L M Montgomery Short Stories - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

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

Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.

And let all the worries of the day drift away.

This is your time and your space.

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

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

A Millionaire's Proposal A short story by L.

M.

Montgomery Thrush Hill,

October the 5th It is all settled at last and in another week I shall have left Thrush Hill.

I am a little bit sorry and a great bit glad.

I am going to Montreal to spend the winter with Alicia.

Alicia used to be playing Alice when she lived at Thrush Hill and made her own dresses and trimmed her own hats.

She is my half-sister.

She is eight years older than I am and we are both orphans.

Aunt Elizabeth brought us up here at Thrush Hill,

The most delightful old country place in the world,

Half smothered in big willows and poplars,

Every one of which I have climbed in the early tomboy days of gingham pinafores and sun bonnets.

When Alicia was 18,

She married Roger Gresham,

A man of 40.

The world said she married him for his money.

I dare say she did.

Alicia was tired of poverty.

I don't blame her.

Very likely I shall do the same thing one of these days if I get the chance.

I too am tired of poverty.

When Alicia went to Montreal,

She wanted to go to the beach.

She wanted to take me with her,

But I wanted to be outdoors,

Romping in the hay or running wild in the woods with Jack.

Jack Willoughby,

Dr John H.

Willoughby,

It reads on his office door,

Was the son of our nearest neighbour.

We were chums always and when he went away to college,

I was heartbroken.

The vacations were the only joy of my life then.

I don't know just when I began to notice a change in Jack,

But when he came home two years ago,

A full-fledged MD,

A great tall,

Broad-shouldered fellow with the sweetest moustache and lovely thick black hair,

Just made for poking one's fingers through,

I realised it to the full.

Jack was grown up.

The dear old days of bird nesting and nutting and coasting and fishing,

And general delightful goings-on,

Were over forever.

I was sorry at first.

I wanted Jack.

Dr Willoughby seemed too distinguished and too far away.

I suppose he found a change in me too.

I'd put on long skirts and wore my hair up.

I found I had a complexion and sunburn was not becoming.

I honestly thought I looked pretty,

But Jack surveyed me with decided disapprobation.

What have you done to yourself?

He said,

You don't look like the same girl.

I'd never know you in that wig out with all those flippery,

Trippery curls all over your head.

Why don't you comb your hair straight back and let it hang like a braided tail like you used to?

This did not suit me at all.

When I expect a compliment and get something quite different,

I always get snippy.

So I said,

I supposed I wasn't the same girl.

I'd grown up and if he didn't like my curls,

He needn't look at them.

For my part,

I thought them infinitely preferable to that horrid,

Conceited looking moustache he'd grown.

I'll shave it off if it doesn't suit you,

Said Jack amiably.

He's always so provokingly good humoured.

When you've taken pains and put yourself out,

Even to the extent of fibbing about a moustache to exasperate a person,

There is nothing more annoying than to have him keep being perfectly angelic.

But after a while,

Jack and I adjusted ourselves to the change in each other and became very good friends again.

It was quite a different friendship from the old one,

But it was very pleasant.

I'll admit that much.

I was provoked at Jack's determination to settle down for life in Valleyfield,

A horrible,

Humdrum little country village.

You'll never make your fortune there,

Jack,

I said spitefully.

You'll just be a poor,

Struggling country doc all your life and you'll be grey at 40.

I don't expect to make a fortune,

Kitty,

He said.

Do you think that's the one desirable thing?

I'll never be a rich man,

But riches are not the only thing that makes life pleasant.

Well,

I think they have a good deal to do with it anyhow,

I retorted.

It's all very well to pretend to despise wealth,

But it's generally a case of sour grapes.

I will own up honestly,

I'd love to be rich.

It always seems to make Jack blue and grumpy when I talk like that.

I suppose that's the one reason why he never asked me to settle down in life as a country doctor's wife.

Another was,

No doubt,

I always nipped his sentimental sproutings religiously in the bud.

Three weeks ago,

Alicia wrote to me asking me to spend the winter with her.

Her letters always make me gasp with longing for the life they describe.

Jack's face when I told him about it was so woe-be-gone,

I felt a stab of remorse.

Do you really mean it,

Kitty?

Are you going away to leave me?

You won't miss me much,

I said flippantly.

