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When Mr Holbrook returned, he proposed a walk in the fields;
霍尔布鲁克先生回来后，他提议去田野走走；
but the two elder ladies were afraid of damp, and dirt, and had only very unbecoming calashes to put on over their caps; so they declined, and I was again his companion in a turn which he said he was obliged to take to see after his men.
但两位年长的女士害怕露水和泥土，而且她们只有非常不合适的折篷式兜帽可以披在帽子上；所以她们拒绝了，我又一次成了霍尔布鲁克先生的同伴，他说他必须去田地里看看他的工人们。
He strode along, either wholly forgetting my existence, or soothed into silence by his pipe—and yet it was not silence exactly.
他大步向前走着，要么是完全忘记了我的存在，要么是享受地吸着烟斗而沉默不语——然而，确切地说，那也并不是沉默。
He walked before me with a stooping gait, his hands clasped behind him;
他弓着腰走在我前面，双手背在身后；
and, as some tree or cloud, or glimpse of distant upland pastures, struck him, he quoted poetry to himself, saying it out loud in a grand sonorous voice, with just the emphasis that true feeling and appreciation give.
当他看到一些树、云或远处高地牧场的景色时，他会自言自语地吟诗，用洪亮深沉的声音大声朗诵，其中的一些重读只是因为饱含真挚的情感和对风景的欣赏。
We came upon an old cedar tree, which stood at one end of the house—
我们来到一棵老雪松下，它矗立在房子的尽头——
“The cedar spreads his dark-green layers of shade.”
“雪松舒展着层层深绿浓荫。”
“Capital term—‘layers!’ Wonderful man!”
“绝妙的词——‘层层！’真是个好诗人！”
I did not know whether he was speaking to me or not; but I put in an assenting “wonderful,” although I knew nothing about it, just because I was tired of being forgotten, and of being consequently silent.
我不知道他是不是在跟我说话；但我还是表示赞同地说了句“太妙了”，尽管我对这句诗一无所知，我只是厌倦了被人遗忘，也厌倦了因此而保持沉默。
He turned sharp round.
他突然转过身来。
“Ay! You may say ‘wonderful.’ Why, when I saw the review of his poems in Blackwood, I set off within an hour, and walked seven miles to Misselton (for the horses were not in the way) and ordered them.
“是！你说‘太妙了’很对。哎呀，当我在《布莱克伍德》杂志上看到对他的诗的评论时，我一个小时内就出发了，走了七英里路到米塞尔顿（因为马都没有上路），然后订购了诗集。
Now, what colour are ash-buds in March?”
我问你，三月的白蜡树芽是什么颜色的？”
Is the man going mad? Thought I. He is very like Don Quixote.
这个人疯了吗？我内心想着，他真的非常像堂吉诃德。
“What colour are they, I say?” repeated he vehemently.
“我说，是什么颜色的？”他情绪激动地又问道。
“I am sure I don’t know, sir,” said I, with the meekness of ignorance.
“我确实不知道，先生。”我说，带着无知者的温顺态度。
“I knew you didn’t. No more did I—an old fool that I am! —till this young man comes and tells me. Black as ash-buds in March.
“我知道你不知道。我也不知道，我这个愚蠢的老家伙了！直到这个年轻人告诉我，我才知道。乌黑如三月的白蜡树芽。
And I’ve lived all my life in the country; more shame for me not to know.
我一辈子都生活在乡下；我竟然不知道，真是更丢人了。
Black: they are jet-black, madam.”
黑色：三月的白蜡树芽是乌黑的，小姐。”
And he went off again, swinging along to the music of some rhyme he had got hold of.
然后他又走开了，边走边随着他朗诵的一些韵文节奏摇摆着。
When we came back, nothing would serve him but he must read us the poems he had been speaking of;
我们回来后，他什么也不做，就是要给我们读他之前提到的那些诗；
and Miss Pole encouraged him in his proposal, I thought, because she wished me to hear his beautiful reading, of which she had boasted;
我觉得波尔小姐鼓励他这样做，因为她希望我听听他那美妙的朗读，她曾对此赞不绝口；
but she afterwards said it was because she had got to a difficult part of her crochet, and wanted to count her stitches without having to talk.
但她后来又说，那是因为她的钩针编织到了一个困难的部分，她想数数针数，不想说话。
Whatever he had proposed would have been right to Miss Matty;
无论他提出什么建议，马蒂小姐都会认为是对的；
although she did fall sound asleep within five minutes after he had begun a long poem, called “Locksley Hall,” and had a comfortable nap, unobserved, till he ended;
尽管他开始朗诵一首名为《洛克斯利大厅》的长诗后不到五分钟，她就酣然入睡，舒舒服服地打了个盹儿，没人注意到，直到他朗诵结束；
when the cessation of his voice wakened her up, and she said, feeling that something was expected, and that Miss Pole was counting— “What a pretty book!”
