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Contact Mike Lough <Mikel@caere.com> + + + + + +Anne's House of Dreams + +by Lucy Maud Montgomery + + + +"To Laura, in memory of the olden time." + + + + + +CHAPTER 1 + +IN THE GARRET OF GREEN GABLES + +"Thanks be, I'm done with geometry, learning or teaching it," +said Anne Shirley, a trifle vindictively, as she thumped +a somewhat battered volume of Euclid into a big chest of books, +banged the lid in triumph, and sat down upon it, looking at +Diana Wright across the Green Gables garret, with gray eyes +that were like a morning sky. + +The garret was a shadowy, suggestive, delightful place, +as all garrets should be. Through the open window, by +which Anne sat, blew the sweet, scented, sun-warm air +of the August afternoon; outside, poplar boughs rustled +and tossed in the wind; beyond them were the woods, +where Lover's Lane wound its enchanted path, and the +old apple orchard which still bore its rosy harvests +munificently. And, over all, was a great mountain +range of snowy clouds in the blue southern sky. +Through the other window was glimpsed a distant, +white-capped, blue sea--the beautiful St. Lawrence +Gulf, on which floats, like a jewel, Abegweit, whose +softer, sweeter Indian name has long been forsaken for +the more prosaic one of Prince Edward Island. + +Diana Wright, three years older than when we last saw +her, had grown somewhat matronly in the intervening +time. But her eyes were as black and brilliant, her +cheeks as rosy, and her dimples as enchanting, as in +the long-ago days when she and Anne Shirley had vowed +eternal friendship in the garden at Orchard Slope. In +her arms she held a small, sleeping, black-curled +creature, who for two happy years had been known to the +world of Avonlea as "Small Anne Cordelia." Avonlea +folks knew why Diana had called her Anne, of course, +but Avonlea folks were puzzled by the Cordelia. There +had never been a Cordelia in the Wright or Barry +connections. Mrs. Harmon Andrews said she supposed +Diana had found the name in some trashy novel, and +wondered that Fred hadn't more sense than to allow it. +But Diana and Anne smiled at each other. They knew how +Small Anne Cordelia had come by her name. + +"You always hated geometry," said Diana with a +retrospective smile. "I should think you'd be real +glad to be through with teaching, anyhow." + +"Oh, I've always liked teaching, apart from geometry. +These past three years in Summerside have been very +pleasant ones. Mrs. Harmon Andrews told me when I came +home that I wouldn't likely find married life as much +better than teaching as I expected. Evidently Mrs. +Harmon is of Hamlet's opinion that it may be better to +bear the ills that we have than fly to others that we +know not of." + +Anne's laugh, as blithe and irresistible as of yore, +with an added note of sweetness and maturity, rang +through the garret. Marilla in the kitchen below, +compounding blue plum preserve, heard it and smiled; +then sighed to think how seldom that dear laugh would +echo through Green Gables in the years to come. +Nothing in her life had ever given Marilla so much +happiness as the knowledge that Anne was going to marry +Gilbert Blythe; but every joy must bring with it its +little shadow of sorrow. During the three Summerside +years Anne had been home often for vacations and +weekends; but, after this, a bi-annual visit would be +as much as could be hoped for. + +"You needn't let what Mrs. Harmon says worry you," +said Diana, with the calm assurance of the four-years +matron. "Married life has its ups and downs, of +course. You mustn't expect that everything will always +go smoothly. But I can assure you, Anne, that it's a +happy life, when you're married to the right man." + +Anne smothered a smile. Diana's airs of vast +experience always amused her a little. + +"I daresay I'll be putting them on too, when I've been +married four years," she thought. "Surely my sense of +humor will preserve me from it, though." + +"Is it settled yet where you are going to live?" asked +Diana, cuddling Small Anne Cordelia with the +inimitable gesture of motherhood which always sent +through Anne's heart, filled with sweet, unuttered +dreams and hopes, a thrill that was half pure pleasure +and half a strange, ethereal pain. + +"Yes. That was what I wanted to tell you when I +'phoned to you to come down today. By the way, I can't +realize that we really have telephones in Avonlea now. +It sounds so preposterously up-to-date and modernish +for this darling, leisurely old place." + +"We can thank the A. V. I. S. for them," said Diana. +"We should never have got the line if they hadn't +taken the matter up and carried it through. There was +enough cold water thrown to discourage any society. +But they stuck to it, nevertheless. You did a splendid +thing for Avonlea when you founded that society, Anne. +What fun we did have at our meetings! Will you ever +forget the blue hall and Judson Parker's scheme for +painting medicine advertisements on his fence?" + +"I don't know that I'm wholly grateful to the A. V. I. +S. in the matter of the telephone," said Anne. "Oh, I +know it's most convenient-- even more so than our old +device of signalling to each other by flashes of +candlelight! And, as Mrs. Rachel says, `Avonlea must +keep up with the procession, that's what.' But somehow +I feel as if I didn't want Avonlea spoiled by what Mr. +Harrison, when he wants to be witty, calls `modern +inconveniences.' I should like to have it kept always +just as it was in the dear old years. That's +foolish--and sentimental--and impossible. So I shall +immediately become wise and practical and possible. +The telephone, as Mr. Harrison concedes, is `a buster +of a good thing'--even if you do know that probably +half a dozen interested people are listening along the +line." + +"That's the worst of it," sighed Diana. "It's so +annoying to hear the receivers going down whenever you +ring anyone up. They say Mrs. Harmon Andrews insisted +that their `phone should be put in their kitchen just +so that she could listen whenever it rang and keep an +eye on the dinner at the same time. Today, when you +called me, I distinctly heard that queer clock of the +Pyes' striking. So no doubt Josie or Gertie was +listening." + +"Oh, so that is why you said, `You've got a new clock +at Green Gables, haven't you?' I couldn't imagine what +you meant. I heard a vicious click as soon as you had +spoken. I suppose it was the Pye receiver being hung +up with profane energy. Well, never mind the Pyes. As +Mrs. Rachel says, `Pyes they always were and Pyes they +always will be, world without end, amen.' I want to +talk of pleasanter things. It's all settled as to +where my new home shall be." + +"Oh, Anne, where? I do hope it's near here." + +"No-o-o, that's the drawback. Gilbert is going to +settle at Four Winds Harbor--sixty miles from here." + +"Sixty! It might as well be six hundred," sighed +Diana. "I never can get further from home now than +Charlottetown." + +"You'll have to come to Four Winds. It's the most +beautiful harbor on the Island. There's a little +village called Glen St. Mary at its head, and Dr. David +Blythe has been practicing there for fifty years. He +is Gilbert's great-uncle, you know. He is going to +retire, and Gilbert is to take over his practice. Dr. +Blythe is going to keep his house, though, so we shall +have to find a habitation for ourselves. I don't know +yet what it is, or where it will be in reality, but I +have a little house o'dreams all furnished in my +imagination--a tiny, delightful castle in Spain." + +"Where are you going for your wedding tour?" asked +Diana. + +"Nowhere. Don't look horrified, Diana dearest. You +suggest Mrs. Harmon Andrews. She, no doubt, will +remark condescendingly that people who can't afford +wedding `towers' are real sensible not to take them; +and then she'll remind me that Jane went to Europe for +hers. I want to spend MY honeymoon at Four Winds in my +own dear house of dreams." + +"And you've decided not to have any bridesmaid?" + +"There isn't any one to have. You and Phil and +Priscilla and Jane all stole a march on me in the +matter of marriage; and Stella is teaching in +Vancouver. I have no other `kindred soul' and I won't +have a bridesmaid who isn't." + +"But you are going to wear a veil, aren't you?" asked +Diana, anxiously. + +"Yes, indeedy. I shouldn't feel like a bride without +one. I remember telling Matthew, that evening when he +brought me to Green Gables, that I never expected to be +a bride because I was so homely no one would ever want +to marry me--unless some foreign missionary did. I had +an idea then that foreign missionaries couldn't afford +to be finicky in the matter of looks if they wanted a +girl to risk her life among cannibals. You should have +seen the foreign missionary Priscilla married. He was +as handsome and inscrutable as those daydreams we once +planned to marry ourselves, Diana; he was the best +dressed man I ever met, and he raved over Priscilla's +`ethereal, golden beauty.' But of course there are no +cannibals in Japan." + +"Your wedding dress is a dream, anyhow," sighed Diana +rapturously. "You'll look like a perfect queen in +it--you're so tall and slender. How DO you keep so +slim, Anne? I'm fatter than ever--I'll soon have no +waist at all." + +"Stoutness and slimness seem to be matters of +predestination," said Anne. "At all events, Mrs. +Harmon Andrews can't say to you what she said to me +when I came home from Summerside, `Well, Anne, you're +just about as skinny as ever.' It sounds quite +romantic to be `slender,' but `skinny' has a very +different tang." + +"Mrs. Harmon has been talking about your trousseau. +She admits it's as nice as Jane's, although she says +Jane married a millionaire and you are only marrying a +`poor young doctor without a cent to his name.'" + +Anne laughed. + +"My dresses ARE nice. I love pretty things. I +remember the first pretty dress I ever had--the brown +gloria Matthew gave me for our school concert. Before +that everything I had was so ugly. It seemed to me +that I stepped into a new world that night." + +"That was the night Gilbert recited `Bingen on the +Rhine,' and looked at you when he said, `There's +another, NOT a sister.' And you were so furious +because he put your pink tissue rose in his breast +pocket! You didn't much imagine then that you would +ever marry him." + +"Oh, well, that's another instance of predestination," +laughed Anne, as they went down the garret stairs. + + + +CHAPTER 2 + +THE HOUSE OF DREAMS + +There was more excitement in the air of Green Gables +than there had ever been before in all its history. +Even Marilla was so excited that she couldn't help +showing it--which was little short of being phenomenal. + +"There's never been a wedding in this house," she +said, half apologetically, to Mrs. Rachel Lynde. +"When I was a child I heard an old minister say that a +house was not a real home until it had been consecrated +by a birth, a wedding and a death. We've had deaths +here--my father and mother died here as well as +Matthew; and we've even had a birth here. Long ago, +just after we moved into this house, we had a married +hired man for a little while, and his wife had a baby +here. But there's never been a wedding before. It +does seem so strange to think of Anne being married. +In a way she just seems to me the little girl Matthew +brought home here fourteen years ago. I can't realize +that she's grown up. I shall never forget what I felt +when I saw Matthew bringing in a GIRL. I wonder what +became of the boy we would have got if there hadn't +been a mistake. I wonder what HIS fate was." + +"Well, it was a fortunate mistake," said Mrs. Rachel +Lynde, "though, mind you, there was a time I didn't +think so--that evening I came up to see Anne and she +treated us to such a scene. Many things have changed +since then, that's what." + +Mrs. Rachel sighed, and then brisked up again. When +weddings were in order Mrs. Rachel was ready to let the +dead past bury its dead. + +"I'm going to give Anne two of my cotton warp +spreads," she resumed. "A tobacco-stripe one and an +apple-leaf one. She tells me they're getting to be +real fashionable again. Well, fashion or no fashion, I +don't believe there's anything prettier for a +spare-room bed than a nice apple-leaf spread, that's +what. I must see about getting them bleached. I've +had them sewed up in cotton bags ever since Thomas +died, and no doubt they're an awful color. But +there's a month yet, and dew-bleaching will work +wonders." + +Only a month! Marilla sighed and then said proudly: + +"I'm giving Anne that half dozen braided rugs I have +in the garret. I never supposed she'd want +them--they're so old-fashioned, and nobody seems to +want anything but hooked mats now. But she asked me +for them--said she'd rather have them than anything +else for her floors. They ARE pretty. I made them of +the nicest rags, and braided them in stripes. It was +such company these last few winters. And I'll make +her enough blue plum preserve to stock her jam closet +for a year. It seems real strange. Those blue plum +trees hadn't even a blossom for three years, and I +thought they might as well be cut down. And this last +spring they were white, and such a crop of plums I +never remember at Green Gables." + +"Well, thank goodness that Anne and Gilbert really are +going to be married after all. It's what I've always +prayed for," said Mrs. Rachel, in the tone of one who +is comfortably sure that her prayers have availed much. +"It was a great relief to find out that she really +didn't mean to take the Kingsport man. He was rich, to +be sure, and Gilbert is poor--at least, to begin with; +but then he's an Island boy." + +"He's Gilbert Blythe," said Marilla contentedly. +Marilla would have died the death before she would have +put into words the thought that was always in the +background of her mind whenever she had looked at +Gilbert from his childhood up--the thought that, had it +not been for her own wilful pride long, long ago, he +might have been HER son. Marilla felt that, in some +strange way, his marriage with Anne would put right +that old mistake. Good had come out of the evil of the +ancient bitterness. + +As for Anne herself, she was so happy that she almost +felt frightened. The gods, so says the old +superstition, do not like to behold too happy mortals. +It is certain, at least, that some human beings do not. +Two of that ilk descended upon Anne one violet dusk and +proceeded to do what in them lay to prick the rainbow +bubble of her satisfaction. If she thought she was +getting any particular prize in young Dr. Blythe, or if +she imagined that he was still as infatuated with her +as he might have been in his salad days, it was surely +their duty to put the matter before her in another +light. Yet these two worthy ladies were not enemies +of Anne; on the contrary, they were really quite fond +of her, and would have defended her as their own young +had anyone else attacked her. Human nature is not +obliged to be consistent. + +Mrs. Inglis--nee Jane Andrews, to quote from the Daily +Enterprise--came with her mother and Mrs. Jasper Bell. +But in Jane the milk of human kindness had not been +curdled by years of matrimonial bickerings. Her lines +had fallen in pleasant places. In spite of the +fact--as Mrs. Rachel Lynde would say--that she had +married a millionaire, her marriage had been happy. +Wealth had not spoiled her. She was still the placid, +amiable, pink-cheeked Jane of the old quartette, +sympathising with her old chum's happiness and as +keenly interested in all the dainty details of Anne's +trousseau as if it could rival her own silken and +bejewelled splendors. Jane was not brilliant, and had +probably never made a remark worth listening to in her +life; but she never said anything that would hurt +anyone's feelings-- which may be a negative talent but +is likewise a rare and enviable one. + +"So Gilbert didn't go back on you after all," said +Mrs. Harmon Andrews, contriving to convey an expression +of surprise in her tone. "Well, the Blythes generally +keep their word when they've once passed it, no matter +what happens. Let me see--you're twenty-five, aren't +you, Anne? When I was a girl twenty-five was the first +corner. But you look quite young. Red-headed people +always do." + +"Red hair is very fashionable now," said Anne, trying +to smile, but speaking rather coldly. Life had +developed in her a sense of humor which helped her over +many difficulties; but as yet nothing had availed to +steel her against a reference to her hair. + +"So it is--so it is," conceded Mrs. Harmon. "There's +no telling what queer freaks fashion will take. Well, +Anne, your things are very pretty, and very suitable to +your position in life, aren't they, Jane? I hope +you'll be very happy. You have my best wishes, I'm +sure. A long engagement doesn't often turn out well. +But, of course, in your case it couldn't be helped." + +"Gilbert looks very young for a doctor. I'm afraid +people won't have much confidence in him," said Mrs. +Jasper Bell gloomily. Then she shut her mouth tightly, +as if she had said what she considered it her duty to +say and held her conscience clear. She belonged to the +type which always has a stringy black feather in its +hat and straggling locks of hair on its neck. + +Anne's surface pleasure in her pretty bridal things was +temporarily shadowed; but the deeps of happiness below +could not thus be disturbed; and the little stings of +Mesdames Bell and Andrews were forgotten when Gilbert +came later, and they wandered down to the birches of +the brook, which had been saplings when Anne had come +to Green Gables, but were now tall, ivory columns in a +fairy palace of twilight and stars. In their shadows +Anne and Gilbert talked in lover-fashion of their new +home and their new life together. + +"I've found a nest for us, Anne." + +"Oh, where? Not right in the village, I hope. I +wouldn't like that altogether." + +"No. There was no house to be had in the village. +This is a little white house on the harbor shore, half +way between Glen St. Mary and Four Winds Point. It's a +little out of the way, but when we get a 'phone in that +won't matter so much. The situation is beautiful. It +looks to the sunset and has the great blue harbor +before it. The sand-dunes aren't very far away--the +sea winds blow over them and the sea spray drenches +them." + +"But the house itself, Gilbert,--OUR first home? What +is it like?" + +"Not very large, but large enough for us. There's a +splendid living room with a fireplace in it downstairs, +and a dining room that looks out on the harbor, and a +little room that will do for my office. It is about +sixty years old--the oldest house in Four Winds. But +it has been kept in pretty good repair, and was all +done over about fifteen years ago--shingled, plastered +and re-floored. It was well built to begin with. I +understand that there was some romantic story connected +with its building, but the man I rented it from didn't +know it. + +He said Captain Jim was the only one who could spin +that old yarn now." + +"Who is Captain Jim?" + +"The keeper of the lighthouse on Four Winds Point. +You'll love that Four Winds light, Anne. It's a +revolving one, and it flashes like a magnificent star +through the twilights. We can see it from our living +room windows and our front door." + +"Who owns the house?" + +"Well, it's the property of the Glen St. Mary +Presbyterian Church now, and I rented it from the +trustees. But it belonged until lately to a very old +lady, Miss Elizabeth Russell. She died last spring, +and as she had no near relatives she left her property +to the Glen St. Mary Church. Her furniture is still in +the house, and I bought most of it--for a mere song you +might say, because it was all so old- fashioned that +the trustees despaired of selling it. Glen St. Mary +folks prefer plush brocade and sideboards with mirrors +and ornamentations, I fancy. But Miss Russell's +furniture is very good and I feel sure you'll like it, +Anne." + +"So far, good," said Anne, nodding cautious approval. +"But, Gilbert, people cannot live by furniture alone. +You haven't yet mentioned one very important thing. +Are there TREES about this house?" + +"Heaps of them, oh, dryad! There is a big grove of +fir trees behind it, two rows of Lombardy poplars down +the lane, and a ring of white birches around a very +delightful garden. Our front door opens right into the +garden, but there is another entrance--a little gate +hung between two firs. The hinges are on one trunk and +the catch on the other. Their boughs form an arch +overhead." + +"Oh, I'm so glad! I couldn't live where there were no +trees-- something vital in me would starve. Well, +after that, there's no use asking you if there's a +brook anywhere near. THAT would be expecting too +much." + +"But there IS a brook--and it actually cuts across one +corner of the garden." + +"Then," said Anne, with a long sigh of supreme +satisfaction, "this house you have found IS my house +of dreams and none other." + + + +CHAPTER 3 + +THE LAND OF DREAMS AMONG + +"Have you made up your mind who you're going to have +to the wedding, Anne?" asked Mrs. Rachel Lynde, as she +hemstitched table napkins industriously. "It's time +your invitations were sent, even if they are to be only +informal ones." + +"I don't mean to have very many," said Anne. "We just +want those we love best to see us married. Gilbert's +people, and Mr. and Mrs. Allan, and Mr. and Mrs. +Harrison." + +"There was a time when you'd hardly have numbered Mr. +Harrison among your dearest friends," said Marilla +drily. + +"Well, I wasn't VERY strongly attracted to him at our +first meeting," acknowledged Anne, with a laugh over +the recollection. "But Mr. Harrison has improved on +acquaintance, and Mrs. Harrison is really a dear. +Then, of course, there are Miss Lavendar and Paul." + +"Have they decided to come to the Island this summer? +I thought they were going to Europe." + +"They changed their minds when I wrote them I was +going to be married. I had a letter from Paul today. +He says he MUST come to my wedding, no matter what +happens to Europe." + +"That child always idolised you," remarked Mrs. +Rachel. + +"That `child' is a young man of nineteen now, Mrs. +Lynde." + +"How time does fly!" was Mrs. Lynde's brilliant and +original response. + +"Charlotta the Fourth may come with them. She sent +word by Paul that she would come if her husband would +let her. I wonder if she still wears those enormous +blue bows, and whether her husband calls her Charlotta +or Leonora. I should love to have Charlotta at my +wedding. Charlotta and I were at a wedding long syne. +They expect to be at Echo Lodge next week. Then there +are Phil and the Reverend Jo----" + +"It sounds awful to hear you speaking of a minister +like that, Anne," said Mrs. Rachel severely. + +"His wife calls him that." + +"She should have more respect for his holy office, +then," retorted Mrs. Rachel. + +"I've heard you criticise ministers pretty sharply +yourself," teased Anne. + +"Yes, but I do it reverently," protested Mrs. Lynde. +"You never heard me NICKNAME a minister." + +Anne smothered a smile. + +"Well, there are Diana and Fred and little Fred and +Small Anne Cordelia--and Jane Andrews. I wish I could +have Miss Stacey and Aunt Jamesina and Priscilla and +Stella. But Stella is in Vancouver, and Pris is in +Japan, and Miss Stacey is married in California, and +Aunt Jamesina has gone to India to explore her +daughter's mission field, in spite of her horror of +snakes. It's really dreadful--the way people get +scattered over the globe." + +"The Lord never intended it, that's what," said Mrs. +Rachel authoritatively. "In my young days people grew +up and married and settled down where they were born, +or pretty near it. Thank goodness you've stuck to the +Island, Anne. I was afraid Gilbert would insist on +rushing off to the ends of the earth when he got +through college, and dragging you with him." + +"If everybody stayed where he was born places would +soon be filled up, Mrs. Lynde." + +"Oh, I'm not going to argue with you, Anne. _I_ am +not a B.A. What time of the day is the ceremony to +be?" + +"We have decided on noon--high noon, as the society +reporters say. That will give us time to catch the +evening train to Glen St. Mary." + +"And you'll be married in the parlor?" + +"No--not unless it rains. We mean to be married in +the orchard-- with the blue sky over us and the +sunshine around us. Do you know when and where I'd +like to be married, if I could? It would be at dawn--a +June dawn, with a glorious sunrise, and roses blooming +in the gardens; and I would slip down and meet Gilbert +and we would go together to the heart of the beech +woods,--and there, under the green arches that would be +like a splendid cathedral, we would be married." + +Marilla sniffed scornfully and Mrs. Lynde looked +shocked. + +"But that would be terrible queer, Anne. Why, it +wouldn't really seem legal. And what would Mrs. Harmon +Andrews say?" + +"Ah, there's the rub," sighed Anne. "There are so +many things in life we cannot do because of the fear of +what Mrs. Harmon Andrews would say. ` 'Tis true, 'tis +pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true.' What delightful +things we might do were it not for Mrs. Harmon +Andrews!" + +"By times, Anne, I don't feel quite sure that I +understand you altogether," complained Mrs. Lynde. + +"Anne was always romantic, you know," said Marilla +apologetically. + +"Well, married life will most likely cure her of +that," Mrs. Rachel responded comfortingly. + +Anne laughed and slipped away to Lover's Lane, where +Gilbert found her; and neither of them seemed to +entertain much fear, or hope, that their married life +would cure them of romance. + +The Echo Lodge people came over the next week, and +Green Gables buzzed with the delight of them. Miss +Lavendar had changed so little that the three years +since her last Island visit might have been a watch in +the night; but Anne gasped with amazement over Paul. +Could this splendid six feet of manhood be the little +Paul of Avonlea schooldays? + +"You really make me feel old, Paul," said Anne. "Why, +I have to look up to you!" + +"You'll never grow old, Teacher," said Paul. "You are +one of the fortunate mortals who have found and drunk +from the Fountain of Youth,--you and Mother Lavendar. +See here! When you're married I WON'T call you Mrs. +Blythe. To me you'll always be `Teacher'--the teacher +of the best lessons I ever learned. I want to show you +something." + +The "something" was a pocketbook full of poems. Paul +had put some of his beautiful fancies into verse, and +magazine editors had not been as unappreciative as they +are sometimes supposed to be. Anne read Paul's poems +with real delight. They were full of charm and +promise. + +"You'll be famous yet, Paul. I always dreamed of +having one famous pupil. He was to be a college +president--but a great poet would be even better. Some +day I'll be able to boast that I whipped the +distinguished Paul Irving. But then I never did whip +you, did I, Paul? What an opportunity lost! I think I +kept you in at recess, however." + +"You may be famous yourself, Teacher. I've seen a +good deal of your work these last three years." + +"No. I know what I can do. I can write pretty, +fanciful little sketches that children love and editors +send welcome cheques for. But I can do nothing big. +My only chance for earthly immortality is a corner in +your Memoirs." + +Charlotta the Fourth had discarded the blue bows but +her freckles were not noticeably less. + +"I never did think I'd come down to marrying a Yankee, +Miss Shirley, ma'am," she said. "But you never know +what's before you, and it isn't his fault. He was born +that way." + +"You're a Yankee yourself, Charlotta, since you've +married one." + +"Miss Shirley, ma'am, I'm NOT! And I wouldn't be if I +was to marry a dozen Yankees! Tom's kind of nice. And +besides, I thought I'd better not be too hard to +please, for I mightn't get another chance. Tom don't +drink and he don't growl because he has to work between +meals, and when all's said and done I'm satisfied, Miss +Shirley, ma'am." + +"Does he call you Leonora?" asked Anne. + +"Goodness, no, Miss Shirley, ma'am. I wouldn't know +who he meant if he did. Of course, when we got married +he had to say, `I take thee, Leonora,' and I declare to +you, Miss Shirley, ma'am, I've had the most dreadful +feeling ever since that it wasn't me he was talking to +and I haven't been rightly married at all. And so +you're going to be married yourself, Miss Shirley, +ma'am? I always thought I'd like to marry a doctor. +It would be so handy when the children had measles and +croup. Tom is only a bricklayer, but he's real good- +tempered. When I said to him, says I, `Tom, can I go +to Miss Shirley's wedding? I mean to go anyhow, but +I'd like to have your consent,' he just says, `Suit +yourself, Charlotta, and you'll suit me.' That's a +real pleasant kind of husband to have, Miss Shirley, +ma'am." + +Philippa and her Reverend Jo arrived at Green Gables +the day before the wedding. Anne and Phil had a +rapturous meeting which presently simmered down to a +cosy, confidential chat over all that had been and was +about to be. + +"Queen Anne, you're as queenly as ever. I've got +fearfully thin since the babies came. I'm not half so +good-looking; but I think Jo likes it. There's not +such a contrast between us, you see. And oh, it's +perfectly magnificent that you're going to marry +Gilbert. Roy Gardner wouldn't have done at all, at +all. I can see that now, though I was horribly +disappointed at the time. You know, Anne, you did +treat Roy very badly." + +"He has recovered, I understand," smiled Anne. + +"Oh, yes. He is married and his wife is a sweet +little thing and they're perfectly happy. Everything +works together for good. Jo and the Bible say that, +and they are pretty good authorities." + +"Are Alec and Alonzo married yet?" + +"Alec is, but Alonzo isn't. How those dear old days +at Patty's Place come back when I'm talking to you, +Anne! What fun we had!" + +"Have you been to Patty's Place lately?" + +"Oh, yes, I go often. Miss Patty and Miss Maria still +sit by the fireplace and knit. And that reminds +me--we've brought you a wedding gift from them, Anne. +Guess what it is." + +"I never could. How did they know I was going to be +married?" + +"Oh, I told them. I was there last week. And they +were so interested. Two days ago Miss Patty wrote me a +note asking me to call; and then she asked if I would +take her gift to you. What would you wish most from +Patty's Place, Anne?" + +"You can't mean that Miss Patty has sent me her china +dogs?" + +"Go up head. They're in my trunk this very moment. +And I've a letter for you. Wait a moment and I'll get +it." + +"Dear Miss Shirley," Miss Patty had written, "Maria +and I were very much interested in hearing of your +approaching nuptials. We send you our best wishes. +Maria and I have never married, but we have no +objection to other people doing so. We are sending you +the china dogs. I intended to leave them to you in my +will, because you seemed to have sincere affection for +them. But Maria and I expect to live a good while yet +(D.V.), so I have decided to give you the dogs while +you are young. You will not have forgotten that Gog +looks to the right and Magog to the left." + +"Just fancy those lovely old dogs sitting by the +fireplace in my house of dreams," said Anne +rapturously. "I never expected anything so +delightful." + +That evening Green Gables hummed with preparations for +the following day; but in the twilight Anne slipped +away. She had a little pilgrimage to make on this last +day of her girlhood and she must make it alone. She +went to Matthew's grave, in the little poplar-shaded +Avonlea graveyard, and there kept a silent tryst with +old memories and immortal loves. + +"How glad Matthew would be tomorrow if he were here," +she whispered. "But I believe he does know and is +glad of it-- somewhere else. I've read somewhere that +`our dead are never dead until we have forgotten them.' +Matthew will never be dead to me, for I can never +forget him." + +She left on his grave the flowers she had brought and +walked slowly down the long hill. It was a gracious +evening, full of delectable lights and shadows. In the +west was a sky of mackerel clouds-- crimson and +amber-tinted, with long strips of apple-green sky +between. Beyond was the glimmering radiance of a +sunset sea, and the ceaseless voice of many waters came +up from the tawny shore. All around her, lying in the +fine, beautiful country silence, were the hills and +fields and woods she had known and loved so long. + +"History repeats itself," said Gilbert, joining her as +she passed the Blythe gate. "Do you remember our +first walk down this hill, Anne--our first walk +together anywhere, for that matter?" + +"I was coming home in the twilight from Matthew's +grave--and you came out of the gate; and I swallowed +the pride of years and spoke to you." + +"And all heaven opened before me," supplemented +Gilbert. "From that moment I looked forward to +tomorrow. When I left you at your gate that night and +walked home I was the happiest boy in the world. Anne +had forgiven me." + +"I think you had the most to forgive. I was an +ungrateful little wretch--and after you had really +saved my life that day on the pond, too. How I loathed +that load of obligation at first! I don't deserve the +happiness that has come to me." + +Gilbert laughed and clasped tighter the girlish hand +that wore his ring. Anne's engagement ring was a +circlet of pearls. She had refused to wear a diamond. + +"I've never really liked diamonds since I found out +they weren't the lovely purple I had dreamed. They +will always suggest my old disappointment ." + +"But pearls are for tears, the old legend says," +Gilbert had objected. + +"I'm not afraid of that. And tears can be happy as +well as sad. My very happiest moments have been when I +had tears in my eyes-- when Marilla told me I might +stay at Green Gables--when Matthew gave me the first +pretty dress I ever had--when I heard that you were +going to recover from the fever. So give me pearls for +our troth ring, Gilbert, and I'll willingly accept the +sorrow of life with its joy." + +But tonight our lovers thought only of joy and never of +sorrow. For the morrow was their wedding day, and +their house of dreams awaited them on the misty, purple +shore of Four Winds Harbor. + + + +CHAPTER 4 + +THE FIRST BRIDE OF GREEN GABLES + +Anne wakened on the morning of her wedding day to find +the sunshine winking in at the window of the little +porch gable and a September breeze frolicking with her +curtains. + +"I'm so glad the sun will shine on me," she thought happily. + +She recalled the first morning she had wakened in that +little porch room, when the sunshine had crept in on +her through the blossom- drift of the old Snow Queen. +That had not been a happy wakening, for it brought with +it the bitter disappointment of the preceding night. +But since then the little room had been endeared and +consecrated by years of happy childhood dreams and +maiden visions. To it she had come back joyfully after +all her absences; at its window she had knelt through +that night of bitter agony when she believed Gilbert +dying, and by it she had sat in speechless happiness +the night of her betrothal. Many vigils of joy and +some of sorrow had been kept there; and today she must +leave it forever. Henceforth it would be hers no more; +fifteen-year-old Dora was to inherit it when she had +gone. Nor did Anne wish it otherwise; the little room +was sacred to youth and girlhood--to the past that was +to close today before the chapter of wifehood opened. + +Green Gables was a busy and joyous house that forenoon. +Diana arrived early, with little Fred and Small Anne +Cordelia, to lend a hand. Davy and Dora, the Green +Gables twins, whisked the babies off to the garden. + +"Don't let Small Anne Cordelia spoil her clothes," +warned Diana anxiously. + +"You needn't be afraid to trust her with Dora," said +Marilla. "That child is more sensible and careful +than most of the mothers I've known. She's really a +wonder in some ways. Not much like that other +harum-scarum I brought up." + +Marilla smiled across her chicken salad at Anne. It +might even be suspected that she liked the harum-scarum +best after all. + +"Those twins are real nice children," said Mrs. +Rachel, when she was sure they were out of earshot. +"Dora is so womanly and helpful, and Davy is +developing into a very smart boy. He isn't the holy +terror for mischief he used to be." + +"I never was so distracted in my life as I was the +first six months he was here," acknowledged Marilla. +"After that I suppose I got used to him. He's taken a +great notion to farming lately, and wants me to let him +try running the farm next year. I may, for Mr. Barry +doesn't think he'll want to rent it much longer, and +some new arrangement will have to be made." + +"Well, you certainly have a lovely day for your +wedding, Anne," said Diana, as she slipped a +voluminous apron over her silken array. "You couldn't +have had a finer one if you'd ordered it from +Eaton's." + +"Indeed, there's too much money going out of this +Island to that same Eaton's," said Mrs. Lynde +indignantly. She had strong views on the subject of +octopus-like department stores, and never lost an +opportunity of airing them. "And as for those +catalogues of theirs, they're the Avonlea girls' Bible +now, that's what. They pore over them on Sundays +instead of studying the Holy Scriptures." + +"Well, they're splendid to amuse children with," said +Diana. "Fred and Small Anne look at the pictures by +the hour." + +"_I_ amused ten children without the aid of Eaton's +catalogue," said Mrs. Rachel severely. + +"Come, you two, don't quarrel over Eaton's catalogue," +said Anne gaily. "This is my day of days, you know. +I'm so happy I want every one else to be happy, too." + +"I'm sure I hope your happiness will last, child," +sighed Mrs. Rachel. She did hope it truly, and +believed it, but she was afraid it was in the nature of +a challenge to Providence to flaunt your happiness too +openly. Anne, for her own good, must be toned down a +trifle. + +But it was a happy and beautiful bride who came down +the old, homespun-carpeted stairs that September +noon--the first bride of Green Gables, slender and +shining-eyed, in the mist of her maiden veil, with her +arms full of roses. Gilbert, waiting for her in the +hall below, looked up at her with adoring eyes. She +was his at last, this evasive, long-sought Anne, won +after years of patient waiting. It was to him she was +coming in the sweet surrender of the bride. Was he +worthy of her? Could he make her as happy as he hoped? +If he failed her--if he could not measure up to her +standard of manhood--then, as she held out her hand, +their eyes met and all doubt was swept away in a glad +certainty. They belonged to each other; and, no matter +what life might hold for them, it could never alter +that. Their happiness was in each other's keeping and +both were unafraid. + +They were married in the sunshine of the old orchard, +circled by the loving and kindly faces of long-familiar +friends. Mr. Allan married them, and the Reverend Jo +made what Mrs. Rachel Lynde afterwards pronounced to be +the "most beautiful wedding prayer" she had ever +heard. Birds do not often sing in September, but one +sang sweetly from some hidden bough while Gilbert and +Anne repeated their deathless vows. Anne heard it and +thrilled to it; Gilbert heard it, and wondered only +that all the birds in the world had not burst into +jubilant song; Paul heard it and later wrote a lyric +about it which was one of the most admired in his first +volume of verse; Charlotta the Fourth heard it and was +blissfully sure it meant good luck for her adored Miss +Shirley. The bird sang until the ceremony was ended +and then it wound up with one mad little, glad little +trill. Never had the old gray-green house among its +enfolding orchards known a blither, merrier afternoon. +All the old jests and quips that must have done duty at +weddings since Eden were served up, and seemed as new +and brilliant and mirth-provoking as if they had never +been uttered before. Laughter and joy had their way; +and when Anne and Gilbert left to catch the Carmody +train, with Paul as driver, the twins were ready with +rice and old shoes, in the throwing of which Charlotta +the Fourth and Mr. Harrison bore a valiant part. +Marilla stood at the gate and watched the carriage out +of sight down the long lane with its banks of +goldenrod. Anne turned at its end to wave her last +good-bye. She was gone--Green Gables was her home no +more; Marilla's face looked very gray and old as she +turned to the house which Anne had filled for fourteen +years, and even in her absence, with light and life. + +But Diana and her small fry, the Echo Lodge people and +the Allans, had stayed to help the two old ladies over +the loneliness of the first evening; and they contrived +to have a quietly pleasant little supper time, sitting +long around the table and chatting over all the details +of the day. While they were sitting there Anne and +Gilbert were alighting from the train at Glen St. Mary. + + + +CHAPTER 5 + +THE HOME COMING + +Dr. David Blythe had sent his horse and buggy to meet +them, and the urchin who had brought it slipped away +with a sympathetic grin, leaving them to the delight of +driving alone to their new home through the radiant evening. + +Anne never forgot the loveliness of the view that broke +upon them when they had driven over the hill behind the +village. Her new home could not yet be seen; but +before her lay Four Winds Harbor like a great, shining +mirror of rose and silver. Far down, she saw its +entrance between the bar of sand dunes on one side and +a steep, high, grim, red sandstone cliff on the other. +Beyond the bar the sea, calm and austere, dreamed in +the afterlight. The little fishing village, nestled in +the cove where the sand-dunes met the harbor shore, +looked like a great opal in the haze. The sky over +them was like a jewelled cup from which the dusk was +pouring; the air was crisp with the compelling tang of +the sea, and the whole landscape was infused with the +subtleties of a sea evening. A few dim sails drifted +along the darkening, fir-clad harbor shores. A bell +was ringing from the tower of a little white church on +the far side; mellowly and dreamily sweet, the chime +floated across the water blent with the moan of the +sea. The great revolving light on the cliff at the +channel flashed warm and golden against the clear +northern sky, a trembling, quivering star of good hope. +Far out along the horizon was the crinkled gray ribbon +of a passing steamer's smoke. + +"Oh, beautiful, beautiful," murmured Anne. "I shall +love Four Winds, Gilbert. Where is our house?" + +"We can't see it yet--the belt of birch running up +from that little cove hides it. It's about two miles +from Glen St. Mary, and there's another mile between it +and the light-house. We won't have many neighbors, +Anne. There's only one house near us and I don't know +who lives in it. Shall you be lonely when I'm away?" + +"Not with that light and that loveliness for company. +Who lives in that house, Gilbert?" + +"I don't know. It doesn't look--exactly--as if the +occupants would be kindred spirits, Anne, does it?" + +The house was a large, substantial affair, painted such +a vivid green that the landscape seemed quite faded by +contrast. There was an orchard behind it, and a nicely +kept lawn before it, but, somehow, there was a certain +bareness about it. Perhaps its neatness was +responsible for this; the whole establishment, house, +barns, orchard, garden, lawn and lane, was so starkly +neat. + +"It doesn't seem probable that anyone with that taste +in paint could be VERY kindred," acknowledged Anne, +"unless it were an accident--like our blue hall. I +feel certain there are no children there, at least. +It's even neater than the old Copp place on the Tory +road, and I never expected to see anything neater than +that." + +They had not met anybody on the moist, red road that +wound along the harbor shore. But just before they +came to the belt of birch which hid their home, Anne +saw a girl who was driving a flock of snow- white +geese along the crest of a velvety green hill on the +right. Great, scattered firs grew along it. Between +their trunks one saw glimpses of yellow harvest fields, +gleams of golden sand-hills, and bits of blue sea. The +girl was tall and wore a dress of pale blue print. She +walked with a certain springiness of step and erectness +of bearing. She and her geese came out of the gate at +the foot of the hill as Anne and Gilbert passed. She +stood with her hand on the fastening of the gate, and +looked steadily at them, with an expression that hardly +attained to interest, but did not descend to curiosity. +It seemed to Anne, for a fleeting moment, that there +was even a veiled hint of hostility in it. But it was +the girl's beauty which made Anne give a little gasp--a +beauty so marked that it must have attracted attention +anywhere. She was hatless, but heavy braids of +burnished hair, the hue of ripe wheat, were twisted +about her head like a coronet; her eyes were blue and +star-like; her figure, in its plain print gown, was +magnificent; and her lips were as crimson as the bunch +of blood-red poppies she wore at her belt. + +"Gilbert, who is the girl we have just passed?" asked +Anne, in a low voice. + +"I didn't notice any girl," said Gilbert, who had eyes +only for his bride. + +"She was standing by that gate--no, don't look back. +She is still watching us. I never saw such a beautiful +face." + +"I don't remember seeing any very handsome girls while +I was here. There are some pretty girls up at the +Glen, but I hardly think they could be called +beautiful." + +"This girl is. You can't have seen her, or you would +remember her. Nobody could forget her. I never saw +such a face except in pictures. And her hair! It made +me think of Browning's `cord of gold' and `gorgeous +snake'!" + +"Probably she's some visitor in Four Winds--likely +some one from that big summer hotel over the harbor." + +"She wore a white apron and she was driving geese." + +"She might do that for amusement. Look, Anne--there's +our house." + +Anne looked and forgot for a time the girl with the +splendid, resentful eyes. The first glimpse of her new +home was a delight to eye and spirit--it looked so like +a big, creamy seashell stranded on the harbor shore. +The rows of tall Lombardy poplars down its lane stood +out in stately, purple silhouette against the sky. +Behind it, sheltering its garden from the too keen +breath of sea winds, was a cloudy fir wood, in which +the winds might make all kinds of weird and haunting +music. Like all woods, it seemed to be holding and +enfolding secrets in its recesses,--secrets whose charm +is only to be won by entering in and patiently seeking. +Outwardly, dark green arms keep them inviolate from +curious or indifferent eyes. + +The night winds were beginning their wild dances beyond +the bar and the fishing hamlet across the harbor was +gemmed with lights as Anne and Gilbert drove up the +poplar lane. The door of the little house opened, and +a warm glow of firelight flickered out into the dusk. +Gilbert lifted Anne from the buggy and led her into the +garden, through the little gate between the +ruddy-tipped firs, up the trim, red path to the +sandstone step. + +"Welcome home," he whispered, and hand in hand they +stepped over the threshold of their house of dreams. + + + +CHAPTER 6 + +CAPTAIN JIM + +"Old Doctor Dave" and "Mrs. Doctor Dave" had come down +to the little house to greet the bride and groom. +Doctor Dave was a big, jolly, white-whiskered old +fellow, and Mrs. Doctor was a trim rosy-cheeked, +silver-haired little lady who took Anne at once +to her heart, literally and figuratively. + +"I'm so glad to see you, dear. You must be real +tired. We've got a bite of supper ready, and Captain +Jim brought up some trout for you. Captain Jim--where +are you? Oh, he's slipped out to see to the horse, I +suppose. Come upstairs and take your things off." + +Anne looked about her with bright, appreciative eyes as +she followed Mrs. Doctor Dave upstairs. She liked the +appearance of her new home very much. It seemed to +have the atmosphere of Green Gables and the flavor of +her old traditions. + +"I think I would have found Miss Elizabeth Russell a +`kindred spirit,'" she murmured when she was alone in +her room. There were two windows in it; the dormer one +looked out on the lower harbor and the sand-bar and the +Four Winds light. + + "A magic casement opening on the foam Of +perilous seas in fairy lands forlorn," + +quoted Anne softly. The gable window gave a view of a +little harvest-hued valley through which a brook ran. +Half a mile up the brook was the only house in +sight--an old, rambling, gray one surrounded by huge +willows through which its windows peered, like shy, +seeking eyes, into the dusk. Anne wondered who lived +there; they would be her nearest neighbors and she +hoped they would be nice. She suddenly found herself +thinking of the beautiful girl with the white geese. + +"Gilbert thought she didn't belong here," mused Anne, +"but I feel sure she does. There was something about +her that made her part of the sea and the sky and the +harbor. Four Winds is in her blood." + +When Anne went downstairs Gilbert was standing before +the fireplace talking to a stranger. Both turned as +Anne entered. + +"Anne, this is Captain Boyd. Captain Boyd, my wife." + +It was the first time Gilbert had said "my wife" to +anybody but Anne, and he narrowly escaped bursting with +the pride of it. The old captain held out a sinewy +hand to Anne; they smiled at each other and were +friends from that moment. Kindred spirit flashed +recognition to kindred spirit. + +"I'm right down pleased to meet you, Mistress Blythe; +and I hope you'll be as happy as the first bride was +who came here. I can't wish you no better than THAT. +But your husband doesn't introduce me jest exactly +right. `Captain Jim' is my week-a-day name and you +might as well begin as you're sartain to end +up--calling me that. You sartainly are a nice little +bride, Mistress Blythe. Looking at you sorter makes +me feel that I've jest been married myself." + +Amid the laughter that followed Mrs. Doctor Dave urged +Captain Jim to stay and have supper with them. + +"Thank you kindly. 'Twill be a real treat, Mistress +Doctor. I mostly has to eat my meals alone, with the +reflection of my ugly old phiz in a looking-glass +opposite for company. 