It was shaking and there were tears in his eyes, so that he could see nothing but a blur.
“I’ll read it,” said the second daughter.
She took the letter, glanced over it from side to side, and then suddenly burst into tears.
“What is it?” said the eldest son angrily. “Give it to me.”
He took the letter, glanced over it, and then his face became stern. All their faces became stern.
“Read it, son,” the father said.
“‘Dear Parents,’” the son began. “‘Oh, Mother, I am so lonely,’ It’s all covered with blots the same as if she were crying on the paper. ‘Daddy, why did I…why did I ever...ever...’ it’s hard to make it out...yes... ‘why did I ever come to this awful place? Say a prayer for me every night, mother. Kiss baby for me. Forgive me, mother. Your loving daughter Mary.’”
When he finished there was utter silence for a long time. The father was the first to move. He rose slowly, still holding the cheque in his hand. Then he said:“There was no word about the money in the letter,” he said in a queer voice. “Why is that now?”
他的手发颤，泪水盈眶，眼前只见一片模糊。
“我来念，”二女儿说。
她接过信，来回扫了几眼，突然大哭起来。
“怎么了？”大儿子气冲冲地说。“把信给我。”
他接过信，扫了一眼，就绷起了脸。大家也绷起了脸。
“念呀，儿子，”父亲说。
“‘亲爱的父母亲’，”儿子念了起来。“‘啊，妈妈，我好孤独啊。’到处，到处都是泪痕，象是她趴在信纸上哭过。‘爸爸，我干吗要……我干吗非要……非要……，’这字好难认……嗯……‘我干吗非要来这个鬼地方啊？每天晚上为我祈祷吧，妈妈。替我亲亲小弟。原谅我，妈妈。你们心爱的女儿玛丽。’”
他念完信，许久都没有一点动静。还是父亲先开的头。他慢慢站起身，手里还攥着那张支票。然后说：“信里压根儿没提寄钱，”听得出他心里生疑。
“怎么现在又有钱了呢？”
“Twenty pounds,” the mother said in a hollow voice. “It isn’t earned in a week.”
She snatched the letter furtively from her son, and hid it ravenously in her bosom.
The father walked away slowly by the fence, whispering to himself in a dry voice:
“Aye! My greed stopped me asking myself that question. Twenty pounds.”
He walked away erect and stiff, like a man angrily drunk.
The others continued to sit about in silence, brooding. They no longer heard the larks. Suddenly one looked up and said in a frightened voice:
“What is father doing?”
“二十镑啊，”母亲闷声闷气说了一句。“一个星期可挣不下来啊。”
她冷不防从儿子手里一把夺过信来，贪婪地藏进怀里。
父亲顺着篱笆缓缓走开，一边嘟嘟囔囔，声音沙哑：“哎！我是见钱眼馋，没顾上好好想一想啊。二十镑啊。”
他僵挺挺地走开了，像个喝得烂醉的人。
别的人依然静静地坐着不动，若有所思。他们听不进云雀的声音了。忽然有谁抬起了头，惊恐地说：“爸爸在干嘛？”
They all looked. The father had passed out of the field into another uplying craggy field. He was now standing on a rock with his arms folded and his bare head fallen forward on his chest, perfectly motionless. His back was towards them but they knew he was crying. He had stood that way, apart, the year before, on the day their horses died.
Then the eldest son muttered a curse and jumped to his feet. He stood still with his teeth set and his wide eyes flashing. The infant boy dropped a weed from his tiny hands and burst into frenzied weeping.
Then the mother clutched the child in her arms and cried out in a despairing voice:
“Oh Birds, birds, why do ye go on singing when my heart is frozen with grief.” Together, they all burst into a loud despairing wail and the harsh sound of their weeping rose into the sky from the field that had suddenly become ugly and lonely; up, up into the clear blue sky where the larks still sang their triumphant melody.
大家抬头望去。父亲已经走出地头，在另外一块布满岩石的高地里。只见他站在一块石头上，抱着双臂，光秃的头垂在胸前，一动不动。他背冲着大家，但是谁都知道他在哭泣。头年家里的马死的那天，他也是撇开大伙，一模一样地呆站着不动。
这时，大儿子低声骂了一句，霍地站了起来。他立定脚跟，咬紧牙关，瞪大的两眼闪着亮光。小不点的小手里落下一裸野草，孩子突然号陶大哭起来。
于是母亲一把抓起孩子接在怀里，绝望地大叫大喊：
“哦！小鸟呀小鸟，我的心都伤透了，你们干吗还唱个不停呀。”
顿时，一大家人都悲痛欲绝地放声哀号起来，刺耳的哭声从骤然变得丑随荒凉的地里传到空中，再往上，往上，升入晴朗的碧空，只听得云雀还在那边喜气洋洋地引吭高歌。
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