Anne's House of Dreams - L. M. Montgomery [85]
Anne gave a queer little laugh.
‘I think you’ll hardly believe it when I tell you, Gilbert. I can’t believe it yet. As Susan said the other day, “I feel like a fly coming to life in the sun – dazed-like.” It’s all so incredible. I’ve read the letter a score of times and every time it’s just the same – I can’t believe my own eyes. Oh, Gilbert, you were right – so right. I can see that clearly enough now – and I’m so ashamed of myself – and will you ever really forgive me?’
‘Anne, I’ll shake you if you don’t grow coherent. Redmond would be ashamed of you. What has happened?’
‘You won’t believe it – you won’t believe it –’
‘I’m going in to phone for Uncle Dave,’ said Gilbert pretending to start for the house.
‘Sit down, Gilbert. I’ll try to tell you. I’ve had a letter, and oh, Gilbert, it’s all so amazing – so incredibly amazing – we never thought – not one of us ever dreamed –’
‘I suppose,’ said Gilbert, sitting down with a resigned air, ‘the only thing to do in a case of this kind is to have patience and go at the matter categorically. Whom is your letter from?’
‘Leslie – and oh, Gilbert –’
‘Leslie! Whew! What has she to say? What’s the news about Dick?’
Anne lifted the letter and held it out, calmly dramatic in a moment.
‘There is no Dick! The man we have thought Dick Moore – whom everybody in Four Winds has believed for twelve years to be Dick Moore – is his cousin, George Moore, of Nova Scotia, who, it seems, always resembled him very strikingly. Dick Moore died of yellow fever thirteen years ago in Cuba.’
32
MISS CORNELIA DISCUSSES THE AFFAIR
‘And do you mean to tell, me, Anne, dearie, that Dick Moore has turned out not to be Dick Moore at all but somebody else? Is that what you phoned up to me today?’
‘Yes, Miss Cornelia. It is very amazing, isn’t it?’
‘It’s – it’s – just like a man,’ said Miss Cornelia helplessly. She took off her hat with trembling fingers. For once in her life Miss Cornelia was undeniably staggered.
‘I can’t seem to sense it, Anne,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard you say it – and I believe you – but I can’t take it in. Dick Moore is dead – has been dead all these years – and Leslie is free?’
‘Yes. The truth has made her free. Gilbert was right when he said that verse was the grandest in the Bible.’
‘Tell me everything, Anne, dearie. Since I got your phone I’ve been in a regular muddle, believe me. Cornelia Bryant was never so kerflummuxed before.’
‘There isn’t a very great deal to tell. Leslie’s letter was short. She didn’t go into particulars. This man – George Moore – has recovered his memory and knows who he is. He says Dick took yellow fever in Cuba, and the Four Sisters had to sail without him. George stayed behind to nurse him. But he died very shortly afterwards. George did not write Leslie because he intended to come right home and tell her himself.’
‘And why didn’t he?’
‘I suppose his accident must have intervened. Gilbert says it is quite likely that George Moore remembers nothing of his accident, or what led to it, and may never remember it. It probably happened very soon after Dick’s death. We may find out more particulars when Leslie writes again.’
‘Does she say what she is going to do? When is she coming home?’
‘She says she will stay with George Moore until he can leave the hospital. She has written to his people in Nova Scotia. It seems that George’s only near relative is a married sister much older than himself. She was living when George sailed on the Four Sisters, but of course we do not know what may have happened since. Did you ever see George Moore, Miss Cornelia?’
‘I did. It is all coming back to me. He was here visiting his Uncle Abner eighteen years ago, when he and Dick would be about seventeen. They were double cousins, you see. Their fathers were brothers and their mothers were twin sisters, and they did look a terrible lot alike. Of course,’ added Miss Cornelia scornfully, ‘it wasn’t one of those freak resemblances you read of in novels where two people are so much alike that they can fill each other’s places and their nearest and