Chapter Six
Days passed. Anne would not, could not, she said forgive "the Blythe boy" for his rude comment. To her, this was more than just a statement, it was treachery. Sara tried everything to console her hardened heart, but was no comfort.
"The iron has entered my soul, Sara. I will never speak to Gilbert Blythe again."
Finally, to soothe Anne's troubled thoughts, Sara suggested they should arrange a time for them to have tea together. Anne assented happily at this suggestion.
On Sunday afternoon in early October, Sara walked composedly over to Green Gables in her best dress, the one she normally wore for church. She smoothed it down several times as she walked. Sara liked this dress very much. It was a soft blue dress with a satin sash and puffed sleeves. Since she was the oldest, Mother had given her something special to wear to the jealousy of her younger sisters.
Over the Lake of Shining Waters, and through the back garden, Sara knocked on the door.
"Good afternoon, Miss Holbrook," Marilla smiled and showed her into the parlor to put her things down. Sara had brought a lovely sky blue satin parasol and her new white gloves Father had picked up in Carmody last week.
Anne came in, wearing equally good clothes, though frightfully plain. Marilla obviously was more concerned in sense rather then vanity. Anne wore a gray and red plaid dress and her ruddy curls braided into two neat French braids advancing just past her shoulders. (Her hair had grown back rather quickly.)
"Good day, my dear Sara," Anne took up their very polite manner they had decided to use.
"And good day to you, Miss Shirley," Sara responded with the same primness.
"May I take your things, Sara?"
"Why, thank you," Sara handed her the parasol and gloves and Anne laid them down on the parlor bench.
"Well, I've got to go Ladies' Aid, so I'll be back later before supper. Anne, don't forget to lay out Matthew's tea when he comes in from the fields."
"Oh, I won't, Marilla, have a good time."
Marilla left and the girls stared at each other shyly. Anne took Sara's arm and brought her into the sitting room.
"How is your mother?" Anne inquired.
"Oh, very nice, thank you, we've been very busy collecting apples and making preserves. Have you gotten many apples this year?"
"Oh, ever so many," Anne said excitedly, losing her polite manner, "Marilla has been cooking and baking so many good things for weeks on end."
There was an awkward silence.
"Well, I'll go and get our biscuits. They should be ready now, as well as the tea. There are so many responsibilities for one who is hosting a guest."
Sara grinned and Anne walked into the kitchen, coming back with her hands behind her back.
"Now, I won't tell you what Marilla said we could have to drink, I'll just let you taste it to see how you like it. You won't have had it before," Anne pulled out a glass bottle filled with a red liquid inside.
"Oh, raspberry cordial, right?"
"You mean you've had it before?" asked Anne, disappointed.
"Of course I have, haven't you?"
"I'm afraid I've never tasted it," Anne walked over and set a large glass and the raspberry cordial on the side table next to Sara's seat.
"You may have as much as you like, I'll get our preserves," Anne left and went back to the kitchen. Sara proceeded to unscrew the bottle and pour a full amount into her glass. She listened to Anne ramble on in the kitchen.
"Last time I tried to make a cake, I forgot to put the flour in. I was thinking of a wonderful sad story, where you came down with small pox. And I came and nursed you back to health. Then I got the horrid disease and died. Then you buried me with a handkerchief and showered me with your tears. And you planted a beautiful rosebush by my grave. And you never forgot the friend of your youth who sacrificed her life for you. Anyway, I was just crying piteously about it and the cake was a disaster. I got a terrible scolding from Marilla, but I suppose I deserved it."
Sara had drunk her first glass by this time and thought it was delicious.
"This is very nice, Anne," she cried into the kitchen, "Mrs. Lynde brags about hers all the time, but Marilla's is much nicer."
"Well, I must say, Marilla is famous for her cooking all throughout the Island," Anne called back.
"It doesn't taste a bit like it," Sara whispered to herself, "but it's good anyhow."
She poured herself another glass and drank it quite fast, then promptly began to pour a third. She licked her lips and looked around the sitting room. It started to look a little blurred. Sara moaned and put her hand to her forehead. She was starting to feel quite dizzy. Her stomach felt as if it were twisted up and squeezed. Nausea rose up and Sara leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes. She moaned and bent over, her head was spinning, why couldn't the room stop shifting around?
