Entering the gate and passing the shrubs, the silhouette of a house rose to view, black, low, and rather long;
进了门，走过灌木，眼前便现出了一所房子的剪影，又黑又矮却相当长。
but the guiding light shone nowhere. All was obscurity.
但是那道引路的光却消失了。一切都模模糊糊。
Were the inmates retired to rest? I feared it must be so.
难道屋里的人都安息了？我担心准是这样。
In seeking the door, I turned an angle: there shot out the friendly gleam again,
我转了一个角度去找门，那里又闪起了友好的灯光，
from the lozenged panes of a very small latticed window, within a foot of the ground,
是从一尺之内一扇格子小窗的菱形玻璃上射出来的，
made still smaller by the growth of ivy or some other creeping plant, whose leaves clustered thick over the portion of the house wall in which it was set.
那扇窗因为长青藤或是满墙的爬藤类植物的叶子，显得更小了。

The aperture was so screened and narrow, that curtain or shutter had been deemed unnecessary;
留下的空隙那么小，又覆盖得那么好，窗帘和百叶窗似乎都没有必要了。
and when I stooped down and put aside the spray of foliage shooting over it, I could see all within.
我弯腰撩开窗户上浓密的小枝条，里面的一切便看得清清楚楚了。
I could see clearly a room with a sanded floor, clean scoured;
我能看得清房间的沙子地板擦得干干净净。
a dresser of walnut, with pewter plates ranged in rows, reflecting the redness and radiance of a glowing peat-fire.
还有一个核桃木餐具柜，上面放着一排排锡盘，映出了燃烧着的泥炭火的红光。
I could see a clock, a white deal table, some chairs.
我能看得见一只钟、一张白色的松木桌和几把椅子。
The candle, whose ray had been my beacon, burnt on the table;
桌子上点着一根蜡烛，烛光一直是我的灯塔。
and by its light an elderly woman, somewhat rough-looking, but scrupulously clean, like all about her, was knitting a stocking.
一个看去有些粗糙，但也像她周围的一切那样一尘不染的老妇人，借着烛光在编织袜子。