美国故事 SENEWS-2005-1001-Feature

Now the special English program American Stories. Today's story is called "the White Heron". It was written by Sarah Orne Jewett. Here is Kay Gallant 1 with the story.

The forest was full of shadows as a little girl hurried through it one summer evening in June. It was already eight o'clock. And Sophie wondered if her grandmother would be angry with her for being so late. Every evening Sophie left her grandmother's house at five thirty to bring their cow home. The old animal spent her days out in the open country eating sweet grass.

It was Sophie's job to bring her home to be milked. When the cow heard Sophie's voice calling her, she would hide among the bushes. This evening it'd taken Sophie longer than usual to find her cow. The child hurried the cow through the dark forest following a narrow path that led to her grandmother's home. The cow stopped at a small stream to drink. As Sophie waited, she put her bare feet in the cold fresh water of the stream.

She had never before been alone in the forest as late as this. The air was soft and sweet. Sophie felt as if she were a part of the gray shadows and so were leaves that moved in the evening breeze 2. She began thinking how it was only a year ago that she came to her grandmother's farm. Before that she had lived with her mother and father in a dirty crowded factory town. One day Sophie's grandmother had visited them and had chosen Sophie from all her brothers and sisters to be the one to help her on her farm in Vermont.

The cow finished drinking. And as the nine-year-old child hurried through the forest to the home she loved, she thought again about the noisy town where her parents still lived. Suddenly the air was cut by a sharp whistle not far away. Sophie knew it wasn't a friendly bird's whistle. It was the determined 3 whistle of a person. She forgot the cow and hid in some bushes. But she was too late.

"Hello, little girl." A young man called out cheerfully 4. "How far is it to the main road?" Sophie was trembling as she whispered: "Two miles." She came out of the bushes and looked up into the face of a tall young man carrying a gun. The stranger began walking with Sophie as she followed her cow through the forest. "I've been hunting for birds." He explained, "But I've lost my way. Do you think I can spend the night at your house?" Sophie didn't answer, she was glad they were almost home, she could see her grandmother standing 5 near the door of the farm house.

When they reached her the stranger put down his gun and explained his problem to Sophie's smiling grandmother. "Of course you can stay with us." She said, "We don't have much, but you are welcome to share what we have. Now, Sophie, get a plate for the gentleman."

After eating they all sat outside, the young man explained he was a scientist who collected birds. "Do you put them in a cage?" Sophie asked. "No," He answered slowly, "I shoot them and stuff 6 them with special chemicals to preserve them. I have over one hundred different kinds of birds from all over the United States in my study at home."

"Sophie knows a lot about birds, too." Her grandmother said proudly. She knows the forest so well the wild animals come and eat bread right out of her hands." "So! Sophie knows all about birds! Maybe she can help me then!" the young man said, "I saw a white heron, not far from here two days ago. I have been looking for it ever since. It's a very rare bird, the little white heron. Have you seen it, too?" He asked Sophie. But Sophie was silent, "you would know it if you saw it," he added, "it's a tall strange bird with soft white feathers and long thin legs; it probably has its nest at the top of a tall tree."

Sophie's heart began to beat fast. She knew that strange white bird. She had seen it on the other side of the forest. The young man was staring at Sophie, "I would give ten dollars to the person who showed me where the white heron is." That night Sophie's dreams were full of all the wonderful things she and her grandmother could buy for ten dollars.

Sophie spent the next day in the forest with the young man. He told her a lot about the birds they saw. Sophie would've had much better time if the young man had left his gun at home. She could not understand why he killed the birds he seemed to like so much. She felt her heart tremble every time he shot an unsuspecting bird as it was singing in the trees.

But Sophie watched the young man with eyes full of adoration 7. She had never seen anyone so handsome and charming 8. A strange excitement filled her heart. A new feeling, the little girl did not recognize, love. At last evening came, they drove the cow home together. Long after the moon came out and the young man had fallen asleep. Sophie was still awake. She had a plan that would get the ten dollars for her grandmother and make the young man happy.

When it was almost time for the sun to rise, she quietly left her house and hurried through the forest. She finally reached a huge pine tree. So tall it could be seen for many miles around, her plan was to climb to the top of the pine tree. She could see the whole forest from there. She was sure she would be able to see where the white heron had hidden its nest.

Sophie's bare feet and tiny fingers grabbed 9 the tree's rough trunk, sharp dry branches scratched at her like cat's claws. The pine tree's sticky 10 sap made her fingers feel stiff 11 and clumsy 12, as she climbed higher and higher. The pine tree seemed to grow taller, the higher that Sophie climbed.

The sky began to brighten 13 in the east. Sophie's face was like a pale star when at last she reached the tree's highest branch. The golden sun's rays hit the green forest. Two hawks 14 flew together in slow moving circles far below Sophie. Sophie felt as if she could go flying among the clouds, too. To the west she could see other farms and forests.

Suddenly Sophie's dark gray eyes caught a flash of white that grew larger and larger. A bird with broad white wings and a long slender 15 neck flew past Sophie and landed on a pine branch below her. The white heron smoothed its feathers and called to its mate 16 sitting on their nest in a nearby tree. Then it lifted its wings and flew away.

Sophie gave a long sigh. She knew the wild bird's secret now. Slowly, she began her dangerous trip down the ancient pine tree. She did not dare to look down and tried to forget that her fingers' hurt and her feet were bleeding. All she wanted to think about was what the stranger would say to her when she told him where to find the heron's nest.

As Sophie climbed slowly down the pine tree the stranger was waking up back at the farm. He was smiling because he was sure from the way the shy little girl had looked at him that she had seen the white heron. About an hour later Sophie appeared, both her grandmother and the young man stood up as she came into the kitchen.

The splendid moment to speak about her secret had come, but Sophie was silent. Her grandmother was angry with her: "Where had she been?” The young man's kind eyes looked deeply into Sophie's own dark gray ones. He could give Sophie and her grand mother ten dollars, he had promised to do this. And they needed the money. Besides, Sophie wanted to make him happy.

But Sophie was silent. She remembered how the white heron came flying through the golden air and how they watched the sunrise together from the top of the world. Sophie could not speak. She could not tell the heron's secret and give its life away.

The young man went away disappointed later that day. Sophie was sad. She wanted to be his friend. He never returned. But many nights Sophie heard the sound of his whistle as she came home with her grandmother's cow.

Were the birds better friends than their hunter might have been? Who can know?

You have been listening to the story called the White Heron. Written by Sarah Orne Jewett. It was adapted for Special English program by Donald Desanktus. Your narrator was Kay Gallant. Listen again next week at the same time for this Special English program of American stories. This is Shep O'Neal.



萨拉·奥恩·朱厄特 (Sarah Orne Jewett, 1849-1909)

生于缅因州南贝里克镇，十几岁时就已开始写作。初期写的短篇，收集在《深港》里(Deephaven, 1877)，出版后反应良好，其后又写了一些短篇，几部小说和诗歌，大部写的都是缅因州的生活。一八九六年出版的《针枞之乡》(The Country of the Pointed 17 Firs)是她最著名的作品。