14 Anne Of The Island - Read By Stephanie Poppins

New adventures lie ahead as Anne Shirley packs her bags, waves goodbye to childhood, and heads for Redmond College. With her old friend Prissy Grant waiting in the bustling city of Kingsport and her frivolous new friend Philippa Gordon at her side, Anne tucks her memories of rural Avonlea away and discovers life on her terms, filled with surprises.

Handsome Gilbert Blythe is waiting in the wings, too. And Anne must decide whether or not she's ready for love.

In this episode, Anne spends some tender moments with Ruby Gillis.

Transcript

Anne of the Island by L.

M.

Montgomery Read by Stephanie Poppins Chapter Fourteen The Summons Anne was sitting with Ruby Gillis in the Gillis' garden after the day had crept lingeringly through it and was gone.

It had been a warm smoky summer afternoon.

The world was in a splendour out flowering,

The idle valleys were full of hazes,

The woodways were pranked with shadows,

And the fields with the purple of the asters.

Anne had given up a moonlight drive to the white sands beach that she might spend the evening with Ruby.

She had spent so many evenings that summer,

Although she often wondered what good it did anyone,

And sometimes went home deciding she could not go again.

Ruby grew paler as the summer waned.

The white sands school was given up.

Her father thought it better she shouldn't teach till new years,

She said,

And the fancy work she loved oftener and oftener fell from Anne's grown too weary for it.

But she was always gay,

Always hopeful,

Always chattering and whispering of her beau and their rivalries and despairs.

It was this that made Anne's visits hard for her.

What had once been silly or amusing was gruesome now.

It was the death peering through the willful mask of life.

Yet Ruby seemed to cling to her and never let her go until she promised to come again soon.

Mrs Linde grumbled about Anne's frequent visits and declared she would catch consumption.

Even Marilla was dubious.

Every time you go to see Ruby you come home looking tired out,

She said.

It's so very sad and dreadful,

Said Anne in a low tone.

Ruby doesn't seem to realise her condition in the least.

And yet I somehow feel she needs help,

Craves it,

And I want to give it to her and I can't.

All the time I'm with her I feel as if I were watching her struggle with an invisible foe,

Trying to push it back with such feeble resistance as she has,

And that is why I come home tired.

But tonight Anne did not feel this quite so keenly.

Ruby was strangely quiet.

She had not said a word about parties and drives and dresses and fellows.

She lay in the hammock with her untouched work beside her and a white shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders.

Her long yellow braids of hair,

How Anne had envied those in old school days,

Lay either side of her.

She'd taken the pins out and they made her headache,

She said,

So that hectic flush was gone for the first time,

Leaving her pale and childlike.

The moon rose in the silvery sky,

Imperling the clouds around her.

Below the pond shimmered in its hazy radiance.

Just beyond the Gillis homestead was the church with the old graveyard beside it.

The moonlight shone on the white stones,

Bringing them out in clear-cut relief against the dark trees behind them.

How strange the graveyard looks by moonlight,

Said Ruby suddenly.

How ghostly,

She shuddered.

Anne,

It won't be long now before I'll be lying over there.

You and Diana and all the rest will be going about full of life and I'll be there in the old graveyard,

Dead.

The surprise of it bewildered Anne.

For a few moments she could not speak.

You know it so,

Don't you?

Said Ruby insistently.

Yes,

I know,

Answered Anne in a low tone.

Dear Ruby,

I know.

Everybody knows it,

Said Ruby bitterly.

I know it.

I've known it all summer,

Though I wouldn't give in.

And,

Oh Anne,

She reached out and caught Anne's hand pleadingly.

I don't want to die.

I'm afraid to die.

Why should you be afraid,

Ruby?

Asked Anne quietly.

Because.

.

.

Because I'm not afraid that I'll go to heaven,

Anne.

I'm a church member,

But it'll all be so different,

I think.

And I get so frightened and homesick.

Heaven must be very beautiful,

Of course,

The Bible says so,

But it won't be what I've been used to.

Through Anne's mind drifted an intrusive recollection of a funny story she'd heard Philippa Gordon tell.

The story of some old man who'd said very much the same thing about the World Cup.

It had sounded funny then.

She remembered how she and Priscilla had laughed over it.

But it did not seem in the least bit humorous now,

Coming from Ruby's pale,

Trembling lips.

It was so sad and tragic and true.

Heaven could not be what Ruby had been used to.

There had been nothing in her gay,

Frivolous life,

Her shallow ideals and aspirations,

To fit her for that great change or make the life to come seem to her anything but alien and unreal and undesirable.

Anne wondered helplessly what she could say that would help her.

Was there anything she could say?

I think,

Ruby.

.

.

She began hesitatingly,

For it was difficult for Anne to speak to anyone of the deepest thoughts of her heart or the new ideas that had vaguely begun to shape themselves in her mind concerning the great mysteries of life.

I think perhaps we have very mistaken ideas about Heaven,

What it is and what it holds for us.

I don't think it can be so very different from life here,

As most people seem to think.

I believe we just go on living.

A good deal is we live here and be ourselves just the same.

