Anne's House of Dreams Page 8

  CHAPTER 8

  MISS CORNELIA BRYANT COMES TO CALL

  That September was a month of golden mists and purple hazes at FourWinds Harbor--a month of sun-steeped days and of nights that wereswimming in moonlight, or pulsating with stars. No storm marred it, norough wind blew. Anne and Gilbert put their nest in order, rambled onthe shores, sailed on the harbor, drove about Four Winds and the Glen,or through the ferny, sequestered roads of the woods around the harborhead; in short, had such a honeymoon as any lovers in the world mighthave envied them.

  "If life were to stop short just now it would still have been richlyworth while, just for the sake of these past four weeks, wouldn't it?"said Anne. "I don't suppose we will ever have four such perfect weeksagain--but we've HAD them. Everything--wind, weather, folks, house ofdreams--has conspired to make our honeymoon delightful. There hasn'teven been a rainy day since we came here."

  "And we haven't quarrelled once," teased Gilbert.

  "Well, 'that's a pleasure all the greater for being deferred,'" quotedAnne. "I'm so glad we decided to spend our honeymoon here. Ourmemories of it will always belong here, in our house of dreams, insteadof being scattered about in strange places."

  There was a certain tang of romance and adventure in the atmosphere oftheir new home which Anne had never found in Avonlea. There, althoughshe had lived in sight of the sea, it had not entered intimately intoher life. In Four Winds it surrounded her and called to herconstantly. From every window of her new home she saw some varyingaspect of it. Its haunting murmur was ever in her ears. Vesselssailed up the harbor every day to the wharf at the Glen, or sailed outagain through the sunset, bound for ports that might be half way roundthe globe. Fishing boats went white-winged down the channel in themornings, and returned laden in the evenings. Sailors and fisher-folktravelled the red, winding harbor roads, light-hearted and content.There was always a certain sense of things going to happen--ofadventures and farings-forth. The ways of Four Winds were less staidand settled and grooved than those of Avonlea; winds of change blewover them; the sea called ever to the dwellers on shore, and even thosewho might not answer its call felt the thrill and unrest and mysteryand possibilities of it.

  "I understand now why some men must go to sea," said Anne. "Thatdesire which comes to us all at times--'to sail beyond the bourne ofsunset'--must be very imperious when it is born in you. I don't wonderCaptain Jim ran away because of it. I never see a ship sailing out ofthe channel, or a gull soaring over the sand-bar, without wishing Iwere on board the ship or had wings, not like a dove 'to fly away andbe at rest,' but like a gull, to sweep out into the very heart of astorm."

  "You'll stay right here with me, Anne-girl," said Gilbert lazily. "Iwon't have you flying away from me into the hearts of storms."

  They were sitting on their red sand-stone doorstep in the lateafternoon. Great tranquillities were all about them in land and seaand sky. Silvery gulls were soaring over them. The horizons werelaced with long trails of frail, pinkish clouds. The hushed air wasthreaded with a murmurous refrain of minstrel winds and waves. Paleasters were blowing in the sere and misty meadows between them and theharbor.

  "Doctors who have to be up all night waiting on sick folk don't feelvery adventurous, I suppose," Anne said indulgently. "If you had had agood sleep last night, Gilbert, you'd be as ready as I am for a flightof imagination."

  "I did good work last night, Anne," said Gilbert quietly. "Under God,I saved a life. This is the first time I could ever really claim that.In other cases I may have helped; but, Anne, if I had not stayed atAllonby's last night and fought death hand to hand, that woman wouldhave died before morning. I tried an experiment that was certainlynever tried in Four Winds before. I doubt if it was ever triedanywhere before outside of a hospital. It was a new thing in Kingsporthospital last winter. I could never have dared try it here if I hadnot been absolutely certain that there was no other chance. I riskedit--and it succeeded. As a result, a good wife and mother is saved forlong years of happiness and usefulness. As I drove home this morning,while the sun was rising over the harbor, I thanked God that I hadchosen the profession I did. I had fought a good fight and won--thinkof it, Anne, WON, against the Great Destroyer. It's what I dreamed ofdoing long ago when we talked together of what we wanted to do in life.That dream of mine came true this morning."

