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Northanger Abbey-Part27_Jane Austen(1775-1817)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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and extinguished in one. A lamp could not have expired

with more awful effect. Catherine, for a few moments,



was motionless with horror. It was done completely;

not a remnant of light in the wick could give hope



to the rekindling breath. Darkness impenetrable and

immovable filled the room. A violent gust of wind,



rising with sudden fury, added fresh horror to the moment.

Catherine trembled from head to foot. In the pause



which succeeded, a sound like receding footsteps and the

closing of a distant door struck on her affrighted ear.



Human nature could support no more. A cold sweat stood

on her forehead, the manuscript fell from her hand,



and groping her way to the bed, she jumped hastily in,

and sought some suspension of agony by creeping far



underneath the clothes. To close her eyes in sleep

that night, she felt must be entirely out of the question.



With a curiosity so justly awakened, and feelings in every

way so agitated, repose must be absolutely impossible.



The storm too abroad so dreadful! She had not been used

to feel alarm from wind, but now every blast seemed fraught



with awful intelligence. The manuscript so wonderfully found,

so wonderfully accomplishing the morning's prediction,



how was it to be accounted for? What could it contain? To

whom could it relate? By what means could it have been



so long concealed? And how singularly strange that it

should fall to her lot to discover it! Till she had made



herself mistress of its contents, however, she could

have neither repose nor comfort; and with the sun's first



rays she was determined to peruse it. But many were the

tedious hours which must yet intervene. She shuddered,



tossed about in her bed, and envied every quiet sleeper.

The storm still raged, and various were the noises,



more terrific even than the wind, which struck at intervals

on her startled ear. The very curtains of her bed seemed



at one moment in motion, and at another the lock of her door

was agitated, as if by the attempt of somebody to enter.



Hollow murmurs seemed to creep along the gallery, and more than

once her blood was chilled by the sound of distant moans.



Hour after hour passed away, and the wearied Catherine

had heard three proclaimed by all the clocks in the house



before the tempest subsided or she unknowingly fell

fast asleep.



CHAPTER 22

The housemaid's folding back her window-shutters



at eight o'clock the next day was the sound which

first roused Catherine; and she opened her eyes,



wondering that they could ever have been closed,

on objects of cheerfulness" target="_blank" title="n.高兴，愉快">cheerfulness; her fire was already burning,



and a bright morning had succeeded the tempest of the night.

Instantaneously, with the consciousness of existence,



returned her recollection of the manuscript; and springing

from the bed in the very moment of the maid's going away,



she eagerly collected every scattered sheet which had

burst from the roll on its falling to the ground, and flew



back to enjoy the luxury of their perusal on her pillow.

She now plainly saw that she must not expect a manuscript



of equal length with the generality of what she had

shuddered over in books, for the roll, seeming to consist



entirely of small disjointed sheets, was altogether but

of trifling size, and much less than she had supposed



it to be at first.

Her greedy eye glanced rapidly over a page.



She started at its import. Could it be possible, or did

not her senses play her false? An inventory of linen,



in coarse and modern characters, seemed all that was before

her! If the evidence of sight might be trusted, she held






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