Аня з Авонлеї
XXIII. Miss Lavendar’s Romance
“I’msogladyou’rehere,Anne,”saidMissLavendar,nibblingathercandy.“Ifyouweren’tIshouldbeblue...veryblue...almostnavyblue.Dreamsandmake-believesareallverywellinthedaytimeandthesunshine,butwhendarkandstormcometheyfailtosatisfy.Onewantsrealthingsthen.Butyoudon’tknowthis...seventeenneverknowsit.AtseventeendreamsDOsatisfybecauseyouthinktherealitiesarewaitingforyoufurtheron.WhenIwasseventeen,Anne,Ididn’tthinkforty-fivewouldfindmeawhite-hairedlittleoldmaidwithnothingbutdreamstofillmylife.”
“Butyouaren’tanoldmaid,”saidAnne,smilingintoMissLavendar’swistfulwoodbrowneyes.“OldmaidsareBORN...theydon’tBECOME.”
“Somearebornoldmaids,someachieveoldmaidenhood,andsomehaveoldmaidenhoodthrustuponthem,”parodiedMissLavendarwhimsically.
“Youareoneofthosewhohaveachieveditthen,”laughedAnne,“andyou’vedoneitsobeautifullythatifeveryoldmaidwerelikeyoutheywouldcomeintothefashion,Ithink.”
“Ialwaysliketodothingsaswellaspossible,”saidMissLavendarmeditatively,“andsinceanoldmaidIhadtobeIwasdeterminedtobeaveryniceone.PeoplesayI’modd;butit’sjustbecauseIfollowmyownwayofbeinganoldmaidandrefusetocopythetraditionalpattern.Anne,didanyoneevertellyouanythingaboutStephenIrvingandme?”
“Yes,”saidAnnecandidly,“I’veheardthatyouandhewereengagedonce.”
“Sowewere...twenty-fiveyearsago...alifetimeago.
