01x18 - I Feel as if I Had Opened a Book and Found Roses of Yesterday, Sweet and Beloved, Between Its Leaves

[bunniefuu]

To borrow Philippa's phrase,

the second term at Redmond

actually whizzed away

in no time at all.

I have turned nineteen,

and I am studying furiously

for a tricky exam.

My boardinghouse is generally pleasant,

but on days when I come home late

I sometimes fear that the many cushions

the landladies make will

be the death of me.

I've been getting on fine

with Gilbert as well.

What do you think of your chances?

I'm determined to win it come what may.

With the Thornburn Scholarship,

I could come back to Redmond next year

without trenching on Marilla's savings.

Then I had better get to work myself.

Yes, you should!

That Gilbert never leaves Anne alone.

I'm green with envy.

It does make it hard to

talk to her at school.

I hear that Anne lives in a

boardinghouse on Old St. John's.

Well, I have a Lambs get-together to go to.

Of course. Enjoy your women's clothing.

Not that kind of get-together.

Nobody could be so satisfactory

a friend as Gilbert.

He has evidently dropped all his

nonsensical ideas about me.

Gilbert!

Coming!

After all, I have

In truth, I am but a humble student.

But I'll keep striving, dreaming

of what may be someday.

Chapter 18

I Feel as if I Had Opened a Book

and Found Roses of Yesterday,

Sweet and Beloved, Between Its Leaves

I staunchly oppose the tuition increase!

So do I! It's unconscionable!

We should call an emergency meeting.

We'll show them that the whole

student body stands against it.

Let's start planning now.

I have other plans today.

Don't be like that.

Surely you can spare a few moments?

Look. The weather is fine.

Hello!

Thank you for waiting.

Huh?

Charlie?

Thank you, Charlie.

Don't mention it.

It must be awful to be

pestered so incessantly.

Well, it isn't pleasant.

I should thank you for joining me on

a walk when you have so much to do.

I was just longing for a break.

Isn't this a lovely view?

Yes.

And you're lovely, too, Anne.

Anne

Would you promise to become

Mrs. Charlie Sloane some day?

Huh?

In other words, I'd like you to marry me.

Excuse me?!

I suppose that was awfully affected

for a proposal, wasn't it?

But, Charlie, haven't we been

friends since we were children?

I cannot falsify my feelings any longer!

Anne, marry me!

No, thank you.

What? Why not?!

For any number of reasons.

What about me displeases you?!

Name it, and I'll mend my ways!

It isn't that sort of problem.

I've never thought of marrying you,

and I don't believe I ever could.

You would be a Sloane!

That's a great honor!

One I simply cannot accept!

Are you rejecting my proposal?

You, an orphan?!

Why do these things keep happening to me?

I'm leaving!

I'll tell my mama!

And my papa, too!

What on earth for?!

You're stubborn as a mule!

Anne, a letter!

Are you well?

I wonder that myself.

It's from Stella.

Stella? I haven't seen her since

our graduation from Queen's.

Neither have I, although we've been

keeping each other up to date.

I believe she's been teaching

at a backcountry school.

She said that the parents gave her

more trouble than the pupils.

Now she says that she's quit that school

and she's coming to Redmond next year!

What do you think of her idea?

I think it's a perfectly splendid one,

if we can only carry it out.

Do you suppose we can, Pris?!

I'll be better able to tell you

when I find out what it is.

Now, why can't you and Priscilla

and I club together,

rent a little house somewhere in

Kingsport, and board ourselves?

It would be cheaper than any other way.

Of course, we would have

to have a housekeeper,

but my grandmother is left alone in a great

big house, and she is horribly lonesome.

She will come to Kingsport and

keep house for us if we want her.

"Now, if you agree to it, would you see

if you can find a suitable house?!"

Yes!

The question is whether we can

find a really suitable place.

This one is too big, and the rent is high.

It's too small, although

the rent isn't much.

