章节正文
mebbe she will from a dead one.' So it will be all
right as far as THAT goes. I wish everything else
might be settled as satisfactorily. As for that wretch
of a Dick, he's been awful these last few days. The
devil was in him, believe ME! Leslie and I couldn't
get on with our work for the tricks he'd play. He
chased all her ducks one day around the yard till most
of them died. And not one thing would he do for us.
Sometimes, you know, he'll make himself quite handy,
bringing in pails of water and wood. But this week if
we sent him to the well he'd try to climb down into it.
I thought once, `If you'd only shoot down there
head-first everything would be nicely settled.'"
"Oh, Miss Cornelia!"
"Now, you needn't Miss Cornelia me, Anne, dearie.
ANYBODY would have thought the same. If the Montreal
doctors can make a rational creature out of Dick Moore
they're wonders."
Leslie took Dick to Montreal early in May. Gilbert
went with her, to help her, and make the necessary
arrangements for her. He came home with the report
that the Montreal surgeon whom they had consulted
agreed with him that there was a good chance of Dick's
restoration.
"Very comforting," was Miss Cornelia's sarcastic
comment.
Anne only sighed. Leslie had been very distant at
their parting.
But she had promised to write. Ten days after
Gilbert's return the letter came. Leslie wrote that
the operation had been successfully performed and that
Dick was making a good recovery.
"What does she mean by `successfully?'" asked Anne.
"Does she mean that Dick's memory is really restored?"
"Not likely--since she says nothing of it," said
Gilbert. "She uses the word `successfully' from the
surgeon's point of view. The operation has been
performed and followed by normal results. But it is
too soon to know whether Dick's faculties will be
eventually restored, wholly or in part. His memory
would not be likely to return to him all at once. The
process will be gradual, if it occurs at all. Is that
all she says?"
"Yes--there's her letter. It's very short. Poor girl,
she must be under a terrible strain. Gilbert Blythe,
there are heaps of things I long to say to you, only it
would be mean."
"Miss Cornelia says them for you," said Gilbert with a
rueful smile. "She combs me down every time I
encounter her. She makes it plain to me that she
regards me as little better than a murderer, and that
she thinks it a great pity that Dr. Dave ever let me
step into his shoes. She even told me that the
Methodist doctor over the harbor was to be preferred
before me. With Miss Cornelia the force of
condemnation can no further go."
"If Cornelia Bryant was sick, it would not be Doctor
Dave or the Methodist doctor she would send for,"
sniffed Susan. "She would have you out of your
hard-earned bed in the middle of the night, doctor,
dear, if she took a spell of misery, that she would.
And then she would likely say your bill was past all
reason. But do not mind her, doctor, dear. It takes
all kinds of people to make a world."
No further word came from Leslie for some time. The
May days crept away in a sweet succession and the
shores of Four Winds Harbor greened and bloomed and
purpled. One day in late May Gilbert came home to be
met by Susan in the stable yard.
"I am afraid something has upset Mrs. Doctor, doctor,
dear," she said mysteriously. "She got a letter this
afternoon and since then she has just been walking
round the garden and talking to herself. You know it
is not good for her to be on her feet so much, doctor,
dear. She did not see fit to tell me what her news
was, and I am no pry, doctor, dear, and never was, but
it is plain something has upset her. And it is not
good for her to be upset."
Gilbert hurried rather anxiously to the garden. Had
anything happened at Green Gables? But Anne, sitting
on the rustic seat by the brook, did not look troubled,
though she was certainly much excited. Her eyes were
their grayest, and scarlet spots burned on her cheeks.
"What has happened, Anne?"
Anne gave a queer little laugh.
"I think you'll hardly believe it when I tell you,
Gilbert. _I_ can't believe it yet. As Susan said the
other day, `I feel like a fly coming to live in the
sun--dazed-like.' It's all so incredible. I've read
the letter a score of times and every time it's just
the same--I can't believe my own eyes. Oh, Gilbert,
you were right--so right. I can see that clearly
enough now--and I'm so ashamed of myself--and will you
ever really forgive me?"
