Anne's House of Dreams - L. M. Montgomery [52]
Anne, who was counting her days like silver beads on a rosary, could not now take the long walk to the lighthouse or up the Glen road. But Miss Cornelia and Captain Jim came very often to the little house. Miss Cornelia was the joy of Anne’s and Gilbert’s existence. They laughed side-splittingly over her speeches after every visit. When Captain Jim and she happened to visit the little house at the same time there was much sports for the listening. They waged wordy warfare, she attacking, he defending. Anne once reproached the Captain for his baiting of Miss Cornelia.
‘Oh, I do love to set her going, Mistress Blythe,’ chuckled the unrepentant sinner. ‘It’s the greatest amusement I have in life. That tongue of hers would blister a stone. And you and that young dog of a doctor enj’y listening to her as much as I do.’
Captain Jim came along another evening to bring Anne some mayflowers. The garden was full of the moist, scented air of a maritime spring evening. There was a milk-white mist on the edge of the sea, with a young moon kissing it, and a silver gladness of stars over the Glen. The bell of the church across the harbour was ringing dreamily sweet. The mellow chime drifted through the dusk to mingle with the soft spring-moan of the sea. Captain Jim’s mayflowers added the last completing touch to the charm of the night.
‘I haven’t seen any this spring, and I’ve missed them,’ said Anne, burying her face in them.
‘They ain’t to be found around Four Winds, only in the barrens away behind the Glen up yander. I took a little trip today to the Land-of-nothing-to-do, and hunted these up for you. I reckon they’re the last you’ll see this spring, for they’re nearly done.’
‘How kind and thoughtful you are, Captain Jim. Nobody else – not even Gilbert’ – with a shake of her head at him – ‘remembered that I always long for mayflowers in spring.’
‘Well, I had another errand, too – I wanted to take Mr Howard back yander a mess of trout. He likes one occasional, and it’s all I can do for a kindness he did me once. I stayed all the afternoon and talked to him. He likes to talk to me, though he’s a highly eddicated man and I’m only an ignorant old sailor, because he’s one of the folks that’s got to talk or they’re miserable, and he finds listeners scarce around here. The Glen folks fight shy of him because they think he’s an infidel. He ain’t that far gone exactly – few men is, I reckon – but he’s what you might call a heretic. Heretics are wicked, but they’re mighty int’resting. It’s jest that they’ve got sorter lost looking for God, being under the impression that He’s hard to find – which He ain’t never. Most of ’em blunder to Him after a while, I guess. I don’t think listening to Mr Howard’s arguments is likely to do me much harm. Mind you, I believe what I was brought up to believe. It saves a vast of bother – and back of it all, God is good. The trouble with Mr Howard is that he’s a leetle too clever. He thinks that he’s bound to live up to his cleverness, and that it’s smarter to thrash out some new way of getting to heaven than to go by the old track the common, ignorant folks is travelling. But he’ll get there some time all right, and then he’ll laugh at himself.’
‘Mr Howard was a Methodist to begin with,’ said Miss Cornelia, as if she thought he had not far to go from that to heresy.
‘Do you know, Cornelia,’ said Captain Jim gravely, ‘I’ve often thought that if I wasn’t a Presbyterian I’d be a Methodist.’
‘Oh, well,’ conceded Miss Cornelia, ‘if you weren’t a Presbyterian it wouldn’t matter much what you were. Speaking of heresy, reminds me, doctor – I’ve brought back that book you lent me – that Natural Law in the Spiritual World – I didn’t read more’n a third of it. I can read sense, and I can read nonsense, but that book is neither the one nor the other.’
‘It is considered rather heretical in some quarters,’ admitted Gilbert, ‘but I told you that before you took it, Miss Cornelia.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t have minded its being heretical. I can stand wickedness,