An Unconventional Confidence

"An Unconventional Confidence" is a captivating novel by Lucy Maud Montgomery that explores themes of self-discovery and societal expectations through the journey of its relatable protagonist. Set against the backdrop of early 20th-century Canada, the story follows a young woman who grapples with her desire for independence amid traditional norms. As she navigates friendships, romance, and personal challenges, she learns to embrace her individuality and cultivate a sense of confidence that defies convention. Montgomery's signature lyrical prose and keen character development shine through, making this work a poignant reflection on the balance between aspiration and authenticity.

• Short story

								
The Girl in Black-and-Yellow ran frantically down the grey road under
the pines. There was nobody to see her, but she would have run if all
Halifax had been looking on. For had she not on the loveliest new
hat--a "creation" in yellow chiffon with big black choux--and a
dress to match? And was there not a shower coming straight from the
hills across the harbour?

Down at the end of the long resinous avenue the Girl saw the shore
road, with the pavilion shutting out the view of the harbour's mouth.
Below the pavilion, clean-shaven George's Island guarded the town like
a sturdy bulldog, and beyond it were the wooded hills, already lost in
a mist of rain.

"Oh, I shall be too late," moaned the Girl. But she held her hat
steady with one hand and ran on. If she could only reach the pavilion
in time! It was a neck-and-neck race between the rain and the Girl,
but the Girl won. Just as she flew out upon the shore road, a tall
Young Man came pelting down the latter, and they both dashed up the
steps of the pavilion together as the rain swooped down upon them and
blotted George's Island and the smoky town and the purple banks of the
Eastern Passage from view.

The pavilion was small at the best of times, and just now the rain was
beating into it on two sides, leaving only one dry corner. Into this
the Girl moved. She was flushed and triumphant. The Young Man thought
that in all his life he had never seen anyone so pretty.

"I'm so glad I didn't get my hat wet," said the Girl breathlessly, as
she straightened it with a careful hand and wondered if she looked
very blown and blowsy.

"It would have been a pity," admitted the Young Man. "It is a very
pretty hat."

"Pretty!" The Girl looked the scorn her voice expressed. "Anyone can
have a pretty hat. Our cook has one. This is a creation."

"Of course," said the Young Man humbly. "I ought to have known. But I
am very stupid."

"Well, I suppose a mere man couldn't be expected to understand
exactly," said the Girl graciously.

She smiled at him in a friendly fashion, and he smiled back. The Girl
thought that she had never seen such lovely brown eyes before. He
could not be a Haligonian. She was sure she knew all the nice young
men with brown eyes in Halifax.

"Please sit down," she said plaintively. "I'm tired."

The Young Man smiled again at the idea of his sitting down because the
Girl was tired. But he sat down, and so did she, on the only dry seat
to be found.

"Goodness knows how long this rain will last," said the Girl, making
herself comfortable and picturesque, "but I shall stay here until it
clears up, if it rains for a week. I will not have my hat spoiled. I
suppose I shouldn't have put it on. Beatrix said it was going to rain.
Beatrix is such a horribly good prophet. I detest people who are good
prophets, don't you?"

"I think that they are responsible for all the evils that they
predict," said the Young Man solemnly.

"That is just what I told Beatrix. And I was determined to put on this
hat and come out to the park today. I simply had to be alone, and I
knew I'd be alone out here. Everybody else would be at the football
game. By the way, why aren't you there?"

"I wasn't even aware that there was a football game on hand," said the
Young Man, as if he knew he ought to be ashamed of his ignorance, and
was.

"Dear me," said the Girl pityingly. "Where can you have been not to
have heard of it? It's between the Dalhousie team and the Wanderers.
Almost everybody here is on the Wanderers' side, because they are
Haligonians, but I am not. I like the college boys best. Beatrix says
that it is just because of my innate contrariness. Last year I simply
screamed myself hoarse with enthusiasm. The Dalhousie team won the
trophy."

"If you are so interested in the game, it is a wonder you didn't go to
see it yourself," said the Young Man boldly.

"Well, I just couldn't," said the Girl with a sigh. "If anybody had
ever told me that there would be a football game in Halifax, and that
I would elect to prowl about by myself in the park instead of going to
it, I'd have laughed them to scorn. Even Beatrix would never have
dared to prophesy that. But you see it has happened. I was too
crumpled up in my mind to care about football today. I had to come
here and have it out with myself. That is why I put on my hat. I
thought, perhaps, I might get through with my mental gymnastics in
time to go to the game afterwards. But I didn't. It is just maddening,
too. I got this hat and dress on purpose to wear to it. They're black
and yellow, you see--the Dalhousie colours. It was my own idea. I was
sure it would make a sensation. But I couldn't go to the game and take
any interest in it, feeling as I do, could I, now?"

The Young Man said, of course, she couldn't. It was utterly out of the
question.

The Girl smiled. Without a smile, she was charming. With a smile, she
was adorable.

"I like to have my opinions bolstered up. Do you know, I want to tell
you something? May I?"

"You may. I'll never tell anyone as long as I live," said the Young
Man solemnly.

"I don't know you and you don't know me. That is why I want to tell
you about it. I must tell somebody, and if I told anybody I knew,
they'd tell it all over Halifax. It is dreadful to be talking to you
like this. Beatrix would have three fits, one after the other, if she
saw me. But Beatrix is a slave to conventionality. I glory in
discarding it at times. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," said the Young Man sincerely.

The Girl sighed.

"I have reached that point where I must have a confidant, or go crazy.
Once I could tell things to Beatrix. That was before she got engaged.
Now she tells everything to him. There is no earthly way of
preventing her. I've tried them all. So, nowadays, when I get into
trouble, I tell it out loud to myself in the glass. It's a relief, you
know. But that is no good now. I want to tell it to somebody who can
say things back. Will you promise to say things back?"

The Young Man assured her that he would when the proper time came.

"Very well. But please don't look at me while I'm telling you. I'll be
sure to blush in places. When Beatrix wants to be particularly
aggravating she says I have lost the art of blushing. But that is only
her way of putting it, you know. Sometimes I blush dreadfully."

The Young Man dragged his eyes from the face under the
black-and-yellow hat, and fastened them on a crooked pine tree that
hung out over the bank.

"Well," began the Girl, "the root of the whole trouble is simply this.
There is a young man in England. I always think of him as the
Creature. He is the son of a man who was Father's especial crony in
boyhood, before Father emigrated to Canada. Worse than that, he comes

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes