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In its standing open, even by so much as that chink, there seemed to be hope. There was encouragement in seeing a ray of light from within, stealing through the dark stern doorway, and falling in a thread upon the marble floor. She turned back, hardly knowing what she did, but urged on by the love within her, and the trial they had undergone together, but not shared: and with her hands a little raised and trembling, glided in.
門是開著的，那怕只有細細的一條縫，但這卻似乎存在著希望。房間里的一線燈光悄悄地穿過黑暗的、森嚴的門口，像一條紗線般地落在大理石地板上，這個情景給了她鼓勵。她轉過身來，幾乎不知道她做了什么，但心中的愛以及他們共同經歷過、但卻沒有相互分擔過的考驗驅策著她；她稍稍舉起顫抖著的手，輕悄悄地走了進去。
Her father sat at his old table in the middle room. He had been arranging some papers, and destroying others, and the latter lay in fragile ruins before him. The rain dripped heavily upon the glass panes in the outer room, where he had so often watched poor Paul, a baby; and the low complainings of the wind were heard without.
她的父親坐在中間的房間中他原先的桌子前。他在整理一些文件單據，并毀去另外一些；那些撕破的碎片散落在他前面。雨點沉重地、嘀嘀嗒嗒地打在外面房間的窗玻璃上，當保羅還是個嬰孩的時候，他曾經常在這個房間里注視著他。房屋外面，可以聽到風的低沉的哀號聲。
But not by him. He sat with his eyes fixed on the table, so immersed in thought, that a far heavier tread than the light foot of his child could make, might have failed to rouse him. His face was turned towards her. By the waning lamp, and at that haggard hour, it looked worn and dejected; and in the utter loneliness surrounding him, there was an appeal to Florence that struck home.
但是他卻沒有聽到。他坐在那里，眼睛凝視著桌子，專心一意地思考著。就是比他女兒輕盈的腳步更為沉重的步伐也未必能驚動他。他的臉朝向她。在淡弱的燈光下，在這個陰沉凄涼的時刻，它看上去憔悴、懊喪；在包圍著他的一片寂靜之中，有一個向弗洛倫斯發出的呼吁正扣擊著她的心弦。
'Papa! Papa! speak to me, dear Papa!'
“爸爸！爸爸！跟我說說話吧，親愛的爸爸！”
He started at her voice, and leaped up from his seat. She was close before him' with extended arms, but he fell back.
他聽到她的聲音，大吃一驚，從坐位上跳了起來。她伸開胳膊，緊張地站在他前面，可是他卻往后退縮。
'What is the matter?' he said, sternly. 'Why do you come here? What has frightened you?'
“怎么回來？”他嚴厲地問道，“你為什么到這里來？什么驚嚇了你？”
