CHAPTER 21
BARRIERS SWEPT AWAY
"Anne," said Leslie, breaking abruptly a shortsilence, "you don't know how GOOD it is to be sitting here with youagain--working--and talking--and being silent together."
They were sitting among the blue-eyed grasses on the bank of the brookin Anne's garden. The water sparkled and crooned past them; thebirches threw dappled shadows over them; roses bloomed along the walks.The sun was beginning to be low, and the air was full of woven music.There was one music of the wind in the firs behind the house, andanother of the waves on the bar, and still another from the distantbell of the church near which the wee, white lady slept. Anne lovedthat bell, though it brought sorrowful thoughts now.
She looked curiously at Leslie, who had thrown down her sewing andspoken with a lack of restraint that was very unusual with her.
"On that horrible night when you were so ill," Leslie went on, "I keptthinking that perhaps we'd have no more talks and walks and WORKStogether. And I realised just what your friendship had come to mean tome--just what YOU meant--and just what a hateful little beast I hadbeen."
"Leslie! Leslie! I never allow anyone to call my friends names."
"It's true. That's exactly what I am--a hateful little beast. There'ssomething I've GOT to tell you, Anne. I suppose it will make youdespise me, but I MUST confess it. Anne, there have been times thispast winter and spring when I have HATED you."
"I KNEW it," said Anne calmly.
"You KNEW it?"
"Yes, I saw it in your eyes."
"And yet you went on liking me and being my friend."
"Well, it was only now and then you hated me, Leslie. Between timesyou loved me, I think."
"I certainly did. But that other horrid feeling was always there,spoiling it, back in my heart. I kept it down--sometimes I forgotit--but sometimes it would surge up and take possession of me. I hatedyou because I ENVIED you--oh, I was sick with envy of you at times.You had a dear little home--and love--and happiness--and gladdreams--everything I wanted--and never had--and never could have. Oh,never could have! THAT was what stung. I wouldn't have envied you, ifI had had any HOPE that life would ever be different for me. But Ihadn't--I hadn't--and it didn't seem FAIR. It made me rebellious--andit hurt me--and so I hated you at times. Oh, I was so ashamed ofit--I'm dying of shame now--but I couldn't conquer it.
"That night, when I was afraid you mightn't live--I thought I was goingto be punished for my wickedness--and I loved you so then. Anne, Anne,I never had anything to love since my mother died, except Dick's olddog--and it's so dreadful to have nothing to love--life is soEMPTY--and there's NOTHING worse than emptiness--and I might have lovedyou so much--and that horrible thing had spoiled it--"
Leslie was trembling and growing almost incoherent with the violence ofher emotion.
"Don't, Leslie," implored Anne, "oh, don't. I understand--don't talkof it any more."
"I must--I must. When I knew you were going to live I vowed that Iwould tell you as soon as you were well--that I wouldn't go onaccepting your friendship and companionship without telling you howunworthy I was of it. And I've been so afraid--it would turn youagainst me."
"You needn't fear that, Leslie."
"Oh, I'm so glad--so glad, Anne." Leslie clasped her brown,work-hardened hands tightly together to still their shaking. "But Iwant to tell you everything, now I've begun. You don't remember thefirst time I saw you, I suppose--it wasn't that night on the shore--"
"No, it was the night Gilbert and I came home. You were driving yourgeese down the hill. I should think I DO remember it! I thought youwere so beautiful--I longed for weeks after to find out who you were."
"I knew who YOU were, although I had never seen either of you before.I had heard of the new doctor and his bride who were coming to live inMiss Russell's little house. I--I hated you that very moment, Anne."
"I felt the resentment in your eyes--then I doubted--I thought I mustbe mistaken--because WHY should it be?"
"It was because you looked so happy. Oh, you'll agree with me now thatI AM a hateful beast--to hate another woman just because she washappy,--and when her happiness didn't take anything from me! That waswhy I never went to see you. I knew quite well I ought to go--even oursimple Four Winds customs demanded that. But I couldn't. I used towatch you from my window--I could see you and your husband strollingabout your garden in the evening--or you running down the poplar laneto meet him. And it hurt me. And yet in another way I wanted to goover. I felt that, if I were not so miserable, I could have liked youand found in you what I've never had in my life--an intimate, REALfriend of my own age. And then you remember that night at the shore?You were afraid I would think you crazy. You must have thought _I_was."
"No, but I couldn't understand you, Leslie. One moment you drew me toyou--the next you pushed me back."
"I was very unhappy that evening. I had had a hard day. Dick had beenvery--very hard to manage that day. Generally he is quite good-naturedand easily controlled, you know, Anne. But some days he is verydifferent. I was so heartsick--I ran away to the shore as soon as hewent to sleep. It was my only refuge. I sat there thinking of how mypoor father had ended his life, and wondering if I wouldn't be drivento it some day. Oh, my heart was full of black thoughts! And then youcame dancing along the cove like a glad, light-hearted child. I--Ihated you more then than I've ever done since. And yet I craved yourfriendship. The one feeling swayed me one moment; the other feelingthe next. When I got home that night I cried for shame of what youmust think of me. But it's always been just the same when I came overhere. Sometimes I'd be happy and enjoy my visit. And at other timesthat hideous feeling would mar it all. There were times wheneverything about you and your house hurt me. You had so many dearlittle things I couldn't have. Do you know--it's ridiculous--but I hadan especial spite at those china dogs of yours. There were times whenI wanted to catch up Gog and Magog and bang their pert black nosestogether! Oh, you smile, Anne--but it was never funny to me. I wouldcome here and see you and Gilbert with your books and your flowers, andyour household gods, and your little family jokes--and your love foreach other showing in every look and word, even when you didn't knowit--and I would go home to--you know what I went home to! Oh, Anne, Idon't believe I'm jealous and envious by nature. When I was a girl Ilacked many things my schoolmates had, but I never cared--I neverdisliked them for it. But I seem to have grown so hateful--"
"Leslie, dearest, stop blaming yourself. You are NOT hateful orjealous or envious. The life you have to live has warped you a little,perhaps-but it would have ruined a nature less fine and noble thanyours. I'm letting you tell me all this because I believe it's betterfor you to talk it out and rid your soul of it. But don't blameyourself any more."
