Anne's House of Dreams - L. M. Montgomery [89]
‘You will feel very differently after you get over being tired and bewildered,’ said Anne, who, knowing a certain thing that Leslie did not know, did not feel herself called upon to waste overmuch sympathy.
Leslie laid her splendid golden head against Anne’s knee.
‘Anyhow, I have you,’ she said. ‘Life can’t be altogether empty with such a friend. Anne, pat my head – just as if I were a little girl – mother me a bit – and let me tell you while my stubborn tongue is loosed a little just what you and your comradeship have meant to me since that night I met you on the rock shore.’
34
THE SHIP O’ DREAMS COMES TO HARBOUR
One morning, when a windy golden sunrise was billowing over the gulf in waves of light, a certain weary stork flew over the bar of Four Winds Harbour on his way from the Land of Evening Stars. Under his wing was tucked a sleepy, starry-eyed little creature. The stork was tired, and he looked wistfully about him. He knew he was somewhere near his destination, but he could not yet see it. The big white lighthouse on the red sandstone cliff had its good points; but no stork possessed of any gumption would leave a new, velvet baby there. An old grey house, surrounded by willows, in a blossomy brook valley, looked more promising, but did not seem quite the thing either. The staring green abode farther on was manifestly out of the question. Then the stork brightened up. He had caught sight of the very place – a little white house nestled against a big, whispering fir-wood, with a spiral of blue smoke winding up from its kitchen chimney – a house which just looked as if it were meant for babies. The stork gave a sigh of satisfaction, and softly alighted on the ridge-pole.
Half an hour later Gilbert ran down the hall and tapped on the spare-room door. A drowsy voice answered him and in a moment Marilla’s pale scared face peeped out from behind the door.
‘Marilla, Anne has sent me to tell you that a certain young gentleman has arrived here. He hasn’t brought much luggage with him, but he evidently means to stay.’
‘For pity’s sake!’ said Marilla blankly. ‘You don’t mean to tell me, Gilbert, that it’s all over. Why wasn’t I called?’
‘Anne wouldn’t let us disturb you when there was no need. Nobody was called until about two hours ago. There was no “passage perilous” this time.’
‘And – and – Gilbert – will this baby live?’
‘He certainly will. He weighs ten pounds and – why, listen to him. Nothing wrong with his lungs, is there? The nurse says his hair will be red. Anne is furious with her, and I’m tickled to death.’
That was a wonderful day in the little house of dreams.
‘The best dream of all has come true,’ said Anne, pale and rapturous. ‘Oh, Marilla, I hardly dare believe it, after that horrible day last summer. I have had a heartache ever since then – but it is gone now.’
‘This baby will take Joy’s place,’ said Marilla.
‘Oh, no, no, no, Marilla. He can’t – nothing can ever do that. He has his own place, my dear, wee man-child. But little Joy has hers, and always will have it. If she had lived she would have been over a year old. She would have been toddling around on her tiny feet and lisping a few words. I can see her so plainly, Marilla. Oh, I know now that Captain Jim was right when he said God would manage better than that my baby would seem a stranger to me when I found her Beyond. I’ve learned that this past year. I’ve followed her development day by day and week by week – I always shall. I shall know just how she grows from year to year – and when I meet her again I’ll know her – she won’t be a stranger. Oh, Marilla, look at his dear, darling toes! Isn’t it strange they should be so perfect?’
‘It would be stranger if they weren’t,’ said Marilla crisply. Now that all was safely over Marilla was herself again.
‘Oh, I know – but it seems as if they couldn’t be quite finished, you know – and they are,