It would be hard to get

to Redmond from here.

Indeed it would.

This one looks haunted.

This one is just out of the question!

We shall have to give up and

wait till the fall, I suppose.

If we still find nothing then,

boardinghouses we shall have always with us.

I'm not going to worry about it just now,

anyway, and spoil this lovely afternoon.

But look over there at Kingsport.

Houses, houses everywhere,

and not one for us.

I feel as if something mysterious

were going to happen right away.

Oh! Wait for me!

This is Spofford Avenue.

We'll never find a house we can

afford in such a wealthy—

Prissy,

do you suppose it's possible that

we could rent Patty's Place?

No. Face reality, Anne.

They're sure to want more

for it than you imagine.

I won't hope. The disappointment

would be too awful to bear.

Remember, it's on Spofford Avenue!

Visitors, ma'am.

They look so alike.

Yes. It's a good omen.

We—We—saw by your sign

that this house is to let.

Oh, yes. I intended to take

that sign down today.

Then—Then we are too late.

No, but we have decided

not to let the house.

Oh, I'm so sorry!

We love this place so!

You love it?

We didn't treat the word love

so carelessly in my young day.

The girls nowadays indulge in

such exaggerated statements

that one never can tell what they do mean.

Does that mean that you really love it?

Or that you merely like the looks of it?

No,

I really do love it.

I've loved it ever since

I saw it last fall.

My college chums and I are looking for a

little place to rent instead of boarding;

and when I saw that this house

was to let I was so happy.

I love the name, too. "Patty's Place."

The name on the gate,

the way it's hung, everything.

We decided that we would

not let it after all,

because all the people who came to rent

it asked to take the name off the gate.

If you love this house, you can have it.

I believe you do love it

and will be good to it.

Oh, but there is one problem.

Can we even afford what you ask for it?

How does this sound to you?

I'm afraid we can't afford quite so much.

You see, we are only

college girls and we are poor.

What were you thinking you could afford?

About half this amount.

That will do.

Do you mean it?

Yes. It is not strictly necessary

that we should let it at all.

Thank you very much.

By the way, will you leave the china dogs?

Would you like me to?

Oh, indeed, yes. They are delightful.

Their names are Gog and Magog.

My brother Aaron brought them from London.

Your brother did?

He thought a great deal of those dogs.

It was Aaron who named this

house Patty's Place,

and Spofford Avenue was called after him.

Oh, is that how it happened?

You know a good thing when you see it.

It's all so delicious

that I know we are going to wake up

and find it a fleeting vision of the night.

Patty's Place is quite real,

and we are going to live there.

I feel like one of the morning

stars that sang for joy.

Girls—Girls—let me come, too.

Oh, I'll be so good.

I won't stir off my marrow bones till you

tell me I can live with you next winter.

Phil, we're poor.

Our housekeeping will be simple.

And our table plain.

Oh, what do I care for that?

And then there will be a good

deal of work to be done.

And you

Toil not, neither do I spin.

But I'll learn to do things.

You'll only have to show me once.

If you won't let me cast in my lot with you,

I'll die of the disappointment,

and then I'll come back and haunt you!

I'll camp on the very

doorstep of Patty's Place

and you won't be able to go out or come

in without falling over my spook!

We can't promise until

we've consulted Stella.

I don't think she'll object.

Phil is a dear

even if she is a little thoughtless.

She is that.

I believe we will all get on

beautifully in Patty's Place.

Over the summer holidays after

my first year at Redmond,

I decided to visit Bolingbroke

before going on to Avonlea.

Philippa's family and the house

where I was born are both here.

There's my old home.

Mount Holly, it's called.

It's wonderful.

I've asked my family to

find out about yours.

Thank you.

Is something the matter?

My ideals have been in perilous condition

lately. On the verge of collapse.

What if the house we're about to

visit isn't the house I know?

You remember it?

I thought you were a wee little baby.

I imagined it. All of it.

