33 Anne Of Green Gables

Chapter 33: When Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert adopt an orphan from Nova Scotia, they assume the little boy that they receive into their home will be better than any hired help, and a good hand on the farm. Little do they realize, they are in for a greater surprise than any they have ever experienced in the quiet provincial town of Avonlea.

In this episode, Anne prepares for her performance.

Transcript

This is S.

D.

Hudson Magic.

I'm delighted to be able to read for you.

Anne of Green Gables.

This I consider to be my favorite story of all time.

And even though I am English and not Canadian,

I hope I will do this story justice.

Chapter 33.

The hotel concert.

Put on your white organdy by all means Anne,

Advised Diana decidedly.

They were together in the East Gable chamber.

Outside it was only twilight.

A lovely yellowish green twilight with a clear blue cloudless sky.

A big round moon slowly deepening from her palate lustering to burnished silver,

Hung over haunted wood.

The air was full of sweet summer sounds.

Sleepy birds twittering,

Freakish breezes,

Faraway voices and laughter.

But in Anne's room the blind was drawn and the lamp lighted for an important toilet was being made.

The East Gable was a very different place from what it had been on that night four years ago when Anne had felt its bareness penetrate to the marrow of her spirit with this inhospitable chill.

Changes had crept in,

Marilla conniving them resignedly until it was as sweet and dainty as a nest,

As a young girl could desire.

The velvet carpet with the pink roses and the pink silk curtains of Anne's early visions had certainly never materialized but her dreams had kept pace with her growth and it is not probable she lamented them.

The floor was covered with a pretty matting and the curtains that softened the high window and fluttered in the vagrant breezes were of pale green art muslin.

The walls hung not with gold and silver brocade tapestry but with a dainty apple blossom paper were adorned with a few good pictures given Anne by Mrs.

Allen.

Miss Stacy's photograph occupied the place of honour and Anne made a sentimental point of keeping fresh flowers on the bracket underneath it.

Tonight a spike of white lilies faintly perfumed the room like the dream of a fragrance.

There was no mahogany furniture but there was a white painted bookcase filled with books a cushioned wicker rocker,

A toilet table befrilled with white muslin,

A quaint gilt framed mirror with chubby pink cupids and purple grapes painted over its arched top that used to hang in the spare room and a low white bed.

Anne was dressing for a concert at the White Sands Hotel.

The guests had got it up in aid of the Charlottetown Hospital and had hunted out all the available amateur talent in the surrounding districts to help it along.

Bertha Sampson and Pearl Clay of the White Sands Baptist Choir had been asked to sing a duet.

Milton Clarke of Newbridge was to give a violin solo.

Winnie Adella Blair of Carmody was to sing a Scottish ballad and Laura Spencer of Spencer Vale and Anne Shirley of Avonlea were to recite.

As Anne would have said at one time it was an epoch in her life and she was deliciously a thrill with the excitement of it.

Matthew was in the seventh heaven of gratified pride over the honour and Marilla was not far behind although she would have died rather than admitted and said she didn't think it was very proper for a lot of young folks to be gadding over to the hotel without any responsible person with them.

Anne and Diana were to drive over with Jane Andrews and her brother Billy in their double-seated buggy and several other Avonlea girls and boys were going too.

There was a party of visitors expected out from town and after the concert a supper was to be given to the performers.

Do you really think Orkandy will be best?

Queried Anne anxiously.

I don't think it's as pretty as my blue-flowered muslin and it certainly isn't so fashionable.

But it suits you ever so much better,

Said Diana.

It's so soft and frilly and clinging.

The muslin is stiff and makes you look too dressed up but the Orkandy seems as if it grew on you.

Anne sighed and yielded.

Diana was beginning to have a reputation for noticeable taste in dressing and her advice on such subjects was much sought after.

She was looking very pretty herself on this particular night in a dress of the lovely wild rose pink from which Anne was forever debarred.

But she was not to take any part in the concert so her appearance was of minor importance.

