Chapter Eleven
A soft murmuring was all around. Sara dared not open her eyes. She felt the hard ground underneath her, yet she did not know why she was there. Why was she here, in this unfamiliar place? She should be home. And what was that bright shining thing above her? Sara tried to reach up to it, but her arms seemed to be made of lead. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
The murmuring grew louder and someone gasped. The bright thing stationed above Sara's head appeared to be Anne's white, white face.
"Oh, Sara, you've awakened," Anne gasped with relief, "Try to stand up."
Sara was pulled up by strong hands and was placed on her feet. Her left ankle collapsed beneath her and she crumpled back down to the grass, yielding a sharp cry of pain.
"I think I sprained my ankle," she said, looking up at the many faces staring down at her.
"What's going on, what's going on?" Mrs. Gillis then appeared on the scene and the crowd parted to let her through. "Oh, my, Sara, what happened?"
"I was.um.dared to walk the ridgepole, and.I fell and I think I've sprained my ankle." Sara bit her lip and glanced down at the deformed bone.
"Oh, what a silly thing to do. I don't understand why anyone on Earth would walk ridgepole, dare or no dare."
"Well, I said I thought I sprained my ankle. I might have broken my neck. Let us look on the bright side of things."
Mrs. Gillis sniffed and said, "Well, you'd better get yourself home safely and send for the doctor."
The crowd of boys and girls dispersed. Gilbert walked up to Anne, who was helping Sara to her feet.
"Let me help you, I've got the buggy in the back," he looked over Sara's condition, "It looks like she can't walk very far."
"She can walk fine, thank you very much, and now if you please, we need to get home."
Anne grasped Sara's shoulder. Sara looked at her in disbelief. "What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.
"Please, let me bring you two home, I'm going your way," Gilbert pleaded.
"No, I think we're going the opposite direction," Anne pulled the reluctant Sara closer to her side. Gilbert sighed and walked away. Sara looked back at him.
"Anne, what are you playing at? We're not going in the opposite direction. And I don't think I can walk far, like he said."
"I know you are in peril, and I'd do anything to help you, even cut off my own foot if it would do you any good, but not at the hands of Gilbert Blythe."
"I can't believe you," Sara said angrily, "I can't walk an inch further and you know that. Now, please, I need a ride to my house and I'm not going a step further until you get me one."
Anne was gazing at her with her mouth open.
"Alright, alright, there's Mr. Gillis, I'll tell him. Luckily Gilbert has already left."
Sara sighed and watched her walk away, feeling a little guilty. But, why should she feel guilty? It was Anne who couldn't give up grudges right?
"Come, dearest, the buggy's ready," Anne steered her slowly towards the front of the house. Mr. Gillis picked Sara up and sat her in the back seat next to Anne and started off down the road. No one spoke. The silence was dreadful; Sara had to say something.
"Anne, I'm really sorry about flying out at you. I feel awful for offending you. I'm not sure I agree with your grudges, but I won't let that ruin our friendship." She stopped, waiting breathlessly for Anne's reply. Anne turned to her and her face was glistening with tears.
"Oh, I'm sorry too. I know it was silly of me to think that you could walk all the way home in your condition. I shouldn't let my ignorance to someone get in the way of our friendship." She smiled and grasped Sara's hand.
Sara's predictions of her sprained ankle were half-true. Her ankle was broken and she would be laid up for six weeks. It was quite fortunate that she could write and that she had an imagination. She knew it would have been quite difficult without one.
Not that she needed to use it much. She had many visitors. Anne came every afternoon after school and told of the lessons and the happenings of the other Avonlea girls. Jane and Ruby were frequent visitors as well, keeping her occupied with new ways to stitch lace for aprons and some kind of needlepoint that was very fashionable. Even Josie came by. She felt extremely sorry for what she had done. As Sara told Anne, "She actually has some room for compassion in that disagreeable heart of hers. It's nice to know that you can always find a piece of good in everyone."
Sara kept up her writing and reading. Her father got her some poetry books from Carmody to keep her busy. She had many favorites including "The Lady of Shalott" by Tennyson, "The Splendor Falls," also by Tennyson, and some of Kipling and Emerson.
There was one poem that inspired her to keep up her writing. The poem was lovely, but the last verse stood out the brightest.
"Then whisper, blossom, in thy sleep
How I may upward climb
The Alpine Path, so hard, so steep,
That leads to heights sublime.
How I may reach that far-off goal
Of true and honored fame
And write upon its shining scroll
A woman's humble name."
Sara read over this poem every day and vowed that she would reach the top of her Alpine Path one day.
Spring flew past very quickly and summer blossomed with its bright, fiery sunsets and green, green hilltops and fields full of Black-eyed Susan's, mayflowers, and exquisite little pink rosebuds.