Her thoughts were getting all confused and she began to sweat. Another moan. Oh, what's happening? Sara slowly lay herself down on the wooden floor. Her head pounded as Anne's footsteps sounded in the hallway.
"Here they are-why Sara what's wrong?"
Sara could faintly hear Anne's words, but they made no sense.
"Oh, no, it's the small pox epidemic. Don't worry, Sara, I'll nurse you back to health. Just please stay until after tea."
One thought rose in Sara's muddled mind, "Get home, get home."
"I gotta go home," Sara heard herself say as she picked her body off the floor.
"Oh, Sara, I'll help you, don't worry, here, get back on the couch," Anne followed Sara's trudging footsteps towards the back door. Sara dizzily walked through the garden and leaned against the gate.
"Wait, Sara, wait!" she heard Anne shout, but she paid no attention and proceeded onward.
To her dying day, did she ever know how she got herself safely to her house, over the bridge, through the apple orchard and through the Holbrook field. But she did, and she crawled onto the porch, exhausted. Anne ran up behind her carrying her parasol and gloves. Mrs. Holbrook and Mrs. Lynde came out from the back porch door.
"Oh my goodness, Sara! Anne, what did you give my Sara to drink?" she asked angrily.
"Nothing, but raspberry cordial, ma'am," Anne looked from one vexed woman to the other, confused.
"Raspberry? This girl smells like she's drunk."
Sara had lied down and then gave a loud belch. Mrs. Holbrook turned revolted to Anne.
"Go now, Anne, how dare you set her drunk! Now go, you and Sara will never be friends again."
Sara groaned, clutched her stomach, and ran to a nearby tree and vomited.
Anne looked horrified and the two women watched her run back towards the orchards, then they went to pull Sara to her feet.
Oh, pain. Groan. Light is too bright. Take it away. Moan. The pain is awful. Sara slowly opened her eyes and squinted them in the bright light of the sun. Sara tried to roll over, but she was too exhausted. At first, she didn't know where she was, but then her eyes focused on the window seat and she knew she was in her room. Her memory had very little recollection of her past experiences. A door creaked and Mother came in.
"Oh, good, you're up. How are you feeling, dear?"
Sara looked over at the shiny face of her mother.
"I'm fine, I guess. What day is it?"
"Well, dearest, you've been out for two days. It's Tuesday."
"Wait, where's Anne?"
"No where near here, thank heavens," Mother narrowed her eyes.
"What?" Sara cried. She tried to get up, but the pain in her head was too great.
"You are not to see Anne Shirley again. You are not to speak to her again."
"WHAT?" Sara did sit up this time, much to the pounding of her head.
"I'm sorry, you should not be associating with the likes of a girl who goes around setting people drunk, it's just not right, dear."
"You can't do that, you can't!" Sara cried, a lump in her throat.
"I already have, Marilla was here yesterday evening asking her pardon, saying it was a mistake, but I know it was on purpose. That's just what comes from adopting a child from goodness knows where-
"No, please, Mother, you can't do this, please, it WAS a mistake, it wasn't her fault," Sara was now screaming at Mother, headache or no.
"Please lie down now, Sara, you'll just exhaust yourself."
"I DON'T CARE! I WANT ANNE BACK!" Tears were streaming down her face. "You've no idea what she's like--
"Exactly, we don't know what she's like, and you must stay away from her lest she get you sick."
"Mother, please, I need her, I can't bear life without her!"
"Well, you'll just have to." Mother rose and left the room.
Sara slumped back into the pillows and cried bitter tears. How dare she! How dare she, who can't listen to the truth! I can't live without Anne!
Later, Sara awoke in the dark of the night. She must have cried herself to sleep. Her head wasn't pounding anymore and she didn't feel so exhausted, yet she couldn't have felt more horrible. She knew her mother wouldn't relent and now she'd never see Anne again. No more rambles through the woods, no more stories, no more anything. It was slipping away like pearls falling off a string, one after the other. In the morning, she decided, she'd do something. With that in her head, she lay her wet cheek on the pillow and fell into a restless sleep.
When morning came, Sara rubbed her eyes and sat up. The light that would have usually made her get up and write was unwelcome. She didn't want to go to school, especially without Anne. Everyone would know about the drunken scandal by now and that was just one more mistake to add to Anne's list of big faults.
Sara groaned and dressed in her school dress. She walked drowsily down the hall and started to walk down the stairs. Then she stopped short and looked down.