'Tisn't often I have a chance to +sit down with two such sweet, purty ladies." + +Captain Jim's compliments may look very bald on paper, +but he paid them with such a gracious, gentle deference +of tone and look that the woman upon whom they were +bestowed felt that she was being offered a queen's +tribute in a kingly fashion. + +Captain Jim was a high-souled, simple-minded old man, +with eternal youth in his eyes and heart. He had a +tall, rather ungainly figure, somewhat stooped, yet +suggestive of great strength and endurance; a +clean-shaven face deeply lined and bronzed; a thick +mane of iron-gray hair falling quite to his shoulders, +and a pair of remarkably blue, deep-set eyes, which +sometimes twinkled and sometimes dreamed, and +sometimes looked out seaward with a wistful quest in +them, as of one seeking something precious and lost. +Anne was to learn one day what it was for which Captain +Jim looked. + +It could not be denied that Captain Jim was a homely +man. His spare jaws, rugged mouth, and square brow +were not fashioned on the lines of beauty; and he had +passed through many hardships and sorrows which had +marked his body as well as his soul; but though at +first sight Anne thought him plain she never thought +anything more about it--the spirit shining through that +rugged tenement beautified it so wholly. + +They gathered gaily around the supper table. The +hearth fire banished the chill of the September +evening, but the window of the dining room was open and +sea breezes entered at their own sweet will. The view +was magnificent, taking in the harbor and the sweep of +low, purple hills beyond. The table was heaped with +Mrs. Doctor's delicacies but the piece de resistance +was undoubtedly the big platter of sea trout. + +"Thought they'd be sorter tasty after travelling," +said Captain Jim. "They're fresh as trout can be, +Mistress Blythe. Two hours ago they were swimming in +the Glen Pond." + +"Who is attending to the light tonight, Captain Jim?" +asked Doctor Dave. + +"Nephew Alec. He understands it as well as I do. +Well, now, I'm real glad you asked me to stay to +supper. I'm proper hungry--didn't have much of a +dinner today." + +"I believe you half starve yourself most of the time +down at that light," said Mrs. Doctor Dave severely. +"You won't take the trouble to get up a decent meal." + +"Oh, I do, Mistress Doctor, I do," protested Captain +Jim. "Why, I live like a king gen'rally. Last night +I was up to the Glen and took home two pounds of steak. +I meant to have a spanking good dinner today." + +"And what happened to the steak?" asked Mrs. Doctor +Dave. "Did you lose it on the way home?" + +"No." Captain Jim looked sheepish. "Just at bedtime +a poor, ornery sort of dog came along and asked for a +night's lodging. Guess he belonged to some of the +fishermen 'long shore. I couldn't turn the poor cur +out--he had a sore foot. So I shut him in the porch, +with an old bag to lie on, and went to bed. But +somehow I couldn't sleep. Come to think it over, I +sorter remembered that the dog looked hungry." + +"And you got up and gave him that steak--ALL that +steak," said Mrs. Doctor Dave, with a kind of +triumphant reproof. + +"Well, there wasn't anything else TO give him," said +Captain Jim deprecatingly. "Nothing a dog'd care for, +that is. I reckon he WAS hungry, for he made about two +bites of it. I had a fine sleep the rest of the night +but my dinner had to be sorter scanty--potatoes and +point, as you might say. The dog, he lit out for home +this morning. I reckon HE weren't a vegetarian." + +"The idea of starving yourself for a worthless dog!" +sniffed Mrs. Doctor. + +"You don't know but he may be worth a lot to +somebody," protested Captain Jim. "He didn't LOOK of +much account, but you can't go by looks in jedging a +dog. Like meself, he might be a real beauty inside. +The First Mate didn't approve of him, I'll allow. His +language was right down forcible. But the First Mate is +prejudiced. No use in taking a cat's opinion of a dog. +'Tennyrate, I lost my dinner, so this nice spread in +this dee-lightful company is real pleasant. It' s a +great thing to have good neighbors." + +"Who lives in the house among the willows up the +brook?" asked Anne. + +"Mrs. Dick Moore," said Captain Jim--"and her +husband," he added, as if by way of an afterthought. + +Anne smiled, and deduced a mental picture of Mrs. Dick +Moore from Captain Jim's way of putting it; evidently a +second Mrs. Rachel Lynde. + +"You haven't many neighbors, Mistress Blythe," Captain +Jim went on. "This side of the harbor is mighty thinly +settled. Most of the land belongs to Mr. Howard up +yander past the Glen, and he rents it out for pasture. +The other side of the harbor, now, is thick with +folks--'specially MacAllisters. There's a whole +colony of MacAllisters you can't throw a stone but you +hit one. I was talking to old Leon Blacquiere the +other day. He's been working on the harbor all summer. +`Dey're nearly all MacAllisters over thar,' he told me. +`Dare's Neil MacAllister and Sandy MacAllister and +William MacAllister and Alec MacAllister and Angus +MacAllister--and I believe dare's de Devil +MacAllister.'" + +"There are nearly as many Elliotts and Crawfords," +said Doctor Dave, after the laughter had subsided. +"You know, Gilbert, we folk on this side of Four Winds +have an old saying--`From the conceit of the Elliotts, +the pride of the MacAllisters, and the vainglory of the +Crawfords, good Lord deliver us.'" + +"There's a plenty of fine people among them, though," +said Captain Jim. "I sailed with William Crawford for +many a year, and for courage and endurance and truth +that man hadn't an equal. They've got brains over on +that side of Four Winds. Mebbe that's why this side is +sorter inclined to pick on 'em. Strange, ain't it, how +folks seem to resent anyone being born a mite cleverer +than they be." + +Doctor Dave, who had a forty years' feud with the +over-harbor people, laughed and subsided. + +"Who lives in that brilliant emerald house about half +a mile up the road?" asked Gilbert. + +Captain Jim smiled delightedly. + +"Miss Cornelia Bryant. She'll likely be over to see +you soon, seeing you're Presbyterians. If you were +Methodists she wouldn't come at all. Cornelia has a +holy horror of Methodists." + +"She's quite a character," chuckled Doctor Dave. "A +most inveterate man-hater!" + +"Sour grapes?" queried Gilbert, laughing. + +"No, 'tisn't sour grapes," answered Captain Jim +seriously. "Cornelia could have had her pick when she +was young. Even yet she's only to say the word to see +the old widowers jump. She jest seems to have been +born with a sort of chronic spite agin men and +Methodists. She's got the bitterest tongue and the +kindest heart in Four Winds. Wherever there's any +trouble, that woman is there, doing everything to help +in the tenderest way. She never says a harsh word +about another woman, and if she likes to card us poor +scalawags of men down I reckon our tough old hides can +stand it." + +"She always speaks well of you, Captain Jim," said +Mrs. Doctor. + +"Yes, I'm afraid so. I don't half like it. It makes +me feel as if there must be something sorter unnateral +about me." + + + +CHAPTER 7 + +THE SCHOOLMASTER'S BRIDE + +"Who was the first bride who came to this house, +Captain Jim?" Anne asked, as they sat around the +fireplace after supper. + +"Was she a part of the story I've heard was connected +with this house?" asked Gilbert. "Somebody told me +you could tell it, Captain Jim." + +"Well, yes, I know it. I reckon I'm the only person +living in Four Winds now that can remember the +schoolmaster's bride as she was when she come to the +Island. She's been dead this thirty year, but she was +one of them women you never forget." + +"Tell us the story," pleaded Anne. "I want to find +out all about the women who have lived in this house +before me." + +"Well, there's jest been three--Elizabeth Russell, and +Mrs. Ned Russell, and the schoolmaster's bride. +Elizabeth Russell was a nice, clever little critter, +and Mrs. Ned was a nice woman, too. But they weren't +ever like the schoolmaster's bride. + +"The schoolmaster's name was John Selwyn. He came out +from the Old Country to teach school at the Glen when I +was a boy of sixteen. He wasn't much like the usual +run of derelicts who used to come out to P.E.I. to +teach school in them days. Most of them were clever, +drunken critters who taught the children the three R's +when they were sober, and lambasted them when they +wasn't. But John Selwyn was a fine, handsome young +fellow. He boarded at my father's, and he and me were +cronies, though he was ten years older'n me. We read +and walked and talked a heap together. He knew about +all the poetry that was ever written, I reckon, and he +used to quote it to me along shore in the evenings. +Dad thought it an awful waste of time, but he sorter +endured it, hoping it'd put me off the notion of going +to sea. Well, nothing could do THAT--mother come of a +race of sea-going folk and it was born in me. But I +loved to hear John read and recite. It's almost sixty +years ago, but I could repeat yards of poetry I learned +from him. Nearly sixty years!" + +Captain Jim was silent for a space, gazing into the +glowing fire in a quest of the bygones. Then, with a +sigh, he resumed his story. + +"I remember one spring evening I met him on the +sand-hills. He looked sorter uplifted--jest like you +did, Dr. Blythe, when you brought Mistress Blythe in +tonight. I thought of him the minute I seen you. And +he told me that he had a sweetheart back home and that +she was coming out to him. I wasn't more'n half +pleased, ornery young lump of selfishness that I was; I +thought he wouldn't be as much my friend after she +came. But I'd enough decency not to let him see it. +He told me all about her. Her name was Persis Leigh, +and she would have come out with him if it hadn't been +for her old uncle. He was sick, and he'd looked after +her when her parents died and she wouldn't leave him. +And now he was dead and she was coming out to marry +John Selwyn. 'Twasn't no easy journey for a woman in +them days. There weren't no steamers, you must +ricollect. + +"`When do you expect her?' says I. + +"`She sails on the Royal William, the 20th of June,' +says he, `and so she should be here by mid-July. I +must set Carpenter Johnson to building me a home for +her. Her letter come today. I know before I opened it +that it had good news for me. I saw her a few nights +ago.' + +"I didn't understand him, and then he +explained--though I didn't understand THAT much better. +He said he had a gift--or a curse. Them was his words, +Mistress Blythe--a gift or a curse. He didn't know +which it was. He said a great-great-grandmother of his +had had it, and they burned her for a witch on account +of it. He said queer spells--trances, I think was the +name he give 'em--come over him now and again. Are +there such things, Doctor?" + +"There are people who are certainly subject to +trances," answered Gilbert. "The matter is more in +the line of psychical research than medical. What were +the trances of this John Selwyn like?" + +"Like dreams," said the old Doctor skeptically. + +"He said he could see things in them," said Captain +Jim slowly. + +"Mind you, I'm telling you jest what HE said--things +that were happening--things that were GOING to happen. +He said they were sometimes a comfort to him and +sometimes a horror. Four nights before this he'd been +in one--went into it while he was sitting looking at +the fire. And he saw an old room he knew well in +England, and Persis Leigh in it, holding out her hands +to him and looking glad and happy. So he knew he was +going to hear good news of her." + +"A dream--a dream," scoffed the old Doctor. + +"Likely--likely," conceded Captain Jim. "That's what +_I_ said to him at the time. It was a vast more +comfortable to think so. I didn't like the idea of him +seeing things like that--it was real uncanny. + +"`No,' says he, `I didn't dream it. But we won't talk +of this again. You won't be so much my friend if you +think much about it.' + +"I told him nothing could make me any less his friend. +But he jest shook his head and says, says he: + +"`Lad, I know. I've lost friends before because of +this. I don't blame them. There are times when I feel +hardly friendly to myself because of it. Such a power +has a bit of divinity in it--whether of a good or an +evil divinity who shall say? And we mortals all shrink +from too close contact with God or devil.' + +"Them was his words. I remember them as if 'twas +yesterday, though I didn't know jest what he meant. +What do you s'pose he DID mean, doctor?" + +"I doubt if he knew what he meant himself," said +Doctor Dave testily. + +"I think I understand," whispered Anne. She was +listening in her old attitude of clasped lips and +shining eyes. Captain Jim treated himself to an +admiring smile before he went on with his story. + +"Well, purty soon all the Glen and Four Winds people +knew the schoolmaster's bride was coming, and they were +all glad because they thought so much of him. And +everybody took an interest in his new house--THIS +house. He picked this site for it, because you could +see the harbor and hear the sea from it. He made the +garden out there for his bride, but he didn't plant the +Lombardies. Mrs. Ned Russell planted THEM. But +there's a double row of rose-bushes in the garden that +the little girls who went to the Glen school set out +there for the schoolmaster's bride. He said they were +pink for her cheeks and white for her brow and red for +her lips. He'd quoted poetry so much that he sorter +got into the habit of talking it, too, I reckon. + +"Almost everybody sent him some little present to help +out the furnishing of the house. When the Russells +came into it they were well-to-do and furnished it real +handsome, as you can see; but the first furniture that +went into it was plain enough. This little house was +rich in love, though. The women sent in quilts and +tablecloths and towels, and one man made a chest for +her, and another a table and so on. Even blind old +Aunt Margaret Boyd wove a little basket for her out of +the sweet-scented sand-hill grass. The schoolmaster's +wife used it for years to keep her handkerchiefs in. + +"Well, at last everything was ready--even to the logs +in the big fireplace ready for lighting. 'Twasn't +exactly THIS fireplace, though 'twas in the same place. +Miss Elizabeth had this put in when she made the house +over fifteen years ago. It was a big, old-fashioned +fireplace where you could have roasted an ox. Many's +the time I've sat here and spun yarns, same's I'm doing +tonight." + +Again there was a silence, while Captain Jim kept a +passing tryst with visitants Anne and Gilbert could not +see--the folks who had sat with him around that +fireplace in the vanished years, with mirth and bridal +joy shining in eyes long since closed forever under +churchyard sod or heaving leagues of sea. Here on +olden nights children had tossed laughter lightly to +and fro. Here on winter evenings friends had +gathered. Dance and music and jest had been here. +Here youths and maidens had dreamed. For Captain Jim +the little house was tenanted with shapes entreating +remembrance. + +"It was the first of July when the house was finished. +The schoolmaster began to count the days then. We used +to see him walking along the shore, and we'd say to +each other, `She'll soon be with him now.' + +"She was expected the middle of July, but she didn't +come then. Nobody felt anxious. Vessels were often +delayed for days and mebbe weeks. The Royal William +was a week overdue--and then two--and then three. And +at last we began to be frightened, and it got worse and +worse. Fin'lly I couldn't bear to look into John +Selwyn's eyes. D'ye know, Mistress Blythe"--Captain +Jim lowered his voice--"I used to think that they +looked just like what his old great-great-grandmother's +must have been when they were burning her to death. He +never said much but he taught school like a man in a +dream and then hurried to the shore. Many a night he +walked there from dark to dawn. People said he was +losing his mind. Everybody had given up hope--the +Royal William was eight weeks overdue. It was the +middle of September and the schoolmaster's bride hadn't +come-- never would come, we thought. + +"There was a big storm then that lasted three days, and +on the evening after it died away I went to the shore. +I found the schoolmaster there, leaning with his arms +folded against a big rock, gazing out to sea. + +"I spoke to him but he didn't answer. His eyes seemed +to be looking at something I couldn't see. His face +was set, like a dead man's. + +"`John--John,' I called out--jest like that--jest like +a frightened child, `wake up--wake up.' + +"That strange, awful look seemed to sorter fade out of +his eyes. + +He turned his head and looked at me. I've never forgot +his face-- never will forget it till I ships for my +last voyage. + +"`All is well, lad,' he says. `I've seen the Royal +William coming around East Point. She will be here by +dawn. Tomorrow night I shall sit with my bride by my +own hearth-fire.' + +"Do you think he did see it?" demanded Captain Jim +abruptly. + +"God knows," said Gilbert softly. "Great love and +great pain might compass we know not what marvels." + +"I am sure he did see it," said Anne earnestly. + +"Fol-de-rol," said Doctor Dave, but he spoke with less +conviction than usual. + +"Because, you know," said Captain Jim solemnly, "the +Royal William came into Four Winds Harbor at daylight +the next morning. + +Every soul in the Glen and along the shore was at the +old wharf to meet her. The schoolmaster had been +watching there all night. How we cheered as she sailed +up the channel." + +Captain Jim's eyes were shining. They were looking at +the Four Winds Harbor of sixty years agone, with a +battered old ship sailing through the sunrise splendor. + +"And Persis Leigh was on board?" asked Anne. + +"Yes--her and the captain's wife. They'd had an awful +passage-- storm after storm--and their provisions give +out, too. But there they were at last. When Persis +Leigh stepped onto the old wharf John Selwyn took her +in his arms--and folks stopped cheering and begun to +cry. I cried myself, though 'twas years, mind you, +afore I'd admit it. Ain't it funny how ashamed boys +are of tears?" + +"Was Persis Leigh beautiful?" asked Anne. + +"Well, I don't know that you'd call her beautiful +exactly--I-- don't--know," said Captain Jim slowly. +"Somehow, you never got so far along as to wonder if +she was handsome or not. It jest didn't matter. There +was something so sweet and winsome about her that you +had to love her, that was all. But she was pleasant to +look at--big, clear, hazel eyes and heaps of glossy +brown hair, and an English skin. John and her were +married at our house that night at early +candle-lighting; everybody from far and near was there +to see it and we all brought them down here afterwards. +Mistress Selwyn lighted the fire, and we went away and +left them sitting here, jest as John had seen in that +vision of his. A strange thing--a strange thing! But +I've seen a turrible lot of strange things in my +time." + +Captain Jim shook his head sagely. + +"It's a dear story," said Anne, feeling that for once +she had got enough romance to satisfy her. "How long +did they live here?" + +"Fifteen years. I ran off to sea soon after they were +married, like the young scalawag I was. But every time +I come back from a voyage I'd head for here, even +before I went home, and tell Mistress Selwyn all about +it. Fifteen happy years! They had a sort of talent +for happiness, them two. Some folks are like that, if +you've noticed. They COULDN'T be unhappy for long, no +matter what happened. They quarrelled once or twice, +for they was both high-sperrited. But Mistress Selwyn +says to me once, says she, laughing in that pretty way +of hers, `I felt dreadful when John and I quarrelled, +but underneath it all I was very happy because I had +such a nice husband to quarrel with and make it up +with.' Then they moved to Charlottetown, and Ned +Russell bought this house and brought his bride here. +They were a gay young pair, as I remember them. Miss +Elizabeth Russell was Alec's sister. She came to live +with them a year or so later, and she was a creature of +mirth, too. The walls of this house must be sorter +SOAKED with laughing and good times. You're the third +bride I've seen come here, Mistress Blythe--and the +handsomest." + +Captain Jim contrived to give his sunflower compliment +the delicacy of a violet, and Anne wore it proudly. +She was looking her best that night, with the bridal +rose on her cheeks and the love-light in her eyes; even +gruff old Doctor Dave gave her an approving glance, and +told his wife, as they drove home together, that that +red-headed wife of the boy's was something of a beauty. + +"I must be getting back to the light," announced +Captain Jim. "I've enj'yed this evening something +tremenjus." + +" You must come often to see us," said Anne. + +"I wonder if you'd give that invitation if you knew how +likely I'll be to accept it," Captain Jim remarked +whimsically. + +"Which is another way of saying you wonder if I mean +it," smiled Anne. "I do, `cross my heart,' as we used +to say at school." + +"Then I'll come. You're likely to be pestered with me +at any hour. And I'll be proud to have you drop down +and visit me now and then, too. Gin'rally I haven't +anyone to talk to but the First Mate, bless his +sociable heart. He's a mighty good listener, and has +forgot more'n any MacAllister of them all ever knew, +but he isn't much of a conversationalist. You're young +and I'm old, but our souls are about the same age, I +reckon. We both belong to the race that knows Joseph, +as Cornelia Bryant would say." + +"The race that knows Joseph?" puzzled Anne. + +"Yes. Cornelia divides all the folks in the world into +two kinds-- the race that knows Joseph and the race +that don't. If a person sorter sees eye to eye with +you, and has pretty much the same ideas about things, +and the same taste in jokes--why, then he belongs to +the race that knows Joseph." + +"Oh, I understand," exclaimed Anne, light breaking in +upon her. + +"It's what I used to call--and still call in quotation +marks `kindred spirits.'" + +"Jest so--jest so," agreed Captain Jim. "We're it, +whatever IT is. When you come in tonight, Mistress +Blythe, I says to myself, says I, `Yes, she's of the +race that knows Joseph.' And mighty glad I was, for +if it wasn't so we couldn't have had any real +satisfaction in each other's company. The race that +knows Joseph is the salt of the airth, I reckon." + +The moon had just risen when Anne and Gilbert went to +the door with their guests. Four Winds Harbor was +beginning to be a thing of dream and glamour and +enchantment--a spellbound haven where no tempest might +ever ravin. The Lombardies down the lane, tall and +sombre as the priestly forms of some mystic band, were +tipped with silver. + +"Always liked Lombardies," said Captain Jim, waving a +long arm at them. "They're the trees of princesses. +They're out of fashion now. Folks complain that they +die at the top and get ragged-looking. So they do--so +they do, if you don't risk your neck every spring +climbing up a light ladder to trim them out. I always +did it for Miss Elizabeth, so her Lombardies never got +out-at-elbows. She was especially fond of them. She +liked their dignity and stand-offishness. THEY don't +hobnob with every Tom, Dick and Harry. If it's maples +for company, Mistress Blythe, it's Lombardies for +society." + +"What a beautiful night," said Mrs. Doctor Dave, as +she climbed into the Doctor's buggy. + +"Most nights are beautiful," said Captain Jim. "But I +'low that moonlight over Four Winds makes me sorter +wonder what's left for heaven. The moon's a great +friend of mine, Mistress Blythe. I've loved her ever +since I can remember. When I was a little chap of +eight I fell asleep in the garden one evening and +wasn't missed. I woke up along in the night and I was +most scared to death. What shadows and queer noises +there was! I dursn't move. Jest crouched there +quaking, poor small mite. Seemed 'sif there weren't +anyone in the world but meself and it was mighty big. +Then all at once I saw the moon looking down at me +through the apple boughs, jest like an old friend. I +was comforted right off. Got up and walked to the +house as brave as a lion, looking at her. Many's the +night I've watched her from the deck of my vessel, on +seas far away from here. Why don't you folks tell me +to take in the slack of my jaw and go home?" + +The laughter of the goodnights died away. Anne and +Gilbert walked hand in hand around their garden. The +brook that ran across the corner dimpled pellucidly in +the shadows of the birches. The poppies along its +banks were like shallow cups of moonlight. Flowers +that had been planted by the hands of the +schoolmaster's bride flung their sweetness on the +shadowy air, like the beauty and blessing of sacred +yesterdays. Anne paused in the gloom to gather a +spray. + +"I love to smell flowers in the dark," she said. "You +get hold of their soul then. Oh, Gilbert, this little +house is all I've dreamed it. And I'm so glad that we +are not the first who have kept bridal tryst here!" + + + +CHAPTER 8 + +MISS CORNELIA BRYANT COMES TO CALL + +That September was a month of golden mists and purple +hazes at Four Winds Harbor--a month of sun-steeped days +and of nights that were swimming in moonlight, or +pulsating with stars. No storm marred it, no rough +wind blew. Anne and Gilbert put their nest in order, +rambled on the shores, sailed on the harbor, drove +about Four Winds and the Glen, or through the ferny, +sequestered roads of the woods around the harbor head; +in short, had such a honeymoon as any lovers in the +world might have envied them. + +"If life were to stop short just now it would still +have been richly worth while, just for the sake of +these past four weeks, wouldn't it?" said Anne. "I +don't suppose we will ever have four such perfect weeks +again--but we've HAD them. Everything--wind, weather, +folks, house of dreams--has conspired to make our +honeymoon delightful. There hasn't even been a rainy +day since we came here." + +"And we haven't quarrelled once," teased Gilbert. + +"Well, `that's a pleasure all the greater for being +deferred,'" quoted Anne. "I'm so glad we decided to +spend our honeymoon here. Our memories of it will +always belong here, in our house of dreams, instead of +being scattered about in strange places." + +There was a certain tang of romance and adventure in +the atmosphere of their new home which Anne had never +found in Avonlea. There, although she had lived in +sight of the sea, it had not entered intimately into +her life. In Four Winds it surrounded her and called +to her constantly. From every window of her new home +she saw some varying aspect of it. Its haunting murmur +was ever in her ears. Vessels sailed up the harbor +every day to the wharf at the Glen, or sailed out +again through the sunset, bound for ports that might be +half way round the globe. Fishing boats went +white-winged down the channel in the mornings, and +returned laden in the evenings. Sailors and +fisher-folk travelled the red, winding harbor roads, +light-hearted and content. There was always a certain +sense of things going to happen--of adventures and +farings-forth. The ways of Four Winds were less staid +and settled and grooved than those of Avonlea; winds of +change blew over them; the sea called ever to the +dwellers on shore, and even those who might not answer +its call felt the thrill and unrest and mystery and +possibilities of it. + +"I understand now why some men must go to sea," said +Anne. "That desire which comes to us all at times--`to +sail beyond the bourne of sunset'--must be very +imperious when it is born in you. I don't wonder +Captain Jim ran away because of it. I never see a ship +sailing out of the channel, or a gull soaring over the +sand-bar, without wishing I were on board the ship or +had wings, not like a dove `to fly away and be at +rest,' but like a gull, to sweep out into the very +heart of a storm." + +"You'll stay right here with me, Anne-girl," said +Gilbert lazily. "I won't have you flying away from me +into the hearts of storms." + +They were sitting on their red sand-stone doorstep in +the late afternoon. Great tranquillities were all +about them in land and sea and sky. Silvery gulls were +soaring over them. The horizons were laced with long +trails of frail, pinkish clouds. The hushed air was +threaded with a murmurous refrain of minstrel winds and +waves. Pale asters were blowing in the sere and misty +meadows between them and the harbor. + +"Doctors who have to be up all night waiting on sick +folk don't feel very adventurous, I suppose," Anne +said indulgently. "If you had had a good sleep last +night, Gilbert, you'd be as ready as I am for a flight +of imagination." + +"I did good work last night, Anne," said Gilbert +quietly. "Under God, I saved a life. This is the +first time I could ever really claim that. In other +cases I may have helped; but, Anne, if I had not stayed +at Allonby's last night and fought death hand to hand, +that woman would have died before morning. I tried an +experiment that was certainly never tried in Four Winds +before. I doubt if it was ever tried anywhere before +outside of a hospital. It was a new thing in Kingsport +hospital last winter. I could never have dared try it +here if I had not been absolutely certain that there +was no other chance. I risked it--and it succeeded. +As a result, a good wife and mother is saved for long +years of happiness and usefulness. As I drove home +this morning, while the sun was rising over the harbor, +I thanked God that I had chosen the profession I did. +I had fought a good fight and won--think of it, Anne, +WON, against the Great Destroyer. It's what I dreamed +of doing long ago when we talked together of what we +wanted to do in life. That dream of mine came true +this morning." + +"Was that the only one of your dreams that has come +true?" asked Anne, who knew perfectly well what the +substance of his answer would be, but wanted to hear it +again. + +"YOU know, Anne-girl," said Gilbert, smiling into her +eyes. At that moment there were certainly two +perfectly happy people sitting on the doorstep of a +little white house on the Four Winds Harbor shore. + +Presently Gilbert said, with a change of tone, "Do I or +do I not see a full-rigged ship sailing up our lane?" + +Anne looked and sprang up. + +"That must be either Miss Cornelia Bryant or Mrs. Moore +coming to call," she said. + +"I'm going into the office, and if it is Miss Cornelia +I warn you that I'll eavesdrop," said Gilbert. "From +all I've heard regarding Miss Cornelia I conclude that +her conversation will not be dull, to say the least." + +"It may be Mrs. Moore." + +"I don't think Mrs. Moore is built on those lines. I +saw her working in her garden the other day, and, +though I was too far away to see clearly, I thought she +was rather slender. She doesn't seem very socially +inclined when she has never called on you yet, although +she's your nearest neighbor." + +"She can't be like Mrs. Lynde, after all, or curiosity +would have brought her," said Anne. "This caller is, +I think, Miss Cornelia." + +Miss Cornelia it was; moreover, Miss Cornelia had not +come to make any brief and fashionable wedding call. +She had her work under her arm in a substantial parcel, +and when Anne asked her to stay she promptly took off +her capacious sun-hat, which had been held on her head, +despite irreverent September breezes, by a tight +elastic band under her hard little knob of fair hair. +No hat pins for Miss Cornelia, an it please ye! +Elastic bands had been good enough for her mother and +they were good enough for HER. She had a fresh, round, +pink-and-white face, and jolly brown eyes. She did not +look in the least like the traditional old maid, and +there was something in her expression which won Anne +instantly. With her old instinctive quickness to +discern kindred spirits she knew she was going to like +Miss Cornelia, in spite of uncertain oddities of +opinion, and certain oddities of attire. + +Nobody but Miss Cornelia would have come to make a call +arrayed in a striped blue-and-white apron and a wrapper +of chocolate print, with a design of huge, pink roses +scattered over it. And nobody but Miss Cornelia could +have looked dignified and suitably garbed in it. Had +Miss Cornelia been entering a palace to call on a +prince's bride, she would have been just as dignified +and just as wholly mistress of the situation. She +would have trailed her rose-spattered flounce over the +marble floors just as unconcernedly, and she would have +proceeded just as calmly to disabuse the mind of the +princess of any idea that the possession of a mere man, +be he prince or peasant, was anything to brag of. + +"I've brought my work, Mrs. Blythe, dearie," she +remarked, unrolling some dainty material. "I'm in a +hurry to get this done, and there isn't any time to +lose." + +Anne looked in some surprise at the white garment +spread over Miss Cornelia's ample lap. It was +certainly a baby's dress, and it was most beautifully +made, with tiny frills and tucks. Miss Cornelia +adjusted her glasses and fell to embroidering with +exquisite stitches. + +"This is for Mrs. Fred Proctor up at the Glen," she +announced. "She's expecting her eighth baby any day +now, and not a stitch has she ready for it. The other +seven have wore out all she made for the first, and +she's never had time or strength or spirit to make any +more. That woman is a martyr, Mrs. Blythe, believe ME. +When she married Fred Proctor _I_ knew how it would +turn out. He was one of your wicked, fascinating men. +After he got married he left off being fascinating and +just kept on being wicked. He drinks and he neglects +his family. Isn't that like a man? I don't know how +Mrs. Proctor would ever keep her children decently +clothed if her neighbors didn't help her out." + +As Anne was afterwards to learn, Miss Cornelia was the +only neighbor who troubled herself much about the +decency of the young Proctors. + +"When I heard this eighth baby was coming I decided to +make some things for it," Miss Cornelia went on. +"This is the last and I want to finish it today." + +"It's certainly very pretty," said Anne. "I'll get my +sewing and we'll have a little thimble party of two. +You are a beautiful sewer, Miss Bryant." + +"Yes, I'm the best sewer in these parts," said Miss +Cornelia in a matter-of-fact tone. "I ought to be! +Lord, I've done more of it than if I'd had a hundred +children of my own, believe ME! I s'pose I'm a fool, +to be putting hand embroidery on this dress for an +eighth baby. But, Lord, Mrs. Blythe, dearie, it isn't +to blame for being the eighth, and I kind of wished it +to have one real pretty dress, just as if it WAS +wanted. Nobody's wanting the poor mite--so I put some +extra fuss on its little things just on that account." + +"Any baby might be proud of that dress," said Anne, +feeling still more strongly that she was going to like +Miss Cornelia. + +"I s'pose you've been thinking I was never coming to +call on you," resumed Miss Cornelia. "But this is +harvest month, you know, and I've been busy--and a lot +of extra hands hanging round, eating more'n they work, +just like the men. I'd have come yesterday, but I went +to Mrs. Roderick MacAllister's funeral. At first I +thought my head was aching so badly I couldn't enjoy +myself if I did go. But she was a hundred years old, +and I'd always promised myself that I'd go to her +funeral." + +"Was it a successful function?" asked Anne, noticing +that the office door was ajar. + +"What's that? Oh, yes, it was a tremendous funeral. +She had a very large connection. There was over one +hundred and twenty carriages in the procession. There +was one or two funny things happened. I thought that +die I would to see old Joe Bradshaw, who is an infidel +and never darkens the door of a church, singing `Safe +in the Arms of Jesus' with great gusto and fervor. He +glories in singing-- that's why he never misses a +funeral. Poor Mrs. Bradshaw didn't look much like +singing--all wore out slaving. Old Joe starts out once +in a while to buy her a present and brings home some +new kind of farm machinery. Isn't that like a man? +But what else would you expect of a man who never goes +to church, even a Methodist one? I was real thankful +to see you and the young Doctor in the Presbyterian +church your first Sunday. No doctor for me who isn't a +Presbyterian." + +"We were in the Methodist church last Sunday evening," +said Anne wickedly. + +"Oh, I s'pose Dr. Blythe has to go to the Methodist +church once in a while or he wouldn't get the Methodist +practice." + +"We liked the sermon very much," declared Anne boldly. +"And I thought the Methodist minster's prayer was one +of the most beautiful I ever heard." + +"Oh, I've no doubt he can pray. I never heard anyone +make more beautiful prayers than old Simon Bentley, who +was always drunk, or hoping to be, and the drunker he +was the better he prayed." + +"The Methodist minister is very fine looking," said +Anne, for the benefit of the office door. + +"Yes, he's quite ornamental," agreed Miss Cornelia. +"Oh, and VERY ladylike. And he thinks that every girl +who looks at him falls in love with him--as if a +Methodist minister, wandering about like any Jew, was +such a prize! If you and the young doctor take MY +advice, you won't have much to do with the Methodists. +My motto is--if you ARE a Presbyterian, BE a +Presbyterian." + +"Don't you think that Methodists go to heaven as well +as Presbyterians?" asked Anne smilelessly. + +"That isn't for US to decide. It's in higher hands +than ours," said Miss Cornelia solemnly. "But I ain't +going to associate with them on earth whatever I may +have to do in heaven. THIS Methodist minister isn't +married. The last one they had was, and his wife was +the silliest, flightiest little thing I ever saw. I +told her husband once that he should have waited till +she was grown up before he married her. He said he +wanted to have the training of her. Wasn't that like a +man?" + +"It's rather hard to decide just when people ARE grown +up," laughed Anne. + +"That's a true word, dearie. Some are grown up when +they're born, and others ain't grown up when they're +eighty, believe ME. That same Mrs. Roderick I was +speaking of never grew up. She was as foolish when she +was a hundred as when she was ten." + +"Perhaps that was why she lived so long," suggested +Anne. + +"Maybe 'twas. _I_'d rather live fifty sensible years +than a hundred foolish ones." + +"But just think what a dull world it would be if +everyone was sensible," pleaded Anne. + +Miss Cornelia disdained any skirmish of flippant +epigram. + +"Mrs. Roderick was a Milgrave, and the Milgraves never +had much sense. Her nephew, Ebenezer Milgrave, used to +be insane for years. He believed he was dead and used +to rage at his wife because she wouldn't bury him. +_I_'d a-done it." + +Miss Cornelia looked so grimly determined that Anne +could almost see her with a spade in her hand. + +"Don't you know ANY good husbands, Miss Bryant?" + +"Oh, yes, lots of them--over yonder," said Miss +Cornelia, waving her hand through the open window +towards the little graveyard of the church across the +harbor. + +"But living--going about in the flesh?" persisted +Anne. + +"Oh, there's a few, just to show that with God all +things are possible," acknowledged Miss Cornelia +reluctantly. "I don't deny that an odd man here and +there, if he's caught young and trained up proper, and +if his mother has spanked him well beforehand, may turn +out a decent being. YOUR husband, now, isn't so bad, +as men go, from all I hear. I s'pose"--Miss Cornelia +looked sharply at Anne over her glasses--"you think +there's nobody like him in the world." + +"There isn't," said Anne promptly. + +"Ah, well, I heard another bride say that once," +sighed Miss Cornelia. "Jennie Dean thought when she +married that there wasn't anybody like HER husband in +the world. And she was right--there wasn't! And a +good thing, too, believe ME! He led her an awful +life--and he was courting his second wife while Jennie +was dying. + +Wasn't that like a man? However, I hope YOUR +confidence will be better justified, dearie. The young +doctor is taking real well. I was afraid at first he +mightn't, for folks hereabouts have always thought old +Doctor Dave the only doctor in the world. Doctor Dave +hadn't much tact, to be sure--he was always talking of +ropes in houses where someone had hanged himself. But +folks forgot their hurt feelings when they had a pain +in their stomachs. If he'd been a minister instead of +a doctor they'd never have forgiven him. Soul-ache +doesn't worry folks near as much as stomach-ache. +Seeing as we're both Presbyterians and no Methodists +around, will you tell me your candid opinion of OUR +minister?" + +"Why--really--I--well," hesitated Anne. + +Miss Cornelia nodded. + +"Exactly. I agree with you, dearie. We made a mistake +when we called HIM. His face just looks like one of +those long, narrow stones in the graveyard, doesn't it? +`Sacred to the memory' ought to be written on his +forehead. I shall never forget the first sermon he +preached after he came. It was on the subject of +everyone doing what they were best fitted for--a very +good subject, of course; but such illustrations as he +used! He said, `If you had a cow and an apple tree, +and if you tied the apple tree in your stable and +planted the cow in your orchard, with her legs up, how +much milk would you get from the apple tree, or how +many apples from the cow?' Did you ever hear the like +in your born days, dearie? I was so thankful there +were no Methodists there that day--they'd never have +been done hooting over it. But what I dislike most in +him is his habit of agreeing with everybody, no matter +what is said. If you said to him, `You're a +scoundrel,' he'd say, with that smooth smile of his, +`Yes, that's so.' A minister should have more +backbone. The long and the short of it is, I consider +him a reverend jackass. But, of course, this is just +between you and me. When there are Methodists in +hearing I praise him to the skies. Some folks think +his wife dresses too gay, but _I_ say when she has to +live with a face like that she needs something to cheer +her up. You'll never hear ME condemning a woman for +her dress. I'm only too thankful when her husband +isn't too mean and miserly to allow it. Not that I +bother much with dress myself. Women just dress to +please the men, and I'd never stoop to THAT. I have +had a real placid, comfortable life, dearie, and it's +just because I never cared a cent what the men +thought." + +"Why do you hate the men so, Miss Bryant?" + +"Lord, dearie, I don't hate them. They aren't worth +it. I just sort of despise them. I think I'll like +YOUR husband if he keeps on as he has begun. But apart +from him about the only men in the world I've much use +for are the old doctor and Captain Jim." + +"Captain Jim is certainly splendid," agreed Anne +cordially. + +"Captain Jim is a good man, but he's kind of vexing in +one way. You CAN'T make him mad. I've tried for +twenty years and he just keeps on being placid. It +does sort of rile me. And I s'pose the woman he +should have married got a man who went into tantrums +twice a day." + +"Who was she?" + +"Oh, I don't know, dearie. I never remember of Captain +Jim making up to anybody. He was edging on old as far +as my memory goes. He's seventy-six, you know. I +never heard any reason for his staying a bachelor, but +there must be one, believe ME. He sailed all his life +till five years ago, and there's no corner of the earth +he hasn't poked his nose into. He and Elizabeth +Russell were great cronies, all their lives, but they +never had any notion of sweet-hearting. Elizabeth +never married, though she had plenty of chances. She +was a great beauty when she was young. The year the +Prince of Wales came to the Island she was visiting her +uncle in Charlottetown and he was a Government +official, and so she got invited to the great ball. +She was the prettiest girl there, and the Prince danced +with her, and all the other women he didn't dance with +were furious about it, because their social standing +was higher than hers and they said he shouldn't have +passed them over. Elizabeth was always very proud of +that dance. Mean folks said that was why she never +married--she couldn't put up with an ordinary man after +dancing with a prince. But that wasn't so. She told +me the reason once--it was because she had such a +temper that she was afraid she couldn't live peaceably +with any man. She HAD an awful temper--she used to +have to go upstairs and bite pieces out of her bureau +to keep it down by times. But I told her that wasn't +any reason for not marrying if she wanted to. There's +no reason why we should let the men have a monopoly of +temper, is there, Mrs. Blythe, dearie?" + +"I've a bit of temper myself," sighed Anne. + +"It's well you have, dearie. You won't be half so +likely to be trodden on, believe ME! My, how that +golden glow of yours is blooming! Your garden looks +fine. Poor Elizabeth always took such care of it." + +"I love it," said Anne. "I'm glad it's so full of +old-fashioned flowers. Speaking of gardening, we want +to get a man to dig up that little lot beyond the fir +grove and set it out with strawberry plants for us. +Gilbert is so busy he will never get time for it this +fall. Do you know anyone we can get?" + +"Well, Henry Hammond up at the Glen goes out doing jobs +like that. He'll do, maybe. He's always a heap more +interested in his wages than in his work, just like a +man, and he's so slow in the uptake that he stands +still for five minutes before it dawns on him that he's +stopped. His father threw a stump at him when he was +small. + +Nice gentle missile, wasn't it? So like a man! +Course, the boy never got over it. But he's the only +one I can recommend at all. He painted my house for me +last spring. It looks real nice now, don't you +think?" + +Anne was saved by the clock striking five. + +"Lord, is it that late?" exclaimed Miss Cornelia. +"How time does slip by when you're enjoying yourself! +Well, I must betake myself home." + +"No, indeed! You are going to stay and have tea with +us," said Anne eagerly. + +"Are you asking me because you think you ought to, or +because you really want to?" demanded Miss Cornelia. + +"Because I really want to." + +"Then I'll stay. YOU belong to the race that knows +Joseph." + +"I know we are going to be friends," said Anne, with +the smile that only they of the household of faith ever +saw. + +"Yes, we are, dearie. Thank goodness, we can choose +our friends. We have to take our relatives as they +are, and be thankful if there are no penitentiary birds +among them. Not that I've many-- none nearer than +second cousins. I'm a kind of lonely soul, Mrs. +Blythe." + +There was a wistful note in Miss Cornelia's voice. + +"I wish you would call me Anne," exclaimed Anne +impulsively. "It would seem more HOMEY. Everyone in +Four Winds, except my husband, calls me Mrs. Blythe, +and it makes me feel like a stranger. Do you know that +your name is very near being the one I yearned after +when I was a child. I hated `Anne' and I called myself +`Cordelia' in imagination." + +"I like Anne. It was my mother's name. Old-fashioned +names are the best and sweetest in my opinion. If +you're going to get tea you might send the young doctor +to talk to me. He's been lying on the sofa in that +office ever since I came, laughing fit to kill over +what I've been saying." + +"How did you know?" cried Anne, too aghast at this +instance of Miss Cornelia's uncanny prescience to make +a polite denial. + +"I saw him sitting beside you when I came up the lane, +and I know men's tricks," retorted Miss Cornelia. +"There, I've finished my little dress, dearie, and the +eighth baby can come as soon as it pleases." + + + +CHAPTER 9 + +AN EVENING AT FOUR WINDS POINT + +It was late September when Anne and Gilbert were able +to pay Four Winds light their promised visit. They had +often planned to go, but something always occurred to +prevent them. Captain Jim had "dropped in" several +times at the little house. + +"I don't stand on ceremony, Mistress Blythe," he told +Anne. "It's a real pleasure to me to come here, and +I'm not going to deny myself jest because you haven't +got down to see me. There oughtn't to be no +bargaining like that among the race that knows Joseph. +I'll come when I can, and you come when you can, and so +long's we have our pleasant little chat it don't matter +a mite what roof's over us." + +Captain Jim took a great fancy to Gog and Magog, who +were presiding over the destinies of the hearth in the +little house with as much dignity and aplomb as they +had done at Patty's Place. + +"Aren't they the cutest little cusses?" he would say +delightedly; and he bade them greeting and farewell as +gravely and invariably as he did his host and hostess. +Captain Jim was not going to offend household deities +by any lack of reverence and ceremony. + +"You've made this little house just about perfect," he +told Anne. "It never was so nice before. Mistress +Selwyn had your taste and she did wonders; but folks in +those days didn't have the pretty little curtains and +pictures and nicknacks you have. As for Elizabeth, she +lived in the past. You've kinder brought the future +into it, so to speak. I'd be real happy even if we +couldn't talk at all, when I come here--jest to sit and +look at you and your pictures and your flowers would be +enough of a treat. It's beautiful--beautiful." + +Captain Jim was a passionate worshipper of beauty. +Every lovely thing heard or seen gave him a deep, +subtle, inner joy that irradiated his life. He was +quite keenly aware of his own lack of outward +comeliness and lamented it. + +"Folks say I'm good," he remarked whimsically upon one +occasion, "but I sometimes wish the Lord had made me +only half as good and put the rest of it into looks. +But there, I reckon He knew what He was about, as a +good Captain should. Some of us have to be homely, or +the purty ones--like Mistress Blythe here--wouldn't +show up so well." + +One evening Anne and Gilbert finally walked down to the +Four Winds light. The day had begun sombrely in gray +cloud and mist, but it had ended in a pomp of scarlet +and gold. Over the western hills beyond the harbor +were amber deeps and crystalline shallows, with the +fire of sunset below. The north was a mackerel sky of +little, fiery golden clouds. The red light flamed on +the white sails of a vessel gliding down the channel, +bound to a southern port in a land of palms. Beyond +her, it smote upon and incarnadined the shining, white, +grassless faces of the sand dunes. To the right, it +fell on the old house among the willows up the brook, +and gave it for a fleeting space casements more +splendid than those of an old cathedral. They glowed +out of its quiet and grayness like the throbbing, +blood-red thoughts of a vivid soul imprisoned in a dull +husk of environment. + +"That old house up the brook always seems so lonely," +said Anne. "I never see visitors there. Of course, +its lane opens on the upper road--but I don't think +there's much coming and going. It seems odd we've +never met the Moores yet, when they live within fifteen +minutes' walk of us. I may have seen them in church, +of course, but if so I didn't know them. I'm sorry +they are so unsociable, when they are our only near +neighbors." + +"Evidently they don't belong to the race that knows +Joseph," laughed Gilbert. "Have you ever found out +who that girl was whom you thought so beautiful?" + +"No. Somehow I have never remembered to ask about her. +But I've never seen her anywhere, so I suppose she must +have been a stranger. Oh, the sun has just +vanished--and there's the light." + +As the dusk deepened, the great beacon cut swathes of +light through it, sweeping in a circle over the fields +and the harbor, the sandbar and the gulf. + +"I feel as if it might catch me and whisk me leagues +out to sea," said Anne, as one drenched them with +radiance; and she felt rather relieved when they got so +near the Point that they were inside the range of those +dazzling, recurrent flashes. + +As they turned into the little lane that led across the +fields to the Point they met a man coming out of it--a +man of such extraordinary appearance that for a moment +they both frankly stared. He was a decidedly +fine-looking person-tall, broad-shouldered, well- +featured, with a Roman nose and frank gray eyes; he was +dressed in a prosperous farmer's Sunday best; in so far +he might have been any inhabitant of Four Winds or the +Glen. But, flowing over his breast nearly to his +knees, was a river of crinkly brown beard; and adown +his back, beneath his commonplace felt hat, was a +corresponding cascade of thick, wavy, brown hair. + +"Anne," murmured Gilbert, when they were out of +earshot, "you didn't put what Uncle Dave calls `a +little of the Scott Act' in that lemonade you gave me +just before we left home, did you?" + +"No, I didn't," said Anne, stifling her laughter, lest +the retreating enigma should hear here. "Who in the +world can he be?" + +"I don't know; but if Captain Jim keeps apparitions +like that down at this Point I'm going to carry cold +iron in my pocket when I come here. He wasn't a +sailor, or one might pardon his eccentricity of +appearance; he must belong to the over-harbor clans. +Uncle Dave says they have several freaks over there." + +"Uncle Dave is a little prejudiced, I think. You know +all the over-harbor people who come to the Glen Church +seem very nice. Oh, Gilbert, isn't this beautiful?" + +The Four Winds light was built on a spur of red +sand-stone cliff jutting out into the gulf. On one +side, across the channel, stretched the silvery sand +shore of the bar; on the other, extended a long, +curving beach of red cliffs, rising steeply from the +pebbled coves. It was a shore that knew the magic and +mystery of storm and star. There is a great solitude +about such a shore. The woods are never solitary-- +they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. +But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some +great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into +itself for all eternity. We can never pierce its +infinite mystery--we may only wander, awed and +spellbound, on the outer fringe of it. The woods call +to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one +only--a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its +majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of +the company of the archangels. + +Anne and Gilbert found Uncle Jim sitting on a bench +outside the lighthouse, putting the finishing touches +to a wonderful, full-rigged, toy schooner. He rose and +welcomed them to his abode with the gentle, +unconscious courtesy that became him so well. + +"This has been a purty nice day all through, Mistress +Blythe, and now, right at the last, it's brought its +best. Would you like to sit down here outside a bit, +while the light lasts? I've just finished this bit of +a plaything for my little grand nephew, Joe, up at the +Glen. After I promised to make it for him I was kinder +sorry, for his mother was vexed. She's afraid he'll be +wanting to go to sea later on and she doesn't want the +notion encouraged in him. But what could I do, +Mistress Blythe? I'd PROMISED him, and I think it's +sorter real dastardly to break a promise you make to a +child. Come, sit down. It won't take long to stay an +hour." + +The wind was off shore, and only broke the sea's +surface into long, silvery ripples, and sent sheeny +shadows flying out across it, from every point and +headland, like transparent wings. The dusk was +hanging a curtain of violet gloom over the sand dunes +and the headlands where gulls were huddling. The sky +was faintly filmed over with scarfs of silken vapor. +Cloud fleets rode at anchor along the horizons. An +evening star was watching over the bar. + +"Isn't that a view worth looking at?" said Captain +Jim, with a loving, proprietary pride. "Nice and far +from the market-place, ain't it? No buying and selling +and getting gain. You don't have to pay anything--all +that sea and sky free--`without money and without +price.' There's going to be a moonrise purty soon, +too--I'm never tired of finding out what a moonrise can +be over them rocks and sea and harbor. There's a +surprise in it every time." + +They had their moonrise, and watched its marvel and +magic in a silence that asked nothing of the world or +each other. Then they went up into the tower, and +Captain Jim showed and explained the mechanism of the +great light. Finally they found themselves in the +dining room, where a fire of driftwood was weaving +flames of wavering, elusive, sea-born hues in the open +fireplace. + +"I put this fireplace in myself," remarked Captain +Jim. "The Government don't give lighthouse keepers +such luxuries. Look at the colors that wood makes. If +you'd like some driftwood for your fire, Mistress +Blythe, I'll bring you up a load some day. Sit down. +I'm going to make you a cup of tea." + +Captain Jim placed a chair for Anne, having first +removed therefrom a huge, orange-colored cat and a +newspaper. + +"Get down, Matey. The sofa is your place. I must put +this paper away safe till I can find time to finish the +story in it. It's called A Mad Love. 