I had a creepy,

Crawly presentiment that a scene of some kind was threatening.

And I'm awfully tired of Thrush Hill and country life,

Jack.

I suppose it's horribly ungrateful of me to say so,

But it's the truth.

I shall miss you,

He said soberly.

Somehow he had my hands in his.

How did he get them there?

I was sure I had them safely tucked out of harm's way.

You know,

Kitty,

I love you,

He said.

I'm a poor man.

Perhaps I may be never anything else.

And this may seem to you very presumptuous.

But I can't let you go like this.

Will you be my wife?

Wasn't it horribly straightforward and direct?

I tried to pull my hands away,

But he held them fast.

There was nothing to do but answer him.

That no,

I determined to say,

Must be said.

But how woefully did it stick in my throat?

I honestly believe that by the time I got it out,

It would have been transformed into a yes in spite of me,

Had it not been for a certain paragraph in a licious letter,

Which came providentially to my mind.

Not to flatter you,

Catherine,

She said.

You are a beauty,

My dear.

And if your photo is to be trusted,

If you have not discovered that fact before,

You soon will in Montreal.

With your face and figure,

You will make a sensation.

There is to be a nephew of the Sinclairs here this winter.

He's an American,

Immensely wealthy,

And he will be the catch of the season.

Don't get into any foolish entanglement down there.

I heard some gossip of you and our old playfellow,

Jack Willoughby.

You can do better than that.

That settled Jack's fate,

If there ever had been any doubt.

Don't talk like that,

Jack,

I said horridly.

It's all nonsense.

I think a great deal of you as a friend,

And I can never marry you.

Are you sure,

Kitty,

He said.

Don't you care for me at all?

It was horrid of Jack to ask that question.

No,

I said miserably.

Not in that way,

Jack.

Don't ever say anything like this to me again.

Then he let go of my hands,

Wiped to the lips.

Don't look like that,

I entreated.

But he said he would not bother me again.

And it was foolish of me to expect or hope for anything of the sort.

Montreal,

December the 16th.

This is a nice way to keep a journal.

But the days when I could write regularly are gone by.

That was when I was at Thrush Hill.

I am having a simply divine time.

How in the world did I ever contrive to live at Thrush Hill?

To be sure,

I felt badly enough that day in October when I left.

When the train left Valleyfield,

I cried like a baby.

But Alicia and Roger welcomed me very heartily.

And after the first week of homesickness,

I settled down to my new life as if I'd been born to it.

Do you know,

Catherine,

Said Alicia,

I'm glad to see your photograph didn't flatter you.

Photographs so often do.

I am positively surprised at the way you've developed,

My dear.

You used to be such a scrawny little brown thing.

By the way,

I hope there's nothing between you and Jack Willoughby.

Of course not,

I answered hurriedly.

I'm glad of that,

Said Alicia.

Of course,

I've no doubt Jack is a good fellow enough.

He was a nice boy,

But he would not be a suitable husband for you.

I knew that very well.

But it made me wince to hear Alicia say it.

Since then,

I've been having the gayest time imaginable.

Dances,

Dinners,

Luncheons,

Afternoon teas,

Functions,

No end.

And all delightful.

But what is more to the purpose?

Gus St.

Clair admires the statuesque style.

And that is what I am aiming to be.

I am pale as usual.

I never have any colour.

But Gus St.

Clair thinks that's perfect.

Unlike Jack.

This used to be one of Jack's grievances.

He likes pink and white milkmaidish girls.

My magnificent pallor didn't suit him at all.

Montreal,

January the 20th.

It is a whole month since my last entry.

I'm sitting here decked out in gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls for Mrs Currie's dance.

These few minutes after I emerge from the hands of my maid,

And before the carriage is announced,

Are almost the only ones I ever have to myself.

I am having a good time still.

Somehow,

Though it isn't as exciting as it used to be,

I'm afraid I'm very changeable.

I believe I must be homesick.

I'd love to get a glimpse of dear old Thrush Hill and Aunt Elizabeth and.

.

.

No,

I will not write that.

Mr St.

Clair has not spoken yet,

But there's no doubt he soon will.

Of course,

I shall accept him when he does,

And I coolly told Alicia so when she just as coolly asked me what I meant to do.

