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CHAPTER XXVII UP CHAPTER XXIX CHAPTER XXVIII An Unfortunate Lily Maid 第28章 不運な百合の乙女(松本訳) 「Lily Maid」松本訳注第28章(1) p. 512参照 "OF course you must be Elaine, Anne," said Diana. 「Elaine」松本訳注第28章(2) p. 512参照 "I could never have the courage to float down there." "Nor I," said Ruby Gillis, with a shiver. "I don t mind floating down when there s two or three of us in the flat and we can sit up. It s fun then. But to lie down and pretend I was dead--I just couldn t. I d die really of fright." "Of course it would be romantic," conceded Jane Andrews, "but I know I couldn t keep still. I d be popping up every minute or so to see where I was and if I wasn t drifting too far out. And you know, Anne, that would spoil the effect." "But it s so ridiculous to have a redheaded Elaine," mourned Anne. "I m not afraid to float down and I d love to be Elaine. But it s ridiculous just the same. Ruby ought to be Elaine because she is so fair and has such lovely long golden hair-- Elaine had `all her bright hair streaming down, you know. 「`all her bright hair streaming down 」松本訳注第28章(3) p. 512参照 And Elaine was the lily maid. Now, a red-haired person cannot be a lily maid." "Your complexion is just as fair as Ruby s," said Diana earnestly, "and your hair is ever so much darker than it used to be before you cut it." "Oh, do you really think so?" exclaimed Anne, flushing sensitively with delight. "I ve sometimes thought it was myself--but I never dared to ask anyone for fear she would tell me it wasn t. Do you think it could be called auburn now, Diana?" 「auburn」 金褐色(松本訳): 第10章(CHAPTER X、CHAPTER X with impression?)で、大人になったら金褐色になるとリンド夫人に言われて喜んだ色。第37章(CHAPTER XXXVII、CHAPTER XXXVII with impression)では、金褐色になったと自分で言っている "Yes, and I think it is real pretty," said Diana, 「pretty」もうすぐギルバートにも同じことを言われる looking admiringly at the short, silky curls that clustered over Anne s head and were held in place by a very jaunty black velvet ribbon and bow. 「short, silky curls」 midsummer(すぐ下)の話なので、髪を緑色に染めたlate April(CHAPTER XXVIICHAPTER XXVII with impression)から3ヶ月くらい経ったところ。1ヶ月に1~2cmくらい伸びるでしょうから(若いともっと伸びる?)、5cmくらい伸びたはず。ほんとに刈り上げてしまったほどの長さだったわけですね They were standing on the bank of the pond, below Orchard Slope, where a little headland fringed with birches ran out from the bank; at its tip was a small wooden platform built out into the water for the convenience of fishermen and duck hunters. Ruby and Jane were spending the midsummer afternoon with Diana, and Anne had come over to play with them. Anne and Diana had spent most of their playtime that summer on and about the pond. Idlewild was a thing of the past, Mr. Bell having ruthlessly cut down the little circle of trees in his back pasture in the spring. Anne had sat among the stumps and wept, not without an eye to the romance of it; but she was speedily consoled, for, after all, as she and Diana said, big girls of thirteen, going on fourteen, アンは3月生まれ、ダイアナは2月生まれなので、春は13歳になったばかりのはずなのに「big girls」で、もうじき14歳になる、と考えるあたりがかわいらしい were too old for such childish amusements as playhouses, and there were more fascinating sports to be found about the pond. It was splendid to fish for trout over the bridge and the two girls learned to row themselves about in the little flat-bottomed dory Mr. Barry kept for duck shooting. 「duck shooting」 プリンスエドワード島は寒いので、日本の本州のように越冬しにカモ類がやってくるのではなく、夏に子育てのためにやってくるはず。なので、この時期はオンシーズン It was Anne s idea that they dramatize Elaine. They had studied Tennyson s poem in school the preceding winter, 「Tennyson s poem」松本訳注第28章(4) p. 513参照 the Superintendent of Education having prescribed it in the English course for the Prince Edward Island schools. They had analyzed and parsed it and torn it to pieces in general until it was a wonder there was any meaning at all left in it for them, 大変批判的なご指摘です 「torn it to pieces」後で、船がtorn offされますが、単語の重なりは気のせいかしら but at least the fair lily maid and Lancelot and Guinevere and King Arthur had become very real people to them, and Anne was devoured by secret regret that she had not been born in Camelot. 「Lancelot」松本訳注第28章(5) p. 513参照 「Guinevere」松本訳注第28章(6) p. 513参照 「King Arthur」松本訳注第28章(7) p. 513参照 「Camelot」松本訳注第28章(8) p. 513参照 Those days, she said, were so much more romantic than the present. 「romantic」この章の最後に呼応している Anne s plan was hailed with enthusiasm. The girls had discovered that if the flat were pushed off from the landing place it would drift down with the current under the bridge and finally strand itself on another headland lower down which ran out at a curve in the pond. They had often gone down like this and nothing could be more convenient for playing Elaine. "Well, I ll be Elaine," said Anne, yielding reluctantly, for, although she would have been delighted to play the principal character, yet her artistic sense demanded fitness for it and this, she felt, her limitations made impossible. "Ruby, you must be King Arthur and Jane will be Guinevere and Diana must be Lancelot. But first you must be the brothers and the father. 「the brothers and the father」松本訳注第28章(9) p. 514参照 We can t have the old dumb servitor because there isn t room for two in the flat when one is lying down. 「the old dumb servitor」松本訳注第28章(10) p. 514参照 We must pall the barge all its length in blackest samite. That old black shawl of your mother s will be just the thing, Diana." 「 the barge all its length in blackest samite」松本訳注第28章(11) p. 514参照 The black shawl having been procured, Anne spread it over the flat and then lay down on the bottom, with closed eyes and hands folded over her breast. "Oh, she does look really dead," whispered Ruby Gillis nervously, watching the still, white little face under the flickering shadows of the birches. "It makes me feel frightened, girls. Do you suppose it s really right to act like this? 悪い予感がすでにある Mrs. Lynde says that all play-acting is abominably wicked." "Ruby, you shouldn t talk about Mrs. Lynde," said Anne severely. "It spoils the effect because this is hundreds of years before Mrs. Lynde was born. Jane, you arrange this. It s silly for Elaine to be talking when she s dead." Jane rose to the occasion. Cloth of gold for coverlet there was none, but an old piano scarf of yellow Japanese crepe was an excellent substitute. 「Japanese crepe」松本訳注第28章(12) p. 514参照 「crepe」Puffin Books版では、斜字体になっていて、ひとつめのeにはアクサンシルコンフレックスがついており(なので《クレープ》と発音)、フランス語からの借りものと主張している。縮緬 「Japanese crepe」松本訳注第28章(12) p. 514参照 A white lily was not obtainable just then, but the effect of a tall blue iris placed in one of Anne s folded hands was all that could be desired. "Now, she s all ready," said Jane. "We must kiss her quiet brows 「We must kiss her quiet brows」松本訳注第28章(13) p. 514参照 and, Diana, you say, `Sister, farewell forever, 「`Sister, farewell forever, 」松本訳注第28章(14) p. 514参照 「farewell」古風な! のは詩の言葉だから and Ruby, you say, `Farewell, sweet sister, both of you as sorrowfully as you possibly can. 「`Farewell, sweet sister, 」松本訳注第28章(15) p. 514参照 Anne, for goodness sake smile a little. You know Elaine `lay as though she smiled. 「`lay as though she smiled. 」松本訳注第28章(15) p. 514参照 That s better. Now push the flat off." The flat was accordingly pushed off, scraping roughly over an old embedded stake in the process. Diana and Jane and Ruby only waited long enough to see it caught in the current and headed for the bridge before scampering up through the woods, across the road, and down to the lower headland where, as Lancelot and Guinevere and the King, they were to be in readiness to receive the lily maid. For a few minutes Anne, drifting slowly down, enjoyed the romance of her situation to the full. Then something happened not at all romantic. The flat began to leak. In a very few moments it was necessary for Elaine to scramble to her feet, 「Elaine」まだ、ごっこしてる pick up her cloth of gold coverlet and pall of blackest samite and gaze blankly at a big crack in the bottom of her barge through which the water was literally pouring. That sharp stake at the landing had torn off the strip of batting nailed on the flat. 「batting」Webster s Revised Unabridged, 1913 Editionによると(OneLookで検索してみつけた)、Cotton in sheets, prepared for use in making quilts, etc.; as, cotton batting. Yahoo!やGoogleで「strip of batting」を検索するとたくさん出てくるのですが、やはり布。とすると、布切れを船底の隙間を埋めるために釘で打ち付けていたのでしょうか。何かしっくり来ないのですが。もとからボロ船なのかもしれませんけど。 松本訳では「板切れ」。でも、英語で板切れならば「batting」ではなく、「batten」ではないでしょうか。battenは船舶の防水用の当て木という意味があるのでぴったりです。しかし、「strip of batten」はYahoo!やGoogleであまり引っかかりませんでした。Puffin Books版でもbattingなので、ここは謎です Anne did not know this, but it did not take her long to realize that she was in a dangerous plight. 「plight」苦境、(悪い)状態。この普通の意味に加え、[古]で誓約、婚約の意味もあるようです。すぐあとで、ギルバートに助けてもらうことが、dangerous plight=危険な約束(友達になんかなる気がない)ということを暗示している、もしくは、アンがギルバートに対してどきどきすることを暗示している、と考えてしまうのは、深読みすぎかしら At this rate the flat would fill and sink long before it could drift to the lower headland. Where were the oars? Left behind at the landing! Anne gave one gasping little scream which nobody ever heard; she was white to the lips, but she did not lose her self-possession. There was one chance--just one. "I was horribly frightened," she told Mrs. Allan the next day, "and it seemed like years while the flat was drifting down to the bridge and the water rising in it every moment. I prayed, Mrs. Allan, most earnestly, but I didn t shut my eyes to pray, for I knew the only way God could save me was to let the flat float close enough to one of the bridge piles for me to climb up on it. You know the piles are just old tree trunks and there are lots of knots and old branch stubs on them. It was proper to pray, but I had to do my part by watching out and right well I knew it. I just said, `Dear God, please take the flat close to a pile and I ll do the rest, over and over again. Under such circumstances you don t think much about making a flowery prayer. But mine was answered, for the flat bumped right into a pile for a minute and I flung the scarf and the shawl over my shoulder and scrambled up on a big providential stub. And there I was, Mrs. Allan, clinging to that slippery old pile with no way of getting up or down. It was a very unromantic position, but I didn t think about that at the time. You don t think much about romance when you have just escaped from a watery grave. 「`a watery grave 」松本訳注第28章(17) p. 515参照 I said a grateful prayer at once and then I gave all my attention to holding on tight, for I knew I should probably have to depend on human aid to get back to dry land." 「dry land」:「watery grave」と対比的 The flat drifted under the bridge and then promptly sank in midstream. Ruby, Jane, and Diana, already awaiting it on the lower headland, saw it disappear before their very eyes and had not a doubt but that Anne had gone down with it. For a moment they stood still, white as sheets, frozen with horror at the tragedy; then, shrieking at the tops of their voices, they started on a frantic run up through the woods, never pausing as they crossed the main road to glance the way of the bridge. Anne, clinging desperately to her precarious foothold, saw their flying forms and heard their shrieks. Help would soon come, but meanwhile her position was a very uncomfortable one. The minutes passed by, each seeming an hour to the unfortunate lily maid. Why didn t somebody come? Where had the girls gone? Suppose they had fainted, one and all! 「fainted」 まだ、気絶することにロマンチックなあこがれがあるのでしょうか Suppose nobody ever came! Suppose she grew so tired and cramped that she could hold on no longer! Anne looked at the wicked green depths below her, wavering with long, oily shadows, and shivered. Her imagination began to suggest all manner of gruesome possibilities to her. Then, just as she thought she really could not endure the ache in her arms and wrists another moment, Gilbert Blythe came rowing under the bridge in Harmon Andrews s dory! 「dory」松本訳注第28章(18) p. 515参照 Gilbert glanced up and, much to his amazement, beheld a little white scornful face looking down upon him with big, frightened but also scornful gray eyes. 「behold」 [雅]見る。芝居じみている。ギルバートが、なので、意味あがある、のかも "Anne Shirley! How on earth did you get there?" he exclaimed. Without waiting for an answer he pulled close to the pile and extended his hand. There was no help for it; Anne, clinging to Gilbert Blythe s hand, scrambled down into the dory, where she sat, drabbled and furious, in the stern with her arms full of dripping shawl and wet crepe. It was certainly extremely difficult to be dignified under the circumstances! "What has happened, Anne?" asked Gilbert, taking up his oars. "We were playing Elaine" explained Anne frigidly, without even looking at her rescuer, "and I had to drift down to Camelot in the barge--I mean the flat. The flat began to leak and I climbed out on the pile. The girls went for help. Will you be kind enough to row me to the landing?" Gilbert obligingly rowed to the landing and Anne, 「obligingly」 disdaining assistance, sprang nimbly on shore. "I m very much obliged to you," 「obliged」 上に呼応。「I m very much obliged to you」堅い感謝のコトバ she said haughtily as she turned away. But Gilbert had also sprung from the boat and now laid a detaining hand on her arm. "Anne," he said hurriedly, "look here. Can t we be good friends? I m awfully sorry I made fun of your hair that time. I didn t mean to vex you and I only meant it for a joke. Besides, it s so long ago. I think your hair is awfully pretty now--honest I do. 「awfully pretty」 最大限に褒めてる! Let s be friends." For a moment Anne hesitated. She had an odd, newly awakened consciousness under all her outraged dignity that the half-shy, half-eager expression in Gilbert s hazel eyes was something that was very good to see. Her heart gave a quick, queer little beat. But the bitterness of her old grievance promptly stiffened up her wavering determination. That scene of two years before flashed back into her recollection as vividly as if it had taken place yesterday. Gilbert had called her "carrots" and had brought about her disgrace before the whole school. Her resentment, which to other and older people might be as laughable as its cause, was in no whit allayed and softened by time seemingly. She hated Gilbert Blythe! She would never forgive him! "No," she said coldly, "I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe; and I don t want to be!" "All right!" Gilbert sprang into his skiff with an angry color in his cheeks. 「skiff」 さっきはdoryと書いてたのに…… "I ll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley. And I don t care either!" He pulled away with swift defiant strokes, and Anne went up the steep, ferny little path under the maples. She held her head very high, but she was conscious of an odd feeling of regret. She almost wished she had answered Gilbert differently. Of course, he had insulted her terribly, but still--! Altogether, Anne rather thought it would be a relief to sit down and have a good cry. She was really quite unstrung, for the reaction from her fright and cramped clinging was making itself felt. Halfway up the path she met Jane and Diana rushing back to the pond in a state narrowly removed from positive frenzy. They had found nobody at Orchard Slope, both Mr. and Mrs. Barry being away. Here Ruby Gillis had succumbed to hysterics, and was left to recover from them as best she might, while Jane and Diana flew through the Haunted Wood and across the brook to Green Gables. There they had found nobody either, for Marilla had gone to Carmody and Matthew was making hay in the back field. "Oh, Anne," gasped Diana, fairly falling on the former s neck and weeping with relief and delight, "oh, Anne--we thought--you were--drowned--and we felt like murderers--because we had made--you be--Elaine. And Ruby is in hysterics--oh, Anne, how did you escape?" "I climbed up on one of the piles," explained Anne wearily, "and Gilbert Blythe came along in Mr. Andrews s dory and brought me to land." "Oh, Anne, how splendid of him! Why, it s so romantic!" said Jane, 「it s so romantic!」アヴォンリーにもあるのです finding breath enough for utterance at last. "Of course you ll speak to him after this." "Of course I won t," flashed Anne, with a momentary return of her old spirit. "And I don t want ever to hear the word `romantic again, Jane Andrews. I m awfully sorry you were so frightened, girls. It is all my fault. I feel sure I was born under an unlucky star. Everything I do gets me or my dearest friends into a scrape. We ve gone and lost your father s flat, Diana, and I have a presentiment that we ll not be allowed to row on the pond any more." Anne s presentiment proved more trustworthy than presentiments are apt to do. Great was the consternation in the Barry and Cuthbert households when the events of the afternoon became known. "Will you ever have any sense, Anne?" groaned Marilla. "Oh, yes, I think I will, Marilla," returned Anne optimistically. A good cry, indulged in the grateful solitude of the east gable, had soothed her nerves and restored her to her wonted cheerfulness. "I think my prospects of becoming sensible are brighter now than ever." "I don t see how," said Marilla. "Well," explained Anne, "I ve learned a new and valuable lesson today. Ever since I came to Green Gables I ve been making mistakes, and each mistake has helped to cure me of some great shortcoming. The affair of the amethyst brooch cured me of meddling with things that didn t belong to me. The Haunted Wood mistake cured me of letting my imagination run away with me. The liniment cake mistake cured me of carelessness in cooking. Dyeing my hair cured me of vanity. I never think about my hair and nose now--at least, very seldom. And today s mistake is going to cure me of being too romantic. I have come to the conclusion that it is no use trying to be romantic in Avonlea. It was probably easy enough in towered Camelot hundreds of years ago, 「towered Camelot」松本訳注第28章(19) p. 515参照 but romance is not appreciated now. I feel quite sure that you will soon see a great improvement in me in this respect, Marilla." "I m sure I hope so," said Marilla skeptically. But Matthew, who had been sitting mutely in his corner, laid a hand on Anne s shoulder when Marilla had gone out. "Don t give up all your romance, Anne," he whispered shyly, "a little of it is a good thing--not too much, of course--but keep a little of it, Anne, keep a little of it." CHAPTER XXVII UP CHAPTER XXIX 2007年6月14日 2007年6月17日(リンクのミスを修正) 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 14 June 2007 last update 2007-06-17 17 37 34 (Sun)