'Tisn't my +favorite brand of fiction, but I'm reading it jest to +see how long she can spin it out. It's at the +sixty-second chapter now, and the wedding ain't any +nearer than when it begun, far's I can see. When +little Joe comes I have to read him pirate yarns. +Ain't it strange how innocent little creatures like +children like the blood-thirstiest stories?" + +"Like my lad Davy at home," said Anne. "He wants +tales that reek with gore." + +Captain Jim's tea proved to be nectar. He was pleased +as a child with Anne's compliments, but he affected a +fine indifference. + +"The secret is I don't skimp the cream," he remarked +airily. Captain Jim had never heard of Oliver Wendell +Holmes, but he evidently agreed with that writer's +dictum that "big heart never liked little cream pot." + +"We met an odd-looking personage coming out of your +lane," said Gilbert as they sipped. "Who was he?" + +Captain Jim grinned. + +"That's Marshall Elliott--a mighty fine man with jest +one streak of foolishness in him. I s'pose you +wondered what his object was in turning himself into a +sort of dime museum freak." + +"Is he a modern Nazarite or a Hebrew prophet left over +from olden times?" asked Anne. + +"Neither of them. It's politics that's at the bottom +of his freak. All those Elliotts and Crawfords and +MacAllisters are dyed-in-the-wool politicians. They're +born Grit or Tory, as the case may be, and they live +Grit or Tory, and they die Grit or Tory; and what +they're going to do in heaven, where there's probably +no politics, is more than I can fathom. This Marshall +Elliott was born a Grit. I'm a Grit myself in +moderation, but there's no moderation about Marshall. +Fifteen years ago there was a specially bitter general +election. Marshall fought for his party tooth and +nail. He was dead sure the Liberals would win--so +sure that he got up at a public meeting and vowed that +he wouldn't shave his face or cut his hair until the +Grits were in power. Well, they didn't go in--and +they've never got in yet--and you saw the result today +for yourselves. Marshall stuck to his word." + +"What does his wife think of it?" asked Anne. + +"He's a bachelor. But if he had a wife I reckon she +couldn't make him break that vow. That family of +Elliotts has always been more stubborn than natteral. +Marshall's brother Alexander had a dog he set great +store by, and when it died the man actilly wanted to +have it buried in the graveyard, `along with the other +Christians,' he said. Course, he wasn't allowed to; so +he buried it just outside the graveyard fence, and +never darkened the church door again. But Sundays he'd +drive his family to church and sit by that dog's grave +and read his Bible all the time service was going on. +They say when he was dying he asked his wife to bury +him beside the dog; she was a meek little soul but she +fired up at THAT. She said SHE wasn't going to be +buried beside no dog, and if he'd rather have his last +resting place beside the dog than beside her, jest to +say so. Alexander Elliott was a stubborn mule, but he +was fond of his wife, so he give in and said, `Well, +durn it, bury me where you please. But when Gabriel's +trump blows I expect my dog to rise with the rest of +us, for he had as much soul as any durned Elliott or +Crawford or MacAllister that ever strutted.' Them was +HIS parting words. As for Marshall, we're all used to +him, but he must strike strangers as right down +peculiar- looking. I've known him ever since he was +ten--he's about fifty now--and I like him. Him and me +was out cod-fishing today. That's about all I'm good +for now--catching trout and cod occasional. But +'tweren't always so--not by no manner of means. I used +to do other things, as you'd admit if you saw my +life-book." + +Anne was just going to ask what his life-book was when +the First Mate created a diversion by springing upon +Captain Jim's knee. He was a gorgeous beastie, with a +face as round as a full moon, vivid green eyes, and +immense, white, double paws. Captain Jim stroked his +velvet back gently. + +"I never fancied cats much till I found the First +Mate," he remarked, to the accompaniment of the Mate's +tremendous purrs. "I saved his life, and when you've +saved a creature's life you're bound to love it. It's +next thing to giving life. There's some turrible +thoughtless people in the world, Mistress Blythe. Some +of them city folks who have summer homes over the +harbor are so thoughtless that they're cruel. It's the +worst kind of cruelty--the thoughtless kind. You can't +cope with it. They keep cats there in the summer, and +feed and pet 'em, and doll 'em up with ribbons and +collars. And then in the fall they go off and leave +'em to starve or freeze. It makes my blood boil, +Mistress Blythe. One day last winter I found a poor +old mother cat dead on the shore, lying against the +skin-and-bone bodies of her three little kittens. +She'd died trying to shelter 'em. She had her poor +stiff paws around 'em. Master, I cried. Then I swore. +Then I carried them poor little kittens home and fed +'em up and found good homes for 'em. I knew the woman +who left the cat and when she come back this summer I +jest went over the harbor and told her my opinion of +her. It was rank meddling, but I do love meddling in a +good cause." + +"How did she take it?" asked Gilbert. + +"Cried and said she `didn't think.' I says to her, +says I, `Do you s'pose that'll be held for a good +excuse in the day of Jedgment, when you'll have to +account for that poor old mother's life? The Lord'll +ask you what He give you your brains for if it wasn't +to think, I reckon.' I don't fancy she'll leave cats +to starve another time." + +"Was the First Mate one of the forsaken?" asked Anne, +making advances to him which were responded to +graciously, if condescendingly. + +"Yes. I found HIM one bitter cold day in winter, +caught in the branches of a tree by his durn-fool +ribbon collar. He was almost starving. If you could +have seen his eyes, Mistress Blythe! He was nothing +but a kitten, and he'd got his living somehow since +he'd been left until he got hung up. When I loosed him +he gave my hand a pitiful swipe with his little red +tongue. He wasn't the able seaman you see now. He was +meek as Moses. That was nine years ago. His life has +been long in the land for a cat. He's a good old pal, +the First Mate is." + +"I should have expected you to have a dog," said +Gilbert. + +Captain Jim shook his head. + +"I had a dog once. I thought so much of him that when +he died I couldn't bear the thought of getting another +in his place. He was a FRIEND--you understand, +Mistress Blythe? Matey's only a pal. I'm fond of +Matey--all the fonder on account of the spice of +devilment that's in him--like there is in all cats. +But I LOVED my dog. I always had a sneaking sympathy +for Alexander Elliott about HIS dog. There isn't any +devil in a good dog. That's why they're more lovable +than cats, I reckon. But I'm darned if they're as +interesting. Here I am, talking too much. Why don't +you check me? When I do get a chance to talk to +anyone I run on turrible. If you've done your tea I've +a few little things you might like to look at--picked +'em up in the queer corners I used to be poking my nose +into." + +Captain Jim's "few little things" turned out to be a +most interesting collection of curios, hideous, quaint +and beautiful. And almost every one had some striking +story attached to it. + +Anne never forgot the delight with which she listened +to those old tales that moonlit evening by that +enchanted driftwood fire, while the silver sea called +to them through the open window and sobbed against the +rocks below them. + +Captain Jim never said a boastful word, but it was +impossible to help seeing what a hero the man had +been--brave, true, resourceful, unselfish. He sat +there in his little room and made those things live +again for his hearers. By a lift of the eyebrow, a +twist of the lip, a gesture, a word, he painted a whole +scene or character so that they saw it as it was. + +Some of Captain Jim's adventures had such a marvellous +edge that Anne and Gilbert secretly wondered if he were +not drawing a rather long bow at their credulous +expense. But in this, as they found later, they did +him injustice. His tales were all literally true. +Captain Jim had the gift of the born storyteller, +whereby "unhappy, far-off things" can be brought +vividly before the hearer in all their pristine +poignancy. + +Anne and Gilbert laughed and shivered over his tales, +and once Anne found herself crying. Captain Jim +surveyed her tears with pleasure shining from his face. + +"I like to see folks cry that way," he remarked. +"It's a compliment. But I can't do justice to the +things I've seen or helped to do. I've 'em all jotted +down in my life-book, but I haven't got the knack of +writing them out properly. If I could hit on jest the +right words and string 'em together proper on paper I +could make a great book. It would beat A Mad Love +holler, and I believe Joe'd like it as well as the +pirate yarns. Yes, I've had some adventures in my +time; and, do you know, Mistress Blythe, I still lust +after 'em. Yes, old and useless as I be, there's an +awful longing sweeps over me at times to sail +out--out--out there--forever and ever." + +"Like Ulysses, you would + + `Sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all +the western stars until you die,'" + +said Anne dreamily. + +"Ulysses? I've read of him. Yes, that's just how I +feel--jest how all us old sailors feel, I reckon. I'll +die on land after all, I s'pose. Well, what is to be +will be. There was old William Ford at the Glen who +never went on the water in his life, 'cause he was +afraid of being drowned. A fortune-teller had +predicted he would be. And one day he fainted and fell +with his face in the barn trough and was drowned. Must +you go? Well, come soon and come often. The doctor is +to do the talking next time. He knows a heap of things +I want to find out. I'm sorter lonesome here by times. +It's been worse since Elizabeth Russell died. Her and +me was such cronies." + +Captain Jim spoke with the pathos of the aged, who see +their old friends slipping from them one by +one--friends whose place can never be quite filled by +those of a younger generation, even of the race that +knows Joseph. Anne and Gilbert promised to come soon +and often. + +"He's a rare old fellow, isn't he?" said Gilbert, as +they walked home. + +"Somehow, I can't reconcile his simple, kindly +personality with the wild, adventurous life he has +lived," mused Anne. + +"You wouldn't find it so hard if you had seen him the +other day down at the fishing village. One of the men +of Peter Gautier's boat made a nasty remark about some +girl along the shore. Captain Jim fairly scorched the +wretched fellow with the lightning of his eyes. He +seemed a man transformed. He didn't say much--but the +way he said it! You'd have thought it would strip the +flesh from the fellow's bones. I understand that +Captain Jim will never allow a word against any woman +to be said in his presence." + +"I wonder why he never married," said Anne. "He +should have sons with their ships at sea now, and +grandchildren climbing over him to hear his +stories--he's that kind of a man. Instead, he has +nothing but a magnificent cat." + +But Anne was mistaken. Captain Jim had more than that. +He had a memory. + + + +CHAPTER 10 + +LESLIE MOORE + +"I'm going for a walk to the outside shore tonight," +Anne told Gog and Magog one October evening. There was +no one else to tell, for Gilbert had gone over the +harbor. Anne had her little domain in the speckless +order one would expect of anyone brought up by Marilla +Cuthbert, and felt that she could gad shoreward with a +clear conscience. Many and delightful had been her +shore rambles, sometimes with Gilbert, sometimes with +Captain Jim, sometimes alone with her own thoughts and +new, poignantly-sweet dreams that were beginning to +span life with their rainbows. She loved the gentle, +misty harbor shore and the silvery, wind-haunted sand +shore, but best of all she loved the rock shore, with +its cliffs and caves and piles of surf-worn boulders, +and its coves where the pebbles glittered under the +pools; and it was to this shore she hied herself +tonight. + +There had been an autumn storm of wind and rain, +lasting for three days. Thunderous had been the crash +of billows on the rocks, wild the white spray and spume +that blew over the bar, troubled and misty and +tempest-torn the erstwhile blue peace of Four Winds +Harbor. Now it was over, and the shore lay +clean-washed after the storm; not a wind stirred, but +there was still a fine surf on, dashing on sand and +rock in a splendid white turmoil--the only restless +thing in the great, pervading stillness and peace. + +"Oh, this is a moment worth living through weeks of +storm and stress for," Anne exclaimed, delightedly +sending her far gaze across the tossing waters from the +top of the cliff where she stood. Presently she +scrambled down the steep path to the little cove below, +where she seemed shut in with rocks and sea and sky. + +"I'm going to dance and sing," she said. "There's no +one here to see me--the seagulls won't carry tales of +the matter. I may be as crazy as I like." + +She caught up her skirt and pirouetted along the hard +strip of sand just out of reach of the waves that +almost lapped her feet with their spent foam. Whirling +round and round, laughing like a child, she reached the +little headland that ran out to the east of the cove; +then she stopped suddenly, blushing crimson; she was +not alone; there had been a witness to her dance and +laughter. + +The girl of the golden hair and sea-blue eyes was +sitting on a boulder of the headland, half-hidden by a +jutting rock. She was looking straight at Anne with a +strange expression--part wonder, part sympathy, +part--could it be?--envy. She was bare-headed, and her +splendid hair, more than ever like Browning's "gorgeous +snake," was bound about her head with a crimson +ribbon. She wore a dress of some dark material, very +plainly made; but swathed about her waist, outlining +its fine curves, was a vivid girdle of red silk. Her +hands, clasped over her knee, were brown and somewhat +work- hardened; but the skin of her throat and cheeks +was as white as cream. A flying gleam of sunset broke +through a low-lying western cloud and fell across her +hair. For a moment she seemed the spirit of the sea +personified--all its mystery, all its passion, all its +elusive charm. + +"You--you must think me crazy," stammered Anne, trying +to recover her self-possession. To be seen by this +stately girl in such an abandon of childishness--she, +Mrs. Dr. Blythe, with all the dignity of the matron to +keep up--it was too bad! + +"No," said the girl, "I don't." + +She said nothing more; her voice was expressionless; +her manner slightly repellent; but there was something +in her eyes--eager yet shy, defiant yet pleading--which +turned Anne from her purpose of walking away. Instead, +she sat down on the boulder beside the girl. + +"Let's introduce ourselves," she said, with the smile +that had never yet failed to win confidence and +friendliness. "I am Mrs. Blythe--and I live in that +little white house up the harbor shore." + +"Yes, I know," said the girl. "I am Leslie +Moore--Mrs. Dick Moore," she added stiffly. + +Anne was silent for a moment from sheer amazement. It +had not occurred to her that this girl was +married--there seemed nothing of the wife about her. +And that she should be the neighbor whom Anne had +pictured as a commonplace Four Winds housewife! Anne +could not quickly adjust her mental focus to this +astonishing change. + +"Then--then you live in that gray house up the brook," +she stammered. + +"Yes. I should have gone over to call on you long +ago," said the other. She did not offer any +explanation or excuse for not having gone. + +"I wish you WOULD come," said Anne, recovering herself +somewhat. "We're such near neighbors we ought to be +friends. That is the sole fault of Four Winds--there +aren't quite enough neighbors. Otherwise it is +perfection." + +"You like it?" + +"LIKE it! I love it. It is the most beautiful place I +ever saw." + +"I've never seen many places," said Leslie Moore, +slowly, "but I've always thought it was very lovely +here. I--I love it, too." + +She spoke, as she looked, shyly, yet eagerly. Anne had +an odd impression that this strange girl--the word +"girl" would persist-- could say a good deal if she +chose. + +"I often come to the shore," she added. + +"So do I," said Anne. "It's a wonder we haven't met +here before." + +"Probably you come earlier in the evening than I do. +It is generally late--almost dark--when I come. And I +love to come just after a storm--like this. I don't +like the sea so well when it's calm and quiet. I like +the struggle--and the crash--and the noise." + +"I love it in all its moods," declared Anne. "The sea +at Four Winds is to me what Lover's Lane was at home. +Tonight it seemed so free--so untamed--something broke +loose in me, too, out of sympathy. That was why I +danced along the shore in that wild way. I didn't +suppose anybody was looking, of course. If Miss +Cornelia Bryant had seen me she would have forboded a +gloomy prospect for poor young Dr. Blythe." + +"You know Miss Cornelia?" said Leslie, laughing. She +had an exquisite laugh; it bubbled up suddenly and +unexpectedly with something of the delicious quality of +a baby's. Anne laughed, too. + +"Oh, yes. She has been down to my house of dreams +several times." + +"Your house of dreams?" + +"Oh, that's a dear, foolish little name Gilbert and I +have for our home. We just call it that between +ourselves. It slipped out before I thought." + +"So Miss Russell's little white house is YOUR house of +dreams," said Leslie wonderingly. "_I_ had a house of +dreams once--but it was a palace," she added, with a +laugh, the sweetness of which was marred by a little +note of derision. + +"Oh, I once dreamed of a palace, too," said Anne. "I +suppose all girls do. And then we settle down +contentedly in eight-room houses that seem to fulfill +all the desires of our hearts--because our prince is +there. YOU should have had your palace really, +though--you are so beautiful. You MUST let me say +it--it has to be said--I'm nearly bursting with +admiration. You are the loveliest thing I ever saw, +Mrs. Moore." + +"If we are to be friends you must call me Leslie," +said the other with an odd passion. + +"Of course I will. And MY friends call me Anne." + +"I suppose I am beautiful," Leslie went on, looking +stormily out to sea. "I hate my beauty. I wish I had +always been as brown and plain as the brownest and +plainest girl at the fishing village over there. +Well, what do you think of Miss Cornelia?" + +The abrupt change of subject shut the door on any +further confidences. + +"Miss Cornelia is a darling, isn't she?" said Anne. +"Gilbert and I were invited to her house to a state tea +last week. You've heard of groaning tables." + +"I seem to recall seeing the expression in the +newspaper reports of weddings," said Leslie, smiling. + +"Well, Miss Cornelia's groaned--at least, it +creaked--positively. You couldn't have believed she +would have cooked so much for two ordinary people. She +had every kind of pie you could name, I think--except +lemon pie. She said she had taken the prize for lemon +pies at the Charlottetown Exhibition ten years ago and +had never made any since for fear of losing her +reputation for them." + +"Were you able to eat enough pie to please her?" + +"_I_ wasn't. Gilbert won her heart by eating--I won't +tell you how much. She said she never knew a man who +didn't like pie better than his Bible. Do you know, I +love Miss Cornelia." + +"So do I," said Leslie. "She is the best friend I +have in the world." + +Anne wondered secretly why, if this were so, Miss +Cornelia had never mentioned Mrs. Dick Moore to her. +Miss Cornelia had certainly talked freely about every +other individual in or near Four Winds. + +"Isn't that beautiful?" said Leslie, after a brief +silence, pointing to the exquisite effect of a shaft of +light falling through a cleft in the rock behind them, +across a dark green pool at its base. "If I had come +here--and seen nothing but just that--I would go home +satisfied." + +"The effects of light and shadow all along these shores +are wonderful," agreed Anne. "My little sewing room +looks out on the harbor, and I sit at its window and +feast my eyes. The colors and shadows are never the +same two minutes together." + +"And you are never lonely?" asked Leslie abruptly. +"Never-- when you are alone?" + +"No. I don't think I've ever been really lonely in my +life," answered Anne. "Even when I'm alone I have +real good company-- dreams and imaginations and +pretendings. I LIKE to be alone now and then, just to +think over things and TASTE them. But I love +friendship-- and nice, jolly little times with people. +Oh, WON'T you come to see me--often? Please do. I +believe," Anne added, laughing, "that you'd like me if +you knew me." + +"I wonder if YOU would like ME," said Leslie +seriously. She was not fishing for a compliment. She +looked out across the waves that were beginning to be +garlanded with blossoms of moonlit foam, and her eyes +filled with shadows. + +"I'm sure I would," said Anne. "And please don't +think I'm utterly irresponsible because you saw me +dancing on the shore at sunset. No doubt I shall be +dignified after a time. You see, I haven't been +married very long. I feel like a girl, and sometimes +like a child, yet." + +"I have been married twelve years," said Leslie. + +Here was another unbelievable thing. + +"Why, you can't be as old as I am!" exclaimed Anne. +"You must have been a child when you were married." + +"I was sixteen," said Leslie, rising, and picking up +the cap and jacket lying beside her. "I am +twenty-eight now. Well, I must go back." + +"So must I. Gilbert will probably be home. But I'm so +glad we both came to the shore tonight and met each +other." + +Leslie said nothing, and Anne was a little chilled. +She had offered friendship frankly but it had not been +accepted very graciously, if it had not been absolutely +repelled. In silence they climbed the cliffs and +walked across a pasture-field of which the feathery, +bleached, wild grasses were like a carpet of creamy +velvet in the moonlight. When they reached the shore +lane Leslie turned. + +"I go this way, Mrs. Blythe. You will come over and +see me some time, won't you?" + +Anne felt as if the invitation had been thrown at her. +She got the impression that Leslie Moore gave it +reluctantly. + +"I will come if you really want me to," she said a +little coldly. + +"Oh, I do--I do," exclaimed Leslie, with an eagerness +which seemed to burst forth and beat down some +restraint that had been imposed on it. + +"Then I'll come. Good-night--Leslie." + +"Good-night, Mrs. Blythe." + +Anne walked home in a brown study and poured out her +tale to Gilbert. + +"So Mrs. Dick Moore isn't one of the race that knows +Joseph?" said Gilbert teasingly. + +"No--o--o, not exactly. And yet--I think she WAS one +of them once, but has gone or got into exile," said +Anne musingly. "She is certainly very different from +the other women about here. You can't talk about eggs +and butter to HER. To think I've been imagining her a +second Mrs. Rachel Lynde! Have you ever seen Dick +Moore, Gilbert?" + +"No. I've seen several men working about the fields of +the farm, but I don't know which was Moore." + +"She never mentioned him. I KNOW she isn't happy." + +"From what you tell me I suppose she was married before +she was old enough to know her own mind or heart, and +found out too late that she had made a mistake. It's a +common tragedy enough, Anne. + +A fine woman would have made the best of it. Mrs. +Moore has evidently let it make her bitter and +resentful." + +"Don't let us judge her till we know," pleaded Anne. +"I don't believe her case is so ordinary. You will +understand her fascination when you meet her, Gilbert. +It is a thing quite apart from her beauty. I feel that +she possesses a rich nature, into which a friend might +enter as into a kingdom; but for some reason she bars +every one out and shuts all her possibilities up in +herself, so that they cannot develop and blossom. +There, I've been struggling to define her to myself +ever since I left her, and that is the nearest I can +get to it. I'm going to ask Miss Cornelia about her." + + + +CHAPTER 11 + +THE STORY OF LESLIE MOORE + +"Yes, the eighth baby arrived a fortnight ago," said +Miss Cornelia, from a rocker before the fire of the +little house one chilly October afternoon. "It's a +girl. Fred was ranting mad--said he wanted a +boy--when the truth is he didn't want it at all. If it +had been a boy he'd have ranted because it wasn't a +girl. They had four girls and three boys before, so I +can't see that it made much difference what this one +was, but of course he'd have to be cantankerous, just +like a man. The baby is real pretty, dressed up in its +nice little clothes. It has black eyes and the +dearest, tiny hands." + +"I must go and see it. I just love babies," said +Anne, smiling to herself over a thought too dear and +sacred to be put into words. + +"I don't say but what they're nice," admitted Miss +Cornelia. "But some folks seem to have more than they +really need, believe ME. My poor cousin Flora up at +the Glen had eleven, and such a slave as she is! Her +husband suicided three years ago. Just like a man!" + +"What made him do that?" asked Anne, rather shocked. + +"Couldn't get his way over something, so he jumped into +the well . A good riddance! He was a born tyrant. +But of course it spoiled the well. Flora could never +abide the thought of using it again, poor thing! So +she had another dug and a frightful expense it was, and +the water as hard as nails. If he HAD to drown himself +there was plenty of water in the harbor, wasn't there? +I've no patience with a man like that. We've only had +two suicides in Four Winds in my recollection. The +other was Frank West--Leslie Moore's father. By the +way, has Leslie ever been over to call on you yet?" + +"No, but I met her on the shore a few nights ago and we +scraped an acquaintance," said Anne, pricking up her +ears. + +Miss Cornelia nodded. + +"I'm glad, dearie. I was hoping you'd foregather with +her. What do you think of her?" + +"I thought her very beautiful." + +"Oh, of course. There was never anybody about Four +Winds could touch her for looks. Did you ever see her +hair? It reaches to her feet when she lets it down. +But I meant how did you like her?" + +"I think I could like her very much if she'd let me," +said Anne slowly. + +"But she wouldn't let you--she pushed you off and kept +you at arm's length. Poor Leslie! You wouldn't be +much surprised if you knew what her life has been. +It's been a tragedy--a tragedy!" repeated Miss +Cornelia emphatically. + +"I wish you would tell me all about her--that is, if +you can do so without betraying any confidence." + +"Lord, dearie, everybody in Four Winds knows poor +Leslie's story. It's no secret--the OUTSIDE, that is. +Nobody knows the INSIDE but Leslie herself, and she +doesn't take folks into her confidence. I'm about the +best friend she has on earth, I reckon, and she's never +uttered a word of complaint to me. Have you ever seen +Dick Moore?" + +"No." + +"Well, I may as well begin at the beginning and tell +you everything straight through, so you'll understand +it. As I said, Leslie's father was Frank West. He was +clever and shiftless--just like a man. Oh, he had +heaps of brains--and much good they did him! He +started to go to college, and he went for two years, +and then his health broke down. The Wests were all +inclined to be consumptive. So Frank came home and +started farming. He married Rose Elliott from over +harbor. Rose was reckoned the beauty of Four +Winds--Leslie takes her looks from her mother, but she +has ten times the spirit and go that Rose had, and a +far better figure. Now you know, Anne, I always take +the ground that us women ought to stand by each other. +We've got enough to endure at the hands of the men, the +Lord knows, so I hold we hadn't ought to clapper-claw +one another, and it isn't often you'll find me running +down another woman. But I never had much use for Rose +Elliott. She was spoiled to begin with, believe ME, +and she was nothing but a lazy, selfish, whining +creature. Frank was no hand to work, so they were +poor as Job's turkey. Poor! They lived on potatoes +and point, believe ME. They had two children--Leslie +and Kenneth. Leslie had her mother's looks and her +father's brains, and something she didn't get from +either of them. She took after her Grandmother West--a +splendid old lady. She was the brightest, friendliest, +merriest thing when she was a child, Anne. Everybody +liked her. She was her father's favorite and she was +awful fond of him. They were `chums,' as she used to +say. She couldn't see any of his faults--and he WAS a +taking sort of man in some ways. + +"Well, when Leslie was twelve years old, the first +dreadful thing happened. She worshipped little +Kenneth--he was four years younger than her, and he WAS +a dear little chap. And he was killed one day--fell +off a big load of hay just as it was going into the +barn, and the wheel went right over his little body and +crushed the life out of it. And mind you, Anne, Leslie +saw it. She was looking down from the loft. She gave +one screech--the hired man said he never heard such a +sound in all his life--he said it would ring in his +ears till Gabriel's trump drove it out. But she never +screeched or cried again about it. She jumped from the +loft onto the load and from the load to the floor, and +caught up the little bleeding, warm, dead body, +Anne--they had to tear it from her before she would let +it go. They sent for me--I can't talk of it." + +Miss Cornelia wiped the tears from her kindly brown +eyes and sewed in bitter silence for a few minutes. + +"Well," she resumed, "it was all over--they buried +little Kenneth in that graveyard over the harbor, and +after a while Leslie went back to her school and her +studies. She never mentioned Kenneth's name--I've +never heard it cross her lips from that day to this. I +reckon that old hurt still aches and burns at times; +but she was only a child and time is real kind to +children, Anne, dearie. After a while she began to +laugh again--she had the prettiest laugh. You don't +often hear it now." + +"I heard it once the other night," said Anne. "It IS +a beautiful laugh." + +"Frank West began to go down after Kenneth's death. He +wasn't strong and it was a shock to him, because he was +real fond of the child, though, as I've said, Leslie +was his favorite. He got mopy and melancholy, and +couldn't or wouldn't work. And one day, when Leslie +was fourteen years of age, he hanged himself--and in +the parlor, too, mind you, Anne, right in the middle of +the parlor from the lamp hook in the ceiling. Wasn't +that like a man? It was the anniversary of his +wedding day, too. Nice, tasty time to pick for it, +wasn't it? And, of course, that poor Leslie had to be +the one to find him. She went into the parlor that +morning, singing, with some fresh flowers for the +vases, and there she saw her father hanging from the +ceiling, his face as black as a coal. It was something +awful, believe ME!" + +"Oh, how horrible!" said Anne, shuddering. "The poor, +poor child!" + +"Leslie didn't cry at her father's funeral any more +then she had cried at Kenneth's. Rose whooped and +howled for two, however, and Leslie had all she could +do trying to calm and comfort her mother. I was +disgusted with Rose and so was everyone else, but +Leslie never got out of patience. She loved her +mother. Leslie is clannish--her own could never do +wrong in her eyes. Well, they buried Frank West beside +Kenneth, and Rose put up a great big monument to him. +It was bigger than his character, believe ME! Anyhow, +it was bigger than Rose could afford, for the farm was +mortgaged for more than its value. But not long after +Leslie's old grandmother West died and she left Leslie +a little money--enough to give her a year at Queen's +Academy. Leslie had made up her mind to pass for a +teacher if she could, and then earn enough to put +herself through Redmond College. That had been her +father's pet scheme--he wanted her to have what he had +lost. Leslie was full of ambition and her head was +chock full of brains. She went to Queen's, and she +took two years' work in one year and got her First; +and when she came home she got the Glen school. She +was so happy and hopeful and full of life and +eagerness. When I think of what she was then and what +she is now, I say--drat the men!" + +Miss Cornelia snipped her thread off as viciously as +if, Nero-like, she was severing the neck of mankind by +the stroke. + +"Dick Moore came into her life that summer. His +father, Abner Moore, kept store at the Glen, but Dick +had a sea-going streak in him from his mother; he used +to sail in summer and clerk in his father's store in +winter. He was a big, handsome fellow, with a little +ugly soul. He was always wanting something till he got +it, and then he stopped wanting it--just like a man. +Oh, he didn't growl at the weather when it was fine, +and he was mostly real pleasant and agreeable when +everything went right. But he drank a good deal, and +there were some nasty stories told of him and a girl +down at the fishing village. He wasn't fit for Leslie +to wipe her feet on, that's the long and short of it. +And he was a Methodist! But he was clean mad about +her--because of her good looks in the first place, and +because she wouldn't have anything to say to him in the +second. He vowed he'd have her--and he got her!" + +"How did he bring it about?" + +"Oh, it was an iniquitous thing! I'll never forgive +Rose West. You see, dearie, Abner Moore held the +mortgage on the West farm, and the interest was overdue +some years, and Dick just went and told Mrs. West that +if Leslie wouldn't marry him he'd get his father to +foreclose the mortgage. Rose carried on +terrible--fainted and wept, and pleaded with Leslie not +to let her be turned out of her home. She said it +would break her heart to leave the home she'd come to +as a bride. I wouldn't have blamed her for feeling +dreadful bad over it--but you wouldn't have thought +she'd be so selfish as to sacrifice her own flesh and +blood because of it, would you? Well, she was. + +And Leslie gave in--she loved her mother so much she +would have done anything to save her pain. She married +Dick Moore. None of us knew why at the time. It +wasn't till long afterward that I found out how her +mother had worried her into it. I was sure there was +something wrong, though, because I knew how she had +snubbed him time and again, and it wasn't like Leslie +to turn face--about like that. Besides, I knew that +Dick Moore wasn't the kind of man Leslie could ever +fancy, in spite of his good looks and dashing ways. Of +course, there was no wedding, but Rose asked me to go +and see them married. I went, but I was sorry I did. +I'd seen Leslie's face at her brother's funeral and at +her father's funeral--and now it seemed to me I was +seeing it at her own funeral. But Rose was smiling as +a basket of chips, believe ME! + +"Leslie and Dick settled down on the West place--Rose +couldn't bear to part with her dear daughter!--and +lived there for the winter. In the spring Rose took +pneumonia and died--a year too late! Leslie was +heart-broken enough over it. Isn't it terrible the way +some unworthy folks are loved, while others that +deserve it far more, you'd think, never get much +affection? As for Dick, he'd had enough of quiet +married life--just like a man. He was for up and off. +He went over to Nova Scotia to visit his relations--his +father had come from Nova Scotia--and he wrote back to +Leslie that his cousin, George Moore, was going on a +voyage to Havana and he was going too. The name of the +vessel was the Four Sisters and they were to be gone +about nine weeks. + +"It must have been a relief to Leslie. But she never +said anything. From the day of her marriage she was +just what she is now--cold and proud, and keeping +everyone but me at a distance. I won't BE kept at a +distance, believe ME! I've just stuck to Leslie as +close as I knew how in spite of everything." + +"She told me you were the best friend she had," said +Anne. + +"Did she?" exclaimed Miss Cornelia delightedly. +"Well, I'm real thankful to hear it. Sometimes I've +wondered if she really did want me around at all--she +never let me think so. You must have thawed her out +more than you think, or she wouldn't have said that +much itself to you. Oh, that poor, heart-broken girl! +I never see Dick Moore but I want to run a knife clean +through him." + +Miss Cornelia wiped her eyes again and having relieved +her feelings by her blood-thirsty wish, took up her +tale. + +"Well, Leslie was left over there alone. Dick had put +in the crop before he went, and old Abner looked after +it. The summer went by and the Four Sisters didn't +come back. The Nova Scotia Moores investigated, and +found she had got to Havana and discharged her cargo +and took on another and left for home; and that was all +they ever found out about her. By degrees people began +to talk of Dick Moore as one that was dead. Almost +everyone believed that he was, though no one felt +certain, for men have turned up here at the harbor +after they'd been gone for years. Leslie never thought +he was dead--and she was right. A thousand pities too! +The next summer Captain Jim was in Havana--that was +before he gave up the sea, of course. He thought he'd +poke round a bit--Captain Jim was always meddlesome, +just like a man--and he went to inquiring round among +the sailors' boarding houses and places like that, to +see if he could find out anything about the crew of the +Four Sisters. He'd better have let sleeping dogs lie, +in my opinion! Well, he went to one out-of-the-way +place, and there he found a man he knew at first sight +it was Dick Moore, though he had a big beard. Captain +Jim got it shaved off and then there was no +doubt--Dick Moore it was--his body at least. His mind +wasn't there--as for his soul, in my opinion he never +had one!" + +"What had happened to him?" + +"Nobody knows the rights of it. All the folks who kept +the boarding house could tell was that about a year +before they had found him lying on their doorstep one +morning in an awful condition--his head battered to a +jelly almost. They supposed he'd got hurt in some +drunken row, and likely that's the truth of it. They +took him in, never thinking he could live. But he +did--and he was just like a child when he got well. +He hadn't memory or intellect or reason. They tried to +find out who he was but they never could. He couldn't +even tell them his name--he could only say a few simple +words. He had a letter on him beginning `Dear Dick' +and signed `Leslie,' but there was no address on it and +the envelope was gone. They let him stay on--he +learned to do a few odd jobs about the place--and there +Captain Jim found him. He brought him home-- I've +always said it was a bad day's work, though I s'pose +there was nothing else he could do. He thought maybe +when Dick got home and saw his old surroundings and +familiar faces his memory would wake up. But it hadn't +any effect. There he's been at the house up the brook +ever since. He's just like a child, no more nor less. +Takes fractious spells occasionally, but mostly he's +just vacant and good humored and harmless. He's apt to +run away if he isn't watched. That's the burden +Leslie has had to carry for eleven years--and all +alone. Old Abner Moore died soon after Dick was +brought home and it was found he was almost bankrupt. +When things were settled up there was nothing for +Leslie and Dick but the old West farm. Leslie rented +it to John Ward, and the rent is all she has to live +on. Sometimes in summer she takes a boarder to help +out. But most visitors prefer the other side of the +harbor where the hotels and summer cottages are. +Leslie's house is too far from the bathing shore. +She's taken care of Dick and she's never been away from +him for eleven years--she's tied to that imbecile for +life. And after all the dreams and hopes she once had! +You can imagine what it has been like for her, Anne, +dearie--with her beauty and spirit and pride and +cleverness. It's just been a living death." + +"Poor, poor girl!" said Anne again. Her own happiness +seemed to reproach her. What right had she to be so +happy when another human soul must be so miserable? + +"Will you tell me just what Leslie said and how she +acted the night you met her on the shore?" asked Miss +Cornelia. + +She listened intently and nodded her satisfaction. + +"YOU thought she was stiff and cold, Anne, dearie, but +I can tell you she thawed out wonderful for her. She +must have taken to you real strong. I'm so glad. You +may be able to help her a good deal. I was thankful +when I heard that a young couple was coming to this +house, for I hoped it would mean some friends for +Leslie; especially if you belonged to the race that +knows Joseph. You WILL be her friend, won't you, Anne, +dearie?" + +"Indeed I will, if she'll let me," said Anne, with all +her own sweet, impulsive earnestness. + +"No, you must be her friend, whether she'll let you or +not," said Miss Cornelia resolutely. "Don't you mind +if she's stiff by times-- don't notice it. Remember +what her life has been--and is--and must always be, I +suppose, for creatures like Dick Moore live forever, I +understand. You should see how fat he's got since he +came home. He used to be lean enough. Just MAKE her +be friends--you can do it--you're one of those who have +the knack. Only you mustn't be sensitive. And don't +mind if she doesn't seem to want you to go over there +much. She knows that some women don't like to be where +Dick is--they complain he gives them the creeps. Just +get her to come over here as often as she can. She +can't get away so very much--she can't leave Dick long, +for the Lord knows what he'd do--burn the house down +most likely. At nights, after he's in bed and asleep, +is about the only time she's free. He always goes to +bed early and sleeps like the dead till next morning. +That is how you came to meet her at the shore likely. +She wanders there considerable." + +"I will do everything I can for her," said Anne. Her +interest in Leslie Moore, which had been vivid ever +since she had seen her driving her geese down the hill, +was intensified a thousand fold by Miss Cornelia's +narration. The girl's beauty and sorrow and loneliness +drew her with an irresistible fascination. She had +never known anyone like her; her friends had hitherto +been wholesome, normal, merry girls like herself, with +only the average trials of human care and bereavement +to shadow their girlish dreams. Leslie Moore stood +apart, a tragic, appealing figure of thwarted +womanhood. Anne resolved that she would win entrance +into the kingdom of that lonely soul and find there the +comradeship it could so richly give, were it not for +the cruel fetters that held it in a prison not of its +own making. + +"And mind you this, Anne, dearie," said Miss Cornelia, +who had not yet wholly relieved her mind, "You mustn't +think Leslie is an infidel because she hardly ever goes +to church--or even that she's a Methodist. She can't +take Dick to church, of course--not that he ever +troubled church much in his best days. But you just +remember that she's a real strong Presbyterian at +heart, Anne, dearie." + + + +CHAPTER 12 + +LESLIE COMES OVER + +Leslie came over to the house of dreams one frosty +October night, when moonlit mists were hanging over the +harbor and curling like silver ribbons along the +seaward glens. She looked as if she repented coming +when Gilbert answered her knock; but Anne flew past +him, pounced on her, and drew her in. + +"I'm so glad you picked tonight for a call," she said +gaily. "I made up a lot of extra good fudge this +afternoon and we want someone to help us eat it--before +the fire--while we tell stories. Perhaps Captain Jim +will drop in, too. This is his night." + +"No. Captain Jim is over home," said Leslie. "He--he +made me come here," she added, half defiantly. + +"I'll say a thank-you to him for that when I see him," +said Anne, pulling easy chairs before the fire. + +"Oh, I don't mean that I didn't want to come," +protested Leslie, flushing a little. "I--I've been +thinking of coming--but it isn't always easy for me to +get away." + +"Of course it must be hard for you to leave Mr. +Moore," said Anne, in a matter-of-fact tone. She had +decided that it would be best to mention Dick Moore +occasionally as an accepted fact, and not give undue +morbidness to the subject by avoiding it. She was +right, for Leslie's air of constraint suddenly +vanished. Evidently she had been wondering how much +Anne knew of the conditions of her life and was +relieved that no explanations were needed. She allowed +her cap and jacket to be taken, and sat down with a +girlish snuggle in the big armchair by Magog. She was +dressed prettily and carefully, with the customary +touch of color in the scarlet geranium at her white +throat. Her beautiful hair gleamed like molten gold in +the warm firelight. Her sea-blue eyes were full of +soft laughter and allurement. For the moment, under the +influence of the little house of dreams, she was a +girl again--a girl forgetful of the past and its +bitterness. The atmosphere of the many loves that had +sanctified the little house was all about her; the +companionship of two healthy, happy, young folks of +her own generation encircled her; she felt and yielded +to the magic of her surroundings--Miss Cornelia and +Captain Jim would scarcely have recognized her; Anne +found it hard to believe that this was the cold, +unresponsive woman she had met on the shore--this +animated girl who talked and listened with the +eagerness of a starved soul. And how hungrily Leslie's +eyes looked at the bookcases between the windows! + +"Our library isn't very extensive," said Anne, "but +every book in it is a FRIEND. We've picked our books +up through the years, here and there, never buying one +until we had first read it and knew that it belonged to +the race of Joseph." + +Leslie laughed--beautiful laughter that seemed akin to +all the mirth that had echoed through the little house +in the vanished years. + +"I have a few books of father's--not many," she said. +"I've read them until I know them almost by heart. I +don't get many books. There's a circulating library at +the Glen store--but I don't think the committee who +pick the books for Mr. Parker know what books are of +Joseph's race--or perhaps they don't care. It was so +seldom I got one I really liked that I gave up getting +any." + +"I hope you'll look on our bookshelves as your own," +said Anne. + +"You are entirely and wholeheartedly welcome to the +loan of any book on them." + +"You are setting a feast of fat things before me," +said Leslie, joyously. Then, as the clock struck ten, +she rose, half unwillingly. + +"I must go. I didn't realise it was so late. Captain +Jim is always saying it doesn't take long to stay an +hour. But I've stayed two--and oh, but I've enjoyed +them," she added frankly. + +"Come often," said Anne and Gilbert. They had risen +and stood together in the firelight's glow. Leslie +looked at them--youthful, hopeful, happy, typifying all +she had missed and must forever miss. The light went +out of her face and eyes; the girl vanished; it was the +sorrowful, cheated woman who answered the invitation +almost coldly and got herself away with a pitiful +haste. + +Anne watched her until she was lost in the shadows of +the chill and misty night. Then she turned slowly back +to the glow of her own radiant hearthstone. + +"Isn't she lovely, Gilbert? Her hair fascinates me. +Miss Cornelia says it reaches to her feet. Ruby Gillis +had beautiful hair--but Leslie's is ALIVE--every thread +of it is living gold." + +"She is very beautiful," agreed Gilbert, so heartily +that Anne almost wished he were a LITTLE less +enthusiastic. + +"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like +Leslie's?" she asked wistfully. + +"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it +is for the world," said Gilbert, with one or two +convincing accompaniments. + +You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair--or hair of +any color but"-- + +"Red," said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction. + +"Yes, red--to give warmth to that milk-white skin and +those shining gray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair +wouldn't suit you at all Queen Anne--MY Queen +Anne--queen of my heart and life and home." + +"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like," said Anne +magnanimously. + + + +CHAPTER 13 + +A GHOSTLY EVENING + +One evening, a week later, Anne decided to run over the +fields to the house up the brook for an informal call. +It was an evening of gray fog that had crept in from +the gulf, swathed the harbor, filled the glens and +valleys, and clung heavily to the autumnal meadows. +Through it the sea sobbed and shuddered. Anne saw Four +Winds in a new aspect, and found it weird and +mysterious and fascinating; but it also gave her a +little feeling of loneliness. Gilbert was away and +would be away until the morrow, attending a medical +pow-wow in Charlottetown. Anne longed for an hour of +fellowship with some girl friend. Captain Jim and Miss +Cornelia were "good fellows" each, in their own way; +but youth yearned to youth. + +"If only Diana or Phil or Pris or Stella could drop in +for a chat," she said to herself, "how delightful it +would be! This is such a GHOSTLY night. I'm sure all +the ships that ever sailed out of Four Winds to their +doom could be seen tonight sailing up the harbor with +their drowned crews on their decks, if that shrouding +fog could suddenly be drawn aside. I feel as if it +concealed innumerable mysteries--as if I were +surrounded by the wraiths of old generations of Four +Winds people peering at me through that gray veil. If +ever the dear dead ladies of this little house came +back to revisit it they would come on just such a night +as this. If I sit here any longer I'll see one of them +there opposite me in Gilbert's chair. This place isn't +exactly canny tonight. Even Gog and Magog have an air +of pricking up their ears to hear the footsteps of +unseen guests. I'll run over to see Leslie before I +frighten myself with my own fancies, as I did long ago +in the matter of the Haunted Wood. I'll leave my house +of dreams to welcome back its old inhabitants. My fire +will give them my good-will and greeting--they will be +gone before I come back, and my house will be mine once +more. Tonight I am sure it is keeping a tryst with the +past." + +Laughing a little over her fancy, yet with something of +a creepy sensation in the region of her spine, Anne +kissed her hand to Gog and Magog and slipped out into +the fog, with some of the new magazines under her arm +for Leslie. + +"Leslie's wild for books and magazines," Miss Cornelia +had told her, "and she hardly ever sees one. She can't +afford to buy them or subscribe for them. She's really +pitifully poor, Anne. I don't see how she makes out to +live at all on the little rent the farm brings in. +She never even hints a complaint on the score of +poverty, but I know what it must be. She's been +handicapped by it all her life. She didn't mind it +when she was free and ambitious, but it must gall now, +believe ME. I'm glad she seemed so bright and merry +the evening she spent with you. Captain Jim told me he +had fairly to put her cap and coat on and push her out +of the door. Don't be too long going to see her +either. If you are she'll think it's because you don't +like the sight of Dick, and she'll crawl into her shell +again. Dick's a great, big, harmless baby, but that +silly grin and chuckle of his do get on some people's +nerves. Thank goodness, I've no nerves myself. I like +Dick Moore better now than I ever did when he was in +his right senses--though the Lord knows that isn't +saying much. I was down there one day in housecleaning +time helping Leslie a bit, and I was frying doughnuts. +Dick was hanging round to get one, as usual, and all at +once he picked up a scalding hot one I'd just fished +out and dropped it on the back of my neck when I was +bending over. Then he laughed and laughed. Believe +ME, Anne, it took all the grace of God in my heart to +keep me from just whisking up that stew-pan of boiling +fat and pouring it over his head." + +Anne laughed over Miss Cornelia's wrath as she sped +through the darkness. But laughter accorded ill with +that night. She was sober enough when she reached the +house among the willows. Everything was very silent. +The front part of the house seemed dark and deserted, +so Anne slipped round to the side door, which opened +from the veranda into a little sitting room. There she +halted noiselessly. + +The door was open. Beyond, in the dimly lighted room, +sat Leslie Moore, with her arms flung out on the table +and her head bent upon them. She was weeping +horribly--with low, fierce, choking sobs, as if some +agony in her soul were trying to tear itself out. An +old black dog was sitting by her, his nose resting on +his lap, his big doggish eyes full of mute, imploring +sympathy and devotion. Anne drew back in dismay. She +felt that she could not intermeddle with this +bitterness. Her heart ached with a sympathy she might +not utter. To go in now would be to shut the door +forever on any possible help or friendship. Some +instinct warned Anne that the proud, bitter girl would +never forgive the one who thus surprised her in her +abandonment of despair. + +Anne slipped noiselessly from the veranda and found her +way across the yard. Beyond, she heard voices in the +gloom and saw the dim glow of a light. At the gate she +met two men--Captain Jim with a lantern, and another +who she knew must be Dick Moore--a big man, badly gone +to fat, with a broad, round, red face, and vacant eyes. +Even in the dull light Anne got the impression that +there was something unusual about his eyes. + +"Is this you, Mistress Blythe?" said Captain Jim. +"Now, now, you hadn't oughter be roaming about alone on +a night like this. You could get lost in this fog +easier than not. Jest you wait till I see Dick safe +inside the door and I'll come back and light you over +the fields. I ain't going to have Dr. Blythe coming +home and finding that you walked clean over Cape +Leforce in the fog. A woman did that once, forty years +ago. + +"So you've been over to see Leslie," he said, when he +rejoined her. + +"I didn't go in," said Anne, and told what she had +seen. Captain Jim sighed. + +"Poor, poor, little girl! She don't cry often, +Mistress Blythe-- she's too brave for that. She must +feel terrible when she does cry. A night like this is +hard on poor women who have sorrows. There's +something about it that kinder brings up all we've +suffered--or feared." + +"It's full of ghosts," said Anne, with a shiver. +"That was why I came over--I wanted to clasp a human +hand and hear a human voice. + +There seem to be so many INHUMAN presences about +tonight. Even my own dear house was full of them. +They fairly elbowed me out. So I fled over here for +companionship of my kind." + +"You were right not to go in, though, Mistress Blythe. +Leslie wouldn't have liked it. She wouldn't have liked +me going in with Dick, as I'd have done if I hadn't met +you. I had Dick down with me all day. I keep him with +me as much as I can to help Leslie a bit." + +"Isn't there something odd about his eyes?" asked +Anne. + +"You noticed that? Yes, one is blue and t'other is +hazel--his father had the same. It's a Moore +peculiarity. That was what told me he was Dick Moore +when I saw him first down in Cuby. If it hadn't a-bin +for his eyes I mightn't a-known him, with his beard and +fat. You know, I reckon, that it was me found him and +brought him home. Miss Cornelia always says I +shouldn't have done it, but I can't agree with her. It +was the RIGHT thing to do--and so 'twas the only thing. +There ain't no question in my mind about THAT. But my +old heart aches for Leslie. She's only twenty-eight +and she's eaten more bread with sorrow than most women +do in eighty years." + +They walked on in silence for a little while. +Presently Anne said, "Do you know, Captain Jim, I never +like walking with a lantern. I have always the +strangest feeling that just outside the circle of +light, just over its edge in the darkness, I am +surrounded by a ring of furtive, sinister things, +watching me from the shadows with hostile eyes. I've +had that feeling from childhood. What is the reason? +I never feel like that when I'm really in the +darkness--when it is close all around me--I'm not the +least frightened." + +"I've