LM Montgomery owns Anne of Green Gables. Margaret Mitchell owns some other characters. I own the characters you don't recognize from any stories you have read. And legal disclaimers are for the birds. Tweet Tweet.

It was a couple anxious days later, after breakfast, when Ted said to Marybeth, "Don't worry about it anymore, Mother. It's all over." Then he left with his brothers before she could ask him for details.

She wanted to call him back to explain everything, but then she decided that if he really wanted to handle it himself, she would have to step aside and not interfere. She sighed and couldn't help clasping her hands together for a moment before she cleared the table and made herself ready for the Ladies Aid quilting party at Miss Cornelia's home. Marybeth had been invited as a guest, and she was nervous at meeting so many of the other ladies of the town all at once. Marybeth cherished her lady friends, but large groups of strange women always made her shrink a little. As an outsider she would be judged and talked about if she did anything wrong. Even if she did everything right she would be judged anyway. But there was no help for it; she had to see this party through.

She chose a mauve dress that was pretty, suitable and inconspicuous; her strand of pearls, and the earrings that matched were the only jewelry she added. She pinned on her one remaining hat; she hadn't been to the milliner's to buy a new one since her other hat was ruined the night of the big storm. She gave herself one rueful glance in the mirror, followed by a good scolding. After all, it was just a quilting bee, not a firing squad.

She arrived right on time, and Miss Cornelia refused her offer of help in the kitchen. Everything was well under control, and Marybeth was forced to mingle with the other guests.

Most of the ladies seemed friendly to talk to and curious about the newcomer in their midst. Marybeth recognized most of the ladies by sight at least, and most of them had seen her when she went into town. Besides, Marybeth was thoroughly trained in the art of making small talk. Still, she was relieved when it came time to start sewing.

Marybeth had been seated next to Miss Cornelia, who planned to sew in between times of checking on the progress of the food in the kitchen, and near Anne. On the other side of Marybeth was a woman named Mrs. Donald Reese. Marybeth quickly learned that all that was required of herself was to listen to Mrs. Reese chatter about her daughter and occasionally murmur "How smart she must be" or "Did she really" while she concentrated on her needlework. So far, it didn't look like too taxing of a day.

The sewing started, the gossip started, and Marybeth listened politely as the stories swirled around her. Some of the stories were funny and some were sad, but Marybeth found herself listening with interest. She recognized some of the family names that were mentioned. The same families had populated Glen St. Mary for generations, and Marybeth kept hearing certain names over and over.

Miss Cornelia had just come from the kitchen and Anne had left the table to attend to something when Marybeth's needle ran out of thread. Marybeth tied it off and was attempting to thread a new needle when a lady who was sitting across from her leaned towards another lady at the table and said quietly and derisively, "Did you hear there's going to be wedding down in Harbor Mouth?"

"You don't say," said the woman's friend.

"Well, my hired girl is next door neighbor to the bride's cousin and back yard neighbor to the groom."

"Go on."

"The bride is Sadie Marsh, and the word is she has to get married and quickly," said the gossiping woman before she lowered her voice to a whisper. "She's enceinte."

Marybeth's head was lowered during this exchange because she was trying to thread her needle. Now she found her hands were too clumsy to work a needle and thread. She didn't react, she kept her face carefully blank, but she could feel waves of emotion rushing through her, and knew that the blood had drained from her face.

Miss Cornelia threaded a needle for her and passed it too her, somewhat alarmed at Marybeth's appearance. Marybeth thanked her and Miss Cornelia gave her a sympathetic look.

"Are you quite alright, Mrs. Hamilton?" said the woman who had told the story about Sadie.

Marybeth waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine. Just a touch of...eye strain," she said weakly before she forced herself to concentrate on the quilt. A look passed between the gossipy woman and her companion--Southern Belle airs, no doubt.

