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Rachel Lynde was one of those capable creatures who can manage their own concerns and those of other folks into the bargain. Yet with all this Mrs. Lawrence with water on two sides of it, anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over that hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of Mrs.

Ania z Zielonego Wzgórza – Picture of Green Gables, Cavendish

She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. Rachel knew that he ought because she had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before in William J. Peter had asked him, of course, for Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life. Zileonego, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there? Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. But Matthew so rarely went from home that it must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him; he was the shyest man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have zielonfgo talk.

Yet something must have happened since last night to start him off. Accordingly after tea Mrs. Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day, barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses zieloengo so sociably situated.

Ania z Zielonego Wzgórza (film ) – Wikipedia, wolna encyklopedia

Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green Gables. Very green and neat and precise was that yard, set about on one side with great patriarchalwillows and the other with primLombardies. Rachel would have seen it if there had been. Privately she was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard over as often as she swept her house. Rachelrappedsmartly at the kitchen door and stepped in when bidden to do so. There were three plates laid, so that Marilla must be expecting some one home with Matthew to tea; but the dishes were everyday dishes and there was only crab-applepreserves and one kind of aania, so that the expected company could not be any particular company.

Rachel was getting fairly dizzy with this unusual mystery about quiet, unmysterious Green Gables.

How are all your folks? Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel, in spite of — or perhaps because of — their dissimilarity. She had expected Mrs. Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually stricken dumb for five seconds. It was unsupposable that Marilla was making fun of her, but Mrs. Rachel was almost forced to suppose it. She thought in exclamation points.


From an orphan asylum! Well, the world was certainly turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this! Her cousin lives there and Mrs. Spencer has visited here and knows all about it. Spencer to pick us out one when she went over to get her little girl.

We decided that would be the best age — old enough to be of some use in doing chores right off and young enough to be trained up proper. Alexander Spencer today — the mail-man brought it from the station — saying they were coming on the five-thirty train tonight. So Matthew went to Bright River to meet him.

Spencer will drop him off there. Of course she goes on to White Sands station herself. Rachel prided herself on always speaking her mind; she proceeded to speak it now, having adjusted her mental attitude to this amazing piece of news. But Matthew was terrible set on it. And then Nova Scotia is right close to the Island. Alexander Spencer for doing it. Rachel would have liked to stay until Matthew came home with his imported orphan.

Rachel when she was safely out in the lane. Matthew and Marilla were grown up when the new house was built — if they ever WERE children, which is hard to believe when one looks at them. Rachel to the wild rose bushes out of the fullness of her heart; but if she could have seen the child who was waiting patiently at the Bright River station at that very moment her pity would have been still deeper and more profound.

Matthew Cuthbert and the sorrel mare jogged comfortably over the eight miles to Bright River. The air was sweet with the breath of many apple orchards and the meadows sloped away in the distance to horizon mists of pearl and purple; while. Matthew enjoyed the drive after his own fashion, except during the moments when he met women and had to nod to them — for in Prince Edward island you are supposed to nod to all and sundry you meet on the road whether you know them or not.

Matthew dreaded all women except Marilla and Mrs. Rachel; he had an uncomfortable feeling that the mysterious creatures were secretly laughing at him. When he reached Bright River there was no sign of any train; he thought he was too early, so he tied his horse in the yard of the small Bright River hotel and went over to the station house.

Had he looked he could hardly have failed to notice the tenserigidity and expectation of her attitude and expression.

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X was sitting there waiting for something or somebody and, since sitting and waiting was the only thing to do just then, she sat and waited with all her might and main. Matthewencountered the stationmaster locking up the ticket office preparatory to going home for supper, and asked him if the five-thirty train would soon be along. He should be here.

Alexander Spencer was to bring him over from Nova Scotia for me. Spencer came off the train with that girl and gave her into my charge. Said you and your sister were adopting her from an orphan asylum and that you would be along for her presently. Maybe they were out of boys of the brand you wanted. Matthew groanedin spirit as he turned about and shuffled gently down the platform towards her. She had been watching him ever since he had passed her and she had her eyes on him now.


Matthew was not looking at her and would not have seen what she was really like if he had been, but an ordinary observer would have seen this: Her face was small, white and thin, also much freckled; her mouth was large and so were her eyes, which looked green in some lights and moods and gray in others.

So far, the ordinary observer; an extraordinary observer might have seen that the chin was very pointed andpronounced; that the big eyes were full of spirit and vivacity; that the mouth was sweet-lipped and expressive; that the forehead was broad and full; in short, our discerning extraordinary observer might have concluded that no commonplace soul inhabited the body of this stray woman-child of whom shy Matthew Cuthbert was so ludicrously afraid.

Matthew Cuthbert of Green Gables? Matthew had taken the scrawny little hand awkwardly in his; then and there he decided what to do. The horse is over in the yard. Give me your bag. Spencer said it was eight miles. But the asylum was the worst. They were good, you know — the asylum people. But there is so little scope for the imagination in an asylum — only just in the other orphans. What did that tree, leaning out from the bank, all white and lacy, make you think of? That is my highest ideal of earthlybliss.

All the orphans had to wear them, you know. Spencer although she generally is. She said she never saw the beat of me for prowling about. This Island is the bloomiest place. But those red roads are so funny. And what DOES make the roads red? Matthew, much to his own surprise, was enjoying himself. Like most quiet folks he liked talkative people when they were willing to do the talking themselves and did not expect him to keep up his end of it.

Women were bad enough in all conscience, but little girls were worse. That was the Avonlea type of well-bred little girl.

Spencer said that my tongue must be hung in the middle. Spencer said your place was named Green Gables.

Anua she said there were trees all around it. They just looked like orphans themselves, those trees did. It used to make me want to cry to look at them.

Nobody could who has red hair. It will be my lifelong sorrow. Her hair was pure goldrippling back from her alabasterbrow. What is an alabaster brow? Can you tell me? Have you ever imagined what it must feel like to be divinely beautiful? Which would you rather be if you had the choice — divinely beautiful or dazzlingly clever or wzgogza good? Spencer says — oh, Mr.