The Bride Roses Page #2

"The Bride Roses" is a charming and evocative romantic novella by Lucy Maud Montgomery, known for her beloved Anne of Green Gables series. Set in the picturesque landscapes of Prince Edward Island, the story follows the intertwined lives of young lovers and their families, exploring themes of love, sacrifice, and the passage of time. With Montgomery's signature wit and lyrical prose, the narrative captures the beauty of blooming relationships against the backdrop of nature, highlighting the emotional growth of its characters as they navigate their dreams and desires. The novella showcases Montgomery's deep connection to her setting and her keen understanding of human emotions, making it a delightful read for fans of classic romance.

• Short story

								

sally forth into the garden with a determined, do-or-die expression
surmounting her freckles, without feeling interest enough to go and
make sure that she did not root out all the late asters in her tardy
and wilfully postponed warfare on weeds.

This mood lasted until the afternoon. Then Miss Corona, whose heart
and thoughts were still down in the festive house in the valley,
roused herself enough to go out and see what Charlotta was doing.
After finding out, she wandered idly about the rambling, old-fashioned
place, which was full of nooks and surprises. At every turn you might
stumble on some clump or tangle of sweetness, showering elusive
fragrance on the air, that you would never have suspected. Nothing in
the garden was planted quite where it should be, yet withal it was the
most delightful spot imaginable.

Miss Corona pushed her way into the cherry-tree copse, and followed a
tiny, overgrown path to a sunshiny corner beyond. She had not been
there since last summer; the little path was getting almost
impassable. When she emerged from the cherry trees, somewhat rumpled
and pulled about in hair and attire, but attended, as if by a
benediction, by the aromatic breath of the mint she had trodden on,
she gave a little cry and stood quite still, gazing at the rosebush
that grew in the corner. It was so large and woody that it seemed more
like a tree than a bush, and it was snowed over with a splendour of
large, pure white roses.

"Dear life," whispered Miss Corona tremulously, as she tiptoed towards
it. "The bride roses have bloomed again! How very strange! Why, there
has not been a rose on that tree for twenty years."

The rosebush had been planted there by Corona's great-grandmother, the
lady of the green and yellow bowl. It was a new variety, brought out
from Scotland by Mary Gordon, and it bore large white roses which
three generations of Gordon brides had worn on their wedding day. It
had come to be a family tradition among the Gordons that no luck would
attend the bride who did not carry a white rose from Mary Gordon's
rose-tree.

Long years ago the tree had given up blooming, nor could all the
pruning and care given it coax a single blossom from it. Miss Corona,
tinctured with the superstition apt to wait on a lonely womanhood,
believed in her heart that the rosebush had a secret sympathy with the
fortunes of the Gordon women. She, the last of them on the old
homestead, would never need the bride roses. Wherefore, then, should
the old tree bloom? And now, after all these years, it had flung all
its long-hoarded sweetness into blossom again. Miss Corona thrilled at
the thought. The rosebush had bloomed again for a Gordon bride, but
Miss Corona was sure there was another meaning in it too; she
believed it foretokened some change in her own life, some
rejuvenescence of love and beauty like to that of the ancient
rose-tree. She bent over its foam of loveliness almost reverently.

"They have bloomed for Juliet's wedding," she murmured. "A Gordon
bride must wear the bride roses, indeed she must. And this--why, it is
almost a miracle."

She ran, light-footedly as a girl, to the house for scissors and a
basket. She would send Juliet Gordon the bride roses. Her cheeks were
pink from excitement as she snipped them off. How lovely they were!
How very large and fragrant! It was as if all the grace and perfume
and beauty and glory of those twenty lost summers were found here at
once in them. When Miss Corona had them ready, she went to the door
and called, "Charlotte! Charlotte!"

Now Charlotta, having atoned to her conscience for the destruction of
the green and yellow bowl by faithfully weeding the garden, a task
which she hated above all else, was singing a hymn among the sweet
peas, and her red braids were over her shoulders. This ought to have
warned Miss Corona, but Miss Corona was thinking of other things, and
kept on calling patiently, while Charlotta weeded away for dear life,
and seemed smitten with treble deafness.

After a time Miss Corona remembered and sighed. She did hate to call
the child that foolish name with its foreign sound. Just as if plain
"Charlotte" were not good enough for her, and much more suitable to
"Smith" too! Ordinarily Miss Corona would not have given in. But the
case was urgent; she could not stand upon her dignity just now.

"Charlotta!" she called entreatingly.

Instantly Charlotta flew to the garden gate and raced up to the door.

"Yes'm," she said meekly. "You want me, Miss C'rona?"

"Take this box down to Miss Juliet Gordon, and ask that it be given to
her at once," said Miss Corona, "Don't loiter, Charlotta. Don't stop
to pick gum in the grove, or eat sours in the dike, or poke sticks
through the bridge, or--"

But Charlotta had gone.

       *       *       *       *       *

Down in the valley, the other Gordon house was in a hum of excitement.
Upstairs Juliet had gone to her invalid mother's room to show herself
in her wedding dress to the pale little lady lying on the sofa. She
was a tall, stately young girl with the dark grey Gordon eyes and the
pure creaminess of colouring, flawless as a lily petal. Her face was a
very sweet one, and the simple white dress she wore became her dainty,
flowerlike beauty as nothing elaborate could have done.

"I'm not going to put on my veil until the last moment," she said
laughingly. "I would feel married right away if I did. And oh, Mother
dear, isn't it too bad? My roses haven't come. Father is back from the
station, and they were not there. I am so disappointed. Romney
ordered pure white roses because I said a Gordon bride must carry
nothing else. Come in"--as a knock sounded at the door.

Laura Burton, Juliet's cousin and bridesmaid, entered with a box.

"Juliet dear, the funniest little red-headed girl with the most
enormous freckles has just brought this for you. I haven't an idea
where she came from; she looked like a messenger from pixy-land."

Juliet opened the box and gave a cry.

"Oh, Mother, look--look! What perfect roses! Who could have sent them?
Oh, here's a note from--from--why, Mother, it's from Cousin Corona."

    "My dear child," ran the letter in Miss Corona's fine,
    old-fashioned script. "I am sending you the Gordon bride roses.
    The rose-tree has bloomed for the first time in twenty years, my
    dear, and it must surely be in honour of your wedding day. I
    hope you will wear them for, although I have never known you, I
    love you very much. I was once a dear friend of your father's.
    Tell him to let you wear the roses I send for old times' sake. I
    wish you every happiness, my dear.

                                  "Your affectionate cousin,
                                            "Corona Gordon."

"Oh, how sweet and lovely of her!" said Juliet gently, as she laid the
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