CHAPTER 16
NEW YEAR'S EVE AT THE LIGHT
The Green Gables folk went home after Christmas, Marilla under solemncovenant to return for a month in the spring. More snow came beforeNew Year's, and the harbor froze over, but the gulf still was free,beyond the white, imprisoned fields. The last day of the old year wasone of those bright, cold, dazzling winter days, which bombard us withtheir brilliancy, and command our admiration but never our love. Thesky was sharp and blue; the snow diamonds sparkled insistently; thestark trees were bare and shameless, with a kind of brazen beauty; thehills shot assaulting lances of crystal. Even the shadows were sharpand stiff and clear-cut, as no proper shadows should be. Everythingthat was handsome seemed ten times handsomer and less attractive in theglaring splendor; and everything that was ugly seemed ten times uglier,and everything was either handsome or ugly. There was no softblending, or kind obscurity, or elusive mistiness in that searchingglitter. The only things that held their own individuality were thefirs--for the fir is the tree of mystery and shadow, and yields neverto the encroachments of crude radiance.
But finally the day began to realise that she was growing old. Then acertain pensiveness fell over her beauty which dimmed yet intensifiedit; sharp angles, glittering points, melted away into curves andenticing gleams. The white harbor put on soft grays and pinks; thefar-away hills turned amethyst.
"The old year is going away beautifully," said Anne.
She and Leslie and Gilbert were on their way to the Four Winds Point,having plotted with Captain Jim to watch the New Year in at the light.The sun had set and in the southwestern sky hung Venus, glorious andgolden, having drawn as near to her earth-sister as is possible forher. For the first time Anne and Gilbert saw the shadow cast by thatbrilliant star of evening, that faint, mysterious shadow, never seensave when there is white snow to reveal it, and then only with avertedvision, vanishing when you gaze at it directly.
"It's like the spirit of a shadow, isn't it?" whispered Anne. "You cansee it so plainly haunting your side when you look ahead; but when youturn and look at it--it's gone."
"I have heard that you can see the shadow of Venus only once in alifetime, and that within a year of seeing it your life's mostwonderful gift will come to you," said Leslie. But she spoke ratherhardly; perhaps she thought that even the shadow of Venus could bringher no gift of life. Anne smiled in the soft twilight; she felt quitesure what the mystic shadow promised her.
They found Marshall Elliott at the lighthouse. At first Anne feltinclined to resent the intrusion of this long-haired, long-beardedeccentric into the familiar little circle. But Marshall Elliott soonproved his legitimate claim to membership in the household of Joseph.He was a witty, intelligent, well-read man, rivalling Captain Jimhimself in the knack of telling a good story. They were all glad whenhe agreed to watch the old year out with them.
Captain Jim's small nephew Joe had come down to spend New Year's withhis great-uncle, and had fallen asleep on the sofa with the First Matecurled up in a huge golden ball at his feet.
"Ain't he a dear little man?" said Captain Jim gloatingly. "I do loveto watch a little child asleep, Mistress Blythe. It's the mostbeautiful sight in the world, I reckon. Joe does love to get down herefor a night, because I have him sleep with me. At home he has to sleepwith the other two boys, and he doesn't like it. Why can't I sleepwith father, Uncle Jim?" says he. 'Everybody in the Bible slept withtheir fathers.' As for the questions he asks, the minister himselfcouldn't answer them. They fair swamp me. 'Uncle Jim, if I wasn't MEwho'd I be?' and, 'Uncle Jim, what would happen if God died?' He firedthem two off at me tonight, afore he went to sleep. As for hisimagination, it sails away from everything. He makes up the mostremarkable yarns--and then his mother shuts him up in the closet fortelling stories. And he sits down and makes up another one, and has itready to relate to her when she lets him out. He had one for me whenhe come down tonight. 'Uncle Jim,' says he, solemn as a tombstone, 'Ihad a 'venture in the Glen today.' 'Yes, what was it?' says I,expecting something quite startling, but nowise prepared for what Ireally got. 'I met a wolf in the street,' says he, 'a 'normous wolfwith a big, red mouf and AWFUL long teeth, Uncle Jim.' 'I didn't knowthere was any wolves up at the Glen,' says I. 'Oh, he comed there fromfar, far away,' says Joe, 'and I fought he was going to eat me up,Uncle Jim.' 'Were you scared?' says I. 'No, 'cause I had a big gun,'says Joe, 'and I shot the wolf dead, Uncle Jim,--solid dead--and thenhe went up to heaven and bit God,' says he. Well, I was fairstaggered, Mistress Blythe."
