By Lucy? Montgomery
Chapter 2 A Misadventure
Marshall? Cuthbert and the chestnut horse worked well together on the road to Brett Riba, which was about eight miles long. Riba, a road of about eight miles in length. There were farms scattered on both sides of the road, and on the way they passed through several beautiful fir forests and apricot-filled hollows. From a nearby apple orchard, a charming aroma wafted out, the rolling, gently sloping fields and the purple night finally merged together, and the birds stopped singing.
Marche drove the carriage along pleasantly, but was distracted by the thought of needing to pluck up the courage to say hello when he saw the noble lady - it had become a local custom on Prince Edward Island to greet any acquaintance on the road. But apart from Marilla and Mrs. Linde, all the other women were quite intimidating to Marshall. Once he saw a woman, he thought they were laughing at him. So he was very resistant to women and hated them. This is not unfounded. Marshall was not good-looking and dressed oddly. Long gray rat-colored hair, water snake waist, drooping shoulders, tea-colored thin, loose beard, since the age of 20 so long. Only then there were no gray hairs.At 20 and 40, he hadn't changed much in looks, after all.
Once we got to Brett? Riba, there was no train in sight anywhere, and Marshall guessed that he must have been early. The train was not in front of the hotel in Brett Riba. Riba, he couldn't tie his horse in front of the inn, so he headed straight for the train station.
There was no one on the long platform, except for a girl sitting alone on the cobblestones at the opposite end. Marche glanced at her to make sure it wasn't a boy, and then, with a fling of his arms, he hurried the carriage along as the boy held his gaze. But he didn't notice the child's nervous and expectant expression.
The boy seemed to be single-mindedly waiting for someone or something.
The station master was going back to his dinner and locked the door of the ticket office. As soon as he saw it, Marche went up and inquired whether the 5:30 train had arrived yet.
"The 5:30 train arrived half an hour ago and has already left." The station master replied sharply.
"But there seems to be a guest from the House - a little girl, the one sitting on the cobbles over there. I asked her if she was going to the women-only waiting room, and she said it was nice out there, with a heavy heart. And she said something about 'there's room for fantasy out there'. Ugh, what a quirky, individualistic kid."
"How could it be a girl?" Marshall giggled at that, "I came to pick up what should be a boy. Mrs. Svenza brought what should be a helper who can work! But ......"
The station master blew his whistle "toot, toot". "There's been some mistake, I think, Mrs. Svenza led the boy to foster here, said the House had entrusted her with adopting him from the orphanage, and that someone would be here in a few moments to pick him up, and beyond that I don't know anything."
"What on earth is going on here?" Marchet was at his wits end. He muttered, "Suppose Marilla comes along."
"Might as well ask the boy." The stationmaster suggested, "I think she'll elaborate on why, since she seems to be good at talking. Is it possible that the orphanage doesn't have the type of boy the House wants?"
With that said, the station master, whose stomach had long been growling with hunger, left. Poor Marshall was forced to walk towards the girl, and one he hadn't known before, to inquire why she wasn't a boy. This was harder than a tiger's mouth for Marshall!
Marshay dragged his legs back, walking timidly on the platform, his heart screaming in secret.
The girl hadn't ignored Marshall since he passed by, watching Marshall's every move. Marshall, on the other hand, hadn't taken a close look at the girl, and even if he had, he hadn't been able to see the girl's true face. With ordinary people's eyes, it was a girl of about 11 years old. Wearing a very unassuming and too short light yellow dress made of a cotton and wool blend, with a faded teal sailor's cap on her head, underneath which was a head of red hair with two pigtails hanging behind her head, her face was very small, greenish-white and thin, full of freckles, with large eyes and a big mouth, and her eyes could change to green and grey depending on her angle and mood.
This was only with the eyes of an ordinary person, but if someone with a sharper eye could see it, the girl had a sharp chin and was very conspicuous. The large eyes were full of vigor and vitality. The lips were cute and teasingly long and emotional, with a broad forehead that contained an air of distinction.
As a result, Marshall still looked like a fool and never opened his mouth to speak. When the girl saw that Marche was coming toward her, she picked up her already outdated cloth carrier bag in one thin little black hand and stood up, while reaching for Marche with the other.
"You are Grimm? Marshall of Gebrutz? Kasbath, right?"
The boy said in a clear, lovely voice.
