Yet I had not forgotten his faults.
不过我并没有忘记他的缺陷。
Indeed, I could not, for he brought them frequently before me.
说实话，要忘也忘不了，因为在我面前不断地暴露出来。
He was proud, sardonic, harsh to inferiority of every description.
对于各类低于他的人，他高傲刻薄，喜欢挖苦。
In my secret soul I knew that his great kindness to me was balanced by unjust severity to many others.
我心里暗自明白，他对我的和颜悦色，同对很多其他人的不当的严厉相对等。
He was moody, too; unaccountably so.
他还郁郁不欢，简直到了难以理解的程度。
I more than once, when sent for to read to him,
我被叫去读书给他听时，
found him sitting in his library alone, with his head bent on his folded arms.
曾不止一次地发现他独自一人坐在图书室里，脑袋伏在抱着的双臂上。

And, when he looked up, a morose, almost a malignant, scowl blackened his features.
他抬头时，露出闷闷不乐近乎恶意的怒容，脸色铁青。
But I believed that his moodiness, his harshness, and his former faults of morality
不过我相信他的郁闷、他的严厉和他以前道德上的过错
(I say former, for now he seemed corrected of them) had their source in some cruel cross of fate.
（我说“以前”，因为现在他似乎已经纠正了）都来源于他命运中某些艰苦的磨难。
I believed he was naturally a man of better tendencies, higher principles,
我相信，比起那些受环境所薰陶，教育所灌输或者命运所鼓励的人来，
and purer tastes than such as circumstances had developed, education instilled, or destiny encouraged.
他生来就有更好的脾性，更高的准则和更纯的旨趣。
I thought there were excellent materials in him,
我想他的素质很好，
though for the present they hung together somewhat spoiled and tangled.
只是目前给糟塌了，乱纷纷地绞成了一团。
I cannot deny that I grieved for his grief, whatever that was, and would have given much to assuage it.
我无法否认，不管是什么样的哀伤，我为他的哀伤而哀伤，并且愿意付出很大代价去减轻它。