Certainly I shall marry him,

I said crossly.

The subject always irritates me.

Haven't I been laying myself out all winter to catch him?

That is the bold,

Naked truth,

And ugly enough it is.

My dearly beloved sister,

I mean to accept Mr St.

Clair,

I said,

Without any hesitation whenever I get the chance.

Sometimes I get snippy with Alicia these days.

Montreal,

January 25th.

It is bedtime,

But I'm too excited and happy and miserable to sleep.

Jack has been here,

Dear old Jack.

How glad I was to see him.

His coming was so unexpected.

I was sitting alone in my room this afternoon,

I believe I was moping,

When Bessie brought up his card.

I gave it one rapturous look and tore downstairs,

Passing Alicia in the hall like a whirlwind,

And burst into the drawing room in a most undignified way.

Jack,

I cried,

Holding out both hands.

There he was,

Just the same old Jack,

With his splendid big shoulders and lovely brown eyes.

And his necktie was crooked too.

As soon as I could get my hands free,

I put them up and straightened it out for him.

How nice and old-timey that was.

So you're glad to see me,

Kitty,

He said,

As he squeezed my hands in his big strong paws.

Deed I am,

Jack,

I said.

I thought you'd forgotten me altogether.

I've so many questions to ask,

I don't know where to begin.

Tell me all the Thrush Hill and Valleyfield news.

Why didn't you come to see me before?

I didn't think I'd be wanted,

Kitty,

He answered quickly.

You seemed to be so absorbed in your new life,

All friends and interests were crowded out.

At that moment,

I had on a particularly fetching gown and knew I was looking my best.

Jack,

However,

Looked me over with his head on one side.

That is a stunning sort of dress you have on,

He said.

Not so pretty,

Though,

As that old blue muslin you used to wear last summer.

Your hair's pretty good,

But you look rather disdainful.

I believe I prefer Thrush Hill,

Kitty.

Just how like Jack that was.

He never thought me really pretty and he's too honest to pretend he does.

But I didn't care,

I just laughed and we sat down together and had a long,

Delightful,

Chummy talk.

In due time,

Alicia sailed in.

I suppose she'd found out from Bessie who my caller was and felt rather worried over the length of our tête-à-tête.

She greeted Jack very graciously,

But with a certain polite condescension of which she's past mistress.

I'm sure Jack felt it,

For as soon as he decently could,

He got up to go.

Alicia asked him to remain to dinner.

We're having a few friends to dine with us,

But it's quite an informal affair,

She said.

I felt Jack glance at me for the fraction of a second,

But I remembered Gus Sinclair was coming and I did not look back.

He declined quietly.

He had a business engagement,

He said.

I suppose Alicia'd noticed that look in me for she showed her claws.

Don't forget to call any time you're in Montreal,

She said.

I'm sure Catherine will always be glad to see any of her old friends,

Although some of her new ones are proving very absorbing.

One especially.

Oh,

Don't blush,

Catherine.

I'm sure Mr.

Willoughby won't tell any tales out of school to your old Valleyfield friends.

Just at dusk,

A box arrived with Jack's compliments.

It was full of lovely white carnations and must have cost the extravagant fellow more than he has any business to waste on flowers.

I was beast enough to put them on when I went down to listen to another man's lovemaking.

Ah,

Poor Alicia,

I congratulate you,

My dear.

Mrs.

Sinclair asked if he might see you alone tomorrow afternoon.

Aren't your congratulations a little premature?

I asked coldly.

I haven't accepted him yet.

But you will.

Certainly,

Isn't it what we've schemed and angled for?

I'm very well satisfied,

I said.

And so I am,

But I wish it hadn't come so soon after Jack's visit.

I feel rather upset.

Of course,

I like Gus Sinclair very much and I'm sure I shall be very fond of him.

Well,

Now I must go to bed and get my beauty sleep.

I don't want to be haggard and hollow-eyed at that important interview tomorrow,

Do I?

Thrush Hill,

May the 6th Well,

It did decide it,

But not exactly in the way I anticipated.

I can look back on the whole affair quite calmly now,

But I wouldn't live it over again for all the wealth of the world.

That day when Gus Sinclair came,

I was all ready.

I put on my prettiest new gown and Alicia smiled and reassured me.

