Anne's House of Dreams - L. M. Montgomery [20]
‘You’ll stay right here with me, Anne-girl,’ said Gilbert lazily. ‘I won’t have you flying away from me into the hearts of storms.’
They were sitting on their red sandstone doorstep in the late afternoon. Great tranquillities were all about them in land and sea and sky. Silvery gulls were soaring over them. The horizons were laced with long trails of frail, pinkish clouds. The hushed air was threaded with a murmurous refrain of minstrel winds and waves. Pale asters were blowing in the sere and misty meadows between them and the harbour.
‘Doctors who have to be up all night waiting on sick folk don’t feel very adventurous, I suppose,’ Anne said indulgently. ‘If you had had a good sleep last night, Gilbert, you’d be as ready as I am for a flight of imagination.’
‘I did good work last night, Anne,’ said Gilbert quietly. ‘Under God, I saved a life. This is the first time I could ever really claim that. In other cases I may have helped; but, Anne, if I had not stayed at Allonby’s last night and fought death hand to hand that woman would have died before morning. I tried an experiment that was certainly never tried in Four Winds before. I doubt if it was ever tried anywhere before outside of a hospital. It was a new thing in Kingsport hospital last winter. I could never have dared try it here if I had not been absolutely certain that there was no other chance. I risked it – and it succeeded. As a result, a good wife and mother is saved for long years of happiness and usefulness. As I drove home this morning, while the sun was rising over the harbour, I thanked God that I had chosen the profession I did. I had fought a good fight and won – think of it, Anne, won, against the Great Destroyer. It’s what I dreamed of doing long ago when we talked together of what we wanted to do in life. That dream of mine came true this morning.’
‘Was that the only one of your dreams that has come true?’ asked Anne, who knew perfectly well what the substance of his answer would be, but wanted to hear it again.
‘You know, Anne-girl,’ said Gilbert, smiling into her eyes. At that moment there were certainly two perfectly happy people sitting on the doorstep of a little white house on the Four Winds Harbour shore.
Presently Gilbert said, with a change of tone, ‘Do I or do I not see a full-rigged ship sailing up our lane?’
Anne looked and sprang up.
‘That must be either Miss Cornelia Bryant or Mrs Moore coming to call,’ she said.
‘I’m going into the office, and if it is Miss Cornelia I warn you that I’ll eavesdrop,’ said Gilbert. ‘From all I’ve heard regarding Miss Cornelia I conclude that her conversation will not be dull, to say the least.’
‘It may be Mrs Moore.’
‘I don’t think Mrs Moore is built on those lines. I saw her working in her garden the other day, and, though I was too far away to see clearly, I thought she was rather slender. She doesn’t seem very socially inclined when she has never called on you yet, although she’s your nearest neighbour.’
‘She can’t be like Mrs Lynde, after all, or curiosity would have brought her,’ said Anne. ‘This caller is, I think, Miss Cornelia.’
Miss Cornelia it was; moreover, Miss Cornelia had not come to make any brief and fashionable wedding call. She had her work under her arm in a substantial parcel, and when Anne asked her to stay she promptly took off her capacious sun-hat, which had been held on her head, despite irreverent September breezes, by a tight elastic band under her hard little knob of fair hair. No hat-pins for Miss Cornelia, an it please ye! Elastic bands had been good enough for her mother and they were good enough for her. She had a fresh, round, pink-and-white face, and jolly brown eyes. She did not look in the least like the traditional old maid, and there was something in