Table of Contents
Anne of Green Gables
Anne of Avonlea
Anne of the Island
Anne's House of Dreams
Rilla of Ingleside
Chronicles of Avonlea
FURTHER CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA
Table of Contents
Anne of Green Gables
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Chapter 1 Mrs. Rachel Lynde is Surprised
Chapter 2 Matthew Cuthbert is surprised
Chapter 3 Marilla Cuthbert is Surprised
Chapter 4 Morning at Green Gables
Chapter 5 Anne's History
Chapter 6 Marilla Makes Up Her Mind
Chapter 7 Anne Says Her Prayers
Chapter 8 Anne's Bringing-up Is Begun
Chapter 9 Mrs. Rachel Lynde Is Properly Horrified
Chapter 10 Anne's Apology
Chapter 11 Anne's Impressions of Sunday-School
Chapter 12 A Solemn Vow and Promise
Chapter 13 The Delights of Anticipation
Chapter 14 Anne's Confession
Chapter 15 A Tempest in the School Teapot
Chapter 16 Diana Is Invited to Tea with Tragic Results
Chapter 17 A New Interest in Life
Chapter 18 Anne to the Rescue
Chapter 19 A Concert a Catastrophe and a Confession
Chapter 20 A Good Imagination Gone Wrong
Chapter 21 A New Departure in Flavorings
Chapter 22 Anne is Invited Out to Tea
Chapter 23 Anne Comes to Grief in an Affair of Honor
Chapter 24 Miss Stacy and Her Pupils Get Up a Concert
Chapter 25 Matthew Insists on Puffed Sleeves
Chapter 26 The Story Club Is Formed
Chapter 27 Vanity and Vexation of Spirit
Chapter 28 An Unfortunate Lily Maid
Chapter 29 An Epoch in Anne's Life
Chapter 30 The Queens Class Is Organized
Chapter 31 Where the Brook and River Meet
Chapter 32 The Pass List Is Out
Chapter 33 The Hotel Concert
Chapter 34 A Queen's Girl
Chapter 35 The Winter at Queen's
Chapter 36 The Glory and the Dream
Chapter 37 The Reaper Whose Name Is Death
Chapter 38 The Bend in the road
Anne of Avonlea
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Chapter 1 An Irate Neighbor
Chapter 2 Selling in Haste and Repenting at Leisure
Chapter 3 Mr. Harrison at Home
Chapter 4 Different Opinions
Chapter 5 A Full-fledged Schoolma'am
Chapter 6 All Sorts and Conditions of Men . . . and women
Chapter 7 The Pointing of Duty
Chapter 8 Marilla Adopts Twins
Chapter 9 A Question of Color
Chapter 10 Davy in Search of a Sensation
Chapter 11 Facts and Fancies
Chapter 12 A Jonah Day
Chapter 13 A Golden Picnic
Chapter 14 A Danger Averted
Chapter 15 The Beginning of Vacation
Chapter 16 The Substance of Things Hoped For
Chapter 17 A Chapter of Accidents
Chapter 18 An Adventure on the Tory Road
Chapter 19 Just a Happy Day
Chapter 20 The Way It Often Happens
Chapter 21 Sweet Miss Lavendar
Chapter 22 Odds and Ends
Chapter 23 Miss Lavendar's Romance
Chapter 24 A Prophet in His Own Country
Chapter 25 An Avonlea Scandal
Chapter 26 Around the Bend
Chapter 27 An Afternoon at the Stone House
Chapter 28 The Prince Comes Back to the Enchanted Palace
Chapter 29 Poetry and Prose
Chapter 30 A Wedding at the Stone House
Anne of the Island
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Chapter 1 The Shadow of Change
Chapter 2 Garlands of Autumn
Chapter 3 Greeting and Farewell
Chapter 4 April's Lady
Chapter 5 Letters from Home
Chapter 6 In the Park
Chapter 7 Home Again
Chapter 8 Anne's First Proposal
