Shortly before sunset that evening Eric went for a walk. When he did not go to the shore he liked to indulge in long tramps through the Lindsay fields and woods, in the mellowness of "the sweet 'o the year." Most of the Lindsay houses were built along the main road, which ran parallel to the shore, or about the stores at "The Corner." The farms ran back from them into solitudes of woods and pasture lands.
那天傍晚，就在日落前不久，埃里克去散步。不去海边时，他喜欢久久地徜徉于林赛的田野和树林，陶醉在一年中最香醇的季节。林赛的房屋大多是沿着与海岸线平行的主路或“转角处”商店的周围修建。房屋后的一些农场反向延伸，一直到远处一块块交错的树林和牧场。
Eric struck southwest from the Williamson homestead, in a direction he had not hitherto explored, and walked briskly along, enjoying the witchery of the season all about him in earth and air and sky. He felt it and loved it and yielded to it, as anyone of clean life and sane pulses must do.
埃里克从威廉森庄园向西南而行，朝着他到目前为止都从未探索过的方向走去。他一路上步伐轻快，享受着这个季节他周围所有的泥土、空气和天空散发出的魔力。他像任何一个生活清白、沉着理智的人一定会做的那样感受着、爱恋着，并沉醉其中。
The spruce wood in which he presently found himself was smitten through with arrows of ruby light from the setting sun. He went through it, walking up a long, purple aisle where the wood-floor was brown and elastic under his feet, and came out beyond it on a scene which surprised him.
很快他就置身于一片杉木林，鲜红的落日霞光像箭镞一样穿梭其中。他穿过树林，沿着一条长长的、紫色的小径向上。铺满枝丫的小径呈棕色，踩上去松松软软。走出树林，眼前的景致令他大吃一惊。
No house was in sight, but he found himself looking into an orchard; an old orchard, evidently long neglected and forsaken. But an orchard dies hard; and this one, which must have been a very delightful spot once, was delightful still, none the less so for the air of gentle melancholy which seemed to pervade it, the melancholy which invests all places that have once been the scenes of joy and pleasure and young life, and are so no longer, places where hearts have throbbed, and pulses thrilled, and eyes brightened, and merry voices echoed. The ghosts of these things seem to linger in their old haunts through many empty years.
目之所及，不见一间房屋。但眼前有个果园，一个老旧的果树园，显然早就被人遗忘，遗弃已久。然而，果树园的生命力是很强的。这片果树园曾经一定是个令人非常愉快的地方，如今依旧赏心悦目，尽管空气中淡淡的忧郁气息似乎笼罩着它。那些见证过愉悦、欢乐和青春，而今早已变样的地方，那些曾有心的悸动和脉搏的震颤，有过灼灼的目光，回荡过欢声笑语的地方都被这忧郁笼罩着。历经几多空虚岁月，这些事物的魅影仿佛依然萦绕于此。
The orchard was large and long, enclosed in a tumbledown old fence of longers bleached to a silvery gray in the suns of many lost summers. At regular intervals along the fence were tall, gnarled fir trees, and an evening wind, sweeter than that which blew over the beds of spice from Lebanon, was singing in their tops, an earth-old song with power to carry the soul back to the dawn of time.
果树园又大又长，周围是一道摇摇欲坠的旧篱笆，这些篱笆几番酷暑炙烤，褪作银灰色。篱笆边等距离地栽着高大多节的冷杉树。晚风在树冠里歌唱，其馨香远胜黎巴嫩香料上空的气息。这支古老的歌有着指引魂灵回溯鸿蒙初辟时的力量。
Eastward, a thick fir wood grew, beginning with tiny treelets just feathering from the grass, and grading up therefrom to the tall veterans of the mid-grove, unbrokenly and evenly, giving the effect of a solid, sloping green wall, so beautifully compact that it looked as if it had been clipped into its velvet surface by art.
东边有一株茂盛的冷杉。从刚刚从草间探出头来的细小的幼苗，逐渐在那儿长成这片冷杉林间高大的老树。树林绵延匀实，仿佛砌起一堵厚实的斜墙。墙面是如此地紧实，看上去就像是之前巧妙地嵌在天鹅绒般的表面里。
Most of the orchard was grown over lushly with grass; but at the end where Eric stood there was a square, treeless place which had evidently once served as a homestead garden. Old paths were still visible, bordered by stones and large pebbles. There were two clumps of lilac trees; one blossoming in royal purple, the other in white. Between them was a bed ablow with the starry spikes of June lilies. Their penetrating, haunting fragrance distilled on the dewy air in every soft puff of wind. Along the fence rosebushes grew, but it was as yet too early in the season for roses.
