It was a mild hot July at Four Winds. Light clouds raced in the sky, which were like Tennyson's poems, floating along. And there were a few boats in the harbor. Late Persis Leigh´s vibrant roses were brilliant in Elizabeth Russell's little garden as she and Cornelia Byrant sewed in friendly silence – it was a thimble party for two. Suddenly Cornelia Byrant cast a sharp, searching look from her brown eyes, into Elizabeth Russell's pale face, and said with friendly certainty, "When are you going down to Charlottetown to see a specialist?"
Elizabeth Russell put down her grandmother's glimmering silver thimble, as she remarked mirthfully, "Nell, Nell, nothing ails me but old age. Doctor Dave Blythe's prescriptions will help enough. I luckily have the savings to get myself a district nurse, to help when the time comes."
The wind rustled in the delicate vibrant green leaves of the roses, and Elizabeth Russell eagerly poured iced tea for her guest.
Cornelia Bryant remarked belligerently, "Doctor Dave is an old-saw-bones, but he is capable, at certain things, if not innovations. You deserve better my friend. Old age has treated you gently, if I may say, but I've been worried about you this spring, as is Captain Jim, as well, after that last bout of flu you have had. He has so lost so many of his cronies in the wide stormy seas. You are dear to us both, Lizzie. "
Elizabeth Russell, smiled sweetly, and that smile revealed a small dimple in her cheeks. It had been rumored for years in Glen and Four Winds that exactly that smile, as well as Elizabeth's fresh, lovely looks, at the Govenors Ball at Charlottetown, that one occasion had charmed the Prince of Wales to request a dance with her. That dance, it had become a legend, with which Miss Russell's odd airs were acknowledged. The light sparkled in the beautiful gold-set amethyst earrings that glittered in Elizabeth's ears, rumored to have been handed to Elizabeth by the Prince of Wales at the end of the evening. The precise mystery of origin of those amethytst were delicious, but old Miss Elizabeth Russell only smiled impishly if persons asked after their provinance, little like a sleek cat might when it was licking cream of its whiskers.
Cornelia Bryant, remarked in her sonsy way, "Captain Jim, must have paid a visit here?"
Elizabeth Russell put down her teacup, on the little dainty table, and laughed merrily, as she replied, "Nell, Nell, you know very well that Jim is the most reliable and faithful friend that anyone could have, even if he is irritatingly placid. And I think he cleaves to this house, for sometimes when we sit here in the evenings regardless of the season, and we talk, argue, and amuse each other, I can see from Jim's bright eyes that he is doing a communion of olden, golden times, of the days of his boyhood, when Schoolmaster Selwyn lived here."
" Persis Leigh had the most wonderful knack with flowers, but so do you," Cornelia noted, as she sewed a small piece of clothing, yet another christening dress, with tiny almost invisible stitches.
Elizabeth Russell, glanced at the regal Lombard poplars and said lightly, "Flowers, and trees are always present, and they don't care what mood you're in, unlike people."
With a sly glance toward Elizabeth Russell Cornelia Bryant, noted "I suppose you still occasionally chew furniture, when your spirit and temper is well and truly up, but that would have been no reason not to marry if you had wanted to. Men do take all kinds of women, they only want someone to manage them with wim."
A slightly sharp look rose into Elizabeth Russell's dark, almost maple syrup tinted eyes, as she murmured, "Perhaps, so. I'm satisfied with the way I've lived my life. Nell, dearest I have a little request for you, come on, let´s go inside for a time."
Curious, Cornelia Bryant followed Elizabeth Russell's slender figure for a few steps, that it took. Cornelia's good-hearted heart ached, as she saw how slow and weary Elizabeth's once vigorous steps were, as she leaned on her silver-tipped narrow cane, as she stepped over the threshold, of her abode.
Purposefully, Elizabeth Russell escorted Cornelia into a parlor that was neatly and fashionably decorated, with a slight old-fashioned feel that suited her. There were fragrant flowers in a wedgewood vase, their shadows reflected on the walls.
On the polished little table was a round jewelry box, which Elizabeth handed to Cornelia.
And after receiving a slight, impatient, pointed nod, Cornelia opened the box, resting on the crimson velvet was a moonstone lavalier necklace. The light flickered palely in the icy blue, almost translucent stones.
Elizabeth Russell, waved her hand in her familiar dismissive, impatient, but hearty style, as she said, "Dearest Nell, I don't know Leslie Moore very well, as I've been away too much, in Charlottetown, at times, but I hope you'll give her that little memento from me when you experience it to suit."
Cornelia Bryant nodded.
And suddenly she noticed how, in the shadowy parlor Elizabeth Russell seemed more tired, and more frail, than before.
Elizabeth Russell smiled mischievously as she remarked, "I'm leaving this house in the care of our church, they'll probably rent it out. I hope the right kind of people will come here when it's time for me to leave. Please promise to visit here, even when I'm no longer here to sweeten these rooms with my humor."
Elizabeth Russell's whitened curls, which had once been a shade of dark honey, cast a saintly aura about her, she was like a wizened fae.
There was a cloudy mirror. It showed a distorted image of that parlor. The aesthetic of which was a touch of oldmaidish, worn bookshelves, pale rose hued silk curtains on the windows. A few decorative objects above the fireplace.
Cornelia Bryant smiled and poured Elizabeth Russell's famous cherry wine into small cystal cut thimble glasses. Those two old-maids they toasted, to friendship, and the future, to come.
With bright eyes, Cornelia Bryant looked curiously around in that so familiar parlor whose mistress was now young Mistress Blythe, dearest Anne, whose imaginative spark was extremely captivating.
Thoughtfully, Cornelia put her teacup on the table, and said softly, "If dear Elizabeth could have met you, she would have liked you immensely, Anne. I swear it. You would have been kindredspirits, as you say. She did have her dreamy and dramatic side too, along with her temper. Such fun times here always were, despite her airs. Elizabeth Russell was such a winsome lovable character."
Anne gave a silvery laugh, as she remarked, "Dearest Capitan Jim has told me a little about her, and the picture I got from you got a little more detailed. She really seemed a most interesting woman, and self-willed too, a little like my old beloved Miss Lavendar Lewis, as she was up at Grafton way, near Avonlea. She is Mrs. Irving, as been so for quite number of happy golden years."
One bright sunny Sunday in October, Anne slipped into the cemetery, and placed a beautiful bunch of autumn leaves on Elizabeth Russell's grave, as she did so she murmured, "You were another creature of mirth, or so Captain Jim has told me. There is still laughter in your house."