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CHAPTER XXXV UP CHAPTER XXXVII CHAPTER XXXVI The Glory and the Dream 第36章 栄光と夢(松本訳) On the morning when the final results of all the examinations were to be posted on the bulletin board at Queen s, Anne and Jane walked down the street together. Jane was smiling and happy; examinations were over and she was comfortably sure she had made a pass at least; further considerations troubled Jane not at all; she had no soaring ambitions and consequently was not affected with the unrest attendant thereon. For we pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work and self-denial, anxiety and discouragement. Anne was pale and quiet; in ten more minutes she would know who had won the medal and who the Avery. Beyond those ten minutes there did not seem, just then, to be anything worth being called Time. "Of course you ll win one of them anyhow," said Jane, who couldn t understand how the faculty could be so unfair as to order it otherwise. 「who couldn t understand how the faculty could be so unfair as to order it otherwise」(たぶん、とても英語的な表現だから、なのだと思いますが)とても難しい。仮定法過去として解釈するほうがいいと思います。なので……、「ほかの順位づけをするなどというフェアではないことを、教授陣ができるなんて、ジェーンには理解できなかった(ので、そのようなことはないと信じていた)」直訳するとこんな感じでしょうか "I have not hope of the Avery," said Anne. "Everybody says Emily Clay will win it. And I m not going to march up to that bulletin board and look at it before everybody. I haven t the moral courage. I m going straight to the girls dressing room. You must read the announcements and then come and tell me, Jane. And I implore you in the name of our old friendship to do it as quickly as possible. 「in the name of our old friendship」big words ではない?神の御名において(in the name of God (Heaven))を思い出すのですが If I have failed just say so, without trying to break it gently; and whatever you do DON T sympathize with me. Promise me this, Jane." Jane promised solemnly; but, as it happened, there was no necessity for such a promise. When they went up the entrance steps of Queen s they found the hall full of boys who were carrying Gilbert Blythe around on their shoulders and yelling at the tops of their voices, "Hurrah for Blythe, Medalist!" For a moment Anne felt one sickening pang of defeat and disappointment. So she had failed and Gilbert had won! Well, Matthew would be sorry--he had been so sure she would win. And then! Somebody called out "Three cheers for Miss Shirley, winner of the Avery!" 「Three cheers」何と3回言うのでしょう? このあたり、経験がないとわからない "Oh, Anne," gasped Jane, as they fled to the girls dressing room amid hearty cheers. "Oh, Anne I m so proud! Isn t it splendid?" 「splendid」この章では、連発されるコトバ And then the girls were around them and Anne was the center of a laughing, congratulating group. Her shoulders were thumped and her hands shaken vigorously. She was pushed and pulled and hugged and among it all she managed to whisper to Jane "Oh, won t Matthew and Marilla be pleased! I must write the news home right away." Commencement was the next important happening. The exercises were held in the big assembly hall of the Academy. 「The exercises」これは練習ではなく、『式』のこと Addresses were given, 「Addresses」(公式の)あいさつ。住所ではない essays read, songs sung, the public award of diplomas, prizes and medals made. 「essays read」論文が読み上げられる。日本ではあまりないようですが、英米ではあるような印象があります。具体例は出せませんが 「diplomas」 卒業証書。ここでは、大学の卒業である、Bachelor(学士)ではない。下のほうも参考に Matthew and Marilla were there, with eyes and ears for only one student on the platform--a tall girl in pale green, 「a tall girl in pale green」 背が高くなったのです。そして、この緑のドレスはマリラが持たせてくれたもの(one evening she went up to the east gable with her arms full of a delicate pale green material.-中略-The green dress was made up with as many tucks and frills and shirrings as Emily s taste permitted. CHAPTER XXXIV with impression A Queen s Girl with faintly flushed cheeks and starry eyes, who read the best essay and was pointed out and whispered about as the Avery winner. "Reckon you re glad we kept her, Marilla?" whispered Matthew, speaking for the first time since he had entered the hall, when Anne had finished her essay. "It s not the first time I ve been glad," retorted Marilla. "You do like to rub things in, Matthew Cuthbert." Miss Barry, who was sitting behind them, leaned forward and poked Marilla in the back with her parasol. "Aren t you proud of that Anne-girl? I am," she said. Anne went home to Avonlea with Matthew and Marilla that evening. 「that evening」説明はありませんが、汽車で帰ったのではないでしょうか。馬車は時間がかかるので She had not been home since April and she felt that she could not wait another day. The apple blossoms were out and the world was fresh and young. 「apple blossomls」りんごの花。この物語では、大切なときにはりんごの花が近くにあるときがある。CHAPTER VIII with impression? Anne s Bringing-up Is Begun では、グリーンゲイブルズに置いてもらえることになったアンはマリラと話すときには、アンが枝を折ってもってきたりんごの花がテーブルに生けてあった。なお、汽車で帰ったのなら、この日、White Way of Delight 歓びの白い路(松本訳)(CHAPTER II with impression Matthew Cuthbert is surprised )は通っていないのではないかと思います Diana was at Green Gables to meet her. In her own white room, where Marilla had set a flowering house rose on the window sill, 「Marilla had set a flowering house rose on the window sill」マリラも変わった。または、アンが花を好きだったのを知っているので、帰宅を大歓迎する気持ちの表れと考えるのがいいのかも。何せ、CHAPTER VIII with impression? Anne s Bringing-up Is Begun では、アンが部屋にりんごの花を持っていっていいかと尋ねたら、"No; you don t want your room cluttered up with flowers. You should have left them on the tree in the first place." と撥ねつけたのですから Anne looked about her and drew a long breath of happiness. "Oh, Diana, it s so good to be back again. It s so good to see those pointed firs coming out against the pink sky-- and that white orchard and the old Snow Queen. 「old Snow Queen」この old は、古いというよりは、親しみを表わしていると考えるのがいいでしょう。マシューもマリラも年を取ったとの話題が出てくるので、雪の女王さまも年を取ったというのでもいいのですが Isn t the breath of the mint delicious? And that tea rose--why, it s a song and a hope and a prayer all in one. And it s GOOD to see you again, Diana!" "I thought you liked that Stella Maynard better than me," said Diana reproachfully. "Josie Pye told me you did. Josie said you were INFATUATED with her." Anne laughed and pelted Diana with the faded "June lilies" of her bouquet. 「the faded "June lilies" of her bouquet」卒業式に花束をもらったのでしょう。faded というのがそれを表わしているのではないでしょうか "Stella Maynard is the dearest girl in the world except one and you are that one, Diana," she said. "I love you more than ever--and I ve so many things to tell you. But just now I feel as if it were joy enough to sit here and look at you. I m tired, I think--tired of being studious and ambitious. I mean to spend at least two hours tomorrow lying out in the orchard grass, thinking of absolutely nothing." "You ve done splendidly, Anne. I suppose you won t be teaching now that you ve won the Avery?" "No. I m going to Redmond in September. Doesn t it seem wonderful? I ll have a brand new stock of ambition laid in by that time after three glorious, golden months of vacation. Jane and Ruby are going to teach. Isn t it splendid to think we all got through even to Moody Spurgeon and Josie Pye?" "The Newbridge trustees have offered Jane their school already," said Diana. "Gilbert Blythe is going to teach, too. He has to. His father can t afford to send him to college next year, 「His father can t afford to send him to college next year」前章(CHAPTER XXXV with impression The Winter at Queen s)のジョージーの「My father can afford to send me」が思い起こされる after all, so he means to earn his own way through. I expect he ll get the school here if Miss Ames decides to leave." 「Miss Ames」ステイシー先生の後任も女の先生。ステイシー先生の評価は決して低いものではなかったようです。何せ、アヴォンリーでははじめての女性教師で(The trustees have hired a new teacher and it s a lady. Her name is Miss Muriel Stacy. -中略- they ve never had a female teacher in Avonlea before... CHAPTER XXII with impression? Anne is Invited Out to Tea )、批判の目に曝らされていたはずですから。 Anne felt a queer little sensation of dismayed surprise. She had not known this; she had expected that Gilbert would be going to Redmond also. What would she do without their inspiring rivalry? Would not work, even at a coeducational college with a real degree in prospect, be rather flat without her friend the enemy? 「coeducational college」共学の大学。高等教育は、まだ、女性には開かれていない場合が多かった時代 「a real degree in prospect」本当の学位を取ろうと、といった感じでしょうか。この degree は、アンにとってはBA(文学士)。モードは取れなかったもの、である The next morning at breakfast it suddenly struck Anne that Matthew was not looking well. Surely he was much grayer than he had been a year before. "Marilla," she said hesitatingly when he had gone out, "is Matthew quite well?" "No, he isn t," said Marilla in a troubled tone. "He s had some real bad spells with his heart this spring and he won t spare himself a mite. I ve been real worried about him, but he s some better this while back and we ve got a good hired man, so I m hoping he ll kind of rest and pick up. Maybe he will now you re home. You always cheer him up." Anne leaned across the table and took Marilla s face in her hands. "You are not looking as well yourself as I d like to see you, Marilla. You look tired. I m afraid you ve been working too hard. You must take a rest, now that I m home. I m just going to take this one day off to visit all the dear old spots and hunt up my old dreams, and then it will be your turn to be lazy while I do the work." Marilla smiled affectionately at her girl. 「Marilla smiled affectionately at her girl」マリラの表情がとてもよくなったのがここで好意的に描かれている "It s not the work--it s my head. I ve got a pain so often now--behind my eyes. Doctor Spencer s been fussing with glasses, but they don t do me any good. There is a distinguished oculist coming to the Island the last of June and the doctor says I must see him. I guess I ll have to. I can t read or sew with any comfort now. Well, Anne, you ve done real well at Queen s I must say. To take First Class License in one year and win the Avery scholarship--well, well, Mrs. Lynde says pride goes before a fall and she doesn t believe in the higher education of women at all; she says it unfits them for woman s true sphere. I don t believe a word of it. Speaking of Rachel reminds me--did you hear anything about the Abbey Bank lately, Anne?" "I heard it was shaky," answered Anne. "Why?" "That is what Rachel said. She was up here one day last week and said there was some talk about it. Matthew felt real worried. All we have saved is in that bank--every penny. I wanted Matthew to put it in the Savings Bank in the first place, 「the Savings Bank」貯蓄銀行、と訳すことはできますが、ほかの銀行との違いがよくわからない。文脈から安全性が高そうなのはわかりますが。ウィキペディアを読んではみたものの、よくわかりませんでした but old Mr. Abbey was a great friend of father s and he d always banked with him. 「he d always banked with him」主語の he は father、him は old Mr. Abbey。逆?? エイゴの代名詞は難しい Matthew said any bank with him at the head of it was good enough for anybody." "I think he has only been its nominal head for many years," said Anne. "He is a very old man; his nephews are really at the head of the institution." 「his nephews」複数形なので、アベイ銀行の経営に携わっている甥はひとりではない "Well, when Rachel told us that, I wanted Matthew to draw our money right out and he said he d think of it. But Mr. Russell told him yesterday that the bank was all right." 「Mr. Russell」この人は誰? ここにしか出てこない Anne had her good day in the companionship of the outdoor world. She never forgot that day; it was so bright and golden and fair, so free from shadow and so lavish of blossom. Anne spent some of its rich hours in the orchard; she went to the Dryad s Bubble and Willowmere and Violet Vale; she called at the manse and had a satisfying talk with Mrs. Allan; and finally in the evening she went with Matthew for the cows, through Lovers Lane to the back pasture. The woods were all gloried through with sunset and the warm splendor of it streamed down through the hill gaps in the west. Matthew walked slowly with bent head; Anne, tall and erect, suited her springing step to his. こういう、日常が凝縮された日だからこそ、忘れ難い日となる "You ve been working too hard today, Matthew," she said reproachfully. "Why won t you take things easier?" "Well now, I can t seem to," said Matthew, as he opened the yard gate to let the cows through. "It s only that I m getting old, Anne, and keep forgetting it. Well, well, I ve always worked pretty hard and I d rather drop in harness." 「drop in harness」 drop:命を失う、in harness:執務中に。drop in:立ち寄る、ではない "If I had been the boy you sent for," said Anne wistfully, "I d be able to help you so much now and spare you in a hundred ways. I could find it in my heart to wish I had been, just for that." "Well now, I d rather have you than a dozen boys, Anne," said Matthew patting her hand. "Just mind you that-- rather than a dozen boys. Well now, I guess it wasn t a boy that took the Avery scholarship, was it? 「it wasn t a boy」この it は a boy を指す。ここでは形式主語ともいえるかもしれませんが、すぐ後の「It was a girl」の It は主語。代名詞は、応用的な使い方になると難しい It was a girl--my girl--my girl that I m proud of." マシューは、アンを褒めるのは、はっきり口に出して伝えている。CHAPTER XXV with impression? Matthew Insists on Puffed Sleeves では、"Well now, I was proud of her and I did tell her so fore she went upstairs," said Matthew. こういう会話(手をたたかれて、話をされる)をしているので、アンにとって「She never forgot that day」となる。ちょっとわかりやすい演出ですが He smiled his shy smile at her as he went into the yard. Anne took the memory of it with her when she went to her room that night and sat for a long while at her open window, thinking of the past and dreaming of the future. Outside the Snow Queen was mistily white in the moonshine; the frogs were singing in the marsh beyond Orchard Slope. 「Outside the Snow Queen was mistily white in the moonshine; the frogs were singing in the marsh beyond Orchard Slope.」アンがマシューに連れられ、ブライトリバー駅からはじめてグリーンゲイブルズに行くとき、馬車の上からふたりが見た/聞いた光景が思い出される描写。この演出はニクい。CHAPTER II with impression Matthew Cuthbert is surprised では、From the marsh at the head of the pond came the clear, mournfully-sweet chorus of the frogs. There was a little gray house peering around a white apple orchard on a slope beyond -(ごっそり)中略- At last they (アンの eyes) lingered on one away to the left, far back from the road, dimly white with blossoming trees in the twilight of the surrounding woods. Over it, in the stainless southwest sky, a great crystal-white star was shining like a lamp of guidance and promise. こときは月ではなく、星ですが Anne always remembered the silvery, peaceful beauty and fragrant calm of that night. It was the last night before sorrow touched her life; and no life is ever quite the same again when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon it. CHAPTER XXXV UP CHAPTER XXXVII 04 August 2007 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 04 August 2007 last update 2007-08-04 18 16 15 (Sat)