果树园的大部分地方都长满了茂盛的青草，但在尽头，也就是埃里克站着的地方却有一块没有长树的正方形地，显然过去曾是某户人家的花园。古老的小径仍旧依稀可见，路边铺满了石子和大块的鹅卵石。两簇丁香树幽然怒放，一簇开着蓝紫的花，一簇开着洁白的花。其间掩映着六月百合，璀璨的花穗从花床上倾泻下来。每当微风吹来，那沁人心脾、令人魂牵梦绕的芳香就会飘散在凝结着露珠的空气里。篱笆边上栽着玫瑰丛，不过还远没到花开的季节。
Beyond was the orchard proper, three long rows of trees with green avenues between, each tree standing in a wonderful blow of pink and white.
篱笆外就是果树园了，长长的三排果树，绿荫小径间隔其中。果树粉中带白，傲然挺立。
The charm of the place took sudden possession of Eric as nothing had ever done before. He was not given to romantic fancies; but the orchard laid hold of him subtly and drew him to itself, and he was never to be quite his own man again. He went into it over one of the broken panels of fence, and so, unknowing, went forward to meet all that life held for him.
果树园的魅力瞬间攫住埃里克，这种感觉他之前从未有过。他不曾有浪漫的幻想，但这果树园很微妙地控制住了他，将他吸引过去，他再也无法完全自己了。他越过一个篱笆的一个破挡板进入果园，往前走，迎接命运为他准备的一切，尽管他自己还没意识到。
He walked the length of the orchard's middle avenue between long, sinuous boughs picked out with delicate, rose-hearted bloom. When he reached its southern boundary he flung himself down in a grassy corner of the fence where another lilac bush grew, with ferns and wild blue violets at its roots. From where he now was he got a glimpse of a house about a quarter of a mile away, its gray gable peering out from a dark spruce wood. It seemed a dull, gloomy, remote place, and he did not know who lived there.
他沿着果树园中间的小径，穿过长而蜷曲的枝丫，上面托着玫瑰色的花朵，花开正艳。来到果树园南端，他索性扑倒在了围栏边一个绿草如茵的角落。这里也有一丛丁香，根部伴有蕨草和野生的蓝色紫罗兰。从他现在的地方能瞥见约摸四分之一英里外的一栋房子，灰色的山墙从幽暗的云杉林里隐约显露出来。那地方看起来沉闷、阴郁而偏僻，他不知道谁住在那里。
He had a wide outlook to the west, over far hazy fields and misty blue intervales. The sun had just set, and the whole world of green meadows beyond swam in golden light. Across a long valley brimmed with shadow were uplands of sunset, and great sky lakes of saffron and rose where a soul might lose itself in colour. The air was very fragrant with the baptism of the dew, and the odours of a bed of wild mint upon which he had trampled. Robins were whistling, clear and sweet and sudden, in the woods all about him.
他放眼西望，看到远处烟雾弥漫的田野和模糊的蓝色低地。太阳刚刚下山，远处碧绿的草场整个沐浴在了金色霞光中。长长的河谷两边坠饰着阴影，河谷对面是夕阳下的高地和巨大的湖泊，红得像藏红花和玫瑰，谁见了都会陶醉其中。露珠的浸润和他踏过的一床野薄荷使空气芳香扑鼻。知更鸟在他周围的树林里啼唱，歌声清新、甜美、轻快。
"This is a veritable 'haunt of ancient peace,'” quoted Eric, looking around with delighted eyes. "I could fall asleep here, dream dreams and see visions. What a sky! Could anything be diviner than that fine crystal eastern blue, and those frail white clouds that look like woven lace? What a dizzying, intoxicating fragrance lilacs have! I wonder if perfume could set a man drunk. Those apple trees now—why, what is that?"
