Rainbow Valley by L. M. Montgomery (Illustrated) (eBook)

L. M. Montgomery (Autor)

L. M. Montgomery (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2017
174 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-1-78656-741-3 (ISBN)

Infos

This eBook features the unabridged text of 'Rainbow Valley' from the bestselling edition of 'The Complete Works of L. M. Montgomery'.

Having established their name as the leading publisher of classic literature and art, Delphi Classics produce publications that are individually crafted with superior formatting, while introducing many rare texts for the first time in digital print. The Delphi Classics edition of Montgomery includes original annotations and illustrations relating to the life and works of the author, as well as individual tables of contents, allowing you to navigate eBooks quickly and easily.

eBook features:
* The complete unabridged text of 'Rainbow Valley'
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Textauszug

CHAPTER II.

SHEER GOSSIP

“Where are the other children?” asked Miss Cornelia, when the first greetings — cordial on her side, rapturous on Anne’s, and dignified on Susan’s — were over.

“Shirley is in bed and Jem and Walter and the twins are down in their beloved Rainbow Valley,” said Anne. “They just came home this afternoon, you know, and they could hardly wait until supper was over before rushing down to the valley. They love it above every spot on earth. Even the maple grove doesn’t rival it in their affections.”

“I am afraid they love it too well,” said Susan gloomily. “Little Jem said once he would rather go to Rainbow Valley than to heaven when he died, and that was not a proper remark.”

“I suppose they had a great time in Avonlea?” said Miss Cornelia.

“Enormous. Marilla does spoil them terribly. Jem, in particular, can do no wrong in her eyes.”

“Miss Cuthbert must be an old lady now,” said Miss Cornelia, getting out her knitting, so that she could hold her own with Susan. Miss Cornelia held that the woman whose hands were employed always had the advantage over the woman whose hands were not.

“Marilla is eighty-five,” said Anne with a sigh. “Her hair is snow-white. But, strange to say, her eyesight is better than it was when she was sixty.”

“Well, dearie, I’m real glad you’re all back. I’ve been dreadful lonesome. But we haven’t been dull in the Glen, believe ME. There hasn’t been such an exciting spring in my time, as far as church matters go. We’ve got settled with a minister at last, Anne dearie.”

“The Reverend John Knox Meredith, Mrs. Dr. dear,” said Susan, resolved not to let Miss Cornelia tell all the news.

“Is he nice?” asked Anne interestedly.

Miss Cornelia sighed and Susan groaned.

“Yes, he’s nice enough if that were all,” said the former. “He is VERY nice — and very learned — and very spiritual. But, oh Anne dearie, he has no common sense!

“How was it you called him, then?”

“Well, there’s no doubt he is by far the best preacher we ever had in Glen St. Mary church,” said Miss Cornelia, veering a tack or two. “I suppose it is because he is so moony and absent-minded that he never got a town call. His trial sermon was simply wonderful, believe ME. Every one went mad about it — and his looks.”

“He is VERY comely, Mrs. Dr. dear, and when all is said and done,
I DO like to see a well-looking man in the pulpit,” broke in
Susan, thinking it was time she asserted herself again.

“Besides,” said Miss Cornelia, “we were anxious to get settled. And Mr. Meredith was the first candidate we were all agreed on. Somebody had some objection to all the others. There was some talk of calling Mr. Folsom. He was a good preacher, too, but somehow people didn’t care for his appearance. He was too dark and sleek.”

“He looked exactly like a great black tomcat, that he did, Mrs. Dr. dear,” said Susan. “I never could abide such a man in the pulpit every Sunday.”

“Then Mr. Rogers came and he was like a chip in porridge — neither harm nor good,” resumed Miss Cornelia. “But if he had preached like Peter and Paul it would have profited him nothing, for that was the day old Caleb Ramsay’s sheep strayed into church and gave a loud ‘ba-a-a’ just as he announced his text. Everybody laughed, and poor Rogers had no chance after that. Some thought we ought to call Mr. Stewart, because he was so well educated. He could read the New Testament in five languages.”

“But I do not think he was any surer than other men of getting to heaven because of that,” interjected Susan.

“Most of us didn’t like his delivery,” said Miss Cornelia, ignoring Susan. “He talked in grunts, so to speak. And Mr. Arnett couldn’t preach AT ALL. And he picked about the worst candidating text there is in the Bible—’Curse ye Meroz.’”

“Whenever he got stuck for an idea, he would bang the Bible and shout very bitterly, ‘Curse ye Meroz.’ Poor Meroz got thoroughly cursed that day, whoever he was, Mrs. Dr. dear,” said Susan.

