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- Люси Мод Монтгомери
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- Аня из Авонлеи
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- Стр. 197/198
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Paul
’
s
only
motive
was
to
make
a
joyful
noise
;
but
as
the
clangor
died
away
,
from
point
and
curve
and
hill
across
the
river
came
the
chime
of
“
fairy
wedding
bells
,
”
ringing
clearly
,
sweetly
,
faintly
and
more
faint
,
as
if
Miss
Lavendar
’
s
beloved
echoes
were
bidding
her
greeting
and
farewell
.
And
so
,
amid
this
benediction
of
sweet
sounds
,
Miss
Lavendar
drove
away
from
the
old
life
of
dreams
and
make
-
believes
to
a
fuller
life
of
realities
in
the
busy
world
beyond
.
Two
hours
later
Anne
and
Charlotta
the
Fourth
came
down
the
lane
again
.
Gilbert
had
gone
to
West
Grafton
on
an
errand
and
Diana
had
to
keep
an
engagement
at
home
.
Anne
and
Charlotta
had
come
back
to
put
things
in
order
and
lock
up
the
little
stone
house
.
The
garden
was
a
pool
of
late
golden
sunshine
,
with
butterflies
hovering
and
bees
booming
;
but
the
little
house
had
already
that
indefinable
air
of
desolation
which
always
follows
a
festivity
.
“
Oh
dear
me
,
don
’
t
it
look
lonesome
?
”
sniffed
Charlotta
the
Fourth
,
who
had
been
crying
all
the
way
home
from
the
station
.
“
A
wedding
ain
’
t
much
cheerfuller
than
a
funeral
after
all
,
when
it
’
s
all
over
,
Miss
Shirley
,
ma
’
am
.
”
A
busy
evening
followed
.
The
decorations
had
to
be
removed
,
the
dishes
washed
,
the
uneaten
delicacies
packed
into
a
basket
for
the
delectation
of
Charlotta
the
Fourth
’
s
young
brothers
at
home
.
Anne
would
not
rest
until
everything
was
in
apple
-
pie
order
;
after
Charlotta
had
gone
home
with
her
plunder
Anne
went
over
the
still
rooms
,
feeling
like
one
who
trod
alone
some
banquet
hall
deserted
,
and
closed
the
blinds
.
Then
she
locked
the
door
and
sat
down
under
the
silver
poplar
to
wait
for
Gilbert
,
feeling
very
tired
but
still
unweariedly
thinking
“
long
,
long
thoughts
.
”
“
What
are
you
thinking
of
,
Anne
?
”
asked
Gilbert
,
coming
down
the
walk
.
He
had
left
his
horse
and
buggy
out
at
the
road
.
“
Of
Miss
Lavendar
and
Mr
.
Irving
,
”
answered
Anne
dreamily
.
“
Isn
’
t
it
beautiful
to
think
how
everything
has
turned
out
.
.
.
how
they
have
come
together
again
after
all
the
years
of
separation
and
misunderstanding
?
”
“
Yes
,
it
’
s
beautiful
,
”
said
Gilbert
,
looking
steadily
down
into
Anne
’
s
uplifted
face
,
“
but
wouldn
’
t
it
have
been
more
beautiful
still
,
Anne
,
if
there
had
been
NO
separation
or
misunderstanding
.
.
.
if
they
had
come
hand
in
hand
all
the
way
through
life
,
with
no
memories
behind
them
but
those
which
belonged
to
each
other
?
”
For
a
moment
Anne
’
s
heart
fluttered
queerly
and
for
the
first
time
her
eyes
faltered
under
Gilbert
’
s
gaze
and
a
rosy
flush
stained
the
paleness
of
her
face
.
It
was
as
if
a
veil
that
had
hung
before
her
inner
consciousness
had
been
lifted
,
giving
to
her
view
a
revelation
of
unsuspected
feelings
and
realities
.
Perhaps
,
after
all
,
romance
did
not
come
into
one
’
s
life
with
pomp
and
blare
,
like
a
gay
knight
riding
down
;
perhaps
it
crept
to
one
’
s
side
like
an
old
friend
through
quiet
ways
;
perhaps
it
revealed
itself
in
seeming
prose
,
until
some
sudden
shaft
of
illumination
flung
athwart
its
pages
betrayed
the
rhythm
and
the
music
,
perhaps
.
.
.
perhaps
.
.
.
love
unfolded
naturally
out
of
a
beautiful
friendship
,
as
a
golden
-
hearted
rose
slipping
from
its
green
sheath
Then
the
veil
dropped
again
;
but
the
Anne
who
walked
up
the
dark
lane
was
not
quite
the
same
Anne
who
had
driven
gaily
down
it
the
evening
before
.
The
page
of
girlhood
had
been
turned
,
as
by
an
unseen
finger
,
and
the
page
of
womanhood
was
before
her
with
all
its
charm
and
mystery
,
its
pain
and
gladness
.