“这可真是名副其实的‘古静谧之地’，埃里克引了这句话，一边环顾四周，眼里满是兴奋。“我可以就此入睡做梦，看那些幻影。多美的天空啊！还有什么东西能比那东方水晶般清澈蔚蓝的天空以及那些如针织丝带般脆弱的白云更神圣的吗？丁香花的芬芳是多么令人目眩、让人陶醉啊！我在想，花香或许还能使人醉倒呢。那些苹果树现在——哎呀？那是什么？”
Eric started up and listened. Across the mellow stillness, mingled with the croon of the wind in the trees and the flute-like calls of the robins, came a strain of delicious music, so beautiful and fantastic that Eric held his breath in astonishment and delight. Was he dreaming? No, it was real music, the music of a violin played by some hand inspired with the very spirit of harmony. He had never heard anything like it; and, somehow, he felt quite sure that nothing exactly like it ever had been heard before; he believed that that wonderful music was coming straight from the soul of the unseen violinist, and translating itself into those most airy and delicate and exquisite sounds for the first time; the very soul of music, with all sense and earthliness refined away.
埃里克一跃而起，聆听着。一阵曼妙的音乐穿过醇香的静寂，和着林风的低吟，伴着知更鸟笛声般的啁啾传至耳畔，埃里克不由屏住了呼吸，又惊又喜。是他在做梦吗？不，是真实的音乐，有人在拉小提琴，琴声是受到了和谐氛围激发。他从未听过这样的音乐。不知为何，他很确定自己以前从未听过类似的东西。他相信那美妙的音乐直接源自那个未露面的小提琴手，第一次演绎成他所听过的最空灵、最精妙的声音。它正是音乐的灵魂，全无感官的肤浅和世俗的浮华。
It was an elusive, haunting melody, strangely suited to the time and place; it had in it the sigh of the wind in the woods, the eerie whispering of the grasses at dewfall, the white thoughts of the June lilies, the rejoicing of the apple blossoms; all the soul of all the old laughter and song and tears and gladness and sobs the orchard had ever known in the lost years; and besides all this, there was in it a pitiful, plaintive cry as of some imprisoned thing calling for freedom and utterance.
这旋律难以捉摸，撩人心弦，却惊人地和此时此地正相契合。这音乐里有风吹过林间的叹息，有青草结露时奇异的低语，有六月百合洁白的遐思，还有苹果花开的欢愉。果树园往昔见证过的所有的欢笑、歌唱、泪水、欣喜还有呜咽都包含在这旋律里。除此之外，这乐音中还有一声惹人怜惜、充满哀告的呼喊，仿佛是某样囚禁于此的东西在呼唤着自由、向往着诉求。
At first Eric listened as a man spellbound, mutely and motionlessly, lost in wonderment. Then a very natural curiosity overcame him. Who in Lindsay could play a violin like that? And who was playing so here, in this deserted old orchard, of all places in the world?
起初，埃里克像着了魔一样，一动不动地静静聆听着，沉浸在一阵惊诧之中。之后，好奇感油然而生。林赛有谁能把小提琴拉得那么好？又会是谁世上那么多地方不选，偏偏选在这里，这样一个废弃的老果树园拉小提琴？
He rose and walked up the long white avenue, going as slowly and silently as possible, for he did not wish to interrupt the player. When he reached the open space of the garden he stopped short in new amazement and was again tempted into thinking he must certainly be dreaming.
埃里克起身，沿着长长的白色小径走去。因为不愿惊扰到演奏者，他尽可能地放慢脚步，不发出声音。走到花园的空地时，他驻足了一小会儿，又一次惊异于这优美的旋律，不禁再次怀疑自己肯定是在做梦。
Under the big branching white lilac tree was an old, sagging, wooden bench; and on this bench a girl was sitting, playing on an old brown violin. Her eyes were on the faraway horizon and she did not see Eric. For a few moments he stood there and looked at her. The pictures she made photographed itself on his vision to the finest detail, never to be blotted from his book of remembrance. To his latest day Eric Marshall will be able to recall vividly that scene as he saw it then—the velvet darkness of the spruce woods, the overarching sky of soft brilliance, the swaying lilac blossoms, and amid it all the girl on the old bench with the violin under her chin.
