Anne of Ingleside - L. M. Montgomery [124]
Anne didn’t know. And how came Gilbert to know? Why had he never told her? And had he forgotten that next Tuesday was the anniversary of their own wedding day? A day on which they had never accepted any invitation, but went off on a little bat of their own. Well, she wouldn’t remind him. He could see his Christine if he wanted to. What had a girl at Redmond once said to her darkly? ‘There was a good deal more between Gilbert and Christine than you ever knew, Anne.’ She had merely laughed at it at the time… Claire Hallett was a spiteful thing. But perhaps there had been something in it. Anne suddenly remembered, with a little chill of the spirit, that not long after her marriage she had found a small photograph of Christine in an old pocket-book of Gilbert’s. Gilbert had seemed quite indifferent and said he’d wondered where that old snap had got to. But… was it one of those unimportant things that are significant of things tremendously important? Was it possible… had Gilbert ever loved Christine? Was she, Anne, only a second choice? The consolation prize?
‘Surely I’m not… jealous,’ thought Anne, trying to laugh. It was all very ridiculous. What more natural than that Gilbert should like the idea of meeting an old Redmond friend? What more natural than that a busy man, married for fifteen years, should forget times and seasons and days and months? Anne wrote to Mrs Fowler, accepting her invitation… and then put in the three days before Tuesday hoping desperately that somebody in the Upper Glen would start having a baby Tuesday afternoon about half-past five.
42
The hoped-for baby arrived too soon. Gilbert was sent for at nine Monday night. Anne wept herself to sleep and wakened at three. It used to be delicious to wake in the night… to lie and look out of her window at the night’s enfolding loveliness… to hear Gilbert’s regular breathing beside her… to think of the children across the hall and the beautiful new day that was coming. But now! Anne was still awake when the dawn, clear and green as fluor spar, was in the eastern sky and Gilbert came home at last. ‘Twins,’ he said hollowly as he flung himself into bed and was asleep in a minute. Twins, indeed! The dawn of the fifteenth anniversary of your wedding day and all your husband could say to you was ‘Twins’. He didn’t even remember it was an anniversary.
Gilbert apparently didn’t remember it any better when he came down at eleven. For the first time he did not mention it; for the first time he had no gift for her. Very well, he shouldn’t get his gift either. She had had it ready for weeks… a silver-handled pocketknife with the date on one side and his initials on the other. Of course, he must buy it from her with a cent, lest it cut their love. But since he had forgotten she would forget too, with a vengeance.
Gilbert seemed in a sort of daze all day. He hardly spoke to anyone and moped about the library. Was he lost in glamorous anticipation of seeing his Christine again? Probably he had been hankering after her all these years in the back of his mind. Anne knew quite well this idea was absolutely unreasonable, but when was jealousy ever reasonable? It was no use trying to be philosophical. Philosophy had no effect on her mood.
They were going to town on the five o’clock train. ‘Can we come in and watch you dreth, Mummy?’ asked Rilla.
‘Oh, if you want to,’ said Anne… then pulled herself up sharply. Why, her voice was getting querulous. ‘Come along, darling,’ she added repentantly.
Rilla had no greater delight than watching Mummy dress. But even Rilla thought Mummy was not getting much fun out of it that night.
Anne took some thought as to what dress she should wear. Not that it mattered, she told herself bitterly, what she put on. Gilbert never noticed now. The mirror was no longer her friend… she looked pale and tired… and unwanted. But she must not look too countrified