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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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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 XXXV UP CHAPTER XXXVII CHAPTER XXXVI The Glory and the Dream 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. "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. 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!" "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?" 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. Addresses were given, essays read, songs sung, the public award of diplomas, prizes and medals made. Matthew and Marilla were there, with eyes and ears for only one student on the platform--a tall girl in pale green, 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. 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. 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, 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. 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. "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, 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." 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? 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. "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, but old Mr. Abbey was a great friend of father s and he d always banked with him. 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." "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." 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. "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." "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 was a girl--my girl--my girl that I m proud of." 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. 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 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 12 41 (Tue)
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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)
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CHAPTER XVII UP CHAPTER XIX CHAPTER XVIII Anne to the Rescue ALL things great are wound up with all things little. At first glance it might not seem that the decision of a certain Canadian Premier to include Prince Edward Island in a political tour could have much or anything to do with the fortunes of little Anne Shirley at Green Gables. But it had. It was a January the Premier came, to address his loyal supporters and such of his nonsupporters as chose to be present at the monster mass meeting held in Charlottetown. Most of the Avonlea people were on Premier s side of politics; hence on the night of the meeting nearly all the men and a goodly proportion of the women had gone to town thirty miles away. Mrs. Rachel Lynde had gone too. Mrs. Rachel Lynde was a red-hot politician and couldn t have believed that the political rally could be carried through without her, although she was on the opposite side of politics. So she went to town and took her husband--Thomas would be useful in looking after the horse--and Marilla Cuthbert with her. Marilla had a sneaking interest in politics herself, and as she thought it might be her only chance to see a real live Premier, she promptly took it, leaving Anne and Matthew to keep house until her return the following day. Hence, while Marilla and Mrs. Rachel were enjoying themselves hugely at the mass meeting, Anne and Matthew had the cheerful kitchen at Green Gables all to themselves. A bright fire was glowing in the old-fashioned Waterloo stove and blue-white frost crystals were shining on the windowpanes. Matthew nodded over a FARMERS ADVOCATE on the sofa and Anne at the table studied her lessons with grim determination, despite sundry wistful glances at the clock shelf, where lay a new book that Jane Andrews had lent her that day. Jane had assured her that it was warranted to produce any number of thrills, or words to that effect, and Anne s fingers tingled to reach out for it. But that would mean Gilbert Blythe s triumph on the morrow. Anne turned her back on the clock shelf and tried to imagine it wasn t there. "Matthew, did you ever study geometry when you went to school?" "Well now, no, I didn t," said Matthew, coming out of his doze with a start. "I wish you had," sighed Anne, "because then you d be able to sympathize with me. You can t sympathize properly if you ve never studied it. It is casting a cloud over my whole life. I m such a dunce at it, Matthew." "Well now, I dunno," said Matthew soothingly. "I guess you re all right at anything. Mr. Phillips told me last week in Blair s store at Carmody that you was the smartest scholar in school and was making rapid progress. `Rapid progress was his very words. There s them as runs down Teddy Phillips and says he ain t much of a teacher, but I guess he s all right." Matthew would have thought anyone who praised Anne was "all right." "I m sure I d get on better with geometry if only he wouldn t change the letters," complained Anne. "I learn the proposition off by heart and then he draws it on the blackboard and puts different letters from what are in the book and I get all mixed up. I don t think a teacher should take such a mean advantage, do you? We re studying agriculture now and I ve found out at last what makes the roads red. It s a great comfort. I wonder how Marilla and Mrs. Lynde are enjoying themselves. Mrs. Lynde says Canada is going to the dogs the way things are being run at Ottawa and that it s an awful warning to the electors. She says if women were allowed to vote we would soon see a blessed change. What way do you vote, Matthew?" "Conservative," said Matthew promptly. To vote Conservative was part of Matthew s religion. "Then I m Conservative too," said Anne decidedly. "I m glad because Gil--because some of the boys in school are Grits. I guess Mr. Phillips is a Grit too because Prissy Andrews s father is one, and Ruby Gillis says that when a man is courting he always has to agree with the girl s mother in religion and her father in politics. Is that true, Matthew?" "Well now, I dunno," said Matthew. "Did you ever go courting, Matthew?" "Well now, no, I dunno s I ever did," said Matthew, who had certainly never thought of such a thing in his whole existence. Anne reflected with her chin in her hands. "It must be rather interesting, don t you think, Matthew? Ruby Gillis says when she grows up she s going to have ever so many beaus on the string and have them all crazy about her; but I think that would be too exciting. I d rather have just one in his right mind. But Ruby Gillis knows a great deal about such matters because she has so many big sisters, and Mrs. Lynde says the Gillis girls have gone off like hot cakes. Mr. Phillips goes up to see Prissy Andrews nearly every evening. He says it is to help her with her lessons but Miranda Sloane is studying for Queen s too, and I should think she needed help a lot more than Prissy because she s ever so much stupider, but he never goes to help her in the evenings at all. There are a great many things in this world that I can t understand very well, Matthew." "Well now, I dunno as I comprehend them all myself," acknowledged Matthew. "Well, I suppose I must finish up my lessons. I won t allow myself to open that new book Jane lent me until I m through. But it s a terrible temptation, Matthew. Even when I turn my back on it I can see it there just as plain. Jane said she cried herself sick over it. I love a book that makes me cry. But I think I ll carry that book into the sitting room and lock it in the jam closet and give you the key. And you must NOT give it to me, Matthew, until my lessons are done, not even if I implore you on my bended knees. It s all very well to say resist temptation, but it s ever so much easier to resist it if you can t get the key. And then shall I run down the cellar and get some russets, Matthew? Wouldn t you like some russets?" "Well now, I dunno but what I would," said Matthew, who never ate russets but knew Anne s weakness for them. Just as Anne emerged triumphantly from the cellar with her plateful of russets came the sound of flying footsteps on the icy board walk outside and the next moment the kitchen door was flung open and in rushed Diana Barry, white faced and breathless, with a shawl wrapped hastily around her head. Anne promptly let go of her candle and plate in her surprise, and plate, candle, and apples crashed together down the cellar ladder and were found at the bottom embedded in melted grease, the next day, by Marilla, who gathered them up and thanked mercy the house hadn t been set on fire. "Whatever is the matter, Diana?" cried Anne. "Has your mother relented at last?" "Oh, Anne, do come quick," implored Diana nervously. "Minnie May is awful sick--she s got croup. Young Mary Joe says--and Father and Mother are away to town and there s nobody to go for the doctor. Minnie May is awful bad and Young Mary Joe doesn t know what to do--and oh, Anne, I m so scared!" Matthew, without a word, reached out for cap and coat, slipped past Diana and away into the darkness of the yard. "He s gone to harness the sorrel mare to go to Carmody for the doctor," said Anne, who was hurrying on hood and jacket. "I know it as well as if he d said so. Matthew and I are such kindred spirits I can read his thoughts without words at all." "I don t believe he ll find the doctor at Carmody," sobbed Diana. "I know that Dr. Blair went to town and I guess Dr. Spencer would go too. Young Mary Joe never saw anybody with croup and Mrs. Lynde is away. Oh, Anne!" "Don t cry, Di," said Anne cheerily. "I know exactly what to do for croup. You forget that Mrs. Hammond had twins three times. When you look after three pairs of twins you naturally get a lot of experience. They all had croup regularly. Just wait till I get the ipecac bottle--you mayn t have any at your house. Come on now." The two little girls hastened out hand in hand and hurried through Lover s Lane and across the crusted field beyond, for the snow was too deep to go by the shorter wood way. Anne, although sincerely sorry for Minnie May, was far from being insensible to the romance of the situation and to the sweetness of once more sharing that romance with a kindred spirit. The night was clear and frosty, all ebony of shadow and silver of snowy slope; big stars were shining over the silent fields; here and there the dark pointed firs stood up with snow powdering their branches and the wind whistling through them. Anne thought it was truly delightful to go skimming through all this mystery and loveliness with your bosom friend who had been so long estranged. Minnie May, aged three, was really very sick. She lay on the kitchen sofa feverish and restless, while her hoarse breathing could be heard all over the house. Young Mary Joe, a buxom, broad-faced French girl from the creek, whom Mrs. Barry had engaged to stay with the children during her absence, was helpless and bewildered, quite incapable of thinking what to do, or doing it if she thought of it. Anne went to work with skill and promptness. "Minnie May has croup all right; she s pretty bad, but I ve seen them worse. First we must have lots of hot water. I declare, Diana, there isn t more than a cupful in the kettle! There, I ve filled it up, and, Mary Joe, you may put some wood in the stove. I don t want to hurt your feelings but it seems to me you might have thought of this before if you d any imagination. Now, I ll undress Minnie May and put her to bed and you try to find some soft flannel cloths, Diana. I m going to give her a dose of ipecac first of all." Minnie May did not take kindly to the ipecac but Anne had not brought up three pairs of twins for nothing. Down that ipecac went, not only once, but many times during the long, anxious night when the two little girls worked patiently over the suffering Minnie May, and Young Mary Joe, honestly anxious to do all she could, kept up a roaring fire and heated more water than would have been needed for a hospital of croupy babies. It was three o clock when Matthew came with a doctor, for he had been obliged to go all the way to Spencervale for one. But the pressing need for assistance was past. Minnie May was much better and was sleeping soundly. "I was awfully near giving up in despair," explained Anne. "She got worse and worse until she was sicker than ever the Hammond twins were, even the last pair. I actually thought she was going to choke to death. I gave her every drop of ipecac in that bottle and when the last dose went down I said to myself--not to Diana or Young Mary Joe, because I didn t want to worry them any more than they were worried, but I had to say it to myself just to relieve my feelings--`This is the last lingering hope and I fear, tis a vain one. But in about three minutes she coughed up the phlegm and began to get better right away. You must just imagine my relief, doctor, because I can t express it in words. You know there are some things that cannot be expressed in words." "Yes, I know," nodded the doctor. He looked at Anne as if he were thinking some things about her that couldn t be expressed in words. Later on, however, he expressed them to Mr. and Mrs. Barry. "That little redheaded girl they have over at Cuthbert s is as smart as they make em. I tell you she saved that baby s life, for it would have been too late by the time I got there. She seems to have a skill and presence of mind perfectly