Wuthering Heights 呼啸山庄 英文版原著

　　爱情 复仇 绝望 恐怖 英国文学史上“*奇特的小说” 　　 英国广播公司评出的百部英国人*喜欢的文学作品之一
**的文学经典读物 *好的语言学习读本 1. 经典著作。 2. 有助于提高文学素养和英文水平。

　　本书为纯英文版，《呼啸山庄》是英国女作家勃朗特姐妹之一艾米莉?勃朗特的作品。小说描写吉卜赛弃儿希斯克利夫被山庄老主人收养后，因受辱和恋爱不遂，外出致富，回来后对与其女友凯瑟琳结婚的地主林顿及其子女进行报复的故事。全篇充满强烈的反压迫、争幸福的斗争精神，又始终笼罩着离奇、紧张的浪漫气氛。它开始曾被人看作是年青女作家脱离现实的天真幻想，但结合其所描写地区激烈的阶级斗争和英国的社会现象，它不久便被评论界高度肯定，并受到读者的热烈欢迎。根据这部小说改编的影视作品至今久演不衰。

　　艾米莉·勃朗特（1818～1848）英国女作家。夏洛蒂?勃朗特之妹，安恩?勃朗特之姐。出生于贫苦的牧师之家。艾米莉性格内向，娴静文雅，从童年时代起就酷爱写诗。1846年，她们三姐妹曾自费出过一本诗集。《呼啸山庄》是她唯一的一部小说，发表于1847年12月。她们三姐妹的三部小说——夏洛蒂的《简·爱》、艾米莉的《呼啸山庄》和小妹妹安妮的《艾格尼斯·格雷》是同一年问世的。除《呼啸山庄》外，艾米莉还创作了193首诗，被认为是英国一位天才的女作家。三人并称勃朗特三姐妹。
直到本世纪她才被公认为英国三大女诗人之一。

CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
……

　　Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind
to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and
mud to Wuthering Heights. On coming up from dinner, however (N.B. I
dine between twelve and one o’clock; the housekeeper, a matronly
lady, taken as a fixture along with the house, could not, or would
not, comprehend my request that I might be served at five), on
mounting the stairs with this lazy intention, and stepping into the
room, I saw a servant girl on her knees surrounded by brushes and
coal-scuttles, and raising an infernal dust as she extinguished the
flames with heaps of cinders. This spectacle drove me back
immediately; I took my hat, and, after a four-miles’ walk, arrived
at Heathcliff’s garden gate just in time to escape the first
feathery flakes of a snow shower.
　　On that bleak hill top the earth was hard with a black frost, and
the air made me shiver through every limb. Being unable to remove
the chain, I jumped over, and, running up the flagged causeway
bordered with straggling gooseberry bushes, knocked vainly for
admittance, till my knuckles tingled and the dogs howled.
　　‘Wretched inmates!’ I ejaculated mentally, ‘you deserve perpetual
isolation from your species for your churlish inhospitality. At
least, I would not keep my doors barred in the day time. I don’t
care–I will get in!’ So resolved, I grasped the latch and shook it
vehemently. Vinegar-faced Joseph projected his head from a round
window of the barn.
　　‘Whet are ye for?’ he shouted. ‘T’ maister’s dahn i’ t’ fowld. Go
rahnd by th’ end ut’ laith, if yah went tuh spake tull him.’
　　‘Is there nobody inside to open the door?’ I hallooed,
responsively.
　　‘They’s nobbut t’ missis; and shoo’ll nut oppen’t an ye mak yer
flaysome dins till neeght.’
　　‘Why? Cannot you tell her who I am, eh, Joseph?’
　　‘Nor-ne me! Aw’ll hae noa hend wi’t,’ muttered the head,
vanishing.
　　The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay
another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a
pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him,
and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area
containing a coal shed, pump, and pigeon cot, we at length arrived
in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment, where I was formerly
received. It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense
fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid
for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the
‘missis’, an individual whose existence I had never previously
suspected. I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me take a
seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and remained
motionless and mute.
　　‘Rough weather!’ I remarked. ‘I’m afraid, Mrs Heathcliff, the
door must bear the consequence of your servants’ leisure
attendance: I had hard work to make them hear me.’
　　She never opened her mouth. I stared–she stared also: at any
rate, she kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner,
exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.
　　‘Sit down,’ said the young man gruffly. ‘He’ll be in soon.’
　　I obeyed; and hemmed, and called the villain Juno, who deigned,
at this second interview, to move the extreme tip of her tail, in
token of owning my acquaintance.
　　‘A beautiful animal!’ I commenced again. ‘Do you intend parting
with the little ones, madam?’
　　‘They are not mine,’ said the amiable hostess, more repellingly
than Heathcliff himself could have replied.
　　‘Ah, your favourites are among these?’ I continued, turning to an
obscure cushion full of something like cats.
　　‘A strange choice of favourites!’ she observed scornfully.
　　Unluckily, it was a heap of dead rabbits. I hemmed once more, and
drew closer to the hearth, repeating my comment on the wildness of
the evening.
　　……