  "Was that the only one of your dreams that has come true?" asked Anne,who knew perfectly well what the substance of his answer would be, butwanted to hear it again.

  "YOU know, Anne-girl," said Gilbert, smiling into her eyes. At thatmoment there were certainly two perfectly happy people sitting on thedoorstep of a little white house on the Four Winds Harbor shore.

  Presently Gilbert said, with a change of tone, "Do I or do I not see afull-rigged ship sailing up our lane?"

  Anne looked and sprang up.

  "That must be either Miss Cornelia Bryant or Mrs. Moore coming tocall," she said.

  "I'm going into the office, and if it is Miss Cornelia I warn you thatI'll eavesdrop," said Gilbert. "From all I've heard regarding MissCornelia I conclude that her conversation will not be dull, to say theleast."

  "It may be Mrs. Moore."

  "I don't think Mrs. Moore is built on those lines. I saw her workingin her garden the other day, and, though I was too far away to seeclearly, I thought she was rather slender. She doesn't seem verysocially inclined when she has never called on you yet, although she'syour nearest neighbor."

  "She can't be like Mrs. Lynde, after all, or curiosity would havebrought her," said Anne. "This caller is, I think, Miss Cornelia."

  Miss Cornelia it was; moreover, Miss Cornelia had not come to make anybrief and fashionable wedding call. She had her work under her arm ina substantial parcel, and when Anne asked her to stay she promptly tookoff her capacious sun-hat, which had been held on her head, despiteirreverent September breezes, by a tight elastic band under her hardlittle knob of fair hair. No hat pins for Miss Cornelia, an it pleaseye! Elastic bands had been good enough for her mother and they weregood enough for HER. She had a fresh, round, pink-and-white face, andjolly brown eyes. She did not look in the least like the traditionalold maid, and there was something in her expression which won Anneinstantly. With her old instinctive quickness to discern kindredspirits she knew she was going to like Miss Cornelia, in spite ofuncertain oddities of opinion, and certain oddities of attire.

  Nobody but Miss Cornelia would have come to make a call arrayed in astriped blue-and-white apron and a wrapper of chocolate print, with adesign of huge, pink roses scattered over it. And nobody but MissCornelia could have looked dignified and suitably garbed in it. HadMiss Cornelia been entering a palace to call on a prince's bride, shewould have been just as dignified and just as wholly mistress of thesituation. She would have trailed her rose-spattered flounce over themarble floors just as unconcernedly, and she would have proceeded justas calmly to disabuse the mind of the princess of any idea that thepossession of a mere man, be he prince or peasant, was anything to bragof.

  "I've brought my work, Mrs. Blythe, dearie," she remarked, unrollingsome dainty material. "I'm in a hurry to get this done, and thereisn't any time to lose."

  Anne looked in some surprise at the white garment spread over MissCornelia's ample lap. It was certainly a baby's dress, and it was mostbeautifully made, with tiny frills and tucks. Miss Cornelia adjustedher glasses and fell to embroidering with exquisite stitches.

  "This is for Mrs. Fred Proctor up at the Glen," she announced. "She'sexpecting her eighth baby any day now, and not a stitch has she readyfor it. The other seven have wore out all she made for the first, andshe's never had time or strength or spirit to make any more. Thatwoman is a martyr, Mrs. Blythe, believe ME. When she married FredProctor _I_ knew how it would turn out. He was one of your wicked,fascinating men. After he got married he left off being fascinatingand just kept on being wicked. He drinks and he neglects his family.Isn't that like a man? I don't know ho
w Mrs. Proctor would ever keepher children decently clothed if her neighbors didn't help her out."

  As Anne was afterwards to learn, Miss Cornelia was the only neighborwho troubled herself much about the decency of the young Proctors.

  "When I heard this eighth baby was coming I decided to make some thingsfor it," Miss Cornelia went on. "This is the last and I want to finishit today."

  "It's certainly very pretty," said Anne. "I'll get my sewing and we'llhave a little thimble party of two. You are a beautiful sewer, MissBryant."