"I'm glad to meet you, I was worried when I thought you wouldn't come. I imagined all sorts of reasons, and just now thought that if you didn't come tonight, I'd go across the street to the corner of the railroad tracks and climb that big cherry tree and wait until morning, without any fear at all. Isn't it romantic to sleep in the moonlight, hidden among the blooming cherry blossoms? It's like sleeping in a living room made of marble. If you don't come tonight, I'm sure you'll come tomorrow morning as well."
Marcher took the girl's small, dry, thin hand awkwardly, and he had a plan in his mind as to what to do next. First he would take the girl with the big flashing eyes back, he couldn't just leave her here. Everything would have to wait until they got back to Grimm? Gabruzzi then ask and find out.
"I guess I'm late." Marche said, a little embarrassed, "Come, come, the carriage is parked in the square over there, let me carry your carryall for you."
"Ah, that's all right." The girl said cheerfully, "The carrying bag is not heavy, though my entire possessions are in it, but it really isn't. If I'm not careful, the carrying handle will yank it off, so I'd better carry it myself.
"Though it would be romantic to think of spending the night in a cherry blossom tree, it is wonderful that you have come! It's a long way by carriage, isn't it? Aunt Svenza said it was eight miles, and I would love a carriage ride so much!
"From this day on, I am a family with my uncle, living together, and it is so happy! Until now, I have never experienced a decent family life. The orphanage is so hateful, even though I've only lived there for four months, I'm already sick of it. You've never been to an orphanage, so I don't think you'd understand. Anyway, it's as bad as you can imagine.
"Aunt Svenza told me that it wasn't good for a child to say such things. But I didn't think so. It's true, things happen from time to time that you don't realize and do the wrong thing, and the people at the orphanage are good people, but places like the orphanage don't seem to leave room for fantasy. I've had all kinds of fantasies about the lives of other orphans.
"Fantasies are more fun. I had fantasized that the child at my table was actually a rich young lady from an earl's family. When she was a baby, she spent her days with a bad-natured nanny who died before she could tell her the truth about her life ...... and so on. I could never sleep at night, fantasizing about all sorts of things in my head. However, I don't have time to fantasize in the daytime. Maybe that's why I'm so thin. I'm skinny as a bone, with no extra flesh on my body. That's why I always imagine myself as chubby, with two dimples appearing on my face when I smile."
At this point, Marshall's companions stopped talking and held their breath as they arrived at the wagon.
The girl did not say a word until the wagon was on the road, and until a steep descent. The road in the hillock was formed by turning the soft soil up deep and extending it. Earthen embankments on either side of the road, which in places were several feet higher than a man's head, were overgrown with blooming cherry and birch trees.
The girl reached out with her small hand and snapped off a twig of a wild almond tree that had been knocked over by the wagon.
"Don't you think it's beautiful? What do you associate with looking at this tree that hangs down from the earthen embankment and dresses the road in a snowy white?"
"Ah, that, associates with nothing." Marshall replied.
"Gee, isn't that just a bride, not imagined yet - a bride in a white wedding gown, with a beautiful colorful veil on her head. I've never seen a bride before, but I can imagine what she looks like. However, I don't think I'll ever be a bride in my life. I'm ugly, aren't I? No one will marry me. I'll probably go to a foreign country and become a missionary. But I still aspire to the future when I can wear a wedding dress. It would be the happiest thing to wear a white wedding dress. I love beautiful clothes, even if it's just for the experience. I've never once worn a white wedding dress, so I'm just imagining it.
"I left the orphanage this morning dressed in rags and ugly, not even in this blended dress, it was so humiliating. None of the children in the orphanage wear this, it was made from 300 yards of fabric donated to the orphanage by the Hopdan store last winter. Some say it's left over from what the store couldn't sell, but I think they're still very kind. Don't you think so?
"On the train ride, everyone thought I was a little pathetic, but I was full of myself and immediately went into a fantasy. I was beautiful in my fantasy. Wearing a light blue silk dress. However, instead of fantasizing like this all the time, it would have been better to have an essence version. I wore a big hat decorated with flowers and feathers, a gold watch and gloves made of lambskin. The very thought of this immediately raised my spirits. All the way to the island, I was pleasant.
"Even when I was on the boat, I felt comfortable. Great-Aunt Svenza was always seasick, but I told her that I didn't even work at being seasick, and that a restless child like me would be honest. But if she wasn't seasick, how nice it would be for me to run up and down the boat. I don't know when I'll get that chance again, especially if I get to see the ship inside and out.
"Ah! Look, cherry blossoms are blooming everywhere, this island is really a world of flowers! I love it from the bottom of my heart, it's so great to live here! I heard a long time ago that Prince Edward Island is the most beautiful place in the world. I had fantasized about living here myself, but I never thought that my dream would become a reality. I am so happy!
