The Complete Short Stories of Lucy Maud Montgomery. Lucy Maud Montgomery

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СКАЧАТЬ at my happiness. Oh, I didn’t think life could ever be so beautiful for me as it is!

      Paul loves me! He told me so tonight as we walked by the harbor and watched the sunset, and he asked me to be his wife. I have cared for him ever since I met him, but I am afraid I am not clever and well-educated enough for a wife for Paul. Because, of course, I’m only an ignorant little country girl and have lived all my life on a farm. Why, my hands are quite rough yet from the work I’ve done. But Paul just laughed when I said so, and took my hands and kissed them. Then he looked into my eyes and laughed again, because I couldn’t hide from him how much I loved him.

      We are to be married next spring and Paul says he will take me to Europe. That will be very nice, but nothing matters so long as I am with him.

      Paul’s people are very wealthy and his mother and sisters are very fashionable. I am frightened of them, but I did not tell Paul so because I think it would hurt him and oh, I wouldn’t do that for the world.

      There is nothing I wouldn’t suffer if it would do him any good. I never thought any one could feel so. I used to think if I loved anybody I would want him to do everything for me and wait on me as if I were a princess. But that is not the way at all. Love makes you very humble and you want to do everything yourself for the one you love.

      August 10.

      Paul went home to-day. Oh, it is so terrible! I don’t know how I can bear to live even for a little while without him. But this is silly of me, because I know he has to go and he will write often and come to me often. But, still, it is so lonesome. I didn’t cry when he left me because I wanted him to remember me smiling in the way he liked best, but I have been crying ever since and I can’t stop, no matter how hard I try. We have had such a beautiful fortnight. Every day seemed dearer and happier than the last, and now it is ended and I feel as if it could never be the same again. Oh, I am very foolish — but I love him so dearly and if I were to lose his love I know I would die.

      August 17.

      I think my heart is dead. But no, it can’t be, for it aches too much.

      Paul’s mother came here to see me to-day. She was not angry or disagreeable. I wouldn’t have been so frightened of her if she had been. As it was, I felt that I couldn’t say a word. She is very beautiful and stately and wonderful, with a low, cold voice and proud, dark eyes. Her face is like Paul’s but without the loveableness of his.

      She talked to me for a long time and she said terrible things — terrible, because I knew they were all true. I seemed to see everything through her eyes. She said that Paul was infatuated with my youth and beauty but that it would not last and what else I to give him? She said Paul must marry a woman of his own class, who could do honor to his fame and position. She said that he was very talented and had a great career before him, but that if he married me it would ruin his life.

      I saw it all, just as she explained it out, and I told her at last that I would not marry Paul, and she might tell him so. But she smiled and said I must tell him myself, because he would not believe any one else. I could have begged her to spare me that, but I knew it would be of no use. I do not think she has any pity or mercy for any one. Besides, what she said was quite true.

      When she thanked me for being so REASONABLE I told her I was not doing it to please her, but for Paul’s sake, because I would not spoil his life, and that I would always hate her. She smiled again and went away.

      Oh, how can I bear it? I did not know any one could suffer like this!

      August 18.

      I have done it. I wrote to Paul to-day. I knew I must tell him by letter, because I could never make him believe it face to face. I was afraid I could not even do it by letter. I suppose a clever woman easily could, but I am so stupid. I wrote a great many letters and tore them up, because I felt sure they wouldn’t convince Paul. At last I got one that I thought would do. I knew I must make it seems as if I were very frivolous and heartless, or he would never believe. I spelled some words wrong and put in some mistakes of grammar on purpose. I told him I had just been flirting with him, and that I had another fellow at home I liked better. I said FELLOW because I knew it would disgust him. I said that it was only because he was rich that I was tempted to marry him.

      I thought would my heart would break while I was writing those dreadful falsehoods. But it was for his sake, because I must not spoil his life. His mother told me I would be a millstone around his neck. I love Paul so much that I would do anything rather than be that. It would be easy to die for him, but I don’t see how I can go on living. I think my letter will convince Paul.

      I suppose it convinced Paul, because there was no further entry in the little brown book. When we had finished it the tears were running down both our faces.

      “Oh, poor, dear Miss Emily,” sobbed Diana. “I’m so sorry I ever thought her funny and meddlesome.”

      “She was good and strong and brave,” I said. “I could never have been as unselfish as she was.”

      I thought of Whittier’s lines,

      ”The outward, wayward life we see

       The hidden springs we may not know.”

      At the back of the little brown book we found a faded water-color sketch of a young girl — such a slim, pretty little thing, with big blue eyes and lovely, long, rippling golden hair. Paul Osborne’s name was written in faded ink across the corner.

      We put everything back in the box. Then we sat for a long time by my window in silence and thought of many things, until the rainy twilight came down and blotted out the world.

      SARA’S WAY

      Table of Contents

      The warm June sunshine was coming down through the trees, white with the virginal bloom of apple-blossoms, and through the shining panes, making a tremulous mosaic upon Mrs. Eben Andrews’ spotless kitchen floor. Through the open door, a wind, fragrant from long wanderings over orchards and clover meadows, drifted in, and, from the window, Mrs. Eben and her guest could look down over a long, misty valley sloping to a sparkling sea.

      Mrs. Jonas Andrews was spending the afternoon with her sister-in-law. She was a big, sonsy woman, with full-blown peony cheeks and large, dreamy, brown eyes. When she had been a slim, pink-and-white girl those eyes had been very romantic. Now they were so out of keeping with the rest of her appearance as to be ludicrous.

      Mrs. Eben, sitting at the other end of the small tea-table that was drawn up against the window, was a thin little woman, with a very sharp nose and light, faded blue eyes. She looked like a woman whose opinions were always very decided and warranted to wear.

      “How does Sara like teaching at Newbridge?” asked Mrs. Jonas, helping herself a second time to Mrs. Eben’s matchless black fruit cake, and thereby bestowing a subtle compliment which Mrs. Eben did not fail to appreciate.

      “Well, I guess she likes it pretty well — better than down at White Sands, anyway,” answered Mrs. Eben. “Yes, I may say it suits her. Of course it’s a long walk there and back. I think it would have been wiser for her to keep on boarding at Morrison’s, as she did all winter, but Sara is bound to be home all she can. And I must say the walk seems to agree with her.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