T was a clear, apple-green evening in May, and Four Winds Harbour was mirroring back, the clouds of the golden west between its softly dark shores. The sea moaned eerily on the sand-bar, sor rowful even in spring, but a sly, jovial wind came pip ing down the red harbour road along which Miss Cor nelia's comfortable, matronly figure was making its way towards the village of Glen St. Mary. Miss Cornelia was rightfully Mrs. Marshall Elliott, and had been Mrs. Marshall Elliott for thirteen years, but even yet more people referred to her as Miss Cornelia than as Mrs. Elliott. The old name was dear to her Old friends; only one of them contemptuously dropped it. Susan Baker, the gray and grim and faithful hand maiden of the Blythe family at Ingleside, never lost an opportunity of calling her Mrs. Marshall Elliott, with the most killing and pointed emphasis, as if to say You wanted to be Mrs. And Mrs. You shall be with a vengeance as far as I am concerned. Miss Cornelia was going up to Ingleside to see Dr. And Mrs. Blythe, who were just home from Europe.
They had been away for three months, having left in February to attend a famous medical congress in Lon don; and certain things, which Miss Cornelia was anxious to discuss, had taken place in the Glen during their absence. For one thing, there was a new family in the manse. And such a family! Miss Cornelia shook her head over them several times as She walked briskly along.
Susan Baker and the Anne Shirley of other days saw her coming, as they sat on the big veranda at Ingleside, enjoying the charm of the cat's light, the sweetness of sleepy robins whistling among the twilit maples, and the dance of a gusty group of daffodils blowing against the old, mellow, red brick wall of the lawn.
Anne was sitting on the steps, her hands clasped over her knee, looking, in the kind dusk, as girlish as a mother of many has any right to be and the beauti ful gray-green eyes, gazing down the harbour road, were as full of unquenchable sparkle and dream as ever. Behind her, in the hammock, Rilla Blythe was curled up, a fat, roly-poly little creature of six years, the youngest of the Ingleside children. She had curly red hair and hazel eyes that were now buttoned up after the funny, wrinkled fashion in which Rilla always went to sleep.
About the Publisher
Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
Publisher - Forgotten Books
Language - English
Author(s) - L. M. Montgomery
Published Date - August 27 2019
ISBN - 9780266757825
Dimensions - 22.9 x 15.2 x 2.2 cm
Page Count - 353
Payment & Security
Your payment information is processed securely. We do not store credit card details nor have access to your credit card information.