"But I could never understand why this road was red. When I was on the train in Charlottetown,
seeing the red road outside the window, I asked Auntie Svenza about the reason for it, and she said she wasn't sure either. Also she begged me to stop asking her these questions. Said I had asked her 1000 questions already. It's true, but if you don't ask questions, you don't know anything, right? What's with this road being red anyway?"
"That? I don't understand ah." Marshall replied.
"Hey, just understand. There are so many things to understand in this world, don't you think it's enjoyable? What a pleasure it is to live in an interesting world! There's no room for fantasy when you know everything.
"I, do I talk too much. Is that the only way I'm always criticized for this, is to keep my mouth shut tight? If you don't want me to nag so much, I'll shut up. I know it's hard, but if you get tired of it, I'll stop talking."
Unexpectedly, however, Marcel found the little girl's nagging quite amusing. Generally speaking, silent people were mostly like that. Assuming that the other party would just nag herself, Marche would not have a problem with it.
Overall, it was very interesting to listen to the little girl, which surprised even Marshall himself, of all the women he had met, none of them were easy to deal with, and the girls in particular were very bad, they always looked at Marshall with a slanting eye, which made him have to walk away from them timidly. He hated it. But this little child beside him was a different matter. For Marcel there was an indescribable pleasure in listening to her chatter. So he said coyly as usual,
"No, no, you can talk if you like, I don't care a bit."
"Oh great! It's great that I can just talk when I want to! I feel as if we could get along really well. I've gotten a lot of reprimands for being such a nag, and I'm tired of hearing about it. And everyone laughs when I make long statements, but you can't say something important without making a long statement, can you?"
"Yes, yes, yes." Marshall chimed in.
"Aunt Svenza always asks me if my tongue hangs out in the middle, but it doesn't really do that at all. You see, it's honestly here, isn't it?
"Uncle's house is called Green? I was told all about it by Aunt Svenza. I've heard that the mansion is surrounded by woods, how nice, I especially like trees. Unfortunately, there is not even a tree in the orphanage, only in front of the main gate was painted white under the fence, the lonely growth of so two or three small stick like small trees. It gave people a lonely and desolate feeling. As soon as I saw this scene, I couldn't stop my tears from flowing down. It is really pitiful. So I longed to be able to live in the kind of environment in the mansion, in a big forest, with trees everywhere, moss and mushrooms and so on growing on the roots of the trees, with a small river flowing nearby, and on the branches, birds singing happily. But in fact it was not so, and one can imagine how miserable I must have felt. Poor thing! I often say this to others.
"That said, I was sad this morning when I said goodbye to the orphanage. Perhaps it was because I felt a little sadness. Oh, and I forgot to ask Aunt Svenza, Grim? Is there a creek next to Gebrutz?"
"There is wow, it's not far down from the house."
"Wonderful! I didn't think my dream would actually become a reality, it's so rare. Right? Everything I have now is almost too perfect and happy! But I'm not in a perfect, happy mood anyway. Hey, look, what color is this?"
The girl yanked a greasy, hanging braid of hair over her shoulder and held it out in front of Marche's eyes. Marche had never been used to distinguishing the color of a woman's hair, and this occasion was no exception.
"It's red, isn't it?" Marche guessed.
The girl let out a long sigh, spreading the braid of her hair into her hands, giving the impression that it was a long, sad sigh.
"It's red, isn't it?"
The child seemed to die as she said, "Just for that, I won't be in a perfect. A happy mood. The reason for that you see. Redheads are like that. I don't care about anything else, not freckles, not green eyes, not skinny, I just fantasize about it and forget about it. I can fantasize that my skin is as beautiful as a rose. My pupils were as blue and purple as the stars in the sky. And I used to say to myself, 'My hair is as black and beautiful as a wet raven's feather.' When in reality the heart knew full well that it was a redhead. It was nothing more than a lamentation from a grief that had reached its peak.
"I once read a story in a novel about how a woman buried the sorrows of her life in her heart ...... But she wasn't a redhead, she was a blonde. It hung down like waves from a plaster-like forehead. What a plaster-like forehead looks like, I can't figure out. Do you know?"
"Gee, I don't know."
"But I think it must have been beautiful, probably beautiful in a solemn, sacred way. What should it be like to face such beauty, have you thought about it?"
"No, haven't thought about it." Marche replied softly.
