Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [69]
‘Oh, but you can!’ Anne put her arm about Katherine. ‘You can put hate out of your mind, cure yourself of it. Life is only beginning for you now, since at last you’re quite free and independent. And you never know what may be around the next bend in the road.’
‘I’ve heard you say that before. I’ve laughed at your “bend in the road”. But the trouble is there aren’t any bends in my road. I can see it stretching straight out before me to the skyline – endless monotony. Oh, does life ever frighten you, Anne, with its blankness, its swarms of cold, uninteresting people? No, of course it doesn’t. You won’t have to go on teaching all the rest of your life. And you seem to find everybody interesting, even that little round red being you call Rebecca Dew. The truth is, I hate teaching – and there’s nothing else I can do. A school-teacher is simply a slave of time. Oh, I know you like it; I don’t see how you can. Anne, I want to travel. It’s the one thing I’ve always longed for. I remember the one and only picture that hung on the wall of my attic room at Uncle Henry’s, a faded old print that had been discarded by the other rooms with scorn. It was a picture of palms round a spring in the desert, with a string of camels marching away in the distance. It literally fascinated me. I’ve always wanted to go and find it. I want to see the Southern Cross and the Taj Mahal and the pillars of Karnak. I want to know – not just believe – that the world is round. And I can never do it on a teacher’s salary. I’ll just have to go on for ever, prating of King Henry the Eighth’s wives and the inexhaustible resources of the Dominion.’
Anne laughed. It was safe to laugh now, for the bitterness had gone out of Katherine’s voice. It sounded merely rueful and impatient.
‘Anyhow, we’re going to be friends, and we’re going to have a jolly ten days here to begin our friendship. I’ve always wanted to be friends with you, Katherine – spelled with a K! I’ve always felt that underneath all your prickles was something that would make you worth while as a friend.’
‘So that is what you’ve really thought of me? I’ve often wondered. Well, the leopard will have a go at changing its spots, if it’s at all possible. Perhaps it is. I can believe almost anything at this Green Gables of yours. It’s the first place I’ve ever been in that felt like a home. I would like to be more like other people – if it isn’t too late. I’ll even practise a sunny smile for that Gilbert of yours when he arrives tomorrow night. Of course, I’ve forgotten how to talk to young men, if I ever knew. He’ll just think me an old-maid gooseberry. I wonder if, when I go to bed tonight, I’ll feel furious with myself for pulling off my mask and letting you see into my shivering soul like this.’
‘No, you won’t. You’ll think, “I’m glad she’s found out I’m human.” We’re going to snuggle down among the warm, fluffy blankets, probably with two hot-water bottles, for likely Marilla and Mrs Lynde will each put one in