Аня з Авонлеї
XXI. Sweet Miss Lavendar
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Aroundthenextturntheycameinsight,notindeedofapalace,butofalittlehousealmostassurprisingasapalacewouldhavebeeninthisprovinceofconventionalwoodenfarmhouses,allasmuchalikeingeneralcharacteristicsasiftheyhadgrownfromthesameseed.AnnestoppedshortinraptureandDianaexclaimed,“Oh,Iknowwherewearenow.ThatisthelittlestonehousewhereMissLavendarLewislives...EchoLodge,shecallsit,Ithink.I’veoftenheardofitbutI’veneverseenitbefore.Isn’titaromanticspot?”
“It’sthesweetest,prettiestplaceIeversaworimagined,”saidAnnedelightedly.“Itlookslikeabitoutofastorybookoradream.”
Thehousewasalow-eavedstructurebuiltofundressedblocksofredIslandsandstone,withalittlepeakedroofoutofwhichpeeredtwodormerwindows,withquaintwoodenhoodsoverthem,andtwogreatchimneys.Thewholehousewascoveredwithaluxuriantgrowthofivy,findingeasyfootholdontheroughstoneworkandturnedbyautumnfroststomostbeautifulbronzeandwine-redtints.
Beforethehousewasanoblonggardenintowhichthelanegatewherethegirlswerestandingopened.Thehouseboundeditononeside;onthethreeothersitwasenclosedbyanoldstonedyke,soovergrownwithmossandgrassandfernsthatitlookedlikeahigh,greenbank.Ontherightandleftthetall,darksprucesspreadtheirpalm-likebranchesoverit;butbelowitwasalittlemeadow,greenwithcloveraftermath,slopingdowntotheblueloopoftheGraftonRiver.Nootherhouseorclearingwasinsight...
