English Original
I was puzzled! Why was this old woman making such a fuss about an old copse which was of no use to anybody? She had written letters to the local paper, even to a national, protesting about a projected by-pass to her village. Looking at a map, the route was nowhere near where she lived and it wasn't as if the area was attractive. I was more than puzzled, I was intrigued.
The enquiry into the route of the new by-pass was due to take place shortly, and I wanted to know what motivated her. So it was that I found myself knocking on a cottage door, being received by Mary Smith and then being taken for a walk to the woods.
"I've always loved this place," she said. "It has a lot of memories for me, and for others. We all used it. They called it 'Lovers' lane'. It's not much of a lane, and it doesn't go anywhere important, but that's why we all came here. To be away from people, to be by ourselves."
It was indeed pleasant that day. Squirrels gazed from the branches, quite bold in their movements. I could imagine the noise of vehicles when the by-pass was built. I felt she probably had a point, but as I believed the needs of the community overrode private opinions, I said nothing. The village was dangerous because of the traffic; safety was more important than an old woman's whims.
"Take this tree," she said, pausing. "To you it is just a tree. Not unlike many others here." She gently touched the bark. "Look here, under this branch, what can you see?"
"It looks as if someone has done a bit of carving with a knife," I said after a cursory inspection.
"Yes, that's what it is!" she said softly. "There are letters and a lover's heart."
I looked again, more carefully. The heart was there with a suggestion of an arrow through it. The letters on one side were indistinct, but on the other an 'R' was clearly visible with what looked like an 'I' after it. "Some budding romance?" I asked. "Did you know who they were?"
"Oh yes, I knew them," said Mary Smith. "It says 'RH loves MS'."
I realised I could be getting out of my depth and longed to be back in my office.
She went on... "He had a penknife with a spike for getting stones from a horse's hoof, and I helped him to carve my initials. We were very much in love, but he was going away. It was the last evening we ever spent together."
Mary Smith was quiet for a while, then she sobbed. "His mother showed me the telegram. 'Sergeant R Holmes… Killed in action in the invasion of France.'"
"'I had hoped that you and Robin would one day get married,' she said. 'He was my only child…' Two years later she too was dead. 'Pneumonia,' the doctor said, but I think it was an old-fashioned broken heart."
There was a further pause. Mary Smith gently caressed the wounded tree. "And now they want to take our tree away from me." Another quiet sob. "I was young and pretty then… I had everything… a lovely man, health, and a future to look forward to."
She paused again. "There were others, of course, but not a patch on my Robin! And now I have nothing—except the memories this tree holds. If only I could get my hands on that awful man who writes in the paper about the value of the road… I would tell him. Has he never loved? Has he never lived? Does he not know anything about memories?"
I turned away, sick at heart.
中文翻译
我感到困惑！这位老妇人为何要对一片毫无用处的老杂树林如此大惊小怪？她曾写信给当地报纸，甚至全国性报纸，抗议计划修建一条绕过她村庄的支路。看了看地图，路线离她住的地方很远，而且那片区域也并不吸引人。我不只是困惑，更是好奇。
关于新支路路线的调查即将开始，我想知道是什么驱使她这样做。于是，我敲响了一间小屋的门，玛丽·史密斯接待了我，然后带我去树林里散步。
“我一直爱着这个地方，”她说。“这里承载着我和许多人的回忆。我们都曾来这里。他们称之为‘情人巷’。它算不上一条像样的小巷，也不通往任何重要的地方，但这就是我们都来这里的原因。为了远离人群，独处。”
那天的确令人愉悦。松鼠从树枝上凝视着，动作十分大胆。我能想象支路建成后车辆穿过这片宁静树林的噪音。我觉得她可能有些道理，但由于我认为社区的需求高于个人意见，我什么也没说。村庄因为交通而危险；安全比一位老妇人的奇想更重要。
“看看这棵树，”她停顿了一下说。“对你来说，它只是一棵树。和这里的许多树没什么不同。”她轻轻触摸树皮。“看这里，在这树枝下面，你能看到什么？”
“看起来好像有人用刀刻了点东西，”我粗略检查后说道。
“是的，正是如此！”她轻声说。“有一些字母和一颗爱人的心。”
我又看了一次，更仔细些。心形图案还在，隐约可见一支箭穿过它。一边的字母模糊不清，但另一边清楚地显示着一个‘R’，后面看起来像是个‘I’。“一段萌芽的浪漫？”我问。“你知道他们是谁吗？”
“哦，是的，我知道他们，”玛丽·史密斯说。“上面写着‘RH爱MS’。”
我意识到我可能触及了深层私事，渴望回到我的办公室。
她继续说……“他有一把带钉子的折刀，用来剔除马蹄里的石头，我帮他刻了我的名字首字母。我们深爱着彼此，但他要离开了。那是我们共度的最后一个夜晚。”
玛丽·史密斯沉默了一会儿，然后抽泣起来。“他母亲给我看了电报。‘R·霍姆斯中士……在入侵法国的行动中阵亡。’”
“‘我曾希望你和罗宾有一天能结婚，’她说。‘他是我唯一的孩子……’两年后，她也去世了。‘肺炎，’医生是这么说的，但我觉得那是心碎的老说法。”
又是一阵停顿。玛丽·史密斯轻柔地抚摸着那棵受伤的树。“而现在，他们想把我们的树从我身边夺走。”又是一声轻轻的抽泣。“那时我年轻漂亮……我拥有了一切……一个可爱的男人、健康和值得期待的未来。”
她再次停顿。“当然，还有其他人，但都比不上我的罗宾！而现在我一无所有——除了这棵树承载的回忆。要是我能抓住那个在报纸上写文章鼓吹他们要在我们此刻站立之处修建的道路的价值那个可恶的家伙……我会告诉他。他从未爱过吗？他从未真正活过吗？他对回忆一无所知吗？”
我转过身去，心中充满悲戚。