Kilmeny of the OrchardMontgomery, L. M. (Lucy Maud)
General
Kilmeny of the Orchard
Montgomery, L. M. (Lucy Maud)
Mute persons -- Juvenile fiction; Prince Edward Island -- Juvenile fiction; Teachers -- Juvenile fiction
Kilmeny held out her hand with a smile. Her beauty, as she stood there
in the fresh morning sunshine beside a clump of her sister lilies,
was something to take away a man’s breath. David, who was by no means
lacking in confidence and generally had a ready tongue where women were
concerned, found himself as mute and awkward as a school boy, as he
bowed over her hand.
But Kilmeny was charmingly at ease. There was not a trace of
embarrassment in her manner, though there was a pretty shyness. Eric
smiled as he recalled HIS first meeting with her. He suddenly realized
how far Kilmeny had come since then and how much she had developed.
With a little gesture of invitation Kilmeny led the way through the
orchard to the wild cherry lane, and the two men followed.
“Eric, she is simply unutterable!” said David in an undertone. “Last
night, to tell you the truth, I had a rather poor opinion of your
sanity. But now I am consumed with a fierce envy. She is the loveliest
creature I ever saw.”
Eric introduced David to the Gordons and then hurried away to his
school. On his way down the Gordon lane he met Neil and was half
startled by the glare of hatred in the Italian boy’s eyes. Pity
succeeded the momentary alarm. Neil’s face had grown thin and haggard;
his eyes were sunken and feverishly bright; he looked years older than
on the day when Eric had first seen him in the brook hollow.
Prompted by sudden compassionate impulse Eric stopped and held out his
hand.
“Neil, can’t we be friends?” he said. “I am sorry if I have been the
cause of inflicting pain on you.”
“Friends! Never!” said Neil passionately. “You have taken Kilmeny from
me. I shall hate you always. And I’ll be even with you yet.”
He strode fiercely up the lane, and Eric, with a shrug of his shoulders,
went on his way, dismissing the meeting from his mind.
The day seemed interminably long to him. David had not returned when
he went home to dinner; but when he went to his room in the evening he
found his friend there, staring out of the window.
“Well,” he said, impatiently, as David wheeled around but still kept
silence, “What have you to say to me? Don’t keep me in suspense any
longer, David. I have endured all I can. To-day has seemed like a
thousand years. Have you discovered what is the matter with Kilmeny?”
“There is nothing the matter with her,” answered David slowly, flinging
himself into a chair by the window.
“What do you mean?”
“Just exactly what I say. Her vocal organs are all perfect. As far as
they are concerned, there is absolutely no reason why she should not
speak.”
“Then why can’t she speak? Do you think--do you think--”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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