"Well, I won't. I just wanted you to know me as I am. That time youtold me of your darling hope for the spring was the worst of all, Anne.I shall never forgive myself for the way I behaved then. I repented itwith tears. And I DID put many a tender and loving thought of you intothe little dress I made. But I might have known that anything I madecould only be a shroud in the end."
"Now, Leslie, that IS bitter and morbid--put such thoughts away.
"I was so glad when you brought the little dress; and since I had tolose little Joyce I like to think that the dress she wore was the oneyou made for her when you let yourself love me."
"Anne, do you know, I believe I shall always love you after this. Idon't think I'll ever feel that dreadful way about you again. Talkingit all out seems to have done away with it, somehow. It's verystrange--and I thought it so real and bitter. It's like opening thedoor of a dark room to show some hideous creature you've believed to bethere--and when the light streams in your monster turns out to havebeen just a shadow, vanishing when the light comes. It will never comebetween us again."
"No, we are real friends now, Leslie, and I am very glad."
"I hope you won't misunderstand me if I say so
mething else. Anne, Iwas grieved to the core of my heart when you lost your baby; and if Icould have saved her for you by cutting off one of my hands I wouldhave done it. But your sorrow has brought us closer together. Yourperfect happiness isn't a barrier any longer. Oh, don't misunderstand,dearest--I'm NOT glad that your happiness isn't perfect any longer--Ican say that sincerely; but since it isn't, there isn't such a gulfbetween us."
"I DO understand that, too, Leslie. Now, we'll just shut up the pastand forget what was unpleasant in it. It's all going to be different.We're both of the race of Joseph now. I think you've beenwonderful--wonderful. And, Leslie, I can't help believing that lifehas something good and beautiful for you yet."
Leslie shook her head.
"No," she said dully. "There isn't any hope. Dick will never bebetter--and even if his memory were to come back--oh, Anne, it would beworse, even worse, than it is now. This is something you can'tunderstand, you happy bride. Anne, did Miss Cornelia ever tell you howI came to marry Dick?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad--I wanted you to know--but I couldn't bring myself to talk ofit if you hadn't known. Anne, it seems to me that ever since I wastwelve years old life has been bitter. Before that I had a happychildhood. We were very poor--but we didn't mind. Father was sosplendid--so clever and loving and sympathetic. We were chums as farback as I can remember. And mother was so sweet. She was very, verybeautiful. I look like her, but I am not so beautiful as she was."
"Miss Cornelia says you are far more beautiful."
"She is mistaken--or prejudiced. I think my figure IS better--motherwas slight and bent by hard work--but she had the face of an angel. Iused just to look up at her in worship. We all worshipped her,--fatherand Kenneth and I."
Anne remembered that Miss Cornelia had given her a very differentimpression of Leslie's mother. But had not love the truer vision?Still, it WAS selfish of Rose West to make her daughter marry DickMoore.
"Kenneth was my brother," went on Leslie. "Oh, I can't tell you how Iloved him. And he was cruelly killed. Do you know how?"
"Yes."
"Anne, I saw his little face as the wheel went over him. He fell onhis back. Anne--Anne--I can see it now. I shall always see it. Anne,all I ask of heaven is that that recollection shall be blotted out ofmy memory. O my God!"
"Leslie, don't speak of it. I know the story--don't go into detailsthat only harrow your soul up unavailingly. It WILL be blotted out."
After a moment's struggle, Leslie regained a measure of self-control.
"Then father's health got worse and he grew despondent--his mind becameunbalanced--you've heard all that, too?"
"Yes."
"After that I had just mother to live for. But I was very ambitious.I meant to teach and earn my way through college. I meant to climb tothe very top--oh, I won't talk of that either. It's no use. You knowwhat happened. I couldn't see my dear little heart-broken mother, whohad been such a slave all her life, turned out of her home. Of course,I could have earned enough for us to live on. But mother COULDN'Tleave her home. She had come there as a bride--and she had lovedfather so--and all her memories were there. Even yet, Anne, when Ithink that I made her last year happy I'm not sorry for what I did. Asfor Dick--I didn't hate him when I married him--I just felt for him theindifferent, friendly feeling I had for most of my schoolmates. I knewhe drank some--but I had never heard the story of the girl down at thefishing cove. If I had, I COULDN'T have married him, even for mother'ssake. Afterwards--I DID hate him--but mother never knew. Shedied--and then I was alone. I was only seventeen and I was alone.Dick had gone off in the Four Sisters. I hoped he wouldn't be homevery much more. The sea had always been in his blood. I had no otherhope. Well, Captain Jim brought him home, as you know--and that's allthere is to say. You know me now, Anne--the worst of me--the barriersare all down. And you still want to be my friend?"
Anne looked up through the birches, at the white paper-lantern of ahalf moon drifting downwards to the gulf of sunset. Her face was verysweet.
"I am your friend and you are mine, for always," she said. "Such afriend as I never had before. I have had many dear and belovedfriends--but there is a something in you, Leslie, that I never found inanyone else. You have more to offer me in that rich nature of yours,and I have more to give you than I had in my careless girlhood. We areboth women--and friends forever."
They clasped hands and smiled at each other through the tears thatfilled the gray eyes and the blue.