All her pains were bestowed upon Anne who,

She vowed,

Must for the credit of Avonlea be dressed and combed and adorned to the Queen's taste.

Pull out that frill a little more.

Here,

Help me tie your sash.

Now for your slippers.

I'm going to braid your hair in two thick braids and tie them halfway up with big white bows.

No,

Don't pull out a single curl over your forehead.

Just have the soft part.

There is no way you do your hair that suits you so well,

Anne,

And Mrs.

Allen said you look like a Madonna when you parted so.

I shall fasten this little White House rose just behind your ear.

There was one on my bush and I saved it for you.

Shall I put my pearl beads on?

Asked Dan.

Matthew brought me a string from town last week and I know he liked to see them on me.

Diana pursed up her lips,

Put her black head on one side critically and finally pronounced in favour of the beads which were thereupon tied around Anne's slim milk-white throat.

There's something so stylish about you,

Anne,

Said Diana with unenvious admiration.

You hold your head with such an air.

I suppose it's your figure.

I am just a dumpling.

I've always been afraid of it and now I know it so.

Well,

I suppose I'll just have to resign myself to it.

But you'd have such dimples,

Said Anne,

Smiling affectionately into the pretty vivacious face.

Lovely dimples like little dents in cream.

I have given up all hope of dimples.

My dimple dream will never come true but so many of my dreams have come true that I mustn't complain.

Am I all ready now?

All ready,

Assured Diana as Marilla appeared in the doorway.

A gaunt figure with greyer hair and of yore and no fewer angles but with a much softer face.

Come right in and look at our elocutionist,

Marilla.

Doesn't she look lovely?

Marilla omitted a sound between a sniff and a grunt.

She looks neat and proper.

I like that way of fixing her hair but I expect she'll ruin that dress driving over there in the dust and dew with it and it looks much too thin for these damp nights.

Organdy's the most unserviceable stuff in the world anyhow and I told Matthew that when he got it but there's no use in saying anything to Matthew nowadays.

Time was when he'd take my advice but now he just buys things for Anne regardless and the clerks at Carmody know they can palm off anything on him.

Just let them tell him a thing is pretty unfashionable and Matthew plunks his money down for it.

Mind you keep your skirt clear of the wheel,

Anne,

And put your warm jacket on.

Then Marilla stalked downstairs thinking proudly how sweet Anne looked with that one moonbeam from the forehead to the crown and regretting she could not go to the concert herself to hear her girl recite.

I wonder if it's too damp for my dress,

Said Anne anxiously.

Not a bit of it,

Said Diana pulling up the window blind.

It's a perfect night and there won't be any dew.

Look at the moonlight.

I'm so glad my window looks east onto the sun rising,

Said Anne going over to Diana.

It's so splendid to see the morning coming up over those long hills and glowing through those sharp fur tops.

It's new every morning and I feel as if I wash my very soul in that bath of earliest sunshine.

Oh Diana,

I love this room so dearly.

I don't know how I'll get along without it when I go to town next month.

Don't speak of your going away tonight,

Begged Diana.

I don't want to think of it.

It makes me so miserable and I do want to have a good time this evening.

What are you going to recite,

Anne?

Are you nervous?

Not a bit.

I've recited so often in public I don't mind at all now.

I've decided to give The Maiden's Vow.

It's so pathetic.

Laura Spencer is going to give a comic recitation but I'd rather make people cry than laugh.

What will you recite if they encore you?

They won't dream of encoring me,

Scoffed Anne,

Who was not without her own secret hopes that they would.

There are Billy and Jane now.

I hear the wheels.

Come on.

Billy Andrews insisted Anne should ride on the front seat with him,

So she unwillingly climbed up.

She would have much preferred to sit back with the girls where she could have laughed and chattered.

There was not much of either laughter or chattering Billy.

He was a big,

Fat,

Stolid youth of 20 with a round expressionless face and a painful lack of conversational gifts.

