Аня з острова Принца Едуарда

Garlands of Autumn

           Toanoutsider,thestatementthatSloaneswereSloanesmightnotbeveryilluminating,butsheunderstood.Everyvillagehassuchafamily;good,honest,respectablepeopletheymaybe,butSLOANEStheyareandmusteverremain,thoughtheyspeakwiththetonguesofmenandangels.

           GilbertandAnne,happilyunconsciousthattheirfuturewasthusbeingsettledbyMrs.Rachel,weresaunteringthroughtheshadowsoftheHauntedWood.Beyond,theharvesthillswerebaskinginanambersunsetradiance,underapale,aerialskyofroseandblue.Thedistantsprucegroveswereburnishedbronze,andtheirlongshadowsbarredtheuplandmeadows.Butaroundthemalittlewindsangamongthefirtassels,andinittherewasthenoteofautumn.

           “Thiswoodreallyishauntednowbyoldmemories,”saidAnne,stoopingtogatherasprayofferns,bleachedtowaxenwhitenessbyfrost.“ItseemstomethatthelittlegirlsDianaandIusedtobeplayherestill,andsitbytheDryad’sBubbleinthetwilights,trystingwiththeghosts.Doyouknow,Icannevergoupthispathintheduskwithoutfeelingabitoftheoldfrightandshiver?Therewasoneespeciallyhorrifyingphantomwhichwecreatedtheghostofthemurderedchildthatcreptupbehindyouandlaidcoldfingersonyours.Iconfessthat,tothisday,Icannothelpfancyingitslittle,furtivefootstepsbehindmewhenIcomehereafternightfall.I’mnotafraidoftheWhiteLadyortheheadlessmanortheskeletons,butIwishIhadneverimaginedthatbaby’sghostintoexistence.HowangryMarillaandMrs.

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