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Anne of Green Gables : The Original Manuscript
352Overview
This fascinating book presents the original text of Montgomery's most famous manuscript, including where the author scribbled notes, made additions and deletions, and other editorial details. L. M. Montgomery scholar Carolyn Strom Collins offers a rare look into Montgomery's creative process, providing a never-before-published version of the worldwide phenomenon.
This book differs from previous versions of Anne in that it provides a transcription of the text and notes from Montgomery's original manuscript, and shows how they were integrated to form the full novel. The culmination of years of research, Anne of Green Gables: the Original Manuscript is a necessary addition to any Montgomery lover's collection. This volume features scans of the first page of each chapter from the original archived document (showing editorial notes in Montgomery's handwriting) and an appendix of rare foreign-language covers.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781771087216 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Nimbus Publishing |
| Publication date: | 01/28/2020 |
| Pages: | 352 |
| Sales rank: | 1,226,615 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.80(w) x 8.10(h) x 1.00(d) |
About the Author
Lucy Maud Motgomery (L. M. Montgomery) was a Canadian author who was best known as the creator of Anne of Green Gables . Before her death, she wrote many novels, essays, poems, and more than 500 short stories.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Mrs. Rachel Lynde is Surprised.
Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea ^main^ road dipped down into a little hollow traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place: it was reputed to be an intricate headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade. But by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed and that if she noticed anything odd ^or out of place^ she would never rest until she had ferretted out the whys and wherefores thereof.
There are plenty of people ^in Avonlea and out of it^ who can attend closely to their neighbors business by dint of neglecting their own; but Mrs. Rachel Lynde was one of those capable creatures who can manage their own [begin strikethrough]business[end strikethrough] concerns and [begin strikethrough]that[end strikethrough] those of other folks into the bargain. She was a notable housewife; her work was always done and well done; she "ran" the Sewing Circle, helped run the Sunday School and was the ^strongest^ [begin strikethrough]great[end strikethrough] prop of the [begin strikethrough]Ladies[end strikethrough] church aid Society and Foreign Missions Auxiliary. Yet with all this Mrs. Rachel found ^abundant^ time to sit for hours at her kitchen window, knitting "cotton warp" quilts and keeping a sharp eye on the main road that crossed the hollow and wound up the steep ^red^ hill beyond. Since Avonlea occupied a little ^triangular^ peninsula jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, with water on two sides of it, anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over the hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of Mrs. Rachel's all-seeing eye[begin strikethrough]s[end strikethrough].
She was sitting there one afternoon in ^early^ June. The sun was coming in at the window bright and warm. Thomas Lynde, was sowing his late turnip seed on the hill field beyond the barn; and Matthew Cuthbert ought to be sowing his on the big ^red^ brook field away over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel knew that he ought because she had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before in William J. Blair's store over at Carmody that he meant to sow his turnip seed the next afternoon. Peter had asked him of course for Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life.
And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill; moreover, he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was ^plain^ proof that he was going out of Avonlea; and he had the buggy and the sorrel mare, which betokened that he was going a considerable distance. ^Now,^ [begin strikethrough]W[end strikethrough]where was Matthew ^Cuthbert^ going and where why was he going there?
Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. Rachel might have given a pretty good guess to both questions. But Matthew so rarely went from home that it must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him; he was the shyest man alive and hated to have go among strangers or to any place where he might have to talk. Matthew dressed up with a white collar and driving in a buggy was something that didn't happen often. Mrs. Rachel ^ponder as she might,^ could make nothing of it and her afternoon's enjoyment was spoiled.
"I'll just step over to Green Gables after tea and find ^from Marilla^ out where he's gone and why, [begin strikethrough]she[end strikethrough] ^the worthy woman^ finally concluded. "He doesn't generally go to town this time of year and he never visits; if he'd run out of turnip seed he wouldn't dress up and take the buggy to go for more, [begin strikethrough]Later[end strikethrough] I'm clean puzzled, that's what, and I won't know a minute's peace of mind ^or conscience^ until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea to-day."
Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she had not far to go; the big, rambling ^orchard-embowered^ house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde's Hollow. To be sure, the long lane made it a good deal further. Matthew Cuthbert's father had got as far away as he possibly could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods when he founded his homestead. Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day, barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were ^so sociably^ situated. Mrs. Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place living at all.