something of that feeling myself," admitted +Captain Jim. "I reckon when the darkness is close to +us it is a friend. But when we sorter push it away +from us--divorce ourselves from it, so to speak, with +lantern light--it becomes an enemy. But the fog is +lifting. + +There's a smart west wind rising, if you notice. The +stars will be out when you get home." + +They were out; and when Anne re-entered her house of +dreams the red embers were still glowing on the hearth, +and all the haunting presences were gone. + + + +CHAPTER 14 + +NOVEMBER DAYS + +The splendor of color which had glowed for weeks along +the shores of Four Winds Harbor had faded out into the +soft gray-blue of late autumnal hills. There came many +days when fields and shores were dim with misty rain, +or shivering before the breath of a melancholy +sea-wind--nights, too, of storm and tempest, when Anne +sometimes wakened to pray that no ship might be beating +up the grim north shore, for if it were so not even the +great, faithful light whirling through the darkness +unafraid, could avail to guide it into safe haven. + +"In November I sometimes feel as if spring could never +come again," she sighed, grieving over the hopeless +unsightliness of her frosted and bedraggled +flower-plots. The gay little garden of the +schoolmaster's bride was rather a forlorn place now, +and the Lombardies and birches were under bare poles, +as Captain Jim said. But the fir-wood behind the +little house was forever green and staunch; and even in +November and December there came gracious days of +sunshine and purple hazes, when the harbor danced and +sparkled as blithely as in midsummer, and the gulf was +so softly blue and tender that the storm and the wild +wind seemed only things of a long-past dream. + +Anne and Gilbert spent many an autumn evening at the +lighthouse. It was always a cheery place. Even when +the east wind sang in minor and the sea was dead and +gray, hints of sunshine seemed to be lurking all about +it. Perhaps this was because the First Mate always +paraded it in panoply of gold. He was so large and +effulgent that one hardly missed the sun, and his +resounding purrs formed a pleasant accompaniment to +the laughter and conversation which went on around +Captain Jim's fireplace. Captain Jim and Gilbert had +many long discussions and high converse on matters +beyond the ken of cat or king. + +"I like to ponder on all kinds of problems, though I +can't solve 'em," said Captain Jim. "My father held +that we should never talk of things we couldn't +understand, but if we didn't, doctor, the subjects for +conversation would be mighty few. I reckon the gods +laugh many a time to hear us, but what matters so long +as we remember that we're only men and don't take to +fancying that we're gods ourselves, really, knowing +good and evil. I reckon our pow- wows won't do us or +anyone much harm, so let's have another whack at the +whence, why and whither this evening, doctor." + +While they "whacked," Anne listened or dreamed. +Sometimes Leslie went to the lighthouse with them, and +she and Anne wandered along the shore in the eerie +twilight, or sat on the rocks below the lighthouse +until the darkness drove them back to the cheer of the +driftwood fire. Then Captain Jim would brew them tea +and tell them + + "tales of land and sea And whatsoever might +betide The great forgotten world outside." + + Leslie seemed always to enjoy those lighthouse +carousals very much, and bloomed out for the time being +into ready wit and beautiful laughter, or glowing-eyed +silence. There was a certain tang and savor in the +conversation when Leslie was present which they missed +when she was absent. Even when she did not talk she +seemed to inspire others to brilliancy. Captain Jim +told his stories better, Gilbert was quicker in +argument and repartee, Anne felt little gushes and +trickles of fancy and imagination bubbling to her lips +under the influence of Leslie's personality. + +"That girl was born to be a leader in social and +intellectual circles, far away from Four Winds," she +said to Gilbert as they walked home one night. "She's +just wasted here--wasted." + +"Weren't you listening to Captain Jim and yours truly +the other night when we discussed that subject +generally? We came to the comforting conclusion that +the Creator probably knew how to run His universe quite +as well as we do, and that, after all, there are no +such things as `wasted' lives, saving and except when +an individual wilfully squanders and wastes his own +life--which Leslie Moore certainly hasn't done. And +some people might think that a Redmond B.A., whom +editors were beginning to honor, was `wasted' as the +wife of a struggling country doctor in the rural +community of Four Winds." + +"Gilbert!" + +"If you had married Roy Gardner, now," continued +Gilbert mercilessly, "YOU could have been `a leader in +social and intellectual circles far away from Four +Winds.'" + +"Gilbert BLYTHE!" + +"You KNOW you were in love with him at one time, +Anne." + +"Gilbert, that's mean--`pisen mean, just like all the +men,' as Miss Cornelia says. I NEVER was in love with +him. I only imagined I was. YOU know that. You KNOW +I'd rather be your wife in our house of dreams and +fulfillment than a queen in a palace." + +Gilbert's answer was not in words; but I am afraid that +both of them forgot poor Leslie speeding her lonely way +across the fields to a house that was neither a palace +nor the fulfillment of a dream. + +The moon was rising over the sad, dark sea behind them +and transfiguring it. Her light had not yet reached +the harbor, the further side of which was shadowy and +suggestive, with dim coves and rich glooms and +jewelling lights. + +"How the home lights shine out tonight through the +dark!" said Anne. "That string of them over the +harbor looks like a necklace. And what a coruscation +there is up at the Glen! Oh, look, Gilbert; there is +ours. I'm so glad we left it burning. I hate to come +home to a dark house. OUR homelight, Gilbert! Isn't +it lovely to see?" + +"Just one of earth's many millions of homes, +Anne--girl--but ours-- OURS--our beacon in `a naughty +world.' When a fellow has a home and a dear, little, +red-haired wife in it what more need he ask of life?" + +"Well, he might ask ONE thing more," whispered Anne +happily. "Oh, Gilbert, it seems as if I just COULDN'T +wait for the spring." + + + +CHAPTER 15 + +CHRISTMAS AT FOUR WINDS + +At first Anne and Gilbert talked of going home to +Avonlea for Christmas; but eventually they decided to +stay in Four Winds. "I want to spend the first +Christmas of our life together in our own home," +decreed Anne. + +So it fell out that Marilla and Mrs. Rachel Lynde and +the twins came to Four Winds for Christmas. Marilla +had the face of a woman who had circumnavigated the +globe. She had never been sixty miles away from home +before; and she had never eaten a Christmas dinner +anywhere save at Green Gables. + +Mrs. Rachel had made and brought with her an enormous +plum pudding. Nothing could have convinced Mrs. Rachel +that a college graduate of the younger generation could +make a Christmas plum pudding properly; but she +bestowed approval on Anne's house. + +"Anne's a good housekeeper," she said to Marilla in +the spare room the night of their arrival. "I've +looked into her bread box and her scrap pail. I always +judge a housekeeper by those, that's what. There's +nothing in the pail that shouldn't have been thrown +away, and no stale pieces in the bread box. Of course, +she was trained up with you--but, then, she went to +college afterwards. I notice she's got my tobacco +stripe quilt on the bed here, and that big round +braided mat of yours before her living-room fire. It +makes me feel right at home." + +Anne's first Christmas in her own house was as +delightful as she could have wished. The day was fine +and bright; the first skim of snow had fallen on +Christmas Eve and made the world beautiful; the harbor +was still open and glittering. + +Captain Jim and Miss Cornelia came to dinner. Leslie +and Dick had been invited, but Leslie made excuse; they +always went to her Uncle Isaac West's for Christmas, +she said. + +"She'd rather have it so," Miss Cornelia told Anne. +"She can't bear taking Dick where there are strangers. +Christmas is always a hard time for Leslie. She and +her father used to make a lot of it." + +Miss Cornelia and Mrs. Rachel did not take a very +violent fancy to each other. "Two suns hold not their +courses in one sphere." But they did not clash at +all, for Mrs. Rachel was in the kitchen helping Anne +and Marilla with the dinner, and it fell to Gilbert to +entertain Captain Jim and Miss Cornelia,--or rather to +be entertained by them, for a dialogue between those +two old friends and antagonists was assuredly never +dull. + +"It's many a year since there was a Christmas dinner +here, Mistress Blythe," said Captain Jim. "Miss +Russell always went to her friends in town for +Christmas. But I was here to the first Christmas +dinner that was ever eaten in this house--and the +schoolmaster's bride cooked it. That was sixty years +ago today, Mistress Blythe--and a day very like +this--just enough snow to make the hills white, and the +harbor as blue as June. I was only a lad, and I'd +never been invited out to dinner before, and I was too +shy to eat enough. I've got all over THAT." + +"Most men do," said Miss Cornelia, sewing furiously. +Miss Cornelia was not going to sit with idle hands, +even on Christmas. + +Babies come without any consideration for holidays, and +there was one expected in a poverty-stricken household +at Glen St. Mary. Miss Cornelia had sent that +household a substantial dinner for its little swarm, +and so meant to eat her own with a comfortable +conscience. + +"Well, you know, the way to a man's heart is through +his stomach, Cornelia," explained Captain Jim. + +"I believe you--when he HAS a heart," retorted Miss +Cornelia. "I suppose that's why so many women kill +themselves cooking--just as poor Amelia Baxter did. +She died last Christmas morning, and she said it was +the first Christmas since she was married that she +didn't have to cook a big, twenty-plate dinner. It +must have been a real pleasant change for her. Well, +she's been dead a year, so you'll soon hear of Horace +Baxter taking notice." + +"I heard he was taking notice already," said Captain +Jim, winking at Gilbert. "Wasn't he up to your place +one Sunday lately, with his funeral blacks on, and a +boiled collar?" + +"No, he wasn't. And he needn't come neither. I could +have had him long ago when he was fresh. I don't want +any second-hand goods, believe ME. As for Horace +Baxter, he was in financial difficulties a year ago +last summer, and he prayed to the Lord for help; and +when his wife died and he got her life insurance he +said he believed it was the answer to his prayer. +Wasn't that like a man?" + +"Have you really proof that he said that, Cornelia?" + +"I have the Methodist minister's word for it--if you +call THAT proof. Robert Baxter told me the same thing +too, but I admit THAT isn't evidence. Robert Baxter +isn't often known to tell the truth." + +"Come, come, Cornelia, I think he generally tells the +truth, but he changes his opinion so often it sometimes +sounds as if he didn't." + +"It sounds like it mighty often, believe ME. But trust +one man to excuse another. I have no use for Robert +Baxter. He turned Methodist just because the +Presbyterian choir happened to be singing `Behold the +bridegroom cometh' for a collection piece when him and +Margaret walked up the aisle the Sunday after they were +married. Served him right for being late! He always +insisted the choir did it on purpose to insult him, as +if he was of that much importance. But that family +always thought they were much bigger potatoes than they +really were. His brother Eliphalet imagined the devil +was always at his elbow--but _I_ never believed the +devil wasted that much time on him." + +"I--don't--know," said Captain Jim thoughtfully. +"Eliphalet Baxter lived too much alone--hadn't even a +cat or dog to keep him human. When a man is alone he's +mighty apt to be with the devil--if he ain't with God. +He has to choose which company he'll keep, I reckon. +If the devil always was at Life Baxter's elbow it must +have been because Life liked to have him there." + +"Man-like," said Miss Cornelia, and subsided into +silence over a complicated arrangement of tucks until +Captain Jim deliberately stirred her up again by +remarking in a casual way: + +"I was up to the Methodist church last Sunday +morning." + +"You'd better have been home reading your Bible," was +Miss Cornelia's retort. + +"Come, now, Cornelia, _I_ can't see any harm in going +to the Methodist church when there's no preaching in +your own. I've been a Presbyterian for seventy-six +years, and it isn't likely my theology will hoist +anchor at this late day." + +"It's setting a bad example," said Miss Cornelia +grimly. + +"Besides," continued wicked Captain Jim, "I wanted to +hear some good singing. The Methodists have a good +choir; and you can't deny, Cornelia, that the singing +in our church is awful since the split in the choir." + +"What if the singing isn't good? They're doing their +best, and God sees no difference between the voice of a +crow and the voice of a nightingale." + +"Come, come, Cornelia," said Captain Jim mildly, "I've +a better opinion of the Almighty's ear for music than +THAT." + +"What caused the trouble in our choir?" asked Gilbert, +who was suffering from suppressed laughter. + +"It dates back to the new church, three years ago," +answered Captain Jim. "We had a fearful time over the +building of that church--fell out over the question of +a new site. The two sites wasn't more'n two hundred +yards apart, but you'd have thought they was a thousand +by the bitterness of that fight. We was split up into +three factions--one wanted the east site and one the +south, and one held to the old. It was fought out in +bed and at board, and in church and at market. All +the old scandals of three generations were dragged out +of their graves and aired. Three matches was broken up +by it. And the meetings we had to try to settle the +question! Cornelia, will you ever forget the one when +old Luther Burns got up and made a speech? HE stated +his opinions forcibly." + +"Call a spade a spade, Captain. You mean he got +red-mad and raked them all, fore and aft. They +deserved it too--a pack of incapables. But what would +you expect of a committee of men? That building +committee held twenty-seven meetings, and at the end of +the twenty-seventh weren't no nearer having a church +than when they begun--not so near, for a fact, for in +one fit of hurrying things along they'd gone to work +and tore the old church down, so there we were, +without a church, and no place but the hall to worship +in." + +"The Methodists offered us their church, Cornelia." + +"The Glen St. Mary church wouldn't have been built to +this day," went on Miss Cornelia, ignoring Captain +Jim, "if we women hadn't just started in and took +charge. We said WE meant to have a church, if the men +meant to quarrel till doomsday, and we were tired of +being a laughing-stock for the Methodists. We held ONE +meeting and elected a committee and canvassed for +subscriptions. We got them, too. When any of the men +tried to sass us we told them they'd tried for two +years to build a church and it was our turn now. We +shut them up close, believe ME, and in six months we +had our church. Of course, when the men saw we were +determined they stopped fighting and went to work, +man-like, as soon as they saw they had to, or quit +bossing. Oh, women can't preach or be elders; but they +can build churches and scare up the money for them." + +"The Methodists allow women to preach," said Captain +Jim. + +Miss Cornelia glared at him. + +"I never said the Methodists hadn't common sense, +Captain. What I say is, I doubt if they have much +religion." + +"I suppose you are in favor of votes for women, Miss +Cornelia," said Gilbert. + +"I'm not hankering after the vote, believe ME," said +Miss Cornelia scornfully. "_I_ know what it is to +clean up after the men. But some of these days, when +the men realize they've got the world into a mess they +can't get it out of, they'll be glad to give us the +vote, and shoulder their troubles over on us. That's +THEIR scheme. Oh, it's well that women are patient, +believe ME!" + +"What about Job?" suggested Captain Jim. + +"Job! It was such a rare thing to find a patient man +that when one was really discovered they were +determined he shouldn't be forgotten," retorted Miss +Cornelia triumphantly. "Anyhow, the virtue doesn't go +with the name. There never was such an impatient man +born as old Job Taylor over harbor." + +"Well, you know, he had a good deal to try him, +Cornelia. Even you can't defend his wife. I always +remember what old William MacAllister said of her at +her funeral, `There's nae doot she was a Chreestian +wumman, but she had the de'il's own temper.'" + +"I suppose she WAS trying," admitted Miss Cornelia +reluctantly, "but that didn't justify what Job said +when she died. He rode home from the graveyard the day +of the funeral with my father. He never said a word +till they got near home. Then he heaved a big sigh and +said, `You may not believe it, Stephen, but this is the +happiest day of my life!' Wasn't that like a man?" + +"I s'pose poor old Mrs. Job did make life kinder uneasy +for him," reflected Captain Jim. + +"Well, there's such a thing as decency, isn't there? +Even if a man is rejoicing in his heart over his wife +being dead, he needn't proclaim it to the four winds of +heaven. And happy day or not, Job Taylor wasn't long +in marrying again, you might notice. His second wife +could manage him. She made him walk Spanish, believe +me! The first thing she did was to make him hustle +round and put up a tombstone to the first Mrs. +Job--and she had a place left on it for her own name. +She said there'd be nobody to make Job put up a +monument to HER." + +"Speaking of Taylors, how is Mrs. Lewis Taylor up at +the Glen, doctor?" asked Captain Jim. + +"She's getting better slowly--but she has to work too +hard," replied Gilbert. + +"Her husband works hard too--raising prize pigs," said +Miss Cornelia. "He's noted for his beautiful pigs. +He's a heap prouder of his pigs than of his children. +But then, to be sure, his pigs are the best pigs +possible, while his children don't amount to much. He +picked a poor mother for them, and starved her while +she was bearing and rearing them. His pigs got the +cream and his children got the skim milk. + +"There are times, Cornelia, when I have to agree with +you, though it hurts me," said Captain Jim. "That's +just exactly the truth about Lewis Taylor. When I see +those poor, miserable children of his, robbed of all +children ought to have, it p'isens my own bite and sup +for days afterwards." + +Gilbert went out to the kitchen in response to Anne's +beckoning. Anne shut the door and gave him a connubial +lecture. + +"Gilbert, you and Captain Jim must stop baiting Miss +Cornelia. Oh, I've been listening to you--and I just +won't allow it." + +`Anne, Miss Cornelia is enjoying herself hugely. You +know she is.' + +"Well, never mind. You two needn't egg her on like +that. Dinner is ready now, and, Gilbert, DON'T let +Mrs. Rachel carve the geese. I know she means to offer +to do it because she doesn't think you can do it +properly. Show her you can." + +"I ought to be able to. I've been studying A-B-C-D +diagrams of carving for the past month," said Gilbert. +"Only don't talk to me while I'm doing it, Anne, for if +you drive the letters out of my head I'll be in a worse +predicament than you were in old geometry days when +the teacher changed them." + +Gilbert carved the geese beautifully. Even Mrs. Rachel +had to admit that. And everybody ate of them and +enjoyed them. Anne's first Christmas dinner was a +great success and she beamed with housewifely pride. +Merry was the feast and long; and when it was over they +gathered around the cheer of the red hearth flame and +Captain Jim told them stories until the red sun swung +low over Four Winds Harbor, and the long blue shadows +of the Lombardies fell across the snow in the lane. + +"I must be getting back to the light," he said +finally. "I'll jest have time to walk home before +sundown. Thank you for a beautiful Christmas, Mistress +Blythe. Bring Master Davy down to the light some +night before he goes home. + +"I want to see those stone gods," said Davy with a +relish. + + + +CHAPTER 16 + +NEW YEAR'S EVE AT THE LIGHT + +The Green Gables folk went home after Christmas, +Marilla under solemn covenant to return for a month in +the spring. More snow came before New Year's, and the +harbor froze over, but the gulf still was free, beyond +the white, imprisoned fields. The last day of the old +year was one of those bright, cold, dazzling winter +days, which bombard us with their brilliancy, and +command our admiration but never our love. The sky was +sharp and blue; the snow diamonds sparkled insistently; +the stark trees were bare and shameless, with a kind of +brazen beauty; the hills shot assaulting lances of +crystal. Even the shadows were sharp and stiff and +clear-cut, as no proper shadows should be. Everything +that was handsome seemed ten times handsomer and less +attractive in the glaring splendor; and everything that +was ugly seemed ten times uglier, and everything was +either handsome or ugly. There was no soft blending, +or kind obscurity, or elusive mistiness in that +searching glitter. The only things that held their own +individuality were the firs--for the fir is the tree of +mystery and shadow, and yields never to the +encroachments of crude radiance. + +But finally the day began to realise that she was +growing old. Then a certain pensiveness fell over her +beauty which dimmed yet intensified it; sharp angles, +glittering points, melted away into curves and +enticing gleams. The white harbor put on soft grays +and pinks; the far-away hills turned amethyst. + +"The old year is going away beautifully," said Anne. + +She and Leslie and Gilbert were on their way to the +Four Winds Point, having plotted with Captain Jim to +watch the New Year in at the light. The sun had set +and in the southwestern sky hung Venus, glorious and +golden, having drawn as near to her earth-sister as is +possible for her. For the first time Anne and Gilbert +saw the shadow cast by that brilliant star of evening, +that faint, mysterious shadow, never seen save when +there is white snow to reveal it, and then only with +averted vision, vanishing when you gaze at it directly. + +"It's like the spirit of a shadow, isn't it?" +whispered Anne. "You can see it so plainly haunting +your side when you look ahead; but when you turn and +look at it--it's gone." + +"I have heard that you can see the shadow of Venus only +once in a lifetime, and that within a year of seeing it +your life's most wonderful gift will come to you," +said Leslie. But she spoke rather hardly; perhaps she +thought that even the shadow of Venus could bring her +no gift of life. Anne smiled in the soft twilight; she +felt quite sure what the mystic shadow promised her. + +They found Marshall Elliott at the lighthouse. At +first Anne felt inclined to resent the intrusion of +this long-haired, long-bearded eccentric into the +familiar little circle. But Marshall Elliott soon +proved his legitimate claim to membership in the +household of Joseph. He was a witty, intelligent, +well-read man, rivalling Captain Jim himself in the +knack of telling a good story. They were all glad when +he agreed to watch the old year out with them. + +Captain Jim's small nephew Joe had come down to spend +New Year's with his great-uncle, and had fallen asleep +on the sofa with the First Mate curled up in a huge +golden ball at his feet. + +"Ain't he a dear little man?" said Captain Jim +gloatingly. "I do love to watch a little child asleep, +Mistress Blythe. It's the most beautiful sight in the +world, I reckon. Joe does love to get down here for a +night, because I have him sleep with me. At home he +has to sleep with the other two boys, and he doesn't +like it. "Why can't I sleep with father, Uncle Jim?" +says he. `Everybody in the Bible slept with their +fathers.' As for the questions he asks, the minister +himself couldn't answer them. They fair swamp me. +`Uncle Jim, if I wasn't ME who'd I be?' and, `Uncle +Jim, what would happen if God died?' He fired them two +off at me tonight, afore he went to sleep. As for his +imagination, it sails away from everything. He makes +up the most remarkable yarns--and then his mother shuts +him up in the closet for telling stories . And he sits +down and makes up another one, and has it ready to +relate to her when she lets him out. He had one for me +when he come down tonight. `Uncle Jim,' says he, +solemn as a tombstone, `I had a 'venture in the Glen +today.' `Yes, what was it?' says I, expecting +something quite startling, but nowise prepared for +what I really got. `I met a wolf in the street,' says +he, `a 'normous wolf with a big, red mouf and AWFUL +long teeth, Uncle Jim.' `I didn't know there was any +wolves up at the Glen,' says I. `Oh, he comed there +from far, far away,' says Joe, `and I fought he was +going to eat me up, Uncle Jim.' `Were you scared?' +says I. `No, 'cause I had a big gun,' says Joe, `and I +shot the wolf dead, Uncle Jim,--solid dead--and then +he went up to heaven and bit God,' says he. Well, I +was fair staggered, Mistress Blythe." + +The hours bloomed into mirth around the driftwood fire. +Captain Jim told tales, and Marshall Elliott sang old +Scotch ballads in a fine tenor voice; finally Captain +Jim took down his old brown fiddle from the wall and +began to play. He had a tolerable knack of fiddling, +which all appreciated save the First Mate, who sprang +from the sofa as if he had been shot, emitted a shriek +of protest, and fled wildly up the stairs. + +"Can't cultivate an ear for music in that cat nohow," +said Captain Jim. "He won't stay long enough to learn +to like it. When we got the organ up at the Glen +church old Elder Richards bounced up from his seat the +minute the organist began to play and scuttled down the +aisle and out of the church at the rate of +no-man's-business. It reminded me so strong of the +First Mate tearing loose as soon as I begin to fiddle +that I come nearer to laughing out loud in church than +I ever did before or since." + +There was something so infectious in the rollicking +tunes which Captain Jim played that very soon Marshall +Elliott's feet began to twitch. He had been a noted +dancer in his youth. Presently he started up and held +out his hands to Leslie. Instantly she responded. +Round and round the firelit room they circled with a +rhythmic grace that was wonderful. Leslie danced like +one inspired; the wild, sweet abandon of the music +seemed to have entered into and possessed her. Anne +watched her in fascinated admiration. She had never +seen her like this. All the innate richness and color +and charm of her nature seemed to have broken loose and +overflowed in crimson cheek and glowing eye and grace +of motion. Even the aspect of Marshall Elliott, with +his long beard and hair, could not spoil the picture. +On the contrary, it seemed to enhance it. Marshall +Elliott looked like a Viking of elder days, dancing +with one of the blue-eyed, golden-haired daughters of +the Northland. + +"The purtiest dancing I ever saw, and I've seen some in +my time," declared Captain Jim, when at last the bow +fell from his tired hand. Leslie dropped into her +chair, laughing, breathless. + +"I love dancing," she said apart to Anne. "I haven't +danced since I was sixteen--but I love it. The music +seems to run through my veins like quicksilver and I +forget everything--everything--except the delight of +keeping time to it. There isn't any floor beneath me, +or walls about me, or roof over me--I'm floating amid +the stars." + +Captain Jim hung his fiddle up in its place, beside a +large frame enclosing several banknotes. + +"Is there anybody else of your acquaintance who can +afford to hang his walls with banknotes for pictures?" +he asked. "There's twenty ten-dollar notes there, not +worth the glass over them. They're old Bank of P. E. +Island notes. Had them by me when the bank failed, and +I had 'em framed and hung up, partly as a reminder not +to put your trust in banks, and partly to give me a +real luxurious, millionairy feeling. Hullo, Matey, +don't be scared. You can come back now. The music and +revelry is over for tonight. The old year has just +another hour to stay with us. I've seen seventy-six +New Years come in over that gulf yonder, Mistress +Blythe." + +"You'll see a hundred," said Marshall Elliott. + +Captain Jim shook his head. + +"No; and I don't want to--at least, I think I don't. +Death grows friendlier as we grow older. Not that one +of us really wants to die though, Marshall. Tennyson +spoke truth when he said that. There's old Mrs. +Wallace up at the Glen. She's had heaps of trouble all +her life, poor soul, and she's lost almost everyone she +cared about. She's always saying that she'll be glad +when her time comes, and she doesn't want to sojourn +any longer in this vale of tears. But when she takes a +sick spell there's a fuss! Doctors from town, and a +trained nurse, and enough medicine to kill a dog. Life +may be a vale of tears, all right, but there are some +folks who enjoy weeping, I reckon." + +They spent the old year's last hour quietly around the +fire. A few minutes before twelve Captain Jim rose and +opened the door. + +"We must let the New Year in," he said. + +Outside was a fine blue night. A sparkling ribbon of +moonlight garlanded the gulf. Inside the bar the +harbor shone like a pavement of pearl. They stood +before the door and waited--Captain Jim with his ripe, +full experience, Marshall Elliott in his vigorous but +empty middle life, Gilbert and Anne with their precious +memories and exquisite hopes, Leslie with her record of +starved years and her hopeless future. The clock on +the little shelf above the fireplace struck twelve. + +"Welcome, New Year," said Captain Jim, bowing low as +the last stroke died away. "I wish you all the best +year of your lives, mates. I reckon that whatever the +New Year brings us will be the best the Great Captain +has for us--and somehow or other we'll all make port in +a good harbor." + + + +CHAPTER 17 + +A FOUR WINDS WINTER + +Winter set in vigorously after New Year's. Big, white +drifts heaped themselves about the little house, and +palms of frost covered its windows. The harbor ice +grew harder and thicker, until the Four Winds people +began their usual winter travelling over it. The safe +ways were "bushed" by a benevolent Government, and +night and day the gay tinkle of the sleigh-bells +sounded on it. On moonlit nights Anne heard them in +her house of dreams like fairy chimes. The gulf froze +over, and the Four Winds light flashed no more. During +the months when navigation was closed Captain Jim's +office was a sinecure. + +"The First Mate and I will have nothing to do till +spring except keep warm and amuse ourselves. The last +lighthouse keeper used always to move up to the Glen in +winter; but I'd rather stay at the Point. The First +Mate might get poisoned or chewed up by dogs at the +Glen. It's a mite lonely, to be sure, with neither the +light nor the water for company, but if our friends +come to see us often we'll weather it through." + +Captain Jim had an ice boat, and many a wild, glorious +spin Gilbert and Anne and Leslie had over the glib +harbor ice with him. Anne and Leslie took long +snowshoe tramps together, too, over the fields, or +across the harbor after storms, or through the woods +beyond the Glen. They were very good comrades in their +rambles and their fireside communings. Each had +something to give the other--each felt life the richer +for friendly exchange of thought and friendly silence; +each looked across the white fields between their homes +with a pleasant consciousness of a friend beyond. But, +in spite of all this, Anne felt that there was always a +barrier between Leslie and herself--a constraint that +never wholly vanished. + +"I don't know why I can't get closer to her," Anne +said one evening to Captain Jim. "I like her so +much--I admire her so much--I WANT to take her right +into my heart and creep right into hers. But I can +never cross the barrier." + +"You've been too happy all your life, Mistress +Blythe," said Captain Jim thoughtfully. "I reckon +that's why you and Leslie can't get real close together +in your souls. The barrier between you is her +experience of sorrow and trouble. She ain't +responsible for it and you ain't; but it's there and +neither of you can cross it." + +"My childhood wasn't very happy before I came to Green +Gables," said Anne, gazing soberly out of the window +at the still, sad, dead beauty of the leafless +tree-shadows on the moonlit snow. + +"Mebbe not--but it was just the usual unhappiness of a +child who hasn't anyone to look after it properly. +There hasn't been any TRAGEDY in your life, Mistress +Blythe. And poor Leslie's has been almost ALL +tragedy. She feels, I reckon, though mebbe she hardly +knows she feels it, that there's a vast deal in her +life you can't enter nor understand--and so she has to +keep you back from it--hold you off, so to speak, from +hurting her. You know if we've got anything about us +that hurts we shrink from anyone's touch on or near it. +It holds good with our souls as well as our bodies, I +reckon. Leslie's soul must be near raw--it's no wonder +she hides it away." + +"If that were really all, I wouldn't mind, Captain Jim. +I would understand. But there are times--not always, +but now and again-- when I almost have to believe that +Leslie doesn't--doesn't like me. Sometimes I surprise +a look in her eyes that seems to show resentment and +dislike--it goes so quickly--but I've seen it, I'm sure +of that. And it hurts me, Captain Jim. I'm not used +to being disliked-- and I've tried so hard to win +Leslie's friendship." + +"You have won it, Mistress Blythe. Don't you go +cherishing any foolish notion that Leslie don't like +you. If she didn't she wouldn't have anything to do +with you, much less chumming with you as she does. I +know Leslie Moore too well not to be sure of that." + +"The first time I ever saw her, driving her geese down +the hill on the day I came to Four Winds, she looked at +me with the same expression," persisted Anne. "I felt +it, even in the midst of my admiration of her beauty. +She looked at me resentfully--she did, indeed, Captain +Jim." + +"The resentment must have been about something else, +Mistress Blythe, and you jest come in for a share of it +because you happened past. Leslie DOES take sullen +spells now and again, poor girl. I can't blame her, +when I know what she has to put up with. I don't know +why it's permitted. The doctor and I have talked a lot +abut the origin of evil, but we haven't quite found out +all about it yet. There's a vast of onunderstandable +things in life, ain't there, Mistress Blythe? +Sometimes things seem to work out real proper-like, +same as with you and the doctor. And then again they +all seem to go catawampus. There's Leslie, so clever +and beautiful you'd think she was meant for a queen, +and instead she's cooped up over there, robbed of +almost everything a woman'd value, with no prospect +except waiting on Dick Moore all her life. Though, +mind you, Mistress Blythe, I daresay she'd choose her +life now, such as it is, rather than the life she +lived with Dick before he went away. THAT'S something +a clumsy old sailor's tongue mustn't meddle with. But +you've helped Leslie a lot--she's a different creature +since you come to Four Winds. Us old friends see the +difference in her, as you can't. Miss Cornelia and me +was talking it over the other day, and it's one of the +mighty few p'ints that we see eye to eye on. So jest +you throw overboard any idea of her not liking you." + +Anne could hardly discard it completely, for there were +undoubtedly times when she felt, with an instinct that +was not to be combated by reason, that Leslie harbored +a queer, indefinable resentment towards her. At times, +this secret consciousness marred the delight of their +comradeship; at others it was almost forgotten; but +Anne always felt the hidden thorn was there, and might +prick her at any moment. She felt a cruel sting from +it on the day when she told Leslie of what she hoped +the spring would bring to the little house of dreams. +Leslie looked at her with hard, bitter, unfriendly +eyes. + +"So you are to have THAT, too," she said in a choked +voice. And without another word she had turned and +gone across the fields homeward. Anne was deeply hurt; +for the moment she felt as if she could never like +Leslie again. But when Leslie came over a few +evenings later she was so pleasant, so friendly, so +frank, and witty, and winsome, that Anne was charmed +into forgiveness and forgetfulness. Only, she never +mentioned her darling hope to Leslie again; nor did +Leslie ever refer to it. But one evening, when late +winter was listening for the word of spring, she came +over to the little house for a twilight chat; and when +she went away she left a small, white box on the table. +Anne found it after she was gone and opened it +wonderingly. In it was a tiny white dress of exquisite +workmanship-- delicate embroidery, wonderful tucking, +sheer loveliness. Every stitch in it was handwork; and +the little frills of lace at neck and sleeves were of +real Valenciennes. Lying on it was a card--"with +Leslie's love." + +"What hours of work she must have put on it," said +Anne. "And the material must have cost more than she +could really afford. It is very sweet of her." + +But Leslie was brusque and curt when Anne thanked her, +and again the latter felt thrown back upon herself. + +Leslie's gift was not alone in the little house. Miss +Cornelia had, for the time being, given up sewing for +unwanted, unwelcome eighth babies, and fallen to sewing +for a very much wanted first one, whose welcome would +leave nothing to be desired. Philippa Blake and Diana +Wright each sent a marvellous garment; and Mrs. Rachel +Lynde sent several, in which good material and honest +stitches took the place of embroidery and frills. Anne +herself made many, desecrated by no touch of machinery, +spending over them the happiest hours of the happy +winter. + +Captain Jim was the most frequent guest of the little +house, and none was more welcome. Every day Anne loved +the simple-souled, true-hearted old sailor more and +more. He was as refreshing as a sea breeze, as +interesting as some ancient chronicle. She was never +tired of listening to his stories, and his quaint +remarks and comments were a continual delight to her. +Captain Jim was one of those rare and interesting +people who "never speak but they say something." The +milk of human kindness and the wisdom of the serpent +were mingled in his composition in delightful +proportions. + +Nothing ever seemed to put Captain Jim out or depress +him in any way. + +"I've kind of contracted a habit of enj'ying things," +he remarked once, when Anne had commented on his +invariable cheerfulness. "It's got so chronic that I +believe I even enj'y the disagreeable things. It's +great fun thinking they can't last. `Old rheumatiz,' +says I, when it grips me hard, `you've GOT to stop +aching sometime. The worse you are the sooner you'll +stop, mebbe. I'm bound to get the better of you in the +long run, whether in the body or out of the body.'" + +One night, by the fireside at the light Anne saw +Captain Jim's "life-book." He needed no coaxing to +show it and proudly gave it to her to read. + +"I writ it to leave to little Joe," he said. "I don't +like the idea of everything I've done and seen being +clean forgot after I've shipped for my last v'yage. +Joe, he'll remember it, and tell the yarns to his +children." + +It was an old leather-bound book filled with the record +of his voyages and adventures. Anne thought what a +treasure trove it would be to a writer. Every sentence +was a nugget. In itself the book had no literary +merit; Captain Jim's charm of storytelling failed him +when he came to pen and ink; he could only jot roughly +down the outline of his famous tales, and both spelling +and grammar were sadly askew. But Anne felt that if +anyone possessed of the gift could take that simple +record of a brave, adventurous life, reading between +the bald lines the tales of dangers staunchly faced and +duty manfully done, a wonderful story might be made +from it. Rich comedy and thrilling tragedy were both +lying hidden in Captain Jim's "life-book," waiting for +the touch of the master hand to waken the laughter and +grief and horror of thousands. + +Anne said something of this to Gilbert as they walked +home. + +"Why don't you try your hand at it yourself, Anne?" + +Anne shook her head. + +" No. I only wish I could. But it's not in the power +of my gift. You know what my forte is, Gilbert--the +fanciful, the fairylike, the pretty. To write Captain +Jim's life-book as it should be written one should be a +master of vigorous yet subtle style, a keen +psychologist, a born humorist and a born tragedian. A +rare combination of gifts is needed. Paul might do it +if he were older. Anyhow, I'm going to ask him to come +down next summer and meet Captain Jim." + +"Come to this shore," wrote Anne to Paul. "I am +afraid you cannot find here Nora or the Golden Lady or +the Twin Sailors; but you will find one old sailor who +can tell you wonderful stories." + +Paul, however wrote back, saying regretfully that he +could not come that year. He was going abroad for two +year's study. + +"When I return I'll come to Four Winds, dear Teacher," +he wrote. + +"But meanwhile, Captain Jim is growing old," said +Anne, sorrowfully, "and there is nobody to write his +life-book." + + + +CHAPTER 18 + +SPRING DAYS + +The ice in the harbor grew black and rotten in the +March suns; in April there were blue waters and a +windy, white-capped gulf again; and again the Four +Winds light begemmed the twilights. + +"I'm so glad to see it once more," said Anne, on the +first evening of its reappearance. "I've missed it so +all winter. The northwestern sky has seemed blank and +lonely without it." + +The land was tender with brand-new, golden-green, baby +leaves. There was an emerald mist on the woods beyond +the Glen. The seaward valleys were full of fairy mists +at dawn. + +Vibrant winds came and went with salt foam in their +breath. The sea laughed and flashed and preened and +allured, like a beautiful, coquettish woman. The +herring schooled and the fishing village woke to life. +The harbor was alive with white sails making for the +channel. The ships began to sail outward and inward +again. + +"On a spring day like this," said Anne, "I know +exactly what my soul will feel like on the resurrection +morning." + +"There are times in spring when I sorter feel that I +might have been a poet if I'd been caught young," +remarked Captain Jim. "I catch myself conning over old +lines and verses I heard the schoolmaster reciting +sixty years ago. They don't trouble me at other times. +Now I feel as if I had to get out on the rocks or the +fields or the water and spout them." + +Captain Jim had come up that afternoon to bring Anne a +load of shells for her garden, and a little bunch of +sweet-grass which he had found in a ramble over the +sand dunes. + +"It's getting real scarce along this shore now," he +said. "When I was a boy there was a-plenty of it. But +now it's only once in a while you'll find a plot--and +never when you're looking for it. You jest have to +stumble on it--you're walking along on the sand hills, +never thinking of sweet-grass--and all at once the air +is full of sweetness-- and there's the grass under your +feet. I favor the smell of sweet-grass. It always +makes me think of my mother." + +"She was fond of it?" asked Anne. + +"Not that I knows on. Dunno's she ever saw any +sweet-grass. No, it's because it has a kind of +motherly perfume--not too young, you +understand--something kind of seasoned and wholesome +and dependable--jest like a mother. The schoolmaster's +bride always kept it among her handkerchiefs. You +might put that little bunch among yours, Mistress +Blythe. I don't like these boughten scents-- but a +whiff of sweet-grass belongs anywhere a lady does." + +Anne had not been especially enthusiastic over the idea +of surrounding her flower beds with quahog shells; as a +decoration they did not appeal to her on first thought. +But she would not have hurt Captain Jim's feelings for +anything; so she assumed a virtue she did not at first +feel, and thanked him heartily. And when Captain Jim +had proudly encircled every bed with a rim of the big, +milk-white shells, Anne found to her surprise that she +liked the effect. On a town lawn, or even up at the +Glen, they would not have been in keeping, but here, in +the old-fashioned, sea-bound garden of the little house +of dreams, they BELONGED. + +"They DO look nice," she said sincerely. + +"The schoolmaster's bride always had cowhawks round her +beds," said Captain Jim. "She was a master hand with +flowers. She LOOKED at 'em--and touched 'em--SO--and +they grew like mad. Some folks have that knack--I +reckon you have it, too, Mistress Blythe." + +"Oh, I don't know--but I love my garden, and I love +working in it. To potter with green, growing things, +watching each day to see the dear, new sprouts come up, +is like taking a hand in creation, I think. Just now +my garden is like faith--the substance of things hoped +for. But bide a wee." + +"It always amazes me to look at the little, wrinkled +brown seeds and think of the rainbows in 'em," said +Captain Jim. "When I ponder on them seeds I don't find +it nowise hard to believe that we've got souls that'll +live in other worlds. You couldn't hardly believe +there was life in them tiny things, some no bigger than +grains of dust, let alone color and scent, if you +hadn't seen the miracle, could you?" + +Anne, who was counting her days like silver beads on a +rosary, could not now take the long walk to the +lighthouse or up the Glen road. But Miss Cornelia and +Captain Jim came very often to the little house. Miss +Cornelia was the joy of Anne's and Gilbert's existence. +They laughed side-splittingly over her speeches after +every visit. When Captain Jim and she happened to +visit the little house at the same time there was much +sport for the listening. They waged wordy warfare, she +attacking, he defending. Anne once reproached the +Captain for his baiting of Miss Cornelia. + +"Oh, I do love to set her going, Mistress Blythe," +chuckled the unrepentant sinner. "It's the greatest +amusement I have in life. That tongue of hers would +blister a stone. And you and that young dog of a +doctor enj'y listening to her as much as I do." + +Captain Jim came along another evening to bring Anne +some mayflowers. The garden was full of the moist, +scented air of a maritime spring evening. There was a +milk-white mist on the edge of the sea, with a young +moon kissing it, and a silver gladness of stars over +the Glen. The bell of the church across the harbor was +ringing dreamily sweet. The mellow chime drifted +through the dusk to mingle with the soft spring-moan of +the sea. Captain Jim's mayflowers added the last +completing touch to the charm of the night. + +"I haven't seen any this spring, and I've missed +them," said Anne, burying her face in them. + +"They ain't to be found around Four Winds, only in the +barrens away behind the Glen up yander. I took a +little trip today to the Land-of-nothing-to-do, and +hunted these up for you. I reckon they're the last +you'll see this spring, for they're nearly done." + +"How kind and thoughtful you are, Captain Jim. Nobody +else-- not even Gilbert"--with a shake of her head at +him--"remembered that I always long for mayflowers in +spring." + +"Well, I had another errand, too--I wanted to take Mr. +Howard back yander a mess of trout. He likes one +occasional, and it's all I can do for a kindness he did +me once. I stayed all the afternoon and talked to him. +He likes to talk to me, though he's a highly eddicated +man and I'm only an ignorant old sailor, because he's +one of the folks that's GOT to talk or they're +miserable, and he finds listeners scarce around here. +The Glen folks fight shy of him because they think he's +an infidel. He ain't that far gone exactly--few men +is, I reckon--but he's what you might call a heretic. +Heretics are wicked, but they're mighty int'resting. +It's jest that they've got sorter lost looking for +God, being under the impression that He's hard to +find--which He ain't never. Most of 'em blunder to Him +after awhile, I guess. I don't think listening to Mr. +Howard's arguments is likely to do me much harm. Mind +you, I believe what I was brought up to believe. It +saves a vast of bother--and back of it all, God is +good. The trouble with Mr. Howard is that he's a +leetle TOO clever. He thinks that he's bound to live +up to his cleverness, and that it's smarter to thrash +out some new way of getting to heaven than to go by the +old track the common, ignorant folks is travelling. +But he'll get there sometime all right, and then he'll +laugh at himself." + +"Mr. Howard was a Methodist to begin with," said Miss +Cornelia, as if she thought he had not far to go from +that to heresy. + +"Do you know, Cornelia," said Captain Jim gravely, +"I've often thought that if I wasn't a Presbyterian I'd +be a Methodist." + +"Oh, well," conceded Miss Cornelia, "if you weren't a +Presbyterian it wouldn't matter much what you were. +Speaking of heresy, reminds me, doctor--I've brought +back that book you lent me--that Natural Law in the +Spiritual World--I didn't read more'n a third of it. I +can read sense, and I can read nonsense, but that book +is neither the one nor the other." + +"It IS considered rather heretical in some quarters," +admitted Gilbert, "but I told you that before you took +it, Miss Cornelia." + +"Oh, I wouldn't have minded its being heretical. I can +stand wickedness, but I can't stand foolishness," said +Miss Cornelia calmly, and with the air of having said +the last thing there was to say about Natural Law. + +"Speaking of books, A Mad Love come to an end at last +two weeks ago," remarked Captain Jim musingly. "It +run to one hundred and three chapters. When they got +married the book stopped right off, so I reckon their +troubles were all over. It's real nice that that's the +way in books anyhow, isn't it, even if 'tistn't so +anywhere else?" + +"I never read novels," said Miss Cornelia. "Did you +hear how Geordie Russell was today, Captain Jim?" + +"Yes, I called in on my way home to see him. He's +getting round all right--but stewing in a broth of +trouble, as usual, poor man. + +'Course he brews up most of it for himself, but I +reckon that don't make it any easier to bear." + +"He's an awful pessimist," said Miss Cornelia. + +"Well, no, he ain't a pessimist exactly, Cornelia. He +only jest never finds anything that suits him." + +"And isn't that a pessimist?" + +"No, no. A pessimist is one who never expects to find +anything to suit him. Geordie hain't got THAT far +yet." + +"You'd find something good to say of the devil himself, +Jim Boyd." + +"Well, you've heard the story of the old lady who said +he was persevering. But no, Cornelia, I've nothing +good to say of the devil." + +"Do you believe in him at all?" asked Miss Cornelia +seriously. + +"How can you ask that when you know what a good +Presbyterian I am, Cornelia? How could a Presbyterian +get along without a devil?" + +"DO you?" persisted Miss Cornelia. + +Captain Jim suddenly became grave. + +"I believe in what I heard a minister once call `a +mighty and malignant and INTELLIGENT power of evil +working in the universe,'" he said solemnly. "I do +THAT, Cornelia. You can call it the devil, or the +`principle of evil,' or the Old Scratch, or any name +you like. It's THERE, and all the infidels and +heretics in the world can't argue it away, any more'n +they can argue God away. It's there, and it's +working. But, mind you, Cornelia, I believe it's going +to get the worst of it in the long run." + +"I am sure I hope so," said Miss Cornelia, none too +hopefully. "But speaking of the devil, I am positive +that Billy Booth is possessed by him now. Have you +heard of Billy's latest performance?" + +"No, what was that?" + +"He's gone and burned up his wife's new, brown +broadcloth suit, that she paid twenty-five dollars for +in Charlottetown, because he declares the men looked +too admiring at her when she wore it to church the +first time. Wasn't that like a man?" + +"Mistress Booth IS mighty pretty, and brown's her +color," said Captain Jim reflectively. + +"Is that any good reason why he should poke her new +suit into the kitchen stove? Billy Booth is a jealous +fool, and he makes his wife's life miserable. She's +cried all the week about her suit. Oh, Anne, I wish I +could write like you, believe ME. Wouldn't I score +some of the men round here!" + +"Those Booths are all a mite queer," said Captain Jim. +"Billy seemed the sanest of the lot till he got married +and then this queer jealous streak cropped out in him. +His brother Daniel, now, was always odd." + +"Took tantrums every few days or so and wouldn't get +out of bed," said Miss Cornelia with a relish. "His +wife would have to do all the barn work till he got +over his spell. When he died people wrote her letters +of condolence; if I'd written anything it would have +been one of congratulation. Their father, old Abram +Booth, was a disgusting old sot. He was drunk at his +wife's funeral, and kept reeling round and hiccuping `I +didn't dri--i--i--nk much but I feel a--a-- awfully +que--e--e--r.' I gave him a good jab in the back with +my umbrella when he came near me, and it sobered him up +until they got the casket out of the house. Young +Johnny Booth was to have been married yesterday, but +he couldn't be because he's gone and got the mumps. +Wasn't that like a man?" + +"How could he help getting the mumps, poor fellow?" + +"I'd poor fellow him, believe ME, if I was Kate Sterns. +I don't know how he could help getting the mumps, but I +DO know the wedding supper was all prepared and +everything will be spoiled before he's well again. +Such a waste! He should have had the mumps when he was +a boy." + +"Come, come, Cornelia, don't you think you're a mite +unreasonable?" + +Miss Cornelia disdained to reply and turned instead to +Susan Baker, a grim-faced, kind-hearted elderly +spinster of the Glen, who had been installed as +maid-of-all-work at the little house for some weeks. +Susan had been up to the Glen to make a sick call, and +had just returned. + +"How is poor old Aunt Mandy tonight?" asked Miss +Cornelia. + +Susan sighed. + +"Very poorly--very poorly, Cornelia. I am afraid she +will soon be in heaven, poor thing!" + +"Oh, surely, it's not so bad as that!" exclaimed Miss +Cornelia, sympathetically . + +Captain