Аня з Авонлеї
XIX. Just a Happy Day
ButhemeanttokeephimselfworthyofAnne’sfriendshipandperhapssomedistantdayherlove;andhewatchedoverwordandthoughtanddeedasjealouslyasifhercleareyesweretopassinjudgmentonit.Sheheldoverhimtheunconsciousinfluencethateverygirl,whoseidealsarehighandpure,wieldsoverherfriends;aninfluencewhichwouldendureaslongasshewasfaithfultothoseidealsandwhichshewouldascertainlyloseifshewereeverfalsetothem.InGilbert’seyesAnne’sgreatestcharmwasthefactthatsheneverstoopedtothepettypracticesofsomanyoftheAvonleagirls—thesmalljealousies,thelittledeceitsandrivalries,thepalpablebidsforfavor.Anneheldherselfapartfromallthis,notconsciouslyorofdesign,butsimplybecauseanythingofthesortwasutterlyforeigntohertransparent,impulsivenature,crystalclearinitsmotivesandaspirations.
ButGilbertdidnotattempttoputhisthoughtsintowords,forhehadalreadytoogoodreasontoknowthatAnnewouldmercilesslyandfrostilynipallattemptsatsentimentinthebud—orlaughathim,whichwastentimesworse.
“Youlooklikearealdryadunderthatbirchtree,”hesaidteasingly.
“Ilovebirchtrees,”saidAnne,layinghercheekagainstthecreamysatinoftheslimbole,withoneofthepretty,caressinggesturesthatcamesonaturaltoher.
“Thenyou’llbegladtohearthatMr.MajorSpencerhasdecidedtosetoutarowofwhitebirchesallalongtheroadfrontofhisfarm,bywayofencouragingtheA.V.I.S.,”saidGilbert.“Hewastalkingtomeaboutittoday.
