All this was torture to me -- refined, lingering torture.

这一切对我是一种折磨——细细的慢悠悠的折磨。

It kept up a slow fire of indignation and a trembling trouble of grief, which harassed and crushed me altogether.

它不断激起微弱的怒火和令人颤抖的烦恼，弄得我心烦意乱，神衰力竭。

I felt how -- if I were his wife, this good man, pure as the deep sunless source, could soon kill me,

假如我是他的妻子，我觉得这位纯洁如没有阳光的深渊的好人，就能很快杀死我。

without drawing from my veins a single drop of blood, or receiving on his own crystal conscience the faintest stain of crime.

不必从我的血管里抽取一滴血，也不会在清白的良心上留下一丝罪恶的痕迹.

Especially I felt this when I made any attempt to propitiate him.

我想抚慰他时尤其感到这点，

No ruth met my ruth.

我的同情得不到呼应。

HE experienced no suffering from estrangement -- no yearning after reconciliation;

他并不因为疏远而感到痛苦——他没有和解的愿望。

and though, more than once, my fast falling tears blistered the page over which we both bent,

尽管我一串串落下的眼泪在我们一起埋头阅读的书页上泛起了水泡，

they produced no more effect on him than if his heart had been really a matter of stone or metal.

他丝毫不为所动，就仿佛他的心确实是一块石头或金属。

To his sisters, meantime, he was somewhat kinder than usual:

与此同时，他对妹妹们似乎比平常更好些了，

as if afraid that mere coldness would not sufficiently convince me how completely I was banished and banned, he added the force of contrast;

唯恐单单冷淡还不足以使我相信，我已那么彻底被逐出教门，他又加上了反差的力量。

and this I am sure he did not by force, but on principle.

我确信他这么做不是因为恶意，而是出于对原则的维护。

The night before he left home, happening to see him walking in the garden about sunset,

他离家前夕，我偶然见他日落时在园子里散步。

and remembering,as I looked at him, that this man, alienated as he now was, had once saved my life,

瞧着他的身影，我想起这个眼下虽然与我有些隔膜的人，曾经救过我的性命，

and that we were near relations, I was moved to make a last attempt to regain his friendship.

又是我的近亲，心里便感动得打算作最后一次努力，来恢复友谊。

I went out and approached him as he stood leaning over the little gate; I spoke to the point at once.

我出了门，向他走去，他倚着小门站着，我立刻开门见山地说：

"St. John, I am unhappy because you are still angry with me.

“圣·约翰，我不大高兴，因为你还在生我的气，

Let us be friends."

让我们成为朋友吧。”