Chapter 9 An Unwelcome Lover and a Welcome Friend
Chapter 10 Patty's Place
Chapter 11 The Round of Life
Chapter 12 "Averil's Atonement"
Chapter 13 The Way of Transgressors
Chapter 14 The Summons
Chapter 15 A Dream Turned Upside Down
Chapter 16 Adjusted Relationships
Chapter 17 A Letter from Davy
Chapter 18 Miss Josepine Remembers the Anne-girl
Chapter 19 An Interlude
Chapter 20 Gilbert Speaks
Chapter 21 Roses of Yesterday
Chapter 22 Spring and Anne Return to Green Gables
Chapter 23 Paul Cannot Find the Rock People
Chapter 24 Enter Jonas
Chapter 25 Enter Prince Charming
Chapter 26 Enter Christine
Chapter 27 Mutual Confidences
Chapter 28 A June Evening
Chapter 29 Diana's Wedding
Chapter 30 Mrs. Skinner's Romance
Chapter 31 Anne to Philippa
Chapter 32 Tea with Mrs. Douglas
Chapter 33 "He Just Kept Coming and Coming"
Chapter 34 John Douglas Speaks at Last
Chapter 35 The Last Redmond Year Opens
Chapter 36 The Gardners'Call
Chapter 37 Full-fledged B.A.'s
Chapter 38 False Dawn
Chapter 39 Deals with Weddings
Chapter 40 A Book of Revelation
Chapter 41 Love Takes Up the Glass of Time
Anne's House of Dreams
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Chapter 1 IN THE GARRET OF GREEN GABLES
Chapter 2 THE HOUSE OF DREAMS
Chapter 3 THE LAND OF DREAMS AMONG
Chapter 4 THE FIRST BRIDE OF GREEN GABLES
Chapter 5 THE HOME COMING
Chapter 6 CAPTAIN JIM
Chapter 7 THE SCHOOLMASTER'S BRIDE
Chapter 8 MISS CORNELIA BRYANT COMES TO CALL
Chapter 9 AN EVENING AT FOUR WINDS POINT
Chapter 10 LESLIE MOORE
Chapter 11 THE STORY OF LESLIE MOORE
Chapter 12 LESLIE COMES OVER
Chapter 13 A GHOSTLY EVENING
Chapter 14 NOVEMBER DAYS
Chapter 15 CHRISTMAS AT FOUR WINDS
Chapter 16 NEW YEAR'S EVE AT THE LIGHT
Chapter 17 A FOUR WINDS WINTER
Chapter 18 SPRING DAYS
Chapter 19 DAWN AND DUSK
Chapter 20 LOST MARGARET
Chapter 21 BARRIERS SWEPT AWAY
Chapter 22 MISS CORNELIA ARRANGES MATTERS
Chapter 23 OWEN FORD COMES
Chapter 24 THE LIFE-BOOK OF CAPTAIN JIM
Chapter 25 THE WRITING OF THE BOOK
Chapter 26 OWEN FORD'S CONFESSION
Chapter 27 ON THE SAND BAR
Chapter 28 ODDS AND ENDS
Chapter 29 GILBERT AND ANNE DISAGREE
Chapter 30 LESLIE DECIDES
Chapter 31 THE TRUTH MAKES FREE
Chapter 32 MISS CORNELIA DISCUSSES THE AFFAIR
Chapter 33 LESLIE RETURNS
Chapter 34 THE SHIP O'DREAMS COMES TO HARBOR
Chapter 35 POLITICS AT FOUR WINDS
Chapter 36 BEAUTY FOR ASHES
Chapter 37 MISS CORNELIA MAKES A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT
Chapter 38 RED ROSES
Chapter 39 CAPTAIN JIM CROSSES THE BAR
Chapter 40 FAREWELL TO THE HOUSE OF DREAMS
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Chapter 1 Home Again
Chapter 2 Sheer Gossip
Chapter 3 The Ingleside Children
Chapter 4 The Manse Children
Chapter 5 The Advent of Mary Vance
Chapter 6 Mary Stays at the Manse
Chapter 7 A Fishy Episode
Chapter 8 Miss Cornelia Intervenes
Chapter 9 Una Intervenes
Chapter 10 The Manse Girls Clean House
Chapter 11 A Dreadful Discovery
Chapter 12 An Explanation and a Dare
Chapter 13 The House on the Hill
Chapter 14 Mrs. Alec Davis Makes a Call
Chapter 15 More Gossip
Chapter 16 Tit for Tat
Chapter 17 A Double Victory
Chapter 18 Mary Brings Evil Tidings
Chapter 19 Poor Adam!
