Anne Shirley (Complete 14 Book Collection). Люси Мод Монтгомери

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СКАЧАТЬ We fished and boated together; and we walked on the sands by moonlight. He didn’t look so homely by moonlight and oh, he was nice. Niceness fairly exhaled from him. The old ladies — except Mrs. Grant — don’t approve of Jonas, because he laughs and jokes — and because he evidently likes the society of frivolous me better than theirs.

      “Somehow, Anne, I don’t want him to think me frivolous. This is ridiculous. Why should I care what a tow-haired person called Jonas, whom I never saw before thinks of me?

      “Last Sunday Jonas preached in the village church. I went, of course, but I couldn’t realize that Jonas was going to preach. The fact that he was a minister — or going to be one — persisted in seeming a huge joke to me.

      “Well, Jonas preached. And, by the time he had preached ten minutes, I felt so small and insignificant that I thought I must be invisible to the naked eye. Jonas never said a word about women and he never looked at me. But I realized then and there what a pitiful, frivolous, small-souled little butterfly I was, and how horribly different I must be from Jonas’ ideal woman. SHE would be grand and strong and noble. He was so earnest and tender and true. He was everything a minister ought to be. I wondered how I could ever have thought him ugly — but he really is! — with those inspired eyes and that intellectual brow which the roughly-falling hair hid on week days.

      “It was a splendid sermon and I could have listened to it forever, and it made me feel utterly wretched. Oh, I wish I was like YOU, Anne.

      “He caught up with me on the road home, and grinned as cheerfully as usual. But his grin could never deceive me again. I had seen the REAL Jonas. I wondered if he could ever see the REAL PHIL — whom NOBODY, not even you, Anne, has ever seen yet.

      “‘Jonas,’ I said — I forgot to call him Mr. Blake. Wasn’t it dreadful? But there are times when things like that don’t matter—’Jonas, you were born to be a minister. You COULDN’T be anything else.’

      “‘No, I couldn’t,’ he said soberly. ‘I tried to be something else for a long time — I didn’t want to be a minister. But I came to see at last that it was the work given me to do — and God helping me, I shall try to do it.’

      “His voice was low and reverent. I thought that he would do his work and do it well and nobly; and happy the woman fitted by nature and training to help him do it. SHE would be no feather, blown about by every fickle wind of fancy. SHE would always know what hat to put on. Probably she would have only one. Ministers never have much money. But she wouldn’t mind having one hat or none at all, because she would have Jonas.

      “Anne Shirley, don’t you dare to say or hint or think that I’ve fallen in love with Mr. Blake. Could I care for a lank, poor, ugly theologue — named Jonas? As Uncle Mark says, ‘It’s impossible, and what’s more it’s improbable.’

      “Good night, PHIL.”

      “P.S. It is impossible — but I am horribly afraid it’s true. I’m happy and wretched and scared. HE can NEVER care for me, I know. Do you think I could ever develop into a passable minister’s wife, Anne? And WOULD they expect me to lead in prayer? P G.”

Chapter XXV.

       Enter Prince Charming

       Table of Contents

      “I’m contrasting the claims of indoors and out,” said Anne, looking from the window of Patty’s Place to the distant pines of the park.

      “I’ve an afternoon to spend in sweet doing nothing, Aunt Jimsie. Shall I spend it here where there is a cosy fire, a plateful of delicious russets, three purring and harmonious cats, and two impeccable china dogs with green noses? Or shall I go to the park, where there is the lure of gray woods and of gray water lapping on the harbor rocks?”

      “If I was as young as you, I’d decide in favor of the park,” said Aunt Jamesina, tickling Joseph’s yellow ear with a knitting needle.

      “I thought that you claimed to be as young as any of us, Aunty,” teased Anne.

      “Yes, in my soul. But I’ll admit my legs aren’t as young as yours. You go and get some fresh air, Anne. You look pale lately.”

      “I think I’ll go to the park,” said Anne restlessly. “I don’t feel like tame domestic joys today. I want to feel alone and free and wild. The park will be empty, for every one will be at the football match.”

      “Why didn’t you go to it?”

      “‘Nobody axed me, sir, she said’ — at least, nobody but that horrid little Dan Ranger. I wouldn’t go anywhere with him; but rather than hurt his poor little tender feelings I said I wasn’t going to the game at all. I don’t mind. I’m not in the mood for football today somehow.”

      “You go and get some fresh air,” repeated Aunt Jamesina, “but take your umbrella, for I believe it’s going to rain. I’ve rheumatism in my leg.”

      “Only old people should have rheumatism, Aunty.”

      “Anybody is liable to rheumatism in her legs, Anne. It’s only old people who should have rheumatism in their souls, though. Thank goodness, I never have. When you get rheumatism in your soul you might as well go and pick out your coffin.”

      It was November — the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul. Anne was not wont to be troubled with soul fog. But, somehow, since her return to Redmond for this third year, life had not mirrored her spirit back to her with its old, perfect, sparkling clearness.

      Outwardly, existence at Patty’s Place was the same pleasant round of work and study and recreation that it had always been. On Friday evenings the big, firelighted livingroom was crowded by callers and echoed to endless jest and laughter, while Aunt Jamesina smiled beamingly on them all. The “Jonas” of Phil’s letter came often, running up from St. Columbia on the early train and departing on the late. He was a general favorite at Patty’s Place, though Aunt Jamesina shook her head and opined that divinity students were not what they used to be.

      “He’s VERY nice, my dear,” she told Phil, “but ministers ought to be graver and more dignified.”

      “Can’t a man laugh and laugh and be a Christian still?” demanded Phil.

      “Oh, MEN — yes. But I was speaking of MINISTERS, my dear,” said Aunt Jamesina rebukingly. “And you shouldn’t flirt so with Mr. Blake — you really shouldn’t.”

      “I’m not flirting with him,” protested Phil.

      Nobody believed her, except Anne. The others thought she was amusing herself as usual, and told her roundly that she was behaving very badly.

      “Mr. Blake isn’t of the Alec-and-Alonzo type, Phil,” said Stella severely. “He takes things seriously. You may break his heart.”

      “Do you really think I could?” asked Phil. “I’d love to think so.”

      “Philippa Gordon! I never thought you were utterly unfeeling. The idea of you saying you’d СКАЧАТЬ