“The minister who is candidating can’t be too careful what text he chooses,” said Miss Cornelia solemnly. “I believe Mr. Pierson would have got the call if he had picked a different text. But when he announced ‘I will lift my eyes to the hills’ HE was done for. Every one grinned, for every one knew that those two Hill girls from the Harbour Head have been setting their caps for every single minister who came to the Glen for the last fifteen years. And Mr. Newman had too large a family.”

“He stayed with my brother-in-law, James Clow,” said Susan. “‘How many children have you got?’ I asked him. ‘Nine boys and a sister for each of them,’ he said. ‘Eighteen!’ said I. ‘Dear me, what a family!’ And then he laughed and laughed. But I do not know why, Mrs. Dr. dear, and I am certain that eighteen children would be too many for any manse.”

“He had only ten children, Susan,” explained Miss Cornelia, with contemptuous patience. “And ten good children would not be much worse for the manse and congregation than the four who are there now. Though I wouldn’t say, Anne dearie, that they are so bad, either. I like them — everybody likes them. It’s impossible to help liking them. They would be real nice little souls if there was anyone to look after their manners and teach them what is right and proper. For instance, at school the teacher says they are model children. But at home they simply run wild.”

“What about Mrs. Meredith?” asked Anne.

“There’s NO Mrs. Meredith. That is just the trouble. Mr. Meredith is a widower. His wife died four years ago. If we had known that I don’t suppose we would have called him, for a widower is even worse in a congregation than a single man. But he was heard to speak of his children and we all supposed there was a mother, too. And when they came there was nobody but old Aunt Martha, as they call her. She’s a cousin of Mr. Meredith’s mother, I believe, and he took her in to save her from the poorhouse. She is seventy-five years old, half blind, and very deaf and very cranky.”

“And a very poor cook, Mrs. Dr. dear.”

“The worst possible manager for a manse,” said Miss Cornelia bitterly. “Mr. Meredith won’t get any other housekeeper because he says it would hurt Aunt Martha’s feelings. Anne dearie, believe me, the state of that manse is something terrible. Everything is thick with dust and nothing is ever in its place. And we had painted and papered it all so nice before they came.”

“There are four children, you say?” asked Anne, beginning to mother them already in her heart.

“Yes. They run up just like the steps of a stair. Gerald’s the oldest. He’s twelve and they call him Jerry. He’s a clever boy. Faith is eleven. She is a regular tomboy but pretty as a picture, I must say.”

“She looks like an angel but she is a holy terror for mischief, Mrs. Dr. dear,” said Susan solemnly. “I was at the manse one night last week and Mrs. James Millison was there, too. She had brought them up a dozen eggs and a little pail of milk — a VERY little pail, Mrs. Dr. dear. Faith took them and whisked down the cellar with them. Near the bottom of the stairs she caught her toe and fell the rest of the way, milk and eggs and all. You can imagine the result, Mrs. Dr. dear. But that child came up laughing. ‘I don’t know whether I’m myself or a custard pie,’ she said. And Mrs. James Millison was very angry. She said she would never take another thing to the manse if it was to be wasted and destroyed in that fashion.”

“Maria Millison never hurt herself taking things to the manse,” sniffed Miss Cornelia. “She just took them that night as an excuse for curiosity. But poor Faith is always getting into scrapes. She is so heedless and impulsive.”

“Just like me. I’m going to like your Faith,” said Anne decidedly.

“She is full of spunk — and I do like spunk, Mrs. Dr. dear,” admitted Susan.

“There’s something taking about her,” conceded Miss Cornelia. “You never see her but she’s laughing, and somehow it always makes you want to laugh too. She can’t even keep a straight face in church. Una is ten — she’s a sweet little thing — not pretty, but sweet. And Thomas Carlyle is nine. They call him Carl, and he has a regular mania for collecting toads and bugs and frogs and bringing them into the house.”

“I suppose he was responsible for the dead rat that was lying on a chair in the parlour the afternoon Mrs. Grant called. It gave her a turn,” said Susan, “and I do not wonder, for manse parlours are no places for dead rats. To be sure it may have been the cat who left it, there. HE is as full of the old Nick as he can be stuffed, Mrs. Dr. dear. A manse cat should at least LOOK respectable, in my opinion, whatever he really is. But I never saw such a rakish-looking beast. And he walks along the ridgepole...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 17.7.2017
• Reihe/Serie: Delphi Parts Edition (L. M. Montgomery)
• Reihe/Serie: Delphi Parts Edition (L. M. Montgomery)
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Anthologien
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Klassiker / Moderne Klassiker
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• Schlagworte: Anne • Avonlea • Emily • Novels • PAT • rilla • Stories
• ISBN-10: 1-78656-741-5 / 1786567415
• ISBN-13: 978-1-78656-741-3 / 9781786567413