unit5 B 课文THE WALLET.docVIP

THE WALLET Arnold Fine It was a year ago today when I came across a wallet in the street. Inside was a letter that looked as if it had been carried around for years, dated 1924. The envelope was worn and all I could make out was the return address. I opened the letter carefully, hoping for some clue to the identity of the owner of the wallet. It was signed Hannah and written to someone called Michael. She wrote that she could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. She would always love him, but felt it would be best if they never met again. It was a beautiful letter. But there was no way, other than the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. The return address was nearby, so I called in. I asked if anyone there knew of a Hannah, and was told, “Oh, of course! We bought this house from her some time ago. Shes in a nursing home now.” They gave me the name of the home and I called the director. I explained the situation and was invited over, arriving to find him chatting to the door guard. We exchanged greetings and the director took me up to Hannah s room on the third floor of the large building. She was a sweet, silver-haired old lady with a warm smile, full of life. I told her about finding the wallet and took out the letter. The moment she saw it she recognized it. “Young man,” she said, “this letter was the last contact I had with Michael. I never heard from him again.” She looked away for a moment in deep thought and continued, “I loved him very much. I was 16 at the time and my mother felt I was much too young to even be seeing Michael. He was so handsome.” Just then the director was called away and we were left alone. “Yes, Michael Goldstein was his name,” she began once more. “If you do find him, give him my regards and tell him I still think of him often. That … She hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath, and added, “I still love him. You know … she said, smiling through her tears, “ I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched