23 Anne Of Avonlea Read By Stephanie Poppins

Hello.

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.

Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

That's it.

Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Anne of Avonlea This is the second book in the Anne of Green Gables series.

I am delighted to present to you Anne as she has now grown up into an elegant teenager.

Come with me as we hear all the trials and tribulations as she continues on her journey to womanhood.

Chapter 23 Miss Lavender's Romance I think I'll take a walk through to Echo Lodge this evening.

I think I'll take a walk through to Echo Lodge this evening,

Said Anne one Friday afternoon in December.

It looks like snow,

Said Marilla dubiously.

I'll be there before the snow comes and I mean to stay all night.

Diana can't go because she has company and I'm sure Miss Lavender will be looking for me tonight.

It's a whole fortnight since I was there.

Anne had paid many a visit to Echo Lodge since that October day.

Sometimes she and Diana drove round by the road,

Sometimes they walked through the woods.

When Diana could not go,

Anne went alone.

Between her and Miss Lavender had sprung up one of those fervent,

Helpful friendships,

Possible only between a woman who has kept the freshness of youth in her heart and soul,

And a girl whose imagination and intuition supplied the place of experience.

Anne had at last discovered a real kindred spirit.

While into the little lady's lonely,

Sequestered life of dreams,

Anne and Diana came with a wholesome joy and exhilaration of the outer existence which Miss Lavender,

The world forgetting by the world,

Forgot,

Had long ceased to share.

They brought an atmosphere of youth and reality to the little stone house.

Charlotte IV always greeted them with her very widest smile,

And Charlotte's smiles were fearfully wide,

Loving them for the sake of her adored mistress,

As well as for their own.

Never had there been such high jinks held in the little stone house as were held there that beautiful,

Late,

Lingering autumn,

When November seemed October over again,

And even December aped the sunshine in hazes of summer.

But on this particular day,

It seemed as if December had remembered then it was time for winter,

And had turned suddenly dull and brooding,

With a windless hush predictive of coming snow.

Nevertheless,

Anne keenly enjoyed her walk through the great grey maze of the beachlands,

Though alone she never found it lonely.

Her imagination peopled her path with merry companions,

And with these she carried on a gay,

Pretended conversation that was wittier and more fascinating than conversations are apt to be in real life,

Where people sometimes fall,

Most lamentably,

To talk up to the requirements.

In a make-believe assembly of choice spirits,

Everybody says just the thing you want her to say,

And so gives you the chance to say just what you want to say.

Attended by this invisible company,

Anne traversed the woods and arrived at the fir lane,

Just as broad,

Feathery flakes began to flutter down softly.

At the first bend she came upon Miss Lavender,

Standing under a big,

Broad branch fir.

She wore a gown of warm,

Rich red,

And her head and shoulders were wrapped in a silvery-grey silk shawl.

You look like the Queen of the Firwood Fairies,

Called Anne merrily.

I thought you would come along tonight,

Anne,

Said Miss Lavender,

Running forward,

And I'm doubly glad,

For Charlotte IV is away.

Her mother's sick and she had to go home for the night.

I should have been very lonely if you hadn't come.

Even the dreams and the echoes wouldn't have been enough company.

Oh Anne,

How pretty you are,

She added suddenly,

Looking up at the tall,

Slim girl with the soft rose flush walking on her face.

How pretty and how young.

It's so delightful to be seventeen,

Isn't it?

I do envy you,

Concluded Miss Lavender candidly.

But you're only seventeen at heart,

Smiled Anne.

No,

I'm old,

Or rather middle-aged,

Which is far worse,

Sighed Miss Lavender.

Sometimes I can pretend I'm not,

But at other times I realise it.

And I can't reconcile myself to it,

As most women seem to.

I'm just as rebellious as I was when I discovered my first grey hair.

Now Anne,

Don't look as if you were trying to understand.

Seventeen can't understand.

I'm going to pretend right away I'm seventeen too,

And I can do it now that you're here.

You always bring youth in your hand like a gift.

We're going to have a jolly evening.

Tea first.

What do you want for tea?

We'll have whatever you like.

Do think of something nice and indigestible.