"Anne, I'll shake you if you don't grow coherent.
Redmond would be ashamed of you. WHAT has happened?"
"You won't believe it--you won't believe it--"
"I'm going to phone for Uncle Dave," said Gilbert,
pretending to start for the house.
"Sit down, Gilbert. I'll try to tell you. I've had a
letter, and oh, Gilbert, it's all so amazing--so
incredibly amazing--we never thought--not one of us
ever dreamed--"
"I suppose," said Gilbert, sitting down with a
resigned air, "the only thing to do in a case of this
kind is to have patience and go at the matter
categorically. Whom is your letter from?"
"Leslie--and, oh, Gilbert--"
"Leslie! Whew! What has she to say? What's the news
about Dick?"
Anne lifted the letter and held it out, calmly dramatic
in a moment.
"There is NO Dick! The man we have thought Dick
Moore-- whom everybody in Four Winds has believed for
twelve years to be Dick Moore--is his cousin, George
Moore, of Nova Scotia, who, it seems, always resembled
him very strikingly. Dick Moore died of yellow fever
thirteen years ago in Cuba."
CHAPTER 32
MISS CORNELIA DISCUSSES THE AFFAIR
"And do you mean to tell me, Anne, dearie, that Dick
Moore has turned out not to be Dick Moore at all but
somebody else? Is THAT what you phoned up to me
today?"
"Yes, Miss Cornelia. It is very amazing, isn't it?"
"It's--it's--just like a man," said Miss Cornelia
helplessly. She took off her hat with trembling
fingers. For once in her life Miss Cornelia was
undeniably staggered.
"I can't seem to sense it, Anne," she said. "I've
heard you say it--and I believe you--but I can't take
it in. Dick Moore is dead-- has been dead all these
years--and Leslie is free?"
"Yes. The truth has made her free. Gilbert was right
when he said that verse was the grandest in the
Bible."
"Tell me everything, Anne, dearie. Since I got your
phone I've been in a regular muddle, believe ME.
Cornelia Bryant was never so kerflummuxed before."
"There isn't a very great deal to tell. Leslie's
letter was short. She didn't go into particulars.
This man--George Moore--has recovered his memory and
knows who he is. He says Dick took yellow fever in
Cuba, and the Four Sisters had to sail without him.
George stayed behind to nurse him. But he died very
shortly afterwards.
George did not write Leslie because he intended to come
right home and tell her himself."
"And why didn't he?"
"I suppose his accident must have intervened. Gilbert
says it is quite likely that George Moore remembers
nothing of his accident, or what led to it, and may
never remember it. It probably happened very soon
after Dick's death. We may find out more particulars
when Leslie writes again."
"Does she say what she is going to do? When is she
coming home?"
"She says she will stay with George Moore until he can
leave the hospital. She has written to his people in
Nova Scotia. It seems that George's only near relative
is a married sister much older than himself. She was
living when George sailed on the Four Sisters, but of
course we do not know what may have happened since.
Did you ever see George Moore, Miss Cornelia?"
"I did. It is all coming back to me. He was here
visiting his Uncle Abner eighteen years ago, when he
and Dick would be about seventeen. They were double
cousins, you see. Their fathers were brothers and
their mothers were twin sisters, and they did look a
terrible lot alike. Of course," added Miss Cornelia
scornfully, "it wasn't one of those freak resemblances
you read of in novels where two people are so much
alike that they can fill each other's places and their
nearest and dearest can't tell between them. In those
days you could tell easy enough which was George and
which was Dick, if you saw them together and near at
hand. Apart, or some distance away, it wasn't so easy.