Chapter 20 Faith Makes a Friend
Chapter 21 The Impossible Word
Chapter 22 St. George Knows All About It
Chapter 23 The Good-Conduct Club
Chapter 24 A Charitable Impulse
Chapter 25 Another Scandal and Another "Explanation"
Chapter 26 Miss Cornelia Gets a New Point of View
Chapter 27 A Sacred Concert
Chapter 28 A Fast Day
Chapter 29 A Weird Tale
Chapter 30 The Ghost on the Dyke
Chapter 31 Carl Does Penance
Chapter 32 Two Stubborn People
Chapter 33 Carl Is—Not—Whipped
Chapter 34 Una Visits the Hill
Chapter 35 "Let the Piper Come"
Rilla of Ingleside
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Chapter 1 Glen "Notes" and Other Matters
Chapter 2 Dew of Morning
Chapter 3 Moonlit Mirth
Chapter 4 The Piper Pipes
Chapter 5 "The Sound of a Going"
Chapter 6 Susan,Rilla, and Dog Monday Make a Resolution
Chapter 7 A War-Baby and a Soup Tureen
Chapter 8 Rilla Decides
Chapter 9 Doc Has a Misadventure
Chapter 10 The Troubles of Rilla
Chapter 11 Dark and Bright
Chapter 12 In The Days of Langemarck
Chapter 13 A Slice of Humble Pie
Chapter 14 The Valley of Decision
Chapter 15 Until the Day Break
Chapter 16 Realism and Romance
Chapter 17 The Weeks Wear By
Chapter 18 A War- Wedding
Chapter 19 "They Shall Not Pass"
Chapter 20 Norman Douglas Speaks Out in Meeting
Chapter 21 "Love Affairs Are Horrible"
Chapter 22 Little Dog Monday Knows
Chapter 23 "And So, Goodnight"
Chapter 24 Mary Is Just in Time
Chapter 25 Shirley Goes
Chapter 26 Susan Has a Proposal of Marriage
Chapter 27 Waiting
Chapter 28 Black Sunday
Chapter 29 "Wounded and Missing"
Chapter 30 The Turning of the Tide
Chapter 31 Mrs. Matilda Pitman
Chapter 32 Word From Jem
Chapter 33 Victory!
Chapter 34 Mr. Hyde Goes to His Own Place and Susan Takes a Honeymoon
Chapter 35 "Rilla-My-Rilla"
Published: 1908 Categorie(s): Fiction
Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.
There are plenty of people in Avonlea and out of it, who can attend closely to their neighbor's business by dint of neglecting their own; but Mrs. Rachel Lynde was one of those capable creatures who can manage their own concerns and those of other folks into the bargain. She was a notable housewife; her work was always done and well done; she "ran" the Sewing Circle, helped run the Sunday-school, and was the strongest prop of the Church Aid Society and Foreign Missions Auxiliary. Yet with all this Mrs. Rachel found abundant time to sit for hours at her kitchen window, knitting "cotton warp" quilts-she had knitted sixteen of them, as Avonlea housekeepers were wont to tell in awed voices-and keeping a sharp eye on the main road that crossed the hollow and wound up the steep red hill beyond. Since Avonlea occupied a little triangular peninsula jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence with water on two sides of it, anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over that hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of Mrs. Rachel's all-seeing eye.
She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. The sun was coming in at the window warm and bright; the orchard on the slope below the house was in a bridal flush of pinky-white bloom, hummed over by a myriad of bees. Thomas Lynde-a meek little man whom Avonlea people called "Rachel Lynde's husband"-was sowing his late turnip seed on the hill field beyond the barn; and Matthew Cuthbert ought to have been sowing his on the big red brook field away over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel knew that he ought because she had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before in William J. Blair's store over at Carmody that he meant to sow his turnip seed the next afternoon. Peter had asked him, of course, for Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life.
And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on the afternoon of a busy day, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill; moreover, he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea; and he had the buggy and the sorrel mare, which betokened that he was going a considerable distance. Now, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there?
Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. Rachel, deftly putting this and that together, might have given a pretty good guess as to both questions. But Matthew so rarely went from home that it must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him; he was the shyest man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have to talk. Matthew, dressed up with a white collar and driving in a buggy, was something that didn't happen often. Mrs. Rachel, ponder as she might, could make nothing of it and her afternoon's enjoyment was spoiled.
"I'll just step over to Green Gables after tea and find out from Marilla where he's gone and why," the worthy woman finally concluded. "He doesn't generally go to town this time of year and he NEVER visits; if he'd run out of turnip seed he wouldn't dress up and take the buggy to go for more; he wasn't driving fast enough to be going for a doctor. Yet something must have happened since last night to start him off. I'm clean puzzled, that's what, and I won't know a minute's peace of mind or conscience until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today."
Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she had not far to go; the big, rambling, orchard-embowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde's Hollow. To be sure, the long lane made it a good deal further. Matthew Cuthbert's father, as shy and silent as his son after him, had got as far away as he possibly could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods when he founded his homestead. Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day, barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were so sociably situated. Mrs. Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place LIVING at all.
"It's just STAYING, that's what," she said as she stepped along the deep-rutted, grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. "It's no wonder Matthew and Marilla are both a little odd, living away back here by themselves. Trees aren't much company, though dear knows if they were there'd be enough of them. I'd ruther look at people. To be sure, they seem contented enough; but then, I suppose, they're used to it. A body can get used to anything, even to being hanged, as the Irishman said."
With this Mrs. Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green Gables. Very green and neat and precise was that yard, set about on one side with great patriarchal willows and the other with prim Lombardies. Not a stray stick nor stone was to be seen, for Mrs. Rachel would have seen it if there had been. Privately she was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard over as often as she swept her house. One could have eaten a meal off the ground without overbrimming the proverbial peck of dirt.
Mrs. Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door and stepped in when bidden to do so. The kitchen at Green Gables was a cheerful apartment-or would have been cheerful if it had not been so painfully clean as to give it something of the appearance of an unused parlor. Its windows looked east and west; through the west one, looking out on the back yard, came a flood of mellow June sunlight; but the east one, whence you got a glimpse of the bloom white cherry-trees in the left orchard and nodding, slender birches down in the hollow by the brook, was greened over by a tangle of vines. Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, always slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously; and here she sat now, knitting, and the table behind her was laid for supper.
Mrs. Rachel, before she had fairly closed the door, had taken a mental note of everything that was on that table. There were three plates laid, so that Marilla must be expecting some one home with Matthew to tea; but the dishes were everyday dishes and there was only crab-apple preserves and one kind of cake, so that the expected company could not be any particular company. Yet what of Matthew's white collar and the sorrel mare? Mrs. Rachel was getting fairly dizzy with this unusual mystery about quiet, unmysterious Green Gables.
"Good evening, Rachel," Marilla said briskly. "This is a real fine evening, isn't it? Won't you sit down? How are all your folks?"
Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel, in spite of-or perhaps because of-their dissimilarity.
Marilla was a tall, thin woman, with angles and without curves; her dark hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot behind with two wire hairpins stuck aggressively through it. She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience, which she was; but there was a saving something about her mouth which, if it had been ever so slightly developed, might have been considered indicative of a sense of humor.
"We're all pretty well," said Mrs. Rachel. "I was kind of afraid YOU weren't, though, when I saw Matthew starting off today. I thought maybe he was going to the doctor's."
Marilla's lips twitched understandingly. She had expected Mrs. Rachel up; she had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so unaccountably would be too much for her neighbor's curiosity.
"Oh, no, I'm quite well although I had a bad headache yesterday," she said. "Matthew went to Bright River. We're getting a little boy from an orphan asylum in Nova Scotia and he's coming on the train tonight."
If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia Mrs. Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually stricken dumb for five seconds. It was unsupposable that Marilla was making fun of her, but Mrs. Rachel was almost forced to suppose it.
"Are you in earnest, Marilla?" she demanded when voice returned to her.
"Yes, of course," said Marilla, as if getting boys from orphan asylums in Nova Scotia were part of the usual spring work on any well-regulated Avonlea farm instead of being an unheard of innovation.
Mrs. Rachel felt that she had received a severe mental jolt. She thought in exclamation points. A boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people adopting a boy! From an orphan asylum! Well, the world was certainly turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this! Nothing!
"What on earth put such a notion into your head?" she demanded disapprovingly.
This had been done without her advice being asked, and must perforce be disapproved.