But he admired Anne immensely and was puffed up with pride over the prospect of driving over to White Sands with that slim,

Upright figure beside him.

Anne,

By dint of talking over her shoulder to the girls and occasionally passing a sop of civility to Billy,

Grinned and chuckled and could never think of any reply until it was too late and contrived to join the drive in spite of it all.

It was a night for enjoyment.

The road was full of buggies,

All bound for the hotel,

And laughter re-echoed along it.

When they reached the hotel,

It was a blaze of light from top to bottom.

They were met by the ladies of the concert committee,

One of whom took Anne off to the performers' dressing room,

Which was filled with the members of a Charlottetown symphony club,

Along whom Anne felt suddenly shy and frightened and contrified.

Her dress,

Which in the East Gable had seemed so dainty and pretty,

Now seemed simple and plain.

Too simple and plain,

She thought,

Among all the silks and laces that glistened and rustled about her.

What were her pearl beads compared to the diamonds of the big handsome lady near her?

And how poor her one wee white rose must look beside all the hothouse flowers the others wore!

Anne laid her hat and her jacket away and shrank miserably into the corner.

She wished herself back in the white room at Green Gables.

It was still worse on the platform of the big concert hall of the hotel.

The electric lights dazzled her eyes,

The perfume and hum bewildered her.

She wished she was sitting down in the audience with Diana and Jane,

Who seemed to be having a splendid time away at the back.

She was wedged in between a stout lady in pink silk and a tall,

Scornful-looking girl in a white lace dress.

The stout lady occasionally turned her head squarely around and surveyed Anne through her eyeglasses,

Until Anne,

Acutely sensitive of being so scrutinised,

Felt she must scream aloud.

And the white lace girl kept talking audibly to her next neighbour about the country bumpkins and rustic bells in the audience,

Languidly anticipating such fun from the displays of local talent on the programme.

Anne believed she would hate that white lace girl to the end of her life.

Unfortunately for Anne,

A professional elocutionist was staying at the hotel and had consented to recite.

She was a lithe,

Dark-haired woman in a wonderful gown of shimmering grey stuff,

Like woven moonbeams,

With gems on her neck and in her dark hair.

She had a marvellously flexible voice and a wonderful power of expression.

The audience went wild over her selection.

Anne,

Forgetting all about herself and her troubles,

Listened with rapt and shining eyes.

But when the recitation ended,

She suddenly put her hands over her face.

She could never get up and recite after that.

Had she ever thought she could recite?

If only she were back at Green Gables!

Then her name was called.

Somehow Anne,

Who did not notice the rather guilty little start of surprise the white lace girl gave,

And would not have understood the subtle compliment plied therein if she had,

Got on her feet and moved dizzily out to the front.

She was so pale that Diana and Jane,

Down in the audience,

Clasped each other's hands in nervous sympathy.

Anne was the victim of an overwhelming attack of stage fright.

Everything was so strange,

So brilliant,

So bewildering.

The rows of ladies in the evening dress,

The critical faces,

The whole atmosphere of wealth and culture.

Very different from this,

The plain benches at the debating club,

Filled with the homely sympathetic faces of friends and neighbours.

Her knees trembled,

Her heart fluttered,

A horrible faintness came over her.

Not a word could she utter.

And the next moment she would have fled from the platform,

Despite the humiliation which,

She felt,

Must ever after be her portion if she did so.

But suddenly,

As her dilated frightened eyes gazed out over the audience,

She saw Gilbert Blythe away at the back of the room,

Bending forward with a smile on his face.

A smile which seemed to Anne at once triumphant and taunting.

In reality,

It was nothing of the kind.

Gilbert was merely smiling with appreciation of the whole affair in general,

And of the effect produced by Anne's slender white form and spiritual face against a background of palms in particular.

Josie Pye,

Whom he had driven over,

Sat beside him,

And her face certainly was both triumphant and taunting.

But Anne did not see Josie,

And would not have cared if she had.