Jim and Gilbert looked at each other. Then +they suddenly rose and went out. + +"There are times," said Captain Jim, between spasms, +"when it would be a sin NOT to laugh. Them two +excellent women!" + + + +CHAPTER 19 + +DAWN AND DUSK + +In early June, when the sand hills were a great glory +of pink wild roses, and the Glen was smothered in apple +blossoms, Marilla arrived at the little house, +accompanied by a black horsehair trunk, patterned with +brass nails, which had reposed undisturbed in the Green +Gables garret for half a century. Susan Baker, who, +during her few weeks' sojourn in the little house, had +come to worship "young Mrs. Doctor," as she called +Anne, with blind fervor, looked rather jealously +askance at Marilla at first. But as Marilla did not +try to interfere in kitchen matters, and showed no +desire to interrupt Susan's ministrations to young Mrs. +Doctor, the good handmaiden became reconciled to her +presence, and told her cronies at the Glen that Miss +Cuthbert was a fine old lady and knew her place. + +One evening, when the sky's limpid bowl was filled with +a red glory, and the robins were thrilling the golden +twilight with jubilant hymns to the stars of evening, +there was a sudden commotion in the little house of +dreams. Telephone messages were sent up to the Glen, +Doctor Dave and a white-capped nurse came hastily down, +Marilla paced the garden walks between the quahog +shells, murmuring prayers between her set lips, and +Susan sat in the kitchen with cotton wool in her ears +and her apron over her head. + +Leslie, looking out from the house up the brook, saw +that every window of the little house was alight, and +did not sleep that night. + +The June night was short; but it seemed an eternity to +those who waited and watched. + +"Oh, will it NEVER end?" said Marilla; then she saw +how grave the nurse and Doctor Dave looked, and she +dared ask no more questions. Suppose Anne--but Marilla +could not suppose it. + +"Do not tell me," said Susan fiercely, answering the +anguish in Marilla's eyes, "that God could be so cruel +as to take that darling lamb from us when we all love +her so much." + +"He has taken others as well beloved," said Marilla +hoarsely. + +But at dawn, when the rising sun rent apart the mists +hanging over the sandbar, and made rainbows of them, +joy came to the little house. Anne was safe, and a +wee, white lady, with her mother's big eyes, was lying +beside her. Gilbert, his face gray and haggard from +his night's agony, came down to tell Marilla and Susan. + +"Thank God," shuddered Marilla. + +Susan got up and took the cotton wool out of her ears. + +"Now for breakfast," she said briskly. "I am of the +opinion that we will all be glad of a bite and sup. +You tell young Mrs. Doctor not to worry about a single +thing--Susan is at the helm. You tell her just to +think of her baby." + +Gilbert smiled rather sadly as he went away. Anne, her +pale face blanched with its baptism of pain, her eyes +aglow with the holy passion of motherhood, did not need +to be told to think of her baby. She thought of +nothing else. For a few hours she tasted of happiness +so rare and exquisite that she wondered if the angels +in heaven did not envy her. + +"Little Joyce," she murmured, when Marilla came in to +see the baby. "We planned to call her that if she were +a girlie. There were so many we would have liked to +name her for; we couldn't choose between them, so we +decided on Joyce--we can call her Joy for +short--Joy--it suits so well. Oh, Marilla, I thought I +was happy before. Now I know that I just dreamed a +pleasant dream of happiness. THIS is the reality." + +"You mustn't talk, Anne--wait till you're stronger," +said Marilla warningly. + +"You know how hard it is for me NOT to talk," smiled +Anne. + +At first she was too weak and too happy to notice that +Gilbert and the nurse looked grave and Marilla +sorrowful. Then, as subtly, and coldly, and +remorselessly as a sea-fog stealing landward, fear +crept into her heart. Why was not Gilbert gladder? +Why would he not talk about the baby? Why would they +not let her have it with her after that first +heavenly--happy hour? Was--was there anything wrong? + +"Gilbert," whispered Anne imploringly, "the baby--is +all right--isn't she? Tell me--tell me." + +Gilbert was a long while in turning round; then he bent +over Anne and looked in her eyes. Marilla, listening +fearfully outside the door, heard a pitiful, +heartbroken moan, and fled to the kitchen where Susan +was weeping. + +"Oh, the poor lamb--the poor lamb! How can she bear +it, Miss Cuthbert? I am afraid it will kill her. She +has been that built up and happy, longing for that +baby, and planning for it. Cannot anything be done +nohow, Miss Cuthbert?" + +"I'm afraid not, Susan. Gilbert says there is no hope. +He knew from the first the little thing couldn't +live." + +"And it is such a sweet baby," sobbed Susan. "I never +saw one so white--they are mostly red or yallow. And +it opened its big eyes as if it was months old. The +little, little thing! Oh, the poor, young Mrs. +Doctor!" + +At sunset the little soul that had come with the +dawning went away, leaving heartbreak behind it. Miss +Cornelia took the wee, white lady from the kindly but +stranger hands of the nurse, and dressed the tiny +waxen form in the beautiful dress Leslie had made for +it. Leslie had asked her to do that. Then she took it +back and laid it beside the poor, broken, tear-blinded +little mother. + +"The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away, +dearie," she said through her own tears. "Blessed be +the name of the Lord." + +Then she went away, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone +together with their dead. + +The next day, the small white Joy was laid in a velvet +casket which Leslie had lined with apple-blossoms, and +taken to the graveyard of the church across the harbor. +Miss Cornelia and Marilla put all the little love-made +garments away, together with the ruffled basket which +had been befrilled and belaced for dimpled limbs and +downy head. Little Joy was never to sleep there; she +had found a colder, narrower bed. + +"This has been an awful disappointment to me," sighed +Miss Cornelia. "I've looked forward to this baby--and +I did want it to be a girl, too." + +"I can only be thankful that Anne's life was spared," +said Marilla, with a shiver, recalling those hours of +darkness when the girl she loved was passing through +the valley of the shadow. + +"Poor, poor lamb! Her heart is broken," said Susan. + +"I ENVY Anne," said Leslie suddenly and fiercely, "and +I'd envy her even if she had died! She was a mother +for one beautiful day. I'd gladly give my life for +THAT!" + +"I wouldn't talk like that, Leslie, dearie," said Miss +Cornelia deprecatingly. She was afraid that the +dignified Miss Cuthbert would think Leslie quite +terrible. + +Anne's convalescence was long, and made bitter for her +by many things. The bloom and sunshine of the Four +Winds world grated harshly on her; and yet, when the +rain fell heavily, she pictured it beating so +mercilessly down on that little grave across the +harbor; and when the wind blew around the eaves she +heard sad voices in it she had never heard before. + +Kindly callers hurt her, too, with the well-meant +platitudes with which they strove to cover the +nakedness of bereavement. A letter from Phil Blake was +an added sting. Phil had heard of the baby's birth, +but not of its death, and she wrote Anne a +congratulatory letter of sweet mirth which hurt her +horribly. + +"I would have laughed over it so happily if I had my +baby," she sobbed to Marilla. "But when I haven't it +just seems like wanton cruelty--though I know Phil +wouldn't hurt me for the world. Oh, Marilla, I don't +see how I can EVER be happy again--EVERYTHING will +hurt me all the rest of my life." + +"Time will help you," said Marilla, who was racked +with sympathy but could never learn to express it in +other than age-worn formulas. + +"It doesn't seem FAIR," said Anne rebelliously. +"Babies are born and live where they are not +wanted--where they will be neglected-- where they will +have no chance. I would have loved my baby so--and +cared for it so tenderly--and tried to give her every +chance for good. And yet I wasn't allowed to keep +her." + +"It was God's will, Anne," said Marilla, helpless +before the riddle of the universe--the WHY of +undeserved pain. "And little Joy is better off." + +"I can't believe THAT," cried Anne bitterly. Then, +seeing that Marilla looked shocked, she added +passionately, "Why should she be born at all--why +should any one be born at all--if she's better off +dead? I DON'T believe it is better for a child to die +at birth than to live its life out--and love and be +loved--and enjoy and suffer--and do its work--and +develop a character that would give it a personality in +eternity. And how do you know it was God's will? +Perhaps it was just a thwarting of His purpose by the +Power of Evil. We can't be expected to be resigned to +THAT." + +"Oh, Anne, don't talk so," said Marilla, genuinely +alarmed lest Anne were drifting into deep and dangerous +waters. "We can't understand--but we must have +faith--we MUST believe that all is for the best. I +know you find it hard to think so, just now. But try +to be brave--for Gilbert's sake. He's so worried about +you. You aren't getting strong as fast as you +should." + +"Oh, I know I've been very selfish," sighed Anne. "I +love Gilbert more than ever--and I want to live for his +sake. But it seems as if part of me was buried over +there in that little harbor graveyard-- and it hurts so +much that I'm afraid of life." + +"It won't hurt so much always, Anne." + +"The thought that it may stop hurting sometimes hurts +me worse than all else, Marilla." + +"Yes, I know, I've felt that too, about other things. +But we all love you, Anne. Captain Jim has been up +every day to ask for you--and Mrs. Moore haunts the +place--and Miss Bryant spends most of her time, I +think, cooking up nice things for you. Susan doesn't +like it very well. She thinks she can cook as well as +Miss Bryant." + +"Dear Susan! Oh, everybody has been so dear and good +and lovely to me, Marilla. I'm not ungrateful--and +perhaps--when this horrible ache grows a little +less--I'll find that I can go on living." + + + +CHAPTER 20 + +LOST MARGARET + +Anne found that she could go on living; the day came +when she even smiled again over one of Miss Cornelia's +speeches. But there was something in the smile that +had never been in Anne's smile before and would never +be absent from it again. + +On the first day she was able to go for a drive Gilbert +took her down to Four Winds Point, and left her there +while he rowed over the channel to see a patient at the +fishing village. A rollicking wind was scudding across +the harbor and the dunes, whipping the water into +white-caps and washing the sandshore with long lines of +silvery breakers. + +"I'm real proud to see you here again, Mistress +Blythe," said Captain Jim. "Sit down--sit down. I'm +afeared it's mighty dusty here today--but there's no +need of looking at dust when you can look at such +scenery, is there?" + +"I don't mind the dust," said Anne, "but Gilbert says +I must keep in the open air. I think I'll go and sit +on the rocks down there." + +"Would you like company or would you rather be alone?" + +"If by company you mean yours I'd much rather have it +than be alone," said Anne, smiling. Then she sighed. +She had never before minded being alone. Now she +dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so +dreadfully alone. + +"Here's a nice little spot where the wind can't get at +you," said Captain Jim, when they reached the rocks. +"I often sit here. It's a great place jest to sit and +dream." + +"Oh--dreams," sighed Anne. "I can't dream now, +Captain Jim--I'm done with dreams." + +"Oh, no, you're not, Mistress Blythe--oh, no, you're +not," said Captain Jim meditatively. "I know how you +feel jest now--but if you keep on living you'll get +glad again, and the first thing you know you'll be +dreaming again--thank the good Lord for it! If it +wasn't for our dreams they might as well bury us. +How'd we stand living if it wasn't for our dream of +immortality? And that's a dream that's BOUND to come +true, Mistress Blythe. You'll see your little Joyce +again some day." + +"But she won't be my baby," said Anne, with trembling +lips. "Oh, she may be, as Longfellow says, `a fair +maiden clothed with celestial grace'--but she'll be a +stranger to me." + +"God will manage better'n THAT, I believe," said +Captain Jim. + +They were both silent for a little time. Then Captain +Jim said very softly: + +"Mistress Blythe, may I tell you about lost Margaret?" + +"Of course," said Anne gently. She did not know who +"lost Margaret" was, but she felt that she was going +to hear the romance of Captain Jim's life. + +"I've often wanted to tell you about her," Captain Jim +went on. + +"Do you know why, Mistress Blythe? It's because I want +somebody to remember and think of her sometime after +I'm gone. I can't bear that her name should be +forgotten by all living souls. And now nobody +remembers lost Margaret but me." + +Then Captain Jim told the story--an old, old forgotten +story, for it was over fifty years since Margaret had +fallen asleep one day in her father's dory and +drifted--or so it was supposed, for nothing was ever +certainly known as to her fate--out of the channel, +beyond the bar, to perish in the black thundersquall +which had come up so suddenly that long-ago summer +afternoon. But to Captain Jim those fifty years were +but as yesterday when it is past. + +"I walked the shore for months after that," he said +sadly, "looking to find her dear, sweet little body; +but the sea never give her back to me. But I'll find +her sometime, Mistress Blythe--I'll find her sometime . +She's waiting for me. I wish I could tell you jest how +she looked, but I can't. I've seen a fine, silvery +mist hanging over the bar at sunrise that seemed like +her--and then again I've seen a white birch in the +woods back yander that made me think of her. She had +pale, brown hair and a little white, sweet face, and +long slender fingers like yours, Mistress Blythe, only +browner, for she was a shore girl. Sometimes I wake up +in the night and hear the sea calling to me in the old +way, and it seems as if lost Margaret called in it. +And when there's a storm and the waves are sobbing and +moaning I hear her lamenting among them. And when they +laugh on a gay day it's HER laugh--lost Margaret's +sweet, roguish, little laugh. The sea took her from +me, but some day I'll find her. Mistress Blythe. It +can't keep us apart forever." + +"I am glad you have told me about her," said Anne. "I +have often wondered why you had lived all your life +alone." + +"I couldn't ever care for anyone else. Lost Margaret +took my heart with her--out there," said the old +lover, who had been faithful for fifty years to his +drowned sweetheart. "You won't mind if I talk a good +deal about her, will you, Mistress Blythe? It's a +pleasure to me--for all the pain went out of her memory +years ago and jest left its blessing. I know you'll +never forget her, Mistress Blythe. And if the years, +as I hope, bring other little folks to your home, I +want you to promise me that you'll tell THEM the story +of lost Margaret, so that her name won't be forgotten +among humankind." + + + +CHAPTER 21 + +BARRIERS SWEPT AWAY + + "Anne," said Leslie, breaking abruptly a short +silence, "you don't know how GOOD it is to be sitting +here with you again--working-- and talking--and being +silent together." + +They were sitting among the blue-eyed grasses on the +bank of the brook in Anne's garden. The water sparkled +and crooned past them; the birches threw dappled +shadows over them; roses bloomed along the walks. The +sun was beginning to be low, and the air was full of +woven music. There was one music of the wind in the +firs behind the house, and another of the waves on the +bar, and still another from the distant bell of the +church near which the wee, white lady slept. Anne +loved that bell, though it brought sorrowful thoughts +now. + +She looked curiously at Leslie, who had thrown down her +sewing and spoken with a lack of restraint that was +very unusual with her. + +"On that horrible night when you were so ill," Leslie +went on, "I kept thinking that perhaps we'd have no +more talks and walks and WORKS together. And I +realised just what your friendship had come to mean to +me--just what YOU meant--and just what a hateful little +beast I had been." + +"Leslie! Leslie! I never allow anyone to call my +friends names." + +"It's true. That's exactly what I am--a hateful little +beast. There's something I've GOT to tell you, Anne. I +suppose it will make you despise me, but I MUST confess +it. Anne, there have been times this past winter and +spring when I have HATED you." + +"I KNEW it," said Anne calmly. + +"You KNEW it?" + +"Yes, I saw it in your eyes." + +" And yet you went on liking me and being my friend." + +"Well, it was only now and then you hated me, Leslie. +Between times you loved me, I think." + +"I certainly did. But that other horrid feeling was +always there, spoiling it, back in my heart. I kept it +down--sometimes I forgot it-- but sometimes it would +surge up and take possession of me. I hated you +because I ENVIED you--oh, I was sick with envy of you +at times. You had a dear little home--and love--and +happiness--and glad dreams--everything I wanted--and +never had--and never could have. Oh, never could have! +THAT was what stung. I wouldn't have envied you, if I +had had any HOPE that life would ever be different for +me. But I hadn't--I hadn't--and it didn't seem FAIR. +It made me rebellious--and it hurt me--and so I hated +you at times. Oh, I was so ashamed of it--I'm dying of +shame now--but I couldn't conquer it. + +That night, when I was afraid you mightn't live--I +thought I was going to be punished for my +wickedness--and I loved you so then. Anne, Anne, I +never had anything to love since my mother died, except +Dick's old dog--and it's so dreadful to have nothing to +love--life is so EMPTY--and there's NOTHING worse than +emptiness-- and I might have loved you so much--and +that horrible thing had spoiled it--" + +Leslie was trembling and growing almost incoherent with +the violence of her emotion. + +"Don't, Leslie," implored Anne, "oh, don't. I +understand-- don't talk of it any more." + +"I must--I must. When I knew you were going to live I +vowed that I would tell you as soon as you were +well--that I wouldn't go on accepting your friendship +and companionship without telling you how unworthy I +was of it. And I've been so afraid--it would turn you +against me." + +"You needn't fear that, Leslie." + +"Oh, I'm so glad--so glad, Anne." Leslie clasped her +brown, work-hardened hands tightly together to still +their shaking. "But I want to tell you everything, now +I've begun. You don't remember the first time I saw +you, I suppose--it wasn't that night on the shore--" + +"No, it was the night Gilbert and I came home. You +were driving your geese down the hill. I should think +I DO remember it! I thought you were so beautiful--I +longed for weeks after to find out who you were." + +"I knew who YOU were, although I had never seen either +of you before. I had heard of the new doctor and his +bride who were coming to live in Miss Russell's little +house. I--I hated you that very moment, Anne." + +"I felt the resentment in your eyes--then I doubted--I +thought I must be mistaken--because WHY should it be?" + +"It was because you looked so happy. Oh, you'll agree +with me now that I AM a hateful beast--to hate another +woman just because she was happy,--and when her +happiness didn't take anything from me! That was why I +never went to see you. I knew quite well I ought to +go--even our simple Four Winds customs demanded that. +But I couldn't. I used to watch you from my window--I +could see you and your husband strolling about your +garden in the evening--or you running down the poplar +lane to meet him. And it hurt me. And yet in another +way I wanted to go over. I felt that, if I were not so +miserable, I could have liked you and found in you what +I've never had in my life--an intimate, REAL friend of +my own age. And then you remember that night at the +shore? You were afraid I would think you crazy. You +must have thought _I_ was." + +"No, but I couldn't understand you, Leslie. One moment +you drew me to you--the next you pushed me back." + +"I was very unhappy that evening. I had had a hard +day. Dick had been very--very hard to manage that day. +Generally he is quite good-natured and easily +controlled, you know, Anne. But some days he is very +different. I was so heartsick--I ran away to the shore +as soon as he went to sleep. It was my only refuge. I +sat there thinking of how my poor father had ended his +life, and wondering if I wouldn't be driven to it some +day. Oh, my heart was full of black thoughts! And +then you came dancing along the cove like a glad, +light-hearted child. I--I hated you more then than +I've ever done since. And yet I craved your +friendship. The one feeling swayed me one moment; the +other feeling the next. When I got home that night I +cried for shame of what you must think of me. But it's +always been just the same when I came over here. +Sometimes I'd be happy and enjoy my visit. And at +other times that hideous feeling would mar it all. +There were times when everything about you and your +house hurt me. You had so many dear little things I +couldn't have. Do you know--it's ridiculous-- but I +had an especial spite at those china dogs of yours. +There were times when I wanted to catch up Gog and +Magog and bang their pert black noses together! Oh, +you smile, Anne--but it was never funny to me. I would +come here and see you and Gilbert with your books and +your flowers, and your household goods, and your little +family jokes--and your love for each other showing in +every look and word, even when you didn't know it--and +I would go home to--you know what I went home to! Oh, +Anne, I don't believe I'm jealous and envious by +nature. When I was a girl I lacked many things my +schoolmates had, but I never cared--I never disliked +them for it. But I seem to have grown so hateful--" + +"Leslie, dearest, stop blaming yourself. You are NOT +hateful or jealous or envious. The life you have to +live has warped you a little, perhaps-but it would have +ruined a nature less fine and noble than yours. I'm +letting you tell me all this because I believe it's +better for you to talk it out and rid your soul of it. +But don't blame yourself any more." + +"Well, I won't. I just wanted you to know me as I am. +That time you told me of your darling hope for the +spring was the worst of all, Anne. I shall never +forgive myself for the way I behaved then. I repented +it with tears. And I DID put many a tender and loving +thought of you into the little dress I made. But I +might have known that anything I made could only be a +shroud in the end." + +"Now, Leslie, that IS bitter and morbid--put such +thoughts away. + +I was so glad when you brought the little dress; and +since I had to lose little Joyce I like to think that +the dress she wore was the one you made for her when +you let yourself love me." + +"Anne, do you know, I believe I shall always love you +after this. I don't think I'll ever feel that dreadful +way about you again. Talking it all out seems to have +done away with it, somehow. It's very strange --and I +thought it so real and bitter. It's like opening the +door of a dark room to show some hideous creature +you've believed to be there--and when the light streams +in your monster turns out to have been just a shadow, +vanishing when the light comes. It will never come +between us again." + +"No, we are real friends now, Leslie, and I am very +glad." + +"I hope you won't misunderstand me if I say something +else. Anne, I was grieved to the core of my heart when +you lost your baby; and if I could have saved her for +you by cutting off one of my hands I would have done +it. But your sorrow has brought us closer together. +Your perfect happiness isn't a barrier any longer. Oh, +don't misunderstand, dearest--I'm NOT glad that your +happiness isn't perfect any longer--I can say that +sincerely; but since it isn't, there isn't such a gulf +between us." + +"I DO understand that, too, Leslie. Now, we'll just +shut up the past and forget what was unpleasant in it. +It's all going to be different. We're both of the race +of Joseph now. I think you've been wonderful +--wonderful. And, Leslie, I can't help believing that +life has something good and beautiful for you yet." + +Leslie shook her head. + +"No," she said dully. "There isn't any hope. Dick +will never be better--and even if his memory were to +come back--oh, Anne, it would be worse, even worse, +than it is now. This is something you can't +understand, you happy bride. Anne, did Miss Cornelia +ever tell you how I came to marry Dick?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm glad--I wanted you to know--but I couldn't bring +myself to talk of it if you hadn't known. Anne, it +seems to me that ever since I was twelve years old life +has been bitter. Before that I had a happy childhood. +We were very poor--but we didn't mind. Father was so +splendid--so clever and loving and sympathetic. We +were chums as far back as I can remember. And mother +was so sweet. She was very, very beautiful. I look +like her, but I am not so beautiful as she was." + +"Miss Cornelia says you are far more beautiful." + +"She is mistaken--or prejudiced. I think my figure IS +better-- mother was slight and bent by hard work--but +she had the face of an angel. I used just to look up +at her in worship. We all worshipped her,--father and +Kenneth and I." + +Anne remembered that Miss Cornelia had given her a very +different impression of Leslie's mother. But had not +love the truer vision? Still, it WAS selfish of Rose +West to make her daughter marry Dick Moore. + +"Kenneth was my brother," went on Leslie. "Oh, I +can't tell you how I loved him. And he was cruelly +killed. Do you know how?" + +"Yes." + +"Anne, I saw his little face as the wheel went over +him. He fell on his back. Anne--Anne--I can see it +now. I shall always see it. Anne, all I ask of heaven +is that that recollection shall be blotted out of my +memory. O my God!" + +"Leslie, don't speak of it. I know the story--don't go +into details that only harrow your soul up +unavailingly. It WILL be blotted out." + +After a moment's struggle, Leslie regained a measure of +self- control. + +"Then father's health got worse and he grew +despondent--his mind became unbalanced--you've heard +all that, too?" + +"Yes." + +"After that I had just mother to live for. But I was +very ambitious. I meant to teach and earn my way +through college. I meant to climb to the very top--oh, +I won't talk of that either. It's no use. You know +what happened. I couldn't see my dear little +heart-broken mother, who had been such a slave all her +life, turned out of her home. Of course, I could have +earned enough for us to live on. But mother COULDN'T +leave her home. She had come there as a bride--and she +had loved father so--and all her memories were there. +Even yet, Anne, when I think that I made her last year +happy I'm not sorry for what I did. As for Dick--I +didn't hate him when I married him--I just felt for him +the indifferent, friendly feeling I had for most of my +schoolmates. I knew he drank some--but I had never +heard the story of the girl down at the fishing cove. +If I had, I COULDN'T have married him, even for +mother's sake. Afterwards--I DID hate him--but mother +never knew. She died--and then I was alone. I was +only seventeen and I was alone. Dick had gone off in +the Four Sisters. I hoped he wouldn't be home very +much more. The sea had always been in his blood. I +had no other hope. Well, Captain Jim brought him home, +as you know--and that's all there is to say. You know +me now, Anne--the worst of me--the barriers are all +down. And you still want to be my friend?" + +Anne looked up through the birches, at the white +paper-lantern of a half moon drifting downwards to the +gulf of sunset. Her face was very sweet. + +"I am your friend and you are mine, for always," she +said. "Such a friend as I never had before. I have +had many dear and beloved friends--but there is a +something in you, Leslie, that I never found in anyone +else. You have more to offer me in that rich nature of +yours, and I have more to give you than I had in my +careless girlhood. We are both women--and friends +forever." + +They clasped hands and smiled at each other through the +tears that filled the gray eyes and the blue. + + + +CHAPTER 22 + +MISS CORNELIA ARRANGES MATTERS + +Gilbert insisted that Susan should be kept on at the +little house for the summer. Anne protested at first. + +"Life here with just the two of us is so sweet, +Gilbert. It spoils it a little to have anyone else. +Susan is a dear soul, but she is an outsider. It won't +hurt me to do the work here." + +"You must take your doctor's advice," said Gilbert. +"There's an old proverb to the effect that shoemakers' +wives go barefoot and doctors' wives die young. I +don't mean that it shall be true in my household. You +will keep Susan until the old spring comes back into +your step, and those little hollows on your cheeks fill +out." + +"You just take it easy, Mrs. Doctor, dear," said +Susan, coming abruptly in. "Have a good time and do +not worry about the pantry. Susan is at the helm. +There is no use in keeping a dog and doing your own +barking. I am going to take your breakfast up to you +every morning." + +"Indeed you are not," laughed Anne. "I agree with +Miss Cornelia that it's a scandal for a woman who isn't +sick to eat her breakfast in bed, and almost justifies +the men in any enormities." + +"Oh, Cornelia!" said Susan, with ineffable contempt. +"I think you have better sense, Mrs. Doctor, dear, than +to heed what Cornelia Bryant says. I cannot see why +she must be always running down the men, even if she is +an old maid. _I_ am an old maid, but you never hear ME +abusing the men. I like 'em. I would have married one +if I could. Is it not funny nobody ever asked me to +marry him, Mrs. Doctor, dear? I am no beauty, but I am +as good-looking as most of the married women you see. +But I never had a beau. What do you suppose is the +reason?" + +"It may be predestination," suggested Anne, with +unearthly solemnity. + +Susan nodded. + +"That is what I have often thought, Mrs. Doctor, dear, +and a great comfort it is. I do not mind nobody +wanting me if the Almighty decreed it so for His own +wise purposes. But sometimes doubt creeps in, Mrs. +Doctor, dear, and I wonder if maybe the Old Scratch has +not more to do with it than anyone else. I cannot feel +resigned THEN. But maybe," added Susan, brightening +up, "I will have a chance to get married yet. I often +and often think of the old verse my aunt used to +repeat: + +There never was a goose so gray but sometime soon or +late Some honest gander came her way and took her for +his mate! + +A woman cannot ever be sure of not being married till +she is buried, Mrs. Doctor, dear, and meanwhile I will +make a batch of cherry pies. I notice the doctor +favors 'em, and I DO like cooking for a man who +appreciates his victuals." + +Miss Cornelia dropped in that afternoon, puffing a +little. + +"I don't mind the world or the devil much, but the +flesh DOES rather bother me," she admitted. "You +always look as cool as a cucumber, Anne, dearie. Do I +smell cherry pie? If I do, ask me to stay to tea. +Haven't tasted a cherry pie this summer. My cherries +have all been stolen by those scamps of Gilman boys +from the Glen." + +"Now, now, Cornelia," remonstrated Captain Jim, who +had been reading a sea novel in a corner of the living +room, "you shouldn't say that about those two poor, +motherless Gilman boys, unless you've got certain +proof. Jest because their father ain't none too honest +isn't any reason for calling them thieves. It's more +likely it's been the robins took your cherries. +They're turrible thick this year." + +"Robins!" said Miss Cornelia disdainfully. "Humph! +Two- legged robins, believe ME!" + +"Well, most of the Four Winds robins ARE constructed on +that principle," said Captain Jim gravely. + +Miss Cornelia stared at him for a moment. Then she +leaned back in her rocker and laughed long and +ungrudgingly. + +"Well, you HAVE got one on me at last, Jim Boyd, I'll +admit. Just look how pleased he is, Anne, dearie, +grinning like a Chessy-cat. As for the robins' legs if +robins have great, big, bare, sunburned legs, with +ragged trousers hanging on 'em, such as I saw up in my +cherry tree one morning at sunrise last week, I'll beg +the Gilman boys' pardon. By the time I got down they +were gone. I couldn't understand how they had +disappeared so quick, but Captain Jim has enlightened +me. They flew away, of course." + +Captain Jim laughed and went away, regretfully +declining an invitation to stay to supper and partake +of cherry pie. + +"I'm on my way to see Leslie and ask her if she'll take +a boarder," Miss Cornelia resumed. "I'd a letter +yesterday from a Mrs. Daly in Toronto, who boarded a +spell with me two years ago. She wanted me to take a +friend of hers for the summer. His name is Owen Ford, +and he's a newspaper man, and it seems he's a grandson +of the schoolmaster who built this house. John +Selwyn's oldest daughter married an Ontario man named +Ford, and this is her son. He wants to see the old +place his grandparents lived in. He had a bad spell of +typhoid in the spring and hasn't got rightly over it, +so his doctor has ordered him to the sea. He doesn't +want to go to the hotel--he just wants a quiet home +place. I can't take him, for I have to be away in +August. I've been appointed a delegate to the W.F.M.S. +convention in Kingsport and I'm going. I don't know +whether Leslie'll want to be bothered with him, either, +but there's no one else. If she can't take him he'll +have to go over the harbor." + +"When you've seen her come back and help us eat our +cherry pies," said Anne. "Bring Leslie and Dick, too, +if they can come. And so you're going to Kingsport? +What a nice time you will have. I must give you a +letter to a friend of mine there--Mrs. Jonas Blake." + +"I've prevailed on Mrs. Thomas Holt to go with me," +said Miss Cornelia complacently. "It's time she had a +little holiday, believe ME. She has just about worked +herself to death. Tom Holt can crochet beautifully, +but he can't make a living for his family. He never +seems to be able to get up early enough to do any work, +but I notice he can always get up early to go fishing. +Isn't that like a man?" + +Anne smiled. She had learned to discount largely Miss +Cornelia's opinions of the Four Winds men. Otherwise +she must have believed them the most hopeless +assortment of reprobates and ne'er-do-wells in the +world, with veritable slaves and martyrs for wives. +This particular Tom Holt, for example, she knew to be a +kind husband, a much loved father, and an excellent +neighbor. If he were rather inclined to be lazy, +liking better the fishing he had been born for than the +farming he had not, and if he had a harmless +eccentricity for doing fancy work, nobody save Miss +Cornelia seemed to hold it against him. His wife was +a "hustler," who gloried in hustling; his family got a +comfortable living off the farm; and his strapping sons +and daughters, inheriting their mother's energy, were +all in a fair way to do well in the world. There was +not a happier household in Glen St. Mary than the +Holts'. + +Miss Cornelia returned satisfied from the house up the +brook. + +"Leslie's going to take him," she announced. "She +jumped at the chance. She wants to make a little money +to shingle the roof of her house this fall, and she +didn't know how she was going to manage it. I expect +Captain Jim'll be more than interested when he hears +that a grandson of the Selwyns' is coming here. Leslie +said to tell you she hankered after cherry pie, but she +couldn't come to tea because she has to go and hunt up +her turkeys. They've strayed away. But she said, if +there was a piece left, for you to put it in the pantry +and she'd run over in the cat's light, when prowling's +in order, to get it. You don't know, Anne, dearie, +what good it did my heart to hear Leslie send you a +message like that, laughing like she used to long ago. + +There's a great change come over her lately. She +laughs and jokes like a girl, and from her talk I +gather she's here real often." + +"Every day--or else I'm over there," said Anne. "I +don't know what I'd do without Leslie, especially just +now when Gilbert is so busy. He's hardly ever home +except for a few hours in the wee sma's. He's really +working himself to death. So many of the over-harbor +people send for him now." + +"They might better be content with their own doctor," +said Miss Cornelia. "Though to be sure I can't blame +them, for he's a Methodist. Ever since Dr. Blythe +brought Mrs. Allonby round folks think he can raise the +dead. I believe Dr. Dave is a mite jealous--just like +a man. He thinks Dr. Blythe has too many new-fangled +notions! `Well,' I says to him, `it was a new-fangled +notion saved Rhoda Allonby. If YOU'D been attending +her she'd have died, and had a tombstone saying it had +pleased God to take her away.' Oh, I DO like to speak +my mind to Dr. Dave! He's bossed the Glen for years, +and he thinks he's forgotten more than other people +ever knew. Speaking of doctors, I wish Dr. Blythe'd +run over and see to that boil on Dick Moore's neck. +It's getting past Leslie's skill. I'm sure I don't +know what Dick Moore wants to start in having boils +for--as if he wasn't enough trouble without that!" + +"Do you know, Dick has taken quite a fancy to me," +said Anne. "He follows me round like a dog, and smiles +like a pleased child when I notice him." + +"Does it make you creepy?" + +"Not at all. I rather like poor Dick Moore. He seems +so pitiful and appealing, somehow." + +"You wouldn't think him very appealing if you'd see him +on his cantankerous days, believe ME. But I'm glad you +don't mind him-- it's all the nicer for Leslie. She'll +have more to do when her boarder comes. I hope he'll +be a decent creature. You'll probably like him--he's a +writer." + +"I wonder why people so commonly suppose that if two +individuals are both writers they must therefore be +hugely congenial," said Anne, rather scornfully. +"Nobody would expect two blacksmiths to be violently +attracted toward each other merely because they were +both blacksmiths." + +Nevertheless, she looked forward to the advent of Owen +Ford with a pleasant sense of expectation. If he were +young and likeable he might prove a very pleasant +addition to society in Four Winds. The latch-string of +the little house was always out for the race of Joseph. + + + +CHAPTER 23 + +OWEN FORD COMES + +One evening Miss Cornelia telephoned down to Anne. + +"The writer man has just arrived here. I'm going to +drive him down to your place, and you can show him the +way over to Leslie's. It's shorter than driving round +by the other road, and I'm in a mortal hurry. The +Reese baby has gone and fallen into a pail of hot water +at the Glen, and got nearly scalded to death and they +want me right off--to put a new skin on the child, I +presume. Mrs. Reese is always so careless, and then +expects other people to mend her mistakes. You won't +mind, will you, dearie? His trunk can go down +tomorrow." + +"Very well," said Anne. "What is he like, Miss +Cornelia?" + +"You'll see what he's like outside when I take him +down. As for what he's like inside only the Lord who +made him knows THAT. I'm not going to say another +word, for every receiver in the Glen is down." + +"Miss Cornelia evidently can't find much fault with Mr. +Ford's looks, or she would find it in spite of the +receivers," said Anne. "I conclude therefore, Susan, +that Mr. Ford is rather handsome than otherwise." + +"Well, Mrs. Doctor, dear, I DO enjoy seeing a +well-looking man," said Susan candidly. "Had I not +better get up a snack for him? There is a strawberry +pie that would melt in your mouth." + +"No, Leslie is expecting him and has his supper ready. +Besides, I want that strawberry pie for my own poor +man. He won't be home till late, so leave the pie and +a glass of milk out for him, Susan." + +"That I will, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Susan is at the helm. +After all, it is better to give pie to your own men +than to strangers, who may be only seeking to devour, +and the doctor himself is as well-looking a man as you +often come across." + +When Owen Ford came Anne secretly admitted, as Miss +Cornelia towed him in, that he was very "well-looking" +indeed. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with thick, +brown hair, finely-cut nose and chin, large and +brilliant dark-gray eyes. + +"And did you notice his ears and his teeth, Mrs. +Doctor, dear?" queried Susan later on. "He has got +the nicest-shaped ears I ever saw on a man's head. I +am choice about ears. When I was young I was scared +that I might have to marry a man with ears like flaps. +But I need not have worried, for never a chance did I +have with any kind of ears." + +Anne had not noticed Owen Ford's ears, but she did see +his teeth, as his lips parted over them in a frank and +friendly smile. Unsmiling, his face was rather sad and +absent in expression, not unlike the melancholy, +inscrutable hero of Anne's own early dreams; but mirth +and humor and charm lighted it up when he smiled. +Certainly, on the outside, as Miss Cornelia said, Owen +Ford was a very presentable fellow. + +"You cannot realise how delighted I am to be here, Mrs. +Blythe," he said, looking around him with eager, +interested eyes. "I have an odd feeling of coming +home. My mother was born and spent her childhood +here, you know. She used to talk a great deal to me of +her old home. I know the geography of it as well as of +the one I lived in, and, of course, she told me the +story of the building of the house, and of my +grandfather's agonised watch for the Royal William. I +had thought that so old a house must have vanished +years ago, or I should have come to see it before +this." + +"Old houses don't vanish easily on this enchanted +coast," smiled Anne. "This is a `land where all +things always seem the same'-- nearly always, at least. +John Selwyn's house hasn't even been much changed, and +outside the rose-bushes your grandfather planted for +his bride are blooming this very minute." + +"How the thought links me with them! With your leave I +must explore the whole place soon." + +"Our latch-string will always be out for you," +promised Anne. "And do you know that the old sea +captain who keeps the Four Winds light knew John Selwyn +and his bride well in his boyhood? He told me their +story the night I came here--the third bride of the old +house." + +"Can it be possible? This IS a discovery. I must hunt +him up." + +"It won't be difficult; we are all cronies of Captain +Jim. He will be as eager to see you as you could be to +see him. Your grandmother shines like a star in his +memory. But I think Mrs. Moore is expecting you. I'll +show you our `cross-lots' road." + +Anne walked with him to the house up the brook, over a +field that was as white as snow with daisies. A +boat-load of people were singing far across the harbor. +The sound drifted over the water like faint, unearthly +music wind-blown across a starlit sea. The big light +flashed and beaconed. Owen Ford looked around him with +satisfaction. + +"And so this is Four Winds," he said. "I wasn't +prepared to find it quite so beautiful, in spite of all +mother's praises. What colors-- what scenery--what +charm! I shall get as strong as a horse in no time. +And if inspiration comes from beauty, I should +certainly be able to begin my great Canadian novel +here." + +"You haven't begun it yet?" asked Anne. + +"Alack-a-day, no. I've never been able to get the +right central idea for it. It lurks beyond me--it +allures--and beckons--and recedes-- I almost grasp it +and it is gone. Perhaps amid this peace and +loveliness, I shall be able to capture it. Miss Bryant +tells me that you write." + +"Oh, I do little things for children. I haven't done +much since I was married. And--I have no designs on a +great Canadian novel," laughed Anne. "That is quite +beyond me." + +Owen Ford laughed too. + +"I dare say it is beyond me as well. All the same I +mean to have a try at it some day, if I can ever get +time. A newspaper man doesn't have much chance for +that sort of thing. I've done a good deal of short +story writing for the magazines, but I've never had the +leisure that seems to be necessary for the writing of a +book. With three months of liberty I ought to make a +start, though--if I could only get the necessary motif +for it--the SOUL of the book." + +An idea whisked through Anne's brain with a suddenness +that made her jump. But she did not utter it, for they +had reached the Moore house. As they entered the yard +Leslie came out on the veranda from the side door, +peering through the gloom for some sign of her expected +guest. She stood just where the warm yellow light +flooded her from the open door. She wore a plain dress +of cheap, cream-tinted cotton voile, with the usual +girdle of crimson. Leslie was never without her touch +of crimson. She had told Anne that she never felt +satisfied without a gleam of red somewhere about her, +if it were only a flower. To Anne, it always seemed to +symbolise Leslie's glowing, pent-up personality, +denied all expression save in that flaming glint. +Leslie's dress was cut a little away at the neck and +had short sleeves. Her arms gleamed like ivory-tinted +marble. Every exquisite curve of her form was +outlined in soft darkness against the light. Her hair +shone in it like flame. Beyond her was a purple sky, +flowering with stars over the harbor. + +Anne heard her companion give a gasp. Even in the dusk +she could see the amazement and admiration on his face. + +"Who is that beautiful creature?" he asked. + +"That is Mrs. Moore," said Anne. "She is very lovely, +isn't she?" + +"I--I never saw anything like her," he answered, +rather dazedly. "I wasn't prepared--I didn't +expect--good heavens, one DOESN'T expect a goddess for +a landlady ! Why, if she were clothed in a gown of +sea-purple, with a rope of amethysts in her hair, she +would be a veritable sea-queen. And she takes in +boarders!" + +"Even goddesses must live," said Anne. "And Leslie +isn't a goddess. She's just a very beautiful woman, as +human as the rest of us. Did Miss Bryant tell you +about Mr. Moore?" + +"Yes,--he's mentally deficient, or something of the +sort, isn't he? But she said nothing about Mrs. Moore, +and I supposed she'd be the usual hustling country +housewife who takes in boarders to earn an honest +penny." + +"Well, that's just what Leslie is doing," said Anne +crisply. "And it isn't altogether pleasant for her, +either. I hope you won't mind Dick. If you do, please +don't let Leslie see it. It would hurt her horribly. +He's just a big baby, and sometimes a rather annoying +one." + +"Oh, I won't mind him. I don't suppose I'll be much in +the house anyhow, except for meals. But what a shame +it all is! Her life must be a hard one." + +"It is. But she doesn't like to be pitied." + +Leslie had gone back into the house and now met them at +the front door. She greeted Owen Ford with cold +civility, and told him in a business-like tone that his +room and his supper were ready for him. Dick, with a +pleased grin, shambled upstairs with the valise, and +Owen Ford was installed as an inmate of the old house +among the willows. + + + +CHAPTER 24 + +THE LIFE-BOOK OF CAPTAIN JIM + +"I have a little brown cocoon of an idea that may +possibly expand into a magnificent moth of +fulfilment," Anne told Gilbert when she reached home. +He had returned earlier than she had expected, and was +enjoying Susan's cherry pie. Susan herself hovered in +the background, like a rather grim but beneficent +guardian spirit, and found as much pleasure in watching +Gilbert eat pie as he did in eating it. + + "What is your idea?" he asked. + +"I sha'n't tell you just yet--not till I see if I can +bring the thing about." + +"What sort of a chap is Ford?" + +"Oh, very nice, and quite good-looking." + +"Such beautiful ears, doctor, dear," interjected Susan +with a relish. + +"He is about thirty or thirty-five, I think, and he +meditates writing a novel. His voice is pleasant and +his smile delightful, and he knows how to dress. He +looks as if life hadn't been altogether easy for him, +somehow." + +Owen Ford came over the next evening with a note to +Anne from Leslie; they spent the sunset time in the +garden and then went for a moonlit sail on the harbor, +in the little boat Gilbert had set up for summer +outings. They liked Owen immensely and had that +feeling of having known him for many years which +distinguishes the freemasonry of the house of Joseph. +"He is as nice as his ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear," said +Susan, when he had gone. He had told Susan that he had +never tasted anything like her strawberry shortcake and +Susan's susceptible heart was his forever. + +"He has got a way with him." she reflected, as she +cleared up the relics of the supper. "It is real queer +he is not married, for a man like that could have +anybody for the asking. Well, maybe he is like me, and +has not met the right one yet." + +Susan really grew quite romantic in her musings as she +washed the supper dishes. + +Two nights later Anne took Owen Ford down to Four Winds +Point to introduce him to Captain Jim. The clover +fields along the harbor shore were whitening in the +western wind, and Captain Jim had one of his finest +sunsets on exhibition. He himself had just returned +from a trip over the harbor. + +"I had to go over and tell Henry Pollack he was dying. +Everybody else was afraid to tell him. They expected +he'd take on turrible, for he's been dreadful +determined to live, and been making no end of plans for +the fall. His wife thought he oughter be told and that +I'd be the best one to break it to him that he couldn't +get better. Henry and me are old cronies--we sailed in +the Gray Gull for years together. Well, I went over +and sat down by Henry's bed and I says to him, says I, +jest right out plain and simple, for if a thing's got +to be told it may as well be told first as last, says +I, `Mate, I reckon you've got your sailing orders this +time,' I was sorter quaking inside, for it's an awful +thing to have to tell a man who hain't any idea he's +dying that he is. But lo and behold, Mistress Blythe, +Henry looks up at me, with those bright old black eyes +of his in his wizened face and says, says he, `Tell me +something I don't know, Jim Boyd, if you want to give +me information. I've known THAT for a week.' I was +too astonished to speak, and Henry, he chuckled. `To +see you coming in here,' says he, `with your face as +solemn as a tombstone and sitting down there with your +hands clasped over your stomach, and passing me out a +blue-mouldy old item of news like that! It'd make a +cat laugh, Jim Boyd,' says he. `Who told you?' says I, +stupid like. `Nobody,' says he. `A week ago Tuesday +night I was lying here awake--and I jest knew. I'd +suspicioned it before, but then I KNEW. I've been +keeping up for the wife's sake. And I'd LIKE to have +got that barn built, for Eben'll never get it right. +But anyhow, now that you've eased your mind, Jim, put +on a smile and tell me something interesting,' Well, +there it was. They'd been so scared to tell him and he +knew it all the time. Strange how nature looks out for +us, ain't it, and lets us know what we should know when +the time comes? Did I never tell you the yarn about +Henry getting the fish hook in his nose, Mistress +Blythe?" + +"No." + +"Well, him and me had a laugh over it today. It +happened nigh unto thirty years ago. Him and me and +several more was out mackerel fishing one day. It was +a great day--never saw such a school of mackerel in +the gulf--and in the general excitement Henry got quite +wild and contrived to stick a fish hook clean through +one side of his nose. Well, there he was; there was +barb on one end and a big piece of lead on the other, +so it couldn't be pulled out. We wanted to take him +ashore at once, but Henry was game; he said he'd be +jiggered if he'd leave a school like that for anything +short of lockjaw; then he kept fishing away, hauling in +hand over fist and groaning between times. Fin'lly the +school passed and we come in with a load; I got a file +and begun to try to file through that hook. I tried to +be as easy as I could, but you should have heard +Henry--no, you shouldn't either. It was well no ladies +were around. Henry wasn't a swearing man, but he'd +heard some few matters of that sort along shore in his +time, and he fished 'em all out of his recollection and +hurled 'em at me. Fin'lly he declared he couldn't +stand it and I had no bowels of compassion. So we +hitched up and I drove him to a doctor in +Charlottetown, thirty-five miles--there weren't none +nearer in them days--with that blessed hook still +hanging from his nose. When we got there old Dr. Crabb +jest took a file and filed that hook jest the same as +I'd tried to do, only he weren't a mite particular +about doing it easy!" + +Captain Jim's visit to his old friend had revived many +recollections and he was now in the full tide of +reminiscences. + +"Henry was asking me today if I remembered the time old +Father Chiniquy blessed Alexander MacAllister's boat. +Another odd yarn--and true as gospel. I was in the +boat myself. We went out, him and me, in Alexander +MacAllister's boat one morning at sunrise. Besides, +there was a French boy in the boat--Catholic of course. +You know old Father Chiniquy had turned Protestant, so +the Catholics hadn't much use for him. Well, we sat +out in the gulf in the broiling sun till noon, and not +a bite did we get. When we went ashore old Father +Chiniquy had to go, so he said in that polite way of +his, `I'm very sorry I cannot go out with you dis +afternoon, Mr. MacAllister, but I leave you my +blessing. You will catch a t'ousand dis afternoon. +`Well, we did not catch a thousand, but we caught +exactly nine hundred and ninety-nine--the biggest catch +for a small boat on the whole north shore that summer. +Curious, wasn't it? Alexander MacAllister, he says to +Andrew Peters, `Well, and what do you think of Father +Chiniquy now?' `Vell,' growled Andrew, `I t'ink de old +devil has got a blessing left yet.' Laws, how Henry +did laugh over that today!" + +"Do you know who Mr. Ford is, Captain Jim?" asked +Anne, seeing that Captain Jim's fountain of +reminiscence had run out for the present. "I want you +to guess." + +Captain Jim shook his head. + +"I never was any hand at guessing, Mistress Blythe, and +yet somehow when I come in I thought, `Where have I +seen them eyes before?'