Anne Shirley (アン・シャーリー)

Anne, there's a letter for you.

Thank you, Marilla.

It's from Philippa.

Having spent the summer of my twentieth year uneventfully in Avonlea,

I stood ready to begin my junior year at Redmond come fall.

And then...

Phil is going...

to marry a minister?!

Chapter 21

Has the Real Prince Come at Last...?

Dear Anne—spelled with an e,

I'm writing to you from Prospect Point.

I always like to spend summers at the shore,

and this year, I've come to stay with my cousin Emily here.

Emily's "select boardinghouse" has five boarders besides myself—

four old ladies and one young man.

The young man's name is Jonas Blake.

The day I arrived, I saw him sitting opposite to me at the table,

smiling at me as if he had known me from my cradle.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

He is a theological student from St. Columba,

and he has taken charge of the Point Prospect Mission Church for the summer.

He has a big, loose-jointed figure with absurdly long legs.

And his ears—but I never think about his ears if I can help it.

But he has a lovely voice.

If you shut your eyes and just listen...

How pleasantly astringent this tea is. Delightful.

Indeed it is.

...he is adorable.

It's enough to gladden my heart.

We were good chums right away.

Of course he is a graduate of Redmond, and that is a link between us.

We fished and boated together;

and we walked on the sands by moonlight.

By moonlight...

oh, he was nice.

Niceness fairly exhaled from him.

Somehow, Anne, I don't want him to think me frivolous.

This is ridiculous.

Why should I care what a tow-haired person called Jonas,

whom I never saw before, thinks of me?

Last Sunday, Jonas preached in the village church.

Today, I'd like to think about happiness with you all.

To wit, what is happiness?

By the time he had preached ten minutes,

Some people might answer, "to grow wealthy."

I felt so small and insignificant

I think that gaining spiritual riches is a wonderful thing,

that I thought I must be invisible to the naked eye.

but seeking only wealth pushes happiness away.

Jonas never looked at me.

But I realized how horribly different I must be from Jonas's ideal woman.

He was so earnest and tender and true.

He was everything a minister ought to be.

I could have listened forever.

He caught up with me on the road home, and grinned as cheerfully as usual.

I had seen the real Jonas.

I wondered if he could ever see the real Phil—

whom nobody—not even you, Anne—has ever seen yet.

Jonas, you were born to be a minister.

You're right.

I tried to be something else for a long time.

But I came to see at last that it was the work given me to do—

and God helping me, I shall try to do it.

I thought that he would do his work and do it well and nobly;

and happy the woman fitted to help him do it.

She would be no feather, blown about by every fickle wind of fancy.

She would always know what hat to put on.

Probably she would have only one.

But she wouldn't mind having one hat or none at all,

because she would have Jonas.

Anne, don't you dare to say or hint that I've fallen in love with Jonas.

Could I care for a lank, poor, ugly theologue?

Good night.

P.S. It is impossible—

but I am horribly afraid it's true.

He can never care for me, I know.

Do you think I could ever develop into a passable minister's wife, Anne?

And would they expect me to lead in prayer?

Phil Gordon.

I've an afternoon to spend in sweet doing nothing.

Shall I spend it here where there is a cozy fire, a plateful of delicious russets,

and three purring and harmonious cats?

Or shall I go to the park, where there is the lure of gray woods

and of gray water lapping on the harbor rocks?

If I was as young as you, I'd decide in favor of the park.

I thought that you claimed to be as young as any of us, Auntie.

Yes, in my soul.

But I'll admit my legs aren't as young as yours.

You go and get some fresh air, Anne.

You look pale lately.

I think I will go to the park.

I want to feel alone and free and wild.

Take your umbrella, for I believe it's going to rain.

Rain? I shouldn't think so.

You shouldn't flirt so with Mr. Blake—you really shouldn't.

I'm not flirting with him.

You don't fool me. You're amusing yourself.

Mr. Blake isn't of the Alec-and-Alonzo type, Phil.

He takes things seriously.

You may break his heart.

Do you really think I could?!

Philippa Gordon!

I never thought you were utterly unfeeling.

You are leading that man on deliberately—

and you know you don't mean anything by it.

Not so, honey.

I mean to make him ask me to marry him if I can.

I give you up!

Stella!

Give her a proper explanation later.

You know I will.

Excuse me!

I... I know this is sudden, Anne Shirley.

May I have a moment? Just a moment?

Would you please hear me out?

I cannot give you the answer you hope for.

I'm sorry.

Oh, Gilbert, you've spoiled everything.

If the real Prince Charming will never come,

I need no substitutes.

Pardon me.

May I offer you the shelter of my umbrella?

P-Pri...

Prince Charming?

You'll get rained on.

Come under my umbrella.

Th-Thank you.

We can wait there until this shower is over.

I didn't know what I would do when my umbrella turned inside out.

If you'd like.

Oh, I have my own! But thank you.

My name is Royal Gardner.

And you are the Miss Shirley who wrote that Tennyson paper, aren't you?

Yes, I am.

I thought so.

Then we are schoolmates, I see.

I'm sorry, but I cannot place you at all.

I'm sure you can't.

I don't belong to any class yet.

I put in two years at Redmond, then I went to Europe for a spell.

Now I've come back to finish my arts course.

This is my junior year, too.

So we are classmates...

As well as college-mates!

I suddenly regret the two years I couldn't spend with you.

It appears even the weather has blessed our meeting.

Come. I'll walk you home.

Oh, you needn't. It isn't far.

Come on.

What shall I call you, Miss Shirley?

Anne. Spelled with an e, if you don't mind.

Anne. How was that?