wonderful in a child of her age. I never saw anything like the eyes of her when she was explaining the case to me." Anne had gone home in the wonderful, white-frosted winter morning, heavy eyed from loss of sleep, but still talking unweariedly to Matthew as they crossed the long white field and walked under the glittering fairy arch of the Lover s Lane maples. "Oh, Matthew, isn t it a wonderful morning? The world looks like something God had just imagined for His own pleasure, doesn t it? Those trees look as if I could blow them away with a breath--pouf! I m so glad I live in a world where there are white frosts, aren t you? And I m so glad Mrs. Hammond had three pairs of twins after all. If she hadn t I mightn t have known what to do for Minnie May. I m real sorry I was ever cross with Mrs. Hammond for having twins. But, oh, Matthew, I m so sleepy. I can t go to school. I just know I couldn t keep my eyes open and I d be so stupid. But I hate to stay home, for Gil--some of the others will get head of the class, and it s so hard to get up again--although of course the harder it is the more satisfaction you have when you do get up, haven t you?" "Well now, I guess you ll manage all right," said Matthew, looking at Anne s white little face and the dark shadows under her eyes. "You just go right to bed and have a good sleep. I ll do all the chores." Anne accordingly went to bed and slept so long and soundly that it was well on in the white and rosy winter afternoon when she awoke and descended to the kitchen where Marilla, who had arrived home in the meantime, was sitting knitting. "Oh, did you see the Premier?" exclaimed Anne at once. "What did he look like Marilla?" "Well, he never got to be Premier on account of his looks," said Marilla. "Such a nose as that man had! But he can speak. I was proud of being a Conservative. Rachel Lynde, of course, being a Liberal, had no use for him. Your dinner is in the oven, Anne, and you can get yourself some blue plum preserve out of the pantry. I guess you re hungry. Matthew has been telling me about last night. I must say it was fortunate you knew what to do. I wouldn t have had any idea myself, for I never saw a case of croup. There now, never mind talking till you ve had your dinner. I can tell by the look of you that you re just full up with speeches, but they ll keep." Marilla had something to tell Anne, but she did not tell it just then for she knew if she did Anne s consequent excitement would lift her clear out of the region of such material matters as appetite or dinner. Not until Anne had finished her saucer of blue plums did Marilla say "Mrs. Barry was here this afternoon, Anne. She wanted to see you, but I wouldn t wake you up. She says you saved Minnie May s life, and she is very sorry she acted as she did in that affair of the currant wine. She says she knows now you didn t mean to set Diana drunk, and she hopes you ll forgive her and be good friends with Diana again. You re to go over this evening if you like for Diana can t stir outside the door on account of a bad cold she caught last night. Now, Anne Shirley, for pity s sake don t fly up into the air." The warning seemed not unnecessary, so uplifted and aerial was Anne s expression and attitude as she sprang to her feet, her face irradiated with the flame of her spirit. "Oh, Marilla, can I go right now--without washing my dishes? I ll wash them when I come back, but I cannot tie myself down to anything so unromantic as dishwashing at this thrilling moment." "Yes, yes, run along," said Marilla indulgently. "Anne Shirley--are you crazy? Come back this instant and put something on you. I might as well call to the wind. She s gone without a cap or wrap. Look at her tearing through the orchard with her hair streaming. It ll be a mercy if she doesn t catch her death of cold." Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places. Afar in the southwest was the great shimmering, pearl-like sparkle of an evening star in a sky that was pale golden and ethereal rose over gleaming white spaces and dark glens of spruce. The tinkles of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their music was not sweeter than the song in Anne s heart and on her lips. "You see before you a perfectly happy person, Marilla," she announced. "I m perfectly happy--yes, in spite of my red hair. Just at present I have a soul above red hair. Mrs. Barry kissed me and cried and said she was so sorry and she could never repay me. I felt fearfully embarrassed, Marilla, but I just said as politely as I could, `I have no hard feelings for you, Mrs. Barry. I assure you once for all that I did not mean to intoxicate Diana and henceforth I shall cover the past with the mantle of oblivion. That was a pretty dignified way of speaking wasn t it, Marilla?" "I felt that I was heaping coals of fire on Mrs. Barry s head. And Diana and I had a lovely afternoon. Diana showed me a new fancy crochet stitch her aunt over at Carmody taught her. Not a soul in Avonlea knows it but us, and we pledged a solemn vow never to reveal it to anyone else. Diana gave me a beautiful card with a wreath of roses on it and a verse of poetry "If you love me as I love you Nothing but death can part us two. And that is true, Marilla. We re going to ask Mr. Phillips to let us sit together in school again, and Gertie Pye can go with Minnie Andrews. We had an elegant tea. Mrs. Barry had the very best china set out, Marilla, just as if I was real company. I can t tell you what a thrill it gave me. Nobody ever used their very best china on my account before. And we had fruit cake and pound cake and doughnuts and two kinds of preserves, Marilla. And Mrs. Barry asked me if I took tea and said `Pa, why don t you pass the biscuits to Anne? It must be lovely to be grown up, Marilla, when just being treated as if you were is so nice." "I don t know about that," said Marilla, with a brief sigh. "Well, anyway, when I am grown up," said Anne decidedly, "I m always going to talk to little girls as if they were too, and I ll never laugh when they use big words. I know from sorrowful experience how that hurts one s feelings. After tea Diana and I made taffy. The taffy wasn t very good, I suppose because neither Diana nor I had ever made any before. Diana left me to stir it while she buttered the plates and I forgot and let it burn; and then when we set it out on the platform to cool the cat walked over one plate and that had to be thrown away. But the making of it was splendid fun. Then when I came home Mrs. Barry asked me to come over as often as I could and Diana stood at the window and threw kisses to me all the way down to Lover s Lane. I assure you, Marilla, that I feel like praying tonight and I m going to think out a special brand-new prayer in honor of the occasion." CHAPTER XVII UP CHAPTER XIX 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 23 23 (Tue)
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CHAPTER XXX UP CHAPTER XXXII CHAPTER XXXI Where the Brook and River Meet 「Where the Brook and River Meet」松本訳注第31章(1) p. 522参照 第31章 小川と河が出会うところ（松本訳） Anne had her "good" summer and enjoyed it wholeheartedly. She and Diana fairly lived outdoors, reveling in all the delights that Lover s Lane and the Dryad s Bubble and Willowmere and Victoria Island afforded. Marilla offered no objections to Anne s gypsyings. 「gypsyings」昨今のPCでは使えませんね、もう。PC Politically Correctness The Spencervale doctor who had come the night Minnie May had the croup met Anne at the house of a patient one afternoon early in vacation, looked her over sharply, screwed up his mouth, shook his head, and sent a message to Marilla Cuthbert by another person. It was "Keep that redheaded girl of yours in the open air all summer and don t let her read books until she gets more spring into her step." 「spring」ばね。でも、もちろん、春とも同じ単語。青春時代という意味もある。ということは、「もう少し、青春時代（というか思春期というか）に彼女の足取りを進める」というような意味あいが込められていたりするのではないか、と勘繰ってしまう。文法的には違うかもしれませんけど…… This message frightened Marilla wholesomely. She read Anne s death warrant by consumption in it unless it was scrupulously obeyed. As a result, Anne had the golden summer of her life as far as freedom and frolic went. She walked, rowed, berried, and dreamed to her heart s content; 「berried」動詞！プリンスエドワード島の夏には、どんなベリーの類が採れるんでしょう？松本訳では「スグリや木苺（ラズベリー）」となっています（p. 361） and when September came she was bright-eyed and alert, with a step that would have satisfied the Spencervale doctor and a heart full of ambition and zest once more. "I feel just like studying with might and main," 「with might and main」成句：全力を尽して。mightもmainも力。ニュアンスがちょっとわかりません…… Merrian-Webster On Lineによると、might = power (the power, energy, or intensity of which one is capable)、main = force (physical strength)ということなので、mightが湧きでる力で、mainは体力に近いのでしょうか she declared as she brought her books down from the attic. 「attic」はアンの部屋じゃなくて、別にある屋根裏部屋かもしれない、とここを読んで思いました "Oh, you good old friends, I m glad to see your honest faces once more--yes, even you, geometry. I ve had a perfectly beautiful summer, Marilla, and now I m rejoicing as a strong man to run a race, 「now I m rejoicing as a strong man to run a race」松本訳注第31章(2) p. 523参照 as Mr. Allan said last Sunday. Doesn t Mr. Allan preach magnificent sermons? Mrs. Lynde says he is improving every day and the first thing we know some city church will gobble him up 「gobble」がつがつ食う。なので、upが付くのね…… and then we ll be left and have to turn to and break in another green preacher. 「green」青二才、うぶな But I don t see the use of meeting trouble halfway, do you, Marilla? I think it would be better just to enjoy Mr. Allan while we have him. If I were a man I think I d be a minister. They can have such an influence for good, if their theology is sound; and it must be thrilling to preach splendid sermons and stir your hearers hearts. Why can t women be ministers, Marilla? 「Why can t women be ministers, Marilla?」松本訳注第31章(3) p. 523参照 I asked Mrs. Lynde that and she was shocked and said it would be a scandalous thing. She said there might be female ministers in the States and she believed there was, but thank goodness we hadn t got to that stage in Canada yet and she hoped we never would. But I don t see why. I think women would make splendid ministers. When there is a social to be got up or a church tea or anything else to raise money the women have to turn to and do the work. I m sure Mrs. Lynde can pray every bit as well as Superintendent Bell and I ve no doubt she could preach too with a little practice." "Yes, I believe she could," said Marilla dryly. "She does plenty of unofficial preaching as it is. Nobody has much of a chance to go wrong in Avonlea with Rachel to oversee them." 小川でさえも for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde s door without due regard for decency and decorum という第1章のはじめのパラグラフを思い出すCHAPTER I with impression Mrs. Rachel Lynde is Surprised "Marilla," said Anne in a burst of confidence, "I want to tell you something and ask you what you think about it. It has worried me terribly--on Sunday afternoons, that is, when I think specially about such matters. I do really want to be good; and when I m with you or Mrs. Allan or Miss Stacy 「you」はっきり言いますねえ、アン I want it more than ever and I want to do just what would please you and what you would approve of. But mostly when I m with Mrs. Lynde I feel desperately wicked and as if I wanted to go and do the very thing she tells me I oughtn t to do. I feel irresistibly tempted to do it. Now, what do you think is the reason I feel like that? Do you think it s because I m really bad and unregenerate?" 「unregenerate」更生（改宗）しない；罪深い；強情な。これはbig wordではない？ Marilla looked dubious for a moment. Then she laughed. "If you are I guess I am too, Anne, for Rachel often has that very effect on me. I sometimes think she d have more of an influence for good, as you say yourself, if she didn t keep nagging people to do right. There should have been a special commandment against nagging. 「commandment」戒律 But there, I shouldn t talk so. Rachel is a good Christian woman and she means well. 「mean」重要である。こんな意味もあっただなんて…… There isn t a kinder soul in Avonlea 「kinder」= kind of やや、ちょっと、どちらかというと and she never shirks her share of work." "I m very glad you feel the same," said Anne decidedly. "It s so encouraging. I shan t worry so much over that after this. But I dare say there ll be other things to worry me. They keep coming up new all the time--things to perplex you, you know. 「perplex you, you know」はじめのyouは一般の人を指すyouで、後のyouは、そういうふうに解釈もできるでしょうけど、you knowで相槌の「ね」（関西なら「やんか」かしら？） You settle one question and there s another right after. There are so many things to be thought over and decided when you re beginning to grow up. It keeps me busy all the time thinking them over and deciding what is right. It s a serious thing to grow up, isn t it, Marilla? But when I have such good friends as you and Matthew and Mrs. Allan and Miss Stacy I ought to grow up successfully, and I m sure it will be my own fault if I don t. I feel it s a great responsibility because I have only the one chance. If I don t grow up right I can t go back and begin over again. I ve grown two inches this summer, Marilla. いつと比べて2インチ伸びたんでしょう？夏休みが終わったあとのこのおしゃべりの文脈では、夏の2ヶ月で2インチ伸びたという意味かと思っていたのですが、よく考えると、ルビーの誕生会は夏休みに入ってすぐにあったので（「Ruby Gillis is going to have a birthday party soon」と先学期の終了日にマリラに話しているCHAPTER XXX with impression The Queens Class Is Organized）、これは、この夏に測ってもらったら、去年に比べて2インチも伸びたと言っている、と解釈するほうがいいのかもしれません。