CHAPTER 12
LESLIE COMES OVER
Leslie came over to the house of dreams one frosty October night, whenmoonlit mists were hanging over the harbor and curling like silverribbons along the seaward glens. She looked as if she repented comingwhen Gilbert answered her knock; but Anne flew past him, pounced onher, and drew her in.
"I'm so glad you picked tonight for a call," she said gaily. "I madeup a lot of extra good fudge this afternoon and we want someone to helpus eat it--before the fire--while we tell stories. Perhaps Captain Jimwill drop in, too. This is his night."
"No. Captain Jim is over home," said Leslie. "He--he made me comehere," she added, half defiantly.
"I'll say a thank-you to him for that when I see him," said Anne,pulling easy chairs before the fire.
"Oh, I don't mean that I didn't want to come," protested Leslie,flushing a little. "I--I've been thinking of coming--but it isn'talways easy for me to get away."
"Of course it must be hard for you to leave Mr. Moore," said Anne, in amatter-of-fact tone. She had decided that it would be best to mentionDick Moore occasionally as an accepted fact, and not give unduemorbidness to the subject by avoiding it. She was right, for Leslie'sair of constraint suddenly vanished. Evidently she had been wonderinghow much Anne knew of the conditions of her life and was relieved thatno explanations were needed. She allowed her cap and jacket to betaken, and sat down with a girlish snuggle in the big armchair byMagog. She was dressed prettily and carefully, with the customarytouch of color in the scarlet geranium at her white throat. Herbeautiful hair gleamed like molten gold in the warm firelight. Hersea-blue eyes were full of soft laughter and allurement. For themoment, under the influence of the little house of dreams, she was agirl again--a girl forgetful of the past and its bitterness. Theatmosphere of the many loves that had sanctified the little house wasall about her; the companionship of two healthy, happy, young folks ofher own generation encircled her; she felt and yielded to the magic ofher surroundings--Miss Cornelia and Captain Jim would scarcely haverecognized her; Anne found it hard to believe that this was the cold,unresponsive woman she had met on the shore--this animated girl whotalked and listened with the eagerness of a starved soul. And howhungrily Leslie's eyes looked at the bookcases between the windows!
"Our library isn't very extensive," said Anne, "but every book in it isa FRIEND. We've picked our books up through the years, here and there,never buying one until we had first read it and knew that it belongedto the race of Joseph."
Leslie laughed--beautiful laughter that seemed akin to all the mirththat had echoed through the little house in the vanished years.
"I have a few books of father's--not many," she said. "I've read themuntil I know them almost by heart. I don't get many books. There's acirculating library at the Glen store--but I don't think the committeewho pick the books for Mr. Parker know what books are of Joseph'srace--or perhaps they don't care. It was so seldom I got one I reallyliked that I gave up getting any."
"I hope you'll look on our bookshelves as your own," said Anne.
"You are entirely and wholeheartedly welcome to the loan of any book onthem."
"You are setting a feast of fat things before me," said Leslie,joyously. Then, as the clock struck ten, she rose, half unwillingly.
"I must go. I didn't realise it was so late. Captain Jim is alwayssaying it doesn't take long to stay an hour. But I've stayed two--andoh, but I've enjoyed them," she added frankly.
"Come often," said Anne and Gilbert. They had risen and stood togetherin the firelight's glow. Leslie looked at them--youthful, hopeful,happy, typifying all she had missed and must forever miss. The lightwent out of her face and eyes; the girl vanished; it was the sorrowful,cheated woman who answered the invitation almost coldly and got herselfaway with a pitiful haste.
Anne watched her until she was lost in the shadows of the chill andmisty night. Then she turned slowly back to the glow of her ownradiant hearthstone.
"Isn't she lovely, Gilbert? Her hair fascinates me. Miss Corneliasays it reaches to her feet. Ruby Gillis had beautiful hair--butLeslie's is ALIVE--every thread of it is living gold."
"She is very beautiful," agreed Gilbert, so heartily that Anne almostwished he were a LITTLE less enthusiastic.
"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like Leslie's?" sheasked wistfully.
"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it is for theworld," said Gilbert, with one or two convincing accompaniments.
You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair--or hair of any color but"--
"Red," said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction.
"Yes, red--to give warmth to that milk-white skin and those shininggray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair wouldn't suit you at all QueenAnne--MY Queen Anne--queen of my heart and life and home."
"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like," said Anne magnanimously.