(单词翻译:单击)
听力文本
Our story today is called "The Lady in Black." It was written by Eleanor H. Porter. Here is Faith Lapidus with the story. The house was very still. In the little room over the porch, the Lady in Black sat alone. Near her, a child's white dress lay across a chair. On the floor at her feet lay a tiny pair of shoes. A doll hung over a chair and a toy soldier occupied the little stand by the bed. And everywhere was silence—the strange silence that comes only to a room where the clock has stopped ticking. The clock stood on the shelf near the end of the bed. The Lady in Black looked at it. She remembered the wave of anger that had come over her when she had reached out her hand and silenced the clock that night three months before. It had been silent ever since and it should remain silent, too. Of what possible use were the hours it would tick away now? As if anything mattered, with little Kathleen lying out there white and still under the black earth! "Muvver!" The Lady in Black moved restlessly and looked toward the closed door. Behind it, she knew, was a little boy with wide blue eyes who wanted her. But she wished he would not call her by that name. It only reminded her of those other little lips--silent now. "Muvver!" The voice was more demanding.
The Lady in Black did not answer. He might go away, she thought, if she did not answer. There was a short silence, and then the door opened slowly. "Pe-eek!" It was a cry of joyful discovery, but it was followed almost immediately by silence. The unsmiling woman did not invite him to come near. The boy was unsteady at his first step. He paused, then spoke carefully, "I's--here." It was maybe the worst thing he could have said. To the Lady in Black it was a yet more painful reminder of that other one who was not there. She gave a sharp cry and covered her face with her hands. "Bobby, Bobby" she cried out, in a release of unreasoning sadness. "Go away! Go away! I want to be alone--alone!" All the brightness fled from the boy's face. His eyes showed a feeling of deep hurt. He waited, but she did not move. Then, with a half-quieted cry, he left the room. Long minutes afterward, the Lady in Black raised her head and saw him through the window. He was in the yard with his father, playing under the apple tree. Playing! The Lady in Black looked at them with serious eyes, and her mouth hardened at the corners.
Bobby had someone to play with him, someone to love him and care for him, while out there on the hillside Kathleen was alone--all alone. With a little cry the Lady in Black sprang to her feet and hurried into her own room. Her hands shook as she pinned on her hat and covered herself with her black veil. But her step was firm as she walked downstairs and out through the hall. The man under the apple tree rose hurriedly and came forward. "Helen, dearest,--not again, today!" he begged. "Darling, it can't do any good!" "But she's alone--all alone. You don't seem to think! No one thinks--no one knows how I feel. You don't understand. If you did, you'd come with me. You wouldn't ask me to stay--here!" choked the woman. "I have been with you, dear," said the man gently. "I've been with you today, and every day, almost, since--since she left us. But it can't do any good--this continuous mourning over her grave. It only makes more sadness for you, for me, and for Bobby. Bobby is--here, you know, dear!" "No, no, don't say it," cried the woman wildly. "You don't understand! You don't understand!" And she turned and hurried away, followed by the worried eyes of the man, and the sad eyes of the boy.
It was not a long walk to the burial place. The Lady in Black knew the way. Yet, she stumbled and reached out blindly. She fell before a little stone marked "Kathleen." Near her a gray-haired woman, with her hands full of pink and white roses, watched her sympathetically. The gray-haired woman paused and opened her lips as if she would speak. Then she turned slowly and began to arrange her flowers on a grave nearby. The Lady in Black raised her head. For a time she watched in silence. Then she threw back her veil and spoke. "You care, too," she said softly. "You understand. I've seen you here before, I'm sure. And was yours--a little girl?" The gray-haired woman shook her head. No, dearie, it's a little boy--or he was a little boy forty years ago." "Forty years--so long! How could you have lived forty years--without him?" Again the little woman shook her head. "One has to--sometimes, dearie, but this little boy wasn't mine. "But you care. You understand. I've seen you here so often before." "Yes. You see, there's no one else to care. But there was once, and I'm caring now, for her sake." "For her?" "His mother." "Oh-h!" It was a tender little cry, full of quick sympathy. The eyes of the Lady in Black were on the stone marked "Kathleen."
"It ain't as if I didn't know how she'd feel," said the gray-haired woman. "You see, I was nurse to the boy when it happened, and for years afterward I worked in the family. So I know. I saw the whole thing from the beginning, from the very day when the little boy here met with the accident." "Accident!" It was a cry of concern and sympathy from Kathleen's mother. "Yes. It was a runaway and he didn't live two days." "I know! I know!" choked the Lady in Black. Yet she was not thinking of the boy and the runaway horse accident. "Things stopped then for my mistress," continued the little gray-haired woman, "and that was the beginning of the end. She had a husband and a daughter, but they didn't seem to be important--not either of 'em. Nothin' seemed important except this little grave out here. She came and spent hours over it, bringin' flowers and talkin' to it." The Lady in Black raised her head suddenly and quickly looked into the woman's face. The woman went on speaking. "The house got sadder and sadder, but she didn't seem to mind. She seemed to want it so. She shut out the sunshine and put away many of the pictures. She sat only in the boy's room. And there, everything was just as it was when he left it. She wouldn't let a thing be touched. I wondered afterward that she didn't see where it was all leadin' to, but she didn't."
