I was in my own room as usual -- just myself, without obvious change: nothing had smitten me, or scathed me, or maimed me.
我像往常那样呆在我的房间里--只有我自己,没有明显的变化。我没有受到折磨,损伤或者残害,
And yet where was the Jane Eyre of yesterday? -- where was her life? -- where were her prospects?
然而昨天的简·爱又在哪儿呢?她的生命在哪儿?她的前程在哪儿?
Jane Eyre, who had been an ardent, expectant woman -- almost a bride, was a cold, solitary girl again:
简·爱,她曾是一个热情洋溢、充满期待的女人--差一点做了新娘--再度成了冷漠、孤独的姑娘。
her life was pale; her prospects were desolate.
她的生命很苍白,她的前程很凄凉。
A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June;
圣诞的霜冻在仲夏就降临;十二月的白色风暴六月里便刮得天旋地转;
ice glazed the ripe apples, drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hayfield and cornfield lay a frozen shroud:
冰凌替成熟的苹果上了釉彩;积雪摧毁了怒放的玫瑰;干草田和玉米地里覆盖着一层冰冻的寿衣;
lanes which last night blushed full of flowers, to-day were pathless with untrodden snow;
昨夜还姹紫嫣红的小巷,今日无人踩踏的积雪已经封住了道路;
and the woods, which twelve hours since waved leafy and flagrant as groves between the tropics,
十二小时之前还树叶婆娑、香气扑鼻犹如热带树丛的森林,
now spread, waste, wild, and white as pine-forests in wintry Norway.
现在已经白茫茫一片荒芜,犹如冬日挪威的松林,
My hopes were all dead -- struck with a subtle doom, such as, in one night, fell on all the first-born in the land of Egypt.
我的希望全都熄灭了--受到了微妙致命的一击,就像埃及的长子一夜之间所受到的一样。
I looked on my cherished wishes, yesterday so blooming and glowing;
我观察了自己所抱的希望,昨天还是那么繁茂,那么光彩照人,
they lay stark, chill, livid corpses that could never revive.
现在却变得光秃秃、寒颤颤、铅灰色了--成了永远无法复活的尸体。
I looked at my love: that feeling which was my master's
我审视着我的爱情,我主人的那种感情,
which he had created; it shivered in my heart, like a suffering child in a cold cradle;
他所造成的感情,在我心里打着寒颤,象冰冷摇篮里的一个病孩,
sickness and anguish had seized it; it could not seek Mr. Rochester's arms -- it could not derive warmth from his breast.
病痛已经缠身,却又难以回到罗切斯特先生的怀抱--无法从他的胸膛得到温暖。