Anne of Ingleside - L. M. Montgomery [89]
Nan believed every word of this preposterous yarn. She had never been lied to in her life, and not for the moment did she doubt the truth of Dovie’s tale. It never occurred to her that anyone, much less her beloved Dovie, would or could make up such a story. She gazed at Dovie with anguished, disillusioned eyes.
‘How… how did your Aunt Kate find it out?’ she gasped through dry lips.
‘The nurse told her on her death-bed,’ said Dovie solemnly. ‘I s’pose her conscience troubled her. Aunt Kate never told anyone but me. When I came to the Glen and saw Cassie Thomas… Nan Blythe, I mean… I took a good look at her. She’s got red hair and eyes the same colour as your mother’s. You’ve got brown eyes and brown hair. That’s why you don’t look like Di… twins always look exactly alike. And Cass has just the same kind of ears as your father… lying so nice and flat against her head. I don’t s’pose anything can be done about it now. But I’ve often thought it wasn’t fair, you having such an easy time and being kept like a doll and poor Cass… Nan… in rags, and not even getting enough to eat, many’s the time. And old Six-toed beating her when he comes home drunk! Why, what are you looking at me like that for?’
Nan’s pain was greater than she could bear. All was horribly clear to her now. Folks had always thought it funny she and Di didn’t look one bit alike. This was why.
‘I hate you for telling me this, Dovie Johnson!’
Dovie shrugged her fat shoulders.
‘I didn’t tell you you’d like it, did I? You made me tell. Where are you going?’
For Nan, white and dizzy, had risen to her feet.
‘Home… to tell Mother,’ she said miserably.
‘You mustn’t… you dassn’t. Remember you swore you wouldn’t tell,’ cried Dovie.
Nan stared at her. It was true she had promised not to tell. And Mother always said you mustn’t break a promise.
‘I guess I’ll be getting home myself,’ said Dovie, not altogether liking the look of Nan.
She snatched up the parasol and ran off, her plump bare legs twinkling along the old wharf. Behind her she left a broken-hearted child, sitting amid the ruins of her small universe. Dovie didn’t care. Soft was no name for Nan. It really wasn’t much fun to fool her. Of course, she would tell her mother as soon as she got home and find out she had been hoaxed.
‘Just as well I’m going home Sunday,’ reflected Dovie.
Nan sat on the wharf for what seemed hours… blind, crushed, despairing. She wasn’t Mother’s child! She was Six-toed Jimmy’s child… Six-toed Jimmy, of whom she had always had a secret dread simply because of his six toes. She had no business to be living at Ingleside, loved by Mother and Dad. ‘Oh!’ Nan gave a piteous little moan. Mother and Dad wouldn’t love her any more if they knew. All their love would go to Cassie Thomas.
Nan put her hand to her head. ‘It makes me dizzy,’ she said.
33
‘What is the reason you are not eating anything, pet?’ asked Susan at the supper table.
‘Were you out in the sun too long, dear?’ asked Mother anxiously. ‘Does your head ache?’
‘Ye-e-s,’ said Nan. But it wasn’t her head that ached. Was she telling a lie to Mother? And if so, how many more would she have to tell? For Nan knew she would never be able to eat again… never so long as this horrible knowledge was hers. And she knew she could never tell Mother. Not so much because of the promise… hadn’t Susan said once that a bad promise was better broken than kept?… but because it would hurt Mother. Somehow, Nan knew beyond any doubt that it would hurt Mother horribly. And Mother mustn’t… shouldn’t… be hurt. Nor Dad.
And yet… there was Cassie Thomas. She wouldn’t call her Nan Blythe. It made Nan feel awful beyond description to think of Cassie Thomas as being Nan