Only it will be easier to be good and follow the highest.

All the hindrances and perplexities will be taken away and we shall see clearly.

Don't be afraid,

Ruby.

I can't help it,

Said Ruby pitifully.

Even if what you say about Heaven is true,

And you can't be sure,

It may be only that imagination of yours.

It won't be just the same.

It can't be.

I want to go on living here.

I'm so young,

Anne.

I haven't had my life.

I've fought so hard to live and it isn't any use.

I have to die and leave everything I care for.

Anne sat in a pain that was almost intolerable.

She could not tell comforting falsehoods and all that Ruby said was so horribly true.

She was leaving everything she cared for.

She had laid up her treasures on earth only.

She had lived solely for the little things of life,

The little things that pass,

Forgetting the great things that go on into eternity,

Bridging the gulf between the two lives and making of death a mere passing from one dwelling to the other.

God would take care of her,

Anne believed.

But now it was no wonder her soul clung in blind helplessness to the only thing she knew and loved.

Ruby raised herself on her arm and lifted up her bright,

Beautiful blue eyes to the moonlit skies.

I want to live,

She said in a trembling voice.

I want to live like other girls.

I want to be married,

Anne,

And have little children.

You know I always loved babies.

I couldn't say this to anyone but you.

I know you understand.

And then poor Herb.

He loves me and I love him,

Anne.

The others meant nothing to me but he does and if I could live I'd be his wife and I'd be so happy.

Oh,

Anne,

This is so hard.

Ruby sank back on her pillows and sobbed convulsively.

Anne pressed her hand in an agony of sympathy,

Silent sympathy which perhaps helped Ruby more than broken,

Imperfect words could have done.

But presently she grew calmer and her sobs ceased.

I'm glad I've told you this,

Anne,

She whispered.

It's helped me just to say it all out.

I wanted to all summer.

Every time you came I wanted to talk it over but I couldn't.

It seemed as if it would make death so sure if I said I was going to die.

I don't remember anybody else said it or hinted it.

In the daytime when people were around me and everything was cheerful it wasn't so hard to keep from thinking from it.

But in the night when I couldn't sleep it was so dreadful,

Anne.

I couldn't get away from it then.

But you won't be frightened any more,

Ruby,

Will you?

Said Anne.

You'll be brave and believe that all's going to be well.

I'll try,

She said.

It won't be very long now.

I'm sure of that.

And I'd rather have you here than anyone else,

Anne.

I always liked you best of all the girls I went to school with.

You were never jealous or mean,

Like some of them were.

Most of the trouble in life comes from misunderstanding,

I think,

Said Anne.

I must go now,

Ruby,

It's getting late and you shouldn't be out here in the damp.

You'll come again soon?

Yes,

Very soon.

Good night,

Anne.

If there's anything I can do to help,

I'll be so glad.

You have helped me already.

Nothing seems quite so dreadful now,

Anne.

Good night,

Then.

Good night,

Dear.

Anne walked home very slowly in the moonlight.

Life held a different meaning.

A deeper purpose.

On the surface it would go on just the same.

But the deeps had been stirred.

It must not be with her as with poor Butterfly Ruby.

When she came to the end of one life,

It must not be to face the next with a shrinking terror of something wholly different.

The little things of life,

Sweet and excellent in their place,

Must not be the things lived for.

And the highest must be sought and followed.

That good night in the garden was for all time.

Anne never saw Ruby in life again.

The next night the Avis gave a farewell party to Jane Andrews before her departure for the West.

And while light feet danced and bright eyes laughed and merry tongues chattered,

There came a summons to a soul in Avonlea that might not be disregarded or evaded.

The next morning the word went from house to house that Ruby Gillis was dead.

She had died in her sleep,

Painlessly and calmly,

And on her face was a smile.

As if,

After all,

Death had come as a kindly friend to lead her over the threshold,

Instead of the grisly phantom she had dreaded.

Mrs Rachel Lynde said emphatically after the funeral Ruby Gillis was the handsomest corpse she'd ever laid eyes on.

Her loveliness as she lay,

White-clad,

Among the delicate flowers that Anne placed about her,

Was remembered and talked of for years in Avonlea.

Ruby had always been beautiful,

But her beauty had been of the earth.

It had a certain insolent quality in it,

As if flaunting itself in the beholder's eye.

Spirit had never shone through it,

Intellect had never refined it,

But death had touched it and consecrated it,

Bringing out delicate modellings and purity of outline never seen before.

Doing what life and love and great sorrow and deep womanhood joys might have done for Ruby.

Mrs Gillis called Anne aside into a vacant room before the funeral procession.

I want you to have this,

She sobbed.

Ruby would have liked you to have it.

It's the embroidered centrepiece she was working at.

It isn't quite finished,

The needle sticking in it,

Just where her poor little fingers put it the last time she laid it down.

There's always a piece of unfinished work left,

Said Mrs Lynde with tears in her eyes,

But I suppose there's always someone to finish it.

Reviews

Poor Ruby… Anne was able to give her some peace though…
Thank you ❤️🙏🏼