Emily of New Moon is the first in a series of novels by Lucy Maud Montgomery about an orphan girl growing up in Canada. It is similar to the author's Anne of Green Gables series. It was first published in 1923.
Emily of New Moon is the first in a series of novels by Lucy Maud Montgomery about an orphan girl growing up in Canada. It is similar to the author's Anne of Green Gables series. It was first published in 1923.
The house in the hollow was "a mile from anywhere"--so Maywood
People said. It was situated in a grassy little dale, looking as
If it had never been built like other houses but had grown up there
Like a big, brown mushroom. It was reached by a long, green lane
And almost hidden from view by an encircling growth of young
Birches. No other house could be seen from it although the village
Was just over the hill. Ellen Greene said it was the lonesomest
Place in the world and vowed that she wouldn't stay there a day if
It wasn't that she pitied the child.
Emily didn't know she was being pitied and didn't know what
Lonesomeness meant. She had plenty of company. There was Father--
And Mike--and Saucy Sal. The Wind Woman was always around; and
There were the trees--Adam-and-Eve, and the Rooster Pine, and all
The friendly lady-birches.
And there was "the flash, " too. She never knew when it might come, And the possibility of it kept her a-thrill and expectant.
Emily had slipped away in the chilly twilight for a walk. She
Remembered that walk very vividly all her life--perhaps because of
A certain eerie beauty that was in it--perhaps because "the flash"
Came for the first time in weeks--more likely because of what
Happened after she came back from it.
It had been a dull, cold day in early May, threatening to rain but
Never raining. Father had lain on the sitting-room lounge all day.
He had coughed a good deal and he had not talked much to Emily, Which was a very unusual thing for him. Most of the time he lay
With his hands clasped under his head and his large, sunken, dark-
Blue eyes fixed dreamily and unseeingly on the cloudy sky that was
Visible between the boughs of the two big spruces in the front
Yard--Adam-and-Eve, they always called those spruces, because of a
Whimsical resemblance Emily had traced between their position, with
Reference to a small apple-tree between them, and that of Adam and
Eve and the Tree of Knowledge in an old-fashioned picture in one of
Ellen Greene's books. The Tree of Knowledge looked exactly like
The squat little apple-tree, and Adam and Eve stood up on either
Side as stiffly and rigidly as did the spruces.
Emily wondered what Father was thinking of, but she never bothered
Him with questions when his cough was bad. She only wished she had
Somebody to talk to. Ellen Greene wouldn't talk that day either.
She did nothing but grunt, and grunts meant that Ellen was
Disturbed about something. She had grunted last night after the
Doctor had whispered to her in the kitchen, and she had grunted
When she gave Emily a bedtime snack of bread and molasses. Emily
Did not like bread and molasses, but she ate it because she did not
Want to hurt Ellen's feelings. It was not often that Ellen allowed
Her anything to eat before going to bed, and when she did it meant
That for some reason or other she wanted to confer a special
Favour.
Emily expected the grunting attack would wear off over night, as it
Generally did; but it had not, so no company was to be found in
Ellen. Not that there was a great deal to be found at any time.
Douglas Starr had once, in a fit of exasperation, told Emily that
"Ellen Greene was a fat, lazy old thing of no importance, " and
Emily, whenever she looked at Ellen after that, thought the
Description fitted her to a hair. So Emily had curled herself up
In the ragged, comfortable old wing-chair and read The Pilgrim's
Progress all the afternoon. Emily loved The Pilgrim's Progress.
Many a time had she walked the straight and narrow path with
Christian and Christiana--although she never liked Christiana's
Adventures half as well as Christian's. For one thing, there was
Always such a crowd with Christiana. She had not half the
Fascination of that solitary, intrepid figure who faced all alone
The shadows of the Dark Valley and the encounter with Apollyon.
Darkness and hobgoblins were nothing when you had plenty of
Company. But to be ALONE--ah, Emily shivered with the delicious
Horror of it!
When Ellen announced that supper was ready Douglas Starr told Emily
To go out to it.
"I don't want anything to-night. I'll just lie here and rest. And
When you come in again we'll have a real talk, Elfkin."
