'Happily I awoke almost immediately to a sense of my folly,' he continued. 'I would have no more to say to her, and I came home. I have never repeated the offence. But I felt I should like to treat you with perfect frankness and honour, and I could not do so without telling this. Do you forgive me?'
“幸好我立即就清醒了，认识到了自己的愚蠢，”他继续说。“所以我就跟她一刀两断，回家了。我再也没有犯过这种过错。不过我觉得对你我应该诚实坦白，要是我不把这件事告诉你，我就觉得对不住你。你能宽恕我吗？”

She pressed his hand tightly for an answer.
她紧紧地握住他的手，算是回答他。

'Then we will dismiss it at once and for ever! - too painful as it is for the occasion - and talk of something lighter.'
“我们现在就不说这个话题了，永远不谈这个话题了！——在这种时候谈这个太让人痛苦了——让我们谈点儿轻松的话题吧。”

'O, Angel - I am almost glad - because now you can forgive me! I have not made my confession. I have a confession, too - remember, I said so.'
“啊，安琪尔——我简直是高兴呢——因为现在你也能够宽恕我了呀！我还没有向你坦白我的过错呢。我也有一桩罪过要向你坦白——记得吗？我曾经这样说过。”

'Ah, to be sure! Now then for it, wicked little one.'
“啊，是说过！那么你说吧，你这个小坏蛋。”

'Perhaps, although you smile, it is as serious as yours, or more so.'
“虽然你在笑，其实这是一件和你的一样严肃的事，或者更严重些。”

'It can hardly be more serious, dearest.'
“不会比我的更严重吧，最亲爱的。”

'It cannot - O no, it cannot!' She jumped up joyfully at the hope. 'No, it cannot be more serious, certainly,' she cried, 'because 'tis just the same! I will tell you now.'
“不会——啊，不会，不会更严重的！”她觉得有希望，高兴得跳起来说。“不会的，肯定不会更严重的，”她大声说，“因为和你的正是一样的。我现在就告诉你。”

She sat down again.
她又坐下来。

Their hands were still joined. The ashes under the grate were lit by the fire vertically, like a torrid waste. Imagination might have beheld a Last Day luridness in this red-coaled glow, which fell on his face and hand, and on hers, peering into the loose hair about her brow, and firing the delicate skin underneath. A large shadow of her shape rose upon the wall and ceiling. She bent forward, at which each diamond on her neck gave a sinister wink like a toad's; and pressing her forehead against his temple she entered on her story of her acquaintance with Alec d'Urberville and its results, murmuring the words without flinching, and with her eyelids drooping down.
他们的手仍然握在一起。炉桥下的灰烬由炉火垂直地照亮了，就像一片炎热干燥的荒野。炭火的红光落在他的脸上、手上，也落在她的脸上和手上，透射进她前额上蓬松的头发里，把她头发下的细皮嫩肉照得通红。这种红色，让人想象到末日来临的恐惧。她的巨大的身影映射在墙上和天花板上。她向前弯着腰，脖子上的每一粒钻石就闪闪发亮，像毒蛤蟆眨眼一样。她把额头靠在他的头上，开始讲述她的故事，讲述她怎样认识亚历克·德贝维尔，讲后来的结果，她低声说着，低垂着眼帘，一点也没有退缩。