Sadie was getting married, and to a boy from her own part of town! Somebody Sadie had taken up with before the Hamiltons had even arrived at Glen St. Mary. The pieces were coming together now. Marybeth thought back to the other day at her gate, when she had demanded proof from Sadie. The girl had obviously counted on her father not knowing something that every woman did know--that it was impossible to determine pregnancy until two missed menses. Sadie had known that if she tried to blame Ted, Marybeth would have proved her wrong on the spot, merely by the date of their acquaintance. When Marybeth had informed them of Ted's age, and they realized that he was too young to marry Sadie and take her off the Marshes' hands, Mr. Marsh had tried to threaten blackmail instead. Marybeth was sick with rage. The whole plan was so sordid and underhanded. She wanted to run away and scream at the top of her lungs just to relieve her feelings, but that would really give the ladies something to talk about. She simply had to pull herself together.

And, she did. The quilts were finished eventually, the meal was gotten through, and Marybeth stayed a few extra minutes after the other women had left to help straighten up and to discuss the situation with Miss Cornelia and Anne before she went to her own home.

In a stroke of luck, Marybeth saw Ted as she was walking home, and she wasted no time on preliminaries.

"How did you know it's all over with Sadie?" She demanded.

"Because she's getting married, Mother. It's all over town."

"Then how in the world did you know this before I did?"

Ted laughed. "Mother, I've met a lot more people around here than you have. One day I happened to hear somebody mention Sadie's name, and some things about her, then I asked a few questions of some people I know, and then everything was clear. Actually, I knew about this two days ago, but it wasn't public knowledge yet, and I wasn't entirely sure. You're not angry, are you?"

"Very angry, yes, but not at you."

"It's really sad, Mother. Everybody in this town knows about that family. The father drinks, they never have enough to eat. She never had any advantages. I kind of feel sorry for her."

"Sorry for her?" Marybeth said blankly.

"Well sure. After all, they didn't have the bringing up we Hamiltons had."

Marybeth didn't know what to say, but that almost sounded like a compliment.

"Yeah, I asked a few people for advice," Ted continued. " Even Mr. Meredith. Did you ever talk to him, Ma?"

"Yes, a few times."

"He's not as day-dreamy as you think, when you get him talking. Anyhow, can I go now? We've got a game started in Rainbow Valley and I don't want to miss it."

"Sure. Go."

When Marybeth arrived at her gate, her new hired girl, Daisy was lying in wait. Without waiting for a by-your-leave, the girl started talking.

"Did you hear that Sadie Marsh is getting married?"

"Yes, Daisy," Marybeth said wearily.

"Good. I used to see her and her intended out walking in the moonlight months ago. Before you folks were here. It's just like her to stir up trouble, so I wanted to set you straight. Anyway, that's all I have to say." With that, she returned to the house to finish cleaning.

Marybeth went in also, sat down in her parlor and closed her eyes. Too many strong emotions in one day drained her of energy. She was sick to death of the whole Sadie drama by now, but there was one thing more she felt like she needed to do because of something Ted had mentioned.

Without bothering to change her clothes or even check herself in the mirror, she went in the kitchen to tell Daisy she was going out, and marched out of her front gate and headed for the Manse. She didn't plan what she was going to say. Her thoughts were too tired and dull to hang on to anything of substance. When she got up to the front door, she quailed a little. She had never been inside the Manse before, and she wondered if it was quite proper for her to visit. Well, why not, she argued with herself. After all, this was a pastoral visit, not a social one. On the other hand, he wasn't her pastor. Marybeth steeled herself and knocked on the door.

She was shown into the parlor by Aunt Martha and in a few minutes Mr. Meredith himself came in to greet her. "Won't you sit down?" He asked, as he closed the parlor door.

"Yes, but I'm only here a moment. I guess you heard that we had some excitement at our house about Ted?"

Mr. Meredith nodded and sat down in a chair near her.

"I just came here to thank you. He said he talked to you and that it was helpful. I appreciate it."

"Of course, I was happy to help. But how are you doing?" He was concerned for her. She looked fatigued.

"I'm just relieved it's all over. But I feel something else, too. I'm so angry that Ted had to go through this. I'm so angry that somebody wanted to slander his reputation. And on the other hand, I really believe that we're supposed to forgive those who have sinned against us, but I just can't."