でも、それなら2インチ（約5センチ）伸びでもあまり自慢にならないような気もしますが Mr. Gillis measured me at Ruby s party. I m so glad you made my new dresses longer. That dark-green one is so pretty and it was sweet of you to put on the flounce. 「flounce」松本訳注第31章(4) p. 523参照 Of course I know it wasn t really necessary, but flounces are so stylish this fall and Josie Pye has flounces on all her dresses. I know I ll be able to study better because of mine. I shall have such a comfortable feeling deep down in my mind about that flounce." "It s worth something to have that," admitted Marilla. ここまでが、かばんを開けて教科書を出してきた日の会話（8月の終わりか9月のはじめ） Miss Stacy came back to Avonlea school and found all her pupils eager for work once more. Especially did the Queen s class gird up their loins for the fray, 「gird up one s loins」しっかり帯を締める → 準備する 「gird up their loins」松本訳注第31章(5) p. 523参照 for at the end of the coming year, dimly shadowing their pathway already, loomed up that fateful thing known as "the Entrance," at the thought of which one and all felt their hearts sink into their very shoes. 英語では、心臓が靴の中に沈み込むほど、と感じるようですね。日本語ではどうなるんでしょう……。考えると、心臓が締めつけられる、とか、どきどきする、とか、かしら Suppose they did not pass! That thought was doomed to haunt Anne through the waking hours of that winter, Sunday afternoons inclusive, to the almost entire exclusion of moral and theological problems. 「... inclusive, to ... exclusion of」意味が逆のコトバをすぐ近くに置いてめりはりをつけている。意味が逆でも発音に似ているところがあるから、たぶん耳で聞いても心地よいに違いありません 「to the exclusion of」～を除外してしまうほど。アンにとって、日曜学校での道徳や教義の問題はかなり重要であったことが逆にわかる When Anne had bad dreams she found herself staring miserably at pass lists of the Entrance exams, where Gilbert Blythe s name was blazoned at the top and in which hers did not appear at all. But it was a jolly, busy, happy swift-flying winter. Schoolwork was as interesting, class rivalry as absorbing, as of yore. New worlds of thought, feeling, and ambition, fresh, fascinating fields of unexplored knowledge seemed to be opening out before Anne s eager eyes. "Hills peeped o er hill and Alps on Alps arose." 「Hills peeped o er hill and Alps on Alps arose.」松本訳注第31章(6) p. 523参照 Much of all this was due to Miss Stacy s tactful, careful, broadminded guidance. She led her class to think and explore and discover for themselves and encouraged straying from the old beaten paths to a degree that quite shocked Mrs. Lynde and the school trustees, who viewed all innovations on established methods rather dubiously. このあたりのMiss Stacyの教育方法には、モードの教育観が出ているように思える Apart from her studies Anne expanded socially, for Marilla, mindful of the Spencervale doctor s dictum, no longer vetoed occasional outings. ここで、マリラがアンに許している行動は「a little girl」に対するものではなくなっている The Debating Club flourished and gave several concerts; there were one or two parties almost verging on grown-up affairs; there were sleigh drives and skating frolics galore. ここまでが、9月の新学期から真冬までのアンの学校と放課後 Betweentimes Anne grew, shooting up so rapidly that Marilla was astonished one day, when they were standing side by side, to find the girl was taller than herself. "Why, Anne, how you ve grown!" she said, almost unbelievingly. A sigh followed on the words. Marilla felt a queer regret over Anne s inches. The child she had learned to love had vanished somehow and here was this tall, serious-eyed girl of fifteen, 15歳。ということは、3月の誕生日を過ぎた後。しかし、［つづきは下へ］ with the thoughtful brows and the proudly poised little head, in her place. Marilla loved the girl as much as she had loved the child, but she was conscious of a queer sorrowful sense of loss. And that night, when Anne had gone to prayer meeting with Diana, Marilla sat alone in the wintry twilight and indulged in the weakness of a cry. ［上からのつづき］「wintry」= wintery。なので、まだ寒い日のできごと。アンの3月の誕生日は、まだ、冬といっていいときなので（13歳の誕生日は雪がある CHAPTER XXVI with impression The Story Club Is Formed ）、矛盾はしない。3月の下旬か4月上旬と考えるのが自然かしら Matthew, coming in with a lantern, caught her at it and gazed at her in such consternation that Marilla had to laugh through her tears. "I was thinking about Anne," she explained. "She s got to be such a big girl-- 「such a big girl」little girlではなくなった and she ll probably be away from us next winter. I ll miss her terrible." "She ll be able to come home often," comforted Matthew, to whom Anne was as yet and always would be the little, eager girl he had brought home from Bright River on that June evening four years before. "The branch railroad will be built to Carmody by that time." 「The branch railroad will be built to Carmody by that time.」松本訳注第31章(7) p. 524参照 "It won t be the same thing as having her here all the time," sighed Marilla gloomily, determined to enjoy her luxury of grief uncomforted. "But there--men can t understand these things!" モードは、まだ独身 ここまでが、アンの誕生日が過ぎた晩冬。日本の季節なら春 There were other changes in Anne no less real than the physical change. 「There were other changes in Anne no less real than the physical change.」松本訳注第31章(8) p. 524参照 For one thing, she became much quieter. Perhaps she thought all the more and dreamed as much as ever, but she certainly talked less. Marilla noticed and commented on this also. "You don t chatter half as much as you used to, Anne, nor use half as many big words. What has come over you?" 以下の会話でもアンはpage-longというほど話さない。この章のはじめは長く話しているのと対照的（「I feel just like studying with might and main」からはじまるおしゃべりは、まだ、長いし、コトバがコトバを生むおしゃべりになっている） Anne colored and laughed a little, 「colored and laughed a little」こういう細かな描写がアンの成長を表わしてもいる as she dropped her book and looked dreamily out of the window, where big fat red buds were bursting out on the creeper in response to the lure of the spring sunshine. "I don t know--I don t want to talk as much," she said, denting her chin thoughtfully with her forefinger. "It s nicer to think dear, pretty thoughts and keep them in one s heart, like treasures. I don t like to have them laughed at or wondered over. And somehow I don t want to use big words any more. It s almost a pity, isn t it, now that I m really growing big enough to say them if I did want to. It s fun to be almost grown up in some ways, but it s not the kind of fun I expected, Marilla. 「I m always going to talk to little girls as if they were too, and I ll never laugh when they use big words.」とCHAPTER XVIII with impression? Anne to the Rescue でアンが言っているように、big wordsを使う子供はいるかもしれないけれども、やっぱり大人も使わない There s so much to learn and do and think that there isn t time for big words. Besides, Miss Stacy says the short ones are much stronger and better. She makes us write all our essays as simply as possible. ステイシー先生の言葉を借りて、モードの言語観（というか常識）が述べられている。しかし、この Anne of Green Gables を書き、アンに big words をいっぱいしゃべらせて、モードの抑えている非常識的な部分を、自由に表現したに違いない It was hard at first. I was so used to crowding in all the fine big words I could think of--and I thought of any number of them. But I ve got used to it now and I see it s so much better." "What has become of your story club? I haven t heard you speak of it for a long time." 事件だったり出来事だったりを思い出させ、また、きちんと回答を用意するところ、モードの性格が出ているのかもしれません。だからこそ、アンのやらかした（ちょっとはちゃめちゃな）ことが、より面白いエピソードとなるのかもしれません "The story club isn t in existence any longer. We hadn t time for it--and anyhow I think we had got tired of it. It was silly to be writing about love and murder and elopements and mysteries. Miss Stacy sometimes has us write a story for training in composition, but she won t let us write anything but what might happen in Avonlea in our own lives, and she criticizes it very sharply and makes us criticize our own too. I never thought my compositions had so many faults until I began to look for them myself. I felt so ashamed I wanted to give up altogether, but Miss Stacy said I could learn to write well if I only trained myself to be my own severest critic. And so I am trying to." アヴォンリーでありそうなことを物語にする。まさに、これがこの「赤毛のアン」。恋愛や殺人、駆け落ち、秘密といったことは大っぴらにはない。しかし、アンには big words をたくさん話させ、アヴォンリーではありえそうもないお話を劇中劇のように作らせ、単純明快ではない恋愛の微妙な気持ちや、小さな秘密をたくさん書き込んでいる。 2007年7月29日追記 "You ve only two more months before the Entrance," said Marilla. 試験は7月のはじめなので、この会話は5月とわかる。moreは、あと、とか、さらに、とか、そんな追加があるよと強める意味でしかないので、だいたい2ヶ月ということでしょう "Do you think you ll be able to get through?" Anne shivered. "I don t know. Sometimes I think I ll be all right--and then I get horribly afraid. We ve studied hard and Miss Stacy has drilled us thoroughly, but we mayn t get through for all that. We ve each got a stumbling block. Mine is geometry of course, and Jane s is Latin, and Ruby and Charlie s is algebra, and Josie s is arithmetic. Moody Spurgeon says he feels it in his bones that he is going to fail in English history. 英国史！ もちろんカナダにとって重要なのはわかります Miss Stacy is going to give us examinations in June just as hard as we ll have at the Entrance and mark us just as strictly, so we ll have some idea. I wish it was all over, Marilla. It haunts me. Sometimes I wake up in the night and wonder what I ll do if I don t pass." "Why, go to school next year and try again," said Marilla unconcernedly. 「unconcernedly」おとなはちょっと冷たい反応をしがち。それが逆に心配させない方向に働くこともあるのですが "Oh, I don t believe I d have the heart for it. It would be such a disgrace to fail, especially if Gil--if the others passed. And I get so nervous in an examination that I m likely to make a mess of it. I wish I had nerves like Jane Andrews. Nothing rattles her." Anne sighed and, dragging her eyes from the witcheries of the spring world, 「witcheries」（女性の）魅力。春は英語では女性とみなされる？ the beckoning day of breeze and blue, 「blue」青空 and the green things upspringing in the garden, 「upspring」わきあがる。なんだかんだとこの章では、springの単語をモチーフにして話がすすんでいるようです buried herself resolutely in her book. There would be other springs, but if she did not succeed in passing the Entrance, Anne felt convinced that she would never recover sufficiently to enjoy them. ここまでが、5月の会話 ということで、ほぼ1年があっという間に過ぎた1章 CHAPTER XXX UP CHAPTER XXXII 21 22 July 2007 29 July 2007 追記 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 21 July 2007 last update 2007-07-29 22 42 48 (Sun)
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CHAPTER V UP CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VI Marilla Makes Up Her Mind Get there they did, however, in due season. Mrs. Spencer lived in a big yellow house at White Sands Cove, and she came to the door with surprise and welcome mingled on her benevolent face. "Dear, dear," she exclaimed, "you re the last folks I was looking for today, but I m real glad to see you. You ll put your horse in? And how are you, Anne?" "I m as well as can be expected, thank you," said Anne smilelessly. A blight seemed to have descended on her. "I suppose we ll stay a little while to rest the mare," said Marilla, "but I promised Matthew I d be home early. The fact is, Mrs. Spencer, there s been a queer mistake somewhere, and I ve come over to see where it is. We send word, Matthew and I, for you to bring us a boy from the asylum. We told your brother Robert to tell you we wanted a boy ten or eleven years old." "Marilla Cuthbert, you don t say so!" said Mrs. Spencer in distress. "Why, Robert sent word down by his daughter Nancy and she said you wanted a girl--didn t she Flora Jane?" appealing to her daughter who had come out to the steps. "She certainly did, Miss Cuthbert," corroborated Flora Jane earnestly. "I m dreadful sorry," said Mrs. Spencer. "It s too bad; but it certainly wasn t my fault, you see, Miss Cuthbert. I did the best I could and I thought I was following your instructions. Nancy is a terrible flighty thing. I ve often had to scold her well for her heedlessness." "It was our own fault," said Marilla resignedly. "We should have come to you ourselves and not left an important message to be passed along by word of mouth in that fashion. Anyhow, the mistake has been made and the only thing to do is to set it right. Can we send the child back to the asylum? I suppose they ll take her back, won t they?" "I suppose so," said Mrs. Spencer thoughtfully, "but I don t think it will be necessary to send her back. Mrs. Peter Blewett was up here yesterday, and she was saying to me how much she wished she d sent by me for a little girl to help her. Mrs. Peter has a large family, you know, and she finds it hard to get help. Anne will be the very girl for you. I call it positively providential." Marilla did not look as if she thought Providence had much to do with the matter. Here was an unexpectedly good chance to get this unwelcome orphan off her hands, and she did not even feel grateful for it. She knew Mrs. Peter Blewett only by sight as a small, shrewish-faced woman without an ounce of superfluous flesh on her bones. But she had heard of her. "A terrible worker and driver," Mrs. Peter was said to be; and discharged servant girls told fearsome tales of her temper and stinginess, and her family of pert, quarrelsome children. Marilla felt a qualm of conscience at the thought of handing Anne over to her tender mercies. "Well, I ll go in and we ll talk the matter over," she said. "And if there isn t Mrs. Peter coming up the lane this blessed minute!" exclaimed Mrs. Spencer, bustling her guests through the hall into the parlor, where a deadly chill struck on them as if the air had been strained so long through dark green, closely drawn blinds that it had lost every particle of warmth it had ever possessed. "That is real lucky, for we can settle the matter right away. Take the armchair, Miss Cuthbert. Anne, you sit here on the ottoman and don t wiggle. Let me take your hats. Flora Jane, go out and put the kettle on. Good afternoon, Mrs. Blewett. We were just saying how fortunate it was you happened along. Let me introduce you two ladies. Mrs. Blewett, Miss Cuthbert. Please excuse me for just a moment. I forgot to tell Flora Jane to take the buns out of the