Chapter XXIII
Paul Cannot Find the Rock People
Life was very pleasant in Avonlea that summer, although Anne, amidall her vacation joys, was haunted by a sense of "something gone whichshould be there." She would not admit, even in her inmost reflections,that this was caused by Gilbert's absence. But when she had to walk homealone from prayer meetings and A.V.I.S. pow-wows, while Diana and Fred,and many other gay couples, loitered along the dusky, starlit countryroads, there was a queer, lonely ache in her heart which she could notexplain away. Gilbert did not even write to her, as she thought he mighthave done. She knew he wrote to Diana occasionally, but she wouldnot inquire about him; and Diana, supposing that Anne heard from him,volunteered no information. Gilbert's mother, who was a gay, frank,light-hearted lady, but not overburdened with tact, had a veryembarrassing habit of asking Anne, always in a painfully distinct voiceand always in the presence of a crowd, if she had heard from Gilbertlately. Poor Anne could only blush horribly and murmur, "not verylately," which was taken by all, Mrs. Blythe included, to be merely amaidenly evasion.
Apart from this, Anne enjoyed her summer. Priscilla came for a merryvisit in June; and, when she had gone, Mr. and Mrs. Irving, Paul andCharlotta the Fourth came "home" for July and August.
Echo Lodge was the scene of gaieties once more, and the echoes over theriver were kept busy mimicking the laughter that rang in the old gardenbehind the spruces.
"Miss Lavendar" had not changed, except to grow even sweeter andprettier. Paul adored her, and the companionship between them wasbeautiful to see.
"But I don't call her 'mother' just by itself," he explained to Anne."You see, THAT name belongs just to my own little mother, and I can'tgive it to any one else. You know, teacher. But I call her 'MotherLavendar' and I love her next best to father. I--I even love her aLITTLE better than you, teacher."
"Which is just as it ought to be," answered Anne.
Paul was thirteen now and very tall for his years. His face and eyeswere as beautiful as ever, and his fancy was still like a prism,separating everything that fell upon it into rainbows. He and Anne haddelightful rambles to wood and field and shore. Never were there twomore thoroughly "kindred spirits."
Charlotta the Fourth had blossomed out into young ladyhood. She wore herhair now in an enormous pompador and had discarded the blue ribbon bowsof auld lang syne, but her face was as freckled, her nose as snubbed,and her mouth and smiles as wide as ever.
"You don't think I talk with a Yankee accent, do you, Miss Shirley,ma'am?" she demanded anxiously.
"I don't notice it, Charlotta."
"I'm real glad of that. They said I did at home, but I thought likelythey just wanted to aggravate me. I don't want no Yankee accent. Notthat I've a word to say against the Yankees, Miss Shirley, ma'am.They're real civilized. But give me old P.E. Island every time."
Paul spent his first fortnight with his grandmother Irving in Avonlea.Anne was there to meet him when he came, and found him wild witheagerness to get to the shore--Nora and the Golden Lady and the TwinSailors would be there. He could hardly wait to eat his supper. Couldhe not see Nora's elfin face peering around the point, watching for himwistfully? But it was a very sober Paul who came back from the shore inthe twilight.
"Didn't you find your Rock People?" asked Anne.
Paul shook his chestnut curls sorrowfully.
"The Twin Sailors and the Golden Lady never came at all," he said. "Norawas there--but Nora is not the same, teacher. She is changed."
"Oh, Paul, it is you who are changed," said Anne. "You have grown tooold for the Rock People. They like only children for playfellows. Iam afraid the Twin Sailors will never again come to you in the pearly,enchanted boat with the sail of moonshine; and the Golden Lady will playno more for you on her golden harp. Even Nora will not meet you muchlonger. You must pay the penalty of growing-up, Paul. You must leavefairyland behind you."
"You two talk as much foolishness as ever you did," said old Mrs.Irving, half-indulgently, half-reprovingly.
"Oh, no, we don't," said Anne, shaking her head gravely. "We are gettingvery, very wise, and it is such a pity. We are never half so interestingwhen we have learned that language is given us to enable us to concealour thoughts."
"But it isn't--it is given us to exchange our thoughts," said Mrs.Irving seriously. She had never heard of Tallyrand and did notunderstand epigrams.
Anne spent a fortnight of halcyon days at Echo Lodge in the golden primeof August. While there she incidentally contrived to hurry Ludovic Speedin his leisurely courting of Theodora Dix, as related duly in anotherchronicle of her history.(1) Arnold Sherman, an elderly friend of theIrvings, was there at the same time, and added not a little to thegeneral pleasantness of life.
(1 Chronicles of Avonlea.)
"What a nice play-time this has been," said Anne. "I feel like a giantrefreshed. And it's only a fortnight more till I go back to Kingsport,and Redmond and Patty's Place. Patty's Place is the dearest spot, MissLavendar. I feel as if I had two homes--one at Green Gables and oneat Patty's Place. But where has the summer gone? It doesn't seem a daysince I came home that spring evening with the Mayflowers. When Iwas little I couldn't see from one end of the summer to the other. Itstretched before me like an unending season. Now, ''tis a handbreadth,'tis a tale.'"
"Anne, are you and Gilbert Blythe as good friends as you used to be?"asked Miss Lavendar quietly.
"I am just as much Gilbert's friend as ever I was, Miss Lavendar."
Miss Lavendar shook her head.
"I see something's gone wrong, Anne. I'm going to be impertinent and askwhat. Have you quarrelled?"
"No; it's only that Gilbert wants more than friendship and I can't givehim more."
"Are you sure of that, Anne?"
"Perfectly sure."
"I'm very, very sorry."
"I wonder why everybody seems to think I ought to marry Gilbert Blythe,"said Anne petulantly.
"Because you were made and meant for each other, Anne--that is why. Youneedn't toss that young head of yours. It's a fact."
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