The Blue Castle. L.M. MontgomeryЧитать онлайн книгу.
was sorry by the time she reached the next crossing. Why had she lost her patience like that? Uncle Benjamin would be annoyed and would likely tell her mother that Doss had been impertinent — “to me!” — and her mother would lecture her for a week.
“I’ve held my tongue for twenty years,” thought Valancy. “Why couldn’t I have held it once more?”
Yes, it was just twenty, Valancy reflected, since she had first been twitted with her loveless condition. She remembered the bitter moment perfectly. She was just nine years old and she was standing alone on the school playground while the other little girls of her class were playing a game in which you must be chosen by a boy as his partner before you could play. Nobody had chosen Valancy — little, pale, black-haired Valancy, with her prim, long-sleeved apron and odd, slanted eyes.
“Oh,” said a pretty little girl to her, “I’m so sorry for you. You haven’t got a beau.”
Valancy had said defiantly, as she continued to say for twenty years, “I don’t want a beau.” But this afternoon Valancy once and for all stopped saying that.
“I’m going to be honest with myself anyhow,” she thought savagely. “Uncle Benjamin’s riddles hurt me because they are true. I do want to be married. I want a house of my own — I want a husband of my own — I want sweet; little fat babies of my own — ” Valancy stopped suddenly aghast at her own recklessness. She felt sure that Rev. Dr. Stalling, who passed her at this moment, read her thoughts and disapproved of them thoroughly. Valancy was afraid of Dr. Stalling — had been afraid of him ever since the Sunday, twenty-three years before, when he had first come to St. Albans. Valancy had been too late for Sunday school that day and she had gone into the church timidly and sat in their pew. No one else was in the church — nobody except the new rector, Dr. Stalling. Dr. Stalling stood up in front of the choir door, beckoned to her, and said sternly, “Little boy, come up here.”
Valancy had stared around her. There was no little boy — there was no one in all the huge church but herself. This strange man with the blue glasses couldn’t mean her. She was not a boy.
“Little boy,” repeated Dr. Stalling, more sternly still, shaking his forefinger fiercely at her, “come up here at once!”
Valancy arose as if hypnotised and walked up the aisle. She was too terrified to do anything else. What dreadful thing was going to happen to her? What had happened to her? Had she actually turned into a boy? She came to a stop in front of Dr. Stalling. Dr. Stalling shook his forefinger — such a long, knuckly forefinger — at her and said:
“Little boy, take off your hat.”
Valancy took off her hat. She had a scrawny little pigtail hanging down her back, but Dr. Stalling was shortsighted and did not perceive it.
“Little boy, go back to your seat and always take off your hat in church. Remember!”
Valancy went back to her seat carrying her hat like an automaton. Presently her mother came in.
“Doss,” said Mrs. Stirling, “what do you mean by taking off your hat? Put it on instantly!”
Valancy put it on instantly. She was cold with fear lest Dr. Stalling should immediately summon her up front again. She would have to go, of course — it never occurred to her that one could disobey the rector — and the church was full of people now. Oh, what would she do if that horrible, stabbing forefinger were shaken at her again before all those people? Valancy sat through the whole service in an agony of dread and was sick for a week afterwards. Nobody knew why — Mrs. Frederick again bemoaned herself of her delicate child.
Dr. Stalling found out his mistake and laughed over it to Valancy — who did not laugh. She never got over her dread of Dr. Stalling. And now to be caught by him on the Street corner, thinking such things!
Valancy got her John Foster book — Magic of Wings. “His latest — all about birds,” said Miss Clarkson. She had almost decided that she would go home, instead of going to see Dr.Trent. Her courage had failed her. She was afraid of offending Uncle James — afraid of angering her mother — afraid of facing gruff, shaggy-browed old Dr.Trent, who would probably tell her, as he had told Cousin Gladys, that her trouble was entirely imaginary and that she only had it because she liked to have it. No, she would not go; she would get a bottle of Redfern’s Purple Pills instead. Redfern’s Purple Pills were the standard medicine of the Stirling clan. Had they not cured Second Cousin Geraldine when five doctors had given her up? Valancy always felt very skeptical concerning the virtues of the Purple Pills; but there might be something in them; and it was easier to take them than to face Dr.Trent alone. She would glance over the magazines in the reading room a few minutes and then go home.
Valancy tried to read a story, but it made her furious. On every page was a picture of the heroine surrounded by adoring men. And here was she, Valancy Stirling, who could not get a solitary beau! Valancy slammed the magazine shut; she opened Magic of Wings. Her eyes fell on the paragraph that changed her life.
“Fear is the original sin,” wrote John Foster. “Almost all the evil in the world has its origin in the fact that someone is afraid of something. It is a cold, slimy serpent coiling about you. It is horrible to live with fear; and it is of all things degrading.”
Valancy shut Magic of Wings and stood up. She would go and see Dr.Trent.
The ordeal was not so dreadful, after all. Dr.Trent was as gruff and abrupt as usual, but he did not tell her her ailment was imaginary. After he had listened to her symptoms and asked a few questions and made a quick examination, he sat for a moment looking at her quite intently. Valancy thought he looked as if he were sorry for her. She caught her breath for a moment. Was the trouble serious? Oh, it couldn’t be, surely — it really hadn’t bothered her much — only lately it had got a little worse.
Dr.Trent opened his mouth — but before he could speak the telephone at his elbow rang sharply. He picked up the receiver. Valancy, watching him, saw his face change suddenly as he listened,“Lo — yes — yes — what? — yes — yes” — a brief interval — “My God!”
Dr.Trent dropped the receiver, dashed out of the room and upstairs without even a glance at Valancy. She heard him rushing madly about overhead, barking out a few remarks to somebody — presumably his housekeeper. Then he came tearing downstairs with a club bag in his hand, snatched his hat and coat from the rack, jerked open the street door and rushed down the street in the direction of the station.
Valancy sat alone in the little office, feeling more absolutely foolish than she had ever felt before in her life. Foolish — and humiliated. So this was all that had come of her heroic determination to live up to John Foster and cast fear aside. Not only was she a failure as a relative and non-existent as a sweetheart or friend, but she was not even of any importance as a patient. Dr.Trent had forgotten her very presence in his excitement over whatever message had come by the telephone. She had gained nothing by ignoring Uncle James and flying in the face of family tradition.
For a moment she was afraid she was going to cry. It was all so — ridiculous. Then she heard Dr.Trent’s housekeeper coming down the stairs. Valancy rose and went to the office door.
“The doctor forgot all about me,” she said with a twisted smile.
“Well, that’s too bad,” said Mrs. Patterson sympathetically. “But it wasn’t much wonder, poor man. That was a telegram they phoned over from the Port. His son has been terribly injured in an auto accident in Montreal. The doctor had just ten minutes to catch the train. I don’t know what he’ll do if anything happens to Ned — he’s just bound up in the boy. You’ll have to come again, Miss Stirling. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Oh, no, nothing serious,” agreed Valancy. She felt a little less humiliated. It was no wonder poor Dr.Trent had forgotten her at such a moment.