Mrs. March's Revenge Page #3

"Mrs. March's Revenge" is a novel by Lucy Maud Montgomery that explores the themes of resilience, identity, and the complexities of human relationships. The story follows Mrs. March, a woman grappling with her past and navigating her present life, as she confronts societal expectations and personal desires. With Montgomery's signature lyrical prose, the novel delves into the intricacies of love, loss, and self-discovery, all set against a richly drawn backdrop of early 20th-century Canada. Through Mrs. March's journey, readers are invited to reflect on the power of revenge and the quest for personal fulfillment.

• Short story

								

as sick as she pretends. Well, I've got my wagon out here, Mrs. March,
and I'll be much obliged if you'll tell her I'm here to take her home.
I s'pose we'll have a fearful scene."

"I don't see that there is any call for a scene," said Mrs. March
firmly. "The poor woman has just got here, and she thinks she has got
home. She might as well think so if it is of any comfort to her. You'd
better leave her here."

Theodosia gave a stifled gasp of amazement, but Mrs. March went
serenely on.

"I'll take care of the poor soul as long as she needs it--and that
will not be very long in my opinion, for if ever I saw death in a
woman's face, it is looking out of hers. I've plenty of time to look
after her and make her comfortable."

Mrs. Joel Kent was voluble in her thanks. It was evident that she was
delighted to get the sick woman off her hands. Mrs. March cut her
short with an invitation to stay to tea, but Mrs. Kent declined.

"I've got to hurry home straight off and get the men's suppers. Such a
scamper to have over that woman! I'm sure I'm thankful you're willing
to let her stay, for she'd never be contented anywhere else. I'll send
over what few things she has tomorrow."

When Mrs. Kent had gone, Mrs. March and Mrs. Stapp looked at each
other.

"And so this is your revenge, Anna March?" said the latter solemnly.
"Do you remember what you said to me about her?"

"Yes, I do, Theodosia, and I thought I meant every word of it. But I
guess my wicked streak ran out just when I needed it to depend on.
Besides, you see, I've thought of Lou Carroll all these years as she
was when I knew her--handsome and saucy and proud. But that poor
creature in there isn't any more like the Lou Carroll I knew than you
are--not a mite. The old Lou Carroll is dead already, and my spite is
dead with her. Will you come in and see her?"

"Well, no, not just now. She wouldn't know me, and Mrs. Joel says
strangers kind of excite her--a pretty bad place the hotel would be
for her at that rate, I should think. I must go and tell Peter about
it, and I'll send up some of my black currant jam for her."

When Mrs. Stapp had gone, Mrs. March went back to her guest. Lou
Baxter had fallen asleep with her head pillowed on the soft plush back
of her chair. Mrs. March looked at the hollow, hectic cheeks and the
changed, wasted features, and her bright brown eyes softened with
tears.

"Poor Lou," she said softly, as she brushed a loose lock of grey hair
back from the sleeping woman's brow.
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