They played lots of tricks on people and thought it
great fun, the two scamps. George Moore was a little
taller and a good deal fatter than Dick--though neither
of them was what you would call fat--they were both of
the lean kind. Dick had higher color than George, and
his hair was a shade lighter. But their features were
just alike, and they both had that queer freak of
eyes--one blue and one hazel. They weren't much alike
in any other way, though. George was a real nice
fellow, though he was a scalawag for mischief, and some
said he had a liking for a glass even then. But
everybody liked him better than Dick. He spent about a
month here. Leslie never saw him; she was only about
eight or nine then and I remember now that she spent
that whole winter over harbor with her grandmother
West. Captain Jim was away, too--that was the winter
he was wrecked on the Magdalens. I don't suppose
either he or Leslie had ever heard about the Nova
Scotia cousin looking so much like Dick. Nobody ever
thought of him when Captain Jim brought Dick--George, I
should say--home. Of course, we all thought Dick had
changed considerable--he'd got so lumpish and fat. But
we put that down to what had happened to him, and no
doubt that was the reason, for, as I've said, George
right as far as THAT goes. I wish everything else
might be settled as satisfactorily. As for that wretch
of a Dick, he's been awful these last few days. The
devil was in him, believe ME! Leslie and I couldn't
get on with our work for the tricks he'd play. He
chased all her ducks one day around the yard till most
of them died. And not one thing would he do for us.
Sometimes, you know, he'll make himself quite handy,
bringing in pails of water and wood. But this week if
we sent him to the well he'd try to climb down into it.
I thought once, `If you'd only shoot down there
head-first everything would be nicely settled.'"
"Oh, Miss Cornelia!"
"Now, you needn't Miss Cornelia me, Anne, dearie.
ANYBODY would have thought the same. If the Montreal
doctors can make a rational creature out of Dick Moore
they're wonders."
Leslie took Dick to Montreal early in May. Gilbert
went with her, to help her, and make the necessary
arrangements for her. He came home with the report
that the Montreal surgeon whom they had consulted
agreed with him that there was a good chance of Dick's
restoration.
"Very comforting," was Miss Cornelia's sarcastic
comment.
Anne only sighed. Leslie had been very distant at
their parting.
But she had promised to write. Ten days after
Gilbert's return the letter came. Leslie wrote that
the operation had been successfully performed and that
Dick was making a good recovery.
"What does she mean by `successfully?'" asked Anne.
"Does she mean that Dick's memory is really restored?"
"Not likely--since she says nothing of it," said
Gilbert. "She uses the word `successfully' from the
surgeon's point of view. The operation has been
performed and followed by normal results. But it is
too soon to know whether Dick's faculties will be
eventually restored, wholly or in part. His memory
would not be likely to return to him all at once. The
process will be gradual, if it occurs at all. Is that
all she says?"
"Yes--there's her letter. It's very short. Poor girl,
she must be under a terrible strain. Gilbert Blythe,
there are heaps of things I long to say to you, only it
would be mean."
"Miss Cornelia says them for you," said Gilbert with a
rueful smile. "She combs me down every time I
encounter her. She makes it plain to me that she
regards me as little better than a murderer, and that
she thinks it a great pity that Dr. Dave ever let me
step into his shoes. She even told me that the
Methodist doctor over the harbor was to be preferred
before me. With Miss Cornelia the force of
condemnation can no further go."
"If Cornelia Bryant was sick, it would not be Doctor
Dave or the Methodist doctor she would send for,"
sniffed Susan. "She would have you out of your
hard-earned bed in the middle of the night, doctor,
dear, if she took a spell of misery, that she would.
And then she would likely say your bill was past all
reason. But do not mind her, doctor, dear. It takes
all kinds of people to make a world."
No further word came from Leslie for some time. The
May days crept away in a sweet succession and the
shores of Four Winds Harbor greened and bloomed and
purpled. One day in late May Gilbert came home to be
met by Susan in the stable yard.
