The Afternoon Post

The village Post Office, with its clock and letter-box, its postmistress lost in the heartless seductions of the Aristocracy and tales of coroneted woe, and the sallow-faced grocer watching from his window opposite, is the scene of a daily crisis in my life, when every afternoon I walk there: through the country lanes and ask that well-read young lady for my letters. I always expect good news and cheques; and then, of course, there is the magical Fortune which is coming, and word of it may reach me any day. What it is, this strange Felicity, or whence it shall arrive,I have no notion; but I hurry down in the morning to find the news on the breakfast table, open telegrams in delighted panic,and cry ‘Here it comes!’ when in the night-silence I hear wheels approaching along the road. So, happy in the hope of Happiness,and not greatly concerned with any other interest or ambition,I live on in my quiet, ordered house; and so I shall live perhaps until the end. Is it merely the last great summons and revelation for which I am waiting?

午后邮件

村里的邮局，摆着时钟和信箱，有女局长埋头于贵族的偷香窃玉和王室的伤心故事，有那个脸色灰黄的杂货店老板从路对面玻璃窗望过来，在这里我每天都会经历生活中一个揪心的时刻——每天下午我穿过乡村小巷走来，问那位书读得很多的少妇有没有我的信。我总是期盼着好消息和支票；接着，当然了，是那正在到来的命中奇迹，谁知哪一天就有话传来了呢。到底是什么，这奇妙的好运气，会从何处降临呢？我一无所知。但我清晨会匆匆赶来找早餐桌上的新闻，又喜又怕地打开电报，夜深人静时听到路上过来的车轮声便大叫“来了！”。就这样，怀着幸福的希望幸福着，其他任何兴趣和志向都不大放心上，我在我宁静整洁的房子里过着日子；也许会这样终老。是不是就为了那最后的伟大召唤和启示我在等待着？