"Do you want to forgive her?" he asked.

"Well--I guess the good part of me wants to, because I believe in it. But the angry part of me doesn't care one bit. But Ted is already forgiving her and I feel that I should be the one to show the good example. To be completely honest, the thought of forgiveness never even entered my mind until Ted said he felt sorry for her. Then I felt ashamed."

Mr. Meredith thought a moment, trying to formulate his thoughts before speaking, wanting her to understand, feeling a little frustrated. This would be so much easier if she were only a member of his church, with the same philosophy and understanding.

"I realize, Mrs. Hamilton, that we don't believe exactly the same things about the nature of sin and guilt," he said slowly," And furthermore, I am no expert on Catholicism. But I am confident that we agree on one thing; no human being can rely on their own strength to avoid sin, but must rely on the grace that comes from God. If you don't mind my saying it, you're so used to managing your household and fixing your own problems that it becomes easy to assume that you can do anything on your own. But make no mistake; you will have to rely on a greater Strength than your own in order to be able to forgive this sin against your son. Do you understand what I mean?"

Marybeth closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose as she thought quietly about what he said. "In other words, 'Come to Me all you who labor.'" She looked at him and he nodded approval of her interpretation of the verse. "I've heard that phrase ever since I was a little girl, only sometimes I forget the verse itself, or I forget what it means. Thank you for the reminder," Marybeth heaved herself to her feet. "I appreciate your time, but I'm sure you have other things to attend to, so I'll be going."

As he walked her to the door, he said, "I have noticed, by the way, that mothers tend to be very fierce where their children are concerned. Cecilia could never stand to see our children hurt or mistreated."

"It never ends, does it, the constant caring for your children, the constant guidance, trying to keep them out of trouble, trying to teach them to live virtuous lives."

"That's true, Mrs. Hamilton."

"Thank you again for talking to Ted, and thank you for listening to my troubles, too," she said, as she held out her hand to shake his.

He opened the parlor door, then shook her hand and smiled that shy smile at her, the one that always made her a little weak at the knees. Fatigue and emotion had rendered Marybeth a little raw, and before she thought, she blurted out, "Your children are so lucky to have somebody honorable like you as their father--they're sure to grow up just fine with your example to follow."

Mr. Meredith's mind snapped back to attention. He had already started to drift back to the sermon he was preparing for Sunday when Marybeth made this speech. He looked sharply into her face, and even though her remark hadn't been terribly unusual, something he saw in her sincere expression gave him pause. Something made him feel as if he couldn't let that last remark go unchallenged.

"I can only hope that my example doesn't lead anybody astray, but it's very unwise to hold any human being up for emulation or praise. Nobody is without sin, Mrs. Hamilton," he said, still smiling, but his tone was serious.

"Naturally, but you have a reputation for..."

"Stop right there," he said, and shut the door. Marybeth stood there, puzzled, while Mr. Meredith searched for the right words to say. "Sit down again, please."

Marybeth sat on the nearest chair as Mr. Meredith walked over to the fireplace, wrestling with something he wanted to tell her. Her look of gratitude mixed with admiration as they stood together at the door made him uneasy because of its sincerity. If there had been any hint of flattery in it, he would have simply dismissed her and gone on with his day, but she had been speaking from her heart, and somehow it would have seemed hypocritical of him to allow her to persist in her high opinion of him.

"Mrs. Hamilton, you know that everybody sins--nobody is perfect."

"Right. The just man falls seven times a day. That's in the Bible, Reverend, I don't know chapter and verse, however."

No. She wouldn't. "It's in Proverbs," he said. "All this talk about honor and reputation; anybody in the world is capable of sinning against honor and reputation, Mrs. Hamilton, anybody."

She nodded, not really comprehending, not knowing why he was saying any of this. He looked into her face again. Something about the way she was looking up at him expectantly, trying to follow his train of thought was just simply too much for him to take. Looking around the room, he spied a footstool, and dragged it over in front of her and sat down on it, looking up into her face. She was looking at him with some wonderment. Clasping his hands over his knees, he started talking.

