At last things calmed down. Charlotte and Wilbur were alone.
“Charlotte,” said Wilbur after a while, “why are you so quiet?”
“I like to sit still,” she said. “I've always been rather quiet.”
“Yes, but you seem specially so today. Do you feel all right?”
“A little tired, perhaps. But I feel peaceful. Your success in the ring this morning was, to a small degree, my success. Your future is assured. You will live, be secure and safe, Wilbur. Nothing can harm you now. ”
A tear came to Wilbur's eye. “Oh, Charlotte,” he said. “To think that when I first met you I thought you were cruel and bloodthirsty!”
When he recovered from his emotion, he spoke again.
“Why did you do all this for me?” he asked. “I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.”
“You have been my friend,” replied Charlotte. “I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle1. Anyone's life can stand a little of that.”
“Well,” said Wilbur. “I'm no good at making speeches. I haven't got your gift for words. But you have saved me, Charlotte, and I would gladly give my life for you—I really would.”
“I'm sure you would.”
“Charlotte,“ said Wilbur. “We're all going home today. The Fair is almost over. Won't it be wonderful to be back home in the barn again? Aren't you anxious to get home?”
For a moment Charlotte said nothing.
“I will not be going back to the barn,” she said lowly.
Wilbur leapt to his feet2. “Not going back?” he cried. “Charlotte, what are you talking about?”
“I'm done for3,” she replied. “In a day or two I'll be dead. I haven't even strength enough to climb down into the crate4. I doubt if I have enough silk in my spinnerets5 to lower me to the ground.”
Hearing this, Wilbur threw himself down in an agony6 of pain and sorrow. Great sobs racked his body. “Charlotte,” he moaned. “Charlotte! My true friend!”
“Come now, let's not make a scene7,” said the spider. “Be quiet, Wilbur.”
“But I can't stand it,” shouted Wilbur. “I won't leave you here alone to die. If you're going to stay here I shall stay, too.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” said Charlotte. “You can't stay here. Zuckerman and Lurvy and the others will be back any minute now, and they'll shove8 you into that crate and away you'll go. Besides, it wouldn't make any sense for you to stay. There would be no one to feed you.”
Wilbur was in a panic9. He raced round and round the pigpen. Suddenly he had an idea—he thought of the egg sac and those little spiders that would hatch in the spring. If Charlotte herself was unable to go home to the barn, at least he must take her children along...
Finally after so much effort Wilbur persuaded Templeton to climb up and get the egg sac.
Lurvy and Mr. Zucherman came along at that moment. Wilbur carefully took the little bundle in his mouth and held it there on top of his tongue. He couldn't say anything. But as he was being shoved into the crate, he looked up at Charlotte and gave her a wink. She knew he was saying good-bye in the only way he could. And she knew her children were safe.
“Good-bye!” she whispered. Then she summoned all her strength and waved one of her front legs at him.
She never moved again. Next day Charlotte died. The Fair was empty. Nobody, of the hundreds of people that had visited the Fair, knew that a grey spider had played the most important part of all. No one was with her when she died.
And so Wilbur came home. His was a strange homecoming. Around his neck he wore a medal of honor; in his mouth he held a sac of spider's eggs. There is no place like home, Wilbur thought, as he placed Charlotte's unborn children carefully in a safe corner.
In the days that followed, he was very happy. Wilbur often thought of Charlotte. Every day Wilbur would look at the torn, empty web, and a lump would come to his throat. No one had ever had such a friend—so affectionate10, so loyal, and so skillful.
Time passed quickly. All winter Wilbur watched over Charlotte's egg sac as though he were guarding his own children. Life is always a rich and steady time when you are waiting for something to happen. The winter ended at last. The snows melted and ran away.
One fine sunny morning, after breakfast, Wilbur stood watching his precious sac. As he stood there, he noticed something move. He stepped closer and stared. A tiny spider crawled from the sac. It looked just like Charlotte.
Wilbur trembled all over when he saw it. The little spider waved at him. Two more little spiders crawled out. Then eight. Then ten. Charlotte's children were here at last.
Wilbur's heart pounded11. “Hello, there!” he said.
The first spider said hello.
“I am an old friend of your mother's,”said Wilbur. “I'm glad to see you. Are you all right? Is everything all right?”
The little spiders waved their forelegs at him. Wilbur could see by the way they acted that they were glad to see him.
“Is there anything I can get you? Is there anything you need?”...
As time went on, and the months and years came and went, Wilbur was never without friends. Charlotte's children and grandchildren and great grandchildren lived in the doorway. Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both.
The end
最后，一切都平静下来。夏洛又和威伯单独待在一起了。
“夏洛，”过了一会儿，威伯说，“你为什么这样安静？”
“我喜欢静静地待着，”她说，“我一向喜欢安静。”
“我知道，不过你今天似乎特别安静。你没事吧？”“可能有点累，不过我很满足。你今早在赛场上的成功，在很小的程度上，也算是我的成功。你的未来有保证了。你会安然无恙地活下去，威伯。现在没有什么能伤害你了。”
泪水模糊了威伯的眼睛。“噢，夏洛，”他说，“记得第一次见到你，我还认为你是个残酷嗜血的动物！”
等情绪稳定下来，他又继续说起来。
“为什么你要为我做这一切？”他问，“我不配。我从没为你做过任何事。”
“你是我的朋友，”夏洛回答，“我为你织网是因为我喜欢你。再说，生命到底是什么？我们出生，我们短暂地活着，我们死去。蜘蛛的一生是一团乱麻。通过帮助你，我才能试着在我的生命中找到一点价值。人活着总该做一点有意义的事才好。”
“唉，”威伯说，“我不会表达。我也不能像你说得那么好。但你救了我，夏洛，我同样很高兴能为你献出生命——我真心愿意。”
“我相信你会的。”
“夏洛，”威伯说，“我们今天就要回家了。展览会快结束了。重新回到谷仓不是好极了吗？你不盼着回家吗？”
夏洛沉默了好一会儿。
“我不回谷仓了。”夏洛轻轻地说。
威伯跳了起来。“不回去？”他叫道，“夏洛，你在说什么？”
“我已经不行了，”她回答，“一两天内我就要死去。我现在甚至连爬到板条箱里的力气都没有。我怀疑我的丝囊里是否还有足够的丝送我回地面。”
一听这话，威伯悲痛万分，扑倒下来。他痛苦地扭动着身子。“夏洛，”他呻吟道，“夏洛！我忠实的朋友！”
“好了，不要喊了，”夏洛说，“安静，威伯。”
“可我忍不住，”威伯叫道，“我不能让你独自留下来等死。如果你留下来，我也不走。”
“别胡说了，”夏洛说，“你不能留在这里。祖克曼、鲁维还有其他人现在随时都会回来，他们会把你装进板条箱里，带你离开的。此外，你留在这里也没用，这里不会有人饲养你。”
威伯惊恐万分。他在猪圈里转着圈子跑来跑去。突然他想起一件事——他想到了卵囊和明年春天要出世的小蜘蛛。如果夏洛不能回到谷仓，至少要把她的孩子们带回去……
最终，威伯费了好大劲儿终于说服了坦普尔顿爬上去把卵囊取下来。
就在这时，鲁维和祖克曼先生回来了。威伯把卵囊小心翼翼地吞到嘴里，放到舌尖上。他不能说话。不过在他被推进板条箱时，他抬头望了一眼夏洛，对她眨了眨眼。夏洛知道，威伯是在用他惟一的方式，对自己说再见。夏洛也知道，她的孩子们平安无事了。
“再见！”她低语。然后她鼓起全身仅剩的力气，对威伯挥起一只前腿。
她再也没动过。第二天，夏洛死了。会场很快空无一人。参加过展览会的几百人中，没有一个知道：一只灰蜘蛛曾扮演过最重要的角色。在她死的时候，没有一个人陪在她身边。
威伯就这样回到了谷仓。他回来时的样子很奇怪：脖子上挂着一枚荣誉奖章，嘴里含着一个蜘蛛卵囊。当他把夏洛未出生的孩子小心地放到安全角落后，他想，没有比家更好的地方了。
往后的日子里，威伯过得很幸福。威伯也经常想到夏洛。每天威伯会看着那张残破不堪的空网，喉咙就会哽噎起来。从没有人有过这样一个朋友——那样深情，那样忠诚，那样灵巧。
时间过得很快。整个冬天威伯一直在照看夏洛的卵囊，像是在呵护自己的孩子一样。当你在等待什么发生时，生活总是变得充实而又稳定。最后，冬天终于到头了。雪融化成水流走了。
一个阳光明媚的早晨，吃过早饭的威伯又在观察他那珍贵的卵囊。当他静静观望时，居然发现有什么东西在动。他便走近一些盯着看。一只很小的蜘蛛从卵囊里爬出来。它的样子看上去跟夏洛一模一样。
威伯一看到它，惊喜得浑身颤抖。这只小蜘蛛向他招手。两只更小的蜘蛛也爬了出来。接着是8只，然后是10只。夏洛的孩子们最后都出来了。
威伯的心怦怦跳。“喂，你们好！”他说。
第一只小蜘蛛说：“你好。”
“我是你们妈妈的老朋友，”威伯说，“很高兴能看到你们。你们都好吗？一切平安吗？”
小蜘蛛们向他挥动着前腿。威伯从他们的举动能看出，他们也很高兴看到他。
“我能为你们做什么吗？你们有任何需要吗？”……
时光流逝，岁月穿梭，但威伯从来不缺少朋友。夏洛的子女、孙子、曾孙子一直住在门口那儿。威伯永远忘不了夏洛。尽管他那么爱她的孩子们和孙子们，但没有一只新来的蜘蛛能取代夏洛在他心中的位置。夏洛是无可比拟的。很少有人能碰到这样的人：既是忠实的朋友，又是写作好手。夏洛两者都是。
（完）
1. trifle n. 琐事 a trifle=a little
2. leap to one's feet 跳了起来
3. be done for 不中用了
4. crate [kreit] n. 板条箱，柳条箱
5. spinneret n. 喷丝头
6. in an agony of 处于极端痛苦中
agony n. 极大的痛苦
7. make a scene 大吵大闹
8. shove v. 推，挤
9. panic n. 惊慌
10. affectionate adj. 挚爱的
11. pound [paund] v. 连续敲打