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CHAPTER VII UP CHAPTER IX CHAPTER VIII Anne s Bringing-up Is Begun For reasons best known to herself, Marilla did not tell Anne that she was to stay at Green Gables until the next afternoon. During the forenoon she kept the child busy with various tasks and watched over her with a keen eye while she did them. By noon she had concluded that Anne was smart and obedient, willing to work and quick to learn; her most serious shortcoming seemed to be a tendency to fall into daydreams in the middle of a task and forget all about it until such time as she was sharply recalled to earth by a reprimand or a catastrophe. When Anne had finished washing the dinner dishes she suddenly confronted Marilla with the air and expression of one desperately determined to learn the worst. Her thin little body trembled from head to foot; her face flushed and her eyes dilated until they were almost black; she clasped her hands tightly and said in an imploring voice "Oh, please, Miss Cuthbert, won t you tell me if you are going to send me away or not? I ve tried to be patient all the morning, but I really feel that I cannot bear not knowing any longer. It s a dreadful feeling. Please tell me." "You haven t scalded the dishcloth in clean hot water as I told you to do," said Marilla immovably. "Just go and do it before you ask any more questions, Anne." Anne went and attended to the dishcloth. Then she returned to Marilla and fastened imploring eyes of the latter s face. "Well," said Marilla, unable to find any excuse for deferring her explanation longer, "I suppose I might as well tell you. Matthew and I have decided to keep you--that is, if you will try to be a good little girl and show yourself grateful. Why, child, whatever is the matter?" "I m crying," said Anne in a tone of bewilderment. "I can t think why. I m glad as glad can be. Oh, GLAD doesn t seem the right word at all. I was glad about the White Way and the cherry blossoms--but this! Oh, it s something more than glad. I m so happy. I ll try to be so good. It will be uphill work, I expect, for Mrs. Thomas often told me I was desperately wicked. However, I ll do my very best. But can you tell me why I m crying?" "I suppose it s because you re all excited and worked up," said Marilla disapprovingly. "Sit down on that chair and try to calm yourself. I m afraid you both cry and laugh far too easily. Yes, you can stay here and we will try to do right by you. You must go to school; but it s only a fortnight till vacation so it isn t worth while for you to start before it opens again in September." "What am I to call you?" asked Anne. "Shall I always say Miss Cuthbert? Can I call you Aunt Marilla?" "No; you ll call me just plain Marilla. I m not used to being called Miss Cuthbert and it would make me nervous." "It sounds awfully disrespectful to just say Marilla," protested Anne. "I guess there ll be nothing disrespectful in it if you re careful to speak respectfully. Everybody, young and old, in Avonlea calls me Marilla except the minister. He says Miss Cuthbert--when he thinks of it." "I d love to call you Aunt Marilla," said Anne wistfully. "I ve never had an aunt or any relation at all--not even a grandmother. It would make me feel as if I really belonged to you. Can t I call you Aunt Marilla?" "No. I m not your aunt and I don t believe in calling people names that don t belong to them." "But we could imagine you were my aunt." "I couldn t," said Marilla grimly. "Do you never imagine things different from what they really are?" asked Anne wide-eyed. "No." "Oh!" Anne drew a long breath. "Oh, Miss--Marilla, how much you miss!" "I don t believe in imagining things different from what they really are," retorted Marilla. "When the Lord puts us in certain circumstances He doesn t mean for us to imagine them away. And that reminds me. Go into the sitting room, Anne--be sure your feet are clean and don t let any flies in--and bring me out the illustrated card that s on the mantelpiece. The Lord s Prayer is on it and you ll devote your spare time this afternoon to learning it off by heart. There s to be no more of such praying as I heard last night." "I suppose I was very awkward," said Anne apologetically, "but then, you see, I d never had any practice. You couldn t really expect a person to pray very well the first time she tried, could you? I thought out a splendid prayer after I went to bed, just as I promised you I would. It was nearly as long as a minister s and so poetical. But would you believe it? I couldn t remember one word when I woke up this morning. And I m afraid I ll never be able to think out another one as good. Somehow, things never are so good when they re thought out a second time. Have you ever noticed that?" "Here is something for you to notice, Anne. When I tell you to do a thing I want you to obey me at once and not stand stock-still and discourse about it. Just you go and do as I bid you." Anne promptly departed for the sitting-room across the hall; she failed to return; after waiting ten minutes Marilla laid down her knitting and marched after her with a grim expression. She found Anne standing motionless before a picture hanging on the wall between the two windows, with her eyes astar with dreams. The white and green light strained through apple trees and clustering vines outside fell over the rapt little figure with a half-unearthly radiance. "Anne, whatever are you thinking of?" demanded Marilla sharply. Anne came back to earth with a start. "That," she said, pointing to the picture--a rather vivid chromo entitled, "Christ Blessing Little Children"--"and I was just imagining I was one of them--that I was the little girl in the blue dress, standing off by herself in the corner as if she didn t belong to anybody, like me. She looks lonely and sad, don t you think? I guess she hadn t any father or mother of her own. But she wanted to be blessed, too, so she just crept shyly up on the outside of the crowd, hoping nobody would notice her--except Him. I m sure I know just how she felt. Her heart must have beat and her hands must have got cold, like mine did when I asked you if I could stay. She was afraid He mightn t notice her. But it s likely He did, don t you think? I ve been trying to imagine it all out--her edging a little nearer all the time until she was quite close to Him; and then He would look at her and put His hand on her hair and oh, such a thrill of joy as would run over her! But I wish the artist hadn t painted Him so sorrowful looking. All His pictures are like that, if you ve noticed. But I don t believe He could really have looked so sad or the children would have been afraid of Him." "Anne," said Marilla, wondering why she had not broken into this speech long before, "you shouldn t talk that way. It s irreverent--positively irreverent." Anne s eyes marveled. "Why, I felt just as reverent as could be. I m sure I didn t mean to be irreverent." "Well I don t suppose you did--but it doesn t sound right to talk so familiarly about such things. And another thing, Anne, when I send you after something you re to bring it at once and not fall into mooning and imagining before pictures. Remember that. Take that card and come right to the kitchen. Now, sit down in the corner and learn that prayer off by heart." Anne set the card up against the jugful of apple blossoms she had brought in to decorate the dinner-table--Marilla had eyed that decoration askance, but had said nothing-- propped her chin on her hands, and fell to studying it intently for several silent minutes. "I like this," she announced at length. "It s beautiful. I ve heard it before--I heard the superintendent of the asylum Sunday school say it over once. But I didn t like it then. He had such a cracked voice and he prayed it so mournfully. I really felt sure he thought praying was a disagreeable duty. This isn t poetry, but it makes me feel just the same way poetry does. `Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be Thy name. That is just like a line of music. Oh, I m so glad you thought of making me learn this, Miss-- Marilla." "Well, learn it and hold your tongue," said Marilla shortly. Anne tipped the vase of apple blossoms near enough to bestow a soft kiss on a pink-cupped bud, and then studied diligently for some moments longer. "Marilla," she demanded presently, "do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?" "A--a what kind of friend?" "A bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know--a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I ve dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it s possible?" "Diana Barry lives over at Orchard Slope and she s about your age. She s a very nice little girl, and perhaps she will be a playmate for you when she comes home. She s visiting her aunt over at Carmody just now. You ll have to be careful how you behave yourself, though. Mrs. Barry is a very particular woman. She won t let Diana play with any little girl who isn t nice and good." Anne looked at Marilla through the apple blossoms, her eyes aglow with interest. "What is Diana like? Her hair isn t red, is it? Oh, I hope not. It s bad enough to have red hair myself, but I positively couldn t endure it in a bosom friend." "Diana is a very pretty little girl. She has black eyes and hair and rosy cheeks. And she is good and smart, which is better than being pretty." Marilla was as fond of morals as the Duchess in Wonderland, and was firmly convinced that one should be tacked on to every remark made to a child who was being brought up. But Anne waved the moral inconsequently aside and seized only on the delightful possibilities before it. "Oh, I m so glad she s pretty. Next to being beautiful oneself--and that s impossible in my case--it would be best to have a beautiful bosom friend. When I lived with Mrs. Thomas she had a bookcase in her sitting room with glass doors. There weren t any books in it; Mrs. Thomas kept her best china and her preserves there--when she had any preserves to keep. One of the doors was broken. Mr. Thomas smashed it one night when he was slightly intoxicated. But the other was whole and I used to pretend that my reflection in it was another little girl who lived in it. I called her Katie Maurice, and we were very intimate. I used to talk to her by the hour, especially on Sunday, and tell her everything. Katie was the comfort and consolation of my life. We used to pretend that the bookcase was enchanted and that if I only knew the spell I could open the door and step right into the room where Katie Maurice lived, instead of into Mrs. Thomas shelves of preserves and china. And then Katie Maurice would have taken me by the hand and led me out into a wonderful place, all flowers and sunshine and fairies, and we would have lived there happy for ever after. When I went to live with Mrs. Hammond it just broke my heart to leave Katie Maurice. She felt it dreadfully, too, I know she did, for she was crying when she kissed me good-bye through the bookcase door. There was no bookcase at Mrs. Hammond s. But just up the river a little way from the house there was a long green little valley, and the loveliest echo lived there. It echoed back every word you said, even if you didn t talk a bit loud. So I imagined that it was a little girl called Violetta and we were great friends and I loved her almost as well as I loved Katie Maurice--not quite, but almost, you know. The night before I went to the asylum I said good-bye to Violetta, and oh, her good-bye came back to me in such sad, sad tones. I had become so attached to her that I hadn t the heart to imagine a bosom friend at the asylum, even if there had been any scope for imagination there." "I think it s just as well there wasn t," said Marilla drily. "I don t approve of such goings-on. You seem to half believe your own imaginations. It will be well for you to have a real live friend to put such nonsense out of your head. But don t let Mrs. Barry hear you talking about your Katie Maurices and your Violettas or she ll think you tell stories." "Oh, I won t. I couldn t talk of them to everybody--their memories are too sacred for that. But I thought I d like to have you know about them. Oh, look, here s a big bee just tumbled out of an apple blossom. Just think what a lovely place to live--in an apple blossom! Fancy going to sleep in it when the wind was rocking it. If I wasn t a human girl I think I d like to be a bee and live among the flowers." "Yesterday you wanted to be a sea gull," sniffed Marilla. "I think you are very fickle minded. I told you to learn that prayer and not talk. But it seems impossible for you to stop talking if you ve got anybody that will listen to you. So go up to your room and learn it." "Oh, I know it pretty nearly all now--all but just the last line." "Well, never mind, do as I tell you. Go to your room and finish learning it well, and stay there until I call you down to help me get tea." "Can I take the apple blossoms with me for company?" pleaded Anne. "No; you don t want your room cluttered up with flowers. You should have left them on the tree in the first place." "I did feel a little that way, too," said Anne. "I kind of felt I shouldn t shorten their lovely lives by picking them--I wouldn t want to be picked if I were an apple blossom. But the temptation was IRRESISTIBLE. What do you do when you meet with an irresistible temptation?" "Anne, did you hear me tell you to go to your room?" Anne sighed, retreated to the east gable, and sat down in a chair by the window. "There--I know this prayer. I learned that last sentence coming upstairs. Now I m going to imagine things into this room so that they ll always stay imagined. The floor is covered with a white velvet carpet with pink roses all over it and there are pink silk curtains at the windows. The walls are hung with gold and silver brocade tapestry. The furniture is mahogany. I never saw any mahogany, but it does sound SO luxurious. This is a couch all heaped with gorgeous silken cushions, pink and blue and crimson and gold, and I am reclining gracefully on it. I can see my reflection in that splendid big mirror hanging on the wall. I am tall and regal, clad in a gown of trailing white lace, with a pearl cross on my breast and pearls in my hair. My hair is of midnight darkness and my skin is a clear ivory pallor. My name is the Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald. No, it isn t--I can t make THAT seem real." She danced up to the little looking-glass and peered into it. Her pointed freckled face and solemn gray eyes peered back at her. "You re only Anne of Green Gables," she said earnestly, "and I see you, just as you are looking now, whenever I try to imagine I m the Lady Cordelia. But it s a million times nicer to be Anne of Green Gables than Anne of nowhere in particular, isn t it?" She bent forward, kissed her reflection affectionately, and betook herself to the open window. "Dear Snow Queen, good afternoon. And good afternoon dear birches down in the hollow. And good afternoon, dear gray house up on the hill. I wonder if Diana is to be my bosom friend. I hope she will, and I shall love her very much. But I must never quite forget Katie Maurice and Violetta. They would feel so hurt if I did and I d hate to hurt anybody s feelings, even a little bookcase girl s or a little echo girl s. I must be careful to remember them and send them a kiss every day." Anne blew a couple of airy kisses from her fingertips past the cherry blossoms and then, with her chin in her hands, drifted luxuriously out on a sea of daydreams. CHAPTER VII UP CHAPTER IX 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 29 55 (Tue)
