Аня з Авонлеї
XXVIII. The Prince Comes Back to the Enchanted Palace
ButAnnefeltthathewasthinkingofsomethingelseunderneathallthetime.Presentlyitcametothesurface.
“InPaul’slastletterhespokeofgoingwithyoutovisitanold...friendofmine...MissLewisatthestonehouseinGrafton.Doyouknowherwell?”
“Yes,indeed,sheisaverydearfriendofmine,”wasAnne’sdemurereply,whichgavenohintofthesuddenthrillthattingledoverherfromheadtofootatMr.Irving’squestion.Anne“feltinstinctively”thatromancewaspeepingatheraroundacorner.
Mr.Irvingroseandwenttothewindow,lookingoutonagreat,golden,billowingseawhereawildwindwasharping.Forafewmomentstherewassilenceinthelittledark-walledroom.ThenheturnedandlookeddownintoAnne’ssympatheticfacewithasmile,half-whimsical,half-tender.
“Iwonderhowmuchyouknow,”hesaid.
“Iknowallaboutit,”repliedAnnepromptly.“Yousee,”sheexplainedhastily,“MissLavendarandIareveryintimate.Shewouldn’ttellthingsofsuchasacrednaturetoeverybody.Wearekindredspirits.”
“Yes,Ibelieveyouare.Well,Iamgoingtoaskafavorofyou.IwouldliketogoandseeMissLavendarifshewillletme.WillyouaskherifImaycome?”
Wouldshenot?Oh,indeedshewould!Yes,thiswasromance,thevery,therealthing,withallthecharmofrhymeandstoryanddream.Itwasalittlebelated,perhaps,likearosebloominginOctoberwhichshouldhavebloomedinJune;butnonethelessarose,allsweetnessandfragrance,withthegleamofgoldinitsheart.
