03-02-03-勃朗特一家的故事 [16]
，and she wrote back．In April of 1854，he came back to Haworth．Charlotte brought him into my room． I looked at him， but I said nothing． I was not pleased．
'Papa，'Charlotte said．'Mr Nicholls and I have something to say to you．'
I did not like that．'Mr Nicholls and I…'It did not sound good to me．
'I am busy，'I said．'I have a lot of work．'
Charlotte smiled．'That's because you don't have a good curate，papa．When Mr Nicholls was here，your life was easy．'
'Perhaps，'I said．'But he was going to Australia， I thought．Why haven't you gone，sir？'
Mr Nicholls spoke for the first time．He looked very tall and proud，I thought．'There are two reasons，sir，'he said．'First，because I have decided not to go to Australia．And also…'
He stopped，and looked down at Charlotte． She smiled up at him，and I felt my blood run cold．
'…and also，because your daughter Charlotte and I would like to be married．We have come to ask you to agree．'
I don't remember what I said next．I think there were a lot of unkind words between us，and some tears．But in the end I agreed．I agreed because Charlotte wanted it，not because of Arthur Nicholls．
In June that year they were married in my church．I did not go—I could not give Charlotte away to that man．But he came back here to be my curate， and he and Charlotte lived in this house with me．He is still here now．
Perhaps he will read this． If he does， he will know that he was right，and I was wrong．Mr Nicholls was，after all，a good husband for Charlotte．I understood，after a while， that he honestly loved her， and he could make her happy．She began to smile and laugh again．Her eyes shone，she sang sometimes as she worked．Our house became a home again．
She went with him to see his family in Ireland，and travelled to the far west of that country．Mr Nicholls did most of my church work for me． Charlotte began a new book Emma，she called it．And one day in December 1854 she came into my room，smiling．I could see that she was excited．
'What is it，my dear？ Have you finished your book？'
'No，not yet，papa．But I have something wonderful to tell you．What do you think？'
'I don't know，my dear． If it's not your book，then…'
'I told Arthur yesterday．I am going to have a child．'
I did not say anything．Her hand was on the table and I put my hand on it gently．It was wonderful news．I remembered when my own wife，Maria，had told me this， and how this house had been full of the laughter of little voices，and the noise of running feet．Charlotte and I sat like that for a long time， re-membering．
It did not happen．At Christmas she fell ill， and in the New Year she was worse．She felt sick all the time because of the baby， and she ate nothing．She lay in bed all day，hot and coughing．Arthur Nicholls cared for her wonderfully——I think he often stayed awake all night．But it did not help．
On 31st March 1855 the last of my six children died． It was early in the morning．Arthur Nicholls was sitting by her bed，and I was standing by the door．She was asleep with her hand in his．Her face was very thin and pale．
She opened her eyes and saw him．Then she coughed，and I saw fear in her face．
'Oh God，'she whispered．I am not going to die， am I ？Please don't take me away from Arthur now-we have been so happy．'
Those were the last words she ever said．A little while later，I walked slowly out of the house．As I went into the graveyard，the church bell began to ring．It was ringing to tell Haworth and all the world that Charlotte Bront was dead．
■ 9 亚瑟·尼可斯
我的悲哀还没有结束。安妮也开始生病了，她呼吸费力，咳嗽着，脸色苍白。但她比爱米丽明智，她吃了各种药，完全遵医嘱行事。可是并不管用。春天来了，她说想去海边，去一个暖和些的地方，可大夫们让她等等。我预感到她可能等不到动身就会死去。
最后在5月份，夏洛蒂和她一起，先去了约克，在那儿参观了美丽的约克·敏斯特大教堂。“人类的作品已经如此美丽，”安妮叹息道，“上帝的家园又会是什么样呢？”
夏洛蒂在一封寄自斯卡伯勒的信中向我讲述了这件事，那是位于东北部海边的一个城镇。
“5月26日安妮在岸边骑了一头驴子。”信中写道，“她非常快活，爸爸。然后我们去了教堂，又坐着，看着大海，在那儿待了很长时间。28号她病得不能出门。下午两点钟她静静地死了。她将葬在海边的墓地。”
安妮是家中最小的孩子，最年轻，也最漂亮。她死前写了另一本书——《瓦尔德费尔庄园的房客》——关于一个妇女离开她残酷的丈夫的故事。她为这本书自豪，我也是。她当时29岁。“我不想死，爸爸。”她说，“我脑子里还有许多许多构思，我还有许多许多的书要写。”