"'Leading to'?" The voice shook. "Yes. I wondered she didn't see she was losin' 'em--that husband and daughter; but she didn't see it." The Lady in Black sat very still. Even the birds seemed to have stopped their singing. Then the gray-haired woman spoke: "So, you see, that's why I come and put flowers here. It's for her. There's no one else now to care," she sighed, rising to her feet. "But you haven't told yet--what happened," said the Lady in Black, softly. "I don't know myself really. I know the man went away. He got somethin' to do travelin' so he wasn't home much. When he did come he looked sick and bad. He come less and less, and he died. But that was after she died. He's buried over there beside her and the boy. The girl--well, nobody knows where the girl is. Girls like flowers and sunshine and laughter and young people, you know, and she didn't get any of them at home. So she went--where she did get 'em, I suppose. "There, and if I haven't gone and tired you all out with my talkin'!" said the little gray-haired woman regretfully.
"No, no. I was glad to hear it," said the Lady in Black, rising unsteadily to her feet. Her face had grown white, and her eyes showed a sudden fear. "But I must go now. Thank you." And she turned and hurried away. The house was very still when the Lady in Black reached home. She shivered at its silence. She hurried up the stairs, almost with guilt. In her own room she pulled at the dark veil that covered her face. She was crying now, a choking little cry with broken words running through it. She was still crying as she removed her black dress. Long minutes later, the Lady--in black no longer--moved slowly down the stairway. Her eyes showed traces of tears, but her lips were bravely curved in a smile. She wore a white dress and a single white rose in her hair. Behind her, in the little room over the porch, a tiny clock ticked loudly on its shelf near the end of the bed. There came a sound of running feet in the hall below, then: "Muvver!--it's Muvver come back!" shouted a happy voice. And with a little sobbing cry Bobby's mother opened her arms to her son.
重点解析
1.tick away 滴答作响；时光流逝
The hours tick away.
时光在滴答声中溜走。
2.cry out 大声呼喊；大叫
I heard myself gasp and cry out.
我听到自己一边喘一边喊。
3.full of 装满；充满
I set off, full of optimism.
我无比乐观地出发了。
4.be glad to 乐意；很高兴
I'll be glad to show you everything.
我将很乐意向你们展示一切。
参考译文
