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- Аня из Авонлеи
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- Стр. 157/198
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An
express
wagon
was
jolting
up
the
lane
,
with
two
people
on
the
front
seat
and
a
big
trunk
behind
.
When
it
drew
near
Anne
recognized
the
driver
as
the
son
of
the
station
agent
at
Bright
River
;
but
his
companion
was
a
stranger
.
.
.
a
scrap
of
a
woman
who
sprang
nimbly
down
at
the
gate
almost
before
the
horse
came
to
a
standstill
.
She
was
a
very
pretty
little
person
,
evidently
nearer
fifty
than
forty
,
but
with
rosy
cheeks
,
sparkling
black
eyes
,
and
shining
black
hair
,
surmounted
by
a
wonderful
beflowered
and
beplumed
bonnet
.
In
spite
of
having
driven
eight
miles
over
a
dusty
road
she
was
as
neat
as
if
she
had
just
stepped
out
of
the
proverbial
bandbox
.
“
Is
this
where
Mr
.
James
A
.
Harrison
lives
?
”
she
inquired
briskly
.
“
No
,
Mr
.
Harrison
lives
over
there
,
”
said
Anne
,
quite
lost
in
astonishment
.
“
Well
,
I
DID
think
this
place
seemed
too
tidy
.
.
.
MUCH
too
tidy
for
James
A
.
to
be
living
here
,
unless
he
has
greatly
changed
since
I
knew
him
,
”
chirped
the
little
lady
.
“
Is
it
true
that
James
A
.
is
going
to
be
married
to
some
woman
living
in
this
settlement
?
”
“
No
,
oh
no
,
”
cried
Anne
,
flushing
so
guiltily
that
the
stranger
looked
curiously
at
her
,
as
if
she
half
suspected
her
of
matrimonial
designs
on
Mr
.
Harrison
.
“
But
I
saw
it
in
an
Island
paper
,
”
persisted
the
Fair
Unknown
.
“
A
friend
sent
a
marked
copy
to
me
.
.
.
friends
are
always
so
ready
to
do
such
things
.
James
A
.
‘
s
name
was
written
in
over
‘
new
citizen
.
’
”
“
Oh
,
that
note
was
only
meant
as
a
joke
,
”
gasped
Anne
.
“
Mr
.
Harrison
has
no
intention
of
marrying
ANYBODY
.
I
assure
you
he
hasn
’
t
.
”
“
I
’
m
very
glad
to
hear
it
,
”
said
the
rosy
lady
,
climbing
nimbly
back
to
her
seat
in
the
wagon
,
“
because
he
happens
to
be
married
already
.
I
am
his
wife
.
Oh
,
you
may
well
look
surprised
.
I
suppose
he
has
been
masquerading
as
a
bachelor
and
breaking
hearts
right
and
left
.
Well
,
well
,
James
A
.
,
”
nodding
vigorously
over
the
fields
at
the
long
white
house
,
“
your
fun
is
over
.
I
am
here
.
.
.
though
I
wouldn
’
t
have
bothered
coming
if
I
hadn
’
t
thought
you
were
up
to
some
mischief
.
I
suppose
,
”
turning
to
Anne
,
“
that
parrot
of
his
is
as
profane
as
ever
?
”