"I've always wondered about the beauty of the solemn and sacred and the unbelievably smart and clever. Which is better compared to a good child like an angel?"
"Well, that, that I'm not quite sure."
"Yeah, it's hard to pin down, isn't it? But in the end, it doesn't matter either way. Because either one doesn't exist. No one can be an angelic child. You can't be free of faults and mistakes. That's what Auntie Svenza used to say. Ah! Uncle Kaspar, look! Look! Look!" Suddenly the boy became so excited that he almost fell out of the wagon, but Marcel did not care. It was just that the carriage had taken a wrong turn in the road and had entered the "forest road".
What the people of Newbridge call the "forest road" is a street no more than four or five hundred yards long. The apple trees lining the street were planted a few years ago by an eccentric old man. The trees, with their luxuriant foliage, formed a beautiful arch, and overhead a snow-white blossom resembled a fragrant tent. Below the branches, the purple dusk was already unconsciously approaching. As far as the eye could see, the evening sun was as poetic as the rose windows of the cathedral in the picturesque sky on the horizon.
The boy was simply stunned by the beauty of the scene. As if he could not speak, he leaned against the back of the wagon, folded his small, thin hands across his chest, and raised his head to admire the snow-white beauty above him.
The wagon came out of the forest road and drove down the gentle slope to Newbridge. The boy remained motionless, not saying a word, his eyes still gazing intently at the evening sun in the western sky. The boy's mind conjured up scene after scene of beautiful fantasies, with the haunting skies in front of him as a backdrop.
New Bridgend is a village full of life. Dogs were barking and people were laughing and joking. The girl peered curiously out of her window. Even so, she did not say a word. In this silence, the wagon traveled three miles.
"Tired? Has it been a long time since you've eaten?"
It was Marche who broke the long silence.
"There's a mile to go, as far as the eye can see."
The boy sighed y. Finally coming back to reality from her fantasies. She stared at Marshall with a strange look and asked mysteriously,
"Ah, Uncle Kasbath, what is the name of that place we just walked through, that white world?"
"That place is called 'The Forest Road'." After a few seconds of contemplation Marche asked again, "It's beautiful there, isn't it?"
"Beautiful? Simply saying it's beautiful doesn't properly describe it, it doesn't convey the meaning to the fullest. Ah, in short, it is beautiful, indeed. No matter how hard you try to fantasize, you can't exceed its beauty. It was the first time I had ever witnessed this kind of wonderland, and there I was finally soul-satisfied." The girl put her hand to her chest and said, "Now, I am in great pain here, but it is a pain of joy, have you ever had such pain?"
"No, not once."
"I have often felt pain, always at the sight of something very beautiful. But how can it be that a place that beautiful is only named 'Forest Vagina'? The name doesn't mean much, does it? That's right! Well, we should call it 'The White Road of Joy', it's a beautiful name that's full of fantasies, right?
"If I'm not happy with the name of a place or person, I always have to come up with a new name and replace it with the one I came up with. There was a kid in the orphanage named Hopkipa Jenkins, and I kept calling him Hopkipa. Jenkins, but I always called him Rosalia Dee. Dee? Via. While others might have called the place 'The Forest Road', I preferred to call it 'The White Road of Joy'.
"Was it really only a mile from home? I was happy but a little sad. I was sad because the carriage ride had been so enjoyable, and I was always sad when the fun was over, and it might never be the same again. Generally speaking, there always seems to be more time for unhappiness, which is generally true in my experience. But as soon as I want to be home. The heart is still quite happy. Up until now, I hadn't had a real home of my own for once. Suddenly owning a home all of a sudden by myself, I don't realize that I become nervous and my heart beats faster."
The wagon rolled over the hillock and looked down into a pool, slender, curved, and looking like a small river with a bridge over it. The pool was separated from the azure bay across the way only by an amber-colored sand dune.
From the vicinity of the bridge to the dunes, the water is as varied and colorful as a combination of colors. Reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, blues, purples, and unnamed colors were all mixed in. It was hard to describe it with proper words, it was simply a sea of colors.
The banks of the pool were filled with fir, maple, and plum trees, reflecting their dark shadows in the water like ghosts. From the swamp above the pool came the occasional chorus of frogs, and on the opposite slope, next to the apple orchard, in the woods, was hidden a gray house, and despite the light of day, a lamp had long been lit in the window.
"That's 'Barry's Pool'." Marshall said, pointing.
"Ah, yes, but that's not a very inviting name. Hmm, yes, let's call it 'Lake Bibble'. Yes, that would be appropriate. You know, I get so excited when matching names come to mind, do you experience that too?"