oven." Mrs. Spencer whisked away, after pulling up the blinds. Anne sitting mutely on the ottoman, with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, stared at Mrs Blewett as one fascinated. Was she to be given into the keeping of this sharp-faced, sharp-eyed woman? She felt a lump coming up in her throat and her eyes smarted painfully. She was beginning to be afraid she couldn t keep the tears back when Mrs. Spencer returned, flushed and beaming, quite capable of taking any and every difficulty, physical, mental or spiritual, into consideration and settling it out of hand. "It seems there s been a mistake about this little girl, Mrs. Blewett," she said. "I was under the impression that Mr. and Miss Cuthbert wanted a little girl to adopt. I was certainly told so. But it seems it was a boy they wanted. So if you re still of the same mind you were yesterday, I think she ll be just the thing for you." Mrs. Blewett darted her eyes over Anne from head to foot. "How old are you and what s your name?" she demanded. "Anne Shirley," faltered the shrinking child, not daring to make any stipulations regarding the spelling thereof, "and I m eleven years old." "Humph! You don t look as if there was much to you. But you re wiry. I don t know but the wiry ones are the best after all. Well, if I take you you ll have to be a good girl, you know--good and smart and respectful. I ll expect you to earn your keep, and no mistake about that. Yes, I suppose I might as well take her off your hands, Miss Cuthbert. The baby s awful fractious, and I m clean worn out attending to him. If you like I can take her right home now." Marilla looked at Anne and softened at sight of the child s pale face with its look of mute misery--the misery of a helpless little creature who finds itself once more caught in the trap from which it had escaped. Marilla felt an uncomfortable conviction that, if she denied the appeal of that look, it would haunt her to her dying day. More- over, she did not fancy Mrs. Blewett. To hand a sensitive, "highstrung" child over to such a woman! No, she could not take the responsibility of doing that! "Well, I don t know," she said slowly. "I didn t say that Matthew and I had absolutely decided that we wouldn t keep her. In fact I may say that Matthew is disposed to keep her. I just came over to find out how the mistake had occurred. I think I d better take her home again and talk it over with Matthew. I feel that I oughtn t to decide on anything without consulting him. If we make up our mind not to keep her we ll bring or send her over to you tomorrow night. If we don t you may know that she is going to stay with us. Will that suit you, Mrs. Blewett?" "I suppose it ll have to," said Mrs. Blewett ungraciously. During Marilla s speech a sunrise had been dawning on Anne s face. First the look of despair faded out; then came a faint flush of hope; here eyes grew deep and bright as morning stars. The child was quite transfigured; and, a moment later, when Mrs. Spencer and Mrs. Blewett went out in quest of a recipe the latter had come to borrow she sprang up and flew across the room to Marilla. "Oh, Miss Cuthbert, did you really say that perhaps you would let me stay at Green Gables?" she said, in a breathless whisper, as if speaking aloud might shatter the glorious possibility. "Did you really say it? Or did I only imagine that you did?" "I think you d better learn to control that imagination of yours, Anne, if you can t distinguish between what is real and what isn t," said Marilla crossly. "Yes, you did hear me say just that and no more. It isn t decided yet and perhaps we will conclude to let Mrs. Blewett take you after all. She certainly needs you much more than I do." "I d rather go back to the asylum than go to live with her," said Anne passionately. "She looks exactly like a--like a gimlet." Marilla smothered a smile under the conviction that Anne must be reproved for such a speech. "A little girl like you should be ashamed of talking so about a lady and a stranger," she said severely. "Go back and sit down quietly and hold your tongue and behave as a good girl should." "I ll try to do and be anything you want me, if you ll only keep me," said Anne, returning meekly to her ottoman. When they arrived back at Green Gables that evening Matthew met them in the lane. Marilla from afar had noted him prowling along it and guessed his motive. She was prepared for the relief she read in his face when he saw that she had at least brought back Anne back with her. But she said nothing, to him, relative to the affair, until they were both out in the yard behind the barn milking the cows. Then she briefly told him Anne s history and the result of the interview with Mrs. Spencer. "I wouldn t give a dog I liked to that Blewett woman," said Matthew with unusual vim. "I don t fancy her style myself," admitted Marilla, "but it s that or keeping her ourselves, Matthew. And since you seem to want her, I suppose I m willing--or have to be. I ve been thinking over the idea until I ve got kind of used to it. It seems a sort of duty. I ve never brought up a child, especially a girl, and I dare say I ll make a terrible mess of it. But I ll do my best. So far as I m concerned, Matthew, she may stay." Matthew s shy face was a glow of delight. "Well now, I reckoned you d come to see it in that light, Marilla," he said. "She s such an interesting little thing." "It d be more to the point if you could say she was a useful little thing," retorted Marilla, "but I ll make it my business to see she s trained to be that. And mind, Matthew, you re not to go interfering with my methods. Perhaps an old maid doesn t know much about bringing up a child, but I guess she knows more than an old bachelor. So you just leave me to manage her. When I fail it ll be time enough to put your oar in." "There, there, Marilla, you can have your own way," said Matthew reassuringly. "Only be as good and kind to her as you can without spoiling her. I kind of think she s one of the sort you can do anything with if you only get her to love you." Marilla sniffed, to express her contempt for Matthew s opinions concerning anything feminine, and walked off to the dairy with the pails. "I won t tell her tonight that she can stay," she reflected, as she strained the milk into the creamers. "She d be so excited that she wouldn t sleep a wink. Marilla Cuthbert, you re fairly in for it. Did you ever suppose you d see the day when you d be adopting an orphan girl? It s surprising enough; but not so surprising as that Matthew should be at the bottom of it, him that always seemed to have such a mortal dread of little girls. Anyhow, we ve decided on the experiment and goodness only knows what will come of it." CHAPTER V UP CHAPTER VII 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 04 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 31 34 (Tue)
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CHAPTER XXVIII UP CHAPTER XXX CHAPTER XXIX An Epoch in Anne s Life Anne was bringing the cows home from the back pasture by way of Lover s Lane. It was a September evening and all the gaps and clearings in the woods were brimmed up with ruby sunset light. Here and there the lane was splashed with it, but for the most part it was already quite shadowy beneath the maples, and the spaces under the firs were filled with a clear violet dusk like airy wine. The winds were out in their tops, and there is no sweeter music on earth than that which the wind makes in the fir trees at evening. The cows swung placidly down the lane, and Anne followed them dreamily, repeating aloud the battle canto from MARMION--which had also been part of their English course the preceding winter and which Miss Stacy had made them learn off by heart--and exulting in its rushing lines and the clash of spears in its imagery. When she came to the lines The stubborn spearsmen still made good Their dark impenetrable wood, she stopped in ecstasy to shut her eyes that she might the better fancy herself one of that heroic ring. When she opened them again it was to behold Diana coming through the gate that led into the Barry field and looking so important that Anne instantly divined there was news to be told. But betray too eager curiosity she would not. "Isn t this evening just like a purple dream, Diana? It makes me so glad to be alive. In the mornings I always think the mornings are best; but when evening comes I think it s lovelier still." "It s a very fine evening," said Diana, "but oh, I have such news, Anne. Guess. You can have three guesses." "Charlotte Gillis is going to be married in the church after all and Mrs. Allan wants us to decorate it," cried Anne. "No. Charlotte s beau won t agree to that, because nobody ever has been married in the church yet, and he thinks it would seem too much like a funeral. It s too mean, because it would be such fun. Guess again." "Jane s mother is going to let her have a birthday party?" Diana shook her head, her black eyes dancing with merriment. "I can t think what it can be," said Anne in despair, "unless it s that Moody Spurgeon MacPherson saw you home from prayer meeting last night. Did he?" "I should think not," exclaimed Diana indignantly. "I wouldn t be likely to boast of it if he did, the horrid creature! I knew you couldn t guess it. Mother had a letter from Aunt Josephine today, and Aunt Josephine wants you and me to go to town next Tuesday and stop with her for the Exhibition. There!" "Oh, Diana," whispered Anne, finding it necessary to lean up against a maple tree for support, "do you really mean it? But I m afraid Marilla won t let me go. She will say that she can t encourage gadding about. That was what she said last week when Jane invited me to go with them in their double-seated buggy to the American concert at the White Sands Hotel. I wanted to go, but Marilla said I d be better at home learning my lessons and so would Jane. I was bitterly disappointed, Diana. I felt so heartbroken that I wouldn t say my prayers when I went to bed. But I repented of that and got up in the middle of the night and said them." "I ll tell you," said Diana, "we ll get Mother to ask Marilla. She ll be more likely to let you go then; and if she does we ll have the time of our lives, Anne. I ve never been to an Exhibition, and it s so aggravating to hear the other girls talking about their trips. Jane and Ruby have been twice, and they re going this year again." "I m not going to think about it at all until I know whether I can go or not," said Anne resolutely. "If I did and then was disappointed, it would be more than I could bear. But in case I do go I m very glad my new coat will be ready by that time. Marilla didn t think I needed a new coat. She said my old one would do very well for another winter and that I ought to be satisfied with having a new dress. The dress is very pretty, Diana--navy blue and made so fashionably. Marilla always makes my dresses fashionably now, because she says she doesn t intend to have Matthew going to Mrs. Lynde to make them. I m so glad. It is ever so much easier to be good if your clothes are fashionable. At least, it is easier for me. I suppose it doesn t make such a difference to naturally good people. But Matthew said I must have a new coat, so Marilla bought a lovely piece of blue broadcloth, and it s being made by a real dressmaker over at Carmody. It s to be done Saturday night, and I m trying not to imagine myself walking up the church aisle on Sunday in my new suit and cap, because I m afraid it isn t right to imagine such things. But it just slips into my mind in spite of me. My cap is so pretty. Matthew bought it for me the day we were over at Carmody. It is one of those little blue velvet ones that are all the rage, with gold cord and tassels. Your new hat is elegant, Diana, and so becoming. When I saw you come into church last Sunday my heart swelled with pride to think you were my dearest friend. Do you suppose it s wrong for us to think so much about our clothes? Marilla says it is very sinful. But it is such an interesting subject, isn t it?" Marilla agreed to let Anne go to town, and it was arranged that Mr. Barry should take the girls in on the following Tuesday. As Charlottetown was thirty miles away and Mr. Barry wished to go and return the same day, it was necessary to make a very early start. But Anne counted it all joy, and was up before sunrise on Tuesday morning. A glance from her window assured her that the day would be fine, for the eastern sky behind the firs of the Haunted Wood was all silvery and cloudless. Through the gap in the trees a light was shining in the western gable of Orchard Slope, a token that Diana was also up. Anne was dressed by the time Matthew had the fire on and had the breakfast ready when Marilla came down, but for her own part was much too excited to eat. After breakfast the jaunty new cap and jacket were donned, and Anne hastened over the brook and up through the firs to Orchard Slope. Mr. Barry and Diana were waiting for her, and they were soon on the road. It was a long drive, but Anne and Diana enjoyed every minute of it. It was delightful to rattle along over the moist roads in the early red sunlight that was creeping across the shorn harvest fields. The air was fresh and crisp, and little smoke-blue mists curled through the valleys and floated off from the hills. Sometimes the road went through woods where maples were beginning to hang out scarlet banners; sometimes it crossed rivers on bridges that made Anne s flesh cringe with the old, half-delightful fear; sometimes it wound along a harbor shore and passed by a little cluster of weather-gray fishing huts; again it mounted to hills whence a far sweep of curving upland or misty-blue sky could be seen; but wherever it went there was much of interest to discuss. It was almost noon when they reached town and found their way to "Beechwood." It was quite a fine old mansion, set back from the street in a seclusion of green elms and branching beeches. Miss Barry met them at the door with a twinkle in her sharp black eyes. "So you ve come to see me at last, you Anne-girl," she said. "Mercy, child, how you have grown! You re taller than I am, I declare. And you re ever so much better looking than you used to be, too. But I dare say you know that without being told." "Indeed I didn t," said Anne radiantly. "I know I m not so freckled as I used to be, so I ve much to be thankful for, but I really hadn t dared to hope there was any other improvement. I m so glad you think there is, Miss Barry." Miss Barry s house was furnished with "great magnificence," as Anne told Marilla afterward. The two little country girls were rather abashed by the splendor of the parlor where Miss Barry left them when she went to see about dinner. "Isn t it just like a palace?" whispered Diana. "I never was in Aunt Josephine s house before, and I d no idea it was so grand. I just wish Julia Bell could see this--she puts on such airs about her mother s parlor." "Velvet carpet," sighed Anne luxuriously, "and silk curtains! I ve dreamed of such things, Diana. But do you know I don t believe I feel very comfortable with them after all. There are so many things in this room and all so splendid that there is no scope for imagination. That is one consolation when you are poor--there are so many more things you can imagine about." Their sojourn in town was something that Anne and Diana dated from for years. From first to last it was crowded with delights. On Wednesday Miss Barry took them to the Exhibition grounds and kept them there all day. "It was splendid," Anne related to Marilla later on. "I never imagined anything so interesting. I don t really know which department was the most interesting. I think I liked the horses and the flowers and the fancywork best. Josie Pye took first prize for knitted lace. I was real glad she did. And I was glad that I felt glad, for it shows I m improving, don t you think, Marilla, when I can rejoice in Josie s success? Mr. Harmon Andrews took second prize for Gravenstein apples and Mr. Bell took first prize for a pig. Diana said she thought it was ridiculous for a Sunday-school superintendent to take a prize in pigs, but I don t see why. Do you? She said she would always think of it after this when he was praying so solemnly. Clara Louise MacPherson took a prize for painting, and Mrs. Lynde got first prize for homemade butter and cheese. So Avonlea was pretty well represented, wasn t it? Mrs. Lynde was there that day, and I never knew how much I really liked her until I saw her familiar face among all those strangers. There were thousands of people there, Marilla. It made me feel dreadfully insignificant. And Miss Barry took us up to the grandstand to see the horse races. Mrs. Lynde wouldn t go; she said horse racing was an abomination and, she being a church member, thought it her bounden duty to set a good example by staying away. But there were so many there I don t believe Mrs. Lynde s absence would ever be noticed. I don t think, though, that I ought to go very often to horse races, because they ARE awfully fascinating. Diana got so excited that she offered to bet me ten cents that the red horse would win. I didn t believe he would, but I refused to bet, because I wanted to tell Mrs. Allan all about everything, and I felt sure it wouldn t do to tell her that. It s always wrong to do anything you can t tell the minister s wife. It s as good as an extra conscience to have a minister s wife for your friend. And I was very glad I didn t bet, because the red horse DID win, and I would have lost ten cents. So you see that virtue was its own reward. We saw a man go up in a balloon. I d love to go up in a balloon, Marilla; it would be simply thrilling; and we saw a man selling fortunes. You paid him ten cents and a little bird picked out your fortune for you. Miss Barry gave Diana and me ten cents each to have our fortunes told. Mine was that I would marry a dark-complected man who was very wealthy, and I would go across water to live. I looked carefully at all the dark men I saw after that, but I didn t care much for any of them, and anyhow I suppose it s too early to be looking out for him yet. Oh, it was a never-to-be-forgotten day, Marilla. I was so tired I couldn t sleep at night. Miss Barry put us in the spare room, according to promise. It was an elegant room, Marilla, but somehow sleeping in a spare room isn t what I used to think it was. That s the worst of growing up, and I m beginning to realize it. The things you wanted so much when you were a child don t seem half so wonderful to you when you get them." Thursday the girls had a drive in the park, and in the evening Miss Barry took them to a concert in the Academy of Music, where a noted prima donna was to sing. To Anne the evening was a glittering vision of delight. "Oh, Marilla, it was beyond description. I was so excited I couldn t even talk, so you may know what it was like. I just sat in enraptured silence. Madame Selitsky was perfectly beautiful, and wore white satin and diamonds. But when she began to sing I never thought about anything else. Oh, I can t tell you how I felt. But it seemed to me that it could never be hard to be good any more. I felt like I do when I look up to the stars. Tears came into my eyes, but, oh, they were such happy tears. I was so sorry when it was all over, and I told Miss Barry I didn t see how I was ever to return to common life again. She said she thought if we went over to the restaurant across the street and had an ice cream it might help me. That sounded so prosaic; but to my surprise I found it true. The ice cream was delicious, Marilla, and it was so lovely and dissipated to be sitting there eating it at eleven o clock at night. Diana said she believed she was born for city life. Miss Barry asked me what my opinion was, but I said I would have to think it over very seriously before I could tell her what I really thought. So I thought it over after I went to bed. That is the best time to think things out. And I came to the conclusion, Marilla, that I wasn t born for city life and that I was glad of it. It s nice to be eating ice cream at brilliant restaurants at eleven o clock at night once in a while; but as a regular thing I d rather be in the east gable at eleven, sound asleep, but kind of knowing even in my sleep that the stars were shining outside and that the wind was blowing in the firs across the brook. I told Miss Barry so at breakfast the next morning and she laughed. Miss Barry generally laughed at anything I said, even when I said the most solemn things. I don t think I liked it, Marilla, because I wasn t trying to be funny. But she is a most hospitable lady and treated us royally." Friday brought going-home time, and Mr. Barry drove in for the girls. "Well, I hope you ve enjoyed yourselves," said Miss Barry, as she bade them good-bye. "Indeed we have," said Diana. "And you, Anne-girl?" "I ve enjoyed every minute of the time," said Anne, throwing her arms impulsively about the old woman s neck and kissing her wrinkled cheek. Diana would never have dared to do such a thing and felt rather aghast at Anne s freedom. But Miss Barry was pleased, and she stood on her veranda and watched the buggy out of sight. Then she went back into her big house with a sigh. It seemed very lonely, lacking those fresh young lives. Miss Barry was a rather selfish old lady, if the truth must be told, and had never cared much for anybody but herself. She valued people only as they were of service to her or amused her. Anne had amused her, and consequently stood high in the old lady s good graces. But Miss Barry found herself thinking less about Anne s quaint speeches than of her fresh enthusiasms, her transparent emotions, her little winning ways, and the sweetness of her eyes and lips. "I thought Marilla Cuthbert was an old fool when I heard she d adopted a girl out of an orphan asylum," she said to herself, "but I guess she didn t make much of a mistake after all. If I d a child like Anne in the house all the time I d be a better and happier woman." Anne and Diana found the drive home as pleasant as the drive in--pleasanter, indeed, since there was the delightful consciousness of home waiting at the end of it. It was sunset when they passed through White Sands and turned into the shore road. Beyond, the Avonlea hills came out darkly against the saffron sky. Behind them the moon was rising out of the sea that grew all radiant and transfigured in her light. Every little cove along the curving road was a marvel of dancing ripples. The waves broke with a soft swish on the rocks below them, and the tang of the sea was in the strong, fresh air. "Oh, but it s good to be alive and to be going home," breathed Anne. When she crossed the log bridge over the brook the kitchen light of Green Gables winked her a friendly welcome back, and through the open door shone the hearth fire, sending out its warm red glow athwart the chilly autumn night. Anne ran blithely up the hill and into the kitchen, where a hot supper was waiting on the table. "So you ve got back?" said Marilla, folding up her knitting. "Yes, and oh, it s so good to be back," said Anne joyously. "I could kiss everything, even to the clock. Marilla, a broiled chicken! You don t mean to say you cooked that for me!" "Yes, I did," said Marilla. "I thought you d be hungry after such a drive and need something real appetizing. Hurry and take off your things, and we ll have supper as soon as Matthew comes in. I m glad you ve got back, I must say. It s been fearful lonesome here without you, and I never put in four longer days." After supper Anne sat before the fire between Matthew and Marilla, and gave them a full account of her visit. "I ve had a splendid time," she concluded happily, "and I feel that it marks an epoch in my life. But the best of it all was the coming home." CHAPTER XXVIII UP CHAPTER XXX 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 19 01 (Tue)
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CHAPTER XXXIV UP UP CHAPTER XXXVI CHAPTER XXXV The Winter at Queen s 第35章 クィーン学院の冬（松本訳） Anne s homesickness wore off, 「wore off」wear off 擦り減らす、徐々になくす／なくなる greatly helped in the wearing by her weekend visits home. 「the wearing by her weekend visits home」名詞のwearingは、疲労／消耗、うんざり； Webster Dictionary, 1913（onelook経由）では、The act of one who wears; the manner in which a thing wears; use; conduct; consumption. ちょっとわかりづらいのですが、「週末いつも帰省したこと」という感じでしょうか。たぶん、すぐ前の wore off と合わせるために、モードは wearing を使ったのでしょう As long as the open weather lasted the Avonlea students went out to Carmody on the new branch railway every Friday night. Diana and several other Avonlea young folks were generally on hand to meet them and they all walked over to Avonlea in a merry party. Anne thought those Friday evening gypsyings over the autumnal hills in the crisp golden air, with the homelights of Avonlea twinkling beyond, were the best and dearest hours in the whole week. Gilbert Blythe nearly always walked with Ruby Gillis and carried her satchel for her. Ruby was a very handsome young lady, now thinking herself quite as grown up as she really was; she wore her skirts as long as her mother would let her and did her hair up in town, though she had to take it down when she went home. She had large, bright-blue eyes, a brilliant complexion, and a plump showy figure. 「plump」辞書には、丸々と太った、ふっくらとした、とあります。あとででてくるように、ルビーは学院一の美人というほどの魅力があるので、丸々と太ったというよりは、ふくよかな、という感じでしょう。思春期の女の子はふっくらするし、箸がころげてもおかしい、というの感じの人も多いので（プリンスエドワード島では箸は使わないでしょうけど） She laughed a great deal, was cheerful and good-tempered, and enjoyed the pleasant things of life frankly. "But I shouldn t think she was the sort of girl Gilbert would like," whispered Jane to Anne. ジェーンには、ルビーはギルバートの好みじゃない、と言わせ…… Anne did not think so either, but she would not have said so for the Avery scholarship. She could not help thinking, too, that it would be very pleasant to have such a friend as Gilbert to jest and chatter with and exchange ideas about books and studies and ambitions. 「books and studies and ambitions」下との対比 Gilbert had ambitions, she knew, and Ruby Gillis did not seem the sort of person with whom such could be profitably discussed. There was no silly sentiment in Anne s ideas concerning Gilbert. Boys were to her, when she thought about them at all, merely possible good comrades. If she and Gilbert had been friends she would not have cared how many other friends he had nor with whom he walked. She had a genius for friendship; 「a genius for friendship」アヴォンリーでもそうでした。