"Ha, didn't get me this time," she said and picked up Danny's toy doll that she would have normally stepped on and fallen down the stairs.
Feeling slightly better, Sara entered the kitchen with a grimace. She had to see Anne one more time, just once more to explain the situation.
Mrs. Holbrook was mixing dough for this week's bread, while Mr. Holbrook was sitting at the table eating his daily toast.
"Good morning, dear," Papa said, shaking the newspaper up, "You're up early."
"What? What time is it?" Sara asked.
"It's five-thirty, dear," Mrs. Holbrook began kneading the dough.
"Oh, it's too early," Sara muttered.
"What's too early?" Mrs. Holbrook asked suspiciously.
"Um, well, Mum, I was wondering, could I at least say goodbye to Anne, please?"
"I suppose I can't even try to argue that one out, there's just no point."
Sara flew out the door. She knew it was too early, but if this was her only chance.
She ran over the bridge and collapsed at the gate, gasping for breath in the cool October air. She quickly searched the windows for Anne's and found it under the east green gable, looking out at the sunrise.
She grabbed a pebble and aimed at that window. She did this a couple of times until a white freckled face appeared at the window. Sara waved her arms around her head and waited for Anne to come down.
When Anne came out through the gate, they looked at each other and hugged.
"Your mother hasn't relented?" Anne asked, nervousness flooding her pale face.
"Oh, Anne, Mother says I'm never to see you again. I've cried and cried, but she wouldn't listen. Now we can never be friends again," Sara felt hot tears flood her blue eyes. Anne grabbed her hands.
"Will thou give me a lock thy black tresses?"
"But I don't have any black dresses."
"Well," Anne sobbed, "your hair's not black, but it'll have to do. Fortunately, I was getting a head-start on my patch-work, so I have these scissors here in my pocket."
Anne cut a small curl off one of Sara's yellow locks. They hugged again.
"Goodbye, Anne," Sara said, tears streaming down her face.
"Goodbye. 'May we be strangers living side by side. My heart will be ever faithful to thee'."
Sara clutched Anne's hand and turned to the bridge. She stood for a moment looking at it, then took off, glancing back every now and then.
Days passed. Anne would not, could not, she said forgive "the Blythe boy" for his rude comment. To her, this was more than just a statement, it was treachery. Sara tried everything to console her hardened heart, but was no comfort.
"The iron has entered my soul, Sara. I will never speak to Gilbert Blythe again."
Finally, to soothe Anne's troubled thoughts, Sara suggested they should arrange a time for them to have tea together. Anne assented happily at this suggestion.
On Sunday afternoon in early October, Sara walked composedly over to Green Gables in her best dress, the one she normally wore for church. She smoothed it down several times as she walked. Sara liked this dress very much. It was a soft blue dress with a satin sash and puffed sleeves. Since she was the oldest, Mother had given her something special to wear to the jealousy of her younger sisters.
Over the Lake of Shining Waters, and through the back garden, Sara knocked on the door.
"Good afternoon, Miss Holbrook," Marilla smiled and showed her into the parlor to put her things down. Sara had brought a lovely sky blue satin parasol and her new white gloves Father had picked up in Carmody last week.
Anne came in, wearing equally good clothes, though frightfully plain. Marilla obviously was more concerned in sense rather then vanity. Anne wore a gray and red plaid dress and her ruddy curls braided into two neat French braids advancing just past her shoulders. (Her hair had grown back rather quickly.)
"Good day, my dear Sara," Anne took up their very polite manner they had decided to use.
"And good day to you, Miss Shirley," Sara responded with the same primness.
"May I take your things, Sara?"
"Why, thank you," Sara handed her the parasol and gloves and Anne laid them down on the parlor bench.
"Well, I've got to go Ladies' Aid, so I'll be back later before supper. Anne, don't forget to lay out Matthew's tea when he comes in from the fields."
"Oh, I won't, Marilla, have a good time."
Marilla left and the girls stared at each other shyly. Anne took Sara's arm and brought her into the sitting room.
"How is your mother?" Anne inquired.
"Oh, very nice, thank you, we've been very busy collecting apples and making preserves. Have you gotten many apples this year?"
"Oh, ever so many," Anne said excitedly, losing her polite manner, "Marilla has been cooking and baking so many good things for weeks on end."