It must be a little yellow house

with honeysuckle over the windows

and lilac and lily-of-the-valley

in the garden

and muslin curtains on all the windows.

You have a genius for making

life more difficult.

Anne Shirley?

Yes.

I thought so. You're as lovely

as Phil said in her letters.

Or even lovelier.

Thank you.

Shall I guess your names, too?

You're Alec with the beautiful hair.

And you must be Alonzo,

possessor of a handsome nose.

Welcome to Bolingbroke.

We're happy to have you, Anne.

Now, where is our fair lady?

With her parents.

My!

I see you've already made friends.

Welcome home, Phil.

Welcome home.

Tell me, Anne, which of them

do you think I should marry?

Well?!

I think they are both fine fellows,

but you must decide that

for yourself, Phil.

I guess I should.

Oh, and the house is here.

Thank you. Oh, it won't be long now.

I'm glad, of course.

It will be a pleasure.

I could go with you, if you like.

Would you?

I want to see if your

ideal survives intact.

Please do come!

Even my wildest flights of fancy

seem possible when you're with me.

Then we'll have a real jamboree

tonight to set the tone!

You're gorgeous, Phil!

Oh, this is so much fun!

See?!

Anne,

may you discover beautiful

memories tomorrow,

even if

they aren't exactly

what you anticipated.

It's just around this next bend.

I don't see why you should rush yourself.

We have plenty more time.

You don't have to go today.

It's my fault.

Because I invited her to Bolingbroke,

invited her knowing she'd be disappointed.

Would you look at that!

Your ideal is alive and well.

A lilac tree by the gate.

Lily-of-the-valley in the garden.

There is no honeysuckle over the windows,

but there are muslin curtains in them.

It's all just as you imagined it!

Are you a prophetess, by any chance?

I'm sorry. I know this is sudden,

but did a family called Shirley ever live here?

It would have been a long time ago.

Yes, the Shirleys lived

here twenty years ago.

They had it rented. I remember 'em.

They both died of fever at once.

It was turrible sad. They left a baby.

Distant relatives took it,

but I guess it's dead long ago.

It was a sickly thing.

It didn't die.

I was that baby.

You don't say so!

My name is Anne Shirley.

Why, you have grown!

Will you come in? That's what

you came for, I expect.

Look all over the house, if you like.

Thank you very much.

The east room upstairs was

the one you were born in.

The furniture was all sold before we came.

All that's here now, we brought in later.

What a small room,

smaller than my room at Green Gables.

My mother took in this view.

The sunlight from this window

might have shone on her

and me when I was born.

My mother gave birth to me in this room

and died soon after.

Just to think of it—she

was younger than I am now.

Here's a bundle of old letters

I found in that closet upstairs.

See, this one's addressed

to "Miss Bertha Willis."

Willis was my mother's maiden name!

Oh, thank you!

I haven't one thing that

belonged to my mother.

I can never thank you enough.

You're quite welcome.

Laws, but your eyes is like your ma's.

And you're complected like your pa.

There never was two people more in love.

Pore creetures, they didn't live long.

But they was awful happy

while they was alive,

and I s'pose that counts for a good deal.

Maybe I should take up looking in closets.

There are a dozen letters in all.

From during their engagement.

Some are written by my father,

some by my mother.

"Bertha Shirley."

Mother sent this one after she married.

Anne is a bright baby.

She's lively, kind, and warm,

and has a thousand sweetnesses.

I love her best when she is asleep

and better still when she is awake.

Thank you, Phil.

This has been the most

beautiful day of my life.

I've found my father and mother.

And you pictured their house perfectly.

I'm sure Mrs. Thomas must have told me,

and I only thought I'd imagined it.

But I'm not an orphan any longer.

No, you're not.

I feel as if I had opened a book

and found roses of yesterday,

sweet and beloved, between its leaves.

Next Time

I'll Walk the Road to Heaven

From Here