anne of the island- 第37部分

one　before　he　‘axes'　me。〃



〃All　Redmond　knows　that　Roy　is　crazy　about　you；〃　said　Phil　candidly。〃

And　you　DO　love　him；　don't　you；　Anne？〃



〃I　　I　suppose　so；〃　said　Anne　reluctantly。　　She　felt　that　she　ought

to　be　blushing　while　making　such　a　confession；　but　she　was　not；

on　the　other　hand；　she　always　blushed　hotly　when　any　one　said

anything　about　Gilbert　Blythe　or　Christine　Stuart　in　her　hearing。

Gilbert　Blythe　and　Christine　Stuart　were　nothing　to　her　

absolutely　nothing。　　But　Anne　had　given　up　trying　to　analyze

the　reason　of　her　blushes。　　As　for　Roy；　of　course　she　was　in

love　with　him　　madly　so。　　How　could　she　help　it？　　Was　he　not

her　ideal？　　Who　could　resist　those　glorious　dark　eyes；　and　that

pleading　voice？　　Were　not　half　the　Redmond　girls　wildly　envious？

And　what　a　charming　sonnet　he　had　sent　her；　with　a　box　of　violets；

on　her　birthday！　　Anne　knew　every　word　of　it　by　heart。　　It　was　very

good　stuff　of　its　kind；　too。　　Not　exactly　up　to　the　level　of　Keats　or

Shakespeare　　even　Anne　was　not　so　deeply　in　love　as　to　think　that。

But　it　was　very　tolerable　magazine　verse。　　And　it　was　addressed　to　HER　

not　to　Laura　or　Beatrice　or　the　Maid　of　Athens；　but　to　her；　Anne　Shirley。

To　be　told　in　rhythmical　cadences　that　her　eyes　were　stars　of　the　morning

　that　her　cheek　had　the　flush　it　stole　from　the　sunrise　　that　her

lips　were　redder　than　the　roses　of　Paradise；　was　thrillingly　romantic。

Gilbert　would　never　have　dreamed　of　writing　a　sonnet　to　her　eyebrows。

But　then；　Gilbert　could　see　a　joke。　　She　had　once　told　Roy　a　funny　story

　and　he　had　not　seen　the　point　of　it。　　She　recalled　the　chummy　laugh

she　and　Gilbert　had　had　together　over　it；　and　wondered　uneasily　if　life

with　a　man　who　had　no　sense　of　humor　might　not　be　somewhat　uninteresting

in　the　long　run。　　But　who　could　expect　a　melancholy；　inscrutable　hero　to

see　the　humorous　side　of　things？　　It　would　be　flatly　unreasonable。









Chapter　XXVIII



A　June　Evening





〃I　wonder　what　it　would　be　like　to　live　in　a　world　where　it　was

always　June；〃　said　Anne；　as　she　came　through　the　spice　and　bloom

of　the　twilit　orchard　to　the　front　door　steps；　where　Marilla　and

Mrs。　Rachel　were　sitting；　talking　over　Mrs。　Samson　Coates'　funeral；

which　they　had　attended　that　day。　　Dora　sat　between　them；　diligently

studying　her　lessons；　but　Davy　was　sitting　tailor…fashion　on　the　grass；

looking　as　gloomy　and　depressed　as　his　single　dimple　would　let　him。



〃You'd　get　tired　of　it；〃　said　Marilla；　with　a　sigh。



〃I　daresay；　but　just　now　I　feel　that　it　would　take　me　a　long

time　to　get　tired　of　it；　if　it　were　all　as　charming　as　today。

Everything　loves　June。　　Davy…boy；　why　this　melancholy　November

face　in　blossom…time？〃



〃I'm　just　sick　and　tired　of　living；〃　said　the　youthful　pessimist。



〃At　ten　years？　　Dear　me；　how　sad！〃



〃I'm　not　making　fun；〃　said　Davy　with　dignity。　　〃I'm　dis　　dis　

discouraged〃　　bringing　out　the　big　word　with　a　valiant　effort。



