Аня с острова Принца Эдуарда

           And,oh,Anne”—shereachedoutandcaughtAnne’shandpleadingly,impulsively—“Idon’twanttodie.I’mAFRAIDtodie.”

           “Whyshouldyoubeafraid,Ruby?”askedAnnequietly.

           “Because—because—oh,I’mnotafraidbutthatI’llgotoheaven,Anne.I’machurchmember.But—it’llbeallsodifferent.Ithink—andthink—andIgetsofrightened—and—and—homesick.Heavenmustbeverybeautiful,ofcourse,theBiblesaysso—but,Anne,ITWON’TBEWHATI’VEBEENUSEDTO.”

           ThroughAnne’sminddriftedanintrusiverecollectionofafunnystoryshehadheardPhilippaGordontell—thestoryofsomeoldmanwhohadsaidverymuchthesamethingabouttheworldtocome.Ithadsoundedfunnythen—sherememberedhowsheandPriscillahadlaughedoverit.Butitdidnotseemintheleasthumorousnow,comingfromRuby’spale,tremblinglips.Itwassad,tragic—andtrue!HeavencouldnotbewhatRubyhadbeenusedto.Therehadbeennothinginhergay,frivolouslife,hershallowidealsandaspirations,tofitherforthatgreatchange,ormakethelifetocomeseemtoheranythingbutalienandunrealandundesirable.Annewonderedhelplesslywhatshecouldsaythatwouldhelpher.