At last, in the middle of July, Sara was allowed to get out of the house. When she first opened the porch door to the fresh air, she breathed in deep. It felt so good to be out of her room. She and Anne had a picnic at Idlewild, picking apples by the dozen, eating most of them. Sara read aloud all the poems she loved best, stopping briefly after the line "the haunting elfin music of the air," and gazing up at the puffy white clouds.
"That's my favorite line," she said, "it gives me such a thrill and there's a tingle that runs up my spine." Anne smiled.
"Here, let's make flower wreaths, the mayflowers and pink roses will look lovely against that blush of color in your cheeks. I'm so glad you're well again. It was very lonely to have to go through the Birch Path alone. And let me read some of your poems, I've heard from your mother that that's all you do, really."
Sara shyly handed Anne her precious notebook. Anne opened the cover and skimmed through the pages, commenting every few lines.
"Oh, I like this one: 'Sail onward, ships-white wings, sail on, till past the horizon's purple bar.' And this: 'Lap softly purple waves. I dream, and dreams are sweet-I'll wake no more.' Oooh, this one as well: 'from the purple gates of the west I come.' Well, I think you like the word 'purple,' don't you?"
Sara giggled, "It's such a delightful word. It sounds so beautiful when used in a poem."
"I like the word purple too, it's got a ring to it, doesn't it?" Anne went back to looking over the poems.
"One of my favorites comes to mind when I read these. It goes like this:
"The gods talk in the breath of the world,
They talk in the shaken pine,
And they fill the reach of the old seashore
With dialogue divine;
And the poet who overhears
One random word they say
Is the fated man of men
Whom the ages must obey."
It offers such scope for the imagination, doesn't it? I love it and I wish I could be that one person who overhears that 'random word'."
"So would I. I cannot wait to go to Queens. Think of the friends we'll make and the teachers we'll have, and we'll be teachers ourselves. That seems hardly imaginable. I feel that I can make a step on the Alpine Path at Queens though." Sara picked another apple thoughtfully.
"It's nice to have ambitions. Just as soon as you attire to one, you see another glittering higher still," Anne sighed.
"Oh, I have to go, I can hear Mother calling and, my goodness, it's past twilight. I wish we could have caught the transformation between day and evening. But such moments never are caught, I suppose."
*A/N - The poems in this chapter are from Emily of New Moon.
A soft murmuring was all around. Sara dared not open her eyes. She felt the hard ground underneath her, yet she did not know why she was there. Why was she here, in this unfamiliar place? She should be home. And what was that bright shining thing above her? Sara tried to reach up to it, but her arms seemed to be made of lead. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
The murmuring grew louder and someone gasped. The bright thing stationed above Sara's head appeared to be Anne's white, white face.
"Oh, Sara, you've awakened," Anne gasped with relief, "Try to stand up."
Sara was pulled up by strong hands and was placed on her feet. Her left ankle collapsed beneath her and she crumpled back down to the grass, yielding a sharp cry of pain.
"I think I sprained my ankle," she said, looking up at the many faces staring down at her.
"What's going on, what's going on?" Mrs. Gillis then appeared on the scene and the crowd parted to let her through. "Oh, my, Sara, what happened?"
"I was.um.dared to walk the ridgepole, and.I fell and I think I've sprained my ankle." Sara bit her lip and glanced down at the deformed bone.
"Oh, what a silly thing to do. I don't understand why anyone on Earth would walk ridgepole, dare or no dare."
"Well, I said I thought I sprained my ankle. I might have broken my neck. Let us look on the bright side of things."
Mrs. Gillis sniffed and said, "Well, you'd better get yourself home safely and send for the doctor."
The crowd of boys and girls dispersed. Gilbert walked up to Anne, who was helping Sara to her feet.
"Let me help you, I've got the buggy in the back," he looked over Sara's condition, "It looks like she can't walk very far."
"She can walk fine, thank you very much, and now if you please, we need to get home."
Anne grasped Sara's shoulder. Sara looked at her in disbelief. "What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.
"Please, let me bring you two home, I'm going your way," Gilbert pleaded.
"No, I think we're going the opposite direction," Anne pulled the reluctant Sara closer to her side. Gilbert sighed and walked away. Sara looked back at him.
"Anne, what are you playing at? We're not going in the opposite direction. And I don't think I can walk far, like he said."
"I know you are in peril, and I'd do anything to help you, even cut off my own foot if it would do you any good, but not at the hands of Gilbert Blythe."
"I can't believe you," Sara said angrily, "I can't walk an inch further and you know that. Now, please, I need a ride to my house and I'm not going a step further until you get me one."
Anne was gazing at her with her mouth open.