"Never mind about what you've heard about me, or what you think you know about me. I'm telling you, everybody has something inside him or her, some deed, some thought, which they keep hidden, like the dark side of the moon. Something awry in their life. I can give you an example, something I never told anybody else. In the earliest days when I was courting Cecilia, there was another young man who was my rival for her affections. I believed then and I believe now that he was never a serious contender for her affections. However, he was an annoyance, and I wished he would give up and go away. Well, a rumor got started about this young man. A nasty rumor, the type that would not be repeated in polite company. So, you can imagine my surprise when Cecilia and I and a small group of friends were together and somebody brought up the ugly story. My rival wasn't there that night. Now, I happened to know for certain that the rumor had no basis in fact, but when Cecilia heard it, she was shocked. She wondered out loud if it could possibly be true." Mr. Meredith looked up into Marybeth's face. She was hanging on his every word.

"It's hard to admit this, but I wrestled with it. Part of me wanted to see him gone, even though he was not a serious threat to me. The other part of me wanted to do what was right and defend his reputation." Marybeth leaned forward, interested, and Mr. Meredith was now questioning the wisdom of his telling her this. He didn't want to lose her good opinion of himself, but he had to be honest.

"So what did you decide?" she asked.

"I didn't. Before I was done debating with my conscience, somebody else had spoken up in the young man's behalf. The decision was made for me."

"Oh, Mr. Meredith, so you never knew," Marybeth said. Overwrought from the events of the day, not thinking of proprieties, she merely responded to what she saw in his face and reached out for his hands and held them in her lap. "The not-knowing must have been worse than anything for you. For even if you had failed, at least you would have known where your own weakness lies. It's easier to face what we know for certain about ourselves, than the things we only suspect, isn't it?"

The look of understanding in her face was overwhelming him and he suddenly longed to do more than merely hold her hands. He decided he needed to get her out of his parlor and quickly. Gently circling his fingers around hers, he smiled wanly at her. "Now I'm afraid I've taken up too much of your time," he said as he stood up and assisted her to her feet. After she was safely seen out the door, he hurried to his study and shut himself in. He needed to think. He wanted to unburden himself to her, needed to be honest with her, but he didn't realize until now that he also intended to test her. He thought there were two ways she could react. One reaction would have been to despise him for his indecision, in which case he would not have to see her again. The other reaction would have been to jump to the conclusion that he would have done the moral, upright thing if only he had a little more time. Such a pat, simple answer would have made it easier to get over her when she left Glen St. Mary. But she shocked him by cutting right to the part of the story that had bothered him all these years--the ambiguousness of what might have happened.

He had read once about a Spanish mystic who allegedly had the power to read a person's soul. He had dismissed the story when he read it, but when Marybeth answered him the way she had, the story came back to him all of a sudden and it spooked him. However, she wasn't the mystical type.

He almost wished it had been a supernatural occurrence, because he was uncomfortable with the most obvious explanation that was left. She understood him and his mind and the way he thought. Furthermore, something else was clear; her friendship wasn't as "safe" as he had thought.

He didn't put any blame on her--she had never thrown herself at him, never set traps for him. He was very well aware of the types of traps women set. There was no help for it. A young, single minister was considered a desirable catch--he knew it, the ladies of his congregation knew it, his colleagues knew it. In their own ways they tried to remind him of his duty to find a suitable wife. Marybeth was the only one in his life who didn't understand it--she wasn't raised to think that way. Yet without conscious decision or willful action, she had managed to get under his skin. She was the most unsuitable woman in town. But in those times that their paths crossed, something in their spirits seemed to connect despite the very real differences between them, and she held a place in his thoughts that was a little apart from everything else in his world. Not attainable, not permissible and yet there was a real affection between them. He wasn't vain, but neither was it lost on him the way she would blush whenever he smiled at her.

Courting her was out of the question; friendship was increasingly uncomfortable. He couldn't prevent meeting her from time to time; they were neighbors and their children were friends. The only consolation was that summer was halfway over and she would be leaving eventually. However, he realized, that particular consolation didn't make him happy at all.