'THOU ART THE MAN!' cried Jabez, after a solemn pause, leaning over his cushion. 'Seventy times seven times didst thou gapingly contort thy visage - seventy times seven did I take counsel with my soul - Lo, this is human weakness: this also may be absolved! The First of the Seventy-First is come. Brethren, execute upon him the judgment written. Such honour have all His saints!'

“你就是那个人！” 杰贝兹惊呼，瞬间的肃静之后，他靠在他的椅背上，“七十个七次，你夸张的扭曲你的面部，而我则是七十个七次，用我的灵魂劝告你。主啊，这就是人类的缺憾，而这也是可以解决的！第七十一个七次的第一次来了。兄弟们，给他执行写下的判决。作为主的圣徒是多么荣幸的事啊！”

With that concluding word, the whole assembly, exalting their pilgrim's staves, rushed round me in a body; and I, having no weapon to raise in self-defence, commenced grappling with Joseph, my nearest and most ferocious assailant, for his. In the confluence of the multitude, several clubs crossed; blows, aimed at me, fell on other sconces. Presently the whole chapel resounded with rappings and counter rappings: every man's hand was against his neighbour; and Branderham, unwilling to remain idle, poured forth his zeal in a shower of loud taps on the boards of the pulpit, which responded so smartly that, at last, to my unspeakable relief, they woke me. And what was it that had suggested the tremendous tumult? What had played Jabez's part in the row? Merely the branch of a fir-tree that touched my lattice as the blast wailed by, and rattled its dry cones against the panes! I listened doubtingly an instant; detected the disturber, then turned and dozed, and dreamt again: if possible, still more disagreeably than before.

随着他的话音落下，所有的与会者举起了他们朝圣的手杖，冲向我，把我围了起来。而我，没有防身的武器可以举起，一把抓住约瑟夫，这个离我最近，也是攻击我最猛烈的家伙，扭打在一起。在人群中，有几跟手杖架成十字，向我砸了过来，却打在了别人的头上。立即，整个小礼拜堂充满了打斗的声音。每个人的手都对准了他旁边的人，而布拉德汗姆也不愿意闲着，他在布道台上大声的放磁带，继续倾注他的热情，而这却很好的缓解了我无法演说的痛苦，最后让我醒了过来。这样的巨大的骚乱意味着什么呢？是谁扮演了杰贝兹的角色？只有当风刮过的时候，冷杉的树枝打在窗格子上，干了的松果摩擦过窗格嘎嘎直响。我警觉的听着，想要辨别出是什么弄出的声音，然后翻了个身，迷糊过去，又开始做梦了。如果可能的话，这个比上一个更难以置信。

This time, I remembered I was lying in the oak closet, and I heard distinctly the gusty wind, and the driving of the snow; I heard, also, the fir bough repeat its teasing sound, and ascribed it to the right cause: but it annoyed me so much, that I resolved to silence it, if possible; and, I thought, I rose and endeavoured to unhasp the casement. The hook was soldered into the staple: a circumstance observed by me when awake, but forgotten. 'I must stop it, nevertheless!' I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to seize the importunate branch; instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little, ice-cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, 'Let me in - let me in!' 'Who are you?' I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself.

这次，我记得，我躺在橡木壁橱里，并且很清晰的听见外面的大风，还有被风吹的雪的声音。我听着，还是，冷杉还是不断发出烦人的声音，认为是它造就了这些。我实在是受不了它了，觉得要让它安静下来，如果可能的话。想着，我就站起来，费力想推开窗扉。我醒的时候看见窗扣是和台子焊在一起的，但是忘记了。“不管怎么样，我都要制止它！”我自言自语，用我的手砸碎玻璃，把手伸出去，想要抓住主干；但是，我抓到的确实一只小小的，冰冷的手！我立即觉得毛骨悚然，试图讲手缩回来，但是那只手却抓住不放，一个最忧郁的声音呜咽道，“让我进去， 让我进去！” “你是谁？”我问，同时挣扎着，想脱身。

'Catherine Linton,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of LINTON? I had read EARNSHAW twenty times for Linton) - 'I'm come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!' As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through the window. Terror made me cruel; and, finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes: still it wailed, 'Let me in!' and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me with fear. 'How can I!' I said at length. 'Let ME go, if you want me to let you in!' The fingers relaxed, I snatched mine through the hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid against it, and stopped my ears to exclude the lamentable prayer. I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant I listened again, there was the doleful cry moaning on!

“凯瑟琳·林顿，”它回答道，声音颤抖（为什么我会想林顿呢？我读到的恩肖是林顿的二十倍之多），“我回家，但是我在野外迷路了！”在它说话的时候，我模糊的看见了一个孩子般的脸透过窗户往里看。恐惧让我变的残忍，发现挣扎摆脱不了这个东西，我把它的手腕压在破了的窗户上，来回的摩擦直到血流下来，浸湿了床褥，但是它还是哀求，“让我进去！”，还是紧紧的抓着不放，恐惧几乎让我疯狂。“我怎么让你进来！”最后我说，“如果你想让我放你进来的话，先放开我。”手指松开了，我从洞里把手缩回来，立即把书堆成金字塔形状堵在洞口，并将耳朵捂起来，不想在听见那烦人的哀求。我似乎让它停止了一刻钟，然而当我再听的时候，那个哀求还在不停的哀求。

'Begone!' I shouted. 'I'll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.' 'It is twenty years,' mourned the voice: 'twenty years. I've been a waif for twenty years!' Thereat began a feeble scratching outside, and the pile of books moved as if thrust forward. I tried to jump up; but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzy of fright. To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal: hasty footsteps approached my chamber door; somebody pushed it open, with a vigorous hand, and a light glimmered through the squares at the top of the bed. I sat shuddering yet, and wiping the perspiration from my forehead: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered to himself. At last, he said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer, 'Is any one here?' I considered it best to confess my presence; for I knew Heathcliff's accents, and feared he might search further, if I kept quiet. With this intention, I turned and opened the panels. I shall not soon forget the effect my action produced.

“走开！”我叫道，“我永远都不会让你进来的，就算你乞求二十年也没有用的。”“是二十年了，”那个哀怨的声音说道，“二十年，我已经二十年无家可归了！”话毕，外面响起了微弱的抓的声音，那堆书也动起来，仿佛有东西要进来了。我试图跳起来，脚却动不了；于是，我大声的叫，极其恐惧的叫。让我迷惑的是，我发现，叫并不是理想的方式。急促的脚步靠近我的房门，有人用力推开门，微弱的灯光透过床上顶部的格子照了进来。我还发抖的坐着，擦去头上的汗。来人似乎有些怀疑，自言自语。最后，他用近乎耳语的声音问道，“有人在吗？”并没有期待有人回答。我觉得最好还是承认我的存在，因为我听出是希斯克利夫的声音，也担心如果我部说话，他可能会继续找下去。思定，我转身打开挡板。我将永远部会忘记我的动作产生的效果。