"It's just staying, that's what," she said as she stepped along the deep-rutted grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. "It's no wonder Matthew and Marilla are both a little odd, living away back here by themselves. Trees aren't much company, though dear knows if they were there'd be enough of them. To be sure, they seem contented enough; but then I suppose they're used to it. A body can get used to anything, even to being hanged, as the Irishman said."
With this Mrs. Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green Gables. Very green and neat ^and precise^ was that yard, set about on one side with great patriarchal willows and on the other with prim Lombardies. Not a stray stick nor stone was to be seen. [begin strikethrough]Privately Mrs. Rachel[end strikethrough] was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard as often as she swept her house. One could have eaten a meal off the ground without overbrimming the proverbial peck of dirt.
Mrs. Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door and stepped in when bidden to do so. The kitchen at Green Gables was a cheerful apartment — or would have been ^cheerful^ if it had not been so painfully clean as to give it something of the appearance of an unused parlor. Its windows looked east and west; through the west one, looking out on the back yard, came a flood of ^mellow^ June sunlight; but the east one, whence you got a glimpse of the bloom-white cherry trees in the left orchard and nodding, slender birches down in the hollow by the brook was greened over by ^a tangle^ of vines. Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, always slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing & irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously; and here she sat now, knitting, and the table behind her was laid for supper.
Mrs. Rachel, before she had fairly closed the door, had taken mental note of everything that was on the table. There were three plates laid, so that Marilla must be expecting someone home ^with Matthew^ to tea; but the dishes were every-day dishes so that the expected company could not be any particular company. Yet what of Matthew's white collar and the sorrel mare?
"Good evening, Rachel," Marilla said briskly. "This is a real fine evening, isn't it? Won't you sit down? How are all your folks?"
Marilla was a tall thin woman, with angles and without curves; her dark hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot behind with two wire hairpins stuck aggressively through it. She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience ^which she was;^ but there was a saving something about her mouth which, if it had been ever so slightly developed, might have been considered indicative of a sense of humour.
"We're all pretty well," said Mrs. Rachel. "I was kind of afraid you weren't, though, when I saw Matthew starting off to-day. I thought maybe he was going to the doctors."
Marilla's lips twitched understandingly. She had expected Mrs. Rachel up; she had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so unaccountably would be too much for her neighbor's curiosity.
"Oh no, I'm quite well although I had a bad headache yesterday," she said. "Matthew went to Bright River. We're getting a little boy from an orphan asylum ^in Nova Scotia,^ and he's coming on the train tonight."
If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia Mrs. Rachel could not have been more astonished. It was un-supposable that Marilla was making fun of her but Mrs. Rachel was almost forced to suppose it.
"Are you in earnest, Marilla?" she demanded when voice returned to her.
"Yes, of course," said Marilla.
Mrs. Rachel felt that she had received a severe mental jolt. She thought in exclamation points. A boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people adopting a boy! From an orphan asylum! Well, the world was certainly turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this! Nothing!
"What on earth put such a notion into your head?" she demanded disapprovingly.
"Well, we've been thinking about it for some time — all winter in fact," returned Marilla. "Mrs. Alexander Spencer was up here one day before Christmas and she said she was going to get a little girl from the asylum over in Hopetown in the spring. Her cousin lives there and Mrs. Spencer has visited her and knows all about it. So Matthew and I have talked it over off and on ever since. We thought we'd get a boy. Matthew is getting up in years, you know ^ — he's sixty —^ and he isn't so spry as he once was. His heart troubles him a good deal. And you know how desperate hard it's got to be to get hired help. There's never anybody to be had but those stupid half-grown little French boys; and as soon as you do get one broke into your ways and taught something he's up and off to the live lobster canneries or the States. At first Matthew suggested getting a Barnardo boy. But I said "no" flat to that! 'They may be all right — I'm not saying they're not — but no London street Arabs for me,' I said. 'Give me a native born at least. There'll be a risk, no matter who we get. But I'll feel easier in my mind you and sleep sounder at night if we get a ^born^ Canadian.' So in the end we decided to ask Mrs. Spencer to pick us out one when she went over to get her little girl. We heard last week she was going so we sent her word ^by Richard Spencer's folks at Carmody^ to bring us a smart, likely boy of about ten or eleven. We decided that would be the best age — old enough to be of some use in doing chores right off and young enough to be trained up proper. We mean to give him a good home and schooling. We had a telegram from Mrs. Alexander Spencer to-day saying they were coming on the ^5:30^ train tonight. So Matthew went to Bright River to meet him. Mrs. Spencer will drop him off there. Of course she goes on to White Sands station herself."