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CHAPTER XXXI UP CHAPTER XXXIII CHAPTER XXXII The Pass List Is Out With the end of June came the close of the term and the close of Miss Stacy s rule in Avonlea school. Anne and Diana walked home that evening feeling very sober indeed. Red eyes and damp handkerchiefs bore convincing testimony to the fact that Miss Stacy s farewell words must have been quite as touching as Mr. Phillips s had been under similar circumstances three years before. Diana looked back at the schoolhouse from the foot of the spruce hill and sighed deeply. "It does seem as if it was the end of everything, doesn t it?" she said dismally. "You oughtn t to feel half as badly as I do," said Anne, hunting vainly for a dry spot on her handkerchief. "You ll be back again next winter, but I suppose I ve left the dear old school forever-- if I have good luck, that is." "It won t be a bit the same. Miss Stacy won t be there, nor you nor Jane nor Ruby probably. I shall have to sit all alone, for I couldn t bear to have another deskmate after you. Oh, we have had jolly times, haven t we, Anne? It s dreadful to think they re all over." Two big tears rolled down by Diana s nose. "If you would stop crying I could," said Anne imploringly. "Just as soon as I put away my hanky I see you brimming up and that starts me off again. As Mrs. Lynde says, `If you can t be cheerful, be as cheerful as you can. After all, I dare say I ll be back next year. This is one of the times I KNOW I m not going to pass. They re getting alarmingly frequent." "Why, you came out splendidly in the exams Miss Stacy gave." "Yes, but those exams didn t make me nervous. When I think of the real thing you can t imagine what a horrid cold fluttery feeling comes round my heart. And then my number is thirteen and Josie Pye says it s so unlucky. I am NOT superstitious and I know it can make no difference. But still I wish it wasn t thirteen." "I do wish I was going in with you," said Diana. "Wouldn t we have a perfectly elegant time? But I suppose you ll have to cram in the evenings." "No; Miss Stacy has made us promise not to open a book at all. She says it would only tire and confuse us and we are to go out walking and not think about the exams at all and go to bed early. It s good advice, but I expect it will be hard to follow; good advice is apt to be, I think. Prissy Andrews told me that she sat up half the night every night of her Entrance week and crammed for dear life; and I had determined to sit up AT LEAST as long as she did. It was so kind of your Aunt Josephine to ask me to stay at Beechwood while I m in town." "You ll write to me while you re in, won t you?" "I ll write Tuesday night and tell you how the first day goes," promised Anne. "I ll be haunting the post office Wednesday," vowed Diana. Anne went to town the following Monday and on Wednesday Diana haunted the post office, as agreed, and got her letter. "Dearest Diana" [wrote Anne], "Here it is Tuesday night and I m writing this in the library at Beechwood. Last night I was horribly lonesome all alone in my room and wished so much you were with me. I couldn t "cram" because I d promised Miss Stacy not to, but it was as hard to keep from opening my history as it used to be to keep from reading a story before my lessons were learned. "This morning Miss Stacy came for me and we went to the Academy, calling for Jane and Ruby and Josie on our way. Ruby asked me to feel her hands and they were as cold as ice. Josie said I looked as if I hadn t slept a wink and she didn t believe I was strong enough to stand the grind of the teacher s course even if I did get through. There are times and seasons even yet when I don t feel that I ve made any great headway in learning to like Josie Pye! "When we reached the Academy there were scores of students there from all over the Island. The first person we saw was Moody Spurgeon sitting on the steps and muttering away to himself. Jane asked him what on earth he was doing and he said he was repeating the multiplication table over and over to steady his nerves and for pity s sake not to interrupt him, because if he stopped for a moment he got frightened and forgot everything he ever knew, but the multiplication table kept all his facts firmly in their proper place! "When we were assigned to our rooms Miss Stacy had to leave us. Jane and I sat together and Jane was so composed that I envied her. No need of the multiplication table for good, steady, sensible Jane! I wondered if I looked as I felt and if they could hear my heart thumping clear across the room. Then a man came in and began distributing the English examination sheets. My hands grew cold then and my head fairly whirled around as I picked it up. Just one awful moment--Diana, I felt exactly as I did four years ago when I asked Marilla if I might stay at Green Gables--and then everything cleared up in my mind and my heart began beating again--I forgot to say that it had stopped altogether!--for I knew I could do something with THAT paper anyhow. "At noon we went home for dinner and then back again for history in the afternoon. The history was a pretty hard paper and I got dreadfully mixed up in the dates. Still, I think I did fairly well today. But oh, Diana, tomorrow the geometry exam comes off and when I think of it it takes every bit of determination I possess to keep from opening my Euclid. If I thought the multiplication table would help me any I would recite it from now till tomorrow morning. "I went down to see the other girls this evening. On my way I met Moody Spurgeon wandering distractedly around. He said he knew he had failed in history and he was born to be a disappointment to his parents and he was going home on the morning train; and it would be easier to be a carpenter than a minister, anyhow. I cheered him up and persuaded him to stay to the end because it would be unfair to Miss Stacy if he didn t. Sometimes I have wished I was born a boy, but when I see Moody Spurgeon I m always glad I m a girl and not his sister. "Ruby was in hysterics when I reached their boardinghouse; she had just discovered a fearful mistake she had made in her English paper. When she recovered we went uptown and had an ice cream. How we wished you had been with us. "Oh, Diana, if only the geometry examination were over! But there, as Mrs. Lynde would say, the sun will go on rising and setting whether I fail in geometry or not. That is true but not especially comforting. I think I d rather it didn t go on if I failed! Yours devotedly, Anne" The geometry examination and all the others were over in due time and Anne arrived home on Friday evening, rather tired but with an air of chastened triumph about her. Diana was over at Green Gables when she arrived and they met as if they had been parted for years. "You old darling, it s perfectly splendid to see you back again. It seems like an age since you went to town and oh, Anne, how did you get along?" "Pretty well, I think, in everything but the geometry. I don t know whether I passed in it or not and I have a creepy, crawly presentiment that I didn t. Oh, how good it is to be back! Green Gables is the dearest, loveliest spot in the world." "How did the others do?" "The girls say they know they didn t pass, but I think they did pretty well. Josie says the geometry was so easy a child of ten could do it! Moody Spurgeon still thinks he failed in history and Charlie says he failed in algebra. But we don t really know anything about it and won t until the pass list is out. That won t be for a fortnight. Fancy living a fortnight in such suspense! I wish I could go to sleep and never wake up until it is over." Diana knew it would be useless to ask how Gilbert Blythe had fared, so she merely said "Oh, you ll pass all right. Don t worry." "I d rather not pass at all than not come out pretty well up on the list," flashed Anne, by which she meant--and Diana knew she meant--that success would be incomplete and bitter if she did not come out ahead of Gilbert Blythe. With this end in view Anne had strained every nerve during the examinations. So had Gilbert. They had met and passed each other on the street a dozen times without any sign of recognition and every time Anne had held her head a little higher and wished a little more earnestly that she had made friends with Gilbert when he asked her, and vowed a little more determinedly to surpass him in the examination. She knew that all Avonlea junior was wondering which would come out first; she even knew that Jimmy Glover and Ned Wright had a bet on the question and that Josie Pye had said there was no doubt in the world that Gilbert would be first; and she felt that her humiliation would be unbearable if she failed. But she had another and nobler motive for wishing to do well. She wanted to "pass high" for the sake of Matthew and Marilla-- especially Matthew. Matthew had declared to her his conviction that she "would beat the whole Island." That, Anne felt, was something it would be foolish to hope for even in the wildest dreams. But she did hope fervently that she would be among the first ten at least, so that she might see Matthew s kindly brown eyes gleam with pride in her achievement. That, she felt, would be a sweet reward indeed for all her hard work and patient grubbing among unimaginative equations and conjugations. At the end of the fortnight Anne took to "haunting" the post office also, in the distracted company of Jane, Ruby, and Josie, opening the Charlottetown dailies with shaking hands and cold, sinkaway feelings as bad as any experienced during the Entrance week. Charlie and Gilbert were not above doing this too, but Moody Spurgeon stayed resolutely away. "I haven t got the grit to go there and look at a paper in cold blood," he told Anne. "I m just going to wait until somebody comes and tells me suddenly whether I ve passed or not." When three weeks had gone by without the pass list appearing Anne began to feel that she really couldn t stand the strain much longer. Her appetite failed and her interest in Avonlea doings languished. Mrs. Lynde wanted to know what else you could expect with a Tory superintendent of education at the head of affairs, and Matthew, noting Anne s paleness and indifference and the lagging steps that bore her home from the post office every afternoon, began seriously to wonder if he hadn t better vote Grit at the next election. But one evening the news came. Anne was sitting at her open window, for the time forgetful of the woes of examinations and the cares of the world, as she drank in the beauty of the summer dusk, sweet-scented with flower breaths from the garden below and sibilant and rustling from the stir of poplars. The eastern sky above the firs was flushed faintly pink from the reflection of the west, and Anne was wondering dreamily if the spirit of color looked like that, when she saw Diana come flying down through the firs, over the log bridge, and up the slope, with a fluttering newspaper in her hand. Anne sprang to her feet, knowing at once what that paper contained. The pass list was out! Her head whirled and her heart beat until it hurt her. She could not move a step. It seemed an hour to her before Diana came rushing along the hall and burst into the room without even knocking, so great was her excitement. "Anne, you ve passed," she cried, "passed the VERY FIRST--you and Gilbert both--you re ties--but your name is first. Oh, I m so proud!" Diana flung the paper on the table and herself on Anne s bed, utterly breathless and incapable of further speech. Anne lighted the lamp, oversetting the match safe and using up half a dozen matches before her shaking hands could accomplish the task. Then she snatched up the paper. Yes, she had passed--there was her name at the very top of a list of two hundred! That moment was worth living for. "You did just splendidly, Anne," puffed Diana, recovering sufficiently to sit up and speak, for Anne, starry eyed and rapt, had not uttered a word. "Father brought the paper home from Bright River not ten minutes ago--it came out on the afternoon train, you know, and won t be here till tomorrow by mail--and when I saw the pass list I just rushed over like a wild thing. You ve all passed, every one of you, Moody Spurgeon and all, although he s conditioned in history. Jane and Ruby did pretty well--they re halfway up--and so did Charlie. Josie just scraped through with three marks to spare, but you ll see she ll put on as many airs as if she d led. Won t Miss Stacy be delighted? Oh, Anne, what does it feel like to see your name at the head of a pass list like that? If it were me I know I d go crazy with joy. I am pretty near crazy as it is, but you re as calm and cool as a spring evening." "I m just dazzled inside," said Anne. "I want to say a hundred things, and I can t find words to say them in. I never dreamed of this--yes, I did too, just once! I let myself think ONCE, `What if I should come out first? quakingly, you know, for it seemed so vain and presumptuous to think I could lead the Island. Excuse me a minute, Diana. I must run right out to the field to tell Matthew. Then we ll go up the road and tell the good news to the others." They hurried to the hayfield below the barn where Matthew was coiling hay, and, as luck would have it, Mrs. Lynde was talking to Marilla at the lane fence. "Oh, Matthew," exclaimed Anne, "I ve passed and I m first--or one of the first! I m not vain, but I m thankful." "Well now, I always said it," said Matthew, gazing at the pass list delightedly. "I knew you could beat them all easy." "You ve done pretty well, I must say, Anne," said Marilla, trying to hide her extreme pride in Anne from Mrs. Rachel s critical eye. But that good soul said heartily "I just guess she has done well, and far be it from me to be backward in saying it. You re a credit to your friends, Anne, that s what, and we re all proud of you." That night Anne, who had wound up the delightful evening with a serious little talk with Mrs. Allan at the manse, knelt sweetly by her open window in a great sheen of moonshine and murmured a prayer of gratitude and aspiration that came straight from her heart. There was in it thankfulness for the past and reverent petition for the future; and when she slept on her white pillow her dreams were as fair and bright and beautiful as maidenhood might desire. CHAPTER XXXI UP CHAPTER XXXIII 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 17 41 (Tue)
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CHAPTER XXIX UP CHAPTER XXXI CHAPTER XXX The Queens Class Is Organized Marilla laid her knitting on her lap and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were tired, and she thought vaguely that she must see about having her glasses changed the next time she went to town, for her eyes had grown tired very often of late. It was nearly dark, for the full November twilight had fallen around Green Gables, and the only light in the kitchen came from the dancing red flames in the stove. Anne was curled up Turk-fashion on the hearthrug, gazing into that joyous glow where the sunshine of a hundred summers was being distilled from the maple cordwood. She had been reading, but her book had slipped to the floor, and now she was dreaming, with a smile on her parted lips. Glittering castles in Spain were shaping themselves out of the mists and rainbows of her lively fancy; adventures wonderful and enthralling were happening to her in cloudland--adventures that always turned out triumphantly and never involved her in scrapes like those of actual life. Marilla looked at her with a tenderness that would never have been suffered to reveal itself in any clearer light than that soft mingling of fireshine and shadow. The lesson of a love that should display itself easily in spoken word and open look was one Marilla could never learn. But she had learned to love this slim, gray-eyed girl with an affection all the deeper and stronger from its very undemonstrativeness. Her love made her afraid of being unduly indulgent, indeed. She had an uneasy feeling that it was rather sinful to set one s heart so intensely on any human creature as she had set hers on Anne, and perhaps she performed a sort of unconscious penance for this by being stricter and more critical than if the girl had been less dear to her. Certainly Anne herself had no idea how Marilla loved her. She sometimes thought wistfully that Marilla was very hard to please and distinctly lacking in sympathy and understanding. But she always checked the thought reproachfully, remembering what she owed to Marilla. "Anne," said Marilla abruptly, "Miss Stacy was here this afternoon when you were out with Diana." Anne came back from her other world with a start and a sigh. "Was she? Oh, I m so sorry I wasn t in. Why didn t you call me, Marilla? Diana and I were only over in the Haunted Wood. It s lovely in the woods now. All the little wood things--the ferns and the satin leaves and the crackerberries--have gone to sleep, just as if somebody had tucked them away until spring under a blanket of leaves. I think it was a little gray fairy with a rainbow scarf that came tiptoeing along the last moonlight night and did it. Diana wouldn t say much about that, though. Diana has never forgotten the scolding her mother gave her about imagining ghosts into the Haunted Wood. It had a very bad effect on Diana s imagination. It blighted it. Mrs. Lynde says Myrtle Bell is a blighted being. I asked Ruby Gillis why Myrtle was blighted, and Ruby said she guessed it was because her young man had gone back on her. Ruby Gillis thinks of nothing but young men, and the older she gets the worse she is. Young men are all very well in their place, but it doesn t do to drag them into everything, does it? Diana and I are thinking seriously of promising each other that we will never marry but be nice old maids and live together forever. Diana hasn t quite made up her mind though, because she thinks perhaps it would be nobler to marry some wild, dashing, wicked young man and reform him. Diana and I talk a great deal about serious subjects now, you know. We feel that we are so much older than we used to be that it isn t becoming to talk of childish matters. It s such a solemn thing to be almost fourteen, Marilla. Miss Stacy took all us girls who are in our teens down to the brook last Wednesday, and talked to us about it. She said we couldn t be too careful what habits we formed and what ideals we acquired in our teens, because by the time we were twenty our characters would be developed and the foundation laid for our whole future life. And she said if the foundation was shaky we could never build anything really worth while on it. Diana and I talked the matter over coming home from school. We felt extremely solemn, Marilla. And we decided that we would try to be very careful indeed and form respectable habits and learn all we could and be as sensible as possible, so that by the time we were twenty our characters would be properly developed. It s perfectly appalling to think of being twenty, Marilla. It sounds so fearfully old and grown up. But why was Miss Stacy here this afternoon?" "That is what I want to tell you, Anne, if