The hours bloomed into mirth around the driftwood fire. Captain Jimtold tales, and Marshall Elliott sang old Scotch ballads in a finetenor voice; finally Captain Jim took down his old brown fiddle fromthe wall and began to play. He had a tolerable knack of fiddling,which all appreciated save the First Mate, who sprang from the sofa asif he had been shot, emitted a shriek of protest, and fled wildly upthe stairs.
"Can't cultivate an ear for music in that cat nohow," said Captain Jim."He won't stay long enough to learn to like it. When we got the organup at the Glen church old Elder Richards bounced up from his seat theminute the organist began to play and scuttled down the aisle and outof the church at the rate of no-man's-business. It reminded me sostrong of the First Mate tearing loose as soon as I begin to fiddlethat I come nearer to laughing out loud in church than I ever didbefore or since."
There was something so infectious in the rollicking tunes which CaptainJim played that very soon Marshall Elliott's feet began to twitch. Hehad been a noted dancer in his youth. Presently he started up and heldout his hands to Leslie. Instantly she responded. Round and round thefirelit room they circled with a rhythmic grace that was wonderful.Leslie danced like one inspired; the wild, sweet abandon of the musicseemed to have entered into and possessed her. Anne watched her infascinated admiration. She had never seen her like this. All theinnate richness and color and charm of her nature seemed to have brokenloose and overflowed in crimson cheek and glowing eye and grace ofmotion. Even the aspect of Marshall Elliott, with his long beard andhair, could not spoil the picture. On the contrary, it seemed toenhance it. Marshall Elliott looked like a Viking of elder days,dancing with one of the blue-eyed, golden-haired daughters of theNorthland.
"The purtiest dancing I ever saw, and I've seen some in my time,"declared Captain Jim, when at last the bow fell from his tired hand.Leslie dropped into her chair, laughing, breathless.
"I love dancing," she said apart to Anne. "I haven't danced since Iwas sixteen--but I love it. The music seems to run through my veinslike quicksilver and I forget everything--everything--except thedelight of keeping time to it. There isn't any floor beneath me, orwalls about me, or roof over me--I'm floating amid the stars."
Captain Jim hung his fiddle up in its place, beside a large frameenclosing several banknotes.
"Is there anybody else of your acquaintance who can afford to hang hiswalls with banknotes for pictures?" he asked. "There's twentyten-dollar notes there, not worth the glass over them. They're oldBank of P. E. Island notes. Had them by me when the bank failed, andI had 'em framed and hung up, partly as a reminder not to put yourtrust in banks, and partly to give me a real luxurious, millionairyfeeling. Hullo, Matey, don't be scared. You can come back now. Themusic and revelry is over for tonight. The old year has just anotherhour to stay with us. I've seen seventy-six New Years come in overthat gulf yonder, Mistress Blythe."
"You'll see a hundred," said Marshall Elliott.
Captain Jim shook his head.
"No; and I don't want to--at least, I think I don't. Death growsfriendlier as we grow older. Not that one of us really wants to diethough, Marshall. Tennyson spoke truth when he said that. There's oldMrs. Wallace up at the Glen. She's had heaps of trouble all her life,poor soul, and she's lost almost everyone she cared about. She'salways saying that she'll be glad when her time comes, and she doesn'twant to sojourn any longer in this vale of tears. But when she takes asick spell
there's a fuss! Doctors from town, and a trained nurse, andenough medicine to kill a dog. Life may be a vale of tears, all right,but there are some folks who enjoy weeping, I reckon."
They spent the old year's last hour quietly around the fire. A fewminutes before twelve Captain Jim rose and opened the door.
"We must let the New Year in," he said.
Outside was a fine blue night. A sparkling ribbon of moonlightgarlanded the gulf. Inside the bar the harbor shone like a pavement ofpearl. They stood before the door and waited--Captain Jim with hisripe, full experience, Marshall Elliott in his vigorous but emptymiddle life, Gilbert and Anne with their precious memories andexquisite hopes, Leslie with her record of starved years and herhopeless future. The clock on the little shelf above the fireplacestruck twelve.
"Welcome, New Year," said Captain Jim, bowing low as the last strokedied away. "I wish you all the best year of your lives, mates. Ireckon that whatever the New Year brings us will be the best the GreatCaptain has for us--and somehow or other we'll all make port in a goodharbor."