Аня із Зелених Мезонінів

Chapter II. Matthew Cuthbert is surprised

           Itwasprettyinterestingtoimaginethingsaboutthem—toimaginethatperhapsthegirlwhosatnexttoyouwasreallythedaughterofabeltedearl,whohadbeenstolenawayfromherparentsinherinfancybyacruelnursewhodiedbeforeshecouldconfess.Iusedtolieawakeatnightsandimaginethingslikethat,becauseIdidn’thavetimeintheday.Iguessthat’swhyI’msothin—Iamdreadfulthin,ain’tI?Thereisn’tapickonmybones.IdolovetoimagineI’mniceandplump,withdimplesinmyelbows.”

           WiththisMatthew’scompanionstoppedtalking,partlybecauseshewasoutofbreathandpartlybecausetheyhadreachedthebuggy.Notanotherworddidshesayuntiltheyhadleftthevillageandweredrivingdownasteeplittlehill,theroadpartofwhichhadbeencutsodeeplyintothesoftsoil,thatthebanks,fringedwithbloomingwildcherry-treesandslimwhitebirches,wereseveralfeetabovetheirheads.

           Thechildputoutherhandandbrokeoffabranchofwildplumthatbrushedagainstthesideofthebuggy.

           “Isn’tthatbeautiful?Whatdidthattree,leaningoutfromthebank,allwhiteandlacy,makeyouthinkof?”sheasked.

           “Wellnow,Idunno,”saidMatthew.

           “Why,abride,ofcourse—abrideallinwhitewithalovelymistyveil.I’veneverseenone,butIcanimaginewhatshewouldlooklike.Idon’teverexpecttobeabridemyself.I’msohomelynobodywilleverwanttomarryme—unlessitmightbeaforeignmissionary.Isupposeaforeignmissionarymightn’tbeveryparticular.ButIdohopethatsomedayIshallhaveawhitedress.

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