The Little Brown Book of Miss Emily Page #2

"The Little Brown Book of Miss Emily" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a charming collection of stories that revolves around the life of a young girl named Emily Byrd Starr. Set in the fictional community of New Moon, the book follows Emily's adventures as she navigates her creative aspirations, the complexities of friendship, and the challenges of growing up. Through her vivid imagination and love of storytelling, Emily learns valuable life lessons about love, loss, and the importance of self-expression. Montgomery's lyrical prose and rich character development create a nostalgic and heartfelt portrayal of a girl on the cusp of womanhood, making it a delightful read for fans of coming-of-age tales.

• Short story

								


    I had a letter from home to-day.  Ma says the blue hen stole
    her nest and came off with fourteen chickens, and that pa has
    sold the little spotted calf.  Somehow those things don't
    interest me like they once did.

                                                         July 9.

    The picture is coming on very well, Mr. Osborne says.  I know
    he is making me look far too pretty in it, although he
    persists in saying he can't do me justice.  He is going to
    send it to some great exhibition when finished, but he says
    he will make a little water-color copy for me.

    He comes every day to paint and we talk a great deal and he
    reads me lovely things out of his books.  I don't understand
    them all, but I try to, and he explains them so nicely and is
    so patient with my stupidity.  And he says any one with my
    eyes and hair and coloring does not need to be clever.  He
    says I have the sweetest, merriest laugh in the world.  But I
    will not write down all the compliments he has paid me.  I
    dare say he does not mean them at all.

    In the evening we stroll among the spruces or sit on the
    bench under the acacia tree.  Sometimes we don't talk at all,
    but I never find the time long.  Indeed, the minutes just
    seem to fly--and then the moon will come up, round and red,
    over the harbor and Mr. Osborne will sigh and say he supposes
    it is time for him to go.

                                                        July 24.

    I am so happy.  I am frightened at my happiness.  Oh, I
    didn't think life could ever be so beautiful for me as it is!

    Paul loves me!  He told me so to-night as we walked by the
    harbor and watched the sunset, and he asked me to be his
    wife.  I have cared for him ever since I met him, but I am
    afraid I am not clever and well-educated enough for a wife
    for Paul.  Because, of course, I'm only an ignorant little
    country girl and have lived all my life on a farm.  Why, my
    hands are quite rough yet from the work I've done.  But Paul
    just laughed when I said so, and took my hands and kissed
    them.  Then he looked into my eyes and laughed again, because
    I couldn't hide from him how much I loved him.

    We are to be married next spring and Paul says he will take
    me to Europe.  That will be very nice, but nothing matters so
    long as I am with him.

    Paul's people are very wealthy and his mother and sisters are
    very fashionable.  I am frightened of them, but I did not
    tell Paul so because I think it would hurt him and oh, I
    wouldn't do that for the world.

    There is nothing I wouldn't suffer if it would do him any
    good.  I never thought any one could feel so.  I used to
    think if I loved anybody I would want him to do everything
    for me and wait on me as if I were a princess.  But that is
    not the way at all.  Love makes you very humble and you want
    to do everything yourself for the one you love.

                                                      August 10.

    Paul went home to-day.  Oh, it is so terrible!  I don't know
    how I can bear to live even for a little while without him.
    But this is silly of me, because I know he has to go and he
    will write often and come to me often.  But, still, it is so
    lonesome.  I didn't cry when he left me because I wanted him
    to remember me smiling in the way he liked best, but I have
    been crying ever since and I can't stop, no matter how hard I
    try.  We have had such a beautiful fortnight.  Every day
    seemed dearer and happier than the last, and now it is ended
    and I feel as if it could never be the same again.  Oh, I am
    very foolish--but I love him so dearly and if I were to lose
    his love I know I would die.

                                                      August 17.

    I think my heart is dead.  But no, it can't be, for it aches
    too much.

    Paul's mother came here to see me to-day.  She was not angry
    or disagreeable.  I wouldn't have been so frightened of her
    if she had been.  As it was, I felt that I couldn't say a
    word.  She is very beautiful and stately and wonderful, with
    a low, cold voice and proud, dark eyes.  Her face is like
    Paul's but without the loveableness of his.

    She talked to me for a long time and she said terrible
    things--terrible, because I knew they were all true.  I
    seemed to see everything through her eyes.  She said that
    Paul was infatuated with my youth and beauty but that it
    would not last and what else had I to give him?  She said Paul
    must marry a woman of his own class, who could do honor to
    his fame and position.  She said that he was very talented
    and had a great career before him, but that if he married me
    it would ruin his life.

    I saw it all, just as she explained it out, and I told her at
    last that I would not marry Paul, and she might tell him so.
    But she smiled and said I must tell him myself, because he
    would not believe any one else.  I could have begged her to
    spare me that, but I knew it would be of no use.  I do not
    think she has any pity or mercy for any one.  Besides, what
    she said was quite true.

    When she thanked me for being so REASONABLE I told her I was
    not doing it to please her, but for Paul's sake, because I
    would not spoil his life, and that I would always hate her.
    She smiled again and went away.

    Oh, how can I bear it?  I did not know any one could suffer
    like this!

                                                      August 18.

    I have done it.  I wrote to Paul to-day.  I knew I must tell
    him by letter, because I could never make him believe it face
    to face.  I was afraid I could not even do it by letter.  I
    suppose a clever woman easily could, but I am so stupid.
    I wrote a great many letters and tore them up, because I felt
    sure they wouldn't convince Paul.  At last I got one that I
    thought would do.  I knew I must make it seem as if I were
    very frivolous and heartless, or he would never believe.  I
    spelled some words wrong and put in some mistakes of grammar
    on purpose.  I told him I had just been flirting with him,
    and that I had another fellow at home I liked better.  I said
    FELLOW because I knew it would disgust him.  I said that it
    was only because he was rich that I was tempted to marry him.

    I thought my heart would break while I was writing
    those dreadful falsehoods.  But it was for his sake, because
    I must not spoil his life.  His mother told me I would be a
    millstone around his neck.  I love Paul so much that I would
    do anything rather than be that.  It would be easy to die for
    him, but I don't see how I can go on living.  I think my
    letter will convince Paul.

I suppose it convinced Paul, because there was no further entry
in the little brown book.  When we had finished it the tears were
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