So cool and composed,

She said.

Will you be able to keep that up?

Don't you really feel a little nervous?

I'm sure you will be perfect,

Though.

I'm not nervous in the least,

I said.

I suppose I ought to be according to tradition,

But I never felt less flustered in my life.

When Bessie brought up Gus Sinclair's card,

Alicia dropped a pecky little kiss on my cheek and pushed me towards the door.

I went down calmly,

Although I'll admit my heart was beating wildly.

Gus Sinclair was plainly nervous,

But I was composed enough for both of us.

You would really have thought I was in the habit of being proposed to by a millionaire every day.

I suppose you know what I've come to say,

He said.

I leaned gracefully back in a big chair,

Having taken care the folds of my dress fell just as they should.

He proceeded to say it in rather a jumbled up fashion,

But very sincerely.

And when he ended with a self-saying question that Jack had asked me three months before,

He stopped and took my hands.

His good homely face was close to mine,

And in his eyes was an unmistakable look of love and tenderness.

I opened my mouth to say yes,

And there came over me in one rush,

The most awful realisation of the sacrilege I was going to commit.

I forgot everything except that I loved Jack Willoughby,

And I could never,

Never marry anyone in the world except him.

I pulled my hands away and burst into hysterical,

Undignified tears.

I beg your pardon,

Said Mr Sinclair,

I didn't mean to startle you,

Have I been too abrupt?

He must have known,

He must have expected.

I knew,

I cried miserably,

And I intended right up to this very minute to marry you.

I'm so sorry,

But I really can't.

Don't you care for me?

He asked.

No,

That's just it.

I don't love you at all,

And I do love somebody else,

But he's poor and I hate poverty,

So I refused him,

And I meant to marry you just because you're rich.

Such a pained look came over his face.

I did not think this of you,

He said in a low tone.

I know,

I've acted shamefully,

I said.

You can't think any worse of me than I do of myself.

How you must despise me now.

No,

He said with a grim smile.

If I did,

It would be easier.

I might not love you then.

Don't distress yourself,

Catherine,

I do not deny I feel greatly hurt,

But I'm glad you've been true to yourself at last.

Don't cry,

Dear.

You're very good,

I answered disconsolately,

But all the same,

The fact remains,

I've behaved disgracefully.

Mrs Sinclair,

Please go away,

I feel so miserably ashamed of myself.

I can't look you in the face.

I'm going,

He said gently.

Can you forgive me?

I asked wistfully.

Yes,

I can.

I'll always be your friend now,

Goodbye.

I remained in the drawing room,

Partly because I wanted to finish up my cry,

And partly because,

Miserable coward I was,

I didn't dare face Alicia.

Finally,

She came in,

But when her eyes fell on my forlorn,

Crumpled cell,

She fairly jumped.

You have behaved disgracefully,

She concluded.

I'm disgusted with you.

You encouraged Gus Sinclair markedly all along,

And now you've thrown him over,

And all for that starving country doctor of yours,

I suppose.

I flared up then,

But I wasn't going to hear a word against my Jack.

To my surprise,

Roger,

Her husband,

Took my part.

Let the girl alone,

He said.

If she doesn't love Sinclair,

She was right in refusing him.

I'm glad she's got enough truth and womanliness in her,

To keep her from selling herself.

Then he came to the library where I was moping,

And laid his hand on my head.

No matter what anyone says,

He told me,

Never marry a man for his money,

Or for any other reason on earth,

Except because you love him.

I got to Valleyfield just at dusk.

It was a rainy evening,

And everything was slush and fog and gloom,

But away up I saw the home light at Thrush Hill,

And Jack was waiting for me on the platform.

I'm so glad to be back,

I said,

Clinging to him regardless of appearances.

I knew you wouldn't forget us,

He replied,

And how well you look.

I suppose I ought to be looking wretched,

I said,

Penitently.

I've been behaving very badly,

Jack.

Wait till we get away from the crowd,

And I'll tell you all about it.

And I did.

I didn't gloss over anything,

But just confessed the whole truth.

Jack heard me through in silence,

And then he kissed me.

Can you forgive me,

Jack,

And take me back?

I whispered,

And he said,

But on second thoughts,

I'll not write down what he said.

We are to be married in June.

The End