第七章（第12/17页）

"She doesn't want to, but she knows she must. Mother died of cancer, brought on by fretting. We're not running any risks.” So next day Clifford suggested Mrs. Bolton, Tevershall parish nurse. Apparently Mrs. Betts had thought of her. Mrs. Bolton was just retiring from her parish duties to take up private nursing jobs. Clifford had a queer dread of delivering himself into the hands of a stranger, but this Mrs. Bolton had once nursed him through scarlet fever, and he knew her.

“她不愿意离开，但也清楚必须这样做。我们的母亲死于癌症，这病因焦虑而起。我们不能再掉以轻心。”于是，第二天，克利福德提议雇用博尔顿太太，特弗沙尔教区的护士。显然是女管家贝茨太太想起了她。博尔顿太太正要从教区的职位上退下来，打算从事私人护理的工作。克利福德有种怪癖，害怕把自己交给陌生人照料，但博尔顿太太曾在他生猩红热期间伺候过他，所以也算是旧相识。

The two sisters at once called on Mrs. Bolton, in a newish house in a row, quite select for Tevershall. They found a rather good-looking woman of forty-odd, in a nurse's uniform, with a white collar and apron, just making herself tea in a small crowded sitting-room.

两姐妹立即登门拜访博尔顿太太，她的寓所崭新，位于特弗沙尔村较为整饬的街道上。她们见到的是位40多岁、面容姣好的中年女子，穿着护士制服，衣领和围裙均为白色，正忙着在局促的起居室里煮茶。

Mrs. Bolton was most attentive and polite, seemed quite nice, spoke with a bit of a broad slur, but in heavily correct English, and from having bossed the sick colliers for a good many years, had a very good opinion of herself, and a fair amount of assurance. In short, in her tiny way, one of the governing class in the village, very much respected.

博尔顿太太态度殷勤，礼数周全，看上去人也颇为正派，说话有些含混不清，但操一口纯正的英语。由于长年负责照看伤病的矿工，她自视甚高，信心满满。总而言之，在特弗沙尔这个弹丸之地，她属于管理阶层，很受村民尊重。

"Yes, Lady Chatterley's not looking at all well! Why, she used to be that bonny, didn't she now? But she's been failing all winter! Oh, it's hard, it is. Poor Sir Clifford! Eh, that war, it's a lot to answer for.” And Mrs. Bolton would come to Wragby at once, if Dr Shardlow would let her off. She had another fortnight's parish nursing to do, by rights, but they might get a substitute, you know.

“是啊，查泰莱夫人脸色太难看了！哎呀，她过去多么健康美丽啊，不是吗？可一个冬天就瘦成这副模样！噢，日子如此难熬。可怜的克利福德爵士！唉，战争，都是战争惹的祸。”博尔顿太太愿意立刻赶往；拉格比，前提是沙德洛医生同意她辞职。按理说，她两周后才能退休，但他们或许可以找到替代人选。

Hilda posted off to Dr Shardlow, and on the following Sunday Mrs. Bolton drove up in Leiver's cab to Wragby with two trunks. Hilda had talks with her; Mrs. Bolton was ready at any moment to talk. And she seemed so young! The way the passion would flush in her rather pale cheek. She was forty-seven.

希尔达马不停蹄，找到沙德洛医生谈妥此事。下个星期日，博尔顿太太便带着两只行李箱，乘马车来到拉格比。希尔达跟她聊了会儿，博尔顿太太倒也非常健谈。而且她也显得很年轻。激动时，苍白的面颊便会泛起红潮。她今年47岁。

Her husband, Ted Bolton, had been killed in the pit, twenty-two years ago, twenty-two years last Christmas, just at Christmas time, leaving her with two children, one a baby in arms. Oh, the baby was married now, Edith, to a young man in Boots Cash Chemists in Sheffield. The other one was a schoolteacher in Chesterfield; she came home weekends, when she wasn't asked out somewhere. Young folks enjoyed themselves nowadays, not like when she, Ivy Bolton, was young.