you ll ever give me a chance to get a word in edgewise. She was talking about you." "About me?" Anne looked rather scared. Then she flushed and exclaimed "Oh, I know what she was saying. I meant to tell you, Marilla, honestly I did, but I forgot. Miss Stacy caught me reading Ben Hur in school yesterday afternoon when I should have been studying my Canadian history. Jane Andrews lent it to me. I was reading it at dinner hour, and I had just got to the chariot race when school went in. I was simply wild to know how it turned out-- although I felt sure Ben Hur must win, because it wouldn t be poetical justice if he didn t--so I spread the history open on my desk lid and then tucked Ben Hur between the desk and my knee. I just looked as if I were studying Canadian history, you know, while all the while I was reveling in Ben Hur. I was so interested in it that I never noticed Miss Stacy coming down the aisle until all at once I just looked up and there she was looking down at me, so reproachful-like. I can t tell you how ashamed I felt, Marilla, especially when I heard Josie Pye giggling. Miss Stacy took Ben Hur away, but she never said a word then. She kept me in at recess and talked to me. She said I had done very wrong in two respects. First, I was wasting the time I ought to have put on my studies; and secondly, I was deceiving my teacher in trying to make it appear I was reading a history when it was a storybook instead. I had never realized until that moment, Marilla, that what I was doing was deceitful. I was shocked. I cried bitterly, and asked Miss Stacy to forgive me and I d never do such a thing again; and I offered to do penance by never so much as looking at Ben Hur for a whole week, not even to see how the chariot race turned out. But Miss Stacy said she wouldn t require that, and she forgave me freely. So I think it wasn t very kind of her to come up here to you about it after all." "Miss Stacy never mentioned such a thing to me, Anne, and its only your guilty conscience that s the matter with you. You have no business to be taking storybooks to school. You read too many novels anyhow. When I was a girl I wasn t so much as allowed to look at a novel." "Oh, how can you call Ben Hur a novel when it s really such a religious book?" protested Anne. "Of course it s a little too exciting to be proper reading for Sunday, and I only read it on weekdays. And I never read ANY book now unless either Miss Stacy or Mrs. Allan thinks it is a proper book for a girl thirteen and three-quarters to read. Miss Stacy made me promise that. She found me reading a book one day called, The Lurid Mystery of the Haunted Hall. It was one Ruby Gillis had lent me, and, oh, Marilla, it was so fascinating and creepy. It just curdled the blood in my veins. But Miss Stacy said it was a very silly, unwholesome book, and she asked me not to read any more of it or any like it. I didn t mind promising not to read any more like it, but it was AGONIZING to give back that book without knowing how it turned out. But my love for Miss Stacy stood the test and I did. It s really wonderful, Marilla, what you can do when you re truly anxious to please a certain person." "Well, I guess I ll light the lamp and get to work," said Marilla. "I see plainly that you don t want to hear what Miss Stacy had to say. You re more interested in the sound of your own tongue than in anything else." "Oh, indeed, Marilla, I do want to hear it," cried Anne contritely. "I won t say another word--not one. I know I talk too much, but I am really trying to overcome it, and although I say far too much, yet if you only knew how many things I want to say and don t, you d give me some credit for it. Please tell me, Marilla." "Well, Miss Stacy wants to organize a class among her advanced students who mean to study for the entrance examination into Queen s. She intends to give them extra lessons for an hour after school. And she came to ask Matthew and me if we would like to have you join it. What do you think about it yourself, Anne? Would you like to go to Queen s and pass for a teacher?" "Oh, Marilla!" Anne straightened to her knees and clasped her hands. "It s been the dream of my life--that is, for the last six months, ever since Ruby and Jane began to talk of studying for the Entrance. But I didn t say anything about it, because I supposed it would be perfectly useless. I d love to be a teacher. But won t it be dreadfully expensive? Mr. Andrews says it cost him one hundred and fifty dollars to put Prissy through, and Prissy wasn t a dunce in geometry." "I guess you needn t worry about that part of it. When Matthew and I took you to bring up we resolved we would do the best we could for you and give you a good education. I believe in a girl being fitted to earn her own living whether she ever has to or not. You ll always have a home at Green Gables as long as Matthew and I are here, but nobody knows what is going to happen in this uncertain world, and it s just as well to be prepared. So you can join the Queen s class if you like, Anne." "Oh, Marilla, thank you." Anne flung her arms about Marilla s waist and looked up earnestly into her face. "I m extremely grateful to you and Matthew. And I ll study as hard as I can and do my very best to be a credit to you. I warn you not to expect much in geometry, but I think I can hold my own in anything else if I work hard." "I dare say you ll get along well enough. Miss Stacy says you are bright and diligent." Not for worlds would Marilla have told Anne just what Miss Stacy had said about her; that would have been to pamper vanity. "You needn t rush to any extreme of killing yourself over your books. There is no hurry. You won t be ready to try the Entrance for a year and a half yet. But it s well to begin in time and be thoroughly grounded, Miss Stacy says." "I shall take more interest than ever in my studies now," said Anne blissfully, "because I have a purpose in life. Mr. Allan says everybody should have a purpose in life and pursue it faithfully. Only he says we must first make sure that it is a worthy purpose. I would call it a worthy purpose to want to be a teacher like Miss Stacy, wouldn t you, Marilla? I think it s a very noble profession." The Queen s class was organized in due time. Gilbert Blythe, Anne Shirley, Ruby Gillis, Jane Andrews, Josie Pye, Charlie Sloane, and Moody Spurgeon MacPherson joined it. Diana Barry did not, as her parents did not intend to send her to Queen s. This seemed nothing short of a calamity to Anne. Never, since the night on which Minnie May had had the croup, had she and Diana been separated in anything. On the evening when the Queen s class first remained in school for the extra lessons and Anne saw Diana go slowly out with the others, to walk home alone through the Birch Path and Violet Vale, it was all the former could do to keep her seat and refrain from rushing impulsively after her chum. A lump came into her throat, and she hastily retired behind the pages of her uplifted Latin grammar to hide the tears in her eyes. Not for worlds would Anne have had Gilbert Blythe or Josie Pye see those tears. "But, oh, Marilla, I really felt that I had tasted the bitterness of death, as Mr. Allan said in his sermon last Sunday, when I saw Diana go out alone," she said mournfully that night. "I thought how splendid it would have been if Diana had only been going to study for the Entrance, too. But we can t have things perfect in this imperfect world, as Mrs. Lynde says. Mrs. Lynde isn t exactly a comforting person sometimes, but there s no doubt she says a great many very true things. And I think the Queen s class is going to be extremely interesting. Jane and Ruby are just going to study to be teachers. That is the height of their ambition. Ruby says she will only teach for two years after she gets through, and then she intends to be married. Jane says she will devote her whole life to teaching, and never, never marry, because you are paid a salary for teaching, but a husband won t pay you anything, and growls if you ask for a share in the egg and butter money. I expect Jane speaks from mournful experience, for Mrs. Lynde says that her father is a perfect old crank, and meaner than second skimmings. Josie Pye says she is just going to college for education s sake, because she won t have to earn her own living; she says of course it is different with orphans who are living on charity--THEY have to hustle. Moody Spurgeon is going to be a minister. Mrs. Lynde says he couldn t be anything else with a name like that to live up to. I hope it isn t wicked of me, Marilla, but really the thought of Moody Spurgeon being a minister makes me laugh. He s such a funny-looking boy with that big fat face, and his little blue eyes, and his ears sticking out like flaps. But perhaps he will be more intellectual looking when he grows up. Charlie Sloane says he s going to go into politics and be a member of Parliament, but Mrs. Lynde says he ll never succeed at that, because the Sloanes are all honest people, and it s only rascals that get on in politics nowadays." "What is Gilbert Blythe going to be?" queried Marilla, seeing that Anne was opening her Caesar. "I don t happen to know what Gilbert Blythe s ambition in life is-- if he has any," said Anne scornfully. There was open rivalry between Gilbert and Anne now. Previously the rivalry had been rather onesided, but there was no longer any doubt that Gilbert was as determined to be first in class as Anne was. He was a foeman worthy of her steel. The other members of the class tacitly acknowledged their superiority, and never dreamed of trying to compete with them. Since the day by the pond when she had refused to listen to his plea for forgiveness, Gilbert, save for the aforesaid determined rivalry, had evinced no recognition whatever of the existence of Anne Shirley. He talked and jested with the other girls, exchanged books and puzzles with them, discussed lessons and plans, sometimes walked home with one or the other of them from prayer meeting or Debating Club. But Anne Shirley he simply ignored, and Anne found out that it is not pleasant to be ignored. It was in vain that she told herself with a toss of her head that she did not care. Deep down in her wayward, feminine little heart she knew that she did care, and that if she had that chance of the Lake of Shining Waters again she would answer very differently. All at once, as it seemed, and to her secret dismay, she found that the old resentment she had cherished against him was gone--gone just when she most needed its sustaining power. It was in vain that she recalled every incident and emotion of that memorable occasion and tried to feel the old satisfying anger. That day by the pond had witnessed its last spasmodic flicker. Anne realized that she had forgiven and forgotten without knowing it. But it was too late. And at least neither Gilbert nor anybody else, not even Diana, should ever suspect how sorry she was and how much she wished she hadn t been so proud and horrid! She determined to "shroud her feelings in deepest oblivion," and it may be stated here and now that she did it, so successfully that Gilbert, who possibly was not quite so indifferent as he seemed, could not console himself with any belief that Anne felt his retaliatory scorn. The only poor comfort he had was that she snubbed Charlie Sloane, unmercifully, continually, and undeservedly. Otherwise the winter passed away in a round of pleasant duties and studies. For Anne the days slipped by like golden beads on the necklace of the year. She was happy, eager, interested; there were lessons to be learned and honor to be won; delightful books to read; new pieces to be practiced for the Sunday-school choir; pleasant Saturday afternoons at the manse with Mrs. Allan; and then, almost before Anne realized it, spring had come again to Green Gables and all the world was abloom once more. Studies palled just a wee bit then; the Queen s class, left behind in school while the others scattered to green lanes and leafy wood cuts and meadow byways, looked wistfully out of the windows and discovered that Latin verbs and French exercises had somehow lost the tang and zest they had possessed in the crisp winter months. Even Anne and Gilbert lagged and grew indifferent. Teacher and taught were alike glad when the term was ended and the glad vacation days stretched rosily before them. "But you ve done good work this past year," Miss Stacy told them on the last evening, "and you deserve a good, jolly vacation. Have the best time you can in the out-of-door world and lay in a good stock of health and vitality and ambition to carry you through next year. It will be the tug of war, you know--the last year before the Entrance." "Are you going to be back next year, Miss Stacy?" asked Josie Pye. Josie Pye never scrupled to ask questions; in this instance the rest of the class felt grateful to her; none of them would have dared to ask it of Miss Stacy, but all wanted to, for there had been alarming rumors running at large through the school for some time that Miss Stacy was not coming back the next year--that she had been offered a position in the grade school of her own home district and meant to accept. The Queen s class listened in breathless suspense for her answer. "Yes, I think I will," said Miss Stacy. "I thought of taking another school, but I have decided to come back to Avonlea. To tell the truth, I ve grown so interested in my pupils here that I found I couldn t leave them. So I ll stay and see you through." "Hurrah!" said Moody Spurgeon. Moody Spurgeon had never been so carried away by his feelings before, and he blushed uncomfortably every time he thought about it for a week. "Oh, I m so glad," said Anne, with shining eyes. "Dear Stacy, it would be perfectly dreadful if you didn t come back. I don t believe I could have the heart to go on with my studies at all if another teacher came here." When Anne got home that night she stacked all her textbooks away in an old trunk in the attic, locked it, and threw the key into the blanket box. "I m not even going to look at a schoolbook in vacation," she told Marilla. "I ve studied as hard all the term as I possibly could and I ve pored over that geometry until I know every proposition in the first book off by heart, even when the letters ARE changed. I just feel tired of everything sensible and I m going to let my imagination run riot for the summer. Oh, you needn t be alarmed, Marilla. I ll only let it run riot within reasonable limits. But I want to have a real good jolly time this summer, for maybe it s the last summer I ll be a little girl. Mrs. Lynde says that if I keep stretching out next year as I ve done this I ll have to put on longer skirts. She says I m all running to legs and eyes. And when I put on longer skirts I shall feel that I have to live up to them and be very dignified. It won t even do to believe in fairies then, I m afraid; so I m going to believe in them with all my whole heart this summer. I think we re going to have a very gay vacation. Ruby Gillis is going to have a birthday party soon and there s the Sunday school picnic and the missionary concert next month. And Mr. Barry says that some evening he ll take Diana and me over to the White Sands Hotel and have dinner there. They have dinner there in the evening, you know. Jane Andrews was over once last summer and she says it was a dazzling sight to see the electric lights and the flowers and all the lady guests in such beautiful dresses. Jane says it was her first glimpse into high life and she ll never forget it to her dying day." Mrs. Lynde came up the next afternoon to find out why Marilla had not been at the Aid meeting on Thursday. When Marilla was not at Aid meeting people knew there was something wrong at Green Gables. "Matthew had a bad spell with his heart Thursday," Marilla explained, "and I didn t feel like leaving him. Oh, yes, he s all right again now, but he takes them spells oftener than he used to and I m anxious about him. The doctor says he must be careful to avoid excitement. That s easy enough, for Matthew doesn t go about looking for excitement by any means and never did, but he s not to do any very heavy work either and you might as well tell Matthew not to breathe as not to work. Come and lay off your things, Rachel. You ll stay to tea?" "Well, seeing you re so pressing, perhaps I might as well, stay" said Mrs. Rachel, who had not the slightest intention of doing anything else. Mrs. Rachel and Marilla sat comfortably in the parlor while Anne got the tea and made hot biscuits that were light and white enough to defy even Mrs. Rachel s criticism. "I must say Anne has turned out a real smart girl," admitted Mrs. Rachel, as Marilla accompanied her to the end of the lane at sunset. "She must be a great help to you." "She is," said Marilla, "and she s real steady and reliable now. I used to be afraid she d never get over her featherbrained ways, but she has and I wouldn t be afraid to trust her in anything now." "I never would have thought she d have turned out so well that first day I was here three years ago," said Mrs. Rachel. "Lawful heart, shall I ever forget that tantrum of hers! When I went home that night I says to Thomas, says I, `Mark my words, Thomas, Marilla Cuthbert ll live to rue the step she s took. But I was mistaken and I m real glad of it. I ain t one of those kind of people, Marilla, as can never be brought to own up that they ve made a mistake. No, that never was my way, thank goodness. I did make a mistake in judging Anne, but it weren t no wonder, for an odder, unexpecteder witch of a child there never was in this world, that s what. There was no ciphering her out by the rules that worked with other children. It s nothing short of wonderful how she s improved these three years, but especially in looks. She s a real pretty girl got to be, though I can t say I m overly partial to that pale, big-eyed style myself. I like more snap and color, like Diana Barry has or Ruby Gillis. Ruby Gillis s looks are real showy. But somehow--I don t know how it is but when Anne and them are together, though she ain t half as handsome, she makes them look kind of common and overdone-- something like them white June lilies she calls narcissus alongside of the big, red peonies, that s what." CHAPTER XXIX UP CHAPTER XXXI 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 18 36 (Tue)
