Аня з Авонлеї
XXIII. Miss Lavendar’s Romance
ButonthisparticulardayitseemedasifDecemberhadrememberedthatitwastimeforwinterandhadturnedsuddenlydullandbrooding,withawindlesshushpredictiveofcomingsnow.Nevertheless,Annekeenlyenjoyedherwalkthroughthegreatgraymazeofthebeechlands;thoughalonesheneverfounditlonely;herimaginationpeopledherpathwithmerrycompanions,andwiththeseshecarriedonagay,pretendedconversationthatwaswittierandmorefascinatingthanconversationsareapttobeinreallife,wherepeoplesometimesfailmostlamentablytotalkuptotherequirements.Ina“makebelieve”assemblyofchoicespiritseverybodysaysjustthethingyouwanthertosayandsogivesyouthechancetosayjustwhatYOUwanttosay.Attendedbythisinvisiblecompany,Annetraversedthewoodsandarrivedatthefirlanejustasbroad,featheryflakesbegantoflutterdownsoftly.
AtthefirstbendshecameuponMissLavendar,standingunderabig,broad-branchingfir.Sheworeagownofwarm,richred,andherheadandshoulderswerewrappedinasilverygraysilkshawl.
“Youlooklikethequeenofthefirwoodfairies,”calledAnnemerrily.
“Ithoughtyouwouldcometonight,Anne,”saidMissLavendar,runningforward.“AndI’mdoublyglad,forCharlottatheFourthisaway.Hermotherissickandshehadtogohomeforthenight.Ishouldhavebeenverylonelyifyouhadn’tcome...eventhedreamsandtheechoeswouldn’thavebeenenoughcompany.Oh,Anne,howprettyyouare,”sheaddedsuddenly,lookingupatthetall,slimgirlwiththesoftrose-flushofwalkingonherface.