There was an awkward silence.
"Well, I'll go and get our biscuits. They should be ready now, as well as the tea. There are so many responsibilities for one who is hosting a guest."
Sara grinned and Anne walked into the kitchen, coming back with her hands behind her back.
"Now, I won't tell you what Marilla said we could have to drink, I'll just let you taste it to see how you like it. You won't have had it before," Anne pulled out a glass bottle filled with a red liquid inside.
"Oh, raspberry cordial, right?"
"You mean you've had it before?" asked Anne, disappointed.
"Of course I have, haven't you?"
"I'm afraid I've never tasted it," Anne walked over and set a large glass and the raspberry cordial on the side table next to Sara's seat.
"You may have as much as you like, I'll get our preserves," Anne left and went back to the kitchen. Sara proceeded to unscrew the bottle and pour a full amount into her glass. She listened to Anne ramble on in the kitchen.
"Last time I tried to make a cake, I forgot to put the flour in. I was thinking of a wonderful sad story, where you came down with small pox. And I came and nursed you back to health. Then I got the horrid disease and died. Then you buried me with a handkerchief and showered me with your tears. And you planted a beautiful rosebush by my grave. And you never forgot the friend of your youth who sacrificed her life for you. Anyway, I was just crying piteously about it and the cake was a disaster. I got a terrible scolding from Marilla, but I suppose I deserved it."
Sara had drunk her first glass by this time and thought it was delicious.
"This is very nice, Anne," she cried into the kitchen, "Mrs. Lynde brags about hers all the time, but Marilla's is much nicer."
"Well, I must say, Marilla is famous for her cooking all throughout the Island," Anne called back.
"It doesn't taste a bit like it," Sara whispered to herself, "but it's good anyhow."
She poured herself another glass and drank it quite fast, then promptly began to pour a third. She licked her lips and looked around the sitting room. It started to look a little blurred. Sara moaned and put her hand to her forehead. She was starting to feel quite dizzy. Her stomach felt as if it were twisted up and squeezed. Nausea rose up and Sara leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes. She moaned and bent over, her head was spinning, why couldn't the room stop shifting around?
Her thoughts were getting all confused and she began to sweat. Another moan. Oh, what's happening? Sara slowly lay herself down on the wooden floor. Her head pounded as Anne's footsteps sounded in the hallway.
"Here they are-why Sara what's wrong?"
Sara could faintly hear Anne's words, but they made no sense.
"Oh, no, it's the small pox epidemic. Don't worry, Sara, I'll nurse you back to health. Just please stay until after tea."
One thought rose in Sara's muddled mind, "Get home, get home."
"I gotta go home," Sara heard herself say as she picked her body off the floor.
"Oh, Sara, I'll help you, don't worry, here, get back on the couch," Anne followed Sara's trudging footsteps towards the back door. Sara dizzily walked through the garden and leaned against the gate.
"Wait, Sara, wait!" she heard Anne shout, but she paid no attention and proceeded onward.
To her dying day, did she ever know how she got herself safely to her house, over the bridge, through the apple orchard and through the Holbrook field. But she did, and she crawled onto the porch, exhausted. Anne ran up behind her carrying her parasol and gloves. Mrs. Holbrook and Mrs. Lynde came out from the back porch door.
"Oh my goodness, Sara! Anne, what did you give my Sara to drink?" she asked angrily.
"Nothing, but raspberry cordial, ma'am," Anne looked from one vexed woman to the other, confused.
"Raspberry? This girl smells like she's drunk."
Sara had lied down and then gave a loud belch. Mrs. Holbrook turned revolted to Anne.
"Go now, Anne, how dare you set her drunk! Now go, you and Sara will never be friends again."
Sara groaned, clutched her stomach, and ran to a nearby tree and vomited.
Anne looked horrified and the two women watched her run back towards the orchards, then they went to pull Sara to her feet.
Oh, pain. Groan. Light is too bright. Take it away. Moan. The pain is awful. Sara slowly opened her eyes and squinted them in the bright light of the sun. Sara tried to roll over, but she was too exhausted. At first, she didn't know where she was, but then her eyes focused on the window seat and she knew she was in her room. Her memory had very little recollection of her past experiences. A door creaked and Mother came in.
"Oh, good, you're up. How are you feeling, dear?"
Sara looked over at the shiny face of her mother.
