Anne's House of Dreams - L. M. Montgomery [99]
‘Well, I wish you all manner of happiness too, Miss Cornelia,’ said Gilbert, solemnly; ‘but,’ he added, unable to resist the temptation to tease Miss Cornelia, despite Anne’s imploring eyes, ‘I fear your day of independence is done. As you know, Marshall Elliott is a very determined man.’
‘I like a man who can stick to a thing,’ retorted Miss Cornelia. ‘Amos Grant, who used to be after me long ago, couldn’t. You never saw such a weather-vane. He jumped into the pond to drown himself once and then changed his mind and swum out again. Wasn’t that like a man? Marshall would have stuck to it and drowned.’
‘And he has a bit of a temper, they tell me,’ persisted Gilbert.
‘He wouldn’t be an Elliott if he hadn’t. I’m thankful he has. It will be real fun to make him mad. And you can generally do something with a tempery man when it comes to repenting time. But you can’t do anything with a man who just keeps placid and aggravating.’
‘You know he’s a Grit, Miss Cornelia.’
‘Yes, he is,’ admitted Miss Cornelia rather sadly. ‘And of course there is no hope of making a Conservative of him. But at least he is a Presbyterian. So I suppose I shall have to be satisfied with that.’
‘Would you marry him if he were a Methodist, Miss Cornelia?’
‘No, I would not. Politics is for this world, but religion is for both.’
‘And you may be a “relict” after all, Miss Cornelia.’
‘Not I. Marshall will live me out. The Elliotts are long-lived, and the Bryants are not.’
‘When are you to be married?’ asked Anne.
‘In about a month’s time. My wedding dress is to be navy blue silk. And I want to ask you, Anne, dearie, if you think it would be all right to wear a veil with a navy blue dress. I’ve always thought I’d like to wear a veil if I ever got married. Marshall says to have it if I want to. Isn’t that like a man?’
‘Why shouldn’t you wear it if you want to?’ asked Anne.
‘Well, one doesn’t want to be different from other people,’ said Miss Cornelia, who was not noticeably like anyone else on the face of the earth. ‘As I say, I do fancy a veil. But maybe it shouldn’t be worn with any dress but a white one. Please tell me, Anne, dearie, what you really think. I’ll go by your advice.’
‘I don’t think veils are usually worn with any but white dresses,’ admitted Anne, ‘but that is merely a convention; and I am like Mr Elliott, Miss Cornelia. I don’t see any good reason why you shouldn’t have a veil if you want one.’
But Miss Cornelia, who made her calls in calico wrappers, shook her head.
‘If it isn’t the proper thing I won’t wear it,’ she said, with a sigh of regret for a lost dream.
‘Since you are determined to be married, Miss Cornelia,’ said Gilbert solemnly, ‘I shall give you the excellent rules for the management of a husband which my grandmother gave my mother when she married my father.’
‘Well, I reckon I can manage Marshall Elliott,’ said Miss Cornelia placidly. ‘But let us hear your rules.’
‘The first one is, catch him.’
‘He’s caught. Go on.’
‘The second one is, feed him well.’
‘With enough pie. What next?’
‘The third and fourth are – keep your eye on him.’
‘I believe you,’ said Miss Cornelia emphatically.
38
RED ROSES
The garden of the little house was a haunt beloved of bees and reddened by late roses that August. The little house folk lived much in it, and were given to taking picnic suppers in the grassy corner beyond the brook and sitting about in it through the twilights when great night moths sailed athwart the velvet gloom. One evening Owen Ford found Leslie alone in it. Anne and Gilbert were away, and Susan, who was expected back that night, had not yet returned.
The northern sky was amber and pale green over the fir tops. The air was cool, for August was nearing September, and Leslie wore a crimson scarf over her white dress. Together they wandered through the little, friendly, flower-crowded paths in silence. Owen must go soon. His holiday was nearly over. Leslie found her heart beating wildly. She knew