;s room. But which room she was in, the woman who held the other end of the frail thread which drew him so mercilessly, that he did not know.

拉格比低矮狭长，昏暗朦胧，楼下克利福德爵士的房间仍亮着灯。可她究竟在那个房间，那个系紧他的心弦，残忍牵绊着他的女人？他不得而知。

He went a little nearer, gun in hand, and stood motionless on the drive, watching the house. Perhaps even now he could find her, come at her in some way. The house was not impregnable: he was as clever as burglars are. Why not come to her? He stood motionless, waiting, while the dawn faintly and imperceptibly paled behind him. He saw the light in the house go out. But he did not see Mrs. Bolton come to the window and draw back the old curtain of dark-blue silk, and stand herself in the dark room, looking out on the half-dark of the approaching day, looking for the longed-for dawn, waiting, waiting for Clifford to be really reassured that it was daybreak. For when he was sure of daybreak, he would sleep almost at once.

他又靠近了一点，手里攥着猎枪，站在车道上纹丝不动，目不转睛地望着这座大宅。或许他现在甚至就能找到她，想出法子与她相会。这府邸并非固若金汤，而且他又像夜贼般聪敏。为何找她不着呢？他站在那里等着，动也不动，身后曙光悄无声息地微微露出了头。他看到那房间的灯熄灭了。但他却没看到博尔顿太太来到窗前，她拉开深蓝色的旧丝质窗帘，站在黑暗的房间里向外张望，目睹黑夜慢慢褪去，白昼渐渐降临，希冀黎明快些到来，等待着，等待着克利福德确信天已破晓。因为只消确定这一点，他便可几乎是马上安然入眠。

She stood blind with sleep at the window, waiting. And as she stood, she started, and almost cried out. For there was a man out there on the drive, a black figure in the twilight. She woke up greyly, and watched, but without making a sound to disturb Sir Clifford.

她睡眼惺忪地站在窗边，等待着。突然间，她大惊失色，差点叫出声来。车道上分明站着个男人，在晨曦中拖出一道黑影。她吓得脸色惨白，睡意顿消，全神贯注地分辨着，但却没有出声，唯恐把克利福德爵士吵醒。

The daylight began to rustle into the world, and the dark figure seemed to go smaller and more defined. She made out the gun and gaiters and baggy jacket—it would be Oliver Mellors, the keeper. "Yes, for there was the dog nosing around like a shadow, and waiting for him"!

活力四射的阳光匆匆拉开征服世界的帷幕，那条黑影似乎变小了，也清晰许多。她辨认出猎枪、绑腿和肥大的外衣——那分明是奥利弗·梅勒斯，那守林人。“没错，那条如影随形的猎犬正到处嗅着，等待着主人发号施令！”

And what did the man want? Did he want to rouse the house? What was he standing there for, tr