He smiled up at her his old, beautiful smile, with the love behind
It, that Emily always found so sweet. She ate her supper quite
Happily--though it wasn't a good supper. The bread was soggy and
Her egg was underdone, but for a wonder she was allowed to have
Both Saucy Sal and Mike sitting, one on each side of her, and Ellen
Only grunted when Emily fed them wee bits of bread and butter.
Mike had such a cute way of sitting up on his haunches and catching
The bits in his paws, and Saucy Sal had HER trick of touching
Emily's ankle with an almost human touch when her turn was too long
In coming. Emily loved them both, but Mike was her favourite. He
Was a handsome, dark-grey cat with huge owl-like eyes, and he was
So soft and fat and fluffy. Sal was always thin; no amount of
Feeding put any flesh on her bones. Emily liked her, but never
Cared to cuddle or stroke her because of her thinness. Yet there
Was a sort of weird beauty about her that appealed to Emily. She
Was grey-and-white--very white and very sleek, with a long, pointed
Face, very long ears and very green eyes. She was a redoubtable
Fighter, and strange cats were vanquished in one round. The
Fearless little spitfire would even attack dogs and rout them
Utterly.
Emily loved her pussies. She had brought them up herself, as she
Proudly said. They had been given to her when they were kittens by
Her Sunday-school teacher.
"A LIVING present is so nice, " she told Ellen, "because it keeps on
Getting nicer all the time."
But she worried considerably because Saucy Sal didn't have kittens.
"I don't know why she doesn't, " she complained to Ellen Greene.
"Most cats seem to have more kittens than they know what to do
With."
After supper Emily went in and found that her father had fallen
Asleep. She was very glad of this; she knew he had not slept much
For two nights; but she was a little disappointed that they were
Not going to have that "real talk." "Real" talks with Father were
Always such delightful things. But next best would be a walk--a
Lovely all-by-your-lonesome walk through the grey evening of the
Young spring. It was so long since she had had a walk.
"You put on your hood and mind you scoot back if it starts to
Rain, " warned Ellen. "YOU can't monkey with colds the way some
Kids can."
"Why can't I?" Emily asked rather indignantly. Why must SHE be
Debarred from "monkeying with colds" if other children could? It
Wasn't fair.
But Ellen only grunted. Emily muttered under her breath for her
Own satisfaction, "You are a fat old thing of no importance!" and
Slipped upstairs to get her hood--rather reluctantly, for she loved
To run bareheaded. She put the faded blue hood on over her long, Heavy braid of glossy, jet-black hair, and smiled chummily at her
Reflection in the little greenish glass. The smile began at the
Corners of her lips and spread over her face in a slow, subtle, Very wonderful way, as Douglas Starr often thought. It was her
Dead mother's smile--the thing that had caught and held him long
Ago when he had first seen Juliet Murray. It seemed to be Emily's
Only physical inheritance from her mother. In all else, he
Thought, she was like the Starrs--in her large, purplish-grey eyes
With their very long lashes and black brows, in her high, white
Forehead--too high for beauty--in the delicate modelling of her
Pale oval face and sensitive mouth, in the little ears that were
Pointed just a wee bit to show that she was kin to tribes of
Elfland.
"I'm going for a walk with the Wind Woman, dear, " said Emily. "I
Wish I could take you, too. Do you EVER get out of that room, I
Wonder. The Wind Woman is going to be out in the fields to-night.
She is tall and misty, with thin, grey, silky clothes blowing all
About her--and wings like a bat's--only you can see through them--
And shining eyes like stars looking through her long, loose hair.
She can fly--but to-night she will walk with me all over the
Fields. She's a GREAT friend of mine--the Wind Woman is. I've
Known her ever since I was six. We're OLD, OLD friends--but not
Quite so old as you and I, little Emily-in-the-glass. We've been
Friends ALWAYS, haven't we?"
With a blown kiss to little Emily-in-the-glass, Emily-out-of-the-
Glass was off.
The Wind Woman was waiting for her outside--ruffling the little
Spears of striped grass that were sticking up stiffly in the bed
Under the sitting-room window--tossing the big boughs of Adam-and-
Eve--whispering among the misty green branches of the birches--
Teasing the "Rooster Pine" behind the house--it really did look
Like an enormous, ridiculous rooster, with a huge, bunchy tail and
A head thrown back to crow.