--for I HAVE seen 'em." + +"Think of a September morning many years ago," said +Anne, softly. "Think of a ship sailing up the +harbor--a ship long waited for and despaired of. Think +of the day the Royal William came in and the first +look you had at the schoolmaster's bride." + +Captain Jim sprang up. + +"They're Persis Selwyn's eyes," he almost shouted. +"You can't be her son--you must be her--" + +"Grandson; yes, I am Alice Selwyn's son." + +Captain Jim swooped down on Owen Ford and shook his +hand over again. + +"Alice Selwyn's son! Lord, but you're welcome! Many's +the time I've wondered where the descendants of the +schoolmaster were living. I knew there was none on the +Island. Alice--Alice--the first baby ever born in that +little house. No baby ever brought more joy! I've +dandled her a hundred times. It was from my knee she +took her first steps alone. Can't I see her mother's +face watching her--and it was near sixty years ago. Is +she living yet?" + +"No, she died when I was only a boy." + +"Oh, it doesn't seem right that I should be living to +hear that," sighed Captain Jim. "But I'm heart-glad +to see you. It's brought back my youth for a little +while. You don't know yet what a boon THAT is. +Mistress Blythe here has the trick--she does it quite +often for me." + +Captain Jim was still more excited when he discovered +that Owen Ford was what he called a "real writing +man." He gazed at him as at a superior being. +Captain Jim knew that Anne wrote, but he had never +taken that fact very seriously. Captain Jim thought +women were delightful creatures, who ought to have the +vote, and everything else they wanted, bless their +hearts; but he did not believe they could write. + +"Jest look at A Mad Love," he would protest. "A woman +wrote that and jest look at it--one hundred and three +chapters when it could all have been told in ten. A +writing woman never knows when to stop; that's the +trouble. The p'int of good writing is to know when to +stop." + +"Mr. Ford wants to hear some of your stories, Captain +Jim" said Anne. "Tell him the one about the captain +who went crazy and imagined he was the Flying +Dutchman." + +This was Captain Jim's best story. It was a compound +of horror and humor, and though Anne had heard it +several times she laughed as heartily and shivered as +fearsomely over it as Mr. Ford did. Other tales +followed, for Captain Jim had an audience after his own +heart. He told how his vessel had been run down by a +steamer; how he had been boarded by Malay pirates; how +his ship had caught fire; how he helped a political +prisoner escape from a South African republic; how he +had been wrecked one fall on the Magdalens and stranded +there for the winter; how a tiger had broken loose on +board ship; how his crew had mutinied and marooned him +on a barren island--these and many other tales, tragic +or humorous or grotesque, did Captain Jim relate. The +mystery of the sea, the fascination of far lands, the +lure of adventure, the laughter of the world--his +hearers felt and realised them all. Owen Ford +listened, with his head on his hand, and the First +Mate purring on his knee, his brilliant eyes fastened +on Captain Jim's rugged, eloquent face. + +"Won't you let Mr. Ford see your life-book, Captain +Jim?" asked Anne, when Captain Jim finally declared +that yarn-spinning must end for the time. + +"Oh, he don't want to be bothered with THAT," +protested Captain Jim, who was secretly dying to show +it. + +"I should like nothing better than to see it, Captain +Boyd," said Owen. "If it is half as wonderful as your +tales it will be worth seeing." + +With pretended reluctance Captain Jim dug his life-book +out of his old chest and handed it to Owen. + +"I reckon you won't care to wrastle long with my old +hand o' write. I never had much schooling," he +observed carelessly. "Just wrote that there to amuse +my nephew Joe. He's always wanting stories. Comes +here yesterday and says to me, reproachful-like, as I +was lifting a twenty-pound codfish out of my boat, +`Uncle Jim, ain't a codfish a dumb animal?' I'd been +a-telling him, you see, that he must be real kind to +dumb animals, and never hurt 'em in any way. I got out +of the scrape by saying a codfish was dumb enough but +it wasn't an animal, but Joe didn't look satisfied, and +I wasn't satisfied myself. You've got to be mighty +careful what you tell them little critters. THEY can +see through you." + +While talking, Captain Jim watched Owen Ford from the +corner of his eye as the latter examined the life-book; +and presently observing that his guest was lost in its +pages, he turned smilingly to his cupboard and +proceeded to make a pot of tea. Owen Ford separated +himself from the life-book, with as much reluctance as +a miser wrenches himself from his gold, long enough to +drink his tea, and then returned to it hungrily. + +"Oh, you can take that thing home with you if you want +to," said Captain Jim, as if the "thing" were not his +most treasured possession. "I must go down and pull my +boat up a bit on the skids. There's a wind coming. +Did you notice the sky tonight? + + Mackerel skies and mares' tails Make tall ships +carry short sails." + + Owen Ford accepted the offer of the life-book gladly. +On their way home Anne told him the story of lost +Margaret. + +"That old captain is a wonderful old fellow," he said. +"What a life he has led! Why, the man had more +adventures in one week of his life than most of us have +in a lifetime. Do you really think his tales are all +true?" + +"I certainly do. I am sure Captain Jim could not tell +a lie; and besides, all the people about here say that +everything happened as he relates it. There used to be +plenty of his old shipmates alive to corroborate him. +He's one of the last of the old type of P.E. Island +sea-captains. They are almost extinct now." + + + +CHAPTER 25 + +THE WRITING OF THE BOOK + +Owen Ford came over to the little house the next +morning in a state of great excitement. "Mrs. Blythe, +this is a wonderful book--absolutely wonderful. If I +could take it and use the material for a book I feel +certain I could make the novel of the year out of it. +Do you suppose Captain Jim would let me do it?" + +"Let you! I'm sure he would be delighted," cried +Anne. "I admit that it was what was in my head when I +took you down last night. Captain Jim has always been +wishing he could get somebody to write his life-book +properly for him." + +"Will you go down to the Point with me this evening, +Mrs. Blythe? I'll ask him about that life-book myself, +but I want you to tell him that you told me the story +of lost Margaret and ask him if he will let me use it +as a thread of romance with which to weave the stories +of the life-book into a harmonious whole." + +Captain Jim was more excited than ever when Owen Ford +told him of his plan. At last his cherished dream was +to be realized and his "life-book" given to the world. +He was also pleased that the story of lost Margaret +should be woven into it. + +"It will keep her name from being forgotten," he said +wistfully. + +"That's why I want it put in." + +"We'll collaborate," cried Owen delightedly. "You +will give the soul and I the body. Oh, we'll write a +famous book between us, Captain Jim. And we'll get +right to work." + +"And to think my book is to be writ by the +schoolmaster's grandson!" exclaimed Captain Jim. +"Lad, your grandfather was my dearest friend. I +thought there was nobody like him. I see now why I had +to wait so long. It couldn't be writ till the right +man come. You BELONG here--you've got the soul of this +old north shore in you-- you're the only one who COULD +write it." + +It was arranged that the tiny room off the living room +at the lighthouse should be given over to Owen for a +workshop. It was necessary that Captain Jim should be +near him as he wrote, for consultation upon many +matters of sea-faring and gulf lore of which Owen was +quite ignorant. + +He began work on the book the very next morning, and +flung himself into it heart and soul. As for Captain +Jim, he was a happy man that summer. He looked upon +the little room where Owen worked as a sacred shrine. +Owen talked everything over with Captain Jim, but he +would not let him see the manuscript. + +"You must wait until it is published," he said. "Then +you'll get it all at once in its best shape." + +He delved into the treasures of the life-book and used +them freely. He dreamed and brooded over lost Margaret +until she became a vivid reality to him and lived in +his pages. As the book progressed it took possession +of him and he worked at it with feverish eagerness. He +let Anne and Leslie read the manuscript and criticise +it; and the concluding chapter of the book, which the +critics, later on, were pleased to call idyllic, was +modelled upon a suggestion of Leslie's. + +Anne fairly hugged herself with delight over the +success of her idea. + +"I knew when I looked at Owen Ford that he was the very +man for it," she told Gilbert. "Both humor and +passion were in his face, and that, together with the +art of expression, was just what was necessary for the +writing of such a book. As Mrs. Rachel would say, he +was predestined for the part." + +Owen Ford wrote in the mornings. The afternoons were +generally spent in some merry outing with the Blythes. +Leslie often went, too, for Captain Jim took charge of +Dick frequently, in order to set her free. They went +boating on the harbor and up the three pretty rivers +that flowed into it; they had clambakes on the bar and +mussel-bakes on the rocks; they picked strawberries on +the sand-dunes; they went out cod-fishing with Captain +Jim; they shot plover in the shore fields and wild +ducks in the cove--at least, the men did. In the +evenings they rambled in the low-lying, daisied, shore +fields under a golden moon, or they sat in the living +room at the little house where often the coolness of +the sea breeze justified a driftwood fire, and talked +of the thousand and one things which happy, eager, +clever young people can find to talk about. + +Ever since the day on which she had made her confession +to Anne Leslie had been a changed creature. There was +no trace of her old coldness and reserve, no shadow of +her old bitterness. The girlhood of which she had been +cheated seemed to come back to her with the ripeness of +womanhood; she expanded like a flower of flame and +perfume; no laugh was readier than hers, no wit +quicker, in the twilight circles of that enchanted +summer. When she could not be with them all felt that +some exquisite savor was lacking in their intercourse. +Her beauty was illumined by the awakened soul within, +as some rosy lamp might shine through a flawless vase +of alabaster. There were hours when Anne's eyes seemed +to ache with the splendor of her. As for Owen Ford, +the "Margaret" of his book, although she had the soft +brown hair and elfin face of the real girl who had +vanished so long ago, "pillowed where lost Atlantis +sleeps," had the personality of Leslie Moore, as it +was revealed to him in those halcyon days at Four Winds +Harbor. + +All in all, it was a never-to-be-forgotten summer--one +of those summers which come seldom into any life, but +leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their +going--one of those summers which, in a fortunate +combination of delightful weather, delightful friends +and delightful doings, come as near to perfection as +anything can come in this world. + +"Too good to last," Anne told herself with a little +sigh, on the September day when a certain nip in the +wind and a certain shade of intense blue on the gulf +water said that autumn was hard by. + +That evening Owen Ford told them that he had finished +his book and that his vacation must come to an end. + +"I have a good deal to do to it yet--revising and +pruning and so forth," he said, "but in the main it's +done. I wrote the last sentence this morning. If I +can find a publisher for it it will probably be out +next summer or fall." + +Owen had not much doubt that he would find a publisher. +He knew that he had written a great book--a book that +would score a wonderful success--a book that would +LIVE. He knew that it would bring him both fame and +fortune; but when he had written the last line of it he +had bowed his head on the manuscript and so sat for a +long time. And his thoughts were not of the good work +he had done. + + + +CHAPTER 26 + +OWEN FORD'S CONFESSION + +"I'm so sorry Gilbert is away," said Anne. "He had to +go--Allan Lyons at the Glen has met with a serious +accident. He will not likely be home till very late. +But he told me to tell you he'd be up and over early +enough in the morning to see you before you left. It's +too provoking. Susan and I had planned such a nice +little jamboree for your last night here." + +She was sitting beside the garden brook on the little +rustic seat Gilbert had built. Owen Ford stood before +her, leaning against the bronze column of a yellow +birch. He was very pale and his face bore the marks of +the preceding sleepless night. Anne, glancing up at +him, wondered if, after all, his summer had brought him +the strength it should. Had he worked too hard over +his book? She remembered that for a week he had not +been looking well. + +"I'm rather glad the doctor is away," said Owen +slowly. "I wanted to see you alone, Mrs. Blythe. +There is something I must tell somebody, or I think it +will drive me mad. I've been trying for a week to look +it in the face--and I can't. I know I can trust +you--and, besides, you will understand. A woman with +eyes like yours always understands. You are one of the +folks people instinctively tell things to. Mrs. +Blythe, I love Leslie. LOVE her! That seems too weak +a word!" + +His voice suddenly broke with the suppressed passion of +his utterance. He turned his head away and hid his +face on his arm. His whole form shook. Anne sat +looking at him, pale and aghast. She had never +thought of this! And yet--how was it she had never +thought of it? It now seemed a natural and inevitable +thing. She wondered at her own blindness. +But--but--things like this did not happen in Four +Winds. Elsewhere in the world human passions might set +at defiance human conventions and laws--but not HERE, +surely. Leslie had kept summer boarders off and on for +ten years, and nothing like this had happened. But +perhaps they had not been like Owen Ford; and the +vivid, LIVING Leslie of this summer was not the cold, +sullen girl of other years. Oh, SOMEBODY should have +thought of this! Why hadn't Miss Cornelia thought of +it? Miss Cornelia was always ready enough to sound the +alarm where men were concerned. Anne felt an +unreasonable resentment against Miss Cornelia. Then +she gave a little inward groan. No matter who was to +blame the mischief was done. And Leslie--what of +Leslie? It was for Leslie Anne felt most concerned. + +"Does Leslie know this, Mr. Ford?" she asked quietly. + +"No--no,--unless she has guessed it. You surely don't +think I'd be cad and scoundrel enough to tell her, Mrs. +Blythe. I couldn't help loving her--that's all--and my +misery is greater than I can bear." + +"Does SHE care?" asked Anne. The moment the question +crossed her lips she felt that she should not have +asked it. Owen Ford answered it with overeager +protest. + +"No--no, of course not. But I could make her care if +she were free--I know I could." + +"She does care--and he knows it," thought Anne. Aloud +she said, sympathetically but decidedly: + +"But she is not free, Mr. Ford. And the only thing you +can do is to go away in silence and leave her to her +own life." + +"I know--I know," groaned Owen. He sat down on the +grassy bank and stared moodily into the amber water +beneath him. "I know there's nothing to do--nothing +but to say conventionally, `Good- bye, Mrs. Moore. +Thank you for all your kindness to me this summer,' +just as I would have said it to the sonsy, bustling, +keen-eyed housewife I expected her to be when I came. +Then I'll pay my board money like any honest boarder +and go! Oh, it's very simple. No doubt--no +perplexity--a straight road to the end of the world! + +And I'll walk it--you needn't fear that I won't, Mrs. +Blythe. But it would be easier to walk over red-hot +ploughshares." + +Anne flinched with the pain of his voice. And there +was so little she could say that would be adequate to +the situation. Blame was out of the question--advice +was not needed--sympathy was mocked by the man's stark +agony. She could only feel with him in a maze of +compassion and regret. Her heart ached for Leslie! +Had not that poor girl suffered enough without this? + +"It wouldn't be so hard to go and leave her if she were +only happy," resumed Owen passionately. "But to think +of her living death--to realise what it is to which I +do leave her! THAT is the worst of all. I would give +my life to make her happy--and I can do nothing even to +help her--nothing. She is bound forever to that poor +wretch--with nothing to look forward to but growing old +in a succession of empty, meaningless, barren years. +It drives me mad to think of it. But I must go through +my life, never seeing her, but always knowing what she +is enduring. It's hideous--hideous!" + +"It is very hard," said Anne sorrowfully. "We--her +friends here--all know how hard it is for her." + +"And she is so richly fitted for life," said Owen +rebelliously. + +"Her beauty is the least of her dower--and she is the +most beautiful woman I've ever known. That laugh of +hers! I've angled all summer to evoke that laugh, just +for the delight of hearing it. And her eyes-- they are +as deep and blue as the gulf out there. I never saw +such blueness--and gold! Did you ever see her hair +down, Mrs. Blythe?" + +"No." + +"I did--once. I had gone down to the Point to go +fishing with Captain Jim but it was too rough to go +out, so I came back. She had taken the opportunity of +what she expected to be an afternoon alone to wash her +hair, and she was standing on the veranda in the +sunshine to dry it. It fell all about her to her feet +in a fountain of living gold. When she saw me she +hurried in, and the wind caught her hair and swirled it +all around her--Danae in her cloud. Somehow, just then +the knowledge that I loved her came home to me--and +realised that I had loved her from the moment I first +saw her standing against the darkness in that glow of +light. And she must live on here--petting and soothing +Dick, pinching and saving for a mere existence, while I +spend my life longing vainly for her, and debarred, by +that very fact, from even giving her the little help a +friend might. I walked the shore last night, almost +till dawn, and thrashed it all out over and over again. +And yet, in spite of everything, I can't find it in my +heart to be sorry that I came to Four Winds. It seems +to me that, bad as everything is, it would be still +worse never to have known Leslie. It's burning, +searing pain to love her and leave her--but not to have +loved her is unthinkable. I suppose all this sounds +very crazy--all these terrible emotions always do sound +foolish when we put them into our inadequate words. +They are not meant to be spoken--only felt and endured. +I shouldn't have spoken--but it has helped-- some. At +least, it has given me strength to go away respectably +tomorrow morning, without making a scene. You'll write +me now and then, won't you, Mrs. Blythe, and give me +what news there is to give of her?" + +"Yes," said Anne. "Oh, I'm so sorry you are +going--we'll miss you so--we've all been such friends! +If it were not for this you could come back other +summers. Perhaps, even yet--by-and-by--when you've +forgotten, perhaps--" + +"I shall never forget--and I shall never come back to +Four Winds," said Owen briefly. + +Silence and twilight fell over the garden. Far away +the sea was lapping gently and monotonously on the bar. +The wind of evening in the poplars sounded like some +sad, weird, old rune--some broken dream of old +memories. A slender shapely young aspen rose up before +them against the fine maize and emerald and paling rose +of the western sky, which brought out every leaf and +twig in dark, tremulous, elfin loveliness. + +"Isn't that beautiful?" said Owen, pointing to it with +the air of a man who puts a certain conversation behind +him. + +"It's so beautiful that it hurts me," said Anne +softly. "Perfect things like that always did hurt +me--I remember I called it `the queer ache' when I was +a child. What is the reason that pain like this seems +inseparable from perfection? Is it the pain of +finality--when we realise that there can be nothing +beyond but retrogression?" + +"Perhaps," said Owen dreamily, "it is the prisoned +infinite in us calling out to its kindred infinite as +expressed in that visible perfection." + +"You seem to have a cold in the head. Better rub some +tallow on your nose when you go to bed," said Miss +Cornelia, who had come in through the little gate +between the firs in time to catch Owen's last remark. +Miss Cornelia liked Owen; but it was a matter of +principle with her to visit any "high-falutin" +language from a man with a snub. + +Miss Cornelia personated the comedy that ever peeps +around the corner at the tragedy of life. Anne, whose +nerves had been rather strained, laughed hysterically, +and even Owen smiled. Certainly, sentiment and +passion had a way of shrinking out of sight in Miss +Cornelia's presence. And yet to Anne nothing seemed +quite as hopeless and dark and painful as it had seemed +a few moments before. But sleep was far from her eyes +that night. + + + +CHAPTER 27 + +ON THE SAND BAR + +Owen Ford left Four Winds the next morning. In the +evening Anne went over to see Leslie, but found nobody. +The house was locked and there was no light in any +window. It looked like a home left soulless. Leslie +did not run over on the following day--which Anne +thought a bad sign. + +Gilbert having occasion to go in the evening to the +fishing cove, Anne drove with him to the Point, +intending to stay awhile with Captain Jim. But the +great light, cutting its swathes through the fog of the +autumn evening, was in care of Alec Boyd and Captain +Jim was away. + +"What will you do?" asked Gilbert. "Come with me?" + +"I don't want to go to the cove--but I'll go over the +channel with you, and roam about on the sand shore till +you come back. The rock shore is too slippery and grim +tonight." + +Alone on the sands of the bar Anne gave herself up to +the eerie charm of the night. It was warm for +September, and the late afternoon had been very foggy; +but a full moon had in part lessened the fog and +transformed the harbor and the gulf and the surrounding +shores into a strange, fantastic, unreal world of pale +silver mist, through which everything loomed +phantom-like. Captain Josiah Crawford's black +schooner sailing down the channel, laden with potatoes +for Bluenose ports, was a spectral ship bound for a far +uncharted land, ever receding, never to be reached. +The calls of unseen gulls overhead were the cries of +the souls of doomed seamen. The little curls of foam +that blew across the sand were elfin things stealing up +from the sea-caves. The big, round-shouldered +sand-dunes were the sleeping giants of some old +northern tale. The lights that glimmered palely across +the harbor were the delusive beacons on some coast of +fairyland. Anne pleased herself with a hundred fancies +as she wandered through the mist. It was +delightful--romantic-- mysterious to be roaming here +alone on this enchanted shore. + +But was she alone? Something loomed in the mist before +her--took shape and form--suddenly moved towards her +across the wave-rippled sand. + +"Leslie!" exclaimed Anne in amazement. "Whatever are +you doing--HERE--tonight?" + +"If it comes to that, whatever are YOU doing here?" +said Leslie, trying to laugh. The effort was a +failure. She looked very pale and tired; but the love +locks under her scarlet cap were curling about her +face and eyes like little sparkling rings of gold. + +"I'm waiting for Gilbert--he's over at the Cove. I +intended to stay at the light, but Captain Jim is +away." + +"Well, _I_ came here because I wanted to walk--and +walk--and WALK," said Leslie restlessly. "I couldn't +on the rock shore--the tide was too high and the rocks +prisoned me. I had to come here--or I should have gone +mad, I think. I rowed myself over the channel in +Captain Jim's flat. I've been here for an hour. +Come--come--let us walk. I can't stand still. Oh, +Anne!" + +"Leslie, dearest, what is the trouble?" asked Anne, +though she knew too well already. + +"I can't tell you--don't ask me . I wouldn't mind your +knowing-- I wish you did know--but I can't tell you--I +can't tell anyone. I've been such a fool, Anne--and +oh, it hurts so terribly to be a fool. There's nothing +so painful in the world." + +She laughed bitterly. Anne slipped her arm around her. + +"Leslie, is it that you have learned to care for Mr. +Ford?" + +Leslie turned herself about passionately. + +"How did you know?" she cried. "Anne, how did you +know? Oh, is it written in my face for everyone to +see? Is it as plain as that?" + +"No, no. I--I can't tell you how I knew. It just came +into my mind, somehow. Leslie, don't look at me like +that!" + +"Do you despise me?" demanded Leslie in a fierce, low +tone. "Do you think I'm wicked--unwomanly? Or do you +think I'm just plain fool?" + +"I don't think you any of those things. Come, dear, +let's just talk it over sensibly, as we might talk over +any other of the great crises of life. You've been +brooding over it and let yourself drift into a morbid +view of it. You know you have a little tendency to do +that about everything that goes wrong, and you promised +me that you would fight against it." + +"But--oh, it's so--so shameful," murmured Leslie. "To +love him--unsought--and when I'm not free to love +anybody." + +"There's nothing shameful about it. But I'm very sorry +that you have learned to care for Owen, because, as +things are, it will only make you more unhappy." + +"I didn't LEARN to care," said Leslie, walking on and +speaking passionately. "If it had been like that I +could have prevented it. I never dreamed of such a +thing until that day, a week ago, when he told me he +had finished his book and must soon go away. Then-- +then I knew. I felt as if someone had struck me a +terrible blow. I didn't say anything--I couldn't +speak--but I don't know what I looked like. I'm so +afraid my face betrayed me. Oh, I would die of shame +if I thought he knew--or suspected." + +Anne was miserably silent, hampered by her deductions +from her conversation with Owen. Leslie went on +feverishly, as if she found relief in speech. + +"I was so happy all this summer, Anne--happier than I +ever was in my life. I thought it was because +everything had been made clear between you and me, and +that it was our friendship which made life seem so +beautiful and full once more. And it WAS, in part--but +not all--oh, not nearly all. I know now why everything +was so different. And now it's all over--and he has +gone. How can I live, Anne? When I turned back into +the house this morning after he had gone the solitude +struck me like a blow in the face." + +"It won't seem so hard by and by, dear," said Anne, +who always felt the pain of her friends so keenly that +she could not speak easy, fluent words of comforting. +Besides, she remembered how well- meant speeches had +hurt her in her own sorrow and was afraid. + +"Oh, it seems to me it will grow harder all the time," +said Leslie miserably. "I've nothing to look forward +to. Morning will come after morning--and he will not +come back--he will never come back. Oh, when I think +that I will never see him again I feel as if a great +brutal hand had twisted itself among my heartstrings, +and was wrenching them. Once, long ago, I dreamed of +love--and I thought it must be beautiful--and NOW--its +like THIS. When he went away yesterday morning he was +so cold and indifferent. He said `Good- bye, Mrs. +Moore' in the coldest tone in the world--as if we had +not even been friends--as if I meant absolutely nothing +to him. I know I don't--I didn't want him to +care--but he MIGHT have been a little kinder." + +"Oh, I wish Gilbert would come," thought Anne. She +was racked between her sympathy for Leslie and the +necessity of avoiding anything that would betray Owen's +confidence. She knew why his good-bye had been so +cold--why it could not have the cordiality that their +good-comradeship demanded--but she could not tell +Leslie. + +"I couldn't help it, Anne--I couldn't help it," said +poor Leslie. + +"I know that." + +"Do you blame me so very much?" + +"I don't blame you at all." + +"And you won't--you won't tell Gilbert?" + +" Leslie! Do you think I would do such a thing?" + +"Oh, I don't know--you and Gilbert are such CHUMS. I +don't see how you could help telling him everything." + +"Everything about my own concerns--yes. But not my +friends' secrets." + +"I couldn't have HIM know. But I'm glad YOU know. I +would feel guilty if there were anything I was ashamed +to tell you. I hope Miss Cornelia won't find out. +Sometimes I feel as if those terrible, kind brown eyes +of hers read my very soul. Oh, I wish this mist would +never lift--I wish I could just stay in it forever, +hidden away from every living being. I don't see how I +can go on with life. This summer has been so full. I +never was lonely for a moment. Before Owen came there +used to be horrible moments--when I had been with you +and Gilbert--and then had to leave you. You two would +walk away together and I would walk away ALONE. After +Owen came he was always there to walk home with me--we +would laugh and talk as you and Gilbert were +doing--there were no more lonely, envious moments for +me. And NOW! Oh, yes, I've been a fool. Let's have +done talking about my folly. I'll never bore you with +it again." + +"Here is Gilbert, and you are coming back with us," +said Anne, who had no intention of leaving Leslie to +wander alone on the sand-bar on such a night and in +such a mood. "There's plenty of room in our boat for +three, and we'll tie the flat on behind." + +"Oh, I suppose I must reconcile myself to being the odd +one again," said poor Leslie with another bitter +laugh. "Forgive me, Anne--that was hateful. I ought +to be thankful--and I AM--that I have two good friends +who are glad to count me in as a third. Don't mind my +hateful speeches. I just seem to be one great pain all +over and everything hurts me." + +"Leslie seemed very quiet tonight, didn't she?" said +Gilbert, when he and Anne reached home. "What in the +world was she doing over there on the bar alone?" + +"Oh, she was tired--and you know she likes to go to the +shore after one of Dick's bad days." + +"What a pity she hadn't met and married a fellow like +Ford long ago," ruminated Gilbert. "They'd have made +an ideal couple, wouldn't they?" + +"For pity's sake, Gilbert, don't develop into a +match-maker. It's an abominable profession for a +man," cried Anne rather sharply, afraid that Gilbert +might blunder on the truth if he kept on in this +strain. + +"Bless us, Anne-girl, I'm not matchmaking," protested +Gilbert, rather surprised at her tone. "I was only +thinking of one of the might-have-beens." + +"Well, don't. It's a waste of time," said Anne. Then +she added suddenly: + +"Oh, Gilbert, I wish everybody could be as happy as we +are." + + + +CHAPTER 28 + +ODDS AND ENDS + +"I've been reading obituary notices," said Miss +Cornelia, laying down the Daily Enterprise and taking +up her sewing. + +The harbor was lying black and sullen under a dour +November sky; the wet, dead leaves clung drenched and +sodden to the window sills; but the little house was +gay with firelight and spring-like with Anne's ferns +and geraniums. + +"It's always summer here, Anne," Leslie had said one +day; and all who were the guests of that house of +dreams felt the same. + +"The Enterprise seems to run to obituaries these +days," quoth Miss Cornelia. "It always has a couple +of columns of them, and I read every line. It's one of +my forms of recreation, especially when there's some +original poetry attached to them. Here's a choice +sample for you: + + She's gone to be with her Maker, Never more to +roam. She used to play and sing with joy The +song of Home, Sweet Home. + +Who says we haven't any poetical talent on the Island! +Have you ever noticed what heaps of good people die, +Anne, dearie? It's kind of pitiful. Here's ten +obituaries, and every one of them saints and models, +even the men. Here's old Peter Stimson, who has `left +a large circle of friends to mourn his untimely loss.' +Lord, Anne, dearie, that man was eighty, and everybody +who knew him had been wishing him dead these thirty +years. Read obituaries when you're blue, Anne, +dearie--especially the ones of folks you know. If +you've any sense of humor at all they'll cheer you up, +believe ME. I just wish _I_ had the writing of the +obituaries of some people. Isn't `obituary' an awful +ugly word? This very Peter I've been speaking of had a +face exactly like one. I never saw it but I thought of +the word OBITUARY then and there. There's only one +uglier word that I know of, and that's RELICT. Lord, +Anne, dearie, I may be an old maid, but there's this +comfort in it--I'll never be any man's `relict.'" + +"It IS an ugly word," said Anne, laughing. "Avonlea +graveyard was full of old tombstones `sacred to the +memory of So-and-So, RELICT of the late So-and-So.' It +always made me think of something worn out and moth +eaten. Why is it that so many of the words connected +with death are so disagreeable? I do wish that the +custom of calling a dead body `the remains' could be +abolished. I positively shiver when I hear the +undertaker say at a funeral, `All who wish to see the +remains please step this way.' It always gives me the +horrible impression that I am about to view the scene +of a cannibal feast." + +"Well, all I hope," said Miss Cornelia calmly, "is +that when I'm dead nobody will call me `our departed +sister.' I took a scunner at this +sister-and-brothering business five years ago when +there was a travelling evangelist holding meetings at +the Glen. I hadn't any use for him from the start. I +felt in my bones that there was something wrong with +him. And there was. Mind you, he was pretending to be +a Presbyterian--PresbyTARian, HE called it--and all the +time he was a Methodist. He brothered and sistered +everybody. He had a large circle of relations, that +man had. He clutched my hand fervently one night, and +said imploringly, `My DEAR sister Bryant, are you a +Christian?' I just looked him over a bit, and then I +said calmly, `The only brother I ever had, MR. Fiske, +was buried fifteen years ago, and I haven't adopted any +since. As for being a Christian, I was that, I hope +and believe, when you were crawling about the floor in +petticoats.' THAT squelched him, believe ME. Mind +you, Anne dearie, I'm not down on all evangelists. +We've had some real fine, earnest men, who did a lot of +good and made the old sinners squirm. But this +Fiske-man wasn't one of them. I had a good laugh all +to myself one evening. Fiske had asked all who were +Christians to stand up. _I_ didn't, believe me! I +never had any use for that sort of thing. But most of +them did, and then he asked all who wanted to be +Christians to stand up. Nobody stirred for a spell, so +Fiske started up a hymn at the top of his voice. Just +in front of me poor little Ikey Baker was sitting in +the Millison pew. He was a home boy, ten years old, +and Millison just about worked him to death. The poor +little creature was always so tired he fell asleep +right off whenever he went to church or anywhere he +could sit still for a few minutes. He'd been sleeping +all through the meeting, and I was thankful to see the +poor child getting a rest, believe ME. Well, when +Fiske's voice went soaring skyward and the rest joined +in, poor Ikey wakened with a start. He thought it was +just an ordinary singing and that everybody ought to +stand up, so he scrambled to his feet mighty quick, +knowing he'd get a combing down from Maria Millison for +sleeping in meeting. Fiske saw him, stopped and +shouted, `Another soul saved! Glory Hallelujah!' And +there was poor, frightened Ikey, only half awake and +yawning, never thinking about his soul at all. Poor +child, he never had time to think of anything but his +tired, overworked little body. + +"Leslie went one night and the Fiske-man got right +after her--oh, he was especially anxious about the +souls of the nice-looking girls, believe me!--and he +hurt her feelings so she never went again. And then he +prayed every night after that, right in public, that +the Lord would soften her hard heart. Finally I went +to Mr. Leavitt, our minister then, and told him if he +didn't make Fiske stop that I'd just rise up the next +night and throw my hymn book at him when he mentioned +that `beautiful but unrepentant young woman.' I'd have +done it too, believe ME. Mr. Leavitt did put a stop to +it, but Fiske kept on with his meetings until Charley +Douglas put an end to his career in the Glen. Mrs. +Charley had been out in California all winter. She'd +been real melancholy in the fall--religious +melancholy--it ran in her family. Her father worried +so much over believing that he had committed the +unpardonable sin that he died in the asylum. So when +Rose Douglas got that way Charley packed her off to +visit her sister in Los Angeles. She got perfectly +well and came home just when the Fiske revival was in +full swing. She stepped off the train at the Glen, +real smiling and chipper, and the first thing she saw +staring her in the face on the black, gable-end of the +freight shed, was the question, in big white letters, +two feet high, `Whither goest thou--to heaven or hell?' +That had been one of Fiske's ideas, and he had got +Henry Hammond to paint it. Rose just gave a shriek and +fainted; and when they got her home she was worse than +ever. Charley Douglas went to Mr. Leavitt and told him +that every Douglas would leave the church if Fiske was +kept there any longer. Mr. Leavitt had to give in, for +the Douglases paid half his salary, so Fiske departed, +and we had to depend on our Bibles once more for +instructions on how to get to heaven. After he was +gone Mr. Leavitt found out he was just a masquerading +Methodist, and he felt pretty sick, believe ME. Mr. +Leavitt fell short in some ways, but he was a good, +sound Presbyterian." + +"By the way, I had a letter from Mr. Ford yesterday," +said Anne. "He asked me to remember him kindly to +you." + +"I don't want his remembrances," said Miss Cornelia, +curtly. + +"Why?" said Anne, in astonishment. "I thought you +liked him." + +"Well, so I did, in a kind of way. But I'll never +forgive him for what he done to Leslie. There's that +poor child eating her heart out about him--as if she +hadn't had trouble enough--and him ranting round +Toronto, I've no doubt, enjoying himself same as ever. +Just like a man." + +"Oh, Miss Cornelia, how did you find out?" + +"Lord, Anne, dearie, I've got eyes, haven't I? And +I've known Leslie since she was a baby . There's been +a new kind of heartbreak in her eyes all the fall, and +I know that writer-man was behind it somehow. I'll +never forgive myself for being the means of bringing +him here. But I never expected he'd be like he was. I +thought he'd just be like the other men Leslie had +boarded--conceited young asses, every one of them, that +she never had any use for. One of them did try to +flirt with her once and she froze him out--so bad, I +feel sure he's never got himself thawed since. So I +never thought of any danger." + +"Don't let Leslie suspect you know her secret," said +Anne hurriedly. "I think it would hurt her." + +"Trust me, Anne, dearie. _I_ wasn't born yesterday. +Oh, a plague on all the men! One of them ruined +Leslie's life to begin with, and now another of the +tribe comes and makes her still more wretched. Anne, +this world is an awful place, believe me." + + "There's something in the world amiss Will be +unriddled by and by," + +quoted Anne dreamily. + +"If it is, it'll be in a world where there aren't any +men," said Miss Cornelia gloomily. + +"What have the men been doing now?" asked Gilbert, +entering. + +"Mischief--mischief! What else did they ever do?" + +"It was Eve ate the apple, Miss Cornelia." + +" 'Twas a he-creature tempted her," retorted Miss +Cornelia triumphantly. + +Leslie, after her first anguish was over, found it +possible to go on with life after all, as most of us +do, no matter what our particular form of torment has +been. It is even possible that she enjoyed moments of +it, when she was one of the gay circle in the little +house of dreams. But if Anne ever hoped that she was +forgetting Owen Ford she would have been undeceived by +the furtive hunger in Leslie's eyes whenever his name +was mentioned. Pitiful to that hunger, Anne always +contrived to tell Captain Jim or Gilbert bits of news +from Owen's letters when Leslie was with them. The +girl's flush and pallor at such moments spoke all too +eloquently of the emotion that filled her being. But +she never spoke of him to Anne, or mentioned that night +on the sand-bar. + +One day her old dog died and she grieved bitterly over +him. + +"He's been my friend so long," she said sorrowfully to +Anne. "He was Dick's old dog, you know--Dick had him +for a year or so before we were married. He left him +with me when he sailed on the Four Sisters. Carlo got +very fond of me--and his dog-love helped me through +that first dreadful year after mother died, when I was +alone. When I heard that Dick was coming back I was +afraid Carlo wouldn't be so much mine. But he never +seemed to care for Dick, though he had been so fond of +him once. He would snap and growl at him as if he were +a stranger. I was glad. It was nice to have one thing +whose love was all mine. That old dog has been such a +comfort to me, Anne. He got so feeble in the fall that +I was afraid he couldn't live long--but I hoped I could +nurse him through the winter. He seemed pretty well +this morning. He was lying on the rug before the fire; +then, all at once, he got up and crept over to me; he +put his head on my lap and gave me one loving look out +of his big, soft, dog eyes--and then he just shivered +and died. I shall miss him so." + +"Let me give you another dog, Leslie," said Anne . +"I'm getting a lovely Gordon setter for a Christmas +present for Gilbert. Let me give you one too." + +Leslie shook her head. + +"Not just now, thank you, Anne. I don't feel like +having another dog yet. I don't seem to have any +affection left for another. Perhaps--in time--I'll let +you give me one. I really need one as a kind of +protection. But there was something almost human about +Carlo-- it wouldn't be DECENT to fill his place too +hurriedly, dear old fellow ." + +Anne went to Avonlea a week before Christmas and stayed +until after the holidays. Gilbert came up for her, and +there was a glad New Year celebration at Green Gables, +when Barrys and Blythes and Wrights assembled to devour +a dinner which had cost Mrs. Rachel and Marilla much +careful thought and preparation. When they went back +to Four Winds the little house was almost drifted over, +for the third storm of a winter that was to prove +phenomenally stormy had whirled up the harbor and +heaped huge snow mountains about everything it +encountered. But Captain Jim had shovelled out doors +and paths, and Miss Cornelia had come down and kindled +the hearth-fire. + +"It's good to see you back, Anne, dearie! But did you +ever see such drifts? You can't see the Moore place at +all unless you go upstairs. Leslie'll be so glad +you're back. She's almost buried alive over there. +Fortunately Dick can shovel snow, and thinks it's great +fun. Susan sent me word to tell you she would be on +hand tomorrow. Where are you off to now, Captain?" + +"I reckon I'll plough up to the Glen and sit a bit with +old Martin Strong. He's not far from his end and he's +lonesome. He hasn't many friends--been too busy all +his life to make any. He's made heaps of money, +though." + +"Well, he thought that since he couldn't serve God and +Mammon he'd better stick to Mammon," said Miss +Cornelia crisply. "So he shouldn't complain if he +doesn't find Mammon very good company now." + +Captain Jim went out, but remembered something in the +yard and turned back for a moment. + +"I'd a letter from Mr. Ford, Mistress Blythe, and he +says the life-book is accepted and is going to be +published next fall. I felt fair uplifted when I got +the news. To think that I'm to see it in print at +last." + +"That man is clean crazy on the subject of his +life-book," said Miss Cornelia compassionately. "For +my part, I think there's far too many books in the +world now." + + + +CHAPTER 29 + +GILBERT AND ANNE DISAGREE + +Gilbert laid down the ponderous medical tome over which +he had been poring until the increasing dusk of the +March evening made him desist. He leaned back in his +chair and gazed meditatively out of the window. It was +early spring--probably the ugliest time of the year. +Not even the sunset could redeem the dead, sodden +landscape and rotten black harbor ice upon which he +looked. No sign of life was visible, save a big black +crow winging his solitary way across a leaden field. +Gilbert speculated idly concerning that crow. Was he a +family crow, with a black but comely crow wife +awaiting him in the woods beyond the Glen? Or was he a +glossy young buck of a crow on courting thoughts +intent? Or was he a cynical bachelor crow, believing +that he travels the fastest who travels alone? +Whatever he was, he soon disappeared in congenial gloom +and Gilbert turned to the cheerier view indoors. + +The firelight flickered from point to point, gleaming +on the white and green coats of Gog and Magog, on the +sleek, brown head of the beautiful setter basking on +the rug, on the picture frames on the walls, on the +vaseful of daffodils from the window garden, on Anne +herself, sitting by her little table, with her sewing +beside her and her hands clasped over her knee while +she traced out pictures in the fire--Castles in Spain +whose airy turrets pierced moonlit cloud and sunset +bar-ships sailing from the Haven of Good Hopes straight +to Four Winds Harbor with precious burthen. For Anne +was again a dreamer of dreams, albeit a grim shape of +fear went with her night and day to shadow and darken +her visions. + +Gilbert was accustomed to refer to himself as "an old +married man." But he still looked upon Anne with the +incredulous eyes of a lover. He couldn't wholly +believe yet that she was really his. It MIGHT be only +a dream after all, part and parcel of this magic house +of dreams. His soul still went on tip-toe before her, +lest the charm be shattered and the dream dispelled. + +"Anne," he said slowly, "lend me your ears. I want to +talk with you about something." + +Anne looked across at him through the fire-lit gloom. + +"What is it?" she asked gaily. "You look fearfully +solemn, Gilbert. I really haven't done anything +naughty today. Ask Susan." + +"It's not of you--or ourselves--I want to talk. It's +about Dick Moore." + +"Dick Moore?" echoed Anne, sitting up alertly. "Why, +what in the world have you to say about Dick Moore?" + +"I've been thinking a great deal about him lately. Do +you remember that time last summer I treated him for +those carbuncles on his neck?" + +"Yes--yes." + +" I took the opportunity to examine the scars on his +head thoroughly. I've always thought Dick was a very +interesting case from a medical point of view. Lately +I've been studying the history of trephining and the +cases where it has been employed. Anne, I have come to +the conclusion that if Dick Moore were taken to a good +hospital and the operation of trephining performed on +several places in his skull, his memory and faculties +might be restored." + +"Gilbert!" Anne's voice was full of protest. "Surely +you don't mean it!" + +"I do, indeed. And I have decided that it is my duty +to broach the subject to Leslie." + +"Gilbert Blythe, you shall NOT do any such thing," +cried Anne vehemently. "Oh, Gilbert, you won't--you +won't. You couldn't be so cruel. Promise me you +won't." + +"Why, Anne-girl, I didn't suppose you would take it +like this. Be reasonable--" + +"I won't be reasonable--I can't be reasonable--I AM +reasonable. It is you who are unreasonable. Gilbert, +have you ever once thought what it would mean for +Leslie if Dick Moore were to be restored to his right +senses? Just stop and think! She's unhappy enough +now; but life as Dick's nurse and attendant is a +thousand times easier for her than life as Dick's wife. +I know--I KNOW! It's unthinkable. Don't you meddle +with the matter. Leave well enough alone." + +"I HAVE thought over that aspect of the case +thoroughly, Anne. But I believe that a doctor is +bound to set the sanctity of a patient's mind and body +above all other considerations, no matter what the +consequences may be. I believe it his duty to endeavor +to restore health and sanity, if there is any hope +whatever of it." + +"But Dick isn't your patient in that respect," cried +Anne, taking another tack. "If Leslie had asked you if +anything could be done for him, THEN it might be your +duty to tell her what you really thought. But you've +no right to meddle ." + +"I don't call it meddling. Uncle Dave told Leslie +twelve years ago that nothing could be done for Dick. +She believes that, of course." + +"And why did Uncle Dave tell her that, if it wasn't +true?" cried Anne, triumphantly. "Doesn't he know as +much about it as you?" + +"I think not--though it may sound conceited and +presumptuous to say it. And you know as well as I +that he is rather prejudiced against what he calls +`these new-fangled notions of cutting and carving.' +He's even opposed to operating for appendicitis." + +"He's right," exclaimed Anne, with a complete change +of front. `I believe myself that you modern doctors +are entirely too fond of making experiments with human +flesh and blood." + +"Rhoda Allonby would not be a living woman today if I +had been afraid of making a certain experiment," +argued Gilbert. "I took the risk--and saved her +life." + +"I'm sick and tired of hearing about Rhoda Allonby," +cried Anne--most unjustly, for Gilbert had never +mentioned Mrs. Allonby's name since the day he had told +Anne of his success in regard to her. And he could not +be blamed for other people's discussion of it. + +Gilbert felt rather hurt. + +"I had not expected you to look at the matter as you +do, Anne," he said a little stiffly, getting up and +moving towards the office door. It was their first +approach to a quarrel. + +But Anne flew after him and dragged him back. + +"Now, Gilbert, you are not `going off mad.' Sit down +here and I'll apologise bee-YEW-ti-fully, I shouldn't +have said that. But--oh, if you knew--" + +Anne checked herself just in time. She had been on the +very verge of betraying Leslie's secret. + +"Knew what a woman feels about it," she concluded +lamely. + +"I think I do know. I've looked at the matter from +every point of view--and I've been driven to the +conclusion that it is my duty to tell Leslie that I +believe it is possible that Dick can be restored to +himself; there my responsibility ends. It will be for +her to decide what she will do." + +"I don't think you've any right to put such a +responsibility on her. She has enough to bear. She is +poor--how could she afford such an operation?" + +"That is for her to decide," persisted Gilbert +stubbornly. + +"You say you think that Dick can be cured. But are you +SURE of it?" + +"Certainly not. Nobody could be sure of such a thing. +There may have been lesions of the brain itself, the +effect of which can never be removed. But if, as I +believe, his loss of memory and other faculties is due +merely to the pressure on the brain centers of certain +depressed areas of bone, then he can be cured." + +"But it's only a possibility!" insisted Anne. "Now, +suppose you tell Leslie and she decides to have the +operation. It will cost a great deal. She will have +to borrow the money, or sell her little property. And +suppose the operation is a failure and Dick remains the +same. + +How will she be able to pay back the money she borrows, +or make a living for herself and that big helpless +creature if she sells the farm?" + +"Oh, I know--I know. But it is my duty to tell her. I +can't get away from that conviction." + +"Oh, I know the Blythe stubbornness," groaned Anne. +"But don't do this solely on your own responsibility. +Consult Doctor Dave." + +"I HAVE done so," said Gilbert reluctantly. + +"And what did he say?" + +"In brief--as you say--leave well enough alone. Apart +from his prejudice against new-fangled surgery, I'm +afraid he looks at the case from your point of +view--don't do it, for Leslie's sake." + +"There now," cried Anne triumphantly. "I do think, +Gilbert, that you ought to abide by the judgment of a +man nearly eighty, who has seen a great deal and saved +scores of lives himself--surely his opinion ought to +weigh more than a mere boy's." + +"Thank you." + +"Don't laugh. It's too serious." + +"That's just my point. It IS serious. Here is a man +who is a helpless burden. He may be restored to reason +and usefulness--" + +"He was so very useful before," interjected Anne +witheringly. + +"He may be given a chance to make good and redeem the +past. His wife doesn't know this. I do. It is +therefore my duty to tell her that there is such a +possibility. That, boiled down, is my decision." + +"Don't say `decision' yet, Gilbert. Consult somebody +else. Ask Captain Jim what he thinks about it." + +"Very well. But I'll not promise to abide by his +opinion, Anne. + +This is something a man must decide for himself. My +conscience would never be easy if I kept silent on the +subject." + +"Oh, your conscience!" moaned Anne. "I suppose that +Uncle Dave has a conscience too, hasn't he?" + +"Yes. But I am not the keeper of his conscience. +Come, Anne, if this affair did not concern Leslie--if +it were a purely abstract case, you would agree with +me,--you know you would." + +"I wouldn't," vowed Anne, trying to believe it +herself. "Oh, you can argue all night, Gilbert, but +you won't convince me. Just you ask Miss Cornelia what +she thinks of it." + +"You're driven to the last ditch, Anne, when you bring +up Miss Cornelia as a reinforcement. She will say, +`Just like a man,' and rage furiously. No matter. +This is no affair for Miss Cornelia to settle. Leslie +alone must decide it." + +"You know very well how she will decide it," said +Anne, almost in tears. "She has ideals of duty, too. +I don't see how you can take such a responsibility on +your shoulders. _I_ couldn't." + + "`Because right is right to follow right Were +wisdom in the scorn of consequence,'" + +quoted Gilbert. + +"Oh, you think a couplet of poetry a convincing +argument!" scoffed Anne. "That is so like a man." + +And then she laughed in spite of herself. It sounded +so like an echo of Miss Cornelia. + +"Well, if you won't accept Tennyson as an authority, +perhaps