Аня із Зелених Мезонінів

Chapter VIII. Anne’s Bringing-up Is Begun

           Somehow,thingsneveraresogoodwhenthey’rethoughtoutasecondtime.Haveyouevernoticedthat?”

           “Hereissomethingforyoutonotice,Anne.WhenItellyoutodoathingIwantyoutoobeymeatonceandnotstandstock-stillanddiscourseaboutit.JustyougoanddoasIbidyou.”

           Annepromptlydepartedforthesitting-roomacrossthehall;shefailedtoreturn;afterwaitingtenminutesMarillalaiddownherknittingandmarchedafterherwithagrimexpression.ShefoundAnnestandingmotionlessbeforeapicturehangingonthewallbetweenthetwowindows,withhereyesa-starwithdreams.Thewhiteandgreenlightstrainedthroughappletreesandclusteringvinesoutsidefellovertheraptlittlefigurewithahalf-unearthlyradiance.

           “Anne,whateverareyouthinkingof?”demandedMarillasharply.

           Annecamebacktoearthwithastart.

           “That,”shesaid,pointingtothepicture—arathervividchromoentitled,“ChristBlessingLittleChildren”—“andIwasjustimaginingIwasoneofthem—thatIwasthelittlegirlinthebluedress,standingoffbyherselfinthecornerasifshedidn’tbelongtoanybody,likeme.Shelookslonelyandsad,don’tyouthink?Iguessshehadn’tanyfatherormotherofherown.Butshewantedtobeblessed,too,soshejustcreptshylyupontheoutsideofthecrowd,hopingnobodywouldnoticeher—exceptHim.I’msureIknowjusthowshefelt.Herheartmusthavebeatandherhandsmusthavegotcold,likeminedidwhenIaskedyouifIcouldstay.ShewasafraidHemightn’tnoticeher.

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