Аня из Зелёных Мезонинов

Chapter XXXVII. The Reaper Whose Name Is Death

           Ihaven’tbeenaloneoneminutesinceithappened—andIwanttobe.Iwanttobequitesilentandquietandtrytorealizeit.Ican’trealizeit.HalfthetimeitseemstomethatMatthewcan’tbedead;andtheotherhalfitseemsasifhemusthavebeendeadforalongtimeandI’vehadthishorribledullacheeversince.”

           Dianadidnotquiteunderstand.Marilla’simpassionedgrief,breakingalltheboundsofnaturalreserveandlifelonghabitinitsstormyrush,shecouldcomprehendbetterthanAnne’stearlessagony.Butshewentawaykindly,leavingAnnealonetokeepherfirstvigilwithsorrow.

           Annehopedthatthetearswouldcomeinsolitude.ItseemedtoheraterriblethingthatshecouldnotshedatearforMatthew,whomshehadlovedsomuchandwhohadbeensokindtoher,Matthewwhohadwalkedwithherlasteveningatsunsetandwasnowlyinginthedimroombelowwiththatawfulpeaceonhisbrow.Butnotearscameatfirst,evenwhenshekneltbyherwindowinthedarknessandprayed,lookinguptothestarsbeyondthehills—notears,onlythesamehorribledullacheofmiserythatkeptonachinguntilshefellasleep,wornoutwiththeday’spainandexcitement.

           Inthenightsheawakened,withthestillnessandthedarknessabouther,andtherecollectionofthedaycameoverherlikeawaveofsorrow.ShecouldseeMatthew’sfacesmilingatherashehadsmiledwhentheypartedatthegatethatlastevening—shecouldhearhisvoicesaying,“Mygirl—mygirlthatI’mproudof.”ThenthetearscameandAnneweptherheartout.Marillaheardherandcreptintocomforther.

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