Anne of Green Gables - (Illustrated Edition of World Children's Literature)

Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery (Canada)
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-07-01
Features: Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived at the point where Avonlea Road entered a small valley. The sides of the valley were shaded by alders, heavy with berries like ladies' earrings. A little stream crossed the road, it originated in the forest of the ancient Cardew estate far away, flowing through the upper part of the forest with secluded ponds and waterfalls, known for its intricate streams; but when it reached Lynde Valley, it became a quiet, well-behaved little river. This was because anything that did not consider a little dignity and etiquette properly would not pass through Mrs. Rachel's door, not even a little stream. Perhaps the stream realized that Mrs. Rachel was sitting by the window, her sharp gaze always fixed on everything passing by. From the attention of the stream and the child, once she noticed anything strange or unpleasant, she would not rest until she had dug up the truth. In Avonlea and the surrounding area, many people, by neglecting their own affairs, could closely observe the movements of their neighbors; but some capable people could manage their own affairs while also taking care of others' affairs, and Mrs. Rachel was one of them. She was a skilled homemaker, always finishing her work early and doing it perfectly; she "founded" the sewing circle, helped to establish the Sunday school, and she was also a strong supporter of the church relief society and the foreign missionary auxiliary agency. Yet even so, Mrs. Rachel could still find plenty of time to sit for hours by the kitchen window, quilting "stuffed" beds—she had already quilted sixteen such beds, as the women of Avonlea, who managed households with great respect, would tell others—and at the same time, her sharp gaze swept across the road winding up the steep red hills in the valley. Avonlea had a small triangular peninsula that jutted into the St. Lawrence Bay, with two sides facing the water, so everyone entering or leaving had to pass through the hill road and be under the invisible surveillance of Mrs. Rachel's all-seeing gaze. On an afternoon in early June, she was sitting there again. Warm, bright sunlight streamed through the window, and the orchard on the slope below the house was blooming with white and pink flowers, like the blush on a bride's cheeks, while thousands of bees buzzed around the flowers. Thomas Lynde—known to the people of Avonlea as "Mrs. Rachel Lynde's husband," a thin, gentle man—was planting late radish seeds in the field behind the barn on the hillside; at this moment, in the large red riverbank fields near Green Gables, Matthew Cardew should also be planting his late radishes. Because the night before, in William J. Blair's general store in Carmody, Mrs. Rachel had heard him tell Peter Morrison that he planned to plant radish seeds the next afternoon, so she knew. Of course, he only said it after Peter asked, because it was well known that Matthew Cardew had never taken the initiative to tell anyone about himself in his entire life. But at three thirty in the afternoon on a busy day, Matthew Cardew came here, driving his cart slowly through the valley up the hill; even more strangely, he wore a white starched collar and a good suit of clothes, clearly indicating that he was going outside the small peninsula of Avonlea; he was driving a light carriage pulled by a chestnut mare, which showed that he was prepared to travel a considerable distance. So, where was Matthew Cardew going? And why was he going there? If there had been another man on the Avonlea road at that time, Mrs. Rachel, who was adept at skillfully piecing together clues, might have been able to guess the answer to this question with great certainty. But Matthew rarely went out, and it was bound to be something urgent and unusual that he had to attend to; he was the most shy man in the world, not fond of dealing with strangers or going to places where he might have to talk to people. But now, Matthew was wearing a white starched collar and driving a light carriage—such things were not common. Mrs. Rachel racked her brains, pondering for a long time, but came up with nothing, and thus her interest for the rest of the afternoon was completely ruined.