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一条蓝宝石项链，折射出人世间最感人的真情：姐妹之间的关爱和店主的一往情深。其实，只要敞开心扉，笑对人生，每一天都会有新的希望。
Pete Richard was the loneliest man in town on the day Jean Grace opened the door of his shop. It’s a small shop which had come down to him from his grandfather. The little front window was packed with many old-fashioned things. On this winter’s afternoon a child was standing there, her forehead against the glass, earnest and big eyes studying each treasure as if she were looking for something quite special. Finally, she straightened up with a satisfied air and entered the store.
Behind the counter stood Pete himself, a man not more than thirty but with hair already turning grey. There was a sad air about him as he looked at the small customer who flattened1 her ungloved2 hands on the counter.
“Mister,” she began, “would you please let me look at the string of blue beads in the window?” Pete parted the curtain and lifted out a necklace. The blue stones gleamed brightly against his pale palm as he spread the string before her. “They’re just perfect,” said the child, entirely to herself. “Will you wrap them up pretty for me, please?”
Pete studied her with a stony3 air. “Are you buying these for someone?” “They’re for my big sister. She takes care of me, you see, this will be the first Christmas since Mother died. I’ve been looking for the most wonderful Christmas present for my sister.”
“How much money do you have?” Asked Pete carefully. She had been busily untying4 the knots5 in her handkerchief and now she poured out a handful of pennies on the counter. “I emptied my bank,” she explained simply.
Pete looked at her thoughtfully. Then he carefully drew back the necklace. How could he tell her? The trusting look of her blue eyes struck him like the pain of an old wound. “Just a minute,” he said, and turned toward the back of the store. Over his shoulder he called, “What’s your name?” He was very busy about something. “Jean Grace.”
When Pete returned to where Jean Grace waited, a package lay in his hand, wrapped in red paper and tied with a bow of green. “There you are,” he said shortly. “Don’t lose it on the way home.”
She smiled happily over her shoulder as she ran out of the door. Through the window he watched her go, while desolation6 flooded his thoughts. Something about Jean Grace and her string of beads had stirred7 him to the depths of a grief8 that would not stay buried. The child’s hair was wheat yellow, her eyes sea blue, and not long before, Pete had been in love with a girl with hair of that same yellow and with eyes just as blue. And the blue necklace was to have been hers.
But there had come a rainy night—a truck rolling on a slippery road—and his dream was crushed. Since then, Pete had lived with grief in his heart. The blue eyes of Jean Grace gave him of an acute remembrance of what he had lost. The pain of it made him draw back from the happy holiday shoppers. During the next ten days trade was active; beautiful women went in, fingering values, trying to bargain. When the last customer had gone, late on Christmas Eve, he sighed with relief. It was over for another year. But for Pete the night was not quite over.
The door opened and a young woman hurried in. With a surprise, he realized that she looked familiar, yet he could not remember when or where he had seen her before. Her hair was golden yellow and her large eyes were blue. Without speaking, she drew from her purse a package loosely unwrapped in its red paper, a bow of green ribbon with it. Presently the string of blue beads lay gleaming again before him.
“Did this come from your shop?” She asked.
Pete raised his eyes to hers and answered softly, “Yes, it did.”
“Are the stones real?”
“Yes. Not the finest quality—but real.”
“Can you remember who it was you sold them to?”
“She was a small girl. Her name was Jean. She bought them for her older sister’s Christmas present.”
“How much are they worth?”
“The price,” he told her seriously, “is always a secret between the seller and the customer.”
“But Jean has never had more than a few pennies of spending money. How could she pay for them?”
“She paid the biggest price anyone can ever pay,” he said. “She gave all she had.”
There was a silence then that filled the little shop. He saw the faraway9 steeple10, a bell began ringing. The sound of the distant chiming, the little package lying on the counter, the question in the eyes of the girl and the strange feeling of renewal11 struggling unreasonably in the heart of Pete, all had come to be because of the love of a child.
“But why did you do it?”
He held out the gift in his hand.
“It’s already Christmas morning,” he said, “and it’s my misfortune that I have no one to give anything to. Will you let me see you home and wish you a Merry Christmas at your door?”
And so, to the sound of many bells and in the midst12 of happy people, Pete Richard and a girl whose name he had yet to hear, walked out into the beginning of the great day that brings hope into the world for us all.
