The Bend in the Road

Marilla went to town the next day and returned in the
evening. Anne had gone over to Orchard Slope with Diana
and came back to find Marilla in the kitchen, sitting
by the table with her head leaning on her hand. Something
in her dejected attitude struck a chill to Anne's heart.
She had never seen Marilla sit limply inert like that.

"Are you very tired, Marilla?"

"Yes--no--I don't know," said Marilla wearily, looking
up. "I suppose I am tired but I haven't thought about it.
It's not that."

"Did you see the oculist? What did he say?" asked Anne
anxiously.

"Yes, I saw him. He examined my eyes. He says that if
I give up all reading and sewing entirely and any kind of
work that strains the eyes, and if I'm careful not to cry,
and if I wear the glasses he's given me he thinks my eyes
may not get any worse and my headaches will be cured. But
if I don't he says I'll certainly be stone-blind in six
months. Blind! Anne, just think of it!"

For a minute Anne, after her first quick exclamation of
dismay, was silent. It seemed to her that she could NOT
speak. Then she said bravely, but with a catch in her voice: "Marilla, DON'T think of it. You know he has given you hope.
If you are careful you won't lose your sight altogether;
and if his glasses cure your headaches it will be a great thing."

"I don't call it much hope," said Marilla bitterly. "What
am I to live for if I can't read or sew or do anything like
that? I might as well be blind--or dead. And as for crying,
I can't help that when I get lonesome. But there, it's no
good talking about it. If you'll get me a cup of tea I'll be
thankful. I'm about done out. Don't say anything about this
to any one for a spell yet, anyway. I can't bear that folks
should come here to question and sympathize and talk about it."

When Marilla had eaten her lunch Anne persuaded her to go
to bed. Then Anne went herself to the east gable and sat
down by her window in the darkness alone with her tears
and her heaviness of heart. How sadly things had changed
since she had sat there the night after coming home! Then
she had been full of hope and joy and the future had looked
rosy with promise. Anne felt as if she had lived years
since then, but before she went to bed there was a smile on
her lips and peace in her heart. She had looked her duty
courageously in the face and found it a friend--as duty ever
is when we meet it frankly.