Chapter XXXVIII. The Bend in the road

           

           Marillawenttotownthenextdayandreturnedintheevening.AnnehadgoneovertoOrchardSlopewithDianaandcamebacktofindMarillainthekitchen,sittingbythetablewithherheadleaningonherhand.SomethinginherdejectedattitudestruckachilltoAnne’sheart.ShehadneverseenMarillasitlimplyinertlikethat.

           “Areyouverytired,Marilla?”

           “Yes—no—Idon’tknow,”saidMarillawearily,lookingup.“IsupposeIamtiredbutIhaven’tthoughtaboutit.It’snotthat.”

           “Didyouseetheoculist?Whatdidhesay?”askedAnneanxiously.

           “Yes,Isawhim.Heexaminedmyeyes.HesaysthatifIgiveupallreadingandsewingentirelyandanykindofworkthatstrainstheeyes,andifI’mcarefulnottocry,andifIweartheglasseshe’sgivenmehethinksmyeyesmaynotgetanyworseandmyheadacheswillbecured.ButifIdon’thesaysI’llcertainlybestone-blindinsixmonths.Blind!Anne,justthinkofit!”

           ForaminuteAnne,afterherfirstquickexclamationofdismay,wassilent.Itseemedtoherthatshecouldnotspeak.Thenshesaidbravely,butwithacatchinhervoice:

           “Marilla,don’tthinkofit.Youknowhehasgivenyouhope.Ifyouarecarefulyouwon’tloseyoursightaltogether;andifhisglassescureyourheadachesitwillbeagreatthing.”

           “Idon’tcallitmuchhope,”saidMarillabitterly.“WhatamItoliveforifIcan’treadorsewordoanythinglikethat?Imightaswellbeblind—ordead.Andasforcrying,Ican’thelpthatwhenIgetlonesome.Butthere,it’snogoodtalkingaboutit.

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