  "Yes, I'm the best sewer in these parts," said Miss Cornelia in amatter-of-fact tone. "I ought to be! Lord, I've done more of it thanif I'd had a hundred children of my own, believe ME! I s'pose I'm afool, to be putting hand embroidery on this dress for an eighth baby.But, Lord, Mrs. Blythe, dearie, it isn't to blame for being the eighth,and I kind of wished it to have one real pretty dress, just as if itWAS wanted. Nobody's wanting the poor mite--so I put some extra fusson its little things just on that account."

  "Any baby might be proud of that dress," said Anne, feeling still morestrongly that she was going to like Miss Cornelia.

  "I s'pose you've been thinking I was never coming to call on you,"resumed Miss Cornelia. "But this is harvest month, you know, and I'vebeen busy--and a lot of extra hands hanging round, eating more'n theywork, just like the men. I'd have come yesterday, but I went to Mrs.Roderick MacAllister's funeral. At first I thought my head was achingso badly I couldn't enjoy myself if I did go. But she was a hundredyears old, and I'd always promised myself that I'd go to her funeral."

  "Was it a successful function?" asked Anne, noticing that the officedoor was ajar.

  "What's that? Oh, yes, it was a tremendous funeral. She had a verylarge connection. There was over one hundred and twenty carriages inthe procession. There was one or two funny things happened. I thoughtthat die I would to see old Joe Bradshaw, who is an infidel and neverdarkens the door of a church, singing 'Safe in the Arms of Jesus' withgreat gusto and fervor. He glories in singing--that's why he nevermisses a funeral. Poor Mrs. Bradshaw didn't look much likesinging--all wore out slaving. Old Joe starts out once in a while tobuy her a present and brings home some new kind of farm machinery.Isn't that like a man? But what else would you expect of a man whonever goes to church, even a Methodist one? I was real thankful to seeyou and the young Doctor in the Presbyterian church your first Sunday.No doctor for me who isn't a Presbyterian."

  "We were in the Methodist church last Sunday evening," said Annewickedly.

  "Oh, I s'pose Dr. Blythe has to go to the Methodist church once in awhile or he wouldn't get the Methodist practice."

  "We liked the sermon very much," declared Anne boldly. "And I thoughtthe Methodist minster's prayer was one of the most beautiful I everheard."

  "Oh, I've no doubt he can pray. I never heard anyone make morebeautiful prayers than old Simon Bentley, who was always drunk, orhoping to be, and the drunker he was the better he prayed."

  "The Methodist minister is very fine looking," said Anne, for thebenefit of the office door.

  "Yes, he's quite ornamental," agreed Miss Cornelia. "Oh, and VERYladylike. And he thinks that every girl who looks at him falls in lovewith him--as if a Methodist minister, wandering about like any Jew, wassuch a prize! If you and the young doctor take MY advice, you won'thave much to do with the Methodists. My motto is--if you ARE aPresbyterian, BE a Presbyterian."

  "Don't you think that Methodists go to heaven as well asPresbyterians?" asked Anne smilelessly.

  "That isn't for US to decide. It's in higher hands than ours," saidMiss Cornelia solemnly. "But I ain't going to associate with them onearth whatever I may have to do in heaven. THIS Methodist ministerisn't married. The last one they had was, and his wife was thesilliest, flightiest little thing I ever saw. I told her husband oncethat he should have waited till she was grown up before he married her.He said he wanted to have the training of her. Wasn't that like a man?"

  "It's rather hard to decide just when people ARE grown up," laughedAnne.

  "That's a true word, dearie. Some are grown up when they're born, andothers ain't grown up when they're eighty, believe ME. That same Mrs.Roderick I was speaking of never grew up. She was as foolish when shewas a hundred as when she was ten."

  "Perhaps that was why she lived so long," suggested Anne.

  "Maybe 'twas. _I_'d rather live fifty sensible years than a hundredfoolish ones."

  "But just think what a dull world it would be if everyone wassensible," pleaded Anne.

  Miss Cornelia disdained any skirmish of flippant epigram.