CHAPTER XVII with impression? A New Interest in Life では、 Anne was welcomed back to school with open arms... と「登校拒否」後の学校では大歓迎されるし、CHAPTER XXIII with impression]] Anne Comes to Grief in an Affair of Honor では、足首を折ってしまったことで、Everybody has been so good and kind, Marilla （中略） You find out how many friends you have... とアンは言ってるくらいなので girl friends she had in plenty; but she had a vague consciousness that masculine friendship might also be a good thing to round out one s conceptions of companionship and furnish broader standpoints of judgment and comparison. Not that Anne could have put her feelings on the matter into just such clear definition. But she thought that if Gilbert had ever walked home with her from the train, over the crisp fields and along the ferny byways, they might have had many and merry and interesting conversations about the new world that was opening around them and their hopes and ambitions therein. Gilbert was a clever young fellow, with his own thoughts about things and a determination to get the best out of life and put the best into it. 「get the best out of life and put the best into it」 get ～ out of ……、put ～ into …… と対比。最良のものを取り出して、最良のものを入れるんだったら、同じものを出し入れするだけじゃん、というワケのわからん突っ込みはしないこと Ruby Gillis told Jane Andrews that she didn t understand half the things Gilbert Blythe said; he talked just like Anne Shirley did when she had a thoughtful fit on and for her part she didn t think it any fun to be bothering about books and that sort of thing when you didn t have to. 「just like Anne Shirley」 アンとギルバートが似ているとルビーに言わせ、読者をにやっとさせようとしている 「books and that sort of thing when you didn t have to」 これは上に出てきた books and studies and ambitions と対比させられているところ。ここで、ルビーはギルバートには合わないとルビー自身に言わせているようなもの。とはいえ、読者にはここまでしつこく言わなくてもわかるのではないかと思うのですが…… Frank Stockley had lots more dash and go, but then he wasn t half as good-looking as Gilbert and she really couldn t decide which she liked best! In the Academy Anne gradually drew a little circle of friends about her, thoughtful, imaginative, ambitious students like herself. With the "rose-red" girl, Stella Maynard, and the "dream girl," Priscilla Grant, she soon became intimate, finding the latter pale spiritual-looking maiden to be full to the brim of mischief and pranks and fun, while the vivid, black-eyed Stella had a heartful of wistful dreams and fancies, as aerial and rainbow-like as Anne s own. 「rainbow-like」 ミス・バリーもアンのことを虹のようと言うのが後に出てくる After the Christmas holidays the Avonlea students gave up going home on Fridays and settled down to hard work. By this time all the Queen s scholars had gravitated into their own places in the ranks and the various classes had assumed distinct and settled shadings of individuality. 第１文は別モノ（このパラグラフの内容にとってはオマケ：物語にとっては重要ではありますが）。第２文が、このパラグラフと次のパラグラフのサマリを表わす文となっています。つまり、 「all the Queen s scholars had gravitated into their own places in the ranks」は、成績のランクが固定してきたことという勉学（メダルやエイヴリー奨学金）についての話がこのパラグラフで説明されることをサマライズし、「the various classes had assumed distinct and settled shadings of individuality」は、それぞれの class で、（ある意味）得意な人が目立つようになったことが次のパラグラフで内容は紹介されることをサマライズしていると思います 「shadings」 色合い。文脈によっては陰影と訳すほうがいいこともあると思いますが、ここでは谷崎のような陰影ではなく、明るい感じの色合いと考えるほうがいい Certain facts had become generally accepted. It was admitted that the medal contestants had practically narrowed down to three--Gilbert Blythe, Anne Shirley, and Lewis Wilson; the Avery scholarship was more doubtful, any one of a certain six being a possible winner. The bronze medal for mathematics was considered as good as won by a fat, funny little up-country boy with a bumpy forehead and a patched coat. 「bronze medal」 数学はどうして銅メダルなんでしょう。う～む……。The medal の色は書いてはありませんが Ruby Gillis was the handsomest girl of the year at the Academy; in the Second Year classes Stella Maynard carried off the palm for beauty, 「the Second Year classes」 これはわかりづらい。ここだけ読むと単に２年目のクラス、第２年目の学年のように読めてしまう。もちろん前章での説明があるから、いいのですが（あまりよくないかも）。classesと複数なので、ここは、本当の２年目の人たち（松本訳の第二課程を終えたクィーン在籍２年目の人）とアンたちの the Second Year work を履修する在籍１年目の人の両方ではないかと思うのですが、よくわからない。もしかしたら、the Second Year workを履修すると、複数の classes （＝ 学課）があるので、在籍１年目のひとだけを指してはいるけれども複数形の classes なのかも with small but critical minority in favor of Anne Shirley. Ethel Marr was admitted by all competent judges to have the most stylish modes of hair-dressing, and Jane Andrews--plain, plodding, conscientious Jane--carried off the honors in the domestic science course. 「the domestic science course」 男子生徒諸君はやったんでしょうか Even Josie Pye attained a certain preeminence as the sharpest- tongued young lady in attendance at Queen s. So it may be fairly stated that Miss Stacy s old pupil s held their own in the wider arena of the academical course. 「Miss Stacy s old pupil」 チャーリーとムーディー・スパージョンは忘れられてしまった？？？ Anne worked hard and steadily. Her rivalry with Gilbert was as intense as it had ever been in Avonlea school, although it was not known in the class at large, but somehow the bitterness had gone out of it. Anne no longer wished to win for the sake of defeating Gilbert; rather, for the proud consciousness of a well-won victory over a worthy foeman. 「a worthy foeman」松本訳注第35章(1) p. 529参照 It would be worth while to win, but she no longer thought life would be insupportable if she did not. In spite of lessons the students found opportunities for pleasant times. Anne spent many of her spare hours at Beechwood and generally ate her Sunday dinners there and went to church with Miss Barry. The latter was, as she admitted, growing old, but her black eyes were not dim nor the vigor of her tongue in the least abated. But she never sharpened the latter on Anne, who continued to be a prime favorite with the critical old lady. "That Anne-girl improves all the time," she said. "I get tired of other girls--there is such a provoking and eternal sameness about them. Anne has as many shades as a rainbow and every shade is the prettiest while it lasts. 「shades」 さきの shading 同様に、色合い。または、魂、精神などといった、身体から発せられるモノ。今時の（ちょっとヘンな）言葉遣いなら、オーラとでもいうような感じ。Webster Dictionary, 1913（onelook経由）には、The soul after its separation from the body; -- so called because the ancients it to be perceptible to the sight, though not to the touch; a spirit; a ghost; as, the shades of departed heroes. との説明。色合い（や影）というだけではなく、アンの心／魂／精神が虹のように多彩で、それぞれが美しい、とミス・バリーはべたほめ I don t know that she is as amusing as she was when she was a child, but she makes me love her and I like people who make me love them. It saves me so much trouble in making myself love them." 「I like people who make me love them. It saves me so much trouble in making myself love them」 もちろん、リンド夫人は、この、them には含まれないでしょうね。なんてったって、And there are others, like Mrs. Lynde, that you have to try very hard to love. （CHAPTER XXII with impression? Anne is Invited Out to Tea）ですからねえ Then, almost before anybody realized it, spring had come; out in Avonlea the Mayflowers were peeping pinkly out on the sere barrens where snow-wreaths lingered; and the "mist of green" was on the woods and in the valleys. 「"mist of green"」松本訳注第35章(2) p. 529参照 But in Charlottetown harassed Queen s students thought and talked only of examinations. "It doesn t seem possible that the term is nearly over," said Anne. "Why, last fall it seemed so long to look forward to--a whole winter of studies and classes. And here we are, with the exams looming up next week. Girls, sometimes I feel as if those exams meant everything, but when I look at the big buds swelling on those chestnut trees and the misty blue air at the end of the streets they don t seem half so important." 「chestnut trees」 栗の木の描写はここしかない。シャーロットタウンは都会なので、栗林（畑）はクイーン学院の近くにはないと思うのですが、どこかに庭木として植えてあったのでしょうか。または、街路樹？ グーグルマップでシャーロットタウンを調べたら、Chestnut Streetという短かい通りがありました（300 mくらい：Euston Stのひと筋北側）。この通りは、Queen Street と何だか思わせぶりな名前の通りと交差しています。クイーン学院のモデルという当時の Prince of Walse College は、Kent Street にあり、現在は Holland College となっているそうです（http //www.upei.ca/pwc/ による）。Holland College の事務局は 305 Kent Street の Montgomery Hall（！）という建物にあります（http //www.hollandc.pe.ca/Admissions/index.htm）。ということで、Chestnut street と Queen Street との交差点から、Prince of Walse College まで行く道筋を眺めてみました。グーグルマップ でどうぞ。約1.1 kmです 松本侑子さんのモンゴメリの生涯を訪ねる旅（赤毛のアンの電子図書館の中のページ）http //homepage3.nifty.com/office-matsumoto/lmm_album.htm には、モードは、プリンスエドワード島州 州都シャーロットタウンのヒルズボロストリートに下宿したとあります。正確な住所がわからないのですが、写真の建物（家の前にはHillsbrorough St側にfront yardがある。左と奥にも建物がある。奥の家の手前には自動車が駐車できる）と一方通行の向きから見ると、Hillsbrorough St と King St の交差点のように思えます。そこで、ここから、Prince of Walse College まで行く道筋を眺めてみました。グーグルマップからどうぞ。約 0.8 kmです Jane and Ruby and Josie, who had dropped in, did not take this view of it. 「dropped in」アンの部屋は溜り場的な感じになっていた雰囲気がある To them the coming examinations were constantly very important indeed--far more important than chestnut buds or Maytime hazes. It was all very well for Anne, who was sure of passing at least, to have her moments of belittling them, but when your whole future depended on them--as the girls truly thought theirs did-- you could not regard them philosophically. "I ve lost seven pounds in the last two weeks," sighed Jane. 「seven pounds」１ポンド ＝ 16オンス ＝ 453.6 g。なので、７ポンドは約３ kg "It s no use to say don t worry. I WILL worry. 「I WILL worry」入学試験のときには、ジェーンは落ち着いている、とアンが感心していたのですが（I wish I had nerves like Jane Andrews. Nothing rattles her. CHAPTER XXXI with impression Where the Brook and River Meet）、やっぱり心配する人なんじゃない、と思ったり。尤も、ジェーンは、物語の後半になって頻繁に登場する（特におしゃべりが）ので、それまでの描写からはジェーンの気持ちまではわからないのは仕方ありませんが Worrying helps you some--it seems as if you were doing something when you re worrying. It would be dreadful if I failed to get my license after going to Queen s all winter and spending so much money." "_I_ don t care," said Josie Pye. "If I don t pass this year I m coming back next. My father can afford to send me. 「My father can afford to send me」 ジョージーの言葉に対する感想は置くとして……。これは、次章 CHAPTER XXXVI with impression The Glory and the Dream の伏線（His father can t afford to send him to college next year, after all, so he means to earn his own way through.） Anne, Frank Stockley says that Professor Tremaine said Gilbert Blythe was sure to get the medal and that Emily Clay would likely win the Avery scholarship." "That may make me feel badly tomorrow, Josie," laughed Anne, "but just now I honestly feel that as long as I know the violets are coming out all purple down in the hollow below Green Gables and that little ferns are poking their heads up in Lovers Lane, it s not a great deal of difference whether I win the Avery or not. I ve done my best and I begin to understand what is meant by the `joy of the strife. 「`joy of the strife 」松本訳注第35章(3) p. 530参照 Next to trying and winning, the best thing is trying and failing. Girls, don t talk about exams! Look at that arch of pale green sky over those houses and picture to yourself what it must look like over the purply-dark beech-woods back of Avonlea." 「over those houses」アヴォンリーなら家の上の空ではなく、「over the purply-dark beech-woods」。今はホームシックになっていないから、涙は出ない "What are you going to wear for commencement, Jane?" asked Ruby practically. Jane and Josie both answered at once and the chatter drifted into a side eddy of fashions. But Anne, with her elbows on the window sill, her soft cheek laid against her clasped hands, and her eyes filled with visions, looked out unheedingly across city roof and spire to that glorious dome of sunset sky and wove her dreams of a possible future from the golden tissue of youth s own optimism. 「spire」尖塔。シャーロットタウンの家には尖塔のあるものがかなりあるとか。いろいろなウェブページで写真が紹介されています All the Beyond was hers with its possibilities lurking rosily in the oncoming years-- 「the Beyond」the があって、大文字ではじまる Beyond。名詞の beyond には、1 something that lies beyond 2 something that lies outside the scope of ordinary experience; specifically Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary （onelook経由）の意味がある。英和辞典によっては、the beyond で、来世と訳をおくものもあったのですが、しっくり来ません。最後の immortal chaplet に合わせて、「あの世」を思わせる言葉が選ばれたのかもしれませんが each year a rose of promise to be woven into an immortal chaplet. 「immortal chaplet」 immortal：不死の、永久の、不朽の、神の。chaplet：（髪を飾る）花輪、［カトリック］小じゅず、いのり CHAPTER XXXIV UP UP CHAPTER XXXVI 04 August 2007 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 04 August 2007 last update 2007-08-04 13 59 36 (Sat)
