But he thought: I can't risk it, she is mine, can't give her a chance not to belong to me, can't let her think she doesn't need me, she must need me. Oh God, I have to have her.

但是他想：我不能冒這個(gè)險(xiǎn)，她是我的；我決不能放手，決不能讓她不屬于我，決不能讓她以為她不需要我；她一定需要我。哦，上帝，我必須得到她！

But her apartment was empty. Somehow in the hours overnight, she had packed - by herself -and moved by herself. The rooms were now impersonal; their cold stillness could not respond when he fell to the floor and sobbed.

然而她的公寓空空如也。她一定是在頭天夜里花了幾個(gè)小時(shí)打好行裝——自己動(dòng)手——獨(dú)自離去。此刻，房間里不再有任何生命的氣息。他倒地啜泣，回答他的只有一片陰冷的寂靜。

By the middle of August he had heard nothing from Amy. He went often to the park but avoided looking for the white bird.

到了8月中旬，他依然沒收到艾米的任何消息。他時(shí)常去公園，但總是小心翼翼地不去尋找那只小白鳥。

September came and had almost gone before he finally received a letter. The handwriting was without question hers. The postmark was that of a city many miles distant. He tore open the envelope and at first thought it was empty. Then he noticed a single white feather had fallen from it. In his mind, the white bird rose in flight and its wings let fly one feather. Were it not for the feather, no one would have known that the white bird had ever been. Thus he knew Amy would not be back, and it was many hours before he let the feather drop out of his hand.

9月不覺來(lái)臨，又即將悄然逝去，他終于收到了另一封熟悉的來(lái)信。無(wú)疑是她的筆跡。郵戳標(biāo)明寄自另一個(gè)遙遠(yuǎn)的城市。他撕開信封，最初還以為里面空無(wú)一物，隨后才發(fā)現(xiàn)有一根從信封中飄落的潔白羽毛。他的腦海里幻化出那只小白鳥，它振翅飛翔，一片羽毛從它的翅上抖落。倘若不是鳥兒在離去時(shí)留下這片羽毛為證，有誰(shuí)會(huì)知道小白鳥曾經(jīng)來(lái)過？他幡然醒悟：艾米再也不會(huì)回來(lái)了。不知過了多久，他才讓那根羽毛從手中悄然滑落。