Аня з острова Принца Едуарда

The Round of Life

           Thesilverflutingofthefrogscamefrommarshesandponds,overfieldswhereseedswerebeginningtostirwithlifeandthrilltothesunshineandrainthathaddriftedoverthem.Theairwasfragrantwiththewild,sweet,wholesomesmellofyoungraspberrycopses.Whitemistswerehoveringinthesilenthollowsandvioletstarswereshiningbluelyonthebrooklands.

           “Whatabeautifulsunset,”saidDiana.“Look,Anne,it’sjustlikealandinitself,isn’tit?Thatlong,lowbackofpurplecloudistheshore,andtheclearskyfurtheronislikeagoldensea.”

           “IfwecouldsailtoitinthemoonshineboatPaulwroteofinhisoldcompositionyouremember?howniceitwouldbe,”saidAnne,rousingfromherreverie.“Doyouthinkwecouldfindallouryesterdaysthere,Dianaallouroldspringsandblossoms?ThebedsofflowersthatPaulsawtherearetherosesthathavebloomedforusinthepast?”

           “Don’t!”saidDiana.“Youmakemefeelasifwewereoldwomenwitheverythinginlifebehindus.”

           “IthinkI’vealmostfeltasifweweresinceIheardaboutpoorRuby,”saidAnne.“Ifitistruethatsheisdyinganyothersadthingmightbetrue,too.”

           “Youdon’tmindcallinginatElishaWright’sforamoment,doyou?”askedDiana.“MotheraskedmetoleavethislittledishofjellyforAuntAtossa.”

           “WhoisAuntAtossa?”

           “Oh,haven’tyouheard?She’sMrs.SamsonCoatesofSpencervaleMrs.ElishaWright’saunt.She’sfather’saunt,too.Herhusbanddiedlastwinterandshewasleftverypoorandlonely,sotheWrightstookhertolivewiththem.

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