〃Why　and　wherefore？〃　asked　Anne；　sitting　down　beside　him。



〃'Cause　the　new　teacher　that　come　when　Mr。　Holmes　got　sick　give

me　ten　sums　to　do　for　Monday。　　It'll　take　me　all　day　tomorrow　to

do　them。　　It　isn't　fair　to　have　to　work　Saturdays。　　Milty　Boulter

said　he　wouldn't　do　them；　but　Marilla　says　I've　got　to。　　I　don't

like　Miss　Carson　a　bit。〃



〃Don't　talk　like　that　about　your　teacher；　Davy　Keith；〃　said

Mrs。　Rachel　severely。　　〃Miss　Carson　is　a　very　fine　girl。

There　is　no　nonsense　about　her。〃



〃That　doesn't　sound　very　attractive；〃　laughed　Anne。　　〃I　like

people　to　have　a　little　nonsense　about　them。　　But　I'm　inclined

to　have　a　better　opinion　of　Miss　Carson　than　you　have。　　I　saw　her

in　prayer…meeting　last　night；　and　she　has　a　pair　of　eyes　that

can't　always　look　sensible。　　Now；　Davy…boy；　take　heart　of　grace。

‘Tomorrow　will　bring　another　day'　and　I'll　help　you　with　the　sums

as　far　as　in　me　lies。　　Don't　waste　this　lovely　hour　‘twixt　light

and　dark　worrying　over　arithmetic。〃



〃Well；　I　won't；〃　said　Davy；　brightening　up。　　〃If　you　help　me

with　the　sums　I'll　have　'em　done　in　time　to　go　fishing　with　Milty。

I　wish　old　Aunt　Atossa's　funeral　was　tomorrow　instead　of　today。

I　wanted　to　go　to　it　'cause　Milty　said　his　mother　said　Aunt　Atossa

would　be　sure　to　rise　up　in　her　coffin　and　say　sarcastic　things　to

the　folks　that　come　to　see　her　buried。　　But　Marilla　said　she　didn't。〃



〃Poor　Atossa　laid　in　her　coffin　peaceful　enough；〃　said　Mrs。　Lynde

solemnly。　　〃I　never　saw　her　look　so　pleasant　before；　that's　what。

Well；　there　weren't　many　tears　shed　over　her；　poor　old　soul。

The　Elisha　Wrights　are　thankful　to　be　rid　of　her；　and　I　can't

say　I　blame　them　a　mite。〃



〃It　seems　to　me　a　most　dreadful　thing　to　go　out　of　the　world　and　not

leave　one　person　behind　you　who　is　sorry　you　are　gone；〃　said　Anne；　shuddering。



〃Nobody　except　her　parents　ever　loved　poor　Atossa；　that's　certain；　not　even

her　husband；〃　averred　Mrs。　Lynde。　　〃She　was　his　fourth　wife。　　He'd　sort　of　got

into　the　habit　of　marrying。　　He　only　lived　a　few　years　after　he　married　her。

The　doctor　said　he　died　of　dyspepsia；　but　I　shall　always　maintain　that　he　died

of　Atossa's　tongue；　that's　what。　　Poor　soul；　she　always　knew　everything　about

her　neighbors；　but　she　never　was　very　well　acquainted　with　herself。　　Well；

she's　gone　anyhow；　and　I　suppose　the　next　excitement　will　be　Diana's　wedding。〃



〃It　seems　funny　and　horrible　to　think　of　Diana's　being　married；〃

sighed　Anne；　hugging　her　knees　and　looking　through　the　gap　in　the

Haunted　Wood　to　the　light　that　was　shining　in　Diana's　room。



〃I　don't　see　what's　horrible　about　it；　when　she's　doing　so　well；〃

said　Mrs。　Lynde　emphatically。　　〃Fred　Wright　has　a　fine　farm　and

he　is　a　model　young　man。〃



〃He　certainly　isn't　the　wild；　dashing；　wicked；　young　man　Diana

once　wanted　to　marry；〃　smiled　Anne。　　〃Fred　is　extremely　good。〃



〃That's　just　what　he　ought　to　be。　　Would　you　want　Diana　to　marry

a　wicked　man？　　Or　marry　one　yourself？〃