在珍·格雷斯走进店里之前，皮特·理查德是镇上最孤独的人。皮特的店很小，是祖父传给他的，商店的小橱窗里摆满了各种旧式的物件。在这个冬天的下午，一个孩子站在那儿，额头贴在橱窗玻璃上，一双大眼睛急切地审视着每一件宝物，似乎在寻找一样很特别的东西。最后她带着满意的神情挺直了身子，走进店里。
皮特就站在柜台后面。他还不到30岁，头发却已花白。当他看到这个小顾客把没戴手套的双手平放在柜台上时，皮特的神情有些黯然。
“先生，”她开口问道，“你能让我看看橱窗里的那条蓝宝石项链吗?”皮特拉开帷帐，把项链拿了出来，摊在自己的手掌上给她看。蓝色的宝石在他苍白的手掌中闪闪发光。“它们太漂亮了，”小女孩自言自语地说，“能麻烦你把它们给我包装得漂亮点吗?”
皮特面无表情地注视着她，“你想买给谁?”“给我大姐。她照顾我。你瞧，这是我妈妈去世后的第一个圣诞节。我一直在给姐姐找一份最好的圣诞礼物。”
“你有多少钱?”皮特小心翼翼地问。她急忙把手帕上的结解开，将一把便士倒在柜台上。“我把所有的钱都拿来了。”她简单地解释说。
皮特若有所思地看着她。然后他小心翼翼地把项链抽了回来。他怎么对她说呢？她那双蓝色眼睛里的信任目光仿佛触动了一个隐隐作痛的老伤口。“稍等一下，”他说着，转身朝商店后面走去。“你叫什么名字?”皮特一边忙着什么，一边回头问道。“珍·格雷斯。”
当皮特回到柜台前时，他手里拿着一个小盒子，是用红纸包着的，上面还系着一根打成蝴蝶结的绿丝带。“给你，”他简短地说，“别在回家的路上弄丢了。”
她跑出商店时，回头欢快地笑着。皮特从橱窗中目送她离去，心中一片悲凉。珍·格雷斯身上的某些东西和那条项链搅动了他心灵深处无法掩藏的悲伤。这女孩的头发是小麦般的淡黄色，眼睛是海蓝色。皮特不久前曾爱上一个姑娘，她有着和这女孩一样的黄色头发和蓝色眼睛，而那蓝宝石项链本该是属于她的。
然而在一个雨夜——一辆卡车在路上打滑了——他的梦想破灭了。从那以后，皮特的日子是在悲痛中度过的。珍·格雷斯的蓝眼睛让他真切地想起了他曾经失去的东西。这痛苦使他在那些兴高采烈选购节日礼物的顾客面前显得有些畏缩。随后十天里生意很红火。漂亮的女士们蜂拥而至，摆弄着各种宝物，讨价还价。圣诞节前夕的深夜，当最后一名顾客离去后，皮特如释重负般地叹了口气。又一年过去了，但对皮特来说，这一夜还没结束。
门开了，一位年轻女士匆匆走了进来。皮特一怔，因为他觉得她很面熟，却记不得在何时何地见过她。她有着金黄的头发和蓝色的大眼睛。她一言不发地从手提包里取出一个用红纸松散地包着的小盒子，上面还有一个用绿丝带系的蝴蝶结。那条蓝宝石项链立刻又在他的面前闪闪发光起来。
“这是从你店里买的吗?”她问道。
皮特抬起头看着她，轻轻地回答道：“是，是从我这儿买的。”
“这宝石是真的吗?”
“是真的。这宝石虽不是最好的——但是真的。”
“你还记得你卖给谁了吗?”
“卖给了一个小姑娘。她的名字叫珍。她是买给姐姐作圣诞礼物的。”
“这宝石值多少钱?”
“至于价钱，”皮特严肃地说，“一直是商家和顾客之间的秘密。”
“但珍从来都只有几便士的零花钱。她怎么买得起宝石呢?”
“她给的是所有人能给的最高价，”皮特说，“她把所有的钱都拿出来了。”
接着这个小店静了下来。他看着远处的教堂尖塔；这时钟开始鸣响。远处的钟声，柜台上的小盒，姑娘眼中的疑问。一种莫名的复苏感毫无来由地撞击着皮特的心——这一切，都源于一个孩子的爱。
“可你为什么要这么做?”
皮特把礼物递给她。
“已经是圣诞节的早晨了，”他说，“很不幸，我无人可送礼物。你能让我送你回家，在你家门口说一声‘祝你圣诞快乐’吗?”