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CHAPTER XIV UP CHAPTER XVI CHAPTER XV A Tempest in the School Teapot "What a splendid day!" said Anne, drawing a long breath. "Isn t it good just to be alive on a day like this? I pity the people who aren t born yet for missing it. They may have good days, of course, but they can never have this one. And it s splendider still to have such a lovely way to go to school by, isn t it?" "It s a lot nicer than going round by the road; that is so dusty and hot," said Diana practically, peeping into her dinner basket and mentally calculating if the three juicy, toothsome, raspberry tarts reposing there were divided among ten girls how many bites each girl would have. The little girls of Avonlea school always pooled their lunches, and to eat three raspberry tarts all alone or even to share them only with one s best chum would have forever and ever branded as "awful mean" the girl who did it. And yet, when the tarts were divided among ten girls you just got enough to tantalize you. The way Anne and Diana went to school WAS a pretty one. Anne thought those walks to and from school with Diana couldn t be improved upon even by imagination. Going around by the main road would have been so unromantic; but to go by Lover s Lane and Willowmere and Violet Vale and the Birch Path was romantic, if ever anything was. Lover s Lane opened out below the orchard at Green Gables and stretched far up into the woods to the end of the Cuthbert farm. It was the way by which the cows were taken to the back pasture and the wood hauled home in winter. Anne had named it Lover s Lane before she had been a month at Green Gables. "Not that lovers ever really walk there," she explained to Marilla, "but Diana and I are reading a perfectly magnificent book and there s a Lover s Lane in it. So we want to have one, too. And it s a very pretty name, don t you think? So romantic! We can t imagine the lovers into it, you know. I like that lane because you can think out loud there without people calling you crazy." Anne, starting out alone in the morning, went down Lover s Lane as far as the brook. Here Diana met her, and the two little girls went on up the lane under the leafy arch of maples--"maples are such sociable trees," said Anne; "they re always rustling and whispering to you"--until they came to a rustic bridge. Then they left the lane and walked through Mr. Barry s back field and past Willowmere. Beyond Willowmere came Violet Vale--a little green dimple in the shadow of Mr. Andrew Bell s big woods. "Of course there are no violets there now," Anne told Marilla, "but Diana says there are millions of them in spring. Oh, Marilla, can t you just imagine you see them? It actually takes away my breath. I named it Violet Vale. Diana says she never saw the beat of me for hitting on fancy names for places. It s nice to be clever at something, isn t it? But Diana named the Birch Path. She wanted to, so I let her; but I m sure I could have found something more poetical than plain Birch Path. Anybody can think of a name like that. But the Birch Path is one of the prettiest places in the world, Marilla." It was. Other people besides Anne thought so when they stumbled on it. It was a little narrow, twisting path, winding down over a long hill straight through Mr. Bell s woods, where the light came down sifted through so many emerald screens that it was as flawless as the heart of a diamond. It was fringed in all its length with slim young birches, white stemmed and lissom boughed; ferns and starflowers and wild lilies-of-the-valley and scarlet tufts of pigeonberries grew thickly along it; and always there was a delightful spiciness in the air and music of bird calls and the murmur and laugh of wood winds in the trees overhead. Now and then you might see a rabbit skipping across the road if you were quiet--which, with Anne and Diana, happened about once in a blue moon. Down in the valley the path came out to the main road and then it was just up the spruce hill to the school. The Avonlea school was a whitewashed building, low in the eaves and wide in the windows, furnished inside with comfortable substantial old-fashioned desks that opened and shut, and were carved all over their lids with the initials and hieroglyphics of three generations of school children. The schoolhouse was set back from the road and behind it was a dusky fir wood and a brook where all the children put their bottles of milk in the morning to keep cool and sweet until dinner hour. Marilla had seen Anne start off to school on the first day of September with many secret misgivings. Anne was such an odd girl. How would she get on with the other children? And how on earth would she ever manage to hold her tongue during school hours? Things went better than Marilla feared, however. Anne came home that evening in high spirits. "I think I m going to like school here," she announced. "I don t think much of the master, through. He s all the time curling his mustache and making eyes at Prissy Andrews. Prissy is grown up, you know. She s sixteen and she s studying for the entrance examination into Queen s Academy at Charlottetown next year. Tillie Boulter says the master is DEAD GONE on her. She s got a beautiful complexion and curly brown hair and she does it up so elegantly. She sits in the long seat at the back and he sits there, too, most of the time--to explain her lessons, he says. But Ruby Gillis says she saw him writing something on her slate and when Prissy read it she blushed as red as a beet and giggled; and Ruby Gillis says she doesn t believe it had anything to do with the lesson." "Anne Shirley, don t let me hear you talking about your teacher in that way again," said Marilla sharply. "You don t go to school to criticize the master. I guess he can teach YOU something, and it s your business to learn. And I want you to understand right off that you are not to come home telling tales about him. That is something I won t encourage. I hope you were a good girl." "Indeed I was," said Anne comfortably. "It wasn t so hard as you might imagine, either. I sit with Diana. Our seat is right by the window and we can look down to the Lake of Shining Waters. There are a lot of nice girls in school and we had scrumptious fun playing at dinnertime. It s so nice to have a lot of little girls to play with. But of course I like Diana best and always will. I ADORE Diana. I m dreadfully far behind the others. They re all in the fifth book and I m only in the fourth. I feel that it s kind of a disgrace. But there s not one of them has such an imagination as I have and I soon found that out. We had reading and geography and Canadian history and dictation today. Mr. Phillips said my spelling was disgraceful and he held up my slate so that everybody could see it, all marked over. I felt so mortified, Marilla; he might have been politer to a stranger, I think. Ruby Gillis gave me an apple and Sophia Sloane lent me a lovely pink card with `May I see you home? on it. I m to give it back to her tomorrow. And Tillie Boulter let me wear her bead ring all the afternoon. Can I have some of those pearl beads off the old pincushion in the garret to make myself a ring? And oh, Marilla, Jane Andrews told me that Minnie MacPherson told her that she heard Prissy Andrews tell Sara Gillis that I had a very pretty nose. Marilla, that is the first compliment I have ever had in my life and you can t imagine what a strange feeling it gave me. Marilla, have I really a pretty nose? I know you ll tell me the truth." "Your nose is well enough," said Marilla shortly. Secretly she thought Anne s nose was a remarkable pretty one; but she had no intention of telling her so. That was three weeks ago and all had gone smoothly so far. And now, this crisp September morning, Anne and Diana were tripping blithely down the Birch Path, two of the happiest little girls in Avonlea. "I guess Gilbert Blythe will be in school today," said Diana. "He s been visiting his cousins over in New Brunswick all summer and he only came home Saturday night. He s AW FLY handsome, Anne. And he teases the girls something terrible. He just torments our lives out." Diana s voice indicated that she rather liked having her life tormented out than not. "Gilbert Blythe?" said Anne. "Isn t his name that s written up on the porch wall with Julia Bell s and a big `Take Notice over them?" "Yes," said Diana, tossing her head, "but I m sure he doesn t like Julia Bell so very much. I ve heard him say he studied the multiplication table by her freckles." "Oh, don t speak about freckles to me," implored Anne. "It isn t delicate when I ve got so many. But I do think that writing take-notices up on the wall about the boys and girls is the silliest ever. I should just like to see anybody dare to write my name up with a boy s. Not, of course," she hastened to add, "that anybody would." Anne sighed. She didn t want her name written up. But it was a little humiliating to know that there was no danger of it. "Nonsense," said Diana, whose black eyes and glossy tresses had played such havoc with the hearts of Avonlea schoolboys that her name figured on the porch walls in half a dozen take-notices. "It s only meant as a joke. And don t you be too sure your name won t ever be written up. Charlie Sloane is DEAD GONE on you. He told his mother--his MOTHER, mind you--that you were the smartest girl in school. That s better than being good looking." "No, it isn t," said Anne, feminine to the core. "I d rather be pretty than clever. And I hate Charlie Sloane, I can t bear a boy with goggle eyes. If anyone wrote my name up with his I d never GET over it, Diana Barry. But it IS nice to keep head of your class." "You ll have Gilbert in your class after this," said Diana, "and he s used to being head of his class, I can tell you. He s only in the fourth book although he s nearly fourteen. Four years ago his father was sick and had to go out to Alberta for his health and Gilbert went with him. They were there three years and Gil didn t go to school hardly any until they came back. You won t find it so easy to keep head after this, Anne." "I m glad," said Anne quickly. "I couldn t really feel proud of keeping head of little boys and girls of just nine or ten. I got up yesterday spelling `ebullition. Josie Pye was head and, mind you, she peeped in her book. Mr. Phillips didn t see her--he was looking at Prissy Andrews--but I did. I just swept her a look of freezing scorn and she got as red as a beet and spelled it wrong after all." "Those Pye girls are cheats all round," said Diana indignantly, as they climbed the fence of the main road. "Gertie Pye actually went and put her milk bottle in my place in the brook yesterday. Did you ever? I don t speak to her now." When Mr. Phillips was in the back of the room hearing Prissy Andrews s Latin, Diana whispered to Anne, "That s Gilbert Blythe sitting right across the aisle from you, Anne. Just look at him and see if you don t think he s handsome." Anne looked accordingly. She had a good chance to do so, for the said Gilbert Blythe was absorbed in stealthily pinning the long yellow braid of Ruby Gillis, who sat in front of him, to the back of her seat. He was a tall boy, with curly brown hair, roguish hazel eyes, and a mouth twisted into a teasing smile. Presently Ruby Gillis started up to take a sum to the master; she fell back into her seat with a little shriek, believing that her hair was pulled out by the roots. Everybody looked at her and Mr. Phillips glared so sternly that Ruby began to cry. Gilbert had whisked the pin out of sight and was studying his history with the soberest face in the world; but when the commotion subsided he looked at Anne and winked with inexpressible drollery. "I think your Gilbert Blythe IS handsome," confided Anne to Diana, "but I think he s very bold. It isn t good manners to wink at a strange girl." But it was not until the afternoon that things really began to happen. Mr. Phillips was back in the corner explaining a problem in algebra to Prissy Andrews and the rest of the scholars were doing pretty much as they pleased eating green apples, whispering, drawing pictures on their slates, and driving crickets harnessed to strings, up and down aisle. Gilbert Blythe was trying to make Anne Shirley look at him and failing utterly, because Anne was at that moment totally oblivious not only to the very existence of Gilbert Blythe, but of every other scholar in Avonlea school itself. With her chin propped on her hands and her eyes fixed on the blue glimpse of the Lake of Shining Waters that the west window afforded, she was far away in a gorgeous dreamland hearing and seeing nothing save her own wonderful visions. Gilbert Blythe wasn t used to putting himself out to make a girl look at him and meeting with failure. She SHOULD look at him, that red-haired Shirley girl with the little pointed chin and the big eyes that weren t like the eyes of any other girl in Avonlea school. Gilbert reached across the aisle, picked up the end of Anne s long red braid, held it out at arm s length and said in a piercing whisper "Carrots! Carrots!" Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance! She did more than look. She sprang to her feet, her bright fancies fallen into cureless ruin. She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert from eyes whose angry sparkle was swiftly quenched in equally angry tears. "You mean, hateful boy!" she exclaimed passionately. "How dare you!" And then--thwack! Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert s head and cracked it--slate not head--clear across. Avonlea school always enjoyed a scene. This was an especially enjoyable one. Everybody said "Oh" in horrified delight. Diana gasped. Ruby Gillis, who was inclined to be hysterical, began to cry. Tommy Sloane let his team of crickets escape him altogether while he stared open-mouthed at the tableau. Mr. Phillips stalked down the aisle and laid his hand heavily on Anne s shoulder. "Anne Shirley, what does this mean?" he said angrily. Anne returned no answer. It was asking too much of flesh and blood to expect her to tell before the whole school that she had been called "carrots." Gilbert it was who spoke up stoutly. "It was my fault Mr. Phillips. I teased her." Mr. Phillips paid no heed to Gilbert. "I am sorry to see a pupil of mine displaying such a temper and such a vindictive spirit," he said in a solemn tone, as if the mere fact of being a pupil of his ought to root out all evil passions from the hearts of small imperfect mortals. "Anne, go and stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the afternoon." Anne would have infinitely preferred a whipping to this punishment under which her sensitive spirit quivered as from a whiplash. With a white, set face she obeyed. Mr. Phillips took a chalk crayon and wrote on the blackboard above her head. "Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper," and then read it out loud so that even the primer class, who couldn t read writing, should understand it. Anne stood there the rest of the afternoon with that legend above her. She did not cry or hang her head. Anger was still too hot in her heart for that and it sustained her amid all her agony of humiliation. With resentful eyes and passion-red cheeks she confronted alike Diana s sympathetic gaze and Charlie Sloane s indignant nods and Josie Pye s malicious smiles. As for Gilbert Blythe, she would not even look at him. She would NEVER look at him again! She would never speak to him!! When school was dismissed Anne marched out with her red head held high. Gilbert Blythe tried to intercept her at the porch door. "I m awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne," he whispered contritely. "Honest I am. Don t be mad for keeps, now." Anne swept by disdainfully, without look or sign of hearing. "Oh how could you, Anne?" breathed Diana as they went down the road half reproachfully, half admiringly. Diana felt that SHE could never have resisted Gilbert s plea. "I shall never forgive Gilbert Blythe," said Anne firmly. "And Mr. Phillips spelled my name without an e, too. The iron has entered into my soul, Diana." Diana hadn t the least idea what Anne meant but she understood it was something terrible. "You mustn t mind Gilbert making fun of your hair," she said soothingly. "Why, he makes fun of all the girls. He laughs at mine because it s so black. He s called me a crow a dozen times; and I never heard him apologize for anything before, either." "There s a great deal of difference between being called a crow and being called carrots," said Anne with dignity. "Gilbert Blythe has hurt my feelings EXCRUCIATINGLY, Diana." It is possible the matter might have blown over without more excruciation if nothing else had happened. But when things begin to happen they are apt to keep on. Avonlea scholars often spent noon hour picking gum in Mr. Bell s spruce grove over the hill and across his big pasture field. From there they could keep an eye on Eben Wright s house, where the master boarded. When they saw Mr. Phillips emerging therefrom they ran for the schoolhouse; but the distance being about three times longer than Mr. Wright s lane they were very apt to arrive there, breathless and gasping, some three minutes too late. On the following day Mr. Phillips was seized with one of his spasmodic fits of reform and announced before going home to dinner, that he should expect to find all the scholars in their seats when he returned. Anyone who came in late would be punished. All the boys and some of the girls went to Mr. Bell s spruce grove as usual, fully intending to stay only long enough to "pick a chew." But spruce groves are seductive and yellow nuts of gum beguiling; they picked and loitered and strayed; and as usual the first thing that recalled them to a sense of the flight of time was Jimmy Glover shouting from the top of a patriarchal old spruce "Master s coming." The girls who were on the ground, started first and managed to reach the schoolhouse in time but without a second to spare. The boys, who had to wriggle hastily down from the trees, were later; and Anne, who had not been picking gum at all but was wandering happily in the far end of the grove, waist deep among the bracken, singing softly to herself, with a wreath of rice lilies on her hair as if she were some wild divinity of the shadowy places, was latest of all. Anne could run like a deer, however; run she did with the impish result that she overtook the boys at the door and was swept into the schoolhouse among them just as Mr. Phillips was in the act of hanging up his hat. Mr. Phillips s brief reforming energy was over; he didn t want the bother of punishing a dozen pupils; but it was necessary to do something to save his word, so he looked about for a scapegoat and found it in Anne, who had dropped into her seat, gasping for breath, with a forgotten lily wreath hanging askew over one ear and giving her a particularly rakish and disheveled appearance. "Anne Shirley, since you seem to be so fond of the boys company we shall indulge your taste for it this afternoon," he said sarcastically. "Take those flowers out of your hair and sit with Gilbert Blythe." The other boys snickered. Diana, turning pale with pity, plucked the wreath from Anne s hair and squeezed her hand. Anne stared at the master as if turned to stone. "Did you hear what I said, Anne?" queried Mr. Phillips sternly. "Yes, sir," said Anne slowly "but I didn t suppose you really meant it." "I assure you I did"--still with the sarcastic inflection which all the children, and Anne especially, hated. It flicked on the raw. "Obey me at once." For a moment Anne looked as if she meant to disobey. Then, realizing that there was no help for it, she rose haughtily, stepped across the aisle, sat down beside Gilbert Blythe, and buried her face in her arms on the desk. Ruby Gillis, who got a glimpse of it as it went down, told the others going home from school that she d "acksually never seen anything like it--it was so white, with awful little red spots in it." To Anne, this was as the end of all things. It was bad enough to be singled out for punishment from among a dozen equally guilty ones; it was worse still to be sent to sit with a boy, but that that boy should be Gilbert Blythe was heaping insult on injury to a degree utterly unbearable. Anne felt that she could not bear it and it would be of no use to try. Her whole being seethed with shame and anger and humiliation. At first the other scholars looked and whispered and giggled and nudged. But as Anne never lifted her head and as Gilbert worked fractions as if his whole soul was absorbed in them and them only, they soon returned to their own tasks and Anne was forgotten. When Mr. Phillips called the history class out Anne should have gone, but Anne did not move, and Mr. Phillips, who had been writing some verses "To Priscilla" before he called the class, was thinking about an obstinate rhyme still and never missed her. Once, when nobody was looking, Gilbert took from his desk a little pink candy heart with a gold motto on it, "You are sweet," and slipped it under the curve of Anne s arm. Whereupon Anne arose, took the pink heart gingerly between the tips of her fingers, dropped it on the floor, ground it to powder beneath her heel, and resumed her position without deigning to bestow a glance on Gilbert. When school went out Anne marched to her desk, ostentatiously took out everything therein, books and writing tablet, pen and ink, testament and arithmetic, and piled them neatly on her cracked slate. "What are you taking all those things home for, Anne?" Diana wanted to know, as soon as they were out on the road. She had not dared to ask the question before. "I am not coming back to school any more," said Anne. Diana gasped and stared at Anne to see if she meant it. "Will Marilla let you stay home?" she asked. "She ll have to," said Anne. "I ll NEVER go to school to that man again." "Oh, Anne!" Diana looked as if she were ready to cry. "I do think you re mean. What shall I do? Mr. Phillips will make me sit with that horrid Gertie Pye--I know he will because she is sitting alone. Do come back, Anne." "I d do almost anything in the world for you, Diana," said Anne sadly. "I d let myself be torn limb from limb if it would do you any good. But I can t do this, so please don t ask it. You harrow up my very soul." "Just think of all the fun you will miss," mourned Diana. "We are going to build the loveliest new house down by the brook; and we ll be playing ball next week and you ve never played ball, Anne. It s tremendously exciting. And we re going to learn a new song-- Jane Andrews is practicing it up now; and Alice Andrews is going to bring a new Pansy book next week and we re all going to read it out loud, chapter about, down by the brook. And you know you are so fond of reading out loud, Anne." Nothing moved Anne in the least. Her mind was made up. She would not go to school to Mr. Phillips again; she told Marilla so when she got home. "Nonsense," said Marilla. "It isn t nonsense at all," said Anne, gazing at Marilla with solemn, reproachful eyes. "Don t you understand, Marilla? I ve been insulted." "Insulted fiddlesticks! You ll go to school tomorrow as usual." "Oh, no." Anne shook her head gently. "I m not going back, Marilla. I ll learn my lessons at home and I ll be as good as I can be and hold my tongue all the time if it s possible at all. But I will not go back to school, I assure you." Marilla saw something remarkably like unyielding stubbornness looking out of Anne s small face. She understood that she would have trouble in overcoming it; but she re-solved wisely to say nothing more just then. "I ll run down and see Rachel about it this evening," she thought. "There s no use reasoning with Anne now. She s too worked up and I ve an idea she can be awful stubborn if she takes the notion. Far as I can make out from her story, Mr. Phillips has been carrying matters with a rather high hand. But it would never do to say so to her. I ll just talk it over with Rachel. She s sent ten children to school and she ought to know something about it. She ll have heard the whole story, too, by this time." Marilla found Mrs. Lynde knitting quilts as industriously and cheerfully as usual. "I suppose you know what I ve come about," she said, a little shamefacedly. Mrs. Rachel nodded. "About Anne s fuss in school, I reckon," she said. "Tillie Boulter was in on her way home from school and told me about it." "I don t know what to do with her," said Marilla. "She declares she won t go back to school. I never saw a child so worked up. I ve been expecting trouble ever since she started to school. I knew things were going too smooth to last. She s so high strung. What would you advise, Rachel?" "Well, since you ve asked my advice, Marilla," said Mrs. Lynde amiably--Mrs. Lynde dearly loved to be asked for advice--"I d just humor her a little at first, that s what I d do. It s my belief that Mr. Phillips was in the wrong. Of course, it doesn t do to say so to the children, you know. And of course he did right to punish her yesterday for giving way to temper. But today it was different. The others who were late should have been punished as well as Anne, that s what. And I don t believe in making the girls sit with the boys for punishment. It isn t modest. Tillie Boulter was real indignant. She took Anne s part right through and said all the scholars did too. Anne seems real popular among them, somehow. I never thought she d take with them so well." "Then you really think I d better let her stay home," said Marilla in amazement. "Yes. That is I wouldn t say school to her again until she said it herself. Depend upon it, Marilla, she ll cool off in a week or so and be ready enough to go back of her own accord, that s what, while, if you were to make her go back right off, dear knows what freak or tantrum she d take next and make more trouble than ever. The less fuss made the better, in my opinion. She won t miss much by not going to school, as far as THAT goes. Mr. Phillips isn t any good at all as a teacher. The order he keeps is scandalous, that s what, and he neglects the young fry and puts all his time on those big scholars he s getting ready for Queen s. He d never have got the school for another year if his uncle hadn t been a trustee--THE trustee, for he just leads the other two around by the nose, that s what. I declare, I don t know what education in this Island is coming to." Mrs. Rachel shook her head, as much as to say if she were only at the head of the educational system of the Province things would be much better managed. Marilla took Mrs. Rachel s advice and not another word was said to Anne about going back to school. She learned her lessons at home, did her chores, and played with Diana in the chilly purple autumn twilights; but when she met Gilbert Blythe on the road or encountered him in Sunday school she passed him by with an icy contempt that was no whit thawed by his evident desire to appease her. Even Diana s efforts as a peacemaker were of no avail. Anne had evidently made up her mind to hate Gilbert Blythe to the end of life. As much as she hated Gilbert, however, did she love Diana, with all the love of her passionate little heart, equally intense in its likes and dislikes. One evening Marilla, coming in from the orchard with a basket of apples, found Anne sitting along by the east window in the twilight, crying bitterly. "Whatever s the matter now, Anne?" she asked. "It s about Diana," sobbed Anne luxuriously. "I love Diana so, Marilla. I cannot ever live without her. But I know very well when we grow up that Diana will get married and go away and leave me. And oh, what shall I do? I hate her husband--I just hate him furiously. I ve been imagining it all out--the wedding and everything--Diana dressed in snowy garments, with a veil, and looking as beautiful and regal as a queen; and me the bridesmaid, with a lovely dress too, and puffed sleeves, but with a breaking heart hid beneath my smiling face. And then bidding Diana goodbye-e-e--" Here Anne broke down entirely and wept with increasing bitterness. Marilla turned quickly away to hide her twitching face; but it was no use; she collapsed on the nearest chair and burst into such a hearty and unusual peal of laughter that Matthew, crossing the yard outside, halted in amazement. When had he heard Marilla laugh like that before? "Well, Anne Shirley," said Marilla as soon as she could speak, "if you must borrow trouble, for pity s sake borrow it handier home. I should think you had an imagination, sure enough." CHAPTER XIV UP CHAPTER XVI 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 24 51 (Tue)