"I am afraid something has upset Mrs. Doctor, doctor,
dear," she said mysteriously. "She got a letter this
afternoon and since then she has just been walking
round the garden and talking to herself. You know it
is not good for her to be on her feet so much, doctor,
dear. She did not see fit to tell me what her news
was, and I am no pry, doctor, dear, and never was, but
it is plain something has upset her. And it is not
good for her to be upset."
Gilbert hurried rather anxiously to the garden. Had
anything happened at Green Gables? But Anne, sitting
on the rustic seat by the brook, did not look troubled,
though she was certainly much excited. Her eyes were
their grayest, and scarlet spots burned on her cheeks.
"What has happened, Anne?"
Anne gave a queer little laugh.
"I think you'll hardly believe it when I tell you,
Gilbert. _I_ can't believe it yet. As Susan said the
other day, `I feel like a fly coming to live in the
sun--dazed-like.' It's all so incredible. I've read
the letter a score of times and every time it's just
the same--I can't believe my own eyes. Oh, Gilbert,
you were right--so right. I can see that clearly
enough now--and I'm so ashamed of myself--and will you
ever really forgive me?"
"Anne, I'll shake you if you don't grow coherent.
Redmond would be ashamed of you. WHAT has happened?"
"You won't believe it--you won't believe it--"
"I'm going to phone for Uncle Dave," said Gilbert,
pretending to start for the house.
"Sit down, Gilbert. I'll try to tell you. I've had a
letter, and oh, Gilbert, it's all so amazing--so
incredibly amazing--we never thought--not one of us
ever dreamed--"
"I suppose," said Gilbert, sitting down with a
resigned air, "the only thing to do in a case of this
kind is to have patience and go at the matter
categorically. Whom is your letter from?"
"Leslie--and, oh, Gilbert--"
"Leslie! Whew! What has she to say? What's the news
about Dick?"
Anne lifted the letter and held it out, calmly dramatic
in a moment.
"There is NO Dick! The man we have thought Dick
Moore-- whom everybody in Four Winds has believed for
twelve years to be Dick Moore--is his cousin, George
Moore, of Nova Scotia, who, it seems, always resembled
him very strikingly. Dick Moore died of yellow fever
thirteen years ago in Cuba."
CHAPTER 32
MISS CORNELIA DISCUSSES THE AFFAIR
"And do you mean to tell me, Anne, dearie, that Dick
Moore has turned out not to be Dick Moore at all but
somebody else? Is THAT what you phoned up to me
today?"
"Yes, Miss Cornelia. It is very amazing, isn't it?"
"It's--it's--just like a man," said Miss Cornelia
helplessly. She took off her hat with trembling
fingers. For once in her life Miss Cornelia was
undeniably staggered.
"I can't seem to sense it, Anne," she said. "I've
heard you say it--and I believe you--but I can't take
it in. Dick Moore is dead-- has been dead all these
years--and Leslie is free?"
"Yes. The truth has made her free. Gilbert was right
when he said that verse was the grandest in the
Bible."
"Tell me everything, Anne, dearie. Since I got your
phone I've been in a regular muddle, believe ME.
Cornelia Bryant was never so kerflummuxed before."
"There isn't a very great deal to tell. Leslie's
letter was short. She didn't go into particulars.
This man--George Moore--has recovered his memory and
knows who he is. He says Dick took yellow fever in
Cuba, and the Four Sisters had to sail without him.
George stayed behind to nurse him. But he died very
shortly afterwards.
George did not write Leslie because he intended to come
right home and tell her himself."
"And why didn't he?"
"I suppose his accident must have intervened. Gilbert
says it is quite likely that George Moore remembers
nothing of his accident, or what led to it, and may
never remember it. It probably happened very soon
after Dick's death. We may find out more particulars
when Leslie writes again."
"Does she say what she is going to do? When is she
coming home?"
"She says she will stay with George Moore until he can
leave the hospital. She has written to his people in
Nova Scotia. It seems that George's only near relative
is a married sister much older than himself. She was
living when George sailed on the Four Sisters, but of
course we do not know what may have happened since.
