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Anne of Green Gables-Part29_L.Maud Montgomery(1874-1942)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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the manse tomorrow afternoon! Mrs. Allan left the letter for me

at the post office. Just look at it, Marilla. `Miss Anne Shirley,



Green Gables.' That is the first time I was ever called `Miss.'

Such a thrill as it gave me! I shall cherish it forever among



my choicest treasures."

"Mrs. Allan told me she meant to have all the members of her



Sunday-school class to tea in turn," said Marilla, regarding the

wonderful event very coolly. "You needn't get in such a fever



over it. Do learn to take things calmly, child."

For Anne to take things calmly would have been to change her



nature. All "spirit and fire and dew," as she was, the pleasures

and pains of life came to her with trebled intensity. Marilla



felt this and was vaguely troubled over it, realizing that the

ups and downs of existence would probably bear hardly on this



impulsive soul and not sufficiently understanding that the

equally great capacity for delight might more than compensate.



Therefore Marilla conceived it to be her duty to drill Anne into

a tranquiluniformity of disposition as impossible and alien to



her as to a dancing sunbeam in one of the brook shallows. She

did not make much headway, as she sorrowfully admitted to herself.



The downfall of some dear hope or plan plunged Anne into "deeps

of affliction." The fulfillment thereof exalted her to dizzy realms



of delight. Marilla had almost begun to despair of ever fashioning

this waif of the world into her model little girl of demure manners



and prim deportment. Neither would she have believed that she really

liked Anne much better as she was.



Anne went to bed that night speechless with misery because

Matthew had said the wind was round northeast and he feared it



would be a rainy day tomorrow. The rustle of the poplar leaves

about the house worried her, it sounded so like pattering



raindrops, and the full, faraway roar of the gulf, to which she

listened delightedly at other times, loving its strange,



sonorous, haunting rhythm, now seemed like a prophecy of storm

and disaster to a small maiden who particularly wanted a fine



day. Anne thought that the morning would never come.

But all things have an end, even nights before the day on which you are



invited to take tea at the manse. The morning, in spite of Matthew's

predictions, was fine and Anne's spirits soared to their highest.



"Oh, Marilla, there is something in me today that makes me just

love everybody I see," she exclaimed as she washed the breakfast



dishes. "You don't know how good I feel! Wouldn't it be nice if

it could last? I believe I could be a model child if I were just



invited out to tea every day. But oh, Marilla, it's a solemn

occasion too. I feel so anxious. What if I shouldn't behave



properly? You know I never had tea at a manse before, and I'm

not sure that I know all the rules of etiquette, although I've



been studying the rules given in the Etiquette Department of the

Family Herald ever since I came here. I'm so afraid I'll do



something silly or forget to do something I should do. Would it

be good manners to take a second helping of anything if you



wanted to VERY much?"

"The trouble with you, Anne, is that you're thinking too much



about yourself. You should just think of Mrs. Allan and what

would be nicest and most agreeable to her," said Marilla, hitting



for once in her life on a very sound and pithy piece of advice.

Anne instantly realized this.



"You are right, Marilla. I'll try not to think about myself at all."

Anne evidently got through her visit without any serious breach



of "etiquette," for she came home through the twilight, under a

great, high-sprung sky gloried over with trails of saffron and



rosy cloud, in a beatified state of mind and told Marilla all

about it happily, sitting on the big red-sandstone slab at the



kitchen door with her tired curly head in Marilla's gingham lap.

A cool wind was blowing down over the long harvest fields from



the rims of firry western hills and whistling through the

poplars. One clear star hung over the orchard and the fireflies



were flitting over in Lover's Lane, in and out among the ferns

and rustling boughs. Anne watched them as she talked and somehow



felt that wind and stars and fireflies were all tangled up

together into something unutterably sweet and enchanting.






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