  "Mrs. Roderick was a Milgrave, and the Milgraves never had much sense.Her nephew, Ebenezer Milgrave, used to be insane for years. Hebelieved he was dead and used to rage at his wife because she wouldn'tbury him. _I_'d a-done it."

  Miss Cornelia looked so grimly determined that Anne could almost seeher with a spade in her hand.

  "Don't you know ANY good husbands, Miss Bryant?"

  "Oh, yes, lots of them--over yonder," said Miss Cornelia, waving herhand through the open window towards the little graveyard of the churchacross the harbor.

  "But living--going about in the flesh?" persisted Anne.

  "Oh, there's a few, just to show that with God all things arepossible," acknowledged Miss Cornelia reluctantly. "I don't deny thatan odd man here and there, if he's caught young and trained up proper,and if his mother has spanked him well beforehand, may turn out adecent being. YOUR husband, now, isn't so bad, as men go, from all Ihear. I s'pose"--Miss Cornelia looked sharply at Anne over herglasses--"you think there's nobody like him in the world."

  "There isn't," said Anne promptly.

  "Ah, well, I heard another bride say that once," sighed Miss Cornelia."Jennie Dean thought when she married that there wasn't anybody likeHER husband in the world. And she was right--there wasn't! And a goodthing, too, believe ME! He led her an awful life--and he was courtinghis second wife while Jennie was dying.

  "Wasn't that like a man? However, I hope YOUR confidence will bebetter justified, dearie. The young doctor is taking real well. I wasafraid at first he mightn't, for folks hereabouts have always thoughtold Doctor Dave the only doctor in the world. Doctor Dave hadn't muchtact, to be sure--he was always talking of ropes in houses wheresomeone had hanged himself. But folks forgot their hurt feelings whenthey had a pain in their stomachs. If he'd been a minister instead ofa doctor they'd never have forgiven him. Soul-ache doesn't worry folksnear as much as stomach-ache. Seeing as we're both Presbyterians andno Methodists around, will you tell me your candid opinion of OURminister?"

  "Why--really--I--well," hesitated Anne.

  Miss Cornelia nodded.

  "Exactly. I agree with you, dearie. We made a mistake when we calledHIM. His face just looks like one of those long, narrow stones in thegraveyard, doesn't it? 'Sacred to the memory' ought to be written onhis forehead. I shall never forget the first sermon he preached afterhe came. It was on the subject of everyone doing what they were bestfitted for--a very good subject, of course; but such illustrations ashe used! He said, 'If you had a cow and an apple tree, and if you tiedthe apple tree in your stable and planted the cow in your orchard, withher legs up, how much milk would you get from the apple tree, or howmany apples from the cow?' Did you ever hear the like in your borndays, dearie? I was so thankful there were no Methodists there thatday--they'd never have been done hooting over it. But what I dislikemost in him is his habit of agreeing with everybody, no matter what issaid. If you said to him, 'You're a scoundrel,' he'd say, with thatsmooth smile of his, 'Yes, that's so.' A minister should have morebackbone. The long and the short of it is, I consider him a reverendjackass. But, of course, this is just between you and me. When thereare Methodists in hearing I praise him to the skies. Some folks thinkhis wife dresses too gay, but _I_ say when she has to live with a facelike that she needs something to cheer her up. You'll never hear MEcondemning a woman for her dress
. I'm only too thankful when herhusband isn't too mean and miserly to allow it. Not that I bother muchwith dress myself. Women just dress to please the men, and I'd neverstoop to THAT. I have had a real placid, comfortable life, dearie, andit's just because I never cared a cent what the men thought."

  "Why do you hate the men so, Miss Bryant?"

  "Lord, dearie, I don't hate them. They aren't worth it. I just sortof despise them. I think I'll like YOUR husband if he keeps on as hehas begun. But apart from him about the only men in the world I'vemuch use for are the old doctor and Captain Jim."

  "Captain Jim is certainly splendid," agreed Anne cordially.

  "Captain Jim is a good man, but he's kind of vexing in one way. YouCAN'T make him mad. I've tried for twenty years and he just keeps onbeing placid. It does sort of rile me. And I s'pose the woman heshould have married got a man who went into tantrums twice a day."