Did you ever see George Moore, Miss Cornelia?"
"I did. It is all coming back to me. He was here
visiting his Uncle Abner eighteen years ago, when he
and Dick would be about seventeen. They were double
cousins, you see. Their fathers were brothers and
their mothers were twin sisters, and they did look a
terrible lot alike. Of course," added Miss Cornelia
scornfully, "it wasn't one of those freak resemblances
you read of in novels where two people are so much
alike that they can fill each other's places and their
nearest and dearest can't tell between them. In those
days you could tell easy enough which was George and
which was Dick, if you saw them together and near at
hand. Apart, or some distance away, it wasn't so easy.
They played lots of tricks on people and thought it
great fun, the two scamps. George Moore was a little
taller and a good deal fatter than Dick--though neither
of them was what you would call fat--they were both of
the lean kind. Dick had higher color than George, and
his hair was a shade lighter. But their features were
just alike, and they both had that queer freak of
eyes--one blue and one hazel. They weren't much alike
in any other way, though. George was a real nice
fellow, though he was a scalawag for mischief, and some
said he had a liking for a glass even then. But
everybody liked him better than Dick. He spent about a
month here. Leslie never saw him; she was only about
eight or nine then and I remember now that she spent
that whole winter over harbor with her grandmother
West. Captain Jim was away, too--that was the winter
he was wrecked on the Magdalens. I don't suppose
either he or Leslie had ever heard about the Nova
Scotia cousin looking so much like Dick. Nobody ever
thought of him when Captain Jim brought Dick--George, I
should say--home. Of course, we all thought Dick had
changed considerable--he'd got so lumpish and fat. But
we put that down to what had happened to him, and no
doubt that was the reason, for, as I've said, George
- nicely [naisli]
ad.恰好地；谨慎地 (初中英语单词) - normal [´nɔ:məl] a.正规的 n.正常状态 (初中英语单词)
- wholly [´həul-li] ad.完全，十足；统统 (初中英语单词)
- misery [´mizəri] n.痛苦；悲惨；穷困 (初中英语单词)
- succession [sək´seʃən] n.继任；继承(权) (初中英语单词)
- stable [´steibəl] n.马棚 a.稳固的 (初中英语单词)
- mysteriously [mis´tiəriəsli] ad.神秘地；故弄玄虚地 (初中英语单词)
- scarlet [´skɑ:lit] n.猩红色 a.猩红的 (初中英语单词)
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd] a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- patience [´peiʃəns] n.忍耐(力)；耐心；坚韧 (初中英语单词)
- calmly [´kɑ:mli] ad.平静地；无风浪地 (初中英语单词)
- amazing [ə´meiziŋ] a.惊人的；惊奇的 (初中英语单词)
- mischief [´mistʃif] n.伤害；故障；调皮 (初中英语单词)
- surgeon [´sə:dʒən] n.外科医生；军医 (高中英语单词)
- successfully [sək´sesfəli] ad.成功地 (高中英语单词)
- gradual [´grædʒuəl] a.逐渐的 (高中英语单词)
- strain [strein] vt.拉紧 vi.拖 n.张力 (高中英语单词)
- murderer [´mə:dərə] n.杀人犯，凶手 (高中英语单词)
- hurried [´hʌrid] a.仓促的，慌忙的 (高中英语单词)
- anxiously [´æŋkʃəsli] ad.挂念地；渴望地 (高中英语单词)
- rustic [´rʌstik] a.田野的；质朴的 (高中英语单词)
- incredible [in´kredəbəl] a.不能相信的；惊人的 (高中英语单词)
- rational [´ræʃənəl] a.(有)理性的；合理的 (英语四级单词)
- satisfactorily [sætis´fæktərili] ad.令人满意地 (英语六级单词)
- liking [´laikiŋ] n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 (英语六级单词)
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