了？我擔(dān)心準(zhǔn)是這樣。
In seeking the door, I turned an angle: there shot out the friendly gleam again,
我轉(zhuǎn)了一個角度去找門，那里又閃起了友好的燈光，
from the lozenged panes of a very small latticed window, within a foot of the ground,
是從一尺之內(nèi)一扇格子小窗的菱形玻璃上射出來的，
made still smaller by the growth of ivy or some other creeping plant, whose leaves clustered thick over the portion of the house wall in which it was set.
那扇窗因?yàn)殚L青藤或是滿墻的爬藤類植物的葉子，顯得更小了。
The aperture was so screened and narrow, that curtain or shutter had been deemed unnecessary;
留下的空隙那么小，又覆蓋得那么好，窗簾和百葉窗似乎都沒有必要了。
and when I stooped down and put aside the spray of foliage shooting over it, I could see all within.
我彎腰撩開窗戶上濃密的小枝條，里面的一切便看得清清楚楚了。
I could see clearly a room with a sanded floor, clean scoured;
我能看得清房間的沙子地板擦得干干凈凈。
a dresser of walnut, with pewter plates ranged in rows, reflecting the redness and radiance of a glowing peat-fire.
還有一個核桃木餐具柜，上面放著一排排錫盤，映出了燃燒著的泥炭火的紅光。
I could see a clock, a white deal table, some chairs.
我能看得見一只鐘、一張白色的松木桌和幾把椅子。
The candle, whose ray had been my beacon, burnt on the table;
桌子上點(diǎn)著一根蠟燭，燭光一直是我的燈塔。
and by its light an elderly woman, somewhat rough-looking, but scrupulously clean, like all about her, was knitting a stocking.
一個看去有些粗糙，但也像她周圍的一切那樣一塵不染的老婦人，借著燭光在編織襪子。