you will believe the words of a Greater than +he," said Gilbert seriously. "`Ye shall know the +truth and the truth shall make you free.' I believe +that, Anne, with all my heart. It's the greatest and +grandest verse in the Bible--or in any literature--and +the TRUEST, if there are comparative degrees of +trueness. And it's the first duty of a man to tell the +truth, as he sees it and believes it." + +"In this case the truth won't make poor Leslie free," +sighed Anne. "It will probably end in still more +bitter bondage for her. Oh, Gilbert, I CAN'T think you +are right." + + + +CHAPTER 30 + +LESLIE DECIDES + +A sudden outbreak of a virulent type of influenza at +the Glen and down at the fishing village kept Gilbert +so busy for the next fortnight that he had no time to +pay the promised visit to Captain Jim. Anne hoped +against hope that he had abandoned the idea about Dick +Moore, and, resolving to let sleeping dogs lie, she +said no more about the subject. But she thought of it +incessantly. + +"I wonder if it would be right for me to tell him that +Leslie cares for Owen," she thought. "He would never +let her suspect that he knew, so her pride would not +suffer, and it MIGHT convince him that he should let +Dick Moore alone. Shall I--shall I? No, after all, I +cannot. A promise is sacred, and I've no right to +betray Leslie's secret. But oh, I never felt so +worried over anything in my life as I do over this. +It's spoiling the spring--it's spoiling everything." + +One evening Gilbert abruptly proposed that they go down +and see Captain Jim. With a sinking heart Anne agreed, +and they set forth. Two weeks of kind sunshine had +wrought a miracle in the bleak landscape over which +Gilbert's crow had flown. The hills and fields were +dry and brown and warm, ready to break into bud and +blossom; the harbor was laughter-shaken again; the long +harbor road was like a gleaming red ribbon; down on the +dunes a crowd of boys, who were out smelt fishing, were +burning the thick, dry sandhill grass of the preceding +summer. The flames swept over the dunes rosily, +flinging their cardinal banners against the dark gulf +beyond, and illuminating the channel and the fishing +village. It was a picturesque scene which would at +other times have delighted Anne's eyes; but she was not +enjoying this walk. Neither was Gilbert. Their usual +good-comradeship and Josephian community of taste and +viewpoint were sadly lacking. Anne's disapproval of +the whole project showed itself in the haughty uplift +of her head and the studied politeness of her remarks. +Gilbert's mouth was set in all the Blythe obstinacy, +but his eyes were troubled. He meant to do what he +believed to be his duty; but to be at outs with Anne +was a high price to pay. Altogether, both were glad +when they reached the light--and remorseful that they +should be glad. + +Captain Jim put away the fishing net upon which he was +working, and welcomed them joyfully. In the searching +light of the spring evening he looked older than Anne +had ever seen him. His hair had grown much grayer, and +the strong old hand shook a little. But his blue eyes +were clear and steady, and the staunch soul looked out +through them gallant and unafraid. + +Captain Jim listened in amazed silence while Gilbert +said what he had come to say. Anne, who knew how the +old man worshipped Leslie, felt quite sure that he +would side with her, although she had not much hope +that this would influence Gilbert. She was therefore +surprised beyond measure when Captain Jim, slowly and +sorrowfully, but unhesitatingly, gave it as his opinion +that Leslie should be told. + +"Oh, Captain Jim, I didn't think you'd say that," she +exclaimed reproachfully. "I thought you wouldn't want +to make more trouble for her." + +Captain Jim shook his head. + +"I don't want to. I know how you feel about it, +Mistress Blythe-- just as I feel meself. But it ain't +our feelings we have to steer by through life--no, no, +we'd make shipwreck mighty often if we did that. +There's only the one safe compass and we've got to set +our course by that--what it's right to do. I agree +with the doctor. If there's a chance for Dick, Leslie +should be told of it. There's no two sides to that, in +my opinion." + +"Well," said Anne, giving up in despair, "wait until +Miss Cornelia gets after you two men." + +"Cornelia'll rake us fore and aft, no doubt," assented +Captain Jim. "You women are lovely critters, Mistress +Blythe, but you're just a mite illogical. You're a +highly eddicated lady and Cornelia isn't, but you're +like as two peas when it comes to that. I dunno's +you're any the worse for it. Logic is a sort of hard, +merciless thing, I reckon. Now, I'll brew a cup of tea +and we'll drink it and talk of pleasant things, jest to +calm our minds a bit." + +At least, Captain Jim's tea and conversation calmed +Anne's mind to such an extent that she did not make +Gilbert suffer so acutely on the way home as she had +deliberately intended to do. She did not refer to the +burning question at all, but she chatted amiably of +other matters, and Gilbert understood that he was +forgiven under protest. + +"Captain Jim seems very frail and bent this spring. +The winter has aged him," said Anne sadly. "I am +afraid that he will soon be going to seek lost +Margaret. I can't bear to think of it." + +"Four Winds won't be the same place when Captain Jim +`sets out to sea,'" agreed Gilbert. + +The following evening he went to the house up the +brook. Anne wandered dismally around until his +return. + +"Well, what did Leslie say?" she demanded when he came +in. + +"Very little. I think she felt rather dazed." + +"And is she going to have the operation?" + +"She is going to think it over and decide very soon." + +Gilbert flung himself wearily into the easy chair +before the fire. He looked tired. It had not been an +easy thing for him to tell Leslie. And the terror that +had sprung into her eyes when the meaning of what he +told her came home to her was not a pleasant thing to +remember. Now, when the die was cast, he was beset +with doubts of his own wisdom. + +Anne looked at him remorsefully; then she slipped down +on the rug beside him and laid her glossy red head on +his arm. + +"Gilbert, I've been rather hateful over this. I won't +be any more. Please just call me red-headed and +forgive me." + +By which Gilbert understood that, no matter what came +of it, there would be no I-told-you-so's. But he was +not wholly comforted. Duty in the abstract is one +thing; duty in the concrete is quite another, +especially when the doer is confronted by a woman's +stricken eyes. + +Some instinct made Anne keep away from Leslie for the +next three days. On the third evening Leslie came down +to the little house and told Gilbert that she had made +up her mind; she would take Dick to Montreal and have +the operation. + +She was very pale and seemed to have wrapped herself in +her old mantle of aloofness. But her eyes had lost the +look which had haunted Gilbert; they were cold and +bright; and she proceeded to discuss details with him +in a crisp, business-like way. There were plans to be +made and many things to be thought over. When Leslie +had got the information she wanted she went home. Anne +wanted to walk part of the way with her. + +"Better not," said Leslie curtly. "Today's rain has +made the ground damp. Good-night." + +"Have I lost my friend?" said Anne with a sigh. "If +the operation is successful and Dick Moore finds +himself again Leslie will retreat into some remote +fastness of her soul where none of us can ever find +her." + +"Perhaps she will leave him," said Gilbert. + +"Leslie would never do that, Gilbert. Her sense of +duty is very strong. She told me once that her +Grandmother West always impressed upon her the fact +that when she assumed any responsibility she must never +shirk it, no matter what the consequences might be. +That is one of her cardinal rules. I suppose it's very +old-fashioned ." + +"Don't be bitter, Anne-girl. You know you don't think +it old- fashioned--you know you have the very same idea +of sacredness of assumed responsibilities yourself. +And you are right. Shirking responsibilities is the +curse of our modern life--the secret of all the unrest +and discontent that is seething in the world." + +"Thus saith the preacher," mocked Anne. But under the +mockery she felt that he was right; and she was very +sick at heart for Leslie. + +A week later Miss Cornelia descended like an avalanche +upon the little house. Gilbert was away and Anne was +compelled to bear the shock of the impact alone. + +Miss Cornelia hardly waited to get her hat off before +she began. + +"Anne, do you mean to tell me it's true what I've +heard--that Dr. Blythe has told Leslie Dick can be +cured, and that she is going to take him to Montreal to +have him operated on?" + +"Yes, it is quite true, Miss Cornelia," said Anne +bravely. + +"Well, it's inhuman cruelty, that's what it is," said +Miss Cornelia, violently agitated. "I did think Dr. +Blythe was a decent man. I didn't think he could have +been guilty of this." + +"Dr. Blythe thought it was his duty to tell Leslie that +there was a chance for Dick," said Anne with spirit, +"and," she added, loyalty to Gilbert getting the +better of her, "I agree with him." + +"Oh, no, you don't, dearie," said Miss Cornelia. "No +person with any bowels of compassion could." + +"Captain Jim does." + +"Don't quote that old ninny to me," cried Miss +Cornelia. "And I don't care who agrees with him. +Think--THINK what it means to that poor hunted, harried +girl." + +"We DO think of it. But Gilbert believes that a doctor +should put the welfare of a patient's mind and body +before all other considerations." + +"That's just like a man. But I expected better things +of you, Anne," said Miss Cornelia, more in sorrow than +in wrath; then she proceeded to bombard Anne with +precisely the same arguments with which the latter had +attacked Gilbert; and Anne valiantly defended her +husband with the weapons he had used for his own +protection. Long was the fray, but Miss Cornelia made +an end at last. + +"It's an iniquitous shame," she declared, almost in +tears. "That's just what it is--an iniquitous shame. +Poor, poor Leslie!" + +"Don't you think Dick should be considered a little +too?" pleaded Anne. + +"Dick! Dick Moore! HE'S happy enough. He's a better +behaved and more reputable member of society now than +he ever was before. + +Why, he was a drunkard and perhaps worse. Are you +going to set him loose again to roar and to devour?" + +"He may reform," said poor Anne, beset by foe without +and traitor within. + +"Reform your grandmother!" retorted Miss Cornelia. +"Dick Moore got the injuries that left him as he is in +a drunken brawl. He DESERVES his fate. It was sent on +him for a punishment. I don't believe the doctor has +any business to tamper with the visitations of God." + +"Nobody knows how Dick was hurt, Miss Cornelia. It may +not have been in a drunken brawl at all. He may have +been waylaid and robbed." + +"Pigs MAY whistle, but they've poor mouths for it," +said Miss Cornelia. "Well, the gist of what you tell +me is that the thing is settled and there's no use in +talking. If that's so I'll hold my tongue. I don't +propose to wear MY teeth out gnawing files. When a +thing has to be I give in to it. But I like to make +mighty sure first that it HAS to be. Now, I'll devote +MY energies to comforting and sustaining Leslie. And +after all," added Miss Cornelia, brightening up +hopefully, "perhaps nothing can be done for Dick." + + + +CHAPTER 31 + +THE TRUTH MAKES FREE + +Leslie, having once made up her mind what to do, +proceeded to do it with characteristic resolution and +speed. House-cleaning must be finished with first, +whatever issues of life and death might await beyond. +The gray house up the brook was put into flawless order +and cleanliness, with Miss Cornelia's ready assistance. +Miss Cornelia, having said her say to Anne, and later +on to Gilbert and Captain Jim--sparing neither of them, +let it be assured--never spoke of the matter to Leslie. +She accepted the fact of Dick's operation, referred to +it when necessary in a business-like way, and ignored +it when it was not. Leslie never attempted to discuss +it. She was very cold and quiet during these beautiful +spring days. She seldom visited Anne, and though she +was invariably courteous and friendly, that very +courtesy was as an icy barrier between her and the +people of the little house. The old jokes and laughter +and chumminess of common things could not reach her +over it. Anne refused to feel hurt. She knew that +Leslie was in the grip of a hideous dread--a dread +that wrapped her away from all little glimpses of +happiness and hours of pleasure. When one great +passion seizes possession of the soul all other +feelings are crowded aside. Never in all her life had +Leslie Moore shuddered away from the future with more +intolerable terror. But she went forward as +unswervingly in the path she had elected as the martyrs +of old walked their chosen way, knowing the end of it +to be the fiery agony of the stake. + +The financial question was settled with greater ease +than Anne had feared. Leslie borrowed the necessary +money from Captain Jim, and, at her insistence, he took +a mortgage on the little farm. + +"So that is one thing off the poor girl's mind," Miss +Cornelia told Anne, "and off mine too. Now, if Dick +gets well enough to work again he'll be able to earn +enough to pay the interest on it; and if he doesn't I +know Captain Jim'll manage someway that Leslie won't +have to. He said as much to me. `I'm getting old, +Cornelia,' he said, `and I've no chick or child of my +own. Leslie won't take a gift from a living man, but +mebbe she will from a dead one.' So it will be all +right as far as THAT goes. I wish everything else +might be settled as satisfactorily. As for that wretch +of a Dick, he's been awful these last few days. The +devil was in him, believe ME! Leslie and I couldn't +get on with our work for the tricks he'd play. He +chased all her ducks one day around the yard till most +of them died. And not one thing would he do for us. +Sometimes, you know, he'll make himself quite handy, +bringing in pails of water and wood. But this week if +we sent him to the well he'd try to climb down into it. +I thought once, `If you'd only shoot down there +head-first everything would be nicely settled.'" + +"Oh, Miss Cornelia!" + +"Now, you needn't Miss Cornelia me, Anne, dearie. +ANYBODY would have thought the same. If the Montreal +doctors can make a rational creature out of Dick Moore +they're wonders." + +Leslie took Dick to Montreal early in May. Gilbert +went with her, to help her, and make the necessary +arrangements for her. He came home with the report +that the Montreal surgeon whom they had consulted +agreed with him that there was a good chance of Dick's +restoration. + +"Very comforting," was Miss Cornelia's sarcastic +comment. + +Anne only sighed. Leslie had been very distant at +their parting. + +But she had promised to write. Ten days after +Gilbert's return the letter came. Leslie wrote that +the operation had been successfully performed and that +Dick was making a good recovery. + +"What does she mean by `successfully?'" asked Anne. +"Does she mean that Dick's memory is really restored?" + +"Not likely--since she says nothing of it," said +Gilbert. "She uses the word `successfully' from the +surgeon's point of view. The operation has been +performed and followed by normal results. But it is +too soon to know whether Dick's faculties will be +eventually restored, wholly or in part. His memory +would not be likely to return to him all at once. The +process will be gradual, if it occurs at all. Is that +all she says?" + +"Yes--there's her letter. It's very short. Poor girl, +she must be under a terrible strain. Gilbert Blythe, +there are heaps of things I long to say to you, only it +would be mean." + +"Miss Cornelia says them for you," said Gilbert with a +rueful smile. "She combs me down every time I +encounter her. She makes it plain to me that she +regards me as little better than a murderer, and that +she thinks it a great pity that Dr. Dave ever let me +step into his shoes. She even told me that the +Methodist doctor over the harbor was to be preferred +before me. With Miss Cornelia the force of +condemnation can no further go." + +"If Cornelia Bryant was sick, it would not be Doctor +Dave or the Methodist doctor she would send for," +sniffed Susan. "She would have you out of your +hard-earned bed in the middle of the night, doctor, +dear, if she took a spell of misery, that she would. +And then she would likely say your bill was past all +reason. But do not mind her, doctor, dear. It takes +all kinds of people to make a world." + +No further word came from Leslie for some time. The +May days crept away in a sweet succession and the +shores of Four Winds Harbor greened and bloomed and +purpled. One day in late May Gilbert came home to be +met by Susan in the stable yard. + +"I am afraid something has upset Mrs. Doctor, doctor, +dear," she said mysteriously. "She got a letter this +afternoon and since then she has just been walking +round the garden and talking to herself. You know it +is not good for her to be on her feet so much, doctor, +dear. She did not see fit to tell me what her news +was, and I am no pry, doctor, dear, and never was, but +it is plain something has upset her. And it is not +good for her to be upset." + +Gilbert hurried rather anxiously to the garden. Had +anything happened at Green Gables? But Anne, sitting +on the rustic seat by the brook, did not look troubled, +though she was certainly much excited. Her eyes were +their grayest, and scarlet spots burned on her cheeks. + +"What has happened, Anne?" + +Anne gave a queer little laugh. + +"I think you'll hardly believe it when I tell you, +Gilbert. _I_ can't believe it yet. As Susan said the +other day, `I feel like a fly coming to live in the +sun--dazed-like.' It's all so incredible. I've read +the letter a score of times and every time it's just +the same--I can't believe my own eyes. Oh, Gilbert, +you were right--so right. I can see that clearly +enough now--and I'm so ashamed of myself--and will you +ever really forgive me?" + +"Anne, I'll shake you if you don't grow coherent. +Redmond would be ashamed of you. WHAT has happened?" + +"You won't believe it--you won't believe it--" + +"I'm going to phone for Uncle Dave," said Gilbert, +pretending to start for the house. + +"Sit down, Gilbert. I'll try to tell you. I've had a +letter, and oh, Gilbert, it's all so amazing--so +incredibly amazing--we never thought--not one of us +ever dreamed--" + +"I suppose," said Gilbert, sitting down with a +resigned air, "the only thing to do in a case of this +kind is to have patience and go at the matter +categorically. Whom is your letter from?" + +"Leslie--and, oh, Gilbert--" + +"Leslie! Whew! What has she to say? What's the news +about Dick?" + +Anne lifted the letter and held it out, calmly dramatic +in a moment. + +"There is NO Dick! The man we have thought Dick +Moore-- whom everybody in Four Winds has believed for +twelve years to be Dick Moore--is his cousin, George +Moore, of Nova Scotia, who, it seems, always resembled +him very strikingly. Dick Moore died of yellow fever +thirteen years ago in Cuba." + + + +CHAPTER 32 + +MISS CORNELIA DISCUSSES THE AFFAIR + +"And do you mean to tell me, Anne, dearie, that Dick +Moore has turned out not to be Dick Moore at all but +somebody else? Is THAT what you phoned up to me +today?" + +"Yes, Miss Cornelia. It is very amazing, isn't it?" + +"It's--it's--just like a man," said Miss Cornelia +helplessly. She took off her hat with trembling +fingers. For once in her life Miss Cornelia was +undeniably staggered. + +"I can't seem to sense it, Anne," she said. "I've +heard you say it--and I believe you--but I can't take +it in. Dick Moore is dead-- has been dead all these +years--and Leslie is free?" + +"Yes. The truth has made her free. Gilbert was right +when he said that verse was the grandest in the +Bible." + +"Tell me everything, Anne, dearie. Since I got your +phone I've been in a regular muddle, believe ME. +Cornelia Bryant was never so kerflummuxed before." + +"There isn't a very great deal to tell. Leslie's +letter was short. She didn't go into particulars. +This man--George Moore--has recovered his memory and +knows who he is. He says Dick took yellow fever in +Cuba, and the Four Sisters had to sail without him. +George stayed behind to nurse him. But he died very +shortly afterwards. + +George did not write Leslie because he intended to come +right home and tell her himself." + +"And why didn't he?" + +"I suppose his accident must have intervened. Gilbert +says it is quite likely that George Moore remembers +nothing of his accident, or what led to it, and may +never remember it. It probably happened very soon +after Dick's death. We may find out more particulars +when Leslie writes again." + +"Does she say what she is going to do? When is she +coming home?" + +"She says she will stay with George Moore until he can +leave the hospital. She has written to his people in +Nova Scotia. It seems that George's only near relative +is a married sister much older than himself. She was +living when George sailed on the Four Sisters, but of +course we do not know what may have happened since. +Did you ever see George Moore, Miss Cornelia?" + +"I did. It is all coming back to me. He was here +visiting his Uncle Abner eighteen years ago, when he +and Dick would be about seventeen. They were double +cousins, you see. Their fathers were brothers and +their mothers were twin sisters, and they did look a +terrible lot alike. Of course," added Miss Cornelia +scornfully, "it wasn't one of those freak resemblances +you read of in novels where two people are so much +alike that they can fill each other's places and their +nearest and dearest can't tell between them. In those +days you could tell easy enough which was George and +which was Dick, if you saw them together and near at +hand. Apart, or some distance away, it wasn't so easy. +They played lots of tricks on people and thought it +great fun, the two scamps. George Moore was a little +taller and a good deal fatter than Dick--though neither +of them was what you would call fat--they were both of +the lean kind. Dick had higher color than George, and +his hair was a shade lighter. But their features were +just alike, and they both had that queer freak of +eyes--one blue and one hazel. They weren't much alike +in any other way, though. George was a real nice +fellow, though he was a scalawag for mischief, and some +said he had a liking for a glass even then. But +everybody liked him better than Dick. He spent about a +month here. Leslie never saw him; she was only about +eight or nine then and I remember now that she spent +that whole winter over harbor with her grandmother +West. Captain Jim was away, too--that was the winter +he was wrecked on the Magdalens. I don't suppose +either he or Leslie had ever heard about the Nova +Scotia cousin looking so much like Dick. Nobody ever +thought of him when Captain Jim brought Dick--George, I +should say--home. Of course, we all thought Dick had +changed considerable--he'd got so lumpish and fat. But +we put that down to what had happened to him, and no +doubt that was the reason, for, as I've said, George +wasn't fat to begin with either. And there was no +other way we could have guessed, for the man's senses +were clean gone. I can't see that it is any wonder we +were all deceived. But it's a staggering thing. And +Leslie has sacrificed the best years of her life to +nursing a man who hadn't any claim on her! Oh, drat +the men! No matter what they do, it's the wrong thing. +And no matter who they are, it's somebody they +shouldn't be. They do exasperate me." + +"Gilbert and Captain Jim are men, and it is through +them that the truth has been discovered at last," said +Anne. + +"Well, I admit that," conceded Miss Cornelia +reluctantly. "I'm sorry I raked the doctor off so. +It's the first time in my life I've ever felt ashamed +of anything I said to a man. I don't know as I shall +tell him so, though. He'll just have to take it for +granted. Well, Anne, dearie, it's a mercy the Lord +doesn't answer all our prayers. I've been praying hard +right along that the operation wouldn't cure Dick. Of +course I didn't put it just quite so plain. But that +was what was in the back of my mind, and I have no +doubt the Lord knew it." + +"Well, He has answered the spirit of your prayer. You +really wished that things shouldn't be made any harder +for Leslie. I'm afraid that in my secret heart I've +been hoping the operation wouldn't succeed, and I am +wholesomely ashamed of it." + +"How does Leslie seem to take it?" + +"She writes like one dazed. I think that, like +ourselves, she hardly realises it yet. She says, `It +all seems like a strange dream to me, Anne.' That is +the only reference she makes to herself." + +"Poor child! I suppose when the chains are struck off +a prisoner he'd feel queer and lost without them for a +while. Anne, dearie, here's a thought keeps coming +into my mind. What about Owen Ford? We both know +Leslie was fond of him. Did it ever occur to you that +he was fond of her?" + +"It--did--once," admitted Anne, feeling that she might +say so much. + +"Well, I hadn't any reason to think he was, but it just +appeared to me he MUST be. Now, Anne, dearie, the Lord +knows I'm not a match-maker, and I scorn all such +doings. But if I were you and writing to that Ford man +I'd just mention, casual-like, what has happened. That +is what _I_'d do." + +"Of course I will mention it when I write him," said +Anne, a trifle distantly. Somehow, this was a thing +she could not discuss with Miss Cornelia. And yet, she +had to admit that the same thought had been lurking in +her mind ever since she had heard of Leslie's freedom. +But she would not desecrate it by free speech. + +"Of course there is no great rush, dearie. But Dick +Moore's been dead for thirteen years and Leslie has +wasted enough of her life for him. We'll just see what +comes of it. As for this George Moore, who's gone and +come back to life when everyone thought he was dead and +done for, just like a man, I'm real sorry for him. He +won't seem to fit in anywhere." + +"He is still a young man, and if he recovers +completely, as seems likely, he will be able to make a +place for himself again. It must be very strange for +him, poor fellow. I suppose all these years since his +accident will not exist for him." + + + +CHAPTER 33 + +LESLIE RETURNS + +A fortnight later Leslie Moore came home alone to the +old house where she had spent so many bitter years. In +the June twilight she went over the fields to Anne's, +and appeared with ghost-like suddenness in the scented +garden. + +"Leslie!" cried Anne in amazement. "Where have you +sprung from? We never knew you were coming. Why +didn't you write? We would have met you." + +"I couldn't write somehow, Anne. It seemed so futile +to try to say anything with pen and ink. And I wanted +to get back quietly and unobserved." + +Anne put her arms about Leslie and kissed her. Leslie +returned the kiss warmly. She looked pale and tired, +and she gave a little sigh as she dropped down on the +grasses beside a great bed of daffodils that were +gleaming through the pale, silvery twilight like golden +stars. + +"And you have come home alone, Leslie?" + +"Yes. George Moore's sister came to Montreal and took +him home with her. Poor fellow, he was sorry to part +with me--though I was a stranger to him when his memory +first came back. He clung to me in those first hard +days when he was trying to realise that Dick's death +was not the thing of yesterday that it seemed to him. +It was all very hard for him. I helped him all I +could. When his sister came it was easier for him, +because it seemed to him only the other day that he had +seen her last. Fortunately she had not changed much, +and that helped him, too." + +"It is all so strange and wonderful, Leslie. I think +we none of us realise it yet." + +"I cannot. When I went into the house over there an +hour ago, I felt that it MUST be a dream--that Dick +must be there, with his childish smile, as he had been +for so long. Anne, I seem stunned yet. I'm not glad or +sorry--or ANYTHING. I feel as if something had been +torn suddenly out of my life and left a terrible hole. +I feel as if I couldn't be _I_--as if I must have +changed into somebody else and couldn't get used to it. +It gives me a horrible lonely, dazed, helpless feeling. +It's good to see you again--it seems as if you were a +sort of anchor for my drifting soul. Oh, Anne, I +dread it all--the gossip and wonderment and +questioning. When I think of that, I wish that I need +not have come home at all. Dr. Dave was at the station +when I came off the train--he brought me home. Poor +old man, he feels very badly because he told me years +ago that nothing could be done for Dick. `I honestly +thought so, Leslie,' he said to me today. `But I +should have told you not to depend on my opinion--I +should have told you to go to a specialist. If I had, +you would have been saved many bitter years, and poor +George Moore many wasted ones. I blame myself very +much, Leslie.' I told him not to do that--he had done +what he thought right. He has always been so kind to +me--I couldn't bear to see him worrying over it." + +"And Dick--George, I mean? Is his memory fully +restored?" + +"Practically. Of course, there are a great many +details he can't recall yet--but he remembers more and +more every day. He went out for a walk on the evening +after Dick was buried. He had Dick's money and watch +on him; he meant to bring them home to me, along with +my letter. He admits he went to a place where the +sailors resorted--and he remembers drinking--and +nothing else. Anne, I shall never forget the moment he +remembered his own name. I saw him looking at me with +an intelligent but puzzled expression. I said, `Do you +know me, Dick?' He answered, `I never saw you before. +Who are you? And my name is not Dick. I am George +Moore, and Dick died of yellow fever yesterday! Where +am I? What has happened to me?' I--I fainted, Anne. +And ever since I have felt as if I were in a dream." + +"You will soon adjust yourself to this new state of +things, Leslie. And you are young--life is before +you--you will have many beautiful years yet." + +"Perhaps I shall be able to look at it in that way +after a while, Anne. Just now I feel too tired and +indifferent to think about the future. I'm--I'm--Anne, +I'm lonely. I miss Dick. Isn't it all very strange? +Do you know, I was really fond of poor Dick--George, I +suppose I should say--just as I would have been fond of +a helpless child who depended on me for everything. I +would never have admitted it--I was really ashamed of +it--because, you see, I had hated and despised Dick so +much before he went away. When I heard that Captain +Jim was bringing him home I expected I would just feel +the same to him. But I never did--although I continued +to loathe him as I remembered him before. From the +time he came home I felt only pity--a pity that hurt +and wrung me. I supposed then that it was just because +his accident had made him so helpless and changed. But +now I believe it was because there was really a +different personality there. Carlo knew it, Anne--I +know now that Carlo knew it. I always thought it +strange that Carlo shouldn't have known Dick. Dogs are +usually so faithful. But HE knew it was not his master +who had come back, although none of the rest of us +did. I had never seen George Moore, you know. I +remember now that Dick once mentioned casually that he +had a cousin in Nova Scotia who looked as much like him +as a twin; but the thing had gone out of my memory, and +in any case I would never have thought it of any +importance. You see, it never occurred to me to +question Dick's identity. Any change in him seemed to +me just the result of the accident. + +"Oh, Anne, that night in April when Gilbert told me he +thought Dick might be cured! I can never forget it. +It seemed to me that I had once been a prisoner in a +hideous cage of torture, and then the door had been +opened and I could get out. I was still chained to the +cage but I was not in it. And that night I felt that a +merciless hand was drawing me back into the cage--back +to a torture even more terrible than it had once been. +I didn't blame Gilbert. I felt he was right. And he +had been very good--he said that if, in view of the +expense and uncertainty of the operation, I should +decide not to risk it, he would not blame me in the +least. But I knew how I ought to decide--and I +couldn't face it. All night I walked the floor like a +mad woman, trying to compel myself to face it. I +couldn't, Anne--I thought I couldn't--and when morning +broke I set my teeth and resolved that I WOULDN'T. I +would let things remain as they were. It was very +wicked, I know. It would have been just punishment for +such wickedness if I had just been left to abide by +that decision. I kept to it all day. That afternoon I +had to go up to the Glen to do some shopping. It was +one of Dick's quiet, drowsy days, so I left him alone. +I was gone a little longer than I had expected, and he +missed me. He felt lonely. And when I got home, he +ran to meet me just like a child, with such a pleased +smile on his face. Somehow, Anne, I just gave way +then. That smile on his poor vacant face was more than +I could endure. I felt as if I were denying a child +the chance to grow and develop. I knew that I must +give him his chance, no matter what the consequences +might be. So I came over and told Gilbert. Oh, Anne, +you must have thought me hateful in those weeks before +I went away. I didn't mean to be--but I couldn't think +of anything except what I had to do, and everything and +everybody about me were like shadows." + +"I know--I understood, Leslie. And now it is all +over--your chain is broken--there is no cage." + +"There is no cage," repeated Leslie absently, plucking +at the fringing grasses with her slender, brown hands. +"But--it doesn't seem as if there were anything else, +Anne. You--you remember what I told you of my folly +that night on the sand-bar? I find one doesn't get +over being a fool very quickly. Sometimes I think +there are people who are fools forever. And to be a +fool--of that kind--is almost as bad as being a--a dog +on a chain." + +"You will feel very differently after you get over +being tired and bewildered," said Anne, who, knowing a +certain thing that Leslie did not know, did not feel +herself called upon to waste overmuch sympathy. + +Leslie laid her splendid golden head against Anne's +knee. + +"Anyhow, I have YOU," she said. "Life can't be +altogether empty with such a friend. Anne, pat my +head--just as if I were a little girl--MOTHER me a +bit--and let me tell you while my stubborn tongue is +loosed a little just what you and your comradeship have +meant to me since that night I met you on the rock +shore." + + + +CHAPTER 34 + +THE SHIP O'DREAMS COMES TO HARBOR + +One morning, when a windy golden sunrise was billowing +over the gulf in waves of light, a certain weary stork +flew over the bar of Four Winds Harbor on his way from +the Land of Evening Stars. Under his wing was tucked a +sleepy, starry-eyed, little creature. The stork was +tired, and he looked wistfully about him. He knew he +was somewhere near his destination, but he could not +yet see it. The big, white light-house on the red +sandstone cliff had its good points; but no stork +possessed of any gumption would leave a new, velvet +baby there. An old gray house, surrounded by willows, +in a blossomy brook valley, looked more promising, but +did not seem quite the thing either. The staring +green abode further on was manifestly out of the +question. Then the stork brightened up. He had +caught sight of the very place--a little white house +nestled against a big, whispering firwood, with a +spiral of blue smoke winding up from its kitchen +chimney--a house which just looked as if it were meant +for babies. The stork gave a sigh of satisfaction, and +softly alighted on the ridge-pole. + +Half an hour later Gilbert ran down the hall and tapped +on the spare-room door. A drowsy voice answered him +and in a moment Marilla's pale, scared face peeped out +from behind the door. + +"Marilla, Anne has sent me to tell you that a certain +young gentleman has arrived here. He hasn't brought +much luggage with him, but he evidently means to +stay." + +"For pity's sake!" said Marilla blankly. "You don't +mean to tell me, Gilbert, that it's all over. Why +wasn't I called?" + +"Anne wouldn't let us disturb you when there was no +need. Nobody was called until about two hours ago. +There was no `passage perilous' this time." + +"And--and--Gilbert--will this baby live?" + +"He certainly will. He weighs ten pounds and--why, +listen to him. Nothing wrong with his lungs, is there? +The nurse says his hair will be red. Anne is furious +with her, and I'm tickled to death." + +That was a wonderful day in the little house of dreams. + +"The best dream of all has come true," said Anne, pale +and rapturous. "Oh, Marilla, I hardly dare believe it, +after that horrible day last summer. I have had a +heartache ever since then--but it is gone now." + +"This baby will take Joy's place," said Marilla. + +"Oh, no, no, NO, Marilla. He can't--nothing can ever +do that. He has his own place, my dear, wee +man-child. But little Joy has hers, and always will +have it. If she had lived she would have been over a +year old. She would have been toddling around on her +tiny feet and lisping a few words. I can see her so +plainly, Marilla. Oh, I know now that Captain Jim was +right when he said God would manage better than that my +baby would seem a stranger to me when I found her +Beyond. I've learned THAT this past year. I've +followed her development day by day and week by week--I +always shall. I shall know just how she grows from +year to year--and when I meet her again I'll know +her--she won't be a stranger. Oh, Marilla, LOOK at his +dear, darling toes! Isn't it strange they should be so +perfect?" + +"It would be stranger if they weren't," said Marilla +crisply. Now that all was safely over, Marilla was +herself again. + +"Oh, I know--but it seems as if they couldn't be quite +FINISHED, you know--and they are, even to the tiny +nails. And his hands--JUST look at his hands, +Marilla." + +"They appear to be a good deal like hands," Marilla +conceded. + +"See how he clings to my finger. I'm sure he knows me +already. He cries when the nurse takes him away. Oh, +Marilla, do you think--you don't think, do you--that +his hair is going to be red?" + +"I don't see much hair of any color," said Marilla. +"I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you, until it +becomes visible." + +"Marilla, he HAS hair--look at that fine little down +all over his head. Anyway, nurse says his eyes will be +hazel and his forehead is exactly like Gilbert's." + +"And he has the nicest little ears, Mrs. Doctor, +dear," said Susan. "The first thing I did was to look +at his ears. Hair is deceitful and noses and eyes +change, and you cannot tell what is going to come of +them, but ears is ears from start to finish, and you +always know where you are with them. Just look at +their shape--and they are set right back against his +precious head. You will never need to be ashamed of +his ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear." + +Anne's convalescence was rapid and happy. Folks came +and worshipped the baby, as people have bowed before +the kingship of the new-born since long before the Wise +Men of the East knelt in homage to the Royal Babe of +the Bethlehem manger. Leslie, slowly finding herself +amid the new conditions of her life, hovered over it, +like a beautiful, golden-crowned Madonna. Miss +Cornelia nursed it as knackily as could any mother in +Israel. Captain Jim held the small creature in his big +brown hands and gazed tenderly at it, with eyes that +saw the children who had never been born to him. + +"What are you going to call him?" asked Miss Cornelia. + +"Anne has settled his name," answered Gilbert. + +"James Matthew--after the two finest gentlemen I've +ever known--not even saving your presence," said Anne +with a saucy glance at Gilbert. + +Gilbert smiled. + +"I never knew Matthew very well; he was so shy we boys +couldn't get acquainted with him--but I quite agree +with you that Captain Jim is one of the rarest and +finest souls God ever clothed in clay. He is so +delighted over the fact that we have given his name to +our small lad. It seems he has no other namesake." + +"Well, James Matthew is a name that will wear well and +not fade in the washing," said Miss Cornelia. "I'm +glad you didn't load him down with some highfalutin, +romantic name that he'd be ashamed of when he gets to +be a grandfather. Mrs. William Drew at the Glen has +called her baby Bertie Shakespeare. Quite a +combination, isn't it? And I'm glad you haven't had +much trouble picking on a name. Some folks have an +awful time. When the Stanley Flaggs' first boy was +born there was so much rivalry as to who the child +should be named for that the poor little soul had to +go for two years without a name. Then a brother came +along and there it was--`Big Baby' and `Little Baby.' +Finally they called Big Baby Peter and Little Baby +Isaac, after the two grandfathers, and had them both +christened together. And each tried to see if it +couldn't howl the other down. You know that Highland +Scotch family of MacNabs back of the Glen? They've got +twelve boys and the oldest and the youngest are both +called Neil--Big Neil and Little Neil in the same +family. Well, I s'pose they ran out of names." + +"I have read somewhere," laughed Anne, "that the first +child is a poem but the tenth is very prosy prose. +Perhaps Mrs. MacNab thought that the twelfth was merely +an old tale re-told." + +"Well, there's something to be said for large +families," said Miss Cornelia, with a sigh. "I was an +only child for eight years and I did long for a +brother and sister. Mother told me to pray for +one--and pray I did, believe ME. Well, one day Aunt +Nellie came to me and said, `Cornelia, there is a +little brother for you upstairs in your ma's room. You +can go up and see him.' I was so excited and delighted +I just flew upstairs. And old Mrs. Flagg lifted up the +baby for me to see. Lord, Anne, dearie, I never was so +disappointed in my life. You see, I'd been praying for +A BROTHER TWO YEARS OLDER THAN MYSELF." + +"How long did it take you to get over your +disappointment?" asked Anne, amid her laughter. + +"Well, I had a spite at Providence for a good spell, +and for weeks I wouldn't even look at the baby. Nobody +knew why, for I never told. Then he began to get real +cute, and held out his wee hands to me and I began to +get fond of him. But I didn't get really reconciled to +him until one day a school chum came to see him and +said she thought he was awful small for his age. I +just got boiling mad, and I sailed right into her, and +told her she didn't know a nice baby when she saw one, +and ours was the nicest baby in the world. And after +that I just worshipped him. Mother died before he was +three years old and I was sister and mother to him +both. Poor little lad, he was never strong, and he +died when he wasn't much over twenty. Seems to me I'd +have given anything on earth, Anne, dearie, if he'd +only lived." + +Miss Cornelia sighed. Gilbert had gone down and +Leslie, who had been crooning over the small James +Matthew in the dormer window, laid him asleep in his +basket and went her way. As soon as she was safely out +of earshot, Miss Cornelia bent forward and said in a +conspirator's whisper: + +"Anne, dearie, I'd a letter from Owen Ford yesterday. +He's in Vancouver just now, but he wants to know if I +can board him for a month later on. YOU know what that +means. Well, I hope we're doing right." + +"We've nothing to do with it--we couldn't prevent him +from coming to Four Winds if he wanted to," said Anne +quickly. She did not like the feeling of match-making +Miss Cornelia's whispers gave her; and then she weakly +succumbed herself. + +"Don't let Leslie know he is coming until he is here," +she said. "If she found out I feel sure she would go +away at once. She intends to go in the fall +anyhow--she told me so the other day. She is going to +Montreal to take up nursing and make what she can of +her life." + +"Oh, well, Anne, dearie," said Miss Cornelia, nodding +sagely "that is all as it may be. You and I have done +our part and we must leave the rest to Higher Hands." + + + +CHAPTER 35 + +POLITICS AT FOUR WINDS + +When anne came downstairs again, the Island, as well as +all Canada, was in the throes of a campaign preceding a +general election. Gilbert, who was an ardent +Conservative, found himself caught in the vortex, being +much in demand for speech-making at the various county +rallies. Miss Cornelia did not approve of his mixing +up in politics and told Anne so. + +"Dr. Dave never did it. Dr. Blythe will find he is +making a mistake, believe ME. Politics is something no +decent man should meddle with." + +"Is the government of the country to be left solely to +the rogues then?" asked Anne. + +"Yes--so long as it's Conservative rogues," said Miss +Cornelia, marching off with the honors of war. "Men +and politicians are all tarred with the same brush. +The Grits have it laid on thicker than the +Conservatives, that's all--CONSIDERABLY thicker. But +Grit or Tory, my advice to Dr. Blythe is to steer clear +of politics. First thing you know, he'll be running an +election himself, and going off to Ottawa for half the +year and leaving his practice to go to the dogs." + +"Ah, well, let's not borrow trouble," said Anne. "The +rate of interest is too high. Instead, let's look at +Little Jem. It should be spelled with a G. Isn't he +perfectly beautiful? Just see the dimples in his +elbows. We'll bring him up to be a good Conservative, +you and I, Miss Cornelia." + +"Bring him up to be a good man," said Miss Cornelia. +"They're scarce and valuable; though, mind you, I +wouldn't like to see him a Grit. As for the election, +you and I may be thankful we don't live over harbor. +The air there is blue these days. Every Elliott and +Crawford and MacAllister is on the warpath, loaded for +bear. This side is peaceful and calm, seeing there's +so few men. Captain Jim's a Grit, but it's my opinion +he's ashamed of it, for he never talks politics. There +isn't any earthly doubt that the Conservatives will be +returned with a big majority again." + +Miss Cornelia was mistaken. On the morning after the +election Captain Jim dropped in at the little house to +tell the news. So virulent is the microbe of party +politics, even in a peaceable old man, that Captain +Jim's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were flashing +with all his old-time fire. + +"Mistress Blythe, the Liberals are in with a sweeping +majority. After eighteen years of Tory mismanagement +this down-trodden country is going to have a chance at +last." + +"I never heard you make such a bitter partisan speech +before, Captain Jim. I didn't think you had so much +political venom in you," laughed Anne, who was not +much excited over the tidings. Little Jem had said +"Wow-ga" that morning. What were principalities and +powers, the rise and fall of dynasties, the overthrow +of Grit or Tory, compared with that miraculous +occurrence? + +"It's been accumulating for a long while," said +Captain Jim, with a deprecating smile. "I thought I +was only a moderate Grit, but when the news came that +we were in I found out how Gritty I really was." + +"You know the doctor and I are Conservatives." + +"Ah, well, it's the only bad thing I know of either of +you, Mistress Blythe. Cornelia is a Tory, too. I +called in on my way from the Glen to tell her the +news." + +"Didn't you know you took your life in your hands?" + +"Yes, but I couldn't resist the temptation." + +"How did she take it?" + +"Comparatively calm, Mistress Blythe, comparatively +calm. She says, says she, `Well, Providence sends +seasons of humiliation to a country, same as to +individuals. You Grits have been cold and hungry for +many a year. Make haste to get warmed and fed, for you +won't be in long.' `Well, now Cornelia,' I says, +`mebbe Providence thinks Canada needs a real long spell +of humiliation.' Ah, Susan, have YOU heard the news? +The Liberals are in." + +Susan had just come in from the kitchen, attended by +the odor of delectable dishes which always seemed to +hover around her. + +"Now, are they?" she said, with beautiful unconcern. +"Well, I never could see but that my bread rose just as +light when Grits were in as when they were not. And if +any party, Mrs. Doctor, dear, will make it rain before +the week is out, and save our kitchen garden from +entire ruination, that is the party Susan will vote +for. In the meantime, will you just step out and give +me your opinion on the meat for dinner? I am fearing +that it is very tough, and I think that we had better +change our butcher as well as our government." + +One evening, a week later, Anne walked down to the +Point, to see if she could get some fresh fish from +Captain Jim, leaving Little Jem for the first time. It +was quite a tragedy. Suppose he cried? Suppose Susan +did not know just exactly what to do for him? Susan +was calm and serene. + +"I have had as much experience with him as you, Mrs. +Doctor, dear, have I not?" + +"Yes, with him--but not with other babies. Why, I +looked after three pairs of twins, when I was a child, +Susan. When they cried, I gave them peppermint or +castor oil quite coolly. It's quite curious now to +recall how lightly I took all those babies and their +woes." + +"Oh, well, if Little Jem cries, I will just clap a hot +water bag on his little stomach," said Susan. + +"Not too hot, you know," said Anne anxiously. Oh, was +it really wise to go? + +"Do not you fret, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Susan is not the +woman to burn a wee man. Bless him, he has no notion +of crying." + +Anne tore herself away finally and enjoyed her walk to +the Point after all, through the long shadows of the +sun-setting. Captain Jim was not in the living room of +the lighthouse, but another man was--a handsome, +middle-aged man, with a strong, clean-shaven chin, who +was unknown to Anne. Nevertheless, when she sat down, +he began to talk to her with all the assurance of an +old acquaintance. There was nothing amiss in what he +said or the way he said it, but Anne rather resented +such a cool taking-for-granted in a complete stranger. +Her replies were frosty, and as few as decency +required. Nothing daunted, her companion talked on for +several minutes, then excused himself and went away. +Anne could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eye +and it annoyed her. Who was the creature? There was +something vaguely familiar about him but she was +certain she had never seen him before. + +"Captain Jim, who was that who just went out?" she +asked, as Captain Jim came in. + +"Marshall Elliott," answered the captain. + +"Marshall Elliott!" cried Anne. "Oh, Captain Jim--it +wasn't-- yes, it WAS his voice--oh, Captain Jim, I +didn't know him--and I was quite insulting to him! WHY +didn't he tell me? He must have seen I didn't know +him." + +"He wouldn't say a word about it--he'd just enjoy the +joke. Don't worry over snubbing him--he'll think it +fun. Yes, Marshall's shaved off his beard at last and +cut his hair. His party is in, you know. I didn't +know him myself first time I saw him. He was up in +Carter Flagg's store at the Glen the night after +election day, along with a crowd of others, waiting for +the news. About twelve the 'phone came through--the +Liberals were in. Marshall just got up and walked +out--he didn't cheer or shout--he left the others to do +that, and they nearly lifted the roof off Carter's +store, I reckon. Of course, all the Tories were over +in Raymond Russell's store. Not much cheering THERE. +Marshall went straight down the street to the side door +of Augustus Palmer's barber shop. Augustus was in bed +asleep, but Marhall hammered on the door until he got +up and come down, wanting to know what all the racket +was about. + +"Come into your shop and do the best job you ever did +in your life, Gus,' said Marshall. `The Liberals are +in and you're going to barber a good Grit before the +sun rises.' + +"Gus was mad as hops--partly because he'd been dragged +out of bed, but more because he's a Tory. He vowed he +wouldn't shave any man after twelve at night. + +"`You'll do what I want you to do, sonny,' said +Marshall, `or I'll jest turn you over my knee and give +you one of those spankings your mother forgot.' + +"He'd have done it, too, and Gus knew it, for Marshall +is as strong as an ox and Gus is only a midget of a +man. So he gave in and towed Marshall in to the shop +and went to work. `Now,' says he, `I'll barber you up, +but if you say one word to me about the Grits getting +in while I'm doing it I'll cut your throat with this +razor,' says he. You wouldn't have thought mild little +Gus could be so bloodthirsty, would you? Shows what +party politics will do for a man. Marshall kept quiet +and got his hair and beard disposed of and went home. +When his old housekeeper heard him come upstairs she +peeked out of her bedroom door to see whether 'twas him +or the hired boy. And when she saw a strange man +striding down the hall with a candle in his hand she +screamed blue murder and fainted dead away. They had +to send for the doctor before they could bring her to, +and it was several days before she could look at +Marshall without shaking all over." + +Captain Jim had no fish. He seldom went out in his +boat that summer, and his long tramping expeditions +were over. He spent a great deal of his time sitting +by his seaward window, looking out over the gulf, with +his swiftly-whitening head leaning on his hand. He sat +there tonight for many silent minutes, keeping some +tryst with the past which Anne would not disturb. +Presently he pointed to the iris of the West: + +"That's beautiful, isn't, it, Mistress Blythe? But I +wish you could have seen the sunrise this morning. It +was a wonderful thing--wonderful. I've seen all kinds +of sunrises come over that gulf. I've been all over +the world, Mistress Blythe, and take it all in all, +I've never seen a finer sight than a summer sunrise +over the gulf. A man can't pick his time for dying, +Mistress Blythe--jest got to go when the Great Captain +gives His sailing orders. But if I could I'd go out +when the morning comes across that water. I've watched +it many a time and thought what a thing it would be to +pass out through that great white glory to whatever was +waiting beyant, on a sea that ain't mapped out on any +airthly chart. I think, Mistress Blythe, that I'd find +lost Margaret there." + +Captain Jim had often talked to Anne of lost Margaret +since he had told her the old story. His love for her +trembled