【常耕不辍】双语阅读：勃朗特一家的故事.doc

[ / ]The Bronte Story by Tim Vicary 1 HaworthThere was a cold wind this afternoonbut the sun shone for an hour or twoI walked out on the moors behind the houseThe sheep were hiding from the wind under the stone wallsand there were grey clouds over the hills to the westIt is only Novemberbut I could smell snow in the airIt will be a cold winterthis year of 1855the rector of the village of HaworthHaworth is a village of smallgrey stone houses on the side of a hill in the north of Englandand I live in a house at the top of the hillnext to the church and the graveyardI walked through the graveyard to the church this afternoonAll my family except Anne are buried thereThe wind had blown some dead leaves through the door into the churchand I watched them dancing in the sunlight near the graveSoon I shall be in that grave with my wife and childrenunder the cold grey stone and dancing leavesIt is dark outside nowand it is very quiet in this houseCharlottes husbandMr Nichollsis reading in his roomand our servant is cooking in the kitchenOnly the three of us live here nowIt is very quietI can hear the sounds of the wood burning in the fireand the big clock on the stairsThere is another sound toothe sound of the wind outsideThe wind has many voicesIt sings and laughs and shouts to itself all night longLast night it cried like a little childand I got out of bed and went to the window to listenThere was no childof courseOnly the wind and the grave-stonescold in the pale moonlightBut I decided then that Iwould write the story of my childrentodaybefore it is too lateCharlottes friendMrs Gaskellis writing a book about herand perhaps she will want to read my storyIt is a fine storyIt began in April 1820when we came to Haworth for the first time...There was a strong wind blowing that day tooout of a darkcloudy skyWe could see snow on the moorsThe road to Haworth goes up a hilland there was ice on the stones of the road Mariamy wifewas afraid to ride up the hill in the cartsWell walkchildrenshe saidIf one of those horses falls downtherell be a terrible accidentCome onlets go and see our new houseShe was a small womanmy wifeand not very strong But she carried the babyAnneup the hill in her armsI carried Emilyshe was one and a half years old thenThe others walkedMy twoyearold sonPatrick Branwellwalked with meand Charlottewho was nearly fourwalked with her motherThe two oldest childrenElizabeth and Mariaran on in frontThey were very excitedand laughed and talked all the wayThe people of Haworth came out to watch usSome of them helpedbut most of them just stood in their doorways and watchedThey are very poor peoplein this villageI was their new rectorWe had seven carts to carry our furniture up that icy hillbut it was hard work for the horsesWhen we reached our housethe wind was blowing had in our facesMy wife hurried insideand began to light firesDo you like itmy dearI asked her that nightwhen the children were in bedShe looked pale and tiredI thought it was because of the long journeyand the childrenPerhaps it wasShe held out her hands to the fireand saidOf coursePatrickIts a fine houseI do hope it will be a good home for youand the childrenI was a little surprised by thatAnd for youMariaI saidDont forget yourselfYou are the most important person in the worldto meShe smiled thena lovely smileThank youPatrickshe saidShe was a very small womanand she was often tired because of the childrenBut when she smiled at me like thatI thought she was the most beautiful woman in EnglandA year and a half latershe was deadShe did not die quicklyShe was in bed for seven long monthsin awful painThe doctor came oftenand her sister Elizabeth came tooto helpThe children were illas wellIt was a terrible timeMy wife Maria died in September1821She was thirty-eightIt was my job to bury her in the churchOur six young children stood and watc。