Аня з острова Принца Едуарда

           Couldshesayanything?“Ithink,Ruby,”shebeganhesitatingly—foritwasdifficultforAnnetospeaktoanyoneofthedeepestthoughtsofherheart,orthenewideasthathadvaguelybeguntoshapethemselvesinhermind,concerningthegreatmysteriesoflifehereandhereafter,supersedingheroldchildishconceptions,anditwashardestofalltospeakofthemtosuchasRubyGillis—“Ithink,perhaps,wehaveverymistakenideasaboutheaven—whatitisandwhatitholdsforus.Idon’tthinkitcanbesoverydifferentfromlifehereasmostpeopleseemtothink.Ibelievewe’lljustgoonliving,agooddealaswelivehere—andbeOURSELVESjustthesame—onlyitwillbeeasiertobegoodandto—followthehighest.Allthehindrancesandperplexitieswillbetakenaway,andweshallseeclearly.Don’tbeafraid,Ruby.”

           “Ican’thelpit,”saidRubypitifully.“Evenifwhatyousayaboutheavenistrue—andyoucan’tbesure—itmaybeonlythatimaginationofyours—itwon’tbeJUSTthesame.ItCAN’Tbe.IwanttogoonlivingHERE.I’msoyoung,Anne.Ihaven’thadmylife.I’vefoughtsohardtolive—anditisn’tanyuse—Ihavetodie—andleaveEVERYTHINGIcarefor.”Annesatinapainthatwasalmostintolerable.Shecouldnottellcomfortingfalsehoods;andallthatRubysaidwassohorriblytrue.SheWASleavingeverythingshecaredfor.