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"The dearest and most moving and most delightful child since the immortal Alice" -- Mark Twain Anne of Green Gables(赤毛のアン)のページを作ります。 ここに宣言 でも、まだ、なかみはありません しばらくお待ちを もくじ リンク リンク リンクのページへのリンクです 今日 - ; | 昨日 - ; | Total - ; since 03 June 2007 last update 2007-06-09 17 53 03 (Sat)
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CHAPTER XIII UP CHAPTER XV CHAPTER XIV Anne s Confession ON the Monday evening before the picnic Marilla came down from her room with a troubled face. "Anne," she said to that small personage, who was shelling peas by the spotless table and singing, "Nelly of the Hazel Dell" with a vigor and expression that did credit to Diana s teaching, "did you see anything of my amethyst brooch? I thought I stuck it in my pincushion when I came home from church yesterday evening, but I can t find it anywhere." "I--I saw it this afternoon when you were away at the Aid Society," said Anne, a little slowly. "I was passing your door when I saw it on the cushion, so I went in to look at it." "Did you touch it?" said Marilla sternly. "Y-e-e-s," admitted Anne, "I took it up and I pinned it on my breast just to see how it would look." "You had no business to do anything of the sort. It s very wrong in a little girl to meddle. You shouldn t have gone into my room in the first place and you shouldn t have touched a brooch that didn t belong to you in the second. Where did you put it?" "Oh, I put it back on the bureau. I hadn t it on a minute. Truly, I didn t mean to meddle, Marilla. I didn t think about its being wrong to go in and try on the brooch; but I see now that it was and I ll never do it again. That s one good thing about me. I never do the same naughty thing twice." "You didn t put it back," said Marilla. "That brooch isn t anywhere on the bureau. You ve taken it out or something, Anne." "I did put it back," said Anne quickly--pertly, Marilla thought. "I don t just remember whether I stuck it on the pincushion or laid it in the china tray. But I m perfectly certain I put it back." "I ll go and have another look," said Marilla, determining to be just. "If you put that brooch back it s there still. If it isn t I ll know you didn t, that s all!" Marilla went to her room and made a thorough search, not only over the bureau but in every other place she thought the brooch might possibly be. It was not to be found and she returned to the kitchen. "Anne, the brooch is gone. By your own admission you were the last person to handle it. Now, what have you done with it? Tell me the truth at once. Did you take it out and lose it?" "No, I didn t," said Anne solemnly, meeting Marilla s angry gaze squarely. "I never took the brooch out of your room and that is the truth, if I was to be led to the block for it--although I m not very certain what a block is. So there, Marilla." Anne s "so there" was only intended to emphasize her assertion, but Marilla took it as a display of defiance. "I believe you are telling me a falsehood, Anne," she said sharply. "I know you are. There now, don t say anything more unless you are prepared to tell the whole truth. Go to your room and stay there until you are ready to confess." "Will I take the peas with me?" said Anne meekly. "No, I ll finish shelling them myself. Do as I bid you." When Anne had gone Marilla went about her evening tasks in a very disturbed state of mind. She was worried about her valuable brooch. What if Anne had lost it? And how wicked of the child to deny having taken it, when anybody could see she must have! With such an innocent face, too! "I don t know what I wouldn t sooner have had happen," thought Marilla, as she nervously shelled the peas. "Of course, I don t suppose she meant to steal it or anything like that. She s just taken it to play with or help along that imagination of hers. She must have taken it, that s clear, for there hasn t been a soul in that room since she was in it, by her own story, until I went up tonight. And the brooch is gone, there s nothing surer. I suppose she has lost it and is afraid to own up for fear she ll be punished. It s a dreadful thing to think she tells falsehoods. It s a far worse thing than her fit of temper. It s a fearful responsibility to have a child in your house you can t trust. Slyness and untruthfulness--that s what she has displayed. I declare I feel worse about that than about the brooch. If she d only have told the truth about it I wouldn t mind so much." Marilla went to her room at intervals all through the evening and searched for the brooch, without finding it. A bedtime visit to the east gable produced no result. Anne persisted in denying that she knew anything about the brooch but Marilla was only the more firmly convinced that she did. She told Matthew the story the next morning. Matthew was confounded and puzzled; he could not so quickly lose faith in Anne but he had to admit that circumstances were against her. "You re sure it hasn t fell down behind the bureau?" was the only suggestion he could offer. "I ve moved the bureau and I ve taken out the drawers and I ve looked in every crack and cranny" was Marilla s positive answer. "The brooch is gone and that child has taken it and lied about it. That s the plain, ugly truth, Matthew Cuthbert, and we might as well look it in the face." "Well now, what are you going to do about it?" Matthew asked forlornly, feeling secretly thankful that Marilla and not he had to deal with the situation. He felt no desire to put his oar in this time. "She ll stay in her room until she confesses," said Marilla grimly, remembering the success of this method in the former case. "Then we ll see. Perhaps we ll be able to find the brooch if she ll only tell where she took it; but in any case she ll have to be severely punished, Matthew." "Well now, you ll have to punish her," said Matthew, reaching for his hat. "I ve nothing to do with it, remember. You warned me off yourself." Marilla felt deserted by everyone. She could not even go to Mrs. Lynde for advice. She went up to the east gable with a very serious face and left it with a face more serious still. Anne steadfastly refused to confess. She persisted in asserting that she had not taken the brooch. The child had evidently been crying and Marilla felt a pang of pity which she sternly repressed. By night she was, as she expressed it, "beat out." "You ll stay in this room until you confess, Anne. You can make up your mind to that," she said firmly. "But the picnic is tomorrow, Marilla," cried Anne. "You won t keep me from going to that, will you? You ll just let me out for the afternoon, won t you? Then I ll stay here as long as you like AFTERWARDS cheerfully. But I MUST go to the picnic." "You ll not go to picnics nor anywhere else until you ve confessed, Anne." "Oh, Marilla," gasped Anne. But Marilla had gone out and shut the door. Wednesday morning dawned as bright and fair as if expressly made to order for the picnic. Birds sang around Green Gables; the Madonna lilies in the garden sent out whiffs of perfume that entered in on viewless winds at every door and window, and wandered through halls and rooms like spirits of benediction. The birches in the hollow waved joyful hands as if watching for Anne s usual morning greeting from the east gable. But Anne was not at her window. When Marilla took her breakfast up to her she found the child sitting primly on her bed, pale and resolute, with tight-shut lips and gleaming eyes. "Marilla, I m ready to confess." "Ah!" Marilla laid down her tray. Once again her method had succeeded; but her success was very bitter to her. "Let me hear what you have to say then, Anne." "I took the amethyst brooch," said Anne, as if repeating a lesson she had learned. "I took it just as you said. I didn t mean to take it when I went in. But it did look so beautiful, Marilla, when I pinned it on my breast that I was overcome by an irresistible temptation. I imagined how perfectly thrilling it would be to take it to Idlewild and play I was the Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald. It would be so much easier to imagine I was the Lady Cordelia if I had a real amethyst brooch on. Diana and I make necklaces of roseberries but what are roseberries compared to amethysts? So I took the brooch. I thought I could put it back before you came home. I went all the way around by the road to lengthen out the time. When I was going over the bridge across the Lake of Shining Waters I took the brooch off to have another look at it. Oh, how it did shine in the sunlight! And then, when I was leaning over the bridge, it just slipped through my fingers--so--and went down--down--down, all purply-sparkling, and sank forevermore beneath the Lake of Shining Waters. And that s the best I can do at confessing, Marilla." Marilla felt hot anger surge up into her heart again. This child had taken and lost her treasured amethyst brooch and now sat there calmly reciting the details thereof without the least apparent compunction or repentance. "Anne, this is terrible," she said, trying to speak calmly. "You are the very wickedest girl I ever heard of." "Yes, I suppose I am," agreed Anne tranquilly. "And I know I ll have to be punished. It ll be your duty to punish me, Marilla. Won t you please get it over right off because I d like to go to the picnic with nothing on my mind." "Picnic, indeed! You ll go to no picnic today, Anne Shirley. That shall be your punishment. And it isn t half severe enough either for what you ve done!" "Not go to the picnic!" Anne sprang to her feet and clutched Marilla s hand. "But you PROMISED me I might! Oh, Marilla, I must go to the picnic. That was why I confessed. Punish me any way you like but that. Oh, Marilla, please, please, let me go to the picnic. Think of the ice cream! For anything you know I may never have a chance to taste ice cream again." Marilla disengaged Anne s clinging hands stonily. "You needn t plead, Anne. You are not going to the picnic and that s final. No, not a word." Anne realized that Marilla was not to be moved. She clasped her hands together, gave a piercing shriek, and then flung herself face downward on the bed, crying and writhing in an utter abandonment of disappointment and despair. "For the land s sake!" gasped Marilla, hastening from the room. "I believe the child is crazy. No child in her senses would behave as she does. If she isn t she s utterly bad. Oh dear, I m afraid Rachel was right from the first. But I ve put my hand to the plow and I won t look back." That was a dismal morning. Marilla worked fiercely and scrubbed the porch floor and the dairy shelves when she could find nothing else to do. Neither the shelves nor the porch needed it--but Marilla did. Then she went out and raked the yard. When dinner was ready she went to the stairs and called Anne. A tear-stained face appeared, looking tragically over the banisters. "Come down to your dinner, Anne." "I don t want any dinner, Marilla," said Anne, sobbingly. "I couldn t eat anything. My heart is broken. You ll feel remorse of conscience someday, I expect, for breaking it, Marilla, but I forgive you. Remember when the time comes that I forgive you. But please don t ask me to eat anything, especially boiled pork and greens. Boiled pork and greens are so unromantic when one is in affliction." Exasperated, Marilla returned to the kitchen and poured out her tale of woe to Matthew, who, between his sense of justice and his unlawful sympathy with Anne, was a miserable man. "Well now, she shouldn t have taken the brooch, Marilla, or told stories about it," he admitted, mournfully surveying his plateful of unromantic pork and greens as if he, like Anne, thought it a food unsuited to crises of feeling, "but she s such a little thing--such an interesting little thing. Don t you think it s pretty rough not to let her go to the picnic when she s so set on it?" "Matthew Cuthbert, I m amazed at you. I think I ve let her off entirely too easy. And she doesn t appear to realize how wicked she s been at all--that s what worries me most. If she d really felt sorry it wouldn t be so bad. And you don t seem to realize it, neither; you re making excuses for her all the time to yourself--I can see that." "Well now, she s such a little thing," feebly reiterated Matthew. "And there should be allowances made, Marilla. You know she s never had any bringing up." "Well, she s having it now" retorted Marilla. The retort silenced Matthew if it did not convince him. That dinner was a very dismal meal. The only cheerful thing about it was Jerry Buote, the hired boy, and Marilla resented his cheerfulness as a personal insult. When her dishes were washed and her bread sponge set and her hens fed Marilla remembered that she had noticed a small rent in her best black lace shawl when she had taken it off on Monday afternoon on returning from the Ladies Aid. She would go and mend it. The shawl was in a box in her trunk. As Marilla lifted it out, the sunlight, falling through the vines that clustered thickly about the window, struck upon something caught in the shawl--something that glittered and sparkled in facets of violet light. Marilla snatched at it with a gasp. It was the amethyst brooch, hanging to a thread of the lace by its catch! "Dear life and heart," said Marilla blankly, "what does this mean? Here s my brooch safe and sound that I thought was at the bottom of Barry s pond. Whatever did that girl mean by saying she took it and lost it? I declare I believe Green Gables is bewitched. I remember now that when I took off my shawl Monday afternoon I laid it on the bureau for a minute. I suppose the brooch got caught in it somehow. Well!" Marilla betook herself to the east gable, brooch in hand. Anne had cried herself out and was sitting dejectedly by the window. "Anne Shirley," said Marilla solemnly, "I ve just found my brooch hanging to my black lace shawl. Now I want to know what that rigmarole you told me this morning meant." "Why, you said you d keep me here until I confessed," returned Anne wearily, "and so I decided to confess because I was bound to get to the picnic. I thought out a confession last night after I went to bed and made it as interesting as I could. And I said it over and over so that I wouldn t forget it. But you wouldn t let me go to the picnic after all, so all my trouble was wasted." Marilla had to laugh in spite of herself. But her conscience pricked her. "Anne, you do beat all! But I was wrong--I see that now. I shouldn t have doubted your word when I d never known you to tell a story. Of course, it wasn t right for you to confess to a thing you hadn t done--it was very wrong to do so. But I drove you to it. So if you ll forgive me, Anne, I ll forgive you and we ll start square again. And now get yourself ready for the picnic." Anne flew up like a rocket. "Oh, Marilla, isn t it too late?" "No, it s only two o clock. They won t be more than well gathered yet and it ll be an hour before they have tea. Wash your face and comb your hair and put on your gingham. I ll fill a basket for you. There s plenty of stuff baked in the house. And I ll get Jerry to hitch up the sorrel and drive you down to the picnic ground." "Oh, Marilla," exclaimed Anne, flying to the washstand. "Five minutes ago I was so miserable I was wishing I d never been born and now I wouldn t change places with an angel!" That night a thoroughly happy, completely tired-out Anne returned to Green Gables in a state of beatification impossible to describe. "Oh, Marilla, I ve had a perfectly scrumptious time. Scrumptious is a new word I learned today. I heard Mary Alice Bell use it. Isn t it very expressive? Everything was lovely. We had a splendid tea and then Mr. Harmon Andrews took us all for a row on the Lake of Shining Waters--six of us at a time. And Jane Andrews nearly fell overboard. She was leaning out to pick water lilies and if Mr. Andrews hadn t caught her by her sash just in the nick of time she d fallen in and prob ly been drowned. I wish it had been me. It would have been such a romantic experience to have been nearly drowned. It would be such a thrilling tale to tell. And we had the ice cream. Words fail me to describe that ice cream. Marilla, I assure you it was sublime." That evening Marilla told the whole story to Matthew over her stocking basket. "I m willing to own up that I made a mistake," she concluded candidly, "but I ve learned a lesson. I have to laugh when I think of Anne s `confession, although I suppose I shouldn t for it really was a falsehood. But it doesn t seem as bad as the other would have been, somehow, and anyhow I m responsible for it. That child is hard to understand in some respects. But I believe she ll turn out all right yet. And there s one thing certain, no house will ever be dull that she s in." CHAPTER XIII UP CHAPTER XV 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 25 11 (Tue)
