CHAPTER TWOp
'Marilla,' Rachel Lynde insisted, sniffing disapprovingly, 'you do realise that these cakes are stale?'p
Marilla glanced up from her cross-stitch pattern and looked at her friend, who was clutching a cloth bag full of small cakes by the corner, as though it were infected with an infectious disease. 'No, I didn't, Rachel,' she sighed, looking perplexed, 'otherwise I would have thrown them away.'p
'Well, I think they're beginning to grow mould. I will have to feed them to the pigs. No need to throw them away; waste not, want not.' Rachel Lynde took pride in providing her friend and housemate with daily pearls of wisdom. However, Marilla had learned to ignore them.p
'I think it's atrocious that nothing is re-used anymore,' Rachel went on, 'just think of all those children starving in the third-world countries. Mark my words, Marilla, one day all the Yankees and all the Canadians will wake up without food, and then we'll be sorry we ever wasted any.'p
'Rachel, there's no need for melodrama. If a day like that comes, it will have happened as God's will with waste or without it.'p
Rachel pursed her lips and harrumphed disapprovingly. 'Well, I still don't think we ought to speed up the inevitable. I'm rather happy living comfortably, eating every – oh my good Lord, Marilla!' Rachel cried, squinting out of the kitchen window. 'Marilla, it's Anne! Anne is home!'p
Marilla looked up sharply. 'Rachel, don't get so excited! It can't be Anne; she still has another term left at Portland.' Rachel wasn't listening, though; she'd rushed past Marilla, flinging open the back door, and clattering out onto the patio, her footsteps rattling the floorboards.p
'Rachel, will you calm down!' Marilla shouted, exasperated, just as a figure came into view – Marilla's mouth dropped open as she rushed over. Anne, wild and excited, her hair a russet-toned mess, threw herself into Marilla's open arms.p
'Oh, Marilla!' Anne cried, her tears dampening Marilla's shoulder.p
'Anne, my Anne-girl,' Marilla murmured, stroking her hair. 'You mustn't leave us like that again, you hear me? We've missed you too much!'p
'Don't worry, I won't,' Anne said firmly, pulling away from Marilla, and wiping the tears from her cheeks. She grinned in embarrassment. 'I loved teaching, I love the students – but I love Avonlea, and Green Gables, so much more. I learned that I can't stay away for very long now. Never. I might want to explore the world, and to visit exciting places – but nothing makes me happier than the sight of lovely old Avonlea, and all my old haunts.'p
'Come inside, Anne,' Marilla said, 'you've been soaked. I'll put the kettle on, and set the fire going, so you can warm up, with a dry set of clothes…Diana and Fred, you must join us for a cup of tea…and some stale cakes,' she couldn't resist adding, as an afterthought. Rachel coughed.p
Though they looked a little apprehensive, Diana and Fred obliged and joined Marilla, Anne and Rachel as they entered Green Gables again – the three of them together at last.p
'Now, Anne,' Marilla said, as they all sat by the fire an hour later, after Anne had washed and dried her hair, and changed into dry clothes, warmed by the fireplace. 'Tell me all about Portland.'p
'There isn't a great deal to tell you – I spent the last few days packing and saying my goodbyes – before that, I'd sent you my last letter. I decided not to tell you about my coming back – I wanted to surprise you all.' She paused, and grinned at Diana. 'Except for Diana, who helped me get here.'p
'Anne,' Rachel remarked, grinning broadly, cheeks glowing, 'you look real beautiful with your hair down like that. My, my, if only Gilbert were here to see it…'p
Horrified, Marilla nudged Rachel sharply with her foot. Marilla, Diana and Fred were all aghast – Rachel was strictly forbidden to make any comment regarding Gilbert Blythe, unless the situation absolutely called for it. None of them wanted Anne to know. They knew how happy she was, having returned to the Island – they didn't want to dampen her spirits or give her any cause for worry, or at least not until she had settled in properly. But Rachel – vociferous, clumsy Rachel – had let slip a fact that should not have been revealed.p
