Аня із Зелених Мезонінів

Chapter II. Matthew Cuthbert is surprised

           ButI’mgladtothinkofgettinghome.Yousee,I’veneverhadarealhomesinceIcanremember.Itgivesmethatpleasantacheagainjusttothinkofcomingtoareallytrulyhome.Oh,isn’tthatpretty!”

           Theyhaddrivenoverthecrestofahill.Belowthemwasapond,lookingalmostlikeariversolongandwindingwasit.Abridgespanneditmidwayandfromtheretoitslowerend,whereanamber-huedbeltofsand-hillsshutitinfromthedarkbluegulfbeyond,thewaterwasagloryofmanyshiftinghues—themostspiritualshadingsofcrocusandroseandetherealgreen,withotherelusivetintingsforwhichnonamehaseverbeenfound.Abovethebridgethepondranupintofringinggrovesoffirandmapleandlayalldarklytranslucentintheirwaveringshadows.Hereandthereawildplumleanedoutfromthebanklikeawhite-cladgirltip-toeingtoherownreflection.Fromthemarshattheheadofthepondcametheclear,mournfully-sweetchorusofthefrogs.Therewasalittlegrayhousepeeringaroundawhiteappleorchardonaslopebeyondand,althoughitwasnotyetquitedark,alightwasshiningfromoneofitswindows.

           “That’sBarry’spond,”saidMatthew.

           “Oh,Idon’tlikethatname,either.Ishallcallit—letmesee—theLakeofShiningWaters.Yes,thatistherightnameforit.Iknowbecauseofthethrill.WhenIhitonanamethatsuitsexactlyitgivesmeathrill.Dothingsevergiveyouathrill?”

           Matthewruminated.

           “Wellnow,yes.Italwayskindofgivesmeathrilltoseethemuglywhitegrubsthatspadeupinthecucumberbeds.Ihatethelookofthem.

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