"Jane, you look blooming, and smiling, and pretty," said he: "truly pretty this morning.
“简，你容光焕发，笑容满面，漂亮极了。”他说。“今天早晨真的很漂亮。
Is this my pale, little elf? Is this my mustard-seed?
这就是我苍白的小精灵吗？这不是我的小芥子吗？”
This little sunny-faced girl with the dimpled cheek and rosy lips;
不就是这个脸带笑靥，嘴唇鲜红，
the satin-smooth hazel hair, and the radiant hazel eyes?"
头发栗色光滑如缎，眼睛淡褐光芒四射，满面喜色的小姑娘吗？
I had green eyes, reader; but you must excuse the mistake: for him they were new-dyed, I suppose.
读者，我的眼睛是青色的，但是你得原谅他的错误，对他来说我的眼睛染上了新的颜色。

"It is Jane Eyre, sir."
“我是简·爱，先生。”
"Soon to be Jane Rochester," he added: "in four weeks, Janet; not a day more. Do you hear that?"
“很快就要叫作简·罗切斯特了”，他补充说，“再过四周，珍妮特，一天也不多，你听到了吗？”
I did, and I could not quite comprehend it: it made me giddy.
我听到了，但我并不理解，它便我头昏目眩。
The feeling, the announcement sent through me,
他的宣布在我心头所引起的感觉，
was something stronger than was consistent with joy -- something that smote and stunned. It was, I think almost fear.
是不同于喜悦的更强烈的东西--是一种给人打击、使你发呆的东西。我想这近乎是恐惧。