"Well, we've been thinking about it for some time-all winter in fact," returned Marilla. "Mrs. Alexander Spencer was up here one day before Christmas and she said she was going to get a little girl from the asylum over in Hopeton in the spring. Her cousin lives there and Mrs. Spencer has visited here and knows all about it. So Matthew and I have talked it over off and on ever since. We thought we'd get a boy. Matthew is getting up in years, you know-he's sixty-and he isn't so spry as he once was. His heart troubles him a good deal. And you know how desperate hard it's got to be to get hired help. There's never anybody to be had but those stupid, half-grown little French boys; and as soon as you do get one broke into your ways and taught something he's up and off to the lobster canneries or the States. At first Matthew suggested getting a Home boy. But I said 'no' flat to that. 'They may be all right-I'm not saying they're not-but no London street Arabs for me,' I said. 'Give me a native born at least. There'll be a risk, no matter who we get. But I'll feel easier in my mind and sleep sounder at nights if we get a born Canadian.' So in the end we decided to ask Mrs. Spencer to pick us out one when she went over to get her little girl. We heard last week she was going, so we sent her word by Richard Spencer's folks at Carmody to bring us a smart, likely boy of about ten or eleven. We decided that would be the best age-old enough to be of some use in doing chores right off and young enough to be trained up proper. We mean to give him a good home and schooling. We had a telegram from Mrs. Alexander Spencer today-the mail-man brought it from the station-saying they were coming on the five-thirty train tonight. So Matthew went to Bright River to meet him. Mrs. Spencer will drop him off there. Of course she goes on to White Sands station herself."
Mrs. Rachel prided herself on always speaking her mind; she proceeded to speak it now, having adjusted her mental attitude to this amazing piece of news.
"Well, Marilla, I'll just tell you plain that I think you're doing a mighty foolish thing-a risky thing, that's what. You don't know what you're getting. You're bringing a strange child into your house and home and you don't know a single thing about him nor what his disposition is like nor what sort of parents he had nor how he's likely to turn out. Why, it was only last week I read in the paper how a man and his wife up west of the Island took a boy out of an orphan asylum and he set fire to the house at night-set it ON PURPOSE, Marilla-and nearly burnt them to a crisp in their beds. And I know another case where an adopted boy used to suck the eggs-they couldn't break him of it. If you had asked my advice in the matter-which you didn't do, Marilla-I'd have said for mercy's sake not to think of such a thing, that's what."
This Job's comforting seemed neither to offend nor to alarm Marilla. She knitted steadily on.
"I don't deny there's something in what you say, Rachel. I've had some qualms myself. But Matthew was terrible set on it. I could see that, so I gave in. It's so seldom Matthew sets his mind on anything that when he does I always feel it's my duty to give in. And as for the risk, there's risks in pretty near everything a body does in this world. There's risks in people's having children of their own if it comes to that-they don't always turn out well. And then Nova Scotia is right close to the Island. It isn't as if we were getting him from England or the States. He can't be much different from ourselves."
"Well, I hope it will turn out all right," said Mrs. Rachel in a tone that plainly indicated her painful doubts. "Only don't say I didn't warn you if he burns Green Gables down or puts strychnine in the well-I heard of a case over in New Brunswick where an orphan asylum child did that and the whole family died in fearful agonies. Only, it was a girl in that instance."
"Well, we're not getting a girl," said Marilla, as if poisoning wells were a purely feminine accomplishment and not to be dreaded in the case of a boy. "I'd never dream of taking a girl to bring up. I wonder at Mrs. Alexander Spencer for doing it. But there, SHE wouldn't shrink from adopting a whole orphan asylum if she took it into her head."
Mrs. Rachel would have liked to stay until Matthew came home with his imported orphan. But reflecting that it would be a good two hours at least before his arrival she concluded to go up the road to Robert Bell's and tell the news. It would certainly make a sensation second to none, and Mrs. Rachel dearly loved to make a sensation. So she took herself away, somewhat to Marilla's relief, for the latter felt her doubts and fears reviving under the influence of Mrs. Rachel's pessimism.
"Well, of all things that ever were or will be!" ejaculated Mrs. Rachel when she was safely out in the lane. "It does really seem as if I must be dreaming. Well, I'm sorry for that poor young one and no mistake. Matthew and Marilla don't know anything about children and they'll expect him to be wiser and steadier that his own grandfather, if so be's he ever had a grandfather, which is doubtful. It seems uncanny to think of a child at Green Gables somehow; there's never been one there, for Matthew and Marilla were grown up when the new house was built-if they ever WERE children, which is hard to believe when one looks at them. I wouldn't be in that orphan's shoes for anything. My, but I pity him, that's what."
So said Mrs. Rachel to the wild rose bushes out of the fulness of her heart; but if she could have seen the child who was waiting patiently at the Bright River station at that very moment her pity would have been still deeper and more profound.