夏洛蒂回家时，狗儿们欢快地叫着。或许它们以为安妮、爱米丽和布兰韦尔也一同回来了——我不知道。可是只有夏洛蒂。我所有孩子中个子最小的一个，她不是最美的，不是最坚强的，也不是最怪异的一个。上帝把其他孩子都召了回去，只留给我这个，但她
'Papa，'Charlotte said．'Mr Nicholls and I have something to say to you．'
I did not like that．'Mr Nicholls and I…'It did not sound good to me．
'I am busy，'I said．'I have a lot of work．'
Charlotte smiled．'That's because you don't have a good curate，papa．When Mr Nicholls was here，your life was easy．'
'Perhaps，'I said．'But he was going to Australia， I thought．Why haven't you gone，sir？'
Mr Nicholls spoke for the first time．He looked very tall and proud，I thought．'There are two reasons，sir，'he said．'First，because I have decided not to go to Australia．And also…'
He stopped，and looked down at Charlotte． She smiled up at him，and I felt my blood run cold．
'…and also，because your daughter Charlotte and I would like to be married．We have come to ask you to agree．'
I don't remember what I said next．I think there were a lot of unkind words between us，and some tears．But in the end I agreed．I agreed because Charlotte wanted it，not because of Arthur Nicholls．
In June that year they were married in my church．I did not go—I could not give Charlotte away to that man．But he came back here to be my curate， and he and Charlotte lived in this house with me．He is still here now．
Perhaps he will read this． If he does， he will know that he was right，and I was wrong．Mr Nicholls was，after all，a good husband for Charlotte．I understood，after a while， that he honestly loved her， and he could make her happy．She began to smile and laugh again．Her eyes shone，she sang sometimes as she worked．Our house became a home again．
She went with him to see his family in Ireland，and travelled to the far west of that country．Mr Nicholls did most of my church work for me． Charlotte began a new book Emma，she called it．And one day in December 1854 she came into my room，smiling．I could see that she was excited．
'What is it，my dear？ Have you finished your book？'
'No，not yet，papa．But I have something wonderful to tell you．What do you think？'
'I don't know，my dear． If it's not your book，then…'
'I told Arthur yesterday．I am going to have a child．'
I did not say anything．Her hand was on the table and I put my hand on it gently．It was wonderful news．I remembered when my own wife，Maria，had told me this， and how this house had been full of the laughter of little voices，and the noise of running feet．Charlotte and I sat like that for a long time， re-membering．
It did not happen．At Christmas she fell ill， and in the New Year she was worse．She felt sick all the time because of the baby， and she ate nothing．She lay in bed all day，hot and coughing．Arthur Nicholls cared for her wonderfully——I think he often stayed awake all night．But it did not help．
On 31st March 1855 the last of my six children died． It was early in the morning．Arthur Nicholls was sitting by her bed，and I was standing by the door．She was asleep with her hand in his．Her face was very thin and pale．
She opened her eyes and saw him．Then she coughed，and I saw fear in her face．
'Oh God，'she whispered．I am not going to die， am I ？Please don't take me away from Arthur now-we have been so happy．'
Those were the last words she ever said．A little while later，I walked slowly out of the house．As I went into the graveyard，the church bell began to ring．It was ringing to tell Haworth and all the world that Charlotte Bront was dead．
■ 9 亚瑟·尼可斯
我的悲哀还没有结束。安妮也开始生病了，她呼吸费力，咳嗽着，脸色苍白。但她比爱米丽明智，她吃了各种药，完全遵医嘱行事。可是并不管用。春天来了，她说想去海边，去一个暖和些的地方，可大夫们让她等等。我预感到她可能等不到动身就会死去。
最后在5月份，夏洛蒂和她一起，先去了约克，在那儿参观了美丽的约克·敏斯特大教堂。“人类的作品已经如此美丽，”安妮叹息道，“上帝的家园又会是什么样呢？”
夏洛蒂在一封寄自斯卡伯勒的信中向我讲述了这件事，那是位于东北部海边的一个城镇。
“5月26日安妮在岸边骑了一头驴子。”信中写道，“她非常快活，爸爸。然后我们去了教堂，又坐着，看着大海，在那儿待了很长时间。28号她病得不能出门。下午两点钟她静静地死了。她将葬在海边的墓地。”
安妮是家中最小的孩子，最年轻，也最漂亮。她死前写了另一本书——《瓦尔德费尔庄园的房客》——关于一个妇女离开她残酷的丈夫的故事。她为这本书自豪，我也是。她当时29岁。“我不想死，爸爸。”她说，“我脑子里还有许多许多构思，我还有许多许多的书要写。”
夏洛蒂回家时，狗儿们欢快地叫着。或许它们以为安妮、爱米丽和布兰韦尔也一同回来了——我不知道。可是只有夏洛蒂。我所有孩子中个子最小的一个，她不是最美的，不是最坚强的，也不是最怪异的一个。上帝把其他孩子都召了回去，只留给我这个，但她