It was so long since Emily had been out for a walk that she was
Half crazy with the joy of it. The winter had been so stormy and
The snow so deep that she was never allowed out; April had been a
Month of rain and wind; so on this May evening she felt like a
Released prisoner. Where should she go? Down the brook--or over
The fields to the spruce barrens? Emily chose the latter.
She loved the spruce barrens, away at the further end of the long, Sloping pasture. That was a place where magic was made. She came
More fully into her fairy birthright there than in any other place.
Nobody who saw Emily skimming over the bare field would have envied
Her. She was little and pale and poorly clad; sometimes she
Shivered in her thin jacket; yet a queen might have gladly given a
Crown for her visions--her dreams of wonder. The brown, frosted
Grasses under her feet were velvet piles. The old mossy, gnarled
Half-dead spruce-tree, under which she paused for a moment to look
Up into the sky, was a marble column in a palace of the gods; the
Far dusky hills were the ramparts of a city of wonder. And for
Companions she had all the fairies of the country-side--for she
Could believe in them here--the fairies of the white clover and
Satin catkins, the little green folk of the grass, the elves of the
Young fir-trees, sprites of wind and wild fern and thistledown.
Anything might happen there--everything might come true.
And the barrens were such a splendid place in which to play hide
And seek with the Wind Woman. She was so very REAL there; if you
Could just spring quickly enough around a little cluster of
Spruces--only you never could--you would SEE her as well as feel
Her and hear her. There she was--that WAS the sweep of her grey
Cloak--no, she was laughing up in the very top of the taller trees--
And the chase was on again--till, all at once, it seemed as if the
Wind Woman were gone--and the evening was bathed in a wonderful
Silence--and there was a sudden rift in the curdled clouds
Westward, and a lovely, pale, pinky-green lake of sky with a new
Moon in it.
Emily stood and looked at it with clasped hands and her little
Black head upturned. She must go home and write down a description
Of it in the yellow account-book, where the last thing written had
Been, "Mike's Biography." It would hurt her with its beauty until
She wrote it down. Then she would read it to Father. She must not
Forget how the tips of the trees on the hill came out like fine
Black lace across the edge of the pinky-green sky.
And then, for one glorious, supreme moment, came "the flash."
Emily called it that, although she felt that the name didn't
Exactly describe it. It couldn't be described--not even to Father, Who always seemed a little puzzled by it. Emily never spoke of it
To any one else.
It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that
She was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it
And herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the
Curtain aside--but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered
It and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting
Realm beyond--only a glimpse--and heard a note of unearthly music.
This moment came rarely--went swiftly, leaving her breathless with
The inexpressible delight of it. She could never recall it--never
Summon it--never pretend it; but the wonder of it stayed with her
For days. It never came twice with the same thing. To-night the
Dark boughs against that far-off sky had given it. It had come
With a high, wild note of wind in the night, with a shadow wave
Over a ripe field, with a greybird lighting on her window-sill in a
Storm, with the singing of "Holy, holy, holy" in church, with a
Glimpse of the kitchen fire when she had come home on a dark autumn
Night, with the spirit-like blue of ice palms on a twilit pane, With a felicitous new word when she was writing down a "description"
Of something. And always when the flash came to her Emily felt that
Life was a wonderful, mysterious thing of persistent beauty.
She scuttled back to the house in the hollow, through the gathering
Twilight, all agog to get home and write down her "description"
Before the memory picture of what she had seen grew a little
Blurred. She knew just how she would begin it--the sentence seemed
To shape itself in her mind: "The hill called to me and something
In me called back to it."
She found Ellen Greene waiting for her on the sunken front-
Doorstep. Emily was so full of happiness that she loved everything
At that moment, even fat things of no importance. She flung her
Arms around Ellen's knees and hugged them. Ellen looked down
Gloomily into the rapt little face, where excitement had kindled a
Faint wild-rose flush, and said, with a ponderous sigh:
"Do you know that your pa has only a week or two more to live?"
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