She drew a long breath and flung her head up proudly,

Courage and determination tingling over her like an electric shock.

She would not fail before Gilbert Blythe.

He should never be able to laugh at her.

Never.

Her fright and nervousness vanished and she began her recitation,

Her clear sweet voice reaching to the farthest corner of the room without a tremor or a break.

And when she finished,

There were bursts of honest applause.

Anne,

Stepping back to her seat,

Blushing with shyness and delight,

Found her hand vigorously clasped and shaken by the stout lady in pink silk.

My dear,

You did splendidly,

She puffed.

I've been crying like a baby.

There,

They're encoring you.

They're bound to have you back.

Oh,

I can't go,

Said Anne confusedly.

But yet,

I must,

Or Matthew will be disappointed.

He said they would encore me.

Then don't disappoint Matthew,

Said the pink lady laughing.

Smiling,

Blushing,

Limpid eyed,

Anne trimmed back and gave a quaint funny little selection that captivated her audience further still.

And the rest of the evening was quite a triumph.

When the concert was over,

The stout pink lady took her under her wing and introduced her to everybody.

They had supper in the big beautifully decorated dining room.

Diana and Jane were invited to partake of this,

Since they had come with Anne.

But Billy was nowhere to be found,

Having decamped in mortal fear of some such invitation.

He was waiting for them with the team however when it was all over,

And the three girls came merrily out into the calm white moonshine radiance.

Anne breathed deeply and looked into the clear sky beyond the dark boughs of the firs.

Oh,

It was good to be out again in the purity and silence of the night.

Hasn't it been a perfectly splendid time?

Sighed Jane as they drove away.

I just wish I was a rich American and could spend my summer at a hotel and wear jewels and low-neck dresses and have ice cream and chicken salad every blessed day.

I'm sure it'd be ever so much more fun than teaching school.

Anne,

Your recitation was great,

Although I thought at first you were never going to begin.

I think it was better than Mrs.

Evans's.

Oh,

Don't say things like that,

Jane,

Said Anne quickly,

Because it sounds silly.

It couldn't be better than Mrs.

Evans's,

You know,

For she's a professional and I'm only a schoolgirl with little knack of reciting.

I have a compliment for you,

Anne,

Said Diana.

At least I think it must be a compliment because of the tone he said it in.

There was an American sitting behind Jane and me.

Such a romantic-looking man with cold black hair and eyes.

Josie Pye said he's a distinguished artist and her mother's cousin in Boston's married to a man that used to go to school with him.

We heard him say,

Who is that girl on the platform with the splendid Titian hair?

She has a face I should like to paint.

But what does Titian hair mean,

Anne?

Being interpreted,

I guess it means plain red,

Laughed Anne.

Titian was a very famous artist who liked to paint red-haired women.

Did you see all the diamonds those ladies wore,

Sighed Jane.

They were dazzling.

Wouldn't you just love to be rich,

Girls?

We are rich,

Said Anne staunchly.

We have 16 years to our credit and we're as happy as Queens and we've got all our imaginations,

More or less.

Look at that sea,

Girls,

All silver and shadow and vision.

We couldn't enjoy its loveliness anymore if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds.

You wouldn't change into any of those women if you could.

Would you want to be that white-laced girl and wear a sour look all your life?

Or the pink lady,

Kind and nice as she is,

So stout and short that you'd really no figure at all?

Or even Mrs.

Evans with that sad,

Sad look in her eyes?

You know you wouldn't,

Jane Andrews.

I don't know exactly,

Said Jane unconvinced.

I think diamonds would comfort a person for a good deal.

Well,

I don't want to be anyone but myself,

Even if I do go uncomforted by diamonds all my life,

Declared Anne.

I'm quite content to be Anne of Green Gables with my string of pearl beads.

I know Matthew gave me as much love with them as ever went with Madame the Pink Lady's jewels.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

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I can't get enough of this story and you do such a beautiful job of reading it