Lucy Maud Montgomery - The Complete Novels of Lucy Maud Montgomery - 20 Titles in One Volume - Including Anne of Green Gables Series, Emily Starr Trilogy, The Blue Castle, The Story Girl & Pat of Silver Bush Series

“Dovie Westcott, did you forget that you promised to marry Jarvis Morrow tonight … tonight?”

“No … no …” whimpered Dovie. “Oh, Anne, I’m so unhappy … I’ve put in such a dreadful day. You can never, never know what I’ve gone through.”

“I know what poor Jarvis has gone through, waiting for two hours at that lane in the cold and drizzle,” said Anne mercilessly.

“Is he … is he very angry, Anne?”

“Just what you could notice” … bitingly.

“Oh, Anne, I just got frightened. I never slept one wink last night. I couldn’t go through with it … I couldn’t. I … there’s really something disgraceful about eloping, Anne. And I wouldn’t get any nice presents … well, not many, anyhow. I’ve always wanted to be m … m … arried in church … with lovely decorations … and a white veil and dress … and s … s … ilver slippers!”

“Dovie Westcott, get right out of that bed … at once … and get dressed … and come with me.”

“Anne … it’s too late now.”

“It isn’t too late. And it’s now or never … you must know that, Dovie, if you’ve a grain of sense. You must know Jarvis Morrow will never speak to you again if you make a fool of him like this.”

“Oh, Anne, he’ll forgive me when he knows …”

“He won’t. I know Jarvis Morrow. He isn’t going to let you play indefinitely with his life. Dovie, do you want me to drag you bodily out of bed?”

Dovie shuddered and sighed.

“I haven’t any suitable dress …”

“You’ve half-a-dozen pretty dresses. Put on your rose taffeta.”

“And I haven’t any trousseau. The Morrows will always cast that up to me… .”

“You can get one afterwards. Dovie, didn’t you weigh all these things in the balance before?”

“No … no … that’s just the trouble. I only began to think of them last night. And Father … you don’t know Father, Anne… .”

“Dovie. I’ll give you just ten minutes to get dressed!”

Dovie was dressed in the specified time.

“This dress is g … g … getting too tight for me,” she sobbed as Anne hooked her up. “If I get much fatter I don’t suppose Jarvis will l … l … love me. I wish I was tall and slim and pale, like you, Anne. Oh, Anne, what if Aunt Maggie hears us!”

“She won’t. She’s shut in the kitchen and you know she’s a little deaf. Here’s your hat and coat and I’ve tumbled a few things into this bag.”

“Oh, my heart is fluttering so. Do I look terrible, Anne?”

“You look lovely,” said Anne sincerely. Dovie’s satin skin was rose and cream and all her tears hadn’t spoiled her eyes. But Jarvis couldn’t see her eyes in the dark and he was just a little annoyed with his adored fair one and rather cool during the drive to town.

“For Heaven’s sake, Dovie, don’t look so scared over having to marry me,” he said impatiently as she came down the stairs of the Stevens house. “And don’t cry … it will make your nose swell. It’s nearly ten o’clock and we’ve got to catch the eleven o’clock train.”

Dovie was quite all right as soon as she found herself irrevocably married to Jarvis. What Anne rather cattishly described in a letter to Gilbert as “the honeymoon look” was already on her face.

“Anne, darling, we owe it all to you. We’ll never forget it, will we, Jarvis? And, oh, Anne darling, will you do just one more thing for me? Please break the news to Father. He’ll be home early tomorrow evening … and somebody has got to tell him. You can smooth him over if anybody can. Please do your best to get him to forgive me.”

Anne felt she rather needed some smoothing-over herself just then; but she also felt rather uneasily responsible for the outcome of the affair, so she gave the required promise.

“Of course he’ll be terrible … simply terrible, Anne … but he can’t kill you,” said Dovie comfortingly. “Oh, Anne, you don’t know …you can’t realize … how safe I feel with Jarvis.”

When Anne got home Rebecca Dew had reached the point where she had to satisfy her curiosity or go mad. She followed Anne to the tower room in her nightdress, with a square of flannel wrapped round her head, and heard the whole story.

“Well, I suppose this is what you might call ‘life,’” she said sarcastically. “But I’m real glad Franklin Westcott has got his comeuppance at last, and so will Mrs. Captain MacComber be. But I don’t envy you the job of breaking the news to him. He’ll rage and utter vain things. If I was in your shoes, Miss Shirley, I wouldn’t sleep one blessed wink tonight.”

“I feel that it won’t be a very pleasant experience,” agreed Anne ruefully.

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Anne betook herself to Elmcroft the next evening, walking through the dreamlike landscape of a November fog with a rather sinking sensation pervading her being. It was not exactly a delightful errand. As Dovie had said, of course Franklin Westcott wouldn’t kill her. Anne did not fear physical violence … though if all the tales told of him were true, he might throw something at her. Would he gibber with rage? Anne had never seen a man gibbering with rage and she imagined it must be a rather unpleasant sight. But he would probably exercise his noted gift for unpleasant sarcasm, and sarcasm, in man or woman, was the one weapon Anne dreaded. It always hurt her … raised blisters on her soul that smarted for months.

“Aunt Jamesina used to say, ‘Never, if you can help it, be the bringer of ill news,’” reflected Anne. “She was as wise in that as in everything else. Well, here I am.”

Elmcroft was an old-fashioned house with towers at every corner and a bulbous cupola on the roof. And at the top of the flight of front steps sat the dog.

“‘If they take hold they never let go,’” remembered Anne. Should she try going round to the side door? Then the thought that Franklin Westcott might be watching her from the window braced her up. Never would she give him the satisfaction of seeing that she was afraid of his dog. Resolutely, her head held high, she marched up the steps, past the dog and rang the bell. The dog had not stirred. When Anne glanced at him over her shoulder he was apparently asleep.

Franklin Westcott, it transpired, was not at home but was expected every minute, as the Charlottetown train was due. Aunt Maggie convoyed Anne into what she called the “liberry” and left her there. The dog had got up and followed them in. He came and arranged himself at Anne’s feet.

Anne found herself liking the “liberry.” It was a cheerful, shabby room, with a fire glowing cozily in the grate, and bearskin rugs on the worn red carpet of the floor. Franklin Westcott evidently did himself well in regard to books and pipes.

Presently she heard him come in. He hung up his hat and coat in the hall: he stood in the library doorway with a very decided scowl on his brow. Anne recalled that her impression of him the first time she had seen him was that of a rather gentlemanly pirate, and she felt a repetition of it.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said rather gruffly. “Well, and what do you want?”

He had not even offered to shake hands with her. Of the two, Anne thought the dog had decidedly the better manners.

“Mr. Westcott, please hear me through patiently before …”

“I am patient … very patient. Proceed!”

Anne decided that there was no use beating about the bush with a man like Franklin Westcott.

“I have come to tell you,” she said steadily, “that Dovie has married Jarvis Morrow.”

Then she waited for the earthquake. None came. Not a muscle of Franklin Westcott’s lean brown face changed. He came in and sat down in the bandy-legged leather chair opposite Anne.