But Anne didn't seem to have noticed. She laughed, replying, 'Well, I'm sure he will. I'll be going around to the Blythe house to visit him today; imagine his face when he opens the door and sees me standing there! What a shock it will be!'p
Diana eyed Marilla, and nodded slightly. Now was that moment, that most unfortunate moment, which warranted the despicable truth. Marilla sighed deeply and took her time responding, carefully selecting the most appropriate words, and discarding those that would cause more pain.p
'Anne,' she said gently, 'I'm afraid Gilbert was taken ill this autumn. He contracted scarlet fever from one of his patients, you see. He seemed to be recovering, but only two weeks ago he took a bad turn…' Marilla's heart was breaking, even now, at the sight of Anne's face. 'The doctors aren't hoping out much hope for him. He's been in a coma ever since he took the turn.'p
'No,' Anne said quietly. 'No. No, No. It's not true, Marilla; it's not true.'p
Rachel chose that moment to intervene. 'I'm afraid it is, Anne. We would not lie about something so serious.'p
Anne looked to Diana, pleadingly, as though willingly her to tell her it was all just a terrible joke, a terrible hoax, a terrible dream. But, sadly, Diana shook her head, as did Fred.p
'Don't fret so, Anne,' Diana said. 'I doubt it's as bad as the doctors say; they tend to dramatise everything. Remember that Gil has the Blythe constitution in his favour; he'll be all right. You'll see.'p
Anne felt numb. Only a few moments ago she had felt happy; carefree, at peace with everybody and everything in the world. Suddenly, she felt shattered; she felt torn apart, as though she could never be happy again. The knowledge that Gilbert – her beloved friend – was an inch from death seemed to rip apart her insides, churning her stomach, searing her mind. She paled, stood and bolted to her room. When she reached it, she stared around in misery. No longer was it welcoming or homely. It suddenly seemed stark and ominous. Miserable, she threw herself, face-down, onto the bed, and sobbed and sobbed until she felt as though there were no tears left to cry.
'Marilla,' Rachel Lynde insisted, sniffing disapprovingly, 'you do realise that these cakes are stale?'p
Marilla glanced up from her cross-stitch pattern and looked at her friend, who was clutching a cloth bag full of small cakes by the corner, as though it were infected with an infectious disease. 'No, I didn't, Rachel,' she sighed, looking perplexed, 'otherwise I would have thrown them away.'p
'Well, I think they're beginning to grow mould. I will have to feed them to the pigs. No need to throw them away; waste not, want not.' Rachel Lynde took pride in providing her friend and housemate with daily pearls of wisdom. However, Marilla had learned to ignore them.p
'I think it's atrocious that nothing is re-used anymore,' Rachel went on, 'just think of all those children starving in the third-world countries. Mark my words, Marilla, one day all the Yankees and all the Canadians will wake up without food, and then we'll be sorry we ever wasted any.'p
'Rachel, there's no need for melodrama. If a day like that comes, it will have happened as God's will with waste or without it.'p
Rachel pursed her lips and harrumphed disapprovingly. 'Well, I still don't think we ought to speed up the inevitable. I'm rather happy living comfortably, eating every – oh my good Lord, Marilla!' Rachel cried, squinting out of the kitchen window. 'Marilla, it's Anne! Anne is home!'p
Marilla looked up sharply. 'Rachel, don't get so excited! It can't be Anne; she still has another term left at Portland.' Rachel wasn't listening, though; she'd rushed past Marilla, flinging open the back door, and clattering out onto the patio, her footsteps rattling the floorboards.p
'Rachel, will you calm down!' Marilla shouted, exasperated, just as a figure came into view – Marilla's mouth dropped open as she rushed over. Anne, wild and excited, her hair a russet-toned mess, threw herself into Marilla's open arms.p
'Oh, Marilla!' Anne cried, her tears dampening Marilla's shoulder.p
'Anne, my Anne-girl,' Marilla murmured, stroking her hair. 'You mustn't leave us like that again, you hear me? We've missed you too much!'p
