-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Люси Мод Монтгомери
-
- Аня из Зелёных Мезонинов
-
- Стр. 190/212
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
“
No
,
I
wasn
’
t
crying
over
your
piece
,
”
said
Marilla
,
who
would
have
scorned
to
be
betrayed
into
such
weakness
by
any
poetry
stuff
.
“
I
just
couldn
’
t
help
thinking
of
the
little
girl
you
used
to
be
,
Anne
.
And
I
was
wishing
you
could
have
stayed
a
little
girl
,
even
with
all
your
queer
ways
.
You
’
ve
grown
up
now
and
you
’
re
going
away
;
and
you
look
so
tall
and
stylish
and
so
—
so
—
different
altogether
in
that
dress
—
as
if
you
didn
’
t
belong
in
Avonlea
at
all
—
and
I
just
got
lonesome
thinking
it
all
over
.
”
“
Marilla
!
”
Anne
sat
down
on
Marilla
’
s
gingham
lap
,
took
Marilla
’
s
lined
face
between
her
hands
,
and
looked
gravely
and
tenderly
into
Marilla
’
s
eyes
.
“
I
’
m
not
a
bit
changed
—
not
really
.
I
’
m
only
just
pruned
down
and
branched
out
.
The
real
me
—
back
here
—
is
just
the
same
.
It
won
’
t
make
a
bit
of
difference
where
I
go
or
how
much
I
change
outwardly
;
at
heart
I
shall
always
be
your
little
Anne
,
who
will
love
you
and
Matthew
and
dear
Green
Gables
more
and
better
every
day
of
her
life
.
”
Anne
laid
her
fresh
young
cheek
against
Marilla
’
s
faded
one
,
and
reached
out
a
hand
to
pat
Matthew
’
s
shoulder
.
Marilla
would
have
given
much
just
then
to
have
possessed
Anne
’
s
power
of
putting
her
feelings
into
words
;
but
nature
and
habit
had
willed
it
otherwise
,
and
she
could
only
put
her
arms
close
about
her
girl
and
hold
her
tenderly
to
her
heart
,
wishing
that
she
need
never
let
her
go
.
Matthew
,
with
a
suspicious
moisture
in
his
eyes
,
got
up
and
went
out
-
of
-
doors
.
Under
the
stars
of
the
blue
summer
night
he
walked
agitatedly
across
the
yard
to
the
gate
under
the
poplars
.
“
Well
now
,
I
guess
she
ain
’
t
been
much
spoiled
,
”
he
muttered
,
proudly
.
“
I
guess
my
putting
in
my
oar
occasional
never
did
much
harm
after
all
.
She
’
s
smart
and
pretty
,
and
loving
,
too
,
which
is
better
than
all
the
rest
.
She
’
s
been
a
blessing
to
us
,
and
there
never
was
a
luckier
mistake
than
what
Mrs
.
Spencer
made
—
if
it
was
luck
.
I
don
’
t
believe
it
was
any
such
thing
.
It
was
Providence
,
because
the
Almighty
saw
we
needed
her
,
I
reckon
.
”
The
day
finally
came
when
Anne
must
go
to
town
.
She
and
Matthew
drove
in
one
fine
September
morning
,
after
a
tearful
parting
with
Diana
and
an
untearful
practical
one
—
on
Marilla
’
s
side
at
least
—
with
Marilla
.
But
when
Anne
had
gone
Diana
dried
her
tears
and
went
to
a
beach
picnic
at
White
Sands
with
some
of
her
Carmody
cousins
,
where
she
contrived
to
enjoy
herself
tolerably
well
;
while
Marilla
plunged
fiercely
into
unnecessary
work
and
kept
at
it
all
day
long
with
the
bitterest
kind
of
heartache
—
the
ache
that
burns
and
gnaws
and
cannot
wash
itself
away
in
ready
tears
.
But
that
night
,
when
Marilla
went
to
bed
,
acutely
and
miserably
conscious
that
the
little
gable
room
at
the
end
of
the
hall
was
untenanted
by
any
vivid
young
life
and
unstirred
by
any
soft
breathing
,
she
buried
her
face
in
her
pillow
,
and
wept
for
her
girl
in
a
passion
of
sobs
that
appalled
her
when
she
grew
calm
enough
to
reflect
how
very
wicked
it
must
be
to
take
on
so
about
a
sinful
fellow
creature
.
Anne
and
the
rest
of
the
Avonlea
scholars
reached
town
just
in
time
to
hurry
off
to
the
Academy
.
That
first
day
passed
pleasantly
enough
in
a
whirl
of
excitement
,
meeting
all
the
new
students
,
learning
to
know
the
professors
by
sight
and
being
assorted
and
organized
into
classes
.
Anne
intended
taking
up
the
Second
Year
work
being
advised
to
do
so
by
Miss
Stacy
;
Gilbert
Blythe
elected
to
do
the
same
.
This
meant
getting
a
First
Class
teacher
’
s
license
in
one
year
instead
of
two
,
if
they
were
successful
;
but
it
also
meant
much
more
and
harder
work
.
Jane
,
Ruby
,
Josie
,
Charlie
,
and
Moody
Spurgeon
,
not
being
troubled
with
the
stirrings
of
ambition
,
were
content
to
take
up
the
Second
Class
work
.
Anne
was
conscious
of
a
pang
of
loneliness
when
she
found
herself
in
a
room
with
fifty
other
students
,
not
one
of
whom
she
knew
,
except
the
tall
,
brown
-
haired
boy
across
the
room
;
and
knowing
him
in
the
fashion
she
did
,
did
not
help
her
much
,
as
she
reflected
pessimistically
.
Yet
she
was
undeniably
glad
that
they
were
in
the
same
class
;
the
old
rivalry
could
still
be
carried
on
,
and
Anne
would
hardly
have
known
what
to
do
if
it
had
been
lacking
.
“
I
wouldn
’
t
feel
comfortable
without
it
,
”
she
thought
.