"I'm fine, I guess. What day is it?"
"Well, dearest, you've been out for two days. It's Tuesday."
"Wait, where's Anne?"
"No where near here, thank heavens," Mother narrowed her eyes.
"What?" Sara cried. She tried to get up, but the pain in her head was too great.
"You are not to see Anne Shirley again. You are not to speak to her again."
"WHAT?" Sara did sit up this time, much to the pounding of her head.
"I'm sorry, you should not be associating with the likes of a girl who goes around setting people drunk, it's just not right, dear."
"You can't do that, you can't!" Sara cried, a lump in her throat.
"I already have, Marilla was here yesterday evening asking her pardon, saying it was a mistake, but I know it was on purpose. That's just what comes from adopting a child from goodness knows where-
"No, please, Mother, you can't do this, please, it WAS a mistake, it wasn't her fault," Sara was now screaming at Mother, headache or no.
"Please lie down now, Sara, you'll just exhaust yourself."
"I DON'T CARE! I WANT ANNE BACK!" Tears were streaming down her face. "You've no idea what she's like--
"Exactly, we don't know what she's like, and you must stay away from her lest she get you sick."
"Mother, please, I need her, I can't bear life without her!"
"Well, you'll just have to." Mother rose and left the room.
Sara slumped back into the pillows and cried bitter tears. How dare she! How dare she, who can't listen to the truth! I can't live without Anne!
Later, Sara awoke in the dark of the night. She must have cried herself to sleep. Her head wasn't pounding anymore and she didn't feel so exhausted, yet she couldn't have felt more horrible. She knew her mother wouldn't relent and now she'd never see Anne again. No more rambles through the woods, no more stories, no more anything. It was slipping away like pearls falling off a string, one after the other. In the morning, she decided, she'd do something. With that in her head, she lay her wet cheek on the pillow and fell into a restless sleep.
When morning came, Sara rubbed her eyes and sat up. The light that would have usually made her get up and write was unwelcome. She didn't want to go to school, especially without Anne. Everyone would know about the drunken scandal by now and that was just one more mistake to add to Anne's list of big faults.
Sara groaned and dressed in her school dress. She walked drowsily down the hall and started to walk down the stairs. Then she stopped short and looked down.
"Ha, didn't get me this time," she said and picked up Danny's toy doll that she would have normally stepped on and fallen down the stairs.
Feeling slightly better, Sara entered the kitchen with a grimace. She had to see Anne one more time, just once more to explain the situation.
Mrs. Holbrook was mixing dough for this week's bread, while Mr. Holbrook was sitting at the table eating his daily toast.
"Good morning, dear," Papa said, shaking the newspaper up, "You're up early."
"What? What time is it?" Sara asked.
"It's five-thirty, dear," Mrs. Holbrook began kneading the dough.
"Oh, it's too early," Sara muttered.
"What's too early?" Mrs. Holbrook asked suspiciously.
"Um, well, Mum, I was wondering, could I at least say goodbye to Anne, please?"
"I suppose I can't even try to argue that one out, there's just no point."
Sara flew out the door. She knew it was too early, but if this was her only chance.
She ran over the bridge and collapsed at the gate, gasping for breath in the cool October air. She quickly searched the windows for Anne's and found it under the east green gable, looking out at the sunrise.
She grabbed a pebble and aimed at that window. She did this a couple of times until a white freckled face appeared at the window. Sara waved her arms around her head and waited for Anne to come down.
When Anne came out through the gate, they looked at each other and hugged.
"Your mother hasn't relented?" Anne asked, nervousness flooding her pale face.
"Oh, Anne, Mother says I'm never to see you again. I've cried and cried, but she wouldn't listen. Now we can never be friends again," Sara felt hot tears flood her blue eyes. Anne grabbed her hands.
"Will thou give me a lock thy black tresses?"
"But I don't have any black dresses."
"Well," Anne sobbed, "your hair's not black, but it'll have to do. Fortunately, I was getting a head-start on my patch-work, so I have these scissors here in my pocket."
Anne cut a small curl off one of Sara's yellow locks. They hugged again.
"Goodbye, Anne," Sara said, tears streaming down her face.
"Goodbye. 'May we be strangers living side by side. My heart will be ever faithful to thee'."
Sara clutched Anne's hand and turned to the bridge. She stood for a moment looking at it, then took off, glancing back every now and then.
