Anne felt a queer little sensation of dismayed surprise.She had not known this;she had expected that Gilbert would be going to Redmond also.What would she do without their inspiring rivalry?Would not work, even at a coeducational college with a real degree in prospect,be rather flat without her friend the enemy?
The next morning at breakfast it suddenly struck Anne that Matthew was not looking well. Surely he was much grayer than he had been a year before.
“Marilla,” she said hesitatingly when he had gone out,“is Matthew quite well?”
“No, he isn’t,” said Marilla in a troubled tone.“He’s had some real bad spells with his heart this spring and he won’t spare himself a mite. I’ve been real worried about him, but he’s some better this while back and we’ve got a good hired man, so I’m hoping he’ll kind of rest and pick up. Maybe he will now you’re home. You always cheer him up.”
Anne leaned across the table and took Marilla’s face in her hands.
“You are not looking as well yourself as I’d like to see you,Marilla. You look tired.I’m afraid you’ve been working too hard.You must take a rest, now that I’m home.I’m just going to take this one day off to visit all the dear old spots and hunt up my old dreams, and then it will be your turn to be lazy while I do the work.”
Marilla smiled affectionately at her girl.
“It’s not the work--it’s my head.I’ve got a pain so often now--behind my eyes.Doctor Spencer’s been fussing with glasses,but they don’t do me any good.There is a distinguished oculist coming to the Island the last of June and the doctor says I must see him. I guess I’ll have to. I can’t read or sew with any comfort now. Well, Anne, you’ve done real well at Queen’s I must say. To take First Class License in one year and win the Avery scholarship--well, well, Mrs. Lynde says pride goes before a fall and she doesn’t believe in the higher education of women at all; she says it unfits them for woman’s true sphere. I don’t believe a word of it. Speaking of Rachel reminds me--did you hear anything about the Abbey Bank lately, Anne?”
“I heard it was shaky,” answered Anne. “Why?”
“That is what Rachel said.She was up here one day last week and said there was some talk about it.Matthew felt real worried.All we have saved is in that bank--every penny.I wanted Matthew to put it in the Savings Bank in the first place,but old Mr. Abbey was a great friend of father’s and he’d always banked with him. Matthew said any bank with him at the head of it was good enough for anybody.”
“I think he has only been its nominal head for many years,” said Anne. “He is a very old man;his nephews are really at the head of the institution.”
“Well, when Rachel told us that,I wanted Matthew to draw our money right out and he said he’d think of it.But Mr. Russell told him yesterday that the bank was all right. ”
Anne had her good day in the companionship of the outdoor world.She never forgot that day;it was so bright and golden and fair,so free from shadow and so lavish of blossom.Anne spent some of its rich hours in the orchard;she went to the Dryad’s Bubble and Willowmere and Violet Vale;she called at the manse and had a satisfying talk with Mrs.Allan; and finally in the evening she went with Matthew for the cows,through Lovers’ Lane to the back pasture.The woods were all gloried through with sunset and the warm splendor of it streamed down through the hill gaps in the west. Matthew walked slowly with bent head; Anne, tall and erect, suited her springing step to his.
“You’ve been working too hard today, Matthew,” she said reproachfully.“Why won’t you take things easier?”
“Well now, I can’t seem to,” said Matthew,as he opened the yard gate to let the cows through.“It’s only that I’m getting old, Anne,and keep forgetting it. Well, well,I’ve always worked pretty hard and I’d rather drop in harness. ”
“If I had been the boy you sent for,” said Anne wistfully,“I’d be able to help you so much now and spare you in a hundred ways.I could find it in my heart to wish I had been, just for that.”
“Well now, I’d rather have you than a dozen boys, Anne,” said Matthew patting her hand.“Just mind you that--rather than a dozen boys.Well now, I guess it wasn’t a boy that took the Avery scholarship, was it?It was a girl--my girl--my girl that I’m proud of.”
He smiled his shy smile at her as he went into the yard.Anne took the memory of it with her when she went to her room that night and sat for a long while at her open window, thinking of the past and dreaming of the future. Outside the Snow Queen was mistily white in the moonshine; the frogs were singing in the marsh beyond Orchard Slope. Anne always remembered the silvery, peaceful beauty and fragrant calm of that night. It was the last night before sorrow touched her life; and no life is ever quite the same again when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon it.
CHAPTER XXXVII. The Reaper Whose Name Is Death
MATTHEW--Matthew--what is the matter?Matthew, are you sick?”
It was Marilla who spoke, alarm in every jerky word.Anne came through the hall,her hands full of white narcissus,--it was long before Anne could love the sight or odor of white narcissus again,--in time to hear her and to see Matthew standing in the porch doorway,a folded paper in his hand,and his face strangely drawn and gray.Anne dropped her flowers and sprang across the kitchen to him at the same moment as Marilla. They were both too late; before they could reach him Matthew had fallen across the threshold.
“He’s fainted,” gasped Marilla. “Anne,run for Martin--quick, quick!He’s at the barn.”
Martin, the hired man,who had just driven home from the post office,started at once for the doctor,calling at Orchard Slope on his way to send Mr.and Mrs. Barry over. Mrs. Lynde,who was there on an errand, came too.They found Anne and Marilla distractedly trying to restore Matthew to consciousness.
Mrs. Lynde pushed them gently aside, tried his pulse,and then laid her ear over his heart.She looked at their anxious faces sorrowfully and the tears came into her eyes.
“Oh, Marilla,” she said gravely.“I don’t think--we can do anything for him.”
“Mrs. Lynde, you don’t think--you can’t think Matthew is--is--” Anne could not say the dreadful word; she turned sick and pallid.
“Child, yes, I’m afraid of it. Look at his face.When you’ve seen that look as often as I have you’ll know what it means. ”