  "Who was she?"

  "Oh, I don't know, dearie. I never remember of Captain Jim making upto anybody. He was edging on old as far as my memory goes. He'sseventy-six, you know. I never heard any reason for his staying abachelor, but there must be one, believe ME. He sailed all his lifetill five years ago, and there's no corner of the earth he hasn't pokedhis nose into. He and Elizabeth Russell were great cronies, all theirlives, but they never had any notion of sweet-hearting. Elizabethnever married, though she had plenty of chances. She was a greatbeauty when she was young. The year the Prince of Wales came to theIsland she was visiting her uncle in Charlottetown and he was aGovernment official, and so she got invited to the great ball. She wasthe prettiest girl there, and the Prince danced with her, and all theother women he didn't dance with were furious about it, because theirsocial standing was higher than hers and they said he shouldn't havepassed them over. Elizabeth was always very proud of that dance. Meanfolks said that was why she never married--she couldn't put up with anordinary man after dancing with a prince. But that wasn't so. Shetold me the reason once--it was because she had such a temper that shewas afraid she couldn't live peaceably with any man. She HAD an awfultemper--she used to have to go upstairs and bite pieces out of herbureau to keep it down by times. But I told her that wasn't any reasonfor not marrying if she wanted to. There's no reason why we should letthe men have a monopoly of temper, is there, Mrs. Blythe, dearie?"

  "I've a bit of temper myself," sighed Anne.

  "It's well you have, dearie. You won't be half so likely to be troddenon, believe ME! My, how that golden glow of yours is blooming! Yourgarden looks fine. Poor Elizabeth always took such care of it."

  "I love it," said Anne. "I'm glad it's so full of old-fashionedflowers. Speaking of gardening, we want to get a man to dig up thatlittle lot beyond the fir grove and set it out with strawberry plantsfor us. Gilbert is so busy he will never get time for it this fall.Do you know anyone we can get?"

  "Well, Henry Hammond up at the Glen goes out doing jobs like that.He'll do, maybe. He's always a heap more interested in his wages thanin his work, just like a man, and he's so slow in the uptake that hestands still for five minutes before it dawns on him that he's stopped.His father threw a stump at him when he was small.

  "Nice gentle missile, wasn't it? So like a man! Course, the boy nevergot over it. But he's the only one I can recommend at all. He paintedmy house for me last spring. It looks real nice now, don't you think?"

  Anne was saved by the clock striking five.

  "Lord, is it that late?" exclaimed Miss Cornelia. "How time does slipby when you're enjoying yourself! Well, I must betake myself home."

  "No, indeed! You are going to stay and have tea with us," said Anneeagerly.

  "Are you asking me because you think you ought to, or because youreally want to?" demanded Miss Cornelia.

  "Because I really want to."

  "Then I'll stay. YOU belong to the race that knows Joseph."

  "I know we are going to be friends," said Anne, with the smile thatonly they of the household of faith ever saw.

  "Yes, we are, dearie. Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. Wehave to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful if there are nopenitentiary birds among them. Not that I've many--none nearer thansecond cousins. I'm a kind of lonely soul, Mrs. Blythe."

  There was a wistful note in Miss Cornelia's voice.

  "I wish you would call me Anne," exclaimed Anne impulsively. "It wouldseem more HOMEY. Everyone in Four Winds, except my husband, calls meMrs. Blythe, and it makes me feel like a stranger. Do you know thatyour name is very near being the one I yearned after when I was achild. I hated 'Anne' and I called myself 'Cordelia' in imagination."

  "I like Anne. It was my mother's name. Old-fashioned names are thebest and sweetest in my opinion. If you're going to get tea you mightsend the young doctor to talk to me. He's been lying on the sofa inthat office ever since I came, laughing fit to kill over what I've beensaying."

  "How did you know?" cried Anne, too aghast at this instance of MissCornelia's uncanny prescience to make a polite denial.

  "I saw him sitting beside you when I came up the lane, and I know men'stricks," retorted Miss Cornelia. "There, I've finished my littledress, dearie, and the eighth baby can come as soon as it pleases."