Marche considered it carefully before saying, "Well, it's also exciting to see disgusting white larvae dug out of cucumber fields and such, and just looking at them makes me shiver."
"Ah, though that was excitement too, but not excitement in the same sense, you think they're the same thing? There's no similarity between the white larva and the 'Lake Bibble', is there? But why call it 'Barry's Pool'?"
"Because the Barrys live there. The place we're at now is called 'Apple Orchard Knoll', and if the grass isn't lush back there, you can see Green? Gabruzzi. When we cross the bridge and turn off the street, it's only half a mile."
"Do the Barrys have any little girls? Not too young, about my age?"
"There's one about eleven, named Diana."
"Really, what a nice name!"
"What can I say, it sounds kind of like an amazing name. But I think something more common like Jenny or Maia would be better. I heard that Diana was born when a teacher from the school stayed at her house, and the family asked the teacher to give her a name, and that's how she got the name Diana."
"I wish that teacher had been there when I was born. Ah, it's time to get on the bridge, I need to close my eyes for a moment. I was always afraid of crossing bridges. I always imagined that once I got to the middle of the bridge, it would snap in half like a pocket knife and squish me flat. So I had to close my eyes in a hurry. However, when I reached the center, I opened my eyes unconsciously. If the bridge really folds in half, I'd like to see how terrifying that moment really is.
"Ah, it's the 'gurgling' sound from the bridge! That's the kind of sound I like... the world is so full of wonderful things, isn't it?
"Yo, right! Let me turn around and take another look. Good night, lovely Lake Bebop! For your favorite things,
If you say good night as you would to a person, it's as if the other person feels happy, and the pool must be smiling at me."
Over the hillock and rounding a bend, Marche pointed ahead and said, "Almost home, that's Green? Gaebruz is ......"
"Hey, please stop!" The girl looked agitated and interrupted the conversation, grabbing Marshall's outstretched arm with both hands and closing her eyes, not daring to look in the direction of Marshall's finger.
"Let me guess, I'm sure I can get it right." Said the boy as he opened his eyes and looked around. By this time, the carriage was right on the ridge of the hillock, the sun had gone down, and in the soft residual light, vaguely in front of the little girl's eyes, with the marigold-like sky to the west as a background, loomed the tall steeple of the church, below which was a small valley, and opposite it was a broad and gentle slope, on which there was a neat and clean farm.
The boy discerned them one by one, one by one, and, at last, rested his eyes on a house on the far left, away from the street, which was surrounded by dark woods, and which stood out, faintly whitened, amidst the thick undergrowth. Above the house in the clear southwestern sky shone an equally white star, glowing like a beacon of hope and guidance.
"That's it, isn't it?" The girl asked, pointing.
Marche threw the reins proudly and said, "Hey, that's right! I guess Mrs. Svenza must have told you, otherwise how could you have guessed so well."
"No, it's not like that, it's only a part of the story, it's mainly my feeling, I don't know how it happened, but when I saw the house, it felt like my own home. I always seem to be dreaming. You see, I have these bruise marks on my arm, I have pinched it several times. I often feel disturbed and always wonder if I am dreaming. Whenever this thought comes up, I pinch it a few times, and then I regret it, worrying that I am waking up from a good dream. This time it's real and true, and I'll be home soon." After saying this, the girl fell back into deep thought.
This time it was Marshall's turn to be uneasy. It would be best, he thought darkly, for Marilla to tell the girl the end. She was so looking forward to having a home, and what happened, she couldn't have it. He didn't want to hurt her feelings.
It was completely dark by the time the wagon passed through the depression in front of Linde's house. But they were still seen by Mrs. Linde, who was sitting at the window. As soon as the carriage was uphill it turned into the lane leading to Green? Gaybrooks' lane.
At home, Marshall felt himself shrinking with incomprehensible trepidation at the thought of finding out what had happened, not at the thought of himself and Marilla, nor at the trouble which the mistake had caused, but at the prospect of seeing the boy become discouraged. Once the truth came out, the out-of-body glow in the boy's pupils was sure to disappear immediately, and for some reason he seemed to develop a sense of guilt for helping to kill and murder innocent beings.
The aspen leaves rustled like clothes as the carriage entered the courtyard. Rustle."
"Ah! The tree is talking in its sleep, listen." Marshall had just gotten the girl out of the car when she was chattering again. "It must be a very beautiful dream." With that, she lifted the bag "containing all her possessions" and followed Marcel into the house.