in every tone--that love that had never grown +faint or forgetful. + +"Anyway, I hope when my time comes I'll go quick and +easy. I don't think I'm a coward, Mistress +Blythe--I've looked an ugly death in the face more than +once without blenching. But the thought of a lingering +death does give me a queer, sick feeling of horror." + +"Don't talk about leaving us, dear, DEAR Captain, +Jim," pleaded Anne, in a choked voice, patting the old +brown hand, once so strong, but now grown very feeble. +"What would we do without you?" + +Captain Jim smiled beautifully. + +"Oh, you'd get along nicely--nicely--but you wouldn't +forget the old man altogether, Mistress Blythe--no, I +don't think you'll ever quite forget him. The race of +Joseph always remembers one another. But it'll be a +memory that won't hurt--I like to think that my memory +won't hurt my friends--it'll always be kind of pleasant +to them, I hope and believe. It won't be very long now +before lost Margaret calls me, for the last time. I'll +be all ready to answer. I jest spoke of this because +there's a little favor I want to ask you. Here's this +poor old Matey of mine"--Captain Jim reached out a +hand and poked the big, warm, velvety, golden ball on +the sofa. The First Mate uncoiled himself like a +spring with a nice, throaty, comfortable sound, half +purr, half meow, stretched his paws in air, turned over +and coiled himself up again. "HE'll miss me when I +start on the V'yage. I can't bear to think of leaving +the poor critter to starve, like he was left before. +If anything happens to me will you give Matey a bite +and a corner, Mistress Blythe?" + +"Indeed I will." + +"Then that is all I had on my mind. Your Little Jem is +to have the few curious things I picked up--I've seen +to that. And now I don't like to see tears in those +pretty eyes, Mistress Blythe. I'll mebbe hang on for +quite a spell yet. I heard you reading a piece of +poetry one day last winter--one of Tennyson's pieces. +I'd sorter like to hear it again, if you could recite +it for me." + +Softly and clearly, while the seawind blew in on them, +Anne repeated the beautiful lines of Tennyson's +wonderful swan song-- "Crossing the Bar." The old +captain kept time gently with his sinewy hand. + +"Yes, yes, Mistress Blythe," he said, when she had +finished, "that's it, that's it. He wasn't a sailor, +you tell me--I dunno how he could have put an old +sailor's feelings into words like that, if he wasn't +one. He didn't want any `sadness o' farewells' and +neither do I, Mistress Blythe--for all will be well +with me and mine beyant the bar." + + + +CHAPTER 36 + +BEAUTY FOR ASHES + +"Any news from Green Gables, Anne?" + +"Nothing very especial," replied Anne, folding up +Marilla's letter. "Jake Donnell has been there +shingling the roof. He is a full-fledged carpenter +now, so it seems he has had his own way in regard to +the choice of a life-work. You remember his mother +wanted him to be a college professor. I shall never +forget the day she came to the school and rated me for +failing to call him St. Clair." + +"Does anyone ever call him that now?" + +"Evidently not. It seems that he has completely lived +it down. Even his mother has succumbed. I always +thought that a boy with Jake's chin and mouth would get +his own way in the end. Diana writes me that Dora has +a beau. Just think of it--that child!" + +"Dora is seventeen," said Gilbert. "Charlie Sloane +and I were both mad about you when you were seventeen, +Anne." + +"Really, Gilbert, we must be getting on in years," +said Anne, with a half-rueful smile, "when children who +were six when we thought ourselves grown up are old +enough now to have beaux. Dora's is Ralph +Andrews--Jane's brother. I remember him as a little, +round, fat, white-headed fellow who was always at the +foot of his class. But I understand he is quite a +fine-looking young man now." + +"Dora will probably marry young. She's of the same +type as Charlotta the Fourth--she'll never miss her +first chance for fear she might not get another." + +"Well; if she marries Ralph I hope he will be a little +more up-and-coming than his brother Billy," mused +Anne. + +"For instance," said Gilbert, laughing, "let us hope +he will be able to propose on his own account. Anne, +would you have married Billy if he had asked you +himself, instead of getting Jane to do it for him?" + +"I might have." Anne went off into a shriek of +laughter over the recollection of her first proposal. +"The shock of the whole thing might have hypnotized me +into some such rash and foolish act. Let us be +thankful he did it by proxy." + +"I had a letter from George Moore yesterday," said +Leslie, from the corner where she was reading. + +"Oh, how is he?" asked Anne interestedly, yet with an +unreal feeling that she was inquiring about some one +whom she did not know. + +"He is well, but he finds it very hard to adapt himself +to all the changes in his old home and friends. He is +going to sea again in the spring. It's in his blood, +he says, and he longs for it. But he told me something +that made me glad for him, poor fellow. Before he +sailed on the Four Sisters he was engaged to a girl at +home. He did not tell me anything about her in +Montreal, because he said he supposed she would have +forgotten him and married someone else long ago, and +with him, you see, his engagement and love was still a +thing of the present. It was pretty hard on him, but +when he got home he found she had never married and +still cared for him. They are to be married this fall. +I'm going to ask him to bring her over here for a +little trip; he says he wants to come and see the place +where he lived so many years without knowing it." + +"What a nice little romance," said Anne, whose love +for the romantic was immortal. "And to think," she +added with a sigh of self-reproach, "that if I had had +my way George Moore would never have come up from the +grave in which his identity was buried. How I did +fight against Gilbert's suggestion! Well, I am +punished: I shall never be able to have a different +opinion from Gilbert's again! If I try to have, he +will squelch me by casting George Moore's case up to +me!" + +"As if even that would squelch a woman!" mocked +Gilbert. "At least do not become my echo, Anne. A +little opposition gives spice to life . I do not want +a wife like John MacAllister's over the harbor. No +matter what he says, she at once remarks in that drab, +lifeless little voice of hers, `That is very true, +John, dear me!'" + +Anne and Leslie laughed. Anne's laughter was silver +and Leslie's golden, and the combination of the two was +as satisfactory as a perfect chord in music. + +Susan, coming in on the heels of the laughter, echoed +it with a resounding sigh. + +"Why, Susan, what is the matter?" asked Gilbert. + +"There's nothing wrong with little Jem, is there, +Susan?" cried Anne, starting up in alarm. + +"No, no, calm yourself, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Something +has happened, though. Dear me, everything has gone +catawampus with me this week. I spoiled the bread, as +you know too well--and I scorched the doctor's best +shirt bosom--and I broke your big platter. And now, on +the top of all this, comes word that my sister Matilda +has broken her leg and wants me to go and stay with her +for a spell." + +"Oh, I'm very sorry--sorry that your sister has met +with such an accident, I mean," exclaimed Anne. + +"Ah, well, man was made to mourn, Mrs. Doctor, dear. +That sounds as if it ought to be in the Bible, but they +tell me a person named Burns wrote it. And there is no +doubt that we are born to trouble as the sparks fly +upward. As for Matilda, I do not know what to think of +her. None of our family ever broke their legs before. +But whatever she has done she is still my sister, and I +feel that it is my duty to go and wait on her, if you +can spare me for a few weeks, Mrs. Doctor, dear." + +"Of course, Susan, of course. I can get someone to +help me while you are gone." + +"If you cannot I will not go, Mrs. Doctor, dear, +Matilda's leg to the contrary notwithstanding. I will +not have you worried, and that blessed child upset in +consequence, for any number of legs." + +"Oh, you must go to your sister at once, Susan. I can +get a girl from the cove, who will do for a time." + +"Anne, will you let me come and stay with you while +Susan is away?" exclaimed Leslie. "Do! I'd love +to--and it would be an act of charity on your part. +I'm so horribly lonely over there in that big barn of a +house. There's so little to do--and at night I'm worse +than lonely--I'm frightened and nervous in spite of +locked doors. There was a tramp around two days ago." + +Anne joyfully agreed, and next day Leslie was installed +as an inmate of the little house of dreams. Miss +Cornelia warmly approved of the arrangement. + +"It seems Providential," she told Anne in confidence. +"I'm sorry for Matilda Clow, but since she had to break +her leg it couldn't have happened at a better time. +Leslie will be here while Owen Ford is in Four Winds, +and those old cats up at the Glen won't get the chance +to meow, as they would if she was living over there +alone and Owen going to see her. They are doing enough +of it as it is, because she doesn't put on mourning. I +said to one of them, `If you mean she should put on +mourning for George Moore, it seems to me more like his +resurrection than his funeral; and if it's Dick you +mean, I confess _I_ can't see the propriety of going +into weeds for a man who died thirteen years ago and +good riddance then!' And when old Louisa Baldwin +remarked to me that she thought it very strange that +Leslie should never have suspected it wasn't her own +husband _I_ said, `YOU never suspected it wasn't Dick +Moore, and you were next-door neighbor to him all his +life, and by nature you're ten times as suspicious as +Leslie.' But you can't stop some people's tongues, +Anne, dearie, and I'm real thankful Leslie will be +under your roof while Owen is courting her." + +Owen Ford came to the little house one August evening +when Leslie and Anne were absorbed in worshipping the +baby. He paused at the open door of the living room, +unseen by the two within, gazing with greedy eyes at +the beautiful picture. Leslie sat on the floor with +the baby in her lap, making ecstatic dabs at his fat +little hands as he fluttered them in the air. + +"Oh, you dear, beautiful, beloved baby," she mumbled, +catching one wee hand and covering it with kisses. + +"Isn't him ze darlingest itty sing," crooned Anne, +hanging over the arm of her chair adoringly. "Dem itty +wee pads are ze very tweetest handies in ze whole big +world, isn't dey, you darling itty man." + +Anne, in the months before Little Jem's coming, had +pored diligently over several wise volumes, and pinned +her faith to one in especial, "Sir Oracle on the Care +and Training of Children." Sir Oracle implored +parents by all they held sacred never to talk "baby +talk" to their children. Infants should invariably be +addressed in classical language from the moment of +their birth. So should they learn to speak English +undefiled from their earliest utterance. "How," +demanded Sir Oracle, "can a mother reasonably expect +her child to learn correct speech, when she continually +accustoms its impressionable gray matter to such absurd +expressions and distortions of our noble tongue as +thoughtless mothers inflict every day on the helpless +creatures committed to their care? Can a child who is +constantly called `tweet itty wee singie' ever attain +to any proper conception of his own being and +possibilities and destiny?" + +Anne was vastly impressed with this, and informed +Gilbert that she meant to make it an inflexible rule +never, under any circumstances, to talk "baby talk" to +her children. Gilbert agreed with her, and they made a +solemn compact on the subject--a compact which Anne +shamelessly violated the very first moment Little Jem +was laid in her arms. "Oh, the darling itty wee +sing!" she had exclaimed. And she had continued to +violate it ever since. When Gilbert teased her she +laughed Sir Oracle to scorn. + +"He never had any children of his own, Gilbert--I am +positive he hadn't or he would never have written such +rubbish. You just can't help talking baby talk to a +baby. It comes natural--and it's RIGHT. It would be +inhuman to talk to those tiny, soft, velvety little +creatures as we do to great big boys and girls. Babies +want love and cuddling and all the sweet baby talk they +can get, and Little Jem is going to have it, bless his +dear itty heartums." + +"But you're the worst I ever heard, Anne," protested +Gilbert, who, not being a mother but only a father, was +not wholly convinced yet that Sir Oracle was wrong. "I +never heard anything like the way you talk to that +child." + +"Very likely you never did. Go away--go away. Didn't +I bring up three pairs of Hammond twins before I was +eleven? You and Sir Oracle are nothing but +cold-blooded theorists. Gilbert, JUST look at him! +He's smiling at me--he knows what we're talking about. +And oo dest agwees wif evy word muzzer says, don't oo, +angel-lover?" + +Gilbert put his arm about them. "Oh you mothers!" he +said. "You mothers! God knew what He was about when +He made you." + +So Little Jem was talked to and loved and cuddled; and +he throve as became a child of the house of dreams. +Leslie was quite as foolish over him as Anne was. When +their work was done and Gilbert was out of the way, +they gave themselves over to shameless orgies of +love-making and ecstasies of adoration, such as that in +which Owen Ford had surprised them. + +Leslie was the first to become aware of him. Even in +the twilight Anne could see the sudden whiteness that +swept over her beautiful face, blotting out the crimson +of lip and cheeks. + +Owen came forward, eagerly, blind for a moment to Anne. + +"Leslie!" he said, holding out his hand. It was the +first time he had ever called her by her name; but the +hand Leslie gave him was cold; and she was very quiet +all the evening, while Anne and Gilbert and Owen +laughed and talked together. Before his call ended she +excused herself and went upstairs . Owen's gay spirits +flagged and he went away soon after with a downcast +air. + +Gilbert looked at Anne. + +"Anne, what are you up to? There's something going on +that I don't understand. The whole air here tonight +has been charged with electricity. Leslie sits like +the muse of tragedy; Owen Ford jokes and laughs on the +surface, and watches Leslie with the eyes of his soul. +You seem all the time to be bursting with some +suppressed excitement. Own up. What secret have you +been keeping from your deceived husband?" + +"Don't be a goose, Gilbert," was Anne's conjugal +reply. "As for Leslie, she is absurd and I'm going up +to tell her so." + +Anne found Leslie at the dormer window of her room. +The little place was filled with the rhythmic thunder +of the sea. Leslie sat with locked hands in the misty +moonshine--a beautiful, accusing presence. + +"Anne," she said in a low, reproachful voice, "did you +know Owen Ford was coming to Four Winds?" + +"I did," said Anne brazenly. + +"Oh, you should have told me, Anne," Leslie cried +passionately. "If I had known I would have gone +away--I wouldn't have stayed here to meet him. You +should have told me. It wasn't fair of you, Anne--oh, +it wasn't fair!" + +Leslie's lips were trembling and her whole form was +tense with emotion. But Anne laughed heartlessly. She +bent over and kissed Leslie's upturned reproachful +face. + +"Leslie, you are an adorable goose. Owen Ford didn't +rush from the Pacific to the Atlantic from a burning +desire to see ME. Neither do I believe that he was +inspired by any wild and frenzied passion for Miss +Cornelia. Take off your tragic airs, my dear friend, +and fold them up and put them away in lavender. You'll +never need them again. There are some people who can +see through a grindstone when there is a hole in it, +even if you cannot. I am not a prophetess, but I shall +venture on a prediction. The bitterness of life is +over for you. After this you are going to have the +joys and hopes--and I daresay the sorrows, too--of a +happy woman. The omen of the shadow of Venus did come +true for you, Leslie. The year in which you saw it +brought your life's best gift for you--your love for +Owen Ford. Now, go right to bed and have a good +sleep." + +Leslie obeyed orders in so far that she went to bed: +but it may be questioned if she slept much. I do not +think she dared to dream wakingly; life had been so +hard for this poor Leslie, the path on which she had +had to walk had been so strait, that she could not +whisper to her own heart the hopes that might wait on +the future. But she watched the great revolving light +bestarring the short hours of the summer night, and her +eyes grew soft and bright and young once more. Nor, +when Owen Ford came next day, to ask her to go with him +to the shore, did she say him nay. + + + + CHAPTER 37 + +MISS CORNELIA MAKES A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT + +Miss Cornelia sailed down to the little house one +drowsy afternoon, when the gulf was the faint, +bleached blue of the August seas, and the orange lilies +at the gate of Anne's garden held up their imperial +cups to be filled with the molten gold of August +sunshine. Not that Miss Cornelia concerned herself +with painted oceans or sun-thirsty lilies. She sat in +her favorite rocker in unusual idleness. She sewed +not, neither did she spin. Nor did she say a single +derogatory word concerning any portion of mankind. In +short, Miss Cornelia's conversation was singularly +devoid of spice that day, and Gilbert, who had stayed +home to listen to her, instead of going a-fishing, as +he had intended, felt himself aggrieved. What had come +over Miss Cornelia? She did not look cast down or +worried. On the contrary, there was a certain air of +nervous exultation about her. + +"Where is Leslie?" she asked--not as if it mattered +much either. + +"Owen and she went raspberrying in the woods back of +her farm," answered Anne. "They won't be back before +supper time-- if then." + +"They don't seem to have any idea that there is such a +thing as a clock," said Gilbert. "I can't get to the +bottom of that affair. I'm certain you women pulled +strings. But Anne, undutiful wife, won't tell me. +Will you, Miss Cornelia?" + +"No, I shall not. But," said Miss Cornelia, with the +air of one determined to take the plunge and have it +over, "I will tell you something else. I came today on +purpose to tell it. I am going to be married." + +Anne and Gilbert were silent. If Miss Cornelia had +announced her intention of going out to the channel and +drowning herself the thing might have been believable. +This was not. So they waited. Of course Miss Cornelia +had made a mistake. + +"Well, you both look sort of kerflummexed," said Miss +Cornelia, with a twinkle in her eyes. Now that the +awkward moment of revelation was over, Miss Cornelia +was her own woman again. "Do you think I'm too young +and inexperienced for matrimony?" + +"You know--it IS rather staggering," said Gilbert, +trying to gather his wits together. "I've heard you +say a score of times that you wouldn't marry the best +man in the world." + +"I'm not going to marry the best man in the world," +retorted Miss Cornelia. "Marshall Elliott is a long +way from being the best." + +"Are you going to marry Marshall Elliott?" exclaimed +Anne, recovering her power of speech under this second +shock. + +"Yes. I could have had him any time these twenty years +if I'd lifted my finger. But do you suppose I was +going to walk into church beside a perambulating +haystack like that?" + +"I am sure we are very glad--and we wish you all +possible happiness," said Anne, very flatly and +inadequately, as she felt. She was not prepared for +such an occasion. She had never imagined herself +offering betrothal felicitations to Miss Cornelia. + +"Thanks, I knew you would," said Miss Cornelia. "You +are the first of my friends to know it." + +"We shall be so sorry to lose you, though, dear Miss +Cornelia," said Anne, beginning to be a little sad and +sentimental. + +"Oh, you won't lose me," said Miss Cornelia +unsentimentally. "You don't suppose I would live over +harbor with all those MacAllisters and Elliotts and +Crawfords, do you? `From the conceit of the Elliotts, +the pride of the MacAllisters and the vain-glory of the +Crawfords, good Lord deliver us.' Marshall is coming +to live at my place. I'm sick and tired of hired men. +That Jim Hastings I've got this summer is positively +the worst of the species. He would drive anyone to +getting married. What do you think? He upset the +churn yesterday and spilled a big churning of cream +over the yard. And not one whit concerned about it was +he! Just gave a foolish laugh and said cream was good +for the land. Wasn't that like a man? I told him I +wasn't in the habit of fertilising my back yard with +cream." + +"Well, I wish you all manner of happiness too, Miss +Cornelia," said Gilbert, solemnly; "but," he added, +unable to resist the temptation to tease Miss Cornelia, +despite Anne's imploring eyes, "I fear your day of +independence is done. As you know, Marshall Elliott is +a very determined man." + +"I like a man who can stick to a thing," retorted Miss +Cornelia. "Amos Grant, who used to be after me long +ago, couldn't. You never saw such a weather-vane. He +jumped into the pond to drown himself once and then +changed his mind and swum out again. Wasn't that like +a man? Marshall would have stuck to it and drowned." + +"And he has a bit of a temper, they tell me," +persisted Gilbert. + +"He wouldn't be an Elliott if he hadn't. I'm thankful +he has. It will be real fun to make him mad. And you +can generally do something with a tempery man when it +comes to repenting time. But you can't do anything +with a man who just keeps placid and aggravating." + +"You know he's a Grit, Miss Cornelia." + +"Yes, he IS," admitted Miss Cornelia rather sadly. +"And of course there is no hope of making a +Conservative of him. But at least he is a +Presbyterian. So I suppose I shall have to be +satisfied with that." + +"Would you marry him if he were a Methodist, Miss +Cornelia?" + +"No, I would not. Politics is for this world, but +religion is for both." + +"And you may be a `relict' after all, Miss Cornelia." + +"Not I. Marshall will live me out. The Elliotts are +long-lived, and the Bryants are not." + +"When are you to be married?" asked Anne. + +"In about a month's time. My wedding dress is to be +navy blue silk. And I want to ask you, Anne, dearie, +if you think it would be all right to wear a veil with +a navy blue dress. I've always thought I'd like to +wear a veil if I ever got married. Marshall says to +have it if I want to. Isn't that like a man?" + +"Why shouldn't you wear it if you want to?" asked +Anne. + +"Well, one doesn't want to be different from other +people," said Miss Cornelia, who was not noticeably +like anyone else on the face of the earth. "As I say, +I do fancy a veil. But maybe it shouldn't be worn with +any dress but a white one. Please tell me, Anne, +dearie, what you really think. I'll go by your +advice." + +"I don't think veils are usually worn with any but +white dresses," admitted Anne, "but that is merely a +convention; and I am like Mr. Elliott, Miss Cornelia. +I don't see any good reason why you shouldn't have a +veil if you want one." + +But Miss Cornelia, who made her calls in calico +wrappers, shook her head. + +"If it isn't the proper thing I won't wear it," she +said, with a sigh of regret for a lost dream. + +"Since you are determined to be married, Miss +Cornelia," said Gilbert solemnly, "I shall give you +the excellent rules for the management of a husband +which my grandmother gave my mother when she married my +father." + +"Well, I reckon I can manage Marshall Elliott," said +Miss Cornelia placidly. "But let us hear your rules." + +"The first one is, catch him." + +"He's caught. Go on." + +"The second one is, feed him well." + +"With enough pie. What next?" + +"The third and fourth are--keep your eye on him." + +"I believe you," said Miss Cornelia emphatically. + + + +CHAPTER 38 + +RED ROSES + +The garden of the little house was a haunt beloved of +bees and reddened by late roses that August. The +little house folk lived much in it, and were given to +taking picnic suppers in the grassy corner beyond the +brook and sitting about in it through the twilights +when great night moths sailed athwart the velvet gloom. +One evening Owen Ford found Leslie alone in it. Anne +and Gilbert were away, and Susan, who was expected back +that night, had not yet returned. + +The northern sky was amber and pale green over the fir +tops. The air was cool, for August was nearing +September, and Leslie wore a crimson scarf over her +white dress. Together they wandered through the +little, friendly, flower-crowded paths in silence. +Owen must go soon. His holiday was nearly over. +Leslie found her heart beating wildly. She knew that +this beloved garden was to be the scene of the binding +words that must seal their as yet unworded +understanding. + +" Some evenings a strange odor blows down the air of +this garden, like a phantom perfume," said Owen. "I +have never been able to discover from just what flower +it comes. It is elusive and haunting and wonderfully +sweet. I like to fancy it is the soul of Grandmother +Selwyn passing on a little visit to the old spot she +loved so well. There should be a lot of friendly +ghosts about this little old house." + +"I have lived under its roof only a month," said +Leslie, "but I love it as I never loved the house over +there where I have lived all my life." + +"This house was builded and consecrated by love," said +Owen. "Such houses, MUST exert an influence over those +who live in them. And this garden--it is over sixty +years old and the history of a thousand hopes and joys +is written in its blossoms. Some of those flowers were +actually set out by the schoolmaster's bride, and she +has been dead for thirty years. Yet they bloom on +every summer. Look at those red roses, Leslie--how +they queen it over everything else!" + +"I love the red roses," said Leslie. "Anne likes the +pink ones best, and Gilbert likes the white. But I +want the crimson ones. They satisfy some craving in me +as no other flower does." + +"These roses are very late--they bloom after all the +others have gone--and they hold all the warmth and soul +of the summer come to fruition," said Owen, plucking +some of the glowing, half-opened buds. + +"The rose is the flower of love--the world has +acclaimed it so for centuries. The pink roses are +love hopeful and expectant--the white roses are love +dead or forsaken--but the red roses--ah, Leslie, what +are the red roses?" + +"Love triumphant," said Leslie in a low voice. + +"Yes--love triumphant and perfect. Leslie, you +know--you understand. I have loved you from the +first. And I KNOW you love me--I don't need to ask +you. But I want to hear you say it--my darling-- my +darling!" + +Leslie said something in a very low and tremulous +voice. Their hands and lips met; it was life's +supreme moment for them and as they stood there in the +old garden, with its many years of love and delight and +sorrow and glory, he crowned her shining hair with the +red, red rose of a love triumphant. + +Anne and Gilbert returned presently, accompanied by +Captain Jim. Anne lighted a few sticks of driftwood in +the fireplace, for love of the pixy flames, and they +sat around it for an hour of good fellowship. + +"When I sit looking at a driftwood fire it's easy to +believe I'm young again," said Captain Jim. + +"Can you read futures in the fire, Captain Jim?" asked +Owen. + +Captain Jim looked at them all affectionately and then +back again at Leslie's vivid face and glowing eyes. + +"I don't need the fire to read your futures," he said. +"I see happiness for all of you--all of you--for Leslie +and Mr. Ford--and the doctor here and Mistress +Blythe--and Little Jem--and children that ain't born +yet but will be. Happiness for you all--though, mind +you, I reckon you'll have your troubles and worries and +sorrows, too. They're bound to come--and no house, +whether it's a palace or a little house of dreams, can +bar 'em out. But they won't get the better of you if +you face 'em TOGETHER with love and trust. You can +weather any storm with them two for compass and +pilot." + +The old man rose suddenly and placed one hand on +Leslie's head and one on Anne's. + +"Two good, sweet women," he said. "True and faithful +and to be depended on. Your husbands will have honor +in the gates because of you--your children will rise up +and call you blessed in the years to come." + +There was a strange solemnity about the little scene. +Anne and Leslie bowed as those receiving a +benediction. Gilbert suddenly brushed his hand over +his eyes; Owen Ford was rapt as one who can see +visions. All were silent for a space. The little +house of dreams added another poignant and +unforgettable moment to its store of memories. + +"I must be going now," said Captain Jim slowly at +last. He took up his hat and looked lingeringly about +the room. + +"Good night, all of you," he said, as he went out. + +Anne, pierced by the unusual wistfulness of his +farewell, ran to the door after him. + +"Come back soon, Captain Jim," she called, as he +passed through the little gate hung between the firs. + +"Ay, ay," he called cheerily back to her. But Captain +Jim had sat by the old fireside of the house of dreams +for the last time. + +Anne went slowly back to the others. + +"It's so--so pitiful to think of him going all alone +down to that lonely Point," she said. "And there is +no one to welcome him there." + +"Captain Jim is such good company for others that one +can't imagine him being anything but good company for +himself," said Owen. "But he must often be lonely. +There was a touch of the seer about him tonight--he +spoke as one to whom it had been given to speak. Well, +I must be going, too." + +Anne and Gilbert discreetly melted away; but when Owen +had gone Anne returned, to find Leslie standing by the +hearth. + +"Oh, Leslie--I know--and I'm so glad, dear," she said, +putting her arms about her. + +"Anne, my happiness frightens me," whispered Leslie. +"It seems too great to be real--I'm afraid to speak of +it--to think of it. It seems to me that it must just +be another dream of this house of dreams and it will +vanish when I leave here." + +"Well, you are not going to leave here--until Owen +takes you. You are going to stay with me until that +times comes. Do you think I'd let you go over to that +lonely, sad place again?" + +"Thank you, dear. I meant to ask you if I might stay +with you. I didn't want to go back there--it would +seem like going back into the chill and dreariness of +the old life again. Anne, Anne, what a friend you've +been to me--`a good, sweet woman--true and faithful and +to be depended on'--Captain Jim summed you up." + +"He said `women,' not `woman,'" smiled Anne. "Perhaps +Captain Jim sees us both through the rose-colored +spectacles of his love for us. But we can try to live +up to his belief in us, at least." + +"Do you remember, Anne," said Leslie slowly, "that I +once said--that night we met on the shore--that I hated +my good looks? I did--then. It always seemed to me +that if I had been homely Dick would never have thought +of me. I hated my beauty because it had attracted him, +but now--oh, I'm glad that I have it. It's all I have +to offer Owen,--his artist soul delights in it. I feel +as if I do not come to him quite empty-handed." + +"Owen loves your beauty, Leslie. Who would not? But +it's foolish of you to say or think that that is all +you bring him. HE will tell you that--I needn't. And +now I must lock up. I expected Susan back tonight, but +she has not come." + +"Oh, yes, here I am, Mrs. Doctor, dear," said Susan, +entering unexpectedly from the kitchen, "and puffing +like a hen drawing rails at that! It's quite a walk +from the Glen down here." + +"I'm glad to see you back, Susan. How is your +sister?" + +"She is able to sit up, but of course she cannot walk +yet. However, she is very well able to get on without +me now, for her daughter has come home for her +vacation. And I am thankful to be back, Mrs. Doctor, +dear. Matilda's leg was broken and no mistake, but her +tongue was not. She would talk the legs off an iron +pot, that she would, Mrs. Doctor, dear, though I grieve +to say it of my own sister. She was always a great +talker and yet she was the first of our family to get +married. She really did not care much about marrying +James Clow, but she could not bear to disoblige him. +Not but what James is a good man--the only fault I have +to find with him is that he always starts in to say +grace with such an unearthly groan, Mrs. Doctor, dear. +It always frightens my appetite clear away. And +speaking of getting married, Mrs. Doctor, dear, is it +true that Cornelia Bryant is going to be married to +Marshall Elliott?" + +"Yes, quite true, Susan." + +"Well, Mrs. Doctor, dear, it does NOT seem to me fair. +Here is me, who never said a word against the men, and +I cannot get married nohow. And there is Cornelia +Bryant, who is never done abusing them, and all she has +to do is to reach out her hand and pick one up, as it +were. It is a very strange world, Mrs. Doctor, dear." + +"There's another world, you know, Susan." + +"Yes," said Susan with a heavy sigh, "but, Mrs. +Doctor, dear, there is neither marrying nor giving in +marriage there." + + + +CHAPTER 39 + +CAPTAIN JIM CROSSES THE BAR + +One day in late September Owen Ford's book came at +last. Captain Jim had gone faithfully to the Glen post +office every day for a month, expecting it. This day +he had not gone, and Leslie brought his copy home with +hers and Anne's. + +"We'll take it down to him this evening," said Anne, +excited as a schoolgirl. + +The long walk to the Point on that clear, beguiling +evening along the red harbor road was very pleasant. +Then the sun dropped down behind the western hills into +some valley that must have been full of lost sunsets, +and at the same instant the big light flashed out on +the white tower of the point. + +"Captain Jim is never late by the fraction of a +second," said Leslie. + +Neither Anne nor Leslie ever forgot Captain Jim's face +when they gave him the book--HIS book, transfigured and +glorified. The cheeks that had been blanched of late +suddenly flamed with the color of boyhood; his eyes +glowed with all the fire of youth; but his hands +trembled as he opened it. + +It was called simply The Life-Book of Captain Jim, and +on the title page the names of Owen Ford and James Boyd +were printed as collaborators. The frontispiece was a +photograph of Captain Jim himself, standing at the door +of the lighthouse, looking across the gulf. Owen Ford +had "snapped" him one day while the book was being +written. Captain Jim had known this, but he had not +known that the picture was to be in the book. + +"Just think of it," he said, "the old sailor right +there in a real printed book. This is the proudest day +of my life. I'm like to bust, girls. There'll be no +sleep for me tonight. I'll read my book clean through +before sun-up." + +"We'll go right away and leave you free to begin it," +said Anne. + +Captain Jim had been handling the book in a kind of +reverent rapture. Now he decidedly closed it and laid +it aside. + +"No, no, you're not going away before you take a cup of +tea with the old man," he protested. "I couldn't hear +to that--could you, Matey? The life-book will keep, I +reckon. I've waited for it this many a year. I can +wait a little longer while I'm enjoying my friends." + +Captain Jim moved about getting his kettle on to boil, +and setting out his bread and butter. Despite his +excitement he did not move with his old briskness. His +movements were slow and halting. But the girls did not +offer to help him. They knew it would hurt his +feelings. + +"You just picked the right evening to visit me," he +said, producing a cake from his cupboard. "Leetle +Joe's mother sent me down a big basket full of cakes +and pies today. A blessing on all good cooks, says I. +Look at this purty cake, all frosting and nuts. +'Tain't often I can entertain in such style. Set in, +girls, set in! We'll `tak a cup o' kindness yet for +auld lang syne.'" + +The girls "set in" right merrily. The tea was up to +Captain Jim's best brewing. Little Joe's mother's cake +was the last word in cakes; Captain Jim was the prince +of gracious hosts, never even permitting his eyes to +wander to the corner where the life-book lay, in all +its bravery of green and gold. But when his door +finally closed behind Anne and Leslie they knew that he +went straight to it, and as they walked home they +pictured the delight of the old man poring over the +printed pages wherein his own life was portrayed with +all the charm and color of reality itself. + +"I wonder how he will like the ending--the ending I +suggested," said Leslie. + +She was never to know. Early the next morning Anne +awakened to find Gilbert bending over her, fully +dressed, and with an expression of anxiety on his face. + +"Are you called out?" she asked drowsily. + +"No. Anne, I'm afraid there's something wrong at the +Point. It's an hour after sunrise now, and the light +is still burning. You know it has always been a matter +of pride with Captain Jim to start the light the moment +the sun sets, and put it out the moment it rises." + +Anne sat up in dismay. Through her window she saw the +light blinking palely against the blue skies of dawn. + +"Perhaps he has fallen asleep over his life-book," she +said anxiously, "or become so absorbed in it that he +has forgotten the light." + +Gilbert shook his head. + +"That wouldn't be like Captain Jim. Anyway, I'm going +down to see." + +"Wait a minute and I'll go with you," exclaimed Anne. +"Oh, yes, I must--Little Jem will sleep for an hour +yet, and I'll call Susan. You may need a woman's help +if Captain Jim is ill." + +It was an exquisite morning, full of tints and sounds +at once ripe and delicate. The harbor was sparkling +and dimpling like a girl; white gulls were soaring over +the dunes; beyond the bar was a shining, wonderful sea. +The long fields by the shore were dewy and fresh in +that first fine, purely-tinted light. The wind came +dancing and whistling up the channel to replace the +beautiful silence with a music more beautiful still. +Had it not been for the baleful star on the white tower +that early walk would have been a delight to Anne and +Gilbert. But they went softly with fear. + +Their knock was not responded to. Gilbert opened the +door and they went in. + +The old room was very quiet. On the table were the +remnants of the little evening feast. The lamp still +burned on the corner stand. The First Mate was asleep +in a square of sunshine by the sofa. + +Captain Jim lay on the sofa, with his hands clasped +over the life-book, open at the last page, lying on his +breast. His eyes were closed and on his face was a +look of the most perfect peace and happiness--the look +of one who has long sought and found at last. + +"He is asleep?" whispered Anne tremulously. + +Gilbert went to the sofa and bent over him for a few +moments. Then he straightened up. + +"Yes, he sleeps--well," he added quietly. "Anne, +Captain Jim has crossed the bar." + +They could not know precisely at what hour he had died, +but Anne always believed that he had had his wish, and +went out when the morning came across the gulf. Out on +that shining tide his spirit drifted, over the sunrise +sea of pearl and silver, to the haven where lost +Margaret waited, beyond the storms and calms. + + + +CHAPTER 40 + +FAREWELL TO THE HOUSE OF DREAMS + +Captain Jim was buried in the little over-harbor +graveyard, very near to the spot where the wee white +lady slept. His relatives put up a very expensive, +very ugly "monument"--a monument at which he would +have poked sly fun had he seen it in life. But his +real monument was in the hearts of those who knew him, +and in the book that was to live for generations. + +Leslie mourned that Captain Jim had not lived to see +the amazing success of it. + +"How he would have delighted in the reviews--they are +almost all so kindly. And to have seen his life-book +heading the lists of the best sellers--oh, if he could +just have lived to see it, Anne!" + +But Anne, despite her grief, was wiser. + +"It was the book itself he cared for, Leslie--not what +might be said of it--and he had it. He had read it all +through. That last night must have been one of the +greatest happiness for him--with the quick, painless +ending he had hoped for in the morning. I am glad for +Owen's sake and yours that the book is such a +success--but Captain Jim was satisfied--I KNOW." + +The lighthouse star still kept a nightly vigil; a +substitute keeper had been sent to the Point, until +such time as an all-wise government could decide which +of many applicants was best fitted for the place--or +had the strongest pull. The First Mate was at home in +the little house, beloved by Anne and Gilbert and +Leslie, and tolerated by a Susan who had small liking +for cats. + +"I can put up with him for the sake of Captain Jim, +Mrs. Doctor, dear, for I liked the old man. And I will +see that he gets bite and sup, and every mouse the +traps account for. But do not ask me to do more than +that, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Cats is cats, and take my +word for it, they will never be anything else. And at +least, Mrs. Doctor, dear, do keep him away from the +blessed wee man. Picture to yourself how awful it +would be if he was to suck the darling's breath." + +"That might be fitly called a CAT-astrophe," said +Gilbert. + +"Oh, you may laugh, doctor, dear, but it would be no +laughing matter." + +"Cats never suck babies' breaths," said Gilbert. +"That is only an old superstition, Susan." + +"Oh, well, it may be a superstition or it may not, +doctor, dear. All that I know is, it has happened. My +sister's husband's nephew's wife's cat sucked their +baby's breath, and the poor innocent was all but gone +when they found it. And superstition or not, if I find +that yellow beast lurking near our baby I will whack +him with the poker, Mrs. Doctor, dear." + +Mr. and Mrs. Marshall Elliott were living comfortably +and harmoniously in the green house. Leslie was busy +with sewing, for she and Owen were to be married at +Christmas. Anne wondered what she would do when Leslie +was gone. + +"Changes come all the time. Just as soon as things get +really nice they change," she said with a sigh. + +"The old Morgan place up at the Glen is for sale," +said Gilbert, apropos of nothing in especial. + +"Is it?" asked Anne indifferently. + +"Yes. Now that Mr. Morgan has gone, Mrs. Morgan wants +to go to live with her children in Vancouver. She will +sell cheaply, for a big place like that in a small +village like the Glen will not be very easy to dispose +of." + +"Well, it's certainly a beautiful place, so it is +likely she will find a purchaser," said Anne, +absently, wondering whether she should hemstitch or +feather-stitch little Jem's "short" dresses. He was +to be shortened the next week, and Anne felt ready to +cry at the thought of it. + +"Suppose we buy it, Anne?" remarked Gilbert quietly. + +Anne dropped her sewing and stared at him. + +"You're not in earnest, Gilbert?" + +"Indeed I am, dear." + +"And leave this darling spot--our house of dreams?" +said Anne incredulously. "Oh, Gilbert, it's--it's +unthinkable!" + +"Listen patiently to me, dear. I know just how you +feel about it. I feel the same. But we've always +known we would have to move some day." + +"Oh, but not so soon, Gilbert--not just yet." + +"We may never get such a chance again. If we don't buy +the Morgan place someone else will--and there is no +other house in the Glen we would care to have, and no +other really good site on which to build. This little +house is--well, it is and has been what no other house +can ever be to us, I admit, but you know it is +out-of-the-way down here for a doctor. We have felt +the inconvenience, though we've made the best of it. +And it's a tight fit for us now. Perhaps, in a few +years, when Jem wants a room of his own, it will be +entirely too small." + +"Oh, I know--I know," said Anne, tears filling her +eyes. "I know all that can be said against it, but I +love it so--and it's so beautiful here." + +"You would find it very lonely here after Leslie +goes--and Captain Jim has gone too. The Morgan place +is beautiful, and in time we would love it. You know +you have always admired it, Anne." + +"Oh, yes, but--but--this has all seemed to come up so +suddenly, Gilbert. I'm dizzy. Ten minutes ago I had +no thought of leaving this dear spot. I was planning +what I meant to do for it in the spring-- what I meant +to do in the garden. And if we leave this place who +will get it? It IS out-of-the-way, so it's likely some +poor, shiftless, wandering family will rent it--and +over-run it--and oh, that would be desecration. It +would hurt me horribly." + +"I know. But we cannot sacrifice our own interests to +such considerations, Anne-girl. The Morgan place will +suit us in every essential particular--we really can't +afford to miss such a chance. Think of that big lawn +with those magnificent old trees; and of that splendid +hardwood grove behind it--twelve acres of it. What a +play place for our children! There's a fine orchard, +too, and you've always admired that high brick wall +around the garden with the door in it--you've thought +it was so like a story-book garden. And there is +almost as fine a view of the harbor and the dunes from +the Morgan place as from here." + +"You can't see the lighthouse star from it." + +"Yes, You can see it from the attic window. THERE'S +another advantage, Anne-girl--you love big garrets." + + "There's no brook in the garden." + +"Well, no, but there is one running through the maple +grove into the Glen pond. And the pond itself isn't +far away. You'll be able to fancy you have your own +Lake of Shining Waters again." + +"Well, don't say anything more about it just now, +Gilbert. Give me time to think--to get used to the +idea." + +"All right. There is no great hurry, of course. +Only--if we decide to buy, it would be well to be +moved in and settled before winter." + +Gilbert went out, and Anne put away Little Jem's short +dresses with trembling hands. She could not sew any +more that day. With tear-wet eyes she wandered over +the little domain where she had reigned so happy a +queen. The Morgan place was all that Gilbert claimed. +The grounds were beautiful, the house old enough to +have dignity and repose and traditions, and new enough +to be comfortable and up-to-date. Anne had always +admired it; but admiring is not loving; and she loved +this house of dreams so much. She loved EVERYTHING +about it--the garden she had tended, and which so many +women had tended before her--the gleam and sparkle of +the little brook that crept so roguishly across the +corner--the gate between the creaking fir trees--the +old red sandstone step--the stately Lombardies-- the +two tiny quaint glass cupboards over the chimney- piece +in the living-room--the crooked pantry door in the +kitchen-- the two funny dormer windows upstairs--the +little jog in the staircase-- why, these things were a +part of her! How could she leave them? + +And how this little house, consecrated aforetime by +love and joy, had been re-consecrated for her by her +happiness and sorrow! Here she had spent her bridal +moon; here wee Joyce had lived her one brief day; here +the sweetness of motherhood had come again with Little +Jem; here she had heard the exquisite music of her +baby's cooing laughter; here beloved friends had sat by +her fireside. Joy and grief, birth and death, had made +sacred forever this little house of dreams. + +And now she must leave it. She knew that, even while +she had contended against the idea to Gilbert. The +little house was outgrown. Gilbert's interests made +the change necessary; his work, successful though it +had been, was hampered by his location. Anne realised +that the end of their life in this dear place drew +nigh, and that she must face the fact bravely. But how +her heart ached! + +"It will be just like tearing something out of my +life," she sobbed. "And oh, if I could hope that some +nice folk would come here in our place--or even that it +would be left vacant. That itself would be better than +having it overrun with some horde who know nothing of +the geography of dreamland, and nothing of the history +that has given this house its soul and its identity. +And if such a tribe come here the place will go to rack +and ruin in no time--an old place goes down so quickly +if it is not carefully attended to. They'll tear up my +garden--and let the Lombardies get ragged--and the +paling will come to look like a mouth with half the +teeth missing--and the roof will leak--and the plaster +fall--and they'll stuff pillows and rags in broken +window panes--and everything will be out-at-elbows." + +Anne's imagination pictured forth so vividly the coming +degeneration of her dear little house that it hurt her +as severely as if it had already been an accomplished +fact. She sat down on the stairs and had a long, +bitter cry. Susan found her there and enquired with +much concern what the trouble was. + +"You have not quarrelled with the doctor, have you now, +Mrs. Doctor, dear? But if you have, do not worry. It +is a thing quite likely to happen to married couples, I +am told, although I have had no experience that way +myself. He will be sorry, and you can soon make it +up." + +"No, no, Susan, we haven't quarrelled. It's +only--Gilbert is going to buy the Morgan place, and +we'll have to go and live at the Glen. And it will +break my heart." + +Susan did not enter into Anne's feelings at all. She +was, indeed, quite rejoiced over the prospect of living +at the Glen. Her one grievance against her place in +the little house was its lonesome location. + +"Why, Mrs. Doctor, dear, it will be splendid. The +Morgan house is such a fine, big one." + +"I hate big houses," sobbed Anne. + +"Oh, well, you will not hate them by the time you have +half a dozen children," remarked Susan calmly. "And +this house is too small already for us. We have no +spare room, since Mrs. Moore is here, and that pantry +is the most aggravating place I ever tried to work in. +There is a corner every way you turn. Besides, it is +out-of-the-world down here. There is really nothing at +all but scenery." + +"Out of your world perhaps, Susan--but not out of +mine," said Anne with a faint smile. + +"I do not quite understand you, Mrs. Doctor, dear, but +of course I am not well educated. But if Dr. Blythe +buys the Morgan place he will make no mistake, and that +you may tie to. They have water in it, and the +pantries and closets are beautiful, and there is not +another such cellar in P. E. Island, so I have been +told. Why, the cellar here, Mrs. Doctor, dear, has +been a heart-break to me, as well you know." + +"Oh, go away, Susan, go away," said Anne forlornly. +"Cellars and pantries and closets don't make a HOME. +Why don't you weep with those who weep?" + +"Well, I never was much hand for weeping, Mrs. Doctor, +dear. I would rather fall to and cheer people up than +weep with them. Now, do not you cry and spoil your +pretty eyes. This house is very well and has served +your turn, but it is high time you had a better." + +Susan's point of view seemed to be that of most people. +Leslie was the only one who sympathised +understandingly with Anne. She had a good cry, too, +when she heard the news. Then they both dried their +tears and went to work at the preparations for moving. + +"Since we must go let us go as soon as we can and have +it over," said poor Anne with bitter resignation. + +"You know you will like that lovely old place at the +Glen after you have lived in it long enough to have +dear memories woven about it," said Leslie. "Friends +will come there, as they have come here-- happiness +will glorify it for you. Now, it's just a house to +you--but the years will make it a home." + +Anne and Leslie had another cry the next week when they +shortened Little Jem. Anne felt the tragedy of it +until evening when in his long nightie she found her +own dear baby again. + +"But it will be rompers next--and then trousers--and in +no time he will be grown-up," she sighed. + +"Well, you would not want him to stay a baby always, +Mrs. Doctor, dear, would you?" said Susan. "Bless his +innocent heart, he looks too sweet for anything in his +little short dresses, with his dear feet sticking out. +And think of the save in the ironing, Mrs. Doctor, dear." + +"Anne, I have just had a letter from Owen," said +Leslie, entering with a bright face. "And, oh! I have +such good news. He writes me that he is going to buy +this place from the church trustees and keep it to +spend our summer vacations in. Anne, are you not glad?" + +"Oh, Leslie, `glad' isn't the word for it! It seems +almost too good to be true. I sha'n't feel half so +badly now that I know this dear spot will never be +desecrated by a vandal tribe, or left to tumble down in +decay. Why, it's lovely! It's lovely!" + +One October morning Anne wakened to the realisation +that she had slept for the last time under the roof of +her little house. The day was too busy to indulge +regret and when evening came the house was stripped and +bare. Anne and Gilbert were alone in it to say +farewell. Leslie and Susan and Little Jem had gone to +the Glen with the last load of furniture. The sunset +light streamed in through the curtainless windows. + +"It has all such a heart-broken, reproachful look, +hasn't it?" said Anne. "Oh, I shall be so homesick at +the Glen tonight!" + +"We have been very happy here, haven't we, Anne-girl?" +said Gilbert, his voice full of feeling. + +Anne choked, unable to answer. Gilbert waited for her +at the fir-tree gate, while she went over the house and +said farewell to every room. She was going away; but +the old house would still be there, looking seaward +through its quaint windows. The autumn winds would +blow around it mournfully, and the gray rain would beat +upon it and the white mists would come in from the sea +to enfold it; and the moonlight would fall over it and +light up the old paths where the schoolmaster and his +bride had walked. There on that old harbor shore the +charm of story would linger; the wind would still +whistle alluringly over the silver sand-dunes; the +waves would still call from the red rock-coves. + +"But we will be gone," said Anne through her tears. + +She went out, closing and locking the door behind her. +Gilbert was waiting for her with a smile. The +lighthouse star was gleaming northward. The little +garden, where only marigolds still bloomed, was already +hooding itself in shadows. + +Anne knelt down and kissed the worn old step which she +had crossed as a bride. + +"Good-bye, dear little house of dreams," she said. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Anne's House of Dreams + |