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CHAPTER XXIV UP CHAPTER XXVI CHAPTER XXV Matthew Insists on Puffed Sleeves Matthew was having a bad ten minutes of it. He had come into the kitchen, in the twilight of a cold, gray December evening, and had sat down in the woodbox corner to take off his heavy boots, unconscious of the fact that Anne and a bevy of her schoolmates were having a practice of "The Fairy Queen" in the sitting room. Presently they came trooping through the hall and out into the kitchen, laughing and chattering gaily. They did not see Matthew, who shrank bashfully back into the shadows beyond the woodbox with a boot in one hand and a bootjack in the other, and he watched them shyly for the aforesaid ten minutes as they put on caps and jackets and talked about the dialogue and the concert. Anne stood among them, bright eyed and animated as they; but Matthew suddenly became conscious that there was something about her different from her mates. And what worried Matthew was that the difference impressed him as being something that should not exist. Anne had a brighter face, and bigger, starrier eyes, and more delicate features than the other; even shy, unobservant Matthew had learned to take note of these things; but the difference that disturbed him did not consist in any of these respects. Then in what did it consist? Matthew was haunted by this question long after the girls had gone, arm in arm, down the long, hard-frozen lane and Anne had betaken herself to her books. He could not refer it to Marilla, who, he felt, would be quite sure to sniff scornfully and remark that the only difference she saw between Anne and the other girls was that they sometimes kept their tongues quiet while Anne never did. This, Matthew felt, would be no great help. He had recourse to his pipe that evening to help him study it out, much to Marilla s disgust. After two hours of smoking and hard reflection Matthew arrived at a solution of his problem. Anne was not dressed like the other girls! The more Matthew thought about the matter the more he was convinced that Anne never had been dressed like the other girls--never since she had come to Green Gables. Marilla kept her clothed in plain, dark dresses, all made after the same unvarying pattern. If Matthew knew there was such a thing as fashion in dress it was as much as he did; but he was quite sure that Anne s sleeves did not look at all like the sleeves the other girls wore. He recalled the cluster of little girls he had seen around her that evening--all gay in waists of red and blue and pink and white--and he wondered why Marilla always kept her so plainly and soberly gowned. Of course, it must be all right. Marilla knew best and Marilla was bringing her up. Probably some wise, inscrutable motive was to be served thereby. But surely it would do no harm to let the child have one pretty dress--something like Diana Barry always wore. Matthew decided that he would give her one; that surely could not be objected to as an unwarranted putting in of his oar. Christmas was only a fortnight off. A nice new dress would be the very thing for a present. Matthew, with a sigh of satisfaction, put away his pipe and went to bed, while Marilla opened all the doors and aired the house. The very next evening Matthew betook himself to Carmody to buy the dress, determined to get the worst over and have done with it. It would be, he felt assured, no trifling ordeal. There were some things Matthew could buy and prove himself no mean bargainer; but he knew he would be at the mercy of shopkeepers when it came to buying a girl s dress. After much cogitation Matthew resolved to go to Samuel Lawson s store instead of William Blair s. To be sure, the Cuthberts always had gone to William Blair s; it was almost as much a matter of conscience with them as to attend the Presbyterian church and vote Conservative. But William Blair s two daughters frequently waited on customers there and Matthew held them in absolute dread. He could contrive to deal with them when he knew exactly what he wanted and could point it out; but in such a matter as this, requiring explanation and consultation, Matthew felt that he must be sure of a man behind the counter. So he would go to Lawson s, where Samuel or his son would wait on him. Alas! Matthew did not know that Samuel, in the recent expansion of his business, had set up a lady clerk also; she was a niece of his wife s and a very dashing young person indeed, with a huge, drooping pompadour, big, rolling brown eyes, and a most extensive and bewildering smile. She was dressed with exceeding smartness and wore several bangle bracelets that glittered and rattled and tinkled with every movement of her hands. Matthew was covered with confusion at finding her there at all; and those bangles completely wrecked his wits at one fell swoop. "What can I do for you this evening, Mr. Cuthbert?" Miss Lucilla Harris inquired, briskly and ingratiatingly, tapping the counter with both hands. "Have you any--any--any--well now, say any garden rakes?" stammered Matthew. Miss Harris looked somewhat surprised, as well she might, to hear a man inquiring for garden rakes in the middle of December. "I believe we have one or two left over," she said, "but they re upstairs in the lumber room. I ll go and see." During her absence Matthew collected his scattered senses for another effort. When Miss Harris returned with the rake and cheerfully inquired "Anything else tonight, Mr. Cuthbert?" Matthew took his courage in both hands and replied "Well now, since you suggest it, I might as well--take--that is--look at--buy some--some hayseed." Miss Harris had heard Matthew Cuthbert called odd. She now concluded that he was entirely crazy. "We only keep hayseed in the spring," she explained loftily. "We ve none on hand just now." "Oh, certainly--certainly--just as you say," stammered unhappy Matthew, seizing the rake and making for the door. At the threshold he recollected that he had not paid for it and he turned miserably back. While Miss Harris was counting out his change he rallied his powers for a final desperate attempt. "Well now--if it isn t too much trouble--I might as well--that is--I d like to look at--at--some sugar." "White or brown?" queried Miss Harris patiently. "Oh--well now--brown," said Matthew feebly. "There s a barrel of it over there," said Miss Harris, shaking her bangles at it. "It s the only kind we have." "I ll--I ll take twenty pounds of it," said Matthew, with beads of perspiration standing on his forehead. Matthew had driven halfway home before he was his own man again. It had been a gruesome experience, but it served him right, he thought, for committing the heresy of going to a strange store. When he reached home he hid the rake in the tool house, but the sugar he carried in to Marilla. "Brown sugar!" exclaimed Marilla. "Whatever possessed you to get so much? You know I never use it except for the hired man s porridge or black fruit cake. Jerry s gone and I ve made my cake long ago. It s not good sugar, either--it s coarse and dark--William Blair doesn t usually keep sugar like that." "I--I thought it might come in handy sometime," said Matthew, making good his escape. When Matthew came to think the matter over he decided that a woman was required to cope with the situation. Marilla was out of the question. Matthew felt sure she would throw cold water on his project at once. Remained only Mrs. Lynde; for of no other woman in Avonlea would Matthew have dared to ask advice. To Mrs. Lynde he went accordingly, and that good lady promptly took the matter out of the harassed man s hands. "Pick out a dress for you to give Anne? To be sure I will. I m going to Carmody tomorrow and I ll attend to it. Have you something particular in mind? No? Well, I ll just go by my own judgment then. I believe a nice rich brown would just suit Anne, and William Blair has some new gloria in that s real pretty. Perhaps you d like me to make it up for her, too, seeing that if Marilla was to make it Anne would probably get wind of it before the time and spoil the surprise? Well, I ll do it. No, it isn t a mite of trouble. I like sewing. I ll make it to fit my niece, Jenny Gillis, for she and Anne are as like as two peas as far as figure goes." "Well now, I m much obliged," said Matthew, "and--and--I dunno--but I d like--I think they make the sleeves different nowadays to what they used to be. If it wouldn t be asking too much I--I d like them made in the new way." "Puffs? Of course. You needn t worry a speck more about it, Matthew. I ll make it up in the very latest fashion," said Mrs. Lynde. To herself she added when Matthew had gone "It ll be a real satisfaction to see that poor child wearing something decent for once. The way Marilla dresses her is positively ridiculous, that s what, and I ve ached to tell her so plainly a dozen times. I ve held my tongue though, for I can see Marilla doesn t want advice and she thinks she knows more about bringing children up than I do for all she s an old maid. But that s always the way. Folks that has brought up children know that there s no hard and fast method in the world that ll suit every child. But them as never have think it s all as plain and easy as Rule of Three--just set your three terms down so fashion, and the sum ll work out correct. But flesh and blood don t come under the head of arithmetic and that s where Marilla Cuthbert makes her mistake. I suppose she s trying to cultivate a spirit of humility in Anne by dressing her as she does; but it s more likely to cultivate envy and discontent. I m sure the child must feel the difference between her clothes and the other girls . But to think of Matthew taking notice of it! That man is waking up after being asleep for over sixty years." Marilla knew all the following fortnight that Matthew had something on his mind, but what it was she could not guess, until Christmas Eve, when Mrs. Lynde brought up the new dress. Marilla behaved pretty well on the whole, although it is very likely she distrusted Mrs. Lynde s diplomatic explanation that she had made the dress because Matthew was afraid Anne would find out about it too soon if Marilla made it. "So this is what Matthew has been looking so mysterious over and grinning about to himself for two weeks, is it?" she said a little stiffly but tolerantly. "I knew he was up to some foolishness. Well, I must say I don t think Anne needed any more dresses. I made her three good, warm, serviceable ones this fall, and anything more is sheer extravagance. There s enough material in those sleeves alone to make a waist, I declare there is. You ll just pamper Anne s vanity, Matthew, and she s as vain as a peacock now. Well, I hope she ll be satisfied at last, for I know she s been hankering after those silly sleeves ever since they came in, although she never said a word after the first. The puffs have been getting bigger and more ridiculous right along; they re as big as balloons now. Next year anybody who wears them will have to go through a door sideways." Christmas morning broke on a beautiful white world. It had been a very mild December and people had looked forward to a green Christmas; but just enough snow fell softly in the night to transfigure Avonlea. Anne peeped out from her frosted gable window with delighted eyes. The firs in the Haunted Wood were all feathery and wonderful; the birches and wild cherry trees were outlined in pearl; the plowed fields were stretches of snowy dimples; and there was a crisp tang in the air that was glorious. Anne ran downstairs singing until her voice reechoed through Green Gables. "Merry Christmas, Marilla! Merry Christmas, Matthew! Isn t it a lovely Christmas? I m so glad it s white. Any other kind of Christmas doesn t seem real, does it? I don t like green Christmases. They re not green-- they re just nasty faded browns and grays. What makes people call them green? Why--why--Matthew, is that for me? Oh, Matthew!" Matthew had sheepishly unfolded the dress from its paper swathings and held it out with a deprecatory glance at Marilla, who feigned to be contemptuously filling the teapot, but nevertheless watched the scene out of the corner of her eye with a rather interested air. Anne took the dress and looked at it in reverent silence. Oh, how pretty it was--a lovely soft brown gloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty frills and shirrings; a waist elaborately pintucked in the most fashionable way, with a little ruffle of filmy lace at the neck. But the sleeves--they were the crowning glory! Long elbow cuffs, and above them two beautiful puffs divided by rows of shirring and bows of brown-silk ribbon. "That s a Christmas present for you, Anne," said Matthew shyly. "Why--why--Anne, don t you like it? Well now--well now." For Anne s eyes had suddenly filled with tears. "Like it! Oh, Matthew!" Anne laid the dress over a chair and clasped her hands. "Matthew, it s perfectly exquisite. Oh, I can never thank you enough. Look at those sleeves! Oh, it seems to me this must be a happy dream." "Well, well, let us have breakfast," interrupted Marilla. "I must say, Anne, I don t think you needed the dress; but since Matthew has got it for you, see that you take good care of it. There s a hair ribbon Mrs. Lynde left for you. It s brown, to match the dress. Come now, sit in." "I don t see how I m going to eat breakfast," said Anne rapturously. "Breakfast seems so commonplace at such an exciting moment. I d rather feast my eyes on that dress. I m so glad that puffed sleeves are still fashionable. It did seem to me that I d never get over it if they went out before I had a dress with them. I d never have felt quite satisfied, you see. It was lovely of Mrs. Lynde to give me the ribbon too. I feel that I ought to be a very good girl indeed. It s at times like this I m sorry I m not a model little girl; and I always resolve that I will be in future. But somehow it s hard to carry out your resolutions when irresistible temptations come. Still, I really will make an extra effort after this." When the commonplace breakfast was over Diana appeared, crossing the white log bridge in the hollow, a gay little figure in her crimson ulster. Anne flew down the slope to meet her. "Merry Christmas, Diana! And oh, it s a wonderful Christmas. I ve something splendid to show you. Matthew has given me the loveliest dress, with SUCH sleeves. I couldn t even imagine any nicer." "I ve got something more for you," said Diana breathlessly. "Here-- this box. Aunt Josephine sent us out a big box with ever so many things in it--and this is for you. I d have brought it over last night, but it didn t come until after dark, and I never feel very comfortable coming through the Haunted Wood in the dark now." Anne opened the box and peeped in. First a card with "For the Anne-girl and Merry Christmas," written on it; and then, a pair of the daintiest little kid slippers, with beaded toes and satin bows and glistening buckles. "Oh," said Anne, "Diana, this is too much. I must be dreaming." "I call it providential," said Diana. "You won t have to borrow Ruby s slippers now, and that s a blessing, for they re two sizes too big for you, and it would be awful to hear a fairy shuffling. Josie Pye would be delighted. Mind you, Rob Wright went home with Gertie Pye from the practice night before last. Did you ever hear anything equal to that?" All the Avonlea scholars were