'Don't worry, I won't,' Anne said firmly, pulling away from Marilla, and wiping the tears from her cheeks. She grinned in embarrassment. 'I loved teaching, I love the students – but I love Avonlea, and Green Gables, so much more. I learned that I can't stay away for very long now. Never. I might want to explore the world, and to visit exciting places – but nothing makes me happier than the sight of lovely old Avonlea, and all my old haunts.'p
'Come inside, Anne,' Marilla said, 'you've been soaked. I'll put the kettle on, and set the fire going, so you can warm up, with a dry set of clothes…Diana and Fred, you must join us for a cup of tea…and some stale cakes,' she couldn't resist adding, as an afterthought. Rachel coughed.p
Though they looked a little apprehensive, Diana and Fred obliged and joined Marilla, Anne and Rachel as they entered Green Gables again – the three of them together at last.p
'Now, Anne,' Marilla said, as they all sat by the fire an hour later, after Anne had washed and dried her hair, and changed into dry clothes, warmed by the fireplace. 'Tell me all about Portland.'p
'There isn't a great deal to tell you – I spent the last few days packing and saying my goodbyes – before that, I'd sent you my last letter. I decided not to tell you about my coming back – I wanted to surprise you all.' She paused, and grinned at Diana. 'Except for Diana, who helped me get here.'p
'Anne,' Rachel remarked, grinning broadly, cheeks glowing, 'you look real beautiful with your hair down like that. My, my, if only Gilbert were here to see it…'p
Horrified, Marilla nudged Rachel sharply with her foot. Marilla, Diana and Fred were all aghast – Rachel was strictly forbidden to make any comment regarding Gilbert Blythe, unless the situation absolutely called for it. None of them wanted Anne to know. They knew how happy she was, having returned to the Island – they didn't want to dampen her spirits or give her any cause for worry, or at least not until she had settled in properly. But Rachel – vociferous, clumsy Rachel – had let slip a fact that should not have been revealed.p
But Anne didn't seem to have noticed. She laughed, replying, 'Well, I'm sure he will. I'll be going around to the Blythe house to visit him today; imagine his face when he opens the door and sees me standing there! What a shock it will be!'p
Diana eyed Marilla, and nodded slightly. Now was that moment, that most unfortunate moment, which warranted the despicable truth. Marilla sighed deeply and took her time responding, carefully selecting the most appropriate words, and discarding those that would cause more pain.p
'Anne,' she said gently, 'I'm afraid Gilbert was taken ill this autumn. He contracted scarlet fever from one of his patients, you see. He seemed to be recovering, but only two weeks ago he took a bad turn…' Marilla's heart was breaking, even now, at the sight of Anne's face. 'The doctors aren't hoping out much hope for him. He's been in a coma ever since he took the turn.'p
'No,' Anne said quietly. 'No. No, No. It's not true, Marilla; it's not true.'p
Rachel chose that moment to intervene. 'I'm afraid it is, Anne. We would not lie about something so serious.'p
Anne looked to Diana, pleadingly, as though willingly her to tell her it was all just a terrible joke, a terrible hoax, a terrible dream. But, sadly, Diana shook her head, as did Fred.p
'Don't fret so, Anne,' Diana said. 'I doubt it's as bad as the doctors say; they tend to dramatise everything. Remember that Gil has the Blythe constitution in his favour; he'll be all right. You'll see.'p
Anne felt numb. Only a few moments ago she had felt happy; carefree, at peace with everybody and everything in the world. Suddenly, she felt shattered; she felt torn apart, as though she could never be happy again. The knowledge that Gilbert – her beloved friend – was an inch from death seemed to rip apart her insides, churning her stomach, searing her mind. She paled, stood and bolted to her room. When she reached it, she stared around in misery. No longer was it welcoming or homely. It suddenly seemed stark and ominous. Miserable, she threw herself, face-down, onto the bed, and sobbed and sobbed until she felt as though there were no tears left to cry.