Mrs. Rachel prided herself on always speaking her mind; she proceeded to speak it now, having adjusted her mental attitude to this amazing piece of news.
"Well, Marilla, I'll just tell you plain that I think you're doing a mighty foolish thing — a risky thing, that's what. You don't know what you're getting. You're bringing a strange child into your house and home, and you don't know a single thing about him nor what his disposition is ^nor what sort of parents he had^ nor how he's likely to turn out. Why, it was only last week I read in the paper how a man and his wife up west of the Island took a boy out of an orphan asylum and he set fire to the house at night ^ — set fire to it on purpose, Marilla — and nearly burnt them to a crisp in their beds If you had asked my advice in the matter — which you didn't do, Marilla — I'd have said for mercy's sake not to think of such a thing, that's what."
This Job's comforting seemed neither to offend nor alarm Marilla. She knitted steadily on. "I don't deny there's something in [begin strikethrough]what[end strikethrough] that what you say, Rachel. I've had some qualms myself. But Matthew was terrible set on it, [begin strikethrough]and gave[end strikethrough] I could see that, so I gave in. It's so seldom Matthew sets his mind on anything that when he does I always [begin strikethrough]give[end strikethrough] feel it my duty to give in. As for the risks, there's risks in pretty near everything a body does in this world. And then Nova Scotia is right close to the Island. It isn't as if we were getting him from England or the States. He can't be much different from ourselves.
"Well, I hope it will turn out all right," said Mrs. Lynde, [begin strikethrough]only don't[end strikethrough] in a tone that plainly indicated her painful doubts. "Only don't say I didn't warn you if he burns Green Gables down or puts poison strychnine in the well — I heard of a case ^over in New Brunswick^ where an orphan asylum child did that only it was a and the whole family died in fearful agonies. Only, it was a girl in that instance.
"Well, we're not getting a girl," said Marilla. NOTE V "I'd never dream of taking a girl to bring up. I wonder at Mrs. Alexander Spencer for doing it. But there, she wouldn't shrink from adopting a whole orphan asylum if she took it into her head."
Mrs. Rachel would have liked to stay until Matthew came home ^with his imported orphan^. But reflecting that it would be a good two hours at least before his arrival she concluded to go up the road to Robert Bell's and tell them the news. [begin strikethrough]So she took[end strikethrough] It would [begin strikethrough]make[end strikethrough] certainly make a sensation second to none and Mrs. Rachel dearly loved to make a sensation. So she took herself away to somewhat to Marilla's relief, for the latter felt her doubts [begin strikethrough]rev[end strikethrough] and fears reviving under the influences of Mrs. Rachel's pessimism.
"Well, of all things that ever were or will be!" ejaculated Mrs. Rachel," [begin strikethrough]It does[end strikethrough] when she was safely out in the lane. "It does really seem as if I must be dreaming. Well, I'm sorry for that poor [begin strikethrough]child[end strikethrough] young one and no mistake. Matthew and Marilla don't know anything about children and they'll expect him to be wiser than and steadier than his own grandfather. It seems odd to uncanny to think of a child at Green Gables somehow; there's never been one there for Matthew and Marilla were grown up when the new house was built I wouldn't be in that orphan's shoes for anything. My, but I pity him, that's what"
So said Mrs. Rachel to the wild rose bushes out of the fullness of her heart; but if she could have seen the child who was waiting patiently at the Bright River station at that very moment her pity would have been still deeper and more profound.
CHAPTER 2Matthew Cuthbert is Surprised.
Matthew Cuthbert and the sorrel mare jogged comfortably over the eight miles to Bright River. It was a pretty road, running along between snug farmsteads, with now and again a bit of balsamy fir wood to drive through The air was sweet with the breath of many ^apple^ orchards and the meadows sloped away in the distance to mists of horizon [begin strikethrough]mists of[end strikethrough] pearl and [begin strikethrough]pur[end strikethrough] rose purple; while
"The little birds sang as if it were
The one day in summer of all the year."
Matthew [begin strikethrough]dreaded all[end strikethrough] enjoyed the drive after his own fashion except during the moments when he met women and had to nod to them — for in Prince Edward Island you are supposed to nod to all and sundry you meet on the road, whether you know them or not.