枝丫繁多的大白色丁香树下有条破旧的木凳，一个女孩正坐在上面拉一把棕色的旧小提琴。她的眼睛正注视远处的地平线，所以没有看到埃里克。他在那里站了好一会儿，注视着她。她像一幅画，每个微小的细节都刻印在了埃里克的脑海里，再也不会从他的记忆中抹去。即使在人生最后的岁月里，埃里克·马歇尔也能生动地回忆起那一幕，正如当时看到的一样——天鹅绒般乌黑的云杉林，头顶散发着柔和霞光的天穹，摇曳的丁香花还有花丛中的那个女孩，她下巴抵住小提琴，坐在破旧的长凳上。
He had, in his twenty-four years of life, met hundreds of pretty women, scores of handsome women, a scant half dozen of really beautiful women. But he knew at once, beyond all possibility of question or doubt, that he had never seen or imagined anything so exquisite as this girl of the orchard. Her loveliness was so perfect that his breath almost went from him in his first delight of it.
二十四年来，他见过的漂亮女人有数百个，长相俊美的有十来个，真正美丽佳人也有近半打。但他立刻就明白了，毫无疑问，自己从没见过甚至想象过任何东西，能像果树园里这位女孩一般精致。她实在是太可爱了，才一见她，他就满心欢喜，差点儿忘记了呼吸。
Her face was oval, marked in every cameo-like line and feature with that expression of absolute, flawless purity, found in the angels and Madonnas of old paintings, a purity that held in it no faintest strain of earthliness. Her head was bare, and her thick, jet-black hair was parted above her forehead and hung in two heavy lustrous braids over her shoulders. Her eyes were of such a blue as Eric had never seen in eyes before, the tint of the sea in the still, calm light that follows after a fine sunset; they were as luminous as the stars that came out over Lindsay Harbour in the afterglow, and were fringed about with very long, soot-black lashes, and arched over by most delicately pencilled dark eyebrows. Her skin was as fine and purely tinted as the heart of a white rose. The collarless dress of pale blue print she wore revealed her smooth, slender throat; her sleeves were rolled up above her elbows and the hand which guided the bow of her violin was perhaps the most beautiful thing about her, perfect in shape and texture, firm and white, with rosy-nailed taper fingers. One long, drooping plume of lilac blossom lightly touched her hair and cast a wavering shadow over the flower-like face beneath it.
她有一张像浮雕宝石一样精致的鹅蛋脸，表情纯洁无暇。这神情只有在天使和旧油画的圣母像那里才能看得到，是出脱得一尘不染的纯洁。她没戴帽子，乌黑浓密的秀发自前额分开，编成两条油亮的大辫子垂在双肩上。她的眼睛是那么的湛蓝，是埃里克从未见过的，就像是被日落后的宁静大海染了色一样。那双眼睛光华灿烂，有如日落后林赛港上空升起的星星。眼睛周围还缀饰着又黑又长的睫毛，两弯深色的眉毛线条极为精致。她的皮肤如白玫瑰花心般精致、洁白。她穿着一件没有衣领的淡蓝色连衣裙，露出光滑纤细的脖颈。她将衣袖挽过手肘。那只持弓的手兴许是她身上最美的地方，无论是手形还是皮肤都完美无缺，紧致白皙，纤纤玉指上有着玫红色的指甲。一枝纤长秾稠的丁香花枝垂落在她秀发上，在那如花的面颊上投下一道波动的暗影。
There was something very child-like about her, and yet at least eighteen sweet years must have gone to the making of her. She seemed to be playing half unconsciously, as if her thoughts were far away in some fair dreamland of the skies. But presently she looked away from "the bourne of sunset," and her lovely eyes fell on Eric, standing motionless before her in the shadow of the apple tree.
虽然身上还有一丝孩童的天真，但至少，她肯定是已度过十八年的甜蜜时光，才成就了眼前的她。她看上去并没有在一心一意地演奏，思绪仿佛在遥远天空的某个梦幻仙境中游荡。但是现在她将目光从“日落之溪”移开了，那双可爱的眼睛落到了一动不动站在苹果树附近的埃里克身上。
The sudden change that swept over her was startling. She sprang to her feet, the music breaking in mid-strain and the bow slipping from her hand to the grass. Every hint of colour fled from her face and she trembled like one of the wind-stirred June lilies.