我们今天要讲述的故事叫《黑衣女人》，作者埃莉诺·H·波特，讲述人菲斯·拉皮德斯。房子里很安静，在门廊那边的小房间里，黑衣女人独自坐着。在她身边，一件孩子的白色连衣裙横放在椅子上，她脚边的地板上放着一双小鞋子，一个洋娃娃挂在椅子上，一个玩具士兵放在床边的小架子上。一片寂静，奇怪的寂静只出现在时钟停止滴答作响的房间里。时钟放在靠近床头的架子上，黑衣女人看了看它。她想起了三个月前的那个晚上，当她伸出手来让钟安静下来时，那股怒火涌上心头。从那以后，它一直保持沉寂，也应该保持沉寂。现在，走了多少时间？好像有什么要紧事，小凯瑟琳躺在那里，身穿白衣，安静地躺在黑色的土地下！“穆维尔！”黑衣女人不安地挪着身子，朝紧闭的门望去。她知道，在门后是一个想要和她玩的蓝眼睛小男孩。但是，她希望他不要用这个名字叫她，这只会让她想起那现在已经安静的小嘴唇。“穆维尔！” 声音变得更苛刻了。
黑衣女人没有回答。她想，如果她不回应，他可能就走了。沉默了一会儿，然后门慢慢地开了。“看到了！”这是找到东西后快乐的叫喊声，但紧接着几乎是一片寂静。那个不苟言笑的女人没有邀请他走近。男孩第一步走得不稳，他停顿了一下，然后小心地说：“我——在这儿。”这也许是他能说的最糟糕的话，对那个黑衣女人来说，这是一个更痛苦的提示，让她想起另一个不在场的人。她大叫一声，用手捂住脸。“鲍比，鲍比，”她大声喊道，释放出一种莫名的悲伤。“走开！走开！我想一个人——一个人待着！”所有的光亮都从男孩的脸上消失了，他的眼睛流露出深深的伤感。他等着，但她没有动。然后，他轻轻地叫了一声，离开了房间。几分钟后，黑衣女人抬起头，透过窗户看见了他。他和父亲在院子里，在苹果树下玩耍。玩耍！黑衣女人严肃地看着他们，嘴角也有些发硬。
有人和鲍比一起玩，有人爱他，关心他。而在山坡上，凯萨琳独自一人——独自一人。那个黑衣女人轻轻地叫了一声，跳起身来，匆匆走进自己的房间。她别住帽子，用黑色面纱遮住自己时，双手颤抖。但是，当她走下楼穿过大厅时，脚步很坚定。苹果树下的那个人急忙站起身来。“海伦，亲爱的，今天不要再来了！”他乞求道，“亲爱的，这没什么用！”“但她是一个人——就一个人，你好像没去想吧！没人想——没人知道我的感受，你不明白。如果是的话，你会跟我来的。你不会让我留在这儿！”那个女人哽噎了。“我和你在一起，亲爱的，”那人温和地说，“我今天和你在一起，自从她离开我们以后，几乎每天都在一起。但对着她的坟墓持续哀悼，并没有任何好处。这只会让你、我和博比更加悲伤。鲍比在这，亲爱的！” “不，不，别说了，”那女人狂野地喊道。“你不明白！你不明白！”她转身急忙走了，后面是那个男人忧心忡忡的眼睛，和那个男孩悲伤的双眼。
到墓地步行不远，黑衣女人认识路。然而，她绊倒了，盲目地伸出手来。她倒在一块标着“凯瑟琳”的小石头前，旁边有一个白发苍苍的女人，双手捧满粉红色和白色的玫瑰，同情地看着她。白发苍苍的女人停了下来，张开嘴唇，好像要说话似的。然后，她慢慢地转过身，开始在附近的一个坟墓上摆放她的花。黑衣女人抬起头，她沉默地看了一会儿。然后，她掀开面纱说话了。“你也关心，”她轻声说。“你明白的，我肯定以前在这儿见过你，是你的小女孩吗？”白发苍苍的女人摇摇头。不，亲爱的，是个小男孩——或者说，他40年前还是个小男孩。”“40年——太久了！没有他，你怎么能活40年呢？”小个子女人又摇了摇头。“亲爱的，人有的时候......但这个小男孩不是我的。“但你在乎，你明白，我以前经常在这儿见到你。”“是的，你看，没人在乎。但有过一次，我现在关心她。”“为了她？”“他的妈妈。”“哦！”这是一声微小而又温柔的哭声，迅速显露出怜悯之情。黑衣女人的眼睛盯着标有“凯瑟琳”的那块石头。
“好像我不知道她会有什么感觉，”白发女人说。“你看，事情发生时，我是那个男孩的护士，后来我在家中工作了很多年。所以我知道，我从一开始就看到了事情的全部，从这个小男孩遭遇意外的那天起。”“意外！”这是凯瑟琳母亲关心和同情的叫喊。“是的，他离家出走，没活两天。”“我知道！我知道！”黑衣女人哽咽了，但她并不是想起那个男孩和那匹脱缰之马的事故。“我的女主人的事就这样结束了，”那白发苍苍的小个子女人接着说，“这就是结局的开始。她有丈夫和女儿，但他们似乎并不重要——两个都不重要。除了这里的这个小坟墓，什么都不重要。她来了，花了好几个小时，带了鲜花，对着墓地说话。”黑衣女人突然抬起头，迅速地看着那个女人的脸。那个女人接着说。“房子里的气氛越来越伤感，但她似乎并不介意。她似乎很想这样，她遮住阳光，把许多照片收起来。她只坐在男孩的房间里。那儿的一切都和他离开时一样。她不让动那里的任何东西。后来我想，她不知道这一切的后果会如何，但她没预见到。”
“‘结果’？”说话的声音颤抖起来。“是的，我想她没有看到她失去了他们——丈夫和女儿；但她没有看到。”黑衣女人坐得很稳，就连鸟儿也似乎停止了歌唱。然后，白发女人说：“所以，你看，这就是我来这里放花的原因，是送给她的。现在，没有人关心了，”她叹了口气，站起身来。“但你还没告诉我，发生了什么事，”黑衣女人轻声说。“我真的不了解自己，我知道那个人走了。他有事要去旅行，所以不在家。当他真的来的时候，他看起来病了，状态很糟糕。他来的越来越少，后来就去世了。但那是在她去世后的事了。他就埋在她和那个男孩旁边。那个女孩，嗯，没人知道女孩在哪儿。女孩喜欢鲜花、阳光、欢笑和年轻人，她在家里没得到这些。所以，她离开了——去到能够得到这些东西的地方，我想。“好吧，如果我没走，把你说烦的话！”那个白发的小个子女人遗憾地说。
“不，不，我很高兴听到这些，”黑衣女人摇晃地站起身来。她脸色苍白，眼睛里突然流露出恐惧的神情。“但我现在必须走了，谢谢你。”她转身后匆匆离开了。黑衣女人到家时，屋子里一片寂静。这种寂静使她颤抖，她几乎怀着内疚的心情匆匆上楼。在她自己的房间里，她拉起遮住脸的黑纱。现在，她哭了，一小声哽咽的哭声，断断续续的话语贯穿其中。她脱下黑衣时，还在哭泣。几分钟后，那位已经不再穿着黑衣的女士慢慢走下楼梯。她的眼睛流露出泪痕，但嘴唇在微笑中勇敢地弯曲着。她穿着一件白裙子，头发上插着一朵白玫瑰。在她身后，门廊上方的小房间里，有一个小时钟在靠近床头的架子上大声地滴答作响。下面大厅里传来一阵脚步声，然后：“穆维尔！——是穆维尔回来了！”一个欢快的声音喊道。鲍比的母亲啜泣着向儿子张开双臂。