There were sounds of riot and mirth in the little stone house that night.

What with cooking and feasting and making candy and laughing and pretending,

It's quite true that Miss Lavender and Anne comported themselves in a fashion entirely unsuited to the dignity of a spinster of forty-five and a sedate schoolmarm.

Then,

When they were tired,

They sat down on the rug before the grate in the parlour,

Lighted only by the soft fireshine,

And perfumed deliciously by Miss Lavender's open rose jar on the mantle.

The wind had risen and was sighing and wailing around the eaves,

And the snow was thudding softly against the windows,

As if a hundred storm sprites were tapping for entrance.

I'm so glad you're here,

Anne,

Said Miss Lavender,

Nibbling at her candy.

If you weren't,

I should be blue,

Very blue,

Almost navy blue.

Dreams and make-believes are very well in the daytime and sunshine,

But when dark and storm come,

They fail to satisfy.

One wants real things,

Then.

But you don't know this.

Seventeen never knows it.

At seventeen,

Dreams do satisfy because you think the realities are waiting for you further on.

When I was seventeen,

Anne,

I didn't think forty-five would find me a little white-haired little old maid with nothing but dreams to fill my life.

But you aren't an old maid,

Said Anne,

Smiling into Miss Lavender's wistful wood-brown eyes.

Old maids are born,

They don't become.

Some are born old maids,

Some achieve old maidenhood,

And some have old maidenhood thrust upon them,

Parodied Miss Lavender whimsically.

You are one of those who have achieved it,

Then,

Laughed Anne,

And you've done it so beautifully that if every old maid were like you,

They would come into the fashion,

I think.

I always like to do things as well as possible,

Said Miss Lavender,

Meditatively.

And since an old maid I had to be,

I was determined to be a very nice one.

People say I'm odd,

But it's just because I follow my own way of being an old maid and refuse to copy the traditional pattern.

Anne,

Did anyone ever tell you anything about Stephen Irving and me?

Yes,

Said Anne,

Candidly.

I've heard that you and he were engaged once.

So we were,

25 years ago,

A lifetime ago,

And we were to have been married the next spring.

I had my wedding dress made,

Though nobody but Mother and Stephen ever knew that.

We'd been engaged in a way almost all our lives,

You might say.

When Stephen was a little boy,

His mother would bring him here when she came to see my mother,

And the second time he ever came,

He was nine and I was six,

He told me out in the garden he had pretty well made up his mind to marry me when he grew up.

I remember that I said,

Thank you,

And when he was gone,

I told Mother very gravely that there was a great weight off my mind because I wasn't frightened anymore about having to be an old maid.

How my mother loved.

And what went wrong,

Asked Anne,

Breathlessly.

We just had a stupid,

Silly,

Commonplace quarrel.

So commonplace,

If you believe me,

I don't even remember just how it began.

I hardly knew who was the more to blame for it.

Stephen did really begin it,

But I suppose I provoked him by some foolishness of mine.

He had a rival or two,

You see.

I was vain,

Coquettish,

And liked to tease him a little.

He was a very highly strung,

Sensitive fellow.

Well,

When we parted,

In a temper on both sides,

I thought it would all come right,

And it would have,

If Stephen hadn't come back too soon.

And,

My dear,

I'm sorry to say,

Miss Lavender dropped her voice as if she were about to confess her predilection for murdering people,

That I'm a dreadfully sulky person.

Oh,

You needn't smile,

It's only too true.

I do sulk.

Stephen came back before I'd finished sulking,

And I wouldn't listen to him,

And I wouldn't forgive him,

And so he went away for good.

He was too proud to come back again,

And then I sulked because he didn't come.

I might have sent for him,

Perhaps,

But I couldn't humble myself to do that.

I was just as proud as he was.

Pride and sulkiness make very bad combination,

Anne.

But I could never care for anybody else,

And I didn't want to.

I knew I would rather be an old maid for a thousand years than marry anyone who wasn't Stephen Irving.

Well,

It all seems like a dream now,

Of course.

How sympathetic you look,

Anne.

As sympathetic as only seventeen can look.

But don't overdo it.

I'm really a very happy,

Contented little person,

In spite of my broken heart.