in a fever of excitement that day, for the hall had to be decorated and a last grand rehearsal held. The concert came off in the evening and was a pronounced success. The little hall was crowded; all the performers did excellently well, but Anne was the bright particular star of the occasion, as even envy, in the shape of Josie Pye, dared not deny. "Oh, hasn t it been a brilliant evening?" sighed Anne, when it was all over and she and Diana were walking home together under a dark, starry sky. "Everything went off very well," said Diana practically. "I guess we must have made as much as ten dollars. Mind you, Mr. Allan is going to send an account of it to the Charlottetown papers." "Oh, Diana, will we really see our names in print? It makes me thrill to think of it. Your solo was perfectly elegant, Diana. I felt prouder than you did when it was encored. I just said to myself, `It is my dear bosom friend who is so honored. " "Well, your recitations just brought down the house, Anne. That sad one was simply splendid." "Oh, I was so nervous, Diana. When Mr. Allan called out my name I really cannot tell how I ever got up on that platform. I felt as if a million eyes were looking at me and through me, and for one dreadful moment I was sure I couldn t begin at all. Then I thought of my lovely puffed sleeves and took courage. I knew that I must live up to those sleeves, Diana. So I started in, and my voice seemed to be coming from ever so far away. I just felt like a parrot. It s providential that I practiced those recitations so often up in the garret, or I d never have been able to get through. Did I groan all right?" "Yes, indeed, you groaned lovely," assured Diana. "I saw old Mrs. Sloane wiping away tears when I sat down. It was splendid to think I had touched somebody s heart. It s so romantic to take part in a concert, isn t it? Oh, it s been a very memorable occasion indeed." "Wasn t the boys dialogue fine?" said Diana. "Gilbert Blythe was just splendid. Anne, I do think it s awful mean the way you treat Gil. Wait till I tell you. When you ran off the platform after the fairy dialogue one of your roses fell out of your hair. I saw Gil pick it up and put it in his breast pocket. There now. You re so romantic that I m sure you ought to be pleased at that." "It s nothing to me what that person does," said Anne loftily. "I simply never waste a thought on him, Diana." That night Marilla and Matthew, who had been out to a concert for the first time in twenty years, sat for a while by the kitchen fire after Anne had gone to bed. "Well now, I guess our Anne did as well as any of them," said Matthew proudly. "Yes, she did," admitted Marilla. "She s a bright child, Matthew. And she looked real nice too. I ve been kind of opposed to this concert scheme, but I suppose there s no real harm in it after all. Anyhow, I was proud of Anne tonight, although I m not going to tell her so." "Well now, I was proud of her and I did tell her so fore she went upstairs," said Matthew. "We must see what we can do for her some of these days, Marilla. I guess she ll need something more than Avonlea school by and by." "There s time enough to think of that," said Marilla. "She s only thirteen in March. Though tonight it struck me she was growing quite a big girl. Mrs. Lynde made that dress a mite too long, and it makes Anne look so tall. She s quick to learn and I guess the best thing we can do for her will be to send her to Queen s after a spell. But nothing need be said about that for a year or two yet." "Well now, it ll do no harm to be thinking it over off and on," said Matthew. "Things like that are all the better for lots of thinking over." CHAPTER XXIV UP CHAPTER XXVI 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 20 30 (Tue)
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もくじ 赤毛のアンに関するページ by いろんな人たち 赤毛のアンの電子図書館 赤毛のアン記念館・村岡花子文庫 Anne's Home Page Green Gables 赤毛のアン@ウィキペディア L. M. Montgomery Institute Junko of GreenVillas 赤毛のアンドットネット アニメーション 赤毛のアン アニメーション 赤毛のアン@ウィキペディア 赤毛のアンに関するページの特に面白いところ by いろんな人たち ぴょぴょのぶろぐ 赤毛のアンに関するページ by いろんな人たち 赤毛のアンの電子図書館 松本侑子さん(集英社版の翻訳者)による情報ページ 赤毛のアン記念館・村岡花子文庫 あの、村岡花子さんの、書斎と関連資料を公開している Anne s Home Page aerith さんのページ:充実してます must seeのページ 「I want to know」のコーナーでアンに関する質問や答えが書き込めます。 過去のものはNotebookデイビーのノートブックにまとめられていて、なるほど~の連続です。絵/図もあります。 Green Gables カナダのプリンスエドワード州の公式ページにあるグリーンゲイブルズの紹介ページ(モデルになったというモンゴメリのいとこの家:今は、アンの部屋とかマリラの部屋とか「赤毛のアン」の世界に合わせてあるようです)。QuickTime VRで部屋の中を見ることができる。部屋に入って、ぐる~んとひとまわりできる。 英語 アンの部屋は、壁紙が花柄なので、アンがクイーン学院に入るころかその後、ということになりそう。また、窓辺にある蝋燭の載っているテーブルは3本足だけども天板は丸。赤毛のアンの第3章の、マリラがアンをベッドまで連れていく場面では、蝋燭を置くのは三角形のテーブル(a three-legged, three-cornerd table:CHAPTER III Marilla Cuthbert Is Surprised)となっていますけど。 赤毛のアン@ウィキペディア ウィキペディアの赤毛のアンのページ もちろん書き換えもできます L. M. Montgomery Institute University of Prince Edward Islandにある、モンゴメリの研究をしているところ、らしい。 研究費がないとか、パートナーシップが必要とか書いてあって、彼の国も研究費獲得は大変なようです。 英語 クイーン学院(Queen s Academy)のモデルとなったPrince of Wales Collegeが、St. Dunstan’s University とともに1969年にUniversity of Prince Edward Islandとなったとhttp //welcome.upei.ca/html/faqs.html にある。ちなみに、Prince of Wales Collegeが共学になったのは1879年。 Junko of GreenVillas しらいじゅんこ さんのページ:アン年表がある 赤毛のアンドットネット 「2002年夏にプリンスエドワード島で結婚式を挙げました。」という、たぶん「さやか」さんだと思うのですが、のページ。プリンスエドワード島に、アンにかかわるところに行かれていて、細かいことも紹介されています アニメーション 赤毛のアン バンダイビジュアルの公式ホームページ 子供向けなので、物足りない感じあり。 アニメーションのアンが好きなひとには、ないよりはまし、かも オープニングの動画が見られる 「聞こえるかしら~♪」 アニメーション 赤毛のアン@ウィキペディア ウィキペディアのアニメーションの赤毛のアンのページ 赤毛のアンに関するページの特に面白いところ by いろんな人たち ★ 深い階層のページもあるので、もしかしたら、リンクが切れているかもしれません。その場合は、上にご紹介のトップページから見つけてみてください アンブックスの英語版:モンゴメリの持っていたもの:サイイン入り by L. M. Montgomery Institute すべてに猫マークが入っています。モードって大人になっても、おちゃめ ぴょぴょのぶろぐ 本を読む、映画を見る by ぴょぴょ @ あめーばぶろぐ 連絡がしたいという(奇特な)方は、右下にある「管理者に問合せ」からお願いします 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 03 June 2007 last update 2007-06-09 18 16 07 (Sat)
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CHAPTER XI UP CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XII A Solemn Vow and Promise It was not until the next Friday that Marilla heard the story of the flower-wreathed hat. She came home from Mrs. Lynde s and called Anne to account. "Anne, Mrs. Rachel says you went to church last Sunday with your hat rigged out ridiculous with roses and buttercups. What on earth put you up to such a caper? A pretty-looking object you must have been!" "Oh. I know pink and yellow aren t becoming to me," began Anne. "Becoming fiddlesticks! It was putting flowers on your hat at all, no matter what color they were, that was ridiculous. You are the most aggravating child!" "I don t see why it s any more ridiculous to wear flowers on your hat than on your dress," protested Anne. "Lots of little girls there had bouquets pinned on their dresses. What s the difference?" Marilla was not to be drawn from the safe concrete into dubious paths of the abstract. "Don t answer me back like that, Anne. It was very silly of you to do such a thing. Never let me catch you at such a trick again. Mrs. Rachel says she thought she would sink through the floor when she saw you come in all rigged out like that. She couldn t get near enough to tell you to take them off till it was too late. She says people talked about it something dreadful. Of course they would think I had no better sense than to let you go decked out like that." "Oh, I m so sorry," said Anne, tears welling into her eyes. "I never thought you d mind. The roses and buttercups were so sweet and pretty I thought they d look lovely on my hat. Lots of the little girls had artificial flowers on their hats. I m afraid I m going to be a dreadful trial to you. Maybe you d better send me back to the asylum. That would be terrible; I don t think I could endure it; most likely I would go into consumption; I m so thin as it is, you see. But that would be better than being a trial to you." "Nonsense," said Marilla, vexed at herself for having made the child cry. "I don t want to send you back to the asylum, I m sure. All I want is that you should behave like other little girls and not make yourself ridiculous. Don t cry any more. I ve got some news for you. Diana Barry came home this afternoon. I m going up to see if I can borrow a skirt pattern from Mrs. Barry, and if you like you can come with me and get acquainted with Diana." Anne rose to her feet, with clasped hands, the tears still glistening on her cheeks; the dish towel she had been hemming slipped unheeded to the floor. "Oh, Marilla, I m frightened--now that it has come I m actually frightened. What if she shouldn t like me! It would be the most tragical disappointment of my life." "Now, don t get into a fluster. And I do wish you wouldn t use such long words. It sounds so funny in a little girl. I guess Diana ll like you well enough. It s her mother you ve got to reckon with. If she doesn t like you it won t matter how much Diana does. If she has heard about your outburst to Mrs. Lynde and going to church with buttercups round your hat I don t know what she ll think of you. You must be polite and well behaved, and don t make any of your startling speeches. For pity s sake, if the child isn t actually trembling!" Anne WAS trembling. Her face was pale and tense. "Oh, Marilla, you d be excited, too, if you were going to meet a little girl you hoped to be your bosom friend and whose mother mightn t like you," she said as she hastened to get her hat. They went over to Orchard Slope by the short cut across the brook and up the firry hill grove. Mrs. Barry came to the kitchen door in answer to Marilla s knock. She was a tall black-eyed, black-haired woman, with a very resolute mouth. She had the reputation of being very strict with her children. "How do you do, Marilla?" she said cordially. "Come in. And this is the little girl you have adopted, I suppose?" "Yes, this is Anne Shirley," said Marilla. "Spelled with an E," gasped Anne, who, tremulous and excited as she was, was determined there should be no misunderstanding on that important point. Mrs. Barry, not hearing or not comprehending, merely shook hands and said kindly "How are you?" "I am well in body although considerable rumpled up in spirit, thank you ma am," said Anne gravely. Then aside to Marilla in an audible whisper, "There wasn t anything startling in that, was there, Marilla?" Diana was sitting on the sofa, reading a book which she dropped when the callers entered. She was a very pretty little girl, with her mother s black eyes and hair, and rosy cheeks, and the merry expression which was her inheritance from her father. "This is my little girl Diana," said Mrs. Barry. "Diana, you might take Anne out into the garden and show her your flowers. It will be better for you than straining your eyes over that book. She reads entirely too much--" this to Marilla as the little girls went out--"and I can t prevent her, for her father aids and abets her. She s always poring over a book. I m glad she has the prospect of a playmate-- perhaps it will take her more out-of-doors." Outside in the garden, which was full of mellow sunset light streaming through the dark old firs to the west of it, stood Anne and Diana, gazing bashfully at each other over a clump of gorgeous tiger lilies. The Barry garden was a bowery wilderness of flowers which would have delighted Anne s heart at any time less fraught with destiny. It was encircled by huge old willows and tall firs, beneath which flourished flowers that loved the shade. Prim, right-angled paths neatly bordered with clamshells, intersected it like moist red ribbons and in the beds between old-fashioned flowers ran riot. There were rosy bleeding-hearts and great splendid crimson peonies; white, fragrant narcissi and thorny, sweet Scotch roses; pink and blue and white columbines and lilac-tinted Bouncing Bets; clumps of southernwood and ribbon grass and mint; purple Adam-and-Eve, daffodils, and masses of sweet clover white with its delicate, fragrant, feathery sprays; scarlet lightning that shot its fiery lances over prim white musk-flowers; a garden it was where sunshine lingered and bees hummed, and winds, beguiled into loitering, purred and rustled. "Oh, Diana," said Anne at last, clasping her hands and speaking almost in a whisper, "oh, do you think you can like me a little--enough to be my bosom friend?" Diana laughed. Diana always laughed before she spoke. "Why, I guess so," she said frankly. "I m awfully glad you ve come to live at Green Gables. It will be jolly to have somebody to play with. There isn t any other girl who lives near enough to play with, and I ve no sisters big enough." "Will you swear to be my friend forever and ever?" demanded Anne eagerly. Diana looked shocked. "Why it s dreadfully wicked to swear," she said rebukingly. "Oh no, not my kind of swearing. There are two kinds, you know." "I never heard of but one kind," said Diana doubtfully. "There really is another. Oh, it isn t wicked at all. It just means vowing and promising solemnly." "Well, I don t mind doing that," agreed Diana, relieved. "How do you do it?" "We must join hands--so," said Anne gravely. "It ought to be over running water. We ll just imagine this path is running water. I ll repeat the oath first. I solemnly swear to be faithful to my bosom friend, Diana Barry, as long as the sun and moon shall endure. Now you say it and put my name in." Diana repeated the "oath" with a laugh fore and aft. Then she said "You re a queer girl, Anne. I heard before that you were queer. But I believe I m going to like you real well." When Marilla and Anne went home Diana went with them as for as the log bridge. The two little girls walked with their arms about each other. At the brook they parted with many promises to spend the next afternoon together. "Well, did you find Diana a kindred spirit?" asked Marilla as they went up through the garden of Green Gables. "Oh yes," sighed Anne, blissfully unconscious of any sarcasm on Marilla s part. "Oh Marilla, I m the happiest girl on Prince Edward Island this very moment. I assure you I ll say my prayers with a right good-will tonight. Diana and I are going to build a playhouse in Mr. William Bell s birch grove tomorrow. Can I have those broken pieces of china that are out in the woodshed? Diana s birthday is in February and mine is in March. Don t you think that is a very strange coincidence? Diana is going to lend me a book to read. She says it s perfectly splendid and tremendously exciting. She s going to show me a place back in the woods where rice lilies grow. Don t you think Diana has got very soulful eyes? I wish I had soulful eyes. Diana is going to teach me to sing a song called `Nelly in the Hazel Dell. She s going to give me a picture to put up in my room; it s a perfectly beautiful picture, she says--a lovely lady in a pale blue silk dress. A sewing-machine agent gave it to her. I wish I had something to give Diana. I m an inch taller than Diana, but she is ever so much fatter; she says she d like to be thin because it s so much more graceful, but I m afraid she only said it to soothe my feelings. We re going to the shore some day to gather shells. We have agreed to call the spring down by the log bridge the Dryad s Bubble. Isn t that a perfectly elegant name? I read a story once about a spring called that. A dryad is sort of a grown-up fairy, I think." "Well, all I hope is you won t talk Diana to death," said Marilla. "But remember this in all your planning, Anne. You re not going to play all the time nor most of it. You ll have your work to do and it ll have to be done first." Anne s cup of happiness was full, and Matthew caused it to overflow. He had just got home from a trip to the store at Carmody, and he sheepishly produced a small parcel from his pocket and handed it to Anne, with a deprecatory look at Marilla. "I heard you say you liked chocolate sweeties, so I got you some," he said. "Humph," sniffed Marilla. "It ll ruin her teeth and stomach. There, there, child, don t look so dismal. You can eat those, since Matthew has gone and got them. He d better have brought you peppermints. They re wholesomer. Don t sicken yourself eating all them at once now." "Oh, no, indeed, I won t," said Anne eagerly. "I ll just eat one tonight, Marilla. And I can give Diana half of them, can t I? The other half will taste twice as sweet to me if I give some to her. It s delightful to think I have something to give her." "I will say it for the child," said Marilla when Anne had gone to her gable, "she isn t stingy. I m glad, for of all faults I detest stinginess in a child. Dear me, it s only three weeks since she came, and it seems as if she d been here always. I can t imagine the place without her. Now, don t be looking I told-you-so, Matthew. That s bad enough in a woman, but it isn t to be endured in a man. I m perfectly willing to own up that I m glad I consented to keep the child and that I m getting fond of her, but don t you rub it in, Matthew Cuthbert." CHAPTER XI UP CHAPTER XIII 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 27 12 (Tue)