他的声音停止后，她突然惊醒，感觉到大家都在期待着什么，而波尔小姐正在数数，于是她说：“多精彩的书啊！”
“Pretty, madam! It’s beautiful! Pretty, indeed!”
“精彩，夫人！应该是很美！怎么能说精彩！”
“Oh yes! I meant beautiful!” said she, fluttered at his disapproval of her word.
“哦，是的！我的意思就是美妙！”她说，因他不赞成她的话而心慌意乱。
“It is so like that beautiful poem of Dr Johnson’s my sister used to read—I forget the name of it; what was it, my dear?” turning to me.
“很像约翰逊博士的那首优美的诗，我姐姐过去常读——我忘了它的名字；是什么来着，亲爱的？”她转过头来问我。
“Which do you mean, ma’am? What was it about?”
“你指的是哪一首，夫人？关于什么的？”
“I don’t remember what it was about, and I’ve quite forgotten what the name of it was; but it was written by Dr Johnson, and was very beautiful, and very like what Mr Holbrook has just been reading.”
“我不记得那首诗是关于什么的，我也完全忘记了名字；但它是约翰逊博士写的，非常优美，非常像霍尔布鲁克先生刚刚读过的那首。”
“I don’t remember it,” said he reflectively. “But I don’t know Dr Johnson’s poems well. I must read them.”
“我不记得了，”他若有所思地说，“但是我不太了解约翰逊博士的诗。我必须读一读。”
As we were getting into the fly to return, I heard Mr Holbrook say he should call on the ladies soon, and inquire how they got home;
当我们上了马车准备回去时，我听到霍尔布鲁克先生说他很快会去拜访女士们，去问候她们回家的路途可曾顺利；
and this evidently pleased and fluttered Miss Matty at the time he said it;
他这么说的时候，显然让马蒂小姐很高兴，也让她很激动；
but after we had lost sight of the old house among the trees her sentiments towards the master of it were gradually absorbed into a distressing wonder as to whether Martha had broken her word, and seized on the opportunity of her mistress’s absence to have a “follower.”
但是当我们看不到树木掩映的那座老房子后，她对房子主人的感情逐渐变成苦恼和怀疑，她在想玛莎是否违背了诺言，趁女主人不在的时候找了个“追求者”。
Martha looked good, and steady, and composed enough, as she came to help us out; she was always careful of Miss Matty, and to-night she made use of this unlucky speech—
玛莎走出家门来扶我们下车时，她看上去气色不错，镇定自若；她一直很照顾马蒂小姐，但今晚她倒霉地说了这些话——
“Eh! Dear ma’am, to think of your going out in an evening in such a thin shawl!
“啊！亲爱的夫人，您竟然在晚上穿着这么薄的披肩出门！
It’s no better than muslin.
它比薄纱厚不了多少。
At your age, ma’am, you should be careful.”
在您这个年纪，夫人，您应该注意点。”
“My age!” said Miss Matty, almost speaking crossly, for her, for she was usually gentle—
“我这个年纪！”马蒂小姐说道，几乎有些生气，因为她通常都很温柔，
“My age! Why, how old do you think I am, that you talk about my age?”
“我这个年纪！怎么，你觉得我多老了，你要特意提到我的年纪？”
“Well, ma’am, I should say you were not far short of sixty: but folks’ looks is often against them—and I’m sure I meant no harm.”
“呃，夫人，我觉得您差不多要六十岁了：但人们的外表常常与他们的实际年龄不符——我真的没有别的意思。”
“Martha, I’m not yet fifty-two!” said Miss Matty, with grave emphasis;
“玛莎，我还不到五十二岁！”马蒂小姐郑重其事地说；
for probably the remembrance of her youth had come very vividly before her this day, and she was annoyed at finding that golden time so far away in the past.
也许她对青春的回忆在这一天非常鲜明地浮现在她眼前，她发现那段黄金时光已经远去后，心中很是懊恼。
But she never spoke of any former and more intimate acquaintance with Mr Holbrook.
但是她从未提及与霍尔布鲁克先生以前有过任何更亲密的相识。
She had probably met with so little sympathy in her early love, that she had shut it up close in her heart;
她在年轻时候恋爱时可能很少得到其他人的理解和体恤，所以她把这些事情深深地埋在了心里；
and it was only by a sort of watching, which I could hardly avoid since Miss Pole’s confidence, that I saw how faithful her poor heart had been in its sorrow and its silence.
自从波尔小姐告诉我这段秘密往事之后，我很难不去观察马蒂小姐，这时我才看到，她那颗可怜的心虽然总是悲伤和沉默的，却是多么的忠贞。
