Chronicles of Avonlea by Lucy Maud Montgomery (funny books to read .TXT) đ
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- Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Jordan hitched Dan into the second best buggy, dressed himself in his Sunday clothes, and drove off. On the road he re-read a paragraph he had clipped from the Charlottetown Daily Enterprise of the previous day.
âJoscelyn Burnett, the famous contralto, is spending a few days in Kensington on her return from her Maritime concert tour. She is the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Bromley, of The Beeches.â
âNow if I can get there in time,â said Jordan emphatically.
Jordan got to Kensington, put Dan up in a livery stable, and inquired the way to The Beeches. He felt rather nervous when he found it, it was such a stately, imposing place, set back from the street in an emerald green seclusion of beautiful grounds.
âFancy me stalking up to that front door and asking for Miss Joscelyn Burnett,â grinned Jordan sheepishly. âMebbe theyâll tell me to go around to the back and inquire for the cook. But youâre going just the same, Jordan Sloane, and no skulking. March right up now. Think of Aunty Nan and donât let style down you.â
A pert-looking maid answered Jordanâs ring, and stared at him when he asked for Miss Burnett.
âI donât think you can see her,â she said shortly, scanning his country cut of hair and clothes rather superciliously. âWhat is your business with her?â
The maidâs scorn roused Jordanâs âdander,â as he would have expressed it.
âIâll tell her that when I see her,â he retorted coolly. âJust you tell her that Iâve a message for her from Aunty Nan Morrison of Gull Point Farm, Avonlea. If she hainât forgot, thatâll fetch her. You might as well hurry up, if you please, Iâve not overly too much time.â
The pert maid decided to be civil at least, and invited Jordan to enter. But she left him standing in the hall while she went in search of Miss Burnett. Jordan gazed about him in amazement. He had never been in any place like this before. The hall was wonderful enough, and through the open doors on either hand stretched vistas of lovely rooms that, to Jordanâs eyes, looked like those of a palace.
âGee whiz! How do they ever move around without knocking things over?â
Then Joscelyn Burnett came, and Jordan forgot everything else. This tall, beautiful woman, in her silken draperies, with a face like nothing Jordan had ever seen, or even dreamed about,âcould this be Aunty Nanâs little Joscelyn? Jordanâs round, freckled countenance grew crimson. He felt horribly tonguetied and embarrassed. What could he say to her? How could he say it?
Joscelyn Burnett looked at him with her large, dark eyes,â the eyes of a woman who had suffered much, and learned much, and won through struggle to victory.
âYou have come from Aunty Nan?â she said. âOh, I am so glad to hear from her. Is she well? Come in here and tell me all about her.â
She turned toward one of those fairy-like rooms, but Jordan interrupted her desperately.
âOh, not in there, maâam. Iâd never get it out. Just let me blunder through it out here someways. Yesâm, Aunty Nan, she ainât very well. Sheâsâsheâs dying, I guess. And sheâs longing for you night and day. Seems as if she couldnât die in peace without seeing you. She wanted to get to Kensington to hear you sing, but that old cat of a Mrs. Williamâbegging you pardon, maâamâwouldnât let her come. Sheâs always talking of you. If you can come out to Gull Point Farm and see her, Iâll be most awful obliged to you, maâam.â
Joscelyn Burnett looked troubled. She had not forgotten Gull Point Farm, nor Aunty Nan; but for years the memory had been dim, crowded into the background of consciousness by the more exciting events of her busy life. Now it came back with a rush. She recalled it all tenderlyâ the peace and beauty and love of that olden summer, and sweet Aunty Nan, so very wise in the lore of all things simple and good and true. For the moment Joscelyn Burnett was a lonely, hungry-hearted little girl again, seeking for love and finding it not, until Aunty Nan had taken her into her great mother-heart and taught her its meaning.
âOh, I donât know,â she said perplexedly. âIf you had come soonerâ I leave on the 11:30 train tonight. I MUST leave by then or I shall not reach Montreal in time to fill a very important engagement. And yet I must see Aunty Nan, too. I have been careless and neglectful. I might have gone to see her before. How can we manage it?â
âIâll bring you back to Kensington in time to catch that train,â said Jordan eagerly. âThereâs nothing I wouldnât do for Aunty Nanâme and Dan. Yes, sir, youâll get back in time. Just think of Aunty Nanâs face when she sees you!â
âI will come,â said the great singer, gently.
It was sunset when they reached Gull Point Farm. An arc of warm gold was over the spruces behind the house. Mrs. William was out in the barn-yard, milking, and the house was deserted, save for the sleeping baby in the kitchen and the little old woman with the watchful eyes in the upstairs room.
âThis way, maâam,â said Jordan, inwardly congratulating himself that the coast was clear. âIâll take you right up to her room.â
Upstairs, Joscelyn tapped at the half-open door and went in. Before it closed behind her, Jordan heard Aunty Nan say, âJoscelyn! Little Joscelyn!â in a tone that made him choke again. He stumbled thankfully downstairs, to be pounced upon by Mrs. William in the kitchen.
