An Irish Love Story-生死情侣

AnIrishLoveStory|生死情侣从一片破碎的国土一座满是断井颓垣的城市里，传来一个揉和着悲剧与喜剧的催人泪下的爱情故事……Let’scallhimIAN.That’snothisrealname—butinNorthernIrelandthesedaysyouhavetobecarefulaboutgivingyournames.Therehavebeenmorethan2400sectarian3murderssincetherecentoutbreakofancienttroublesbetweenCatholics4andProtestants5.Sothere’snosensetakingrisks.AndIanhashadmisery6enoughforhis24yearsoflife.HecamefromgoodProtestantstock7,thesortthatgoestochurchtwiceeverySundayasregularasclockwork.Hisfatherwasawelder8intheBelfastshipyards.Motherkeptacleanandtidyhouse,bakedthebestbreadintheneighborhoodandruledthefamilywiththesharpedgeofhertongue.Twoelderbrothers,bothoutofwork.Iandidwellatschoolandwasnowearninggoodmoneyasacraftsman9inaproductionplant.Quiet,serious,fondofwalkingthroughthecountrysideduringthegreeneveningsandgoldenweekendsofsummer,helikedfewthingsbetterthanabookbythewarmfireduringthelonglonelinessofwinter.Neverhadmuchtodowithgirlfriends—thoughmentendtomarrylateinIrelandTwoyearsago,onhis22ndbirthday,hewaswalkinghomefromworkwhenaterroristthrewabombfromaspeedingcar...andleftIanlyinginthenightmare10ofsuddenblindness.Hewasrushedtoahospital,operatedonimmediatelyforhisinjuriesandbrokenbones.Butbotheyesweredestroyed.Theotherwoundsgotbetterintheirowntime,thoughtheirscars11wouldremaintherestofhisdays.Butthescarsonhismind,thoughinvisible,wereevenmoreobvious.Hehardlyspokeaword,hardlyateordrank,hardlyslept.Hesimplylayinbed,worriedandsightless.Nearlyfourmonths.TherewasoneNURSEwhoseemedtobeabletodrawsomesmallspark12ofhumanresponsefromhim.Let’scallherBridget—afineIrishname.GoodCatholicstock,thesortthatgoestoMass13firstthingeverySundaymorning.Herfather,acarpenter14,mostlyworkedawayfromhomeoverinEngland.Adecent15man—lovedhisfamily,spentweekendswiththemwheneverhecouldaffordthefare16.Motherkeptacleanbutuntidyhouse,cookedthebeststew17intheneighborhoodandruledthefamilywithaquickhandandasoftheart.Sixbrothers,foursisters—withtheyoungestofthemall,Mary,11,herfather’sdarling.Bridgetdidwellatschool,hadtrainedasanurseatafamousLondonhospital,andnow,attheageof21,wasastaffnurse18inBelfast’sbiggesthospital.Lively,thoughusuallyserious,asingerwithasweetandgentlevoiceandawayofherownwithfolksongs.Neverhadmuchtodowithboyfriends—thoughitwasn’tfromanylackofyoungmenwho’dsettheircapsather19.ButnowherheartwasmovedbyIan,fortherewassomethingofthelittle-boy-lost20abouthimthatbroughttearstohereyes.True,hecouldn’tseethetears,yetshewasafraidthathervoicewouldgiveawayherfeelings.Inawayshewasrightabouthervoice,becauseitwasthesweetsoundandthelaughterofitthatdraggedhimbackfromthedepthsofdepression21andself-pity,thewarmthandgentlenessandstrengthofherwords,theblessedassurance22withwhichshespoketohimoftheloveofJesusChrist23.Andso,asthelongdarkofhisdaysturnedtoweeksandmonths,hewouldlistenforherfootstepsandturnhissightlessfacetowardhercominglikeaflowerbendingforthesun.Attheendofhisfourmonthsinthehospitalhewaspronouncedincurablyblindbutwhathenowknewastheirlovegavehimthecouragetoaccepthisaffliction.Because,despiteeverythingagainstthem—religion,politics,theoppositionoftheirfamilies—theywereinlove.Theirfamilieswereshocked.Thinkingofgettingmarried?TheverylawofGodforbadeit,surely.“Whatfellowshiphath24thechildrenoflightwiththechildrenofdarkness?”thundered25hisfather.“You’llnotbemarryingherwhileI’mdrawingbreath!”“TheRomanCatholicChurch,”statedherpriest,“discouragesmixedmarriages,soyoucanbeputtingtheideafromyou!So,byallmannerofpressures—constantarguments,threats,promises,andevenlies—theyweredrivenapart.And,intheend,theyquarreled,saidhurtfulthingsintheirblackmisery,andoneevening,withtheraindrizzling26andtheirheartscold,shewalkedawayfromhimontheweepingstreet.Hegotbackintohisendlessnight.Daysandweeksofbitterness.“You’llnotberegrettingitinthelongrun27”,hewastold.“You’dhavebeeninvitingtroublebymarryinganunbeliever28!”Shegotbackintoherwork,toosickathearttoremember.Weeksandmonthsofnumbed29pains.“You’lllivetopraisetheAlmighty30,”shewastold.“You’dhavebeenaskingforhellonearthmarryingaProtestant!”Themonthsdrained31intoayear.Andthebombingscontinued,tothegriefofIreland.Thenoneevening,asIansataloneinthehouse,therecameasuddenknockatthedoor,“Ian!Comeyouquick!”Bythevoicechoked32withtears,herecognizedyoungMary,Bridget’ssister.“Abombing!She’strappedandhalf-dead,sosheis!Screamingafteryou33.Comeyou,Ian!InthenameofGod,pleasecome!”Withoutevenshuttingthedoorbehindhim,hetookherhand.Andsheledandstumbled34andcriedwithhimthroughthestreets.ThebombhaddestroyedalittlerestaurantwhereBridgethadbeeneatingsupperwiththreeothernurses.Theothershadmanagedtoscramble35outfromundertheruin.Butshewastrappedbythelegs.Andthefirewasspreading,comingtowardher.Theycouldhearherscreaming,butcouldn’tyetreachthepitwhereshelay.Firemen,soldiers,lightsandspecialequipmentwereontheirwayIanmovedintothedangerousplace.“Youcan’tgointhere!”shoutedtheofficerincharge.“She’smygirl”,saidIan.“Don’tbecrazy!”shoutedtheofficer.“You’llnotbeseeingyourhandinfrontofyourfaceinthedarkness!“Whatdifferencedoesdarknessmaketoablindman?”saidIan.Andheturnedtowardthesoundofhervoice,andmovedthrought