Аня з Авонлеї
XII. A Jonah Day
ShelookedatAnthonyPye,andAnthonyPyelookedbackunabashedandunashamed.
“Anthony,wasityou?”
“Yes,itwas,”saidAnthonyinsolently.
Annetookherpointerfromherdesk.Itwasalong,heavyhardwoodpointer.
“Comehere,Anthony.”
ItwasfarfrombeingthemostseverepunishmentAnthonyPyehadeverundergone.Anne,eventhestormy-souledAnneshewasatthatmoment,couldnothavepunishedanychildcruelly.ButthepointernippedkeenlyandfinallyAnthony’sbravadofailedhim;hewincedandthetearscametohiseyes.
Anne,conscience-stricken,droppedthepointerandtoldAnthonytogotohisseat.Shesatdownatherdeskfeelingashamed,repentant,andbitterlymortified.Herquickangerwasgoneandshewouldhavegivenmuchtohavebeenabletoseekreliefintears.Soallherboastshadcometothis...shehadactuallywhippedoneofherpupils.HowJanewouldtriumph!AndhowMr.Harrisonwouldchuckle!Butworsethanthis,bitterestthoughtofall,shehadlostherlastchanceofwinningAnthonyPye.Neverwouldhelikehernow.
Anne,bywhatsomebodyhascalled“aHerculaneumeffort,”keptbackhertearsuntilshegothomethatnight.Thensheshutherselfintheeastgableroomandweptallhershameandremorseanddisappointmentintoherpillows...weptsolongthatMarillagrewalarmed,invadedtheroom,andinsistedonknowingwhatthetroublewas.
“Thetroubleis,I’vegotthingsthematterwithmyconscience,”sobbedAnne.“Oh,thishasbeensuchaJonahday,Marilla.I’msoashamedofmyself.IlostmytemperandwhippedAnthonyPye.
