陌生人与戒指.docVIP

陌生人与戒指 　　The Stranger and the Ring 　　old drew many to South Africa and it was gold that has just reaffirmed my faith in this 1）muddled， mosaic nation. 　　As a Briton living in 2）Cape Town， I recently received the call that nobody wants. My father had passed away. After the funeral in England， my mother showed me dad’s will. It mostly went to her with one named item for me―a gold ring， worn for decades by dad and before him， by his own father. 　　I’ve never really been into jewellery， yet when I slipped the ring on my left 3）pinky it felt somehow right. Consoled in my grief by dad’s beloved bling， I flew home to South Africa. 　　All was well until a wintry Saturday when I walked on our local beach. As so often in the Cape， it was fiercely windy， a blur of sand and 4）spindrift. When I got home and lit the fire， I looked at my left hand. The ring wasn’t there. 　　An emotional tsunami washed over me―shock， horror， 5）remorse， anger， powerlessness. And when it pulled back， all that was really left was guilt―a potential life sentence of guilt. 6）Hoping against hope that it had not been dropped on the beach， I looked everywhere else. Maybe the car？ I stripped it 7）to no avail. Maybe the 8）veranda where I dried off the dog？ No luck. Maybe the house？ Nothing. 　　It must have been the beach， an area stretching 200m from the car park―the ring， a very small needle in a very large and tidally wet haystack. 　　I was out at first light the next day but with no luck， spirits dimming. My only hope was this―the wind had been so strong the ring could have been buried. It might just still be there， somewhere. 　　I contacted local metal detector users. Two came to help， one even lending me his gear. “Take as long as you need，” he said. Days of searching passed 9）forlornly. I found an old mobile phone， a 50 cent coin and a lot of bottle tops. 　　I rang mum that long week but was not brave enough to confess. If I had to tell her I had lost dad’s ring， I had to be able to say I had do