03-02-03-勃朗特一家的故事 [10]
我说，“你必须忘了她。布兰韦尔，听我说……”
但他没有听，他从房间里冲了出去，直到晚上才回来，已是醉醺醺的了。那天他没有听我说完，第二天也没有，以后再也没有。他还开始喝鸦片酊，我觉得他会害死自己的。
所以我觉得夏洛蒂会高兴没有学生父母来。没有哪所学校能容得下布兰韦尔这样的人。
■ 7 Currer， Ellis，and Acton Bell
At about this time，in 1845，I was almost blind．I had a new curate to do my work-Arthur Nicholls，a young man of twenty－eight．He came from Northern Ireland like my－self．He was a good，hard worker．I spoke in the church on Sundays，but Arthur Nicholls did the rest of my work．
Branwell became worse and worse．Mr Robinson died in 1846，but Mrs Robinson didn't marry Branwell—oh no！She was a cold wicked woman．She sent my son Branwell away，and later married a rich old man．And so Branwell spent more and more time drinking，and taking laudanum，and walking alone on the moors．
When you are blind， you listen to things very carefully．I used to sit alone in my room and listen to the sounds of the wind outside the house．The wind talks and whispers and sings -it has many voices．I listened to the sounds of the clock on the stairs，and the wood in the fire，and the footsteps and voices of the girls walking round the house．They talked a lot to each other，and sometimes I could hear what they said，even when they were in another room．
Anne had had a poem published in a magazine，and one day I heard a conversation between Charlotte and Emily．Charlotte had found something that Emily had written， and was talking to her about it．
'But they're wonderful，Emily，'Charlotte said．'They're much better than mine or Anne's．'
'They're not for people to read，'Emily said．'They're part of the Gondal story．Nobody would understand them，except me and Anne．'
I realized that they were talking about some poems of Emily's．I knew that Emily and Anne wrote a lot about the country of Gondal，but I didn't know much about it．Emily kept all her papers locked in her desk．
Charlotte was arguing with her．'Emily，listen to me！ These are fine poems．I think we should put some of them in a book，togetner with mine and Anne's，and try to publish it．People should read them！'
'No！'Emily shouted．Then her dog Keeper began to bark，and I didn't hear any more．But I think they talked about this again several times．I often heard voices arguing，and usually they never argued about their writing．
I wanted to tell them not to do it．I had published several small books myself，but I always lost money．I had to pay the publisher to print the books，and not many people bought them．It's an easy way to lose money．But I was too ill，so I said nothing．
I learnt，many years later，that they paid over￡30 to have a book of poems printed，and that it sold two copies．I am not surprised that they didn't tell me about it； we had very little
I began to feel that there was something wrong with my head，as well as my eyes．Several times the postman brought an old packet to our house，which was addressed to a man called Currer Bell．I told him that no Currer Bell lived in Haworth，and sent him away．But then，a month or two later，he came back again，with the same old packet．
In the summer of 1846 Charlotte took me to see an eye doc－tor in Manchester．We stayed in rooms in the town．The doctor decided to operate on my eyes， and the next morning we got up early．I was afraid．Could I hold my head still while the doctor cut into my eyes with a knife？ Perhaps the pain would be too terrible．Perhaps I would move，or stand up， or…
Charlotte held my hand．As we left our rooms，we met a postman．
'Good morning，Miss，'he said．'There's packet here for Currer Bell．'
'Oh…thank you．'Charlotte sounded sad，but she took the packet，and put it in her room．She did not open it．Then we walked to the eye doctor's．
The pain was terrible，but it was over in fifteen minutes， and I didn't move．Afterwards，I had to lie on a bed in a dark room．We couldn't go home for a month．A nurse came some－times，but Charlotte stayed with me all day．
I asked her once about the packet．She said：' Oh，it's for a friend of mine，papa．It had a letter for me in it．I have posted it away again now．'
I didn't understand，but I didn't ask again．I lay quietly on my bed most of the day
但他没有听，他从房间里冲了出去，直到晚上才回来，已是醉醺醺的了。那天他没有听我说完，第二天也没有，以后再也没有。他还开始喝鸦片酊，我觉得他会害死自己的。
所以我觉得夏洛蒂会高兴没有学生父母来。没有哪所学校能容得下布兰韦尔这样的人。
■ 7 Currer， Ellis，and Acton Bell
At about this time，in 1845，I was almost blind．I had a new curate to do my work-Arthur Nicholls，a young man of twenty－eight．He came from Northern Ireland like my－self．He was a good，hard worker．I spoke in the church on Sundays，but Arthur Nicholls did the rest of my work．
Branwell became worse and worse．Mr Robinson died in 1846，but Mrs Robinson didn't marry Branwell—oh no！She was a cold wicked woman．She sent my son Branwell away，and later married a rich old man．And so Branwell spent more and more time drinking，and taking laudanum，and walking alone on the moors．
When you are blind， you listen to things very carefully．I used to sit alone in my room and listen to the sounds of the wind outside the house．The wind talks and whispers and sings -it has many voices．I listened to the sounds of the clock on the stairs，and the wood in the fire，and the footsteps and voices of the girls walking round the house．They talked a lot to each other，and sometimes I could hear what they said，even when they were in another room．
Anne had had a poem published in a magazine，and one day I heard a conversation between Charlotte and Emily．Charlotte had found something that Emily had written， and was talking to her about it．
'But they're wonderful，Emily，'Charlotte said．'They're much better than mine or Anne's．'
'They're not for people to read，'Emily said．'They're part of the Gondal story．Nobody would understand them，except me and Anne．'
I realized that they were talking about some poems of Emily's．I knew that Emily and Anne wrote a lot about the country of Gondal，but I didn't know much about it．Emily kept all her papers locked in her desk．
Charlotte was arguing with her．'Emily，listen to me！ These are fine poems．I think we should put some of them in a book，togetner with mine and Anne's，and try to publish it．People should read them！'
'No！'Emily shouted．Then her dog Keeper began to bark，and I didn't hear any more．But I think they talked about this again several times．I often heard voices arguing，and usually they never argued about their writing．
I wanted to tell them not to do it．I had published several small books myself，but I always lost money．I had to pay the publisher to print the books，and not many people bought them．It's an easy way to lose money．But I was too ill，so I said nothing．
I learnt，many years later，that they paid over￡30 to have a book of poems printed，and that it sold two copies．I am not surprised that they didn't tell me about it； we had very little
I began to feel that there was something wrong with my head，as well as my eyes．Several times the postman brought an old packet to our house，which was addressed to a man called Currer Bell．I told him that no Currer Bell lived in Haworth，and sent him away．But then，a month or two later，he came back again，with the same old packet．
In the summer of 1846 Charlotte took me to see an eye doc－tor in Manchester．We stayed in rooms in the town．The doctor decided to operate on my eyes， and the next morning we got up early．I was afraid．Could I hold my head still while the doctor cut into my eyes with a knife？ Perhaps the pain would be too terrible．Perhaps I would move，or stand up， or…
Charlotte held my hand．As we left our rooms，we met a postman．
'Good morning，Miss，'he said．'There's packet here for Currer Bell．'
'Oh…thank you．'Charlotte sounded sad，but she took the packet，and put it in her room．She did not open it．Then we walked to the eye doctor's．
The pain was terrible，but it was over in fifteen minutes， and I didn't move．Afterwards，I had to lie on a bed in a dark room．We couldn't go home for a month．A nurse came some－times，but Charlotte stayed with me all day．
I asked her once about the packet．She said：' Oh，it's for a friend of mine，papa．It had a letter for me in it．I have posted it away again now．'
I didn't understand，but I didn't ask again．I lay quietly on my bed most of the day