Аня с острова Принца Эдуарда

A Book of Revelation

           Hadcloseshave,dough!Datboy,hejus’keelhimselfatcollege.Well,Imus’hurry.Deoldman,he’llbeinhurrytoseeme.”

           Pacifiqueresumedhiswalkandhiswhistle.Annegazedafterhimwitheyeswherejoywasdrivingoutthestrainedanguishofthenight.Hewasaverylank,veryragged,veryhomelyyouth.Butinhersighthewasasbeautifulasthosewhobringgoodtidingsonthemountains.Never,aslongasshelived,wouldAnneseePacifique’sbrown,round,black-eyedfacewithoutawarmremembranceofthemomentwhenhehadgiventohertheoilofjoyformourning.

           LongafterPacifique’sgaywhistlehadfadedintothephantomofmusicandthenintosilencefarupunderthemaplesofLover’sLaneAnnestoodunderthewillows,tastingthepoignantsweetnessoflifewhensomegreatdreadhasbeenremovedfromit.Themorningwasacupfilledwithmistandglamor.Inthecornernearherwasarichsurpriseofnew-blown,crystal-dewedroses.Thetrillsandtricklesofsongfromthebirdsinthebigtreeaboveherseemedinperfectaccordwithhermood.Asentencefromaveryold,verytrue,verywonderfulBookcametoherlips,

           “Weepingmayendureforanightbutjoycomethinthemorning.”

           

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