〃Oh；　no。　　I　wouldn't　want　to　marry　anybody　who　was　wicked；

but　I　think　I'd　like　it　if　he　COULD　be　wicked　and　WOULDN'T。

Now；　Fred　is　HOPELESSLY　good。〃



〃You'll　have　more　sense　some　day；　I　hope；〃　said　Marilla。



Marilla　spoke　rather　bitterly。　　She　was　grievously　disappointed。

She　knew　Anne　had　refused　Gilbert　Blythe。　　Avonlea　gossip　buzzed

over　the　fact；　which　had　leaked　out；　nobody　knew　how。　　Perhaps

Charlie　Sloane　had　guessed　and　told　his　guesses　for　truth。

Perhaps　Diana　had　betrayed　it　to　Fred　and　Fred　had　been　indiscreet。

At　all　events　it　was　known；　Mrs。　Blythe　no　longer　asked　Anne；

in　public　or　private；　if　she　had　heard　lately　from　Gilbert；　but

passed　her　by　with　a　frosty　bow。　　Anne；　who　had　always　liked　Gilbert's

merry；　young…hearted　mother；　was　grieved　in　secret　over　this。

Marilla　said　nothing；　but　Mrs。　Lynde　gave　Anne　many　exasperated

digs　about　it；　until　fresh　gossip　reached　that　worthy　lady；

through　the　medium　of　Moody　Spurgeon　MacPherson's　mother；

that　Anne　had　another　〃beau〃　at　college；　who　was　rich　and

handsome　and　good　all　in　one。　　After　that　Mrs。　Rachel　held

her　tongue；　though　she　still　wished　in　her　inmost　heart　that

Anne　had　accepted　Gilbert。　　Riches　were　all　very　well；

but　even　Mrs。　Rachel；　practical　soul　though　she　was；　did　not

consider　them　the　one　essential。　　If　Anne　〃liked〃　the　Handsome

Unknown　better　than　Gilbert　there　was　nothing　more　to　be　said；

but　Mrs。　Rachel　was　dreadfully　afraid　that　Anne　was　going　to

make　the　mistake　of　marrying　for　money。　　Marilla　knew　Anne　too

well　to　fear　this；　but　she　felt　that　something　in　the　universal

scheme　of　things　had　gone　sadly　awry。



〃What　is　to　be；　will　be；〃　said　Mrs。　Rachel　gloomily；　〃and　what　isn't

to　be　happens　sometimes。　　I　can't　help　believing　it's　going　to　happen

in　Anne's　case；　if　Providence　doesn't　interfere；　that's　what。〃

Mrs。　Rachel　sighed。　　She　was　afraid　Providence　wouldn't　interfere；

and　she　didn't　dare　to。



Anne　had　wandered　down　to　the　Dryad's　Bubble　and　was　curled　up

among　the　ferns　at　the　root　of　the　big　white　birch　where　she　and

Gilbert　had　so　often　sat　in　summers　gone　by。　　He　had　gone　into

the　newspaper　office　again　when　college　closed；　and　Avonlea

seemed　very　dull　without　him。　　He　never　wrote　to　her；　and　Anne

missed　the　letters　that　never　came。　　To　be　sure；　Roy　wrote　twice

a　week；　his　letters　were　exquisite　compositions　which　would　have

read　beautifully　in　a　memoir　or　biography。　　Anne　felt　herself

more　deeply　in　love　with　him　than　ever　when　she　read　them；　but

her　heart　never　gave　the　queer；　quick；　painful　bound　at　sight　of

his　letters　which　it　had　given　one　day　when　Mrs。　Hiram　Sloane

had　handed　her　out　an　envelope　addressed　in　Gilbert's　black；

upright　handwriting。　　Anne　had　hurried　home　to　the　east　gable　and

opened　it　eagerly　　to　find　a　typewritten　copy　of　some　college

society　report　　〃only　that　and　nothing　more。〃　　Anne　flung　the

harmless　screed　across　her　room　and　sat　down　to　write　an

especially　nice　epistle　to　Roy。



Diana　was　to　be