They had driven over the crest of a hill. Below them
was a pond, looking almost like a river so long and winding was it. A bridge
spanned it midway and from there to its lower end, where an amber-colored belt of sand-hills shut it in
from the dark blue gulf beyond, the water was a glory of many shifting colors—the
most spiritual shadings of crocus
and rose and ethereal green, with other elusive gradations for which no name
has ever been found. Above the bridge the pond ran up into bordering groups of fir and maple and lay all darkly
translucent in their indecisive shadows. Here and there a wild plum leaned out from the
bank like a white-clad girl tip-toeing to her own reflection. From the swamp at
the head of the pond came the clear, mournfully-sweet chorus of the frogs.
There was a little gray house peering around a white apple orchard on a slope beyond and, although it was not
yet quite dark, a light was shining from one of its windows.
"That's Barry's pond," said Matthew.
"Oh, I don't like that name, either. I shall call
it—let me see—the Lake of Shining Waters. Yes, that is the right name for it. I
know because of the thrill. When I hit on a name that suits exactly it gives me
a thrill. Do things ever give you a thrill?"
Matthew ruminated.
"Well now, yes. It always kind of gives me a
thrill to see them ugly white grubs that dig up in the cucumber beds. I hate the look of
them."
"Oh, I don't think that can be exactly the same
kind of a thrill. Do you think it can? There doesn't seem to be much connection
between grubs and lakes of shining waters, does there? But why do other people
call it Barry's pond?"
"I reckon because Mr. Barry lives up there in
that house. Orchard Slope's the name of his place. If it wasn't for that big
bush behind it you could see Green Gables from here. But we have to go over the
bridge and round by the road, so it's near half a mile further."
"Has Mr. Barry any little girls? Well, not so
very little either—about my size."
"He's got one about eleven. Her name is
Diana."
"Oh!" with a long taking of breath.
"What a perfectly lovely name!"
"Well now, I dunno. There's something dreadful pagan
about it, seems to me. I'd ruther Jane or Mary or some sensible name like that.
But when Diana was born there was a schoolmaster boarding there and they gave
him the naming of her and he called her Diana."
"I wish there had been a schoolmaster like that
around when I was born, then. Oh, here we are at the bridge. I'm going to shut
my eyes tight. I'm always afraid going over bridges. I can't help imagining
that perhaps just as we get to the middle, they'll crush up like a jack-knife
and swallow us. So I shut my eyes. But I always have to open them for all when
I think we're getting near the middle. Because, you see, if the bridge DID crush
up I'd want to SEE it crushing. What a cheerful roar it makes! I always like
the roar part of it. Isn't it splendid there are so many things to like in this
world? There we're over. Now I'll look back. Good night, dear Lake of Shining
Waters. I always say good night to the things I love, just as I would to
people. I think they like it. That water looks as if it was smiling at
me."
When they had driven up the further hill and around a
corner Matthew said:
"We're pretty near home now. That's Green Gables
over—"
"Oh, don't tell me," she interrupted
breathlessly, catching at his partially raised arm and shutting her eyes that
she might not see his gesture. "Let me guess. I'm sure I'll guess
right."
She opened her eyes and looked about her. They were on
the crest of a hill. The sun had set some time since, but the landscape was
still clear in the placid afterlight. To the west a dark church tower rose up
against a marigold
sky. Below was a little valley and beyond a long, gently-rising slope with warm
farms scattered along it. From one to another the child's eyes darted, eager
and reflective. At last they lingered on one away to the left, far back from
the road, faintly white with blossoming trees in the twilight of the surrounding
woods. Over it, in the stainless southwest sky, a great crystal-white star was
shining like a lamp of guidance and promise.
"That's it, isn't it?" she said, pointing.
Matthew slapped the reins on the sorrel's back
delightedly.
"Well now, you've guessed it! But I reckon Mrs.
Spencer described it so's you could tell."
"No, she didn't—really she didn't. All she said
might just as well have been about most of those other places. I hadn't any
real idea what it looked like. But just as soon as I saw it I felt it was home.
Oh, it seems as if I must be in a dream. Do you know, my arm must be black and
blue from the elbow up, for I've pinched myself so many times today. Every
little while a horrible sickening feeling would come over me and I'd be so
afraid it was all a dream. Then I'd pinch myself to see if it was real—until
suddenly I remembered that even supposing it was only a dream I'd better go on
dreaming as long as I could; so I stopped pinching. But it IS real and we're
nearly home."
With a sigh of ecstasy she relapsed into silence.
Matthew moved uneasily. He felt glad that it would be Marilla and not he who
would have to tell this orphan of the world that the home she longed for was
not to be hers after all. They drove over Lynde's Hollow, where it was already
quite dark, but not so dark that Mrs. Rachel could not see them from her
window, and up the hill and into the long lane of Green Gables. By the time
they arrived at the house Matthew was hesitating from the approaching
revelation with an energy he did not understand. It was not of Marilla or
himself he was thinking of the trouble this mistake was probably going to make
for them, but of the child's disappointment. When he thought of that absorbed
light being suppresed in her eyes he had an uncomfortable feeling that he was
going to assist at murdering something—much the same feeling that came over him
when he had to kill a lamb or calf or any other innocent little creature.
The yard was quite dark as they turned into it and the
poplar leaves were
rustling silkily all round it.
"Listen to the trees talking in their
sleep," she whispered, as he lifted her to the ground. "What nice
dreams they must have!"
Then, holding tightly to the carpet-bag which
contained "all her worldly goods," she followed him into the house. (inglés más fácil)
Vocabulario
Crocus: azafrán
Fir: abeto
Maple: arce
Plum: ciruelo
Apple orchard: manzanar
Grubs: larvas
Marigold: maravillas (flores)
Poplar: álamo
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te gustó esto compartílo con tus amigos o mandános una crítica
Estamos en Gral Güemes 561. Teléfonos
4249159-155723965. 4400 Salta, Argentina
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