惊愕瞬间袭过她全身。她吓得跳了起来，乐声戛然而止，弓子从手中滑落到草地上。她脸上失却了所有光彩，身体颤抖得像一朵风中凌乱的六月百合。
"I beg your pardon," said Eric hastily. "I am sorry that I have alarmed you. But your music was so beautiful that I did not remember you were not aware of my presence here. Please forgive me."
“请原谅，”埃里克赶忙说，“很抱歉我吓到你了。但你的音乐是如此地美妙，我都忘了你并不知道我在这里。请原谅我。”
He stopped in dismay, for he suddenly realized that the expression on the girl's face was one of terror—not merely the startled alarm of a shy, childlike creature who had thought herself alone, but absolute terror. It was betrayed in her blanched and quivering lips and in the widely distended blue eyes that stared back into his with the expression of some trapped wild thing.
他不再说了，沮丧地站在那里。因为他突然意识到女孩脸上的神情是种恐惧——不仅仅是一个自以为独自一人在此的害羞孩子产生的惊愕，而是实打实的恐惧。从她那苍白颤抖的双唇，瞪大了向后盯着他看的蓝眼睛，还有那如某种身陷困境的野兽的表情都不难看出她的恐惧。
It hurt him that any woman should look at him in such a fashion, at him who had always held womanhood in such reverence.
居然会有女孩子这样的方式看着他，这让一直尊重女性的埃里克很难过。
"Don't look so frightened," he said gently, thinking only of calming her fear, and speaking as he would to a child. "I will not hurt you. You are safe, quite safe."
“请不要这么害怕，”他温柔地说，像对小孩子说话一样，只想着抚平她的恐惧。“我不会伤害你。你是安全的，非常安全。”
In his eagerness to reassure her he took an unconscious step forward. Instantly she turned, and, without a sound, fled across the orchard, through a gap in the northern fence and along what seemed to be a lane bordering the fir wood beyond and arched over with wild cherry trees misty white in the gathering gloom. Before Eric could recover his wits she had vanished from his sight among the firs.
他急于安抚她，无意中向前走了一步。她立刻转身，一声不响地跑过果树园，穿过北边篱笆的缺口，沿着远处似乎是冷杉林边的一条小径逃走了。小径上方是交叠成拱形的野樱桃树枝，树木在越来越深的黑暗里白得朦胧。埃里克还没回过神，她已在冷杉树林中不见了，消失在他的视野里。
He stooped and picked up the violin bow, feeling slightly foolish and very much annoyed.
他弯腰捡起小提琴的弓子，感到自己有些蠢，但更多的是不悦。
"Well, this is a most mysterious thing," he said, somewhat impatiently. "Am I bewitched? Who was she? What was she? Can it be possible that she is a Lindsay girl? And why in the name of all that's provoking should she be so frightened at the mere sight of me? I have never thought I was a particularly hideous person, but certainly this adventure has not increased my vanity to any perceptible extent. Perhaps I have wandered into an enchanted orchard, and been outwardly transformed into an ogre. Now that I have come to think of it, there is something quite uncanny about the place. Anything might happen here. It is no common orchard for the production of marketable apples, that is plain to be seen. No, it's a most unwholesome locality; and the sooner I make my escape from it the better."
“好吧，这事实在太奇怪了。”他有些不耐烦地说。“难道是我着魔了？她是谁？她是何方神圣？有可能是林赛的女孩吗？还有究竟是什么原因使她只是看到我竟然就这么害怕呢？我从未觉得自己是个多么恐怖的人。但当然了，此次经历也一点儿都没增强我的虚荣心。也许是我溜达进了一个施了咒语的果树园，然后在表面上就变成了怪物。既然我已经开始想到这里了，这地方真有些不可思议。这里什么事都可能发生。显而易见，这不是个普通的果树园，不是用来种苹果拿到市场上去卖的。不，这地方很不对劲，我最好还是赶快离开。”
He glanced about it with a whimsical smile. The light was fading rapidly and the orchard was full of soft, creeping shadows and silences. It seemed to wink sleepy eyes of impish enjoyment at his perplexity. He laid the violin bow down on the old bench.
