【荆棘鸟】第六章 12

something from himself for her very own. He doubted that anyone else fully 1 appreciated what Hal meant to her. But it was a long time. There were the last rites 2 to be administered, in case the soul had not yet left the body; and Fee to see, Paddy to see, practical advice to give. The doctor had gone, dejected but long used to the tragedies his far-flung practice made inevitable 3. From what they said, little he could have done anyway, so far from his hospital and his trained nursing staff. These people took their chances, they faced their demons 4 and hung on. His death certificate would say "Croup." It was a handy malady 5. Eventually there was nothing left for Father Ralph to see to. Paddy had gone to Fee, Bob and the boys to the carpentry shed to make the little coffin 6. Stuart was on the floor in Fee's bedroom, his pure profile so like her own silhouetted 7 against the night sky outside the window; from where she lay on her pillow with Paddy's hand in hers, Fee never left her contemplation of the dark shape huddled 8 on the cold floor. It was five o'clock in the morning and the roosters were stirring drowsily 9, but it would be dark for a long time yet.
Purple stole around his neck because he had forgotten he was wearing it, Father Ralph bent 10 to the kitchen fire and built it up from embers into a blaze, turned down the lamp on the table behind, and sat on a wooden bench opposite Meggie to watch her. She had grown, put on seven-league boots which threatened to leave him behind, outstripped 11; he felt his inadequacy 12 then more keenly, watching her, than ever he had in a life filled with a gnawing 13, obsessive 14 doubt of his courage. Only what was he afraid of? What did he think he couldn't face if it came? He could be strong for other people, he didn't fear other people; but within himself, expecting that nameless something to come sliding into consciousness when he least expected it, he knew fear. While Meggie, born eighteen years after him, was growing beyond him. Not that she was a saint, or indeed anything more than most. Only that she never complained, that she had the gift-or was it the curse?-of acceptance. No matter what had gone or what might come, she confronted it and accepted it, stored it away to fuel the furnace of her being. What had taught her that? Could it be taught? Or was his idea of her a figment of his own fantasies? Did it really matter? Which was more important: 
 

把他这个局外人的某些话告诉那个可怜的年幼的女性，就是告诉她本人。他怀疑，是否还有另外一个人能完全理解哈尔对她意味着什么。
　　但拉尔夫还是忙了半天才抽开身。在灵魂尚未离开尸体的时候，要进行最后的礼拜式，还要去看望菲，看望帕迪，给他们一些实际的建议。医生已经走了，尽管他情绪十分沮丧，但是，由于医生长期习惯于这种不幸，以及他那无所不包的业务，这种事对他来说已经是例行公事了。据人们说，无论如何，他是帮不上忙的，这里离他的医院和那些受过专门训练的医护人员太远了。这里的人们得碰运气，得面对着恶魔，硬挺下去。他的死亡证明书将写明是"哮吼"①。这是一个信手拈来的病名。
　　①一种喉头炎，旧称格鲁布喉炎，或义膜性喉炎。--译注。
　　拉尔夫神父终于没有什么人可看望了。帕迪到菲那儿去了，鲍勃和其他的男孩子到木工房去做一具小棺材。斯图尔特呆在菲卧室的地板上，他那完美的侧影和窗外夜空衬托出的菲的侧影是如此相像。她正躺在枕头上，抓着帕迪的手，菲压根没注视过投射在寒冷的地板上的杂乱的暗影。时间已经是早晨5点钟，雄鸡在昏沉沉地骚动着，但是天还要黑好一阵呢。
　　拉尔夫的脖子上依然绕着紫红色的圣带，他已经忘记还在戴着它了。他俯身把厨房里奄奄一息的火拔旺，燃起了熊熊的火苗，又把身后桌上的灯拧小，在梅吉对面的木凳上坐了下来，望着她。她已经长大了，穿上了一步能跨七里格的靴子；这预示着他将要被甩在后面，被她超过去。他望着她，这时，他感到一种强烈的不满足的感觉；在以前的生活中，他经常怀疑自己的勇气，但今天这股不满足感却比那种令人痛苦、困惑的怀疑来得更强烈。他到底怕什么？他不敢正视的到底是什么？他能够做到比别人都坚强，都无所畏惧；然而，恰恰在他最不希望那个莫名其妙的东西出现的时候，内心深处却偏偏期待着它的出现；它悄悄地溜进了他的意识，使他尝到了恐惧的滋味。可是，比他晚生18年的梅吉却不理会他的恐惧，径自长大成人了。
　　她并不是一个圣女，或是比最好的东西还要美好的什么。她只不过是从不抱怨，她具有善于容纳一切的天赋--或许这就是祸根？不管已经失去了什么，或将要有何遭逢，她都能勇敢地承受下来，将其储藏起来，投进她生存的熔炉中当作燃料。是什么教会她这样的？这本领能教吗？或许这只是他在幻想中臆想出来的她？这实际上有关系吗？有一点更为重要：