于是，在许多钟鸣响之时，在幸福的人群中，皮特·理查德和一位他尚不知姓名的姑娘走进了给全世界带来希望的伟大一天的开端。
赵临 摘自English Salon
Pete Richard was the loneliest man in town on the day Jean Grace opened the door of his shop. It’s a small shop which had come down to him from his grandfather. The little front window was packed with many old-fashioned things. On this winter’s afternoon a child was standing there, her forehead against the glass, earnest and big eyes studying each treasure as if she were looking for something quite special. Finally, she straightened up with a satisfied air and entered the store.
Behind the counter stood Pete himself, a man not more than thirty but with hair already turning grey. There was a sad air about him as he looked at the small customer who flattened1 her ungloved2 hands on the counter.
“Mister,” she began, “would you please let me look at the string of blue beads in the window?” Pete parted the curtain and lifted out a necklace. The blue stones gleamed brightly against his pale palm as he spread the string before her. “They’re just perfect,” said the child, entirely to herself. “Will you wrap them up pretty for me, please?”
Pete studied her with a stony3 air. “Are you buying these for someone?” “They’re for my big sister. She takes care of me, you see, this will be the first Christmas since Mother died. I’ve been looking for the most wonderful Christmas present for my sister.”
“How much money do you have?” Asked Pete carefully. She had been busily untying4 the knots5 in her handkerchief and now she poured out a handful of pennies on the counter. “I emptied my bank,” she explained simply.
Pete looked at her thoughtfully. Then he carefully drew back the necklace. How could he tell her? The trusting look of her blue eyes struck him like the pain of an old wound. “Just a minute,” he said, and turned toward the back of the store. Over his shoulder he called, “What’s your name?” He was very busy about something. “Jean Grace.”
When Pete returned to where Jean Grace waited, a package lay in his hand, wrapped in red paper and tied with a bow of green. “There you are,” he said shortly. “Don’t lose it on the way home.”
She smiled happily over her shoulder as she ran out of the door. Through the window he watched her go, while desolation6 flooded his thoughts. Something about Jean Grace and her string of beads had stirred7 him to the depths of a grief8 that would not stay buried. The child’s hair was wheat yellow, her eyes sea blue, and not long before, Pete had been in love with a girl with hair of that same yellow and with eyes just as blue. And the blue necklace was to have been hers.
But there had come a rainy night—a truck rolling on a slippery road—and his dream was crushed. Since then, Pete had lived with grief in his heart. The blue eyes of Jean Grace gave him of an acute remembrance of what he had lost. The pain of it made him draw back from the happy holiday shoppers. During the next ten days trade was active; beautiful women went in, fingering values, trying to bargain. When the last customer had gone, late on Christmas Eve, he sighed with relief. It was over for another year. But for Pete the night was not quite over.
The door opened and a young woman hurried in. With a surprise, he realized that she looked familiar, yet he could not remember when or where he had seen her before. Her hair was golden yellow and her large eyes were blue. Without speaking, she drew from her purse a package loosely unwrapped in its red paper, a bow of green ribbon with it. Presently the string of blue beads lay gleaming again before him.
“Did this come from your shop?” She asked.
Pete raised his eyes to hers and answered softly, “Yes, it did.”
“Are the stones real?”
“Yes. Not the finest quality—but real.”
“Can you remember who it was you sold them to?”
“She was a small girl. Her name was Jean. She bought them for her older sister’s Christmas present.”
“How much are they worth?”
“The price,” he told her seriously, “is always a secret between the seller and the customer.”
“But Jean has never had more than a few pennies of spending money. How could she pay for them?”
“She paid the biggest price anyone can ever pay,” he said. “She gave all she had.”
There was a silence then that filled the little shop. He saw the faraway9 steeple10, a bell began ringing. The sound of the distant chiming, the little package lying on the counter, the question in the eyes of the girl and the strange feeling of renewal11 struggling unreasonably in the heart of Pete, all had come to be because of the love of a child.
“But why did you do it?”
He held out the gift in his hand.
“It’s already Christmas morning,” he said, “and it’s my misfortune that I have no one to give anything to. Will you let me see you home and wish you a Merry Christmas at your door?”
And so, to the sound of many bells and in the midst12 of happy people, Pete Richard and a girl whose name he had yet to hear, walked out into the beginning of the great day that brings hope into the world for us all.