他瞥了四周一眼，笑得很诡异。日光迅速退去，魅影和寂静轻轻地、缓慢地笼罩住整座果园。看他困惑不解，果树园似乎眨了眨惺忪睡眼，带着淘气的愉悦。他将小提琴弓子放在旧长凳上。
"Well, there is no use in my following her, and I have no right to do so even if it were of use. But I certainly wish she hadn't fled in such evident terror. Eyes like hers were never meant to express anything but tenderness and trust. Why—why—why was she so frightened? And who—who—who—can she be?"
“好吧，追她徒然无益，就算有用，我也没权利这么做。不过我当然希望她没有那样惊恐地逃走。她那样一双美丽的眼睛除了温柔和信任，什么都不应该流露。为什么——为什么——到底为什么她如此害怕？还有，谁———谁——谁——她会是谁呢？”
All the way home, over fields and pastures that were beginning to be moonlight silvered he pondered the mystery.
回家路上，田野间、牧场上开始闪耀银色的月光，他还在苦思冥想这个谜。
"Let me see," he reflected. "Mr. Williamson was describing the Lindsay girls for my benefit the other evening. If I remember rightly he said that there were four handsome ones in the district. What were their names? Florrie Woods, Melissa Foster—no, Melissa Palmer—Emma Scott, and Jennie May Ferguson. Can she be one of them? No, it is a flagrant waste of time and gray matter supposing it. That girl couldn't be a Florrie or a Melissa or an Emma, while Jennie May is completely out of the question. Well, there is some bewitchment in the affair. Of that I'm convinced. So I'd better forget all about it."
“让我想想，”他思考着，“威廉森先生那天晚上特意给我描述了林赛的女孩子们。如果我没记错的话，他说这地方有四个漂亮女孩。她们叫什么来着？弗洛丽·伍兹，梅利莎·福斯特——不对，是梅利莎·帕尔默——埃玛·斯科特，和珍妮·梅·弗格森。她会是其中一个吗？不，这种猜想完完全全是在浪费时间，徒劳无功。那女孩不可能是弗洛丽、梅利莎或埃玛，更不可能是珍妮·梅。嗯，这事有些蹊跷。这一点我毫不怀疑。那么，我最好还是把这事忘了吧。”
But Eric found that it was impossible to forget all about it. The more he tried to forget, the more keenly and insistently he remembered. The girl's exquisite face haunted him and the mystery of her tantalized him.
但埃里克发现根本不可能忘掉这件事。他越是努力去试图忘记，记忆反而越清晰持久。女孩精致的脸颊在他脑海中挥之不去，她的神秘令他干着急。
True, he knew that, in all likelihood, he might easily solve the problem by asking the Williamsons about her. But somehow, to his own surprise, he found that he shrank from doing this. He felt that it was impossible to ask Robert Williamson and probably have the girl's name overflowed in a stream of petty gossip concerning her and all her antecedents and collaterals to the third and fourth generation. If he had to ask any one it should be Mrs. Williamson; but he meant to find out the secret for himself if it were at all possible.
诚然，他知道，自己可以向威廉森一家打听她，大有可能轻而易举地解决这个难题。可不知为何，他不愿这么做，连他自己也对此感到讶异。他觉得如果向罗伯特·威廉森问起，很有可能就会有一大堆有关她的闲言碎语、奇闻异事，祖宗八代的事都会扯出来。就算他不得不向人打听，那个人也必定是威廉森太太。不过，如有可能，他还是想要凭借一己之力，自己揭开谜底。
He had planned to go to the harbour the next evening. One of the lobstermen had promised to take him out cod-fishing. But instead he wandered southwest over the fields again.
第二天晚上，他本来是打算去港口的。一个捕龙虾的答应了要带他去捕鳕鱼。但他没去港口，而是再次穿过田野向西南方向走去。
He found the orchard easily—he had half expected not to find it. It was still the same fragrant, grassy, wind-haunted spot. But it had no occupant and the violin bow was gone from the old bench.
他轻轻松松地找到了果树园——他本指望会找不到它。果树园依然芳香四溢、青草满地、微风披拂。但空无一人，旧长凳上的那把小提琴弓子也不见了。
"Perhaps she tiptoed back here for it by the light o' the moon," thought Eric, pleasing his fancy by the vision of a lithe, girlish figure stealing with a beating heart through mingled shadow and moonshine. "I wonder if she will possibly come this evening, or if I have frightened her away for ever. I'll hide me behind this spruce copse and wait."
