Anna's Love Letters

"Anna's Love Letters" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a delightful coming-of-age story that follows the life of Anna Shirley, an imaginative and spirited young woman. Set in the picturesque community of Avonlea, the narrative explores Anna's journey through romance, self-discovery, and the challenges of adulthood. As she navigates her relationships and the complexities of love, Anna writes poignant letters that capture her hopes and dreams, revealing her heartfelt yearnings and reflections. This charming tale encapsulates Montgomery's signature themes of love, friendship, and the beauty of nature, offering readers a glimpse into the emotional landscape of a young woman's heart.

• Short story

								
"Are you going to answer Gilbert's letter tonight, Anna?" asked Alma
Williams, standing in the pantry doorway, tall, fair, and grey-eyed,
with the sunset light coming down over the dark firs, through the
window behind her, and making a primrose nimbus around her shapely
head.

Anna, dark, vivid, and slender, was perched on the edge of the table,
idly swinging her slippered foot at the cat's head. She smiled
wickedly at Alma before replying.

"I am not going to answer it tonight or any other night," she said,
twisting her full, red lips in a way that Alma had learned to dread.
Mischief was ripening in Anna's brain when that twist was out.

"What do you mean?" asked Alma anxiously.

"Just what I say, dear," responded Anna, with deceptive meekness.
"Poor Gilbert is gone, and I don't intend to bother my head about him
any longer. He was amusing while he lasted, but of what use is a beau
two thousand miles away, Alma?"

Alma was patient--outwardly. It was never of any avail to show
impatience with Anna.

"Anna, you are talking foolishly. Of course you are going to answer
his letter. You are as good as engaged to him. Wasn't that practically
understood when he left?"

"No, no, dear," and Anna shook her sleek black head with the air of
explaining matters to an obtuse child. "I was the only one who
understood. Gil misunderstood. He thought that I would really wait
for him until he should have made enough money to come home and pay
off the mortgage. I let him think so, because I hated to hurt his
little feelings. But now it's off with the old love and on with a new
one for me."

"Anna, you cannot be in earnest!" exclaimed Alma.

But she was afraid that Anna was in earnest. Anna had a wretched
habit of being in earnest when she said flippant things.

"You don't mean that you are not going to write to Gilbert at
all--after all you promised?"

Anna placed her elbows daintily on the top of the rocking chair,
dropped her pointed chin in her hands, and looked at Alma with black
demure eyes.

"I--do--mean--just--that," she said slowly. "I never mean to marry
Gilbert Murray. This is final, Alma, and you need not scold or coax,
because it would be a waste of breath. Gilbert is safely out of the
way, and now I am going to have a good time with a few other
delightful men creatures in Exeter."

Anna nodded decisively, flashed a smile at Alma, picked up her cat,
and went out. At the door she turned and looked back, with the big
black cat snuggled under her chin.

"If you think Gilbert will feel very badly over his letter not being
answered, you might answer it yourself, Alma," she said teasingly.
"There it is"--she took the letter from the pocket of her ruffled
apron and threw it on a chair. "You may read it if you want to; it
isn't really a love letter. I told Gilbert he wasn't to write silly
letters. Come, pussy, I'm going to get ready for prayer meeting. We've
got a nice, new, young, good-looking minister in Exeter, pussy, and
that makes prayer meeting very interesting."

Anna shut the door, her departing laugh rippling mockingly through the
dusk. Alma picked up Gilbert Murray's letter and went to her room. She
wanted to cry, since she could not shake Anna. Even if she could have
shook her, it would only have made her more perverse. Anna was in
earnest; Alma knew that, even while she hoped and believed that it was
but the earnestness of a freak that would pass in time. Anna had had
one like it a year ago, when she had cast Gilbert off for three
months, driving him distracted by flirting with Charlie Moore. Then
she had suddenly repented and taken him back. Alma thought that this
whim would run its course likewise and leave a repentant Anna. But
meanwhile everything might be spoiled. Gilbert might not prove
forgiving a second time.

Alma would have given much if she could only have induced Anna to
answer Gilbert's letter, but coaxing Anna to do anything was a very
sure and effective way of preventing her from doing it.

       *       *       *       *       *

Alma and Anna had lived alone at the old Williams homestead ever since
their mother's death four years before. Exeter matrons thought this
hardly proper, since Alma, in spite of her grave ways, was only
twenty-four. The farm was rented, so that Alma's only responsibilities
were the post office which she kept, and that harum-scarum beauty of
an Anna.

The Murray homestead adjoined theirs. Gilbert Murray had grown up with
Alma; they had been friends ever since she could remember. Alma loved
Gilbert with a love which she herself believed to be purely sisterly,
and which nobody else doubted could be, since she had been at pains to
make a match--Exeter matrons' phrasing--between Gil and Anna, and was
manifestly delighted when Gilbert obligingly fell in love with the
latter.

There was a small mortgage on the Murray place which Mr. Murray senior
had not been able to pay off. Gilbert determined to get rid of it, and
his thoughts turned to the west. His father was an active, hale old
man, quite capable of managing the farm in Gilbert's absence.
Alexander MacNair had gone to the west two years previously and got
work on a new railroad. He wrote to Gilbert to come too, promising him
plenty of work and good pay. Gilbert went, but before going he had
asked Anna to marry him.

It was the first proposal Anna had ever had, and she managed it quite
cleverly, from her standpoint. She told Gilbert that he must wait
until he came home again before settling that, meanwhile, they would
be very good friends--emphasized with a blush--and that he might
write to her. She kissed him goodbye, and Gilbert, honest fellow, was
quite satisfied. When an Exeter girl had allowed so much to be
inferred, it was understood to be equivalent to an engagement. Gilbert
had never discerned that Anna was not like the other Exeter girls, but
was a law unto herself.

Alma sat down by her window and looked out over the lane where the
slim wild cherry trees were bronzing under the autumn frosts. Her lips
were very firmly set. Something must be done. But what?

Alma's heart was set on this marriage for two reasons. Firstly, if
Anna married Gilbert she would be near her all her life. She could not
bear the thought that some day Anna might leave her and go far away to
live. In the second and largest place, she desired the marriage
because Gilbert did. She had always been desirous, even in the old,
childish play-days, that Gilbert should get just exactly what he
wanted. She had always taken a keen, strange delight in furthering his
wishes.

Anna's falseness would surely break his heart, and Alma winced at the
thought of his pain.

There was one thing she could do. Anna's tormenting suggestion had
fallen on fertile soil. Alma balanced pros and cons, admitting the
risk. But she would have taken a tenfold larger risk in the hope of

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