"Alright, alright, there's Mr. Gillis, I'll tell him. Luckily Gilbert has already left."
Sara sighed and watched her walk away, feeling a little guilty. But, why should she feel guilty? It was Anne who couldn't give up grudges right?
"Come, dearest, the buggy's ready," Anne steered her slowly towards the front of the house. Mr. Gillis picked Sara up and sat her in the back seat next to Anne and started off down the road. No one spoke. The silence was dreadful; Sara had to say something.
"Anne, I'm really sorry about flying out at you. I feel awful for offending you. I'm not sure I agree with your grudges, but I won't let that ruin our friendship." She stopped, waiting breathlessly for Anne's reply. Anne turned to her and her face was glistening with tears.
"Oh, I'm sorry too. I know it was silly of me to think that you could walk all the way home in your condition. I shouldn't let my ignorance to someone get in the way of our friendship." She smiled and grasped Sara's hand.
Sara's predictions of her sprained ankle were half-true. Her ankle was broken and she would be laid up for six weeks. It was quite fortunate that she could write and that she had an imagination. She knew it would have been quite difficult without one.
Not that she needed to use it much. She had many visitors. Anne came every afternoon after school and told of the lessons and the happenings of the other Avonlea girls. Jane and Ruby were frequent visitors as well, keeping her occupied with new ways to stitch lace for aprons and some kind of needlepoint that was very fashionable. Even Josie came by. She felt extremely sorry for what she had done. As Sara told Anne, "She actually has some room for compassion in that disagreeable heart of hers. It's nice to know that you can always find a piece of good in everyone."
Sara kept up her writing and reading. Her father got her some poetry books from Carmody to keep her busy. She had many favorites including "The Lady of Shalott" by Tennyson, "The Splendor Falls," also by Tennyson, and some of Kipling and Emerson.
There was one poem that inspired her to keep up her writing. The poem was lovely, but the last verse stood out the brightest.
"Then whisper, blossom, in thy sleep
How I may upward climb
The Alpine Path, so hard, so steep,
That leads to heights sublime.
How I may reach that far-off goal
Of true and honored fame
And write upon its shining scroll
A woman's humble name."
Sara read over this poem every day and vowed that she would reach the top of her Alpine Path one day.
Spring flew past very quickly and summer blossomed with its bright, fiery sunsets and green, green hilltops and fields full of Black-eyed Susan's, mayflowers, and exquisite little pink rosebuds.
At last, in the middle of July, Sara was allowed to get out of the house. When she first opened the porch door to the fresh air, she breathed in deep. It felt so good to be out of her room. She and Anne had a picnic at Idlewild, picking apples by the dozen, eating most of them. Sara read aloud all the poems she loved best, stopping briefly after the line "the haunting elfin music of the air," and gazing up at the puffy white clouds.
"That's my favorite line," she said, "it gives me such a thrill and there's a tingle that runs up my spine." Anne smiled.
"Here, let's make flower wreaths, the mayflowers and pink roses will look lovely against that blush of color in your cheeks. I'm so glad you're well again. It was very lonely to have to go through the Birch Path alone. And let me read some of your poems, I've heard from your mother that that's all you do, really."
Sara shyly handed Anne her precious notebook. Anne opened the cover and skimmed through the pages, commenting every few lines.
"Oh, I like this one: 'Sail onward, ships-white wings, sail on, till past the horizon's purple bar.' And this: 'Lap softly purple waves. I dream, and dreams are sweet-I'll wake no more.' Oooh, this one as well: 'from the purple gates of the west I come.' Well, I think you like the word 'purple,' don't you?"
Sara giggled, "It's such a delightful word. It sounds so beautiful when used in a poem."
"I like the word purple too, it's got a ring to it, doesn't it?" Anne went back to looking over the poems.
"One of my favorites comes to mind when I read these. It goes like this:
"The gods talk in the breath of the world,
They talk in the shaken pine,
And they fill the reach of the old seashore
With dialogue divine;
And the poet who overhears
One random word they say
Is the fated man of men
Whom the ages must obey."
It offers such scope for the imagination, doesn't it? I love it and I wish I could be that one person who overhears that 'random word'."
"So would I. I cannot wait to go to Queens. Think of the friends we'll make and the teachers we'll have, and we'll be teachers ourselves. That seems hardly imaginable. I feel that I can make a step on the Alpine Path at Queens though." Sara picked another apple thoughtfully.
"It's nice to have ambitions. Just as soon as you attire to one, you see another glittering higher still," Anne sighed.
"Oh, I have to go, I can hear Mother calling and, my goodness, it's past twilight. I wish we could have caught the transformation between day and evening. But such moments never are caught, I suppose."
*A/N - The poems in this chapter are from Emily of New Moon.