âJordan Sloane, who was that stylish woman you drove into the yard with? And what have you done with her?â
âThat was Miss Joscelyn Burnett,â said Jordan, expanding himself. This was his hour of triumph over Mrs. William. âI went to Kensington and brung her out to see Aunty Nan. Sheâs up with her now.â
âDear me,â said Mrs. William helplessly. âAnd me in my milking rig! Jordan, for pityâs sake, hold the baby while I go and put on my black silk. You might have given a body some warning. I declare I donât know which is the greatest idiot, you or Aunty Nan!â
As Mrs. William flounced out of the kitchen, Jordan took his satisfaction in a quiet laugh.
Upstairs in the little room was a great glory of sunset and gladness of human hearts. Joscelyn was kneeling by the bed, with her arms about Aunty Nan; and Aunty Nan, with her face all irradiated, was stroking Joscelynâs dark hair fondly.
âO, little Joscelyn,â she murmured, âit seems too good to be true. It seems like a beautiful dream. I knew you the minute you opened the door, my dearie. You havenât changed a bit. And youâre a famous singer now, little Joscelyn! I always knew you would be. Oh, I want you to sing a piece for meâjust one, wonât you, dearie? Sing that piece people like to hear you sing best. I forget the name, but Iâve read about it in the papers. Sing it for me, little Joscelyn.â
And Joscelyn, standing by Aunty Nanâs bed, in the sunset light, sang the song she had sung to many a brilliant audience on many a noted concert-platformâsang it as even she had never sung before, while Aunty Nan lay and listened beatifically, and downstairs even Mrs. William held her breath, entranced by the exquisite melody that floated through the old farmhouse.
âO, little Joscelyn!â breathed Aunty Nan in rapture, when the song ended.
Joscelyn knelt by her again and they had a long talk of old days. One by one they recalled the memories of that vanished summer. The past gave up its tears and its laughter. Heart and fancy alike went roaming through the ways of the long ago. Aunty Nan was perfectly happy. And then Joscelyn told her all the story of her struggles and triumphs since they had parted.
When the moonlight began to creep in through the low window, Aunty Nan put out her hand and touched Joscelynâs bowed head.
âLittle Joscelyn,â she whispered, âif it ainât asking too much, I want you to sing just one other piece. Do you remember when you were here how we sung hymns in the parlour every Sunday night, and my favourite always was âThe Sands of Time are Sinking?â I ainât never forgot how you used to sing that, and I want to hear it just once again, dearie. Sing it for me, little Joscelyn.â
Joscelyn rose and went to the window. Lifting back the curtain, she stood in the splendour of the moonlight, and sang the grand old hymn. At first Aunty Nan beat time to it feebly on the counterpane; but when Joscelyn came to the verse, âWith mercy and with judgment,â she folded her hands over her breast and smiled.
When the hymn ended, Joscelyn came over to the bed.
âI am afraid I must say good-bye now, Aunty Nan,â she said.
Then she saw that Aunty Nan had fallen asleep. She would not waken her, but she took from her breast the cluster of crimson roses she wore and slipped them gently between the toil-worn fingers.
âGood-bye, dear, sweet mother-heart,â she murmured.
Downstairs she met Mrs. William splendid in rustling black silk, her broad, rubicund face smiling, overflowing with apologies and welcomes, which Joscelyn cut short coldly.
âThank you, Mrs. Morrison, but I cannot possibly stay longer. No, thank you, I donât care for any refreshments. Jordan is going to take me back to Kensington at once. I came out to see Aunty Nan.â âIâm certain sheâd be delighted,â said Mrs. William effusively. âSheâs been talking about you for weeks.â
âYes, it has made her very happy,â said Joscelyn gravely. âAnd it has made me happy, too. I love Aunty Nan, Mrs. Morrison, and I owe her much. In all my life I have never met a woman so purely, unselfishly good and noble and true.â
âFancy now,â said Mrs. William, rather overcome at hearing this great singer pronounce such an encomium on quiet, timid old Aunty Nan.
Jordan drove Joscelyn back to Kensington; and upstairs in her room Aunty Nan slept, with that rapt smile on her face and Joscelynâs red roses in her hands. Thus it was that Mrs. William found her, going in the next morning with her breakfast. The sunlight crept over the pillow, lighting up the sweet old face and silver hair, and stealing downward to the faded red roses on her breast. Smiling and peaceful and happy lay Aunty Nan, for she had fallen on the sleep that knows no earthy wakening, while little Joscelyn sang.
V. The Winning of Lucinda
The marriage of a Penhallow was always the signal for a gathering of the Penhallows. From the uttermost parts of the earth they would comeâPenhallows by birth, and Penhallows by marriage and Penhallows by ancestry. East Grafton was the ancient habitat of the race, and Penhallow Grange, where âoldâ John Penhallow lived, was a Mecca to them.
As for the family itself, the exact kinship of all its various branches and ramifications was a hard thing to define. Old Uncle Julius Penhallow was looked upon as a veritable wonder because he carried it all in his head and could tell on sight just what relation any one Penhallow was to any other Penhallow. The rest made a blind guess at it, for the most part, and the younger Penhallows let it go at loose cousinship.
In this instance it was Alice Penhallow, daughter of âyoungâ John Penhallow, who was to be married. Alice was a nice girl, but she and her wedding only pertain to this story in so far as they furnish a background for Lucinda; hence nothing more need be
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