My heart did break,

If ever a heart did,

When I realised Stephen Irving was not coming back.

But Anne,

A broken heart in real life isn't half as dreadful as it is in books.

It's a good deal like a bad tooth,

Though you won't think that a very romantic simile.

It takes spells of aching and gives you a sleepless night every now and then.

But between times it lets you enjoy life,

And dreams and echoes,

And peanut candy,

As if there were nothing the matter with it.

Now you're looking disappointed.

You don't think I'm half as interesting a person as you did five minutes ago,

When you believed I was always the prey of a tragic memory,

Bravely hidden beneath external smiles.

That's the worst,

Or the best,

Of real life,

Anne.

It won't let you be miserable.

It keeps on trying to make you comfortable,

And succeeding,

Even when you're determined to be unhappy and romantic.

Isn't this candy scrumptious?

I've eaten far more than is good for me already,

But I'm going to keep recklessly on.

After a little silence,

Miss Lavender said abruptly,

It gave me a shock to hear about Stephen's son that first day you were here,

Anne.

I've never been able to mention him to you since,

But I wanted to know all about him.

What sort of a boy is he?

He's the dearest,

Sweetest child I ever knew,

Miss Lavender,

And he pretends things too,

Just like you and me.

I'd like to see him,

Said Miss Lavender,

Softly as if talking to herself.

I wonder if he looks anything like the little dream boy who lives here with me.

My little dream boy.

If you would like to see Paul,

I'll bring him through with me sometime,

Said Anne.

I would like it,

But not too soon.

I want to get used to the thought.

There might be more pain than pleasure in it,

If he looked too much like Stephen,

Or if he didn't look enough like him.

In a month's time,

You may bring him.

Accordingly,

A month later,

Anne and Paul walked through the woods to the stone house and met Miss Lavender in the lane.

She had not been expecting them just then,

And she turned very pale.

So this is Stephen's boy,

She said in a low tone,

Taking Paul's hand and looking at him as he stood,

Beautiful and boyish,

In his smart little fur coat and cap.

He is very like his father.

Everyone says I'm a chip off the old block,

Marked Paul quite at his ease.

Anne,

Who had been watching the little scene,

Drew a relieved breath.

She saw that Miss Lavender and Paul had taken to each other,

And there would be no constraint or stiffness.

Miss Lavender was a very sensible person in spite of her dreams and romance,

And after that first little betrayal,

She tucked her feelings out of sight and entertained Paul as brightly and naturally as if he were anybody's son who'd just come to see her.

They all had a jolly afternoon together,

And such a feast of fat things by way of supper,

As would have made old Mrs Irving hold up her hands in horror,

Believing that Paul's digestion would be ruined forever.

Come again,

Laddie,

Said Miss Lavender,

Shaking hands with him at parting.

You may kiss me if you like,

Said Paul gravely.

Miss Lavender stooped and kissed him.

How did you know I wanted to?

She whispered.

Because you looked at me as my little mother used to when she wanted to kiss me.

As a rule,

I don't like to be kissed,

Boys don't,

You know,

But I think I'd rather like to have you kiss me.

And of course I'll come and see you again.

I think I'd like to have you for a particular friend of mine if you don't object.

I don't think I shall object,

Said Miss Lavender.

Then she turned and went in very quickly,

But a moment later she was waving a gay and smiling goodbye to them from the window.

I like Miss Lavender,

Announced Paul as they walked through the beechwood.

I like the way she looked at me,

And I like her stone house,

And I like Charlotte IV.

I wish Grandma Irving had a Charlotte IV instead of a Mary Jo.

I feel sure Charlotte IV wouldn't think I was wrong in my upper story when I told her what I think about things.

Wasn't that a splendid tea we had,

Teacher?

Grandma says a boy shouldn't be thinking about what he gets to eat,

But he can't help it sometimes when he's real hungry.

You know,

Teacher,

I don't think Miss Lavender would make a boy eat porridge for breakfast if he didn't like it.

She'd get things for him he did like.

But of course,

Paul was nothing if not fair-minded.

That mightn't be very good for him.

It's very nice for a change,

Though,

Teacher,

You know?