Matthew dreaded all women except Marilla and Mrs. Rachel; he had an uncomfortable feeling that the mysterious creatures were laughing at secretly [begin strikethrough]laughing[end strikethrough] at him. He may have been ^quite^ right in thinking so for he was an odd-looking personage, with an ungainly figure and long [begin strikethrough]hair[end strikethrough] iron-gray hair that touched his stooping shoulders, and a full soft-brown beard which he had worn ever since he was [begin strikethrough]thirty[end strikethrough] twenty. In fact he had looked at twenty very much as he looked at sixty, [begin strikethrough]albeit[end strikethrough] not lacking a little of the grayness.
When he reached [begin strikethrough]the station[end strikethrough] Bright River there was no sign of any train; he thought he was too early, so he tied his horse in the yard of the small Bright River hotel and went over to the station house. The long platform was almost deserted; the only living creature [begin strikethrough]in sight to be seen[end strikethrough] in sight being a girl who was sitting on a pile of shingles at the extreme end. Matthew, ^barely noting that it was a girl,^ sidled past her without looking at her. Had he looked at her he could hardly have failed to notice the rigidity and expectation of her attitude and expression. She was sitting there waiting for something or somebody and, since sitting and waiting was the only thing to do ^just then,^ she sat and waited with all her might and main.
Matthew encountered the station master locking up the ticket office and asked him if the five thirty train would soon be along.
"The five thirty train has been in and gone half an hour ago," answered that ^brisk^ official. "But there was a passenger dropped off for you — a little girl. She's sitting out there on the shingles. I asked her to go into the ladies' waiting-room but she informed me ^gravely^ that she preferred to stay outside. 'There was more scope for imagination,' she said. She's a case I should say."
"I'm not expecting a girl," said Matthew blankly. "It's a boy I've [begin strikethrough]expect[end strikethrough] come for. He should be here. Mrs. Alexander Spencer was to bring him over from Nova Scotia for me."
The station master whistled.
"Guess there's some mistake," [begin strikethrough]the stationmaster[end strikethrough] he said. "Mrs. Spencer came off the train with that girl and gave her into my charge. Said you and your sister were adopting her from an orphan asylum and that you would be along for her presently. That's all I know about it."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Anne of Green Gables"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Carolyn Strom Collins.
Excerpted by permission of Nimbus Publishing Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
INTRODUCTION, 1,
READER'S GUIDE TO SYMBOLS AND NOTES, 17,
1. MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS SURPRISED, 21,
2. MATTHEW CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED, 31,
3. MARILLA CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED, 45,
4. MORNING AT GREEN GABLES, 53,
5. ANNE'S HISTORY, 61,
6. MARILLA MAKES UP HER MIND, 67,
7. ANNE SAYS HER PRAYERS, 73,
8. ANNE'S BRINGING-UP IS BEGUN, 79,
9. MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS PROPERLY HORRIFIED, 87,
10. ANNE'S APOLOGY, 95,
11. ANNE'S IMPRESSIONS OF SUNDAY SCHOOL, 103,
12. A SOLEMN VOW AND PROMISE, 109,
13. THE DELIGHTS OF ANTICIPATION, 115,
14. ANNE'S CONFESSION, 121,
15. A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT, 131,
16. DIANA IS INVITED TO TEA WITH TRAGIC RESULTS, 145,
17. A NEW INTEREST IN LIFE, 155,
18. ANNE TO THE RESCUE, 161,
19. A CONCERT, A CATASTROPHE AND A CONFESSION, 171,
20. A GOOD IMAGINATION GONE WRONG, 183,
21. A NEW DEPARTURE IN FLAVOURINGS, 191,
22. ANNE IS INVITED OUT TO TEA, 201,
23. ANNE COMES TO GRIEF IN AN AFFAIR OF HONOUR, 207,
24. MISS STACY AND HER PUPILS GET UP A CONCERT, 215,
25. MATTHEW INSISTS ON PUFFED SLEEVES, 221,
26. THE STORY CLUB IS FORMED, 231,
27. VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT, 239,
28. AN UNFORTUNATE LILY MAID, 247,
29. AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE, 257,
30. THE QUEEN'S CLASS IS ORGANIZED, 267,
31. WHERE THE BROOK AND RIVER MEET, 279,
32. THE PASS LIST IS OUT, 287,
33. THE HOTEL CONCERT, 295,
34. A QUEEN'S GIRL, 305,
35. THE WINTER AT QUEEN'S, 313,
36. THE GLORY AND THE DREAM, 319,
37. THE REAPER WHOSE NAME IS DEATH, 327,
38. THE BEND IN THE ROAD, 335,
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS, 343,
SOURCES, 345,
FURTHER READING, 347,
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