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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.
门是开着的，那怕只有细细的一条缝，但这却似乎存在着希望。房间里的一线灯光悄悄地穿过黑暗的、森严的门口，像一条纱线般地落在大理石地板上，这个情景给了她鼓励。她转过身来，几乎不知道她做了什么，但心中的爱以及他们共同经历过、但却没有相互分担过的考验驱策着她；她稍稍举起颤抖着的手，轻悄悄地走了进去。
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.
她的父亲坐在中间的房间中他原先的桌子前。他在整理一些文件单据，并毁去另外一些；那些撕破的碎片散落在他前面。雨点沉重地、嘀嘀嗒嗒地打在外面房间的窗玻璃上，当保罗还是个婴孩的时候，他曾经常在这个房间里注视着他。房屋外面，可以听到风的低沉的哀号声。
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.
但是他却没有听到。他坐在那里，眼睛凝视着桌子，专心一意地思考着。就是比他女儿轻盈的脚步更为沉重的步伐也未必能惊动他。他的脸朝向她。在淡弱的灯光下，在这个阴沉凄凉的时刻，它看上去憔悴、懊丧；在包围着他的一片寂静之中，有一个向弗洛伦斯发出的呼吁正扣击着她的心弦。
'Papa! Papa! speak to me, dear Papa!'
“爸爸！爸爸！跟我说说话吧，亲爱的爸爸！”
He started at her voice, and leaped up from his seat. She was close before him' with extended arms, but he fell back.
他听到她的声音，大吃一惊，从坐位上跳了起来。她伸开胳膊，紧张地站在他前面，可是他却往后退缩。
'What is the matter?' he said, sternly. 'Why do you come here? What has frightened you?'
“怎么回来？”他严厉地问道，“你为什么到这里来？什么惊吓了你？”