在珍·格雷斯走进店里之前，皮特·理查德是镇上最孤独的人。皮特的店很小，是祖父传给他的，商店的小橱窗里摆满了各种旧式的物件。在这个冬天的下午，一个孩子站在那儿，额头贴在橱窗玻璃上，一双大眼睛急切地审视着每一件宝物，似乎在寻找一样很特别的东西。最后她带着满意的神情挺直了身子，走进店里。
皮特就站在柜台后面。他还不到30岁，头发却已花白。当他看到这个小顾客把没戴手套的双手平放在柜台上时，皮特的神情有些黯然。
“先生，”她开口问道，“你能让我看看橱窗里的那条蓝宝石项链吗?”皮特拉开帷帐，把项链拿了出来，摊在自己的手掌上给她看。蓝色的宝石在他苍白的手掌中闪闪发光。“它们太漂亮了，”小女孩自言自语地说，“能麻烦你把它们给我包装得漂亮点吗?”
皮特面无表情地注视着她，“你想买给谁?”“给我大姐。她照顾我。你瞧，这是我妈妈去世后的第一个圣诞节。我一直在给姐姐找一份最好的圣诞礼物。”
“你有多少钱?”皮特小心翼翼地问。她急忙把手帕上的结解开，将一把便士倒在柜台上。“我把所有的钱都拿来了。”她简单地解释说。
皮特若有所思地看着她。然后他小心翼翼地把项链抽了回来。他怎么对她说呢？她那双蓝色眼睛里的信任目光仿佛触动了一个隐隐作痛的老伤口。“稍等一下，”他说着，转身朝商店后面走去。“你叫什么名字?”皮特一边忙着什么，一边回头问道。“珍·格雷斯。”
当皮特回到柜台前时，他手里拿着一个小盒子，是用红纸包着的，上面还系着一根打成蝴蝶结的绿丝带。“给你，”他简短地说，“别在回家的路上弄丢了。”
她跑出商店时，回头欢快地笑着。皮特从橱窗中目送她离去，心中一片悲凉。珍·格雷斯身上的某些东西和那条项链搅动了他心灵深处无法掩藏的悲伤。这女孩的头发是小麦般的淡黄色，眼睛是海蓝色。皮特不久前曾爱上一个姑娘，她有着和这女孩一样的黄色头发和蓝色眼睛，而那蓝宝石项链本该是属于她的。
然而在一个雨夜——一辆卡车在路上打滑了——他的梦想破灭了。从那以后，皮特的日子是在悲痛中度过的。珍·格雷斯的蓝眼睛让他真切地想起了他曾经失去的东西。这痛苦使他在那些兴高采烈选购节日礼物的顾客面前显得有些畏缩。随后十天里生意很红火。漂亮的女士们蜂拥而至，摆弄着各种宝物，讨价还价。圣诞节前夕的深夜，当最后一名顾客离去后，皮特如释重负般地叹了口气。又一年过去了，但对皮特来说，这一夜还没结束。
门开了，一位年轻女士匆匆走了进来。皮特一怔，因为他觉得她很面熟，却记不得在何时何地见过她。她有着金黄的头发和蓝色的大眼睛。她一言不发地从手提包里取出一个用红纸松散地包着的小盒子，上面还有一个用绿丝带系的蝴蝶结。那条蓝宝石项链立刻又在他的面前闪闪发光起来。
“这是从你店里买的吗?”她问道。
皮特抬起头看着她，轻轻地回答道：“是，是从我这儿买的。”
“这宝石是真的吗?”
“是真的。这宝石虽不是最好的——但是真的。”
“你还记得你卖给谁了吗?”
“卖给了一个小姑娘。她的名字叫珍。她是买给姐姐作圣诞礼物的。”
“这宝石值多少钱?”
“至于价钱，”皮特严肃地说，“一直是商家和顾客之间的秘密。”
“但珍从来都只有几便士的零花钱。她怎么买得起宝石呢?”
“她给的是所有人能给的最高价，”皮特说，“她把所有的钱都拿出来了。”
接着这个小店静了下来。他看着远处的教堂尖塔；这时钟开始鸣响。远处的钟声，柜台上的小盒，姑娘眼中的疑问。一种莫名的复苏感毫无来由地撞击着皮特的心——这一切，都源于一个孩子的爱。
“可你为什么要这么做?”
皮特把礼物递给她。
“已经是圣诞节的早晨了，”他说，“很不幸，我无人可送礼物。你能让我送你回家，在你家门口说一声‘祝你圣诞快乐’吗?”
于是，在许多钟鸣响之时，在幸福的人群中，皮特·理查德和一位他尚不知姓名的姑娘走进了给全世界带来希望的伟大一天的开端。
赵临 摘自English Salon