“也许是她借着月光悄悄回来拿走了，”埃里克心想，一边愉快地幻想着一个灵巧女孩穿过杂乱的影子和月光，心怦怦跳跳地偷偷拿走了琴弓。“不知道她今晚会不会来？还是我把她吓跑了，她永远都不会再来了。我躲到这边云杉丛里等等看。”
Eric waited until dark, but no music sounded through the orchard and no one came to it. The keenness of his disappointment surprised him, nay more, it vexed him. What nonsense to be so worked up because a little girl he had seen for five minutes failed to appear! Where was his common sense, his "gumption," as old Robert Williamson would have said? Naturally a man liked to look at a pretty face. But was that any reason why he should feel as if life were flat, stale, and unprofitable simply because he could not look at it? He called himself a fool and went home in a petulant mood. Arriving there, he plunged fiercely into solving algebraical equations and working out geometry exercises, determined to put out of his head forthwith all vain imaginings of an enchanted orchard, white in the moonshine, with lilts of elfin music echoing down its long arcades.
埃里克一直等到天黑，但都没有听到果树园里有乐声，也没看到有人来。他很吃惊，自己竟会如此失望。不，比这更严重，他是在恼火。太荒谬了！他居然会因为一个只见过五分钟的小女孩没有露面而局促不安。他的常识呢？就如老罗伯特·威廉森总爱说的他的“进取心”哪儿去了？男人爱看漂亮脸蛋，这很自然。但他之所以会感到生活平淡无奇、索然无味，难道仅仅是因为不能再见到红颜吗？他骂自己是傻瓜，然后怏怏不乐地回去了。到家后，他一头扎进代数等式和几何习题，决心把脑袋从那个月光下洁白的、中了魔咒的果树园里拉回来，不去想那些虚无缥缈的东西和那沿着长长的拱廊回响的精灵般的音乐。
The next day was Sunday and Eric went to church twice. The Williamson pew was one of the side ones at the top of the church and its occupants practically faced the congregation. Eric looked at every girl and woman in the audience, but he saw nothing of the face which, setting will power and common sense flatly at defiance, haunted his memory like a star.
第二天是周日，埃里克去了两次教堂。威廉森家的长椅在教堂顶部的一侧，坐在那里几乎可以看见全场。埃里克打量着人群里的每位女性，可就是没见到那张踏平他的意志力和理性、如星星般令他魂牵梦萦的面孔。
Thomas Gordon was there, sitting alone in his long, empty pew near the top of the building; and Neil Gordon sang in the choir which occupied the front pew of the gallery. He had a powerful and melodious, though untrained voice, which dominated the singing and took the colour out of the weaker, more commonplace tones of the other singers. He was well-dressed in a suit of dark blue serge, with a white collar and tie. But Eric idly thought it did not become him so well as the working clothes in which he had first seen him. He was too obviously dressed up, and he looked coarser and more out of harmony with his surroundings.
托马斯·戈登坐在他长长的空椅子上，和教堂顶部很接近。尼尔·戈登在坐在走廊前排长椅上的合唱团里唱歌。他的声音虽未经训练，但浑厚有力、悦耳动听，是唱歌的中坚力量，足以叫其他歌手那无力而普通的声音黯然失色。他穿着整齐，套着一件深蓝色的哔叽外套，衣领雪白，他还打着领带。但是埃里克无意间觉得初次见到他时的那件工装更适合他。他这打扮明显太招摇了，与周边的环境相比，显得更粗糙、更不和谐。
For two days Eric refused to let himself think of the orchard. Monday evening he went cod-fishing, and Tuesday evening he went up to play checkers with Alexander Tracy. Alexander won all the games so easily that he never had any respect for Eric Marshall again.
整整两天，埃里克不愿去想那个果树园。周一晚上他去捕鳕鱼，周二晚上去和亚历山大·特雷西下棋。亚历山大每局都赢得不费吹灰之力，对埃里克·马歇尔也就不再有任何敬佩可言了。
"Played like a feller whose thoughts were wool gathering," he complained to his wife. "He'll never make a checker player—never in this world."
“这小子下棋跟个樵夫似的，脑袋就像缠满了羊毛一样，”他跟妻子抱怨，“他永远也做不了棋手——至少这辈子是没戏了。”
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